Rudy and Kris

by Elle Rush

  “A big one. If you want some introductions, I can probably find a team that needs a substitute player until you can register for a full session in January.” Whoever got her should consider themselves lucky; Kris had wicked aim.

  “Please do. That sounds like fun.” Her smile was blinding. “I’ve missed throwing things at people, and that is something you can only say to another dodgeball person.”

  He laughed, because it was true. “Have you made any other ties in Calgary?”

  “Church, of course. My aunt’s congregation was very welcoming, although it’s very small. I’ve spent most of my time at Totally Iced. We’ve been non-stop, and it’s getting even busier. Aunt Vivian’s bakery has become one of the go-to spots for local businesses when it comes to client gifts. Her chocolate meringues and sugar cookies sell out all the time.” She paused to sip her root beer. “But I’m pleased to say my own personal recipe for chocolate drizzled cranberry orange shortbread is also doing very well. Everything is going great, but we may need more help soon.”

  “That’s a good problem to have.” He wouldn’t get a better opening than that. “Speaking of good problems…”

  “Do we have to discuss problems tonight? We were having such a nice meal.”

  “Good problems,” he repeated. “I got a call from North Pole Unlimited Head Office in December. They were hoping you would like to renew your contract with them.”

  “Sure. Aunt Vivian was disappointed when they didn’t ask her this year.”

  He was shocked. He hadn’t expected it to be so easy. “Fantastic.” That’s when it all fell apart.

  “If we start planning now, we can come up with something exciting for next year. We’ll have months to test recipes.”

  “Um, no. They want you back for a special promotion this year.”

  “This year? As in this Christmas? The one happening in less than two months?” She set down her glass. “Are you crazy? Do you know how many cookies that would entail?”

  “Four thousand eight hundred, according to a person who would know.”

  “Do you know how long that will take to make?”

  “Hopefully about three weeks,” he quipped. Then Rudy got serious. “Is it possible? Could you get more help like you were talking about and do it?”

  “I don’t think so. Even with an extra person, we couldn’t handle that volume.”

  “What about two extra people?” he teased. Kind of. Jilly scared him.

  “I’ll speak to Aunt Vivian,” Kris promised.

  “And I won’t mention it again tonight.” Because he needed to work on his arguments on why Totally Iced should break their backs for his company. It didn’t sound like they needed the business. “If I happen to come across someone looking for a holiday baking gig, can I send them your way?”

  “That would be acceptable.”

  He’d look for two bakers. But before he started looking, he had something more important to do. “Would you like to go out for dinner sometime?”

  Kris waved at their plate as she popped another fry in her mouth.

  “No, this was a commiseration meal after dealing with a miserable committee meeting. I’m talking about a real date.”

  She gulped, hard, then took a deep pull on her root beer. “What about Cynthia?”

  “She’s not invited. She and I had one date, and it went about as well as you’d expect. I keep turning her down, hoping she’ll stop asking. After today, maybe she will.”

  Well, Kris thought. If Cynthia wasn’t in the picture, that changed things. Some of the things, anyway. “Okay. Let’s try it.”

  Chapter 5

  Kris

  “Boss, delivery for you!”

  Kris was wrist-deep in her last batch of shortbread for the day when Marie shouted from the front of the shop. She washed her hands twice to get rid of all the flour and butter before she walked out to sign for the day’s packages. “Please tell me it’s the supplies we ordered,” she said.

  “Umm. Maybe?” Marie held the door open for the delivery guy with the hand truck. The snowflake-dotted man wheeled in a towering load of brown cardboard boxes. That was in addition to the piles already stacked in front of their display case.

  Kris recognized the logo on the side of the boxes. It was from the packaging company they used to send Totally Iced’s goodies through the mail. But then the delivery guy went back for another load. “Wait a minute. We only ordered two boxes of trays and containers,” she protested.

  “Twenty-two,” he corrected.

  “No, two. We’ll never go through twenty. That’s a year’s worth of supplies. There must be some mistake.”

  “I have more in the van for you if you want to double-check your invoice, but I’m telling you, the delivery chit says twenty-two.”

  Kris sprinted to the office and called up the online order she’d submitted the previous week. She was right. She’d only requested two boxes. But in the purchase history on the company’s site, there was another order. For twenty more. And it wasn’t hers.

  She quickly reached for the phone. “Good afternoon, Aunt Viv. Did you order twenty boxes of packing supplies without telling me?”

  The pause at the other end of the line could have meant many things, but the gasp was the answer. “Oh, nuts! That’s my standing annual North Pole Unlimited order. I completely forgot to cancel it.”

  That could be a sign, especially if she was considering taking on the order. “Don’t worry. We can always send them back. I’ll deal with it. Are you coming in tomorrow?”

  “I can.”

  “I’d appreciate it. I have some news for you.”

  “Then I’ll be there.”

  One problem solved. The other was stacking up on the other side of the front counter. By the time she left her office, the guy was bringing in a third load, with two different, long, flat ones balanced on top. These boxes had red and green bows printed in the lower right-hand corners, and Kris didn’t recognize the logo. “What are these?”

  “I don’t know. I just deliver them.”

  “I didn’t order anything from that company,” Kris protested.

  “To Kris Kringleton, care of Totally Iced Bakery, Calgary. That’s you, right?”

  “Mostly.” It was her name on the shipping order, overlooking the error, and the address was correct. But she had no idea what was inside.

  “It looks like Christmas came early,” Marie said when Kris opened the first box.

  “Be nice or I’ll make you wear it,” Kris threatened. It was a vicious lie, but they both laughed.

  Neither of them would be caught dead in the elf costumes. There were four: two male and two female. Kris was glad to see they were equally non-discriminate horrific green tunics and knee-length shorts. The women had red and white striped stockings, whereas the men had bright yellow ones. Both sets had green felt boot covers with curly toes.

  “It’s like Santa’s workshop fell into a Tim Burton wardrobe warehouse nightmare,” Marie said, her voice quiet with shock.

  “Elf prison wear,” Kris agreed. She slapped the flaps of the box closed. “We have to get these out of the store. If Aunt Vivian sees these, she’ll make us wear them until Christmas.”

  As if she knew Kris wasn’t joking, Marie ducked behind the counter and returned with a roll of tape. “Quick.”

  A lull hit the radio, flooding the bakery with a silence deep enough they heard a car pull up beside the store. The squeak of the snow under the tires was only a whisper, but they caught it. “It’s her. She said tomorrow,” Kris whispered. “Get rid of this!”

  Marie tossed the costume box into the storage room, then threw a container box on it. The two of them piled half a dozen more boxes on top of that and heard the bell above the door jingle while they continued to bury the evidence.

  “Hello?” a male voice called from the front.

  “Oh, thank goodness. It’s only Rudy,” Kris said.

  “I’ll take a minute to organize this,” Marie p
romised. “Your aunt won’t dig to the bottom of the pile. The doctor told her no heavy lifting.”

  “That sounds like a plan. I’ll call the company tomorrow and get a label to send those fashion disasters back.” Kris snickered. The outfits were funny. They’d be hilarious if they’d been sent to her aunt while Kris was visiting, but then she wouldn’t have been able to laugh. Her aunt had taught her how to throw a dodgeball.

  She peeked at the bathroom mirror when she walked by. Her face was flushed from panic, but her eyes were bright. When she greeted Rudy, he stared at her grin. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “I received twenty-two boxes of shipping supplies instead of the two I wanted, because my aunt didn’t cancel the standing order for the North Pole Unlimited shipment we don’t have to make. Plus, there was another odd delivery. Marie is trying to wrangle all the boxes into the storage room. I hope she’s good at Tetris.”

  “I am,” the junior baker yelled. “Okay, these are put away for now. Do you want me to finish the shortbread?”

  “No. I’ll cover it and finish it tomorrow.”

  “Do you need a few more minutes? We have some time before our reservation,” Rudy said.

  “Nope, I’m ready now.” She’d been ready for days. “I do need a minute to change.” She couldn’t go out with Rudy the night after he asked; this was the soonest they’d been able to manage. It would be her first real date in Calgary. When Kris first arrived, she’d been too busy to socialize. There was a brief period where she considered dipping her toe in the dating pool, but since she wasn’t planning to stay, she didn’t search very hard. And then Rudy had appeared.

  She had a new sweater she’d been saving for a special occasion. She paired the gold knit top with a chunky amber necklace, which set off her dark skin. She added a pair of thick, lined wool slacks. Her black leather dress boots finished the outfit. She’d fit into whatever restaurant Rudy surprised her with.

  He was muttering when she returned with her coat. He slapped the remote on his keychain into his palm, then squeezed one of the buttons. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “My car won’t start.”

  “We can take mine.” She paused. “No, we can’t.” Her car was in the shop overnight. She’d planned to take the bus home to get ready for their date until Rudy said he’d meet her at the bakery.

  Rudy’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll call for an Uber to get us to the restaurant. Then I’ll call for a tow truck after.”

  That was a terrible plan. He’d be waiting till the wee small hours for the tow truck, plus he’d be outside in the freezing cold. “You should call them first. We’ll eat later.” Even if they lost their reservations, there were dozens of restaurants they could walk right into. “I don’t mind.”

  “I do. This is our first date. I was supposed to wow you with scintillating conversation over romantic candlelight.”

  “I promise to still be wowed.” How could she not be when he was obviously going to so much effort to impress her? “Give them a call.”

  He tapped on the screen for a moment, then growled at his phone again. “They must be swamped. They’re giving me a two- to six-hour window for the tow-truck. Let’s leave it. The car will still be here when we get back.”

  Flakes floated past the large front windows. Kris had forgotten a storm was moving in. “Your car could be buried by morning.” She set her purse on the table. Then she gave the round, glass-topped table another look. “You know, we could have a quiet dinner for two right here while we wait.”

  She saw Rudy study the floorspace at the front of the shop. The display cases were dark and mostly empty. She’d already turned out all the lights, so the only illumination came from the glow of the green neon band around the clock, the red “Exit” signs, and the street lights shining through the window. “I think we have candles in the back, too, if you’re still planning on the romantic part of the evening,” she offered.

  “That’s sweet, but I don’t want you to have to settle for something like that.”

  “Who’s settling? The most important part is that we’ll be having dinner together.”

  Kris blushed. Thankfully the room was too dim for Rudy to see it. She hadn’t meant to speak that thought aloud. There was such a thing as being too eager.

  Although Rudy didn’t seem to think so. “We could order in.” He dipped his face toward his phone screen again. “I’ll have everything ordered and on its way in five minutes.”

  “What are my options?” She didn’t like it when a man ordered for her. She was perfectly capable of making her own decisions.

  “I’m not telling.” He glanced at her. “Don’t worry, you’ll still get to choose what you want. I’ll order one of everything and let you pick from that.”

  She unwrapped her scarf and unbuttoned her coat. Her movements must have caught Rudy’s eye, because he looked at her again. Then he smiled for the first time since their date plans had gone south. “You look stunning.”

  Kris smiled back before she could stop herself. “Thank you.” It was nice to get dressed up, but nicer to have her efforts appreciated.

  When Rudy took off his own coat, she saw he’d also dressed to impress. All she’d seen him in was jeans and work shirts, which made sense, because warehouses were dusty places. For tonight, he’d worn a nice dress shirt and sports coat. She couldn’t make out the design on his tie until she stepped closer. It was tiny white snowflakes on a navy background. “You look very handsome, yourself.”

  By the time they hunted down the candles and moved the table away from the draft coming through the window, their meal arrived, and Kris still didn’t know where they were supposed to eat. Rudy spread the containers across the table. He grimaced at the paper plates and disposable cutlery, but Kris didn’t flinch at it when he pushed her chair in for her.

  She finally caught a glimpse of the restaurant logo. “I’ve seen that place. It’s on Kensington. I haven’t tried it.”

  He popped the lid on the first container. “My sister Rebecca loves tapas. She drags me here every few months. I’ve yet to be disappointed. You did say you liked small plates, right?”

  “Absolutely.” Kris fell in love with the wide world of cheese when she hit college, especially once her pastry and baking classes traded finished products with the chef courses. When she saw the trays Rudy set around the table, she swallowed hard. “It looks amazing.”

  She didn’t realize how fast time flew until the room filled with a yellow flashing light. “The tow truck is here.”

  The wall clock said two hours had passed. It felt like a minute. A few crumbs lingered in the bottom of the take-out containers. The rest of their meal—like their conversation—was a pleasant memory.

  “I should go out and see what’s wrong,” Rudy continued.

  “I’ll clean this up,” she offered.

  “Absolutely not.” Rudy scooped the containers and plates and dropped them into the brown paper bag the meal came in. “All done. I’ll sort out the recycling later. Come on, I’ll drive you home if they can get my car started.”

  For the second time that night, Kris reached for her coat. But this time, Rudy held her it as she slipped her arms into the sleeves, and he held her purse as she buttoned it.

  The snow was falling heavier than ever when they got outside. Kris carefully locked the bakery door behind her. The streetlight’s beam lit the side of Rudy’s face, highlighting half of his smile. “Thanks for going with the changes this evening. I’ll plan something extra special for the next time I take you out.”

  “Oh, no. Next time I’m taking you out.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” He leaned closer. Then they both jumped when the tow truck driver reminded them he was there. “Hey, buddy, which car is yours?”

  That broke the mood, and they were too cold to get it back by the time the guy got Rudy’s car started. But when Rudy drove away after dropping her off, she was smiling. She was thrilled he’d agreed to a second date. Alt
hough now she had to top a snowed-in, romantic dinner.

  She had work to do.

  Chapter 6

  Rudy

  “Look out!”

  “It’s getting away!

  “Quick, grab it before it hits the door!”

  Rudy’s arms were covered in strips of cello tape, and his index fingers were on two different packages, holding ribbons in place until the final knots were tied. When he accidentally knocked the spool off the table with his elbow, he expected it to land at his feet, not to try to escape from the gift-wrapping committee.

  Kris plucked a piece of tape from his sleeve. “Try to keep the supplies on the table, Gillespie. We still have over a hundred books to wrap. We’ll need every inch of that stuff.”

  “Okay, tissue paper whisperer.”

  She stuck the tape on his mouth, then broke into giggles.

  They had an assembly line going in the community centre and were halfway through the two hundred gift bags they needed. Jennifer labelled the bags and managed the list. Two other parents ensured each kid got a candy cane and a donated toque Warren had supplied. A third parent and Kris wrapped the small, individual presents and the books and handed them back to Jennifer as soon as they were done.

  After three paper cuts and one pair of dropped scissors in the first five minutes, Rudy was reassigned to be the tape holder and designated gopher.

  He had never seen so much wrapping paper in his life. Rolls of it. Stacks of rolls. Kris wielded scissors like a knight did a sword. Blades flashed, paper flew, and he attached more strips of tape to his arm.

  When his phone rang, he ducked into the hall. The baby-blue-painted cinder blocks covered with ice schedules for the various hockey and ringette teams temporarily distracted him from the screen. “Hello?”

  “Rudy, it’s Warren.”

  “Warren! Where are you?”

  “I’m bowing out of the community Christmas party committee.”

  Rudy blinked at his phone. “What?”

  “I wish you all the best. I’m sure it’ll be a success. You can keep the toques.”