Christmas Comes to Main Street (25 page)

I
f you keep staring out that window like that, the glass will fog up and you won't be able to see a thing,” Molly remarked from the back of the bakery, where she was polishing off the last of today's leftovers. There hadn't been many. Several customers had revealed to Kara that they had opted to buy her cookies instead of making any of their own this year.

Kara was pleased to hear it, but it did remind her that the holidays were nearly over. They'd ended even sooner than she'd expected.

She brushed away a hot tear that slipped from the corner of her eye, hoping her face wasn't as red and blotchy as it felt. She didn't need her mother and sister asking questions right now, not when she didn't want to relive or explain the events of the day. Not when the judges for the Holiday House contest would be here any minute.

The contest. She sighed. Every time she looked at that gingerbread house in the hours since Nate had so abruptly left her on the sidewalk, she thought of him. She couldn't help it. If he hadn't come into her life, she never would have thought to enter it. She probably wouldn't have believed she had the chops. But she did. She knew that now. The house was everything she had envisioned it to be, and all the hours, all the effort, had been worth it.

She supposed she had Nate to thank for that. Even if he had broken her heart.

“Are you going to show us the final product yet?” Molly asked with impatience.

From the back of the storefront, Kara made out the murmur of an exchange between her mother and sister.

“Not until it's been judged,” she said. The last thing she needed was to lose her confidence or see her mother's pinch of silent criticism when she pointed out something that was of course too late to change now.

“Well, we won't have to wait long now,” Rosemary remarked. “They should be here soon.”

Kara still couldn't bring herself to turn from the window, but she wasn't looking for the judges, not like her family thought. Her gaze was on the distance, past the town square and over to the Main Street B&B, which was all lit up now, twinkling in the twilight. It had always been a charming sight, a view she enjoyed, one she could linger on, but now… now it felt different, personal. Now it represented the first time she'd felt that spark—the kind that others seemed to find so easily.

She'd hoped when she finally felt it that it would be for the right man. But you couldn't make someone believe in something they didn't. And you couldn't make someone feel something they didn't.

Her throat felt raw and scratchy when she swallowed. Her mother was right: The judges would be here any minute. They were making the rounds, though she didn't yet know in what order. She did know, however, that her mother's house had been judged twenty minutes ago. “A thrilling experience,” Rosemary had announced when she flew into the shop shortly thereafter.

Tearing herself from the window, Kara plastered a smile on her face, even though her heart felt like it was breaking. It wasn't a feeling she was experienced with, at least not recently. It was something she hadn't known in a long time, not since she was a child, and her dad… a feeling of loss, not just of a person, but of hope of ever filling that empty space in her chest again. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She couldn't cry now. Later, yes, but now, no.

She still had to think of her business. Of winning this contest. She owed that much to her father. His hard work had financed this place, after all. She couldn't throw it all away.

At the edge of the room, Molly was helping herself to another cookie. Rosemary was all but biting her tongue as she eyed her youngest daughter, but as her cheeks pinked and her hands wrung in her lap, her inner restraint snapped. “Now don't take this the wrong way, Molly, but do you think you should perhaps lay off the cookies for a bit? What about your wedding gown?”

Kara winced, hoping she wouldn't be called on to intervene, and watched the exchange from behind the shelter of the glass display case, under the guise of some last-minute touches on her gingerbread house.

Molly gave her mother a long look, crammed the last of the cookie into her mouth, and took her time chewing. Once she'd finished, she tipped her head and calmly said, “It doesn't matter, because I'm not getting married.”

“Not getting married?” Kara almost knocked over the gingerbread house as she sprung up to look at her sister properly, her expression no doubt matching the frozen shock on her mother's face. “But… but…”

Molly just shrugged. “But what? I'm not getting married.”

Kara looked down at Molly's hands. Sure enough, the beautiful diamond ring was gone. “Did you and Todd have another fight?” she asked. It was nothing new, and if history proved anything, they'd be back together tomorrow, all forgotten and forgiven.

“Yes. No. It doesn't matter. We're not getting married. The wedding is off.”

Their mother turned to Kara with desperation, her eyes silently communicating that Kara should somehow say something, fix this. But how? Molly's announcement had come about as quickly and unexpectedly as her engagement. Whatever was going on with her sister, she couldn't figure it out.

“Are you… okay?” she asked worriedly, recalling how badly Molly had taken the last breakup with Todd. Maybe they could cry together tonight, she thought, but it was little consolation.

“Never better.” Molly grinned, daintily wiping the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

“I just…” Kara shook her head, at a loss for words, but Molly all but shot up from the table, her finger jabbing at the window. From the reaction, Kara almost thought it was Santa Claus himself.

Jolting, Kara turned, her heart racing as she saw the judging panel crossing in front of her store. “Oh my goodness,” she breathed. “This is it.”

“Good luck, honey!” Rosemary said, crossing both sets of fingers in support.

Kara tittered nervously. “Thanks, I think I'll need it.”

Slowly, she walked to the door, plastering a smile on her face as she held it open for the judges. They stared in confusion for a moment at the giant house that was set up on the table Kara had moved to the center of the room, and then began chatting among themselves in voices too low to hear, bending down to peer in windows, seeming to like what they saw.

They couldn't have been there for more than five minutes, but the seconds passed by so slowly, it felt like an hour until they said their polite goodbyes and slipped out the front door. Kara let out a long breath, not even realizing she'd been holding it in all this time, and sank into a chair.

“I can't believe I did it,” she said.

“I can,” said Rosemary, coming to sit down next to her. “Oh, Kara. The house… It's beautiful. Molly, come look, look at what your sister's done!”

Molly hurried across the room to stand next to their mother, gasping as she crouched to look through the windows of the house. “That's our living room! You even put the photos on the mantel just how they're arranged.”

“And the tree.” Rosemary paused to collect herself. “There's your father's star on top.”

“And my elf ornaments!” Molly cried. She shook her head in wonder. “I almost forgot about those. Remember how Dad helped us make them that one year? We got glitter all over the kitchen and for once Mom didn't even care.”

“How could I care? Those are priceless decorations!” Rosemary set an arm around Molly and wiped at her eyes.

“You like it?” Kara asked, searching her mother's face.

Rosemary blinked back the tears that shone bright in her blue eyes. “I
love
it.”

Kara set a hand to her stomach, still waiting for the butterflies to leave it. She'd put so much time and energy into this one moment, and it was already over. “I just hope it was enough.”

“To win the contest? Why shouldn't it be?” Her mother smiled. “Besides, even if it doesn't win, look what you've created! It reminds me of so many wonderful Christmases we've all shared together. You've brought a glimpse of that time back to us.”

“Are those Daddy's slippers next to the chair?” Molly looked up, startled, but Kara also thought a little pleased at what she saw.

Kara nodded. “He loved those things, even though they were all worn out.”

Rosemary pulled Kara in for a long, hard hug. “I don't think I've said it enough lately, but I'm proud of you, Kara, and I know your father would be, too.”

Kara's eyes burned with tears that threatened to spill. But she knew from the looks on her mother's and sister's faces that if she started crying, none of them would be able to stop, and it was Christmas Eve. Now wasn't the time for sadness. Now was the time to look back on what they had and the memories that would always be with them.

She knew now more than ever just how lucky she was to have had those moments. Even if they didn't last a lifetime, for a while, things had been perfect. That was more than she could say for some people. Including, she thought sadly, Nate.

“I just…” She gritted her teeth. She rarely opened up to her mother about her worries and fears. She was too concerned they would only be confirmed. But something in her mother's eyes, in the connection they all had looking at a replica of a moment frozen in time, made it somehow feel all right. “I worry I'm going to let him down somehow.”

Let you down, too
, she thought to herself.

“But how? Look at all you've done, Kara. As a business owner myself, I know how much hard work it takes.”

“Yes, but… what if someday it doesn't pan out and the doors shut? And the gift Dad left me, the inheritance…”

“It was put to a good use, Kara. You followed your heart. You've worked hard. That's all either of us expected from you.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Kara smiled, leaning in to give her mother another squeeze.

“Group hug!” Molly announced, maneuvering herself under their arms until she was part of the fold, and the awkward tangle of hair, arms, and limbs made Rosemary laugh, and soon, they were all joining in.

Definitely not a day for tears, Kara thought, her heart warming at everything she had this Christmas, even if the one person she'd wanted to share it with had made it clear that he didn't care to do any such thing.

Nate watched his aunt's expression as the judges walked from room to room, pausing every now and again to study a decoration or write something down on the clipboards they carried. Each time they lifted their pens, Maggie flinched, causing him to do so in turn. He hadn't expected to be this nervous, or this invested, but he was. He saw the look in his aunt's eyes, the approval she sought, the validation, and he couldn't help it—he wanted this for her.

About as much as he wanted it for Kara.

“Make sure they see the ten lords a-leaping,” she whispered to him as the group moved into the dining room.

Nate nodded quickly. They'd decorated every inch of this old house, with the exception of the attic, and he wanted to be sure every detail was accounted for.

He moved to the back of the house just in time to see them move out onto the back patio, where they reacted with overt surprise to the swans a-swimming in the frozen pond.

“I think they've seen everything,” he reported to his aunt as he came back into the lobby.

She was pale, her eyes brighter than usual as she stared at him. “Do you think they liked what they saw?” she asked anxiously.

“I think so,” he said confidently. Even if they didn't win, they had to be a strong contender. He'd never seen anything like it. Again he was filled with a twinge of sadness when he thought of how much his mother would have liked to have seen all the decorations.

The judges came back through the main room and bid their goodbyes without a hint of insight into their innermost opinions. Nate whistled under his breath as the door closed behind the last of them. “They're a tough group,” he said. “I've never seen so many poker faces!”

“It must be a tight decision this year, then,” his aunt replied. She dropped into one of the armchairs near the hearth, her gaze turning pensive.

“You okay, Aunt Maggie?” he asked, coming to join her.

She briefly met his gaze. “I was just thinking, this might be my last Christmas in this house or running this inn.”

“Please don't talk that way,” he said. “You've got a lot of years ahead of you.”

“I know, but I'm tired. I don't show it, but… it's a lot of work.”

Nate pulled in a sigh. “Would you consider hiring someone—”

“I'd rather not,” she replied quickly. “This is a family business.” She eyed him carefully.

Nate nodded, knowing there was nothing he could say that would tell her what she wanted to hear. She was holding out hope that he'd change his mind, give in and move to Briar Creek, take over the inn, but he couldn't do that. Not to himself. Not to his parents.

He eyed the base of the tree, covered in a red velvet cloth. He'd bought a few gifts for his aunt, ones he intended to give to her in the morning, but now he wondered just how many Christmases had passed where nothing sat under the branches. And he thought of all the kids he'd seen today at the Hope Center who would go to sleep tonight dreaming of things that would never come true and wake up tomorrow morning to find that all that magic, and all that hope, had been for nothing. That some children were lucky and others weren't.

He couldn't go back to that place. He wouldn't. He'd come too far. Worked too hard. Made it his mission to never be poor again, to never wonder where the next meal was coming from, how the next bill would be paid. It was because of him that his parents were living a comfortable life now. Because of him that they were on a cruise, enjoying the good life.

Because of him that they weren't having a Christmas at all.