by Nancy Naigle
And she wasn’t going to mind watching him hoist heavy boxes. Seeing him carry that tree last night wasn’t going to be a memory she easily shook, either.
She grabbed her laptop and tucked it into her tote bag next to the door, then strode back to the kitchen.
Their boots clicked off a beat against the old wooden floor.
“It’s chilly in here,” he said.
“It’s so hard to heat. This place is drafty.”
“Old houses. They’ve got charm, and built so much better than the ones they toss up in two weeks tops nowadays, but they aren’t very energy efficient.”
“If I’m going to stay I’m going to have to insulate and get new windows. If not, I could just sell this place the way it is.”
“Sell? So this is just temporary for you?”
Was it? A couple of weeks ago her answer would have been yes. Definitely yes. That she and RayAnne were here during a time of change in their lives. That she was just here to build her résumé and break ties to Jon at the same time. That she might love to live here, but she’d pretty much promised RayAnne a say in their final plan, and RayAnne liked it back in Atlanta.
But now, that wasn’t as easy of a question to answer. “Maybe semi-permanent is more like it. Things got complicated back home. I needed a soft landing place. This seemed to fit the bill.” She looked around. “It’s paid for. Holds great memories. So many great summers.”
“We probably crossed paths at some point.” Mac paused. “Although I can’t believe I wouldn’t remember meeting you.”
“I spent a lot of time here close to the farm with Gram and Pop, except the weekly venture into town for groceries and stuff. That’s when we’d go to The Book Bea.”
“That place holds a lot of memories for a lot of us.”
And I can be the one who carries that on with Bea, Sydney thought. She picked up two totes of the colorful pretzel treats and indicated another box on the floor. “Can you get that for me?”
“No problem.” He lifted the box and carried it out to the truck.
She set the bags in the floorboard of his truck.
“We all set?”
“Yes.” She flipped Bea’s keys in her hand. “Follow me,” she said, then jogged over to Bea’s car and got behind the wheel. The car was clean, no wonder though. The circa nineteen seventy–something vehicle only had 14,212 miles on it.
Mac pulled out of the driveway and waited on the side of the road.
She pulled the huge car out and maneuvered through town to Bea’s house.
She waved, and he rolled down the window. “I’ll be just a minute. I want to check on her real quick.”
“Take your time.”
She felt his eyes on her as she walked up the path to Bea’s house.
Bea opened the door just as Sydney began to knock. Still in her bathrobe, she said, “Good morning, Sydney.”
Sydney dangled the keys. “Brought your car back. How are you feeling this morning?”
“I’m fine, dear.” She squeezed Sydney’s hand. “Thank you so much for last night. This will be the best batch of treats yet. Made with love and fellowship—the most important ingredients.”
“We all had a good time.”
“We did. I’ve got some things I want to take care of this morning. I’ll be in a little later today.”
“If you’re not up to it, you know that I can cover things. I don’t mind at all.”
“Oh, I know you can. You remind me of myself the year my husband died. I had to find my own strength, and when I did I was stronger than ever. I’d been so afraid, but the freedom I found in my independence turned out to be a gift.” She smiled gently. “I’ll be in after I get my running around done.”
“Okay, well, no hurry. But…,” Sydney said. “I have something to show you when you get there.”
“What is it?”
“A surprise. For you. Well, for you and The Book Bea.”
Bea’s face lit up. “I can’t wait.”
“Me neither. I was up all night. I hope you love it.” She hugged Bea and then jogged over to Mac’s truck.
Chapter Fifteen
It was only a couple of blocks from Bea’s house to the bookstore. Mac helped Sydney unload the treats, and then he drove her back to her house so she’d have her car.
“Thanks for the lift.” Sydney pulled the handle and opened the truck door to get out.
“You’re welcome.” He leaned his arms across the steering wheel. “I’m off today. I was wondering if I could take you to lunch.”
The smile hit her lips immediately. Not cool and aloof at all, but she couldn’t help it. Mac made her feel good. A nice change. “I don’t know when Bea will be coming in. She said she had a meeting.”
“How about lunch in the store? If you’re busy, it’ll be a working lunch. If not, it’ll be a picnic. With bees instead of ants.” Mac looked hopeful.
“Was that a lame attempt at a joke? Bees? Like The Book Bea?”
“Guilty.”
She liked the way he made her laugh. What was the harm in having lunch? She’d been up all night and missed breakfast. She’d need the pick-me-up by midday, and she liked spending time with Mac, but she wasn’t ready for anything serious no matter what those butterflies in her stomach were up to. “You know, lunch would be really nice. But it’s not a date. Right?”
“Whatever you say.” He waited until she got into her car before he pulled out of her driveway. When they got to the intersection he turned right to go home, and she turned left to go to work.
“Neighbors. As the crow flies,” Sydney said, remembering their conversation from the other day. It was good to have neighbors close by that she could count on.
It was a slow morning in the store. Customers came in like a perfectly timed relay, one at a time, which was fine by her.
At noon Mac walked in carrying a big brown paper bag.
The way his smile spread to those little creases next to his eyes made her stomach tighten unexpectedly.
“Hey there. Hope you’re hungry.”
“I am. I’d been thinking that I was so hungry I could eat a horse, but judging by the size of that bag, I’m afraid that might be what you brought. Please tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’ll know soon enough.” He looked around. “Customers?”
“Not right now.”
“Bingo.” He took her hand in his.
A tingle chased its way to her fingertips. “Where are you taking me?”
He tipped his head and just smiled as he led her through the bookshelves down the fiction aisle. She had to take two steps to each of his long strides. He led her past the local North Carolina author display to the back of the store and then back up the next aisle toward the front, stopping next to the Christmas tree.
“I think you took the long way.”
“The scenic route.”
“Are we there yet?”
“Yes, Ms. Impatient. I think we are.” He set down the bag and reached inside. A blue tablecloth peeked out of the top of the bag. He gave it a quick tug and spread it out on the floor. “For you, madam,” he said laying on a heavy French accent. “How do you like our picnic spot?”
“I think it’s perfect.” The gesture was sweet and a little quirky, but she was loving the effort. She sat down on the floor and pulled her feet underneath her. The lights on the decorated Christmas tree and the pretty tablecloth made for a cozy picnic spot. Mac sat down next to her, then dipped his hand down into the bag again.
“Pour toi.” He lifted a square box with a satiny red bow out of the bag and handed it to her.
“For me?” She held it in both hands, wondering what could possibly be inside. She gave it a little shake.
He nodded.
She didn’t have anything for him, and that made it a little awkward with it being Christmas and all. The box was heavy for its size. “Should I open it now?”
“Kind of hoped you would.”
“You didn’t have to do this.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t opened it. You might not even like it.”
“I will.” She thumbed her nose at him playfully, and then slid the ribbon from the box. Inside, nestled in a shiny layer of silver tissue paper, was a single Christmas ornament.
She lifted it out by the fancy swirly metal hanger affixed to the top. A Santa. She dangled it from her fingers, taking in the intricate details of the impressive wooden carving. The brilliant colors enhanced the fine craftsmanship.
“It’s a French Santa,” he said.
Santa’s eyes twinkled like the ones that Americans had come to know and love, but this Santa wore a jaunty beret and had fleur-de-lis on his robe rather than the traditional red and white fur-lined jacket. He held a staff with the Eiffel Tower on top and a tray with champagne and cheese. “It’s beautiful.” And even that felt inadequate to describe the unique piece of art in her hands.
“You said you wanted to go to France. I thought of you when I saw this.”
She turned and hung the ornament on the tree. “I love it. Mac, you really didn’t have to do that.”
He lifted a finger. “That’s not all.”
Digging back into that paper bag he pulled out a placemat and laid it out between them. Then he slowly started unloading the contents of the bag. First a crunchy French baguette, fresh baked if she had to guess by the warm aroma wafting up between them. Then he unwrapped a small plate of cheeses and fruit, and another with sliced chicken.
“You’ve really thought of everything.”
Then he took two champagne glasses out of the bag. These were hand painted, one jolly old St. Nick, the other Mrs. Claus. “Can you hold these?”
“Sure.” She held them by the stems as he produced a bottle of champagne from the endless goodies in that bag.
“Wow, you really went all out.”
“It’s been a long time since I invited a lady on a picnic. Did I go overboard?”
“Yes, and I’m loving it.”
At that moment the cork on the champagne bottle made its release with a sharp pop.
“Nice!” She tipped the glasses toward him and he poured.
She glanced toward the door. “Customers are liable to get the wrong idea about me if I’m drinking while I work.”
“I’ll just tuck the bottle back in the bag in case any customers come in, and we can stick the glasses away on a shelf and pretend it’s another fancy display like you did for the front window.”
“You have an answer to everything.”
“To good excuses to have fun.” He raised his glass. “And new friends.”
She tapped her glass to his. “And Christmas in Hopewell.”
They both took a sip. “Can I take that to mean Hopewell is agreeing with you?”
“Very much so.”
“That’s great.” He sliced the bread and handed her a piece. “I’m enjoying you being around.”
That sent a shiver of excitement through her. It had been a long time since anyone had gone to this much trouble for her. It was a romantic gesture straight out of a Hallmark movie. Who wouldn’t love being treated like this? Hopewell was good, but Mac made it even more special. “That’s sweet. Everyone has been so nice. I wanted so badly for it to be a good experience, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was scared.”
“And…”
“And it’s been more than I could have imagined. The old house is drafty, but we’re doing just fine. And although RayAnne was pretty mad at me for pulling her out of her school, I feel like things are starting to get back to how they were between us. On the things that matter anyway. I’m feeling very blessed.”
“Hopewell is good like that. A peaceful place. I know after Genna left us, I wasn’t sure what the heck I was supposed to do. But when I screwed up, or struggled to figure things out, someone was always there to help us. I don’t think you find those kinds of places much anymore. It’s slower here. People still make time to help neighbors.”
“I think people are just too busy to stop and notice you need a hand. I like the slower pace.” She spread some cheese on her bread and then took a bite. “So good.”
“Wait until you get the chance to eat real French bread. In France.”
“Maybe someday. But for now this is pretty good. Thanks for doing this. I love my afternoon in France.”
“Almost forgot.” He pulled his phone out and swiped and tapped his fingers on the screen. French tango music began to play. “Ambience.” He made a little sandwich out of the chicken and bread and took a bite, then washed it down with champagne.
“I don’t know what you and RayAnne have planned for Christmas Day, but I’ve got the folks from next door coming over, and a couple of teachers from school that I work with. Nothing really fancy. But it’s nice. You know a big group on the holidays always feels so good. Y’all should come over.”
“RayAnne should be with her dad that afternoon. Last I heard. He seems to keep changing the times around.”
“Then you should come.”
“Yeah, I’ll see how it all works out. I could bring something.”
“Oh, not necessary. I’ve got it covered. More than plenty for everyone. Just bring yourself.” He held her gaze. “Don’t overthink it.”
She laughed. “How did you know?”
“Because I’ve been overthinking everything even though we’d already made it clear that it wasn’t a date. I finally had to convince myself that it was okay to just take it a day at a time. Think you can deal with that too? No promises. No pressure.”
“My life is complicated. I have to be sure I put RayAnne first in all of my decisions. She’s been through so much, through no fault of her own. Maybe it’s not realistic, but part of me feels like I need to make up for Jon’s mistakes. Mine, too.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It’s the best I can do.”
“Oh, I know,” he said. “Trust me. The last thing I want to do is mess up the rhythms that Seth and I have going on. But steady as she goes? Well, that’s not really living either, is it?”
She breathed in. She wished it was that simple. She and RayAnne didn’t even have a rhythm to break yet. Jon moved on, maybe she should, but there was more to consider.
“Just roll with it,” he said.
She lifted the champagne to her lips, hoping for a little liquid courage. Did he notice her hand shaking?
“We’re good. Right?” A crease formed across his forehead.
She lifted a shoulder. “Of course. We’re good.” Maybe he had noticed.
They finished off the food and she helped him clean up. “Thank you so much. That was fun.” She folded the tablecloth for him and tucked it back into the top of his bag.
The front door swung open. “Hellooo,” Bea called out, her head swiveling across the store, then landing squarely on the two of them. “Good to see you, Mac. And my sweet angel, Sydney.”
“Hey, Bea.” Sydney was so happy to see Bea looking like she felt better that afternoon.
Bea pulled the scarf from her head and hung it on the coat tree. “Help me with my coat, will you?”
Mac stepped forward, removed her coat, and hung it up for her.
“Are you checking on the books you ordered?” Bea asked.
“No,” Mac said with a nervous glance in Sydney’s direction. “I brought a little picnic lunch to your hard-working helper here. I’d offer you some but we pretty much annihilated it all.”
“You did?” Bea pulled her lips together in a mischievous grin. “I’m glad I missed it. Sounds romantic.”
Sydney’s teeth clamped down, resisting the urge to deny it. She was so thankful when the door burst open and a mother and four children ran inside in an over-enthusiastic roar. “Get back here.” The mother looked haggard and over it. “I’m so sorry,” she said, sweeping her hair from her face.
“It’s fine,” Sydney said. “Mac, thank you. It was such a nice lunch. I’m going to go help our customers.”
&
nbsp; Sydney race-walked over to the children’s section and helped the woman wrangle her kids. One quick glance back told her that Mac wasn’t as quick to leave. He stood talking to Bea. He had a way about him that made her feel like everything really might be okay. Or maybe that was just the wishful, trusting, romantic-hearted Sydney who had had her heart broken. Could she really risk that again? Could they be just friends? Was that what she really wanted?
* * *
When Sydney walked over to ring up the next purchase, Bea was seated in the chair behind the counter, reviewing the ledger. Apparently the going rate for kid wrangling was to the tune of … she hit the total button on the big antique register. “One hundred and three dollars and forty-two cents.”
“Thank you so much for helping me. I swear sometimes these four just run me ragged.” The woman counted out a stack of twenties.
Sydney counted back her change. “My pleasure. I only have one and she wears me out all the time. Don’t know how you do it.”
“You were so helpful.”
“We can wrap those for you if you like,” Bea offered.
“No. I’ve got that. Wrapping gifts is what I do when they go to bed. It’s like therapy. All that paper, tape and ribbon. I love it.”
“Well, you have a Merry Christmas. I hope we’ll see you again.” Sydney loved this job. It was so much more than just selling books.
The woman took a twenty from her billfold and passed it to Sydney. “Merry Christmas.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” she said.
“Please. It’ll make my day.”
Sydney took the twenty-dollar bill and tucked it into her pocket. “Thank you. Very much. My daughter and I will do something fun with this and think of you and your family.”
“That’s wonderful.” The woman wove her arm through the handles of the bag of books, and then gathered up the herd of kids. “Bye.”
Sydney heard the woman calling out names all the way down the sidewalk.
“Glad I had just the one.”
Bea said, “Did you ever think you wanted more children?”
“Oh yeah. Always wanted a boy and a girl, but Jon wasn’t willing to try again.”
“Jon had a lot of rules,” Bea said.
Sydney settled her weight against the fat arm of the chair. “I never noticed it while we were married. I wonder why that is? It’s been easy to notice now. In hindsight.”