Breakfast With Santa

by Pamela Browning

  “Closing the store! She’s owned it for years.”

  “It’s become too much of a hassle, even with me to manage it. The state of her health isn’t good. I promised to take her Christmas shopping tomorrow. She and I would be delighted if you’d come with us.”

  Beth shook her head. “I suspect that I’m going to land the account to design the interior of the Kettersburg Country Club, so I need to attend the auction in case they have something I might be able to use.”

  “The country club, huh? Fantastic.”

  “Yes, things are going well for me lately businesswise. What are you planning to do if your grandmother closes the store?”

  “I want to get back into something arty.” Chloe had worked as a jewelry designer for a company in Austin before quitting to help her grandmother.

  “But you’re so good at selling,” Beth said.

  “I’ve managed to sell you a thing or two,” she agreed. “Stop in sometime—I may have something you can use for the country club.”

  “Let’s try for lunch one day,” suggested Beth. At the moment, Julie was propping open the swinging door to the kitchen, where Muffy was feverishly shoveling cheese puffs.

  “You’re on,” Chloe said. “Anyway, it will be a good time to run something by you.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m thinking of trying a new venture.”

  “What is it this time?”

  “Oh, it’s major, but it has nothing to do with gourmet dog biscuits or feng shui.” Those were two of Chloe’s past enthusiasms that hadn’t proved commercially viable in Farish.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Beth said dryly.

  Muffy minced out of the kitchen, carefully balancing a tray in front of her. “Cheese puff?” she asked demurely, just happening to stop in front of Tom. He took one, popped it in his mouth and went on talking with Divver Holcomb, who, unlike the others, who were wearing more traditional holiday garb, had dressed in his usual western shirt and boots.

  “Muffy, I’ll watch the next batch,” Beth told her.

  “They’re all baked,” Muffy said airily.

  Beth grabbed a few as Muffy undulated hiplessly by, handing some to Chloe and eating one herself.

  “I should go home,” Beth said. “It’s been a long day. Let out a holler when you’re ready to leave. I could use a ride.”

  “Oh? How’d you get here? Mmm, those were good, though hugging Muffy is kind of a high price to pay for a cheese puff.” Chloe delicately wiped her hands on a cocktail napkin.

  “Leanne sent Tom to pick me up,” Beth said, all reluctance.

  Chloe’s eyebrows threatened to collide with her multicolored hairline. “She did?”

  “Tom and I had met before, at Breakfast with Santa,” Beth said. “Of course, Leanne mentioned a month or so ago that she was helping her brother find a house, so I knew he was here.”

  “Honey,” Chloe said, moving closer, “he’s preceded by his reputation.”

  “What does that mean?” Beth asked.

  “Tom may have been away from Farish for years, but no one has forgotten him. He was ahead of me in school, so I remember kids talking about his swift departure and the big breakup with his girlfriend. He—”

  “Hey, everyone,” Tom called from the other side of the room, where he was loading a music roll on the player piano. “Let’s have a sing-along.”

  “Later,” whispered Chloe as the group began to gather around Steve, who was pumping the old piano’s pedals.

  They sang Christmas carols, and Beth joined in with her rich contralto. Still, she hung out at the back of the group of assembled guests while she pondered what Chloe had said. Although Beth knew many people in her adopted community, she naturally hadn’t been privy to things that happened before she arrived five years earlier.

  Tom surprised Beth by edging close to her and curving his arm around her shoulders. “You can really sing,” he said with some surprise.

  Chloe leaned toward Tom. “I’ve been begging Beth to get involved again in the church choir.”

  Beth was ready to mention that Mitchell needed her more than the choir did and that practice took her away from him one evening a week, but at that point, the paper piano roll malfunctioned and Steve called Tom to extract it from the mechanism.

  When Tom declared the music session over, Gretchen’s new husband, whom Beth had met only a few months ago, broke out a pack of cards and entertained them all with tricks. Beth found herself laughing along with everyone else when he produced a jack of hearts from the bottom of Tom’s sleeve and an ace of spades from Muffy’s low neckline.

  As she gazed around this circle of friends, Beth thought reluctantly, Why, this is fun. Their faces were familiar and dear, and she realized with a start that she hadn’t been to one of their parties since Richie left. In the early days after the divorce, she’d been invited but had always declined, and soon the invitations had tapered off, then stopped.

  As it grew later, people began to gravitate toward the door. “I’m riding home with you,” Beth reminded Chloe.

  “I never got a chance to tell you that I came with Julie and Steve,” Chloe said. “If you don’t mind stopping by her mom’s to pick up the kids, I’m sure it’s okay.”

  Tom heard this exchange as he walked up. “I’m taking you home,” he told Beth as he handed Gretchen her coat.

  “But—” Beth started, but Tom didn’t let her finish.

  “No way I’m going to let you out of cleanup duty,” he said as he turned toward Divver and his wife.

  Exasperated, Beth hurried into the kitchen, thinking she’d get a head start on loading the dishwasher. Muffy, however, had already beaten her to it.

  Muffy poured detergent into the dispenser. “Pardon me if I’m too nosy, but I just have to ask. How’d you meet Tom Collyer?”

  Beth was accustomed to Muffy’s methods of gleaning usable tidbits for the paper. “I drove him to the hospital when he hurt his wrist at Breakfast with Santa,” she said offhandedly.

  “So, um, is it a casual thing with you two, or what?” Muffy blew a strand of copper-colored hair out of her eyes.

  “I’m not interested in him as a date, if that’s what you mean,” Beth said.

  Tom appeared carrying Muffy’s coat. “You might be ready for this.”

  “That’s so sweet of you,” Muffy replied. Tom held her coat for her, and she slid her arms into the sleeves.

  “Well,” Muffy said, scanning the kitchen one last time, “you two have everything under control. Guess I’ll be on my way. Tom, I hope you’ll call me sometime. Daddy would love to talk over our insemination program with you, I’m sure of it.”

  Tom was clearly amused, but he kept a straight face. “I appreciate your mentioning it, Muffy. I’ll be sure to let you know if I develop an interest in, uh, insemination.”

  Beth stifled a grin, but Muffy didn’t seem to find anything amiss in that statement. “Take care, Beth. You and that adorable little boy of yours.” She smiled widely and made a sweeping exit, all but catching the hem of her coat in the backswing of the kitchen door.

  Tom went to bid goodbye to the last of his guests. “I put the coffee on a few minutes ago,” he said, returning as the noise of the last car faded down the street. Beth moved toward the door to the dining room, but he placed himself squarely in front of it, blocking her exit. Flustered, she backed away, but not before Tom’s hands captured hers. His were warm; hers, she knew, were cold.

  She pulled away. “You take too much for granted,” she said briskly as she dumped a stack of plastic cups in the wastebasket.

  “Do not,” he said.

  “Do, too,” she shot back.

  “If I did, I wouldn’t keep trying to wear you down. Anyway, what’s wrong with warming ourselves with a cup of coffee before going out in the cold?”

  “Nothing. But—”

  “But what?”

  “Why have you singled me out?” she blurted. “Other women are more interested
and available than I am.”

  “I like a challenge,” Tom said with an easy grin. His eyebrows raised inquiringly. “What would get you interested?”

  “Nothing, at the moment,” she told him, ignoring the thread of awareness that had been spinning between them all night.

  “That’s hardly encouraging,” Tom said wryly, but his eyes were merry.

  “It’s late,” she said. “I should go home.”

  The machine signaled that the coffee was ready.

  “Let’s relax for a few minutes. It’s not even midnight yet.” Tom removed two mugs from the cabinet. “Sugar? Cream?”

  “Lots of both,” she said. She had no idea why her heart was racing. Maybe it had something to do with being the focus of attention of a real, live, extremely handsome guy who, unlike the only other man in her life, wasn’t a mere five years old.

  “Let’s adjourn to the living room. I need advice,” Tom said companionably. When he noticed her dubious expression, he added, “Decorating stuff.”

  Reluctantly she trailed after him. “This is what I’ve accomplished so far,” he said, his gesture taking in the couch, which hadn’t been there the last time she visited, and the two club chairs between the windows.

  “You’re doing a nice job,” she said truthfully. When he indicated the couch, she settled gingerly on the edge of it, and he sat beside her.

  “I’ve put a lot of time and effort into this place, but now I’m stuck. For instance, I want to add a chair rail in the dining room and I haven’t the slightest idea how high it should be.”

  He had positioned himself on the other end of the couch from her, but Beth still felt crowded. She focused on his hands, which were wrapped around the coffee mug. They were big and strong and sinewy, with heavily corded veins. Suddenly, she was unable to keep herself from imagining those hands tunneling through her hair, cupping her face.

  “Put your chair rail thirty-six inches from the floor,” she said in a strained voice.

  “Also, this room could use something at the windows, and I don’t have any idea what to get.”

  “Plantation shutters with wide slats are popular.”

  “I don’t like shutters. I like pulling drapes across the windows and feeling like I’m in a cocoon,” he said with a chuckle.

  She could easily imagine Tom Collyer bringing someone like Muffy here, switching off the lights, turning up the music and shutting out the rest of the world.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d better get home,” she said.

  “Hey, this is business. I’m hiring you to do some work for me.”

  Business? It didn’t feel that way. She tried to steady herself, but there was nothing to hold on to unless she considered Tom himself. He had unfolded himself from the couch and was standing so close that she could discern the flecks in his eyes. Silver, definitely.

  “The advice is free,” she said, barely able to recognize her own voice over the rush of blood in her ears.

  He laughed. “Come on, Beth. Do you have to aim for difficult?”

  She searched his expression, noticing the way the lights from the Christmas tree teased golden highlights from his hair. Not only did he have one of the most captivating personalities she’d ever encountered, but she sensed a strength of character in him, as well as a rare empathy.

  That was what made her decide to level with him. She forced herself to stay on point so that her eyes met his with firmness and honesty. “I’m not in the market for a guy,” she said. “My life is full with business and child-rearing and keeping up a house that sometimes chooses to fall apart at the worst times.” She had regained control, was again able to ignore his effect on her. Though she wouldn’t want to push it.

  “Okay, Beth,” he said. His voice held warmth but also reflected concern. “Don’t go and have a hissy fit on me, but I’m going to demolish your arguments one by one. First of all,” he said, ticking off the point on his finger, “we were talking business. Besides, you’ve closed up shop for the holidays—you said so yourself. Second, your mommy duties are moot as long as Mitchell is with his dad. You won’t be pouring juice or supervising baths for—um, how long was it?”

  “Twelve days,” Beth replied in a voice so low she was almost whispering.

  “Right, and it would be good for you to have something to take your mind off how much you miss him. As for keeping up your house, I’m available for any repair jobs that you can’t handle yourself. Not that I’m so good at it, if you consider my kitchen flood.”

  When she opened her mouth to speak, he interrupted. “I owe you big-time for helping me that day. It was like the answer to a prayer when you showed up.”

  “I didn’t do much,” she demurred.

  “You did plenty.”

  Refusing to meet his eyes, Beth made herself start for the kitchen, found her coat on a hook in the pantry and slid the coat on. As she turned back, Tom was right behind her. He moved in and extended his arms so that his hands rested on the wall on either side of her, effectively trapping her.

  “I don’t understand what’s bugging you, Beth. Maybe your ex-husband did a number on you, but I had nothing to do with it. I wasn’t there.”

  This had gone too far. “Tom,” she began.

  His hands fell to his sides. “That’s all that needs to be said.” His eyes showed compassion and understanding. In a rush of perception, she thought that he could also be a veteran of a love gone wrong. Like seeks like, her grandmother had always said, and Beth recognized the truth in this.

  She shook her head as if to clear it. “I’d better work out how I feel about this.”

  “Would lunch tomorrow help?” he asked, and he smiled down at her.

  She should be angry at him for causing her to think about things better ignored, for challenging and pursuing her. For titillating her and making her want to learn more about him. But how could she be angry when he clearly liked her so much? Tom Collyer intrigued her even more so since Chloe had hinted at a mysterious past.

  Beth sensed that there was no point in fighting any longer; this was clearly a man who knew what he wanted and would overcome all obstacles to get it. “All right,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll bring drapery samples so you can study them. That way I can get a feel for the kind of thing you like.”

  His gaze lingered on her mouth. “You’ve already got a handle on that,” he said.

  When he positioned himself to kiss her, she moved quickly to forestall it by deliberately choosing to misunderstand him. “You’re definitely not the type for chintz or brocade. Maybe a nice cotton duck or burlap.”

  He surprised her by laughing, and she used the opportunity to slip away. Now that she’d dodged out of range, he grabbed his coat and shrugged into it.

  His hand braced her elbow as they stepped out into a night both clear and cold, myriad stars twinkling high above on a vast field of midnight-blue. She inhaled deeply of the invigorating fresh air, and as an antidote to the undercurrent between her and Tom Collyer, she pictured Mitchell sleeping in his new bed at Richie’s. She wondered if her ex allowed him to sleep in the top bunk. She wouldn’t have, because Mitchell might fall out or wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and forget about the long drop to the floor, or—

  Tom had said something, and she stared at him blankly. “Sorry,” she said, “my mind was elsewhere.”

  The look he aimed in her direction before walking around to the driver’s side of the pickup was wise and knowing. He knew she’d been thinking about Mitchell. As Tom backed onto the street, she faced forward, hoping her embarrassment wasn’t evident when the lights of an oncoming car flashed across her face.

  “Back to our earlier discussion…I need more furniture,” he said. “Leanne suggested that I buy a bedroom set for my guest room in one of those places where you buy the whole room—lamps, rugs, everything. That would be a mistake when it’s an old house and could be furnished with antiques that fit the era when it was built. I could use some of your
expertise there, too.”

  “Come with me tomorrow afternoon,” she said, the words no sooner out of her mouth than she began to regret them. “I’m going to an estate sale over near Kettersburg. We might find things that would work really well in your house.”

  “An estate sale? I’ve never been to one.”

  “They’ll auction off the house’s contents. I haven’t checked into any of the pieces, but there are sure to be some interesting ones.”

  “I’d like to go,” he said, as if he hadn’t expected such good luck, and Beth’s misgivings evaporated.

  She could keep things businesslike between them; she’d done it before and could do it again. All that was required was not getting too personal, keeping the man at arm’s length, and defusing any situations that might get out of hand.

  They drove through the quiet streets, which were lit by a bright crescent moon and the Christmas decorations in windows and on lawns. One was a herd of painted wooden reindeer strung with tiny blinking lights. Another was a pudgy Santa perched on someone’s chimney. Seeing the Santa figure reminded her how she had first met Tom, and she suppressed a smile at his reluctance to play the part.

  “What’s funny?” he demanded, glancing down at her.

  “I was thinking of the pancake breakfast.”

  Tom slowed at the entrance to her driveway and made a face as the pickup eased to a stop. “It’s not one of my favorite memories—though maybe it could be.”

  She avoided his gaze. “Thanks for the ride,” she said, opening the car door and stepping out.

  “I’ll walk you to your porch,” he said, and she waited while he ambled around to her side of the car. She’d forgotten her gloves, so she kept her hands clenched deep in her pockets. Then, at the door, she had to fumble with cold fingers in her purse for the key.

  Tom appropriated the key and inserted it in the lock. The door swung open, and the interior of her house, lit only by a night-light in the foyer, beckoned invitingly. She was sure he was hoping she’d ask him in.

  She turned to him. “Noon for lunch?”

  “That’s good. I’ll pick you up.”