by Nancy Naigle
Mac pulled an ink pen from his shirt pocket. “Great.”
She handed him the list back.
He wrote down his name, an email address, and his phone number, then scrawled a line under it and handed it back to her.
“I’ll take care of this,” she said, feeling very much like maybe he was expecting her to say something else.
Seth spotted RayAnne and walked away.
Mac watched his son walk away. When he turned back his eyes connected with hers. “You’re new to town, so I was wondering if I might be able to show you around sometime. Nothing fancy. Just, ya know, I thought I could introduce you to some people. Someone said you were a single parent. I am too. Not like a date. Just being neighborly. I mean it’s not easy being a single parent. Or new to a town. I’m rambling.”
She laughed nervously. “Yes, you are. And yes.” Oh my gosh. She felt absolutely giddy.
“Yes?”
“We could do something some time.” She pointed to Seth and RayAnne. “Looks like our kids are hitting it off already.”
“Great. Then yes.”
“Okay.”
“So, I’ll show you around.”
“I guess I should tell you that I did just move to Hopewell, but I used to come here as a kid. My grandparents had a place on the edge of town. My grandmother brought me to The Book Bea all the time. I’d read more books over a summer than I could pack in a box to take home.”
“And now you’re back.”
“Yeah. I’m back. Time for a change.” Sydney’s cell phone rang. She pulled it from the back pocket of her jeans and immediately silenced it when she saw Jon’s name. This was not the time for him to be bugging her.
“It’s a good town to raise a kid. Looks like you’re already getting settled in with the job and all.”
She smiled and nodded. Bea closing was not her news to tell, and wanting to buy the store might be, but it would be awfully embarrassing if she started telling people that and then couldn’t afford to do it. So she said nothing.
“You probably know about the caroling night since you’re helping Miss Bea.”
“Yes. It sounds fabulous.”
“Why don’t you come along with us. We have a group of folks that go together every year. You know. Friends. Neighbors.”
“I’ll be helping Bea.”
“I thought of that. I could find someone to cover here if Bea needs the help, but she usually handles it alone, so I think she’d be okay.”
“And RayAnne leaves this Wednesday night to spend the holidays with her dad.”
“Wow. The whole Christmas break? That must be hard.”
“I don’t know. It’s my first one. But I’m dreading it.”
“All the more reason to be with new friends then. You can’t be alone at the holidays.”
“That’s what RayAnne said, too.”
“Then you really can’t say no. It’s Christmas. The whole neighborly thing is kind of a requirement around here.”
“I see.” Was he flirting with her? she wondered.
“Too bad your daughter won’t be in town. I wasn’t sure what kinds of things a little girl would want to do, but I thought the caroling was a safe bet. Women, I know. Little girls, not my genre.”
“Genre, huh?”
“Poor attempt at a bookstore joke?”
“I get it. Cute.” She appreciated the effort. “Well, for the record, my little girl would probably rather be doing whatever your son likes to do. Catch frogs, jump over bike ramps. The child is fearless.”
His laugh was warm, reminding her of better days.
He leaned against the counter. The stammering had stopped. He was nice. Easy to talk to. He crossed one boot over the other. Nice boots, too. Western. Probably alligator or snake, but pretty.
“So, then we don’t have a date. And I’ll see you for Christmas caroling, if not sooner. I’ll pick you up here.”
“Okay. It’s not a date,” she confirmed. Only it felt kind of like a date. Which was just weird, because even if Jon was living with his mistress their divorce wasn’t final yet. There was still the custody stuff to settle, and there was just too much hanging over her head to deal with something like dating.
But friends was a whole different story. Bea had reminded her that she needed to open herself up to the right path, and what was the harm with people getting together for the holiday?
Over her shoulder she heard RayAnne call out. “This is it, Mom. This is the perfect place.”
And RayAnne may have been talking about where she wanted to put the Christmas tree, but boy did those words carry so much more meaning at that very moment.
* * *
Mac felt like a fumbling teenager. As a teacher he talked to parents all the time. Why was talking to Sydney any different? And yet when he’d come face to face with her he was blabbering and stuttering like a hormonal fourteen-year-old hoping for a first kiss.
“Good,” he said. “It’ll be good.”
“Yeah. I’m looking forward to it.” She shrugged, and smiled tentatively.
He could feel her anxiety too. Was that good? “Me too. The kids always like it.”
Seth raced over to his side. “Excuse me,” he said.
“What do you need, buddy?” Mac asked.
“Her.” He tipped his head toward Sydney.
“Oh? Me? Sure. What can I help you with,” Sydney asked.
“Um.” Seth glanced toward his father and swallowed hard. “RayAnne was talking to her dad on the phone. She’s real upset. Like crying.” His face scrunched. “A lot. I think you’d better check on her.”
Sydney’s brows pulled tight. “Oh?” She made a slight movement as she processed the information. “Excuse me. Thank you, Seth.”
“She’s by the windows over there,” he said.
Sydney made a brisk exit.
“What happened?” Mac asked.
“We were just talking about the Christmas tree and baseball and stuff. A bunch of kids are going to come tomorrow to decorate the tree. Sounds like a pretty cool idea. She plays ball, likes four-wheelers, and we were just talking. It was fine.”
“The part where she started crying, Seth.”
“Her phone rang, and it was her dad. She was all excited at first, but then everything went bad.” He looked down at his shoes. “She kind of just sank to the floor in a puddle and started crying into the phone. I didn’t know what to do.”
“You did the right thing.” He got that from his old man. Mac never could handle a woman crying, either. Not even happy tears. Didn’t even matter what it was over, just tore him up. “Never gets easier. Girls crying, I mean.”
“They were going to go on this big ski vacation for, like, the whole Christmas. She’d just been telling me about it when he called.”
“That sounds pretty cool.” Mac hadn’t been skiing in years. He should take Seth. There was decent skiing just a couple hours west.
“I guess he cancelled. Something about Paris. I don’t know. But she was messed up.” His chest heaved, and his eyes got big. “Like really messed up.”
Mac pulled his son close. At least Genna had never played those back-and-forth games with Seth’s heart. He could only imagine what RayAnne was feeling. Her parents divided. He knew from her visit to him as Santa that she was struggling with it. Now this.
“Let’s see if they need us,” Mac said.
“Dad? Really?”
He put his hands on Seth’s shoulders and turned him about face. “March. It’s the right thing to do.”
Seth made that noise, like a cat with a fur ball, which usually grated on Mac like nails to a chalkboard, but in this case he knew exactly how the kid felt. Not a fun thing to do.
Mac could hear RayAnne’s air-gobbling sobs as they got closer. He glanced at Seth, whose expression said Please don’t make us do this.
Mac stopped short as Sydney tried to calm RayAnne.
“What happened?” Her voice was soft and calming.
&nb
sp; “Dad’s…” She sucked in air. “… not coming.”
“Of course he is.”
“He’s not.” RayAnne shook her head. “He’s taking Ashley to Paris instead.”
“Maybe you misunderstood. Is it just a change in plans?”
“No. He’s taking her there, and I can’t come with him.”
“Unbelievable.” Sydney’s head dropped back like one of those rock-em sock-em robots Mac had as a kid. Couldn’t blame her. That had even kind of sucker punched him, and it wasn’t his kid. Sydney pulled RayAnne into her arms. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”
“He loves her more than me.”
“That’s not true. He’s just not thinking. There’s probably a good reason.”
“Nah-ah. He said I can’t go with them to Paris. I don’t even know if they have skiing there anyway.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s not coming to get you. Are you sure he’s not coming?”
“He said he’d come on Christmas Day to see me.”
Mac could see those momma bear instincts flaring in Sydney despite her gentle moves with RayAnne. Her jaw pulsed, and she didn’t utter a single word. If there’d been a thought bubble over her head he could imagine the punctuation flying around in there like shrapnel.
“Go to the bathroom and put some cold paper towels on your face. You need to calm down. You’re going to make yourself sick.”
RayAnne pulled the sleeve of her t-shirt over her hand and dabbed at her tears.
“I’ll make this right for you, sweetie.” She hugged her tight again. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, Mom.” RayAnne sniffled and dragged herself to her feet. “I hate Ashley.”
“Don’t say that. We don’t hate anyone. We may not like their choices, but that’s not hate. Settle down.”
RayAnne pulled away and went back toward the bathroom.
Sydney walked over to Mac and Seth. “Thanks for coming to get me, Seth.”
“You’re welcome. She’s pretty upset.” He dipped his head.
“Anything I can do?” Mac asked.
Sydney had a half-cocked grin. Pffft. “Not anything legal. I swear I don’t know what has gotten into that man.”
“I know it won’t make up for her dad disappointing her, but Hopewell is a great place to spend Christmas,” Mac said. “Let’s plan some things.”
Sydney pulled her arms tight across her chest. Why did it have to be so hard to protect her daughter’s emotions? What if Mac let them down too? He wouldn’t. He wasn’t Jon. This was different. Friends. Just friends. “Yeah. Maybe we can do that.”
Seth asked, “Do you think she’s still going to want to put up that tree here in the store tomorrow?”
“We’ll definitely do that.”
Mac cuffed Seth’s shoulder. “Great. We’ll be here.”
“Thanks,” she said to Seth. “Thank you both.
“You’ve got my number,” Mac said. “Not sure what I can do, but let me know if I can help.”
Sydney attempted a smile, but her eyes had lost that sparkle.
“We’re going to get out of here so you can close up shop.” He hitched his chin toward the door to Seth, who looked relieved and led the way out at nearly a jog.
Mac opened the door then stopped and twisted the sign to CLOSED.
When he looked back Sydney was nodding a thank-you, and waving.
Mac and Seth didn’t say a word all the way to the truck.
Seth’s sneakers scuffed along the sidewalk. “That really sucked.”
“Yes. It sure did.”
“Seems like her dad would’ve known that would make her sad. I mean it’s Christmas. That was like her present.”
“You’d think.”
Seth toyed with the bottom of his shirt. “It’s not really the same as Mom, but I know how RayAnne feels.”
“I wish I could fix it. For you. For her.” He felt as helpless today as he had back when Genna left. “But you can’t undo what someone else has already done. All we can do is make better memories to help dim the bad ones.”
Seth shrugged, and Mac wanted to know what that meant. That it didn’t matter? That it was okay? Or that those memories never dimmed no matter how hard they worked at making better ones? “She’s really sad.”
“This one is bigger than us, Seth.” Mac looked over, hoping that Seth wouldn’t carry the burden of RayAnne’s disappointment.
Only Seth didn’t look so convinced.
Chapter Ten
RayAnne was quiet all night and didn’t feel like baking cupcakes after all, so they opted for snuggling in front of the television with popcorn. They fell asleep on the couch like a couple of college girls.
The next morning, after dropping RayAnne off at school, Sydney stopped by Cookie Doe to pick up some treats for the tree-trimming get-together. “Good morning.”
“Good morning. You’re back.”
“I am. Those cranberry-orange scones were amazing.”
“Thanks. Same thing this morning?”
She waved her hand. “Oh, no. I can’t splurge on those calories that often. Today, I need a bunch of snacks for hungry ten-to twelve-year-olds who will be trimming a tree in the store this afternoon. Can you put an assortment together for me?”
“Sure. When do you need them?”
“Not until one o’clock.”
“We’ve got cookies in the oven now, and we can make some bite-sized ones. Probably better for busy hands. And less waste. I’ll walk them down around noon.” He put his hands on the counter. “I need to pick up a couple gifts, anyway.”
“Need me to pay you now?”
“No. I know where you work,” he said with a hearty chuckle.
She pulled her purse back to her hip. “Thanks.”
She turned to leave and he called her back. “Wait a second. Got something for you.”
“What is that?” Sydney took the treat in the wax paper.
“It’s a snowflake fortune cookie.”
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“That’s because I kind of invented them. Whisper-thin ginger cookies woven into the shape of a snowflake with just enough of a dusting of powdered sugar while they’re still warm to make them look like the snow just fell. Oh, and inside, there’s a Christmas wish for you. Some are just generic, but there are a handful of special ones.”
“Which is this?”
“No way of knowing, but somehow the right wish always lands in the right hands. You let me know if that’s the case.”
“That’s a lot of work. Thanks. What do I owe you for this?”
“My gift to you.”
“Thanks, Dan.” She tucked the cookie into her purse and walked down the block to the market to pick up a half-gallon of lime sherbet and some liters of ginger ale to make punch. She tossed a sleeve of paper cups and napkins into her cart, and she was done with her morning list of to-dos.
Sydney balanced the groceries on her hip as she twisted the handle on the door to The Book Bea and backed inside. An instrumental Christmas tune filled the air. It sounded a little like “Momma Kissing Santa Claus” had gone Caribbean, complete with steel drums.
“Oh goodness. What all do you have there, dear?” Bea rushed over to help.
“Thanks.” She let Bea take the light bag. “The stuff for punch for this afternoon. And the bakery is bringing down some cookies later.”
“Wonderful! I was so excited when I got your message.”
“I’ve got our pre-lit artificial tree in the car. I’ll go out and get that if you don’t mind putting this in the freezer for me.” She handed off the sherbet and then placed the ginger ale down near where the tree would be set up.
“I can help you with the tree.”
“No ma’am. I’ve got it. It’s not heavy.” Sydney made two trips to her car. One to get the large decanter for the punch and one for the tree.
She set up the tree while Bea tended to the few customers who wandered in.
Just as
she straightened the red and white fur-trimmed tree skirt around the bottom of the faux pine, a pair of black boots stepped up next to her.
On her knees, she followed the well-shod legs up. “Mac? Hi.” She got up as gracefully as she could and swept at the dust from her hind parts. “Thought I might never hear from you again.”
“Why?”
“The tears. Drama. Sorry for all of that.”
“Wasn’t your doing. How is RayAnne?”
“Hurt.” She pushed her bangs to the side. Then glanced at her hands, hoping she hadn’t just smudged dirt on her face.
“Can’t blame her. But the tree trimming is still on?”
“Yep. We’re going make the best of things. Of course, I didn’t have a thing planned for Christmas since I thought she’d be gone. I’m kind of scrambling now. Shouldn’t you be at school?”
“Had to pick up an order at the bakery. Someone’s covering my class. Just thought I’d drop in and see if you were here, and you know, how RayAnne was and everything.”
“Thanks. That was nice.”
“Seth’s looking forward to the tree trimming, so we’ll be back this afternoon. Anything we can bring?”
“Nope. I think we’ve got it pretty well covered. Each of the kids is bringing an ornament or two. Should be relatively easy going.”
“Sounds good. Are you by chance off Friday afternoon?”
“Actually, I am. But I’m sure Bea can help you with whatever you need. She says it’s always quiet on Friday afternoons in here. Insisted that be one of my days off.”
“No. Actually, that’s perfect. I have an idea for Friday. We’d like to invite you and RayAnne to come over for dinner with us. Can we talk about that this afternoon?”
Friday night? “Sure. We can talk about it.” She sure couldn’t say she was working, she’d already said it was her day off. It was dinner. With kids. And technically, she hadn’t even said yes.
“Good. See you later.” Mac walked out and she couldn’t take her eyes off of him all the way down the sidewalk.
Bea was staring at her with that left brow arched so high it was like a finger pointing her way. “Uhhh-huh. Did I overhear something about a dinner?”
“Just with our kids. Don’t read anything into it. Besides, I didn’t say yes.”
“You will,” Bea said.