High Plains Hearts (12 page)

Then the houses became much larger and the decorations more ostentatious. On many houses were rooftop displays, although none of these Santas stepped out of the sleigh to wave.

Some arrays were downright garish.

Tess blinked as one house came into view. The owners had obviously decided to spare no expense, and their electric bill would surely show it.

The house was entirely wrapped in lights. Animated elves climbed up and down the walls, bringing toys to Santa’s workshop, which was stationed on the housetop. A relay system must have run down the back of the house because the elves worked in an endless loop, bringing dolls and baseball bats up the wall and climbing back down for another load.

The yard itself had been turned into a candy-cane garden. Nearly fifty candy canes, seven feet tall, sprouted through the snow, and Tess and Jake watched as children played tag through the maze.

Over it all a loudspeaker played “Jingle Bells” continuously, as gigantic cutout silvery jingle bells swung back and forth over the garage doors, not quite in time to the music.

“That’s, well, that’s—” Tess was at a loss for words. All she could do was stare at the display.

“Bizarre?” Jake suggested.

“At least. What do you suppose their neighbors think of it? It would drive me absolutely bonkers in one night. By Christmas I’d be a basket case.”

“Well, his closest neighbor is the president of the electric company.”

“Ohh.” She nodded understandingly. “I see. And so does he, I suppose. I bet every time he looks out his window he sees a bonus in his future.”

“And the person who lives in this house is also a business owner.” Jake named the largest electric equipment supply company in the northern region. “So you can probably write this scene off as part wild Christmas spirit and part economic grandstanding.”

“I’ve certainly done my share of goofy decorating blunders, but that place is downright tacky. I can’t imagine living there.”

“Hey!” Jake protested laughingly. “This is prime real estate.”

“It’s definitely prime something. All I know is after seeing that I need chocolate. I need some fudge, and I need it quick!”

“Chocolate will make you like that house better?” he asked her.

“No, but I do like fudge. Almost anything is bearable if you’re eating fudge.”

“Oh.” He nodded in mock seriousness. “That explains chocolate’s mass appeal.”

They drove farther down the street where the houses sprawled a bit more and the decorations became as expansive as the property allowed. These houses had grounds, not yards.

One house was technically perfect. The pristine white front of the three-story Edwardian was lit with soft cream lights. Evergreen ropes wrapped around the columns in precise twists. The polished brass fixings of the entrance reflected the light and offset the deep green wreath that was easily five feet across. Tess tried to determine if the musical instruments tied to the wreath were real. They certainly looked that way.

There were no garish lights here, no animated displays of the North Pole. It looked like a picture from a Christmas card, especially with the snow continuing to fall, light and fluffy, but it felt hollow and icy. This house seemed to be on the other end of the spectrum from the electrical extravaganza down the street.

And both were, in their opposing ways, pretentious.

“That’s about the extent of the Christmas-lights tour of the End,” Jake announced as he pulled away from the final house. “So what did you think? Of course it’ll all be beefed up in a week or so. Lots of folks went out of town this weekend for Thanksgiving.”

“You know what my favorite was?”

“The Electric Elves visit Candy Cane County?” he guessed.

“Wrong-o. Although that one will live in my memory forever,” she said dryly, “kind of like those Giblet Niblets.”

They grimaced in unison.

“And to think they both happened on the same night. That’s a bit too much coincidence for me,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not a superstitious guy—don’t believe in it—but let’s hope these things don’t come in threes. So which of these holiday houses was your favorite, although I think I already know?”

“My favorite was the section with only the string of lights and the handmade decorations. Especially the snowman holding the birth announcement.”

He nodded. “I hadn’t seen that before, but it’s wonderful.”

“I’m going to call Reverend Barnes tomorrow and tell him to go take a look at it.” She glanced sideways at him, chagrined. “But I don’t know where the house was. Can you write down the directions for me?”

“I’ll go you one better,” he promised. “I’ll call him and tell him. And if he wants, I’ll drive him over there to see it.”

“You’re a nice guy, Jake.” And he truly was. Over and over he was showing her his compassion for others, a kind streak that ran a mile wide and a mile deep.

“Do nice guys finish last?” His eyes were twinkling like the lights they’d seen.

“Not at my table. And speaking of finishing last and eating, let’s go to Stravinski’s.”

“But we haven’t seen the downtown lights,” Jake protested.

She was grateful for the darkened interior of the car so he couldn’t see the betraying flush that was creeping up her neck and washing over her cheeks. She could feel the heat from it.

“I’m hungry, okay?” It came out more defensively than she’d intended.

He saluted. “Yes, ma’am!”

She softened her approach. “There’s one thing you’ll learn about me, or maybe you already have. I think it’s probably hereditary, a defect I was born with.”

He glanced over at her with concern. “What is it, honey?”

“Where some people have a stomach, I have a bottomless pit.”

“You scamp! You had me worried there!” he threw back at her, but she could tell he wasn’t angry. The edges of his eyes turned up with amusement. “I thought it was something serious.”

“It is when I’m hungry. Then everybody had better watch their step!”

“Luckily for me I own a restaurant,” he muttered playfully. “It’s closer than Stravinski’s. Should we go there instead?”

She shook her head emphatically. “While I loved Panda’s, my stomach is all set for Stravinski’s Caesar salad and white northern soup.”

“And I wondered where Cora got her appetite.” He winked at her. “Are you two related?”

“Close. By a whisker.”

He groaned. “That was bad, Tess. You had me feline real, real awful.”

She smiled impishly. “Ah, just drive, Mr. Cameron. No more puns. I want the rest of this evening to be absolutely, totally purrfect.”

A
n hour later Tess wiped her mouth with her napkin and sighed in satisfaction. “I am stuffed.”

The server walked over, balancing a tray with one hand. He lowered it enticingly near Tess’s face, close enough that she could see and smell the mouthwatering aromas of the elaborate desserts.

“But no one can be too stuffed for a serving of tiramisu,” she amended after the server left with their orders. “I’ve been on a tiramisu binge since October when I first tasted it.”

“I like tiramisu, but I’m going for that cheesecake concoction—what did he say it was? Cherry almond? It sounds wonderful.” He sipped his coffee and grinned. “It’s hard for me sometimes to enjoy a dinner at a different restaurant because I’m always comparing everything to Panda’s, like this coffee.”

“This decaffeinated is good.” The brew was so rich and full she couldn’t tell it was decaffeinated.

“It should be. They buy it from us. We bring a fresh roast over every other day, sometimes every day. It’s one of the areas we’ve been branching into, doing wholesale to restaurants.”

“Really. I didn’t know that, but it makes sense. This coffee is terrific.”

“Thanks. See, having a local roaster makes all the difference. I hope this is a wise move, moving into wholesale, but it’s hard to know. I can only do so much before I burst. I’m wondering when my limit will come and what will happen.”

“Are you trying to do all this without an assistant?” she asked, suddenly concerned. She was hearing an exhaustion in his voice that either hadn’t been there before or she had missed.

“I’m trying to be conservative about this while it’s in the trial phase. I’d hate to get someone involved and then have the whole thing fall down around our heads like a pack of cards. It’s my risk now. It has to be, until I know if it’ll be a success or not. Then, and only then, will I hire someone.”

“But if you need the help now—,” she said, feeling protective of him.

“Tess,” he said earnestly, “I can’t in good conscience hire someone only to have to let him or her go within a couple of weeks. I want to be able to offer that person a good job, a stable job. And I’ll wait until I can.”

“I admire that, Jake—I really do. I can’t help but think you’ve chosen a suicide course, though.” She couldn’t keep the concern from entering her voice. “The human body can do only so much, you know.”

“I know. That’s one of the reasons I spend so much time at Panda’s and hardly any at my home. Every waking minute I spend down there. Until I get established enough, until I feel confident in this new venture, that’s the way it’ll have to be.”

A wave of suspicion washed over her. “You’ve spent most of today with me. This morning you were in church. How much time have you spent at Panda’s today?”

“Some.”

“How much?” she demanded. “In hours and minutes. How much?”

His brow furrowed. “Well, I went in early—”

“How early?”

“Five-ish.”

“Five in the morning?” She couldn’t keep the amazement from surfacing in her voice. “I’m just starting to dream deeply at that time. Okay. You went in a little after five—”

“Uh, before five.” He spoke almost guiltily.

“Before five. Which means you got up at—?”

“Four or so.”

“And you went to bed when?”

“Around midnight.” At her glare he modified it. “All right, twelve thirty.”

She totaled it up. “So you’ve had a whopping three-and-a-half hours of sleep. Jake, that stinks. Big-time. And now you’ve spent the day with me when you could have been catching a nap.”

“But I’d rather be with you.”

“Sweet, and I appreciate it, but that’s not the point.” A new worry struck her. “We’re still supposed to tour this part of town and check out the lights. And then what—what are you going to do?”

“I didn’t have any particular plans.” He avoided meeting her eyes and toyed with the linen napkin, folding it first one way and then the other.

“You were going back to Panda’s and work, weren’t you?”

When he didn’t answer, she repeated the question. “Tell me the truth, Jake.”

His chin lifted. “Yes.”

She touched his hand and took the napkin from his edgy fingers. “Do me a favor,” she pleaded. “Take the rest of the evening off. Let’s go for our drive, and then we’ll go to my house and make sure Cora hasn’t starved to death in our absence. We’ll sit and talk, and then you will go home—do you hear me?—go home and get in your jammies and go to sleep.”

“But they expect me at Panda’s,” he objected. “What if something needs my attention?”

“I have a phone at my house. Hey, you even have a phone in your car. Call Panda’s. See how things are going. Who’s in charge right now?”

“Well, I guess that would be Todd.”

“He’s capable, right?” she persisted.

The uneasiness began to fade from his face. “Yes. He’s good, a little flaky but good.”

“Do you trust him?” She felt as if she were leading him, step-by-step, along this path.

“Sure.” He shoved back his chair. “I know where you’re going with this, and I get your point. But you know what it’s like to own a business.”

“I know that since I’ve owned Angel’s Roost I’ve been the strictest boss I’ve ever had. I understand what you’re feeling, but, Jake, you need to take care of yourself, or all you’ve accomplished won’t matter.”

He stared at her, and she watched as the challenge drained from his face. When he spoke at last, his words were so quiet she had to strain to hear him.

“You’re right.”

The relief that flooded through her body made her weak. “Let’s pay our tab then and go. More Christmas lights await us.”

Main Street had been decorated earlier the week before. Great ropes of silvery lights and green garlands looped across the road, hooked on to the old-fashioned street lamps that lined the street.

A few businesses had decorations in the windows or a strand of lights draped over a door. But for the most part their only bow to the season were signs advertising loans to help with Christmas shopping or a holiday sale on washers and dryers.

She saw it for the first time through new eyes. “If it weren’t for the city’s decorations, this whole area would be bland, bland, bland.”

“Maybe they need some encouragement,” he suggested. “Like what we did out in the End, but modified, of course. I’m not trying to say the downtown merchants and businesses are low income, but maybe if they had some incentive …?” He left the sentence hanging.

“What a great idea. We do a lot with First Night, but even that doesn’t involve too much decoration of individual stores. It’s not a business festivity, so many aren’t really involved.”

“Are you going to First Night?” he asked, referring to the city’s gala downtown celebration of New Year’s Eve. This would be the fourth year the town and its businesses, churches, and offices had put on the nonalcoholic festival as a way to salute the change of the year, and it had already become a treasured tradition throughout the community.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. What about you? Do you go?”

“I haven’t so far,” he confessed. “As you might imagine, that’s a fairly busy night for us. People consume a lot of coffee. And the pastries, too. It’s like the last caloric blowout of the year.”

She must have looked disappointed because he added, “But this year I think I’ll try to go. It’ll depend upon how the help list looks.”

When she looked confused, he explained. “The help list is something I use for holidays when we’re open, as well as special times. My workers use it to tell me if they can work that night, so I don’t have to call through the entire list when I need someone. If enough people are on the help list, I’ll take in First Night … or at least part of it,” he qualified at the end.