“Well? So? Was it him?” Both were chiming in over each other.
“Yes. His son and his friends.” Jessie’s eyes welled up with tears. “That was probably one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.”
Lisa wrapped her arm around Jessie’s shoulder. “But what about the time I got that bubble gum out of your hair?”
Jessie let out a laugh. “But if I recall correctly, you were the one who put it there in the first place!”
“A total accident. I had no idea that bubble would get so big and burst in your face!”
“Yeah. My bangs were stubs by the time you cut the gum out of them! I had to wear a headband for months!”
“You were always so fashionable.” Lisa hugged her friend. Lisa had been more of a tomboy when they were growing up, so it was surprising that she was the one to get married and have kids. In reality, Lisa was a better athlete than Jessie though she was uninterested in going the college route, and once she fell for Kenny, her thoughts turned to a more traditional life.
Jessie grabbed Rosemary by the arm. “Come and look at the tree.”
“There’s a tree?” Rosemary was still recovering from the overwhelming display of lights.
“Yes. A very big tree.” The three women linked arms and marched up the front steps and into the foyer, where the magnificent spruce stood.
“I should start showing this property tomorrow!” Rosemary exclaimed. “The place looks so absolutely festive and inviting!”
“Oh, Rosemary, I can’t wrap my head around that right now. Evan is coming by tomorrow to go over the estimate, and we have to move our butts for the last-minute details of the book giveaway. We only have two days. And after that’s done, we have to get ready for the speed-dating event.”
Rosemary cocked her head. “Yes. About that. I signed up for it, but I need some coaching.”
Jessie gave her the same explanation she had given Lisa. She finished by saying, “At the end of the evening, everyone turns in their cards and I get in touch with the people who have other people interested in them. They can choose to pursue or not.”
“Sounds a little awkward.”
“Any kind of dating is awkward! But this way you’re not wasting time in front of a computer screen not knowing what you’re really getting.”
“Good point. Okay. I’ll have to trust you on this!”
“We have eleven women and nine men, so two women will be alone at a table for ten minutes. The two tables will be away from each other, so neither woman will be alone for more than ten minutes. Considering so many of us are alone for days and weeks, that’s not too bad! And you know my motto: ‘You Never Know!’”
Chapter Eight
Once everyone got over the shock of the magical display, they went out for a quick bite to eat. Jessie had a lot of work to do and was a little road-weary. Traffic had been a beast. She needed—and wanted—to be sharp and look her best for her morning meeting with Evan.
By ten o’clock the next morning, she was pacing the floor. Why was she so nervous? She went down the list: 1. You’re packing up your uncle’s store and selling it. 2. You are holding two jobs, one of which is being done anonymously. 3. You’re hosting not one but two events at the same time you’re getting the bookstore in shape for the market. 4. You have a stupid crush on a man you met for fifteen minutes two months ago. Yes, but that man created a winter wonderland. Okay. 5. What is going on in Evan Becker’s head?
She nearly jumped out of her socks from a knock on the door. She steadied herself and proceeded to greet her contractor/holiday decorator. How should she approach him? A hug of gratitude? Nah. Too much body touching. A peck on the cheek? Nah. Too . . . too . . . just too whatever. She got it—a handshake with her right hand, then her left hand on his arm. Like guys do to each other in that “How’ya doin’ good to see you” gesture. This way it’s informal but not touchy-feely in any way. Boy was she overthinking this.
By the time those thoughts flew through her mind, she was standing with her hand on the doorknob. A quick inhale and voila!
“Oh, Rosemary. Hi.”
“Well, don’t sound so excited to see me.” Rosemary took another long, gaping look at the tree. “Unbelievable.”
“Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you.” Jessie was an inch away from embarrassment, thinking her excitement to see Evan was obvious.
“I have the cartons for the books. I figured I would drop them off now.” Rosemary turned and pointed to a flat of boxes. “There are more in the car. We’re going to have to assemble them and tape ’em up. Didn’t want to wait until the last minute.”
Jessie was impressed with Rosemary’s efficiency. “I appreciate that.”
“By the way, I put up a notice in the teachers’ lounge at the middle school and high school and also in the cafeteria at the hospital.”
“I am thoroughly impressed.” Jessie helped her unload the remaining flats of cartons. Each carton, when assembled, could hold about twenty books.
“And here’s the packing tape.” Rosemary pulled two big dispensers from her tote bag and a few large magic markers. “I think we should assemble a dozen and line them up in the entry. We’ll have people write their name on the box. If there’s only one copy of a book and more than one person wants it, I have a few coins in my purse. Heads or tails. That’s how we play it.”
“I don’t know what I would have done without you.” Once again, Jessie felt a deep sense of gratitude.
“Oh, I’m sure you would have been just fine. And I am happy to do it. I told you, it was going to keep me occupied.” Rosemary started toward the car. “I’ll be done around three. If you want, I’ll come by, and we can finish setting everything up for tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Jessie waved from the porch steps.
Just as Rosemary was heading out to the road, another vehicle pulled into the driveway. For a brief moment, Jessie had forgotten that Evan was coming.
Jessie watched as the long, muscular legs of Evan Becker appeared from the door of his truck. He truly looked like the Marlboro Man, with a red-and-black flannel shirt and jeans. The only thing missing was the cowboy hat. Working in advertising, Jessie was very familiar with the evolution of ad campaigns. Too bad that one was for cigarettes.
“Hey!” Jessie brushed her hair from her face. She felt a little disheveled from carrying the flats of boxes. Making a grand gesture toward the shop, she said, “Nice work!”
Evan took a small bow. “My pleasure, although I can’t take all the credit.”
“If your contracting work is as impeccable as your decorating, I am sure this place will look spectacular.”
Evan was carrying a leather portfolio under his arm. It contained a written estimate and brochures for doors and light fixtures, and a few small samples of tile for the bathroom floor. He had found that it was always easier to discuss everything in person so as not to cause any confusion. People can rarely visualize what something is going to look like, so it was better to talk it through, answering any questions and frequently offering advice.
They took a seat on one of the sofas, and Evan placed the papers and tile on a coffee table Jessie had cleared earlier.
Jessie was fidgeting with the tiles when Evan told her she wouldn’t need a lot, so he suggested a small Carrara white polished hexagon mosaic. “It’s neutral and a very popular style, so it will give it an updated look. I also brought a catalog for you to pick a new toilet and sink. I suggest a pedestal—easier to keep the floor clean. I know you won’t be the one cleaning it, but it is a good selling feature.”
For a moment, Jessie almost forgot she was selling the place. “Right. Good idea.”
“Here are some light fixtures I recommend as well.” Evan pulled another catalog from the portfolio. “I’m assuming since you want me to take the bookcases down, you’re going to put it on the market as open retail space?”
“Yes. That was the plan. Why?”
“You may have to widen the
doorway to the bathroom to accommodate the Americans with Disabilities Act. People need to be able to get a wheelchair in there.”
“Right.” Another lame response.
“I put an extra line in the estimate if you wanted me to do that now, or wait to see what prospective buyers may want.”
“Good idea.” She was beginning to feel a bit stressed. The details were intimidating. She could run an ad campaign from beginning to end, but remodeling was completely foreign to her.
“You okay? You seem a little shell-shocked, and I haven’t gone over the numbers with you yet!”
Jessie wasn’t sure if it was being in his presence or the renovation that was making her light-headed.
“I’m fine. This kind of thing is very new to me. I never had to pick out a tile, or a light fixture in my life. Funny, huh?”
“Not really. Most people only deal with paint, furniture, drapes, and linens. Unless it’s a custom house, people buy it and move in. I know it can be confusing, so I try to narrow down the choices for my clients—as long as I know what style or taste they have. In your case, I went on the assumption you wanted to keep things simple, clean, and easy since you are putting it on the market.”
“Yes. Yes, you’re right.” She could not believe she was stuttering. Maybe she had taken on more than she could handle.
Chapter Nine
Things were relatively quiet at WQPK . . . finally. All the promos for holiday gift giving and people calling in for contests and promotions were winding down. Just a few more days of holiday-madness shopping were ahead, and Brian was keeping the airwaves filled with prerecorded content.
Ziggy the weather guy came huffing and puffing into the booth. “Hey, looks like there’s a major low in Canada—could turn into an Alberta Clipper, which will probably make its way here in a few days. You know how brutal those storms can be.”
“I do indeed.” Brian was nonchalant.
“Well, the radar models, which are always contradicting each other, are actually on the same track, and it looks like we could get hit with a few feet of snow by the weekend.”
“Goody. A White Christmas.” Brian was still blasé.
“Yeah, but isn’t Jessie up in Croton?”
“She is. But she’s not due back until the second.”
“But isn’t she hosting some kind of meet and greet up there?”
“The last time I looked it was called speed dating.”
“Yeah. Whatever. Just thought you might want to pass the info along to her.”
“Will do.” Brian finally looked up from the control panel. “Thanks, Zig. I’ll let her know.”
Brian grimaced, thinking maybe Jessie could use a hand with the event—especially if it was going to be in the middle of a blizzard. He picked up the phone and punched in her cell number.
“Brian! You promised you wouldn’t call!” Jessie was half serious. “Everything okay?”
“Hey, Jess. Ziggy just rolled into the booth and told me there may be a storm forming in the upper Midwest, possibly clipping the East Coast. It may hit us in the next few days. I wanted to give you a heads-up because of your event.”
“Really? Seriously?” Jessie sounded forlorn.
“Yeah. Could be a doozy according to Ziggy. It’s called an Alberta Clipper. Moves really fast, with lots of wind and snow.”
“I haven’t heard anything.”
“Not yet. It’s a low-pressure system now, but all the models are showing that it’s going to pick up some speed. Could slam into your party.”
Jessie was silent for a moment.
“Jess?”
“Yeah, I’m still here. I don’t know what I should do.”
“Things are pretty quiet here. Why don’t I take a couple of days and run up there and give you a hand? Ziggy can hold down the fort, and the intern we have seems to be capable of running the recordings we have lined up. I can always bring some equipment and content to do remote broadcasts if necessary.”
“Are you sure? I have some friends who are helping out.”
“But if there’s a storm, you could be stranded with a bunch of single people!”
Brian tried to sound lighthearted.
“Good point. But I’d think they would stay home, too, no?”
“Desperate people, desperate measures. You oughta know.”
“You’ve got a point. But I don’t want to put you out. Don’t you have plans?” Jessie did not want to put any pressure on him.
“Not until Christmas Day. If we do get hit, that will give me enough time to dig out and get back to Philly.”
“Sounds good to me. If you’re okay with it, then come on up. There’s a spare bedroom in the apartment. I have the book giveaway tomorrow night and the speed-dating event two nights later.”
“I’ll try to get up there day after tomorrow. Just text me the address, and I’ll let you know my ETA.”
“Thanks, Brian. I really appreciate it.”
“No prob. Besides, I want to see how this speed-dating thing works. I’ll ping you when I leave.”
“Sounds like a plan. Be safe.” Jessie clicked off the line. Knowing she had help, she also recognized that everyone had lots to do for their own families, and she didn’t want to impose any further. Her meeting with Evan had left her rattled and feeling a bit overwhelmed. Brian would be a welcome addition to her crew.
She did a few yoga stretches and breaths, then picked up the dispenser of packing tape and began to tackle the folded cartons Rosemary had dropped off. After assembling thirty of the fifteen-by-ten-by-ten-inch cartons, Jessie decided to take a coffee break and went up to the apartment.
She switched on the TV. She was instantly riveted by the true crime–type show that was playing: a plump, lonely, sixtysomething widow from Nevada had signed up with a dating site a year ago. Her name was Eleanor. She had connected with a man who was slightly younger, and very handsome—according to his posted photos. His profile said he was an interpreter for a charitable organization and traveled a lot, making it difficult to meet a woman and have a relationship. They began e-mailing and exchanging photos. He told her she was lovely. After several weeks of online interaction and sharing stories about their lives, he said he would love to meet her when he returned to the States. He began writing poems and pulling quotes from romantic films. He told her he was lonely and tired of traveling. He confessed that what he really wanted in life was a partner—a woman with whom he could share his dreams. Eleanor was beginning to fall in love, in love with a man she had never met.
He told her he was currently working at an orphanage in Spain and would be away for three months but would plan a trip to Nevada on his way home from Europe. She was thrilled and asked him if they could start talking on the phone somehow, or maybe video chat. She wanted to hear this engaging man’s voice.
He said he would have to buy a special phone that cost $500 and he didn’t have that kind of cash on him, so she offered to send him the money. She could barely contain her excitement. He gave her the information, and the next day, she made arrangements to wire the money into an account of a friend of his in Florida. That friend would get the money to him. Eleanor was more than happy to oblige.
Several days later, she received that highly anticipated phone call. She was all atwitter. His silky voice was captivating—captivating with a slight accent that she could not quite place. When she asked him about it, he said it was because he spoke many languages and traveled so much. That seemed to satisfy her curiosity. They spent some time with idle chatter, and he said that he didn’t want to incur more charges on the phone but made a plan to speak with her again in a few days.
For the first time in two years, Eleanor felt happy. Happy, wanted, and needed.
Jessie knew this woman’s story. Women like her had called in to Dr. Richie’s show. Eleanor had become suspicious but did not want to believe she had been scammed—and up until that point she was only on the hook for a few thousand dollars.
Over the cour
se of several months, Eleanor’s suitor had concocted several scenarios where he needed money. One was that his passport and wallet had been stolen and he needed $1,000 to get to the embassy and file his papers. Then he needed hotel and travel money. Within three months, Eleanor had sent him $30,000 and had still not met Prince Charming. Eleanor finally shared her situation with a friend, who was horrified. She knew Eleanor had fallen victim to “catfishing,” or a “love bomb.” Eleanor didn’t want to believe it, but in her heart, she knew that something was wrong. Her friend encouraged her to do a search as well, and when she did, she found nothing on anyone named David Shoemeyer. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
Eleanor’s reaction was surprising. She wasn’t shattered. She wasn’t devastated. She was furious. The expression “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” became her battle cry. The creep preyed on her vulnerability, but after all the pain she experienced after the loss of her husband, she wasn’t going to crumble over money. No, she was going to find that jerk. Maybe she wouldn’t get her money back, but she would get satisfaction.
Completely engrossed in the television show, Jessie followed the trail of lies—e-mails and phone calls to a small group operating out of a warehouse in Texas. They had scammed over forty women to the tune of $5 million. As the segment ended, it showed the FBI arresting several men. Eleanor became a spokesperson for stronger laws against Internet fraud, and met her new husband during one of her speaking events.
Jessie felt both relieved and dismayed. Dating could be a dangerous undertaking. She felt sorry that the woman had lost so much money but happy she finally tracked him down, got her revenge, and actually met a decent man.
She wondered if it was merely a serendipitous coincidence that she happened to turn on the TV at the time she did. Even so, it was satisfying. Maybe it was a sign that things would work out for the best.
Chapter Ten
A Snowy Little Christmas Page 6
