Christmas Kisses: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 1)

by Lucy McConnell

  She can’t be any older than I am, thought Reese as the woman signed the credit card slip.

  The mom handed the signed paper and pen back to Reese, who stowed them under the cash drawer in the register. They were about to leave when the woman paused. “Do you ship? I’d love to send my parents a chocolate Santa.” She whispered the last two words.

  “Sorry. We’re local. But if you’d like to buy one, I’m sure there’s a way to ship it.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t have time. It was just a thought. Thank you!” She waved, and they were off.

  At three-thirty on the dot, her brother, Clark, slipped a green-and-white-striped apron over his head. He was a wicked-good artist, and small flecks of blue and green paint speckled his dark hair.

  “How’s the showpiece coming?” she asked.

  “Epic. I can’t wait for you to see it. You’re coming to the art show, right?” Clark tied the apron.

  Although her parents hadn’t planned to have their kids nine years apart, it had worked out in the end. There were enough years between them that they’d never partaken of so much as a teaspoon of sibling rivalry. Clark had been Reese’s joy as much as he was her parents’. Now that Clark was a senior in high school, Reese barely saw him and she missed his cherubic smile. “I wouldn’t miss it. This year, the Echo Ridge High School art exhibit. Next year, the world.”

  Clark rolled his eyes at her exaggeration. “You should have been a cheerleader.”

  Reese flipped her braid over her shoulder and stuck out her hip. “As if!” she exclaimed, earning her another eye roll.

  “Where’s Mom?”

  “She took a break. It’s been crazy busy today with Santa coming in.” The Candy Counter was on the way to the children’s section, and Santa’s line snaked right past their glass display case. Families had plenty of time to breathe in the syrupy aroma while they waited for their chance to see the big guy. With that kind of advertising, sales had been steady all day.

  Since school was almost out, there was a momentary lull, and with Clark flirting with a pretty redhead at the other end of the counter, Reese grabbed a bottle of glass cleaner and went around to wipe off the display case. She took her time, working across the top first and then crouching to get the kid-level fingerprints.

  “… The Candy Counter. The space is leased.” Cecilia’s cold tone brushed across Reese as she crouched, hidden from Cecilia by a display of hard candies.

  Reese shivered. The store manager was cold, and Reese was sure the woman had never eaten a piece of good chocolate in her life. No one who enjoyed chocolate could be as surly or as bony as the woman with a distasteful look on her face. Reese tried to stay clear of her whenever possible. Since she was crouched low, Cecilia didn’t see her as she spoke on her cell.

  “Yes, the original owner of the store signed a ridiculous agreement to allow them to lease space for fifty years. It was renewed under the same terms and is finally up on January first.”

  “I recommend getting rid of it. At the very least, I’d oust the local and bring in a large, well-known brand to allow for a higher ROI.”

  Reese landed on her rear, too stunned to move. Cecilia’s voice faded as she moved off to discuss other areas of the business.

  Get rid of The Candy Counter? It couldn’t be done. The Candy Counter was as much a part of Kenworth’s as the old soda counter. Reese glanced across the store. Maybe that was a bad comparison, as the soda fountain had long since been turned into an area for teens and video games and the housewares department.

  Forget the soda fountain! Was it possible that Cecilia could toss them out without a backward glance?

  Scrambling to her feet, Reese watched Cecilia pause in front of the toy department. As though she could sense Reese’s gaze, Cecilia turned in her direction. Her eyes tightened behind her pointed frames and her lips disappeared into a thin line.

  The hair on Reese’s arms stood on end. There was no doubt in her mind that Cecilia didn’t care about the people who built Kenworth’s; she only cared about the bottom line. And the bottom line was, The Candy Counter’s lease was a joke. Reese only knew the bare minimum of the actual arrangement. The monthly payments would increase at the same rate as minimum wage, which was a relatively new idea at the time, and the agreement transferred to any new owners right along with the building. It favored Reese’s family, but Kenworth’s wouldn’t be the same without The Candy Counter. Would it? Could she and her family be that easy to replace?

  Cecilia pulled her cheeks back in a predatory smile.

  Reese turned away first, busying her hands with the job before her. Scrubbing at the glass as if she could scrub away her own worries in the process. How could a small, home-based business compete with a larger company that could buy supplies at steep discounts and sported a world-renowned logo? They couldn’t. They simply couldn’t compete on that level.

  Reese wondered how much her parents worried over renewing the lease. They hadn’t mentioned it, and Reese decided to believe that no news was good news. Her hands paused in their circular motion. It wasn’t as if they confided in her about business decisions. Case in point: the window display. Her cloth made a high-pitched screeching noise and Reese lightened up on the display case.

  Joy arrived back from break just as Reese finished the glass and Clark said goodbye to his new friend. Reese threw away the paper towels and stowed the cleaner under the register.

  “How’d it go?” Joy asked.

  “Great! I got her number.” Clark held up a scrap of paper.

  Not wanting to bring up the lease in front of Clark, Reese gave him a little shove and teased him. “Player.”

  Clark pressed his hands to his chest. “No way. This is true love.”

  “What’s her name?” Reese challenged.

  “Marci.” Clark stuck out his chin.

  “Marci what?”

  Clark looked down at the paper and then back up. “Um.”

  Reese and Joy exchanged an exasperated look. “Men,” they said in unison.

  “Excuse me?” asked a woman wearing a chunky scarf and carrying three Kenworth’s bags. “I have a question about the caramels.”

  “I can help,” volunteered Clark.

  Reese let him escape. She had bigger things on her mind. “Mom, did you know our lease is up this year?”

  “Hmmm?” Joy looked up from the order forms she was organizing.

  “The lease, Mom. It’s up at the end of this year.”

  Joy waved the orders as if shooing the discussion away. “I’ve talked about it with Cecilia and we agreed to wait until after the Christmas rush to lay out any new plans. Why do you ask?”

  “I overheard Cecilia talking to some guy about bringing in a national candy supplier.”

  “Pish-posh. Kenworth’s needs us.”

  Reese fought to keep the panic out of her voice. Grandma needed this place. It was all she’d known, all she worked at, besides raising a family, for her whole life. How would she react when there was no more chocolate for dipping? The doctor said that familiar places, faces, and tasks were the best way to hold off dementia. The shock of losing The Candy Counter could kill her, or at the very least send her over the wall of confusion she seemed to teeter on lately.

  Reese’s parents needed this place. They’d been saving for Clark’s college fund and the house would need a new roof next summer. If their current one held through the upstate New York snowfall, it would be nothing less than a miracle.

  And Reese needed this place. It was as much a home to her as the house she grew up in, and she loved it. Loved it like it was a member of her family. She’d tended it, nurtured it, bragged about it when warranted, and she would protect it. Her mom might not see a threat, but Reese could point it out as easy as the star on top of the Hope Tree.

  Reese clasped her hands behind her back. “They don’t need us, Mom. We’re the little guy. We rely on them.”

  “Nonsense. Our chocolates alone bring in more traffic from
the ski resorts than any other department. Not to mention our Santas are a family tradition for the locals. Relax, they won’t get rid of us anytime soon.”

  Reese shook her head and tried another approach. “Maybe you’re right. But we are dependent on them. If they close for a holiday, we close. Foot traffic has decreased since they opened the Target. Maybe we should consider diversifying.”

  Joy placed her hands on Reese’s shoulders and waited until Reese met her gaze. “It’s your banana fondant all over again. You get some crazy notion in your head about making changes. Honey, accept things for what they are and recognize the good. It will all be all right, okay?”

  Reese dropped her gaze to the hardwood flooring. Her mom didn’t understand. Life outside Echo Ridge moved at a fast pace, and if a company didn’t keep up, they’d slowly, painfully disappear. If only her family would listen. Sure, they’d let her try banana fondant. That was low risk. A cup of cream, three cups of sugar, and some flavoring was all it cost them. Maybe she could find a low-risk way to expand, something her mom would indulge her in that would actually pay off. Unless it was brilliant, and the benefits clear, her mom wouldn’t agree.

  She nodded numbly and Mom dropped her hands before greeting a customer.

  The business had always been run by the women in the family. At twenty-six, Reese still hadn’t been invited into the managers’ club. If she could just show them that she wasn’t the teenager they saw when they looked at her.

  Reese decided to take a chance and waited for her mom to finish with the customer before saying, “I was thinking about the window display for Kenworth’s. What if I sculpted something? Maybe a rooftop with a chimney, and we could put one of the Santas in it. I could make spun sugar for the snow and we could use the chocolate fountain …” Her voice trailed off as her mom drew her eyebrows down.

  “Mom and I discussed this last week. We decided to use Grandpa’s Christmas village collection. It’s been a few years since it’s been out of storage and the kids will love the moving parts,” said Joy.

  “I could do a centerpiece for the town,” Reese pressed. “A chocolate Christmas tree, complete with lights and gifts.” She already knew which website she would order the gold dust and lighting kit from. She was just too excited about the idea to let it rest.

  Joy shook her head firm enough that her bell earrings jingled. “There’s not enough money for chocolate decoration. Sorry, sweetie. You’ll understand when it’s your turn to run The Candy Counter.”

  Reese doubted that. She doubted it very much, but she held her tongue. “Yeah.” She stepped back and untied her apron. “I’m headed home.”

  “Bye, sweetie.” Joy kissed Reese’s cheek and then moved around her to help a man in a garish sweater.

  Reese retrieved her coat and scarf and made her way out of the store. As she pushed through the doors, she all but knocked over Andy, who was making his way inside. “Hey,” she said, running her hand over her braid to make sure it was still in place. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself.” Andy wore a dark wool coat over a blue turtleneck and had a red scarf hanging loose. He looked mail-order-catalogue beautiful. Seriously, guys just weren’t supposed to dress that good on their own.

  Reese pulled her eyes up from where they’d traveled down to appraise Andy’s clothing, and her face flushed. She hoped he would attribute it to the cold air that made their breath float between them. “Are you Christmas shopping?” She pointed awkwardly toward the doors behind her.

  “Shopping?” Andy looked confused. He glanced at the doors. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I was going to do some shopping.” He reached over to the door handle. “You wouldn’t want to help me out, would you?”

  Reese considered the question. There was no way she wanted to help Andy pick something out for a girlfriend. “Who are you shopping for?”

  “Um …” Andy pulled out his wallet and found a red slip of paper. “I drew out Gavin and Katie.”

  Reese relaxed. Shopping for Andy’s brother and his wife would be fine. And she’d get to spend some time with him without her mom and grandma listening in. Besides, wandering around Kenworth’s was about as “in public” as you could get. It was a safe place for her and Andy to be alone, because they weren’t actually alone. Not that she feared for her safety being alone with Andy. It was more like she feared for her resolve in keeping her distance. However, this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. “Sure.”

  Andy pulled open the door and ushered Reese back inside. She pulled off the scarf and coat she had just put on. “What do you have in mind?” she asked, wondering which direction to go. Bing Crosby crooned about white Christmases over the speakers, and Reese noted there were changes to the holiday displays. Being in the store every day made a lot of things invisible. Now that she’d come as a shopper, she could see the effort the managers put into enticing buyers.

  “What’s with the tree?” Andy asked, pointing to the ten-foot artificial evergreen covered in cream-colored snowflakes and bells. Towering and brightly lit, the tree could be seen from anywhere in the store. He’d stopped walking, and Reese paused with him.

  “It’s the Hope Tree. Each snowflake represents someone’s Christmas wish. The Ladies League organized it.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  Reese loved the addition to the store and had seen dozens of people she knew, and even more she didn’t, stop by to select a card. “Do you know what I like best?”

  “What?”

  “The bells. Every time someone pulls off an ornament, the bells ring—”

  “—and an angel gets his wings,” finished Andy.

  “Exactly!” Reese chuckled as they started walking again.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about what to get Gavin, and I think I have the perfect thing.” Andy stopped and spread his hands like he was writing his idea across Kenworth’s high ceilings. “A breakfast sandwich maker.”

  Reese gave him a dubious look. “Isn’t that kind of gadgety for Gavin? I thought he was afraid of the radiation from the microwave and cell phones and stuff.”

  “Exactly! Warm breakfast sandwiches, radiation free. It’s perfect.” Andy’s face was lit with confidence, and his eyes gleamed.

  Reese shook her head. How could she argue with completely warped logic? “Housewares are this way.” Reese pointed to the old soda fountain area, stacked high with kitchen accessories that sold like gangbusters for Christmas.

  They passed Cecilia on the way, reminding Reese that all was not well this Christmas, and her good mood turned into a winter storm.

  Caught up in her worries, Reese didn’t hear Andy’s question. He touched her arm, and she jerked back to the present. “Sorry, what?”

  Andy looked dejected. “I asked if you thought this was a good brand.” He held up a Fred & George machine with chrome plating.

  Reese nodded. “My dad has that exact one and he uses it all the time.” Okay, maybe once a month on Sunday morning, but that’s about as often as he cooked breakfast, so it counted, right?

  “Well, if Ike stands by it, then I guess it’s the one.” He hooked his hand under the cutout in the box and smiled in triumph.

  Reese nodded absently. What would Dad do if he wasn’t doing the accounting for The Candy Counter? He still had a good fifteen to twenty years before he could retire. Would he go back to steel working?

  Andy sighed, sounding defeated. “Thanks for your help, Reese.” He headed toward the clerk behind a register.

  Reese quick stepped to catch up to him. “Are we done? What about Katie?”

  Andy ran his empty hand through his hair. “I can take care of it. You seem a bit distracted today. I didn’t mean to take you away from other plans.”

  “But I don’t have other plans.” Okay, that sounded pathetic. She looked around. Seeing the shoe department, she said, “Come on.”

  She pulled Andy’s sleeve, and he followed her to a black leather bench, where he took up a whole cushion. It had been ages since they�
�d sat together; the last time, both their skinny little bottoms had fit on one couch cushion so they could share a bowl of white chocolate popcorn without spilling. Now Andy was all broad shoulders and thick muscles with a firm, stubble-covered jaw.

  Catching herself staring once again, Reese sat across from him on the opposite bench. Feeling a bit of their childhood mischief rising to the surface, Reese made an off-the-cuff decision to confide in Andy. She needed an outsider’s opinion on the lease situation. Since he ran his own business, something he’d started in college, he’d probably have a solid perspective.

  Nodding once to herself, she dove in, explaining in hushed tones about the lease and the conversation she’d overheard. “So I want to find a way to expand the business that won’t cost a lot of money up front.”

  Andy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Have you thought about setting up a website? The chocolate Santas are practically packaged to mail.”

  “I did have a customer ask if we shipped them.” Reese drummed her fingers against the seat. “How hard is it to build a website? I mean, it would have to be able to take credit card information and print mailing labels and postage.”

  Andy smiled. “I think we can figure it out. The site can be linked to the company’s accounts, and your bank should have the links for the credit card processing.”

  Reese’s head spun with the possibilities. They could start out shipping only to the continental US, and then, one day, they could ship worldwide. The tourists from the ski trade could become life-long customers instead of once-in-a-lifetime customers. “How soon can we get it up and running?”

  “I could meet with your parents tonight to discuss layout, and the site could be live by Friday.”

  Reese was shaking her head before Andy finished. Her mom was as computer savvy as a spatula. She practically ran in fear when Dad turned on his laptop. There was no way Joy would see a website as a viable business opportunity. Once again, the feeling of being defeated before the race began rolled over Reese. “Mom doesn’t …”