A Family by Christmas (Little Shops on Heart Street) Read online

  She couldn’t take her eyes off that tiny face, the small hands held against the cheeks, the look of utter bliss in the parents’ eyes. Sonya, who I played pirates with, is now a mom. It was amazing how an uncertain little girl who had liked to hide under the bed had changed into this confident grown-up with her own family. All because of love.

  Could it also change her life around, if she let it?

  She blinked and forced her mind to something practical. She’d have to send Sonya and Norman a cute card to congratulate them. Maybe she could make some kind of baby-related chocolate and send it along? Might also be an idea to add to the offer. Baby carriages decorated with pink or blue frosting.

  The clock in the living room chimed and she startled, dropping the card and the bills on the table. She still had to change, and Grant could be here any minute. In her tiny bedroom she threw her work outfit aside. On the bed was her new pink woolen hat with silver threading waiting for its first outing. Her trusty pink fleece, practical gray jeans and sturdy black ankle boots were perfect for the job. In the ankle boots she could wear double socks so her feet wouldn’t get cold standing in the snow. She still wasn’t sure how they were going to change that barren piece of snowy land into a magical fairground. Guess I’m about to find out.

  Leaving the house in a rush, she almost bumped into Mrs. Beaver. “I just wanted to ring,” the woman said, pointing at her doorbell.

  The fluttery feeling in Emma’s stomach at her outing tonight died an instant death as she faced the woman who hadn’t even wanted to look at her chocolates when she had delivered them to her home. What’s wrong?

  “Uh, yes, well…I uhm…” Mrs. Beaver said. She didn’t seem to know exactly how to begin.

  Tell her you don’t have time for her now. She can come back later.

  No. She straightened up. I want to know what it’s about. And I won’t agree to a refund. I made what she asked for. Despite her determination, her legs were wobbly, and she fidgeted with her key.

  “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” Mrs. Beaver said at last. “I barely looked at your creations when you delivered them, because I was in an awful rush to get everything done. I had made a mistake with the batter, so I had to redo it and my head was just full of worries about the night. Later on, I did look and…they were so very artfully crafted. My friends all said they had never seen anything like it.”

  “Really? Oh, thank you.”

  “I could have paid a little more attention when you brought them. Made a compliment about the effort you put into them. I didn’t realize…” She looked Emma in the eye and said, “I just want you to know that—we very much enjoyed them, and I want to do business with you more often.” She handed her an envelope. “The extra is for your effort.”

  “Thank you, I’m happy to hear that.”

  Mrs. Beaver nodded firmly. “We should all support the small businesses here on the street. It’s hard enough to keep afloat these days. So many shops having to close.” She nodded at the bookshop. “I heard Mr. Fellows is thinking of retiring soon and we’ll lose our bookshop. We can go to another town of course, but it isn’t the same. And people shouldn’t start with me about how nice it is to be ordering online. All those websites are what ruined it for the real shops in the first place.”

  She shook her head. “Sad when you think about how in the past when people had so little money, they were loyal to the local shopkeepers and everyone could make a living and these days when people have so much more to spend, they all want the cheapest offer and let the small businesses go bankrupt.”

  Emma wanted to say something, but Mrs. Beaver didn’t give her a chance. “I feel strongly about supporting local businesses and I also tell that to all my friends. Good day.” And she marched off.

  Emma stared after her and then laughed. Mrs. Beaver’s approach was a bit brusque maybe, but it came from a good heart. Hopefully, her friends will wait a few days to place their orders so I can keep up.

  A car horn honked. She looked for Grant’s car but didn’t see it. Someone waved from the open window of a station wagon. It was Fay. “Grant is busy helping Dad and Bob with the booths. The company arrived awfully late and they expect the customer to chip in getting it all done.”

  Emma nodded as she slipped into the passenger seat beside her and buckled up. “Thanks for giving me a lift.”

  “No problem. I’m glad you want to help. Decorating all those booths is some job. It’s fun, but I can tell you that after having done a dozen you want to scream at the sight of yet another Christmas ornament.”

  Emma laughed. “I make chocolates every day and still I’ve got more ideas than I can work on. I write a lot down in my notebook, with little sketches of how it’s going to look.”

  “Mom’s the same with her embroidery. Only her sketches are not neatly in a notebook but scribbled on the back of receipts and grocery lists which then get misplaced. You should see her digging through drawers to recover some all-important design. Hey, look out.” Fay hit the brakes for a couple of kids running into the street chasing each other with handfuls of snow. Shaking her head, she accelerated again, only to stop a few yards down for a young mother with a double buggy, straining under the weight of too many shopping bags. Colorful presents half stuck out of the bags, the glittery bows on them ruffling on the breeze.

  “Do you like Christmas shopping?” Fay asked Emma.

  Emma shrugged. “I don’t have that many people I buy gifts for. I do send cards. Usually I make them myself, but this year I bought them ready made. I just don’t have the time for card making with the shop and all.” Still this was the second night in a single week she wasn’t diving into fondant and ganache but going out. As if it wasn’t just her and the shop anymore.

  She shifted uncomfortably in the seat. Decorating for the fair counts as work, right?

  “Is your family coming over for Christmas?” Fay asked. “Or maybe you’re flying out?”

  “I have no family to speak of, so I’ll just stay here and enjoy my time off.”

  “You could spend Christmas Eve with us. I didn’t want to interfere with any plans you might already have made, that’s why I asked.” Fay looked uncomfortable, biting her lip.

  “I’d love to,” Emma rushed to say. “If it’s okay with your family. I don’t want to intrude.”

  Is this smart? a voice in the back of her head whispered. Making more memories with Grant and Casey when they are leaving…

  Time was running out like it had during the game of charades. She wanted to embrace every moment, also knowing it would make it extra hard later on. But it isn’t just about Grant and Casey. Fay is asking me to come over. And I really want to cook with Mrs. Galloway sometime or bake a cake.

  But…would it be the same after Grant had gone? Could she sit at that kitchen table, having dinner, feeling the emptiness of the place beside her where Grant had been? Miss the warmth of his fingers around hers as they bowed their heads for prayer?

  Even worse: hear stories about how he’s doing, how happy he is, far away from Wood Creek?

  Casey wanted him to be happy, right? He’ll have his flying, and you’ll have his family as friends right here near the shop. Perfect outcome for everybody.

  She forced her hands to relax, palms up, and took a deep breath. Get busy and get out of your head.

  …

  Grant leaned against the booth as he reached up with both hands to attach the greenery with thin metal wire to the upper post. His shoulders ached from making this same movement over and over. He didn’t want to count how many booths he had left to do. This was just part of the setup process. Then the fun stuff would begin.

  An engine hummed in the distance. Already? Fay had done it quickly. He had hoped to be done by the time Emma arrived on the scene.

  “Hey!” he yelled to Bob who was busy a few booths down. “If you finish up attaching the greenery, I’ll get started on the other stuff.”

  Bob waved in acknowledgment, and Grant hurried to the
entry to the fair area to meet Fay and Emma. The snow patterns on her fleece and the threading on her hat sparkled, but the real eye-catcher was her smile.

  She waved and he signaled back, forcing his legs to go faster. Stopping in front of her, he had to catch his breath before he could speak. Apparently, the work had taken more of a toll than he had noticed. “We’re almost done with the greenery so you can help with the details. There are boxes over there…” He sucked in cold air.

  Emma put a hand on his arm. “Take it easy. You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

  The worry in her eyes struck a chord inside that hadn’t been touched in ages. He worried for Casey, but nobody worried for him, asked him how he was doing, how he was feeling, if he was maybe pushing himself too hard. Well, yeah, his mother did say he should take care, but she was his mother. Since he had become single, nobody ever reached out to the deepest part of him like…a partner, an equal in a relationship you built.

  “The boxes over there,” he gestured to a line of them on wooden planking, “contain ornaments and bows. Every booth’s greenery has to be decorated with a few.”

  “And every booth gets two lanterns,” Fay added, who had come up and stood with them now. “They are great for atmosphere and have glass all around, so the sparks can’t get out and set anything on fire. I’m going to help Bob a sec.”

  She rushed away, sliding across a bit of frozen snow, her arms stretched to balance herself. The large electric lights which had been put to provide light for them to work in illuminated the area like a stage.

  Grant and Emma stood there, looking at each other. The silent forest loomed close, with its snow-powdered branches and icicles. The skies stretched overhead, deep blue with a hint of orange, encasing everything in a great universe of beauty. He wanted to point out the stars to her, but to talk would be to somehow break it. Just be with me.

  “Let’s get started,” she suggested.

  “Sure.” He guided her to the first box and pointed out what she might select. “One booth can’t have three stars and another none, so it has to be split kind of evenly.”

  “Okay.” Emma looked quickly across the contents of the various boxes and selected a few ornaments and bows. Where the various patterns and details were all a bit much to him, and he selected for shapes only, she made choices that were somehow a perfect match and created a whole.

  Across the crunching snow they went to the first booth. She was just able to reach up and attach the decorations, but Grant said, “I’ll get you a step,” and ran to fetch it. Sucking the cold air deep into his lungs, he had to suppress the urge to jump as he went. It felt good to be alive.

  When he came back with the step, Emma was already at the second booth. Her expression was full of deeply serious concentration, but her eyes sparkled, betraying she also enjoyed it. Silvery glitter sat on her cheek. He put the step ready for her. “Anything else you need?”

  “Not right now. I’ve got the color scheme all worked out: silver and red for this booth, then golden for the next, then blue and white. These little see-through ornaments are the greatest.”

  She leaned forward to scoop the hook attached to the ornament around a twig. “Come on.” She perched on her toes, angling sideways, and pitched over. With a yelp she almost crashed onto the booth’s wooden counter.

  Grant grabbed her round the waist and steadied her. “Careful now.” His heart thundered so hard it droned in his ears. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  “No. All good now.” She smiled down at him. “Thanks.”

  He held her just a moment longer, inhaling the perfume wafting from her fleece jacket. Sweetness, chocolate. Something uniquely Emma.

  “I’m glad you came,” he said.

  …

  Emma stared into Grant’s deep brown eyes. He was holding her, and he was saying he enjoyed her company.

  At least that’s what he means by saying he’s glad I came, right? Her brain didn’t seem to function as it usually did. She could focus on one thing only: the warmth in his eyes. Something even deeper than that, which forced her to keep looking, unable to glance away.

  Her head went light with excitement. If he hadn’t steadied her, she might have tipped backward. The night closed in around them, but the lights put up still created a circle of light in which she stood like the princess in a fairytale and wished this moment could last forever.

  He’s going to lift me off the step, put me down in the snow in front of him and lean over—

  She widened her eyes. No. Don’t think that or want that. He’s leaving soon. It’ll just ruin everything if you let him make you feel so alive whenever he’s near. This is not a fairytale. Don’t be silly, don’t daydream.

  “Could you get me more bows?” she said hoarsely. “Red velvet or satin.”

  He nodded and let go of her and walked away. The wind breathed around her and drove goose bumps out on her arms. A shiver came up from her toes, and even her face felt suddenly numb. Every fiber of her wanted him to come back and hold her again, but her heart beat in a staccato warning rhythm.

  This isn’t real. It can’t work out. He’s like the Christmas glitter: only here for a short time. January will wipe it away.

  …

  Why has she gone so quiet?

  Grant surveyed Emma from the side. Her facial expression was pensive while she attached the ornaments and velvet bows, her posture a bit tight. Maybe because she almost fell earlier? If she hurt herself, bruised her wrist, it would be a problem with her business.

  “Done,” Emma said, stepping back to judge the booth. “I really like the combination of red and gold.”

  “You did a great job,” he agreed. “You should have been an interior designer.”

  “I always liked creating things, like making clothes for paper dolls or cutting pictures from lifestyle magazines and creating a dream house.” She smiled, and at the same time sadness flashed in her eyes.

  “Your dream house?”

  Emma sighed. “I just wanted to have a place of my own. In foster care you usually share the parents with other kids. With their own kids even. You can’t help but feel that…they must love their own children more. It’s unreasonable, I know, and I don’t blame them, because they tried really hard to treat us all equally. But that is not the way I felt. I was always dreaming about a house somewhere where I could live with my real parents. Or with a family of my own.”

  She looked down with a frown as if she tried to search deep inside of herself. “This whole dating thing, especially online, seems to be so superficial. Just about who is better looking or has more money. A house, a boat. I feel like I can’t compete.”

  “You don’t have to,” he said. “You’re okay the way you are.”

  Emma smiled up at him. “Thanks, but it doesn’t feel that way. You always have to prove yourself. Be interesting, daring. Go places.” She laughed softly. “I’ve never traveled. I haven’t been to Paris. I can’t post pictures of Venice. I bet you’ve been to all those cities, lots of times.”

  “Sure, but that was for work. And sometimes there was so little time to have a look around. Take Tokyo.” He enumerated on his fingers. “Long flight to get there. Return is the next day. Touch of jetlag because of the time difference. It all adds up sooner to resting at the hotel than sightseeing. And after a while, you even get a bit jaded. Like I’ve already seen this, I’ve done this before.”

  Emma nodded. “That’s what I mean. I met a lot of men at the business seminar I went to.”

  The idea was unsettling, but he refused to analyze why.

  “They were nice enough when we sat down to lunch, but they were all talking about their trips and their hobbies. I felt like I just couldn’t keep up. I don’t play tennis or golf. I don’t go on wine tasting courses. I even wondered if I was cut out to be a business owner. If it involved all of those things—”

  “That makes no sense,” he retorted with energy. “A business owner is someone who owns a business and knows how to ta
ke care of it. To make great chocolate you don’t need to know how to golf. Don’t change. Stay the way you are.”

  Emma’s eyes lit up a moment, then she looked away. “I think we’re done, but should we try the lanterns? At least at one booth to see if they are in the right position to give a bit of atmospheric light?”

  “You’re right.” He dug into his pocket for a lighter he had snatched from the kitchen earlier.

  Emma carefully opened the little door of the lantern to the left and Grant inserted his hand and flicked the lighter on. The fire grabbed the wick of the candle and a flame broke to life, quivering on the breeze.

  She leaned over to look at the flame inside. It reflected in her eyes, and off the glitter on her cheeks and chin. Her features softened, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She smiled as if to encourage that little flame and even touched the glass with her finger. If he had done this alone, he would have rushed over it, taking a quick look, right, everything okay, then would have blown it out again. But Emma grabbed the opportunity to see a spark of Christmas already.

  She looked up at him. “The other one as well?”

  “Sure.” Anything to linger, live the moment.

  They shifted to the other side of the booth and lit the lantern there. Its circle of light touched the circle coming from the left lantern and the warm glow seemed perfect in the snowy world. Grant inhaled the scent of pine from the trees further away, that touch of burning wick and wax of the candles. Fresh snow was drifting from above, gently descending on Emma’s hat and shoulders, one flake after another, tender ice crystals decorating her. He leaned over and brushed a bit of snow off her shoulder, showed her his hand. “They are all different if you look closely. You should really see them under a microscope or a camera with a micro lens.”

  Emma looked up at him with a smile. “You always want to bring in something to analyze it.”