by Olivia Miles
Her parents understood. Said she was being responsible with her money, rather than wasteful, the way she might have been just a short year or two ago. But they, too, were quick to shower Audrey with everything they could. Not a week went by that a bag of items her mother “simply couldn’t resist” was waiting for her at their house when she stopped by for dinner.
“Well, hopefully you’ll hear back from Mr. Frost soon! Since you’d be doing the bulk of the work, it seems only fitting to give you the full commission.”
“Full commission?” Charlotte sat up a little straighter, thinking of how hastily she’d exited the meeting.
Kate nodded. “It’s only fair. That would be a nice little Christmas bonus!” Kate smiled and opened her laptop as Charlotte gingerly lifted a bridal magazine. She flicked through the pages without absorbing any of the images.
Christmas bonus. Kate didn’t have a clue. Not about the state of Charlotte’s affairs, not about the commission she had walked away from. Not even about the size of the Frost account.
Full commission.
She slid her hand into her pocket until her fingers found the crisp cardstock. Then she pulled her hand free and tapped her pocket flat, just in case.
* * *
Even though it was half past two, Bree had yet to take a lunch break. One of the nice things about running your own business was the flexibility of turning the sign whenever you wanted to. The downside, however, was never having the time to do that.
Back when Gran was still alive, Bree would help out in the shop every Sunday. It had been a highlight of her week, getting alone time with her grandmother, working side by side in a room filled with so many pretty things, away from her brother, who had a habit of leaving dirty socks on the floor of his room, or belching when he walked past her in the hallway, just to get a rise out of her. He loved nothing more than sinking his teeth into a juicy burger, calling it a delicious “cow” and making her weep for the innocent animal’s life that was suddenly and selfishly cut short.
Men. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. She’d been surrounded by them for all of her life. So how was it that she was so clueless about them as a whole?
She’d been the favorite grandchild. She’d always known it. And wasn’t that her destiny, perhaps? She was the first female Callahan to grace this earth in five generations. Her mother had resigned herself to having only boys, as all the women who married Callahan men did, including poor Gran, who longed for a little girl she could dress up and take shopping with her. Bree’s mother had every intention of calling her second son Brian, and when Bree was born and it was determined that she was most definitely not a boy, her mother had been too shocked to even think about a proper girl’s name, never having dared to tempt fate by entertaining the possibility.
Bree was the family princess. And as much as her mother adored her, no one loved her more than Gran. It was Gran who tucked saltwater taffies into her apron pocket and discreetly slipped them into Bree’s hands. It was Gran who taught her the way of the world, told her stories about her days dating Bree’s grandfather, about the many men who asked her out after his early death. And it was Gran who Bree turned to when she was a teenager and lovesick, and it was Gran who would talk her down from the clouds and tell her which boy was worth her time and which one wasn’t.
Gran would have said that Simon was not worth her time. She would have said this the very first time that a weekend went by that Simon didn’t make plans to go to dinner or a movie or even out for coffee. And even after Bree broke down and called (something she never could have admitted to Gran), and Simon all too happily answered and was forthcoming with details of his time at Nolan’s Pub with the guys, Gran still would have given Bree that long, knowing look. Maybe even a little tsk.
It was too bad that Gran had passed away before Simon had come along, Bree thought with a sigh. She could have spared her a lot of heartache.
She rang up the last order of the postlunch afternoon rush and carefully wrapped the embellished pine wreath in brown paper. It smelled sweet and woodsy, but oh, if her nose didn’t twitch from all the fragrances in the room.
As soon as the customer disappeared out onto the snow-covered sidewalk, Bree counted to five and then power-walked to the glass-paned front door, her pulse quickening in satisfaction as she turned the sign to CLOSED.
She spun around, her mind spinning with possibilities. She’d had a busy morning. She could afford to take a full hour. Besides, she wouldn’t see another rush until four o’clock, when school let out and mothers took their youngsters into town for Christmas shopping.
She took her coat from the back room and shrugged into it. A full hour. She could go to Murphy’s, have a sandwich and coffee and read a book. Except she didn’t really like the one she was reading these days. She could go to the hardware store, pick up some paint swatches for the kitchen. She still hadn’t found the exact shade of taupe she had in mind. Or she could walk by Simon’s office, just in case he happened to be heading out on his way to meet a client, as he sometimes did.
Her heart quickened at the thought of a chance encounter.
But no, if and when she ran into Simon again, she wanted to be looking her best. And today, her fingers smelled like a forest, her hair probably did the same, and her skin was dry from this cold streak. And she’d forgotten her lip gloss at home. And she wasn’t even going to think about the completely practical wool turtleneck sweater she was wearing, which hardly screamed sex appeal.
No, best to save that run-in for a better day.
She locked the front door behind her and hurried down Harbor Street toward Murphy’s, the best lunch spot in town, dodging shoppers and puddles of icy water, even though she was sporting her red knee-high rubber boots. She grabbed a spot at the counter that gave her a view of the window and placed an order for clam chowder. An indulgence, perhaps, but what did it matter these days. No one had seen her bare thighs since August.
The carols were playing, but she decided not to let them remind her of her lonely little Christmas. Instead, she focused on the cheerful decorations—Patrick Murphy, the owner, had a thing for toy trains, and Christmas was his chance to go all out—and the wintry view out the window. There was a light dusting of snow on the branches and store awnings, and shoppers were huddled in scarves, clutching red paper shopping bags.
Misty Point might be known as a seaside summer destination, but Bree much preferred it in the off season, especially winter, when mostly just the residents were in town, free to enjoy the snow-flocked trees and quaint town square, and the candles that seemed to light every window, starting at four on the dot.
The waitress slid her clam chowder over the counter, along with a few packets of crackers. Bree took her first bite, savoring it. Another reason she loved this town. Fresh seafood.
Really, there might be a bigger pool of men in nearby Providence or certainly Boston, but this was where she’d set her roots. This was where she wanted to stay.
And besides, could she really leave behind Gran’s shop, or her house, now when it was finally starting to feel like her own?
Grinning, Bree thought of how proud her grandmother would be that her only granddaughter was holding it all together so well. That everything she had worked so hard for could carry on. It had been an adjustment, but now Bree had purpose. An entire life of her own.
And that wasn’t such a bad thing, was it?
She took another bite of her chowder and mentally worked out her Christmas shopping list as she ate. A scarf for her mother. A tie (she hated herself for her lack of originality sometimes) for her father. God knows what she’d get Matt. A cloth doll for Audrey—she loved spoiling that child.
Something other than a tie this year for Dad, she thought. She could do better. And thanks to the recent uptick in sales from the store, she had the funds, too.
Her stomach full and spirits slightly lifted, she paid the bill, leaving a generous tip, and buttoned up her coat. She was just reaching for the
door handle when she saw him.
Simon. She had somehow managed to avoid never crossing his path or running into him in the three months since they’d broken up. And now, here he was. With his nut-brown hair and wire-framed glasses, loping down Harbor Street with that long, lanky stride. His coat wasn’t buttoned, but then, it never was. Something about this bothered her. Caused a little pang in her chest. Made her realize that in so many ways he was still exactly the same person. The only difference was that his life was going on without her in it.
She wondered where he was going. It was a strange hour to be walking through town. Maybe he was seeking her out. Heading toward the flower shop. But no. She watched as he passed it, feeling that bitter sting of regret that she knew had no place there anymore.
She could follow him. Keep a safe distance. But then she risked the chance of him suddenly turning around, noticing her. And then what? She was wearing a chunky sweater that added a solid ten pounds to the ten she’d already put on since they parted ways. And she’d just eaten clam chowder. So instead of smelling like a forest, she risked smelling like a fish tank.
No. She’d just stand here and wonder and watch, until he was once again out of sight.
He ducked into Mulligan’s Pub at the corner of Oak Street. Probably meeting a client for a late lunch, then. She pressed a hand to her stomach, realizing how easily he could have chosen Murphy’s instead.
Right. It was time to get back to the shop. Sell some damn poinsettias. And go home to her lonely, empty, dark house. But a house that was still hers. And couldn’t be taken away.
Maybe she’d knock out a wall tonight. She grinned at the thought.
Chapter Seven
Charlotte relieved the sitter before making her last stop of the day to pick up some wedding cake designs for one of their favorite clients—a young bride with an overbearing mother-in-law who had too many opinions and would no doubt make trouble in the long term. Still. It wasn’t her responsibility to point that out any more than her sister could, and so they bit their lips and did what they could to help. And made silent promises to themselves never to wind up in the same situation.
Kate nearly had ended up in that situation, after all. The Lamberts were notorious snobs. Jake’s parents hadn’t been any more accepting of Kate than they would be of their unknown grandchild. Charlotte had fantasized about showing up at their house, informing them of their change in status, but she didn’t need another door closed in her face. And now…Jake was getting married. No doubt to a girl they approved of. From a family who had as much or more money than they did.
For the tenth time in as many minutes, she told herself that it would all be okay.
So Jake was getting married. So he’d have new children, without ever claiming the one he already had. No one needed to know the details. If they did, it would stir up all that dirty stuff that had no business in any of their lives.
Charlotte glanced up into the rearview mirror as she pulled the car to a stop in front of the bakery. Catching her eye, Audrey gurgled something incoherently and flashed a gummy smile.
“Ready to go see Auntie Colleen?” she asked the baby as she unfastened her from the car seat and hoisted her onto her hip. Colleen McKay wasn’t a relative, and more of Kate’s friend than her own growing up, but it seemed that everyone was an “auntie” of some sort in Misty Point, and Charlotte wasn’t about to complain. The way she saw it, Audrey needed as much family and love in her life as a girl could get.
They both did.
She’d managed to get a spot right outside the front door of Colleen’s Cakes, and she hurried to the sidewalk and stepped inside the bakery, grinning as the smell of vanilla and sugar filled the warm air.
“Smell that, Audrey? That’s called cake. It’s absolutely delicious. And in about five months, you will have your very first taste of it.”
“I hope that means you’ll allow me the honor of making her first birthday cake,” Colleen said, stepping out from behind the counter to lift the baby from Charlotte’s arms.
“You might have to wrestle my mother for that duty,” Charlotte replied honestly, feeling confident that her parents would be back in Misty Point for the occasion.
Colleen looked confused. “I thought your mother didn’t bake.”
Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “Ever heard of a boxed mix?”
The two women chuckled softly. “Well, there’s still time. And I already have such a sweet design in mind for it. Don’t worry. I’ll let your mom think it was all her idea, and I can just be the one to execute the design.”
“What would I do without you?” Charlotte asked, knowing there was much more in that statement than the promise of a delicious first birthday cake for her daughter. She’d been so apprehensive about her return to Misty Point, but Colleen had shown no judgment, made no mention of the past, and instead had gradually turned into a close friend and someone she could wallow with on the days where it seemed that more and more people other than the unlucky few had found their happily-ever-after.
Make that their traditional happy-ever-afters, Charlotte thought, glancing at Audrey. Fairy-tale endings came in all packages, she now knew.
“Do you have time for a piece of cake or coffee?” Colleen asked as she led Charlotte to the back of the room, where her decorating workspace was. “Or are you just here on business?”
Charlotte considered the frustration she felt every time she tried to wiggle into her prebaby clothes and weighed it against the day she’d had. Stress won out.
“A slice of cake sounds delicious. Thank you.”
Colleen’s dimples quirked. “Good. I’ve been selling my spice cakes all day and I’m dying for a taste for myself. Settle in at a table near the window and I’ll bring us two plates and some coffee. I have a feeling that baby still isn’t giving you much rest.”
“Nope.” Charlotte flashed her daughter a rueful smirk. “But she’s worth it.”
Charlotte walked over to her favorite table and dropped into a chair that lent a pretty view of Misty Point’s main road, Harbor Street. It looked particularly festive tonight, with a fresh dusting of snow that only lightly covered the cobblestone street. Shops had already switched over their decorations from fall to winter, and most of the display windows were etched in twinkling lights or garland. It was exactly the type of picture-perfect first Christmas experience she had hoped to offer Audrey. In her fantasy, though, she was a little more carefree and a little less heavyhearted.
With Audrey still propped on her knee, she managed to unzip the tiny pink parka with one hand before pulling off the little knitted beanie her mother had included in the bag of clothes she’d given to Charlotte on Thanksgiving. Wisps of light brown hair stood on end from the static, and Colleen laughed as she joined Charlotte at the table, sliding one plate with a generously sized serving across the surface.
Charlotte picked up a fork. “I know I shouldn’t, but…”
“It’s the holidays,” Colleen rationalized for her. “Besides, it’s not like I have an excuse to deprive myself.” With that, she sank her fork into the cake and brought an enormous dollop of frosting to her mouth.
“I take that to mean you still haven’t worked up the nerve to ask Matt to be your date for Kate’s wedding?” Poor Colleen had been pining after her cousin since middle school, and he seemed perfectly oblivious. Or not interested. But Charlotte struggled to imagine that. With her beautiful strawberry blond curls and bright blue eyes, Colleen was as beautiful on the outside as she was on the inside. “Don’t give up hope just yet. The wedding is still eight weeks away.”
“Meaning we both have no excuse to find a plus-one, right?”
“Wrong.” Charlotte cut her fork through the frosting and brought it to her mouth. Forget the calories. For one blissful moment, her troubles were gone. “I have my date right here. Isn’t that right, Audrey?”
Colleen gave Charlotte a long look. “I meant a date in the form of another adult. Preferably a tall, ruggedly bu
ilt man with thick hair and deep-set eyes.” She laughed, but her expression soon turned more serious. “Come on, Char, don’t you ever think of getting out there again?”
“Nope.”
“But you never had trouble finding dates. Unlike me.” She helped herself to a larger bite this time.
“That doesn’t mean I was dating anyone worth having me.” Charlotte raised a knowing eyebrow. She hadn’t directly mentioned Jake any more than anyone else had since she’d returned to town, and she wasn’t about to start now. As far as she was concerned, he was a part of her past, and not one that she wanted to relive.
“Besides,” she continued. “I have a baby to think about now. The last thing I need is to be dividing my attention, or worse, getting let down by someone who isn’t interested in being a father.”
At least, not to her child, Charlotte thought, feeling her eyes sting again. She took another bite of cake, but it lodged in her throat. No doubt that blonde in the society column photo was planning on having two point five perfect blue bloods, who would attend the best private schools and take up yachting at an early age. Jake might find he loved fatherhood. Or he might spend most of his time in the city while the blonde held down the Misty Point mansion. Either way, it didn’t matter. Those children would be provided for. Acknowledged. While Audrey…
“I think I’ll get some water.” Charlotte stood and crossed the room to the counter, happy to have her back to her friend until she had collected herself. Really, nothing had changed. And did she think that Jake wouldn’t someday find a woman who fit his family, pleased his parents, didn’t jeopardize his hefty trust fund that they’d threatened to take away when he’d proposed to her sister?
Reality was tough. And she should know that by now.
“Do you want me to talk to my cousin?” Charlotte asked as she carried two glasses of water to the table, careful to set them out of Audrey’s reach.
Colleen blanched. “Talk to Matt? About me? This isn’t high school.”