by Nancy Naigle
Something banged against the door, which flew open then started to shut.
“Got it!” he said as the door came free.
She ran from the window to the door, putting her foot there to keep him from coming inside. “I’m good. You can go now.” At least that’s what she tried to say. It had come out more like Umgoo. Ukago Ow.
“You’re upset. Are you okay?”
She steadied herself before trying to talk this time. “I’m fine.”
“Um. Are you coming out?”
“Of course.” She tucked her chin and slid out the door with her back to him.
“How long were you in there?” He touched her arm and reflexively she spun toward him.
When she lifted her head, he laughed. “Well, how are you, Angela Carson? How about this?” He extended his hand with another hearty laugh. “We meet again. I guess we should formally introduce ourselves.”
She didn’t want to shake hands with him. What was the point? “I think I know what I need to know about you already.”
“I don’t even get a simple thank-you for rescuing you?”
Her pride had already checked out the back door. “Thank you.”
“That didn’t sound very sincere.”
She stepped away. “I told you to go away.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d take that personally.” He glanced inside the bathroom noticing the half-open window. “What were you going to do? Crawl out the window and run away?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Closing her eyes, she wished she could die and go to heaven with an express ticket right now. No such luck.
“Speaking of running. I think I saw you running this morning. On the beach?”
She felt her nostrils flare. “Are you stalking me now?”
“No,” he sputtered. “Were you spying on me when you were in my parking lot on Black Friday in the middle of the night?”
She gulped. “No, I was not. I simply went to see what was going on. And yesterday I just wanted to see if you’d really stolen my idea. I didn’t think even someone like you would sink so low to do that. Of course, I was wrong to give you that benefit of the doubt.”
“So we’ve established we’re not spying on each other. We’re good neighbors, right?”
All she could do was groan.
“It’s a small town,” he said. “We’re going to cross paths. You’re clearly upset. Can I buy you a drink?”
“No, you cannot buy me a drink. I’m fine,” she said. “I’ve got to go. I’m late … for something.” She tried to push her way past him but he stepped in front of her.
“Can’t we at least be cordial?” Geoff dipped to get in her line of sight. “After all, we both own businesses in this town.” He extended his hand again.
She reluctantly shook his hand. Maybe he’d leave her alone now, but before she could say something he cut her off.
“You’re not going to yell at me again, are you?” His sneer was annoying.
Sure, he’d deserved the verbal attack over his stupid snowball fight, but it didn’t excuse her for doing it in front of half of the town. And although the television spot had doubled the traffic in her store … it didn’t change anything.
“I guess I’ll see you around.” He smiled, but she didn’t respond in kind.
Not if she could help it. Their gazes connected. “It is a small town, but I’m sure we won’t be traveling in the same circles,” she said flatly.
“The tree lighting is coming up,” he said like he’d read her mind. “Everyone goes to that, right?”
“Yes. All the merchants close down for it. It’s tradition. Everyone gathers in the town square for the annual tree lighting. You don’t want to miss that.” Or maybe he did. He probably didn’t even like Christmas.
“I’m not a fan of closing my business during business hours, but if that’s what all the merchants do I’ll play along. I guess I’ll see you there then. Hopefully you won’t get stuck in the bathroom and miss it,” he said with a smile. “Merry Christmas.”
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t closing his business for good. “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” played inside her head.
* * *
She walked straight through the restaurant, only stopping long enough to hand a fifty-dollar bill to the hostess and ask her to take care of her check and give the change to the waitress. After commandeering the table during the busy lunch rush, it was the least Angela could do.
By the time she got her groceries home and made her way over to the store it was late afternoon. The parking lot was full, and the store was abuzz with shoppers.
As Angela walked in Emma punched the total on the register, causing the drawer to open with a ding. She loved that sound.
She walked into the back room to put some of the treats she’d gotten at the market out for her staff.
Then she sat down and called her sister. No surprise it went straight to voice mail; it was Marie’s court day and those were always her busiest, so she left a message: “Hey, Marie, it’s me. Why don’t y’all come over to the house tonight for hot chocolate on the deck and we can roast marshmallows over the fire pit. Call me.”
She hung up and turned to see Emma standing in the doorway.
“How are you doing?” Emma eyed the bakery goods. “Those look delicious.” She took a lavender macaron from the plate.
“Thanks.” Emma took a bite. “Oh my gosh. This is so good. So, you okay? Or is all this sugar your way of coping?”
“Actually the treats were the best part of the day.”
“Uh-oh.” Emma pushed the plate toward Angela. “You need one of these.”
“I couldn’t eat it if I wanted to. I went to that new café by the fresh market.”
“I’ve heard about that. Farm-to-table stuff. Right?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“I bet that was awesome,” Emma said. “Good for you for treating yourself, but why do you seem so out of sorts?”
“It was nice, but you’ll never believe who came in.”
“Who? Wait … Someone famous? My brother swore he saw Candace Cameron Bure at the Blue Pelican eating dinner last year. We all thought he was crazy, but then she posted it on Instagram. She was right here in our town!” Emma gasped. “If it was her and you didn’t call me, I’m never going to forgive you.”
“No. It was nothing as exciting as that.” She leaned forward and stage-whispered, “Geoff Paisley from Christmas Galore. I should’ve known he’d hang out on the swankier side of town.”
“You didn’t get into another altercation with him, did you?”
“Not exactly.” As bad as she felt about the first altercation, another would have been so much better than what happened. It was mortifying. “I hid in the bathroom, but then the door wouldn’t open. I waited for a long time. I can’t believe he was even still in the restaurant, but when I finally knocked for help—”
“He rescued you?” Emma laughed so hard she snorted.
Angela’s face flushed. “Who else would that happen to?”
“So you had to thank him?”
“Barely. I practically ran out the door.”
“Maybe you should’ve suggested coffee to thank him. It’s not like you to hold a grudge, and it’s a small town. Y’all aren’t going to be able to avoid each other.”
“I can try.” But it didn’t make any more sense saying it to Emma than it did thinking it when Geoff had said the same darn thing.
“You offer to show complete strangers around town,” Emma said. “What’s the big deal?”
“He gets under my skin.”
“Well, if I recall you thought he was pretty cute the first time you saw him.”
She wished she’d never said anything to Emma about that. “That was a mistake.”
Emma said, “Well, you’ll have to figure out what you’re going to do.”
“I know. It’s hard. All I’ve ever thought I’d do is run Heart of Christmas.”
�
��I meant about Geoff.” Emma had a quirky grin on her face when she left. “I better get back out there and sell a few things before we close for the day.” She stepped toward the door then turned around. “You know they say there’s a fine line between love and hate.” She lifted her shoulders with a playful smirk.
“Oh stop. I don’t even like him!” she yelled as Emma walked out. I don’t. And he’s not that cute up close.
* * *
At six o’clock Angela watched the last customer leave, and then flipped the sign from OPEN to CLOSED on the front door. “Seemed like a good day,” she said as she closed out the register. “I’ll finish up, Emma. You go on home.”
“That would be awesome. That’ll give me time to go treat myself to a blowout before my dinner date tonight.” Emma grabbed her handbag. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Have fun.” Angela tore the tape from the register, then carried the till back to her office to balance the store’s sales for the day. Numbers were good, but not compared to other Christmases’. It was just one more reminder that she was making the right decision to close.
Angela’s phone chirped. Marie had texted to let her know that Brad had dinner plans with a client, but that she and Chrissy would be over at around seven with pizza.
She walked home and started getting things ready for their visit. She got the big hot chocolate mugs and a Christmassy red tray out of the china cabinet, then went and rounded up a few wire dry cleaner’s hangers to straighten out to use for roasting the marshmallows later.
Angela arranged the bakery goodies on the tray then covered them with a glass cake dome. They looked so pretty in the middle of her kitchen island. Almost like one of those pictures in the Woman’s Day Christmas edition.
Feeling festive, she went to the hall closet and pulled out a box labeled Christmas. Inside golden beads, fancy old German glass ornaments that Momma Grace had saved over the years and sparkly hand-tied garlands started getting her in the mood to decorate.
Angela hummed Christmas carols as she swagged the garland around two sides of the island, then delicately laced the gold beads through it.
She took one of the big glass hurricane shades from the mantel to use as a centerpiece in the living room, loading colored glass ornaments inside it, mixing the hues and patterns.
Since Momma Grace had passed away she’d only decorated the store. It had made her sad to decorate the house they’d lived in together without her. This year should be different.
She grabbed a couple of large beach towels, the thick kind, and laid them in the Adirondack chairs on the back deck. Later it would feel good to have those towels to snuggle under near the fire.
Her thoughts drifted back to bumping into Geoff at the market. Too bad he’s such a jerk, because he really is good-looking.
Chapter Fifteen
Dear Santa,
I hope Mrs. Claus has put you on a diet.
My mom says being fat will kill you. I want a race track for Christmas. My little brother asked for a bike but he’s not always good. I have been good enough for both of us though.
Zeke
Geoff stopped at Sandy’s Florist & Gifts before he headed over to the hospital. He wanted to take something to his mom, but he couldn’t take his traditional box of her favorite chocolates. He was pretty sure that would be frowned upon for a heart patient in the ICU, and she hated cut flowers because they died so quickly. Always had.
He browsed the store then decided on a potted poinsettia in a tall woven seagrass basket. White baby’s breath was tucked between the hardy large flowers. “This should cheer someone up, don’t you think?” he said to the woman behind the counter.
“I couldn’t agree more. It really can fit into any décor nicely.”
“Hope it goes with hospital green.” He was still mad that he’d been out of the loop on his mother’s health concerns.
“A local woman made that basket from seagrass. I just love that simple art deco look with the beachy vibe. They are very popular.”
Sounded like code for “expensive” to him, but could he really put a price cap on a gift to his mother? Especially when she was in the hospital? Hardly.
“I don’t know about all that ‘beachy vibe’ stuff, but I like it,” Geoff said. “I’ll take it, and can you add one of those little cards with ‘Get Well Soon’ written on it?” He handed her his credit card.
“Of course.” The woman took the tags off of the plant and selected a card from the rack. “If you want to sign it, I’ll tuck it in the plant for you.” She rang up his purchase, then handed him the card to sign.
He pulled a pen from his pocket. Mom had given it to him when he graduated from college. She’d been so proud of him that day. He hesitated for a moment, not even sure how to sign the card. How did you sign a card to your mother when she was in the hospital for a heart attack that she almost didn’t even tell you about? He wanted to be mad at her for keeping the secret, but mostly he was worried.
Should he sign the card with “Son,” “Geoff”—or maybe more appropriately, “Don’t do this again!”?
Finally, he scribbled his name and handed the card back to the florist. She wove the small card through the tongs of the clear plastic fork then punched the holder down into the dirt.
“There you go,” she said.
“Thanks for your help.” Satisfied with the gift, he drove over to the hospital.
“I’m here to see my mother, Rebecca Paisley,” Geoff said to the volunteer at the reception desk at County General Hospital.
The blue-haired woman leaned in closer to the computer screen. “Yes sir. She’s in our Intensive Care Unit. You’ll want to take the elevator to the second floor. Turn right when you get off, then walk down to the next nurses’ station. They’ll help you.”
“Elevator. Second floor. Right. Nurses’ station. Got it.”
“Yes sir,” she said. “The plant is lovely, but you may need to leave it at the nurses’ station. Please check with them before taking it into the room.”
“Oh,” he said. “Okay. Hadn’t thought about that.”
He followed the directions and stopped at the nurses’ station. “I’m Geoff Paisley. My mother—”
“She’s in the room right across the hall.”
“Can she have this plant?”
“Yes, that’ll be fine. The doctor just left.”
“How’s she doing?”
“She’s doing very well. We’ll be keeping her here on this floor for at least another day. Her cardiologist has ordered some additional tests.”
“How’s her mood? She hates sitting still.”
The nurse laughed, and glanced over at one of the other nurses, who just shook her head. “Well, she hasn’t lost her fight. She’s ready to go home.”
“Not surprised. Sorry. May I go in?”
“Yes, just make it short. We need her to rest.”
“Yes ma’am.” He went over to the door and gave a double-knock before walking into the room. “Good morning, Mom.”
“Geoff. I’m glad to see you. Can’t you get me out of here?”
“I hear the doctor has ordered some more tests.”
“So let’s get them done and get me home.”
“Just relax and enjoy it. Pretend it’s a spa. Just press that buzzer and let them wait on you hand and foot.”
“This is the furthest thing from a spa.”
“Use your imagination.” He handed her the bag with her things in it, then placed the plant on the side table.
“At least I can put on a decent nightgown.” She tugged at the neckline of the heavy cotton hospital gown. “Thank you for the plant. That was thoughtful.”
Geoff pulled a chair closer to the side of the bed and sat down. “You’re welcome.”
“It’s ridiculous to just lay here all day. I could do this at home,” she said.
He propped his elbows on the arms of the chair and tented his fingers. “I think we both know that’s not true.”
>
She opened her mouth and started to speak, then just laughed. “Okay. Fine. I probably wouldn’t.”
“That’s right. So just relax. I brought a book for you to read too. It was on your nightstand.”
“Thank you. That will be great.” She tugged the bag closer and withdrew the novel. “This will definitely help.” She tucked it between the mattress and the bed rail. “Now tell me how the Dear Santa letters are going.” She looked eager to hear.
Only, he really had nothing for her.
“Mom. I’m sorry, but those letters seem so trivial in the midst of all that’s going on here. You’re scaring me. I sure didn’t expect to see you with any health problems.”
“Son, I’m more fit and blessed than so many. If it’s my time, then I’m ready.”
“Mom, stop.”
“No, you look around. I didn’t want to worry you. That’s why I kept this to myself, but I’ve had a good long run. You’re a good son. We’ve made a great company together. If I go, I’ll be with your father again.”
“You never talk about him. Where is this coming from?”
“I loved your father. He was my one true love.”
“Okay.” It seemed a little odd that after thirty-some years she’d choose now to bring that up. “He didn’t stick around to help raise me. Never married you. There’s something to love about him?”
“I should have told you more. I just couldn’t. In the beginning it was too hard. Then, later, too much time had gone by and I didn’t know how to tell you. You weren’t asking questions so I just let it go. I’m so sorry.”
Was there really ever a good excuse for a man to shirk his fatherly duty? He didn’t know the story. That much was true. There’d been a time when he’d asked a hundred questions about his father, but his mother got so depressed when he did. Eventually he quit asking, because he hated seeing his mom look sad. Knowing wasn’t going to change anything. He wasn’t sure he cared to hear any of it now either.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Mom.”
“He lived here.”
“Here?” Pleasant Sands was becoming less and less appealing every day. It seemed wrapped in a mile of secrets from the past. And he personally didn’t like looking back.