“I don’t think this whole getting-her-trained thing is the real problem,” Dot continued. “What’s really bugging you, Liv? Is it the fact that they didn’t have a wedding or that Brandon didn’t marry a carbon copy of you?”
Dot’s words shed unwanted light in corners where Olivia didn’t want to look. “Neither,” she insisted.
Dot shrugged. “If you say so. But if there’s more going on here, you know we’d understand. We always want our kids to do exactly what we would do. We want them to be a mini-me.”
“There’s no danger of that,” Olivia said with a scowl. “I’d have never picked someone with nose rings and tattoos.”
Dot frowned at her. “Have you been living in a cave? Almost all the younger generation has that these days. It’s their way of being creative. Hell, Tilda has ‘To Serve and Protect’ tattooed on her leg.” She shook her head. “Our kids have their own ideas of what their lives should be like, and as long as they’re not turning into criminals or drug addicts, we shouldn’t take it personally when they go their own way. It’s their story to live. Anyway, you raised Brandon well. Have a little faith in him.”
“Wow. When did you get so smart?” Pat teased.
“When my kid became a cop instead of going into the restaurant business.”
“Things will work out,” Muriel assured Olivia. “Remember our ugly-tree vows.”
All easier said than done. “Bah, humbug,” Olivia muttered.
* * *
Sienna had barely gotten home from work when a delivery from Lupine Floral arrived at her door. The arrangement was done in the shape of a tree with greens, red roses, baby’s breath and tiny silver balls.
“A Christmas tree!” cried Leo. “From Santa.”
“Santa doesn’t come for a while yet,” she told him.
Who had sent her flowers? She took the card and read, Apologies for my uncle. It was signed from Tim Richmond. How sweet! The man sure was nothing like his uncle. Maybe Cratchett was adopted.
She needed to thank Tim. She found a Richmond listed in nearby Cashmere. That had to be him. She called the number but got only voice mail. “I hope I’m calling the right Tim Richmond,” she said. “If I am, I just wanted to thank you for the lovely flowers. You certainly didn’t have to do that, but I’ll enjoy them, anyway.” Suddenly out of words, she said, “Well, um, thanks again. Have a nice day.”
She would now. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had sent her flowers. Her ex never had. There should be more Tim Richmonds in the world.
And why couldn’t she have lived next door to Tim rather than his uncle? If he was sending flowers, he was obviously single. This surmise led to a pleasant fantasy of her and Tim Richmond strolling down a snowy country lane hand in hand.
Leo interrupted her reverie. “I’m hungry.”
Back to reality. The rest of the evening was taken up with dinner, the usual table-setting lessons and then the unpleasant fun of dealing with math homework, which ended in a tantrum that took a while to deal with. After hugs and encouragement and a reminder that someday Leo was going to get this math stuff and make her very proud, she popped him in the tub, reminding him to rinse his hair after he washed it.
By the time Leo was in bed, Sienna was exhausted herself. And depressed. She hated to see her boy struggling so hard. Was she doing enough for him?
Her mother chose that moment to call. “How are you doing up there, hija preciosa? Are you ready to move back home?”
No phone call from her mother was complete without this question. “No, but I’m ready for you and Papi to move up here.”
“We’ll never get your papi out of LA,” her mother said in disgust. “You know that. He’s been here all his life. Oh, I wish you hadn’t moved so far away. How’s Leo doing?”
“He’s doing well.” In spite of the mean boys who teased him, Leo liked Icicle Falls and loved having a big backyard to play in—something they hadn’t had, living in an apartment.
“I don’t know how he can do well so far from his grandparents,” said her mom.
“You’ll come up and visit this summer,” Sienna reminded her.
Right now, summer seemed a long way away. Sienna knew she’d made the right move, but she was close to her parents, and talking on the phone with her mother wasn’t the same as having her just a few blocks away, ready to make tamales or tres leches cake together or go shopping. Or getting a hug from her father, who was always quick to tell her how proud he was of her.
Ah, well. She had Rita and Tito. And Leo would enjoy experiencing his first-ever white Christmas. Not for the first time, she told herself that she’d done the right thing moving up here.
“Meanwhile,” she said to her mom, “keep an eye out for your Christmas presents. I already put them in the mail.” She’d sent her mother a copy of Beth Mallow’s cookbook and one of Muriel Sterling-Wittman’s books, which she’d bought using her employee discount. Her father would be receiving Sweet Dreams chocolates and a T-shirt that said Wilkommen to Icicle Falls.
“Oh, you shouldn’t spend the money,” her mother protested.
“I won’t if you won’t,” Sienna teased.
Her mother gave a snort of disgust. “As if we wouldn’t make sure you had presents under the tree. Are you driving all right in the snow now?”
Sienna decided not to tell her about the close encounter with Cratchett’s bush. “I’m getting better at it all the time,” she lied, then quickly changed the subject. “I got flowers today.”
“You did? From who?”
“From a man I met the other day.”
“You met a man?” Now Mama sounded suspicious and Sienna regretted opening her big mouth. She should have known it would get Mama worked up. “You be careful, Sienna. You know what kind of luck you’ve had with men. You don’t want another Carlos.”
“Don’t worry, Mama, I—”
Mama kept talking. “Or Manny. Or Gregory. Or Juan.”
Sienna needed eggnog. She poured herself a tall glassful. “Okay, I get it.” One thing her mother was really good at was pointing out her daughter’s mistakes. Maybe there were some things she didn’t miss about living so close to her parents. “Look, Mama, I’ve got to go. I’m glad you called.” Sort of. “Tell Papi hello.”
That had not been one of her more enjoyable mother-daughter conversations, she thought as she ended the call. But her mother had made a good point. When it came to men, Sienna was a lousy judge of character. With her luck, Tim Richmond would probably turn out to be as flawed as the other men she’d dated. She simply hadn’t found his flaw yet.
She had stretched out on the couch with her eggnog, ready to distract herself with whatever she could find on TV, when he called.
“So you like the flowers?” She could hear the smile in his voice, and she couldn’t help smiling in response.
“I do. It was nice of you, but you didn’t need to.”
“I think you needed some proof that not everyone in my family is a jerk.”
“You proved it.”
“Good. Maybe next time I’m over your way, I can prove it some more.”
That low voice swept over her like a caress. “Maybe you can,” she said, wiping the memory of her past romantic mistakes from her mental hard drive. New town, new beginnings.
The short conversation lifted her spirits. Life wasn’t all bad. You struggled to do what was right for your child, you worked hard and tried to get along with your neighbors, even the undeserving ones. And sometimes, just when you needed it most, God whispered in someone’s ear to send you flowers. Surely a man who would send flowers to make up for his uncle’s shortcomings couldn’t be all bad? She went to bed with her mood much improved.
The good mood was still with her when Tim’s holiday bouquet sitting on the kitchen counter greeted
her the next morning. Leo had forgotten his misery of the night before and she got him off to school feeling just as happy as she did.
“Do your best,” she told him, channeling Muriel Sterling, “and have a smile for everyone.”
He nodded. “I will.”
“Then I know you’ll have a good day.”
With Leo out the door she had a few minutes before she had to leave for the bookstore. She settled on the couch with Muriel Sterling’s book. The flowers had certainly brought some joy into her life. What could she do today to keep that going?
Look outside your window, Muriel advised from the pages. The world can be a beautiful place if you look with the right attitude. What do you see? A snowy lawn? A cardinal perched on a tree branch? Your neighbor’s Christmas lights?
Sienna looked out her living room window. There were the snowy lawns and houses with their roofs all frosted white.
And Mr. Cratchett, bundled up in his hat, winter coats and boots, a determined look on his face, marching up her front walk bearing a shovel full of what looked like...
Dog poop?
Chapter Six
This is the season to reach out in love.
—Muriel Sterling, A Guide to Happy Holidays
What on earth? Sienna scrambled off her couch and got to her front door just in time to see Cratchett marching back down the front walk. There on her front porch sat a freshly made pile of unpleasant, half of which looked like it had been mashed with a boot.
“What are you doing?” she yelled.
“Returning the present your dog left on my front walk,” he called back over his shoulder.
“I don’t have a dog!” she shouted at him. He kept walking and she slammed her front door. This man was impossible. She was never going to be able to see the good in him. There wasn’t any.
She threw on her coat and got a baggie for doggy-doo pickup. Once on her front porch, she was strongly tempted to go right on over to Cratchett’s place and return the gift.
But did she want to start a war? World War Poop. That would be what she’d have if she lowered herself to Cratchett’s level.
Knowing him, he’d call the police and she’d get another visit from Tilda, the cop, like she’d had when she’d first moved in and he’d sicced the Icicle Falls Police on her for having the nerve to host a noisy barbecue on a Saturday night. It had been only nine at night but he’d insisted the police come talk to her about turning down the music.
“Turn it off by ten or we’ll be back,” Tilda had said. “And welcome to Icicle Falls.”
Welcome, indeed! Cratchett had been a nail in her flip-flop ever since.
She scooped up the mess, sealed it and deposited it in her trash can, then soaped up a rag and scrubbed away the remnants. There. Problem solved.
For the moment. Somewhere nearby she heard the sharp bark of a small dog. She’d never seen any of her neighbors out walking one. Who had the pup? Whoever it was, she hoped that person kept a closer eye on it in the future.
It was now time to leave for work, so she left Muriel’s book sitting on the couch. She was in no mood to read it now, anyway. Thank you, Mr. Cratchett. I hope Santa brings you a gigantic lump of coal for Christmas. And if he’s not sure where to put it, I’ll be glad to make a suggestion.
She frowned her way to work, but once she got inside Mountain Escape Books, it was impossible to stay grumpy. The store looked so cheerful. The ends of the bookshelves had been made to look like giant presents, covered with red paper and topped with fat green ribbon and large matching bows. Two little trees made of book pages, which Sienna had created for Pat, looked on as customers purchased their books. The place smelled like fresh pine thanks to the room freshener Pat had sprayed and Christmas music played softly in the background—a sample from one of the CDs for sale. Customers were browsing and everyone was smiling. Yes, this was how the holidays should be.
“You look happy,” Pat greeted her.
“I’m always happy to be here,” Sienna said. “This is the best job in the world.” Best job and best employer. It went a long way toward making up for having the world’s worst neighbor.
She hung up her coat in the back room and then got busy helping customers find the books they wanted. And even some they didn’t know they wanted.
Sienna’s other next-door neighbor, Mrs. Zuckerman, came in around eleven. She was a pretty woman, maybe at the end of her sixties or beginning her seventies, slender with short snowy white hair, always fashionably dressed. Today she wore snow boots and leggings and a long winter coat accented with a red wool scarf.
“I need some books for the grandchildren and my little great-granddaughter,” she told Sienna. “One married, two in college and a three-year-old. Do you have any suggestions?”
“I think I can help you,” Sienna told her.
“Good, and then when we’ve taken care of them, I think I’ll buy a little something for myself. I love books. In fact, I can’t think of a better Christmas present. Can you?”
“Books are the best gifts,” Sienna agreed.
“Speaking of gifts, my son and daughter-in-law surprised me with an unexpected one when they were over this weekend and you’ll never guess what it was.”
“A smart TV?”
“No. There’s not much worth watching on TV. I’d rather read. But I was saying only the other day how empty the house feels sometimes and so what did they do but go out and get me a dog.”
“A dog?” A wandering, pooping dog?
“Yes, he’s the cutest thing—Alaskan malamute and Border collie. Black-and-white and he has the softest fur. It’s black around his eyes and he looks like a little bandit, so that’s what I named him. He’s a few months old and full of energy. I’m afraid he got loose earlier this morning and I had to chase him down and lure him back with a piece of bacon. He is a little rascal.”
“I’ll bet,” Sienna said. Now the mystery of the dog was solved. She hoped it stayed away from Mr. Cratchett’s place. He’d have the dogcatcher after it in a heartbeat.
* * *
Arnie dropped by Muriel’s cottage on Wednesday evening. It was the first she’d seen of him since the morning he and Dot decided to take the Christmas cruise together.
“I haven’t heard from you since breakfast at Dot’s,” she greeted him. That sounded rather accusatory. “I guess you’ve been busy,” she hastily added.
“I have,” he agreed but didn’t go into details.
“I imagine you and Dot have been making plans,” she continued as he settled on her couch. Here she was fishing. For what, she wasn’t quite sure.
“We’ve had a few things to talk about,” he said with a smile.
Obviously, he and Dot were becoming buddies. Nice for both of them.
“Good thing we both already had passports.”
Muriel remembered the discussion around the Pancake Haus table earlier in the year. The Claussens had joined Arnie and Muriel for breakfast and Dot had sat down for a chat, as well. The subject of travel had come up, and everyone had agreed that it would be a good idea to do so while they were all in good health. They’d all decided to take the first step and get passports.
Arnie had been the first to get his, followed by the Claussens, who had used theirs for a trip to London. Muriel had gotten hers and done nothing with it. And the last time the subject had come up, Dot hadn’t even gotten around to getting one. “Too busy at the restaurant,” she’d said. So, when had she found the time?
“Muriel?”
Arnie was looking at her in concern and she realized she was frowning.
She wiped it off and donned a more friendly expression. “How about some coffee?”
“Sure,” he said.
“And some fruitcake cookies to go with it?” she suggested.
&n
bsp; “You know I love your fruitcake cookies.”
“You love everything I bake,” she teased.
“True.”
And Dot can’t bake at all. Don’t forget that.
There was a petty thought. Where on earth had that come from? She immediately shoved it away.
She returned with the coffee and the cookies and Arnie was quick to help himself to one. “These are my favorites.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I make them.”
He looked surprised, then smiled. “Really?”
“Really. The kids aren’t all that fond of them.”
“I never knew that. Here all these years I thought you were giving them to me to get rid of them.”
“That, too,” she joked. She studied him as he helped himself to a second cookie. Arnie was kind of cute in a nerdy sort of way. Hmm, speaking of nerdy... “Where’s your bow tie?” Today he was wearing a shirt under a black sweater and his usual slacks. But no bow tie.
He made a face. “Dot said I look like a dweeb in it. She threatened to throw me overboard if I wore one on the cruise.”
The bow tie had come along with his job at the bank many years ago. Even after Arnie had taken early retirement, the bow tie had remained. Now here he was, sans tie. Her subtle hints with the neckties hadn’t gotten the message across, but all it had taken was a word from Dot and they were gone.
“Arnie, if you like wearing bow ties, then you should.”
What kind of silly advice was this? Muriel knew exactly. Whatever Dot had said, she’d be contradicting it. Shame on you, she told herself. How perverse she was being. It was as if she were a teenage girl again, feeling threatened by a rival.
But she wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a grown woman, and Dot was a friend, not a rival. There was no need for this petty jealousy.
There may have been no need, but she was feeling it, anyway. She wasn’t jealous of Dot, though. Why should she be? She was simply envious of all the fun Dot was going to have. Fun that she could have had.
“No, I think maybe Dot was right,” Arnie was saying. “Who wears bow ties these days, anyway? I like being more casual.”
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