We Need a Little Christmas

by Sierra Donovan

  Liv unfolded her arms and reached for the yellow legal pad on the table in front of her. She waited.

  “You could try to stay the course, at least for the duration of the lease. Of course, that’s easier to do if you can get Terri to stay on board.”

  Liv remembered Terri’s voice on the phone, the tone she’d tried so hard to keep out of her voice. Maybe the entrepreneurial life had been wearing on Terri already, and Liv had been too wrapped up to notice it. She shook her head.

  “Don’t rule anything out yet. Remember, we’re talking options. Get them all in front of you first. Now, Kevin. Have you tried to contact him?”

  “Yes. Strangely enough, he didn’t pick up.”

  “Did you ever have an agreement down on paper?”

  “An informal one, between us. His name isn’t on the lease.”

  Jake showed neither surprise nor judgment. “Kevin, we can go over pretty quickly, and I think I know what the outcome is there. You could try playing nice and getting him to come through, and it sounds like Terri’s been working that option for a while now. You could try threatening legal action. It probably wouldn’t work, but it wouldn’t cost anything to try. You could try actually pursuing legal action, but that involves time, energy, and money.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m supposed to be impartial here, but frankly, that’s the one option I wouldn’t recommend. It would probably be . . . a waste of resources.”

  Liv felt her face color with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. What came out of her mouth was, “I feel so stupid.”

  “Don’t.” Jake shook his head emphatically, tapping a pen on her laptop screen. “This is not a stupid person. You trusted someone to do what he said he’d do. In this case it was a mistake. You didn’t know that. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the business world, it’s that people will surprise you. But sometimes they’ll surprise you for the better.”

  “The storefront was a bad idea.” She’d sensed it at the time. And for some reason, Kevin had gotten her to turn a blind eye to those misgivings.

  Jake regarded her screen again. “It did increase your business,” he noted. “But it also shrank your profits. Still. You had profits. Give yourself credit where it’s due.” He turned back to her. “So, in terms of options. We’re down to one woman, a business, and a lease. You say you and Terri haven’t asked the landlord yet about getting out of the lease?”

  “Not yet.” Liv put her free hand over her flip-flopping stomach.

  “I’d say that’s what you need to do next. You don’t know until you ask, and asking isn’t the same thing as signing your name in blood. So, compare the options of continuing on your own, with or without the lease. You don’t have any liabilities other than your month-to-month expenses, which is a big advantage. I doubt you’d have any trouble qualifying for a small business loan, if you need it. But that’s a pretty large commitment, and you should give it some serious thought first. You could also try subletting for the duration of the lease, although there’s always the chance your tenant might not be a reliable payer.”

  In other words, don’t sublet to Kevin, she thought.

  Jake paused. “There is one more option.”

  “What’s that?” Liv looked up from her scrawling.

  “You could cut your losses.” Jake said the words quietly.

  Liv felt the color drain from her face.

  “I know that’s hard to hear,” Jake said. “But remember, we’re talking about all the options.”

  “Failure isn’t an option,” she said reflexively.

  “Failure isn’t the right word,” Jake said. “Any business venture is a risk, and it can turn on a dime. Economies change. Circumstances change. New competitors can spring up. There might not be enough demand for a product, or consumers might not have enough disposable cash if it’s not an essential. In your case, you’re going from a three-way partnership to a one-woman operation. You’re dealing with a lot of circumstances beyond your control.”

  Liv slowed her breathing, aware that both of her arms had wrapped across her stomach again. Too bad she hadn’t taken that Lamaze class along with Rachel.

  “Remember, I’m not telling you to do anything,” Jake said. “Just exploring the possibilities. You might be able to sell off the name, and I see you were smart enough to maintain a mailing list of previous clients. Depending on the size of your obligation to the landlord, you might clear enough to buy you out of the lease.”

  Liv jotted the word Sell on the legal pad, reminding herself that it was just an ugly four-letter word. Even so, she fought the urge to scratch it out. There wasn’t much writing on the pad as it was. Jake was nothing if not succinct.

  She stared down at the word. Her personal empire. Everything she’d accomplished in five years. The business her grandmother had praised, that everyone in town congratulated her on, even if they didn’t exactly know what it was.

  The thought of giving up set an ugly little coil of panic tightening in her stomach.

  She looked up at Jake, trying to school her features into a neutral expression. But his frank, steady gaze seemed to see through it.

  “Remember, I’m not telling you to quit,” he said. Still, Liv winced inwardly at the word. “I’m just laying out options. And before you even think about beating yourself up, look at this.” He nodded at her laptop screen again. “You’ve done a lot of things right. You and Terri started this up right out of college, and you turned it into a profitable business. You know the odds against that as well as I do. If we had more time, I’d tell you about the coffee cart I tried to start up when I was in college.” He shook his head ruefully.

  Liv gave a weak smile. “I’ve taken up enough of your time as it is. Thanks”—she started to rise—“for not pulling any punches.”

  Jake quickly stood. “Don’t give it a thought.”

  Liv closed her laptop and slipped it into its case. Facts were always simpler through someone else’s eyes. Jake had definitely helped with that. If nothing else, talking to him had given her a clearer idea what she didn’t want. She turned to go, trying to keep her back straight and her shoulders square.

  As Jake walked her out into the lobby, Liv noticed a light hum of activity. Several groups of people sat scattered over the small tables and soft chairs, chatting over their cups. Liv remembered how quiet the inn had been when she’d visited the first week of December.

  “It looks like business is up,” she said.

  “It is. In fact, we’re full up through the end of the year. We added on a little extra help in the afternoons and evenings.”

  They came to the front desk, and Mandy came around from behind the counter, dressed in a white sweater with blue snowflakes. “You’re going? I still owe you a cup of hot chocolate.”

  “Maybe another rain check,” Liv said, although she knew the odds of her getting back here in the remaining days before Christmas weren’t good.

  “Okay.” Mandy’s tone told her she was dubious. “But the offer stands. I hope you make it back before you leave. Bring your mom and Rachel, too, if you want.”

  “Thanks,” Liv said, and meant it. “You too, Jake. I owe you a lot more than a cup of cocoa.”

  “Forget it.” Jake put his arm around Mandy. “I’m no expert. Just a sounding board. You have to do what’s right for you, and that, I can’t tell you. But if you ever wanted to do a chart called Liv’s Career Options, come back and see me. Remember, those organization skills can come in handy a lot of places. If you lived up here, I’d hire you in a heartbeat.”

  Liv felt her stomach do a full-on somersault. She shook her head. “I have to make it work.”

  Jake nodded without surprise. “It sounded that way when we were talking. But don’t be afraid to sleep on it first. Good luck.”

  “And merry Christmas.” Mandy slipped out from underneath Jake’s arm to give her a hug. Liv had barely known Mandy in school, and she’d just met Jake, but she’d miss these two.

  “Merry Christmas.”
Ignoring the lump in her throat, Liv pulled back and looked from Mandy to Jake. “I think this goes without saying. But just to be sure—don’t tell anyone about this.”

  “Of course not,” Jake said.

  “Mom and Rachel think I’m Christmas shopping,” she confessed.

  Mandy frowned. “You haven’t told your family?”

  “No.”

  Jake cocked his head. “But you told me.”

  Liv couldn’t explain. “The kindness of strangers?”

  “You’re not a stranger. You’re Mandy’s classmate,” he said, as if that made sense of everything.

  Liv said her goodbyes and hurried out to the privacy of her car, anxiety knotting tighter in her stomach. Before she started the engine, she sat for several minutes in the driver’s seat, drawing in gulps of air.

  What was she afraid of?

  Losing her business? Partly.

  Worrying her mom and sister? Maybe.

  Failing in front of everyone in Tall Pine? Definitely.

  Being in love with Scotty?

  No, she realized. Because somewhere along the line, without ever consciously thinking about it, that had become a given.

  She just couldn’t do anything about it.

  She gripped the steering wheel and fiercely bit her lip. She had to leave Tall Pine. Had to leave him. Staying here because her business folded—it just wasn’t an option.

  She closed her eyes and willed the slamming beat of her heart to slow. Several deep breaths later, she started the car.

  * * *

  Sucker.

  Scott knelt on the bathroom floor at Olivia Neuenschwander’s house, laying pretty blue-patterned tile and cursing himself for an idiot.

  Sucker wasn’t exactly fair. Liv hadn’t knowingly backed him into ponying up his own cash for half a heater. In fact, she’d gone to great lengths to try to make sure he was fairly paid.

  Russ-from-the-heater-company had changed out the heater this morning. Scott would have installed it himself, except that he didn’t want to leave any room for doubt. If anything went wrong this time, it wouldn’t be because of anything he did.

  And he wondered if it would make a darned bit of difference anyway. Because when he’d returned to the house yesterday after scheduling the installation, the heater was humming happily, allowing him to get the painting done in the living room. Scott had shut the heater off when he left and resolved not to say anything to Russ when he arrived.

  This went beyond an “intermittent” problem. This was more of a “convenient” problem. It fell outside anything in Scott’s years of experience, and when he was tired and discouraged—the way he was now—he doubted there was a mechanical solution.

  Because, at moments like this, he doubted there was a mechanical cause.

  Scott sat back on his heels, viewing the results of his work. The tiles came toward him in a neat diagonal arrangement: start at the far corner, work toward the door. Even cutting the tile to fit it around the fixtures was child’s play by now. And, he noted with some satisfaction, he would end up with about three tiles left over. Even though he hadn’t taken Nammy’s project ideas very seriously, in his mind he’d successfully eyeballed the size of the bathroom with just a little to spare. They might make nice walkway stones, or garden ornaments.

  For whoever lived here next. The thought gave him a pang that he tried to brush away.

  Today, the bathroom tile. Tomorrow, the kitchen. The next day, if everything stayed on track, he’d have Liv and her family come down for a walk-through to check over his handiwork. Right on schedule, two days before Christmas.

  Right on schedule. That ought to make Liv happy. As if he knew anything about making Liv happy.

  She’d been right, of course. What point was there in pursuing anything together when he’d known all along she was leaving? And in his own way, he’d pursued her head-on. The girl with the ultimate built-in exit. A plane for Dallas.

  And even now, given half a chance, he’d take her in his arms again. He knew Liv wasn’t going to let that happen.

  She’d texted him this afternoon—not called, texted—to thank him for referring her to Jake, and to let him know Rachel was doing fine, enjoying being waited on under the doctor’s instructions to take it easy. Brian would be back in town by Christmas Eve, and he’d take her home the day after Christmas.

  Brian would take care of Rachel. Until then, Liv would take care of Rachel and Faye. As for Scott? He was taking care of a haunted heater. On his own dime.

  Sucker.

  He knelt forward and got back to work.

  Chapter 21

  “It’s not like I can’t drive,” Rachel protested again.

  Liv kept her grip on the car keys as the three of them walked up to the car. “We’re not taking any chances,” she insisted. “One contraction and you could be driving all over the road. With Mom and me in the car.”

  “But I haven’t had a contraction since—”

  “Hush.” Liv held open the back door for Rachel. It was the door behind the driver’s side, because the front passenger seat was already pushed back as far as it could go for Mom and her crutch. After all these years, Mom had first dibs on the coveted “shotgun” seat Liv and Rachel always used to bicker over.

  Liv’s desire to drive didn’t really have much to do with concern over untimely contractions from Rachel. They were meeting Scott at Nammy’s house to look over the work he’d completed, and Liv needed something else to focus on, even if it was only the road.

  * * *

  “It’s amazing,” Mom said.

  Liv stayed close to her mother in the center of Nammy’s kitchen, struck by the difference some wallpaper and tile could make. She’d been here for the wallpaper, of course, but not the tile, made to resemble the bricks of a hearth.

  “I love the reds,” Rachel said, echoing Liv’s thoughts. The apples on the wallpaper, together with the deeper red of the simulated brick, gave the room a warm, fresh feel. It wasn’t quite the same house anymore, but Nammy’s guiding hand still showed in the new touches. Nammy had always loved color.

  Scott stood by the doorway to the hall, waiting to lead them onward to the bathroom and the master bedroom. He wasn’t dressed for construction work today; he wore the blue sweater that brought out the color of his eyes. Liv didn’t trust herself to meet them.

  He was doing what he often did, Liv noted, standing back while the hens talked among themselves. If Mom or Rachel noticed that Scott was uncharacteristically quiet today, they didn’t show it.

  Liv’s eyes fell on the scarred Shaker table, and she thought of all those fish-fry dinners. “One of us ought to keep the kitchen table,” she said.

  “Not too likely anyone else would want it.” Leaning on her crutch, Mom clomped over to the table and ran a hand over the rough surface. Liv knew her mother understood how she felt.

  Rachel, too, eyed the table wistfully. “Which one of us has room for it? Mom just bought a new dinette set a year or two ago. Brian could rent a U-Haul, but we’ve got a built-in breakfast nook.”

  “You could buy a plane ticket for it,” Scott said. It was a typical Scotty Leroux joke, but Liv thought she heard an edge of sarcasm underneath it. Her eyes darted over to give him a sharp look—it would be the first time she’d looked directly at him since they walked in—but he was staring at the table.

  “It’d take two airplane seats.” Rachel chuckled. “And think of the complaining if someone was trying to watch the in-flight movie.”

  Liv quietly wrapped her arms across her stomach. By now all her tension seemed to have shifted completely from her jaw to its new prime location. And this morning she’d found poor Rachel on the torture-couch, complaining about another night of tossing aboard the Poseidon.

  The table really should stay in the family, but Liv couldn’t offer a solution. So she shut her mouth.

  “Come on, ladies.” Scott’s voice returned to its normal congenial tone. “Let me show you the rest.”


  Liv trailed behind as they walked through the empty house. The lingering smell of fresh paint reminded her of apartment hunting. Vacant apartments felt like a blank sheet to her, empty of memories of the last occupants, waiting for the personality of a new tenant to place a fresh stamp. This house had a lot more character than that. But had changed enough that it felt as if it was ready and waiting for the next lives to move into it. She supposed they should be proud of that. And maybe it should make it a little easier to let go. Maybe that was what Mom had in mind when she suggested this unlikely project.

  Thinking of her mother, Liv quickened her steps to catch up. This might be hitting Mom harder than she was showing.

  The bathroom was tiny, but the old-fashioned blue pattern transformed it and complemented the bedroom, just across the hall. The bedroom . . . Liv found she couldn’t go in the bedroom. She stood in the doorway, smelling the fresh paint and admiring the airy, sky-blue walls.

  Thankfully, no one said a word about keeping the bed.

  Liv was no real estate appraiser, but she was sure Scott’s work had added several thousand dollars to the price of the home. All with materials Nammy had stored up. “It’s like she was looking ahead,” she murmured.

  “It’s beautiful,” Mom said as they passed down the hallway again. “You did a wonderful job, Scotty.”

  “Scott.”

  “Really?” Leaning on her crutch, Mom was digging into the pocket of her purse. She pulled out her check, already filled out, and frowned at the writing on it.

  “Don’t worry. The bank knows me.” Liv saw the wry curl at the side of Scott’s mouth. “But I still don’t feel right about taking—”

  “Don’t do this.” Liv stepped in, took the check from her mother, and held it out to Scott. “Remember, we had a deal. We wouldn’t let you do all this work if you didn’t let us pay you for it. After all, we deprived you of a week’s worth of your livelihood.”

  “Oh, I got some sidewalks shoveled.” Scott didn’t move to take the check as Liv held it between them.