Christmas Comes to Main Street (13 page)

Kara bit her lip, knowing it was better to feign sympathy than to remind her mother that she said this every year and that every year the production surpassed the previous. “How's the food drive coming along?” she asked by way of changing to a less stressful topic. For years, her mother had contributed a donation for the Hope Center in the neighboring town of Forest Ridge, setting up a corner of the lobby for a collection of canned goods and announcing the proceeds during the finale of closing night. Last year, the Hastings family had decided to extend the drive to the weeks before Christmas, thus allowing for more contributions, and this year their cousin Brett, who ran the free clinic at the hospital, had added a coat drive to the mix. He'd seen too many sick kids coming in without proper clothing—and the community had been all too happy to scour through their attics for items that no longer fit.

“We've had a big turnout this year, no doubt thanks to Brett's help at the hospital. He posted signs in the doctors' lounge and in the pharmacy in the lobby. Pulling from a bigger area has certainly helped. If things keep up, we'll be able to give twice as many families a magical Christmas this year.”

“That's wonderful!” Kara felt a little tingle of warmth spread through her at the thought. “I'd like to donate a dozen cookies to each family, too.” It was an impulsive thing to say, and probably not the best business decision, considering everything else she'd committed to, but she didn't regret her decision for an instant. Rosemary was already providing a turkey to each family from the proceeds of the
Nutcracker
sales, and the nonperishables would make for good sides, but everyone deserved a special treat for the holiday. Kara felt grateful to be able to provide them with one.

“Excellent. Mark and Anna said they'd provide fresh bread and some breakfast rolls, too. It's certainly beginning to feel like Christmas.”

That it was, Kara thought, yet a part of her wished the day would never come. When it did, Nate would be gone, and life in Briar Creek would be considerably less interesting.

“Speaking of Christmas, I wanted to tell you in person… I've decided to enter the Holiday House contest.” Kara had expected her mother to react with some degree of surprise, but the confusion that knitted her brow instead made Kara's stomach roil.

“Are you sure that's such a good idea, Kara? I mean, I understand wanting to join in the Christmas fun, but a new business takes time and care—”

“I can do it.” She smiled a little wider, hoping to portray some of the confidence she felt slipping away from her.

Her mother didn't look convinced. “I just think you need to assess your priorities. Where are you going to find the time to decorate?”

“I'm not actually decorating my apartment,” Kara said slowly, bracing herself for what was next. “I'm actually entering a gingerbread house.”

“A gingerbread house!” Both Rosemary and Molly stared at Kara with wide eyes. “Honey, why don't you focus on the gingerbread houses you actually plan to sell? Unless… Are people not buying them anymore?”

Kara felt her defenses prickle. “Of course they're buying them! In fact, I've had to limit how many I sell per day.”

“Exactly my point.” Her mother shook her head, her ruby-painted lips pinched tight. “Part of running a successful business means staying focused.”

“I am focused,” Kara began, and then stopped. There was no point defending herself; she wasn't on trial… even if it sometimes felt like she was when she and her mother got into conversations like this one.

“Well, maybe I shouldn't have you make the cookies for the refreshment table,” Rosemary said, and Kara felt her jaw slack. “I don't want you taking on too much or finding that you can't fulfill your obligations.”

When she had found her voice, Kara said firmly, “I'm not going to have a problem making the cookies in time for
The Nutcracker
, Mom. I already had the varieties all planned, too.”

Rosemary sighed. “If you think you can do it.”

“I know I can do it,” Kara insisted, trying to ignore the pain that was twisting in her chest and showed no hope of going away any time soon.

She'd thought by now that her mother believed in her, knew that she was committed and that she was doing a good job. But her mother still saw her as the flighty girl who got bored with each job after six months and then quit, in search of another.

“This is my business, Mom,” she said gently. “I know what I'm doing.”

Her mother just raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. Still, her expression spoke a hundred words. Kara turned before her mother could see the pain in her eyes and muttered something about checking on the food drive items. The music for the opening scene of
The Nutcracker
swelled before she'd even made it to her mother's office.

Hot tears prickled the back of her eyes, and she brushed them away quickly before they could fall. She was being ridiculous, letting words hurt so much. She had the bakery under control. She was turning a profit—barely. She had customers.

And she would win that Holiday House contest. For her father. And for herself.

“Nate?”

Nate pushed the last of the swans onto the frozen pond and turned to see his aunt standing in the doorway. “Yes?”

“When you're done with that, I have another favor to ask of you. I just came up with an idea.” She rubbed her hands together excitedly and disappeared back into the house.

Nate huffed out a breath and studied the seven swans a-swimming, hoping they passed muster with his aunt. Another idea. She made it sound as if it was a rare occurrence, when, in fact, it was an hourly occurrence. The list she'd started with had grown to several pages, and throughout the day he'd see her eyes pop, and off she'd go, scurrying to scribble down her latest idea.

He could only imagine what this one would be.

He adjusted the red velvet bow on the last swan's neck and walked back into the house. It was dinnertime, and most of the guests were off in town. He'd been hoping to slip out, too, maybe try that restaurant Rosemary and Thyme that Kara's cousin ran. The place looked as good as the options he had in Boston, and the thought of Kara possibly being there added to the appeal.

But it would appear his aunt had other plans for him tonight. And that's why he was here, he reminded himself.

He grinned, hoping to summon some enthusiasm even though he'd kill for a hot shower and a cold beer. “What brilliant idea do you have?”

“The pièce de résistance,” his aunt said with a sly smile. She gestured to the hearth in the lobby. “I want a painting above the mantel. A Christmas painting, not just any painting. I want a Nate Griffin exclusive.”

Nate blinked, trying to process what she was suggesting. A Nate Griffin exclusive could only mean one thing, though. “No, Aunt Maggie. I'm sorry, but no. I haven't painted in years.”

“Why not?” she asked with an air of petulance.

“Because I'm a businessman,” he replied evenly, even though his heart was starting to race and he could feel the blood coursing through his veins. “Because I don't have the time. Or the interest.”

She waved his excuses away. “Nonsense. I've seen what you've done with this place. You can't tell me you haven't enjoyed yourself.”

No, if he was being honest, he couldn't. “I haven't picked up a brush in years,” he said instead. “And painting was never my strength.” Drawing was. He'd loved to draw, and he'd been good at it. Damn good. Good enough to get into the art school he'd secretly applied to. The one he'd chosen not to attend.

“Still, you'd do a better job at it than I could, and I just think this would be such a dramatic statement. Imagine, right there, above the mantel, when the judges walk in… the twelve days of Christmas. In acrylic. Or oil…” She stared at the rather boring-looking wreath that currently occupied the space, as if she could see something he did not.

“I'm sorry, Maggie, but I don't even have the supplies.”

“There's an art store on Main Street!”

He sighed. “I don't have the time.”

“You have nothing but time. It doesn't need to be a van Gogh.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his temper beginning to bite. “I don't want to, okay?” Damn, his tone had been sharper than he'd expected, and a look of surprise flashed in his aunt's eyes. He hated the hurt that followed, but this was one time he was going to have to turn the other cheek. “I'm sorry, Aunt Maggie. I'm happy to help any way I can, but I do have to put my foot down here.”

She nodded her head slowly. “I understand,” she said. “I just… thought I'd ask.”

Nate released a shaky breath as an awkward silence stretched. “I think I'll go grab a shower,” he said, and turned to the stairs without another word.

H
astings was buzzing when Nate pushed through the door the next day, his gaze quickly drifting to the counter, hoping for another glance of Kara. Shame bit at him when he thought of how quick he was to misjudge her—but one thing he wouldn't take back were his suggestions for her bakery. She wanted it to succeed. Needed it to succeed. He'd find a way to mention some of his other ideas without stoking her temper, although with that work ethic and attitude, she might not need his help after all.

He smiled to himself as he slipped into a booth and pulled the menu from behind the napkin dispenser. Not only was she pretty and smart, but she was also almost as driven as he was. After all, Kara was probably hard at work right now, icing cookies and cleaning up after customers, not kicking back for an early lunch and a third cup of coffee.

He turned his mug over as the woman he recognized from last week walked by with the pitcher of coffee. She stopped to fill his cup, leaving room for cream, and smiled at him. “Still in town, I see.”

Nate shrugged. “Just through the holidays. I leave the day after Christmas.” Just the thought of going back to his empty apartment left him cold. He silenced that thought with a sip of hot brew. He was on vacation—and no vacation lasted forever. Any town could feel like paradise in a small dose.

“Shame. Corned beef and cabbage happens to be my specialty.” Sharon grinned. She took his order and left with the promise to return for refills.

Nate settled back against his seat, sipping his coffee and listening to the Christmas carols that were almost smothered by the din of the customers. He was in no hurry, even though he knew there was a lot more to be done at the inn, and he didn't want his aunt lifting anything heavy while he was away. This morning, she'd simply smiled at him, pretended like nothing was wrong, and busied herself by talking to guests and passing around her peppermint scones.

He knew his aunt meant well, but she'd touched a nerve. Picking up a paintbrush was something he hadn't done since he'd left high school. Doing so now would be like going back, and he didn't want to think about those days.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his emails, happy to distance himself from Briar Creek and the strange and overly comfortable bonds he was forming here. His life was in Boston. His job. His friends. His fancy apartment and his fancy car… He thinned his lips.

By the time his food arrived, he'd caught up on work, enough to feel clearheaded and capable of facing his aunt with some perspective. She might not understand his choices, but they'd been made for a reason. And he was better for the path he'd chosen. They all were, he thought, thinking of his parents.

After leaving a generous tip and sticking around long enough to give a personal goodbye to Sharon, Nate pushed out onto Main Street. The snow had started again, and the wreaths and garland that covered windows and doors were dusted with white powder. Nate passed the art store his aunt had been sure to mention and kept his eyes straight ahead. Another time, another place. He held his chin high, looking instead at the pink and white striped awning, his pulse picking up speed as he thought of Kara tucked inside, wearing that apron that cinched at the waist and hugged her in the all the right places, greeting customers with a wide smile and bright blue eyes.

He checked his watch. She'd probably be stopping by the inn soon with today's cookie delivery. He'd save her the time by picking them up himself.

Slowing his pace as he approached the storefront, he glanced through the frosted window, his spirits lifting when he saw her standing behind the counter, plating a dessert for an older woman and a little girl. She grinned when he walked in, her cheeks flushing a bit as she turned her attention to the cash register.

“Busy day,” he commented when he moved to the front of the line.

“You could say that again.” Though her smile was wide, her eyes lacked some of the sparkle he'd seen the day before. She wiped a loose strand of hair from her forehead with her wrist. “Are you by any chance here to pick up the cookies?”

“Thought I'd save you the trouble.”

“You're a sweetheart,” she said, and then, her eyes widening, began stammering to backtrack.

Amused and flattered, he held up a hand. “Consider the favor all mine. I'm afraid I've had a bit of an argument with my aunt and I'm finding ways to stall my return.” He felt his brow pinch when he recalled the hurt in Maggie's eyes. He hated to turn her down, but there were some things he wouldn't back down on, and going back to his high school hobby was one of them.

She slipped him a grin. “She has a strong personality. Believe me, you'll know how much I understand when you meet my mother.”

He felt his shoulders relax when he caught the gleam in her eye. “Ah, yes. The famous Rosemary of the
Nutcracker
-themed Holiday House.”

Kara sighed as she grabbed a rag and began wiping down the smooth white and gray marble counter. “The very one. Though I don't think she really cares too much about the contest.
The Nutcracker
, however…” She looked up to meet his eye. “You should come see it. I mean, if you want to… Ballet's not everyone's thing.” Her cheeks grew pink as she began scrubbing at some spilled coffee.

“When is it?”

She stopped scrubbing for a moment. “The night before Christmas Eve.”

If his aunt didn't already have tickets, no doubt she'd love a night out on the town. It might be just the way to make things up to her and overcome their little tiff yesterday. “I'll plan on it.”

She looked up at him, seeming a little startled, but her mouth curved into a pleased grin, and Nate felt something within him stir. He had a strange urge to reach over and brush that loose strand of hair from her cheek, to linger a little longer in the shop, and not just because he was avoiding his aunt.

“Great. Tickets are twelve dollars apiece, and this year, half the proceeds are going to families in need. If you're able to donate any nonperishables, we have a food drive set up in the lobby.”

Nate grew silent as his good mood immediately vanished. “That's a really noble cause,” he managed.

Kara set the rag down and shrugged. “It's the least we can do. If we all work together as a community, then every family can have a special holiday.”

He nodded, his jaw set tight. He could still remember the ringing of the doorbell, the sound of a woman's voice, his mother teary with gratitude and well wishes. He'd come running to see what was going on, and there was a lady, dressed in a crimson wool coat with shiny buttons and a black fur collar, a huge basket in her hand, tied with a big gold ribbon. That Christmas they'd had a feast. He knew they were supposed to be happy about it, supposed to be grateful, and they were, but his father had sat at the table in silence. He didn't go to church with them that year, and Nate remembered being confused that his mother hadn't made a fuss. He was out of a job, his mother had explained. But he'd get one, she'd countered brightly. And then… then things would be better, she'd promised.

“I'll be sure to bring something,” he said, squaring his shoulders in an attempt to banish the image. “Just food, no toys?”

“Oh…” Kara shook her head. “We do a coat drive. My cousin Brett, Sharon's younger son, runs a clinic as an extension of the emergency room at the Forest Ridge Hospital. He helps with the donations. We'd love to do more, but we're only one family.”

Sometimes one family was all it took. “I'd be happy to help with a toy drive,” he volunteered, shoving his hands into his pockets. He thought of the toy shop he'd passed on Main Street his first day here, the gifts he would have loved to have received and never did. He felt a spark of something he couldn't quite pinpoint—hope perhaps. Or maybe closure. It would feel good to give back, to make someone else's Christmas one to remember, to take the burden off the parents, give them a holiday to enjoy, too.

Kara blinked at him. “You'd do that?”

“Every kid deserves to wake up to something special under the tree.” Nate swallowed hard, determined to keep his memories in the past, where they belonged. “Consider it taken care of. Would it be okay to collect everything at the show?”

“Would it? That would be wonderful!” Kara beamed.

Nate tried to keep his expression neutral, but he was struggling not to match Kara's enthusiasm. “Good. I'm looking forward to it.” And as he turned to leave, he realized with a lightness in his step that he was.

Kara could barely keep the smile from taking over her face as she slipped into the kitchen to get the box of snowflake cookies she'd prepared that morning for the inn. A toy drive would be just the thing to round out their Christmas donations. She could just imagine the joy in the children's faces when they came downstairs to find that doll or game they'd been wanting. She loved spoiling her friend Jane's daughter, Sophie, as they all did, but she had a feeling she'd find it just as rewarding, if not more so, to brighten the holiday of a child in need, even if she wasn't there to see them open the gift.

Kara sneezed, managing to quickly snatch a tissue from the box first. That was at least the tenth that morning. Her eyes watered as she rubbed her nose and then washed her hands, pleading silently with herself to pull it together. She couldn't get sick. Who would run the counter? Who would make the Christmas cookies and the gingerbread houses?

She was just run-down. Worn out and exhausted. She'd try to get to bed early tonight, and with any luck she'd wake feeling refreshed and energized.

She sneezed again and released a long whimper into the tissue. Maybe it would be a twenty-four-hour thing. Or maybe it was just dust.

Kara washed her hands and then grabbed the box of cookies from the counter. She took a moment to linger, looking at the progress she'd made so far for her Holiday House. She smiled, feeling her heart tug a little at the memories it stirred up, and then, squaring her shoulders, she pushed through the kitchen door and into the storefront. Instead of giving a little squeeze, her heart began to skip and dance when she caught Nate's eye and he gave her one of his slow, friendly grins.

It was sad to think that in a little over a week he'd be gone. He'd started to feel like a fixture in her day, and one she very much looked forward to.

He's a friend
, she reminded herself.
Nothing more
.

“Here you go, sir.” She smiled as she handed over the box, feeling the heat of his hand on hers as their fingers grazed each other. His skin was smooth and masculine and the tingle that ripped down her spine and made her stomach tingle told her that he was much more than a friend. Or he could be. If circumstances were a little different.

She sighed and let her hand fall. No use wishing for things that couldn't be.

“These smell delicious.” Nate flipped the lid and peeked inside the box. “And they look delicious, too.”

“No stealing any,” Kara warned. “I don't need your aunt giving me any grief when she doesn't have enough for her guests.”

“I've gotten you in enough trouble with Maggie for one visit,” Nate replied, winking. “Besides, she's probably too annoyed with me to start trouble with you.”

Kara's curiosity piqued, but she decided not to pry. “By this time tomorrow she'll be singing your praises to anyone who will listen,” Kara said, laughing.

Nate pulled a face. “I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or not.”

“It's a good thing,” Kara said firmly. “It's important to have someone in your corner.” She frowned a little when she thought of her mother. Rosemary had made great strides when it came to supporting Sugar and Spice, but the little comments were a reminder that she hadn't won her mother over just yet. But she intended to. She intended to win them all over. And it started with winning that Holiday House contest. “How's the Holiday House coming along?”

Nate shrugged. “Fine, but I'm not sure what my aunt will do to me if we don't win.” He waggled his eyebrows and Kara laughed. “Dare I ask about your entry?”

“You may.” Kara tipped her head, considering how much she wanted to give away. Something about the project was special to her, personal even. It wasn't just a test of her baking and decorating skills; it was also an opportunity to reconnect with memories she sometimes didn't dare to dwell on. “It's going well. I'm feeling… confident.”

Confident. She blinked and smiled to herself when she realized how true this was.

Nate lifted an eyebrow. “Well, don't get too sure of yourself. Word is that Kathleen Madison is a force to be reckoned with.”

Kara had to laugh. “Stick around Briar Creek much longer and you'll officially be a local.”

“That doesn't sound so bad, actually.” He held her gaze, his eyes filling with warmth.

Kara felt her insides quiver, and she glanced away, wishing there was something closer by to keep her hands busy and her mind occupied. She needed to stop feeling this way every time their eyes met or he flashed her that grin. He was a handsome man. And sadly, an unavailable one.

“Small-town life is growing on you, then?” She held her breath, daring to hope for the answer she wanted, even though she knew it was probably a lost cause. Christmas was only eight days away—suddenly a holiday she cherished so much was now one she associated with dread. Nate would be gone after Christmas, and given his history, chances were he wouldn't be returning again for a while.

“A bit. But don't tell my aunt Maggie.” Nate tipped his head as his gaze drifted over her face. “Are you feeling all right? You seem a bit… pale.”

Her hand shot up to her cheek. Not beautiful. Not pretty. But… pale.

“I'm fine,” she strained to say through a weak smile. “Just a little tired. There's a lot going on right now.”