“The entire town of Holly Springs?”
She scoffed. “I am no tattle-monger.”
“What on earth is that?”
Grinning, she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “A gossip.”
I chuckled. Small town girls said the weirdest things.
Still, she had a point. I needed to talk to someone, and I couldn’t call Mark. He’d be furious. He was loyal to my dad in an unbending way. Loyalty was an admirable trait, but blind devotion without even considering another viewpoint was foolish. Focusing on my nail beds, I tried to make sense of the things I’d learned that evening. My mind couldn’t wrap around my grandmother’s story.
“I never knew my grandmother on my mom’s side.” I cautioned a glance at Madison and she watched me intently, her face a picture of concentration. “We knew she lived in a podunk little town in the Rocky Mountains, but Dad always told us she wanted nothing to do with us. My mom hardly ever said anything about it, but I always got the sense that was because it was hard on her.”
Madison sat quietly, listening to my tale. I’d never really talked about this with anyone else before and just saying the words that had been running repeatedly through my mind lately was therapeutic.
“Grandma Hart didn’t go into details of the falling out. I think she must be a superior being, because she didn’t want to make my parents look bad. But she said they didn’t see eye to eye on an important matter and the rest was history.”
“Did she give any hints about the nature of the falling out? I have a hard time imagining what would keep a mother and daughter apart for so long.”
“You don’t know my dad,” I said. “He’s stubborn and defiant. I’m sure those are the main reasons he’s become so successful, but it’s probably also the reason I’ve never known Grandma Hart. I can easily believe it’s all his fault and that annoys me. To no end.”
Madison tilted her head to the side, a degree of pity crossing her face. “Maybe you should get all of the facts before placing blame. It sounds to me like you still have vague explanations on both sides.”
I hated to admit it, but she was probably right. I drew in a deep breath, filling my lungs with oil-tainted diner air and letting it back out slowly. “What would I do without your concise reasoning?”
She smiled at me, and we sat across from one another in silence. Madison’s long, dark hair swung over her shoulder, and her blue eyes were soft and compassionate. Was she still riding the emotional high from her caroling earlier? I wanted to check in with her about her grief and her father’s death, but that hadn’t gone over so well the last time I brought it up. Of course, I’d just blurted it out all loud and awkwardly, so that could have been part of the problem.
“Are you planning on confronting your parents?”
I ran a hand down my face, rubbing my scruff. “Yes. Eventually. Probably not before Christmas, of course.”
“Why? So you can be uncomfortable during the holidays to avoid an awkward conversation?”
I tried not to be offended by her bluntness. “So everyone else won’t be uncomfortable during the holidays.”
“Then you want to act fake around your family instead?” she countered.
“No. Well…” I paused. She had a point. But it’s just what you were supposed to do. “It’s Christmas.”
“Exactly. It’s Christmas. Why should one day make such an impact on when you speak to your parents about this? Patrick didn’t wait until after the holidays to break up with me just so we didn’t have to endure the holidays and a break-up at the same time, and I’m glad for it. If he’s done, then he’s done, and I don’t want him around pretending to want to be with me just because it’s Christmas.”
“That’s different.”
One of her dark eyebrows came up. “How?”
“Because I’m not as mature as Patrick.” I chuckled to soften the joke, but she just watched me, unamused. I didn’t want to get into it now. This had moved into the realm of stressful and was no longer as therapeutic as it had begun. Maybe it was time to call it a night.
I stood, stretching my arms out. “Hey, tell me, how many likes did you get on that princess cake picture?”
She dipped her head, trying to hide her smile. But that thing was bright; there was no containing it. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t believe you.” I pulled out my phone. “Besides, I can check it just as easily as you can.”
Her head snapped up. “Fine, I’ll tell you.” She reached forward and pushed my phone away. The contact of her hand on mine sent a jolt through my arm and I would have snatched my arm away if it wasn’t so enjoyable. “Somewhere around fourteen thousand.”
My eyebrows went up, but I wasn’t surprised. She had a major following. And all for desserts. Shaking my head, I tried to say something to distract her. I was fairly positive she didn’t realize she was still touching my hand and I wanted to keep it there as long as possible. “And you don’t want to capitalize on those fourteen thousand? Imagine how hopping this place could be.”
I’d done it. I’d said the wrong thing. She pulled away immediately, both physically and otherwise. “Actually, I don’t have to imagine that. We’ve been really busy my entire life. People would drive miles to try my dad’s famous burgers. He brought people into town and boosted Holly Springs’s economy as well as the success of this place.”
Her face hardened while she took in the basic, outdated diner. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but if I could guess I would assume she was lamenting her own failure. It was a prime moment to explain that she could have another chance. I could tell her that the eviction was put on hold and we could utilize her social media presence and bring people to the diner once again.
I could say—
“But now the corporate dirtbags who own the building are kicking me out.” She looked me in the eye and I froze. I felt like she could see through me, into my mind and the corner office I had high above LA’s landscape. She let out a breath and laughed without a hint of humor. “It feels really good to say that out loud.”
“You haven’t told anyone?” I assumed she would have told Patrick or Britney.
She shook her head. “I can’t bear to. They know I’ve had trouble with the building’s owners, but nothing else. It’s hard enough to admit it to myself.”
It was time. If I was going to tell her, I would need to do it now. She needed to know that it wasn’t over yet. But then…that burger I’d had the other day was far from the best burger around. If her dad had created a reputation for The Bell with his amazing burgers, then the mediocre ones they delivered now were surely the driving force in their loss of business.
And she could hardly sustain her business on teenagers ordering Cokes and milkshakes.
I hated to admit it, but Mark was right. The diner was dead.
“You won’t tell anyone yet, right?” she asked.
Had she read my thoughts? I cleared my throat. No. That was crazy. “I won’t say anything.”
Her eyes looked tired, and she tossed me a grateful look before turning for the kitchen. I watched her a minute longer. Had I made the right decision? Humming reached my ears to the tune of We Wish You a Merry Christmas and I couldn’t help but smile. Was her Grinch-like heart beginning to grow?
For now, at least, I’d made the right choice.
11
Madison
The old farmhouse had been in my family since its construction, three generations back. Dad was always proud of his heritage and the part his great-grandfather played in settling Holly Springs. It was likely part of the reason I felt so annoyed with the disloyal population who left our small town the moment they tired of it and never looked back.
Like my mother, who left shortly after I was born. Some things were not worth staying for, apparently.
Slumping on the overstuffed couch before the fire, I wrapped my hands around the warm mug and brought it to my lips, the soothing aroma of tea swirling up into my nose. It would h
ave been more fitting to drink Dad’s wassail recipe, but I couldn’t bring myself to make it tonight, so peppermint tea would have to do. Fire crackled before me, popping loudly in the otherwise silent room. My gaze sought the speaker in the corner of the ceiling, and I felt a moment’s hesitation.
Dad had cared deeply about very few things: me, the diner, and a good quality sound system. We’d suffered without central air conditioning for most of my life, but always had beautiful music scoring our daily routine.
My hand itched to pick up the remote and turn on the Bluetooth feature. It would only take a few finger swipes to connect my phone and begin playing the Christmas station I’d used the last few years. But something blocked my body from moving further. And I knew what it was. Grief.
A horrid, dark, overpowering force that took my enjoyment and squashed it flat, immediately transporting me back in time to the previous year and the hospice bed that lived beside the far wall in the living room, and Dad’s last few weeks after the cancer took majority power over his body. He was my only family, and now he was gone.
Turning away from the fire and its captivating glow, I looked to my reflection in the window. My breath caught and I set down my tea mug and padded to the window, moving aside the curtain to more fully see the glittering lawn outside.
Snow.
It’s almost as if Dad was here, watching my internal struggle between wanting to experience the full joy of the Christmas season with music and wassail, and forcing me forward. I could not deny the pull I felt to walk outside and stand in the swirling, fat, flakes of a fresh, first snow.
Oh, why not?
Pulling on my boots and the coat hung beside the door, I stepped into the frigid night and down the steps of my front porch. Breath clouded before me, mixing with the falling snow and dissipating slowly.
I held my breath, glancing around the trees and mountainside that backdropped my house, and waited for the overwhelming grief to pull me down.
But nothing came.
Instead, I felt lighter, as though the snow itself was lifting my heart and feeding my soul. My Christmas wish on the snowflake ornament swam through my consciousness. It was an absurd thing to wish for, that my dad would be here with me this Christmas, but I couldn’t help it. I did wish he was here.
I also wished that I hadn’t failed the diner or had to put the house up for sale, but some things couldn’t be fixed now. Regardless of what Jake said.
Jake.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and found his name, sending him a message.
Look outside.
I clicked send and reread the message. Well, great. Now he was going to think I was a serial killer. I began typing another message to explain that I wasn’t waiting outside or anything when I got his response.
Snow! Is it as fluffy as it looks?
Maybe if you go outside, you’ll find out.
Are you waiting out there with a snowball? Am I about to get decked in the face?
That was a great idea. Too bad I hadn’t thought of it before. Now there wasn’t enough time to get there and lie in wait for him to put on his shoes and walk downstairs.
I wish.
I could picture his face tilted back in laughter, his wide smile remaining long after. What I could not imagine clearly was his reaction to the snow. I knew how I felt about it, but I grew up in the snow, not in LA where they had warm Christmases.
I opened my phone and sent another text.
What do you think?
Then I put my phone away, lifted my face to the heavens, and closed my eyes. Now Christmas really had begun.
* * *
Jake
I read Madison’s last text message and slipped my phone back into my pocket. I needed to get outside before I could respond. I’d been up late working on my proposal for a boutique dessert shop when I got Madison’s first text, and I wanted to finish writing my arguments before my ideas left me completely. I found the longer I stayed in Holly Springs, the more I cared about the little town. And, the more I cared about helping Madison.
Mark wouldn’t refuse a guaranteed business with a solid projection, and if I could convince Madison to open a dessert shop and market it from her FotoFeed page, she was absolutely bound to be successful. I understood her reluctance, because she clearly had a mind to save her dad’s diner. But I could make her see reason, hopefully, and the amount of success she could have if she listened to me.
Typing the last of the proposal, I shut my laptop with a click and rolled my shoulders, stretching my arms above my head. Now it was time to see snow.
I’d watched lots of movies and seen pictures, so I was sure it wasn’t going to be that exciting. To be honest, I would have been fine waiting until the morning to check it out, but I had a feeling Madison was waiting for my response and I didn’t want to let her down.
I pulled on my coat and slipped my feet into my shoes, trudging down the stairs and through the darkened diner to the back door. A force of cold hit me as soon as I stepped outside, more frigid than I imagined it would be. It felt like the outside world had been put into a freezer. I didn’t enjoy the feeling whatsoever.
I stepped into the street, glancing back to the footprints I’d made. The world was quieter than I’d expected, and the fat snowflakes were not as heavy as I’d imagined.
Headlights appeared at the end of the road and came closer, casting my shadow behind me and lighting up the snow. I stepped back to get out of the road when the vehicle rolled to a stop and my heart jumped as I recognized the blue of the old Ford truck. The door creaked as Madison opened it and hopped outside, her grin lighting the evening more than the snow could.
“What do you think?” she called.
I lifted one shoulder, glancing up to the sky. “It’s pretty cold.”
“Well, yeah,” she agreed, coming closer. “It’s frozen water.”
I couldn't help but smile. Sound was muffled by the blanket of snow, silencing her footsteps and she came closer to me.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked.
She certainly was. I nodded in agreement. “You were too late to hit me with a surprise snowball.”
She nodded slowly and I could see her mind working. “But not too late to hit you at all.” She leaned down and scooped up a handful of snow, cupping it quickly and throwing it at my chest. It wasn’t really a ball of snow, exactly, and it sort of just fell apart as it hit me.
“It’s on, now,” I said, leaning down and scooping my own handful of snow. Wow that was cold. I packed it into a ball, but it didn’t really want to keep its shape.
Madison’s eyebrows rose and she turned, running and ducking behind her truck. I threw my snowball, but it fell apart before it made any real contact. Madison tried to throw a few more but they followed suit.
I formed a snowball and approached the truck, sneaking around the side. She hadn’t poked her head up in a while, so I peeked around the edge and found her bent over, gathering more snow.
“Ha!” I yelled, coming around the side and pelting her in the back with my snowball. She shrieked, jumping up and throwing her snow at me. It covered my face and I wiped it away with one hand. She took off around the side of the truck and I chased her. I slid my arm around her waist to stop her and lost my footing, sliding forward on the ground until I landed on my back, bringing Madison down with me.
Her laughter rang through the night air and made up for the wind being knocked from my lungs. I glanced down at her face and the comfortable smile playing on her lips. She rolled away from my chest, lying on the snow beside me, and I wondered how long it would last. I was already wet and freezing through my jeans, but I didn’t want to move. She rested her head on my arm and looked up at the sky.
“This is the best vantage point,” she said quietly.
“Next to me?”
“No,” she laughed, shooting me a grin. “I mean with the snow falling. It looks so amazing from this angle. Look at it.”
I tore my gaze from
her pink-tipped nose and dark lashes and obeyed her command. She was right, it was pretty spectacular. Until I got a snowflake in the eye, that is.
Madison laughed. So, great. She’d seen my face react to the snowflake in my eye. “Yeah, you’ve gotta watch out,” she said.
I felt her body shivering beside mine and sighed. I couldn’t just let her freeze, regardless of how much I was enjoying the proximity. I got to my feet and reached for her hand, pulling her up beside me. But I didn’t let go.
She was single now, anyway. And with the magic of the snow I wasn’t about to let the moment pass without at least trying.
I pulled her toward me slowly, watching her guarded face as she stepped closer. I didn’t want to push her, so I would move slowly, giving her a chance to back away.
But she didn’t. Instead, she brought her other hand to my coat, clutching the pocket as I bent my head to reach her. Snow fell around us on the muted street when my lips touched hers, and I felt a warm fire rip through my chest. Releasing her hand, I brought both of mine to her back, pulling her closer as I kissed her in the snow.
I wasn’t quite sure when I’d come to the decision, but kissing Madison I knew, unequivocally, that I had to do whatever I could for this woman. For there was no denying how I felt in this moment.
12
Madison
Was it normal to think about a man more than one thought about cupcakes? Because usually I was pretty consumed with what I was going to bake next, but since kissing Jake in the snow a few days before, I had thought of little else.
Disappointingly, there hadn’t been a repeat performance. Sighing, I shook my thoughts away and returned my mind to the task at hand.
Cupcakes.
I gathered the miniature cupcakes and placed them in groupings on the tray before mixing my red, green and brown icing and preparing the piping bags. When the Holly Springs School District commissioned me to make their staff holiday party desserts and specified a finger food, but otherwise giving me free rein to create whatever I wanted, I knew just what to do.
Snowflake Wishes (Holly Springs Romance Book 1) Page 9