by Nancy Naigle
“I know. I couldn’t help it.”
Emma took Angela by the shoulders and spun her toward the door. “You look awful. Go walk down to the pier and get some of Garvy’s soup. That’ll make you feel better.”
“That does sound good. The walk on the beach might clear up my head too.”
“Exactly,” Emma said. “Go on. We’ve got this.”
She knew they could handle it. “You’re right. I’ve got my phone if you need me, though.”
“Quit worrying. I’ll talk to you later,” Emma said as she shooed her out the door.
Angela walked down the side path and over the dune, kicking off her shoes, she carried them as she walked from the edge of the surf to the pier.
She climbed the splintered wooden stairs to the pier, and took a seat in Big G’s Fish House at a table near the window.
“Angela? Good to see you. Heard about the store. I’m so sorry.” Garvy wrapped her into a bear hug.
He was such a good man. Shame on her for letting her breakup with Jimmy form a wedge between the two of them. Garvy had always been such a good friend.
He finally let go of her. “So after Christmas … what are you going to do?”
She was going to have to be able to answer that question at some point. “I don’t know. Right now I’m just focused on the sale and getting the inventory out of there.”
“Well, don’t worry. Something will work out.”
“I know.”
“You get in a pinch you can always work for me,” he said.
Lord, she hoped it didn’t come to that. She couldn’t imagine working around Garvy’s cooking every day. She’d never be able to resist it.
“What can I fix you? Your lunch is on the house.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m not flat broke.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s the only thing I know to do. Let me do it.”
“Then, thank you. I came to get a bowl of your homemade soup.”
“You got it, girl.” Garvy disappeared back into the kitchen.
She sat at the table, feeling thankful for the people in her life. A few minutes later one of the waitresses brought her soup to the table.
She dipped the big round spoon into the broth. It tasted as good as she’d remembered.
Garvy came back out to the front of the restaurant. “Good?”
“It’s so good. Thanks, Garvy.”
“You need anything, please know I’m here for you. One more hug then I’ve got to get to work on tonight’s menu.”
She stood and gave him a hug. “Thanks, Garvy. I’m going to be around a lot more. I promise.”
“That makes me very happy. I’ve missed you.” He went back into the kitchen, and just as she lifted her soup spoon to her lips, Geoff walked up to her table.
“Hey,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“Are you feeling better?”
She dabbed her napkin to her mouth. “I am feeling better, thank you, and thank you again for coming by yesterday. That was so thoughtful … and unexpected.”
“Because you expect nothing but bad things from me?”
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair.”
“It’s okay. I deserved it. I saw you talking to Garvy when I first came in. He’s not your ‘guy,’ is he?”
“No. We’re friends. We go way back. He was almost the best man at my almost wedding. Well, the wedding that didn’t happen.”
“Oh. Gotcha. I was surprised to see you sitting here. I didn’t notice your car in the parking lot.”
“That’s because I walked down.”
“That’s a good hike.”
“Not that far. I usually jog a lot further than this, and back. When I’m not sick.”
“You’re a runner?”
“Sort of. I like to run on the beach. Not just run to run.”
“Me too. We should jog together sometime.”
“Uhh.” She put her spoon down, resisting the urge to give him a smarty-pants response. Instead, she said, “Yes. I guess we could do that. I like to run first thing in the morning.”
“Count me in. Any time.” He nodded to the chair. “Can I sit?”
“Sure. Join me.”
“Thanks. My mom lives between here and your house on the beach.”
“She does?”
The waitress brought a glass of water for Geoff. “Will you be having something?”
“I’ll have what she’s having. Thank you,” he said, and then turned back to Angela. “Yes. Mom lives in the blue three-story with the white shutters.”
“Wait. Does your mother live in the Dune Our Thing house?”
“Yes. That’s the one. How’d you guess?”
“I know that house. The folks that used to live there were great. They had these dogs. Labs. Those dogs loved running the beach. They were getting so old. I remember when they put the elevator in so the dogs didn’t have to go up and down the stairs.”
“An elevator?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think my mom even knows there’s an elevator.”
“It looks like a closet door with another door inside it. If I remember correctly, on the third floor it’s off the kitchen hall. Downstairs it’s in the closet to the right of the entryway.”
“Doesn’t that beat all? My mom just got home from the hospital. An elevator would make me feel better about her getting around that big house.”
“Nothing serious, I hope.”
The waitress brought his soup. He paused. “I’m not sure. It’s a heart thing. She’s not telling me much. She had an episode here in the restaurant at Thanksgiving.”
“I heard about that. They took her in an ambulance.”
“Yeah. That was my mom.” He tasted the soup. “This is great soup.”
“I know. That’s why I came. So, I’m so sorry to hear about your mom. Let me know if you need me to come by. I’ll show her how the elevator works.”
“Thank you.” He looked so appreciative.
She spotted the hefty old man Wally, who’d lived here as long as she could remember, walk in the side door. He had long white hair and a beard, with a Willie Nelson–type bandanna around his head. Although he was a longtime staple here in Pleasant Sands, from the look on Geoff’s face as Wally walked toward the table, Geoff hadn’t encountered him before.
“Hey, Wally,” Angela said.
The old man put a hand in the air, then tick-tocked his finger back and forth.
“Oh, I mean Santa,” Angela said.
He leaned in and handed her a sticker that read, I MET SANTA. She’d probably collected a hundred of these over the years.
“Thanks, Santa.” Angela wondered just how weird it would be if her Santa turned out to be the mute Santa who’d hung around the pier for going on twenty years now. Rumor had it that it was PTSD. That Wally had been some kind of war hero at one time. Now he lived in a cottage at the far end of the beach.
As Wally moved on to another table, Geoff asked, “Or is he your guy?”
“No. He’s not. I’ll be honest. I’ve never been much of a Santa fan.”
Geoff sat back in his chair. “So let me get this straight. You own a Christmas store and you’re not a Santa fan?”
“True. The store is important to me because of my grandmother. The history of the building. The story. If it hadn’t been for Momma Grace—she was my grandmother—and for that store I don’t know where we’d have ended up.”
“We?”
“Me and my sister.” Why was she telling him all of this? “My mom died when we were little. I guess my dad kind of flipped out. One day he dropped us off with my grandparents here in Pleasant Sands. He never came back.”
“I’m sorry. I never knew my father.”
“I’m not sure which is worse, but you must know how I feel. I wrote Santa letters asking him to please bring Daddy back. Of course that never happened. I guess I never forgave Santa.”
“Easier than not forgiving your da
d.”
She’d never really thought of it that way before. “Yeah. I guess so.”
They finished their soup, then Geoff asked, “Can I walk you back?”
She placed her napkin on the table. “Sure. Why not?”
They walked down the beach, talking mostly about the weather. Angela gave him a little history lesson about Pleasant Sands, and shared stories about some of the people who lived in houses down this stretch of the beach, until they got to her cottage.
You could just see the lighthouse tower peeking above it.
“This is me,” she said.
“I enjoyed today.”
“I did too.”
He shifted weight to his other leg. “Do you think maybe I could come back over tonight and help decorate your Christmas tree?”
Her mouth dropped open.
“I could bring dinner with me. A bottle of wine, maybe?”
“How about eggnog?” she suggested. Definitely safer than drinking wine with him. “Yes. That would be nice.”
He grinned wide. “Good. Thank you. I’ll see you tonight.”
Chapter Thirty-one
DID YOU KNOW?
Though occupied for several centuries, Pleasant Sands became an official town in 1953 when it received its municipal charter, after being purchased by Roger and Dolly Pleasant for $240,000 several years prior.
Angela watched Geoff walk down the beach toward the pier, where he’d left his car.
How many times had she run that very same track of sand?
He didn’t seem to care that the bottom of his pants were dragging in the water. She’d always loved that feeling too. Lots of people rolled up their pant legs or avoided the wet surf line, but that was where she always felt most connected. Where the sea met the sand.
The crushing churn of the water continually changed the coastline by moving rock particles, sea life and skeletal remains onshore, offshore and along the shore, and unearthing delicate shells and colorful sea glass that visitors would collect and cherish along with their memories here in Pleasant Sands.
An unmistakable feeling of glory filled her.
She walked up to the house, kicking her shoes off at the back deck, but standing there watching him.
Was it Geoff making her feel this way, or just relief to be feeling better?
Now that she was saying goodbye to Heart of Christmas, was she so desperate to connect to something that she was imagining Geoff as perfectly wonderful?
Not long ago she thought of him as her mortal enemy.
Now she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Her phone rang, pulling her from the trance.
She rushed from the deck to her kitchen to answer the phone where it sat on its charger.
It was Geoff. Her heart instantly beat out a samba as she lunged for the green button. “Hi! Geoff?”
“I had fun today.”
She walked over to the doors that led outside. She could see him. “Me too.”
“I’m looking forward to tonight.”
“Me too.” He waved from down the beach. “See you shortly.”
Her heart sang.
* * *
Angela felt better, but now that Geoff was coming over she was running through her house tidying up. A heap of tissues were on the floor next to the couch where she’d been parked last night, too tired and snotty to get up and go to bed.
She didn’t even know what time he was coming. So, she went ahead and showered and changed into a pair of jeans and a three-quarter-sleeve baseball shirt that said, I’M IN TRAINING FOR A CHRISTMAS MOVIE MARATHON.
Too casual?
She took that T-shirt off and put it back in the drawer, then changed into a white T-shirt with a waist-length red cardigan with pearl buttons. Christmassy. Nice. But not too anything.
She checked the fridge to see what she even had in the house to eat or drink. He said he’d bring dinner, but she needed to at least offer something else to drink. A person could only drink so much eggnog.
Sweet tea would have to do. She put a pot of water on the stove and made the tea, then poured it into a clear glass pitcher with a cranberry handle and brightly colored holly berries painted around the belly of it.
She placed it in the refrigerator to chill.
Excited now to get started, she retrieved all of the Christmas boxes and red plastic holiday storage containers from the storage closet and laid them out in the living room. She opened the box labeled CHRISTMAS-Colored Lights in crisp black marker. Each strand of lights was neatly wrapped around a plastic cord handler. She scooted the whole box near the electrical outlet and began plugging them in one by one to test them. To her delight, every single strand lit up perfectly. Was that a first?
She sat on the floor next to the other boxes and started looking through the ornaments. There were so many pretty ones. Some were very fancy. Others one of a kind. But she knew where her very favorite ones were. She spotted the box, ratty and scuffed, but she’d never had the heart to transfer the contents to one of the new storage bins. The box had once been solid red with green wreaths printed on it. Now it was faded to almost pink. The box had probably originally held a wreath. It was square and nearly two feet wide, but only about six inches deep. She lifted the worn lid. Two layers, protected with tissue paper in between, of handmade ornaments.
These weren’t the ones she and her sister had made with Momma Grace over the years. There were plenty of those, and they were special too. But these were from generations ago.
A loud rap at the door startled her. She leapt to her feet and ran to the door.
When she pulled it open, Geoff was standing there wearing a Santa hat and carrying a large paper sack in one arm, and another Santa hat with stuff in it in his other.
“Come on in. You’ve got your hands full!” She motioned him in and followed behind him.
He put the paper sack on the island in the kitchen. “I hope you like Chinese food. I got a little of everything.”
“I love it. Perfect.”
“Great. I’m not sure how it will go with eggnog, but a promise is a promise.” He held the Santa hat by its white furry trim and pushed it toward her. “This is for you.”
Tiny silver bells along the white fur jingled as she pulled it close to her, then dumped the contents on the island.
“This is crazy! What have you done?” There was a bag of mini–candy canes, and four boxes of swirly decorative ornament hooks. Half in silver, the other gold. Which made her start humming the old Girl Scout song in her head.
Make new friends, but keep the old.
One is silver and the other, gold.
If anyone had told her that she’d feel this kind of friendship toward Geoff Paisley a couple of weeks ago she’d have thought they were nuts.
She pulled the Santa hat onto her head. “I think we’re ready!”
He picked up his phone and pulled her closer, extending his arm to take a selfie of them in their matching Santa hats. “The obligatory selfie.”
They both grinned, then made a goofy face.
“Good one,” she said. “Send that to me.
“Will do.” He lifted a carton of eggnog out of the bag. “Right after we get this into the refrigerator?”
“Sure. Should we eat while we decorate, or did you want to eat first?”
“I’m good with eating while we work, if you are,” Geoff said.
“Me too.” They gathered up the Chinese takeout cartons and carried them into the living room to the coffee table.
Geoff looked around. “I’d have helped you get all these boxes out.”
“I know.” She shrugged. “I was excited.”
He cocked his head. “Good. I am too.”
She opened one of the boxes of Chinese food to see what was inside. “Beef and broccoli?”
“Yes. Here.” He pulled a menu out of his pocket. “The numbers on the box are from the menu here.”
“Yum. I’ll have the General Tso’s chicken if that’s oka
y.”
“Whatever you want. I like it all.”
“Ahh. Hedging your bets.”
“Well, I’m pretty smart like that.” He picked up the box with the number 6 on it and dug in. “So, I’m going to admit. I’m feeling a little anxious about this whole tree-decorating thing after seeing your store. I mean … I hope I’m up to the task. The trees in your store are like those in magazines.”
“Thank you,” Angela said. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“As you should. So where do we start?”
“Lights. No matter what. Lights first,” she said. “I already tested all the strands.” She picked up the box full of lights and carried it closer to the tree.
“Let me h—” he began, but she was already at the tree.
“I’m quite capable.”
“I can see that.” He took one of the strands out of the box. “Start at the top, right?”
“Yes. I’ll go get us some iced tea, if you want to get started.”
He stretched his arms to the top of the tree and began walking around it, letting the cord lay along the branches.
When she walked back into the living room she noticed he was just wrapping the lights around the tree.
“What’s that look for?” he asked.
She hadn’t realized her expression was painted on her face. “Umm. Well.” She sat the glasses down on the table. “You need to kind of tuck them in along each branch so you get a nice three-dimensional shimmer of light and twinkle.” To soften the criticism she added, “You know, like they do on the pre-lit ones.”
“Light and twinkle.” Geoff laughed. “Educate me.”
He didn’t seem offended. Thank goodness. She pulled the lights back to where he’d started and began tucking them from tip to trunk and then out again. “See? You can open the wires a little and anchor them along the ends too.”
“Nice. Very nice,” he said. “I think I’ve got it.”
They spent the next hour taking turns eating and placing the lights along the tree branches, coaching each other along the way. Geoff had plugged the lights in midway so they could catch any empty spots, and there’d been a few. Each blaming the other for them, of course. “This is going to take a ton of lights,” he said.
“Did you know the average Christmas tree takes one hundred lights for every foot and a half of tree? I’ll admit, I use probably three times as many as that.”