Love on Main Street: A Snow Creek Christmas

by Juliet Blackwell

  “I knew it.” He sat back gloating.

  Christy looked to Dr. Tapia for help, only to find him gazing contemplatively between them.

  “I’m a Christmas morning mom, too,” Mrs. Fewster added.

  “I could tell,” Dan told her. “Then you only have to clean up all the mess once.”

  Mrs. Fewster gave him an approving look from behind her tortoiseshell cat-eye glasses. “Exactly. And waiting builds patience.”

  “There you go.”

  Christy wanted to smack him. He was mocking Mrs. Fewster, and her, because he clearly thought he had them both pegged as controlling spoilsports. He didn’t know that Mrs. Fewster handmade and donated all the favors for the Christmas Ball. Or that Christy stayed up most of the night wrapping Madison’s toys from Santa, because there wasn’t any other time for a single working mom to do that except the wee hours of Christmas Day.

  She was about ready to say as much when Dr. Tapia thunked his pen onto the table. “Well, something’s going on with these girls. You two have the best chance of sorting out what it is. When you figure it out, please let us know. In the meantime, I have a Nutcracker set that needs to be repainted, and you and your girls are the obvious candidates to do it. Talk to Ardith about when would be a good time, and she’ll make sure you have all the paints and equipment you need.”

  “I don’t know how to paint.” Christy gasped. “How about if I pay for someone to fix it?”

  “No. I want the girls to spend time together alone and make up for the trouble they caused. It will be good for them. And a lesson to all the other children, as well.” Dr. Tapia glanced at Dan. “Do you know how to paint?”

  “I can decorate cakes and cookies. Same general principles.”

  “Read up on it on the Internet. Especially the parts about how to clean brushes and spills.” Dr. Tapia flicked a look at Christy. “The two of you will be our new holiday show producers. If, that is, you want what happened today with your daughters to stay off their permanent records….”

  “No!” Christy hated Christmas. To have to endure carols and skits and elves and reindeer and all the other hoopla was too much. “Anything but that—”

  “Dear, God, no.” Dan had on his pretend solemn face again.

  What was wrong with him? This was serious, and Dr. Tapia was not above blackmail. Everyone knew that. In a small town, the school had to be able to coerce parent participation when it wasn’t forthcoming.

  “Keep your children involved,” Dr. Tapia said. “Make them work out whatever conflicts they’re engaged in. Together. All of you. It will be good for Piper and Madison.”

  “You’re punishing us for what our children did,” Christy complained.

  “That often works,” Mrs. Fewster added.

  “I think it’ll be fun,” Dan said. “A little hard to fit in, seeing as this is my busiest season, but we can figure it out.”

  Christy slid her purse handles over her arm and rose with as much dignity as she could muster. “This is a big mistake,” she told the principal. “This will end in tears. A lot of tears.”

  “Well, we already had quite a few of those today. Crying is fine. No more injuries would be good, though.” Dr. Tapia looked up at the clock. “I have to go put the fear of the law into the first graders before school’s out. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Ardith will get you keys to the multi-purpose room and the cleaning closet and have you sign the release forms. Thank you both for coming so quickly, and for what I’m sure will be a holiday show to remember.”

  Chapter Four

  Christy fled without saying a polite goodbye, straight past Ardith and all the way to her car. She started to turn the car on, but it was only fifteen minutes until school was out so she sat stewing, windows rolled up tight, watching the tiny snow pellets angle in from the west.

  The holiday show. The annual cavalcade of sappy, kitschy skits and songs that tarred every other December holiday with the taint of Christmas. Her mother was going to be delighted. Maybe she should turn her part of this mess over to Kayla, who thought along similar lines as Dan. Her mother could spend four times the holiday show budget and then look helplessly at Dr. Tapia with what she thought was a charming smile and say, “But the children loved it. How could I say no?”

  The children had nothing to do with it. Kayla loved it. Kayla couldn’t resist overdoing it. Her middle name was Excess, and she didn’t have the discipline God gave squirrels to resist nuts. And then the school wouldn’t be able to afford books for the library or a new universal access restroom or any number of more important things. Like shoes. Or beds. Things that weren’t fun enough to add to the Christmas spirit. Never mind about the kid sleeping on an air mattress until she was twelve. It wasn’t until her father came back for a visit and bought her a new twin bed that she’d ever slept more than six inches from the floor.

  Christy inhaled sharply. It was cold in the car, but her cheeks were hot. She didn’t like Christmas because it inevitably brought up anger and resentment, and really, that was no way to live. She couldn’t change the past. She needed to let it go. Most of the time she could. It was harder in December.

  People like her mother and Dan Rose simply couldn’t understand. They only looked at the happy and bright aspects of the holiday season. Peace on earth. Be of good cheer. Go nuts on trinkets and decorations that brought to mind white Christmases, elves, stockings full of candy and toys, and jolly old Saint Nick. They were so fixated on the trappings of Christmas they missed the very real, everyday, boring needs of their children.

  To be fair, Dan didn’t appear to do that. Her mother had, and from the look of his bakery, Dan appeared to be a fellow traveler on Kayla’s sleigh ride. Something was up with Piper, and he was willing to take on the holiday show instead of focusing solely on his daughter. Christy didn’t approve.

  Besides, if she had to help with the holiday show she would end up looking like the Scrooge to beat all Scrooges, and that wasn’t fair. Normally she didn’t care, but for some reason, it rankled this December. Why did she have to start caring now? Bah, humbug.

  Other parents started lining up in the pick-up area, so she got out and walked over to get Madison. Naturally, Dan appeared before Madison arrived. Christy wanted to throw back her head and huff the way her daughter did when she felt put upon, but she sucked it up and put on a pleasant face. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  Dan backed up a half step. “Wow. You’ve got the Snow Queen thing down. That face could freeze a herd of rampaging polar bears in their tracks. Should come in handy controlling the kiddies for the holiday show.”

  She wanted to stomp her foot and give him her back, but snow queens didn’t give in to petty impulses. Instead she went pedantic. “Polar bears don’t live in herds.”

  “Are you absolutely sure about that?” He didn’t actually grin, but his eyes twinkled as he got out his phone. “I’ll check.”

  “I’m sure.” For heaven’s sake. So was he.

  “Okay,” he said agreeably. “I’ll trust you.” He dropped the phone back in his pocket and came up instead with a set of keys. “These are yours. The big one is for the multi-purpose room. The green one opens the cleaning closet. Little one is for the paint cupboard. The silver one unlocks the restrooms.” He held them out to her.

  “Oh, no.” It was her turn to step back.

  He reached out, grabbed her hand out of her pocket and pried her fingers open. Geez, he was strong. And his hand dwarfed hers. That never happened. Then he dropped the school keys into her open palm and closed her fingers over them. His hands were warm, and not as rough as she expected a baker’s hands to be.

  He peered at her slyly. “Wow. You’ve got some balls on you. You can fight this, if that’s your style, but Dr. Tapia has a will of iron. And with Mrs. Fewster as his enforcer, I don’t think the struggle will be worth it. Your kid’s only in first grade and you’re ready to alienate the entire administrative team. But it’s your call.”

  Oh, for heaven’s
sake! “Are you ever serious about anything?”

  “I am entirely serious.” The amusement in his eyes contradicted him. “I’m trying to save a fellow single parent from a fate worse than community humiliation.”

  Which was precisely what loomed. “What could be worse than producing the holiday show?”

  “Homeschooling for the next twelve years.”

  He had a point there. She looked down at their joined hands. Why hadn’t she taken her hand back? She did so immediately. Then she tucked the school keys into her purse. “I could handle homeschooling.”

  “Brilliantly, I have no doubt.” There was that grin again. “As you handle everything.”

  “Except Christmas.” Shoot. She shouldn’t have said that. What was it about him that had her thoughts flying out her mouth with no lag time?

  “Yeah. Why is that?”

  No. She wasn’t telling her tale of woe. The school bell rang. “Look. Here come the first graders.”

  “Saved by the bell, huh? I thought that only happened on TV.”

  “I wouldn’t know. We don’t watch TV.”

  Dan shook his head at her like she’d declared she roasted elves for Christmas dinner. “There’s Piper. We’ll meet you here at six tonight. I’ll bring food. Healthy food. Gluten-Free. Wear grubbies.”

  She wanted to argue. She really did, but Madison had to help with the cleanup, so she did, too.

  Piper joined them. There wasn’t a trace of shame or remorse on her bright little face.

  “Hey.” Dan put a hand on her head. “You’re in the soup. An appropriate expression of remorse might make a difference in the creativity I apply to coming up with your punishment.”

  Piper instantly widened her eyes and made her lip tremble. It was patently fake, and exactly what Dan deserved.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m so not buying that. Come on.” He tsked at her, pulled her close and gave her a gentle shove toward the parking lot. He glanced at Christy. “See you tonight.”

  Piper’s head whipped up. “What’s tonight?”

  “Punishment phase one for badly behaved first-grade girls.” Dan tried to sound severe, but he wasn’t convincing. Piper clearly wasn’t cowed.

  Christy spotted Madison. When she reached her side, Christy hugged her.

  “What?” Madison pulled away quickly. “I don’t need a hug. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “We’ll talk about it at home.” Christy took her daughter’s hand and headed for her car. “Guess where we will be spending the evening tonight?”

  Chapter Five

  Christy and Madison arrived at the school at six sharp. They were dressed in old jeans and sweatshirts that were the closest thing to work clothes they possessed. Christy had tied a bandanna over Madison’s dark hair just in case. The girls seemed to be having issues with hair and paint lately.

  They found Dan and Piper on the stage surrounded by plywood and cardboard panels that had been painted to look like Clara’s living room once she had shrunk to mouse size. The lower boughs of a massive pine tree had been covered in ornaments and candles. Wrapped packages below made Piper look even smaller than she was. All the presents and the tree bore messy splats and brush marks in blue and green. Dan had his arms crossed and was gazing at Piper with disappointment.

  “Why did you do this?” he asked without a trace of good humor.

  “I don’t know,” Piper mumbled.

  “I’m not buying that. This isn’t like you. You don’t cause trouble for no reason. What’s up?”

  “Nothing.” Piper crossed her arms, too.

  “Something’s up,” Dan insisted, “and I want to know what. Madison seems perfectly nice. Did she do or say something I should know about?”

  That put a hunted look on Piper’s face for a brief moment before she looked around and saw them standing by the door. “They’re here.”

  Dan looked over at them and smiled that easy smile that made Christy hesitate. “Hi again. Are you two hungry? I set up a picnic. We can talk strategy while we eat.”

  Madison climbed the steps onto the stage where he’d spread a wool tartan picnic rug in seasonally appropriate reds and greens. On it he’d arranged a stack of Santa-suit red ceramic plates, holly-patterned napkins, real silverware, and four wine glasses. There was a bowl of chicken salad with grapes and celery dressed in vinaigrette instead of mayonnaise—Christy couldn’t help but approve. A colorful platter was piled high with red, green and yellow bell pepper slices, baby carrots, jicama and sugar snap peas. Healthy, beautiful, and delicious—if the girls ate them. Then there was a glorious basket of rolls in several shapes. Kaiser rolls, sesame buns, crescent rolls, Parker House rolls, and miniature baguettes, and stuck in the middle of the biggest Kaiser roll was a wooden chopstick bearing a hand-lettered sign in black and gold that said "Gluten-Free. Everything. Yes, really. Everything."

  “Look at this,” Madison breathed. “Wow. And I know what that sign says, Mom. Gluten-free. You can have anything you want.”

  Christy stared at Dan. “You made all this for us?”

  “And us.” He wagged a finger between himself and Piper.

  “But the amount of work to make gluten-free rolls. In all those shapes….” All of a sudden, her throat got tight. This was the most thoughtful thing a man had ever done for her, and she hardly even knew him. It might be better than any Christmas present she’d received from anyone besides Madison.

  “I did some experimenting yesterday. I got to thinking about how disappointing it must be to visit a bakery when you can’t eat gluten, and I decided I could broaden my baking horizons.” He urged them to sit down. “Piper, would you please hand out the plates and silverware? Madison, would you like to start passing the food around? I’ll open the sparkling cider and pour us each a flute. Christy, choose a roll, any roll, all the rolls, and make yourself a chicken salad sandwich.”

  She reached immediately for one of the mini baguettes and brought it to her nose to inhale. “I love sandwiches. Most gluten free bread isn’t very good. This smells…amazing.”

  “Break it open. Tell me what you think of the texture.” He popped the cork of the sparkling cider without spilling a drop.

  Christy split the bread with her fingers, and opened it to reveal what looked like a real baguette from a Paris bakery. Crunchy crust, a soft but springy inside with perfectly imperfect air bubbles, all of it redolent of yeast and toasty grain. She couldn’t help it. She tore off the end and stuffed it into her mouth. It wasn’t exactly like a real baguette, but it was by far the best gluten-free bread she’d ever tasted.

  “Mmm, mmm, mmm.” She hummed as she chewed.

  Madison stared at her. “Give me some of that,” she demanded.

  Dan passed her a mini baguette. She bit off one end. “Wow.” She chewed, then crammed in another bite. “How did you make it so good?”

  Christy swallowed. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. How did you make it so good?”

  Dan beamed. “Beginner’s luck. But I’m reading up.”

  She took another bite. “Don’t change anything. This is phenomenal. Have you ever eaten gluten-free bread?”

  “A time or two. Which is why I never tried it before. There’s the art of baking, and then there’s the art of gluten-free baking, which is a horse of a different color. Or at least different science.” Dan neatly split a Kaiser roll and filled it with chicken salad, which he handed to Piper. “Who else wants one?”

  “Me,” Madison sang out.

  “Me, too.” Christy smiled before she caught herself.

  Dan seemed to get hung up staring at her, which, in turn, made her heart do that poundy thing. He had the warmest brown eyes and elegant slashing eyebrows. Still masculine, though. Not foppish. Maybe a little piratical.

  Piper giggled, breaking whatever spell they had so briefly fallen under.

  Madison giggled, too. “You dropped a spoonful of chicken salad in the vegetables.”

  Dan glanced down. “So I did.” Using
his thumb to scoop it back into the spoon, he not only got the chicken salad but several veggie strips, as well. “This one might have to be mine.”

  “I’ll take it,” Christy said. “I love bell peppers.”

  “I only like the red ones,” Piper admitted.

  “I like any color except green,” Madison added, and the two of them took off discussing the ickiest vegetable they’d ever eaten. Candidates included eggplant, Brussels sprouts, and turnips.

  “I like all of those,” Christy told them.

  “Turnips? And Brussels sprouts?” Piper gasped. “They’re bitter.”

  “Not if they’re cooked right.”

  “And eggplant is mushy. Yuk.” Piper made a face.

  “My mom likes all vegetables,” Madison said mournfully.

  Dan got into the act. “Even dandelion greens?”

  Christy nodded. “Even cardoons. And nettles.”

  The twinkle flashed in Dan’s eyes. “I make a mean nettle soup.”

  The girls made gagging noises, and then they all laughed. Christy just couldn’t help herself. She was, she realized, having fun.

  And so were the girls. No trace of tension remained between them. Christy watched them carefully for a moment. Barring evidence to the contrary, they looked like best friends.

  Dan curtailed the discussion of vegetables by bringing out a big list on a clipboard. “We are now in charge of producing the Snow Creek Elementary School holiday show,” he announced.

  “All of us?” Madison wanted to know.

  “Technically, your mom and me. But because you two caused the ruckus that resulted in this demanding duty falling on our shoulders, you both have to help an extra lot. Are we clear?”

  The girls nodded vigorously, with no trace of guilt or unwillingness. Christy was surprised at how quickly they seemed to go from warring demons to happy little elves. No sulking or pouting. No little digs. No drama. For now. First-grade girls tended to find drama irresistible. Hmm.

  “First up, we have to repair the sets you ruined. We’ll start tonight and see how far we get. You two are in charge of the paint cups and handing Christy and me the right color at the right time. Piper and I set up a rolling cart with them before you got here. Then the grown-ups will repaint the splotchy sections, recreating the original designs. There will be no spilled or splattered paint. Got it?”