He opens his mouth, then shuts it, then opens it again. “I’d better get in here to see her. Even if she’s asleep, I can tell her I was here.”
“Yeah. I’ll see you in the waiting room.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
I’m getting in my car after church, when Garrett waves me down. I roll my window down as he lopes across the parking lot. He leans on my open window frame and peers in. “Hey, glad I caught you. How’s your mother? Have you talked to your dad since five?”
“No, I’m heading back over there now.” I glance at my dashboard clock. “I should make it for the one o’clock visit. Or even better, they may have her in a room.”
“The reason I stopped you.” He shifts from one foot to the other. “I’m flying out to California for a while.”
“Today?”
He nods. “Unless you think you’ll need me.”
“No, I don’t need you. Do you want Jake to stay with me?” I like the dog and right now, I’d probably welcome the company, but going back and forth to the hospital might make it difficult.
“Nah, you’ve got your hands full. Mark and Ami said they’d keep him. But thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Okay, Gran always said I needed to learn to wait on the Lord. And I try. I really do. But I’m not so great at it. “When are we going to finish the conversation we started yesterday at the lake?”
His eyebrows draw together. “I need to take care of a couple of things before we have that conversation.”
“In California?”
“Yep.”
Okay, now I’m nervous. Is some leggy beach babe waiting, just looking, for one more chance?
He leans in and loops his arm around my neck. “See you sport. Take care.”
“You, too,” I say as he jogs back over to his truck.
The next Saturday, I’m working in the shop, when Mother calls me. Since she’s home and not back to work yet, she calls frequently to tell me exactly how I need to fix my life. Too much time on her hands, if you ask me.
She jumps right in without a hello. “You know you’d think if I wanted to know things about my own daughter, I wouldn’t have to read them in the newspaper.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Jingle Bells Journal. Your dad insisted we subscribe to it, so we could keep up with what goes on in that little town of yours. And it’s a good thing.”
“Really?” I’m flipping through a catalog from one of my suppliers.
“Yes, if we hadn’t, I don’t suppose you would have ever told us about your friend.”
What is she rambling about? I brought the paper in, but haven’t opened it yet.
“Now I’m glad you finally got together with him.”
“Got together with who?”
“Garrett, of course. Do you have any idea what he’s worth?”
I frown. “Are you taking more medicine than you’re supposed to?”
“Very funny. Trying to distract me.”
I lean over and snag the paper from the far side of the counter and flip open the front page. My eyes scan the headlines, looking for anything she could be talking about. I don’t have to look far. Front top in big bold letters
Local Man Owner of Summer Valley Corporation
In a surprise twist to the ongoing hostilities regarding the name change in Jingle Bells, Arkansas, our investigation revealed that the owner of the Summer Valley Outdoors Corporation is none other than Jingle Bells resident, Garrett Mitchell. Mitchell founded the e-company three years ago in Lakeland, California.
The paper falls from my hand and I slide to the floor, still sitting. “Mother, I’ve got to go.” She’s still talking when I hit END, but I can’t talk another second. My stomach clenches and I pull my knees up toward me. “Stay calm,” I mutter. Jack Feeney gets things so messed up. This is the same man who called me a runaway bride. And I know Garrett. He wouldn’t hurt me for anything, much less do something to destroy me. This has to be a mistake.
I grab my cell phone from my pocket and hit his number. He’ll laugh, but I have to hear him tell me how wrong this is.
“Hello?” His voice is like it always is, like it always has been, reassuring.
“Garrett.” I swallow, my throat suddenly sore and achy. “It’s me.”
“Kristianna, what’s wrong?”
“The paper—it says. . .” I can’t even get the words out, they’re so ridiculous. I half laugh, half sob. “It claims that you. . .you own Summer Valley Outdoors.”
“Oh, no.”
“I know!” My voice squeaks, but I can’t help it. “Crazy, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
Relief eases the knot in my stomach.
“Oh sport, I wish I was there. I’m in the middle of meetings I can’t leave.”
“I’m okay. It’s okay. They’ll print a retraction.”
He continues as if I didn’t speak. “If I were there, I could make you understand. When I started my online business, it was tiny. Then it grew. And I wanted to expand, but I had to have invest—”
I barely hear his words, except the first ones. “What business?”
He clears his throat. “In order to open a—”
“What business?” I repeat, squeaking again.
When he speaks I can barely hear him, but I do. “Summer Valley Outdoors.”
Struggling to breathe, I hit the red END button and set the phone on the floor. I hear it ringing again, but it sounds very far away.
I wrap my arms around me knees and struggle to think, but every time I get to my conversation with Garrett, I stop. I don’t know how long I sit there. The ringing quits for a while, but then starts again and seems to go on forever. Finally, the door bell chimes over the ringing phone. I don’t move. If it’s a customer, maybe they’ll wander back to Sarah’s Quilting Corner and visit with her. Or leave. I don’t really care what they do as long as they don’t bother me. I put my head down on my knees and try to be invisible.
But the footsteps click-clack on the hardwood floor and make an unerring path around the counter to me.
“Hey, sweetie,” Ami says, in the tone she’d use for a hurt child on the playground. “Let’s get you upstairs.”
I look up at her. Tears are wet on her cheeks. “You know?”
She nods and tugs me gently to my feet. “C’mon, we’ll talk upstairs.”
I allow her to guide me up to my apartment. When we get in the door she hands me my still ringing phone. Anger surges through me. I throw it across the room with all my might.
It lands on the sofa, harmlessly. Ineffectually. Just like my puny efforts to save the town. A sob catches in my throat. “I won’t let him do this.”
“He already has,” Ami says quietly.
I spin around. “The election isn’t for another three days. It’s not over until then.”
“I meant what he’s done to your heart.”
I take a deep breath and shake my head. “I’m not going to think about that. I can’t.”
She snorts. “Like you can keep from it.”
Too true. “My best friend, the only man I’ve ever really loved, is the enemy, prepared to destroy the town I cherish. When did my life become a B movie?”
“Your life’s not a B movie. It’s a blockbuster. Maybe even an Oscar winner. And I want a young Meg Ryan to play me.”
“How are we going to de-age Meg Ryan?”
She shrugs. “Don’t try to confuse me with reality.” She guides me into the kitchen and puts me in a chair. “I’m going to fix some coffee. Then we’ll figure this mess out.”
I raise my hand. “And after that we’ll banish world hunger and do away with war.”
She looks back over her shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”
“That was sarcasm.”
“I know. See? You’re almost back to normal.”
I don’t say it, but the truth is, normal has never seemed further away.
~~~~~
The gif
ts and the notes. I sit straight up in the bed and peer at the bedside clock. 2:00 a.m. The anonymous gift and notes were from Garrett, not Shawn. I’m sure of it. I throw back the quilt and snatch my robe from the bedpost. I wrap it around me as I take the stairs two at a time. I saved all the “Summer Valley” gifts and notes behind the counter. I flip on the overhead light and squat down to pull them out. First the basket, with the beach towel, flip-flops, suntan lotion, and of course the books. Books Garrett would know I wanted to read, since I’m sure I mentioned the titles in front of him numerous times. I pick up the note--Kristianna, If Jingle Bells dies with its name intact, is that a victory? Sometimes our hearts can’t see clearly what is right before us. If you could open your mind to change, you might be amazed by the view.
I plop all the way down on the floor, cross-legged. . .hearts can’t see clearly. . .I thought my heart finally was seeing clearly. But apparently I missed the part where he stabbed me in the back.
Tears fill my eyes as I pull out the beach bag with my name woven on the front in red. I pull out the snorkel mask, the pearl earrings, and then the mother of pearl jewelry box. Love Me Tender.
I flip open the note--Praying for you to have a Jingle Bells Christmas filled with love, happiness, and especially peace. Relax. The battle can wait.
The battle waited all right. Waited until I’d almost lost to realize who my enemy was. Filled with righteous indignation, I shove the beach bag items over to the side and stare at the big box I know holds that gorgeous sandcastle. I have that note memorized.
Dreams are the glue that hold sandcastles together. You can hold onto your dreams no matter how much your world ends up being changed by the tide. That arrogant man. I’ll show him that he’s not nearly as strong as the tide.
I sit in the floor for a while, then slowly trudge up the stairs and to bed. Anger doesn’t do much for inducing sleep.
~~~~~
“Are you sleeping any?” Ami asks as she ladles soup into a bowl and plops it in front of me. Her mother is a huge believer in the healing properties of chicken noodle soup, but since Ami can’t cook, she showed up at my door with two red and white cans.
“Some.”
“Some. How long are you going to keep going like this? By election time, you won’t even be able to vote.”
“I have a few days to get rested up.”
“You know, maybe if you’d answer your phone, Garrett could ex—”
“Ames.” I take a sip of my soup, because I know she won’t be satisfied until I do. “I’m glad you made peace with Garrett.” In spite of his back-stabbing, two-faced, lily-livered behavior. “And I promise I’ll never put you in the middle or try to make you choose sides. But in return, you agreed. . .We. Cannot. Talk. About. Him. Okay?”
She sighs. “Okay. Did you know your parents are hiring Shawn? We can still talk about Shawn, can’t we?”
“I did not know that. But I’m glad. And yes, we can talk about everything. Except Garrett.”
“Gotcha.” She hugs me. “Well, in that case, I’ve got to get home and feed He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named’s dog.”
“You are going to take that act on the stage, aren’t you, funny girl?”
“Only if you’ll be my straight man.” She gives me a quick hug and lets herself out.
After she leaves, run my finger down the scotch-taped list on the workshop wall and punch in Uncle Gus’s cell phone number. He answers on the first ring.
“This is Kristianna. I understand the latest polls show the town is dead even split on the name-change issue.”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s what I hear, too.”
“You’d probably like to change that just as much as I would.” Only in the opposite direction. “What if we have a town meeting Monday night, and give everyone a chance to share their views? Sort of an open forum.”
“Well, now. We’ve never done anything like that.”
“Look at it this way. If you’re as good as you think you are at speaking, you might convince Scott and me. Then we can have a unanimous council vote and not have to mess with that part of the ballot Tuesday.”
“Now that you mention it, this open forum might be a good idea.”
“You can give a talk and I’ll speak for Jingle Bells.”
“For the name you mean.”
“That’s right. For Jingle Bells.” I know it sticks in his craw for me to say that since he’s the mayor, but hey, the truth hurts. “I’ll go first, then you. Then whoever wants to can follow.”
“We’ll have it at the high school auditorium. The last town council meeting, we barely fit everyone into the city hall.”
“Sounds good. See you there.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next night, we enter the high school auditorium and Mark and Ami slide into seats near the back, while I head toward the front. Someone, probably Uncle Gus, has set up microphones on a long table in front of the council members’ chairs. I’ll say this, he was right to move it to the auditorium. We’re way beyond the maximum capacity for town hall. Looks like half the town is here. At least he put us on floor level and not up on the stage.
My stomach swirls. I’m not a speechmaker. I’d rather get a root canal. But someone needs to remind these people that there are other businesses in the world who won’t make us change the town name. And other ways to bring in tourists. We just need to find them. And we will.
Uncle Gus and Dottie are talking at the end of the table and John Stone and Scott are already seated.
“Hi, Kristianna,” Mrs. Stewart calls. “We’re voting for Jingle Bells.” She holds up a sign that says Jingle All The Way, with the word Bells inserted with an arrow between the Jingle and the All.
Mr. Stewart gives me a thumbs’ up.
I smile at them and they kiss each other then smile back.
I see Shawn a little farther over, and oh my goodness, Lila is sitting with him. I raise my hand and they both wave.
Birdie calls to me. “Count me undecided, sweetie. But I love you anyway.”
Beside her, Sergeant Montrose nods, so I guess he’s undecided, too. Or he loves me anyway, too. Either way, I need to talk to them after the meeting if my speech doesn’t change their minds.
Jack Feeney flips through his notebook as I pass by. He did me a favor, I guess, by exposing Garrett, but sometimes it’s hard not to fall back into that old “shoot the messenger” mentality.
I’m almost to the front when an unnatural hush falls over the crowd. I glance up to see if Uncle Gus is getting ready to call the meeting to order, but everyone is looking toward me. I turn around, and Garrett is right behind me. “I need to talk to you privately.”
He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. I force down the sympathy that automatically comes. No rest for the wicked, I guess.
I step back and glare at him. “I have nothing to say to someone who would betray not just me, but the whole town.” I don’t yell exactly, but I don’t whisper either. After all, isn’t it better for Summer Valley supporters to know what he’s like, before they vote?
“Betray you? I was trying to save you.”
“Save me?” I glance over at Brenda and Renee, my and Ami’s hair stylists, who happen to be sitting right beside where we’re standing. “Beware of a man who wants to save you. Usually there’s an ulterior motive.”
Garrett frowns. “My ulterior motive was keeping this town from going the way of a thousand other towns across the country.”
“Oh, my goodness. Stand here in front of me and act like a martyr, why don’t you? And the fact that you stood to make megabucks never crossed your mind?”
“You tell him, sister,” Elva Campbell hollers from behind me.
His face flushes. “I didn’t have to open the business here. I still don’t have to. I could have gone thirty minutes down the road and found a town that’d change its name in a heartbeat. Without this hassle.”
He’s right. Which makes it worse. “Why didn’t you?”
�
��Because you’re not the only person who cares about this town and these people. I was born and raised here. When I had a chance at success, it only seemed right to share it with the town.”
“And we’re grateful,” says Billy Farmer from behind Garrett.
“You got that right,” someone else calls.
“Go mess with somebody else’s town,” a voice pipes up from the back.
“Excuse me,” Uncle Gus’s voice echoes over the loudspeaker. “We need to call this meeting to order.”
I spin around and bump into Jack Feeney, who must have snuck around behind me to hear better. He’s writing frantically in his notebook. I brush past him and make my way to my seat.
Garrett approaches the table and whispers something to Uncle Gus, then takes a seat in the front row in my direct line of vision.
I narrow my eyes and look over his head.
The mayor pulls the mike toward him. “Because the town seems to be squarely split on the name-change issue, and we’re going to the polls tomorrow, it was our intention to allow people to speak their minds tonight. However. . .”
I jerk my head around to look at him. There is no way he’s going to get out of this.
“As many of you know, one of our own, Garrett Mitchell, is the owner of Summer Valley Outdoors.”
The crowd goes wild in an alarming mix of boos and cheers. Uncle Gus slams his hand on the table three times. The sound reverberates through the sound system and the noise dies down. “Garrett has, just minutes ago, returned from a trip to California, where he’s been meeting with his investors. He’s going to report on that now. I feel positive there will be no need for speeches after he’s done. So with no further ado, I’d like to turn the floor over to Garrett Mitchell.”
Garrett stands with his chart.
I jump up. “If I’d known this was just another chance for you to shove your propaganda down our throats, I wouldn’t have come.” I point at Uncle Gus. “You promised that we’d all have a chance to talk.”
He rolls his eyes. “When do you ever wait for a chance to talk?”
Garrett stops in front of me. “Kristianna, let me do this. Then you can talk if you want to.”
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