Christmas Comes to Dickens

by Nancy Fraser

  Chapter 4

  CASSIDY SET A PINE and dried berry centerpiece in the middle of the last table. She’d finally reached her goal of twenty-five sold out tables for the fundraiser, and just in the nick of time. Minus expenses and her modest fee, the town would easily clear five-thousand dollars to cover the purchase of new decorations for the downtown area.

  She collapsed back onto one of the padded chairs and stretched her legs out beneath the skirted table. With little more than hour before the guests arrived, she could finally take a breath and relax.

  The wine delivery had shown up on time, and the two women she’d hired to put together the cheese trays had just left. Three high school students were there to clear tables and refill the food stations. At the moment, they were diligently setting things up in the back. There was nothing left to do but wait.

  She loved it when things went off without a hitch. Not only did it give her a feeling of satisfaction, but it enhanced her professional standing within the small community. Dickens itself wasn’t large enough to support a full-time business but, fortunately, word of mouth spread quickly to the entire county, giving her plenty of clients to pitch. With any luck, her business would be in the black following the holiday party season, and she’d be able to replace her aging car by spring.

  The only thing that would make the evening more enjoyable would be if Rick Barrett showed up. Assuming he’d changed his mind about going to New York for the week.

  “Miss Kean, we’ve got a problem.” Cass lifted her head and met the young girl’s gaze.

  “What is it Kenzie?”

  “There are no small plates or napkins in the cupboards.”

  Cass sprung to her feet, slipping back into her ridiculously high heels, and cursing her stupidity at not choosing a more sensible shoe.

  “The rec center manager said they’d supply them,” she grumbled, making a beeline for the small kitchenette off the main room. “When I met with Frank Hardy day before yesterday, they were right here.” She gave the cupboard door a hard pull, but it didn’t budge.

  “What are we going to do without plates and napkins?” Kenzie asked.

  Cass drew a deep breath. “First, we’re not going to panic. Mr. Hardy volunteered to act as our bartender, so he should by here any minute. We’ll get everything else ready, and then I’ll help you once we have access to the cupboard.” She slid her finger across the lock screen on her phone, and added, “I’ll give him a call and ask if he can arrive a few minutes earlier than planned.”

  She’d no sooner pressed the call button when her phone rang. The Hardy residence phone number popped up on her call display. “Hello, Frank?”

  “No, it’s Sylvia. Frank’s in bed with the flu. It hit him hard just this morning. He’d hoped to feel better in time to show up tonight, but he’s out like a light.”

  “But,” Cass began. She felt bad about whining but couldn’t help it. “I need the cupboard keys, and a bartender.” Panic made her stomach clench. A feeling of dread washed over her.

  “Don’t worry, Cass. Frank had me call a friend of his to help out. I gave him the keys ten minutes ago. He should be there soon.” Before Cass could ask the friend’s name, Sylvia said quickly, “Gotta run, Frank’s calling me.”

  The line went dead, leaving Cass to wonder who Frank may have asked to help.

  “You kids go ahead and set out the cheese boards, two to each table. I’ll open a few bottles of the red wine so they can breathe. Then—”

  “A little birdie told me you were in need of a bartender.”

  Cassidy froze at the sound of Rick Barrett’s undeniably sexy voice. The bottle of cabernet in her hand slipped, and he caught it just before it hit the floor.

  “I...uh...” Words escaped her, her gaze fixated on Rick’s teasing grin.

  “You’re not going to show a profit if you keep dropping the wine on the floor.”

  “You’re the ‘friend’ Frank asked to help out?”

  He shrugged, his quick wink making her breath catch. “Yep, that would be me. Frank and I went to school together. We go way back.”

  “But you’re supposed to be a guest tonight, not a member of the staff,” she reminded him.

  “I took your advice and gave away my tickets. I’d planned to fly back to the city but the snowstorm they’re predicting is playing havoc with the flight schedules, so I cancelled.” He reached for a second bottle of red and set it on the counter. “I was destined for an evening of watching old movies if Sylvia hadn’t called with Frank’s favor.”

  “You like old movies?” she asked, embarrassed by the annoying squeak in her voice.

  “I love them. They’re my one entertainment vice.”

  “Me too. I’m especially fond of the black and white films from the 1940s—Cary Grant, Ingrid Bergman. They don’t make them like that anymore.”

  He nodded and smiled. “That’s for sure.” He withdrew the much-needed keys from the pocket of his jeans and offered them to her. “Apparently you need these.”

  “Yes,” she said, taking them from his grasp, her fingers lingering against his far longer than necessary, a tingle spreading across the back of her hand. “If you can finish opening the wine, I’ll help the kids get the plates and napkins set out.”

  “Just tell me what you need, Cassidy. I’m at your service.”

  What I need? Common sense told her now was not the time, or place, to voice what she truly needed from Rick Barrett.

  RICK SETTLED IN BEHIND the makeshift bar and organized the bottles of wine and non-alcoholic beverages into a workable pattern. Every once in awhile he’d look up to see what Cassidy was up to. Or, more precisely, to watch her move around the room, her already shapely legs made even more so by the sky-high heels she wore. Her silky skirt clung to her enticing curves like a second skin, as did the shiny silver-threaded blouse. She’d pulled her long mane of chestnut curls back from her face with ornate hairclips, the elegant style showing off her sleek neck and darned near perfect facial features.

  All-in-all, she was one beautiful woman.

  “Hey, man, you about ready for these glasses?” The young boy Cass had introduced as Trevor, stood there, a rack of wine goblets in his outstretched hands.

  “Sure. Sorry—my mind was on something else, I guess,” Rick mumbled.

  Trevor chuckled, his adolescent voice cracking. “I can see that. She is really pretty, isn’t she?”

  Rick shot the boy a narrowed glance. “And way out of your league.”

  Trevor passed off the rack of glasses and backed away. “Don’t worry, I know when I’m outclassed. I’ll stick to girls my own age—at least for a few more years.”

  The guests began arriving moments later, finding the tables designated for each sponsor and settling in to enjoy the company of their friends, co-workers, and neighbors. It never ceased to amaze him how friendly a small town could be—something he rarely saw living in New York.

  Not that the people weren’t friendly in the city, especially among personal acquaintances. However, the atmosphere in New York was different, more sterile than in a small town. Here, everyone knew everyone else’s business. In the city, your business was your own, and nobody really cared unless it affected them personally.

  He’d thought he preferred the solitary option but watching Cassidy interact with the community—even though she’d only been a member for a few years—showed him the true value of this type of friendship. No doubt the coming holiday season would add to the small-town atmosphere. Rick wondered if he’d be able to handle the onslaught of all this togetherness. Or had he truly become the big-city dweller he’d always intended?

  “Can I get a white wine, please?” Cassidy’s sultry voice and delicate perfume sank into every one of his five senses.

  Chuckling, he asked, “Is it wise for the hostess to drink?”

  “The hostess needs something to keep her going. Not to worry though, I’ll nurse this one for the rest of the evening.”

  He poure
d her the requested glass. “You did a great job organizing this event. It looks like the entire town of Dickens, and a few of its neighbors, showed up.”

  “Your two tables helped draw the others in since quite a few of your factory workers live in Lincoln and Porter.”

  “So, what’s next for CK Planners?” he asked, genuinely interested.

  She gave her big brown eyes an exaggerated roll. Just like Millie.

  “I’ve got the tree lighting on Saturday, followed by two corporate events, and a holiday fashion show in Hartsfield. I also have two tentative New Year’s Eve bookings. The first one to confirm gets my expertise, the second one my suggestions for a do-it-themselves party.”

  “Busy lady,” he commented.

  “It’s the only way to get my business off the ground and make it viable enough to support myself and Millie.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what about Millie’s father? Is he any help with expenses?”

  “Millie’s father is...shall we say...ambivalent toward his daughter. He’s not reliable enough to bother suing for child support.”

  “Does Millie miss him?” He realized he was prying, but his need for information about Cassidy and her daughter urged him on.

  “Millie doesn’t know him. He was a second-year college romance, raging hormones, broken condom and all. He switched schools in between semesters long before Millie was even born.” She gave a half-laugh. “I’m not even sure where he’s at, and I’d like to keep it that way.” He was about to ask another totally nosy question when she added, “I’d better mingle. Thanks again for stepping in to help.”

  “It’s been my pleasure. Maybe once we’re done here, we could go for a late-night snack that’s not just cheese and wine.”

  “Don’t forget the fruit and nuts,” she teased. “I’ll let you know. If you don’t mind. It’s been a long day.”

  “I’ll cross my fingers and hope for the best. Now, go mingle.”

  Chapter 5

  CASS WAS HOVERING, even though she knew she shouldn’t. She couldn’t remember ever seeing so many women eager to get their own drinks.

  Not that she blamed them. Rick Barrett was one sexy bartender.

  Young women, middle-aged divorcees, happily-married women couldn’t seem to resist his charm. And not that he needed it, but he was raking in the tips. If he were a stripper, his skimpy costume would be overflowing with cash.

  An unusual image...even for someone who’s suffering a dry spell in the romance department.

  Cass couldn’t argue with her inner-voice’s logic, or the comment about her dry spell.

  Forcing herself away from the fringes of the bar line-up, she made her way to the mayor’s table. A good dose of political rambling would be just the thing to take her mind off Rick Barrett and his entourage of female admirers.

  “Stellar job, Miss Kean,” the man exclaimed, his booming voice spreading across the two or three adjacent tables. “We can go ahead now with sprucing up the decorations and have a tidy sum leftover for cleanup and minor repairs after the decorations come down.”

  “Thank you, Mayor. It was my pleasure.”

  “I’ve already recommended your services to a few business associates, so expect some phone calls.”

  Cass smiled, mentally reviewing her calendar. “I appreciate the show of confidence, and I look forward to hearing from them.”

  “You’ll be at the tree lighting, of course,” he confirmed.

  “Yes, we wouldn’t miss it. Millie asks at least twice a day for a countdown.”

  A grandfather of four, the mayor nodded his head. “It is sometimes difficult to contain their enthusiasm, isn’t it?”

  “That it is,” she agreed. “If you’ll excuse me, I see one of my helpers trying to get my attention.”

  Cass pushed herself to her feet. Her toes pinched inside her increasingly uncomfortable heels, reminding her for the umpteenth time how foolish she’d been at putting vanity before function.

  “What is it, Kenzie?” she asked when she’d reached the young woman’s side.

  “We’ve only a half hour left. Should we put the rest of the cheese trays out on the tables?”

  Cass glanced around the room. “I don’t think we need any more. Everyone seems to be winding down. Over half have already left. Save the rest of the trays, and I’ll drop them off at Hope Manor on my way home. I’m pretty sure the staff on the night shift will appreciate an extra snack for the nursing stations.”

  “Will do,” Kenzie confirmed. Glancing in Rick’s direction, she added, “It might be time to announce the bar closing. Otherwise we’ll never get out of here.”

  Cass chuckled. “Good idea. Now I remember why I hired you to help out at all my events. You keep me on track, thank you.”

  A faint blush colored Kenzie’s cheeks. “You’re welcome. Truthfully, it’s really just me wanting to get out on time. I’ve got a late date.”

  Cass thought quickly of Rick’s invitation, and of her plan to take the remaining cheese trays to the retirement home before they locked their doors for the night. Would he mind waiting? Or would it be best to bow out gracefully from their late-night snack, and hope for another invitation?

  With the last of the guests gone and the cleanup completed, Cassidy watched from the doorway while Rick and Trevor loaded the final full case of wine into her trunk. The three bottles remaining from an open case would end up being part of a raffle basket for one of her upcoming events.

  Rick had done a wonderful job maintaining control over her inventory, not opening new cases unless it was totally necessary. The only toss-out was a half bottle of Chablis and two-thirds of a Zinfandel.

  Once the students were on their way, Rick came back inside.

  “How about we split the last of this really nice Chablis?” he asked.

  Cass shook her head. “You go ahead if you’d like. Even a small glass would knock me out.”

  “None for me then. I’ll just pour what’s left down the sink, put the bottles in the recycle bin, and we can be on our way.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice husky with fatigue. “Not just for filling in but for doing such a great job controlling the way you opened the cases. I can either use the closed ones for another event or return them for credit.”

  “If there’s one thing you learn in business, it’s how to allocate your stock to your fullest advantage.” He held her coat for her, and asked, “So, are you up for a late-night bite? I’m pretty sure the diner is still open. I can drive and then bring you back to get your car.”

  Cass hesitated. What if she begged off, and he never asked again?

  “I’ve got a stop to make, if you don’t mind.”

  He gave a quick shrug and told her, “No problem.”

  She reached for the box containing the cheese trays, but he beat her to it, easily balancing it on one arm. Once they’d turned off the lights, Cass locked the main door to the rec center and followed Rick to his car.

  They made the detour to Hope Manor, and when Cass stepped out at the curb, Rick was there to meet her, the box of goodies held tightly in his grasp.

  “I can take that from here,” she told him. “If you’d rather wait outside.”

  “I’m okay,” he said casually, motioning for her to lead the way.

  They slipped inside the retirement home and stopped at the reception desk.

  “Hey, Cassidy,” the woman said. “We weren’t expecting you this evening.”

  “I’m just dropping off some snacks.” She nodded toward the box Rick had set on the top of the desk. “I thought the night shift could use a pick me up.”

  The woman laughed, her full cheeks shaking from the effort. “You know we can. You’re spoiling us.”

  Cass gave a faint smile. “You all deserve it.” She turned to leave, but stopped to add, “I’ll be back on my usual day.”

  “See you then, Cass. Have a good evening, and give that cute little rascal of yours a hug from me.”

&nbs
p; They walked back to his car in silence. No doubt Rick was wondering about her connection to the manor. Before he could ask, she blurted out, “My mother. She was a long-term dementia patient until she passed away this past spring.”

  “I’m sorry, Cassidy.” He paused, then asked, “She’s the reason you chose Dickens, wasn’t she?”

  Cass blinked back the tears that threatened, and she nodded. “Even with her retirement pension, we couldn’t afford care in Chicago, so we moved. She grew up in Dickens and had always talked about coming back here to live someday. She didn’t fully realize where she was, but I always felt she would have been happy knowing she’d come home. The staff were all so kind to her, I felt obligated to give back by volunteering a day or two a month. Even though she’s gone now, I’ve developed an attachment to the staff and a number of the residents.”

  They arrived at the diner a few moments later, and Rick held the door for her to enter. “I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I’m starving.”

  “Me too,” she admitted. “You can only nibble on cheese for so long before you’ve had enough.” She inhaled, drawing in the mixed aroma of grill-fried burgers and coffee. “A burger might be a bit heavy this late in the evening, but I’m still tempted.”

  He chuckled, the deep growl of a laugh setting her nerves on edge. Did he even realize how sexy he sounded?

  “How about we split a burger, and each get a side salad?”

  “No cheese though. Avocado or tomato would be perfect with just a schmeer of mayo.”

  “Mayo? No ketchup or mustard?” he asked.

  She pulled a face and gave a little shudder. “No, I’m a mayo girl all the way.”

  Their server arrived with menus and Rick held up his hand. “I don’t think we need those, thanks. We’ll both have side salads, ranch dressing on mine. We’ll split one of your special Morty Burgers with mayo, avocado, and lightly grilled onions.” He met her gaze, and asked, “Dressing? What to drink?”

  “Ranch dressing for me too, and an iced tea, no sugar.”