by Jenny Hale
Noelle remembered when she’d broken up with her boyfriend in high school. She’d been so upset. Gram had brought her here and sat her down with a heavy mug of hot chocolate and two ginger snaps. “You know, before I met your Pop-pop,” she’d said, “I had fallen in love just like you. It was a whirlwind—I fell fast and hard—and when we broke up, I felt like I’d been pushed under water, unable to catch my breath.”
Gram had sat down next to Noelle, her apron still full of flour with a smear of chocolate at the waist. She’d put her hand on Noelle’s shoulder and said, “But if it hadn’t happened, and I hadn’t met your Pop-pop, you wouldn’t be here right now. Things are meant to happen to us. Sometimes, while we’re trying to find our own way, God has something else in mind.” With concern in her eyes and love on her lips in the form of a smile, she said, “I know it hurts, but if you can just hold on, and open yourself up to it, your destiny will find you.”
Noelle was still holding on just like Gram had said to do, waiting. She’d thought her purpose in life was to run the bakery, to have a big family, siblings for Lucas, and a loving partner to share her years. But with every month that passed, she felt more worried about her future, wondering if the big universe had forgotten her somehow.
She and her sister worked in comfortable silence as they rolled the peppermint mixture into little balls and set them on a tray to cool. Lost in her thoughts, Noelle dusted them with the candied sugar that made them sparkle under the lights.
Usually, at this time of year, the bells on the door would continue to interrupt them, as busy shoppers stopped in for a treat, but with so many of the shops having changed hands and been commercialized, the street didn’t bring the same clientele in anymore and the bells had been quiet since she’d arrived. The old candle shop next door was now a private postal service, the fabric shop an interior design firm, and the local hairdresser had changed to a computer repair shop. There was one common theme there: they were all high-rent-paying customers of Alex Harrington’s. The slow business, the bakery closing—tears came to her eyes as she tried not to think about it. Heidi clicked the radio on to the Christmas station, and Noelle knew she, too, was feeling the tug on her heartstrings.
Once the candy had cooled, Noelle went and got Lucas—helping with this part of the process, which involved shattering peppermint, was the thing he liked to do most. “Ready?” she said, slipping a pair of safety glasses on him and handing him a hammer.
He nodded with a smile.
“Okay. Go!”
Lucas lifted the hammer and banged it down onto the thick pastry bag full of peppermint. It had been Noelle’s job as a kid and now it was her son’s: smash the peppermint to smithereens so they could add it to the vanilla cake batter. The rest of the candy had been hand wrapped in clear cellophane and twisted at each end, then tied with tiny red-and-white striped bows for display around the cake.
It didn’t matter if there weren’t many customers this year; she was going to make the very best display to honor Gram and to celebrate the history of this bakery.
Maybe they both had it in the back of their minds to outdo all of their Christmas displays with this one, but Noelle and Heidi had made way more cake batter and cookies than they’d needed for the window. They’d started making smaller peppermint present cakes the size of cupcakes and they’d been arranging them around the large one in the window, sprinkling cookies in the empty spots, but they still had an entire counter full.
“Has anyone taken treats to the bookshop this year?” Noelle asked Pop-pop.
He shook his head, his face dropping in thought, and she wondered if he felt like he should’ve. The problem was that they were all trying to keep up with the pace Gram had set, and it was quite a pace. Noelle didn’t hold it against Pop-pop at all that he hadn’t delivered any cookies.
Heidi smiled. “We should take them some.”
“Is Santa there?” Lucas asked.
“I’m nearly certain,” Noelle said. “Phoebe’s helping him this year, remember?”
“Let’s go then!” Heidi grabbed the delivery basket that they’d always used and began to fill it with the leftover cakes.
“Grab your coat, Lucas,” Noelle said, as she helped Heidi put the last of the items into the basket. They’d placed the remaining cakes in individual boxes and the cookies were in small plastic bags. She sprinkled a few of the peppermint candies in as well.
“I’ll get Lucas a hot chocolate for the walk,” Pop-pop said. “It’s cold out there. Supposed to snow soon.”
When the basket was packed, Noelle zipped up Lucas’s coat and wrapped his blue scarf around his neck while Pop-pop handed him the paper cup of hot chocolate. Then, they all headed down to the bookshop together.
The air smelled like snow and the woodstoves that were in the row homes on the next street over. The sky was an inky black, the stars hidden by cloud cover. Lucas paced along beside the adults, his little legs going as fast as they could, keeping up well, considering that he was holding his cup. His breath puffed out in front of him, the steam from the hot chocolate swirling up into the air in front of his little pink nose.
They entered, and Phoebe greeted them from across the shop in her Snow Queen get-up. “Hey!” she said, clacking down the hardwoods on her pearly heels. “What are you all doing here?”
Mr. Santori waved a white-gloved hand from his throne behind her. He’d combed his long silver hair straight like his beard, his velvet hat hanging on the back corner of his chair as if it was the most ordinary thing to be wearing that suit. He was so natural at playing Santa Claus that it made her almost believe Saint Nick could be real. Noelle smiled at his red-and-green striped socks peeking out from the white furry hems of his suit.
“We brought cookies for Christmas, and Lucas wanted to see Santa.” She winked discreetly at Mr. Santori. “I’m surprised that it isn’t busier on a weekend night.” She looked around, a little worried—surely people would still make their way over to see Mr. Santori. He was a legend. But they were the only ones there.
The owner of the bookshop, Francis Evans, one of Gram’s long-time friends, came out from behind one of the bookshelves. She was an older lady, her white hair pinned back in a jeweled clip, a silk scarf draped around her shoulders, always smiling. “Oh!” she said, shuffling over and wrapping her arms around Noelle. “It’s so lovely to see you!” She pulled back to focus on her face.
She hugged Heidi next, the basket swinging at Heidi’s side before she could pull it into view. “We brought cookies,” she said with a grin.
Francis paused, her hand now on her chest and that familiar smile on her face. “Thank you,” she said as she looked down at the basket. “Your gram would’ve been so happy.” She fluttered her fingers in the air. “Wine! Let’s have a toast. I have paper cups and a bottle in the fridge in the back—someone dropped it off as a gift. I’ll just get us all some.” Before anyone could say anything, she walked off toward the small cabinet visible through the door of the back room, with the mini fridge and the coffee maker, and pulled down the cups.
Mr. Santori had set down the book he was reading and called Lucas over onto his lap. Lucas crawled up and sat with him politely.
“What would you like for Christmas, young man?” Mr. Santori asked.
Lucas sat quietly, not answering, and all Noelle’s insecurities came rushing in as she worried about what he was thinking. Lucas looked down at his cup, his little brows pulling together, his lips pursed.
When it was clear he wasn’t going to answer, Mr. Santori leaned in gently, and offered to set the cup on the table for him. “There must be something,” he said with a careful smile. Every year, Noelle braced herself for the Christmas list of all the expensive things his friends in school were getting, things she couldn’t afford, but they never came. Lucas was very difficult to buy for at holidays because he never asked for anything. Noelle’s family often teased that Lucas was just like her. It was difficult to buy for Noelle as well—she just cou
ldn’t fathom spending all that hard-earned money on herself—but she worried that it wasn’t a genetic similarity at all and it was the fact that Lucas knew how she struggled financially. Growing up, her mother had been such a force of strength for her; Noelle had never worried about a thing because her mother could always provide for her. She feared that Lucas didn’t have that same security.
Lucas shook his head. “I want…” He looked over at his mom.
“You can tell him,” she encouraged her son. Even if it was something big, she’d charge it on her credit card if she had to. She’d do anything to give him the reassurance he needed that she had things under control.
Shyly, he said, “I want a house with my own room and a big family.”
Noelle’s heart sank. Francis stepped up beside her and handed her a cup of wine, concern on her face.
“But I’m not worried about it,” Lucas added, his honesty commanding everyone’s attention.
“You’re not?” Mr. Santori said.
“No,” Lucas said quietly, looking up at him. “My mom tells me that we’ll always get what we need. But we have to make all the stops on the way to where we belong. That’s how we get there. I don’t want to ask for that stuff for Christmas because if I ask too soon, before we’ve made all our stops, I might not get it. So I’m just gonna wait.”
Tears pricked Noelle’s eyes and she took a sip of her wine to hide it.
“Your mom’s a great mother, and you’re a good boy, you know that?” Mr. Santori said, as Lucas hopped off his lap. “The most important thing is to have fun on all those stops.” He looked up and winked at Noelle. “Thank you for coming to see me tonight. You made my evening.”
“You’re welcome, Santa.”
“To family and great friends.” Francis raised her cup. The others joined in, and despite the thoughts on Noelle’s mind, the Christmas spirit was abuzz in the air.
“How smokin’ hot is he, actually?” Phoebe whispered, sitting cross-legged on the counter of the bookshop, her long Snow Queen dress cascading over her knees and floating above the floor. She held her half-empty paper cup in her lap.
“Pretty hot,” Noelle said reluctantly. She didn’t want to think about Alex.
Heidi had insisted on taking Lucas back to the bakery so Noelle could catch up with her friends, claiming she needed someone to taste-test her cookie recipe. Noelle wondered if her sister could sense the weight on her chest at Lucas’s admission tonight. Heidi was always there to take care of her, and it would be good for Lucas to spend as much time in the bakery as he could. She wanted him to have those memories to draw from later, to tell him everything she could about Gram and his family, and for him to have a vivid picture in his mind of all that his grandparents had built.
Phoebe had called Jo after Francis and Mr. Santori had gone home for the night. Francis, having known Phoebe for years, asked Phoebe to lock up after them. Before she left, Francis had confided in Noelle that the bookshop wasn’t doing well. Just like the bakery, there wasn’t the same footfall of shoppers on the street anymore, and Alex had increased her rent too. Francis had said she was only trying to make it through the Christmas season and then, she’d consider closing, after forty-five years.
Phoebe leaned down the counter and grabbed the wine bottle, emptying the last bit into her cup before Jo opened the next one—she’d stopped to get some more on the way into town. “Does he eat on gold plates?”
Noelle rolled her eyes. “No. They’re white and the utensils are silver. The food’s pretty fancy, though.”
“Did you have to wear a ball gown to dinner?” Jo teased.
Noelle laughed, tipping up her wine for another sip. “No, but I did dress up! I didn’t know what to do. I made Lucas wear his vest. And when we got to dinner, Alex was in jeans.”
“How did his butt look in those jeans?” Phoebe asked suggestively.
“I didn’t look!” Noelle giggled. “But it doesn’t matter. When it comes to Alex Harrington, I’m not worried about anything other than saving the bakery and making it profitable again.”
Jo and Phoebe both became serious. “And how are you going to do that?” Jo asked.
“I have no idea.”
“I can’t believe him,” Phoebe said. “You might have to move the bakery to LA like you promised.” Phoebe raised her eyebrows up so high they caused creases on her forehead. Noelle knew that Phoebe always struggled if the conversation got too heavy. She never wanted to spend a lot of time on stressful situations, but she was always there for her friends.
“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” Noelle said. “I need cheering up.”
“Okay. Guess what?” Phoebe waited dramatically until both Noelle and Jo were urging her to divulge whatever she had to say. “Do we all still have wine?” she asked, taking stock of each of the cups. “I got a call for an audition in person for the show! It’s a primetime TV series. They want to see my chemistry with the lead.” Phoebe balled her dress into her fists and squealed.
Noelle’s mouth dropped open. This was huge. Phoebe had never been called back on something this substantial. It might just be her big break. Noelle grabbed her friend and pulled her into an enormous bear hug, Jo throwing her arms around them both. All three of them squeezed each other with excitement, and Noelle couldn’t help but think of the last time they’d embraced like this before they’d all gone their separate ways after high school. They’d had their graduation caps and gowns on, diplomas in their hands, their whole lives ahead of them.
Noelle was the first to pull back. “Oh my gosh, Pheebs! That’s amazing! Are you nervous?”
“I’m trying not to be. There’s no sense in getting all worked up until something actually happens. The part isn’t mine yet. Let me get it and then I’ll be nervous. I’ll be totally-freaking-out nervous!”
Jo poured herself more wine. “What did Paul say?”
There was an air of silence, bringing the level of excitement down to a steady buzz.
“I haven’t told him.”
Both Noelle and Jo froze in confusion. Why wouldn’t she tell the guy she’d said she thought might be The One?
“What? Why?” Noelle asked.
“There’s no sense worrying him until I get the part.”
Noelle scrutinized her friend’s comment. There was more to it than that. She knew Phoebe too well. “Wouldn’t he want to take this journey with you? Even if you don’t get the part, this is big, Phoebe. Don’t you want him to be included?”
Phoebe fluffed out her dress, smoothing the creases, and shifted her weight on the counter. “If I get this, I’ll have a huge decision to make.” The elation had dropped from her face and a muted sort of panic replaced it. “He’s built a life here. He has a chiropractic office that is doing amazingly well. His family is just down the street.”
“Let him decide that,” Jo said, turning her head to the side like she always did when she was listening.
Phoebe looked down at her cup. “I guess I’m afraid that if I get this, I’m going to lose him. We can’t stay together when we’re living on opposite sides of the country. I just don’t want to face that until I have to.”
“It’s really great that you got the audition,” Noelle said. “I think we should celebrate that tonight.” She raised her cup. “To my talented friend. We all knew she was a star before anyone else.”
Chapter Ten
Noelle sat in the sitting room of her suite, holding a coffee cup and saucer. She had struggled to go to sleep last night, and her eyes were aching.
She’d lain awake, thinking about what Lucas had said to Mr. Santori, and it was eating away at her. What if she couldn’t ever give him what he wanted? Would he believe that he wasn’t worthy of a good life in some way?
Noelle had thought about keeping Lucas with her, and taking him to school herself, but she was working and she didn’t know if he’d get bored while he waited for her. So she’d taken him to her mother’s early this morning. Now she just sat, thinki
ng and having her coffee, wondering what to do with her life and feeling like she’d been lying to Lucas all along. Were these all stops on some big journey or just her floundering? If Phoebe seriously went to Los Angeles, maybe she should follow her. If she did, the loss of the bakery would leave a scar on her heart. But then, had she already lost it—was she fighting for something she’d never have anyway? Could she have a better life somehow if she just let go?
She finished her coffee and set out to check on William.
“Good morning,” she said, letting herself into his suite.
“Morning.” He sat on the sofa with his fingers wrapped around his cane as if he were waiting for a reason to get up. The fire was already lit, the lamps glowing in the early light. She went over to a small table at the side of the room and set down his pills and a glass of water.
“How did you sleep?” she asked, entering the bedroom and fluffing his pillows, leaning them against the headboard, and pulling his sheet and blankets up, smoothing them.
“I had a good night of sleep, thanks. How about you?” he called in to her. The rooms were close enough that she could hear him with no problem.
“I slept okay,” she lied, pulling the drapes open. In the muted light coming through the window, she noticed something, stopping to take a look at it. Etched in the glass of the bedroom window were names: Phyllis, Georgia, Annabelle, Maxine, Victoria, Anne. “What is this?” she asked, running her fingers along the names, the glass bumpy under her touch.
She could hear William’s movements and the tapping of his cane as he neared her, but she didn’t take her eyes off the windowpane.
“I can’t see what you’re looking at,” he said. He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed and placed both hands on his cane. “What is it you see?”
“There are names on this window.”
“Ah.” He took a moment before he explained, his thoughts seeming to get the better of him. She’d seen him do that before, and she wondered if there were more memories from this house affecting him than he let on. “The first owner of this property, Henry, proposed to a woman by the name of Anne. She was the daughter of a man well known for his tobacco fortune. Her father wouldn’t allow Anne to marry Henry unless he could produce a ring worthy of marriage to his only daughter, so Henry bought a four-carat diamond. The size was unheard of in those times. It was a square cut with smaller diamonds embedded in silver surrounding it, and the band was silver as well, with very distinctive hand-detailed leaves curling up toward the diamond. Engraved on the band was their married monogram: Harrington in the center, Henry’s name on the left, and Anne’s on the right—HHA. To prove to her father that it was, in fact, a real diamond, she wrote her name in the glass of this window while her father was staying in this room upon his visit to introduce his daughter. Marriages were still arranged at that time, you see. That ring was passed down through generations, and every woman who received it as her engagement ring etched her name in the glass. It became a tradition.”
