Jake frowned. “Your nephew?”
“Scott Leroux.”
A click sounded in Jake’s brain as the puzzle piece snapped into place. He saw Mandy standing in the restaurant last night in that semirigid stance and remembered Leroux’s amused look. Jake had given her a hard time for talking to the guy.
“I’d be glad to meet with you,” Jake said. “There’s only one problem. . . .”
And he had the pleasure of telling Frazier he was on his way across the country. If the old man hadn’t sounded thrilled before, he sounded less thrilled now. Why couldn’t Mark have waited a few more days to bring him in?
Still, it was a foot in the door, and Jake would keep that foot wedged there even if it meant stretching his leg three thousand miles across the United States.
“Mr. Frazier, I’ll call you to set this up, as soon as I’m able to check my schedule at the office. Will tomorrow morning work for you?”
“It’ll do.” Jake could have sworn he heard a grimace on the other end.
“Sir, I appreciate this. I know this wasn’t anything you’d planned on, but I—” Jake cut himself off before he started trying to argue his case again. “I’m looking forward to hearing your thoughts.”
That got a better reaction. “Yes. Well, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Jake hung up. Remember that. When you meet with him, don’t just talk. Listen.
That was Common Business Sense 101, and he hadn’t been using it last night. Maybe his head was already starting to clear.
The thought didn’t stop him from dialing Mandy’s cell number immediately. It went to voice mail. Of course—she’d be at work. Jake checked his watch and saw he’d probably just missed her lunch break.
He hung up. He didn’t want to use a recording to thank her, or a text message. But he didn’t want to wait hours, either.
Jake gazed at the wallpaper image on his phone: a picture of Mandy, smiling, with the sunset lake behind her. He grinned.
There’s an app for that, he thought.
“Merry Christmas.” Mandy handed her customer a bag containing a ceramic jack-o’-lantern. Both of them laughed at the mixed message.
Mrs. Swanson had left after lunch, so Mandy had the store to herself. She beamed at every customer who walked in, and she didn’t have to fake the smile. Every new person who came through the door brought a welcome opportunity to keep busy. She put a Bing Crosby CD on the store sound system and let the old favorites wash over her. It almost helped, except it reminded her that “White Christmas” had been playing the first time Jake came into The North Pole.
He had said he’d be back. She needed to believe that and not worry. The trick was to stay occupied in the meantime.
Mandy eyed the fall display table and thought of something she could work on.
Across from the pumpkins, she started a display of Christmas crafts: needlepoint kits for stockings, embroidery kits for pillows, figurines and ornaments to paint. She made a mental note to set them out earlier next year. She’d meant to do it before Jake arrived, but—to use Jake’s word—she’d gotten distracted.
She was close enough to the counter to hear her cell phone when it rang in her purse. The muffled electronic chime of “Deck the Halls” struggled to compete with Bing Crosby.
Mandy circled the counter to check the phone. It had gone to voice mail by the time she picked it up. The call log displayed Jake’s number.
Before she could check for a message or try to call back, a woman walked in with three little girls. Quickly, Mandy stashed her phone.
The girls went straight to the craft-table-in-progress, and soon Mandy was busy helping their mother find projects to suit their ages. While she talked with her customers, Mandy heard the sound of jingling bells from behind the counter—the tone that signaled she’d gotten a text.
When her customers left, Mandy beelined to the counter to open the message. It took several seconds to load.
Then a snow globe materialized on her screen, tiny white flakes falling inside, with an animated Santa Claus soaring upward in a reindeer-drawn sleigh.
Instead of a Christmas greeting, there were two lines of text in a festive cursive font: Winston called. THANK YOU.
And below, in smaller letters: P.S. Please excuse the corny St. Nick.
Mandy felt a warm flush from her head to her feet.
Maybe Jake understood her better than she thought.
At first Jake told himself it was jet lag.
Pennsylvania felt different from what he remembered. The walls of the office felt closer, more confining. His desk had managed to pick up a fine layer of dust. Even his own apartment felt impersonal, out of use, not much more homey than his hotel room in Tall Pine.
He’d arrived back in town just in time for a series of first-quarter planning meetings, one of the major reasons Mark had wanted him back. The meetings themselves were death, but getting ready for them required the kind of financial projections Jake usually loved sinking his teeth into. Now he found himself restless, bored, distracted.
Still distracted?
He made an appointment with Winston Frazier for the second week in October, and he counted that as his most tangible accomplishment so far.
A few days after he arrived, he ran into Lorraine at the copy machine. They’d been smiling and nodding at each other in the hallway for days, but this was the first time he found himself face-to-face with her long enough to call for any sort of conversation.
Awkward. They’d broken up six months ago, after a year and a half of dating. Since then they hadn’t spent enough time in the same city to establish any kind of a new “normal.”
But Lorraine, one of those tall women who wasn’t timid about wearing heels, was all smiles as she picked up her copies. She stepped back to make room for him at the machine. “So, how was California?”
“Complicated.” Jake laid a spreadsheet on the copier.
“No swimming pools, movie stars?”
“Nope.” Jake hit the button. “Pine trees, mountain cabins.”
“Sounds more like here.”
“Not exactly.” He grinned, remembering his first conversation with Mandy. “Out there, snow is something they drive up to visit.”
“So, what got complicated?”
“A cranky town council that meets once a month. It’s a long story.”
“Want to talk about it at lunch?”
Jake hesitated. A simple thing like lunch shouldn’t be a landmine for misinterpretation. Their breakup had been mutual, or so he’d thought.
He met her eyes. “Burgers, Dutch?” That should be clear enough.
Lorraine’s smile didn’t falter. “Sure.”
He knew he was taking a chance. But Lorraine was a bright woman, she’d always been a good sounding board, and they ought to establish that new normal at some point.
They ate at a hamburger chain, the kind of place Tall Pine wouldn’t abide. Jake explained the town’s unwritten policy while they waited at the table for their numbers to be called. Numbers, not names. Once again, Jake had a sense of culture shock.
“The thing is, they have a point,” he said. “Part of the appeal of Tall Pine is that it’s away from all this stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“Franchises. Corporate America. If a chain hotel comes in, they’re afraid it could lead to a lot more.” He felt like a broken record, except that Lorraine hadn’t heard it yet.
Their orders came up. As they ate, Jake realized it wasn’t awkward at all. It was familiar. Very much the same way they’d interacted when they were dating.
Then again, that had been part of the problem. They’d called it off, in large part, because they felt like colleagues more than anything else. So, did this feel like a date or not? Being with her reminded him simultaneously of why they’d gone out for a year and a half, and why they’d broken up.
As Lorraine started talking about possible strategies, it was like listening to himself. Shoptalk. No flights o
f fancy or quirky conversations about ghosts and what Santa Claus should look like. With Mandy, there was always something more to talk about—except for that final night, when he’d been letting the town council meeting eat him alive.
“So, is it worth it?” Lorraine asked. She’d come back around to Mark’s question.
“For Regal Hotels, I’m not sure,” Jake confessed. “Maybe we’re better off sticking to the cities and suburbs. But for me—I just can’t let it go.”
He could tell her about quiet lakes with ducks and geese, or thin mountain air that fought back against his lungs on his morning jog, or little shops and restaurants where at least two-thirds of the people knew Mandy by name. But that wasn’t what he’d fallen in love with.
He hoped Lorraine wouldn’t curse him for a jerk. But he looked her in the eye and told her what he should have made clear at the beginning.
“I met someone there,” he said.
Intelligent gray eyes studied him. “And . . . it’s complicated?”
He thought about Mandy—her sparkle, her openness, her strange contradictions. “Complicated” was one word for it, but . . .
He shook his head. “She’s amazing.”
“I usually stick with the reds and greens,” Mandy admitted. “But I’m pretty traditional. There’s nothing wrong with thinking outside the box.”
Across the table from her, Renee was fast finishing the first project of The North Pole’s new Tuesday-night Christmas craft class: a hand-painted wooden ornament. Mandy had started with the simplest project she could think of, something that would be easy for someone of any skill level to complete and take home. She’d been especially pleased when Renee, the mother of the two girls she’d met with Jake, had shown up.
Now the four other women in the class peered over the table with murmurs of admiration at Renee’s Christmas stocking, painted in purples and golds, with striking results.
“I had to use purple,” Renee said. “It’s Bailey’s favorite color.”
Mandy glanced at the clock. “You’ve got time for at least one more. Maybe two.”
In the center of the table, along with the paints, Mandy had laid out a selection of precut shapes in neat stacks: candy canes, Christmas trees, stockings, gingerbread men.
Renee reached for another stocking. “This one’s for Rosie. It’s going to be worse.”
“Pink?” Mandy and the other women said in unison.
Renee grinned and nodded. “I think every little girl goes through the pink stage.”
Mandy wondered if Emily, the niece Jake talked about, liked pink.
She glanced at the clock again and tried to calculate how long she’d gone without thinking about Jake. He’d been gone a week, and he called her regularly, but their quick catch-up phone conversations were no substitute for his presence.
The craft class had been a good idea, one she should have thought of years ago. It was a perfect way to bring people into the store during the off-season. Still, her reason for starting the class had been entirely selfish. It gave her one more way to stay busy.
Debra looked over the assortment of shapes on the cookie sheet and reached for a gingerbread man. “I’m surprised,” she said. “You don’t have any Santa Clauses.”
Mandy decided to skip her it’s-so-hard-to-get-Santa-right spiel. Debra had known her in elementary school. She knew all about Mandy and Santa.
“You’re right,” Mandy said. “I’ll have to remember that next time.”
Debra persisted. “Do you still believe in Santa Claus?”
Mandy didn’t hesitate. “Sure,” she said. “Doesn’t everyone?”
It had become her standard answer, and people usually didn’t have a follow-up question. Mandy brushed some darker green shading onto the Christmas tree ornament she’d been painting.
“Bailey told me your story about seeing Santa Claus,” Renee said. “She loved it.”
Mandy kept concentrating on her work, aware of a few more eyes on her. Renee was the only person at the table who hadn’t grown up here.
Tish asked, “Did you ever stop believing it?”
Five heads turned expectantly in Mandy’s direction, Renee’s expression more curious than the rest.
Mandy did what she’d learned to do way back in grade school. She played it light.
“Three things I never argue about,” she said. “Religion, politics, and Santa Claus.”
“You mean it really happened?” Renee asked.
All five of them waited.
“I saw him,” Mandy said cheerfully. “Plain as day.”
Five faces, including Renee’s, looked at her with varying degrees of puzzlement. Then they all got back to work.
This was the way it had been for years. People gawked a little, sometimes teased her, and life went on. This wasn’t elementary school anymore. The ground didn’t open up; it was a fact of life. She’d have to remember that when she talked to Jake.
But, nice as the women were, their reaction didn’t matter nearly so much.
Chapter 12
Mandy carefully aligned the second newspaper clipping in its frame, eyeing it from the front before she turned it over to fit the backing into place.
She’d bought the frames weeks ago—one red and one green. She’d kept them quietly stashed away so Mrs. Swanson wouldn’t bring them up. October was half over, but Mrs. Swanson had given her until the beginning of November. Now Mandy stashed them one more time, far back on the shelf under the counter. Putting the clippings in their frames was one more step.
The last step would be to hang them. After she talked to Jake.
He’d be back tonight. The thought set a jumble of emotions tumbling through her like clothes in a dryer. Excitement. Apprehension. Uncertainty. On the phone, he’d given her updates on his progress, frustrations and setbacks at the Scranton office. She’d filled him in on the craft classes and the cold nights they’d been having up here lately. Now they’d been apart almost as long as they’d been together, and she wondered if they’d have to get to know each other all over again.
The last week had been the hardest. His supervisor had kept him an extra week; apparently Jake was the only person fit to present the next quarter’s projections to the corporate higher-ups. He’d had to reschedule his meeting with Winston Frazier, and Jake hadn’t sounded happy about it.
The front door bells jingled, and two women drifted in. One was Renee; the other, with matching dark blond hair, had to be her sister.
“Hi,” Renee said. “This is my sister, Brenda. We wanted to pick up a couple of your needlepoint pillow kits.”
“Great.” Mandy came around to the craft table. “We’ve got three over here. They’re the most popular ones. Then we’ve got some more in that row near the back.”
Brenda said, “Do you have any with cats?”
Mandy grinned and pointed again toward the back. Business was definitely picking up. The chillier the nights and the shorter the days, the more people seemed to find their way into the Christmas store. Next week they’d start interviewing temporary part-time employees for the holiday season.
As the two women moved away, the phone rang.
“Welcome to The North Pole,” Mandy said into the phone.
The now-familiar filtered sound of a cell phone connection reached her ear. “Mandy?”
Not another delay. “Hi, Jake.”
“Would you be able to go on a break in twenty minutes or so?”
Her heart jumped. “Why?”
“Because I’m about nineteen minutes away. And . . .” The phone went quiet, and Mandy thought they might have lost the connection. “I miss you.”
Mandy glanced over her shoulder at the two sisters huddled in the craft aisle. “Mrs. Swanson’s gone for the day, so I can’t go anywhere, but . . .” She felt a smile spread over her face. “Come on in.”
Renee and Brenda came up a few minutes later, each with a pillow kit. Mandy chuckled as she rang them up: one with a puppy design, one
with a kitten. “Cats and dogs?” she asked.
“We fought like cats and dogs when we were kids,” Brenda said.
Mandy eyed the clock as she made small talk and learned that Brenda was visiting from San Diego. At last Mandy sent them on their way with a “Merry Christmas” and three minutes to spare.
Two minutes later, Jake was in the store.
As he made his way toward her, Mandy had time to take in that he’d had a haircut; that his eyes were a deeper brown than she remembered; that he had a five o’clock shadow and his shirt looked slightly rumpled, as if he’d been traveling since early this morning.
By the time Mandy made her way from behind the counter, he’d reached her.
He took her in his arms, and it was almost a collision. Mandy held on tight, feeling his lips on her face and in her hair. He felt so warm and solid, so real, Mandy couldn’t believe he’d felt so far away all this time.
“Sorry,” he murmured against her hair. “I’ve been dying to do this for hours. Weeks.”
Mandy glanced over his shoulder at the door, wondering if she would have heard the store bells if anyone walked in. Seeing no one, she pulled him behind the Christmas tree at the end of the nearest aisle. He kissed her, long and full, then held her so tightly she felt completely, blissfully engulfed. She could feel a heartbeat between them, but she couldn’t tell if it was hers or his, or whether they’d synced up perfectly.
Resting a cheek on the front of his shirt, Mandy felt a giggle well up in her throat. “Welcome back.”
I think we just got reacquainted.
His voice muffled in the hair that fell alongside her neck, he murmured, “I hate Scranton.”
A little out of breath, she asked, “Why?”
“Because you’re not in it.”
She smelled wonderful, that indefinable combination of whatever soap and shampoo she used, along with the faint hint of cinnamon. Jake breathed her in and savored the feel of her small build in his arms. Slowly, he raised his head and reluctantly started to disentangle himself, self-conscious now about his bull-in-a-china-shop version of a reunion.
Do You Believe in Santa? Page 11