Finding Love in Christmas Creek

by Mary L. Briggs

  Macy turned and smiled into the face of a small girl, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, her blue eyes pretty and bright as Scott’s. Was he her uncle? Or had she heard the word ’daddy’ come from that small mouth? “I don’t guess I’ve met you. I’m Macy.”

  The child smiled and replied, “I’m Sammie. And he’s my daddy,” she pointed at Scott.

  Macy turned her face back to him. She felt something inside of her slowly began to shrink. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to her that he might be married.

  “Is this the lady that almost ran over Sparky?” the girl asked her dad.

  “It was an accident, Sammie,” Scott insisted. “Sparky ran out in front of her car. It was Sparky’s fault.”

  Sammie nodded. “Now, he’s locked up in the backyard, so he’ll be safe.”

  “That sounds like a good idea,” Macy nodded. “And, I’m sorry that I almost ran over him. He looks like a very sweet dog.”

  “He’s a nuisance,” Scott laughed, stuffing the ketchup stained napkins into his empty French fry container.

  “Is everything all right, Macy?” Howie’s voice sounded behind her.

  She turned. How could she have forgotten about Howie? “Yes, Howie. I’d like you to meet Scott Henson, and his daughter, Sammie. This is my aunt’s. . .fiancé,” she added. It seemed strange to say the word aloud.

  Howie nodded and held out his hand to Scott. “Aren’t you that sports writer?” he asked, shaking hands.

  Scott smiled. “That’s me. Now that the internet is everywhere, I’m free to pick and choose where I live and do my writing.”

  “Well, I want you to know that I always turn to your column first, when I get my Sunday paper.”

  “Thank you for that, sir. I appreciate it.”

  Howie nodded and turned to Macy. “Well, Macy, are you ready to eat?”

  Eat? “Oh. Yes. Good to see you Scott and Sammie. And I’m sorry about the little mishap,” she added. Again. Was every meeting with Scott Henson going to end in disaster? For his sake, she hoped not.

  Scott laughed and waved away her comments. “Just be careful with that ketchup,” he teased, standing and gathering the papers from their table and heading for the trash can, Sammie in tow.

  “So you say he’s a famous sports writer?” she asked, unwrapping the paper from her burger.

  Howie took a sip from his cup, swallowed, and nodded. “Has a column out every week. He’s pretty good at what he does. I’ve been following his work for a few years, now. Poor guy, his wife died several years back. Must be tough on him.”

  Macy reached for a fry and shook her head. It must be so hard on him, raising his daughter alone. “I guess I thought he was a handy man,” she said, explaining the accident to Howie.

  He chuckled. “Well, it was an accident. Just be glad everything turned out as it did. I’d heard that he had bought Granny’s place, a few months back.”

  Her hand stopped halfway to her mouth. “Granny is gone?” She could feel her eyes widen. Granny had been a fixture in Christmas Creek for years and years. Her childhood memories of visiting the farm’s pumpkin patch in the fall, and the Christmas tree farm for their tree were etched in all of her yearly memories. What was Christmas Creek without Granny?

  Howie nodded and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Moved up to Missouri to live with her niece.”

  Macy sighed. Granny moved away, a McDonald’s outside of town. . .what else was new in Christmas Creek? Besides the fact that her aunt was getting married, and she now owned a store and a house. And had, so far, spent most of her time nearly injuring and embarrassing the most handsome man in town.

  Chapter 8

  Macy pushed open the glass hospital door at seven o’clock. This morning, Aunt Alta was being moved to the physical therapy section of the hospital, and Macy wanted to be there for the move. The store was closed on Mondays, so that gave her time to help Alta, as well as start learning what she needed to run a business. The first few days had gone well, with no mishaps, but she was still going to need some advice.

  She stopped by the nurse’s lounge and left the two dozen donuts she had brought for them. They had all been so patient and kind to her aunt. The donuts were only a small ‘thank you’ for all they had done the past few days.

  “Good morning,” she smiled, as she stepped through her aunt’s doorway. It was obvious that the nurses had already helped her with her bath and change of clothes. Her dark hair had been combed and pinned. For the first time since Macy had come home, she looked like herself. “You look pretty!”

  Alta Colbert grinned and patted her clean, smooth hair. “I look better, anyway. You didn’t have to get up here so early, Macy! You need your sleep.”

  Macy laughed and set the extra cup of coffee she had brought on the bedside table. “Drink this up and quit worrying about me,” she ordered.

  Alta reached for the cup and smiled after she took a sip. “Pumpkin creamer? It’s good.”

  Macy nodded. “It’s the favorite fall flavor at Max’s Coffee Saloon.” She had been surprised to find that Max, short for Maxine, was the pretty lady behind the long counter. She told Macy that she had bought the shop last year, after retiring from an executive position in Tulsa.

  Alta nodded. “Max mixes most of the flavors herself. She’s a wiz at that sort of thing.”

  “She makes good donuts, too,” Macy added, pulling a small sack from her purse.

  Alta took it from her and looked inside. “Donut holes!”

  Macy grinned. “Pumpkin donut holes. How about we split them?”

  Alta reached inside the sack. “I really shouldn’t. I had breakfast only a half hour ago.”

  “Eat up,” Macy said. “You’re going to need your strength for all that therapy they’re going to have you doing.”

  In less than an hour, Alta was settled in her new room and ready for a nap.

  “I’ll be back later,” Macy promised. She had a chore at the store and she was anxious to get started. It should be simple enough. At least, she hoped it would.

  ***

  The key turned easily in the lock, and Macy slipped inside the store, making sure the CLOSED sign didn’t swing around to OPEN. She stopped and breathed in the scents of cinnamon, cloves, and mixed citrus, all mingled scents of the candles on the back wall.

  She took a path past the large quilt and old-time craft display and headed to the back of the store. Inside the small room, she took off her sweater and hung it on the hook on the wall just inside the pretty little office, decorated in a western theme. The wallpaper was a tea stained background with boots, horses, lariats, and other cowboy items scattered over its surface. The lamp on the desk was a pair of old cowboy boots with a shade over the top. She pulled the chain hanging down beneath the shade, and the room lit up. She let her fingers run softly over the pair of small leather boots. They had been hers when she was ten. To think that Aunt Alta had kept them all these years.

  She smiled and looked around the room. The little red felt cowboy hat on one of the hooks had been hers, as well. Aunt Alta had purchased it for her to wear on the children’s float in the Annie Oakley Western Days Parade. But two days before the parade, she had come down with an awful cold. Aunt Alta had brought her to the store that day and let her watch from inside, the new hat on her head. She gave a half-smile at the remembered tears of that day. She had wanted so much to be in the parade!

  She had already started to feel at home in this room. Still, the thought of Aunt Alta not running the store gave her a funny feeling. Life changed, she knew, but this had been a twist she just hadn’t expected.

  Opening her purse, she pulled out the papers on which she had written notes from Aunt Alta. There were instructions on how to log in to the accounts and how to order from the store lists. She sighed. She had tried to make her aunt wait until she was feeling better, but Alta kept insisting that she kept the store running like a top, and she would expect the same of Macy. There would be no empty shelves in
The Stitchin’ Post.

  After studying the lists on the computer account, it looked like only jam, candles, and stick candy needed to be ordered. Several other items were a little low, but still in stock and could wait until next month. By that time, Aunt Alta would be better, maybe even on her feet. Of course, that meant she would probably be married and off to travel the country in Howie’s RV.

  As she finished and powered down the laptop, a sliver of light from beneath the small door at the back of the room caught her eye. It was the little half bath. She stared a moment, then took a deep breath. She must have left the light on, that was all. She opened the door and stared into the small bathroom, neat, clean, and empty. “Really, Macy, get a hold of yourself.”

  Chapter 9

  “Are you sure that’s what the doctor said?” Macy asked, trying to position the phone between her chin and shoulder. It wasn’t easy carrying on a phone conversation while trying to arrange the newly arrived candles.

  “Sure as I can be! I’m so excited, Macy. Howie and I were going to wait until after Thanksgiving to get married. But now, we’re thinking next week. The day of the holiday.”

  “Next week!” The pumpkin scented candle slipped from her fingers and hit the wood plank floor, the glass container rolling across, stopped only by the leg of a display table that held a mixed supply of blackberry and cherry jams.

  “Yes. And you’re not going to talk me into waiting,” Alta insisted.

  Breathe slowly, Macy. “But, Aunt Alta —”

  “Now you just stop, Macy. You’re ready for this. I’m ready for this. Howie and I have waited a long time to find each other, and now we have. And I’ve waited a long time to give you the shop. I’m just glad I’m still alive while you’re getting it.”

  Well, when she put it that way. “OK. Let’s start planning the wedding.” She did her best to sound enthusiastic.

  “No planning necessary. We’ll be married at the house Thursday morning. I’ve already talked to Judge Scully and he says as long as he’s home for his family dinner, that’s fine with him. Then, the three of us can go to Dixie’s for Thanksgiving lunch, before me and Howie take off for California.”

  What? After waiting all these years for the right man, she wasn’t even going to have a church wedding? “But don’t you want Reverend Miller to marry you?”

  “I’d love for him to, sweetheart. But he retired last month. Moved back home to Michigan with his wife. The church is in the process of looking for a pastor.”

  “Oh. I just thought he’d gone somewhere for the week. No one mentioned it last Sunday.” The fact that she had entered the service late and only talked to two people afterward might be part of the problem. She had meant to visit more, but she had hurried on up to the hospital to see Aunt Alta.

  “Don’t worry. It will all work out. Now, you’d better be getting back to work.”

  ***

  The bell over the door jangled and she looked up to see a blond haired young woman enter. She was dressed in a brown jacket and matching skirt. Her hair and makeup were perfect. She was carrying a stack of papers in her arms. Definitely not a customer, Macy surmised.

  “Good morning,” she greeted the woman. “May I help you?”

  The woman flashed a smile of perfect white teeth, and began pulling a sheet from the stack. “I’m Rhonda, from the mayor’s office. We hoped you would be willing to put one of these in your shop window.”

  Macy walked to meet her. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Macy Colbert, Alta’s niece.” Macy reached for the paper and studied the front. Printed in western style font, it was an announcement for the upcoming Annie Oakley Western Day. She smiled. “Of course I will. I’m looking forward to that weekend.” Aunt Alta had said it was a very good day for business.

  Rhonda nodded her head, sending wisps of yellow hair flying around her face. “It will be a lot of fun.”

  Macy studied the list of events. “Is Main Street going to be blocked off?” It had always been closed when she had lived there, but rules sometimes changed.

  “Yes. There will be parking at the school, as well as outside the Community Church.”

  “Well, I’m looking forward to it.”

  Rhonda laughed. “It’s a lot of work, but we’re hoping to draw in more people than last year. If we can make it a success and keep it growing, it will do wonders for the town. And being the week after Thanksgiving gets people out to do their shopping.”

  “Anything I can do, just let me know,” Macy called after Rhonda, as she left the shop.

  “Do you want me to put it in the window now?” Janet offered, entering from the back of the shop. Janet was Aunt Alta’s long-time employee, the first person she hired to work in the shop, many years ago.

  “Thanks, Janet. Are we usually pretty busy that day?” She had rarely spent time in the store on those weekends, having fun wandering up and down Main Street.

  Janet grabbed the tape dispenser from beneath the front counter and took the paper from Macy. “Sometimes we do very well, especially with the quilts. You might check with all of our quilting ladies and see if any of them have more ready to sell. And we might could do with some extra jam and candles, too.”

  “Good idea,” Macy said, adding that to her list of ‘things to do’ for the shop. It was becoming clear that this was no easy job. It was going to take business know-how, planning, and a lot of praying to keep the store up and running. Her admiration for Aunt Alta was increasing daily.

  ***

  Macy found her thoughts wandering. It was hard to keep her mind on the sermon this morning. Aunt Alta had come home from rehab two days ago, and Thursday, she and Howie were getting married. The big blue and white RV was parked out in front of the little Victorian house, and Howie was staying in it, since he had given up his apartment in town.

  The guest preacher pounded the pulpit to make a point, and she jumped, as did most of the congregation. But it only took a moment to lose track of the lesson again.

  Time had sped by and the big day was nearly there. This afternoon, she would help pack the rest of Alta’s belongings in the RV. And Thursday, just after the ceremony, and lunch at Dixie’s, Aunt Alta would be gone on to a new life.

  Macy smiled. She had so much to be thankful for. For Aunt Alta and her new-found love. Howie was going to make a good husband for Alta. Macy sighed. And as for herself, she should be exhilarated at the thought of owning her own business, as well as her own house. But it was too soon for all of that. She reached for the hymnal as the music director called the number for the last hymn. She would sort all of this out soon. With your help, of course, Lord.

  Chapter 10

  “I do,” Alta Colbert said, her eyes on Howie.

  Macy took a deep breath. In a moment the two would kiss, and their new life would begin.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife,” Judge Scully smiled and closed the Bible he was holding. “Congratulations to you both. You may kiss your bride,” he grinned at Howie.

  ***

  “Well, it’s not much of a reception,” Macy grinned, as the waitress seated them at the long table. There were only three of them, but most of the smaller tables were taken.

  “It’s wonderful,” her aunt insisted. “You know how much you and I loved coming here for Thanksgiving, and now the three of us are here. I think it’s very appropriate.”

  “Hello, Miss Colbert,” a male voice greeted.

  Macy looked up to see Scott Henson. His little daughter was holding his hand. He held out the other to Aunt Alta.

  Macy’s jaw dropped when her aunt hurriedly stood and gave him a hug. “Scott! It’s so good to see you. And you, too, girlie,” she grinned down at Sammie. “And, I have to tell you that I’m now Alta Brandon. In fact, we’ve only been married about two hours,” she smiled. “This is my husband, Howie, and this is my niece, Macy Colbert,” she pointed.

  Scott grinned. “I’ve actually met both of them. And I knew you were getting married, I just didn’t k
now it was so soon.”

  “Well, neither did we. But the doctor gave me an early release, and. . .what am I thinking?” she laughed. “You and Sammie sit down with us. We’d love to have you join us.”

  Scott shook his head. “We don’t want to intrude on your family time.”

  “Nonsense!” Alta insisted. “Here, Sammie, you can sit by me, and Scott, go on around and sit next to Macy. And tell me how the two of you met,” she smiled.

  Macy bit her lip. Aunt Alta was sure to make more of her chance meeting with Scott than was necessary. If ever there was a born match maker, it was her Aunt Alta.

  “Now that happens to be a very interesting story,” Scott began, before he finished sitting. “Would you like to tell it, or should I?” he asked, his cobalt eyes meeting Macy’s.

  A quick skip of her heart and she knew she would never be able to speak. “You go ahead,” she managed.

  Scott was a talker and natural born storyteller, she observed. He kept the narrative going well through the pumpkin pie. He even mentioned the ketchup encounter at McDonald’s, sending a rush of heat to her cheeks.

  “Oh, my,” Aunt Alta laughed. “Looks like you two were meant to meet,” she winked at Macy.

  Too bad that crawling under the table was not an option. She kept her eyes on her pie and gave a slight laugh. She might know that Aunt Alta was not serious, but possibly Scott didn’t have a clue.

  “You never know,” Scott laughed. “She keeps things interesting.”

  Aunt Alta beamed and Macy reached for her tea. Maybe a sip of the cold brew would cool her hot face.

  ***

  “Are you sure you don’t want to take it?” Macy stared at the book in her hand. Aunt Alta had always loved reading Catherine Marshall’s book, Christy.