by Loree Lough
“Okay, that’s it for me. See you in the morning, b—”
“Bryce,” he interrupted, “not ‘boss,’ okay?”
She half-ran toward the stairs leading to their apartments and stopped in the doorway. “Whatever you say,” she tossed over her shoulder, “boss.”
He didn’t know how long, exactly, he stood at the bottom of the steps, gawking up at the empty stairwell, but Bryce knew this: he liked the way he felt when she was around. Liked it a lot.
Chapter Eight
As a little girl, Sam had dreamed of the day a brave knight would rescue her from her prison in a high tower, but she never would have guessed he’d wear blue jeans and a black eye patch! It made her smile, despite Bryce’s stern demeanor, because it wasn’t likely the marines had trained him to save damsels…on high ladders.
She’d spent a fitful night reliving those moments in the shop when he’d stopped the ladder from tipping…and likely saved her from a broken bone or two. But it wasn’t just the memory of his protective actions that had kept her awake. It was also the on his handsome face that told her he’d been genuinely concerned for her safety. Could his aunt have been right when she’d said God brought Sam to North Pole to teach Bryce to love Christmas, and his home town, and the peculiar little gift shop known by all as Rudolph’s?look she’d seen
Olive had said something else that day, and Sam wondered if it was possible that Bryce would learn to love her, too.
“You’re crazy,” she mumbled. Because she barely knew the guy, and he hardly knew her. He was still reeling from a badly ended romance, and so was she. But even if one or both of them was open to new love, what did they have in common, except for Rudolph’s and a fondness for Olive?
Sam didn’t like the thoughts that had been tumbling in her head all day long as she worked in the shop. Didn’t like them at all. Because her tendency to fall too hard, too fast, was responsible for every one of a half dozen disappointing relationships. But she wasn’t that silly high school girl or naive college student anymore. No way she intended to suffer that kind of heartache again!
She’d dwell on their differences, not on his handsome face and pleasant baritone voice. Focus on his sometimes grouchy, standoffish behavior instead of the fact that all he had to do was smile to get her heart beating double-time. Why, the man hated Christmas, for heaven’s sake. What more did she need to prove they were completely wrong for one another!
She didn’t want to avoid him, because Sam genuinely enjoyed his company…most of the time. But what choice did she have, if she hoped to protect them both from the pain and embarrassment of—
The phone rang, putting an end to her confused thoughts, and she hurried to answer it. Olive had no sooner said a cheery “Good morning,” than the bells above the door signaled the arrival of shoppers. Lots of shoppers.
“Make yourselves at home,” she said, one hand over the mouthpiece.
“Sounds like another bus load of tourists just walked in,” Olive said. “Need me to come down there and lend a hand?”
After she’d seen the older woman yawn while waiting on a group of Red Hat Society ladies, Sam had insisted that Olive go home early. “Nope,” she said, “all’s well here.”
“Good, ’cause I’m sippin’ tea and soakin’ in a tub of scented bubbles.” A hearty laugh punctuated her confession. “I’m just calling to ask you a favor.”
“Anything!”
“Would you mind driving me to church tomorrow?”
“Not at all!”
“Even if it means getting there half an hour early, so I can get the mike and the organ ready for the service?”
“Absolutely.”
Just then a little boy walked up to the counter and held out a snow globe. “How much is this?” he wanted to know. “I think my grandma would like it.”
“See you in the morning, Olive,” she said. Sam helped the little boy and then moved through the store, answering questions about hand-blown Italian ornaments, crystal Christmas trees, and the assortment of holiday houses that lined the shelves.
During her first weeks on the job, Sam had worked after hours to rearrange the merchandise, so that instead of being confronted with a jumble of mismatched items, shoppers could easily find similar things grouped together. It had made inventorying the stock easier, too, since Santas and elves, stockings and miniature sleighs were no longer scattered all over the shop. Now, when customers asked for icicles or candy canes, Sam knew exactly where to direct them.
Olive’s praise of the improvements was unending. “I wish I had your organizational skills!” She’d said it a hundred times, if she’d said it once.
If her nephew had noticed the order Sam had brought to the shop, he hadn’t mentioned it. Maybe like her dad, he was one of those guys who only spoke up when something wasn’t right. Still, would it kill him to let her know if he thought she’d been earning her paycheck?
Though it was a balmy day in North Pole, the northern breezes blew strong and caused one woman’s beehive ’do to tilt. “I love everything about this town,” she said, patting her auburn hair, “but honestly! Is it always this windy?”
“No,” Sam said, smiling as she punched the antiquated keys of the big old cash register, “but you’ll be happy about it this evening.”
“Why’s that?” asked the next woman in line.
“Because,” Sam whispered conspiratorially as she wrapped and boxed snow globes and ornaments, “it’ll help blow away the black flies and mosquitoes that congregate around every puddle!”
The bells above the door tinkled again, and a white-bearded man poked his head into the store. “Is this the place where I can order letters from Santa Claus for my grandkids?”
“No, you want the Santa Claus House,” Sam responded. “About five blocks east on St. Nicholas Lane.”
The man tipped an imaginary hat and ducked out, his “Thanks, cutie!” leading the way.
“Letters from Santa?” echoed the woman at the register. “Oh, that’s perfect for my grandkids.”
“Mine, too!” said another.
“I’m sure it’s on your driver’s route,” Sam pointed out. “It’s one of North Pole’s biggest attractions.”
One by one, the customers paid for their holiday doodads and filed out, thanking Sam for all her help. She sent them each on their way with an early “Merry Christmas.”
When the last of them had cleared out, Sam tidied the shelves her customers had rearranged, returning each item to its proper place in the store. “Now really,” she told a smiling elf, “how can that boss of ours not love this town and everything about it?”
Chapter Nine
“Thanks for driving,” Olive said. “There are a few things I hate worse than getting behind the wheel.”
“I’m happy to do it. Besides, it’s nice to spend time with you outside of work for a change.” Sam turned on to Patriot Drive and a moment later signaled a left onto Refinery. Traffic loops like this were one of North Pole’s claims to fame, since it was the only city in the U.S. with three roundabouts within a one-mile stretch of road. “I love these things,” she said.
Olive groaned. “Not me! I get dizzy trying to figure out when it’s my turn to go.”
“I did, too, until my dad taught me the every-other-car rule.”
“The what?”
“There’s a roundabout not too far from my parents’ house, and I used to take the long way there just to avoid it. Then one day when I picked up my dad from the car mechanic’s shop, he taught me it’s really just a matter of living by the Golden Rule.”
An audible sigh escaped Olive’s lips. “Best thing about ’em in my opinion is that you only have to look in one direction to blend into traffic.” Then she added, “So, have you been missin’ your folks?”
“You know, it’s weird. I thought I’d get homesick, yet every time I talk to the family, I realize I’m anything but. I miss them, of course, but thanks to cell phones and computers that have cameras, I se
e more of them now than I did when we all lived miles apart!”
“I’m glad, Sammie-girl,” Olive said, squeezing her hand, “because I’d hate to think you’re spending all your nights wishing you were back in Maryland.”
Truth be told, she’d had one or two nights like that, but Sam didn’t admit it aloud. Running and organizing the shop kept her plenty busy during the day, and by the time she’d head upstairs in the evenings, she was too exhausted to do much more than sleep!
Sam pulled into the church parking lot and handed Olive her keys. “Think we got here in time for you to warm up before the service?”
Glancing at her watch, the older woman nodded. “Oh, definitely. We’ll have a good half hour before the first congregants start showing up.” Once out of the car, she said across its roof, “Guess who’s joining us today, by the way?”
Her heart skipped a beat as her brain conjured the image of Olive’s handsome nephew. “Bryce?”
“Maybe. Hopefully,” she said. “But that is not the man to whom I was referring.” Chuckling, she said, “Guess again…”
It took only one quick look into Olive’s happy face to know the answer to that one. “Duke! Of course. How could I have been so dense?”
“Maybe because you have a crush on that one-eyed nephew of mine?”
“Of course not!”
“Methinketh thou doth protesteth too mucheth. A horrible rendition of Shakespeare, but you get the idea.”
Sam decided the best way to keep from digging an even deeper hole was to side-step it altogether. “So,” she began, walking beside Olive as they climbed the sloping walk leading to the church, “are you planning to share your good news with Bryce today?”
“You bet I am! At dinner. My place. Two o’clock.” She elbowed Sam’s arm. “And you’d better be there, too, young lady. I need all the moral support I can get!”
“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled for you. He loves you to pieces, and he only wants what’s best for you.”
Olive snorted. “He’s more protective than my daddy ever was.”
Sam had her own too-recent proof of just how protective Bryce could be! Still, Olive’s reticence didn’t make much sense to her. Olive, she’d learned, was a hard-working, self-sufficient woman who for decades had sacrificed her own happiness to care for others. So why was she afraid to tell her only living relative that, finally, she’d decided to take some happiness for herself? Sam held the door open, and as Olive passed into the narthex, she said, “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“I can’t very well say no, now can I, considering all the prying into your life I’ve done since you rolled into town.” Winking, she said, “Shoot.”
“Why have you kept Duke such a big secret all this time?”
The twinkle in Olive’s dark eyes dimmed and her shoulders sagged slightly. “You know, I haven’t the foggiest notion.” Grabbing Sam’s hand, she added, “I think mostly I feel like a doddering old fool, falling head over heels in love as fast as I did. Maybe I’m afraid that once I let the cat out of the bag, someone will put words to my biggest fear.”
“Which is…?”
“That this whole thing really is too good to be true.”
Sam draped an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “I don’t know anyone who deserves this more than you do. And if I were a betting woman, I’d bet God agrees.”
Shoulders up, Olive inhaled a deep breath. “We’ll soon see, won’t we?”
Sam watched as Olive busied herself, uncovering the organ and arranging sheet music on its stand. “Anything I can do to help?”
“You can make sure that mike is plugged in. Then you can give it a sound test.”
Sam jammed the plug into the nearest outlet, flipped the switch, and tapped the microphone’s mesh globe. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” she said, grinning. “Testing, testing, one-two-three.”
No sooner had her voice echoed throughout the church than Olive struck a chord on the keyboard. “Can you sing?”
“Sorta…”
“Think you can pitch hit for me, just for a song or two?” Olive patted her throat. “Need to save my voice…for the introductions, you know.”
“I’ll do what I can, but I have to warn you, it’s been awhile since I sang a solo.” She giggled. “Unless you call what I do in the shower ‘singing.’ ”
“Pastor Davidson!” Olive called out, waving. “Where’s Carol today?”
“She’ll be along shortly,” he said, “soon as her cinnamon rolls are safe downstairs in the gathering room.”
“I nearly forgot about the Ladies Auxiliary Tea this morning,” Sam said. “I’ve been looking forward to this since I arrived in town!” She closed her eyes. “I can almost smell all those home-baked goodies….”
The pastor disappeared behind the altar and returned a moment later in his preacher’s robe. Then he tested his own mike and placed the pages of his sermon on the pulpit, smiling as his flock began filling the pews. Quiet greetings filtered through the high-ceilinged space as friends and neighbors exchanged hellos and God bless yous and how have you beens. Soon every bench was filled with people sitting shoulder to shoulder, hymnals balanced on their laps.
Olive struck the first heart-pounding chord of “The Old Rugged Cross” then signaled Sam to take her place at the mike stand. Dear Lord, Sam prayed, keep me on key and in pace. Then she took a deep breath and launched into the first verse of the hymn.
The notes nearly stuck in her throat when she saw Bryce walk through the wide double doors at the back of the church. She hadn’t seen him he’d “saved” her two days ago. Now, as he found a seat midway up the center aisle, he locked gazes with her.
Didn’t know you could sing, he mouthed.
I hope I can, she thought as he settled between two elderly women and looked for all the world like a GQ cover model…sporting a sexy black eye patch.
Bryce had heard the expression, “She sings like an angel,” but he’d never experienced it in person. Until Sam opened her mouth up there on the altar, that is.
He’d expected a pleasant sound, since her slightly husky speaking voice rang with music whether she was placing a merchandise order over the phone or bagging a customer’s purchases. But who would have thought she’d sound every bit as good as singers who’d earned recording contracts and millions of adoring fans?
He’d made a point of avoiding her yesterday, partly because he still felt bad about scaring her, and partly because he hated the idea that she probably lumped him with other guys who’d tried to control her, like one of her bossy big brothers.
It hadn’t been easy staying away from the shop, especially with the memory of her sweet voice lingering in his head. That, and the flowery scent of her shampoo clinging to his nostrils. If he hadn’t promised Olive that he’d come to church this morning, Bryce might have skipped the service for the very same reasons he’d used to avoid Sam yesterday. And because she made him feel like a boy in the throes of his first crush.
Sam hadn’t done anything to inspire his fluttering heartbeat and sweaty palms. In fact, knowing her, if she realized her behavior was driving him crazy, she’d have done her level best to alter it.
She deserved every good thing life had to offer…a loving husband, doting kids, and a pretty little house with a rose garden out back. Bryce could not offer those things to her. Life—and war—had hardened him, and frankly, he didn’t think he had it in him to change.
But when he walked into the church and saw her up there, heard her up there, he felt like he had on that wacky carnival ride—the one that spins you around so fast you stick to one spot as the floor drops out from under you. Her voice, her face, and the adorable curves visible under her pretty red dress…
Bryce had to remind himself to breathe!
He told himself, sitting between the Baker twins—North Pole’s oldest citizens—that the instant the serviced ended, he’d hot-foot it out of the church. Then Pearl said to Blanche, “You didn’t lea
ve the blueberry muffins in the car, did you, because I baked them just for Samantha.”
“Of course I remembered them,” Blanche sniffed. “How could I forget our promise to share the recipe with that sweet girl?”
At the mention of food, Bryce’s traitorous stomach growled.
“It isn’t smart to skip breakfast, dear,” Pearl said, patting his hand.
“She’s right,” Blanche agreed. “It’s the most important meal of the day, you know.”
“No biggie,” said her twin. “You can eat to your heart’s content after the service.”
“Today’s the Sunday tea, don’t you know…”
No, he hadn’t known. Would Sam be there? Of course she will…to sample the Baker twins’ blueberry muffin recipe. Suddenly the idea of running out of here like a man being chased by a grizzly didn’t seem any smarter than skipping breakfast.
Half an hour later, Bryce was standing near the doors to the gathering room when his aunt sidled up to him.
“Looking for someone in particular?”
Chuckling, Bryce pocketed both hands. “As if you didn’t know.”
“She looks pretty in that little red dress, doesn’t she?”
She’s an absolute doll, he thought, taking in every inch of her, from the top of her curly-haired head to the toes of her red-shoed feet. “Uh-huh,” he said, watching her serve out muffins and sweet rolls to Charlie Davidson and his wife.
Why in the world wasn’t a woman like her married? She had it all: looks, brains, personality…. No wonder she’d turned Dan Brooks’ head.
An ugly thought ran through his mind, doubling his heartbeat and speeding his pulse so much that he heard the pounding in his ears: Had Dan turned hers? He sure hoped not.
“You could go over there, y’know,” Olive said, interrupting his thoughts, “and ask her to fix you a plate of those sticky buns.”
Bryce never took his gaze from Sam as he patted his flat stomach. “Trying to watch the ol’ waistline.”
Olive snickered. “Well, she’s in charge of the coffee urn, too….”