Madeleine heaved an exaggerated sigh.
“You’d be helping me out,” Dad’s invisible voice said from behind the sports section. “Your dear old worn out Pop.”
He lowered the newspaper with a pointed gaze over the top of his glasses. “In fact, I might get all hormonal if someone doesn’t help.”
“Bill.” Janet’s curt reprimand held too much humor to be taken as anything more than jest.
Madeleine laughed out loud. “And here I thought you were a deaf fixture at the table. You hear every word we say, don’t you?”
“You bet.” The kitchen chair scraped the floor as he stood. “You have to listen close when you live in a house full of women or there’s no hope of survival.”
The expressive light brown eyes she inherited from him crinkled at the corners then filled with concern.
“I’m fine, Dad.”
“Are you?” He let that hang in the air, weighty enough to get his point across before springing his trap. “Good. Then get dressed and play delivery girl today.”
She groaned.
Bamboozled by her own father.
Again.
Chapter Three
Driving the bakery’s panel van always gave Madeleine’s spirit a boost. Big and substantial and nothing like the small hand-me-down Mini Cooper from Grams, who could no longer be trusted to drive without taking out a mail box or two.
With only one delivery that morning, she doubted Stan called in sick. More likely, Dad wanted to keep her the heck out of his kitchen. The last time she worked alongside him she had ruined an industrial-sized mixer full of bread dough when she over-mixed the batch. It meant making paperweights or starting over. So he made her do it over.
Hitting a patch of rough pavement, her eyes immediately went to the rearview mirror to check on the 75 tins of Christmas cookies and one Christmas stollen she was delivering. They chattered but remained in place.
The address: 29 Industrial Drive, Hartley, Illinois, happened to be in an industrial park thirty minutes from the bakery and near her office. However, this address might possibly face I-90 in an area she’d never had reason to venture.
Were the tins Christmas gifts for the employees of Arrow Tool and Die?
Somehow Madeleine expected to see cars in the parking lot not zero cars. She grabbed the clipboard to check the address and found a match. Noting a shoveled front walk and lights in the back warehouse area, she hurried through the bitter cold and found the entrance unlocked.
The postage stamp lobby closed in on her. The fake Christmas tree with white lights hogged most of the space. Hey, at least this office celebrated Christmas. On top, an angel held a scotch-taped placard with two words: Operation Christmas. She squinted to get a better look at the names and addresses of men and women in the armed services on handmade ornaments.
Her interest piqued, she rapped on the partially opened glass window. An empty desk sat on the other side of the wall. “Hello. Belmar Bakery. Delivery.” She listened and thought she heard a scraping sound from somewhere out back. Maybe she should go around to the dock. No one would hear her with the steady punch, punch, punch of a machine in the warehouse area.
The front door flew open and in breezed two female teens, sandwiching Madeleine against the tree. The dark haired one looked like she had dipped the ends of her stick straight hair into red paint. The teen smiled. “You here to help?”
“If you mean deliver cookie tins, I guess so. I’m from Belmar Bakery.”
“Cool.” Her deep blue eye sparked with excitement as she punched a code into the door. “Come in.”
“Actually, I’d just like to make the delivery. I’ve a lot of other stops. Is there a dock around back?”
“Let me get my brother.” She cupped her mouth with slender fingers and a display of sparkly red painted nails. “Hey. Jess. Cookies from heaven are here.”
“Have him drive the truck into the dock,” replied a male with a pleasant voice, low and mellow in tone. “I’ll open the door.”
The teen and her friend twittered. “Boy, won’t Jess be surprised when the him is a her.”
At twenty-six, Madeleine wasn’t so old she didn’t remember being a goofy teen with Tiffany. The girls were infectious and made her smile. “And won’t he be surprised the cookies are from Belmar Bakery not heaven.”
“Not according to Jess. He says they’re the best cookies in the nation. In fact, the world. And you’d better have a Christmas stollen or he’ll be downright cranky.”
“Wow, I’ll be sure to let the owners know how much he likes their baked goods.” Madeleine used her backside to push out the door to go drive the truck around to the receiving dock. The compliment also made her feel good. After all, she might not work in the bakery anymore, but this was her family the teen heaped praise upon. Grams would get a kick out hearing this Jess appreciated the stollen and butter cookies made from her family’s old-world recipes.
She discovered several cars and a couple of trucks at the rear of the building. Backing in the direction of a tall man in jeans and red plaid flannel shirt covered with a puffy black vest, she kept her foot poised over the brake. “Whoa.” He lifted a leather gloved hand in a halt sign. Oh Lord. Dread swirled at the pit of her stomach. There stood the hot guy she nearly leveled last week in the bakery’s front door.
As she watched the dark-haired man approach the driver’s side, Madeleine couldn’t help but wish she’d worn a little make-up.
“You’re not Stan.” His jaw went slack. “Oh. Hi. We meet again.”
“And amazingly, no bodily harm came your way.” She raised an eyebrow and thought he really did remind her of someone. Who? “I don’t usually do deliveries. Stan’s sick so I’m helping out.” No sense in trying to explain the delivery deal amounted to coercion over scrambled eggs in the intimacy of her parent’s kitchen. He’d think her lame to still be living with her parents at her age. An insane assumption since he didn’t know her.
She slid open the truck’s side panel and took out the stollen to place in his gloved hands. He rewarded her with a broad smile and put the box to his nose, pulling in an appreciative whiff. “Ah, I could hardly wait for Christmas this year. I’ve had such a hankering for Belmar’s Christmas stollen.”
“It’s a family recipe,” Madeleine said, somewhat cautious. Her weak smile surely negated the frown she couldn’t erase. What was up with this guy’s attraction to stollen, anyway? Then, she didn’t have sole rights to claiming it as one of her favorite holiday treats. What wasn’t to like? Pretty red and green halved candied cherries danced along a golden braided top drizzled with white frosting. Golden raisins and cardamom flavored the sweet dough. “Belmar stollen and butter cookies are made the same today as they were a hundred years ago. No scrimping on natural ingredients.” She recited the bakery’s slogan somewhat verbatim.
The dark-haired teen with her friend entered the shipping dock rolling her eyes. “He knows. Jess, this is Belmar’s delivery girl. Delivery girl, this is Jess. Your biggest fan. You two should get married and make little stollen.”
“Crystal.” Wow, Madeline’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. This girl should meet Grams. She totally related to Jess’s embarrassment when he blazed a menacing glare toward the teen. “Don’t mind her. Crystal’s my baby sister.”
“Hey! Seventeen is not a baby.” Crystal’s fist caught him in the bicep.
“Her friend here is Ella. They’re my helpers today.” Standing with a hand on his sister’s shoulder, Madeleine easily saw a family resemblance. Both shared bright blue eyes and dark hair. His short clipped and minus the red embellishments, however.
“Jess Grant.” He shucked a glove, stuck it under his other arm and held out his hand. Warmth enveloped and dwarfed her cold hand. “And you’re Madeleine. We went to Lincoln High together, but I apologize. I don’t remember your married name.”
“Reynolds.” She noted his furrowed brow and sympathetic eyes but wasn’t sure he knew about Danny’s death. S
he gulped back a wave of emotion. No sense bringing up something she didn’t care to explain or he would fully understand.
His face brightened. “Once we unload the tins, would you like to stay and share the stollen with us? I just brewed a fresh pot of coffee.”
Madeleine made a polite refusal. This had been an unusual delivery, to say the least, but she did wonder about the tree in the lobby and the large amount of cookie tins for what seemed a small business. Since her job wasn’t about sharing baked goods over cups of coffee, or asking a lot of questions, she retrieved a clipboard from the front seat of the van for his signature.
Jess removed his other glove and took a step forward. Madeleine tried not to blink as she placed the clipboard into his outstretched artificial hand, he using his good hand to grab the pen she pointed his direction. Unable to divert her eyes, she saw the telltale signs of silky scarring only severe burns could create in such a distinctive manner. Their eyes met over the clipboard. Her brown eyes locked into his steady blue gaze intent on discerning her discomfort level. High, she wanted to tell him, but not in a grossed out manner. How sad her generation would see such an injury and immediately think, war vet.
She managed to wobble out a smile. “Thank you. I’m sure your employees will enjoy the cookies.”
His eyes softened. “I’ve another small delivery due in a few weeks for the company Christmas party. I imagine Stan will be back on the job by then.”
“Should be.”
“Too bad,” he said in a low tone.
Crystal came forward with a circular piece of construction paper filled with glitter; an ornament from the tree in the front lobby. “Do you want to send a tin of cookies to someone stationed in Afghanistan? It’s a twenty-dollar donation. Jess here supplements the rest and handles the shipping. That’s why we’re here today. To ship cookies.”
“Crystal. We don’t arm wrestle our suppliers.”
Crystal dug in and lifted her chin. “How’s she to know about it if I don’t tell her?” She held her brother’s hard stare. “There’s still names on the tree, Jess.”
“How many names?” Madeleine spoke up.
“I don’t know. Twenty, twenty-five. Not sure.”
“Enough, Crystal. You know I’ll send to everyone not sponsored.” Jess turned to Madeleine. “Forgive my sister. She means well but this wasn’t the time or place to solicit a donation. Go Crystal. You and Ella need to start making labels.” He took hold of Crystal’s shoulder to give her a gentle shove in the direction of a large shipping table where a computer sat. “I’ll bring you guys stollen.”
“Wait!” Madeleine stumbled forward. “I want to donate. I’ll take ten names, but I don’t have that much money on me. Can I bring back a check or cash Monday after work?”
“Sure.” Crystal straightened with a triumphant smile. “We know you’re good for the money. Right, Jess?”
“Go. Now!” He pointed the way with his artificial hand. The two teens skipped away to their work-station when Madeleine noticed Jess’s red face, his jaw clenching in a rhythmic twitch. “Sorry about that. I’ll have to be sure Crystal goes into sales after college.”
“She’s excited for a good cause. How could I know these cookies were going to guys overseas unless she told me? I want to donate.” However, she did have the sneaky suspicion her parents knew where the cookies were headed and purposely didn’t tell her.
He reluctantly handed her the ornament. “Let’s make it this one. You can mail me a check. Thanks.”
“But I want to send ten.”
“You got blindsided. No.”
His ramrod back pulled him to full height. Determination infused his vivid blue eyes. She knew Jess wouldn’t back down and she was in no mood to stand up to his strong presence of authority. Then it was probably his height. Everyone in her family was of medium build, including Danny. She couldn’t place Jess from high school, but she would definitely figure it out once before a computer.
Not willing to fight over a donation, she snatched the round scrap of paper. Glitter drifted to the floor. “You won’t empty that tree with a Scrooge attitude.” Madeleine saw him bite down a smile and move the toe of his boot in the pixy dust settled there. “You do this because you were in the military?”
“I served.”
Madeleine wouldn’t have noticed his gaze flick toward the prosthetic hand had she not been on full alert. I served said a lot but she was more interested in knowing what branch Jess served. Was he Army too? Did he serve with Danny? They were from the same small town. But it became obvious this subject wasn’t up for discussion and probably for the same reason she’d left out Danny’s Humvee bombing.
At least Jess came home from overseas with only losing a hand. Although, only a stupid, uncaring person would think disfigurement wouldn’t be a hardship of major magnitude and a sorrow to him and his family.
In an unconscious act of compassion, she laid a gentle hand on his upper forearm and tried not to flinch. God have mercy. He’d lost an undetermined amount of arm not just a hand. “Thank you for serving your country, Jess. Believe me when I say I don’t take my freedom for granted. I want to send cookies. It’s the least I can do.”
Releasing the hold she knew he couldn’t feel anywhere other than his emotions, her eyes misted against her will. She turned away and scurried behind the wheel of the truck to grip the steering wheel.
“Madeleine.” She turned her head his direction unable to speak. Jess’s eyes clouded as he seemed to consider the words he wanted to say. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’d have given my life to save one man.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you, Jess. I feel sorry for me.”
Regret ricocheted through her body she unable to pull back the selfish words. And now she knew Jess didn’t know about Danny’s death, judging by the pained expression that contorted his handsome features. How cruel of her to make light of his injury. Hadn’t she mentally berated others who might find his injuries minor moments ago? She shook her head and put the van in gear. The van jerked forward when a missed gear ground in loud complaint. Cursing under her breath she worried she’d wrecked something far more substantial than a mixer full of dough.
Madeleine saw Jess wince in her side mirror. Once in Drive, she moved the van away from the dock in a smooth escape. She swiped aside tears angry at her callous stupidity.
How could a simple bakery delivery turn into a disaster? Jess stood in the center of the open dock door with his arms hanging loose at his sides. Somehow she had managed to spread her lousy misery over his good deed and mood just as she did over her life.
The incident left her wondering why Stan had taken ill on the very day this delivery needed to be made. Or did her dad knowingly send her to Arrow Tool and Die intent on showing her others found ways to cope with life’s injustices? No matter the situation, her behavior mimicked that of an immature teen not a grown adult. That pained her most.
Emotions back under control, Madeleine replayed the scene in her mind. On a bright note, wait until she told Grams the beautiful angel tins were going to servicemen overseas. There might not have been an angel to save Danny, but she wasn’t heartless. Maybe somehow, as silly as it sounded, this year some soldiers would have protection. The colorful hammered scene featured a large angel hovering over the manger. Belmar Bakery vowed it would never take Christ out of Christmas and this tin proved they stood behind that personal vow. Her mom said customers commented with appreciation every day. It had become a best seller this Christmas season.
To think, if Danny had survived, he’d be home for good this Christmas, done with his service to God and country. He’d be here, in her arms, more empty today than yesterday. They would have started a family and traditions of their own.
Pain ripped through her chest with a dull ache. She felt stagnated in some unhappy place that held her hostage. Harsh self-assessment made her acknowledge she had become more comfortable being sad than happy, bringing those around her down.
&nb
sp; It needed to stop. But, how when each step forward took her further from the memory of Danny?
Chapter Four
Jess lifted the receiver off his phone and swiveled in his chair. Outside his office window Madeleine stepped from a Mini Cooper. Ah, the check. He’d seen her Saturday and here it was Monday noon. How very prompt of her. Not that he doubted she would return with the money. He thought she’d drop it in the mail, all the while hoping she would deliver it in person. Maybe with a new start there would be a better ending. He hurried around his desk to meet her at the lobby door. “Hi. Come to help ship cookies?”
“Uh, sure.”
“I’m teasing,” he said, seeing color spread across her cheeks as her gaze darted around the busy front office filled with curious females. He gave her a knowing look. “Let’s step into my office a sec.”
Letting him know she only had a few minutes due to being on her lunch hour, she settled into the only visitor chair in his office. He followed her gaze as her eyes took in steel parts here and there, piles of papers and crammed file trays. He resisted the urge to apologize for the mess. Her dismay at the organized bedlam he worked in with comfort amused him. Did she assume him a slob at home as well?
“How many employees do you have?” she asked, when he remained silent.
“Eight girls. A finance guy. Two engineers. Fifteen machinists out back. One shipping clerk. And a partridge in a pear tree.” She laughed at his joke. He eyed the check she set on his desk, her wedding band. “Why? You want a job?”
She shrugged. “No. Just curious. I work in the same industrial park but never noticed this place before.”
“Where?”
“Computers That Run. It’s a computer repair place.”
“What do you do?”
“Accounting. I guess I’m the finance guy. But we’re small compared to this place.”
Operation Christmas Page 3