Christmas In Watch Hill : A Small Town Holiday Duet

by Sara Celi

I took a deep breath, anticipation flowing through me. Whatever he was about to say, I had a feeling I would want to hear it. But still, this wasn’t his cross to bear—and at this time of year, he no doubt had enough going on. “You don’t have to help me. It’s not your problem.”

  “I want to help. I really do.” He surveyed the main sales floor, as if taking it all in while he set up his next point. “And since I work in graphic design, I came up with a few new logos and an advertising promotion that you can start running today, or whenever you would like.”

  “That’s so perfect and exactly what I was just talking about.” Tara snapped her fingers in delight, her face lighting up as if she were on the same page with Scott. “We can run some digital campaigns and get people to remember this place.”

  “Exactly,” Scott said, his next words picking up speed. “I think doing a play on the history of this store is a good idea. By focusing on the way this place makes people feel, the nostalgia of it, we—you—um . . . you can conjure up a sort of rebirth in traffic while also driving people to a revamped online site in the process.”

  “This all sounds great,” I said. “But that doesn’t solve the problem of the rent increase.”

  I looked at Scott and Tara, wondering if they didn’t understand the importance of this aspect of it all. I only had a few weeks to get people to the store, and I’d run enough advertising campaigns to know that it often took a while for any of those to warm up. Marketing expenses were an advance on the future; I wasn’t sure this store really had one anymore.

  “Even if the campaign does take off, I doubt there will be enough sales to make a dent in that issue,” I added.

  The ever-present tension in my back tightened just a little more. I was tired of revisiting this topic all the time and tired of working to solve a problem that had no real solution. I’d made my decision. And maybe that was a signal, too. Once I closed the store, I could move on from this failure and start a new life, a new chapter, a new stage. Maybe I can go back to work as a photographer, and move back to New York, or . . . or anything.

  “I just don’t see how this is going to work,” I admitted, thinking about my sad appeal to Chadwick Properties, and how the company didn’t want to offer me a break. “Not with the rent increase.”

  “I thought about that a lot last night, too. You’re right, that’s the other big problem you’re facing, the other shark circling your boat.” Locking his gaze with mine, Scott stepped a little closer to me. “Which is why I reached out to a couple of people I know at Chadwick Properties.”

  My eyes widened. “What?”

  He nodded, not hiding his satisfaction. “We did some work for them last year, and I became really close with their main marketing team. A few phone calls, and—well, they agreed to delay the increase in your rent for twelve months, and to review it next year.”

  “No way,” Tara and I said in unison. Then she added a laugh, and I heard the disbelief in it.

  “Yep.” Scott placed the file folder on the checkout desk counter. “They hadn’t considered the historic value of the store when they issued that rent increase, but as it turns out, once it was brought to their attention, they could be persuaded to change their terms.”

  “I-I don’t know what to say.” The words caught in my throat as I digested what he’d just said. What was this? Did I deserve it? Can this really be happening? “This is incredible.”

  Scott nodded; his eyes were bright as he bit back a smile. “And you haven’t even seen the design idea yet.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait for this.” Tara clapped her hands. “I am so ready for it.”

  “Me too,” I admitted, still in shock over it all.

  “Here we go,” Scott said. With a flourish, he opened the file folder and pulled out the packet of designs.

  And then my heart sank.

  NINE

  NORA

  “What do you think?” Scott’s cheeks flushed. “Do you like it?”

  “I . . . um . . .”

  It was a good effort—maybe even an excellent one. He was clearly motivated, and while I appreciated all the time he’d put in, it was all wrong. I hate it. In fact, it was a complete departure from anything we’d ever done at The Pink Box, and a reimagining of the store that didn’t salvage anything of my family’s legacy. Instead of the bold, scripty font I was used to, the new logo and design elements for the store gave off an almost trendy, mid-century-to-contemporary feel.

  And that was like a punch in my stomach.

  Tara stepped closer to us and took in the detail of his designs. “Oh wow, I absolutely love it.”

  “What?” I blinked at her in disbelief. “You do?”

  Nodding, she took one of the pages Scott held. “This is great. It’s like a whole new look for the store.”

  “I-I guess . . .” I faltered, not sure what to say. “I mean—”

  “I based it off some of the trends I saw in Chicago and New York when I was there on business earlier this year.” Scott surveyed the main sales area of The Pink Box. “The idea would be to turn this into an experience instead of just a retail location. So, you could offer on-site tailoring, personal styling, and a few other amenities outside the traditional shopping experience. And perhaps once a quarter you could host a private shopping event and fashion show for your most loyal customers. Then you could move the bulk of your inventory to your online site, and offer a specialized app—”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, knowing it was rude to interrupt him but unable to go on any longer. “I appreciate all that you’ve done here, I really do. Especially during the holiday season. I know that this wasn’t simple or easy to put together, and that you could have found a lot of other ways to spend your time.” I took in the paperwork Scott brought into the store one more time, pushing down my revulsion as I did. “I just don’t think this is right for me.”

  His mouth dropped open for a beat. “What?”

  “It isn’t.”

  As I spoke, I grew bolder with my decision. No, this wasn’t right. Scott had his heart in the right place, and I admired his efforts, but it wasn’t what The Pink Box needed.

  “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to make these changes.”

  Scott stared at me for a beat as if he couldn’t believe my reply.

  “This is my family’s store,” I said. “I don’t want to destroy their legacy by corrupting it this way.”

  He frowned. “I hardly think it corrupts it.”

  “Regardless, I can’t do this.” I knew I was being hardheaded, but I couldn’t stop myself. “I can’t.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I know you worked hard on this and you want the best for this store, but this isn’t it. I can’t . . . I can’t do this right now.”

  His shoulders slumped. “All right. I hear you.”

  “Thank you,” I replied with an air of finality. “This is nice, but I’ve made my decision. It’s time to let the store close.” I looked at the rows of sale racks, shelves, and tables full of merchandise. We’ll have to find some way to get rid of all this stuff. “I’ve decided to host a final blowout sale, and then shut this place down. It’s what makes the most sense to me.” My stomach tightened. “A sort of chance to go out on top.”

  The three of us stared at each other for a long moment, the awkwardness and finality settling around us. And then Scott threw up a hand.

  “Well, it was just an idea.” He backed away from the counter, moving toward the door. “And no matter what, I want you to know that I get how hard it is for you to close this place, and what you had to consider before you did it. I know it wasn’t easy or simple.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” The memories of my life in this store pushed against my mind. “But thank you. I appreciate all of it.”

  “Are you sure you want to give up like this, Nora?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “I am.”

  TEN

  SCOTT

  I pushed too h
ard.

  Simple as that. I pushed too hard and overstepped my boundaries. It wasn’t my place to save Nora Shaw or The Pink Box. It wasn’t even my business. She hadn’t asked me for help, and I’d interjected my opinion where it ultimately wasn’t wanted. I realized all of this by the time I got in my car and drove away from the shopping center.

  But at least I tried. I had to give myself credit for that.

  Still feeling a little defeated, I parked my car in the garage and went inside, trying not to let Nora’s reaction bother me too much. Christmas was in a few days, and I didn’t want to let something like that take away the cheer that remained.

  No, I won’t do that.

  I won’t do that at all.

  ELEVEN

  NORA

  “I can’t believe you,” Tara said only a few seconds after Scott left the store. “I’ve been standing here trying to figure it out, and I can’t. I mean, I really don’t understand you, Nora.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked as I finished filling out the receipt for the online order I’d been filling before Scott stopped by the store.

  “He did something amazing. He offered you a way out of this.”

  I didn’t look up from the package. “I know, but it’s not right.”

  “What the heck?” The sharpness in her voice made me look up from my work. “This is ridiculous.”

  “I can’t make all these changes. I can’t. My mom and dad . . . I can’t destroy what they had.”

  “Yes, you can. Maybe you have to.”

  “No. Not if it means undoing all the work they did.”

  “You’re too stuck in the past, and that is a huge problem, Nora. You’re spending all this time focused on what used to be and you are missing what is right in front of you.” She glanced in the direction of the front entrance as if it would make Scott Parker magically reappear. “You know, I’ve tried so hard to help you over these last few years, but I realize now you don’t want any help. You just want to wallow in your grief and sadness, never moving on with your life, never moving forward.”

  “That’s not true.”

  She shook her head, her jaw flexing. “I can’t do this anymore. I am . . . I’m tired.”

  “What does that mean?” My stomach twisted. “What are you saying?”

  “I’ve had enough.” Tara thew up a hand, dismissing me as she walked to the office where we kept our coats and purses. When she reemerged, she had one arm through her woolen peacoat. “I wanted to help you keep this place open, but over the last few months I’ve realized you don’t want to change, no matter how much you need to. And I can’t take it anymore.”

  “Come on—”

  “No, Nora. I’m done with this. Your heart’s not in saving this place, and you don’t want to change, even though it’s the only way we can keep it all going. I’ve put too much time and effort into this store over the years, and I’m not going to let this be my last memories of it. I have other things I could be doing right now.”

  As I stared at her, she buttoned her coat, then gave me a resolute, firm look, her eyes narrow, her face tight. “Goodbye, Nora,” she said. “Everyone has to move on sometime.”

  TWELVE

  NORA

  I don’t know how long I stayed in the store by myself.

  Once Tara walked out, and the space was silent, I realized for the first time how cold and lonely it all was, how sad and bare and spacious, almost as if I was in a tomb of my own making, hostage to the memories that filled the retail space.

  I was alone, just as I had been for three years.

  With a heavy heart, I walked around the establishment, not seeing it as it currently was, but as it had been—a thriving place where my mother laughed with customers, my father painted the store windows at Christmas time, and where my family was intact.

  Maybe Tara has a point.

  I sat on the small stool behind the cash register. Making a change meant stepping out of my comfort zone, but would that really be so bad? Perhaps it was worth a try. And then there was Scott. I didn’t know him well, but he was kind, and he clearly wanted the best for me. Would allowing myself to see things in a different way with him be so awful?

  Still considering this, I picked up the paperwork Scott had left and looked through it once again. Yes, it was creative. Yes, it was different than I’d expected. And yes, working on this would mean allowing myself to see The Pink Box in a way that would be totally different from the vision of my parents.

  But they weren’t here anymore. This wasn’t their store; it was mine. I was at the helm of this place, and with Scott’s help, I might have the opportunity to forage a new path and a future that was different than their vision. Yes, it would be scary. But it was also necessary.

  There wasn’t much to think about anymore. I’d already made my decision.

  THIRTEEN

  SCOTT

  I was halfway into a beer and the Goodyear Bowl Game when the knock sounded at my door. Not expecting anyone, but curious about who it might be, I shuffled to it and found Nora standing on the other side. She had her hands shoved in the pockets of her camel coat and her lips were pursed. Still, she looked beautiful. There was that descriptor again. I was drawn to her, and I didn’t know why. I might have been disappointed with the way she reacted to my ideas, but I couldn’t deny I had feelings for her.

  And I still wanted to get to know her better.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked as I pushed open the glass storm door. “And how did you know where I live?”

  “It was on the paperwork that you left in the store.” She gave a small laugh. “I looked through it after you were gone.”

  “Listen, I totally overstepped my boundaries. You have a lot of emotions tied up in The Pink Box. I would have a hard time if I had something like that in my life, too—something that had been such a constant.”

  “No, that’s exactly why I came here.” She motioned for me to step outside onto the front stoop, and I did. “I wanted you to know that I appreciate what you did—the fact that you talked to Chadwick Properties and got them to reconsider the rent increase. It’s huge. And I didn’t make it clear how much that means to me.”

  “I just wanted you have more time.” I moved toward her, the smell of her musky perfume dancing across the cold air. I wasn’t sure what had come over me in the last few days, but I liked it. Desire, maybe, and happiness, too. I wanted more of both. Maybe it was the holidays, maybe it was the magic of the season—maybe it was the raw chemistry that seemed to naturally flow between us. It had all stewed together in a heady mix I wanted to drink in. My gaze locked with hers. “I’m glad you’re okay with my doing that.”

  “It’s not just that.” Nora looked away and a brief sheepish smile crossed her face. When she returned her gaze to me, her eyes were clearer. “Your design was great. Trendy. Fresh. I didn’t expect that, and I didn’t expect you.” She shook her head. “Scott, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these last few days. And I know you’ve been through a lot and the last thing you probably want is a relationship with someone else, but—”

  I leaned in and kissed her, her lips pressing against mine, her mouth responding viscerally to me. Her lips were sweet and sensual, and the kiss deepened within seconds. When we broke away, I stepped backward, looking into her eyes. I hadn’t kissed anyone like this since Monica, and I liked it. It was full of hope, promise, and optimism—three things I needed more of in my life.

  “I don’t know what just came over me,” I admitted. “But that was great.”

  She smiled. “I liked it, too.”

  “I want this to be the start of something. I think we both deserve that.”

  “So do I.”

  “Let me ask you a question then.” I rested my forehead on hers, allowing the energy of the moment to wrap around us, adding an extra layer of warmth against the chilly December air. “What are you doing for Christmas, Nora?”

  She laughed. “I have nothing planne
d, so whatever it is, I hope it’s with you.”

  EPILOGUE

  CHRISTMAS DAY

  NORA

  Once, I’d thought I would spend every holiday alone. The last two Christmases had been some of the coldest and loneliest of my life. I’d thought that was my future forever.

  But maybe not.

  “I’ve got the pies,” I said to Scott as we got out of his car.

  “Great. I’ll get the wine.”

  It was just after four, and we’d spent the last hour driving to his parents’ house in Dayton. Moments before, he’d parked his car in the driveway of a large ranch house with multicolored lights and two large inflatable snowmen in the center of the front yard. Scott took two wine bottles from the trunk and we crunched through the fresh snow to the house. Several cars sat in the driveway, and noise came from the house. Before we got to the front steps, a woman with salt-and-pepper hair opened the door, her arms outstretched.

  “Scott, merry Christmas, honey.”

  “Merry Christmas, Mom.”

  They hugged, and she regarded me over his shoulder. “And this must be Nora.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I said, feeling nervous and happy about spending the holiday with Scott’s family. Still, it all felt right in a way I couldn’t explain. “I am so glad to spend the holiday with your family.”

  “We’re glad you’re here. When Scott called and told me that we needed to set out another plate, I didn’t hesitate. We always have room for one more.”

  “Thank you,” I replied. “I made some pecan pies. They’re not much, but—”

  “I think they’re absolutely perfect,” she said as she took them from me. “I can’t imagine anything better.”

  She was kind. I knew that right away. She led us into the warm home and introduced us to the rest of Scott’s family—his sister, brother, dad, brother-in-law, and their children. They all greeted me as if they had expected me, as if they were ready for someone like me. It was a home; this was going to be a wonderful evening.