Christmas Angels

by Nancy Naigle

  On the far side a wall of glass exposed the factory. A dozen workers worked at a steady pace hand-pouring the soy candles and placing the wooden wicks just so in the various jars. Seeing the numerous stages from pouring to storing was very interesting. She could see this place being a big draw for the town. She was surprised she’d never heard of it. If the candles burned half as great as they smelled, they had a bright future in front of them.

  She loaded up her finds, then drove over to the grocery. At the checkout an older woman peered into Liz’s cart. Liz smiled politely and said hello.

  “Are you new to town?” the woman asked.

  “I am.”

  “You’re the woman who bought Angel’s Rest!” she shouted, and by her tone Liz wasn’t sure if the woman approved or not.

  Liz looked around to see how many people were staring. “I am.” She nudged her cart up in the line.

  “I’m Beverly. My grandson is the sheriff. Hopefully you won’t bump into the wrong side of him.” The woman laughed as if she’d told that joke a hundred times. “Ahhh, but seriously, he’s single. Are you?”

  Liz laughed. “Yes, ma’am. I am, but I’m really not looking—”

  “Never are when the right one comes along, dear. You just keep him in mind. He’s handsome, and I think I’m a pretty good judge. He used to play ball for the Washington Redskins too.” Beverly made a muscle. “Know what I mean?”

  “That’s quite a résumé,” Liz said.

  “He was quite good. Until he hurt himself. I was glad he came home anyway. It was hard to see him get shoved around on the field.”

  “I’m sure it was.”

  “I didn’t mean to butt in. Maybe we’ll see you at the church Sunday.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Liz said. “It’ll be nice to see a familiar face, Beverly. I’m Liz.”

  Beverly took her hand, then tugged her in for a hug. “We’re huggers around here, Liz. I knew your grandmother. We’re so excited to have you back in town. You let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

  “Thank you.” Although the conversation had been a little bizarre, it was quite sweet.

  She drove down to the hardware store, where boys were loading Christmas trees into the back of trucks and tying them to the roofs of cars.

  George rounded the corner in front of her. “Liz. You could’ve called and I’d have just brought home anything you needed.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary. I had a couple of errands to run anyway.”

  “Can I interest you in a Christmas tree? They are on sale today. Your choice tall or small, just thirty bucks.”

  “That is a deal, but I’m going to pass. I’m sure your sons will want to decorate their own tree when they get home from college. I just need a couple markers, tape, and a box cutter.”

  “Aisle three,” George said, then turned to talk to another customer.

  “Thanks.” She rounded up the items then got in line to check out, picking up a free calendar to mark down the days to when she might be able to move to Angel’s Rest.

  People were lined up about twenty deep when she heard someone say that the credit card machine was down. Liz felt bad for George. She’d had that happen in one of the store openings she’d done, and it was a nightmare. It turned out that all it took was a simple reset of the machine and they were back in business. Too bad it had taken them over six hours to find that out. It had ruined their sales for the day.

  She turned to the person behind her. “Would you mind holding my spot in line? I want to check something real quick.”

  The woman wearing a festive holiday sweater looked a little miffed, but agreed.

  Liz worked her way up to the register. “Hey, excuse me. I heard you’re having trouble with the credit card machine.”

  “Yes.” The girl wearing the name tag with CINDY on it blew her bangs out of her face. “Worst day ever.”

  “Is it by chance one of the new ones?”

  She pointed to it behind her. “Stupid thing just keeps giving an error.”

  “Do you mind if I try something? I’ve had this happen before,” Liz said.

  “Fine by me. It’s no good to us like this, and people are getting mad.”

  She put her things down, went back to where the machine was, unplugged it, then pushed several buttons. She hoped she’d remembered the sequence correctly. Then she plugged the machine back in.

  “What are you doing?” George asked.

  “Oh, sorry. I heard you were having trouble. I’ve run into this before, so I—” The machine beeped, and a green light flashed on the front, then turned solid.

  “You fixed it?” George turned and asked the customer if they’d been planning to use a card to make their purchase. He grabbed their card and pushed it into the card reader. “It went through.” He handed the customer their card back, then put both of his thick hands on Liz’s shoulders. “You’re a blessing. You just saved my biggest sales day. Thank you!”

  “You’re welcome.” She picked up her things and started back to her spot in line.

  “Liz,” George said.

  She spun around.

  “You just carry that stuff right out of this store. You earned it.”

  “Really?”

  “Shoo.”

  She did as he asked, although it really had been no big deal. She was glad she was able to help, though. He and Dottie worked so hard that even though she was staying at their house she never saw them. They were wonderful hosts, but she couldn’t wait to begin living the dream.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sunday morning, Matt put on his khakis and a sport coat and checked himself in the mirror. This was everyday attire in the city, but now he just saved it for church. It would be hard to go back to Chicago after the holidays. He was becoming quite happy in his current routine.

  Every pew had someone in it this Sunday, and people were still exchanging their hellos and getting settled in.

  Matt slipped into the back pew, and pulled out the hymnal to mark the hymns they’d be singing today.

  “Hey there, Liz.”

  Matt whipped his head around. Grady Wilson’s grandmother stood holding his hooked arm, waving like a prom queen at the woman seated just four rows in front of him.

  “This is my grandson. The one I was telling you about. Say hello, Grady.”

  Grady’s cheeks reddened, and he looked like he’d rather throw his grandmother over his shoulder and tuck her in a jail cell than say hello. He dipped his head and tried to keep moving, but Miss Beverly was mouthing, Isn’t he handsome?

  A spark of jealousy gnawed at Matt’s gut. He had absolutely no right. He knew that, but the feeling was there.

  George clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Good morning.”

  Matt stood and shook his hand. “Good morning.”

  “Really? You’re just going to sit there,” he said in a low voice.

  “What do you mean?” He had no idea what George was talking about. He gave Dottie a quick smile and nod.

  George tugged Matt into the aisle. “Did you hear Liz saved the day in my store on Friday?”

  “Yeah, people were talking about it in the café yesterday.”

  “Matt, she’s a nice gal. She loves Antler Creek, and there’s not a ‘y’ in her name anywhere. Get to stepping,” George whispered into the collar of his shirt. “If you don’t, Beverly will have wedding invitations made for Liz and Grady before the service is over.”

  Matt shook his head, but George didn’t let up. That glare in his stare was a dare, and Matt moved ahead, stopping next to where Liz was seated. “Anyone sitting here?”

  She shook her head and slid over. “Hi. Good to see you.”

  George cleared his throat as he and Dottie walked by. “Good morning, Liz. Matt.”

  Before Matt could make any small talk, Pastor Mike stepped to the pulpit with a “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” echoed from the congregation.

  Liz glanced over at him
and smiled.

  He almost instinctively reached for her hand. Trying to hide the near mistake, he fumbled with the pocket of his sport coat, then folded his hands in his lap. What was I thinking?

  Pastor Mike preached about Thanksgiving and reminded them that those thanks shouldn’t be saved for one day when the turkey is stuffed and so are we. The congregation laughed, enjoying Pastor Mike’s relatable style, but still appreciating the strong message sending them out to address the week in a godly way.

  After the service, he and Liz walked out together. “Good sermon,” he said.

  “Yes. Very.”

  It was polite and damned awkward. “So, I’m going to complete my recommendations today. All I have to do is finish up the estimates.”

  “Great. I can’t wait. I’ve been speculating since I last saw you.”

  “I’m sure you have. I’ll get them over to you this afternoon.”

  Maizey and another woman stopped next to them. Maizey grabbed Liz’s hands. “It’s so good to see you here. You’re like part of the town already. We’re going over to the fire station to pick up lunch. It’s their spaghetti dinner fund-raiser. Why don’t you come along with us?”

  “That sounds lovely. Thank you,” Liz said. “Matt, I guess I’ll hear from you later.”

  “You will.” He watched as she walked off.

  * * *

  ALL AFTERNOON MATT had to force himself to concentrate on finishing up the package for Liz. He was distracted, and it was her fault. All he could think about was her. The stupid thing was if he’d just get this done he’d have an excuse to see her. So focus already.

  He went back through his original notes from his inspection of the house, labeled DOE RUN ROAD. He changed that to ANGEL’S REST, then refined his notes to align with the goals Liz had gone over with him. He cross-checked all of the estimates, then created pivot tables to break out the priority and mandatory work from the things that could wait.

  If he couldn’t be the one to turn the art gallery back into something wonderful for the community, he was glad that Liz was going to have the chance. The inn had been in her family, after all, and it had been a very active part of this community for a long time. People in the area were going to be very excited when word got around that she was the one who bought it.

  He compiled his report, then summarized it along with pictures that he’d taken to show the damage. The list was long, but it was doable if she had the time and money to invest.

  Matt emailed Liz the inspection report, including the estimates, then texted her to let her know that he’d sent them and to call if she had any questions. She’d been so anxious, and her enthusiasm was contagious. It hadn’t taken that long to work up rough estimates on the changes she’d shared with him, and he’d enjoyed doing it.

  In fact, he hadn’t felt this excited about a project since he was working on his house.

  There were always so many uncertainties in renovating an old home. He didn’t envy her for that. It was hard to anticipate what hidden problems were behind walls; then again, there weren’t many of those left, with the gut job done on that place. It was a real shame there weren’t a few more laws and inspections in place in this community to keep people from doing crazy things like removing load-bearing walls. Liz was lucky the whole house hadn’t begun to sag in the middle. If hadn’t been for the huge timbers that made up the post-and-timber building, it would have likely been a whole different story.

  The Westmorelands had spared no expense when they built that place.

  The only reason Matt had taken any interest in the property was to make sure it didn’t fall into more disrepair. The back side of that property backed up to his fifteen-acre lot. His reason for bidding on it was definitely personal, but not as personal as Liz’s.

  He wouldn’t mind helping her make her dream of restoring the inn come true.

  Matt checked the Sent folder to make sure his email had gone through. Now he’d just have to wait for her response.

  He walked into the living room and turned on the big-screen television. The Carolina Panthers were giving the Dallas Cowboys a serious wallop. That was worth watching. He went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer, then settled in for a lazy afternoon.

  Dad had always been a Cowboys fan, even though he hadn’t lived in Texas since he was five. Mom had a playful rivalry with Dad during football season, and because of that Matt’s alliance was to the Panthers just like hers. He hadn’t missed a game since she died, and always felt a little like Mom was closer on the days he hung out watching. Now that Dad was gone too, it was even more special—almost a ritual.

  He cracked open the beer and sat in his favorite leather chair. During the commercial break, he checked his phone for messages. There weren’t any. He tucked his phone back into his shirt pocket, wondering if Liz had considered separating the kitchen a little by adding a butler’s pantry. It would make things so much easier for her once she had guests on the property by keeping the mess out of view. He grabbed her plans and a magazine to bear down on and made the changes. He liked what he saw, and he had a feeling she’d like it too. He had no idea what kind of budget she had, so he wasn’t sure if she’d be happy or scared off by his assessment.

  Somehow, while he was distracted with her plans, the Cowboys had made a comeback and won the game.

  He’d expected to hear back from her right away.

  The night dragged on, and it bothered him that he couldn’t seem to let go of his obsession with checking for an email or text from her. His interest wasn’t only in whether she’d do the project or not. He liked the idea of spending time with her.

  Worried that he’d scared her with the numbers, he finally went to bed. No good Southern girl would call after this hour anyway.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, Matt must’ve walked by his phone three times while getting dressed and making coffee. As was common in the North Carolina mountains this time of year, yesterday there’d been ice and today was going to be unseasonably mild. Nearly sixty-two degrees, but then back to freezing by midweek. It was a good day to get some outdoor things done. He’d promised Pastor Mike that he’d help him finish up the fellowship hall project today, so he got dressed and headed over there.

  It was just a little after seven when Matt arrived at the church. He used his key to let himself in and got right down to work. By the time Pastor Mike came in at nine, Matt was almost done.

  Pastor Mike looked shocked. “How’d you get all this done by yourself? I was sure it would take the two of us all day to finish.”

  Matt shrugged. “I’m on a roll.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “I don’t know. A while.” Matt put his tools back in his bag.

  A line creased Pastor Mike’s forehead. “What’s wrong?”

  Matt shook his head. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

  “You just seem quiet.” He gathered some trim pieces and stacked them in a box for the trash. “I saw you in church yesterday with the gal who wanted you to do the inspection. So, I guess you met up with her.”

  Great. The one thing he didn’t want to think or talk about. He took a breath. “I did. Her grandparents used to own the place.”

  “Speculation was running wild once she left,” Pastor Mike said. “Do you have any idea what she plans to do?”

  “I know exactly what she’s planning. You can tell folks to relax. I think they’re going to be very pleased with what she has in mind.”

  This wasn’t helping Matt’s plan to not think about Liz or her project today. But he had to answer Pastor Mike. It would be rude to avoid his questions. “She wants to bring it back to what her grandparents once had. Reopen it as an inn and coordinate adventures like the old trout fishing they used to do on the creek, hiking to the falls, even the Christmas lights.”

  “Too bad she couldn’t get the Christmas lights up this year. Did you hear they had to cancel the tree lighting at Town Square Park?”

  “No. Why
?”

  “When the water got so high after that nor’easter I guess no one thought to check the storage shed. The boxes of lights and ornaments had gotten so wet and muddy that they were full of fuzzy mildew. Since they were old anyway, the decision was made that it was not worth the health risk for anyone to try to clean them up.”

  “Why can’t they just replace them?”

  “There’s no budget on such short notice.”

  “That’s a shame.” He could probably scrape together some strands he wasn’t planning to use. You’d think they could borrow enough strands from folks around town to get the job done, but if he suggested it he’d probably get stuck heading it up.

  “George donated one of those big wire-cone trees with the strands of lights that get staked out to the side. You know, kind of like a giant tomato cage with lights on it. Someone was behind on their account at the hardware store and George accepted it as payment. I think he was glad to get rid of it. Won’t be the same as a real Christmas-tree lighting, though.”

  “I guess it’ll have to do.” Matt picked up a ten-foot stick of trim he’d just mitered. “This is the last one we have to put up and we are done with all the crown molding.” He moved the ladder to the far corner of the room and climbed to the top. Pastor Mike handed him the piece of molding.

  Roger from the Antler Creek Chronicle walked in just as Matt nailed the final piece of trim in place.

  Matt came down from the ladder. “You showed up just in time, Roger. We’re pretty much done here.”

  “I’ve always had pretty good timing,” Roger said with a laugh.

  “Not so fast,” Pastor Mike said. “I’ve got a long list of to-dos, and you’re just in time to help me reload all the pantries. There are twenty-two boxes in my office that need to come back in here.”

  “Many hands make light work,” Roger said, glancing over at Matt.

  “You know I’ll stick around and help,” Matt said.

  “You should. I’m late because of you.”