The seamstress faded into the background as the shop owner led Cole to the men’s fitting room.
“How fun is this?” Gladys’s cheeks had taken on a rosy glow thanks to the champagne.
Talk centered on wedding preparations. Emma’s mother consulted her ever-present list. After the fitting, she and Emma were heading to Merrick’s Mistletoe Farm to finalize the selections of floral decorations. Cole was visiting an old friend.
“I don’t suppose I can monopolize all his time,” Emma’s mother lamented, her lower lip protruding.
Cole emerged a short while later, wearing the black tux their mother had chosen for him to lead her down the aisle. The sleeves were a bit too short and the pants too long. Still, he looked great.
“Honey.” Emma’s mother rose, then, putting a hand to her mouth, and started to cry. “Sorry, I’m really emotional lately.” She glanced at Gladys. “My boy’s all grown up, isn’t he?”
“You can say that again.”
Emma couldn’t speak. She was having her own reaction. In her mind, she was seeing a younger version of her brother wearing a similar tux. One he’d selected for her wedding. He’d looked great then, too. Except once Emma saw Nick waiting for her at the altar, she had eyes only for him.
This, she decided, was going to be a very long day. Harder to get through than lunch at the Yule Tide Ranch yesterday.
While the shop owner stole Cole away for more measurements, the three women continued chatting. Well, Emma’s mother and Gladys chatted. Emma nursed her champagne and tried to act happy.
“Between Cole and Nick,” Gladys observed, “the single women in this town will go gaga.”
Emma snapped to attention. Just how many single women were attending her mother’s wedding anyway? The next instant, she tamped down her emotions. She wasn’t jealous. Not one bit.
“Oh, to be twenty years younger and seven sizes smaller.” Gladys fanned herself with her hand. “I’d give those two young men a run for their money.”
“Gladys!” Emma’s mother pretended to be shocked. “That’s my son we’re talking about.”
“All right. Just Nick, then. It’s not as if he hasn’t been on the prowl these past couple years.”
“Now, now. Prowl is a strong word.”
“I swear he’s dated every available woman under thirty-five this town has to offer.”
Nick dated a lot? The last Emma had heard, and admittedly, her mother was the source, he’d practically sworn off women altogether. Emma hadn’t entirely believed her mother, but Nick a player? That didn’t sound like him.
“Since when?” Emma was surprised to hear the question pop out of her mouth.
Gladys peered at Emma over the rim of her glass. “It’s no secret he’s in the market for a wife and looking to settle down. Hasn’t found anyone yet, but it’s only a matter of time. He’s quite the catch. The Mistletoe Herald ran a feature on him last Valentine’s Day. The town’s most eligible bachelor.”
Emma’s mother shot Gladys a warning look. “Maybe Emma doesn’t want to hear about this.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Really. It’s not like I don’t date, either.”
She did, now and again, though none of her relationships had lasted particularly long. Nick had swept Emma off her feet, their romance straight from the pages of a fairy tale. When he’d proposed after a mere four months, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to become Mrs. Hayes.
Convinced their impulsiveness was what had ultimately led to disaster, she insisted on taking things slow with any new guy she met. Very slow. So slow, in fact, that the guy usually tired of waiting and moved on. Emma had yet to care. None of the men she’d dated came remotely close to evoking in her the same feelings Nick did.
Had, she corrected herself. As in, the past. He most certainly did nothing for her now.
What did she care that he’d dated scores of women?
The seamstress reappeared, sewing box in tow. “Are you ready now, miss?”
“Absolutely.” Emma all but ran to the fitting room.
The gown her mother had chosen was deep maroon and went well with Emma’s hair color and complexion. The slim-fitting bodice and flared skirt showed off her figure to its best advantage. The cap sleeves gave her a dainty, feminine appearance. Emma reminded herself to compliment her mother on her good taste.
The seamstress measured this, pinned that and marked there. “You look lovely.” She smiled with satisfaction.
Emma emerged from the fitting room, feeling the best she had all day. She quite enjoyed the sensual swishing sound the silky fabric made when she walked.
She stepped out to gasps of delight from her mother and Gladys and a low wolf whistle from her brother.
“Goodness gracious,” Gladys gushed.
“You’re an absolute vision!” Her mother clasped her hands together. “Isn’t she?”
“Yes, indeed.” The deep male voice didn’t belong to Cole.
Emma looked up to find Nick staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face.
“What are you doing here?” she sputtered.
“Same as you. Getting fitted.”
Duh! He stood before her, dressed in a Western-cut tux that looked like it was custom-made for him. The only thing missing was a black dress Stetson.
The floor of the shop seemed to tilt at a sharp angle, hurling Emma six years into the past. She breathed deeply, desperately attempting to regain her balance. This wasn’t her wedding. Nick wasn’t the groom. They could barely stand each other.
“You’re beautiful.”
Did he have to say that? With a low, husky voice that sent tingles cascading down her spine?
“Thank you,” she murmured and brushed self-consciously at her hair. “You look nice, too.”
Nice? He was her every fantasy come true.
“My, my, my.” Gladys sighed expansively. “How lucky am I to be paired with you?”
Of course, Emma thought. As maid of honor, she’d be paired with best man Carl. Thank goodness for one small favor.
“When will the alterations be done?” Emma’s mother asked the shop owner.
“We’ll deliver the tuxes and gown the morning of the wedding.”
“That’s cutting it close, but it will have to do, I suppose.”
The seamstress, evidently not knowing that Nick and Emma weren’t paired in the wedding party, took them by their hands, pulled them to the large triple mirror and positioned them side by side. “Aren’t you stunning together.”
At that moment, Cole came out of the fitting room, wearing his regular clothes. Catching sight of them, he stopped in his tracks. “Whoa! That takes me back.”
“Doesn’t it though?” Gladys agreed.
Emma and Nick’s expressions stared at them from the mirror. Hers was stricken. His was guarded.
The seamstress beamed and pointed to the mistletoe hanging from the suspended light fixture directly above their heads. “You must kiss.”
Emma tensed. She couldn’t take a repeat of last night.
“It’s okay,” she insisted. “We don’t have to.”
The seamstress’s mouth fell open in shock. “But it’s bad luck not to kiss.”
If Emma ever found out who started the stupid bad-luck-not-to-kiss tradition, she’d give them a kick in the you-know-what.
Before she could voice another protest, Nick turned, swooped her up into his arms and planted his mouth firmly on hers. The floor tilted again, this time for an entirely different reason.
Emma promptly panicked.
No, no, no! This had happened to her before, and not just today or last night when Nick had kissed her beneath the street sign. He’d always had this uncontrollable effect on her. Always had and probably always wo
uld, whether he intended to or not. It was how she’d lost her heart to him in the first place.
Pushing against his chest, she disengaged herself from his embrace. Not caring what the others thought, she lifted the hem of her dress and hurried into the fitting room. Please, please, she silently begged. Don’t let anyone follow me.
Thankfully, her wish was granted. Emma was able to change out of the gown without assistance. Five minutes later, her hands were still shaking. A knock on the dressing room door had her jumping out of her skin.
“Emma?” her mother said.
“Be out in a second.” Arranging the dress inside the garment bag, she zipped it up.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
Only she was far from fine. As Nick had kissed her there in the store, Emma had experienced a startling and most unwelcome revelation.
She was still in love with him. Heart, body and soul.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I WANT TO make a stop before we go to Merrick’s.”
Emma thought her mother’s suggestion was a good idea—and not just because she needed to walk off those few sips of champagne she’d drunk. Realizing she still loved Nick had sobered her faster than being hit in the face with a bucket of ice water.
“Where?” she asked.
They stood outside I Now Pronounce You, buttoning their coats and winding wool scarves around their necks. Gladys had already left, and Cole’s old high school buddy had swung by the shop to pick him up.
Nick was still inside. Emma hadn’t been able to escape the shop fast enough.
“Mistletoe Magic.” Emma’s mother linked arms with her, and they started out. In broad daylight, the lights and decorations along Main Street paled in comparison to the ones they’d viewed the other night.
“You need something for the wedding?” Emma asked.
“In a manner of speaking.”
The new age shop wasn’t far. Two blocks away. The icy air penetrated the fabric of Emma’s heavy coat, chilling her to the bone. That, or her recent encounter with Nick had left her feeling utterly exposed. Had he read the emotions reflected in her eyes and realized she still loved him? Good grief, she hoped not. She’d never be able to face him.
A jingle bell announced their arrival at Mistletoe Magic, which occupied the entire first floor of a converted Victorian-style house. Smells assaulted them the moment they entered, sweet and a little exotic. A nontraditional version of “Jingle Bells” played in the background.
The only other customer in the store was leaving, her arms laden with shopping bags. Emma and her mother smiled and exchanged a cheery “Merry Christmas” with the customer.
“Hi, Mrs. Sturlacky.” The shop owner came out from behind the counter, her expression warm and welcoming. “It’s Emma, right?”
“You have a good memory.” Emma’s recollections of Finley were vague, mostly from when she worked part-time at Merrick’s and the McCarthy family visited the farm store.
“How can I help you today?”
“I need two things,” her mother said. “My friend Gladys mentioned a lotion you carry.”
“Body or hand?”
“Body. My friend says the scent is supposed to...well, make a woman more attractive to the opposite sex and make him more...more...interested in her.”
Emma bit back a laugh. Was her mother looking to purchase an aphrodisiac? Did they even sell those things? Suddenly serious, she glanced around the shop.
“Ah.” Finley lit up. “I know the one you’re talking about. Very effective,” she emphasized with a knowing nod. “Right this way.”
They navigated the aisles, their shelves brimming with products. Emma had never been in the shop before and was admittedly intrigued by the many offerings, some of them quite curious and out of the ordinary.
“Mom, why do you need a lotion to attract men? You’re getting married in two days. I’d say whatever you’ve been doing has worked pretty well.”
“For the honeymoon.”
Emma recalled all the small and endearing ways Leonard paid attention to her mother. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“I want the night to be special.”
There was a wistfulness to her mother’s voice and a hint of shyness. Was she nervous? If so, why? Hadn’t she and Leonard done the deed already? Emma grimaced, not wanting to think about the intimate details of her mother and Leonard’s private life.
“Here it is.” Finley removed a test bottle from a display and squirted a dab onto Emma’s mother’s hands. “Would you like to try it?” She held the bottle out to Emma, who automatically opened her palm.
Rubbing the lotion in, she and her mother brought their hands to their noses for a whiff.
Her mother’s eyes went wide. “Smells delightful, doesn’t it, Emma?”
“Very nice.”
There was indeed something about the lotion that went straight to Emma’s head. She blinked and took another strong sniff. Would Nick like it? Would he find her irresistible and forget about all the other women he’d been dating?
Enough! She had to stop thinking about him. What did she care if he dated?
“I’ll take a bottle.” Her mother snatched one off the shelf, then, after a moment’s hesitation, went back for a second. “No, two.”
“You won’t be disappointed,” Finley assured her. “My customers report excellent results.”
Emma clamped a hand to her forehead. She didn’t want to know.
“What else can I help you with?” Finley inquired of Emma’s mother.
“I’d like one of those mistletoe lucky charms you sell.”
“Absolutely. They’re by the register.”
A lucky charm? Emma refrained from rolling her eyes. Who was this woman claiming to be her mother? Certainly not the conservative and straitlaced individual who’d raised her. Besides, her mother obviously had all the luck she needed. She was marrying a great guy who adored her.
Emma browsed the displays near the register while her mother paid for her purchases. One item that had her looking twice was a magic potion aimed at children. According to the sign, a few drops placed on a pillow Christmas Eve night would result in the person’s fondest wish coming true on Christmas Day.
What would Emma wish for? She didn’t need to think twice, and reached for a small vial of the potion. The next instant, she replaced the bottle and withdrew her hand. This was insanity. She didn’t believe in potions and charms any more than she believed in Santa Claus and elves. No silly superstition would help her get over Nick. For that, she had only to harden her heart.
“Happy holidays,” Finley called after Emma and her mother as they left. “Come back again.”
“Wait.” Emma’s mother stopped on the sidewalk outside the store. Opening the sack containing her purchases, she reached in and withdrew the mistletoe charm. “Here. I bought this for you.”
“Why?”
“Take it. The charm has special magic. The luck isn’t in the having, but the giving.”
“I don’t understand.”
She wiggled the charm, which danced on the end of a red velvet ribbon. “The person who receives it gets the luck.” Tears abruptly filled Emma’s mother’s eyes. “I want you to be happy, sweetie. I don’t care if it’s a new job or a man in your life or even a pet dog. Just as long as you find that niche you were talking about.” She opened Emma’s fingers and deposited the charm, then covered Emma’s hand with her own. “Keep this. For me. Make your mother happy.”
Emma stared at the charm, sprigs of mistletoe poking through her fingers. Glitter was already falling off and adhering to her skin. She shook her head. No trinket this inconsequential could possibly turn her life around. But rather than hurt her mother’s feelings, she dropped t
he charm in her coat pocket.
“Sure, Mom. Thank you.”
On impulse, she hugged her mother, which made her feel a tiny bit better. Maybe there was something to the charm’s magic after all.
The moment they arrived at Merrick’s roadside farm store, Mrs. Merrick—Karen, Emma had to remember that—shuffled them to the workroom in the back of the store.
“What do you think?” Karen waved an arm toward the long table. “I was up till midnight last night.”
Festive centerpieces, fragrant hangings for the church pews and one especially large arrangement stretched from one end of the table to the other. Most were made from a variety of evergreen boughs, and all included gold-and-silver ribbons, miniature jingle bells and, of course, mistletoe.
“What about the lilies?” Emma’s mother asked.
“They’re arriving tomorrow morning. We want them to be as fresh as possible.” Mrs. Merrick peered out the window, her brow creased with worry. “As long as the storm holds off and the highways aren’t shut down.”
As planned, the large centerpiece, designated for the bride and groom’s table at the reception, would also contain white lilies. Having once worked in the farm store, Emma knew the importance of flowers at their freshest.
“Ooh.” Emma’s mother laid a hand over her heart, her expression melting. “Everything is absolutely beautiful. I couldn’t be happier.”
They spent several minutes inspecting Mrs. Merrick’s handiwork and discussing details. Emma’s mother requested only a few teeny-tiny changes. Times were decided on for delivering the centerpieces and large arrangement to the ranch for the reception and the pew hangings to the church for the ceremony.
“And last but not least.” With a flourish, Mrs. Merrick presented Emma’s mother with a bouquet fit for a bride, its long gold-and-silver ribbons almost reaching to the floor. “I’ll add the lilies tomorrow. Here are the ones for Emma and Gladys.” She indicated two smaller bouquets.
“This is really happening.” Emma’s mother started to cry softly. “It’s not a dream.”
Her joy was incredibly touching, and Emma felt tears prick her own eyes. Not only because she shared in her mother’s happiness but also because it made Emma’s empty, wandering, here-and-there life feel even more lonely.
A Mistletoe Christmas: Santa's Mistletoe MistakeA Merry Little WeddingMistletoe Magic Page 12
