by Nancy Naigle
Angela sighed. A pony might be the only thing that would make her feel better right now. “Things were fine until Christmas Galore came to town.”
“That’s not true and you know it.”
“Well, things have been a lot worse since they opened.”
She loved Heart of Christmas. The building. The business. The place in the town’s history that it held. Every single thing about it … even the hard work. Being in that store kept Momma Grace alive and present in her heart, and still all these years later she wasn’t sure she could let that go. Unfortunately, she’d run through quite a bit of her savings waiting for a big summer that hadn’t happened, and now with Christmas Galore in the neighborhood her Christmas holiday season might even be worse.
“Fine. How about this.” She backspaced and began typing.
Marie clapped her forearms together like one of those director’s clapboards, making Chrissy laugh. “‘Dear Santa. Take two.’”
Angela read out loud as she typed,
“Dear Santa,
There’s a bully in town threatening the Heart of Christmas, and he’s using your good reputation to do it.
I’ve been a very, very good girl, but he’s ruining everything, and Christmas may never be the same. I don’t know what to do. How can I fight back? I love Christmas, and Chrissy says you can fix anything. I sure hope she’s right. If not, I’m going to need a year’s supply of tissues to get through all the changes to come. A pony might make me feel better too.
Merry Christmas to you, Mrs. Claus, the elves and all of the reindeer.
Yours truly,
Anita C. Miracle”
“Anita C. Miracle?” Marie’s eyebrow danced.
“I-need-a. C for ‘Christmas.’ Miracle.”
Marie laughed so loud that Chrissy started laughing too even though she didn’t understand the joke.
“What are you girls up to?” Brad asked from the doorway.
“Nothing,” Marie and Angela said in unison.
“Like I believe that.”
“We’re writing letters to Santa,” Chrissy blabbed.
“How many letters are you going to write to Santa, Chrissy? I just helped her with one yesterday.”
Chrissy bounced up. “I didn—”
Marie slapped her hand over Chrissy’s mouth. “We had a little special request. For someone special.”
Brad beamed. “That’s my princess. Come hug me.”
Chrissy ran across the room and into his arms. “I love you, Daddy.”
He ruffled Chrissy’s hair. “Think you could talk Mommy into letting me have another piece of that pumpkin pie?”
“Pleeeease, Mom, can Daddy have more pie?”
“Of course, babe.” Marie got up and cut another slice of pie for him.
Angela closed the app on the iPad, then walked over and gave Brad a hug. “I’m gonna head on out.”
Marie handed Brad the plate. “No. Don’t leave. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up all the bad-news stuff.” Marie frowned. “It’s my fault. I just worry, and we haven’t had any time to talk. Please stay.”
Angela felt drained. “Everything you said is true. I just wasn’t ready to admit it.” And saying it out loud made it feel more than real.
“Stay. You’ll have fun,” Brad said. “You’ll know most of the people coming, and might meet some new friends.”
“And we’re going to sing Christmas carols,” Chrissy said. “I’ve been practicing with the radio.”
“I bet you’re wonderful,” Angela said, picking Chrissy up and giving her a hug. “Thanks for having me over. I’m just going to go home. Tomorrow is a big workday for me. Y’all don’t have to worry over me.”
“You’re family.” Brad hugged her. “It’s our job to worry about you.”
“I’m going to be okay.”
Marie held up a finger. “Hang on.” She disappeared into the kitchen then came back and handed Angela a stack of containers that looked like a four-layer wedding cake. Apparently her sister had even planned the leftovers and put this together before Angela had arrived, because no one could put together a stack of leftovers that quickly. “Here’s some to take home. And I’m going to try to not worry so much. I know in my heart you’ll be fine. Always a beacon in the fog.”
Momma Grace used to say that. And darn, if things didn’t feel foggy now. The moral of that story was that the light came from within. Angela needed to quit looking for the light elsewhere and be a beacon in the fog.
“You’re right.” Angela hugged Marie. “Words to live by.”
As she walked down the driveway to her car, Angela felt relief. She wasn’t sure if it was Marie’s reminder of Momma Grace’s wisdom, or that she’d just dumped her worries on Santa, but either way it was good. She felt better. Not like things were going to be okay, but she was more relaxed about them.
Let Christmas Galore serve up the deals today to try to entice people out of their turkey comas to shop. That just wasn’t her style.
To each his own.
Hopefully those same customers would go home, get some sleep and still have enough money to roll in to her store at a decent hour and buy something special that could be shared from generation to generation.
As she drove home with the pile of leftovers in the passenger seat, she remembered how Momma Grace used to get up extra early and bake her famous gingerbread cookies to give away in the store on Black Friday. Cut into intricate snowflake designs and sprinkled with sifted powdered sugar, the delectable ginger treats had always been a hit.
She hadn’t thought about those in years. The smell of gingerbread was like a Christmas kickoff. The glass case they’d used to keep the cookies warm was still in the back room. She’d seen it just the other day.
Excited with the idea, she hoped she had the ingredients she needed.
It would be her Christmas gift to her customers, reviving memories of all the good years they’d spent together.
The recipe was a secret, and it was just as well, because no one would believe her if she told them it called for boiled black pepper, ginger, cloves and cinnamon in honey to get the most from the flavors. Someday she’d pass this recipe down to the next generation, but for now she’d make this the best Christmas ever for her customers and hold the recipe close to her heart.
She wouldn’t have time to do the fancy snowflakes from the whisper-thin sheets of dough like Momma Grace had, but the cookies would taste just as good in rectangles. As her own little personal touch she could use powdered sugar to make a little rectangular stamp in the corner of each one, like a letter to Santa. Easy-peasy.
Finally home. Angela’s beach house wasn’t fancy like her sister’s. She and Marie lived here as kids with Momma Grace, and other than going off to college this was the only house she’d lived in since.
Angela climbed the weathered wooden steps to the second-floor entrance. Inside, the whitewashed cabinets seemed bright this afternoon. Many meals and treats had been baked in this kitchen over the years. With any luck the cookies would taste just like Momma Grace’s.
The old red-and-white-checkered cookbook was on the bookshelf at the end of the counter. The gingerbread-cookie recipe wasn’t part of the book, but Momma Grace had handwritten each of her secret recipes on fancy cards and tucked them in the front of it. Angela shuffled through them until she found what she was looking for.
Momma Grace had the handwriting of an engineer. Neat and precise.
Angela made a quick pass through the kitchen checking for ingredients. Thankfully, she had everything she needed.
With the ingredients lined up across the kitchen island, she took the old Sunbeam Mixmaster out from the pantry and plugged it in.
She started the honey spice boiling. After gathering the measuring cups, she went to work mixing the wet ingredients together in the glossy white mixing bowl. The beaters twisted and spun the goop into a light, fluffy heap.
Then, slowly she mixed the whisked dry ingredients into th
e batter until it was time to add the molasses, which turned the dough a rich dark brown.
She dipped a spoon into the mixture and tasted it.
“Perfect.” For a moment she was back in the kitchen tippy-toeing at her grandmother’s side. “I miss our time together, Momma Grace.”
She blinked back salty tears then lined several mini–loaf pans with plastic wrap. Pressing the dough into each pan as tightly as possible, she smoothed the top, covered the dough and tucked it into the freezer. In the morning, she’d slice and bake the loaves fresh.
“Marie might think it’s time to throw in the towel, but I still have a trick or two up my sleeve. This is my journey just like it was yours, Momma Grace. Marie never did get us, did she?” Momma Grace would’ve smiled at that. We’re two of a kind, she’d always say. “Momma Grace, please help me be strong. Is there any way to keep this store going?”
And in that smug moment, she could clearly hear Momma Grace say, Don’t presume you know the next step to take. Only He knows your path. Trust the journey, my dear.
Chapter Five
Dear Santa,
I’ve tried to be good, but my sister makes it hard. Have you thought about grading on a curve?
I really want a bike.
Fingers crossed,
Bob
Geoff Paisley walked up the stairs to the second floor of Christmas Galore. Just as he reached for the door, Virgil, the operations director, walked out.
“Happy Thanksgiving.” Virgil’s deep commanding voice carried. Dressed in his customary denim button-down shirt with the sleeves turned back, the gray-haired man looked more like a visitor than an executive. Not only was he a key member of the store’s team, but also Geoff’s mom’s best friend.
“I need to talk to you about a couple locations I found,” Geoff said. “Do you have time?”
“Thought we were going to hold off for two years.”
“We are. Maybe. Couldn’t hurt to run numbers, though, right?”
“Things change. Could be a waste of time,” Virgil said pragmatically.
“Or we could make sure we’re not missing an opportunity. Where’s Mom?”
“She’s working on the Dear Santa letters.”
“Already? It’s Thanksgiving Day.”
“They’ve been pouring in ever since she launched that new app.” Virgil’s grin was more of a smirk, and even in his late sixties he had an impish troublemaker’s glint in his eyes.
The only thing Geoff liked about Christmas was that it made money roll into his bank account like a tsunami. Letters to Santa were the lowest priority on his list.
“You might take a minute to check it out. That app is pretty slick. Hashtag DearSanta is even trending on Twitter.” Virgil’s bushy mustache wiggled with each word.
Geoff couldn’t hold back the groan.
Virgil leveled a stare. Geoff knew that look.
“Make time to understand why some of those things are so important to Rebecca. You haven’t learned all there is to learn yet, you know.”
Virgil played the mentor role well, and although Geoff had welcomed that as a kid, sometimes he wished Virgil would mind his own business when it came to his business. “I’ll take a look at it as soon as we get through Black Friday.”
“Sure you will.” Virgil cuffed his shoulder. “Slow down and make the time to see what your mom and her team have accomplished. I think you’ll be impressed.” Virgil’s thumb pushed down with pressure on Geoff’s clavicle, causing him to buckle under the pressure. “I’m impressed.” Virgil’s statement was more like a challenge.
Geoff held his tongue. He found it ironic that this man who talked slower than maple syrup dripping from a tree in the winter was judging the pace of his life. But if Virgil was impressed with the Dear Santa app, that was saying something.
“Your mom knows little things matter. Just remember that you didn’t get to fifteen stores up and down the coast by chance. Every step she’s planned over the years has positioned you for the next one. She’s achieved some lofty goals, and I know success when I see it.” Virgil had once owned one of the biggest tech companies in the nation. He’d sold that company just to free up his time to help his dearest friend, Geoff’s mom, when she decided to open her first store. He’d made a small fortune on the sale of his company too, so it wasn’t a huge sacrifice. But they did owe Virgil. That much Geoff knew, and appreciated. “Thanks, Virgil. Noted.”
Virgil dipped his head, as a cowboy would tip his hat, then walked down the stairs to the retail floor.
Those Dear Santa letters drove Geoff crazy. Every year they were such a time suck. He’d be less irritated if Rebecca just took the time off to go on a swanky vacation. Spending good money and resources on a project that didn’t even carry their brand? That made no sense at all. She’d insisted the Christmas Galore brand would rotate among other vendors an equal amount of time on the Dear Santa portal. What was the use of funding the project if he couldn’t get something directly out of it?
But Mom still held the controlling interest in Christmas Galore, so he could say only so much about it.
Sure, one day this would all be his, but until then, he respected his mother’s and Virgil’s positions, and the three each had decision-making power that made it all work. And it had been one heck of a ride.
For the past ten years he and his mom had relocated with each new store opening.
He hadn’t put down roots, and that was fine by him. Moving every year had made for an easy excuse to keep women from trying to tie him down. Sorry, babe, I’m only here for a short time. If he’d used that line once, he’d used it a hundred times. That usually nipped any nesting in the bud. He didn’t have time for all of that.
His focus was on Christmas Galore. There was no way he’d ever be in the position that his mom was when he was growing up. The luxurious lifestyle appealed to him, and he didn’t mind having to work hard to guarantee it.
Today he was in their newest store, in Pleasant Sands, North Carolina, and for the first time in ten years they’d made a decision to stay put for at least two years, before opening the next store. He kind of liked moving every year, but it might be good for Mom to have a bit of a break. They’d built the chain from the ground up at an exhausting pace and he’d noticed this newest start-up was wearing harder on her.
They’d intentionally kept Christmas Galore small enough that they knew everyone on its management team, and the people that came to work for them stayed. Everyone that held a corporate position had worked their way through the ranks. That’s how Geoff had earned his position too, and that was something he was proud of. But the store had really been Mom’s vision. He looked forward to the day when he could advance the company into something even bigger. Meanwhile, he was making sure everything they did positioned them for that growth.
Geoff hadn’t been convinced Pleasant Sands was the right location for Christmas Galore. The town was a bit smaller than the ones where they’d opened their other stores, and that model had never let them down. Only Mom was determined to have a store in this town, and that wasn’t a battle worth fighting even though he’d had his concerns.
Good thing he hadn’t argued too, else he’d be eating crow right now. Not only did the new store already hold bragging rights for the biggest grand opening of any of their stores, but Halloween had been a door buster too. All that was very promising for the holiday season.
He walked into the conference room. There was no meeting in here today, though. Not on Thanksgiving Day. Instead, in all fifteen store locations, the conference rooms had been transformed into dining rooms. Elegantly so, with festive tablecloths in brown, orange and cranberry and the best catered Thanksgiving dinner available.
The aroma of turkey and sage dressing filled the air. His stomach growled.
The same menu was being served in every one of the locations at this very moment. A buffet catered by the nicest restaurant in the area and another table with delectable desserts shipped in from
Mom’s favorite bakery in Delaware: pumpkin pie, sweet potato pie, pecan pie, chocolate pecan pie and maple seven-layer cake.
This was another of Mom’s ideas. She believed if they took care of their people, their employees would in turn raise the bar on how customers were treated. And he’d continue to let her have her way as long as it didn’t impact their profit.
She’d felt it was the least they could do for their employees since they were expected to work on the holiday. But to make it more palatable, Christmas Galore allowed them to bring along up to eight guests. And with all the employees and their guests rotating through the buffet, this room would stay busy all day long.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Geoff said as he entered the dining room.
A round of “Happy Thanksgiving”s echoed back in response.
People balanced heaping plates of food, while others were just starting to dig in. For the next six hours, staff would come and go like wrestling tag teams between shifts.
A woman dressed in black slacks and a sweater with a turkey embroidered on the front of it slid to his side. “Thank you so much for this lovely dinner.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a genuine smile. He really did like seeing his employees enjoy the holiday and the chance to meet their families.
Because Geoff had never married or had children of his own, the Christmas Galore family was his family. He wanted to spend time with them through the holidays—even if that family had changed every year as he and Mom moved to a new city when they opened a new store. He liked being sort of a nomad. No connections to anywhere, except for employees he’d see a few times a year on site visits.
He extended his hand. “I’m glad you joined us. I’m Geoff.”
“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Paisley. I’m Dana Beth Martin. Danny’s momma. My husband and I are so happy we get to spend Thanksgiving with Danny. Thank you for making this possible.”
“Nice to meet you.”