Snowflake Sweethearts

by Turansky, Carrie

  “I’ve been telling her she needs to slow down and let us carry more of the load. But she kept telling me not to worry.”

  “She’s a hard worker. She always has been. And she doesn’t like to admit she can’t do everything she used to.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right about that.”

  Alex crossed his arms and studied the peeling paint around the front windows and the cracked floor tiles. It was time he had a frank discussion with his grandmother about the future of the bakery. He hated to think of closing Jameson’s or putting it up for sale, but what other options did they have?

  Twenty minutes later Alex drove through town, heading back to his grandmother’s house. The trouble at the bakery and the pressing need to find someone to stay with his grandmother buzzed through his mind.

  Annie would be perfect for the job. She could cook for Gram and teach her how to make healthy meals. That would be a huge switch for his grandmother. The woman practically had chocolate frosting running through her veins, but that was no longer an option, not if she was going to recover and prevent another heart attack.

  There must be some way he could convince Annie to say yes. Maybe if he gave her a call and shared the salary he had in mind... He could even up it a few hundred if she was on the fence. Surely his grandmother had savings that would cover the expense.

  As he pulled in the driveway, his cell phone rang. He took it from his pocket and checked the screen.

  Tiffany Charles. Why was she calling? Likely some problem at work. Didn’t they realize he was dealing with a family crisis? He stifled an irritated huff and answered the call.

  “I thought you’d want to hear the latest rumor going around.”

  “Okay. What’s up?”

  “Jenifer said she heard Tremont and Sellers talking about a possible merger.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. Not this time.”

  “With who? Hilton? Wyndham?”

  “They didn’t say.”

  “Did she get any more details?”

  “Just that they’re expecting an offer soon.”

  “An offer? That means someone’s probably buying us out, not the other way around.”

  “That’s what it sounds like.” Silence buzzed along the line for a few seconds. “Alex, this is not a good time for you to be away.”

  “I know, but I don’t really have a choice.”

  “So when are you coming back?”

  “Probably not until after Thanksgiving.”

  Tiffany groaned. “Everyone is going crazy down here trying to do their own work and cover for you.”

  He scowled and shook his head. She knew why he’d flown home to Fairhaven, but not once had she asked him how Gram was doing. “Look, Tiffany, my grandmother had a heart attack. I have two weeks’ vacation coming. I need to be here.”

  She clicked her tongue. “You don’t have to get huffy. I just thought you’d want to know what’s going on.”

  He swallowed his irritation. “I appreciate the info.”

  “You should come back as soon as you can. All our jobs could be on the line.”

  “I understand.” He pulled in a deep breath, added a quick thanks and ended the call. With a weary sigh, he climbed out of the car, trudged across the walk and up the porch steps.

  Being single and living so far from his grandmother, he didn’t usually have to worry about balancing his job and family. But things were different now. His grandmother needed him, and he wasn’t going to let her down. No matter how much pressure Tiffany or anyone else from Tremont put on him, he was staying in Fairhaven until he was certain his grandmother was going to be okay. They’d just have to find a way to deal with things until he got back.

  * * *

  Annie paced across the apartment and looked out the window at the twinkling, star-studded sky. The beauty of the evening lifted her sagging spirit and gave her courage to follow through on her decision.

  Emma was safely tucked into bed. It was time to make the call. She took her cell phone from her pocket and searched for Alex’s number in her contacts list. Biting her lip, she tapped the screen and lifted the phone to her ear. After the second ring, Alex answered, his voice deep and melodic.

  Her hand trembled slightly. “Hi, Alex. It’s Annie. I was wondering if you found anyone to stay with Irene when she comes home from the hospital.”

  Silence hung between them for an extra second. “Not yet.”

  She swallowed, praying she wasn’t making a mistake. “I’m interested. Could we get together and talk about it?”

  “Okay. Great. The doctor says Gram will be coming home Saturday afternoon. Could you meet me at the house tomorrow morning, say eight-thirty?”

  Annie’s stomach clenched. Already she was going to have to negotiate. “Nine would be better for me. I have to drop Emma off at school at eight-forty-five.”

  “Hmm. Okay, nine o’clock.” His voice had definitely cooled a few degrees.

  Irritation flashed through her. “I want to help Irene, but my daughter has to be my first priority. If you’re not willing to change the time of our meeting to accommodate her schedule—”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “But that’s what I heard in your voice.”

  “I was just thinking through my plan for the day. I wasn’t implying anything negative about you or your daughter.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “I told Harry I’d come by the bakery tomorrow before ten, but I can change that if we need to.”

  “No, I can be there by nine, maybe a little earlier.” She walked back toward the kitchen, debating the wisdom of her next question, but she had to ask. “Do you think I’d still be able to do some work as a personal chef while I’m caring for Irene? I’d like to keep those two weekly clients if possible.”

  “We can talk about that when we get together tomorrow. I’ll give you as much information as possible, and I’ll expect you to be clear with me about your schedule and needs. Then we’ll see if this job is a good fit for you.” His voice was calm and steady, as though he negotiated deals and hired and fired people all the time. That didn’t surprise her. Irene had told her he was a high-powered marketing and sales manager for a big hotel chain based in San Francisco.

  She felt foolish now for jumping to conclusions about his tone of voice. If she wanted this job, she had better show flexibility and appreciation.

  She straightened her shoulders. “Thanks for changing the time for me. I’ll see you tomorrow at nine o’clock.” She ended the call and dropped the phone in her pocket. With a weary shake of her head, she walked back toward the window once more.

  Are You listening, Lord? Am I making the right choice? I prayed for a job, and this door opened, so I’m walking through it. Please watch over us, and if this is not the right path, please shut the door.

  Chapter Three

  Annie pulled into the driveway at Irene’s late Saturday morning and let the motor idle. The large craftsman-style house, with its dark tan siding, stout white pillars and wide front porch, looked warm and welcoming. Bright orange mums filled large pots on the porch steps. Golden birch and maple leaves dotted the spacious front lawn. Still she hesitated to turn off the car.

  “Is this where we’re gonna stay?” Emma asked from the backseat.

  Annie looked over her shoulder. “Yes, this is Mrs. Jameson’s house. Isn’t it pretty? Look at the cute pumpkins on her porch.” For her daughter’s sake, she forced lightness into her voice.

  Emma leaned forward and looked out the window. She scanned the house and yard, apprehension in her eyes. Annie wished she could say more to reassure her daughter, but the words didn’t come. Since they had arrived in Fairhaven in late August, they’d stayed with two different friends while Annie focused
on starting her business. This new, temporary home would mean another adjustment for Emma.

  “Okay, sweetie, let’s go.”

  Emma released a sigh and climbed out while Annie grabbed her suitcase from the backseat.

  The front door opened, and Alex walked down the porch steps. “Good morning,” he called.

  “Morning.” Annie’s hand trembled slightly as she clutched the suitcase. She had to stop having this silly reaction every time he was around.

  “Here, let me get that for you.” He reached past her.

  “No. It’s okay. I can get it.” She wrestled the large piece of luggage out of the car.

  He looked in and searched the empty backseat. “You fit all your clothes in one suitcase?” He grinned. “You’re an amazing packer.”

  “Most of our things are in storage.”

  Emma peeked around the back of the car and studied Alex with a worried expression.

  “Emma has a suitcase in the trunk. Maybe you could lift that out for her.”

  “Sure.”

  Annie followed him behind the car. “Emma, this is Alex. He’s Mrs. Jameson’s grandson.”

  She looked up at him and wrinkled her brow. “Grandson? He looks too old for that.”

  “Well, it’s true. I’m her grandson. And you must be Emma.” He leaned down and extended his hand.

  Emma slowly reached out and grasped his fingers.

  He winked and gave her hand a playful shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Emma. I hope you and your mom will feel at home here.”

  Emma shot her mother a questioning look. Annie nodded, encouraging her to reply.

  “Thanks.” Emma sent him a shy smile, then dropped his hand and pointed to the trunk. “That’s my suitcase.”

  “Okay.” Alex hoisted the small red suitcase out and extended the handle. “Would you like me to take it for you?”

  Emma shook her head. “No, I can do it.”

  Alex glanced at Annie with a slight smile.

  She bit her lip, not missing the way Emma’s response echoed her own.

  With a determined tilt of her chin, Emma grabbed the handle and pulled the suitcase along the stone walkway. When she reached the front steps, Alex carried it up to the porch and then opened the front door for them.

  Annie stepped through the doorway and into the entry. As she looked around the cozy living room and dining room, memories came flooding back.

  She’d never forget the delicious meals Irene had prepared or the conversation and laughter they’d all shared around the table.

  Irene and her husband, John, had always made her feel welcome, as if she was part of the family. And Alex had usually been there, too, with some of his friends from the basketball team—at least until he left for college.

  “Annie?”

  She spun around. “Sorry, I was just remembering how I used to come here when I was a teenager.”

  “Happy memories, I hope.”

  “Yes, very happy. Remember how we used to play Scrabble with your grandparents?”

  He nodded, his blue gaze growing more intense. “Those were good times.”

  Her face warmed, and she swallowed. “Yes, they were.”

  Another second passed before he looked away. “Well, I imagine you’d like to get settled.” He led the way down the hall. “My grandmother’s room is here.” He pointed to the first door on the right. “I thought you’d like to have the room next door.”

  Annie followed him in and looked around. A queen-size bed covered with a beautiful handmade quilt in sage-green and lavender filled the center of the room. A whitewashed oak dresser with an oval mirror stood against the opposite wall. White eyelet curtains tied back with lavender ribbons hung over the two windows. And in the corner sat a pretty sage-green overstuffed chair with a small round table and lamp next to it. It looked like a cozy spot where she could read her Bible in the morning.

  Irene had added several homey touches to the room—two African violets on the windowsill, a whitewashed basket of magazines by the chair and a loosely woven lavender throw on the end of the bed, along with plenty of plump decorative pillows.

  “Oh, this is lovely.”

  “Glad you like it.”

  “Where am I going to sleep?” Emma asked.

  “You have your own room right across the hall. Come on. I’ll show you.”

  Annie dropped off her suitcase and followed Alex and Emma.

  “Here you go.” Alex opened the door, and they stepped into Emma’s new room. It was decorated in red, white and navy blue and had pine, country-style furniture that included two twin beds and a tall dresser and mirror. A large wooden rocker and antique trunk sat in one corner. A window seat with a padded cushion and pillows looked like the perfect spot for Emma to sit and daydream or read a picture book.

  “I usually stay in here, so I can vouch for the bed being very comfortable.” He gave the closest twin bed a pat and smiled at Emma.

  Her daughter parked her rolling suitcase and reached for the patchwork cat that sat by the pillows at the head of the bed. “What’s his name?”

  Alex rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure he has one.”

  Emma’s eyes widened, and she looked at him as if that was unbelievable.

  “Emma usually names all her stuffed animals.”

  “Oh, well, maybe you should name him.”

  Emma touched the cat’s black button eyes and red collar, obviously giving it some thought. “His name is...Charlie.”

  Alex nodded. “Then Charlie it is.”

  “Who’s going to sleep over there?” Emma pointed to the other twin bed.

  “I suppose Charlie can sleep there, unless you want him to sleep with you.”

  Emma smiled and hugged the cat to her chest.

  Annie’s heart warmed as she watched her daughter. Maybe staying with Irene and Alex would work out after all. Perhaps they’d even found a place where they could settle in and feel at home...at least for a while.

  Alex’s cell phone chirped in his pocket. He pulled it out. “That’s my alarm. Time for me to head down to the hospital and pick up Gram.”

  Annie lifted one eyebrow.

  Did he always use an alarm like that? He slipped his phone back in his pocket. “Make yourself at home. There’s some leftover pizza in the kitchen if you’re hungry. We should be back no later than four o’clock.”

  “Thanks.” Annie began thinking through dinner menus as he gave Emma a smile and a light pat on the head, then headed out the bedroom door.

  Emma’s gaze followed him as he disappeared around the corner. “He’s nice.” She cuddled the cat in her arms and leaned back against the side of the bed.

  “Yes. He is,” Annie said and released a soft sigh.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, Alex opened the passenger door and helped his grandmother out of the car. She turned and reached for her tote bag.

  “Let me get that for you, Gram.”

  “I’ve got it.”

  “But the doctor said you’re not supposed to lift things.”

  “It’s just a tote bag.”

  He took hold of the bag’s handle, and she released it with a resigned sigh.

  “I wished you’d stop fussing over me, Alex. I’m going to be fine.”

  “Of course you are, but you’ve got to follow the doctor’s instructions to the letter.” That’s why he planned to stay through Thanksgiving, to make sure his grandmother accepted those changes and obeyed the doctor’s orders. That was the only way he’d have any peace of mind when he returned to San Francisco.

  “If that tote bag is heavy, it’s because it’s full of all those directions from that doctor.”

  He studied her expression and read the anxiety in her eyes
. “It’s okay, Gram. We’ll sort through them and make a plan.”

  “You and your plans.” Her expression more at ease, she tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and they walked up the stone pathway toward the house. They slowly mounted the steps.

  She was weaker than he’d realized. Once again the possibility of losing her hit him. He clenched his jaw, fighting off those thoughts.

  He ushered her inside. The delicious scent of dinner cooking drifted out from the kitchen. He pulled in a deep breath, and some of the tightness in his neck and shoulders eased.

  “Something smells wonderful,” Irene said as she unbuttoned her coat.

  “Here, let me help you.” Alex slipped her coat off and hung it in the front closet.

  Emma rushed around the corner from the dining room with the patchwork cat tucked under one arm and a piece of notebook paper with red marker scribbled all over it in the other. “Mom, they’re here,” she called in a surprisingly loud voice for a five-year-old.

  Irene smiled. “You must be Emma.”

  She nodded and held out the paper to Gram. “I made this for you.”

  “Why, thank you, dear.” She pushed her glasses up her nose and examined the paper. “Tell me all about it.”

  Emma came closer. “This is your house,” she said, pointing to the rectangle in the middle. “And this is me and my mom, and that’s Charlie.” She held out the patchwork cat.

  “Ah, yes, Charlie. I see.” Gram looked up and grinned at him, apparently delighted with the greeting and drawing.

  Annie stepped out from the kitchen wearing a white apron over her red turtleneck and black pants. She’d tied her hair back, and her cheeks were flushed pink. “Welcome home.” She gave Irene a quick hug.

  “What are you cooking, dear? It smells wonderful.”

  Annie’s eyes brightened. “I made grilled chicken with pineapple-and-mango salsa, brown rice and asparagus.”

  “Oh, that sounds delicious, especially after all that cardboard hospital food.”

  Alex looked past her. “You found all that in the kitchen?”

  “No. Emma and I made a little run to the grocery store.”