Christmas Kisses: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 1)

by Lucy McConnell

  Reese took it and peeked inside to see the wrapped box and tin of banana chocolates. “Thanks! That was really nice of you.”

  “Well, with everything that’s been going on, I wanted to make sure your night went well.” Joy patted her back.

  “Evening, Mrs. Gates.”

  “Good evening, Andy.” Joy held up her phone. “Let me get one picture of the two of you.”

  “Mom—” Reese started to object.

  “For your grandma. She wants to see your dress.”

  “Okay, but just one,” replied Reese.

  Andy crooked his arm, and Reese slipped her hand over his forearm and smiled. Her mom took two pictures. “Andy, look at the camera,” said Joy as she took at least five more pictures. “I think I got a good one in there somewhere.”

  Reese held up the gold box. “I made you something.” With her mom here, Reese could hardly introduce Andy to banana-flavored kisses. She would have to save that for later.

  Andy opened the box and held it up to his face for a sniff. “You’re teasing me, right?”

  Reese smiled. “Taste one.”

  Andy popped one into his mouth and moaned. “Banana,” he said around a mouth full of chocolate and fondant.

  Both Reese and Joy laughed.

  “These are so good.” Andy sank against the wall as if he were overcome with pleasure.

  Reese dangled the shopping bag containing the extra banana chocolates from her finger. “I’m going to set this behind the candy counter, and I’ll be right back.”

  Reese hurried there and back. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Andy eat another chocolate. He said something, and Mom’s back went stiff.

  Reese ran to get back to them, her arms swinging like windmills and her heels slapping against the floor.

  “What online store?” Mom asked.

  Reese froze just behind her, unable to take a step forward to save Andy from her mother’s barrage of questions that was soon to be unleashed; nor to take a step backward where she could duck behind the display of sweaters and never come out. She let her guard down and left them alone for less than five minutes and the cat was out of the bag. Life was just too good. For one day Reese had everything she’d ever wanted, and now it was crumbling away right before her eyes.

  “The one Reese said you wanted to start.” Andy’s eyes found Reese, his confusion evident.

  Mom rounded on Reese. “What is he talking about?”

  Reese cringed. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  Andy shot away from the wall, the box of chocolates clutched in his hands. “You didn’t know?” he clarified with Mom.

  Mom folded her arms and stared at Reese. “I told you we weren’t ready to take on more work.”

  That was all the answer Andy needed, and he too turned on Reese. “Reese, this isn’t a joke. I … There’s confidential information exchanged, I could be sued for fraud. If word got out, I could lose business over this.”

  Reese blinked back the tears. “I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

  Andy ran his hand through his hair, messing up the sculpted look.

  Turning to her mom, Reese said, “Online sales have been good. Not great, but good, and if we keep it up, we could afford to pay someone to stay with Grandma.”

  “It’s not about the money. This is a big decision that should have been made together.” Mom’s tone was one Reese had heard many times in her life. It was the get-back-in-your-place tone. The don’t-embarrass me tone. The you’re-too-young-to-understand” tone.

  Reese felt something snap. “Together? Really. Because every time I brought it up, you vetoed it. There was no discussion, no looking into it, no together; there was just you telling me it wouldn’t work.”

  Mom’s hands flew to her cheeks. Reese never talked back. Never. But, she realized, there was a difference between talking back and standing up for herself.

  Once Reese hit the release valve on her pent up emotions, everything spewed out. “Well, I made it work. Our Santas have shipped all over the country, and I did that. You always tell me The Candy Counter will be mine one day, but you don’t really want it to be. You want to maintain all control. I can’t run the business just like you; I’m going to have to do it my way. If you can’t handle it, then maybe I’m in the wrong business.”

  Mom shook her head sadly. “I—” She folded her arms and turned to Andy. “Andy, I can’t believe you would do this to my family. We counted you as a friend. Take the webpage down.”

  Andy nodded once, his face hard.

  Joy was out the door and gone before Reese had a chance to register what had happened. Did she just quit the family business? Her mind went back over the words. The tears she’d been holding back welled up and blurred her vision. Ducking her head, she turned to Andy. “I am sorry. I didn’t realize …”

  Andy placed his hands on her upper arms. “I doubt your mom will sue me. But, Reese, that’s not the issue.”

  Reese lifted her chin and the tears fell.

  “You lied to me,” Andy said, the hurt evident in his voice.

  Reese swallowed against the emotions clogging her throat. “Would you have helped me if you knew Mom was against it?”

  Andy let go and ran his hand through his hair again. It curled around his fingers and then hung in its normally adorably messy way. “I would have designed the pages and helped you put together a presentation for her. And I would have done my best to convince her to give it a try.”

  Reese looked away. “Maybe with your background and knowledge, they would have listened. That’s the trouble with this whole family dynamic. They would have listened to you and not me. I knew this could work, and I had to prove to them that I was capable of making decisions for The Candy Counter. It was all that mattered.”

  Andy ground his teeth and dropped his hands. “All that mattered? You mean I didn’t matter. Tell me, heiress, was this date part of your lie? The kisses?”

  Reese’s hand shot out to touch his arm, but he brushed it away. “No, not at all. I didn’t mean for us to get involved— it just sort of happened.”

  “And so you lied. I thought, I thought I knew you.”

  “If anyone does, you do.”

  “No. The Reese I knew valued people, friends, and family. Why do you think I’ve hung around for the last year? I spent plenty of time dating women who wanted careers and investments. I thought we were on the same path.” He stepped back. “But mostly, I thought we could be honest with each other.”

  Andy went for the door.

  “Andy, wait! That didn’t come out right. Look if there’s anything good that came out of this whole stupid, messed-up idea, it was us.”

  He paused with the door open and leaned his head against the metal frame.

  “Come on. We can still dance. Talk this through.” She swiped away the tears and tried to smile.

  Andy straightened. “I don’t know what else to say, and I have to take down a webpage ASAP. Goodnight, Reese.” He took one last sweeping look at her as though he was trying to burn the image into his mind, and then he left.

  Reese turned slowly to see several Kenworth’s employees staring, including Gentry and Jessica. Some of the attendees weren’t watching her in horror as her life fell apart, but those who knew her had faces full of sympathy.

  Jessica came forward and put an arm around Reese’s shoulders. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.”

  Reese nodded, her mind too full to argue as Jessica directed her through the gawkers towards the employee entrance in the back.

  She was mad at her mom, horrified at her outburst, heartbroken over Andy’s rejection, and lost without a future at The Candy Counter. Dropping her face into her hands, she moaned. Pulling her arms around her chest, she tried to hold in the pain as it threatened to rip her apart. She didn’t know how she would make it through the next hour, let alone the night. Once the tears started, she let them take hold and shake her body.

  Without The Candy Counter, Rees
e didn’t really know who she was. It had been a part of her identity since she was old enough to toddle around the chocolate kitchen. She choked out a laugh. Some heiress she turned out to be. She’d sold her birthright for a webpage.

  Without her mom, Reese didn’t have a sense of home. Her mom was the center of everything that had to do with family. She was the one who planned the Sunday dinners, cared for Grandma, and cared about dumb things like taking pictures of Reese in a pretty dress. Reese wiped at her cheeks. She’d said horrible things, true things, but nevertheless mean things to her mom.

  Without Andy, Reese couldn’t see a future, not a happy one. Oh, she could trudge on through life, but it would be a dreary existence knowing that she’d sampled life with her perfect match and lost it because she’d been too afraid of losing him to tell him the truth.

  Tomorrow she would get up and go to church, confessing all to the Lord and laying her lies at His feet. But tonight? Tonight she would feel the hurt and anguish and she would cry her penance. Just as soon as she shut the door to her apartment.

  SUNDAY HAPPENED PRETTY MUCH as Reese expected it to. She didn’t hear anything from Andy or her mom. The pastor gave a wonderful sermon on the birth of Christ and searching for the peace found in Bethlehem on that blessed night. Afterward, Reese mingled with some friends, discussing the high school art show. She excused herself quickly and headed out, preferring to be alone. Reese didn’t go to her parents’ for dinner, choosing instead to make some pasta at home. There would be time to face her mom come Monday morning, but her emotions were too raw to sort through.

  She contemplated texting Andy and caught herself holding her phone, staring blankly at the screen. What could she say that would make things better? The words just wouldn’t come, so she’d set her phone down only to find herself holding it again fifteen minutes later.

  She decided to dip Monday morning. Despite her comment about being in the wrong business, she knew her mom needed her and her skills, and she wasn’t about to leave her high and dry. Not after everything she’d already done and said.

  When Reese looked at things from her mom’s perspective, she felt like a real jerk. Mom was taking care of Grandma, who was still sick. She was constantly worried about Grandma’s mental health as well. Add to that the pressure of running a business during the busiest time of the year, and Reese’s comments about her mom being too controlling seemed extra harsh.

  When she got to her parents’ house, she went into the kitchen through the back door so as not to disturb anyone. Met by line after line of chocolate Santa molds, Reese sighed.

  Joy came through the door only a few minutes later. “Hello,” she said before donning an apron.

  “Hi,” Reese replied, unable to read Mom’s mood. “I’m dipping with milk chocolate this morning, so I can set another batch of molds before I leave.”

  “That would be nice, thank you. I thought we had more at the store, but it doesn’t appear that we’ll have enough for Christmas Eve.”

  Reese hung her head as she added a scoop of chocolate to the double broiler. “I hadn’t thought about the late pickups. How many are there?”

  “A hundred and fifty.”

  Reese nodded. Two and a half pours. Plus they would need some to sell, and she had twenty-five online orders, the last of them, in her purse. “I’ll come back tonight after work and pour another set. That should cover us, and we won’t have too many to discount after the holiday.”

  “Right.” Joy pulled apart mold after mold.

  They worked in silence. Reese sneaked looks at her mom. Her thin lips and furrowed brow gave Reese every indication that she wanted to be left alone. However, there was no hostility in the air, and Reese finally found her rhythm.

  Mom left without saying anything, and Reese finished with the orange cream fondant. She washed her hands, prepared the molds, and poured the remainder of the milk chocolate. There were only two boxes for transportation. She ran out without her coat on and started her car to get it warmed up. Then she packed the boxes and left.

  She went through the house, aware that it felt too quiet and somewhat unwelcoming, as if she didn’t have a right to be there. She could hear her mom and dad’s voices behind their closed bedroom door. Clark was in the shower and Grandma snored loudly in her room. Not knowing how much her mom had shared with Dad and Clark, Reese quietly shut the door behind her, careful not to disturb anyone or draw attention to the fact that she was leaving. She hated feeling like an outsider in her family and knowing that it was her own fault. She’d created this situation.

  Treading the icy walkway with care, Reese knew things were changing. She’d expected there to be a shift when Clark went off to college, but there was no way she could have foreseen that unsettled look in her mom’s eye this morning, because she had honestly believed Mom would be happy about the expansion once Reese explained what a success it had been.

  Tuesday went much the same as Monday. Reese’s phone didn’t ring or signal any texts, except the one from Clark asking, What is going on? Mom and Dad have been in secret meetings for days. It’s annoying.

  Reese smiled. She wasn’t about to spell it all out over text. She’d have to find some time to talk with him over Christmas break. Maybe she could take him out to breakfast on the twenty-sixth. For now, she put off his questions with one of her own.

  It’s a long story. How’s Grandma?

  She’s a little better. We got her out of bed today. She’s in the living room watching soap operas and telling the actors what to do.

  Reese laughed, and it almost hurt. It had been days since she’d even so much as chuckled. Trust Clark to lighten her mood. She could picture Grandma in her bathrobe with her blue afghan across her lap, shaking her finger at the TV and dosing out advice. It did her heart good to know she was on the mend. Since her mom and dad were working the evening shift and Clark was watching Grandma, Reese could visit with her Grandma without feeling like an intruder. I’ll come over this afternoon.

  K. See you then.

  But it wasn’t Dad and Mom who showed up to relieve Reese at Kenworth’s. It was Clark and Mom. Clark threw his gangly arms around Reese and hugged her close. “I don’t know what you did, but you’re making me look really good.”

  “So much for brotherly love.” Reese hugged him back, grateful there was still one person in the family who was speaking to her. Well, two people. She was pretty sure Grandma wasn’t upset. “I’ll fill you in soon, but not here, okay?”

  “Yeah. All right.”

  Reese gathered her things and left before her mom came out of the back room. She almost didn’t visit Grandma, but she hungered for the sense of family that she’d lost and knew some time spent with her grandma was the best medicine.

  Reese could hear the TV going as she made her way up the walkway. She pushed open the front door, ready to tease her grandma about going deaf, when she noticed Ruth sleeping soundly on the couch. Shutting the door quietly behind her, Reese took a moment to adjust Grandma’s blankets and kiss her forehead. Grandma snore-snorted in reply and smacked her lips together.

  Reese sighed, content to just hang out while Grandma slept.

  “Hey there,” said Dad as he came in from the kitchen. He pulled the remote out of his back pocket and turned the TV down.

  So that’s how he always knows where to find it. “Hey.” Reese swallowed against the tightening in her throat. “Are you mad at me too?” She had no doubt that her mom had discussed the whole incident at length with her dad. They never kept secrets.

  Dad shook his head. “Follow me,” he said before heading towards the dining room and then into the chocolate kitchen.

  Reese followed him right over to the wall with the chocolate molds lined up on the shelves. Dad picked up a shamrock mold.

  “Do you know why I made these for your mom?”

  Reese took the mold from him. The metal felt cool in her hands, much like the reception she’d gotten around the house the last couple of days. “It
was your wedding present to Mom.”

  “Right. But do you know why I gave her these?” Dad pressed.

  Reese shook her head.

  “Your grandma was so talented at dipping. She came to it naturally, and she did all of it long before your mother was born. Your mom loved The Candy Counter and she wanted to be a part of it; she just didn’t see how that could be possible. There wasn’t a place for her because your grandma was The Candy Counter. I made her these molds so she could make a place for herself, much like you were trying to do.”

  Reese placed a hand on her Dad’s arm. “Dad, that’s so sweet.”

  Dad patted her hand. “Your grandma couldn’t raise much of a fuss over the molds because of the way they were given.” Ike winked. “She didn’t want to scare off her new son-in-law.”

  Reese shook her head. “She’s always thought of you as her son.”

  “She has, and I’ve never felt anything but acceptance from her. But the thing is, you didn’t receive the web business as a wedding gift— you took it.”

  Reese studied the floor.

  “And I’m proud of you.”

  Her head snapped up. “You are?”

  “I’m not proud that you lied to us or to Andy— I may not like the idea of him, but he’s not horrible as a person.”

  Reese felt her heart give out a little. It didn’t matter that her dad could … tolerate Andy, because she’d messed that up too.

  “But I am proud of you for making a place for yourself in this company all on your own. Makes me think there is a little of me in you after all.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Reese leaned her head against his shoulder, happy to be in at least one parents’ good graces again. No matter how old she got, her dad’s hugs were the best Band-Aid. When she was little, they had protected her against monsters and mean girls. Now that she was grown up, they were a healing balm.

  “If the account statements are right, then this online things has been profitable.”

  Reese nodded feeling the soft flannel of Dad’s shirt rub against her cheek. “It was just a trial run, but I thought it did pretty well.” Pretty well was an understatement; they’d done great. However, Reese had no desire to shout the success from the rooftops like she’d thought she would. All she really wanted was her family together for the holidays and to repair things between her and Andy.