by Nancy Fraser
“And we’ve lots more to do, I’m afraid.” Kat lifted a spatula and slid it under a cookie. “With the lighting event here tomorrow evening, I like to have plenty of goodies on hand. Who knows how many people will show up?” She shrugged, touching a cookie top. “I think these are cool enough to move now.”
“Great.”
“Mommy?” Aimee called out. “Uncle Matt is on the phone.”
“What does he want?”
Ariana could hear Aimee talking to someone in the other room. Kat went about her business finishing up the candy layer on the toffee bars. Ariana retrieved the milk from the refrigerator.
“Says he needs his room tonight. Okay?”
Ariana caught Kat’s eye as she stopped what she was doing and glanced her way. Her lower lip curled into her mouth and she bit it. Suddenly, Kat appeared a bit perplexed.
“Everything okay?”
“That’s my brother,” she said.
“Oh.”
“I guess if he needs to stay here tonight, the roads must be closed heading out to his farm. Lord knows you wouldn’t catch him here at Christmastime for any other reason....”
“Oh.” Ariana looked to the kitchen door, where Aimee had just appeared, tapping her foot.
“Well?” Aimee asked.
“Of course.” Kat told her. “We only have one guest tonight and it’s Ariana. His room is clean and ready. Tell him dinner is at six if he wants to eat with us.”
“Okay.” Aimee ran off with the phone again, chattering with her uncle.
Ariana put a tablespoon of milk into the sugar bowl, added a bit of vanilla, and started to whisk. She thought about what Kat had just said. “So, if the roads are closed, then probably the businesses in town are closed, too. Right? And the restaurants?”
Nodding, Kat said, “Likely so.”
“I see...” She picked up a bottle of red food coloring and tipped it to add two drops to the sugar mix. “I was hoping this would blow over so I could explore the town this evening and maybe grab dinner there.” She stirred the color with a wooden spoon.
“Probably not happening now with the roads. Besides, you’re having dinner with us.”
“Oh no. This is a bed and breakfast, not a bed and dinner.”
Kat laughed. “Not when you’re snowbound. We feed whoever lands on our doorstep.”
She guessed that made sense. “I’ll pay you, of course.”
Kat turned and faced her with a stern look. “You most certainly will not.” She rotated back to her work. “Besides, you are working your tail off here this afternoon. I think you’ve earned your supper.”
“Well, if you are sure.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Kat said. “Oh, and that frosting you’ve been stirring is getting a little hard. Think it needs to go on the cookies?”
Ariana, realizing she’d gotten a bit distracted, laughed. “Right. I’m on it.”
MATT STOMPED THE SNOW off his boots, twisted the knob on the heavy front door to the inn, and stepped inside. The house was warm and, as always this time of the year, practically glowing. As much as he despised the season, his sister loved it.
If the road to his farm hadn’t been closed, he wouldn’t even be here....
No use pondering that. The situation was what it was.
His boots on the mat and his coat on a hook, he ambled in sock feet down the hallway toward the kitchen of the old home. He’d grown up here, so he knew the way by heart. He’d not been here often, though, in recent years, keeping mostly to himself.
His sister inherited the place after their parents died. She’d been too young then to take it over, but the property was held in trust until she turned of legal age. Same thing happened for him with the hardware store. His father’s attorney pretty much managed the estates until it was time, then it was up to each of them.
Laughter bubbled down the hallway from the kitchen and when he stepped inside the door, his heart sank. Kat mentioned dinner at six but with the looks of the kitchen, he doubted that was happening anytime soon. Boxes of decorated cookies, remnants of sugar and frosting and sparkling decorations were scattered everywhere. Christmas music played from Kat’s phone, propped up against a flour cannister. Not a nook or cranny was without a container or two of tasty confections.
The room oozed of Christmas, attitude and all.
“Whoa. What is all this?”
Kat swiveled from where she was talking with someone—a guest probably—and looked at him. “Hey, Matt. These are for the lighting tomorrow.”
“And you think that is still going to happen with this snow?”
She rolled her eyes. “First of all, as you know, I’m an optimist. Secondly, it’s happening whether there are four people or a hundred. It’s tradition, as you know.”
“Bah. I doubt you will get four people.”
“You don’t have to be so negative.”
Aimee giggled. “Oh, Uncle Matt. You are so silly. See? We have four people now. One. Two. Three. Four.” She pointed to him, her mother, herself, and the guest.
Matt looked at the woman. Her back was to him, but she slowly turned. She was wearing one of his mother’s Christmas aprons, which immediately set him on edge. Dusted with flour or powdered sugar or something, she also had a stripe of blue icing on her cheek—which if he would admit it, looked kind of cute on her. He was fairly certain her shoulder-length blond hair didn’t normally sport a streak of green sprinkles—also cute—although in this day and age, who knew for sure.
But it was the rolling pin she held in her hand like a weapon, that wasn’t quite so charming. Plus, she was staring hard at him, and—
“You,” she said.
“No, it’s you,” he countered.
Kat looked from one to the other. “You two know each other?”
He eyed the woman. “We’ve met. If you could call it that.” Then, changing the subject and dismissing her, he glanced to his sister. “Did you say something about dinner?”
Kat looked none too pleased. He would be happy to simply leave the subject and the festivities in the kitchen alone, and find something to eat.
“There’s beef and noodles in a crock on the buffet, along with rolls and a salad. Help yourself. We’ll be along as soon as we wrap up here.”
He glanced again to the woman. What was it about her that pleasantly irritated him?
Abruptly, she stuck out her hand. “I’m Ariana, by the way. We’ve not been properly introduced.”
He stared at her hand, sugar and dough and all, but didn’t take it. “Just call me Scrooge.” He headed for the dining room.
“I think I already did.”
A guffaw burst from his sister’s lips, which greatly annoyed him.
He shot her a “that’s not funny” look and stopped in his tracks.
Spinning back, he ran his gaze over the three females, then landed on...what did she say her name was? Ariana? “And your point is?”
She shrugged. “No point. I just already had you pegged.”
“For?”
“A Scrooge.”
He held her gaze hostage for a moment. “And what makes you the expert?”
Ariana tipped her head to the side. “Well, to be perfectly honest, I am an expert on Christmas. And you possess all the qualities of a town Scrooge. Doesn’t take one long to figure that out. You’re grumpy. You don’t even decorate your store for the holiday.”
Kat looked at her. “Well, you are observant.”
Dismissing his sister, he eyed the guest, this Ariana. Who in the heck was this pipsqueak of a woman who was hellbent on interrupting his regularly scheduled life? “A lot of details for a woman who hasn’t even been in town for a day.”
“Like I said, doesn’t take long. Besides, I’m a....”
“Writer. I know. You’re into details.”
“Exactly.”
“So, pat yourself on the back, Little Miss Christmas, you got it right. I am a Scrooge, and don’t you forget it.�
�� He turned toward the dining room and the beef and noodles. A thought struck him, and he twisted back. “And don’t you go getting any ideas about reforming me. Got it?”
The woman saluted. “Yes, sir.”
Suddenly, he was damned hungry. “Are you finished?”
“Probably not.”
He stopped at the door. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Matt, watch your language.”
He threw Kat a look. “Sorry.” Then pivoting back, he caught Ariana’s gaze again. “Look. I am what I am. You are what you are. We’ll never get together on this thing so let’s not try. Got it? Now, I’m tired and hungry, and if you all don’t mind, I’m going to eat and then find my bed.”
He left the room. His head hurt. He’d already talked more in the past hour than he had all week. People exhausted him. This one woman was worse than ten others.
Chapter 3
“DON’T MIND HIM. HE’S been in a bad mood for years.”
Ariana watched Kat’s brother—Matt was his name, right?—move around the corner and into the dining room. “I should apologize.” She began untying her apron. “I was really out of line.”
Kat stilled her hands.
“No. Let him get his dinner. Men are usually less grumpy after they eat. Let’s clean up here and we can join him in a few minutes. Or, better yet, let’s leave him alone, and we’ll eat after he’s finished.”
Sighing, Ariana agreed. “All right.” She re-tied her apron strings.
“So, where did you two meet?”
Blowing out a breath, Ariana faced Kat. “Earlier today. We had a brief encounter in the bakery.”
“Leslie’s?”
She nodded.
“Great scones.” Kat placed a few sugar cookies in a box. “I’m assuming the meet did not go well.”
“Let’s just say it was...awkward.”
“Hm.”
“Uncle Matt hates Christmas.” Aimee stood on a stool washing dishes at the sink. “I don’t get it. He doesn’t do presents, either.”
“Aimee...” Kat gave her daughter a warning look.
“Well, he doesn’t. He just sits in his house all Christmas and doesn’t come eat with us, or anything.”
The thought of anyone being alone on Christmas bothered Ariana. “Oh, Kat. That makes my heart hurt.”
Sighing, Kat looked her way. “I know.” Her voice lowered. “It’s his own choice. He’s a bit of a hermit. He works and he goes home. Holidays, and especially Christmas, are not his best days.”
Ariana glanced once more toward the dining room. “Well, I think that’s awful. I just can’t imagine....”
“There are reasons.” Kat sidled around her and reached for a mixing bowl Aimee had placed in the dish drainer. She rubbed a dish towel over it.
“We don’t talk about it,” Aimee said.
“I can hear you,” came a male voice from the dining room.
Ariana knew her eyebrows had probably shot up because she could feel the draw on her forehead from the inside. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, learning toward Kat.
“Me either.” Aimee shrugged.
Kat leaned closer, too. “It’s not my story to tell. But Ariana...?” She paused, searching her eyes, and then said softly, “He really is a good guy.”
Reading more into the conversation from staring into Kat’s eyes, than by listening to her words, Ariana decided she was not going to press the matter any farther. “I’m sure he is, Kat,” she whispered. “I just feel for him. And for you.”
“All right. Enough.” Matt shouted from the dining room. “I’m taking my dinner upstairs so you all can talk about me without whispering.”
Kat’s hands fluttered and she rolled her eyes. “Sleep well, Matt,” she called out.
Ariana let out a breath—one she’d been holding forever, it felt like. “Well, that’s that.”
Nodding, Kat agreed. “I think we’re finished here.” She took her own apron off and put her hand out for Ariana’s. “Aimee, can you take these and put them in the laundry?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
“Good. Let’s get dinner.”
Ariana was glad. She was starved. It had been quite a while since her coffee and cookies earlier in the day.
But before they left the kitchen, Kat laid a hand on Ariana’s forearm. “I know it’s odd, and I’m saying more than I should at this point, but Matt is the way he is because of something that happened years ago. Something he’s never been quite able to get over. And this time of the year...well, it’s just worse.”
Studying Kat’s face, Ariana saw the love and concern she had for her brother. It was evident in her eyes, her facial expression, and the way she touched her just now. “I understand. I wish there were something I could do...”
Kat shook her head. “Just be yourself, please? You are bright and cheerful and bubbly and so full life and the holiday spirit. We’ve needed a bit more Christmas spirit around here lately, and frankly, I think you may have been heaven-sent to us this year.”
Ariana stared, a little dumbfounded. “I can’t imagine why, Kat. All I see around me is Christmas.”
Exhaling long, Kat stepped closer. “Sometimes things aren’t exactly as they seem, but we put up a good front.”
Her words puzzled Ariana. “But—”
Suddenly, Aimee bounded back into the room. Kat rushed to her and pulled her daughter close. Then smiling, she met Ariana’s gaze again. “We are happy you are here. Come on. Let’s eat.”
Aimee looked up and grasped Ariana’s hand. “I like you,” she said.
Her heart swelled and she felt so touched. “Oh, my. I like you too, sweet girl.”
LATER, AFTER DINNER and then cookies and cocoa by the fire in the living room, Ariana happily settled into her bedroom upstairs. She showered and slipped into her favorite flannel Christmas pajamas, pulled her laptop out of her bag, and tucked herself into her warm bed topped with a fluffy red and green quilted comforter. She smiled at the small Christmas tree in the corner of her bedroom. Its twinkling lights added a warm and festive ambiance to the room. It was the perfect atmosphere for her to jot down some of the highlights of her day, thinking about tomorrow’s blog post.
She switched off the lamp beside her bed and worked only with the light from the laptop and the tree. The night before, she’d posted about her stay down the road. Her readers knew her destination was Dickens, and according to recent comments, they couldn’t wait to read about the “Official Christmas Village of New England,” as the town had once been dubbed. Too tired to write the whole post now, she’d be ready by morning—as long as she had a few talking points to guide her.
Yawning, she typed a few notes about the town: the square and gazebo, the shops, Leslie’s Bakes & More, the snow, and Holly Hill Inn. First impressions—maybe that’s the focus of the piece. Her impressions of the town, the welcoming people like Kat and Aimee, and.... Her mind drifted and her eyes closed. When they did, behind her eyelids she saw the hardware store sitting undressed and plain among a town full of shiny balls and glittering tinsel—kind of a like a wallflower sitting on a chair in the back of the dancehall, realizing she was never going to be asked to dance.
And that reminded her of Matt. Her mind raced over all she’d learned about him today, their awkward conversations, and the not-so-positive interactions. Plus, Kat’s words about him. He really is a good guy. All of it made her heart a little sad.
Kat was right. She shouldn’t change who she was because of him. That would only depress her. She had to keep on doing her Christmas thing, as normal.
And Matt?
Well. Maybe she’d just have to ask him to dance.
MATT PUSHED BACK THE curtains and peered out his bedroom window, watching the snow swirl around the security light pole below. It was early, but he was always up early, and old habits die hard. He rarely slept well when he was away from home, but for some reason, being back in his childhood bedroom had lulled him into a deeper sle
ep than he’d had for ages.
He’d be ready for coffee soon, though.
Before leaving the store yesterday, he’d put a sign on the front door saying he was closed until after the first of the year. Probably shouldn’t even have bothered, with the looks of things outside. He doubted any of the shops would be open today—unless it would be the Old General Store and Post Office, both run by Hattie Howard, who had lived in the apartment above the store for the past forty years. She felt it her duty to be open every day—just in case someone needed something. Besides, neither snow nor sleet nor rain... Or whatever the saying was... The mail was always delivered.
Small town for sure, through and through.
Enough. Time for coffee.
The stairwell creaked as he descended. The Christmas tree was lit at the foot of the stairs, providing some light as he made his way down. He barely gave it a glance as he passed. The only light in the kitchen came from a single under-the-cabinet fixture over the coffeemaker—a coffeemaker, which to his delight, was on and brewing a fresh pot of coffee.
It didn’t appear anyone else was up. Perhaps Kat prepared the coffee the night before and set the timer. Glancing at the clock on the stove, he realized it was barely six o’clock in the morning. His sister rarely slept in, but today, perhaps, she’d decided to indulge herself.
The coffee finished, he reached for a cup, poured himself a mug, and leaned against the counter. One sip and his brain fog started to clear.
It was unlike her not to be cooking breakfast, though—this was a bed and breakfast after all—and she did have the one guest. But he decided she knew what she was doing, and he wasn’t going to wake her. This was her business. He didn’t interfere.
The one guest.
He thought about the vivacious, Christmas-loving tourist he’d encountered yesterday. For some reason, she’d popped into his thoughts off and on since their first encounter. He couldn’t imagine why, they obviously had nothing in common.
Hopefully, she would sleep late too. He wasn’t up for merry gleeful delight and unending Christmas cheer this morning.