I tear it open and read.
* * *
Dear Santa,
Did you know you’re a saint? What am I saying? Of course you know. It’s the millions of children around the world who don’t. They write to you asking for everything, not knowing that you answer to a higher power (don’t worry, I asked Him too).
You probably don’t remember when you gave me my dog, Max. I’d asked for my parents to get back together. They’d been apart for a year, and they’d fought even more that year than any year when they were together. Mostly over me.
In your wisdom, you didn’t put them back together. You gave me a puppy. And that was better than what I’d asked for because my parents never wanted to be married again. But they did want me to be happy.
Max made me happy.
I have a similar sort of ask today.
I’ve wanted to have my own restaurant since I can remember. It started when I was a little girl with my grandmother in her kitchen. That was how we bonded—over chicken and dumplings, cornbread, and country fried steak. Granny was from the deep South.
A few years ago, I realized my dream and opened Mable’s Kitchen. Sure, it’s been a struggle. Do you ever have problems with your elves, with the reindeer? Well, cooks and waitstaff get into their own sort of mischief. But things were finally starting to look up.
Then they put our building up for sale.
Santa, I need a Max. A silver lining, something. I know you might not be able to keep Mable’s Kitchen open, but is there something else you can do?
I know it’s a lot to ask, and you have a lot of puppies to gift, but if you can find the magic for one more Christmas miracle… well, this girl would appreciate it.
Always a believer,
Eve
Seven
EVE
Jackson leans on his truck, his hands stuffed in leather jacket pockets. Underneath, he’s wearing a turtleneck with dark wash jeans. So, no suit—which makes me feel a tad overdressed. I made the switch from full-length velvet costume, warm and snug, to a knee-length forest green wrap dress with long sleeves. Even with hose, I’m freezing, teeth chattering.
This is all Avery’s fault, I think. Had I worn anything else from my closet, we’d match. And I’d be warm.
He takes one look at me and his mouth goes slack. “Wow. I, uh, I didn’t have time to get anything fancier than this. I didn’t bring a tie, and Dad’s all have Tabasco on them. Every. Single. One. I kid you not.”
“You look fine.”
Jackson does look fine. He exudes a vibe. It’s a dad vibe but in a roguishly handsome, Jude Law from The Holiday Mister Napkin Head kind of way.
“No,” he shakes his head, “you look fine. I look like I stepped out of magazine from the nineties. Like a cheap cologne ad, maybe?”
“High-end cologne,” I counter with a giggle.
“I understand if you want to go inside alone. A look like yours is sure to draw some attention.”
It’s my turn to shake my head. I have all the attention I want. He offers me his hand, and I don’t even think before I take it.
The house is wrapped up in white lights for Christmas, formal and festive. I wish it were at Avery’s, like last year. Then maybe I’d have a boost of confidence. I could show Jackson where everything is—I even know where the secluded spots are thanks to hide-and-seek with her kids.
But it’s a new house in the new Clover Creek subdivision across town. Inside, it’s a winter wonderland. There’s a fifteen-foot tree, the star at the top grazing the ceiling. There’s garland everywhere and white lights mimic candlelight. Not a single overhead light is on except in the kitchen.
The living room opens to a patio where there’s a fire going. And my heart skips a beat when I see something on the ceiling leading out to it.
“More mistletoe,” I say. “Just our luck.”
“I, uh… yeah, I’m sorry about that.” Jackson smiles, almost like he’s reminiscing. “When Amanda gets something in her head…”
“No. It’s me who should be sorry. I’m the one who put mistletoe there.” He doesn’t have to know that I put it there every year in hopes someone might catch me. This year, I needed that kiss. And what an odd turn of events it was to have the someone I wanted to kiss me be the one who finally found me there. Even if it was his daughter who really made it happen, it was the best thing to happen this month.
“You do that a lot, don’t you?” he says.
“Do what?”
“Apologize for things you don’t need to apologize for.” Again, he seems to reminisce. “I haven’t had a kiss like that in a long long time. I didn’t know how much I needed one.”
There’s a twinkle in his eye. Maybe, I think, he needs more than one kiss. Maybe he needs two or three.
“Tell you what,” I say. “If you need another kiss, we could meet there. Give me five minutes. Let’s make the rounds and meet back?”
He smiles, staring at the mistletoe like it’s his new best friend. “Five minutes? I’ll be there in three.”
I don’t find Avery. I don’t see a single person worth saying hello to, except maybe Jen Haddock. But she doesn’t catch my gaze. She’s on a mission. And I realize too late what that mission is. She sidesteps around me and heads for the mistletoe. He really did get there in three minutes.
“You know where you’re standing, Mister Rimes?” Her voice is as seductive as my Wicked Witch impression.
Before I know it, she plants a big one on his stunned face. Jealousy rages in the pit of my stomach. That was my kiss she just stole.
He chortles, easing away from her. “I was actually waiting here for Missus Claus,” he tells her.
Again, he reaches out his hand and I take it. He pulls me not under the mistletoe but toward the patio. I feel the warmth of the fire from the fire pit against the chill on my legs. Then his warmth takes over. He presses his face into mine and we’re kissing. It’s nothing at all like the smooch under the mistletoe at Mable’s Kitchen. Nothing like it all.
This time, there’s no scratchy beard in the way. And even though I know there’re eyes on us, most definitely those of Jen Haddock, I don’t shy away.
I ease into the kiss, forcing my mouth to move slower than it wants to—it wants to kiss and kiss and kiss. It wants to make up for years in the span of only a moment.
I don’t know how long we kiss, but my lips tingle when it’s over. And it was long enough for Jen to scurry away. Long enough for anyone who was watching to get bored.
He kisses me again, softly this time. “I really needed that one too.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
* * *
JACKSON
I don’t want this moment to end, but it seems inevitable. Eve’s hand falls from my waist to her side, but I stop it, wriggling my fingers in with hers. We’re barely holding hands.
We move closer to the fire. It crackles and snaps.
It’d be a whole lot more romantic if we were the only couple out here. But there’s at least two beside the fire. I recognize Will Martin. But it’s his wife, Avery, who ruins it.
“You, me, bathroom.” She drags Eve away.
“Jackson Rimes,” Will says. “Let me get you a beer.”
I don’t really drink, but I don’t tell him that. I take the beer and hold it. My hand gets cold, and I want to warm it so I can hold hands with Eve again—when she gets back.
We make idle chitchat while we wait for the girls. And I know he means well when he does exactly what everyone in this town has done when they see me again. He brings up Amy.
Don’t get me wrong. Amy’s been on my mind tonight. A lot, actually. But hearing her name from someone else’s lips sends me spiraling in another direction.
I’m caught. That kiss a few moments ago already feels dirty. I’m ashamed. I cheated. It feels like I cheated. And I don’t deserve a kiss like that from a woman like that.
Eve deserves better. She should be with someone who isn’t broken inside.
“I have to make a phone call.” I excuse myself.
And I do what I’ve been doing the past year when I need to talk something out. I call her—I call someone who won’t answer. I take out my phone. Hers is the first name on the contact list.
But there’s something else on the screen. A message.
Hey, man. Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Just wanted to let you know we had to move closing to the day after Christmas. I totally understand if you can’t make it. I’ll just need you to overnight the keys. Again, I’m sorry. Call me if you need to.
I’m distant when Eve gets back. I know I’m being distant. I don’t offer her my hand, but I allow her to lace her fingers with mine.
I plan to take the first opportunity I can to say our farewells.
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Avery tells Eve. “Mister Jimmy Patterson. He owns Patterson Auto. And I think he wants to talk to you about something important.”
“To me?” Eve asks.
“Trust me,” Avery says, “you need to talk to him. Let me introduce you.”
Avery yanks Eve in one direction, but she holds onto my hand tight. I stay firm, and it’s like we’re pulling Eve in opposite directions. In a way, I guess we are.
Eve glances toward me, her eyes giving away that she’d rather stay here with me—that she doesn’t want to go on some field trip with Avery. Not now. Probably never.
“I’ve really got to get home,” I tell her.
“You do?”
“Yeah,” I sigh, “the kids will be up at the crack of dawn. I need to get some sleep. It’s been wonderful tonight.”
“It has,” she says sadly.
And for a moment, I question the thought of leaving.
“You’ll come by, right? Before we close.”
I give her a peck on the cheek, nothing like that kiss earlier. I nod. I did promise, after all. And I leave the party with my heart aching.
Eight
EVE
I wait all day at the restaurant for him to show. The waiting is the only thing keeping my mind at ease—keeping me distracted. Otherwise, it barely registers that today is our last day open.
But every time it does register, I’m flooded with a million doubts. It feels like I’m letting everyone down—my staff, Granny, and the whole town. Plus, myself. I never dreamed that doing my best wouldn’t be good enough. That doing good business still meant scraping by.
If I could just get that loan. If I could just prove that my finances are straight.
Someone from every table, every booth, gives me a hug before they’re out the door. They tell me about their favorite dishes and the good times they had here. They leave good tips.
But it’s Mister Patterson’s offer that hovers on my mind almost as much as Jackson’s promise. Again, I stare out the front window. And again, his truck isn’t there.
It’s hard to concentrate with all these people—these people who do love me—when Jackson Rimes is a big question mark. He loves me. He loves me not.
Then again, a year isn’t a long time. Even if he is ready for love again, are his kids? Will they ever be? I wonder.
I realize I’m holding him to a promise he made in passing. I don’t know what his day’s like the day before Christmas. For all I know, he’s out shopping for gifts. He is a man. They do things like that, don’t they? Or maybe he’s with his kids, and he’s losing track of the time.
We aren’t open for dinner tonight, Jackson.
Then again, maybe I read things all wrong. Maybe the reason he hurried off last night is because he doesn’t want to be with me. Maybe he’s not ready.
But he’s still here in Caribou Lake, I think to myself. He’s not going anywhere, not yet. And our kiss—our kisses—linger. My lips buzz at just the thought of him brushing his top lip past mine once again.
I don’t even notice when Mister Patterson is seated. Or when he gets his meal. It’s only when he waves me over, smiling, and dabbing his mouth with a napkin that it clicks into place.
“You give my offer some thought?” he asks.
“Have I?” I answer. “It’s about the only thing I’ve been thinking about all day.”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” he tells me. “The way you’ve been peeking out that window, it tells other story.”
“I, uh—” I’m caught. I wonder what Mister Patterson must be thinking.
“You can’t claim you were waitin’ on me,” he says. “We locked eyes twice before I got into this booth. I even threw you my best smile. It looks like this, you remember?”
His cheesy smile makes me laugh.
“I’m sorry. I don’t. You’re so right. I am distracted. But really, I have been thinking about the offer.”
“It’s that fella from last night, idd’n it? The one you’re waitin’ on.”
I nod. “It is.”
Mister Patterson grimaces. He shakes his head mournfully. “I don’t think you’d like to hear what I have to say about that.”
“Really? I wouldn’t? Well, now I have to know.”
“I heard some things last night. I heard him talking on the phone. You know he’s not over his last girl. Not at all.”
I finally admit it aloud. “That’s kind of what I was afraid of.”
“Well, you’re right to worry. Listen, I’m sorry I even said anything. That’s not my place. But I’d like this to be.” He motions at the restaurant.
“I told you,” I force a smile, “the building isn’t mine. They’re going to sell it.”
“That’s true. And I think I’d be able to buy it. And if I do, I want the whole package. I love this place. My wife loves this place. We’d keep everything the same. I’m even offering to keep you on staff, if that’s something you want.”
I shake my head, it’s not. I can’t work at Mable’s Kitchen without owning it. I’d feel like a fraud.
“I didn’t think so,” he says. “And that’s good ’cause what I’m offering you is a fresh start. Take my money and run. Open up another restaurant—I don’t care. It’s the menu and the name I want. The recipes. All of it. What’d you say?”
“I say what I told you last night. It’s a really nice offer. I just need some time to think.”
He nods. “Fine. I’ll give you what you want. More time. My office. The day after tomorrow. You have until then.”
“The day after Christmas?”
“It’s plenty of time to make up your mind. After all, you’re always one decision away from a totally different life.” He winks. “I read that on the internet.”
* * *
JACKSON
I pass by Mable’s Kitchen a hundred times. But I don’t stop inside. I can’t. I’m petrified by what I might say.
My heart is mixed with emotion. And Eve deserves to know the truth—that I’m not ready, not yet. Not until I say goodbye to Amy.
I have to do my way.
Three letters sit on the passenger side seat. One from Jordan—there’s still no way I’m getting a puppy. Another from Amanda, though she tried to pull a fast one. Santa will be bringing her those roller skates. Then there’s the letter from Eve. I don’t know what to make of it.
I just wish there was something I could do.
* * *
EVE
The fire crackles. Its warmth is so much better than anything the house’s heater can pull off. Max agrees. He leaves our cozy spot together on the couch and gets closer, resting on the rug a few feet away from the fireplace.
I run through the motions of our Christmas traditions, opening a gift from Mom, one from my cousin Rosie, and a few more from friends and patrons of the restaurant. A few had invited me over, but I graciously declined.
Typically, Mom would’ve flown in from Florida and spent Christmas with me. This year, she’s spending the holidays with her boyfriend, Danny, and his family somewhere near South Beach.
Mom lives in a retirement community. Her sole mode of transportation is a golf car
t. A golf cart! Really, it’s silly, but I love that she’s been able to start fresh.
Start fresh, Mister Patterson’s words ring in my ears.
I didn’t tell Mom about closing Mable’s Kitchen. I couldn’t. She’ll be disappointed, I know. She’ll moan about me spending the Christmas moping about like I am. Moping, longing, wanting someone who doesn’t want me.
That’s my self-doubt talking again. Acting as if we’re still in high school. So he broke a promise. It’s not the end of the world. Or is it?
I’m on my third cup of coffee, the presents unwrapped, a movie down, when Avery texts and invites me over for brunch.
Her house is so close to Jackson. I can’t say no. I’m going to confront him. I’m going to find out if he wants me. And if he doesn’t, then well, at least I’ll know.
I go through the motions of a hot shower. I put on makeup. I do my hair. Avery will comment. I’ve never put so much effort into going to her place. Ever.
And she does comment. She meets me at the door.
“Girl, you know there’s no brunch, right? I mean maybe there’s some grits and a slice or two of bacon left over. But I invited you here under false pretenses.”
“You did?”
She nods. “Get your behind over there. You’re done up like it was your plan all along.”
So, I get my behind over to Jackson Rimes’s parents’ house. And I ring the doorbell.
His mother answers. She smiles as if she was expecting someone else.
“Can I help you, Eve?” she asks.
“I was hoping to see Jackson,” I say.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “He left this morning after we did presents.”
“He left?” I hadn’t noticed that his truck wasn’t in the driveway.
Closing On Christmas (Second Glance Second Chance Book 1) Page 5
