Totally Worth Christmas (The Worth Series, Book 4.5: A Copper Country Novella) (2 page)

He nodded, stunned by her thousand-watt smile. She left him again, but this time she didn't return to the kitchen, but instead, locked the front door, turning the “open” sign around. Then she flipped a switch, turning the outside sign light off.

“Are you closing?” he said.
 

Idiot. Of course she was closing. “I mean, do you need me—”

She held up a hand as she walked to the wall at the far side of the room and turned off some of the lights. Most of them, really, except for the one nearest Charlie and the ones over the counter.

“You're fine. I've got lots more to do yet. It’s my night to do all the post-close stuff. Enjoy your pie.”

He enjoyed the view more. Watching her turn off things, and cleaning others. Charlie had never eaten more slowly in his life. His forkfuls barely held any of the voluminous pie, trying to make it last as long as possible, while she finished the business of closing up.
 

Finally, he’d finished the pie and it seemed she’d finished her tasks. She made her way over to his booth. “So, was the pie better than going to a strip club?”

“Definitely,” he said, smiling at her, waving at his empty plate. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” she said. He expected her to walk away, or hand him his coat, but she just stood there, watching him.

“You’re probably in a rush to get out of here, to get home.” He tried to put some questioning in his voice, and tried not to look too pathetic… or too hopeful.

She shrugged, leaning her hip against the back of the booth facing him. “Umm, well, I have finished up all the stuff I’m supposed to…” He sat quietly, not moving a muscle, hoping there was a “but” at the end of that trail off. “But,”
(Thank you, God!)
“there are always more things that can be done.”

“Before you start those, do you want to sit down? Would you like to talk a little? I’m Charlie, by the way.” He looked at her nametag pinned above the pocket on her uniform. “Phee,” he said.
 

Phee. Short for Fiona? Not that it mattered to him, he liked the sound “Phee” made as it rolled off his tongue.

She looked closely at him. Charlie tried to look as harmless as possible.
Just someone to share a cup of coffee with at the end of a long day. Certainly not some guy who believes you just may be the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

She took a deep breath and let it out, like she’d just made a big decision. To Charlie it felt like it may very well be one of life’s turning points, but he didn’t want to put that pressure on her.

She slid into the seat across from him and said, “Yes, I’d like that.” She smiled brightly at him and then put her head down as if shy. “I think I’d really like that,” she said so quietly Charlie almost didn’t hear her.

But he did.
 

And he knew that somehow his life had totally changed in this retro diner, nearing midnight, as he sat alone with a waitress.

Chapter One

The only blind person at Christmas time is he who has not Christmas in his heart.

~ Helen Keller

Three weeks later

“Y
ou lifted your head. Try it again,” Darío Luna said to Charlie, then tossed him another golf ball, which Charlie teed up on the driving range mat.

“It didn't feel like I lifted my head,” Charlie said, but he took his stance again, determined to keep his eyes on the ball.

“Dude, you're really gonna argue with a two-time Masters champion?” Petey Ryan said from his chair where he sat and watched Charlie hit.

Charlie's head came up, and he looked at Darío. “That's not what I meant. I hope you don't think—”

Darío held up a hand. “Not at all. I know sometimes it feels as if you don't move, but your head does come up just before you make contact.”

“Because I really do appreciate you taking the time.” It was true. Not many people got a professional golfer giving them pointers. And all for the cost of a beer after they were done.
 

“And we appreciate all that you did for us in making this place a reality,” Darío said, his arms encompassing the huge indoor driving range that Charlie's employer, Summers and Beck, had designed.

The driving range had been open for just over four months and was seeing a nice steady flow of traffic. Considering that the first snow had come to the Copper Country in mid-October this year, it would be a long winter. Having this outlet for the local golfers who would have months and months before they could get back on the course was a nice benefit for the community.

The place was empty now, though, with just Charlie, Darío and Petey in the cavernous, domed-shaped structure. It was ten at night, an hour after closing, though Petey had been talking to Darío about keeping later hours as the winter progressed.

Charlie took another swing, trying to concentrate on keeping his head down through his entire motion. The club made a crack against the ball, but not the pure, solid crack that came from Darío's swing. Charlie looked down the range and saw his ball skittering along the turf, like a stone skipping across a still pond. Not exactly the effect he was going for.

“Worm burner,” Petey commented from his chair.

“Yeah, I got that,” Charlie shot back.

“Don't get your panties in a wad,” Petey said. “I was just trying to help.” The giant of a man had an angelic look on his face that made Charlie crack up.
 

“Big help. I can see it was a shitty shot, thanks.”

Petey flashed a grin and leaned back in the office chair he'd wheeled out from behind the counter once the place had cleared out and it was just the three men.

“What's up with you, anyway? You usually like my commentary.”

That was true. Charlie had grown to like Petey's rude comments and crude jokes when they'd worked together on the driving range project. It had been a group effort, but Charlie, not wanting to spend much time with a newly-in-love Deni and Sawyer, worked as closely as he could with Petey and Darío. Somehow that had morphed into Darío giving Charlie some pointers on his swing.
 

What passed for a swing, anyway. He took another whack at the ball and at least this shot got in the air before hitting the ground. Fifty yards down the range.

“You'll be totally fine, as long as every hole is only seventy-five yards long,” Petey said, chuckling.

Charlie saw Darío shoot Petey a warning look at which Petey shrugged.

A few shots more and Charlie packed it in for the night. “Can I buy you guys a beer?” he asked both men.

Darío shook his head. “No, thanks. I want to get home and see if Katie needs any help packing.”

“Why are you packing so soon? You don't leave for Spain for another three weeks,” Petey said.

“We think we’ll go to Florida first. Katie’s parents are down there for the winter now, and we thought we’d bring Peaches to them, seeing as it is her first Christmas.”

“Like when? When would you leave?” Petey asked, coming out of his chair, and approaching Darío.

“We’re going to drive this time, take our time. We’re planning on leaving Thursday. ” Which was three days from now.

“No. No way,” Petey said. “You can’t leave until Sunday at the earliest.”

Charlie wasn’t sure what kind of agreement Petey and Darío had come to about the staffing and management of the driving range, but he thought Petey was handling all of that now that he was living in the Copper Country full time. From what Charlie had seen, Darío seemed more of a silent partner who stayed out of the day-to-day operations and only used the range for his own practicing when in town and it was too cold to go to a real golf course.

“Why does it matter if we wait until Sunday?” Darío asked. “Is there some reason I need to be here for the driving range?” Apparently Darío had the same impression Charlie had of Darío’s responsibilities to the joint venture.

Petey waved a huge hand of dismissal. “Range, schmange. I’ve got this thing running like a well-oiled machine.” Charlie and Darío looked around the structure. Petey had done a great job with the place so far. And it seemed to Charlie like Petey really enjoyed the time he spent working on growing the business.

“You’ll miss our party if you leave on Thursday,” Petey said. A tiny bit of hurt was in his voice.
 

Charlie had a flash of the invitation to Petey and Alison’s holiday party that was sitting on his own desk. “Oh yeah, that’s right. I meant to tell you I wouldn’t be making it.” He couldn’t really remember if he was supposed to RSVP or not. The invitation had arrived the day after Charlie had gotten back to the Copper Country from his trip to Port Huron for Thanksgiving. He’d been in a shitty mood all the way back and the following day at work. When he saw the invitation to what would be a fun party, but full of couples in love, he’d thrown the damn thing on his desk where it still sat.

He didn’t have other plans for Saturday night, but he knew he did not want to be anywhere near the joviality that would come from a Petey-hosted party.

“No. No, no, hell no,” Petey said. He pointed a finger at first Darío and then at Charlie. “You are both coming to our party on Saturday.” His finger moved back to the Spaniard. “You. You’ll head to Florida on Sunday.” Back to Charlie. “And you. You will put on a suit and tie and show up at my place. I don’t care what kind of funk you’ve been in for the past few weeks. You will be gracious and kind to Alison, and have fun, goddamn it.”

“It’s just that I—” Charlie’s words died as Petey shot him a look that no doubt had had NHL players quaking in their skates.

“Zip it. This is Alison’s chance to show off the house. The house that she has—
thank you, Jesus
—chosen to share with yours truly. She’s really happy with how the renovations went and she wants to share
our
home with all
our
friends for a little holiday cheer.” Darío started to open his mouth when Petey added, while looking at Darío, “And if it would make
your
woman happy to have her house full of her friends, then don’t tell me that you wouldn’t make it happen.”

Darío closed his mouth. “
Sí
, I would.” He sighed. “We will leave on Sunday.”

“Thank you,” Petey said, then turned his stare to Charlie.

“I barely know Alison,” Charlie said.

“You grew on her. And you drew up the changes to the house for us. She wants you there,” Petey said, shrugging, like if that was what Alison wanted, who was he to question it.

And apparently Charlie wasn’t one to question it, either.

He could launch into how being around couples having fun would sting like a son of a bitch right now, but then he’d have to talk about that night, and he wasn’t prepared to do that yet. Even to these two men that he’d grown fairly close to over the past eight months.

It was still too raw, too fresh. It wouldn’t help to relay the good parts—they played over in his mind constantly. But so did the day after, when he’d gone back to the diner to see the woman he knew was going to be someone significant in his life, only to find her gone, with no word on how to find her.

He’d felt like a dupe, a total idiot. The feeling hadn’t gone away on the 8-hour drive back to Houghton. And hadn’t lessened much in the ensuing weeks.

Petey moving toward him pulled Charlie out of his maudlin memories. Before the hulk could take another step closer, Charlie put up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll be there. Do I need to RSVP or anything? I can’t remember.”

“Consider yourself accounted for,” Petey said, then turned around and started wheeling the chair back to behind the counter. “Bring a date if you want,” he added, though he didn’t turn around.

Good thing, because Charlie couldn’t cover the twinge of pain that rushed through him, knowing the only woman he would want as his date to Petey and Alison’s party was hundreds of miles away and hadn’t wanted to see Charlie ever again.

Chapter Two

I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas.

~ Sylvia Plath

“H
ere Gran, let me help you,” Phoebe Robbins said, leaping up from the couch to help her grandmother Clea, as she entered the room.
 

Her grandmother waved her off, but Phoebe hovered over the older woman until she reached the couch and settled on it. “I just had to get out of that bedroom. I was going stir crazy.”

“You’re doing so great, Gran. Who would know you had a stroke just a few weeks ago.”

“Mini-stroke,” Gran corrected her. “Not much more than a fainting spell, really.”

“Hardly,” Phoebe said, but she knew better than to argue with her grandmother. The woman was tough as nails, and Phoebe had assumed Gran would outlive both Phoebe and her older brother, Finn. So, when she got the call on a Saturday morning a few weeks ago that Clea had suffered a minor stroke, Phoebe had been shaken to the core.

And then she’d packed her bags.

Clea and Finn had raised Phoebe, giving up a lot to make sure Phoebe was taken care of. She knew they’d shielded her from her alcoholic mother’s neglect. There was no way she wasn’t going to come back and help with Clea’s recovery, even though Finn had told her she didn’t need to.