She knew she was talking manically fast, but she felt like a kid on Christmas morning.
“No. Not at all.” Nell beamed. “It’s almost Christmas. The Spirit of Christmas magic is everywhere.”
“Come on, you don’t believe that, do you?” She wished she still believed in Christmas, but she was too old, and Christmas had lost the shining anticipation she’d had for it before her father died.
“I do. I think all things are possible at Christmas.” Nell sounded so sure.
Lana wasn’t going to bah humbug it all up. “If you say so.” A thought struck. “I’d like to make a gingerbread house. Is that okay?”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea. Do you have a recipe for the gingerbread?” Nell looked excited. It was nice to find someone else who loved baking as much as she did.
“Yes.” Lana pulled her smartphone out of her back jeans pocket. This was the second wearing of her only pair of jeans so she’d need to wash them soon. She pulled up her recipe app and scrolled for her father’s gingerbread recipe. “Here you go.”
“A recipe on your phone. That’s handy.” Nell took the phone and read through the recipe. She scrolled down. “Yes, I think I can manage this.” She set the phone down on the counter. “Is this the recipe you used with your father?”
“Yes.” Lana nodded, and instead of the sorrow she usually felt over missing her father, she felt only love for the man who’d given her so many fantastic Christmas memories. She still missed him, but she was learning to cherish the memories they’d made together. She’d loved him so much, and she’d known that he’d loved her with everything he’d had in him.
Tears stung her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but it was impossible to blink away these tears.
“Oh, my child, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Remembering the past can be both sweet and sad.” Nell wrapped her arms around Lana. The hug was strong and so comforting. She hadn’t been hugged like that since her grandmother passed away.
Lana tried to get words to come out of her mouth so she could apologize for crying on the shoulder of a woman she barely knew, but all she could get out where honking sobs.
“Shhhh. It’s okay. Crying is good for the soul.” Nell patted her back. “Losing anyone is hard, but when it’s a parent it’s especially hard. My father passed a long time ago, and I still miss him. Sometimes, I could swear he pops in to check on me. He was a woodsman—he cut down trees to use to build houses. He always smelled like fir, cedar, and juniper trees with a little wood smoke from the pipe he favored. I loved the way he smelled. Sometimes I swear I can smell him with me.”
Lana allowed herself to be comforted. It was nice to have someone to lean on. She gulped in air like there was about to be a shortage of the stuff. Finally, she was all cried out. “I thought it was just me. Sometimes, I swear my father’s in the room with me.”
“I think he is. Yes,” she patted Lana’s back one more time and then let go, “I chose to believe they are with us. I know as a parent, I would never abandon my children. Even death wouldn’t keep me away.”
“I like that.” Lana used the hem of her apron to dry her eyes. “I chose to believe he’s with me, too.”
“Now, I’m going to start on his famous—”
“I hate to interrupt you, but his gingerbread was terrible.” Lana loved that he always tried, but never quite got the recipe right.
“Okay, we’ll make his terrible gingerbread recipe, and I’ll make my old gingerbread recipe, and we’ll see which one makes the best gingerbread house.” The older woman smiled broadly. “I haven’t made a gingerbread house in years. I used to love it. I’m pretty sure we plenty of ingredients for both.”
“This kitchen is so well stocked. It’s nice to have everything here and not have to substitute or scrap a recipe because we don’t have the right ingredients.” Lana dropped the butter into the food processor and pulsed it a couple of times.
“Janis is very organized.” Nell grinned. “She’s like our own little Christmas elf, always anticipating what we need before we need it.”
Lana added the buttermilk to the food processor and pulsed it until the mixture just came together. She mashed her lips together to keep from pointing out that just because Janis was petite, it was probably a bad idea to call her an elf. “I don’t mean to be rude, but wouldn’t Janis be offended by being called an elf?”
The older woman thought about it for a second and then shook her head. “No, she’s okay with it. She comes from a long line of height challenged people. In her mind, being an elf is a high honor.”
“Okay.” She wasn’t sure that Janis would agree, but she wasn’t here to start trouble, and it wasn’t her place to tattle to Janis.
“How many gingerbread houses do you think we need?” Nell looked at her expectantly.
“I was thinking just one of each, but it might be fun to make other gingerbread houses.” She’d never made more than one gingerbread house, but it could be fun.
“How about we make several. We could see if anyone else would like to make one? I bet we could get the seniors to help us put them together.” Her eyes twinkled again. “Like maybe a contest. We used to do that, but stopped for some reason.” She shook her head. “I don’t remember why.” She looked like she was trying to figure out why they’d stopped and couldn’t. “It was so much fun.”
Lana was up for anything. She rolled the biscuits out on the counter and cut them out. “How many houses do you think we need?”
“I don’t know. We should have Janis ask around and see if any of the children around town want to decorate a gingerbread house. I’d offer it to the adults, but they’re all working overtime to meet a Christmas Eve deadline. I’d love for them to participate, but it would just add to their stress when they’re already running out of time.” Nell looked honestly disappointed that everyone couldn’t participate.
“What if we put together all of the houses, and then brought them over to the plant. They could decorate them on their lunch hour or a break or something. It may not give them much time, but at least they would be able to participate.” Lana placed the biscuits on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet. Why was she offering to make enough gingerbread houses for the whole town? That could take a month to get them all done. But, she couldn’t help it. She’d loved making them with her father. Everyone should have memories like those. If she ever had children, she’d make a gingerbread house with them every single year starting with their first Christmas.
“You’re wearing a huge smile. You love gingerbread houses that much?” The older woman dumped ground pork into a huge metal mixing bowl and then added herbs and spices.
“I was thinking that if I were ever lucky enough to have children, I’d start making gingerbread houses with them on their very first Christmas. The fact that they are infants wouldn’t matter. It didn’t with my father. I remember a picture of me sitting in my carrier on the kitchen table next to him as he put together our gingerbread house.” Another memory restored or well, not a memory, but a memory of a picture.
It wasn’t a surprise to find that she wanted children. She’d always wanted them, but that went along with finding the man she loved. Children had always been a someday dream. Maybe it was coming here and seeing Nick again? Did he want children?
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop again.” Nick leaned against the doorframe. “We’re making gingerbread houses?”
“Yes, but don’t you have to play sheriff?” Not that she didn’t want his help, but if he were busy.
“We don’t have a lot of crime around here. I don’t need to be at the factory until one. I have all morning to help.” He walked toward her, leaned down, and planted a kiss on her cheek.
It was both comfortable and slightly disturbing at the same time. Had he heard her talk about wanting kids? Did she care? He smelled really good—all cinnamon and sandalwood. She realized that she’d leaned into him and had lingered beyond the socially accepted amount of time
for a peck on the cheek.
She glanced down. She didn’t want to see whether he’d noticed the awkward linger. She cleared her throat and leaned back. No idea why she thought a throat clearing would cover an awkward linger, but it now felt even more awkward.
“Um… we decided to make gingerbread houses and take them to the factory so that everyone can have the chance to decorate one. Maybe even have a contest.” Now that she thought about it. They’d probably need hundreds if not a thousand gingerbread houses. How in the world, would they pull it off?
“That seems a little ambitious, but if anyone can pull it off it’s you and my mother.” He grabbed an apron on the way to the dishwasher. “I’m on cleanup.”
He stepped in front of the huge sink. “Nothing dirty yet?”
He sounded a little disappointed.
“Not yet, but give me time.” She’d tell him about the snow globe later. “Until we have enough dirty dishes to need a dishwasher, why don’t you grab some of fresh berries in the fridge and cut them up. Those who want a lighter breakfast can have yogurt and berries.”
“I’m on it.” He headed to the fridge. Had he heard her talk about wanting children? Did he want them? It was a heavy subject to bring up less than twenty-four hours after running into her old boyfriend. Surely, she should wait until like the fourth or maybe fifth date. She would have discreetly Googled dating etiquette as it applied to discussing children, but there was no internet.
How did they live without internet?
Then again, with the exception of contacting her assistant, she really hadn’t missed the internet at all. There was something nostalgic and rustically pioneer-like about unplugging from the world. It was like being Amish only she got to use a food processor and didn’t have to make her own clothes.
Speaking of clothes. “Is there somewhere I can wash my clothes? I only have one pair of jeans with me.”
“I’ll take them home with me and wash them.” Nick pocked his head out of the refrigerator.
It was a little strange to hand over her dirty clothes to a man she used to date.
“No, I’ve got it.” His mom shot him an odd look.
“I’m happy to wash them if you could point out a washing machine.” She glanced around like one would magically appear, but nope it was just the same kitchen she’d investigated thoroughly yesterday.
“It’s no problem. I’ve got some other laundry to do also.” Nell’s right index finger went up like she’d just had a great idea. “I think I can come across some clothes that might fit you while I wash yours. I seem to remember that a guest left some clothes some years ago. I know they’re clean. They’re in the closet behind the front desk.”
Lana looked down at her new favorite boots. She wagged a foot. “That’s where I got these, well, that’s where Janis found them and gave them to me. I didn’t realize that people left so much at hotels. I spend a good deal of time in hotels, and I don’t think I’ve ever left anything.”
“You should go check them out. They’re in a box named lost and found.” She nodded toward the swinging door.
“Sure. I’d be grateful for a change of clothes.” She walked out of the kitchen and headed to the front desk. She opened the closet door and found only a single large box labeled ‘lost and found.’ She pulled the flaps open. Inside were brand new clothes. She pulled out a super soft ivory cable knit sweater and looked for tags. It didn’t have any. So, maybe they weren’t brand new, they were just gently used. This sweater was exactly what she would have picked out for herself if she’d gone shopping. She went through the box and everything in it was exactly her size. There were five pairs of jeans—all her most favorite brand, three sweaters, and three shirts, five pairs of socks, and a pair of athletic shoes. There were six bras, all in her size still with tags and a six pack of unopened Hanes cotton underwear. If she’d known she was coming here to stay, she’d have packed exactly these things.
This was a little too convenient. Had Nick gotten these things for her? How had he known she was coming and would need these things? She shook her head. There was no way he would have known she was coming. It was way too convenient to be a coincidence, but since she felt grimy, she’d just be grateful and call it a day.
She poked her head out of the door and glanced around. She heard voices coming from the dining room, but no one was in the lobby. She closed the door and shucked out of her two-day-old clothes, opened the underwear, and stepped into them. She ripped the tag off one of the bras and slipped it on. She went for the dark green cotton turtleneck, slipped it over her head, and pulled on the jeans. Clean clothes were a thing of beauty.
She rolled up her own dirty clothes and slid them under all of the new-to-her clothes. Now if the woman who’d left these had left a brand-new Mason Pearson brush like the one Lana had forgotten to pack, she’d be all set. The naked light bulb over her head flickered. She turned around, and there was a brand new in box Mason Pearson brush.
Okay, what was going on? She looked around for some sort of wishful filling ghost or genie or whatever mythical creature fulfilled wishes and didn’t see anything but a naked light bulb and empty, pristine white shelves.
“Hello, is anyone there?” She looked around again in case the spirit or whatever was invisible but was still there. “Thank you for the brush and clean clothes.”
She should be freaked out and leave the haunted clothes in here, but clean underwear was clean underwear. She wasn’t about to look a gift ghost in the mouth, so she laid the brush on top of her clothes.
She opened the door and looked over her shoulder. “Thanks again.”
She picked up her clothes box, turned off the light, and closed the door.
She kicked the swinging door open with her foot.
“Y’all aren’t going to believe this.” She set the box down on a chair near the door. “I think this hotel is haunted. Or at least that closet is. When I walked into it, there was nothing but this box of clothes that are exactly my size and taste. And then, I was thinking that I wished I’d remember to pack my favorite brush and the lights flickered. I turned around and this was on the shelf.” She pulled the brush out of the box.
“Wow, that is… um… interesting.” Nick waved it off. “I’m sure that brush was there. Maybe it was behind the box.”
Lana couldn’t recall if she’d seen anything behind the box. “Maybe.”
But an unused brush? And brand-new bras and panties?
Nell smiled from ear-to-ear. “Looks like the Christmas spirit strikes again.”
Lana had a hard time believing that the Christmas spirit had produced perfectly fitting clothes, but everyone was entitled to their opinion. Personally, if there really was a Christmas spirit, she thought it would have more important wishes to grant than clean clothes and a new hairbrush.
Chapter 10
Nick tried not to think about Lana’s comment about children. In college, she’d talked about how much she loved them. When they’d gone out to dinner, she’d always smile and wave the at babies and children.
His gaze found her. She stood next to an enormous stand mixer slowly adding flour.
His mother picked up a clean dishtowel. She grabbed a huge metal bowl from the dishwasher basket that he’d just run through the machine. “It’s still her choice.”
He shook his head. “I can’t ask her to choose between staying here or having children. It was bad enough that she had to give up her life for me, but it’s too much to ask her to give up children.”
He wanted to shout and throw things. He wanted to smash everything in this kitchen and burn it to the ground. He wanted to run away with Lana and never look back.
But he couldn’t. He was being selfish, he could see that now. Back in college, the first time he’d seen her, he’d known they were meant to be together. He should have walked away then. It would have been better to not know what it was like to be with her. But out of all of the centuries he’d spent working to fulfill the Christmas wishes of ch
ildren, the only thing he’d ever wanted for himself was her.
But he couldn’t have her.
“I know that look. You’ve decided that you can’t have her. You’ve decided for her again.” His mother sighed for what seemed like five whole minutes. “Stop telling yourself that you’re doing the right thing and go do the right thing. She gets to choose her future, not you. Tell her the truth and let her decide.”
“It’s too much to ask of her—”
“So, your plan is to not tell her and when she leaves here, she’s supposed to what... live happily ever after?” His mother crossed her arms. “Are you hoping that she’ll find a nice man and settle down somewhere... have a family?”
He gripped the pot he was washing so hard that he bent the handle. “No.”
“Then you want her to live half a life trying to figure out why you left her again?” She took the pot from him and set it back into the sink. “It’s okay for you to be happy. It’s okay for you to want something for yourself. It’s okay to put yourself out there. The fear of disappointment only leads to regret. Give her a chance. Don’t skip to the end when you’ve barely reached the middle.”
“But—”
“St. Nicholas might have given you the gift of knowledge, but you didn’t seem to be using it when it comes to Lana.” She put her arm around him like she’d done when he was a child. “Don’t over think this. Love rarely follows logic.”
“Okay, that batch of gingerbread dough is done.” Lana walked across the kitchen and picked up a large snow globe. She smiled at Nick. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you, look what I found.”
She brought it over to him. “See that droopy gingerbread house in the middle? It looks just like the last one I made with my father.”
Welcome to Christmas, Texas: A Christmas Network Novel Page 8
