“It’s almost Christmas,” Alma said. “They should be seventy-five percent off.”
What the heck? Profit was highly overrated. “Well, let me know if you see something you really like.” All she wanted at this point was to get rid of these candles and this job.
And the financial burden of the condo. The stupid thing hadn’t sold yet and she’d wanted to move the first Saturday in January. Now she was beginning to worry that she wouldn’t get to move at all, which was really depressing because she was so ready to escape the hectic life she’d created in Seattle. She was so tired of working two jobs, especially these two.
Ever since the office Christmas party, going to work had been far from fun. People were still grumbling over the fact that there hadn’t been enough food. (As if that was her fault? She’d only had so much money to work with.) Leon Eggers, her supervisor’s boss, had made a pass at her at that ill-fated party and she’d told him to go soak his head in the punch bowl. After that, she’d somehow found herself with more work in her in-box. Nothing she could prove, but she knew.
And the candle parties...ugh. It seemed to be getting increasingly harder to convince women they wanted to make time to host a party. Yes, the candles were shipped to them and they had to distribute them to their friends. But so what? They got all kinds of free merchandise as a reward. Of course, the more everyone bought, the more the hostess got. And the more Jen made. Sadly, no one had purchased much at the last party. Hopefully, the smiling woman at today’s event would buy a lot and encourage her friends to do the same.
Now another woman had entered the room. “All right,” Alma said to Jen, “that’s everyone.”
Five women. Not exactly a huge group. But that didn’t mean anything, Jen told herself. All it took was one or two women to go on a spending spree and Alma could earn her holiday centerpiece. And Jen could earn some money.
“Okay,” Jen said in her perky candle-lady voice. “Thank you all for coming today. I know you’ll be happy you did when you see the wonderful bargains I have for you. Soft Glow candles are the finest on the market, guaranteed to bring beauty and light to your home. Today, just for hosting a Soft Glow party, Alma will receive this lovely multipack of pillar candles as a thank-you.” She picked up the set of red candles and the women oohed and ahhed and nodded their heads. She had them now!
Jen went on with her spiel, talking up various candles, candleholders, centerpieces and hurricane lamps. “And, as I said earlier, all our holiday candles are fifty percent off today.”
“Seventy-five percent,” Alma reminded her.
“Seventy-five percent. So, feel free to come up and browse.”
“Aren’t we going to have a draw?” Alma asked.
She held a drawing for a free candle at every party. Between the flat tire and Alma’s irritation, she’d forgotten all about it. Alma hadn’t. “Let’s do that right now,” Jen said, pretending she’d been about to get to it.
One of the lemon-suckers won a set of taper candles. “You’re sure these are dripless?” she asked Jen.
“Absolutely. I use those all the time.”
The woman nodded, but still seemed unconvinced. “I bought some once that were supposed to be dripless. They ruined my silver candlesticks.”
“These won’t, I promise,” Jen said.
“Well, I hope they don’t.” The woman’s tone of voice promised big trouble for Jen if they did.
Now it was time to order. The women looked at the candles. They visited. They looked some more. They ate more cookies. Then the smiling lady announced she had to get going. She had her bridge club at two.
She took her leave and left her empty order form behind.
One of the lemon-suckers purchased a set of holiday votives. For seventy-five percent off. Big spender. “Would you like to host a party?” Jen asked.
“Heavens, no. I have all the candles I need.”
At seventy-five percent off. Jen forced the smile to remain on her face. That’s sales, she reminded herself. Sometimes you did well, sometimes you didn’t. Anyway, the woman probably didn’t have a lot of money.
“Well, dear,” the broke lemon-sucker said to Alma, “I’ve got to go home and finish packing for my cruise.”
The second lemon-sucker purchased a set of tea lights and called it quits. “I’d have bought more,” she informed Jen, “but your candles are overpriced.”
“They’re very high quality,” Jen said. Why was she bothering?
“Well,” the woman huffed, “some of us are on a budget.”
“I understand,” Jen said. And that was why she was working two jobs and trying to sell her condo. Toni had been right. She shouldn’t have made a snap decision, shouldn’t have wasted money on a deposit on that cottage in Icicle Falls. What had she been thinking?
She’d been thinking of Garrett Armstrong. And home-canned goodies. And eating home-canned goodies with Garrett Armstrong. She’d been thinking of getting away and simplifying her life. Sadly, that was turning out not to be so simple.
“It was a lovely party, dear,” the last of Alma’s guests said to her, and slipped out the door without buying anything.
Alma turned to Jen. “Well, that was nice, wasn’t it? What did I earn?”
“You earned this lovely multipack of pillar candles as a thank-you gift,” Jen said.
Alma’s smile drooped. “Is that all?”
“Well, you do have to have a certain amount in sales to earn—”
“I spent all day yesterday cleaning,” Alma said miserably. “And I had to go to the store and get those cookies with my hip bothering me.”
“How about I throw in the holiday centerpiece?” Jen offered.
Alma’s smile perked right up.
Jen’s drooped.
She packed up her candles, thanked Alma for hosting the party and thanked God she was done with candle parties for the season.
Make that forever. Alma Tuttle’s nonparty was the last straw. She’d keep some of the candles for herself and sell the rest on eBay. Much as she loved the product, her heart wasn’t in this anymore.
Her heart wasn’t in Seattle anymore, either, even though it was a great city. What she wanted was life in a small town...a charming mountain town.
She loaded up her wares and drove back to the condo. Home, sweet home. She’d been so in love with this place when she first bought it, so intent on forgetting her unhappy starter marriage to Serge and carving out a new life for herself.
She’d gotten a new life. It just happened to stink.
There was no sense wasting what was left of a perfectly good Saturday afternoon moping. She’d find something simple to do, some small pleasure to give her life sweetness, the way Muriel Sterling recommended in her book. It was almost Christmas. She’d bake cookies. Gingerbread boys like the ones she’d enjoyed in that cute bakery in Icicle Falls. She could give them to Toni’s kids for Christmas. A nice simple present...to go with the more expensive ones she’d bought with her overworked credit card.
She found a recipe online and got busy assembling butter, flour, eggs, sugar and spices. These were going to be delicious. Yes, there was nothing like spending a little time in the kitchen making old-fashioned goodies to lift a woman’s spirits. Simple pleasures really were the best.
She was sliding a batch of cookies in the oven when her cell phone rang. Caller ID told her it was her Realtor, Hannah Yates. Hannah had shown the condo the other night, but Jen had given up hope
when she didn’t hear back that same evening. Maybe the person had decided to buy, after all.
Jen let the oven door slam shut, grabbed the phone and said a hopeful “Hello.”
“Hi, Jen, it’s Hannah.”
“Yes?” Jen said eagerly.
“I just called to tell you that the woman I showed the condo to decided she’d rather have a house.”
Jen’s spirits took a nosedive and she sank onto her couch. “I thought she wanted to downsize.”
“She changed her mind. It happens. But don’t worry. I’ll find you a buyer.”
“Thanks,” Jen said, trying to sound upbeat and appreciative. “I know you’re trying to sell this place.”
“Frankly, I can’t understand why we haven’t found a buyer. It’s a great condo, and it’s definitely priced to sell.”
Because it isn’t in the cards, Jen thought. The fact that the condo hadn’t sold was a sign that she wasn’t supposed to move. She was doomed to stay in her crappy life, working as an office drone and selling candles to the Alma Tuttles of the world.
She thanked Hannah, then hung up and slumped against the couch cushions. From her window she had a beautiful view of the Seattle skyline. This was really a lovely place. She hated it here!
She was still staring grumpily out the window when the phone rang again. This time it was her sister.
“How was the candle party?” Toni asked.
“A dud. Like my life.”
“Well, that’s upbeat.”
“My Realtor just called. Still no bites.”
“Maybe you’re not meant to sell it,” Toni suggested.
“Thanks,” Jen said miserably.
“Maybe you’re meant to rent it instead.”
“Rent it?” Jen repeated. She hadn’t thought of that.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” her sister said. “I really hate to see you move. But at least if you rented and you didn’t like it up there, you’d have someplace to come back to.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jen muttered.
“Hey, it never hurts to have a plan B. Anyway, if you’re interested in renting, I think I know someone who’d want your condo.”
Jen bolted upright. “You do?”
“My neighbor. Her divorce became final and she’s looking for a place where she can make a new start. She might even be open to renting with an option to buy if you decide you want to go that route. She works downtown, so your place would be perfect for her.”
“Does she have a house to sell?” That would take time. Jen knew this now, from personal experience.
“No, she and her ex were renting.”
“So, if she liked the condo she could move in right away.”
“Probably,” Toni agreed. “Should I give her your number?”
“Absolutely!” If the place didn’t sell, she’d have someone who could make her payments. That would get her out from under just as well as a sale. Yes! This was a sign. She was meant to move.
The aroma of burning cookie wafted to where she sat and she remembered she was baking. She dashed to the kitchen, phone in hand and, propping the phone between her ear and shoulder, put on her oven mitt and opened the oven. A plume of smoke wafted out to greet her, stinging her eyes and making her cough. She pulled out the cookie sheet with her blackened gingerbread boys. Eeew.
A moment later the smoke alarm went off.
“What’s happening?” Toni asked.
“I burned my cookies. I’ve got to go.”
“Okay. Try not to burn down the condo before you get it rented,” Toni teased, and hung up.
Jen grabbed a towel and flapped it in the direction of the smoke detector, all the while scolding herself for forgetting to set the timer. Finally, the noise subsided. “Well, you guys are history,” she informed the ruined cookies.
Maybe, if she was lucky, her life here would soon be history, too.
Chapter Six
Taking a hard look at the changes we need to make can be harder than actually making those changes.
—Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity
Toni loved Christmas Eve. It was the one occasion when she could count on seeing her extended family. They all poured into her mother’s house in West Seattle—grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, second cousins. Even Santa (her crazy uncle Dave) made an appearance, and everyone got to sit on his lap and receive a present.
“Do I have to have my picture taken with Santa this year?” Jordan demanded as Wayne parked their SUV in front of the house.
“Of course you do,” Toni said. “We all do.”
“Dumb,” Jordan muttered.
“If you want a present you’ll have to be dumb,” Toni said.
“The present’ll probably be dumb, too.”
She hadn’t complained about last year’s present—the world’s largest collection of lip gloss. And Toni knew for a fact that this year Aunt Jana had gotten Jordan an iTunes gift card. “If you’re going to be a party pooper, then I’ll sit on Santa’s lap and take your present. I know what it is.”
That worked. “I’ll do it,” her daughter said, but she managed to sound grudging all the same.
Toni hid her smile. It was never good to gloat when you won a victory over a child, especially one who was now officially a teenager.
“Me, too,” said Jeffrey, who wasn’t above a little humiliation if there was a present waiting at the end of it.
As always, her mother’s house said Christmas, with icicle lights hanging from the roofline and a wreath on the door. Toni could hear raucous laughter and Christmas music even before they let themselves in.
They hung their coats in the hall closet and then went into the living room where Toni’s uncle Dennis was saying, “No, I swear it’s true.”
That explained the laughter. Her uncle had told some preposterous story. At the sight of her and her family, he broke into a grin. “Well, look who’s here.” He demanded hugs from both kids, told Jordan she was getting way too pretty and then enveloped Toni in a big bear hug. Uncle Dennis was a large man and his hugs were almost suffocating, but, next to her father’s, they were the best.
“Guess you got stuck with us again this year,” he greeted her husband.
“Afraid so,” Wayne said with a smile, shaking her uncle’s hand.
“Hello, princess,” her father greeted her. He kissed her forehead and took in her slacks, black sweater and jauntily draped red scarf. “You’re looking lovely today.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” she said. Nice someone noticed. Wayne sure hadn’t. He’d been too busy being one with his computer.
Okay, she told herself, so what if Wayne didn’t notice your outfit? Big deal. He’s still a good man who works hard to provide for his family. The computer is not your competition.
Although sometimes she felt as if it were. Even when he wasn’t working, he was on it half the evening, surfing the web. He always had energy for the computer, but when his wife wanted to go out...
Oh, there she went again. It wasn’t Wayne’s fault he’d gotten sick the day they were supposed to have their romantic dinner. She’d come home from her Icicle Falls adventure to find he’d taken some cold medicine and gone to bed.
And fallen asleep with his arms around his iPad. Sheesh.
Stop it, she scolded herself. It’s Christmas. Don’t be a bitch.
She deposited her gifts under the tree and went to the kitchen to check in with her mother. Her aunt Karen, re
splendent in a Christmas sweater with dancing polar bears, gave her a kiss in passing as she took the standing rib roast out to the dining table. Aunt Aggie, her favorite aunt, hugged her and popped an olive in her mouth, then followed Aunt Karen out, bearing a divided glass bowl filled with olives and pickles in one hand and a pitcher of milk in the other. Over at the sink, Jen was whipping cream for the night’s big dessert—mint chocolate sundaes, with Christmas cookies—and called a cheery hello.
Toni felt a momentary twinge of guilt. She was usually the one helping in the kitchen. If they’d gotten out of the house on time, she would’ve been, but Wayne had found it necessary to work and was still sending emails long past four, when they would normally have left.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” she’d reminded him—repeatedly.
“I know,” he’d said, “and most of us have to work the day of Christmas Eve.”
Okay, she’d thought, but you’d better not be working on Christmas.
She made the rounds, hugging everyone. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re not late. You’re right on time,” her mother assured her, offering her cheek for a kiss.
“What can I do?”
“I think we’ve got it all under control,” Mom said.
But she always helped. She couldn’t just do...nothing.
As if reading her mind, her mother added, “How about dishing up the mashed potatoes?” She pulled the gravy pan off the burner. “Gravy’s done. You can dish that up, too. Then I’ll take out the roasted vegetables and the seafood lasagna and we’ll be good to go.”
In a matter of minutes the food was on the table. The revelers were summoned and everyone gathered around and waited for her father to say grace.
“Well,” he said, smiling at each of them, “here we are, all together for another Christmas. Some of us have faced challenges this past year.”
Toni smiled encouragingly at her cousin Jimmy, who’d lost his job three months earlier and was still looking for employment. She glanced over at Aunt Aggie, wearing what she called her half-and-half bra—one half held a real breast, the other a prosthetic breast form. Toni felt the prickle of tears as she took in the smiling faces around the table. All these people were so precious to her.
The Cottage on Juniper Ridge Page 6