by LuAnn McLane
Blowing out a peppermint-scented breath, John shook his head. While having Rachel cheat on him with a young lawyer at his own firm had been a blow to his ego, he had to admit that he hadn’t given his wife much attention. She was fifteen years his junior and they had little in common, but he’d been arrogant enough to think she married him for love. At the age of forty he’d been a successful attorney, had a huge house, luxury cars, and a gorgeous wife. To the outside world he’d had it all. But arguing for a living had stripped away his gentleness and replaced it with a hard-nosed must-win attitude. Little else in his life had mattered. He’d fought with Rachel over every last detail of the divorce, until one day he woke up in a cold sweat and realized he hated the man he’d become. He’d signed the divorce papers that day, giving in to most of her demands, not caring about possessions or money. His attorney had fumed, telling John that he’d regret his rash decision, but he didn’t. Instead he felt as if he’d shed his old skin and had come out of the marriage renewed.
“Snow!” John walked over to the window and watched the flurries dance and twirl in the wind. He suddenly had the childlike urge to walk out and catch a fat snowflake on his tongue. Had he ever been that carefree? Not really. As a lonely only child he remembered asking Santa for a baby brother … or he even would have taken a sister if Santa was all out of brothers. When Santa failed to deliver, John had asked for a dog the next year and got a goldfish instead.
John picked up the Santa figurine sitting on the windowsill. “Man, you let me down.” Tilting his head, he said, “How about this? Why don’t you bring me a lovely lady companion this Christmas? Now that just might make up for the lack of siblings and goldfish that died. Yeah, my mom replaced it, but the lack of a black spot on a goldfish named Spot pretty much clued me in, even though I never let her know.”
Hearing laughter, John put Santa Claus down and looked out the window. He had to grin at the sight of Betsy and Susan twirling around in the snow. They weren’t even wearing coats and were unsuccessful in capturing snowflakes on their tongues. He walked closer to the window and he could hear what they were saying.
“These snowflakes are wily little things,” Betsy said.
“Wait, I got one!” Susan shouted. “I win!”
“Prove it!” Betsy demanded with her hands on her hips.
Susan stuck out her tongue.
“Ha, nothing,” Betsy said with a shake of her head. “Thought so!”
“It melted!” Susan protested with a giggle. She zigzagged around, trying to capture another snowflake but nearly running into a streetlamp. “Who put that there?”
John laughed as he watched, longing to join them in their carefree abandon, but he didn’t want to intrude upon their moment. Crossing his arms, he watched them delight in the simplicity of falling snow. Their laughter blew puffs of fog into the chilly air. John noticed that both of them had sprigs of holly in their hair and he remembered that Betsy had said she was helping Susan put together a Christmas project. He felt a stab of envy at their easy friendship, wishing he had someone to goof off with.
“When have I ever had that in my life?” John asked the Santa figurine. “Um, that would be never.” He blew out a breath that fogged up the window. He looked down at the scripted “Just Believe” painted at the base of the figurine. “Sorry, old chap, I stopped believing in you when I was about six. Told a bunch of kids in my first grade class that you didn’t exist and got banished to the hallway to sit all by my lonesome.” John shook his head. “Never understood the punishment when all I did was enlighten them with the truth.” John frowned, remembering kids crying. He got skipped over by Cindy Cooper, who was passing out star-shaped cookies. She told him he was going to get a lump of coal in his stocking. Then he suffered the humiliation of being sent out of the Christmas party while the teacher tried to calm the class down.
He’d explained to his parents, “I thought I was doing them a favor!” Of course, his parents made a huge stink over the punishment, making matters a hell of a lot worse. Mrs. Sparks insisted the reprimand was for talking out of turn and not for spoiling the magic of Christmas for innocent six-year-olds. For a kid who already had a tough time socially, this early blunder set the stage for his grade school education and he’d been sure to keep his mouth shut about the Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy.
John had spent twelve long years wishing he could play sports as well as he performed academically. But Clovis and Wendy Clark didn’t see the value of chasing a ball around a field when the time outdoors could be better spent hiking and learning about nature.
John looked out the window at Betsy, remembering how pretty and vibrant she’d been in high school. “Still is.” He smiled when Betsy finally managed to snag a snowflake. Raising her arms skyward, she cheered, drawing more laughter from Susan.
Susan rubbed her hands up the sleeves of a sweater that looked as if Christmas had thrown up all over it. “I’m getting cold,” she said.
“You’re saying that because I’m winning.”
“We’re tied!” Susan shook her head.
“Well then let’s break the tie. I could use another eggnog.”
John laughed. Spiked, I bet. That explains a lot. He was about to turn from the window when Betsy chased a fluffy snowflake right up to the window of the deli.
“I’m after a big one!” Betsy shouted.
Feeling silly for staring, John whipped the towel from his shoulder and started wiping the windowsill, nearly knocking jolly old Santa to the floor.
In spite of his quick reaction, Betsy’s gaze fell upon him. Mouthing hello, John waved as if surprised to see her. She returned his greeting just as a brisk breeze whipped the snow into a frenzy. With colorful Main Street in the background, Betsy looked as if she were standing inside a snow globe. Her eyes danced with mischief and her cheeks were rosy from the cold. White crystals clung to the auburn layers of her hair and when she smiled John couldn’t pull his gaze away. It was one of those time-standing-still moments. Wait, he’d never had a time-standing-still moment …
Until now.
John felt a strong pull of longing and nearly put the palm of his hand on the windowpane. A rush of warmth had him breathing harder. He knew he should turn away instead of standing there like a love-struck fool, so he swallowed hard and moved to turn, but Betsy smiled. And it wasn’t just a regular old, run-of-the-mill smile, but warm and … inviting? Or was he imagining things?
And then Betsy blew him a kiss!
Wait … what? Did she just add a wink? But before John could fully react, Betsy’s eyes widened and she turned on her heel. She hurried over to Susan, grabbed her arm, and they disappeared inside Rhyme and Reason.
John stood there at the window, dumbfounded. For a moment he wondered if he would wake up from his little winter wonderland display. He looked down at Santa, as if the jolly old soul would give him some answers, but the figurine just stared blankly back, as if reminding John that he was a nonbeliever. Did Betsy really just blow him a kiss … and was a wink involved? Maybe he’d gotten it all wrong. But how could he mistake a kiss? And what in the world did it mean? He stood there, twisting the towel, wishing for a replay in slow motion.
“Wow …”
John smiled and his heart started beating faster. Being attracted to a woman made him feel energized and alive. Betsy Brock was bringing out a playful side that he didn’t know existed. Sure, maybe he’d imagined the kiss, or perhaps it was fueled by spiked eggnog, but he didn’t care. He’d felt a strong jolt of awareness at the moment that their eyes met, and he knew she felt it too.
Betsy might rebuff his attempts at flirting, something he was pretty sure he sucked at doing, and she could ignore the extras he put in her lunch order, but there was something simmering beneath the surface between them, and this only served to prove he was right. Of course, he understood her reluctance to give him the time of day. The gossip surrounding his divorce from a younger woman had to be off-putting.
Sighing, John tried
to chase away the sudden tug of loneliness. Now that he wasn’t consumed with his work he longed for human contact, for friends and laughter. He’d never found his niche back in high school and so he didn’t have a circle of friends to return to in Cricket Creek.
Well, if his strict, no-nonsense parents could sell their home to him, pack up just the basics, and head cross country in an RV on a quest to visit every state park, then surely John could muster up the courage to begin a laid-back lifestyle in his old hometown. And some way, somehow, he would convince Betsy Brock to go on a date with him. John looked down at Santa. “You just wait and see.”
Fingers of sunshine reaching through the window caused the silver garland to sparkle and send shadows dancing across the walls. Twinkling lights on the tree came to life. John knew it was because of the darkening sky that made the red and green lights noticeable but he had to smile. Maybe he’d finally get a magical, movie-worthy Christmas.
5
Winter Wonderland
“Betsy, why did you grab me?” Susan shook the snowflakes from her hair, feeling energized from the cold and activity. “I was ready to catch the tie-breaker.” She unlocked the door of the shop. “Whew, now that we’re inside, I realize how cold it was out there.” She would have said more but Betsy tugged hard at the sleeve of her sweater.
“Oh dear God, I …” Betsy paused and looked up at the ceiling. A moment later she doubled over.
“B-Betsy! Oh no! What is it? Should I call 911? Are you in p-pain?” Susan nearly shouted. “Talk to me!” She did shout this time, trying to recall how to do CPR, but her brain was malfunctioning. “Oh God, wh-where is my cell phone? Betsy, lie down. Are you short of br-breath? Going to pass out? Is pain shooting up your arm?” She frantically tried to remember the sure signs of a heart attack.
“No, sweet pea.” Betsy shook her head and then moaned. “I’m dying, but it’s only of acute embarrassment.”
“What? We were just catching snowflakes! Well, trying to,” Susan said, surprised that someone as outgoing as Betsy would feel embarrassment over something so innocent.
“No, Susan, I …”
“What?” she asked gently. The stricken look on Betsy’s face nearly brought tears to Susan’s eyes. “Oh, you can tell me. Did … you pee your pants?” she whispered. “I was rather cold. The cold always makes me have to pee all of the sudden.”
“No! I wish!”
Susan frowned. “You wish you peed your pants?”
“Yes, rather than blowing a kiss at John Clark.”
Raising her eyebrows, Susan took a step back and nearly tripped over a handmade rocking horse. “Say that again?”
“I was going after a snowflake and headed over near Ham Good Sandwich. John was doing something, cleaning the window or whatever, and for some ungodly reason I blew the man a kiss.”
Susan kind of wanted to laugh but Betsy looked so horrified that she kept a straight face. “I’m so sorry, Betsy. I shouldn’t have cracked open that bourbon.”
“Well, it was my idea and damn if I don’t need another one right about now. Do you have shot glasses?”
“I don’t think so. Wait, maybe somewhere here in the shop.”
“That’s okay, I’ll drink from the damned bottle.”
“Oh Betsy.” Susan wasn’t sure if more bourbon was the smart thing to do but she nodded. “Let’s go back upstairs.”
“And the day started out so normal.” Clearly still shaken, Betsy nodded glumly and led the way to Susan’s apartment.
When they reached the kitchen, Susan suggested, “How about some hot coffee instead? Or hot chocolate? I have marshmallows,” she added cheerfully.
“Coffee, I guess. Oh no, the caffeine will keep me up tonight.” Betsy groaned and sat down on a stool.
“I have green tea.”
“I’ll just have water.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, a splash with ice and bourbon. Oh, what have I done?” she wailed as if she’d committed some horrific crime.
Susan made a couple of weak drinks, adding a slice of orange and a cherry, and brought the glasses over to the table. She located two bottles of water and brought out slices of Havarti and wheat crackers and then sat down next to Betsy. “It’s not the end of the world. I mean, it’s not like you flashed him.”
Betsy groaned.
“Wait, did you?”
“No!” Betsy picked up a cracker and put a slice of cheese on it. “I don’t know what got into me. I mean, we drank a little bourbon but still … I can hold my liquor.”
“Really? How often do you drink?”
She shrugged. “A little bit now and then. Craft beer at Broomstick Brewery, and that’s pretty strong stuff. The wine bar at Wine and Diner, but that’s mostly for the half-off happy hour food.”
“I rest my case. You got caught up in the moment and we got a little bit tipsy. I did too.”
“You didn’t blow kisses at anyone!”
“No harm done,” Susan insisted, but she understood. If she had blown a kiss to Danny she would feel the same way. Mortified. But she wasn’t about to let Betsy know it.
“Oh Susan, what am I gonna do?” She took a gulp of her drink and frowned. “Well, this is weak as all get out.”
“You want more bourbon?”
“Kinda.”
“Help yourself.” Susan took a small sip of her drink and then popped the cherry in her mouth. She chewed slowly, thinking. “I’ve got it!”
“Oh please enlighten me.” She added more bourbon and then reached for another slice of cheese. “This stuff is so good. It’s like butter. So what have you got? More of this cheese, I hope.”
“You can go over to the deli tomorrow. If John comes out, and you know he will if you’re there—”
“Go on.”
“You sneeze. Make the sneezing sound but kind of make it look like the blowing kiss thing. He’ll think it’s just the weird way you sneeze.” Susan snapped her fingers. “Easy-peasy.”
Betsy perked up. “You really think so?”
“Of course. You just have to make the actual sneeze sound real. Go ahead and practice. Here, no, let me show you. Ah-choo!” Susan flipped her fingers forward like she was blowing a kiss.
“Wow, that actually kind of works. Wait.” Betsy slapped the heel of her hand to her forehead. “I might have winked.”
“Then blink afterwards.” Susan demonstrated. “I think everybody blinks when they sneeze.” She grabbed her phone that she’d left on the counter. “I’ll look it up.” She Googled the question and then nodded. “Yep, blinking is an involuntary response. So then if you winked, he might think you actually blinked.” She kept reading. “Listen to this … When we sneeze it’s about one hundred miles per hour. Hurricane strength. Impressive. Hmmm, we produce four cups of mucus a day, most of which we swallow—”
“Oh yuck! Enough already!” Betsy raised her palms in surrender and then unscrewed the cap on her water bottle. “Do you really think I can pull off a fake sneeze-blink and remember to flip my fingers forward? Come on, I forget where I park my car when I go to the grocery store.”
“Totally. Practice in front of the mirror tomorrow and then you can go over to the deli and order lunch.”
Betsy blew out a breath. “Well, problem solved. You are a genius.”
“Thank you. I get that a lot.”
Betsy chuckled and seemed to relax.
“But I have to ask …”
Betsy groaned. “Oh, go ahead.”
“Why do you think you blew the kiss at him? And I know that you’re going to say it was the eggnog, but that was just the liquid courage—I’m not buying that.”
“Liquid stupidity, you mean. Have your forgotten we were out on Main Street in the cold without coats, chasing snowflakes with our tongues?”
“And have you forgotten that I’m trying to come out of my shell? And that we toasted to not being scaredy-cats?”
Betsy raised her eyebrows. “So, just what are you ge
tting at, girlie? Does this have something to do with Danny Mayfield?”
Susan pressed her lips together. She remembered the jubilation of having Danny ask her to go to the prom. It was like that Christmas morning feeling when you got just what you wanted beneath the tree. She broke a cracker into pieces while Betsy waited for her to answer. “Because of the stutter I was just always so timid,” she said slowly. “And then I grew into such a gangly string bean. I would literally trip over my own two feet.” She shook her head. “My parents, bless their hearts, were a bit overprotective. I surrounded myself with music, books, and nature. I preferred being in the woods to hanging out at the mall. Or at least that’s what I told myself. And of course I helped out on the farm.”
“Your childhood made you into a kind and gentle soul, Susan.”
“But socially backward.”
Betsy reached across the counter and squeezed Susan’s hand. “Well, you certainly moved forward. You’re so good with the customers. You’re much more confident than you realize.”
“Thank you, Betsy. Like I said, you’ve been a big help.”
“We’ve helped each other.” She gave Susan’s hand a final pat. “At least give Danny a chance.”
“Oh, I think I successfully chased him away. I made it clear I wasn’t interested.”
“Except you are. Have you forgotten he sent you chicken soup? And don’t tell me he was just being nice. The boy is smitten; you mark my words. The rest is up to you.”
Susan’s heart thudded with the possibility that Danny might actually be interested in her but she was too scared to let the notion sink in. “You’ve successfully steered the conversation away from you.”
“Have you forgotten I was a driver’s ed teacher?”
Susan laughed. “Well, don’t forget to practice your sneeze tonight.”
Betsy sneezed.
“Wow, that was good.”
“It was real. Maybe dancing in the snow without coats wasn’t such a great idea.”
Susan shook her head. “Nope, it was a good idea. Twirling around with the snowflakes felt awesome. If we get the sniffles it will be totally worth it.” She dusted the cracker crumbs from her fingers. “Let’s get back to work. We have lots of jars to fill.”