Snowflakes and Coffee Cakes
Page 16
“Vera,” Derek starts to say as he takes it all in.
“Wait,” she interrupts, taking his hands. “Please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not, not at all.”
“It’s just that, well, when I was a little girl, my mother would bring me to the Christmas Barn every December, and every year I searched for this swan carousel. I was so taken by it. And then I found it a couple weeks ago,” she turns toward the barn stockroom, “back there. With all the rest of this incredible inventory. And it brought back so many memories from when I was a girl.”
“It’s okay, I understand.”
“Wait, there’s more. You see, to me, swans are all about love. They pair for life, did you know that?”
He nods slightly.
“And Abby is a part of you, always, Derek … for life. So there’s that. And swans are also about transformation. You know the bit, the ugly duckling into the beautiful swan idea. And when I saw the town of Addison so transformed the other night, such that everyone’s everyday life was put on hold for one day, all on account of Abby, it seemed fitting to have these swans be hers now.”
Derek looks away then, and she sees it, the way his eyes fill with tears. Sad tears.
And so she whispers, Derek, bringing his gaze back to hers. “Mostly? Well mostly I chose these beautiful swans as a tribute to your daughter because when I think of swans, I think of the sea. And an old friend once told me, an old beach friend, that the sea, and the salt air, well … it cures what ails you.”
“Vera, you are so amazing,” Derek says quietly, touching her hair softly and pausing for a moment before pulling her into a long embrace. When he backs up a step and kisses her, his hands hold her face while he stands very close, making her feel so necessary.
“Hellooo!” a voice announces. “Vera?”
She smiles into Derek’s kiss, but doesn’t pull away. Instead she leans closer into him and kisses him, once, twice and a third time longer before stopping.
“Vera?” Brooke and her mother call out together.
“The gang’s here,” she whispers to him and he nods, letting her go as she heads toward the doorway where they stand with trays of coffee cakes.
“Hey, Derek,” Brooke says. “Just the guy I need, someone with big, strong arms to lift a few more trays of pastry from my car?”
“Right away.” He winks at Vera as he pulls on his hat and heads out to the parking lot.
As Vera unpacks some of the coffee cakes, her mother tells her the Marches will be stopping by, and that they’re thrilled at what Vera’s doing with the property. “They found someone with a garage to lease, so no worries.” When her mother plugs in the coffee maker, she gives Vera a happy thumbs-up.
And suddenly the barn is transformed once again. Brooke tends to her coffee cakes, setting them up in the bakery display case they managed to get their hands on and delivered the day before. And her mother spoons coffee grounds in the commercial coffeepot, stacks cardboard cups and napkins and plates, and wipes down the counter. And Jingles somehow finds a random sleigh bell that he bats across the floor right between them all, chasing after it in a soft, fluffy blur.
Before she can even say, well, before she can say Snowflakes and Coffee Cakes, more people arrive. Brooke squeals and gives their very first customer a welcoming hug, and when she backs up a step, Vera sees that it’s Amy from Wedding Wishes, here with her young daughter for a special Christmas tradition.
“I want to get a new ornament every year, a collection just for Grace.” She lifts her daughter up in her arms to get a better view of the magic of the barn. “Then one day, when she has a home of her own, I’ll pass along the whole collection for her own Christmas tree.”
As she’s talking, her friend Sara Beth, the local antiques dealer, arrives in the doorway too, stamping the snow off her boots and pulling off her hood. “Wow,” she exclaims while looking up at the hundreds of gold snowflakes hanging from the ceiling beams. “What a wonderland.”
And behind Sara Beth, Vera sees Derek. He hitches his head to her, motioning for her to come out. She does, and they walk side-by-side toward his pickup truck.
“I’ve got to get going, Vera.”
“And I’m really glad you stopped by. The sign? It’s just perfect.”
“You have your friend from the beach to thank for that. So it’s a sign from the sea.”
She smiles, nodding. “Love it.”
“Okay, good luck today.” He unlocks his truck door. “You’re busy.”
“Santa’s workshop busy, I’d say.”
He opens his door, puts on his gloves, then turns back and pulls her close, giving her a kiss as the snow begins to fall again, a light dusting drifting down from the sky. “I’ll call you later,” he says before climbing into his truck. “We’ll have dinner and talk, maybe stop at Joel’s to toast your Christmas shop?”
“Sounds good.”
When he starts to back out of her driveway, she motions for him to stop and as she catches up, he rolls down his window.
“One more thing,” she tells him, a little breathless. “About tonight? At Joel’s?”
“Does it work for you?”
“Oh yes, and here’s why,” she says, smiling easily. “I’ll meet you under the mistletoe.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
THE SNOW HASN’T STOPPED FALLING since the blizzard more than a week ago. It’s as though that snowfall triggered winter in the skies, keeping the heavy clouds drifting lazy over the cove, dropping sparkling white stars onto Addison this entire Christmas season. Because that’s the type of snow it’s been—a flurry here, a snowsquall there, a dusting of large flakes spinning down easily from above.
So what Vera thinks when she looks up at all her delicate gold snowflakes hanging from the ceiling beams in her barn is this: Those gold snowflakes are her way of bringing the beauty of snow inside her shop, and she decides not to sell them. They will be a permanent fixture now, well-suited to Snowflakes and Coffee Cakes.
Her last customer of the day left a half hour ago and now Vera begins what is becoming a daily routine, the way she walks through the store, shutting off most of the displays and decorated trees. A few she leaves on for atmosphere: candles in the windows, the wreath on the barn door, the fir tree outside the barn. Those are set on timers to turn off later in the night, closer to midnight. This way, anyone driving past on their way to the cove, maybe taking a Christmas ride by all the grand historical homes so elegantly decorated for the holidays, or just wanting to sit by the peaceful water awhile, well, her barn and its few illuminated decorations bring a happy light to the night.
“It’s Christmas Eve, and Derek will be here soon,” she says to Jingles. The big cat’s been watching her from a tabletop, waiting for her to slide a bell across the floor for him to chase. “Not tonight, Jingles. Everything’s all cleaned up for Santa. But maybe, just maybe,” she says as she rubs his ears, “he’ll bring you some new bells to play with.”
When she’s dusting off the checkout countertop, the cat jumps down and manages to find a lone silver sleigh bell in a dark corner. His paw swats it across the wooden floor and it jangles a happy melody while he chases behind it toward the entrance door. “You behave now,” Vera tells him as she locks up the checkout drawers. “You have to be a good kitty for Santa or he won’t leave you anything.”
With Jingles still toying with his bell, she goes back to the storage room where she’d hung her coat earlier. It has been so busy this past week, there’s hardly been time to think about Christmas Eve, and yet, here it is. Just like that. If she’s learned anything these last few months, it’s that life keeps coming right at you, like it or not, ready or not. “Isn’t that the truth,” she remarks at her own thought while gazing into her very real Christmas shop, while hearing her cat getting into mischief, while waiting to see Derek—her life branching off into so many directions, beautifully, like a stellar dendrite snowflake. And just like with those snowflakes, nearly impossible t
o predict exactly what it will eventually look like.
She slips her arms into the coat sleeves and all the while the bell ringing grows even louder, as though Jingles found a boxful of bells. They ring over and over, jingling and jangling a happy chime.
“Jingles!” she calls out while closing up the storage room. “What have you gotten yourself into?”
The bells continue to ring-a-ling-ling inside the dimly lit barn, rhythmically now. “Jingles?” she asks, looking toward the front entrance door. And Jingles is there, she sees that clear as day. He’s sitting silently on the window ledge looking outside, his long tail flicking gently, with not a bell in any close proximity to his swatting paws. In fact, he seems pretty darned mesmerized by something outside.
“What are you watching so intently? The snowflakes falling down?” Vera asks while pulling on her mittens. “Or is Derek’s truck out there?”
As she nears the cat, the ringing bells get louder. “Huh, sounds like Santa’s arrived early.” She rushes to the window with a quick glance out.
And the view has her stop in her tracks. Riveted. Her and Jingles both. Because making its way down her snowy driveway is a sight so unexpected: Derek drives his family’s one-horse open sleigh, the reins in his hands, the sleigh bells ringing out with each trot of the prancing horse ahead of it.
* * *
“Donder.”
“No, sir.” Vera shifts close beside Derek as they head out of her driveway on the red and gold sleigh. She wears her fluffy earmuffs and mittens and okay, the biggest surprised smile, and snuggles beneath the plaid blanket he brought to keep warm while taking a Christmas Eve tour of Addison. “That is not the horse’s real name,” she insists.
“Once a year, it is,” he says with a flick of the reins. “Every Christmas Eve, that’s the name he answers to. Donder.”
As if on cue, the horse picks up the pace, jingling the sleigh bells in a happy chime.
“First stop, the cove?” Vera asks quietly.
Derek looks at her, then nods and turns out of her driveway, steering the sleigh along the street into the cove area. They don’t actually stop; instead he has the horse circle around the parking lot once, jingling its sleigh bells merrily. When they pass the dark water, she sees the way Derek looks out at it, a regretful smile on his face. And so she reaches over and takes one of his hands in hers, just for a moment, as he thinks of Abby.
They continue on then, away from the cove toward Main Street, a plume of powdery snow rising from the curved sleigh runners. They glide past the vintage bridal shop, and coffee café, and local jeweler, all closed for Christmas. Wreaths and twinkly lights decorate the dark storefronts, and people are walking into the white-steepled chapel for evening services, waving at them as they pass.
And still it snows.
“Your father must have put in a special order for this weather.” Derek tugs his knit hat a little lower and turns up his coat collar. “Here, take the reins for a second.”
“Me? I don’t know how to drive one of these.”
“It’s easy. Watch.” He clicks his tongue and softly lifts the reins as the horse continues along the snowy street.
Vera takes them and gives the long leather reins a little shake, the horse answering with a friendly nicker. And if ever she’s been thrilled, isn’t this one of those times, steering their one-horse open sleigh on one of the most magical of nights. Derek opens the thermos he brought along and pours her a steaming cup of hot chocolate.
Which makes everything all the more sweet. They pass a group of carolers strolling door-to-door, bundled in thick coats and warm boots, bringing Christmas carols to the homes—homes with evergreen trees shining bright in living room windows, and balsam wreaths hung on front doors, little colored lights of red and blue and green twinkling on shrubs and snow-laden trees. Smoke curls from chimneys and windowpanes are frosty. A white picket fence is strung with garland and red velvet bows.
And the snow still falls.
“Do you know what this feels like?” Vera asks. “Riding along these snowy streets on your beautiful sleigh, with Donder leading the way?”
Derek wraps an arm around her shoulder and pulls her closer. He kisses the side of her head and after a moment, answers her. “No. Tell me.”
Vera looks out at the dark night settling on the prettiest town she’s ever known. The gold sleigh runners swish through the powdery snow, the air is brisk. “It feels like I’m in a snow globe. And someone just tipped it so that all those sweet, delicate snowflakes fall gently over everything.”
“Well.” Derek settles closer as they ride along. “That’s not a bad place to be.”
When they pass Cooper Hardware, the little tabletop Christmas tree in Derek’s apartment window is aglow with its white twinkly lights. And Vera’s heart is warmed by the sight.
It’s a little quieter when their horse trots around the town green, sleigh bells jingling softly. Golden lamplight fills the paned windows of colonial homes and farmhouses and shingled bungalows that surround it. Families are settled in for their holiday dinners now. Porch lights shine, illuminated deer stand in a front yard, and the town’s sparkling tall tree in the center of it all reaches majestically toward the midnight blue sky.
Derek clicks to Donder and flicks the reins. As the horse prances along, leading them through the night, Vera looks up at the snowflakes. They swirl and fall from the dark sky, soft and gentle and full of wonder. Her snow globe. She leans into Derek beside her then, hooking her arm through his and feeling him kiss the top of her head as she does so.
And quietly, so quietly, she thanks her winter stars.
Acknowledgments
Snowflakes and Coffee Cakes has been a joy to write, a story that I hope offers all the peace and warmth of the season. And so I’d like to acknowledge those who have helped along the way, bringing their own unique guidance to my flurry of words.
Deepest thanks to my top-notch publishing team. I’m so glad to work with you and appreciate your talent and kindness. With each book, I’m constantly impressed by our creative collaboration.
A special snowflake of thanks is gently falling to my readers. Your support is warm and welcoming, like a candle aglow in a New England window.
Last, but certainly not least, love and coffee cheers to my family: my daughters Jena and Mary, and my husband Tony.
Thank you all for making this book’s journey merry and bright.
OTHER BOOKS BY JOANNE DEMAIO
Blue Jeans and Coffee Beans
Whole Latte Life
For a complete list of books by New York Times bestselling author Joanne DeMaio, visit her website at:
www.joannedemaio.com
About the Author
Joanne DeMaio is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary fiction. She enjoys writing about friendship, family, love and choices, while setting her stories in New England towns or by the sea. Her previous novels include the New York Times bestseller Blue Jeans and Coffee Beans and Whole Latte Life, which was named a Kirkus Reviews Critics’ Pick. In addition, her music essays have appeared in literary journals, celebrating her passion for song. Currently at work on her next novel, Joanne resides with her family in Connecticut.
For a complete list of books and for news on upcoming releases, please visit Joanne’s website. She also enjoys hearing from readers on Facebook.
Author Website:
www.joannedemaio.com
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/JoanneDeMaioAuthor
Table of Contents
ALSO BY JOANNE DEMAIO
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Four
teen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Acknowledgments
OTHER BOOKS BY JOANNE DEMAIO
About the Author