Season of Joy

by Annie Rains

  “Pets are family. Your attitude explains everything wrong with your business.” Everett picked up Tinkerbell and fell into step behind Rosalie. “You’ve got too much heart invested in your store.”

  Too much heart? Those were too similar to Marty’s words.

  “Rosalie?” Everett was waiting for her defense.

  She shook off the lapse. “You’re supposed to be passionate about your business. The things I stock are meant to bring love to pet families and in turn that love overflows into the community.”

  Remy grumbled, which she took to be agreement.

  “What I meant was, your margins are too low because you’re too worried about selling to your friends.” The ice was building in his tone.

  “My margins aren’t too low.” Were they?

  “They are. Lydia bought those same copper bowls for Tink in Denver for over fifty dollars. You had them marked at thirty-five. And don’t give me the excuse that this is Sunshine.” He pointed at a Mercedes SUV as it drove past. “Folks have money here. Let them spend it.”

  “I’m not Scrooge.” And she was getting by. She’d used some of Marty’s life insurance to get the store started, plus some from a family investor. She was saving money by sleeping on Kimmy’s couch. “I don’t need to fleece people and fill my home with lots of things.” Expensive things, like dining room sets.

  They crossed another street, continuing south. Walking single file. Not talking.

  Bright lights adorned houses. Glittering Christmas trees were featured in front windows. Everywhere she looked there was color and life and holiday spirit. It was just inside her that the colors were a bit muted, life less sparkly, her holiday spirit a bit forced. Maybe she’d been working too hard.

  “I’ve hurt your feelings,” Everett said softly. “And you don’t believe you should charge more because increasing your margins might remind you of the dining room table you wanted.”

  Her chest constricted. “I never said that.”

  “But you thought it.” Everett increased his pace until they were walking side by side. “It’s okay to make a living, a nice living.”

  Rosalie pressed her lips together.

  He touched her arm, stopping her because the contact was so unexpected. “Let me assure you, you’ll never get rich running that store. But someday, you might be able to buy a nice dining room set. And when that day comes, you should feel pride, not guilt. And when you use it, it should make you happy, not sad.”

  That sentiment seemed as out of reach as his heart.

  A gust of wind. A patch of ice. They were swept against a six-foot-tall cinder block wall, thick and impenetrable, like the imaginary wall made of the differences between them.

  “You and your husband were public servants—a cop and an emergency dispatcher.” Everett’s voice was soft, gentle, understanding. “You’ve spent your adult life serving others. Maybe it’s time to devote a little more time and energy to yourself.”

  He was giving her permission to put herself first. No one had ever done that, not even Marty.

  “I’m not sure…” She hesitated. “I don’t think…”

  “Rosalie.” Everett touched her hand where her mitten had a hole. “Your dog’s sweater is new but you won’t even buy a new pair of gloves.” He was right.

  “I don’t live to the excess. I don’t have a closet full of clothes. My gloves…” She stared at his hand holding hers. And still, she rebelled against the idea of putting herself first. “My gloves are fine. I’ll make do.”

  The wind gusted again, tugging at her knit cap and her resolve to keep her heart on her side of the imaginary wall.

  Everett tucked a shivering Tinkerbell inside his red coat. And then he moved closer, sheltering Rosalie from the mountain gusts. “I understand. Growing up, we made do too. Until the year my dad bought all of life’s luxuries—a new car, a big TV, name-brand tennis shoes. And then he left us to pay the bills. After that, Mom was always working. Working at a call center during the day. Scrubbing corporate toilets at night. And still, we had next to nothing.” His expression was grim. Not uncaring, just grim. “Nothing in savings either. Which was bad, because when Mom was out of work for three months because of a car accident…” His grim look turned into a grimace. “Living paycheck to paycheck…People like you and me know how dangerous that can be.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ve got family to fall back on. And besides, there’s a need for my store in Sunshine.” Rosalie trembled, hoping she wasn’t being overly optimistic. “And I want to provide a service that spreads love and happiness in a small way. Your situation, your job, is completely different from mine.”

  “Is it? Two years ago, I was doing well. After Lydia was arrested and the government took everything for reparations, no one would hire me.” He swallowed, inching closer, seemingly without knowing it. He stared deep into her eyes with a gaze that was warm, not icy. “All my adult life, I had six months’ salary in savings, but they took that too and left me with nothing.” And then he added, almost under his breath, “Just like when I was a kid.”

  His comments gave meaning to his career, a reason he chose to be Scrooge.

  “You should know,” he said, “this job…Sunshine…It’s just a stepping-stone.”

  “You want your life back.” She’d bet that included fancy cars and leather furniture. A life of excess she didn’t believe in and wouldn’t aspire to.

  “You don’t approve.” He was very close to her now. Close enough to kiss.

  But emotionally, they were worlds apart.

  “I don’t…” Rosalie stared deep into his gray eyes, wondering why she was attracted to this man, wondering if it was their differences that intrigued her. “I’m not interested in making an impression or earning enough to buy creature comforts. And…” She swallowed as a car drove past. “It doesn’t matter to me if you’re the city manager of Sunshine or of Denver. It doesn’t matter to me if you live on the north side or the south side of town. What matters to me is who you are inside and how you treat others.”

  The imaginary wall between them had come down.

  “We weren’t talking about…” He drew back by degrees. “We were discussing your business.”

  “Were we?” Rosalie’s cheeks burned with embarrassment but she wasn’t going to back down. They’d been discussing their philosophies toward life. They’d found similarities that bridged their differences. They’d made a connection. She knew it.

  Beside her, Remy grumbled in apparent agreement.

  “I want nothing more than to kiss you right now.” Everett’s voice was as gruff as Remy’s grumble. “But we want different things in life.”

  “Yes. Although I can’t help but believe that common ground motivates us to do what we do. Which makes us not so different after all.” To prove her point, she reached for the placket of his jacket and held on. “After all, you’re a public servant. That must mean that, deep down, you care about people the same way that I do.”

  And then Rosalie did something completely out of character. She stretched up on her toes and kissed him.

  Chapter Six

  The weather outside was frightful.

  Rosalie offered warmth, the same way she always did—with unexpected determination.

  Yes, Everett had wanted to kiss her. Yes, he knew kissing her wasn’t good for his career goals. He was supposed to be the impartial man in town, the executor of hard choices to avoid municipal bankruptcy. He wasn’t supposed to feel. And because of Lydia, he’d spent the last eighteen months in an emotionless limbo.

  But Rosalie’s kiss…It made him feel again. A heart-pounding, breath-stealing feeling that he should drop everything and pay attention to the woman nestled in the crook of his arm.

  She ended the kiss on a sigh.

  “Rosalie.” Her name on his lips was little more than a sigh itself.

  She blinked, flinched, and drew the Saint Bernard between them. “You don’t approve. Well…I started that,” she admitted bald
ly. “It’s all on me.” She picked her way carefully along the icy, snowy sidewalk and away from him. “No harm, no foul, no commitments. Don’t think you have to ask me to dinner or send me flowers.”

  Despite common sense telling him to turn the other way, Everett followed her. It was dark, after all, and cold. And she seemed more shaken by their kiss than he’d been.

  “I may have stopped traffic in my youth but I don’t make a habit of leaping out and kissing random dudes.” Her laugh sounded forced.

  “I’m not a random dude.” His comment appeared to go unnoticed.

  Inside his jacket, Tink squirmed. He drew his zipper down enough that she could poke her head out.

  “Jeez. I’m thirty-four. And a widow.” Rosalie laced each word with frustration. “Not the kind of woman to go attacking a man on the street.”

  “Again, not a random dude on the street, and you didn’t attack me.” Although it was nice that she’d taken the initiative. And since she wasn’t looking at him, he allowed himself a smile.

  “If Kimmy ever finds out about this, I’ll never hear the end of it. She’ll be like, Rosalie, you always reach out and take what you want. She’ll say that whether I’m reaching for a dinner roll or reaching for you.” Rosalie gasped. “Never fear. I’m not going to be reaching for you again.”

  Everett choked out a laugh.

  Rosalie drew up short, turning. “What’s so funny?”

  He was very careful not to smile. “The fact that it was one kiss and you’re having a meltdown. It was a kiss, not a marriage proposal.”

  She made a frustrated sound and turned down a street. “Are you walking me home?”

  “I…” Was he? Everett glanced around. “Do you live on this street?”

  “Yes. Don’t expect a good-night kiss.” For being such a short person, she had a brisk, long stride. “I don’t do repeat performances, not when I bombed the first time.”

  “You didn’t bomb.”

  “Right.” She turned up a driveway.

  The small bungalow had Christmas lights strung from the eaves and a large wreath hanging from the door. Blanketed in snow, there was a charm to it. But there was something about the house that reminded him of his childhood, of upkeep put off and occupants hopeful that ends would meet.

  The front door opened. “Rosalie, dinner is ready. Why do you take that dog for such long walks? We’re waiting on you.” The woman silhouetted in the doorway gasped. “There’s a man behind you.”

  “I know, Mom. He’s—”

  “You didn’t tell me you were bringing a man home. I’ll set another plate.” Rosalie’s mother turned away from them. “Honey, we have company.”

  “Mom…” Rosalie’s shoulders drooped. She didn’t turn. “You do not have to come in.”

  If he’d been asked to a family dinner in the moments before they’d kissed, he’d have refused. But Rosalie’s kiss had breached the security system around his hardened heart. It felt good to laugh, to smile, to enjoy being in a woman’s company.

  He had tomorrow to regroup and return to the status quo—Scrooge. For tonight, he’d act like a man who’d never been played the fool, one who took everyone at face value.

  Everett grinned as he took Rosalie’s arm. “I’d love to come to dinner.”

  “You didn’t tell me you were dating Scrooge,” Kimmy whispered to Rosalie in the kitchen.

  Everett was sitting in the living room next to the Christmas tree with Tinkerbell in his arms and Rosalie’s father grilling him as if he were a murder suspect.

  “I’m not dating him,” Rosalie insisted for what felt like the hundredth time.

  I’m just kissing him.

  It had been a great kiss too. If only she could keep the memory of that kiss and dump everything that came afterward…except maybe Everett’s grin as they’d walked in the door. It was the first time she’d seen a genuine smile on his face. It had transformed him into the man she’d expected him to be when she’d first laid eyes on him.

  Aunt Yolanda came into the kitchen. She’d moved into Rosalie’s old room last spring after her divorce and planned to stay until she’d regained her financial footing. “What is Scrooge doing in our house?”

  “Rosalie’s dating him,” Kimmy blurted gleefully.

  Rosalie hurried to assure Aunt Yolanda this wasn’t true.

  “You couldn’t have warned me?” Mom raced around the kitchen, stirring meat in the frying pan in between filling bowls with condiments. “Why you chose to bring him to the house on Spam taco night…”

  “You think he won’t like Spam tacos?” Kimmy grinned as she reached for the cluster of garlic on the counter. “I’ll add garlic. Garlic makes anything taste better.”

  “Touch that garlic and you’ll be helping me scrub toilets at Prestige Salon.” Their mother gave Kimmy the evil eye. She ran her own cleaning service, and when the girls were younger, that particular threat had worked wonders. “These are sriracha tacos. Add more garlic and it’ll unbalance the chili.”

  Kimmy’s hand hovered over the garlic just the same.

  Rosalie pulled her sister out of garlic range. “We should all just calm down because I’m not dating anyone.”

  From the dog bed in the corner of the kitchen, Remy grumbled, as if refuting her statement.

  “Good.” Aunt Yolanda nodded. “Do you know he double-checked my cash box today? I’ve worked there for over twenty-five years and he doesn’t trust me?”

  Rosalie decided not to point out Everett’s history. With a past like that and a job like his, he wasn’t going to trust easily.

  “Has anyone seen my phone? I’m expecting a call.” In crisis mode over an unexpected guest, Mom flitted about the kitchen, ignoring her sister’s complaints. “I don’t even have dessert. What will his mother think of me? Spam tacos. No dessert.”

  “She’d love you,” Rosalie reassured her mother, giving her a hug before releasing Mom to swoop around the kitchen some more. “But we’re not dating so it’s highly unlikely that you’ll ever meet her.”

  “Thank heavens.” Aunt Yolanda blew out a breath. “I’d have to rethink my investment in your store, Rosalie. Cash out or something.”

  Everyone in the kitchen froze.

  Rosalie’s stomach tumbled to Tinkerbell height. Was this how it was going to be from now on? Her aunt holding her investment over her head?

  “Just kidding,” Aunt Yolanda mumbled.

  “Don’t joke about that.” Mom darted out of the kitchen on a quest for her phone. “We all pull together in this family.”

  As if proving Mom’s point, Aunt Yolanda followed her out. “Where did you see your phone last?”

  Kimmy nudged Rosalie with her hip and whispered, “Everett’s staring at you like he’s planning his good-night kiss strategy.”

  Rosalie refused to look. “Stop it.” It was bad enough that she’d kissed him but now Kimmy had romance between her teeth and wouldn’t let go.

  “Let me tell you, Sis.” Kimmy’s voice dropped even lower, until Rosalie had to strain to hear. “He’s thinking hot thoughts right now, despite the fact that Dad is practically asking him for his social security number and date of birth.”

  “Stop it.” Rosalie snatched up a dish towel and swung it in a circle above her head.

  “Hot thoughts,” Kimmy teased, scooting out of reach.

  “Can we eat?” Rosalie demanded. “I need to iron out the details of my Santa Experience after dinner.”

  “Sit,” Mom commanded, charging back into the room, cell phone in hand, Aunt Yolanda still trailing behind her. “Everybody come. Sit. Everett, you take the chair next to Rosalie.”

  “What is a Santa Experience?” Kimmy asked Rosalie.

  “You have experience with Santa, Rosalie?” Everett grinned, carrying Tinkerbell as he approached their kitchen table, which had seen better days. He stared at the scarred surface, and then his gaze sought Rosalie’s as if to say, Do you want to replace this table too?

  Guilty. />
  But she wouldn’t. It was still a sturdy table. Rosalie shook her head slightly and then spoke in a brisk tone. “I’m scheduling an event where people bring their pets for a photo with Santa. I’m calling it the Santa Experience.”

  Everett sat. Tinkerbell jumped out of his lap and snuggled next to Remington, causing Everett’s jaw to drop.

  “Pet photos with Santa.” Her father passed Everett the warm tortillas. “Our Rosalie is so creative.”

  “I’m creative.” Kimmy frowned. “Everyone raves about my gourmet sandwiches at Emory’s Grocery.”

  Her mother passed Everett the platter of sliced, fried meat. “I hope you like Spam and sriracha sauce. I can always make you something else if you don’t.” Knowing Mom, if he didn’t, she’d race to Emory’s Grocery and pick up the ingredients for enchiladas, making Dad promise to keep Everett here until he’d been properly fed.

  “I haven’t had Spam since college.” Everett placed long slices on his tortilla. “I can’t remember why I stopped eating it. It’s so good.”

  Rosalie couldn’t tell if Everett was joking or not but she appreciated the effort to make her mother feel at ease.

  Aunt Yolanda, on the other hand, appreciated nothing about his presence.

  “Everett, you’re so nice.” Mom sprinkled shredded cheese on her tortilla, visibly beginning to relax. “It’s hard to believe…”

  Everyone at the table stilled. A smile grew on Aunt Yolanda’s face but she was the only one smiling. Rosalie’s parents exchanged horrified glances. Mom had just brought up the elephant in the room.

  “You find it hard to believe that people call me Scrooge?” Everett doused his taco in sriracha sauce. “Honestly? That’s my job description—to save Sunshine’s pennies.” His tone implied he was fine with the nickname but a muscle in his cheek ticked.

  Without thinking, Rosalie patted Everett’s knee.

  Without thinking…she snatched her hand back.

  She couldn’t afford not to think. That was how she’d ended up kissing him in the first place.