Snowflake Wishes (Holly Springs Romance Book 1)

by Kasey Stockton

  How was I going to find public Wi-Fi? Sliding the computer onto the passenger seat, I pulled onto the road. I needed to find somewhere with internet. With my luck, the only public Wi-Fi building was going to be the diner. And there was no way that woman was going to let me sit and use her internet after the fiasco that morning. It would probably be wise to go back and find the owner after the waitress’s shift had ended.

  Unless, maybe, if I bought a plate of fries and pretended to like them.

  I certainly wasn’t getting off on the right foot so far in this tiny, podunk town.

  * * *

  It turned out Holly Springs had its own public library. The front desk was empty but a woman and her children were milling around the children’s aisles so it was clearly open. I deposited myself at a table and got to work. Pulling up the files for the diner project, I scanned the contents of the briefing page.

  Shoot. Just as I thought. That Bell waitress was going to hate me even more.

  I brought up the potential businesses form and read through the proposed options. None of them were very good. A flower shop? How would Holly Springs utilize a flower shop more than a diner? These analytics were really off.

  The one that really got me, though, was the cupcake store. If a diner was failing, then a boutique dessert shop wasn’t likely to do much better.

  Opening a fresh document, I began typing my notes. It was a well-kept diner; I could tell that much right away. And the food was good. Nothing to complain about there.

  “Can I help you, young man?”

  I looked up to see an older woman with perfectly styled white hair and purple-rimmed glasses—the same woman I’d seen less than an hour before leaving the yellow house. Her red sweater was buttoned once at the neck and her wrinkled hands clasped the back of the chair opposite me. My mouth went dry.

  “I just needed to borrow the internet,” I said, focusing on the Rudolph pin on her sweater. Anything not to look her directly in the eye.

  Her smile didn’t falter. I imagined she was the sort of woman who baked pies and left them in her kitchen windowsill to cool. People did that all the time in old movies. Not in my house, growing up, of course. There were no window ledges in high-rise lofts.

  “Stay as long as you need to. I’ll be over at the help desk if you need anything.”

  One last twinkling smile and she was gone. She jingled as she walked away, and I noticed her jingle bell earrings. Odd that they hadn’t alerted me to her approach, but then, I had been in the zone.

  I took a deep breath, staring absently at the word document on my laptop. I tried not to be offended that she didn’t recognize me. Why would she? She’d never seen me before in her life.

  A part of me wanted a fairytale reunion where she saw my face and immediately recognized my nose to be a direct copy of my mother’s, knowing right away I was her long lost grandson. Then she’d promptly pull me into her arms and squeeze me tightly, tears falling from her overjoyed face.

  But this was fine too. I wasn’t in a Hallmark movie. This was real life.

  I shut my computer and shoved it back into the case. I needed to find somewhere to sleep tonight or I’d be in my car. My Audi was nice, but it wasn’t that comfortable.

  3

  Madison

  Britney had been right. A little concealer did almost nothing to hide the bruise that was steadily forming across the bridge of my nose. The bruise crept down in front of my right eye, the skin there feeling tender and puffy. I sincerely hoped it wouldn’t turn into a black eye. That would just be fantastic.

  I leaned forward in the mirror to better see my discolored skin.

  “Getting closer doesn’t make it any better,” Britney said, coming to stand beside me in her bathroom. “What time will Patrick be here?”

  I glanced at my watch. “Ten minutes.”

  “Okay, move aside and let the professional do her magic.”

  Fifteen minutes later, my face was caked with makeup in a flawless execution by my best friend and Holly Springs’ most accomplished hairdresser and makeup artist. She’d also run a curling iron through my long, dark hair and made beach waves in a way I never could achieve on my own.

  “Just don’t touch it,” Britney said, lightly dusting my cheekbones with a shimmery highlighter.

  “Or show any form of expression,” I added. “Geez, Brit. I feel like you slapped a layer of frosting on my face.”

  “Hey, your black eye is hidden, right?”

  “Hidden and replaced by a dramatic smoky eye. I don’t know which one is worse. It’s supposed to be a chill date and now I’m afraid I’m going to give him the wrong impression.”

  Britney reared back. “Like what? That you’re interested in him? Madison, you’ve got to stop keeping Patrick at arm’s length. You’ve been dating for almost six months now. Either go all in or let him go. It’s not nice, what you’re doing to the poor guy.”

  The doorbell rang and I hopped up, swinging my bag over my shoulder and running down the stairs and away from Britney and her wisdom. She had a point, but I didn’t want to think about that.

  I opened the door and slipped onto the porch. Patrick took a quick step back, his hands slung in his pockets. He did a double take and I wished right then I had refused Britney’s help and shown Patrick all of my bruised glory.

  “You look nice,” he said politely. His eyes, on the other hand, were wide, and his ever-present smile played on his lips. I didn’t know whether he liked what he saw or not.

  “Thanks,” I said, skipping down the steps. He caught up quickly and we walked down the road until we connected with Main Street. A few men drove past with a huge tree in the back of a pickup truck. They were likely going to set it up in front of Town Hall. I glanced away from it. I wasn’t ready for Christmas to descend on Holly Springs.

  Patrick stepped closer. “Do you know what ornament you’re bringing to the tree lighting?” he asked.

  I swallowed, promising myself I would not cry. Words escaped me momentarily and I shrugged.

  “Me neither,” he said. “I wanted to pick something different this year but I’m sure I’ll end up using the same little reindeer I’ve done for the last ten years.”

  “There’s beauty in tradition.”

  He glanced at me. “Yeah, I guess.”

  We crossed the lawn and stepped inside the pub, the only acceptable restaurant in Holly Springs for a date. It was a bar, really, but the burgers were good, and the onion rings were simply divine. Before everything changed last year, I had been working on replicating their onion rings for the diner, but now I didn’t have the time or energy.

  We chose a booth in the back of the bar and ordered dinner. Low Christmas carols played over the speakers and I glanced to the window. It really didn’t feel like the holidays yet with the lack of snow, but I wasn’t complaining.

  I faced Patrick, forcing a smile. It was a slow night at The Pub but things were bound to pick up a little later in the evening. I was hoping we could eat quickly so we’d have ample time for moving furniture afterwards. I couldn’t move from my house to an apartment all on my own.

  Our conversation was easy—such was the nature with people you’d known your whole life. We discussed our workdays and plans for the holiday month. His parents had moved to Arizona to retire in a warmer climate and he was flying out there in a few days to visit them. I was planning on a quiet holiday, myself.

  “I met an interesting guy today,” he said, around a large bite of cheeseburger.

  “Yeah?” I asked, taking a swig of my Coke.

  Nodding, he continued. “I showed him the old Winston house but he wasn’t interested. He wanted an apartment he could rent on a month-to-month basis. I tried to tell him we didn’t have anything like that around here, but he was adamant about not signing a long lease.”

  “You can rent him my house on a month-to-month basis,” I joked, picking up my burger.

  “Really?”

  I stopped, considering. “
Well, ideally, I’d rather it sold.”

  Patrick lifted his eyebrows. I knew what he was thinking. Without any showings for the last six months, the house was unlikely to sell right away, especially during the holidays.

  His gaze bore into me like a cat on the hunt, transforming his teddy bear aura into a lion. I could tell he was eager for a percentage and while I didn’t want to admit it, I could use the funds that rent would bring in as well.

  I backtracked a little. “You said he wanted an apartment though. Would he go for a house?”

  Silence hovered over the table. Both of our plates sat ignored as Patrick’s mind worked and I tried to read his expressions. “I’ve got an idea,” he said slowly, his hands coming up to ward off a potential argument. “But hear me out before you say no right away.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “What if you rent him the apartment above the diner instead? We haven’t moved the furniture yet.”

  “You said the house might sell better if it was empty,” I reminded him.

  “It will, but this would only be temporary. Give this guy a few months and then he’ll be gone, and we can proceed. It’ll be like hitting a pause button for the winter. Or sooner. He wouldn’t even agree to a three-month lease.”

  Patrick had a point, and I was ready to agree. Relief washed over me. I was able to stay in my home a little while longer—at least through Christmas. I had put off the sale as long as I possibly could as it was, and this was an option that would bring in instant revenue. Anything helped at this point.

  “Alright, you’ve got a deal,” I said. “On one condition.”

  “What?” he asked eagerly. Too eagerly. Poor Patrick didn’t get much business in the way of real estate around here.

  “As long as he’s not the guy who gave me a black eye earlier today.”

  Patrick’s mouth hung open. “What did you say?”

  I grinned, shoving an onion ring in my mouth, the greasy food wiping off half the makeup around my lips in the process. “Relax, it was an accident. But I didn’t like him all that much. He was too…rich.”

  Patrick leaned in, regarding me closely. A smile tipped his lips, giving his teddy bear face a bit of a boyish look. “That’s what all the makeup is for? You’re covering up a black eye.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Here I thought maybe you were trying to look nice for me.”

  “You are shameless.” I laughed. “Eat your burger.”

  I dove into my onion rings. I’d tried, but I couldn’t make them as good as The Pub.

  “Hey, man,” Patrick shouted suddenly. “I think I found you a place!”

  I looked up quickly to see Patrick waving over Hot Sauce Guy. I wanted to sink into the chair or at least take the napkin and wipe off my caked-on makeup. I didn’t have time for either.

  Hot Sauce Guy approached our table and I faced him slowly, waiting for his reaction. He didn’t double take like Patrick had earlier, but he did seem somewhat surprised by my presence. Or my appearance. Or, perhaps both.

  “You found an apartment?” he asked Patrick. He was wearing dark jeans and a jacket. Everything about him oozed easy-going composure.

  “I think so. If the owner is willing to lease it.” Patrick shot me a glance and I could have kicked him under the table.

  “Can I speak to them? I’m not above begging,” Hot Sauce Guy asked, smiling at his own joke.

  Patrick shot me another look and the silence sat a few seconds too long. Reluctantly, I said, “It’s me.”

  He turned sharply. “Oh.”

  Exactly. I cleared my throat. “Um, when do you need it by?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  I scanned my onion rings. “Well, if we aren’t moving furniture tonight…” I said, eyeing my date.

  “Yes! Let’s do it.” Patrick grinned. I wish I could say he was happy because of me, but it was the check he was finally going to be able to cash that had him so excited. Not that I could blame him, his side job didn’t exactly bring in a steady stream of cash. “You grabbing a bite?” he asked.

  “I was going to,” Hot Sauce Guy answered.

  “We’ll head over now, and you can meet us when you’re ready?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Patrick and I got up to leave. He tossed a few twenties on the table.

  Hot Sauce Guy stepped in front of me as I pulled on my coat. A shadow cast over his face and I had to look up to meet his eyes. “Can I get a name?” he asked.

  I eyed him for a moment, pulling my hair from my coat and then straightening my scarf. “Madison Bell.”

  His smile grew wide. “Jake Tyler. Good to meet you, Madison.”

  “We’ll see,” I said, and followed Patrick outside.

  “Wait,” Jake called. “Where should I meet you?”

  I turned at the front door and called, “The diner.”

  * * *

  Patrick wrapped me in a hug the moment I stepped from the pub. “Thank you, Mads! I promise he’ll be a good tenant.” He shrugged a shoulder, accidentally pushing against my face. “Well, probably. And he looks like he’s made of money so we may as well raise the rent.”

  I spoke, my voice muffled from being shoved against Patrick’s coat. “I’d have to set a rent first in order to raise it.”

  He leaned back to eye me. “Joking, right? I knew you’d be glad of it the moment I came up with the plan. It’s a win for everyone! You get rent, I helped a client find a home—”

  “And get a paycheck.”

  “—and Jack Taylor gets exactly what he asked for. Month-to-month rent in an apartment in the center of town.”

  “It’s Jake Tyler, I think,” I corrected him, pulling myself from Patrick’s enthusiastic embrace and folding my arms over my chest. We turned in unison toward The Bell.

  We walked down Main Street quietly. Men were assembling the tree at the far end of the street, and I averted my eyes. Time did not take grief into account though, and it was upon me whether I wanted to accept it or not.

  Patrick’s arm shot out and stopped me, pivoting me toward him.

  “Hey, we need to talk.”

  I swallowed a lump. I knew this conversation was coming, but I wasn’t ready for it. Why did life insist on moving forward when all I wanted was for it to pause long enough for me to get my bearings?

  I looked at him expectantly. If he wanted to discuss our relationship, then he could direct the conversation.

  “I just…” He looked away and sighed. When he faced me again, his jaw was set and his eyebrows pulled in apologetically. “I wanted to know if you’d go to the tree lighting ceremony with me.”

  My shoulders relaxed. He wasn’t going to force me into that conversation yet. For now, we were free to continue on the way we were going. “Yeah, Patrick. That would be great.”

  4

  Madison

  The Pub might have been slow, but the diner was even slower that evening. I gave Tessa, my only other waitress, a wave, before crossing the dining room and leading Patrick through the doorway beside the back counter. The small, enclosed stairway led to another locked door at the top.

  “I’m beginning to wonder if this was a bad idea,” I said, pulling out my keys to open the apartment door. “Any renter would have to have access to my diner, even when it’s closed, in order to get to the apartment.”

  Patrick stood close behind me while I fidgeted with the keys. “He’s not a permanent fixture around here. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  The lock was finicky. I would have to show Jake how to wiggle it just right. Given his fancy watch and immaculate clothes, it was clear he didn’t know much about roughing it in a small town in the middle of the Rocky Mountains. “What do you know about him?”

  Patrick followed me inside, shrugging. “Pretty much nothing,” he said.

  I had already begun moving my things over from the big house, but not so much that I couldn’t gather it all together in twenty minutes. I assumed we had at lea
st that much time before Jake showed up.

  I stopped, pivoting to face him. “You mean you just convinced me to rent out my apartment to a stranger and you don’t even know what he’s doing in town?” I swatted him on the arm. “What if he’s a serial killer?”

  “He’s not.” Patrick smiled comfortably.

  “How do you know, though?” I picked up a box of kitchen gadgets and began emptying it into drawers and cupboards. These were all extra and I wouldn’t need them at the house—but Jake Tyler probably didn’t have any spatulas with him. I lifted one and looked at it. He probably wouldn’t need them either. But, just in case.

  Patrick took the box from my hands and placed it on the counter, his hands gripping my shoulders as he looked me in the eye. “You’ll be fine. He won’t be around that long. We’ll both make a little money and then get back to our normal lives again. Take a deep breath and let it out. You aren’t at the diner alone often. Just make sure Joey doesn’t leave you by yourself in the evenings if you’re that worried about it.” His face scrunched up in an easygoing smile. “But I’ve gotta say, I’m usually a good judge of character, and the only thing about this guy that concerns me is his perfect hair.” Patrick’s eyebrows hitched up. “I mean really, does anyone have hair that naturally perfect? A hundred bucks on it, he uses a blow dryer.”

  “Don’t make a bet you aren’t willing to pony up on,” I said facetiously, stepping out of Patrick’s hold. I pulled a pizza cutter and can opener from the box and tossed them into a utensil drawer. He made a valid point, and he was right about Joey. My part-time cook came in to help in the evenings; I could rely on him. “Help me get the books?”

  Patrick shook his head, the smile on his boyish face nothing but indulgent. “You’ve got too many books.” He tossed a few cookbooks into the box, shaking his head. “How do you have time to make all these recipes?”

  “I work in a diner,” I reminded him.