Everyone laughed remembering the years of fun they’d had in high school. Even teasing Coach Douglas until he relented letting them chose their spots in each relay. “You know your times and abilities,” he’d said. “I trust you.” He was right. They won almost every time.
Candy filled her plate with salad and one slim piece of pizza. Noelle frowned. The girl was too skinny already.
“Next, Cindy and Connie. Go, girls.” She hoped to make this fun and bring back memories. Good ones.
“Natalie is next, then moi.” She winked. Poor Doreen was always last because her last name started with a Z.
Doreen rose and sauntered to the table. “Yum! I get everything that’s left. So, don’t expect any leftovers.” She snickered. Noelle knew she was kidding. Doreen was the most generous of all of them.
The girls all finally rinsed their sauce laden hands under the kitchen faucet and got back to work. Noelle had also printed out all the envelopes in a script font on her computer. The only thing that worried her was to be sure each person’s note coordinated with the right address. She would go through them all tomorrow and check, then take them to the Post Office and mail them. An agonizing ordeal, but when she did it, it would be final.
~
“Oh, dear,” the petite older lady behind the counter, said. “You have a lot of envelopes.” She smiled and bumbled with the huge stack. Then, they all collapsed and scattered over the floor behind the counter.
Noelle always tried to patronize the local Hallmark Store Post Office. She seldom had to stand in line there, and the clerks were so friendly. She also wanted to be sure it survived all the cuts the Post Office had threatened, like no delivery on Saturdays. She could have just dumped the one hundred and fifty or so envelopes in a local mail box, but she preferred to see them actually placed in the bin behind a P.O. counter. Was she too compulsive, too attentive to detail as Clay had blamed her for many times? Was that a fault? Or, did it perhaps make her a better teacher?
She shook her head and reached for the little old strawberry-haired lady’s hand. “Can I help? If I am allowed to come behind the counter, I really want to help.” She wasn’t sure how “official” this little Post Office was. But, she felt responsible for the flying envelopes disaster.
“No, no, dear. It’s all right,” she replied as her tiny body bent in a pretzel shape to retrieve the errant envelopes.
“What is going on here?” The imposing voice came from a tall, large-boned woman, also in her senior years, with a thick, long blonde braid down her back. “How did this happen, Maven? Why weren’t these brought in a sack?” She turned and glared at Noelle.
“I am so sorry. I should have had them in a container and put them in the box in the parking lot. I prefer to mail inside an actual Post Office,” Noelle explained. “My fault.” She scanned the blonde’s face, then her own broke into recognition.
“Mrs. Dudley! Is it really you?”
The woman squinted her eyes and stepped closer to the counter between her and Noelle. “And, you are?”
“I am Noelle Day. You were my junior English teacher.” She paused, hoping a memory would resurface. “It’s because of you that I am now an English teacher.” She smiled, praying the woman hadn’t lost her faculties. “You told me if I ever learned to spell, I could maybe be a good writer someday.”
Suddenly, the woman’s face lit up. “I remember. You were the one who liked to recite Shakespeare. Lady Macbeth, right?” She looked at Noelle again. “You had two ponytails, one on either side.”
Noelle nodded.
“My goodness. You have grown up.”
Noelle nodded again, and this time found her voice. “I’m teaching at Vista del Mar. Senior English,” she added. She pulled a business card out of her wallet. She wasn’t sure why she’d even had some made. Seemed pretentious. Maybe this was the why.
Chapter Eleven
Mrs. Dudley squinted. She even turned the card over. Then she smiled widely. “What a clever idea!”
“Not sure why I did it. Having cards printed.” Noelle felt herself blushing. “I guess it was a bit presumptuous.”
“No. Not at all.” She turned the card over again. “You did become a good speller. Even won the Bee at your level.” The older woman smiled at her again. “Perhaps editing was in your future, even then.” She tucked the card into her smock pocket. “I will be sure to recommend you.” She looked at Noelle kind of funny. “You have many clients?”
Noelle felt herself blush even more. “No, not too many. But, I don’t have much time to devote to editing.” She hoped she wouldn’t have to list her few clients to the woman who now seemed so enthusiastic about her endeavor as a writing coach and editor. Still, she had been paid, even though a pittance, for editing Mom’s garden club’s brochure and Dad’s business card. Hopefully, she could expand her business. It wasn’t for the money, but it was something she loved doing.
“Well, you should pursue it. Might be a nice sideline for you during the summer.” She looked at Noelle quizzically. “Unless you are teaching summer school?”
“Unfortunately,” Noelle replied, “there is no optional summer school, like when I was a kid. Especially not for English.”
Mrs. D. squinted. “That is way too bad. Financial cuts?”
“Yes, and a lack of interest in parents.”
“I remember you and your friends used to ride your bikes to VDM to attend summer school in your red striped bathing suits so you could practice your strokes after class. Kept you, and them, out of trouble in those days.” She rubbed a hand across her forehead looking troubled. “You still on swim team?” she asked.
Noelle wasn’t sure how to reply. High school swim team had been over years ago. Was her old teacher in La La Land? She was embarrassed for her.
“Oops. Lost my train of thought. Guess I am getting old.” Mrs. Dudley gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Happens sometimes when I am having good memories.” She shyly looked at Noelle. “I do know the Candy Canes and their fame was a long time ago. Sad no other team has followed yours.”
“I am so glad your memories are good ones, Mrs. Dudley. Mine are, too.”
Noelle and Mrs. Dudley finally had the courage to walk to the end of the little Post Office counter and hug. The little strawberry-colored hair employee nodded her approval as she sorted Noelle’s envelopes into zip code piles.
~
The phone was ringing when she got home. Braydon? Hopefully. She picked it up hastily, and blurted out, “Hi!” She hadn’t even looked at the caller I.D. What a fool.
“Hi to you, too.” He’d had to assume she had looked at the little window and knew it was him. Whew!
“How about dinner tonight? My shop closes at five on Mondays.” He rambled on before she could get a word in. “I thought it might be fun to eat in Fashion Island and see all the decorations. Have you seen the Bloomingdale tree yet?” Finally, he stopped for a breath.
She couldn’t contain her laughter. “What’s so funny?” He sounded a bit offended.
“You are. You didn’t give me a chance to say one word.”
“Oh, sorry. Well, can you?”
She heard him fussing with something. Maybe tissue paper or cellophane, wrappings for flowers. “What’s that noise I hear? Sounds like you’re crushing something.”
“I am. Cleaning up and tossing used cellophane and wet tissue. Closing up shop.”
“Oh, thought so.”
“Well, can you?” She could tell he was trying to be patient, but she was having so much fun bantering with him. “Mmm. Maybe.” She drew the word out dramatically.
“What’s wrong? You don’t want to go out with a florist?” Now, he did sound offended.
“Of course not. I love men who devote their lives to flowers.” She couldn’t help teasing him.
“Well, in case you’re worried, I’m not ‘that’ way. I am a business owner, proprietor. Nothing swishy about me.” Now, he sounded defensive. He probably got a lot of funny loo
ks, even snide comments, when he mentioned he is a florist.
“Braydon, I know that.” She paused for effect. “I never really thought that. Honest. I was fooling with you.” She switched the phone to the other ear. “I just couldn’t resist teasing.
“I would love to go to dinner tonight. I haven’t had time to go to Fashion Island in ages. Too tired after teaching all day and … dealing with former event planning. Besides, I need to buy a Christmas gift for Mom and Dad. Do you mind if we do a little shopping, too?”
She held her breath. Men seldom liked to shop, especially for people they didn’t know well, like a girlfriend’s parents. Oops. Was she a GF? Certainly not yet. Maybe … someday.
“Actually, I don’t mind at all. I just want to spend time with you.” He sounded honest. “And, even though I haven’t met your dad, I already adore your mother. Got any ideas?”
“That’s so nice of you. No, I don’t have any ideas at all, not a clue.” She screwed up her face and wrinkled her nose. What could she buy for them? “What are you buying your mom? And, dad? You haven’t mentioned him.” She hoped she wasn’t making a faux pas. What if Braydon’s dad was deceased, or his parents were divorced. Agh, Noelle, you big fumble bum.
She could hear him laughing and slapping something. His knee? What had she done?
~
He got a kick out of Noelle’s shaking voice when she apologized for asking about his dad. Dad would get a kick out of it, too, when he met Noelle. Hopefully, soon.
They agreed to meet at Bloomie’s in the perfume department and try to do their shopping first before a relaxing dinner. When he arrived, Noelle was opening bottles and sniffing and spraying tester scents on her wrists. She looked up at him and smiled.
“I can never decide. Most smell so good, even delightful. But, some, ugh! I guess I prefer the old school, original ones. The ones bearing the famous women’s names all smell yucky to me. I like fresh.”
He leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. She was fresh. Fresh and lovely. No pretense about her. How, he wondered, could any man abuse her? Still, he wasn’t certain that had happened. He needed to get her to open up, share. Maybe she would do that tonight.
“I agree. The only heady scents I like are from roses. And maybe hyacinths and a few other flowers that are seldom sold in bouquets. But, for perfumes, I like soft, not clinging; sea breeze, not sexy.”
She grinned and pushed a decorative glass perfume container toward him. “What do you think of this?”
“Mmm. Very nice. Light and fresh. Like your mother.” He grinned back. “You thinking of getting that for her?”
“I am. Dad buys her the perfume she told him she liked about twenty years ago. It’s nice. But, I think it’s time for a new fragrance for her. From her daughter.”
She bought a small spritzer size, just right for a purse. Of course Bloomie’s wrapped it.
~
“Now,” she said, “for Dad.” She led him up to the second floor men’s department. She knew he hated clothing with designer labels on them, so she avoided golf shirts. Dad likes simple things. But, he still had to wear a tie about three times a year when he was giving a presentation. She had always been drawn to the unique ties, but Dad was so conservative, so she hesitated. She finally found one in subdued grays, no designer label. She had it wrapped, such a luxury.
“What about your parents? Do you want to shop for them?”
“No. We do a kind of different thing.”
“What do you do?”
“We donate to favorite charities that, of course, the recipient loves.”
“How special. Have you done that for years? When did you decide? How much?”
“We have a fifty dollar limit. Doesn’t seem like much, but it makes sense.” He smiled and winked.
“I like that. But, don’t you give even a little tree gift so you’d have something to open Christmas morning?”
“Of course we do. Couldn’t resist that. Sometimes it’s a Starbucks gift card, not very original, but definitely appreciated, especially by my lazy brother, Rob, who hates to make his own coffee.” A deep chuckle from his throat startled her. “One year we all seemed to get the same idea.” He paused, maybe for effect. “We had this precious little dog, Jake, who barfed a lot on the carpet and had constant accidents.” He must have noticed the anxiety and frown wrinkling her brow. “Don’t worry. Jake is in doggy heaven now. He had a seizure when he was eighteen. Dad rushed him to the vet’s where he died. Peacefully,” he added.
“So, what did you do in honor of Jake?”
“That year, we all seemed to have the same idea.” he repeated. He cocked his head to be sure she was okay with what he was going to say. It was a bit off the wall.
“So, tell me.” She looked askance at him.
“We all bought carpet cleaner!” He laughed. Did she get it?
“Actually, Dad got Mom a gift certificate for a carpet cleaning company to come in and do the job right.”
Noelle burst into laughter. Holding her tummy, she said, “That is classic! That must have been fun, and,” she concluded, “a tribute to Jake. Sort of.”
~
Braydon propped his feet on the coffee table. What a fun and unusual evening with Noelle. He nursed his Starbucks latte, sipping it slowly. Pondering her responses to his family’s unusual Christmas gifts, he felt pleased. Maybe she picked up on the idea for her own family.
He wanted to call her, but it was after ten.
Chapter Twelve
Noelle was stewing. She slammed her door shut and locked it, the security lock, too. She had rehung the wreath on the inside door and decided not to worry about how it had fallen off. Clay’s mother had said he had “moved on,” and she didn’t think he would bother her anymore. Maybe in her haste to leave the other morning with arms encumbered, it had slipped off its hook, and she hadn’t noticed. So, it might have been her fault.
Taking off the plaid wool neck scarf she’d worn, since the weather had finally turned cooler, she hung it on a peg next to the closet door. She petitioned her Savior.
What should I do, Lord? I am confused, especially since meeting Braydon so soon after my breakup with Clay. I know … I know, he is a kind, obviously Christian, man. He has never done anything to offend me. Nor frighten me. Mom trusts him, too. That’s a biggie.
Even though it was late, she made a cup of coffee and plunked her legs on the coffee table. She wondered what Braydon was doing now. Did he feel the same way? Confused? They had only had two dates, if one could call lunch and a brief shopping trip to Fashion Island dates. Well, there was the unfortunate accident with his delivery van backing into her red, shiny new BMW baby. But, accidents do happen. And, sometimes, God provides them to bring people together. Still, she wondered if things weren’t going too fast. Maybe she should call a respite.
Yes, that’s what I will do.
~
Braydon checked his emails and was shocked.
He didn’t understand the one from Noelle. What had he done to frighten her? He read it again.
Braydon,
You have been such a wonderful friend these few days. I am truly grateful. But, I feel as if our friendship is moving too fast. For me, at least. I hope you understand. I want to take a respite for a month, to see if we are still attracted to each other and still value our friendship. Everything happened so soon, maybe too soon for me. Please do not contact me for at least a month. I trust you in this. Thank you. Noelle.
He moved his computer mouse again to re-read her post and to be sure. Then he cried.
~
Noelle’s hand shook as she sent the email to Braydon. Did she do the right thing? She wasn’t sure, but she sensed she had. She really cared for him. He had become such a good friend. Never pressuring her in any way. She felt her forehead where he had placed a light kiss. The kiss that had sent tingles up her spine. Now, just weeks before Christmas, she would be alone, again. She would have Mom and Dad, of course. But, no
love in her life.
~
What did she mean by “contact?” Did she mean email, phone, personal? What if?
~
Noelle almost tripped over the bundle on her doorstep. She was headed to the gym, a treat she hadn’t taken advantage of for weeks. The bundle was wrapped in what looked like the green stuff florists encased big bouquets in. She picked it up and found a small card attached to it.
Dear Noelle,
I respect your asking me to not contact you personally. I hope this bouquet does not offend you. I really want you to have it.
Sent in friendship.
Braydon
Noelle unwrapped the lovely bouquet of roses. She had mixed feelings. Yes, she had asked Braydon to honor a month’s respite, but was this different? She wasn’t sure as she found a large vase to accommodate the bouquet.
She sped to the gym and did the stair stepper and several other machines. After using free weights, she felt toned and worked out. She had forgotten about the opulent bouquet until she found a paper hanging out of her mailbox.
A poem.
~
Did he go overboard? He realized he had been a bit ambivalent. He had just gone with his gut feeling, and prayers. Maybe the poem was over the top. Maybe the roses were, too. Maybe he needed more discernment.
He set his iPhone calendar for four weeks. Could he wait that long? For her sake, for their sake, he would.
He shifted his feet on the coffee table, uncrossed his ankles. He was thinking about why that low table was called a coffee table. Must have been one of those anomalies from another century. The phone rang. The land line. Not used to hearing it, he rushed to pick it up.
“Braydon?” the soft voice said his name.
“Yes. And, you are?”
“So sorry. It’s Noelle’s mom, Kerstin. I guess I’m a little nervous.” She drew in a breath. “Am I calling too late?”
Noelle's Christmas Wedding: Christian Contemporary Christmas Romance (The Candy Cane Girls Book 1) Page 5
