Christmas Comes to Main Street

by Olivia Miles

  She put a hand to her stomach. God, she suddenly felt sick.

  Doing her best to rearrange her grimace, she managed to smile as Shea O’Riley, the store’s owner and an old acquaintance, came to greet them, her pretty blond hair pulled back in a chic chignon.

  Molly had already planned on a classic bun for her wedding day, but now she wondered if a chignon might be more elegant. Something to think about, and she was happy for it. It suddenly occurred to her that it might have been easier to distract herself from all these nerves if she was busy planning the wedding instead of more or less executing a fine-tuned plan.

  “Merry Christmas!” Shea said, coming over to give Molly a hug. “And congratulations, I see. Go on, show me the bling. Make us single girls green with envy.” She tossed a wink at Kara.

  Molly felt her smile slip as she pulled her glove from her hand. It was becoming considerably less enjoyable to show the thing off, it seemed. She was grateful it was winter, that she could hide it most of the time under her outerwear. Somehow it felt… wrong to show the ring off so much. Like a… sham.

  She stiffened. Nonsense! She’d chosen this ring, and Todd had bought it for her, slipped it on her finger, and made all her dreams come true. Sure, it wasn’t exactly the grand, romantic proposal she’d detailed, with some secret planning on his part, but she was a modern girl, and that meant relinquishing some traditional fantasies. If she’d left Todd to pick out the ring himself, there was no telling what he would have come up with. Did she want the perfect proposal or the perfect ring? She settled for the perfect ring and came up with a cute spin on their less-than-swoon-worthy proposal. After all, she’d be wearing this ring forever… technically.

  Her stomach knotted again. “Look at that ring!” Shea sighed. “And I bet he picked it out himself, right? Lucky fellow.” Turning to Kara, she said sadly, “And then there were two.”

  “Yep,” Kara said, but her cheeks went all red and she struggled to hold Molly’s gaze.

  Interesting, Molly thought, sliding her glove back on her hand. Her sister hadn’t dated much over the years, and Kara hadn’t mentioned that there was anyone in her life at the moment; if anything, she’d seemed a bit down about being single during the holidays. But from the flush in her cheeks it might seem she had something to hide.

  That made two of them, she thought with sudden dread.

  “So, have you decided on a color scheme?” Shea guided them over to a table in the corner of the room where invitation samples were already set up.

  Molly picked one up and sighed. She couldn’t help it. With the raised lettering and the elegant scroll, she could almost feel her excitement return. “I’m getting married Valentine’s weekend, so it will be red, lavender, cream, and a touch of pink.” She slid her sister a look. “Just a touch.”

  “You know, we should probably wait for Mom to be here to decide on anything,” Kara said, and Molly felt her stomach tighten.

  It was true that their mother would want to be a part of this. A big part. But their mother had a big personality, and even bigger opinions. And Molly already knew exactly how she wanted to look. She even had her dress picked out—she’d found it two years ago—she was just trying on others to be sure of her choice and to help get her into the spirit of things. She’d waited so long for this event—how could she not be enjoying it more? Finally, she was going to be the bride! She was going to have the dress, the flowers, the veil! All these years of waiting for her moment… and it was only a couple of months away.

  “I just want to have an idea of things before I let her in,” Molly explained. There would be plenty of time to devote to wedding plans after The Nutcracker wrapped up, but she couldn’t wait another week to get started on it. She needed to bring it to life, make it real in her mind, embrace the idea until she wasn’t able to imagine letting it go. She closed her eyes. She could picture the candlelight, hear the soft sound of piano music, feel the swoosh of her dress…

  “I understand,” Kara said. “I did the same thing when it came to Sugar and Spice, not that the bakery is the same as a wedding day, of course,” she was quick to add. “But it’s personal to me, and I needed it to reflect my wishes, not someone else’s.”

  “Well, there’s no need to decide today,” Shea said, flipping open a binder and turning it to the sisters. “Some brides take months to make a selection.”

  “That’s probably how it would be for me,” Kara mused. “I seem to second-guess pretty much every decision I make. But I’m getting better at sticking with my instinct.”

  She grew quiet, lowering her gaze as she glanced out the window and onto the town square. The paper store had moved off Main Street when Rosemary and Thyme expanded into its original space, and it was now housed on Chestnut Street, just opposite the green. Molly followed Kara’s gaze and looked out onto the winter scene, watching the skaters twirl and spin across the ice. It always made Molly think of their dad and the time they spent with him there as kids.

  She knew it was hard this time of year, for all of them, but something in Kara’s wistful stare told Molly she wasn’t thinking about their father right now. She wondered if there was another man occupying her sister’s thoughts instead.

  “What are your Christmas plans this year?” she asked Shea as she flipped through the binder, stopping to admire some of the samples. She liked the modern ones best, even though she suspected her mother would want to go for something more traditional, along with something a little more pink for the arrangements. Cream cardstock, embossed lettering. Gold, not silver. She’d know it when she saw it.

  Shea swept her ash-brown hair from her shoulders and rested her chin in her hand. “Oh, the usual. Dinner with my parents. Just the three of us. A little sad really.”

  “Why sad?” Kara asked, frowning.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I wish I had what you two have. A big family. Lots of siblings. It seems so festive.”

  “It is,” Molly admitted, sliding her sister a smile. She’d spent so much time away from Briar Creek that Boston had begun to feel like her real home, but being here these past few days, she was beginning to feel a little sad about the thought of going back to her apartment… and Todd. Todd, who liked to relax in the evenings with a few hours of boring documentaries and often didn’t think to make room for her on the couch. Todd, who didn’t like to read. Todd, who left his dirty socks wherever he decided to fling them. Todd, whose eyes drifted ten minutes into her telling him something about her day.

  Nonsense, she told herself. It was natural to feel that way. You didn’t call off a wedding over something as silly as a man putting an empty bag of chips back into the pantry! Of course she felt more fulfilled with her family. They were all she knew. And Todd was just one person—he could hardly be expected to fill the place of two siblings and a mother and some cousins and an aunt…

  Todd was handsome. Damn handsome. The best-looking guy she’d ever dated. And he was now her very handsome fiancé. She should be bursting with pride. And she was. She kept a picture of the two of them on her desk at work, and people always stopped to admire it. Several girls were jealous of her. What they wouldn’t give to have a guy like Todd. And she was actually marrying him! The thought of taking it down…

  “Of course, I’m sure that Molly would be just as happy having a quiet, romantic Christmas with her fiancé, though,” Shea continued.

  Molly’s smile felt tight.

  “Lord knows that’s all I’ve wished for,” she added, thinking back on how sad she’d been when they broke up last year. She grinned at Kara, forcing herself back to the present. “I think we need to make some resolutions this year. I’m feeling optimistic, and something tells me that this time next year, you and I will both be in a very different place.”

  Kara smiled shyly. “I guess it’s possible.”

  “Of course it’s possible. Christmas is still a week and a half away. Maybe my wish will come true and I’ll be curled up by the tree with a handsome stranger by then
. It’s Christmas after all. Anything is possible.”

  Kara nodded. “I wouldn’t have agreed with you a few months ago, but I think you’re right. Anything is possible. Molly should know.”

  Molly felt her cheeks heat with guilt, even though she knew there was nothing to be ashamed of. The girls were right—anything was possible. And maybe, just maybe, when she went back to Boston and saw Todd after the holidays she’d realize how much she’d missed him and that she couldn’t wait to spend the rest of her life with him. Just the two of them.

  So why then did imagining that exact scenario feel nothing short of impossible?

  Kara knew she could have mentioned her budding friendship with Nate to Shea and Molly, but something was holding her back. She was still figuring out what was going on with them, if they were rivals or friends or, maybe, something more. She wouldn’t mind there being something more—in fact, she was beginning to think she’d like that very much—but did Nate feel the same way? So far he’d given no indication that he saw her as anything other than someone to spend time with while he was in town.

  Still, her stomach bubbled with hope as she crunched across the snow to Main Street, the corner of her eye locked on the inn. He was in there somewhere, probably helping out his aunt with some decorations. He was a good nephew. It took a lot of patience to put up with the stronger side of Mrs. Griffin’s personality—and she should know. She could still remember the way her heart had pounded for the entire five-minute, pinched-lip inspection of her cookies the first time she’d delivered them for tea. She’d all but broken a sweat by the time Mrs. Griffin had looked up, a gleam in her eyes, and remarked that she was just teasing, and of course they looked beautiful.

  It was strange that Nate hadn’t come to visit more often, if ever, Kara mused, but then dismissed the idea before she could give it further thought. Life was busy, and days were easily filled. She of all people could relate to that, lately.

  The dance studio was just a few blocks off Main, and Kara and Molly arrived just in time to see the tail end of rehearsal. Their mother stood at the end of the room, wearing a black leotard and long, flowing chiffon skirt. She barely blinked as she watched the routine.

  Seeming satisfied with what she saw, she called a break and slipped out of the studio. “A week until opening night, and you’d think we still had a year.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head dramatically.

  Kara bit her lip, knowing it was better to feign sympathy than to remind her mother that she said this every year and that every year the production surpassed the previous. “How’s the food drive coming along?” she asked by way of changing to a less stressful topic. For years, her mother had contributed a donation for the Hope Center in the neighboring town of Forest Ridge, setting up a corner of the lobby for a collection of canned goods and announcing the proceeds during the finale of closing night. Last year, the Hastings family had decided to extend the drive to the weeks before Christmas, thus allowing for more contributions, and this year their cousin Brett, who ran the free clinic at the hospital, had added a coat drive to the mix. He’d seen too many sick kids coming in without proper clothing—and the community had been all too happy to scour through their attics for items that no longer fit.

  “We’ve had a big turnout this year, no doubt thanks to Brett’s help at the hospital. He posted signs in the doctors’ lounge and in the pharmacy in the lobby. Pulling from a bigger area has certainly helped. If things keep up, we’ll be able to give twice as many families a magical Christmas this year.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Kara felt a little tingle of warmth spread through her at the thought. “I’d like to donate a dozen cookies to each family, too.” It was an impulsive thing to say, and probably not the best business decision, considering everything else she’d committed to, but she didn’t regret her decision for an instant. Rosemary was already providing a turkey to each family from the proceeds of the Nutcracker sales, and the nonperishables would make for good sides, but everyone deserved a special treat for the holiday. Kara felt grateful to be able to provide them with one.

  “Excellent. Mark and Anna said they’d provide fresh bread and some breakfast rolls, too. It’s certainly beginning to feel like Christmas.”

  That it was, Kara thought, yet a part of her wished the day would never come. When it did, Nate would be gone, and life in Briar Creek would be considerably less interesting.

  “Speaking of Christmas, I wanted to tell you in person… I’ve decided to enter the Holiday House contest.” Kara had expected her mother to react with some degree of surprise, but the confusion that knitted her brow instead made Kara’s stomach roil.

  “Are you sure that’s such a good idea, Kara? I mean, I understand wanting to join in the Christmas fun, but a new business takes time and care—”

  “I can do it.” She smiled a little wider, hoping to portray some of the confidence she felt slipping away from her.

  Her mother didn’t look convinced. “I just think you need to assess your priorities. Where are you going to find the time to decorate?”

  “I’m not actually decorating my apartment,” Kara said slowly, bracing herself for what was next. “I’m actually entering a gingerbread house.”

  “A gingerbread house!” Both Rosemary and Molly stared at Kara with wide eyes. “Honey, why don’t you focus on the gingerbread houses you actually plan to sell? Unless… Are people not buying them anymore?”

  Kara felt her defenses prickle. “Of course they’re buying them! In fact, I’ve had to limit how many I sell per day.”

  “Exactly my point.” Her mother shook her head, her ruby-painted lips pinched tight. “Part of running a successful business means staying focused.”

  “I am focused,” Kara began, and then stopped. There was no point defending herself; she wasn’t on trial… even if it sometimes felt like she was when she and her mother got into conversations like this one.

  “Well, maybe I shouldn’t have you make the cookies for the refreshment table,” Rosemary said, and Kara felt her jaw slack. “I don’t want you taking on too much or finding that you can’t fulfill your obligations.”

  When she had found her voice, Kara said firmly, “I’m not going to have a problem making the cookies in time for The Nutcracker, Mom. I already had the varieties all planned, too.”

  Rosemary sighed. “If you think you can do it.”

  “I know I can do it,” Kara insisted, trying to ignore the pain that was twisting in her chest and showed no hope of going away any time soon.

  She’d thought by now that her mother believed in her, knew that she was committed and that she was doing a good job. But her mother still saw her as the flighty girl who got bored with each job after six months and then quit, in search of another.

  “This is my business, Mom,” she said gently. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Her mother just raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. Still, her expression spoke a hundred words. Kara turned before her mother could see the pain in her eyes and muttered something about checking on the food drive items. The music for the opening scene of The Nutcracker swelled before she’d even made it to her mother’s office.

  Hot tears prickled the back of her eyes, and she brushed them away quickly before they could fall. She was being ridiculous, letting words hurt so much. She had the bakery under control. She was turning a profit—barely. She had customers.

  And she would win that Holiday House contest. For her father. And for herself.

  “Nate?”

  Nate pushed the last of the swans onto the frozen pond and turned to see his aunt standing in the doorway. “Yes?”

  “When you’re done with that, I have another favor to ask of you. I just came up with an idea.” She rubbed her hands together excitedly and disappeared back into the house.

  Nate huffed out a breath and studied the seven swans a-swimming, hoping they passed muster with his aunt. Another idea. She made it sound as if it was a rare occurrence, when, in fact,
it was an hourly occurrence. The list she’d started with had grown to several pages, and throughout the day he’d see her eyes pop, and off she’d go, scurrying to scribble down her latest idea.

  He could only imagine what this one would be.

  He adjusted the red velvet bow on the last swan’s neck and walked back into the house. It was dinnertime, and most of the guests were off in town. He’d been hoping to slip out, too, maybe try that restaurant Rosemary and Thyme that Kara’s cousin ran. The place looked as good as the options he had in Boston, and the thought of Kara possibly being there added to the appeal.

  But it would appear his aunt had other plans for him tonight. And that’s why he was here, he reminded himself.

  He grinned, hoping to summon some enthusiasm even though he’d kill for a hot shower and a cold beer. “What brilliant idea do you have?”

  “The pièce de résistance,” his aunt said with a sly smile. She gestured to the hearth in the lobby. “I want a painting above the mantel. A Christmas painting, not just any painting. I want a Nate Griffin exclusive.”

  Nate blinked, trying to process what she was suggesting. A Nate Griffin exclusive could only mean one thing, though. “No, Aunt Maggie. I’m sorry, but no. I haven’t painted in years.”

  “Why not?” she asked with an air of petulance.

  “Because I’m a businessman,” he replied evenly, even though his heart was starting to race and he could feel the blood coursing through his veins. “Because I don’t have the time. Or the interest.”

  She waved his excuses away. “Nonsense. I’ve seen what you’ve done with this place. You can’t tell me you haven’t enjoyed yourself.”

  No, if he was being honest, he couldn’t. “I haven’t picked up a brush in years,” he said instead. “And painting was never my strength.” Drawing was. He’d loved to draw, and he’d been good at it. Damn good. Good enough to get into the art school he’d secretly applied to. The one he’d chosen not to attend.