by Nancy Naigle
“What bad happened last night?”
“The kiss!”
“I don’t think you can consider that bad. I mean wrecking your car. Sure. Burning the cookies—well, maybe. Although, let’s be honest. You don’t do much cooking. But a kiss? A very nice kiss. Ummm, no.”
“I can’t have that kind of distraction. He’s not even my kind of guy.”
“So just have a good time. Why not? No one said you have to marry him or anything. If you’re going to be in Crystal Falls, you might as well have fun. You said yourself you didn’t want to go out with Todd. You should invite Bad Luck Ben to the gala.”
“It’s black tie.”
“So? You don’t think he has a tux? They rent tuxes in every town, don’t they? I mean, the kids have to be able to rent tuxes for prom. Come on. That’s a lame excuse.”
“I don’t know. I mean, he wears suits to work every day, but really? This is Crystal Falls, not Crystal City, and I don’t think I want to take a chance like that at work. What if he shows up in something inappropriate? Or worse, what if he says something embarrassing? I don’t know him. It could happen. That’s an important party with our most important clients. I think I’d rather fly solo than risk a faux pas.”
“Joy Holbrook. When did you become such a snob?”
“Well, I didn’t mean it that way. I just…” What was her argument? It sounded a little lame even to her. “The truth is, Ben would be fine. I know he would. I shouldn’t have said those things, but he scares me.”
“How so?”
“He makes me feel … I don’t know. Off balance. It was easy with Todd, since there were no strings. Plus, he had as much to lose as I did at work events. He was kind of the perfect convenient date. I knew what to expect with him.”
“Well, clearly Todd’s available for the gala if you want him.”
“But I don’t.” And she didn’t want him before she’d met Ben, but now, after that kiss with Ben, she was positive she didn’t want to spend time with Todd. There’d been fireworks, or maybe it was the blinking Christmas lights, but either way, that kiss was different from any kiss she’d ever had before. “Besides, Todd works for the competition now. He’ll be surfing our clients. That’s not cool under any circumstances.”
“I think you should give Ben a chance,” Renee said. “What could it hurt? If you put as much enthusiasm into dating as you do into working, you might be surprised at just how much happiness you could find.”
“Who says I’m not happy?”
“Joy, I know you don’t need a man, but having one just makes everything that much better. You don’t want to be alone forever.”
Maybe she did. Or not? Loving someone that much meant that losing them would hurt. That was something she never wanted to feel again. “I don’t even know that he’s interested in me.”
“He kissed you.”
Joy looked down at what she was wearing this morning. “And you should see me. I’m a hot mess. Since I didn’t have time to pack anything, I’ve been wearing old sweats and pull-on pants from Aunt Ruby’s closet. I even used lipstick as rouge yesterday.”
“So go shopping. They’ve got stores there.”
She felt frumpy without her own clothes and makeup with her. And Ben would be back again tonight to start working on the lights. “Maybe you’re right.”
“You know I am. I’m surprised you hadn’t already mail-ordered something in by now.”
“Me too, now that you mention it, but who knew I’d be here a week already?” Time was moving quickly. “All right, I’m going to let you go. Thanks for holding down the fort there. I can’t wait to see you at the gala.”
“Keep me posted on Ben. I’ll keep Todd at bay until I hear from you again.”
Joy hung up the phone and, without hesitation, grabbed her keys and headed to town to stock up on a few necessities like makeup and a decent change of clothes, maybe even cute underwear.
In less than two hours, she was back at the house, showered, changed, and feeling like her old self again.
Then she sat down and started going through all the details in the folder for the Extreme Gingerbread Bake-off. The rules were clearly stated from the previous year. A list of six contestants was attached to the back page along with their entry forms and a deposit slip from the entry fees.
Sponsors had been secured and recorded for the prizes, and all the entries were already on display in the theater at the botanical gardens. All that was really left was to make sure all the contracted advertising and sponsorship agreements were fulfilled, and to schedule the photographer. Check.
She made one quick phone call to the photographer on the list, and that was taken care of. Easy enough.
Then she followed up with the printer to make sure he had everything he needed for the signage to complete the contracted sponsorship advertising. They had the proofs waiting for approval. “I’ll be there this afternoon.” Check.
The only gap seemed to be a final decision on how the public would cast their votes on Sunday. The rules clearly indicated that the judges would cast their votes on the evening the gingerbread displays were set up. That information was in the folder; however, the public would cast votes for their favorites on Sunday up until six o’clock, when all the scores would be revealed and the winners announced.
She needed to figure out what that process would be and how to integrate that into the final judging numbers.
A rumble of thunder shook the farmhouse, and the lights flickered. The donkey brayed, followed by a loud bang. By the time Joy reached the window over the kitchen sink, the goats were running toward the barn. They’d stand right out in the middle of a blizzard, but, boy, they hated rain more than anything. Large drops splattered against the roof, and it wasn’t long before it was raining so hard that she could hardly make out the animals in the barn, peering out, wishing they’d already eaten dinner.
“Sorry, guys, I’m not coming out in this weather to feed you. You’re going to have to wait.” But she did step out on the back patio and feed Molly the Bunny.
The spray from the rain was blowing against the screen. She ran back inside and dabbed at her face and arms with a paper towel. Her phone rang, buzzing across the table. Probably Ruby checking in. “Hello?”
“It’s me, Ben. Looks like we’ll have to postpone lights tonight.”
“I know. It’s a frog strangler here. I brought the lights back inside.”
“Was thinking if you want to come by and go over the event plan, I could fix you spaghetti.”
“You cook?”
“It’s the only thing I cook, but I do make a pretty mean bowl of spaghetti.”
“You’re on. What’s the address?”
She punched the address into her phone GPS as he gave it to her. “I just put it into my GPS. Looks easy enough.”
“It is. Just off Main Street. You’ll see my truck in the driveway.”
“Great. Can I bring anything?”
“No. Just yourself, and your assessment of what still needs to be done on the Extreme Gingerbread Bake-off.”
“Just so happens that I’ve got an update for you. On my way.”
* * *
Joy stepped outside and opened the tiny travel umbrella that she kept in her purse. She ran to her car, but the rain was coming down so hard that she was still soaking wet by the time she jumped into the driver’s seat. She closed the umbrella and tossed it into the passenger floorboard.
Why did I even bother doing my hair? She glanced into the rearview mirror, swept her fingers under her eyes to get rid of any smudges, and then ran her fingers through the top of her bangs. Going in and starting over would put her late, and probably leave her in the same position unless she took to wearing a trash bag over her head, but even still, she’d look a mess when she ran from the car to Ben’s door. Not worth the hassle. Besides, she wasn’t trying to impress anybody.
With the address punched into her navigation system, it was only a few turns to Ben’s ho
use.
Even in the rain, the house looked inviting. And huge. She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this. The mailbox matched the house with amazing detail in color and design. The house had to have been built in the early 1900s.
The grand old home flaunted more architectural details than she’d ever noticed on a house. Old trees edged the property. The driveway curved from the street around to the side of the house. And a brick path led to both the side and front doors. She parked, wishing the rain would slow down, but as she gathered her purse, Ben’s side door opened and he came jogging outside, carrying a huge black umbrella toward the car.
“Thank you!” she said as she ducked under the cover he offered.
“It’s nasty out here.” He held the umbrella and pulled her in close as they walked inside. “Thanks for coming out in this weather. You’re soaked. Come on in.”
When she stepped into the kitchen, the aroma of garlic and tomato filled the air. Water boiled in a tall red pot on the stove. And this wasn’t your everyday bachelor kitchen. It wasn’t your everyday any kind of kitchen. Bobby Flay and Scott Conant would cross culinary cutlery to battle over who got to cook in here. The dark granite only highlighted the high-end stainless steel appliances. “This place is beautiful.”
“Thank you,” he said just as a black Lab ran into the kitchen from the other room, tail wagging. With each step, the dog’s blue bone-shaped tag made a tinkling sound against the metal clasp on his leather collar.
“Hey, buddy,” she said, stooping to pet his head. “Ruby used to have a Lab. Actually, he was Uncle George’s dog. A chocolate Lab named Brownie. Original, huh? What’s his name?”
“Profit.”
“Accounting joke?”
“Sort of.” He sidestepped past her. “Hang tight. I’ll be right back.”
It had been years since she’d thought about old Brownie. That dog had slept at the end of her bed every night the whole time she and Mom lived with Aunt Ruby and Uncle George. She wondered what ever had happened to him.
Ben was back in just a moment with a red plaid flannel shirt in his hand. “Here. Why don’t you slip this on, and we’ll toss your shirt in the dryer.”
“Thanks.” She held the shirt to her cheek. It felt soft and warm. “Bathroom?”
“Down the hall on the right. There should be a blow dryer under the sink. I think my sister left one last time she was here.”
“Thanks.”
When she came back into the kitchen, Ben was pouring wine into two glasses. “Hope you like cabernet.”
“Sure. That’s fine.” She lifted the glass and inhaled the fragrance. “Nice.”
“Biltmore,” he said, taking another sip. He swirled a long wooden spoon in the sauce, then dropped the pasta into the bubbling water on the front burner. The timer buzzer rang out. Ben hit the reset, then pulled a long loaf of crusty bread out of the oven.
“That smells so good. Anything I can do to help?”
“Yes. There’s a cutting board over there. Will you slice the bread?”
“Sure.” She cut four thick slices and placed them in the bread basket. “What else?”
“Cut one more thin slice.”
“Okay,” she said. Maybe she should have asked how thick to slice the bread. “That good?”
“Yeah. Tear it in half and bring it here.”
She did as he asked and then stepped to his side at the fancy stove. He stirred the sauce and lifted a spoonful.
“It smells so good.” Joy closed her eyes as she inhaled.
“Wait until you taste it.” He held his hand under the spoon. “Dip the bread in the sauce and give it a taste.”
She swept the warm bread into the sauce, then took a careful bite. “So good. You do make great spaghetti.”
She dipped the other piece of bread into the sauce and held it to his mouth.
He bit into the bread and flipped the rest of the piece into the air, which Profit snapped up in an instant. “Tastes about ready to me. By the time the pasta is done, it should be perfect.”
“Already tastes perfect to me.”
Profit stared up at them, licking his chops.
Joy patted Profit’s head. “I think Profit agrees with me.”
“He’s not picky. At all.”
She laughed.
“We still have about seven minutes on the pasta, so let me give you the five-minute tour.” He led her into the living room. “This room took twice as long to finish as I’d originally planned. The moldings had been discontinued decades ago, but I didn’t want to compromise on the original craftsmanship.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said, admiring the fact that he’d taken the time to do the job right, accenting the fine architectural features with color against the deeper hues of the wood. A warm and inviting result. “This place is amazing. The high ceilings make it feel so open, and the details of the craftsmanship in here are unbelievable. Is it all original?”
“I wish. This house was in such bad shape when I bought it, but I could see the potential. It’s taken a lot of work to restore this place back to its original opulence, but it’s coming together.”
Over the past eighteen months, the house had finally started looking as beautiful as she had before she’d become worn and neglected. Now she was quite the painted lady, in rustic muted jewel tones of that era like Needlepoint Navy, Sheraton Sage, with Harvest Gold and Crabby Apple Red accents. He’d gone a little hog wild with the colors, but with so many architectural details to highlight, he could get away with it.
This house was the ultimate fixer-upper, but he was loving every minute of it, and sharing it with Joy today was bringing him an unexpected rush.
“It’s lovely.” Several family pictures were arranged on a bookshelf, along with some leather-bound copies of books. “Look at all these books. You must be an avid reader.”
“Not exactly. When I had the housewarming gathering here, I didn’t need anything. Mom told everyone to bring books to fill my bookshelves. These are the favorite books of all my friends. I haven’t actually read them.”
“That’s really something.” Just as in his office, there were personal smatterings of his life here. Not an egotistical display. No, this was more of a reflection of priceless moments. Passions. A picture of him sailing with three other guys holding beer and laughing. A family picture that looked like it was probably his parents in their early years of marriage. Ben had his dad’s nose and strong jawline. A man in a military uniform. She lingered in front of the bookcase, taking in the pictures and snippets that told little details about this man.
“My brother and I built that bookcase.”
“Some assembly required,” she teased.
“Yeah, like every board and nail and joint.”
“You mean you really built it? Like, from scratch?”
“Planed every board. Routed every edge, created every groove and corner.”
It was hard to believe he could have made it. It looked like fine furniture. The finish was flawless. “Cherry?”
He gave her a slow nod.
And not cheap. She was impressed. The man in front of her was full of surprises, and now each of these pictures tempted her to ask even more questions, to get to know him a little bit better. One picture looked like Mayan ruins, another a tropical beach. She wondered when they’d been taken. A snapshot of Jet Skis in the water next to a dock was placed next to a picture of someone parasailing. She picked up a picture of Ben and Profit in a frame shaped like a bone. The puppy couldn’t have been more than six weeks old. “He was so tiny.”
“He still thinks that he’s that tiny sometimes.”
Profit came in and sat between them, his tail swishing left and right.
“You knew we were talking about you, didn’t you, Profit?” Joy suddenly felt small and insignificant. Her condo was like a model home. At any time, someone could drop in, and nothing would be out of place and there wouldn’t be one personal thing anywhere to id
entify who lived there unless they went into her desk, where she kept her bills and checkbook. All she had were air miles from all the travel she did; he had pictures and memories that were as alive today as the day he’d taken those trips.
She didn’t even have a picture of her mother out on display in her apartment, except for the one in her bedroom on her nightstand. And even if pictures of Mom might still bring back too many raw memories, was there really a good reason that she didn’t have a picture of Aunt Ruby in her home? Or a picture from a vacation? Well, aside from the fact that she really hadn’t taken any in the past five years.
This house held not only its own history, but Ben’s too. And suddenly she felt like she’d missed out on a lot more than just Christmases along the way.
Chapter Twenty-three
As far as Joy was concerned, that whole “everybody dreams” theory was up for debate. But darned if last night she hadn’t woken up at least four times, each time remembering the last dream that had been playing in her mind. The same dream every time.
She lay there with her eyes closed to remember the dream. Christmas lights around her neck, and the lights blinking as she kissed a handsome stranger. Okay, fine, he wasn’t a stranger. He seemed a lot like Ben, right down to the pine and sugar cookie smell of him. And then the two of them lying on the floor in front of the fireplace, where Christmas stockings hung from the mantel while carols played softly as they snuggled on a quilt on the floor, her head pillowed in the crook of his muscled arm.
She opened her eyes, a little disappointed to confirm it really had been just a dream.
This was all Renee’s fault for planting those seeds.
She reached for Ruby’s robe. The house was chilly this morning, the hardwood floors icy under her feet. She pulled on a pair of thick socks and went downstairs.
While the coffee dripped into the carafe, she toyed with ideas on how to integrate the popular vote with the judges’ votes for the Extreme Gingerbread Bake-off. Ashley had planned to give each visitor a coin to put in a box positioned in front of each display.