Christmas in Angel Harbor

by Jeannie Moon

  Second, what were Danny’s plans? That was the million dollar question.

  “The table looks lovely, as always,” her mother said. It really was pretty. The deep autumn-themed table runner was a brown, burnt orange, gold, and deep red plaid, with traces of ivory. The round, deep brown placemats were set with her beautiful dimple-etched cream stoneware, autumn-colored napkins, and her good flatware. She’d finished the place settings with wine and water glasses as well as adorning the table with gourds grouped at each end.

  A pretty table was something Jane took pride in. Naturally, she wanted to serve a delicious meal, but the table, where everyone gathered, had to reflect the love and affection of the season. Perhaps it was unnecessary, but a pretty table said that she cared.

  “Thanks, just trying to seat everyone.”

  “Hmmm. Who do we have? Tara, you, and me. Uncle Joe and Aunt Nancy. Jasper and his wife.” Her cousin and his new bride were last-minute additions. He could be a little abrasive, but he was family and there was always room at the table for family, and his new wife was lovely. Anna definitely mellowed him some, and it was lovely to see. “Tracy and Greg, no kids?”

  “No, they’re all off in different directions. Tracy was willing to take one for the team and not have the kids home for Thanksgiving, so they would all come to town for Christmas.”

  “Got it. Hmmm. Dan Gallo. He’s an interesting addition.”

  “He’s by himself for the weekend. There’s always room at the table.” Jane didn’t like how defensive she felt, but as much as she loved her mother, she was careful not to share too much.

  It was the age-old push and pull between mothers and daughters, and she expected at some point that she and Tara would experience the same thing.

  “I agree. I think it’s lovely you invited him.”

  “It was Tara’s idea, actually.”

  “Yep. It was.”

  Her daughter walked into the room like she was managing a large cast production. Ever the stage manager, she plucked the place cards from Jane’s hand and stepped to the table, eyeing the configuration and arranging the seating.

  Maybe it was her creativity, her ability to think outside the box, that gave Tara an innate sense of how to fit the pieces together. She went from one area to another, taking the cards and putting them in the little turkey holders Jane had placed on the table. She moved a few chairs, swapping one for another, and within a few minutes everyone had a place and there was more useable space.

  Thankful the decision was out of her hands, Jane could go back to her cooking. There was still a lot of prep to do, and she had guests coming in a few hours.

  Along with Christmas—which was just magical—Thanksgiving was Jane’s other favorite holiday. It was all about spending time with those you love, sharing a meal, sharing stories, and being together. There were no gifts other than the gift of time.

  She supposed that made her lucky. Whatever the future brought her way, Jane had a lot of wonderful people in her life. She’d never be alone. Even though Tara and her mother were heading off on their own paths, this would always be home for them. And she had her store.

  She hoped she did, anyway. She still hadn’t heard from her landlord, and now she wasn’t the only one who was concerned; her lawyer was as well.

  Jane didn’t want to waste her energy on what-ifs, but there was a vibe in the universe that was telling her something bad was swirling around, and the shop didn’t feel safe. If she had a clue what she was dealing with, she could take action. Without information, she was frozen in place.

  As she measured and mixed her special cornbread, Jane tried to put the troubles at the store out of her head. There wasn’t anything she could do about it. But the baking helped. As did all the other prep. She could focus on simple tasks like measuring and mixing. Anything to keep her mind off her worries.

  Tara and her mother were sitting at the island chopping vegetables, which would go in a myriad of dishes, including her corn and clam chowder. Always a favorite, she tweaked the recipe from time to time either out of boredom, or a guest’s dietary needs. This year, there wouldn’t be any variations, just her tried and true favorites made with lots of love. She smiled at the two of them, and reveled in how much she loved them both. In spite of her troubles, she was a lucky woman. Jane couldn’t forget that, even though sometimes it was hard to block out the static that made her feel otherwise.

  Chloe’s head popped up and she let out a little woof. It was recognition rather than alarm. A familiar-sounding car could have been coming down the street and Chloe just wanted her to know. “What is it, girl?” Jane asked.

  “Maybe Aunt Tracy is here.” Tara shrugged. “She said she would be over early to help.”

  “I hope she wore her pajamas,” Mom said, wiggling her behind. It was true, they were all still in their pajamas, and Jane was rocking her special Thanksgiving pair, complete with her turkey slippers. Chloe jumped up, barking her way into the mudroom. Jane heard the back door open, and then the ticking and squeaking from the dog’s excitement.

  “We’re in the kitchen, Trace.” Jane was surprised her friend was here so early. She was not a morning person.

  “I’m not Tracy, but I come bearing breakfast.” The smooth baritone triggered a combination of excitement and panic. She was split between, a sighing “Oh, he’s here,” to a nervous “Why is he here?”

  When he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, Jane’s hormones, what was left of them anyway, went south. Dressed in tight jogging pants and a fitted athletic shirt that emphasized every muscle in his broad chest, Danny had obviously been out for a run. He was holding out two paper shopping bags—one from the bakery and the other from the bagel store.

  “Good morning, ladies.” He tilted his head to her mom and Tara. Her mother smiled in response, and Tara sprung off her stool like a jackrabbit.

  “Ohhh! Yes! Bagels!” Tara dashed over to take the bags. “You are amazing. I’m starved.”

  Jane looked at the plate on the counter near the stove and raised her hands. “I made cinnamon rolls this morning. You ate two!”

  Smiling Tara pulled bagels from the bag, drawing in the aroma. “Mmmm. These smell delish. Oh, cream cheese and lox? You brought lox?”

  Jane never bought the salty cured salmon to go with bagels; as far as she knew, no one else liked it but her. “Since when do you eat lox?”

  “When I went to visit Callie at NYU in September, we went to this great deli on Carmine Street in the West Village,” Tara said, as she gathered plates and utensils. “Got myself a fully loaded bagel when I was there. Why did you deprive me of this delicacy? Definitely a Mom Fail.”

  Jane squeezed her eyes shut and processed the reprimand. A Mom Fail. Wow. “I am chastened.”

  Danny turned away and put his focus on petting the dog who hadn’t left his side since he’d walked in. She could see, based on the way his shoulders were shaking, that he was laughing. Hard. This was becoming a regular occurrence.

  “I’m so glad you’re amused by this.”

  He drew a breath and turned around, his face as red as a beet. Jane couldn’t even muster the tiniest bit of annoyance because, while she should be mortified that he’d dropped in with all of them in their pajamas, she wasn’t. She liked him here, in her kitchen…hell, she liked him in her life. His presence had added a little more fun to their morning, and all he’d done was show up with bagels and fixings.

  And, she almost forgot, a bag from the bakery.

  “What’s in there?” she asked, pointing to the Sweet Chemistry bag.

  “Oh, this?” he held it up, teasing. “Nothing.”

  “What’s in there?” She took a step toward him, and then another. Danny was grinning at her adorably, and Jane’s insides shook again in a way that was becoming all too familiar. Why did he have this effect on her? And how was she going to get through dinner without becoming as sloppy as a bowl of cranberry jelly?

  He held out the bag, letting it dangle on o
ne finger. He was such a tease. Jane reached out to take it and in response, he raised the bag over her head. Was that how this was going to go? “Give me the bag, please?”

  He lowered it just a little, then pulled it up when she went for it a second time. “Ha,” he teased.

  “Are you kidding me?” Now Jane was annoyed. “Give it.” She still couldn’t do much more than touch the bottom of the bag when she went up on her toes, so she jumped. It was just a little hop, ridiculous at that, but it didn’t stop her from trying again. If she needed proof that she wasn’t any more coordinated than she used to be, Jane stumbled when she came down from her pathetic attempt to overcome their height differences.

  Michael Jordan, she was not.

  If Danny’s arm hadn’t come around her at just the right moment, she would have landed on her ass. Instead, she was pulled against his solid chest, where she was able to feel his steadiness, his heat, and his delicious maleness.

  “You’re twelve,” he whispered in her ear. “You do know that, right?”

  He was big, just the right size to tuck her against him, and he smelled of the chilly salt air and of sweat. Clean, but musky, it was there, pressed into him that she could appreciate how well she fit. How much she didn’t want to move away.

  Her body melted into his and she tried not to react to the little tremor of awareness. She wanted to cling to him, and to sink into his strength. She knew Danny was temporary in her life, but at this moment she didn’t care.

  He looked down at her, amusement spreading across his face. “Nice pajamas.”

  “Thank you. I like to keep things festive. You’re welcome to wear yours later.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he considered her proposal, before shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “No? Not your style?” Her blithe tone was meant to keep him off guard, but it wasn’t working. He was still grinning at her like he could read her mind.

  It was very possible he could. Jane had determined she had no guile.

  He didn’t seem too keen on letting her go, but once he came to his senses and realized they weren’t alone, he released his hold and stepped back.

  He passed her the bag, never losing eye contact. “I brought dessert for later. The bakery is only open until noon, so I thought I’d pick it up early and bring it by. Apple tarts, a selection of pastries, including the pumpkin pie squares, and a chocolate mousse pie.”

  “Ohh. I love the chocolate mousse pie,” Jane said, folding her hands as if in prayer.

  “I heard that someplace,” he said as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. When Jane looked up, a grin just barely ticked up the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were bright and filled with emotion. Doing this for her made him happy, and if her heart wasn’t already lost to him, that would have done it. This was who he was, open and kind, not the dark enigma the spin doctors sold to the masses. He was such a good man, and Jane wished he could see it.

  With a nod to Tara and her mother, they locked eyes and Danny leaned in just a little bit. She thought he might kiss her right on the lips, which, other than having an audience, she wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, she kind of hoped he would.

  He didn’t; instead her grasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  As he left the house, Jane glanced at the clock. Only four hours until he returned. Maybe she could steal that kiss then.

  *

  Dan didn’t know what was motivating him, but he was obviously going crazy. Bringing breakfast to Jane’s house that morning had been pure impulse. One second he was picking up the items he’d ordered for his contribution to the festivities, the next he was in the bagel shop across the street, ordering a dozen bagels with all the fixings. He couldn’t wait to see her, not even a few more hours. It had already been a few days, and it killed him how much he missed her. The time he spent with Jane had become as important as breathing. It scared the hell out of him, but not for the reasons he would have thought.

  Taking an early run was a good way to clear all the cobwebs from his head, especially since he’d been up all night writing. He must have knocked out close to sixty pages. Unable to sleep, he opened his computer at eleven o’clock last night, and before he knew what had happened, the sky was turning gray.

  He hadn’t pulled a legit all-nighter in years, ever since he started writing full time. He’d stay up late, or find himself crawling out of bed when an idea hit before the sun came up, but nothing like last night. Inspiration had come hard, and he wasn’t able to contain it. Every thought in his head flooded out in a great rush, and half the time, Danny didn’t know what he had written until he read it back. Some of it needed work, but other parts were brilliant. Earth-shaking and brilliant. He didn’t have a lot of those moments. He’d usually put down a crappy first draft, and then spend months revising and rewriting. But last night, his vision for the story became crystal clear, and it was the mother of all moments. The story flowed. The people, the plot, the nuance were all there—all he had to do was polish it.

  His characters weren’t just talking to him, they were battering the inside of his brain, begging to get out and say their piece.

  The emotion, the humor, it was a thrill he’d never experienced. He couldn’t tell if what was happening with Jane was controlling his narrative, but his heart was vibrating with excitement for the first time in ages.

  Dan always felt an adrenaline rush when writing his crime thrillers. That was the nature of the genre. If he didn’t feel it, his readers wouldn’t. But this love story was about the thrill of being connected, deeply, to someone else. The stories might have been different, but the excitement was the same.

  Jane inspired him to be who he needed to be, as a writer—but even more—as a man.

  The water from the shower was therapeutic, pounding down, and washing away not only the sweat from his run, but also the fuzziness in his brain.

  He was adrift, off-balance, and it was the most energized he’d felt since he’d been a kid who didn’t know what was coming next. He felt that way now—with his career, with Jane—everything was new. His return home was triggering a massive shift in his life, but this time, instead of trying to control every facet of his existence, Dan was going to let things unfold, and see what happened.

  It had been just a couple of weeks since he’d walked back into the bookstore, and what he’d always felt for her was rising to the surface, like some long-buried treasure. How was he going to handle it? He never intended to stay in Angel Harbor, believing his life was elsewhere. But now, Dan was fairly sure no place would feel like home if Jane wasn’t there.

  He’d never been reckless or inclined to sentimentality. Danny was methodical. Focused. He determined where he wanted to go and figured out how to get there. That single-mindedness had pushed him to rationalize Jane right out of his life when he’d left for law school.

  He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.

  He wondered if she would ever consider leaving Angel Harbor. Jane had always dreamed of traveling, and Danny could take her anywhere she wanted to go. He could write any place, and Jane could finally see the world.

  Who was he kidding? She’d hate it. That store was almost as important to her as her family. He couldn’t take her away from here. She was the heart of Angel Harbor.

  Jane with her calm, steady presence, her insight and intuition, her gentleness, was special in ways Dan couldn’t fully articulate. Her friends and family were so used to her strength he wondered if perhaps they took it for granted. But once again he was learning the power of it, and he didn’t want to lose it.

  *

  There was something very Zen about doing the dishes. Jane let the feel of the running water and the scent of the soap penetrate her senses as her mind wandered. It was soothing. The steady warmth and pressure of the water allowed her to relax into the monotony of the moment. The task required no thinking, which was definitely a welcome change from her usual frenetic existence.

  It had been such a lovely
day. Currently her house was filled with people she cared about. Her family and friends, her connection to all that was right in her world, were congregated in the living room engaged in a spirited game of Monopoly. Tara was accusing her grandmother of cheating, which Jane’s mother vigorously denied, but the accusation was probably accurate. Her mother was a ruthless Monopoly player and everyone was always on alert for her real estate shenanigans. The day was everything Jane had hoped for, perfect in so many ways, and it was ending just as it had begun, with a shiver of awareness.

  On her back, she felt the weight of Danny’s hand settle, as he stepped up next to her.

  “No Monopoly?” she asked, continuing with the dishes.

  “Nah. I’m bankrupt already.” He chuckled when he shook his head. “Your mother cheats.”

  Jane chuckled. His presence was not just welcome, but comforting. It made her think about the growing attachment between them, and what would happen when he finished his book.

  He wasn’t staying, and that was the only thing keeping Jane from fully letting him inside her heart.

  They were friends, good friends, but that was all they could be. His life wasn’t in Angel Harbor, and hers was. It wasn’t what she’d planned, but it was her home.

  “You look like a woman with something on her mind,” he said, picking up the dish towel that was folded on the countertop. He took the porcelain casserole dish that had held the cornbread dressing from the drain and started drying it.

  “I don’t know,” she began. “I was just thinking about how nice today was. I love Thanksgiving.”

  “It was a great day. And the food. God. Everything was delicious. I should have packed a pair of sweatpants.” He patted his belly.

  “I told you to wear pajamas.” Jane smiled. She’d changed after dinner into a pair of plaid flannel pants and a hideously ugly Christmas sweater to kick off the season.

  “Thank you for including me,” he said quietly. Jane could see on his face that he was genuinely touched. “Being here was much better than being on my own.”