Christmas on Candy Cane Lane

by Sheila Roberts

  “So does being with the wrong person,” she said, and shut the door on him.

  His muffled voice came through the door. “You don’t know I’m the wrong person.”

  “Oh, yes, I do,” she said. There was someone out there for her, but it sure wasn’t Devon Black.

  Chapter Six

  Who doesn’t love secrets and surprises at Christmas?

  —Muriel Sterling, Making the Holidays Bright: How to Have a Perfect Christmas

  The first Saturday in December had been marked off on Ivy’s calendar for months. Her friend Missy Monroe was getting married and Ivy was one of her bridesmaids. Ivy used to love weddings. Not so much now.

  Not that she wasn’t happy for her friend, of course. Missy was the Miss Congeniality of Icicle Falls. Everyone loved her. A single mom for years, she’d had some rough bumps along the way, but she’d finally met her Prince Charming when she and her kids came to Icicle Falls for Christmas a couple of years back. She’d since moved to town and was working at Sleeping Lady Salon, making the women of Icicle Falls beautiful.

  This Saturday she was making her bridesmaids beautiful. The wedding was at seven, but photos were scheduled for six, and Ivy and Maria Gomez were going to the salon at four so Missy could do their hair.

  “Are you sure you want to do that?” Ivy had asked her. “I mean, you’ll have enough to do getting yourself ready.”

  “Courtney’s helping me with our hair,” Missy had said. “And I’m just wearing mine down. That’s how John likes it. We’ll be done in plenty of time to get into our dresses.”

  So at 3:50 p.m. (after putting in half a day at work because, as usual, Christmas Haus was swamped), Ivy made her way over to the salon. It was packed with women getting haircuts and highlights for their various holiday parties. Sleeping Lady Salon was charming and kitschy, with vintage chairs from the fifties in the waiting area. A wall clock shaped like a black cat hung on the wall, its tail and its eyes swinging back and forth. Instead of pictures of beautiful men and women showing off various hairstyles, the walls were decorated with black-and-white photos of stars from Hollywood’s golden era and of women in salons of bygone years getting beautified. A Kewpie doll sat on the reception desk, right next to the business cards. Hair dryers whirred and customers chatted and laughed. The aroma of coffee mixed with the usual hair salon smells. To most of the women in town, these were the sights, sounds and smells of their home away from home.

  Sarah Gabriel, who’d owned the salon since the dawn of perms, was at the reception desk. “Ivy, it’s lovely to see you. How’s everything at the shop?”

  “Busy,” Ivy replied as she hung her coat on the coat tree.

  “I can imagine,” Sarah said with a smile that deepened the crinkles at her eyes.

  No one knew exactly how old Sarah was and she never said, but most surmised she had to be in her seventies. If that was the case she was certainly well preserved. Other than those laugh lines, she didn’t have a lot of wrinkles on her face—Sarah was a big believer in chemical peels—but her hands had the crepey skin and raised veins that accompanied age. Her hair was as white as Santa’s beard and she wore it in a short bob. Her clothes were always stylish, and today was no exception. She wore the latest jeans, along with a black sweater and a blue fringed scarf. “The rest of the bridal party’s already here,” she told Ivy.

  Missy’s corner station looked like a miniparty. Missy was working on Maria Gomez while Courtney, who was Missy’s maid of honor, stood by, eating a cookie and watching. Missy’s daughter, Lala, excited to be a flower girl, was dancing in place and serenading her captive audience with an off-key rendition of “Jingle Bells.”

  “Would you like a latte or some tea?” Sarah asked.

  One of the many perks of coming to Sleeping Lady. “Tea would be great,” Ivy said. She’d seen the lavender-colored Tea Time box and knew it was bound to have lavender cookies from Bailey Sterling Black’s tea shop. Lavender cookies and tea. Nothing like it to sweeten up the day.

  “A little honey?”

  “Why not?” Ivy said with a smile, and started across the salon to join her friends.

  On the way she stopped to say hi to some of her favorite customers at Christmas Haus.

  Justine Wright, who’d been the driving force behind the Icicle Falls information booth forty years ago and still haunted the place once a week, was getting her hair permed. Like Sarah, she didn’t believe in cooperating with Mother Nature, and she kept her hair the same shade of brown it had probably been when she was young.

  “Ivy, you look pretty as a picture,” she greeted Ivy, catching her hand and giving it a squeeze.

  “You’re looking good yourself,” Ivy told her. Considering Justine’s age, it was no lie.

  “The older you get, the harder it is to maintain,” Justine said with a wink. “Oh, to be your age again. Those years go so quickly.” She patted Ivy’s hand. “Use them wisely, dear.”

  “I will,” Ivy promised, and moved on. She was sure going to be more heart smart in the future.

  Muriel Sterling, who bought Christmas ornaments at the shop for her daughters every year, was doing maintenance on her chestnut curls and visiting with Maddy Donaldson (one of Ivy’s best customers). Maddy was also getting a color job. A girl never referred to the fact that someone was covering gray hairs—that was the unwritten beauty-salon code—so Ivy said hello to Maddy and then asked Muriel how her latest book was going.

  “Slowly,” Muriel admitted. “But it’s not due until April, so for now I’m simply enjoying the season. And isn’t it wonderful to be able to kick it off with a wedding?”

  In her present frame of mind, Ivy could think of better ways, but she kept that to herself and said a polite yes.

  “I love a Christmas wedding,” put in Maddy. “Of course, I love all things Christmas, and I’m really enjoying your book, Muriel. Have you read it?” she asked Ivy.

  “I’m reading it right now, and I’m determined to make my family’s Christmas perfect this year.”

  “I’m confident it will be, Ivy,” Muriel said. “How could it not, with those two adorable little ones?”

  How indeed? It was a good reminder of how much she still had to be thankful for, she thought as she moved on to Missy’s station.

  Lala had finished her performance and, at the sight of Ivy, gave an excited squeal and came running to greet her. “Hi, Ivy! How are you? Mama did my hair special. It sparkles.” She shook her cornrows to demonstrate.

  “It’s very pretty,” Ivy said.

  “My grandma’s coming to the wedding and so is Grandpa Claussen,” Lala continued, grabbing Ivy’s hand and towing her to Missy’s workstation. “And Carlos and I get to stay up late.”

  “¡Hola!” called Maria.

  “Good. Hair to work on,” Courtney said with a grin. “I was getting bored standing around.”

  Missy glanced up from the creation she was forming with Maria’s curls and beamed at Ivy. She’d swapped the glasses she wore when she first came to town for contacts but she still had her own unique look. Her hair was longer and had lost its former blue tint. Instead, she’d turned it dark red. The red now had sparkly threads woven through that gave it a Cinderella twinkle. She was still in her leggings and sweater but she already had that special glow all brides wore on their big day. Ivy remembered the glow, the thrill of coming down the aisle and seeing Rob waiting there, gazing at her as though she was the most beautiful girl in the world. He’d obviously developed blindness since then.

  What did the new girlfriend look like?

  Who cared about her! A song began dancing around Ivy’s head. He’s makin’ a list, he’s checkin’ it twice. Santa knows that you weren’t very nice. You’ll get what is coming to you.

  Okay, now, speaking of nice, that wasn’t. With her bad attitude, Santa wou
ld be flying right over her house.

  She hugged Missy. “You’re going to be a gorgeous bride.”

  “Aw, thanks,” Missy said. “It seems like I’ve been waiting for this day forever. I can’t believe it’s finally here. I’m marrying John!”

  Her fiancé had been a regular visitor to Icicle Falls for the past year and had recently landed a job at Cascade Mutual. He’d be moving into the cottage on Juniper Ridge that Missy and the kids rented from Garrett Armstrong, one of Icicle Falls’s firefighters. John was a good guy, and Ivy was sure he’d be the kind of father you saw in those old TV sitcoms. Missy’s life might have started out crummy, but now it was going well. Ivy thought that was better than everything starting out great and then winding up like hamburger that had gone bad.

  “You deserve to be happy,” she said to her friend.

  “So do you,” said Missy. “And hey, who knows? Maybe you and one of John’s friends will hit it off.”

  Ivy had met one of John’s friends a couple of months ago. Barry Woofort was the stuff dreams were made of—if you were in the cast of The Big Bang Theory. He was short, scrawny and had no idea how to wear glasses as a fashion statement. He was so shy that talking was as painful for him as it was for the unlucky woman he was talking to. Unless he got to pontificating on the Fibonacci sequence or how to hack into Microsoft. He’d done plenty of pontificating when he and Ivy and Missy and John had gone out to dinner on one of John’s previous visits to town. (A subtle attempt on Missy and John’s part to give them both a life.)

  Groomsman Number Two was nice but had weight issues. He would surely lead Ivy into carb temptation.

  Ah, but then there was Groomsman Number Three, Clint Clayton, recently divorced and lonely. Missy was convinced he and Ivy would be a perfect match. After meeting him the night before at the rehearsal dinner, so was Ivy. At least he’d be perfect at helping her forget Rob. Clint Clayton. It was the kind of name that belonged to a Civil War general or a fifties TV cowboy. In fact, with his broad shoulders and dark hair, that cleft in his chin, he looked like a modern version of an old TV star. Put him in boots, jeans and a cowboy hat (forget the shirt) and he’d be yummy. He’d been fun to talk to, avoiding the subject of exes—thank God!—and instead comparing favorite holiday movies with Ivy. (How could you not like a man who appreciated The Family Man?)

  “Here’s your tea, dear,” Sarah said, handing over a china mug. “It’ll go well with those lavender cookies Missy brought in.”

  “Have another,” Missy said, motioning to the box.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Sarah said. She took one from the box, then held the box out to Ivy, who also took one.

  “Me, too?” asked Lala, her little fingers hovering over the box.

  “No, you’ve had enough,” Missy replied, and Lala’s lower lip jutted out.

  “You gotta save room for cake, kid,” Courtney said, and that diminished the pout.

  “Just gorgeous,” Sarah said, watching Missy deftly work the same shiny threads into Maria’s dark locks that she and Lala and Courtney were sporting. “You girls are going to look so beautiful. But, of course, you’re all beautiful to begin with so we’re only gilding the lily.”

  “I have no idea what that means,” Missy said. “You mean the store?”

  Sarah patted her arm. “Never mind. It’s an old saying. I’m dating myself.”

  “Is that possible?” Missy teased. “You’re always stylin’, Mrs. G.”

  “Well, style is what we do here, and thank God I have you young girls around to keep us current. You all have fun,” Sarah added, and returned to the reception desk to check in a new arrival.

  “I hope I look that good at her age,” Maria said.

  “Me, too,” Ivy chimed in.

  “You’ll both end up looking just as good,” Missy predicted. She sighed. “Me, I’ll probably be fat and dumpy by the time I’m forty.”

  “I don’t think John will care,” Ivy told her. “That man is crazy for you.”

  Missy smiled at that. “And I’m crazy for him. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me. Well, and all you guys and Icicle Falls. I’m so excited!”

  “You guys are gonna be real happy together,” Maria said. “Hey, and maybe it’ll prompt Eduardo to finally commit.”

  “I think he’s committed to you,” Missy said.

  “Sure, as long as he can come and go as he pleases. Men,” she said disgustedly. “They’re like dogs, always looking for the next fire hydrant.”

  Yes, that was Rob. He should change his name to Rover.

  Seeing the frown on Ivy’s face, Maria blushed. “Oh, Ivy, I didn’t mean your... I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Ivy said. “It’s true. You’re right about men. Except for John,” she added, dutiful friend that she was. “He’s the exception to the rule.”

  “Don’t worry,” Missy told her. “You’re gonna find a good man, too. I just know it.”

  “Well, then, let’s get her lookin’ hot,” Courtney said, and commanded Ivy to sit down so she could get to work, which she did with Lala serenading them.

  Once her hair was done (complete with sparkly threads) and she was in her red satin bridesmaid’s dress with its matching red bolero and her I-want-sex red heels, she was feeling pretty darned hot. Maybe that heat would attract someone.

  Although she wasn’t sure she wanted to attract anyone.

  Rob. She wanted to attract Rob. Not because she wanted him back, but because she wanted him to see what he’d lost. No, not lost. Cavalierly tossed away. Too bad he wasn’t going to be at the wedding.

  There were plenty of other men at the wedding, though.

  Most of them with dates.

  Except for Clint Clayton, urban cowboy, Missy’s choice to escort Ivy down the aisle at the conclusion of the ceremony. A cowboy in a tux. Yum. Rob had the kids for the weekend. She could stay out all night. Save a horse and ride a cowboy. He smiled at Ivy as she made her way down the aisle of the Lutheran church past pews trimmed with silver ribbons and white roses. What a smile. Yee-haw. Git along, little dogie.

  Ivy reached her spot, then lassoed her wandering thoughts and turned to watch her friend come down the aisle. “Look how pretty my mama is,” Lala whispered.

  Missy was, indeed, beautiful in her white wedding gown, its bolero jacket trimmed with white faux fur. John had bought her a necklace, a gold heart trimmed with diamond chips, and she proudly wore it around her neck. Instead of a veil she had on a white faux-fur pillbox hat trimmed with tiny poinsettias. James Claussen, her unofficial father, walked her down the aisle, resplendent in his black tux with a white rosebud in the lapel.

  Ivy had always wanted a Christmas wedding, but Christmases were too crazy at the shop, so she and Rob had gotten married on New Year’s Eve. Every year they’d start out celebrating their anniversary. It had all sounded so idyllic. It had been idyllic.

  Until it wasn’t.

  Oh, never mind him.

  The pastor made a few remarks on the sanctity of marriage (too bad Rob wasn’t there to hear), then guided the couple through their vows. A friend of John’s sang the popular Rascal Flatts song, “Bless the Broken Road,” while John and Missy lit a red unity candle surrounded by Christmas greens. They exchanged rings and then were given the blessing for their first kiss as husband and wife, which they did to much cheering and applause. Then off down the aisle they went.

  And here was Clint Clayton smiling at her and offering her his arm. She was walking down the aisle on the arm of a handsome man, about to go to a big party at Festival Hall. Life was good, darn it all, and it was going to get better.

  To prove it, once she got there, Ivy snarfed down half a dozen crab-stuffed appetizers and an equal number of mushroom sliders and miniquiches before they even started on the dinner buffet, which was catered b
y Bailey Sterling Black. Dinner was delicious—garlic prawns, jasmine rice, chicken and an Asian salad, all favorites of the bride and groom. Cass Wilkes, who owned Gingerbread Haus, had provided the wedding cake, a spice cake with buttercream icing and loaded with red frosting roses and silver bells. Ivy devoured her slice. What the heck? Calories don’t count at a wedding.

  They especially didn’t count when you were divorced. Ivy sneaked another piece of cake when no one was looking.

  “Good cake, isn’t it?” said a voice at her shoulder.

  She gave a start. Busted by Clint Clayton, Mr. Cowboy in a Tux.

  Mouth full, she nodded and set down her plate. I’m really not a pig. I’m just eating this to be polite.

  He picked it up again. “Go ahead. I won’t tell.”

  More Brownie points for Clint Clayton. “Thanks,” she said.

  People were beginning to move around, catching up with friends, changing tables. He scanned the room. “I bet you know everyone here.”

  “I do. I’ve lived here all my life.”

  “What’s that like, living in a small town?”

  “I love it,” she said, waving at Bailey, who was busy circulating among the guests with more champagne to toast the bride and groom.

  “You have so many people watching out for you.”

  Hildy Johnson stopped by the cake table with her husband, Nils, in tow. “I see you’re on your second piece, Ivy. The cake must be very good.”

  Watching out, was that what you called it? “It is,” Ivy said, and moved away, Clint with her.

  “Of course, I guess the downside is that everyone knows your business,” he said.

  “You can say that again.” Suddenly she wasn’t in such a festive mood. When Rob left, it had been the talk of the town. People had come into the drugstore more to sweep around the dirt with Hildy than to buy skin cream or fill a prescription. She’d walk into Bavarian Brews and see everyone’s eyes swiveling her way. Their thoughts came at her as loudly as the whir of the espresso machines. She couldn’t keep him, you know. He was miserable for a long time. She always seems nice when you go into the store but I bet she’s a nag at home.