The hostess let him stash his suitcases to the side of the podium, then led him through a maze of tables, and Jaxon was glad nothing had changed over the years. Daisy’s Diner was still cozy and slightly chaotic. About half of the tables were full, and everything he saw on people’s plates looked delicious. The place was decked out for Christmas with twinkling lights spanning the ceiling and holly arrangements on the tables.
When the hostess seated him, he barely had time to open the menu when the waitress arrived.
“Jaxon?”
He stifled a groan before looking up. “Taffy.”
Her cheerful Christmas outfit matched her personality perfectly, if Jaxon remembered right. Taffy had been a grade younger than he in school. They’d actually gone on one of those date dances together in a big group.
She popped her gum and grinned. Yep, the same Taffy he remembered.
“It’s great to see you,” Jaxon pre-empted.
“Oh. My. Gosh. I can’t believe it’s really you.” She leaned down and gave him a light hug. “I mean, I haven’t seen you in forever!”
Jaxon nodded. “What’s new with you?” he asked, trying to keep questions from pelting him. He glanced at her left hand and saw a ring. “Married? Kids?”
She grinned again. “Yep. Married Grant Lovell, if you can believe it.”
“Wow,” Jaxon said, not entirely sure he remembered Grant, but he didn’t want to get in too deep.
“And Ross just turned two.” She looked from side to side then leaned down again, and whispered, “Another bun in the oven.”
He shared her smile. “Congratulations.” He was happy for her, and relieved, to tell the truth. And perhaps a bit envious to see the unadulterated joy on her face. Her marriage must be filled with trust and respect.
“We haven’t told anyone yet,” Taffy said. “But I’m so excited that I’m just bursting to tell someone.”
“I won’t say a word,” Jaxon said, making a dramatic show of crossing his heart.
Taffy laughed. “You’re just how I remember you. Still handsome, still got those killer green eyes, and still funny.”
Funny? Jaxon had never considered himself that.
He closed his menu. “Hey, I already know what I want. Can I get an order of chicken-fried steak and a Coke?”
“Sure thing,” Taffy said with an exaggerated wink. “I’ll be back soon.”
Jaxon handed her the menu, and when she left, he pulled out his phone, checking the weather app. Not that he was planning on traveling again any time soon, but he didn’t want to get lost in the memories that were tumbling back after seeing Taffy again.
He’d had a fairly steady girlfriend the last year of high school, but she was married now as well. And according to Facebook, she had a couple of kids. That was probably the story of everyone he’d gone to high school with. It was just as well. He wasn’t looking to reconnect with any of his former friends.
“You’re kidding me!” a man said a little too loudly a couple of tables over.
Jaxon kept his eyes on his phone until the man’s next comment caused him to look up.
“You are seriously crazy,” he said, his tone abrasive. “You probably chose this place to eat just so I wouldn’t get upset.”
Heads were turning now as the man’s voice continued to rise. Jaxon’s heartrate increased in tandem with the man’s temper. Jaxon was definitely watching the couple now. The man looked about Jaxon’s age, his hair dark, his eyes even darker as he glared at the woman seated across from him.
Jaxon could only see a bit of the woman’s profile. Her hands were clenched tightly together on top of the table, and she was speaking to her date in a low murmur. Jaxon could practically hear the panic growing in her voice, although she was staying pretty quiet.
He looked around for the waitress, or the hostess, or even someone who might be the manager. Obviously this couple needed to take their personal argument out of the restaurant.
“Dammit, Monica!” The man shot to his feet, his face a deep red. “I’ve told you a hundred times that working there is ridiculous! It’s a Christmas store. Freaking selling Santa stuff and lollipop-crap. It’s not even a real job.”
Jaxon stood, unable to sit and listen to the ranting any longer. The entire diner was dead silent except for the yelling man and the crying woman. Jaxon reached the table just as the man shouted, “And I’m tired of you putting your job before me!” The man slammed his fist into the table, making the plates and glasses jump with a clatter.
It all happened so fast that Jaxon wouldn’t be able to explain exactly what did happen, but he grabbed the man’s arm, and wrenched it behind him.
“It’s time to leave,” Jaxon hissed in the man’s ear. “I’m escorting you outside, and you’d better not say one more word or you’ll lose a few teeth.”
“Who the h—” the man started.
Jaxon shoved him forward, and the man cried out, complaining that his arm was going to come out of its socket. Jaxon kept his grip firm, propelling the man toward the door, weaving through the tables, even though the effort made his sore knee burn with pain.
The hostess was waiting, holding the door open, her face pale.
“Thanks,” Jaxon said, then shoved the man off the stepdown stoop.
The man whirled as soon as Jaxon let go. But Jaxon folded his arms, knowing that without his jacket, the years spent logging would show in his arms and shoulders.
“Take your best shot,” Jaxon said, “because it will be the only shot you’ll get. The next time you open your eyes, you’ll see the fluorescent lights on the hospital ceiling.”
The man’s wrinkled his face into a sneer. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m filing a police report for assault.”
Jaxon laughed. “You do that. And don’t forget to name all the witnesses in the diner.”
The man took a step back, then another. Finally he turned and walked away, throwing a few expletives over his shoulder as he went. When the man rounded the corner, Jaxon went back into the diner.
He’d nearly forgotten he’d had an audience, so caught up in his anger toward the jerk, that he was surprised to see more than a dozen pair of eyes staring at him.
“He won’t be coming back tonight,” Jaxon said. “Enjoy your meals.”
To his surprise, everyone started clapping. As Jaxon made his way back to his table, several diners stood and slapped him on the back and thanked him.
He stopped at his table to see a grinning Taffy waiting for him.
“You were brilliant,” she said, grasping his hand and squeezing. “That guy is the ultimate jerk. I swear, every time he comes in, he’s rude to the waitresses, and he treats his girlfriend like crap. Hopefully she sees him for what he is now.”
Involuntarily, Jaxon’s gaze slid over to the table where the couple had sat. The woman was still sitting there, staring down at a mug that she was slowly stirring.
“Is she okay?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“Oh, yeah. Or at least she will be. I told her the meal is on the house.”
That wasn’t quite what Jaxon meant. When Taffy left, he couldn’t help but look over at the woman again. At least she hadn’t followed after her boyfriend. Maybe they really had broken up, or maybe they had one of those volatile relationships... Jaxon was painfully familiar with those.
Then suddenly she turned, catching Jaxon watching her. For a second, he was stunned. The woman was quite pretty; he didn’t know why he was surprised. Maybe because he thought with her looks she wouldn’t have to settle for a guy with such a rotten personality.
Before Jaxon could think of what to do or say, she rose and crossed to his table, then slipped into the chair opposite him.
“Hey, thanks,” she said. Her dark auburn hair tumbled down her back in loose curls, and her pale blue eyes were surprisingly clear and steady, like she hadn’t just been crying a few minutes ago.
“Sorry I interfered,” Jaxon said. “I wasn’t sure if I should.” He wa
nted to say more, to tell her that things wouldn’t get better between them, not when her boyfriend treated her like that in public. If anyone knew from personal experience, Jaxon did. Cynthia had been notorious for public demands followed by public humiliation.
“I— I appreciate it, truly,” the woman said. “I mean, I wish none of it happened, and maybe David was right. I shouldn’t have dropped my career plans on him in public. It should have been done in private. I knew there was a good chance he’d be upset.”
Jaxon found himself shaking his head. At one point in his life, he might have let the events unfold without his interference, but he wasn’t that man anymore. “I know we’re complete strangers, but I also know you deserve more out of a boyfriend. You shouldn’t let anyone treat you like that.”
She blinked as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Then she looked away for a moment. “Thanks again,” she murmured, and she was up and out of her chair before he could respond, disappearing almost as quickly as she’d appeared.
Chapter Three
It’s really over, Monica had told herself a dozen times in the past forty-eight hours. At first she’d completely ignored David’s texts and voice messages. Then finally, she replied, saying there was nothing more to discuss. She was buying the store, and that was her decision. They had broken up, and that was his decision. But this new text had a different tone than the rest. It wasn’t confrontational, it was actually... agreeable.
Please let’s talk in person. You’ve got to forgive my outburst. I’ve had time to think about your decision, and it might not be such a bad thing.
Monica released a heavy sigh. It was the end of a long day— Christmas Eve— and although she posted that closing time was 5:00 p.m., it was now well after 6:00, and there was still a shopper in the store. Ironic, since their shop was open all year, but true to form, there were always people who procrastinated. She didn’t have much time to get ready for the 7:00 party at the Ungritches. Thankfully, she’d tried on the Mrs. Claus costume the day before and tested out the makeup she’d be using. She could be ready in about twenty minutes.
Monica rang up the last customer, packed the gifts into a sturdy paper bag with the Christmas Around the World logo, and sent her on her way. After locking the shop door and turning off most of the lights except for the display window, Monica reread David’s text.
A month ago, she might have given in. Allowed him to come over and talk in her apartment. Even a week ago, she might have. But ever since the blow up in Daisy’s Diner, something had changed inside of Monica.
She knew it had to do with the man who’d defended her and escorted David outside the restaurant. His words had been echoing in her mind ever since he’d spoken them: I know we’re complete strangers, but I also know you deserve more out of a boyfriend. You shouldn’t let anyone treat you like that.
The thought of a mere stranger seeing the truth of her relationship with David brought shame to her heart. Monica blinked back the burning tears and started to count out the register. The man at the restaurant came to her mind again. He’d been so different than David. Calm, even though he’d been upset with David. And the man had seemed truly concerned for her, yet had given her space.
She had noticed he was good looking, but not in the flashy way of David. The man in the restaurant had green eyes that were kind, yet had depth to them. His light brown hair had touched his collar but seemed well-groomed. He had stubble on his strong jaw, and his tanned skin, even in winter, made it clear he spent a lot of time outdoors. Another fishing and camping enthusiast?
Yet he seemed to exude strength and calmness, unlike David’s buzzing energy. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to have a man like the one in the restaurant in her life. One who didn’t shout at her in a restaurant, belittle her in front of others, and try to talk her out of every decision she made.
“I don’t even know him,” she whispered to herself. His green eyes had seemed to look right into her soul. She’d only spent a few moments with him, but his presence and attention had somehow brought stability to her cracking heart. He’d told her point blank, with no apology, that she deserved better.
Monica knew she deserved better, but she didn’t always believe it. She’d probably never see the stranger in the restaurant again, but she wouldn’t ever forget his help, or his advice.
She typed back a reply to David on her phone: I hope you have a great Christmas, but please don’t contact me again.
Then she put her phone on silent for the rest of the night.
With every step she took up the stairs to her apartment, she felt her resolve strengthen. She was starting a new chapter in her life. Soon she’d be a business owner, and she was now free of David and his incriminating comments and controlling opinions.
She found herself humming Christmas tunes as she changed into her Mrs. Claus outfit. She wound her hair into a bun, then used the spray-in color to streak it gray and white. Next she used a pale foundation to cover up her freckles and then an eyebrow pencil to draw some lines around her eyes. Finally, she added a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles.
Monica stood back from the mirror. She didn’t look exactly like a sweet elderly woman, but who said Mrs. Claus had to be elderly? Just wise in years.
She lifted her cell phone and snapped a couple of selfies. She’d post pictures from the party to the store’s Instagram page, but for now, she wanted a couple of her own pictures. She couldn’t wait to see the Ungritches’ faces. The other night Mrs. Ungritch had called to report on her wayward son. “He says he’s come home to apologize, that we were right all along.”
Monica could practically hear the woman beaming through the phone.
“The marriage didn’t last long, but he felt stuck since he’d been so stubborn with us.” Mrs. Ungritch’s tone filled with regret. “All those years lost.”
“You’ll just have to move forward now,” Monica had offered.
“You’re right, that’s all we can do,” Mrs. Ungritch had said. “Besides, he’s still recovering from knee surgery. Some accident at work. It’s good to have my son to take care of for a little while.”
At that point in the conversation, Mrs. Ungritch was called by her husband, and they’d hung up after Monica reassured her that she could handle the last couple of days before Christmas in the shop by herself. They had enough going on with their son’s return and the Christmas party.
Now Monica grabbed her red wool coat and slipped it on, then shouldered her handbag, making sure she had her keys and phone and the tube of dusty pink lipstick she was sure she’d have to reapply throughout the night.
The final touch was the black boots, on which she’d hot-glued tinsel around the cuffs. “Christmas, here I come,” she said to herself as she started down the steps. By the time she pulled up to the Ungritches’ home, her silver Mazda was just warming up. She parked on the other side of the street, since the driveway was littered with cars.
The Ungritch home literally glowed with Christmas cheer, making it more beautiful than any postcard. Monica’s spirits continued to lift as she approached the house. Laughter and Christmas music seemed to ooze from the bright windows. Monica bypassed the front door and went around the garage to the side door, as suggested by Mrs. Ungritch. That way, Monica could deposit her coat and handbag in the mud room and then show up fully costumed for her part.
She cracked the side door open and slipped inside, immediately consumed by the delicious smells of cinnamon and baked goods. A couple of women were in the kitchen, setting out cookies onto platters. They both smiled as Monica entered.
“Oh, Mrs. Claus, how nice to see you,” the woman with a smooth ponytail said, then winked.
Monica laughed. “I heard there’s a party here.”
“Santa Claus is right through there,” the woman said, pointing toward the door.
“Thank you,” Monica said, then stepped through the door into the main part of the house.
“It’s amazing how the Cla
us family gets younger every year,” the woman’s voice chased her, and the second woman in the kitchen laughed.
Monica smiled as heads turned and kids started pointing and tugging on their parents’ arms. She was sure she wasn’t too hard for the parents to recognize, but the younger kids would remain in happy oblivion. The living room and dining room were filled with guests, from the very young to the elderly. A long table set with platters of Christmas goodies had been scooted against one of the walls.
The dining table was covered with thick paper, and kids gathered around, making festive crafts that included a lot of glue, glitter, and pompoms. A huge Christmas tree stood in front of the bay window, and dozens of tiny wrapped boxes sat below the boughs. Monica had wrapped most of those boxes and knew they contained an assortment of treats— one box for each guest.
“Santa!” a young voice called out. “Your wife is here!”
The guests near Monica chuckled, and she scanned the crowd, looking for Mr. Ungritch’s telltale red Santa suit and naturally white hair. The Santa that came around the corner of the dining room wasn’t a stooped, elderly man, but a tall man with broad shoulders, a white-haired wig, and familiar green eyes.
Monica stared, not entirely believing her first instinct. This was the man from the restaurant. And he was wearing a Santa suit at the Ungritches’ party. Had they gone and hired an actor?
She barely registered that Mrs. Ungritch had appeared at her side and grasped her hand.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Mrs. Ungritch whispered to Monica. “Jaxon agreed to play Santa.”
“Jaxon... who is... your son.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Ungritch said, amusement in her voice.
And then Santa— Jaxon— was standing before her, an assessing smile on his face.
“This is Monica, I mean, Mrs. Claus,” Mrs. Ungritch said. She laughed, then leaned toward Monica. “I need to watch what I say; there are little listening ears around.”
Under the Mistletoe Collection Page 20
