Marry Me on Main Street

by LuAnn McLane

  “I will,” Betsy promised, but just looking outside at the ice made her shiver. Aubrey sure didn’t get her love of storms from Betsy, who cowered in the corner clutching a flashlight during thunderstorms. Ice? Snow? Forget it.

  After ending the call, Betsy shot Susan a text message asking if it was okay if she stayed up in the loft even though she knew Susan wouldn’t mind. She would have called but she didn’t want to interrupt Susan’s time with Danny, even though she was really curious about how things were going. A moment later her phone pinged, giving her the okay to stay. But Susan didn’t give any hints on how her tree cutting adventure had gone this afternoon. Hopefully they got the job done before the ice storm hit. Susan said she was snowed in with Danny and was glad they were all safe. “How romantic,” Betsy murmured with a smile.

  She stood there gazing out the window for a couple more minutes, wishing she could muster up more excitement about going out to dinner with Grady Morgan. She blew out a breath and to her dismay she felt a hint of hot moisture gather at the back of her throat, and the sting of tears in her eyes. She wanted to be home with her daughter and here she was, stuck … all alone. The Cat Stevens song “Another Saturday Night and I Ain’t Got Nobody” started playing in her head and she sighed, swiping at the corners of her eyes.

  “Well Aubrey was right. This sure does suck,” she muttered and then wondered if Susan would mind if she dipped into the secret stash of bourbon they’d imbibed not too long ago. “Just a little nip to warm my blood,” Betsy said, but then remembered the kiss blowing incident and thought perhaps she should stick to milk and Christmas cookies. But then again, Main Street was already deserted, so how much trouble could she possibly get herself into? She sure wasn’t about to twirl around outside in an ice storm.

  Betsy gave a long, drawn out sigh and tried not to feel sorry for herself, but didn’t really succeed. Nope, not at all. Sniffing hard, she swiped at a big fat tear, telling herself that Aubrey was going to be home for a couple more weeks and from the sound of it she was having fun with Macy. “Just get a damned grip on your sorry self,” Betsy muttered, cursing the menopausal hormones that were surely the cause of her sniffling, which pretty soon might become a full-on blubbering session if she didn’t get a grip.

  In the middle of inhaling another shaky breath, a shrill alarm went off, scaring the ever-living daylights out of her. “What in the world is that?” She looked around, wondering what was wrong. Was it the security alarm? She got her karate chop ready, not that she knew karate, but she’d seen Kung Fu Panda so she could fake it. “Dear God, is the shop on fire?” Had she left that pine-scented candle burning in the bathroom? Was the wiring faulty in this old building?

  Panic welled up in Betsy’s throat and she started running around in circles, searching here and there for flames or smoke or an intruder. “Where in the hell is the alarm coming from?” she shouted, wondering if she should call 911. She felt as if her entire body was one big heartbeat. Dimly, she heard a banging on the front door. “I’m coming!” She hurried over and fumbled with the lock, cursing a blue streak until she got it to open, expecting to see a fire truck or a SWAT team at the ready.

  “John!” she shouted, glad to see him. “Did you smell the smoke?”

  “Smoke?” His eyes rounded and he hurried inside. “What smoke?”

  “The fire alarm went off,” she said, barely feeling the blast of cold air that swirled into the shop.

  “Betsy, the alarm came from the cell phone you’re holding in your hand. Mine went off too, alerting us that there’s a weather emergency and we’re not allowed in the streets. More ice and snow is on the way.”

  Betsy looked down at her phone and swiped her finger across the screen. “Oh … well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” she finally said, feeling dizzy with relief. “I didn’t even know I had an alarm. But then again, most of what this phone can do is a mystery to me.”

  “Smartphone.” John laughed.

  “Right, Aubrey said it’s user-friendly … ha. And that Siri chick has a snippy attitude. Smart-aleck if you ask me,” she said, and John laughed harder. Betsy stared down at the thin phone and shook her head. “For such a small thing, it sure is mighty shrill. But I should have realized the sound was coming from my very own hand, for pity’s sake. I was just so scared.” To her horror tears welled up in her eyes. “It wasn’t funny, John. I was terrified.”

  John immediately stopped laughing. “Oh Betsy, I’m so sorry. I just thought you were joking around as usual,” he said, and to her surprise he pulled her into his arms. “I’m such a jerk.”

  “For once I agree with you.” He smelled like freshly baked bread and some sort of sweet spice that made her want to snuggle closer to him. His arms felt comforting, even through his winter coat. After so many years of having to stay strong, being held this way felt like heaven. She suddenly wanted to hang on for dear life.

  “Are you okay?” John asked gently.

  “I am now,” Betsy said, but then horrified at her admission, she quickly added, “You know, now that I know the store isn’t burning down and we aren’t being robbed, even though I can’t remember the last time there was a robbery in Cricket Creek. Mercy, I’m such an idiot.”

  “You’re no such thing.” John squeezed her just a bit tighter, making her want to unzip his coat and slide her arms around him and feel the warmth of his body.

  Betsy knew she should disengage herself from the security of his arms but she lingered just a little longer. “You smell like a bakery.”

  “Gingerbread. I was so busy baking that I didn’t realize Main Street had turned into an ice skating rink. When I saw your car parked in the lot I wanted to make sure you didn’t attempt to drive home.”

  “I’m not that big of an idiot.”

  “I repeat, you are not an idiot.”

  “Thank you, you’re too kind. If you keep giving me compliments like that I don’t know what I’ll do,” she said, and when John laughed she enjoyed the rumble against her cheek.

  “You’re not ugly,” he said, and this time Betsy laughed with him.

  “Neither are you,” she said, and reluctantly pulled away from his embrace.

  “Better now?” The concern in his tone was almost her undoing.

  “Yes, thanks. I was just having a moment … I seem to have a lot of those lately.”

  “You’re entitled.”

  “Teaching teenagers to drive should make me able to withstand just about anything, but I guess I’m not as tough as I used to be.”

  “You’re too pretty to be considered tough.”

  Betsy felt a flutter in her chest at being called pretty. Real compliments made her feel almost uneasy and so she didn’t answer.

  “Is Susan here?”

  “No, she took the afternoon off to go over and help Danny Mayfield chop down a Christmas tree. She’s making it her personal mission to get that boy into the holiday spirit.”

  “Not always an easy task.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re a Grinch too.”

  John pulled a face and then shrugged. “When I was a kid my professor parents concentrated on giving me so-called educational toys. I wanted dump trucks and superhero figures and I got telescopes and science experiments and books … lots and lots of books. I wanted loud and noisy toys but Santa never came through. And a baby brother would have been nice. I would have even taken a sister.”

  “Aw …”

  “And my parents gave each other practical presents, never anything shiny or exciting. Holidays at the Clark house were pretty dull, I’m afraid, even though they tried in their own way. And you know, I never had kids of my own so …” He shrugged and Betsy wondered if he regretted not having a family. “While I appreciate the meaning behind the holiday, Christmas for me has always been rather subdued.”

  “Well, I only had Aubrey but she was noisy enough for three children. Rambunctious little thing. Still is.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t give her all that much but s
he loved every single present and made a fuss over the simplest of toys and clothes. I had to do the whole layaway thing and had a Christmas savings account so I could have the fun of shopping with money put away for the holidays, or I would have felt too guilty spending grocery money. I didn’t know what it was like to have the freedom of shopping sprees but it made us appreciate the holidays even more, I think.” She grinned. “At least that’s what I used to tell myself.”

  “I think you’re one hundred percent right.” John nodded. They stood side by side at the frosty window, nearly touching but not quite.

  “Did you go on big shopping sprees or were you the typical guy and waited until Christmas Eve to start shopping?”

  “I had a personal assistant who did all of that for me,” he said in a flat tone.

  “Oh …” Betsy turned her head and looked up at him. He had such a nice profile, handsome but with an edge of sadness that made her want to inch even closer. “Well, I suppose you were really busy.” She imagined the expensive gifts he must have given his young, beautiful wife and felt a twinge of … something. Jealousy? Envy? What would it feel like to open a lavishly wrapped box and find a gorgeous necklace or ring? Wonderful? No, only if he’d picked it out and the gift had meaning.

  “Mmm …” John frowned and after a moment he shrugged. “I think I just wasn’t all that interested.”

  Betsy recalled the thrill of watching Aubrey and her mother open presents. Although her mother wasn’t much on showing affection, she did brighten up during the holidays. “That’s so sad,” Betsy said. Whoops—she hadn’t meant to voice her thought out loud.

  “Yes,” he said with a solemn smile. “It was. I think it’s about time to change that situation, though. What do you think?”

  Betsy didn’t know what to say or what he was getting at. “Change can be a good thing,” she said carefully. “I’m adjusting to my daughter being gone but discovering some things about myself.”

  “I’m on a path of self-discovery too. Interesting that it took me this long to get to know myself and I’m still only part of the way there. I just know that it’s more fun to be spontaneous and not be so serious all of the time.”

  “Well, you’re an interesting guy, so you should have a good time getting to know yourself.”

  John laughed. “You know, you’re really fun to be around.”

  “I had to develop a sense of humor to get me through the tough times.” She smiled at him. “Thanks for saying that, John. I really do like to make people laugh. It makes me feel good to bring a smile to someone’s face. Rich, poor, young, or old, we all have stuff we’re dealing with.”

  “An excellent observation. For a long time, I was all about myself. Let me tell you, it was an empty existence. Rachel actually did me a favor by cheating on me so I could reexamine my life. What she did was wrong but I wasn’t a very good husband.” He shoved his fingers through his hair and appeared so troubled that Betsy reached over and put a hand on his arm.

  “We all make mistakes. But there always seems to be a silver lining.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “Yeah, my mistake of a marriage brought me Aubrey. Sounds like your mistake, if you want to call it that, has given you a better outlook on life. If you hadn’t gone through what you did, how could you know what you do now?”

  “Another excellent observation.”

  “I’m full of them,” she said, drawing another chuckle.

  “Well, there was a time when I wouldn’t be this open and admit my failings. But I’m a different person now. And I like the changes.”

  “Thanks for telling me all of this, John.”

  “And you can ask me anything about my past and my nightmare of a divorce.”

  Betsy shook her head. “It’s not necessary for you to revisit that painful part of your life. But having you open up to me makes me feel a lot better.”

  “Good, I figured that you might have concerns about my past. I don’t blame you.”

  “We all have a past. I think it’s time to look toward the future. What do you say?”

  “I say that’s a good suggestion.” John nodded toward the ice-covered street. “We’re stuck, you know.” His playful smile made Betsy feel warm all over.

  “Now who’s the good observer?”

  “Well I can tell you, it was scary just walking the short distance from the deli to here. I nearly wiped out twice. But if you want to risk it we could slide over to the deli and I’ll fix you a damned good sandwich of your choice and a potato pancake, followed by warm gingerbread slathered with whipped cream.”

  Betsy remembered what had happened between them the last time they were alone in his kitchen and felt a blush steal over her cheeks and go all the way to the roots of her auburn hair. “Oh …” she said, trying to think of a reasonable way to decline. But did she really want to decline? Yes … okay no. A big fat no.

  “I haven’t made the crème brûlée,” John continued. “You have to come to my house for that particular experience. If you like, I’ll let you do the torch part.”

  “Oh no, handing me a torch would be putting me, you, and your home in danger. The crème brûlée itself wouldn’t stand a fighting chance, unless blackened crème brûlée is a thing.”

  “Not to my knowledge, but some really excellent recipes evolve from mistakes. But somehow I don’t think that one would qualify.”

  “I think you would be right.”

  John tipped his head back and laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind when you come over.”

  “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  He stopped laughing and gave her a more serious look. “Actually, not at all.”

  “Mmm …” This is where Betsy knew she should say she wasn’t coming over to his house but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him, and so she stood there wondering if she should follow her own advice and take a little risk—okay, a pretty big risk—with her heart. But maybe this little romance could have a holiday movie ending? She sneaked another glance up at John but he was looking back out of the window. “I do find it really interesting that you’ve taken up baking along with your deli,” she said. “Knowing what I did of you in high school, I would never have guessed.”

  “Well, you could get to know me while I get to know myself.” He looked at her with raised eyebrows.

  “John …” she began, but he kept on talking.

  “I recently remodeled my parents’ ancient kitchen appliances. I’d love to show it to you.”

  “Are your parents coming home for the holidays?” Betsy asked, changing the subject while she tried to think of a good reason not to go over and have dinner with him. But all of her good reasons seemed to have taken a holiday.

  “No, they’re snowed in somewhere in one of the Dakotas right now. I can’t remember which one.”

  “Wait, so you’re spending Christmas alone?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first,” he said casually, but something in his eyes told a different story.

  “Come over to my house, then,” she heard herself say.

  “Thank you, Betsy. I’ll take you up on your invitation.”

  “It will just be me, Aubrey, and my mother. Susan will pop in for a little bit maybe. Nothing exciting … oh, and I’m not what you would call a great cook.” She winced. “Aubrey does most of the actual cooking and leaves simple things like chopping and whipping to me.”

  “Interesting, I would have thought it would have been the other way around.”

  “She got tired of my last-minute boxed dinners and soup and taught herself to cook. She just has a bit of a knack for it. I don’t.”

  “Single moms don’t have it easy,” he said. “I’m sure she wanted to learn to cook for you even more than for herself.”

  Betsy’s smile trembled a little at the corners. “She’s got a kind heart.”

  “Well, she did get that from you. I’m looking forward to coming over and being of assistance. What about your mother?”


  “My mother sits on a stool and observes like a queen on her throne, tossing out constructive criticism here and there until I turn the Christmas music up loud enough to drown her out,” Betsy said. She didn’t want to rattle on but her lips just kept right on moving while words spilled out. “And wine helps.”

  “Well, I don’t mind pitching in,” John said, and Betsy had this vision of him in her kitchen, laughing with Aubrey and making her mother blush. “I’ll bring the wine and dessert.”

  “I don’t have any fancy gadgets or state-of-the-art cooking equipment,” she said. In fact, her kitchen was on the small side, just like the rest of her modest home. But she was proud of owning her house. It might not be lavish but she loved it as much as she would love a mansion. Well … maybe not, she thought and chuckled.

  “Are you going to let me in on the joke?”

  “I was just wondering what you would think of my little brick house.”

  John tilted his head at her. “Well, let me put it this way: I lived in a huge house with a four-car garage and I was miserable. I feel much more comfortable in my childhood home in the small town of Cricket Creek. It took me a while but I’m finally beginning to understand what I want out of life and what truly matters,” he said with a grin, and his eyes were warm and sincere. His gaze lingered long enough for her to wish he would say more. Say things no man had ever said to her … well, said and meant it, anyway.

  No … don’t go there. It’s too dangerous. John Clark is out of my league.

  “And what would that be?” Betsy asked, and could have bitten her traitorous tongue right off for sounding breathless and hopeful that she might make the list.

  “This sounds trite, but the simple things.”

  “Like?” she prompted, and this time she physically bit down on her tongue. She seriously needed to quit going down this dangerous path of getting to know him better … falling for him harder. Wait … what?

  “A good sandwich.”

  “Ah …”

  “Strong coffee with just the right amount of cream and sugar.”

  “So true. Couldn’t start the day without it.” What would it be like to start the day with you?