“Ooh, I like her already.” I don’t, but that’s beside the point. “She doesn’t fool around. What’s her name?”
“Cynthia Caldwell”—he holds a finger in the air—“of the Upper East Side Caldwells.”
We share a laugh on behalf of Cynthia’s entire family.
“She sounds very Upper East Side and sophisticated.” I give a little shrug and tuck my cocoa close to my lips. No matter how hard I tried, I’m sure I couldn’t fit into New York high society. Graham could easily. He’s always had a mass appeal and been a little more refined than the rest of us.
“Sophisticated?” His brows peak. “That she is. She’s also very insistent on getting her way. And you might say she’s a part of the reason I had to make a side trip to Colorado this winter. A person can only duck and evade so much.”
A boisterous laugh bubbles from me. If only he knew the ducking and evading he is in for with Sabrina. I’m pretty sure she’ll make Cynthia Caldwell from the Upper East Side wish she could hide between the racks at Bloomingdale’s. Sabrina is a master at getting what she wants, and right now she wants nothing more than this handsome buck by my side.
“What’s this?” My brother strides over with that overgrown PVC pipe we use to measure the length of the trees, and it towers next to him like an unstable staff.
“Hey, Nick.” I struggle to get his name out as my laughter dies down. “Just having some fun.” I wipe a tear from my eye. A part of me wants to fast-forward this entire Sabrina Jarrett fiasco just to see Graham trying to duck and evade with the best of them. Of course, by then, it’ll be too late, and Sabrina will be snug in his penthouse. Believe you me, she’ll be more difficult to get rid of than an entire herd of New York sewer rats.
Nick narrows his eyes over the two of us as a family to his left gets antsy for his attention.
“Don’t have too much fun.” He pegs the two of us with a silent warning, and I can’t help but avert my eyes. My brother has spent his twenty-nine years on this planet making sure my chastity stays right where it belongs, and some might say—Holly—that he’s doing too good of a job. Nick has pretty much scared off every single prospect I’ve ever had as far as men are concerned. I’m sure he’d be more than content if I were an old spinster with a house full of obese cats.
“Don’t you worry, Nick. We’re not having any fun at all. In fact, let the record show that Graham Holiday is the last person on the planet I could possibly have any fun with.”
“We’ll see.” He looks to Graham. “You’d better steer clear of her if you do want to have any fun. She’s not only a premier baker, but she’s the best matchmaker this side of the Mississippi, and it just so happens to be her busy season with both.” Nick takes off with his jaw set in a scowl, clearly unconvinced by my declaration, but judging by that sour expression on Graham’s face, he’s more than a believer.
“It’s not possible for us to have any fun,” I repeat firmly as a fact. “Isn’t that right?” I bat my lashes up at him, and he takes a breath.
“Anything you say, Sprig.” His cobalt eyes catch over mine, and a fire rakes through me.
“You know I hate that nickname.”
“Yeah”—he slings his arm around my shoulders as we watch Noel jump and leap as she chases the reindeer to and fro—“but you know you love me.”
“All ego all the time. What’s not to love?” I take a bite from my cookie and swallow down a laugh because suddenly the moment grows all too serious. I shake myself out of the trance that his eyes keep trying to suck me into and force myself to stare into the corral.
Soon enough, Graham will realize what a catch he has in Sabrina, and he’ll whisk her away to the other side of the country. That should be the only thing I focus on. For sure I shouldn’t be focusing in on Graham Holiday’s ocean blue eyes.
Nope. Graham belongs to Sabrina. He is simply a means to a blissful Sabrina-free end.
Isn’t he?
Graham
On a snowy Monday afternoon, my parents finally make the trek back to Gingerbread, and it’s a somewhat joyous reunion as we meet up in front of the Gingerbread Bakery and Café. I say it’s somewhat joyous because Tanner just arrived with that permanent scowl he has etched on his face. He wanted to meet at the diner down the street, but I volunteered Missy’s new place, which isn’t really new after all. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed in her life. Not that I was ever a central figure, but, to be honest, it sure felt like it. Missy and I shared some good times even if she is the last person who would ever admit it.
“Look at you!” My mother squeezes my cheeks tight as if I were three. It’s always been her favorite go-to move whenever I make a reprisal. She buries her dark hair in my neck a moment as she comes in for an awkward power hug. It’s my mother who gifted Tanner and me our dark hair and blue eye combo. My father used to have the same dark hair—a little more red thrown in the mix—but he’s more or less a silver fox now. His eyes are darker than soot, and my mother likes to say it was his button eyes that she fell in love with. And he just so happens to be the kindest soul on the planet, not a single grain of soot in a single one of his cells if you ask me.
Mom grunts as she looks up at me. “You are just more handsome than ever. How has anyone not snagged you off the market yet?” She glances to my brother with her lips twisted in a knot. “I’m telling you, one of these days, one of you is going to have to give me a daughter-in-law.”
“Don’t look at me,” Tanner grumps as he makes his way into the bakery, and as soon as he opens the door, the sweet scent of vanilla wafts out to greet us.
Dad nods my way as he holds open the door. “Let’s get in before we catch our deaths out here.”
“Oh, that’s not possible.” Mom waves him off before glancing my way with a scolding look. “Gingerbread winters are good for the soul, young man. Don’t you forget it.”
We head in, and I soak in the sights. The Gingerbread Bakery and Café is painted a pale green with pink bakery boxes dotting the counters as well as stacked in the back as far as the eye can see. Garland shimmering in gold and red is strung from the ceiling and skips across the expansive room. An entire indoor patio sits to our right with curved windows like the ones my parents have in their sunroom. The café is laden with customers, and there are at least a half dozen children with their noses pressed to the glass cases that hold all the sugary treats. I marvel at the selection for a moment. How hard Missy and Holly must have to work to make all of this magic happen. For a moment, I’m in awe of their dedication.
Mom finds us a seat smack in front of the counter, and I can’t help but crane my neck, looking for signs of my favorite baker, Mistletoe Winters. She’s been giving me a hard time, and I’ve lapped up every minute of it.
“Who are you looking for?” Dad joins me in craning my neck.
“No one.” I glance to Tanner because a part of me senses he knows better. “I was just admiring those towering gingerbread houses in the back.” I nod to the pair of twin overgrown breaded homes that must have taken weeks to assemble. In all of my life I’ve only put together one of those monstrosities, and it was on a much smaller scale. I was in grade school and forced to do it. I vowed never to venture into the culinary arts ever again. And true to my word, I haven’t. I think it’s best for everyone that way.
“Right, gingerbread houses.” Tanner knocks over the table as if calling the meeting to order, and just as he does it, both Holly and Missy appear from the back. The sisters exchange a brief glance as they spot me, and I offer a polite wave in reciprocation.
Missy grabs a tray of something from the refrigerated section and heads on over. “The entire Holiday clan!” she sings. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She lands the tray of cookies on the table, and my mouth waters to take a bite from them all. “Please enjoy these white chocolate holiday cookies on the house. A round of coffee for anyone?”
“Yes, please!” Dad raises a finger.
“You’re a lifesaver!” Mom
chimes. “And thank you for the treats. You know you didn’t have to do that. But since you did, please stop by the Knit Wit for a free knitting lesson anytime! I keep telling your mother we need to teach you young girls the art of knitting so you can carry on the tradition. It’s never too late to learn.”
Missy nods, and I can’t help but note how her skin glows in the light. Back in New York, Cynthia glowed, too, like an alien. She said it was a strobing effect she was actually shooting for. But Missy isn’t glowing like an alien. She’s more of an angel—with horns well hidden, but an angel nevertheless. Her red sweater offsets those lavender eyes, and I can’t help but openly stare at how beautiful she is. Growing up, Missy was always pretty, but fast-forward a few pages into the calendar, and Mistletoe Winters is an outright stunner. She’s a bona fide knockout, and if she were in New York for a minute, she’d have every eligible stockbroker panting after her. I’ve seen them panting over all of the pretty young things that make their way to the city and claiming the crème of the crop. Missy definitely qualifies as the crème, but there’s no way I’d let one of those wolves roaming Wall Street take a bite out of her.
“And coffee for you?” She looks to Tanner and me, her eyes lingering a moment too long my way.
“Coffee,” Tanner grunts like he’s in need of an IV full of the caffeinated beverage, and knowing my brother, he is. I know he’s working sun up until sun down, but he volunteered for the effort, so I don’t feel too sorry for him.
“Same.” I nod. “And don’t worry about Noel. Nick’s fine with her at the lot. He says she sells twice as many trees as anyone with two legs.” It’s true. As soon as we got there, he strapped a bright red bow on her collar and put her straight to work.
“That’s our baby girl!” Missy belts out a laugh as she takes off.
Mom tugs at my elbow. Her mouth droops as if she were about to be let in on a juicy tidbit of gossip. “What’s this?”
Tanner leans in. “They’re sharing a dog. Now, are we ready to talk business, or should we ogle over the golden child a few minutes longer?” He raises a tired brow, and I’m bewildered by the dig. Tanner has referenced me as the golden child before, but that’s when we were kids and never in public. It’s as if he’s belligerent with his disdain for me, and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. We hardly speak. I couldn’t stay further away from him if I tried. I’m amused at how exactly it is that I’m annoying him from afar.
“What’s your problem, dude?” I shoot him a look. “Haven’t I stayed out of your hair long enough? You can’t handle me for five simple minutes?”
He closes his eyes a moment as Dad whispers a quiet reprimand for us to keep it down.
“Dude”—Tanner mocks me with his tone—“your ability to stay out of my hair seems to be the problem.” He flashes a lightning quick smile before turning to my parents. “Look, I let Graham in on this last week. Holiday Pies is over. It’s been a good run—fifteen years. Grandma lived to see her dream take flight, but now she’s gone, and unfortunately, so is the business. I think it’s time we shut down the factory and call it a day.”
A hard gasp comes from behind, and I turn to find Missy with her mouth opened wide, a carafe full of coffee precariously ready to spill.
“I heard nothing!” She sets down a tray of coffee and disperses it before taking off for the counter again.
She heard enough, and to be honest, I have, too.
Mom lets out a wild groan. “Why on earth can’t we keep it? Isn’t it bringing everyone joy? I have never met a soul who said they didn’t enjoy your grandmother’s pies. And the local grocery stores seem happy to stock them.”
Tanner winces. “They are, Mom. And they’re also happy to order less and less every month. It’s just not selling well. The public voted with their dollars, and they’re not interested.”
“It can’t be true,” Dad protests. “What’s Christmas in Gingerbread without a Holiday pie?”
Tanner looks to me as if searching for help. “Business is great in Gingerbread, but even here we’re only selling a couple dozen pies. Places like this have come in with far more exciting desserts to offer, and they’re fresh baked at that.”
Another gasp comes from behind the counter, and I spot Missy ducking once I glance her way. I can’t help but shed a tiny smile, although at the moment there’s not much to smile about. My brother is right. Everyone is doing it better, and now we’re about to pay the price.
Dad takes an even breath. “So, what do you propose we do about this? There has to be some way we can save Holiday Pies.”
Tanner looks to me as if I might have the answer. “Perhaps there was a way, but since the entire operation was saddled on me alone, it sank. The truth is, I can’t run the orchard and the business end of Holiday Pies myself. I’ve tried for years, and I’ve failed.” He bounces his cup of coffee over the table as if adding an exclamation point.
I can’t believe my brother just threw me under the bus like that. Not once has he come to me asking for help. And he waits until now to tell us he’s been saddled with Holiday Pies? If I remember right, he said he would gladly take over the family business. I’ll have to remind him of that later. No use in causing a scene in here any more than we already are.
Dad and Mom exchange a brief glance before Dad clears his throat. “I’ll come out of retirement. It’s the only right thing to do.”
Mom gives a stoic nod. “And I’ll get back to pounding the pavement like I used to do in the beginning. I’ll rustle up as many new vendors as possible, and I’ll do it all by Christmas. You’ll see. We’ll double the orders, and I’ll have that factory bustling far more than it ever has before.”
Tanner pinches his eyes shut a moment as if he’s at wits’ end with my parents’ meager declaration of support. “The factory is running at capacity. I don’t think we could move any faster if we tried.” He offers a sorrowful look my father’s way. “And with your back, I think you might be more of a risk than an asset to the farm. No offense. I could always use your keen eye, though, if you ever want to drive around the property in a golf cart.”
Dad concedes with a grimace. “Come spring, you won’t be able to stop me.”
Tanner looks over at me, and for the first time I feel the weight of my brother’s frustrations, the heft of the burden riding over his back. A horrible feeling of guilt washes over me, coating me on the inside, thick with regret and remorse. While I’ve been living the high life, he’s been breaking a sweat, breaking his back just to keep the cogs in the wheel churning.
“I’ll step up.” I hear myself say.
The entire table freezes solid as if I just offered to nuke the building.
Tanner huffs a dull laugh, those tired eyes still pinned to mine. “That’ll be the day.”
“And that day is today. I’m ready to roll my sleeves up and see what we’ve got. I’m sure I can make this work.” It feels inverting to know I can dig my claws into the business and pump some life back into it. I’m sure I can.
“I knew it!” Mom bleats so loud half the café turns our way. She lunges at me with a tight embrace. “It’s Graham to the rescue. I can always count on you, son.” Her phone pings, and she pulls it forward. “Oh, dear. It’s Caroline down at the shop. She thinks the water main under the bathroom is about to burst.”
Dad lets out a strangled cry of frustration as he gets out of his seat. “When it rains, it pours.” He helps my mother up. “Tell her we’re on our way, and I’ll call a plumber.” He shoots a finger my way. “Thank you for stepping in and helping your brother. I know he’ll appreciate it no matter how small or large the effort.”
They scramble out the door just as a wily redhead makes her way in, shaking the snow from her hair as if it were lice. A hard groan comes from me, and I don’t do a thing to hide it. I can’t help it. In the short time I’ve been here, Sabrina Jarrett has set out to make my existence agonizing. To top it off, last night I dreamed I was being chased down by a redheaded hunter w
earing spiked stilettos while wielding a razor-sharp umbrella my way.
The urge to shrink in my seat hits me, so I do. “I mean it, man. I want to help,” I say quickly to my brother, because knowing how relentless this Sabrina chick is, I only have a matter of seconds left with him.
“Sure you do.” He downs the rest of his coffee. “But it’s too late. I’ve already let the managers know the pink slips are coming as soon as Christmas is over.”
My stomach sinks as soon as he says pink slips. I would never want to be party to letting people go, especially at Christmastime. Even if they are technically losing their jobs after the holidays, I fully understand the fear those people are feeling right about now.
Sabrina lands an icy kiss to my cheek, and I glance to the counter and catch Missy wide-eyed with surprise. I can’t help but hide a smile. I’d like to think she were a tad bit jealous.
“Well, look who’s here.” Sabrina lands between my brother and me as her cloying perfume settles in our midst. “It’s a double Holiday surprise.” Her eyes slit to my brother a moment before reverting to me. “So, what’s on the agenda for today? Apple picking? Pie slinging? You Holidays have always been a barrel of fun.”
Missy comes over and lands in the seat to my right, a cheesy grin growing on her face. “Yeah, Graham, what’s on the agenda today?” There’s a devious look in her eyes, and as much as I want to chuckle, I’m a bit afraid to at the moment. Nothing good ever comes from that look. “A hostile takeover of the entire state of Colorado? A bank heist? Or perhaps just a bite out of the local real estate market? I’m sure you can snap up half of Gingerbread with just the change in your pocket.” She nods to Sabrina as if she’s marketing me. Wait a minute… I glance from Sabrina to Missy. Didn’t Nick mention his little sister was the best matchmaker this side of the Mississippi? I think I know what’s going on here. But why on earth would Missy think Sabrina is the right match for me? It makes zero sense. My stomach drops because maybe it does.
Just Add Mistletoe: Christmas in Gingerbread, Colorado Page 6