by Viv Royce
Grant held her gaze. “Really?”
“Yes. I think it’s your pilot background. You want to know all the rules and the route and the patterns and the risks to keep all those people you’re flying around safe.”
He had to laugh. “You’re probably right. I love to plan. Not just my flying, but my climbing as well. The best equipment, the safest route to the top. Excellent guides, the fullest preparation.”
“Climbing?” She sounded a touch surprised and half worried.
“I used to go out with friends a lot. Before my wife died. After that, I had Casey to look after, didn’t want to leave her alone for a stretch of time. But I do intend to get back to it. It’s the best feeling in the whole world to stand on a mountain peak knowing you conquered it.”
…
Emma tried to keep chatting normally. But disbelief churned inside of her, muddling her thoughts. One moment it’s like we understand each other and then, bam, you wipe it all away with your climbing. Why couldn’t it have been some low-key, no risk hobby like bowling or playing darts?
If she had come across him online, she would have clicked on his picture for sure. Drawn in by his strong features and to-melt-for eyes, but as soon as she would have read about his job and hobbies, she would have returned to the list to search for someone safer.
Grant Galloway would have been nothing for her. She was someone who liked to stay at home, putter in the garden if there was one, cook, bake, sit in the sun with a book. She didn’t need to go out and conquer the world. They really were polar opposites.
So what? Friends can be different and still support each other. Even after he leaves.
She shivered.
“You’re getting cold,” Grant said. “We better go inside. Do you want to blow out the candles?”
Emma nodded and opened the door. She lowered her face to the opening and blew. The flame resisted at first, flickering to life again, but as she persisted, it quenched. See. You can also conquer your attraction to Grant. Try a little harder.
But I don’t want to.
As the second lantern died, the cold electric light from above bathed the booths, turning the snow even whiter and chillier, seeping into the very core of her with its icy touch. I don’t want to lose him.
She shivered again, and Grant put his arm around her shoulders. “Better walk fast to warm up already. I think Fay will have hot chocolate for us.”
Fay and Bob had left them completely to themselves. On purpose? Emma’s cheeks heated. Did they hope Grant would grow to like her and stick around town? Having seen their family dynamics, she could guess they would love to keep him close. She wanted that too, to lean into him as they walked back to the house. But she had to keep walking on her own two feet.
If he wanted to leave town, he would. And that’s good. No point keeping him here against his will. He should be happy. That was Casey’s wish.
Chapter Nine
“More marshmallows?” Fay asked, holding the bag out in her direction.
Emma shook her head. “If I have any more, I’m going to turn into one.”
“White or pink? I would be pink.” Casey laughed. She lay on her stomach on the sheepskin in front of the fireplace in which a log fire crackled around freshly cut wood. Grant had brought it in after dinner and taken his time to build the perfect fire. He had even explained to her how to do it, but it had been a bit lost on her as the memory had replayed in her head of the moment she had almost fallen, and he had caught her. The safest place in the world had to be in his arms.
Grant checked his watch. “About bedtime, Casey.”
“Aaaaah, Daddy!” Casey rolled onto her back, pulling a plaid from the rocking chair across herself as if to hide under, become invisible.
With a smooth movement Grant came to his feet and went over. “I’m looking for Casey. Where can she be? She’s all gone. Has she hidden behind the couch?” He crouched behind it, feeling with his hands across the floor. “No, she is not here.”
Bursts of giggles came from underneath the plaid giving Casey away, but Grant continued his systematic search of the living room, even opening the buffet’s door to see if Casey was hiding inside.
While he was busy with that, Casey crawled away from the fire, under her plaid cover, taking up a new spot behind her grandfather’s chair.
Grant straightened up and rolled back his shoulders. “Where is she? Has anybody seen her?”
He let his gaze drift by his parents, sister and brother-in-law who all maintained puzzled or innocent expressions. Then his eyes met Emma’s. Electricity shocked through her upon the contact, the moment she looked full into that chocolate warmth. His smile deepened just a bit. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like if this was their house and he was chasing Casey and they would take her to bed together and then return here and sit on the sheepskin, her leaning into him and him locking his arms around her and kissing the top of her head. Togetherness, belonging.
She widened her eyes for a second to bring herself back to reality.
Grant’s eyes seemed to question her. “I haven’t seen Casey,” she said a little too loud.
He prowled through the room, looking behind the bookcases in the far corner. Casey was moving again, trying to scuttle behind the couch where he had already looked. But then Grant turned around suddenly and cried, “I see you! I’m coming for you!”
Casey shrieked and fled. Grant ran through the room and grabbed Casey, plaid and all, lifted her high and held her in his arms. Her laughter filled the room.
Emma’s eyes pricked at the idea of feeling so safe with someone, so sheltered, so loved.
Grant lowered Casey to the floor. “Up to bed, little one.” He gave her a gentle shove toward the stairs and after a long sigh, she dropped the plaid and made her way up, stopping to wave at all of them and give them kiss hands. “I love you, Gramps. I love you, Gran. I love you, Fay and Bob.” Her footfalls raced up the stairs.
Grant followed to tuck her into bed, and Mrs. Galloway asked if anyone wanted a cup of tea. Counting the raised hands, she disappeared into the kitchen area to make some. Emma ambled after her to sneak a peek at her teapot collection.
Christmas Eve would be the perfect occasion for a gift. She scanned the shelf on which the teapots sat. An English double decker bus, a cottage in the snow, and an owl. Nothing with chocolate. If I can find one online that has some sort of link to my shop, it would make a perfect personal present.
Grinning at her little secret, she returned to sit by the fire.
“You can give me a tip.” Fay came over and showed Emma a magazine. “I spotted the perfect spring coat but what color do I choose? Light blue or soft yellow? I’m worried about it getting stained quickly.”
“Let me see.” Emma leaned over the magazine. Her ears scanned the sounds in the room for footfalls coming back from above. Grant joining them again.
Newspaper pages rustled while Mr. Galloway turned them and commented on a headline.
In the kitchen, the kettle began to sing as the water reached boiling point. A clank of china on the sink and a pantry door closing, probably when Mrs. Galloway collected the cookie jar. Not what I want to hear.
But wait. There. He’s coming. As the footfalls beat down the stairs, Emma kept looking at the colorful pictures Fay was pointing out to her, but her thoughts couldn’t quite focus on spring colors and the possibility of stains.
“Emma.”
She startled upright at his voice.
“Casey wants to say good night to you.” He pointed up the stairs with a wide inviting gesture. “To the right. The door with all the flowers pasted on it.”
Emma rose to her feet, then hesitated. “Are you sure it’s okay?”
“Sure. Go on up. She said she wanted to see you alone so…” He winked at her. “Maybe she’s got a secret to share?”
Emma’s cheeks flushed. That first encounter with Grant, face to face, in her shop, where he had quizzed her about his daughter’s chocol
ate order, had been rather awkward. No new plans, please.
She went up the stairs, holding on to the railing, well aware of the growing height behind her. Open stairs gave her a dizzying sensation of tipping backward and falling down. But Grant climbed mountains and dangled down cliff sides, relying on a few ropes to hold his weight.
Upstairs, she went to the door with the paper sunflowers pasted on it and knocked. Casey’s voice called, a little muffled, “Come in!”
She entered and wanted to leave the door open, but Casey gestured to her from the bed. “Close the door. Daddy can’t hear it.”
Another secret. Oh, no.
With a hammering heart, Emma closed the door.
Casey waved her over and patted the bed’s edge. “Sit down. I’m so glad you’re here. You can help me. You see…” She frowned hard. Her fingers played with the pink duvet. “Daddy always says you have to try new things even though you think they’re scary because new things always are and if you never tried, you’d never learn anything or get anywhere. At the fair there is a stage and bands play and people can sing Christmas songs. And I want to sing a song. I think it’s scary with all the people looking at me, but I want to try. For Daddy.”
Emma’s heart melted at the pride in the little girl’s eyes.
“You have to help me practice. I already know what song I’m going to do. ‘Silent Night.’ I know all the words. I just have to get it right.”
“Get what right?”
“How it sounds.” Casey eyed her worriedly. “It’s not right. Not how it’s supposed to.”
She took a deep breath and started to sing, too high pitched and brittle. Her nerves were obvious, making her voice quiver. She had to draw breath halfway each line and rushed the next words to make it fit.
Casey stopped after one couplet and said, “It’s not very good, is it?” Her eyes seemed enormous in her pale face.
Emma’s arms itched to reach out and wrap that little girl in a hug. Tell her she doesn’t have to do it. That you wouldn’t dare, either.
Relief rushed through her at the idea that something potentially disastrous could be avoided.
But how would Casey feel on the day of the fair, looking at the stage where she could have stood? Happy or rather disappointed she hadn’t even tried? After all, Daddy had told her to try new things.
“How about giving it another go? You have to warm up your voice first. You have to do exercises for it.” She tried to remember what the choir director in college had told them. She hadn’t sung in ages. “You have to do like aaaaaaaah…” She held the tone while opening her mouth wide and closing it further, forming an o with her lips or shaking her head so it sounded all weird.
Casey fell backward on the bed laughing.
That’s better. “Honestly,” Emma said, feigning to be hurt. “All big singers do it.”
Casey sat up again. “I want to try.” She opened her mouth wide and went aaaaaah, pulling the weirdest faces as she was at it. Emma had to laugh no matter how much she tried to suppress it. Casey grinned at her. “See, it’s weird.”
“But it helps. And it will also help if you have the right attitude while you sing. Stand up, relax your shoulders and breathe from your stomach.” Emma rose to her feet and showed her. “The better you stand, the better it will sound. Now come over here and try again.”
“Okay.” Casey came to stand beside her in her pink pajamas on her bare feet and started “Silent Night” again. She held her head up and her narrow shoulders pulled back a bit as if she looked the challenge in the face. It sounded a lot less shaky.
“See? Much better.” Emma nodded. “We just have to practice a lot. You know what? You can come to my shop and we’ll tell your daddy you’re helping me with a surprise. He’ll think it’s a chocolate surprise, but it’ll be a singing surprise. Then we can practice all the time.”
Casey smiled up at her. “Thank you. You know such good singing tricks. You’re so smart.” She flung her arms around Emma’s waist and hugged her. “Thank you. I love you, Emma.”
I love you? When is the last time someone said that to me?
I can’t remember.
Emma leaned down to return the hug. “I love you too, Casey, you’re a very special little girl.” Her throat constricted at the idea this precious little girl was leaving from her life again, with her daddy.
Grant will be so happy to see his little girl conquering hurdles and getting more confidence. The look on his face when he sees her on that stage will be priceless. She hugged her tightly. “Now get into bed. Your feet must be freezing.”
“Like ice cubes.” Casey let go of her and dived into the bed, pulling up her legs and rubbing her toes. “It’s better already. I can sing now.” Her eyes beamed. “And I can come to your shop. Will you tell Daddy about it?”
“Sure. Now you go to sleep.” Emma couldn’t resist leaning down and pulling the duvet over Casey. She smiled at her. “Sweet dreams.”
Casey pushed her head into the soft pillow and grinned. “Nighty night.” She closed her eyes. The soft light from the bedside lamp played across her features. Emma reached out and brushed back her hair.
Casey needs just that little push to trust in herself. And I’ll be there for her.
She tiptoed to the door and opened it, slipped out and left it ajar. The paper sunflowers rustled in the draft. She went to the stairs and looked down. In a flash, the sense of depth grabbed her, tipping her world, and she stepped back, her breathing catching in her throat. She closed her eyes a moment to steady her nerves. It’s too steep, I can’t do it.
Of course you can, just take the first step.
A sound came from below, footfalls, and then a hand touched her face and Grant’s voice said, “Emma? Are you okay?”
She opened her eyes and looked into his worried expression. He was standing right in front of her, the abyss of the stairs at his back. “Be careful,” she said, “the stairs…”
Shut up, they’re nothing to him. He climbs them every day.
Grant said, “They’re pretty steep. Guests often complain about them. Let me walk ahead of you. Just hold on to the railing tight.”
She followed him and once she had taken the first step, it was easier. See, nothing to it. Down on solid ground, she didn’t know where to look. But Grant smiled at her and brushed her arm a moment. “How was Casey? Up to something, I suppose?”
“Well, it turned out she had a big request.” Emma tried to sound innocent. “She wants to help me in the shop with a special surprise. So, if you could drop her off tomorrow morning when you’re coming to pick up the deliveries, that would be great.”
“Are you sure she won’t be any trouble? This is the busiest time of the year for you.”
“I like having her around. And her surprise is very special. It’s no problem.”
“All right then. I’ll drop her off.” He winked at her. “If I get a little something for my troubles.” There was a timbre to Grant’s voice, a sort of teasing undertone that spread like fire through her veins. He’s flirting with me.
What do I say now?
“Tea for Emma,” Mrs. Galloway waved at her from the kitchen entrance, holding out a yellow mug with a ladybug pattern. “Come pick a teabag. Or do you want loose leaves?”
Loose leaves? She could barely recall what those were.
Tea, right. With jittery knees she walked over and picked a teabag from the wooden box Mrs. Galloway offered her. “Thanks.” She dipped it into the hot water and inhaled the scent. Liquorice? I thought I chose jasmine.
She blinked. Grant was turning her world upside down like a ride on a rollercoaster. Nothing was sensible anymore, predictable or safe.
It can only end in heartbreak.
But even that certainty couldn’t knock some sense into her silly heart. January would be for picking up the pieces. December was the time to believe in miracles.
Chapter Ten
“There you go, Mr. Winter.” Emma gave her large snowma
n the center spot on her booth’s counter. Casey had helped her put the marzipan scarf on. She had also insisted on giving him a name. With suggestions ranging from Blizzard to Crooky because his nose sat at an odd angle, they had laughed so much her cheeks still hurt.
And with every singing session Casey’s voice had grown stronger and her confidence in her performance had gone up a notch. If only Grant had been around more. He had breezed in and out to pick up deliveries, staying only a few minutes to chat. It always seemed too short.
Last time he had dropped Casey off at the shop, he had been in some kind of a rush to get to an appointment, and as Emma had seen the outfit he wore—the crisp white shirt, neat jacket, gray pants and polished leather shoes—she had suddenly feared that this “appointment” was a job application. After all, if he wanted to leave, he had to be applying for jobs. Looking after him as he had walked away briskly to his car, she had wished with all her heart he wouldn’t get the job.
She grimaced. What kind of friend are you? Be happy for him that he’s ready to chase his dreams again.
Emma’s hands trembled as she straightened the boxes with bonbons surrounding Mr. Winter, each decorated with a red ribbon and a mini glittery ornament or tiny glass heart. A silver tray held samples of her new flavors: cherry ganache and coco cream.
At the other booths, locals were busy stacking up their wares. She waved to Cleo, who wore reindeer antlers on her head, and the baker’s wife who was carefully building a gingerbread house village on her booth’s counter. The tiny church was frosted in white, and sparkly icing created a pond where miniature people were skating.
Everyone seemed to be in the best of moods, humming or singing along with the music coming from the speakers which were hidden here and there among the greenery. On the stage a band was getting everything ready for their live performance. The keyboard player ran his hand lightly across the keys, and the guitar man strummed a few chords.
Small arms hugged her, and Casey stood beside her. She wore a dark blue dress with a red fleece on top. Part of her curls were pulled back and secured with sparkly clasps. “I told Gran about my song,” she breathed as Emma leaned over. “She helped me dress up and do my hair. What do you think?” She gestured with both hands along her appearance, pointing at her red boots with snowy white fluffy trimming.