“Yep,” Piper said.
“Got it,” Madison agreed.
“Good. Any misbehavior will earn the offender a pint of nettle soup. And I am not kidding. Do I have your agreement?” He looked at Christy.
Christy’s stern face matched Dan’s, though it was an effort. “Absolutely.”
The girls looked uneasy. Good.
“Madison and Piper, tonight I want you to pay attention to what colors your grown-up is going to need and make sure they have a new color when they need it. Madison, you’re with me, and Piper, you’re with Ms. Monroe.”
Not only could he bake, he was smart. Working with an unfamiliar adult would make the girls attentive for longer. Christy made a note not to underestimate Dan.
“We’ll knock off at 7:45 so we can make bedtimes. Piper’s is 8:30,” he continued.
“Mine, too,” Madison said.
“Perfect,” Dan said. “While we’re working, we can talk about what we’re going to have to do to get this show ready by December nineteenth. It’s going to be a challenge.”
“You seem to have everything planned out. Sure you can’t handle it by yourself?” Christy asked.
“I’m sure. Ardith left me a copy of the holiday show Bible.” He pointed to a fat binder sitting on top of Piper’s backpack. “I’ve barely cracked it. Ardith is making another copy for you. It will be ready tomorrow at noon. If you’d prefer to take the lead, just say so. You can read that copy overnight.”
Ugh. “Feel free. Since you want to.”
He arched a brow. “You can’t be either Jewish or Catholic. You don’t succumb to guilt quickly. Just to be clear, I don’t want to do the holiday show. I was manipulated into it as much as you were.”
“Then how come you aren’t more annoyed? And I’m Presbyterian.”
“What’s the point of being annoyed?” He started gathering up plates and repacking food containers into a wicker basket. “Somebody has to do it. Our kids are responsible for driving off the West Sierra contingent. Not doing it would have long-term consequences. This is my busiest season. I have to make money now to pay six other people’s salaries for a big part of the rest of the year.”
Instead of being annoyed, Christy found she liked Dan’s responsible attitude toward his business. She’d spent years trying to encourage the small business owners of Snow Creek to take their businesses more seriously. Changing economic conditions demanded changes in how people ran their businesses. If they failed, the whole town suffered. The Main Street Diner had some of the best food in the Sierras, but no one ever came farther off the Interstate than Constitution Plaza, the new mall on the edge of town. The brothers who owned it weren’t interested in promotion at all. They focused on quality food at reasonable prices for the local population. She worried that if their business failed, their employees, one waiter and one waitress, and the brothers would be out of work. So she didn’t bridle at Dan’s slightly snippy tone.
“It’s a busy time for me, too. End of quarter stuff. And there’s always more to do in December,” she said.
“Most of it entirely worthwhile. But the holiday show isn’t on my bucket list. That said, I’m game to make the best of it.” He stood and held out a hand to her.
Once again, it made her feel delicate when she put her hand in his and let him pull her up. Ha. She was no delicate flower. She was tough. And strong. And if he could make the best of things, she could too. Looking up at him—actually up, another novelty—she gazed into his sherry brown eyes and nodded once. “You’re right. I’m game to make the best of it, too.”
He twinkled at her again, and she nearly gasped at the way her heart thumped in response. Good grief. What was that all about? She’d never had such a definitive physical reaction to a man. Not that there had been all that many. Madison’s father, Ian. A couple of college boyfriends. A fling in Italy the summer after she graduated. She didn’t date. She wouldn’t until Madison was in college, so she mostly ignored men as, well, men. They were clients or people she knew from church or business people or Madison’s friends’ dads.
Somehow Dan had escaped from those tidy categories. Yes, he was Piper’s dad, the town baker, and a potential client. But he was also, singularly, a man. A big, tall, strong man with long-fingered hands, ropey-muscled arms, a little hellfire in his eyes, and an easy smile.
Uh-oh. She suddenly understood what was wrong. She liked him.
That was far more dangerous than simply being attracted to him.
She sought the girls as a distraction from this unwelcome revelation. They stood at the back of the stage next to the paint cart, side by side, little smiles playing over their cherubic mouths.
Something was wrong with that picture, but before she could pinpoint what it was, Dan let her go and clapped her on the back a little too hard. She staggered forward half a step.
“Let’s get painting, people,” he boomed.
Piper ran up to her with a red Solo cup half full of gold paint and a wedge-shaped brush. “We can start with the ornaments on the tree.”
“All right. Let’s get this done.” She watched Dan lean over to consult with Madison, and her heart jerked a little. She had imagined scenes like that when Madison was a baby, but Ian wouldn’t have been caught within a hundred yards of paint in a cup. He hadn’t changed a diaper. Not once. And he’d quit holding Madison when she spit up on one of his suits.
Dan swept a stray lock of Madison’s hair behind her ear to keep it out of the paint, then produced a hair band from his pocket, turned her around, and gathered her dark curls into a high ponytail. She actually had to blink hard to clear her eyes of sudden moisture. Christy wasn’t sure if Ian had ever touched Madison’s hair. He was afraid of lice, with which he was convinced all elementary school children were terminally infested.
Honestly. It was only the beginning of the first week of December and Christmas sappiness was already getting to her. She forced herself to smile down at Piper who smiled back like an angel. Her eyes twinkled like her father’s. “Are you sure you and your Dad didn’t come from the North Pole originally? You seem really good at Christmas.”
“We came from New York. But we do love Christmas. Can I paint the low ornaments?”
“Sure. I don’t know.” She took in Piper’s wild hair and petite frame. “You look part elf to me.”
“I wish.” Piper giggled. “If I really was part elf, you know where I’d work in Santa’s workshop?”
Christy dabbed gold paint over a blue swatch. “No idea.”
“I’d like to find homes for the misfit toys.”
Oh, dear heavens. Of course she would. Of its own accord, her hand left her side and spread across Piper’s back and gave her a little pat. “That’s lovely, Piper.”
“I can tell when people belong together. Or a toy and a person.”
Christy found herself charmed and grinning like a goof. “Can you tell if you and Madison are going to be good friends someday soon?”
“Yeah. We will. Closer than friends even.” Piper looked alarmed for an instant, then darted over to the paint cart. “What color do you need next?”
Bemused, Christy stared at the child. “Christmas tree green.” That sense that she was missing something pinged her mom radar again, but Piper chattered on about what misfit toys would be perfect for the kids in her and Madison’s class as they repaired the damaged set. Then the girls asked them to sing, and Dan led them through "Jingle Bells", "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer", and Adam Sandler’s "Hanukah" song. They chattered and laughed and painted and sang until Christy and Piper had finished their half of the Nutcracker backdrop, and Dan and Madison had finished theirs. Christy glanced at her phone to check the time.
“Holy smokes! It’s 8:30 already. And we have to clean up before we can go.” She perused their work. “We did a good job, though.”
“It looks better than before,” Madison said. Then she yawned. “I’m tired.”
“You girls go wash your hands,” Dan told the
m. “I’ll clean up the paint.”
Christy took the girls to the restroom. By the time they returned to the stage, Dan had everything put away, including their picnic. He handed Christy a zip lock bag containing the leftover gluten-free rolls. “Put them in the freezer. They don’t keep as well as regular bread.”
“Thanks.” Madison yawned again, which made all of them yawn.
“Past bedtime.” Dan gave Piper the folded picnic rug and took her backpack along with the picnic basket. “Christy, we need to talk about how to organize the holiday show once we’ve had a chance to look over the info. Any chance you could meet me at the diner tomorrow? Around five?”
Madison spent Tuesday afternoons at her mother’s house, and Kayla was always happy to keep her for as long as Christy was willing to let her go. “That could work. Let me call my mom to make sure.”
“What about me?” Piper wanted to know.
“You can come to my grandma’s, too,” Madison said.
Christy and Dan exchanged a look. “I’ll ask,” she said.
“Or I can get a sitter. Normally I’d invite you girls, but we’ll have to focus to get done as quickly as possible. It’ll be boring,” Dan told the girls.
“I’ll email you later tonight,” Christy said.
“I’ll be up. Reading the holiday show Bible. Now let’s get you young ‘uns home to bed.” He herded them out the door while Christy locked up after them.
Walking to the car behind Dan and the girls, she caught herself smiling. “Look,” she said, “it’s snowing again.”
“It’s going to be a merry Christmas this year,” Dan said. “Goodnight, Monroes.”
“Goodnight, Roses,” Madison replied.
A merry Christmas? Well, there was a first time for everything.
Chapter Six
By the time Christy met Dan at the diner the next afternoon, lugging the holiday show Bible along with notebooks, colored pens, portable file folders, and oversized project planning sheets, she knew her moment of weakness in thinking this year might hold a merry Christmas had to have been the result of a gluten-free-roll-induced carb haze. She wanted to drop kick Dr. Tapia over the mountains into Lake Tahoe. She wanted to shake Madison and Piper until time reversed itself and they had the sense to behave themselves, thus averting the Holiday Show Disaster, as she was pretty certain it would come to be known. She wanted to smack Dan Rose for being graceful about getting stuck with the most impossible parent assignment ever. She was just plain mad.
And scared. There was an excellent chance she was going to disappoint the whole school and most of the community.
Before she had pushed her way inside, Dan appeared to hold the door, smiling happily as usual. Didn’t he ever stop grinning?
“Hi,” he greeted her cheerfully. “Whoa. You look…kind of freaked out.”
“Thanks for noticing.” She made for one of the big tables that seated eight. “David,” she called over the counter to the burly cook and owner, “do you care if we take a big table? We got stuck running the elementary school holiday show. There’s a lot of paper.”
“Be my guest. Are you going to eat?”
“Yes,” Dan answered before she could. He watched Christy dump her stuff on a chair and start clearing the place settings from the Formica table. “Cheeseburgers, Dave. Fries. Chocolate shakes. I brought you a bag of gluten-free hamburger buns. Use those?”
“You got it, Danny.”
“I can’t eat that kind of food.” Christy started unpacking. Laptop first. Bible. Notebooks. Project planners. And on. And on.
“Two side salads, too,” Dan called, then glanced at her. “What kind of dressing?”
“She likes lemon on the side,” David said. “And no croutons.”
A look of concern replaced Dan’s grin. “No dressing?”
“A lot of vinegar is made from wheat.” She shrugged.
“Why don’t you ask Dave and Sam to keep some wine vinegar on hand for you? You can’t be the only person in town with celiac.”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Some people like to help.” He pointed at himself, then David. “Doesn’t hurt to ask.”
She shrugged, then pulled a small but heavy paper shopping bag from her tote and handed it to him. “You’re right. I like to help, too. This is for Piper. There’s a sheet inside with directions. It should help with her hair.”
Delight suffused Dan’s face. “Thanks. Piper will love it.”
It felt ridiculously good to make someone happy with such a simple gesture.
A very young, very pregnant waitress appeared with glasses of water and a big brown pot of hot tea and two hefty ceramic mugs. “You’re here early, so you get the last Brown Betty teapot,” she said.
The girl had been in Snow Creek since last winter, but Christy had to look at her nametag for her name. “Thank you, Britney. June Hoard makes fabulous teapots. I’ll talk to David and Sam about ordering a few.”
“Where’s Piper tonight?” Britney asked Dan. “Grown-ups night out?”
“She’s at Christy’s mom’s with Madison. We got stuck organizing their school holiday show. This is a serious meeting where serious calories are necessary to fuel serious work. Can we count on you to keep us going?”
“You betcha. Tell Piper ‘hi’ from me.” The dark circles under Britney’s eyes made Christy feel like she should be waiting on the younger woman instead of the other way around.
“I will. Thanks.” Dan winked at her.
Britney gave him a brotherly pat on the shoulder, and walked off without displaying an ounce of the appreciation for his manly attributes those twinkly smiles roused in Christy’s breast. Interesting.
“That poor kid has had a hell of a year,” Dan said as she poured the tea.
“You know her?”
“Not well. I’m gossiping. Dave and Sam and I chat when I drop off the bread and rolls in the morning. She’s only nineteen, no family at all, and the babies' father was killed in a ski accident. She's pregnant and alone. Hasn’t been easy. Which reminds me why I came to see you yesterday. I never made an appointment with your PA. Can I stop in again about that?”
Oh, yes. The business problem. She hoped it wasn’t too serious. “Sure. When’s good?”
“Maybe Friday? Early afternoon? Before we have to be at school for rehearsal.”
“Sure.”
He lifted his mug and waited for her to do the same. Awkwardly, she complied. He clinked his cup to hers and said, “Here’s to surviving the Snow Creek Elementary holiday show. Let’s dive in and make this the most amazing holiday show ever, and the most amazing partnership Snow Creek has ever seen.”
That sounded ambitious to her, possibly even doomed, but his dratted twinkling smile made her hope, for a second, that this might not be the second worst thing that had ever happened to her at Christmas.
***
At 7:45 p.m., Christy jotted down the last item on her list of Things To Do For The Holiday Show, Day 16, then set her pen down and flexed her hands. “My fingers are cramping and I’ve resurrected the childhood callous on my middle finger. And it’s almost time to get the girls. We’re now familiar with the script, rehearsal schedules, the sets and lighting plans, the audio stuff, how many parent volunteers we need to do what and when, and —” she scanned the pages of lists she’d made, one for each day until the show, “—only 743 other things. Give or take a dozen.”
Dan rubbed a hand over his face. “We’re done?”
“For now.”
“It’s more work than I thought it’d be,” he admitted.
“It’s a big deal in Snow Creek. We can’t let the kids down. Or their parents. Or grandparents. Or fourth cousins twice removed. Ask anyone.”
“There’s nobody here but us parents of delinquent first-grade girls.”
He was right. They were the only ones left in the diner, which hadn’t been as full as it should have been for a Tuesday night in December. More of the Main Street
shops needed to stay open into the evening hours during the holidays. Constitution Plaza was cutting into the profits of Snow Creek's Main Street.
Dan glanced at the clock on the wall above the kitchen window. “By my calculations, we have fifteen minutes before we absolutely have to leave. I need coffee. More tea for you? And I’m going to get a hot fudge sundae. I won’t force you to get one, too, just giving you fair warning of impending decadence.” He rose, grabbed the teapot, and walked over to the kitchen window to get what he wanted instead of rousting Britney out from wherever she was lurking.
He was a kind man. Generous. Observant. Helpful. Christy stared at his broad shoulders when he leaned into the window to talk to David while he got their drinks. He was easy on the eyes, too.
Britney appeared from nowhere and started clearing the dishes and dirty cups from the table. “Time for the date portion of the evening?” She lifted her eyebrows and grinned. “He’s hot.”
Christy’s cheeks heated. “Oh, this isn’t a date—”
“Relax.” Britney stacked plates. “I know. I’m teasing you. But he’s cute. For an older guy.”
“He’s not old,” Christy said.
“Bet he’s pushing forty. That’s old to me. Not to everyone, though.” She winked at Christy. “Do you like him?”
Christy busied herself with packing her things back into her tote. “He’s a very nice man. But I don’t date.”
Britney scoffed. “Why not?”
“I’m a single parent. My daughter comes first. Always.”
“Yeah, obviously. Why should that stop you dating?”
People never understood. “It’s a personal decision. It’s not typical, I know, but it works for me.”
“Well, I’ve been watching you two all night, and I think he might work even better for you and your daughter, and you might work pretty well for him and his daughter. Just saying. You might want to open up to new possibilities.” Britney sashayed off, as well as a very pregnant waitress could, leaving Christy with her tote on her lap and her mouth pursed.
Love on Main Street: A Snow Creek Christmas Page 11