Between Christmas and Romance Read online

  The rest of the day, the image she created was stuck in my mind. Rather than focus on it, I tried to keep busy. When Josie arrived, I told her about story time with Santa and she volunteered to be the elf. While she was excitedly explaining in detail a costume she could borrow from school, I watched the purple-haired girl come into the store and make a beeline for the alcove at the back.

  Since the first day I’d spoken to her, I’d made a little headway in finding out more about her. Josie told me her name was Mia McBride and she was a freshman. I’d made inquiries with my friends to see if any of them knew about her family, but no one had any info, other than the drunk who owned the garage in town was named McBride.

  It seemed too much of a coincidence to ignore. I wanted to help the girl who was obviously struggling through a rough patch, but I had no idea what to do. Memories of how Mr. Abernathy had earned my trust surfaced.

  In my campaign to befriend Mia, I began leaving an after-school snack for her in the alcove. The first day it remained untouched, but the past few days, she’d either eaten it or stuffed it in her backpack.

  The store was busy, so an hour went by before I made my way back to her spot behind the used book section. She had school books spread around her as she sat cross-legged on the pillows in the alcove and was munching on the peanut-butter filled celery sticks I’d left for her. Feeling quite creative, I’d added halved pretzels at the top of the celery stick for antlers, a raspberry at the bottom for a nose, and chocolate chips for eyes.

  From the way Mia smiled as she picked up another one and looked at it before taking a bite, she appreciated the treat.

  Rather than interrupt her, I backed away and returned to the front of the store. Josie and I talked about story time with Santa in between stocking shelves, cleaning, and waiting on customers.

  It was just a few minutes before closing time when I saw Mia looking at the display of snow globes Karen and I had set out earlier.

  “They play music,” I said, stepping behind her.

  She gasped and almost dropped the snow globe she held. A look of terror settled on her face as she returned it to the shelf and spun away from me, intent on making a quick escape out the door.

  “Mia, it’s okay. Nothing is broken, besides, I shouldn’t have startled you.” I wanted to give the poor girl a hug in the worst way, but had an idea she wouldn’t welcome it. Not now.

  “Night, Carol! See you tomorrow,” Josie called as she turned the open sign to closed and left for the evening.

  “Are you in a hurry, Mia?” I asked.

  “I should probably get home,” she said, although she didn’t make a move like she planned to leave.

  “Do you like tea?” I asked, uncertain what to do to build her trust.

  She shrugged, but watched as I turned the lock on the door then motioned for her to follow me to the little room my employees used for breaks. There was a microwave, a refrigerator, a table with four chairs, and a tiny counter where I kept baskets of granola bars, individually packaged crackers, and a bowl of whole fruit.

  “Help yourself,” I said, motioning to the counter as I filled two mugs with water from the hot tap installed on the edge of the sink and added tea bags.

  Mia seemed hesitant, but she walked over to the counter and chose a bright red apple, tucking it inside her backpack.

  I added a spoon of sugar to each mug and set them both on the table.

  Mia took a seat across the table from me and sipped her tea. “It tastes like Christmas,” she said, chancing a glance at me before taking another sip.

  “It’s called Paris Holiday,” I said, enjoying a drink of the sweet tea. Chocolate and a hint of lavender blended with peppermint for a tea that was perfect with dessert, or anytime, in my humble opinion.

  “I like it,” Mia said, taking another long drink.

  Rather than ask Mia even one of the many questions skittering through my thoughts, I leaned back and smiled at her. “You know, when I was your age, I used to come to this store to hide out from my mom. She never thought to look for me here and Mr. Abernathy, he was the owner then, let me read the used books back in the alcove. It was my spot for many years. Eventually, when I was old enough, he hired me to work in the store part-time. I bought the store a year ago when I moved back to Christmas Mountain.”

  The girl didn’t say anything, but she pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and gave me a cautious glance.

  “If it wasn’t for this store, for the refuge I found here when I most needed it, I’m not sure how I would have survived my childhood.”

  Mia’s gaze met mine and I could see the pain there. Pain and fear, and a sadness that went all the way down to her soul. I wanted to give her comfort and hope, but wasn’t sure she was ready for either.

  “I just wanted you to know, Mia, that you are always welcome in the store. And if you ever need anything, need someone to talk to who understands, or help with anything, I hope you’ll let me know.”

  Slowly, she nodded, but continued drinking her tea instead of speaking. When the mug was empty, she got up and washed it, returning it to the cupboard where I’d taken it from.

  “Thank you, Miss Bennett. I better go now.”

  “Of course,” I said, walking with her to the door. “Do you need a ride home?”

  “No. My brother will drive me home. He’s not far from here.” She stepped outside and gave me a wave before she hurried up the street.

  Well, at least I knew she had a brother who cared enough to give her a ride.

  Heart heavy with worry over the girl, I did my evening bookwork, cleaned the store, then called Joy after I was sure Max would be in bed.

  “Hey, Carol,” Joy said in a cheerful voice as she answered the phone.

  “It sounds like you had a good day,” I said, trying not to leap right into what was bothering me.

  “I did have a good day.”

  “Run into any cute guys today?” I asked, unable to stop myself from teasing her a bit.

  “Just never mind. What’s up with you? You sound worried.”

  Joy had always been perceptive of my moods.

  “I am worried.” After I told her about Mia and my concerns, Joy offered me good advice. By the time we hung up, I felt much better, but determined to keep an eye out for the girl.

  Chapter Eight

  Whether it was the enthusiasm of my employees, the flyers Karen made, or the way word of something out of the ordinary spreads like wildfire through a small town that drew a crowd to my store for story time with Santa, something had worked.

  Parents with children in tow began arriving shortly after I opened my doors. I was glad Karen had agreed to come in and help during the event because I needed every able body I could get.

  My friend Cassandra came with her sweet little boy, Dusty, who was four. And Joy arrived with Max. Although I was sure Max thought he was far too old to listen to Santa read at the ripe old age of seven, he seemed happy to run around the store with the other youngsters.

  Children raced up and down the stairs, trying to figure out a way to jump onto Rudolph as he hung above the cash register. I heard puzzle pieces being scattered across the floor and a crash when one of the snow globes was knocked off the shelf.

  “I didn’t know this many kids existed in the whole county,” I commented to Karen as we cleaned up the broken snow globe and wiped the liquid off the floor. My hardwoods would be embedded with glitter for months.

  She laughed and gave me a pat on the shoulder. “Just be glad my husband is keeping the boys entertained at home this morning.”

  “I’m wildly grateful Peter took one for the team,” I teased. “Tell him he has my undying gratitude.”

  The bell above the door jangled and Karen nudged me in the ribs so hard, I almost dropped the pieces of snow globe I held in a dustpan. I looked up to see Tim standing just inside the door, gazing around the store with a hefty dose of apprehension.

  If the guy turned around and left, I wouldn’t have b
lamed him. I was pretty sure the store looked like someone had turned a cage full of monkeys loose.

  “Go get your fella,” Karen said, taking the dustpan from my hand and giving me a shove forward.

  “He’s not mine,” I hissed under my breath then pasted on a carefree smile and hurried to Tim before he made an escape outside.

  “Hey, stranger!” My voice sounded fake and far too upbeat as I looped my arm around his and pulled him down the hallway toward the storage room.

  “What’s going on?” he asked as the noise receded behind us when I shut the storage room door. Poor Hemi had retreated to his bed and most likely wouldn’t stick a whisker out of the room until closing time.

  Tim hunkered down and the cat trotted over to him. If he could have talked, Hemi probably would have tattled that Tim was about to get very involved in the chaos erupting in the store. The cat rolled onto his back, motor running at top speed while Tim scratched his belly. I tried to decide how best to broach the topic at hand.

  When Tim didn’t want specifics about what I had planned today, I took that as a perfect excuse not to have to beg and plead with him to be Santa. Now, I realized being upfront with him about my plans would have been the smart thing to do.

  After he said he’d help me, I’d ordered a Santa suit I was sure would fit his broad frame and had it express shipped. There was a big red velvet sack stuffed full of inexpensive paperback books, all gift-wrapped (which had taken me until midnight to finish last night). Each child who came would get a candy cane, but I decided to have Josie pass those out at the door as the kids were leaving. The last thing that wild bunch of youngsters needed was sugar this morning. Visions of candy-smeared books danced in my head, confirming the wisdom of giving them the treat as they left my store.

  Tim looked up at me and smiled. Warmth blazed in his eyes and I found myself wishing I could just ask him for a hug instead of preparing to beseech him to put on a bright red suit.

  “So, what can I help you with today, Christmas Carol?” he asked in a lighthearted tone I was sure was about to disappear. By the time this was all said and done, Tim might never speak to me again and I didn’t like the thought of that. Not at all.

  “Did you really mean it when you said you’d help with anything?”

  “Of course.” He stood and settled his hands on my arms, searching my face. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

  “I’m fine, Tim, but thank you. What I need your help with today is… well, you see… um…”

  “Just spit it out, Carol.” There was that lopsided grin, guaranteed to make my knees turn to a wobbly mass akin to gelatin.

  “I need you to be Santa for the kids for story time and the suit is hanging right there and it starts in twenty minutes and I have the books and a chair all ready for you.” The words rolled out of me so fast, I sounded like someone had pressed the fast-forward button.

  To his credit, Tim didn’t march out the back door, which is what I probably would have done if I was in his boots. However, he did drop his hands from my arms, take a long step back, and glower at me. He removed his hat, raked a hand over his head, then scrubbed it over his face.

  “Say that again, slower.”

  “I should have mentioned it earlier, but what I need you to help me with today is story time with Santa. Karen came up with the idea and it was clearly a good one. I ordered a Santa suit that should fit you well. The kids are expecting Santa to arrive at ten.”

  Tim glanced at his watch, released a sigh that must have come all the way from the soles of his boots, and shrugged out of his coat.

  “What do you need me to do?” he asked as I handed him the pants. He toed off his boots and pulled the velvet pants on over his jeans. The fabric bagged and sagged in the seat, were tight in the thighs, but would serve the purpose.

  “I have a chair all set up where the children will gather around you. They’ll sit on the floor. There are five storybooks next to the chair. You don’t have to read all of them, but if you could end with Twas the Night Before Christmas, that would be wonderful. It’s a cowboy version, instead of the standard story.”

  “And that’s it? Read a few stories and toss out a few ho-ho-hos?”

  “Basically. We did not advertise photos with Santa. It’s up to you if you want to let parents snap photos of the kids on your lap.”

  I caught his eye roll as he tried to get the Santa coat on over his heavy flannel shirt. The shoulders were so tight, he could barely move.

  “I don’t think it’s going to fit,” I said, wondering how air deprived lungs have to be before a person passes out from lack of oxygen. At the moment, I couldn’t seem to remember how to breathe. If he couldn’t get into the Santa outfit, I was going to have a store full of protesting parents and unhappy, disappointed children.

  Tim worked the coat off and gave a tug on his shirt. Snaps popped open right along with my mouth. I wished I could have written a personal thank-you note to the person who invented western shirts.

  He took off his shirt and I could do nothing but stare at the thin, white undershirt covering his sculpted chest. Karen was right. Women would line up all the way to the Sugar Plum Inn for a chance to sit on Tim’s lap and have their photo taken, especially if he wasn’t wearing the Santa coat.

  Vaguely aware of him trying to figure out how to put on the padding, the snap of his fingers in my face drew me out of mindlessly ogling his impressive form.

  “How do I get this thing on?” he asked, holding out the padded belly.

  “I think it goes like this.” I stepped behind him, sliding straps over his shoulders, then tying strings in the back. Only by sheer determination to stay focused did I manage to keep my fingers on task instead of trailing over his muscles.

  I grabbed the coat and held it while he shoved his arms in the sleeves. It was still a tight fit in the shoulders, but he could at least move his arms now. The belly part of the coat had plenty of room.

  He picked up the belt and fastened it around his waist then glanced around. “Beard?”

  I handed it to him and watched as he put it and the wig on. He noticed a small mirror hanging on the wall and went over to it, adjusting the left side of the beard where it drooped.

  With a glance over his shoulder at me, he asked. “Where is the Santa hat?”

  “I thought you might prefer to wear your hat and boots.”

  “My boots, your hat,” he said and stamped his feet into his boots.

  I lifted the Santa hat and settled it on the wig at a jaunty angle then stepped back. Not bad. I walked in a circle around him. Not bad at all.

  “You look perfect, Tim. I can’t thank you enough for…”

  His fingers on my lips effectively silenced me. “We’ll talk about this later.”

  Dread caused a tight knot to form in my stomach as I handed him a pair of white gloves then gave him the sack full of books.

  “Each child gets a book from Santa. Since they are wrapped, they can’t fight over who gets what.”

  He nodded, inhaled a deep breath, and motioned for me to precede him into the store.

  I squared my shoulders, marched down the hall, and went to stand in front of the big wingback chair Aiden and I had carried near the front of the store from one of the cozy reading nooks.

  “Thank you all for coming today,” I said in my loudest voice. When children continued running and yelling, I whistled just like my dad had taught me. Apparently, no one expected the shrill burst of sound because silence fell over the entire store in the next breath. “Thank you for being here today. If the children will sit around this chair, Santa will be here in just a minute.”

  Josie, dressed in her green elf outfit with red and white striped tights, skipped over to the chair and the children followed her like she was the Pied Piper.

  “What do you think would make Santa come faster?” I asked, hoping Tim picked up on my cues. “Should we sing a song for him?”

  “Yes!” the kids shouted.

&n
bsp; I started singing “Here Comes Santa Claus.” Karen, bless her heart, picked up a jingle bell from the Christmas display and began ringing it.

  A loud, deep ho-ho-ho floated over the store and the children, as one, turned to watch Santa suddenly appear.

  Tim could have been a professional Santa actor as he portrayed the jolly old elf. Good sport that he was, he read all five books then spent another hour letting children climb on his lap while parents snapped photos. Some of the kids screamed, two rotten boys kicked his shins, and one little rascal yanked so hard on his beard, it snapped back up and caught Tim on the nose. I winced because I knew it had to hurt.

  Mindful that Nancy would have wanted to see Tim in action, I did take a short video and texted it to her. She’d immediately called, laughing so hard I could hardly understand her. Around her giggles, I got the idea she thought roping him into being Santa was one of the funniest things she’d ever seen.

  Tim smiled and tossed around ho-ho-hos as though it was Christmas confetti. I had no idea he was so good with kids and the part of me that someday wanted to have my own family sat up and took notice. I could practically feel my biological clock ticking away as I watched him hug a shy little girl with her hair in pigtails and shiny red shoes on her feet.

  If I was looking for someone special and had a list of qualifications, Tim would have checked all the boxes. Every last one of them. But I wasn’t looking and that was all there was to it.

  As the last child climbed off his lap and took her mother’s hand, Tim motioned to me. I hurried over, ready to do whatever it took to earn his forgiveness for springing this on him.

  “Well, Carol, have you been a good girl this year?” he asked in his deep voice.

  The obvious answer to that question would have been a resounding “no” since I’d coerced him into being Santa under questionable pretenses.

  When I didn’t immediately respond, he pulled me onto his lap and nuzzled my neck with his synthetic beard.

  Of course, my employees started to laugh and Karen hurried over, snapping photos with her phone. The big hand splayed across my middle and the arm of steel attached to it kept me from leaping up and cowering behind the cash register.