Big Package

by Wilder, Blake

  Big Package

  Blake Wilder

  Copyright © 2019 by Blake Wilder

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Blake Wilder

  One

  Paris

  I had officially landed in hell.

  And the Bible was wrong. Because it wasn’t hot here at all. It was frigid, freezing, wet, windy and…white. God. It was so freaking white.

  Louis started whimpering the moment we stepped out of Terre Haute International Airport. “It’s okay, baby,” I said, trying to soothe my sweet little bichon, wishing I’d bought him—and me—a thicker sweater.

  Briefly, I considered turning around and getting on the first plane back to L.A.

  I probably would if I hadn’t just endured a red-eye from LAX actually trying to get to this winter hellscape. I’d had a layover in Minneapolis at four a.m. while sitting in a waiting area with a screaming baby and an obnoxious man loudly talking to someone the entire time on his cellphone. Who was he talking to at that time of the day? And ask me how high-functioning I am in the middle of the night, with zero sleep earlier on my crowded flight. After failing to fall asleep in Minneapolis, I’d stumbled around in search of a Starbucks, waited in line for thirty minutes to order, and finally boarded a frighteningly small plane to Indiana.

  I was exhausted and running on nothing but a soy latte and organic chickpea puffs.

  I briefly let go of the handle of one of my Steve Madden bags, as I hitched the shoulder strap of my Vanderpump Pets dog carrier higher on my arm and adjusted Louis’ sweater. The poor baby was shivering.

  I set him down to do a tinkle, but all he managed was bouncing from paw to paw and a half-hearted potty before looking at me in desperation. I scooped him up and put him back in the carrier, hoping it would at least add a barrier against this brutal wind.

  The air hurt my face.

  Why did people live in places where the air hurt their faces?

  “Someone was supposed to be here,” I murmured to Louis, wondering what the hell I would do if the store employee was a no-show. Renting a car and trying to drive in all this snow seemed like a very, very bad idea for a California girl.

  Who lived in a place like this voluntarily? Hadn’t these people ever been to L.A. with its bright sunshine and warm breezes? I mean sure...there was smog, but that actually felt easier to breathe than this crisp, cold air that burned all the way to my lungs. Finally, I went back inside, because let’s face it, I might die out there.

  I spent the better part of twenty minutes dragging my two oversized bags, Chanel tote, and Louis around the baggage claim area searching for my name on one of the driver’s signs. When that proved fruitless, I decided to return to the tundra, aka the passenger pickup area outside. I got all my bags aligned on the sidewalk and spit the hair out of my mouth that the wind had hurled across my face, forcing it into my lip gloss. I put my sunglasses on, not because there was any actual sun, but it served as a protective barrier from snowflakes dropping on my eyelashes.

  I now knew why skiers needed goggles.

  Also, why was there no overhang where I was?

  “Uh, Miss,” someone said, tapping me on the shoulder. I glanced around to see an elderly man pointing to where my suitcase was rolling away from me.

  “Shit,” I muttered, grabbing the handle of my other bag and dragging it behind me to chase my luggage. Not an easy task in Fendi heeled boots. I almost reached it when my foot slid across a slick patch of ice, and I did the world’s most ungraceful windmill as I tried not to fall on my ass.

  It was official. I hated Indiana.

  “Paris?” a female voice called out.

  I turned to see a gray-haired woman standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. Oh God. That wasn’t my ride, was it? I hoped not. But as another frigid blast of air hit me in the face, I really hoped that it was.

  “Is that you, honey?”

  I grabbed the handle of my runaway suitcase, took a fortifying breath—that almost froze my lungs into two solid ice cubes—and walked over to her. “I’m Paris,” I said warily.

  The woman shocked me by wrapping me up in a tight bear hug that ended when Louis, who was being squished, yipped.

  She released me, her eyes going wide when she spotted Louis. “Well, look at that. You’ve got a puppy in your purse.”

  I nodded numbly; the cold was starting to freeze my blood. And then, because God hated me, another big gust of wind kicked up, whipping my beret off my head. I turned and watched the adorable red cashmere I’d purchased a few days ago as an accent piece for my new winter wardrobe fly away. I didn’t even bother to chase it. I blinked rapidly against the tears of frustration that threatened. I really didn’t want my eyes to freeze shut.

  “What a shame,” the woman said. “Don’t worry, dear. We’ll get you another hat. One that’ll cover your ears and keep you warm.”

  As she spoke, I saw her gaze slide down, taking in my Dolce and Gabbana crop cheetah print coat.

  “We’ll get you a coat too. I’m Sandy, the one you talked to on the phone last week.”

  “Oh. When you said someone would pick me up, I didn’t realize it would be you. I hope I didn’t put you out.”

  “Not a bit. We better get you inside the truck; your lips are starting to turn blue.”

  I glanced around to see if there were any airport employees who could help me lift my bags into the truck, but before I could wave someone over, Sandy had taken the handles of both suitcases and dragged them to the back of the truck.

  “Let me get someone—” I stopped as I watched Sandy sling both pushing-the-weight-limit suitcases into the truck bed. “Um. Wow. You’re...strong.”

  She grinned. “Been working at the Holly Jolly Feed and Seed with your great-aunt Lydia for close to thirty years. Those bags of feed don’t move themselves.”

  Sandy’s smile faded, and she quickly swiped at her eyes. “That place just isn’t the same without Lydia.” She looked at me then, and I got the sense she expected some show of emotion. I nodded sadly but said nothing.

  What could I say? I’d never met Aunt Lydia, though I had received a birthday card from her every single year of my life, always with a brand-new five-dollar bill in it. The card and cash had been thrilling when I’d been a kid, but as I got older, I started to roll my eyes and wonder why she bothered. I felt bad about that now, especially when it was obvious Sandy had truly loved the woman my dad called Kooky Lydia.

  Of course, I don’t think my dad meant that name cruelly or even literally. It was just...well...the fact Aunt Lydia owned a combination Christmas shop and Feed and Seed store sort of opened her up for comments like that.

  I glanced at the words, Holly Jolly Feed and Seed emblazoned on the side panel door of the truck as I climbed in, placing Louis in between me and Sandy, who was sliding behind the wheel.

  “Is it okay to drive in this weather?” I asked, looking out at the snow which seemed to have started coming down heavier in the last few minutes. I reached up to shake the flakes from my now-wet hair.

  Sandy grinned. “This is nothing more than a flurry. I’m guessing you don’t get a lot of snow in California.”
<
br />   “Not where I live,” I answered.

  “What a shame,” Sandy said, and for a moment, I thought she must be joking. Then I realized she meant it.

  Mercifully, the old pickup had a functioning heater, and within minutes, I started to thaw out. Louis had curled up in a ball and was sleeping peacefully in his carrier.

  The radio was on, tuned to some country music station, though Sandy kept the volume down low so we could talk.

  I liked to think of myself as a pretty social girl, the type who could hold her own in any conversation, but I didn’t have a clue what to say to Sandy.

  She wasn’t having the same trouble. I realized Sandy was really excited to have me—a complete stranger—there.

  “I can’t wait to show you the store. You’re just going to love it, especially at this time of year. I mean it’s Christmas year-round at the Holly Jolly, of course, but we kick it up a notch or twenty in December. Joe, that’s my son, put up the lights last weekend for me because I wanted you to see how pretty the building is all lit up.”

  I nodded, mainly because Sandy, who would have been an amazing telemarketer, hadn’t left me an opening.

  For forty-five minutes, she filled me in on all the little stuff she thought I needed to know—about the town, the store, the Christmas party that was coming up in a few short weeks.

  The more she talked, the more horrified I was. Because it sounded like North Pole, Indiana was trapped in some sort of time vortex, and nothing had changed since the fifties.

  It also occurred to me, the closer we got to the town, that Sandy actually thought I was moving to North Pole and running the Feed and Seed.

  I didn’t correct that misconception because, well, dammit, Sandy was really pretty sweet. While I would wither up and die in her sleepy, snowy hometown, it was obvious she loved it. I would ease her into the idea of me selling the store. Maybe she’d want to buy it herself.

  “Lydia would be beside herself if she were here right now. She was so excited to leave you the store. She was so proud of you, sweetie. Used to brag about your business sense. Said you’d gotten that from her. You have a pet store in Los Angeles, right?”

  “Pet boutique,” I corrected, though I was pretty sure Sandy didn’t realize I didn’t sell animals at the boutique. Instead, I offered a wide array of goods for pet owners, including high-end collars, carriers, clothing, as well as organic dog food and treats.

  Sandy glanced down at Louis and smiled. “You love animals. That’s wonderful. Lydia was the same, used to long for a farmhouse in the country, but she and I both knew she was a town girl at heart. Well, here we are. Main Street.”

  “This is Main Street?” I asked, thinking perhaps I’d misunderstood. It was a wide, tree-lined street with large Victorian-style homes, many decorated with strings of lights and Christmas figures. Part of me feared these decorations stayed up all year long. Part of me hoped they did, because how fascinating was that?

  It was like being on a holiday movie set, with the snow and the streetlamps and the big red bows affixed to them. It didn’t feel real.

  Then I realized what she’d said. “Where is Lydia’s house?” I asked, taking in one particularly elaborate Christmas display in front of a house that was peeling gray paint the way I’d shed skin after falling asleep by the pool in Cabo San Lucas and burning myself to a crisp. The homeowner had giant inflatable decorations peppering every inch of their small front lawn. There was Santa, of course, and his reindeer, but also a snowman, the Grinch, a Christmas tree, the word JOY, a snow globe, and two penguins driving a tractor.

  “That one right there,” she said, pointing to a tiny white house, the smallest on the block. “Next door to the Mills family, who have all those pretty inflatable decorations. The kids just love those things.” Sandy gave me a smile. “They run them all day and night for the whole month of December. Somebody’s got more money than they know what to do with over there, what with an electric bill like that.” She laughed merrily. “We’re all so glad they do.”

  “Wonderful,” I said weakly. I could barely see Lydia’s house past all the nylon in the Mills’ yard.

  “I’ll give you the key to the house when we get to the store, but then I’m so sorry, I’m going to have to dash to a dental appointment. I have this abscessed tooth that is giving me fits. I can barely talk. I’m sorry for not being one hundred percent myself. I’m usually a lot more conversational.”

  If Sandy were any more chatty, she could be an auctioneer. “No, that’s totally fine. I’m so sorry about your tooth; I hope the dentist can fix it. Thank you for picking me up at the airport; that was really sweet.”

  “We all help each other around here. Lydia was like family to me.” Her voice hitched.

  I waited respectfully, feeling guilty as hell. My first thought when I’d gotten notice that I had inherited Aunt Lydia’s store and house was what a freaking pain in the ass. One more thing to deal with, and damn it, how was that going to mess up my taxes? My second thought was to sell them both off at lightning speed without ever laying eyes on them. But then I’d remembered those birthday cards, and here I was, sitting in a pickup truck, the reluctant owner of a piece of North Pole. I at least owed Great Aunt Lydia a looksie at her life’s work and to take some of her personal items home with me.

  “Anyway, Joe will be here in a bit to show you around and help you take your luggage to the house. I’m sure you’re dying to see the store. I should be back in a couple of hours, God willing.”

  Who was Joe? I tried to remember what, if anything, she had said about a Joe, but my mind was a sleep-deprived foggy mess. I wanted to ask why I couldn’t go to the house first and maybe sleep for the next twenty-four hours, but I had neither the energy nor the heart to change Sandy’s plans. Maybe I could nap in a back room at the store. How many customers did a Christmas shop and feed store have on a Tuesday at noon while it was snowing?

  Apparently, the answer was more than you would expect. Sandy had closed up the shop to pick me up, and when she whipped the truck into a spot on the side of the building, we passed several men standing outside the front door, waiting.

  “Don’t worry about them,” Sandy assured me as she put the car in park. “They’re just stocking up for the storm. We’re supposed to get ten inches overnight. They pre-ordered everything, so you just need to ring them out.”

  “Okay,” I said dubiously, swallowing as I gazed up at the building. It was a charming two-story brick that had seen better days with chunks of mortar missing and the chimney crumbling. The sign announcing “Holly Jolly Feed and Seed” looked older than me, though it showed evidence of being repainted, and it hung straight and proud. Each side of the front door had a display window. One was bursting with Christmas kitsch; the other contained an old wheelbarrow filled with a variety of bags of feed in such a way that I assumed someone thought looked artful. There was a faded picture of the American flag with the words “We proudly support our servicemen” printed on it taped in the corner of the window.

  I carefully got out of the truck, clutching my bag with Louis close to my chest. I used the side of the truck to aid in my cautious walk down the little alley and around to the front of the store. My heels sank into the snow, and I kept my eyes firmly trained on each precarious step I took so I didn’t go down in a heap. I’d never forgive myself if Louis got hurt.

  When I finally reached the sidewalk in front of the store, covered with little pellets of something that crunched beneath my feet, I lifted my gaze up triumphantly. I’d made it without incident. Three pairs of male eyes were watching me. One looked skeptical, eyebrows raised. Another looked amused. The third looked like he thought I was too stupid to live.

  At the moment, I might agree with him. Why on earth had I thought I should come here?

  “Hi,” I said, striving for cheerful. “I’m Paris.”

  Before any of them could respond, Sandy took charge. “Get out of the way, boys. Let the girl inside; she’s been traveling all da
y. And if you want to make yourselves useful, go get her bags out of my truck.”

  “Oh, I can get the bags,” I lied. I really couldn’t. There was no way, even with all that yoga, I could lift those suitcases out of the back of a pickup.

  The man who had looked amused, who was probably in his early forties, gave Sandy a nod. “Yes, ma’am.” Dressed in work boots and a thick coat, he moved easily across the sidewalk.

  Sandy opened the front door and gestured. “There you go, folks. Jim, Bob, your orders are behind the front desk. Paris is going to ring you out. I have a date with Dr. Olsen to get my tooth fixed.”

  She was really leaving me alone here? I swallowed hard and reminded myself I was an entrepreneur. I ran my own business. I dealt with entitled customers on a regular basis. These guys could not be worse than a snotty housewife in Santa Monica. We stepped into the shop, and I scooped Louis out of his carrier and set him down on his leash. He immediately began sniffing like nobody’s business. Like he couldn’t imagine where on earth I had taken him.

  I had the same thought.

  The Holly Jolly Seed and Feed was divided in half. The left side of the store looked like the holidays had vomited fake snow and mistletoe all over, while the right side had… stuff. Farm stuff. In big bags that in Southern California we used to recover shabby chic breakfast nook chairs. Just rows and rows of stuff that farmers and hunters knew what to do with, and holy shit, was that an entire row of knives?

  It was like Lydia had drawn a line down the center of the shop. Even the checkout counter strictly adhered to the “the sides shall not touch” rule. It wasn’t like the feed side had a Santa in camo or the Christmas side had the reindeers perched on some grain sacks.

  Determined not to look like a twenty-something female who needed help, I marched behind the counter and did a sweep of Lydia’s checkout procedure. There was no electronic tablet, no scanner, no register. Did she take orders on her phone? I bit my lip.