Finn’s hand tightened, cracking the egg he held, mirroring what his suddenly coiling emotions were doing to that poor battered organ in the middle of his chest.
Trust me, she’d said in the shower, and he had. Dumb sap. Because there was nothing new in the fact that she was going to be leaving him. Again.
Here came the get-ugly part.
The night before, when her mother had finally called to tell Bailey where she was and why she wasn’t coming home, Tracy had urged her to take the next day off. Yet at midmorning, Bailey still found herself at The Perfect Christmas anyway. Because she wanted to make sure her mother and stepfather were really together, she told herself.
Not because she missed the store already.
Not because she had to get away from Finn, so close by next door.
God, and Mrs. Jacobson! Finn had said she’d been sick, but her frailty turned Bailey’s stomach inside out. Just another thing to run from…and now she could.
The bells jingled their familiar tune as she pushed open the door. It wasn’t quite opening time, but on the hospitality table, the cookies and chocolates she’d ordered last week sat on the holiday platter in perfect circles. The coffee urn beside them gleamed. A rich java smell mingled with the store’s distinctive scent.
She saw her mother unpacking a box and hanging an ornament on the tree by the register. “Mom!” She hurried over. “I think that one looks better with all natural ornaments. Just the shells and coral and such.”
Tracy looked down at the glass figurine in her hand. “No Little Mermaid?”
“Oh! Well.” Embarrassed, Bailey stepped back. “Of course you can do it however you want.”
“There she is!” From the back room, Dan strode out, a happy grin on his face. His gaze met Tracy’s, and Bailey swallowed, watching them exchange a secret communication. She remembered it from the past.
Then Dan swept her up in a strong embrace. She clung, even aware that she was doing it. But couldn’t she be happy for them? Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, hard. Shouldn’t she be happy for them?
Dan’s arms didn’t let go. “There, there,” he said, as if she were eight years old and had fallen off her bicycle. His palm stroked the back of her head, as Mrs. Jacobson’s had done in her kitchen. Bailey blinked away a tear.
Silly me. Nothing hurt here.
She broke away, and smiled as wide as the empty place in her chest. “It’s great to see you guys back at the helm.”
Her mother and Dan telegraphed another quick thought. Indecipherable to Bailey. “We’re glad to be here together,” Tracy said. Her hand reached out and Dan clasped it, that goofy grin back on his face.
“We’ll always be together,” he said.
Good luck with that, Bailey thought, another stupid tear welling.
She cleared her throat. “Can I do something? I know you said to take the day off…”
Tracy’s gaze cut to Dan’s, then back to her face. “Well…”
“Or if you don’t need me, I was thinking about heading home.”
Tracy stilled. “Home to…to Walnut Street?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Home home. L.A.”
An awkward silence welled.
Dan rubbed his hand over his gray-less head. “Here’s the thing, Bay—”
“Harry will be home day after tomorrow,” Tracy interjected. “Can’t you stay through the holiday? We’re only open until noon on Christmas Eve.”
Bailey frowned. “You’re going to be closing at noon? The Christmas Eve afternoon hours are primo time, Mom. All those people on the way to holiday dinners making a quick stop for the perfect hostess gift—which means the quick hostess gift. I was planning to put the most expensive stuff at the front of the store and also right beside the register. Christmas Eve shoppers are desperate.”
“Noon on Christmas Eve,” Dan said, his voice firm. “We’re going to start doing things differently.”
She shrugged. “Okay. It’s your store.”
“That’s what we wanted to talk about on Christmas Eve afternoon,” Tracy said, the words rushing out. “The store. I mean, that it’s ours.”
Bailey frowned. “Well, it is.”
“We might as well tell you we’re thinking of making some changes in our life,” Dan said, his gaze gentle on Tracy’s face.
Her mother swallowed, hard, her eyes unwavering as they met Bailey’s. “And we want to give The Perfect Christmas to you.”
* * *
Bailey Sullivan’s Vintage Christmas
Facts & Fun Calendar
December 21
In Mexico, the Christmas season includes the tradition of the posadas. People travel to one another’s homes, reenacting Mary and Joseph’s search for lodging, with some taking on the roles of mean innkeepers and others the Holy Family. What follows is food, fun, piñatas, and fireworks.
* * *
Chapter 21
“Of course I told them no.” Bailey rocked from one foot to the other while Adam Truehouse, ragdoll-asleep, drooled on her neck.
Trin continued fanning cocktail napkins across the surface of her dining room table. “So what are they going to do with the store?”
Bailey shrugged. “Sell it, they say. They want to do some traveling, explore other options.”
Trin swung around, her eyes widening. “What if the new owner doesn’t want to keep it The Perfect Christmas?”
Adam’s little red velvet shoes had come from the store. Bailey ran her finger over the soft fabric. “Then it becomes The Horrid Halloween or The Excellent Easter or even The Freakin’ Fourth of July,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact.
“But it’s—”
“An institution, I know.”
Trin frowned. “I was going to say landmark.”
Albatross. “Whatever.” She wasn’t going to feel bad about the loss of the family store. After all, she’d done her very best, hadn’t she? She’d kept it going these past weeks so there would be something to sell to someone else.
“I bought Adam’s first Christmas ornament there,” Trin said. “This year’s ornament too. He picked out that cute little jointed panda bear, remember?”
“No.” It wore a green-and-white striped cap and carried an even tinier teddy bear. She looked up, straight into her best friend’s annoyed glare.
“Bailey—”
“Give me a break, Trin. I don’t like Christmas. I don’t like the store.” Though she’d given in to pressure once again and agreed to stay until the morning of the twenty-fifth. Her mother wanted her to have Christmas Eve dinner with the family and there was her half brother Harry to consider too. He’d be back home and eager to tell all of them about his college experience.
Trin stalked toward the kitchen. “The whole town will be upset about the store changing hands…if it even stays a store at all. Word gets around fast, you know. I bet some people at the party tonight will already have heard about it.”
Wincing, Bailey followed. She’d hoped to be hours away before that news hit Coronado. Mrs. Mohn might come after her with a bedpan. “Surely not. I don’t think my mom and Dan will say anything right away.”
“What about Finn?”
“What about him?” Bailey inspected the trays of cookies lined up on the counter. She wasn’t going to feel bad about that either. Both of them had gone into their fling eyes-open. That it was ending now…it was nothing more than they’d both expected.
Of course yesterday morning in her bed…She’d wanted a memorable last time with him, but it had been like nothing she’d expected or ever before experienced. His heart had beat like a drum against her back; it had been like her heartbeat. Their heartbeat.
“Is Finn going to let you run away again?”
“You mean is Finn going to wave good-bye as I head home like I intended from the day I drove back into town?” She recalled the cool expression on his face when she’d dropped that little bit of info in his grandmother’s kitchen. “I think he will.”
/> “Well I’ll just ask him,” Trin said, as she peeled plastic wrap off a plate of fancy-cut sandwiches.
Bailey clutched Adam tighter to her chest, so that he made a sleepy bleat of protest. “Did you…did you invite Finn here tonight?” She’d managed to avoid him since the French toast the day before. Maybe he was ducking her too, but because she’d spent all her time at the store today, even coming straight to Trin’s without a stop on Walnut Street first, she didn’t know.
“Yup.”
Bailey pasted on a calm, upbeat smile. Why not? She was calm. Upbeat. Her trip to her childhood home couldn’t have ended any better.
She should be feeling on top of the world.
It was closing in on midnight and Trin and Drew’s party was winding down. Telling herself her lowering spirits were just postparty letdown, Bailey volunteered for leftovers duty and busied herself in the kitchen. In a lower cabinet, she found two shelves full of jumbled plastic containers.
She looked up as Trin’s footsteps clacked on the tile floor. “I know we’re all grown up when I see you have a full complement of Tupperware. But something tells me this isn’t one of the areas you’ve baby-proofed.”
Trin didn’t laugh. Bailey didn’t either, as three words echoed in her head. She stared back down at the disorganized plasticware, so different than the by-size and by-color stacks in her own cupboard in L.A. All grown up. Finn had whispered that in her ear. Finn, who had never showed up at the party.
“Bay…”
Her gaze shifted back to Trin. The Christmas cheer was gone from her best friend too.
Bailey stood so quickly, her head spun. She shot out a hand to catch the lip of the counter and steady herself. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?”
“You know how news travels fast around here.”
“Sure.” Seventy-five hundred households. Seven point four square miles. Nosy. Cozy.
“Somebody just heard from their babysitter who heard from her mother who heard from another friend…” Trin glanced over her shoulder, then grimaced. “I know why Finn didn’t come tonight.”
Foreboding trickled like a tear down Bailey’s spine. “Why?”
“His grandmother’s been terminally ill for months and this morning…this morning she passed on.”
Bailey’s face must have been so blank that Trin felt the need to be even clearer. “Bay, Mrs. Jacobson died.”
* * *
Bailey Sullivan’s Vintage Christmas
Facts & Fun Calendar
December 22
The Yule log goes back to pagan times. A special log was cut and burned during the winter festival to ward off evil and to bring safety to the home and its inhabitants for the coming year.
* * *
Chapter 22
Bailey drove directly to Hart’s. It was the same as the first time, sticky floor, loud music, muscled, clean-cut young men and the much-smaller number of decorative females. As the door closed behind her, from somewhere by the pool tables a male voice yelled out “Hooyah!” and three other guys beat their chests in response.
Neither the hooyah-er nor any of the chest beaters was Finn.
“He’s not here,” Tanner said, suddenly appearing by her side, causing an approaching young man with a prominent Adam’s apple and a full bottle of lite beer to veer off.
“You heard…?”
He nodded. “He called this morning. After breakfast, Mrs. Jacobson decided to take her usual rest. When he went to check up on her an hour or so later, she’d died in her sleep. All things considered…”
Bailey swallowed the lump in her throat as she thought of the lady who had been her next-door neighbor all her life. They’d shared French toast the morning before. And a hug. She was glad for that last moment even though she hadn’t know it was good-bye.
She’d always been lousy with those anyway.
Her throat felt thick and she swallowed again. “You said Finn called you?” He hadn’t contacted Bailey. Even if he didn’t know her cell phone number, he could have reached her through the store.
“Yeah.”
“But he hasn’t been by tonight? I tried calling the house and no one answered. I figured he was here.”
“Oh, he wouldn’t come here.” Tanner shook his movie-star hair.
Bailey frowned. “Why not?”
“He knows that I wouldn’t serve him any liquor unless he’d talk first.”
“Well surely that’s good, the talking, I mean,” Bailey said. “He’s got to be feeling—”
“That’s the whole problem, Bailey,” Tanner put in. “That’s Finn’s whole problem. He doesn’t want to be feeling anything at all.”
She didn’t waste any more time in the bar. On the sidewalk outside, she hesitated a moment, thinking through her options. Finding Finn wasn’t the issue—that had to be done. But where to look first?
“You’re Finn’s friend,” a voice from the shadows said.
Bailey jumped, then swung toward the stranger stepping into the light over the bar’s door. The young woman had long, straight dark hair, exotic eyes, and coltish legs in tight, bleached jeans.
She held out her hand and gave a winsome smile. “I’m Desirée.”
Ah. Desirée, sometimes referred to as Desirée al-Maddah, sometimes Desirée Bryant, depending upon whether the press was describing the celebutante as the daughter of her Middle Eastern prince of a father or as the daughter of her famous model mom. Bailey shook her cool hand. “I’m Bailey Sullivan. I recognize you from the, uh, kiss.”
The younger woman grimaced. “Don’t mention it to Tanner, will you? And don’t tell Troy you’ve seen me here, okay?”
Which reminded Bailey she had yet to see Finn and he shouldn’t be alone. “It’s nice meeting you, but I have to go now.”
“You heard about Mrs. Jacobson?”
“Yes.” Bailey hesitated. “By any chance, you wouldn’t happen to know where Finn is, would you?”
“Well, I—”
The bar door swung open. A male voice growled through the night air. “What the hell are you doing here again? Haven’t I already told you to get lost?”
Desirée flinched, then lifted her chin to face the behemoth who stomped outside to confront her. “It’s a free country, Troy.”
“I thought I ordered you to stop hanging around the bar when you showed up here the other day.” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking half genie and mostly scary with his bulging biceps and shaved head.
Bailey frowned. Troy appeared angry and Desirée defiant, but there was something else buzzing beneath the surface of their conversation. Something hot and—
“We don’t want you here,” Troy stated.
Apparently unwelcome.
“I don’t want you here,” he clarified.
Very unwelcome.
Desirée blinked, swallowed, and despite her mulish expression, Bailey had the distinct feeling she just might cry.
To preserve the younger woman’s dignity, Bailey slid her hand through her elbow. “We’re on our way,” she said, guiding them both toward the parking lot.
Desirée looked back, just as the bar’s door slammed shut. Bailey felt her flinch again. Then she slipped free of Bailey’s arm to wrap her arms around herself in a sad self-hug.
“Thanks,” she said, her winsome smile now turned wry. “I thought it was bad when Tanner was mad at me, but then I met Troy and…I don’t know why I let him get to me. Especially when he doesn’t bother trying to soft-pedal the way he feels.”
Bailey lifted a shoulder. “Sometimes you don’t have any choice.”
“Yeah.” Then she reached out and touched the top of Bailey’s hand. “And speaking of men with chips on their shoulders, I saw Finn’s SUV parked at the north end of the beach.”
Bailey stopped her Passat behind Finn’s big, black car. It was a no-moon night, and with her headlights off the darkness wrapped around her like a blanket. A safe blanket.
She could go home.
No. She couldn’t leave him out here alone.
At Trin’s, she’d changed out of her work clothes, and she realized she should have changed back, because her high-heeled sandals were impractical sand gear. She slipped them off as she reached the beach and let them dangle in one hand, shoving her other inside her jacket pocket to grip her cell phone.
The sand was slippery cold against the soles of her feet. Her toes curled into it as she gazed up and down the beach. The only clear thing she could see was the white froth of the incessant waves.
There! she thought, squinting. There was movement.
A spark pierced the darkness and then kindled into a small fire a quarter mile down the beach. Still gripping her cell phone in case it wasn’t the man she was looking for, she headed for it. As she drew closer, she noticed the pallets and other shadowy pieces of wood piled nearby, enough to keep the darkness at bay all night long.
When she neared, Finn didn’t look away from the fire he’d started in the cement circle. He was sitting beside it, a flask in his hand. As he lifted it to take a drink, the light of the flames flickered yellow and red against its silver surface, a bright contrast to his black eye patch, the dark night, the murky ocean with its ever-changing frothy skirt of white sweeping back and forth, back and forth, across the wet sand.
Bailey’s shoes dropped from her suddenly sweaty hands. She followed them down to the sand, leaving that ring of fire between her and Finn. She filled her chest with a long breath of the cool air, tasting the salt on her tongue and wishing it was words instead.
When she’d thought about finding him, she’d never thought about what she would say once she did.
Comfort, she told herself. She was here to offer sympathy, provide support, be his friend.
Somehow make the loss easier for him.
Flames glinted against the flask again as he brought it to his mouth for another swallow. “Go away.”
She jerked at the sudden sound of his hard voice, and flashed back to poor Desirée and her reaction to Troy’s rejection. But it wasn’t the same at all, she thought. The sexual, romantic part of her relationship with Finn wasn’t unrequited, it was O-V-E-R.
Must Love Mistletoe Page 22
