The Christmas Confection

by Shanna Hatfield

  “That’s fascinating,” Ari said, taking a step closer to Elsa. “I’ve seen the horses in a Christmas market my husband and I visited when we were in Europe.”

  Elsa nodded her head. “They are especially popular during the holiday season, particularly those decorated in red and white.” She smiled at the three sisters. “I can’t thank you enough for making this apartment feel like a home. My home.”

  Ari gave her a hug and Claire squeezed her shoulders. “It’s our pleasure. Can we be like the soldier in your story and barter our decorating skills for food?” Claire tossed Fred a saucy smile. “Bossing around Fred and Murtag has made me nearly ravenous.”

  Elsa grinned as Bett shot Claire an admonishing glare. “I have tea and cookies ready now. If you don’t mind waiting an hour, I’d be pleased to have you join me for supper.”

  “We’d love to,” Bett said, glancing over at Fred and giving him a knowing wink. “Let’s see about tea, shall we?”

  Murtag and the sisters went down to the kitchen with Anna, leaving Elsa and Fred alone upstairs.

  Fred took a step toward the stairs. “If we don’t go down there, Claire is likely to eat all the cookies.”

  “I highly doubt it.” Elsa stood at the top of the stairs then reached out a hand to Fred. The jolt shooting up her arm when he took her fingers and raised them to his lips almost caused her to lose her balance. She clutched the banister and raised her gaze to meet his, mesmerized by the fascinating light shimmering in his eyes.

  “Do you really like the room?” Fred asked on a whisper as he took two steps down, putting them almost on eye level. He’d maintained his hold of her hand, lacing his fingers around hers.

  “Truthfully, no. I don’t like it,” Elsa said, schooling her features into a frown.

  Worry lines creased Fred’s broad brow and chased away the happiness she’d seen on his face. Eager to return it, she grinned and leaned slightly forward. “I don’t like it, Fred, because I absolutely love it. It’s perfect.”

  “Truly?” he asked, raising his gaze to hers once again, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

  “Truly.” Emboldened by his proximity and her own desire to know this man better, to be more than just his little friend, she pressed a quick kiss to his stubbly cheek then raced down the stairs.

  Curled up in a chair by the fire with a book open on her lap, Elsa’s eyes felt heavy and her eyelids dropped downward. She leaned her head back against the soft plush velvet cushion and released a contented sigh.

  It had been such a wonderful day. When she awoke that morning she had no idea Fred and his aunts would come to her apartment and transform her ugly, empty sitting room into a beautiful, festive place she adored.

  The three women seemed to leave a little sparkle and magic everywhere they went. Too bad they weren’t interested in living in Hardman. It would be entertaining to have them there all the time. Regardless, Elsa knew they had families and obligations to return to in Philadelphia. She’d heard Fred promise to visit them in the spring.

  Fred had also promised to help her find a little Christmas tree for her apartment. Elsa knew exactly how she wanted to decorate it. She’d string cranberries and perhaps popcorn. Scraps of decorative red and white paper she’d collected would make the loveliest chain to hang on the tree. She also had a small chest of ornaments her grandfather had made just for her. She could hardly wait to get them out and hang them on fragrant pine branches.

  Drowsily contemplating how special this Christmas season would be, Elsa was jolted wide awake when someone pounded on her back door.

  Ethan and Lottie had gone home hours ago, before Fred and his aunts had arrived to transform her apartment.

  Cautiously, Elsa made her way down the stairs in the dark, then kept to the shadows as she tip-toed her way toward the door.

  “Gloria! I know yer in there! I’m tired of waitin’ for ya to come back to the saloon. Open this dang door or I’m gonna bust it in!” The man’s words sounded slightly slurred as he resumed pounding on her door.

  “Good heavens!” Elsa muttered, wondering what she should do. Aware of the danger of opening the door, she wished for the hundredth time they had telephone service in Hardman. To be able to pick up the telephone and place a call to the sheriff would be a handy thing, indeed.

  On silent feet, Elsa snatched her coat from a hook by the door. She hurriedly slid her arms in the sleeves, made sure the key to the bakery was in her pocket, then swallowed a scream when a man with a scar running down his cheek pressed his face to the window above the sink.

  Elsa quivered with fear, pressed against the wall. She waited until the man pulled back to scurry into the front of the bakery and slip out the door. Fingers shaking, she locked it behind her then picked up her skirts and ran to the sheriff’s office. Frantically pushing open the door, she raced inside and smacked into a solid wall of man.

  She would have fallen back on the floor if he hadn’t grabbed her arms to keep her upright.

  “What’s wrong, Elsa?” a familiar voice asked.

  She looked up into Fred’s face. Worry once again dug furrows across his forehead and left brackets around his mouth.

  “There’s a man at the bakery pounding on the door and peering inside, demanding a woman named Gloria come out.” Weary and terrified, she clung to him. “Why do some of the men insist that I’m Gloria. Wasn’t she a… um… didn’t she work at…” Her voice dropped to barely more than a whisper. “Wasn’t she employed at the Red Lantern Saloon?”

  “That’s right,” Fred said, guiding Elsa over to a chair. “I reckon some folks around here think you look like her, but don’t give it another thought, Elsa. You stay here and I’ll take care of that man.”

  “I’ve seen him before,” Elsa said, rising to her feet. As much as she wanted to be far away from the hideous man peering in her windows, she would feel far safer with Fred near. If he was leaving, she planned to stay close behind him.

  Fred stopped in the doorway and glanced back at her. “Where?”

  “At the bakery. He tried to break in the other day. I managed to run over here and get the sheriff. The man disappeared before we returned.”

  Elsa stepped outside, shrugging deeper into her coat against the cold winter air and the chill she felt racing up her spine at the thought of someone breaking into the bakery.

  “You should stay here,” Fred cautioned, starting to draw her back inside.

  She shook her head and took another step forward. “No. I feel safer with you. Please don’t make me stay. I want to go with you.”

  He nodded once and cupped her elbow in his hand then hustled down the street to her place. “What does the man look like, Elsa? Can you describe him?”

  “He has a scar on his left cheek. It’s long and rather gruesome. Other than that, I don’t know any distinguishing features. The sheriff said he likes to chew.” Elsa wrinkled her nose in disgust. “The last time he tried to break in, he spat all over the snow by my back door.”

  Fred saw her inside the bakery and made sure she locked the door behind her then he made his way to the alley. A few moments later, he tapped on the back door. “Elsa, it’s Fred. Open the door.”

  She turned on all the lights in the kitchen and unlocked the door, allowing Fred entry.

  He stamped his feet to dislodge the snow on the mat at the door before stepping inside. “It looks like there were two men back there. Did you just hear one?”

  “I heard someone hollering for Gloria to come out. In truth, the man sounded quite inebriated. I went downstairs to make sure he couldn’t get in when he continued pounding on the door, then I saw his face peering in the window. He…” Elsa stopped and recalled what had happened. “There had to be two men because I could still hear one pounding on the door when the other one looked in the window.”

  Fred glanced around the kitchen then settled his gaze on Elsa. “Get your things. I’ll take you to your brother’s house. If you don’t want to go there, you can come home with
me or I’ll take you to Tom and Lila’s place.”

  Elsa shook her head and removed her coat, hanging it on a hook by the door. “No, Fred. I’ll be fine here. If they’re gone, they most likely won’t try anything else this evening.”

  He sighed and removed his hat, running his fingers through his thick hair. “I’d sure feel better if you weren’t alone. What if someone tries to break in again?”

  She picked up a heavy cast iron skillet from a shelf above the stove and swung it in the air. “They better not try.”

  The barest hint of a smile quirked the corners of his mouth upward. “Put that thing down before you hurt someone.”

  Elsa returned the skillet to the shelf then pulled the kettle onto a part of the stove that was still warm. “Want a cup of tea? I have some chocolate cake left over if you’d like a slice.” She bent over to stoke the fire, but Fred stopped her.

  His hand lingered on her arm then trailed down to clasp her hand in his. “I can’t stay, Elsa. The sheriff is short-handed this evening. That’s why you found me at his office. Everyone’s been so good about letting me have time off while my aunts are here, but when one of the deputies couldn’t make it for his shift, I was more than happy to fill in.” Fred brought her fingers to his lips and kissed her palm before dropping her hand and stepping back.

  Although the touch was brief, it sent a world of sensations spiraling through her. Sensations she wanted to explore, but wouldn’t. Fred was the one person who could distract her from her plans to build the best bakery in the country, and Elsa wasn’t willing to give up her aspirations. Not for anyone, even someone as handsome, gentle, kind, and wonderful as Fred.

  “Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay somewhere else tonight? If you don’t want to see your brother, I know Tom and Lila would gladly welcome you, or even Luke and Filly, or Arlan and Alex.”

  “No, Fred. I’ll be fine right here.” Even as she said the words, Elsa knew they weren’t true. If thoughts of scary men trying to break into the bakery didn’t keep her awake, the feel of Fred’s warm, soft lips pressed to her palm most surely would.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Anna giggled as Elsa settled an evergreen wreath on her head. “Tell me the story of St. Lucia again,” the girl requested as Elsa adjusted the wreath and made sure the candles were securely wired in place.

  Elsa gave Anna an indulgent smile. “Legend says St. Lucia carried food and supplies to Christians hiding in catacombs during the third century. She wore a candle wreath because it lit her way and freed her hands to carry as much food as possible. The Romans killed her for her religious beliefs and she became a martyr. Swedish families honor her through St. Lucia Day. In our family, the oldest daughter wears the wreath along with a white dress and red sash, and serves coffee and St. Lucia buns. The holiday reminds us we all have the power to bring light and love to others, even in the darkest of days.”

  Anna’s fingers reverently crept upward and touched the fragrant wreath encircling her head. She looked at Elsa in question. “Did you ever wear a wreath?”

  Elsa shook her head and wiped her hands on her apron. “No. That right fell to my older sister in our family. I always wanted to, though.”

  “You should wear this today,” Anna said, reaching for the wreath again, ready to take it off.

  Quickly grabbing the girl’s hands, Elsa held them in her own. “You’re the oldest girl in your family, Anna. Besides, I can’t bake and wear that. I think the customers will enjoy having you greet them wearing it this morning.”

  “I wonder if Percy will come over to see it.” Anna’s voice held a wistful tone when she spoke.

  Elsa couldn’t contain a grin and turned away lest the girl see it. If there was one thing in the entire world anyone could count on it was Percy’s affection for Anna Jenkins. The two young people were utterly devoted to each other. Glad for them, for the love they obviously shared, Elsa felt a slight prick of jealousy, wishing she had someone who loved her so completely.

  Images of Fred Decker flooded her mind. Bothered and unsettled by the frequency the handsome man invaded her thoughts, Elsa turned back to making another batch of St. Lucia buns.

  “What’s that one?” Anna asked, pointing to a saffron bun shaped like an S and dotted with raisins.

  “That is the Christmas pig.” Elsa skillfully formed more shapes. “The horse, the cat, the lyre, the wagon, and the priest locks.” She rolled long thin strips, shaping one on top of the other to resemble the old powdered wigs magistrates wore in court. “Crosses and Bethlehem stars,” she said, making the shapes and carefully placing them in the pan. She took a long piece of dough, folding it at the center and twisted the ends. “The bundled baby in a manger.” Finally, she formed a bun into the shape of a goat.

  Anna waggled a finger at the shape. “Is that a goat?”

  Elsa grinned. “The Julbock, our Christmas goat, is very popular. The stories my grandmother told us said the goat would bring toys and treats to good Swedish children. Most every Swedish home has a straw replica of him.”

  A smile brightened Anna’s face. “I don’t know about the straw goats, but that one looks good enough to eat.”

  Before Elsa could reply, the lock clicked and the back door opened. Ethan walked in with Lottie. “Happy St. Lucia Day!” he said in a jovial tone as he closed the door then helped Lottie remove her coat.

  “Why do you have a Christmas centerpiece on your head?” Lottie asked Anna.

  “Elsa said I could wear the St. Lucia wreath this morning. Isn’t it wonderful?” the young girl said before picking up a tray of golden buns to carry out front.

  Ethan looked approvingly at the buns Elsa finished forming. “These make me think of our grandmother and home.”

  “Me, too,” Elsa said, momentarily lost in her memories.

  “Who’s St. Lucy?” Lottie asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee and took a sip before tying on an apron.

  Elsa raised an eyebrow at Ethan and left him to explain the Swedish custom to his wife while she went out front with Anna. After making sure everything was ready, she lit the candles on the wreath then hurried to unlock the front door.

  The usual morning crowd hurried inside. Anna greeted them with a shy smile as she held out the tray of buns, offering one to every person who stepped through the doorway.

  Elsa returned to the kitchen to start another batch of buns. “Anna needs some help out front. Can you two watch the counter and pour the coffee?”

  A few minutes later, an excited squeal drew Elsa into the front of the bakery in time to see Claire Baker standing in front of Anna, enthusiastically complimenting her costume.

  “It’s just wonderful, Anna,” the young woman gushed as her sisters, Fred, and Murtag stood behind her.

  “You look lovely, Anna,” Ari said, patting the girl on her arm as they each took a bun and a cup of coffee.

  Fred caught Elsa’s eye and winked at her as he and his aunts made their way to the table in the corner.

  “His table,” Elsa muttered to herself as she rushed back into the kitchen. Even when the bakery was packed, no one sat at Fred’s table if he hadn’t yet been in. Did the people in town respect him that much that they’d leave a table open for him?

  Fred was the most gossiped-about person in town, at least he had been when she and Ethan first arrived in Hardman. Yet, everyone agreed Fred was a dependable, upright, honest man. He worked harder than any two other men in town. Often, he was the first to lend a hand or offer assistance when it was needed.

  If Elsa had been looking for a husband, which she most assuredly was not, she could think of no one better to fill the role than Fred. It didn’t hurt that she thought he was the most attractive man in town, either. Tall and broad, strong and rugged, he would make someone a wonderful husband.

  Just not her.

  Not when she was determined to focus all her attention and energy on building up the bakery. Consumed by her thoughts, she jumped when a hand touched her arm, d
rawing her from her musings.

  She spun around, flinging flour and bits of dough as she moved.

  Fred chuckled and brushed away a little blob of saffron-scented dough from the front of his shirt. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to make sure you’re doing well. No one has tried breaking in again, have they?”

  “No. It’s been quiet around here the last few evenings,” Elsa said, returning to working the dough into shapes. “Thank you for checking on me, though.”

  “That’s my pleasure, Elsa.” Fred’s thumb trailed across her cheek.

  She whipped her head up to glare at him, but he merely grinned. “You had a little flour there.”

  “Oh, thank you.”

  “I… um…” Fred backed away from her, heat emanating from his eyes.

  The pale blue flames drew Elsa like a moth to a lantern dispelling evening’s darkness. Unconsciously, she leaned forward, wanting desperately for Fred to kiss her.

  He might have, too, if Ethan and Lottie hadn’t chosen that moment to walk into the kitchen.