“The Bachlord.” Layla pulled her lips down.
“You mean The Bachelor?”
She brightened. “Yeah.”
“I’ve never seen it.”
“Mom used to watch it. See, there’s one man and like a hundred women, and the girls all fight over who gets to marry the guy.”
Gag—what torture. “Well, I don’t want a bunch of women fighting over me.”
Layla fussed with the hairbrush. “What about Ginger?”
Joseph’s eyebrows shot up. “What about her?”
“What if she was one of the girls?”
“Ginger would never fight over a man. Can you see her fighting over anything? She’s way too sweet.” She’d probably buy the other contestants hair supplies, do their makeup, and feed them cookies.
“Yeah, she’s more the type that men fight over. Like on the radio, how they’re always talking about who wants to ask her out.”
“That’s just gotten out of hand.”
“Is that why you haven’t asked her on a date, because there’s too many other guys?”
“Me?” Joseph’s neck heated up. “I’m not the dating kind.”
“Never?” Layla asked incredulously.
“Not really.”
“Then how are you going to get married?”
“I’m not … I’m not sure.” Joseph fiddled with the mirror. Once upon a time, when he was young and just starting out, he’d wanted to get married, settle down, have some kids and a steady job. But he’d never found the right woman, and after a while he’d lost sight of the dream.
Layla put both hands on her hips. “Do you even want to get married?” She looked at him like he was a misshapen sweater, something she could straighten out.
“Maybe someday.”
Layla scrunched up her face. “You’re not getting any younger.”
“Excuse me!” Joseph picked her up and began a round of tickle torture. He’d had just about enough of her chastisements for one day.
Layla screamed and wiggled and laughed until she could hardly breathe. “Uncle!”
“That’s what I thought you said.” Joseph smiled. He’d been doing that a lot more since Layla came around—smiling. What would it be like to have a wife to tease, tickle, and smile with? Old stirrings swirled in his heart, reminding him that there was more to life than wood and … and hiding from the past and simply existing.
“If you’ll clean this up, I’ll teach you how to play Blitzkrieg,” Joseph offered. One old man he’d worked for had taught him the ten-round game, much like rummy, and they’d pass the storms away with a deck of cards.
“Okay.” Layla picked up her hair supplies and headed back to the bathroom. Joseph thought of her little hair set and decided she could use a mirror of her own. Only not some plastic thing from the store, a wooden one—carved with ivy and some hearts. He pulled out his carving knife and checked the blade. It was still sharp. He had the right piece of wood in his shop. At the time he’d found it, he didn’t know why he’d tucked the odd-shaped thing under his arm. Perhaps it was coincidence. Pastor Willis would say it was the Lord preparing the way for something wonderful.
He liked the sound of that. It settled around his soul like a blanket and had him wondering what else the Lord had in store for him.
Chapter Seventeen
Her date with Scooter had gone well as far as first dates go. He was polite, a good conversationalist, and not bad to gaze at across the table and enjoy the view.
There was one other huge recommendation for Scooter as the future Mr. Claus—he loved Christmas. They shared some of their favorite Christmas memories over a bowl of apple cobbler with vanilla ice cream. By the end of the night, Ginger felt like she’d made a real … friend. Scooter was a guy she could spend hours talking to, and if she’d had a brother, she’d want him to be just like Scooter. The trouble was, she didn’t need a brother, she needed a husband.
“What you need,” said Stella that night as Ginger recapped the date for Lux’s research purposes and Stella’s curiosity, “is a guy who gets your hot chocolate bubbling.”
Ginger threw a piece of caramel corn at the computer screen. “You’re incorrigible.” She ate the next piece. “Do you need me up there? We’ve got a few days of snowstorms.”
Stella shook her head. “As long as you can work from there, we should be fine.” She looked over her shoulder. “Besides, Robyn is acting really strange. Frost caught her going through the mail the other day.”
“Why?” asked Ginger.
“When?” asked Lux.
“She said she needed a boost of Christmas spirit.”
“When?” Lux asked again.
“Yesterday morning.” Stella yawned. “Well, if Scooter didn’t come through with the zap, then I’m off to bed.”
“Sorry.” Ginger shrugged. “No zapping.” They said goodbye and Ginger shut her laptop.
Lux flipped back and forth between a calendar and a chart on her iPad. She left without saying goodbye, which was kind of normal for her lately.
Ginger spent most of her time during the five-day blizzard in the sky. She hadn’t brought on the storm but found that she could use the driving winds to speed up the sleigh. When the conditions were right, she could give the reindeer a rest and ride the currents. As a plus, the clouds kept her from being spotted.
The downside to having time to practice was that she had time to worry. She worried about Lux and the strain of pioneering research on something that some people felt couldn’t be measured, nor studied, nor tamed.
She worried about her missed dates with William and Steve.
She fussed over the dips in magic Lux’s computer dinged every now and again.
And finally, she worried about Joseph, Layla, and even Timber—hoping the trio lasted out the storm.
Lux spent the days adding to her spreadsheet of events that could affect Christmas Magic and detailing the calendar. Ginger couldn’t breathe without Lux wanting to know about it, so she’d escaped to the sleigh. By the time the weather cleared, Ginger was more than ready to cook lunch for a dozen hungry workers and help with a town service project. Lux had offered to help, which was proof that they both needed time away from the lake house.
Ginger spent the morning whipping up two batches of homemade rolls, reindeer-shaped sugar cookies, and a batch of her delicious chowder. Eyeing the food spread over the kitchen table, she contemplated taking a reindeer and sleigh to the party. The ride would be much smoother than her snowmobile. But she pushed the thought away. Maintaining a sense of normalcy was a big factor in dating “normal” men. Ginger giggled. Was there really such a thing as a normal man?
Loading everything into a sled that attached to the snowmobile, Ginger was grateful her mom had rented the huge house with all the trimmings. She sent Lux a text that it was time to leave.
Lux was out the door quickly. Christmas lights, coiled thickly, hung over her right shoulder, and she carried an electrician’s bag with her left hand.
“What’s all this?” asked Ginger.
Lux used bungee cords to secure her freight. “My contribution to the cause. I’m going to wire up some cool lighting. Nothing too outlandish.”
Ginger threw her arms around Lux, who stumbled back a step. “You are a seriously good person. You know that, right?” Ginger squeezed her tight.
Lux patted her arm. “You’re cutting off my air supply. You know that, right?”
“Ha!” Ginger squeezed a little tighter before letting go.
“Let’s get this over with.” Lux threw a leg over the seat and started the machine.
Ginger wasn’t at all put off by her lack of enthusiasm. Lux had once said she’d rather swim with a crocodile than go to a party. Since Ginger had seen some of Lux’s light shows, she wasn’t at all sad to have Lux do her thing. Her decision to do a lighting project would keep her behind the scenes and out of the way for most of the afternoon while still contributing. She might fly below the Clearview wagging tongues if she could
stay out of sight.
Traversing the new snow pack was an adventure in and of itself. The skies were a bright blue, and the sun reflected off the snow with blinding ferocity. Ginger pulled shaded goggles over her eyes and plowed on. They arrived in town an hour early and found a crowd gathering outside the church.
Susan waved as the girls pulled to a stop and cut the engines. “Hey! So glad you’re here.” She hugged Ginger and introduced herself to Lux as she hugged her too. Lux sent an apprehensive glance to the growing crowd of people. She grabbed her bag and lights and disappeared behind the church.
Scooter tromped over. He had on several layers of clothing to fight against the chill. A thick black scarf wrapped around his neck, and a navy blue hat was pulled down low over his ears. Frost would have loved his sense of style.
Ginger smiled. “Scooter, it’s good to see you again.”
Scooter didn’t take his hat off to greet her like he had the first time, but when the temperatures were in the teens, she couldn’t blame him. “You too, Ginger.” He pulled the scarf down to reveal an open and friendly smile. He really was a terrific guy, which made the fact that he was zap-less all the more sad. Ginger had no desire to turn Scooter down for a second date. They’d left the café as friends, and she hoped to keep it that way.
To Ginger’s relief, there wasn’t a hint of flirtation in his eyes as he gave her the lay of the land. “We’ve set up some tables in the church for the food and have the stove going so you ladies won’t be cold.”
“That’s thoughtful of you, thanks.”
“I’m going to help bring the lumber up from the hardware. I’ll see you later.”
Quik stepped up next. “Hello, Miss Krinkle.” He wore the bright red scarf around his neck and face, muffling his words.
Ginger’s gaze fell to the Kringle crest. “Quik! Did you come to help?”
“I did.” He nodded, but his eyes drifted to the back of the church, where Lux had disappeared. “I’d be happy to help out with the wiring; I’ve got an electrician’s license.”
With Quik’s straightforward manner of speaking and tendency to only say what absolutely needed to be said, he’d be a good assistant for Lux. Not missing a beat, Ginger pulled Quik by the elbow. “That’s a wonderful idea. Let me introduce you to our head electrician.”
“You hired someone?” His feet slowed.
“Not at all. My sister is a genius when it comes to wires and filament and electronics. She’s got a plan and could use some help.” The closer they came to her sister, the harder Quik was to drag. As if he had changed his mind.
Glancing over her shoulder, she caught a hint of fear flit off Quik as they rounded the corner. “Lux,” Ginger called as much in warning as in greeting.
Lux pushed her glasses up her nose. “Your scarf,” she blurted, her eyes glued to the Kringle family crest. She turned to Ginger for explanation.
“I gave it to Quik,” Ginger supplied. She pointed to where her red purse usually hung from her shoulder. “Oh, shoot. I forgot my purse. Did you bring yours?” A magical purse came in handy, and Ginger didn’t like to be without hers.
Lux shook her head. “I don’t carry mine.” Lux’s cheeks turned pink as she made eye contact with Quik. Ginger clamped down her smile. Lux blushing? Will wonders never cease? “Hello.” She smiled tentatively.
Quik’s eyes wrinkled at the corners.
After making introductions and ensuring that Lux was okay working with a stranger—which, strangely, she was—Ginger made her way around front.
A native family with three kids said hello as they joined the throng of people waiting to get inside the church. The children stared at Ginger with wide eyes. She giggled like they shared a secret—which they did. Kids could tell things about Kringles.
“What a wonderful turnout. And I owe it all to you.” Susan patted Ginger on the arm.
Ginger did a quick head count. There were more than thirty men, women, and children milling about. “Wait, are all these people here to work?” Her hands began to shake. She’d only brought food for a dozen or so. “Susan? What happened to our small group of helpers?”
“Well, as it seems to do around here, word got out and we just couldn’t turn away so many helping hands.” Susan grinned like the Christmas mouse who got the last crumb. “Let’s get this stuff inside. Everyone has been talking about your meal, and we’re all so excited to try it out.” She opened the zipper on the heat-pack cooler strapped to the snowmobile and pulled out a casserole dish wrapped in towels before stomping into the church.
Ginger pressed her gloves to her cheeks. “I’m in so much trouble.”
“What’s that?” Susan called.
Ginger waved and smiled as if nothing was wrong, and Susan smiled in return. She eyed the snowmobile. It would take her at least forty-five minutes to get back to the lake house, a half hour to throw together some food, and another forty-five to get back. By the time she assembled enough chowder to feed everyone, they would starve.
Time to call for backup.
Pulling out her cell phone, she hit speed dial and was connected to the North Pole in seconds. “Mom?”
“Ginger! How are you?”
“Not good, Mom.” She quickly explained the situation. “And there are kids here and I don’t have anything for them but a couple of cookies and I left my purse at home.”
“Sugarplum, is it possible you’re taking on too much? You’ve got all your Santa training to finish, finding a Mr. Claus, and preparing for Christmas Eve—not to mention checking the list, twice!”
“I didn’t think I was taking on too much—until you listed it out like that. Thanks so much for putting it in perspective for me.” Ginger paced, creating tracks in the snow.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. Listen, I can be there in thirty-five minutes with enough food to feed a factory.”
“Thank you, Mom!”
“And after we eat, you and I are going to have a naughty and nice talk.”
Ginger rolled her eyes. When they were kids, naughty and nice talks were her mom’s way of getting them to take responsibility for something they’d done wrong.
“Don’t you roll your eyes at me.”
Ginger pulled the phone away from her ear to make sure she wasn’t on video chat. “Wait—how did you know?”
“You and your father may have the list gene, but I’m a mother. I can sense these things a million miles away. Now, forget your troubles and get to work.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And don’t call me ma’am—it makes me feel old.”
Ginger laughed. “You are never going to be old. You have more spunk than the rest of us put together.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
They said goodbye and ended the phone call. Ginger found her snowmobile sled empty and a troop of men bringing wood up the street. They carried the heavier pieces between them, and the lighter ones were slung over shoulders.
“Ginger!” Susan called from the corner of the church. “Come see this.”
Up the steps, around the corner and tacked to the outside of the church were the plans for the backdrop. Only they weren’t simple plans, as she’d expected. “When you said backdrop, I expected something less … intense.”
The platform was anchored to the church’s foundation. The stage area was long enough for the entire production of A Christmas Carol. The back wall was to be stained dark, and there were curtains and a pulley system and a trap door. What was Susan planning to do, drop Santa out of sight or make him appear like a magician?
“As the volunteers kept coming, the mayor and I decided to make this into something the town can use all year long. Obviously, we won’t have the money for curtains and such in this year’s budget, but with the stage built properly, we can use this area as a gathering place.”
Susan was right: the stage would make a wonderful gathering place all year round. From what she’d seen, the people of Clearview craved company. They turned out in
droves at the café for roast beef night and talked the afternoon away at the jeans store. She couldn’t blame them. Growing up in an isolated town, Ginger could understand the need for friends and companionship. What would she have done without her sisters?
However, the bigger the project became, the more she felt like crying boo hoo hoo. A bigger project meant more mouths to feed. Forging ahead, she trekked down to meet the men who carried the wood and ask them to turn around and bring back another load.
Chapter Eighteen
“Uncle Joseph!”
Joseph dropped his pencil and ran to the door. Layla was supposed to be watching a movie, not outside. Outside and alone were dangerous for a child her age. He threw the door open, a reprimand on his lips, and froze in place.
There, in his yard, was a bright red sleigh pulled by none other than a reindeer. Layla sat next to a woman with a long brown braid over one shoulder and a white fur muff around her head. He blinked, wondering if the days locked up inside during the storm had driven him crazy. The stranger, on the other hand, appeared normal-ish, though he doubted her sanity because she’d harnessed a reindeer.
“Uncle Joseph—can we go for a ride?” Layla beamed.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt your day, but I’m glad you’re home. I’m late for a gathering in town, and unfortunately I’m quite lost.”
“Hang on!” Joseph stepped back inside and grabbed his winter gear. It was darn cold out there. Once sufficiently bundled, he closed the shop door behind him and made his way to the sleigh. “Did you say you were headed to Clearview?”
“Yes! Could you by chance give me directions? Or better yet, ride along with me to show the way. I’ve got more than enough corn chowder, homemade rolls, and cookies to share.”
Joseph’s stomach growled. The traitor. He and Layla had eaten out of the freezer for the last five days. A home-cooked meal sounded like heaven. He was basically doodling for ideas, afraid of what his muse would have him carving if he started a project. His thoughts hadn’t gone much farther than Ginger lately. He’d known about the town project—everybody knew—yet he couldn’t bring himself to trot on into town and offer his skills after the way he’d shot down Susan’s request for funds. As time sailed on, he’d felt downright ashamed of himself for not helping the local kids have a good Christmas. What had living alone turned him into?
Ginger (Marrying Miss Kringle) Page 13
