Mistletoe on Main Street (series t/k)

by Olivia Miles

  She felt flushed, hot with excitement, and the cold air felt invigorating as it slapped at her warm cheeks. Her coat was unbuttoned, flying behind her, as she quickened her pace, at last rounding the corner to the shop. After making a quick note of the management company’s number on the plaque outside the storefront next door, she let herself into Main Street Books with the key she had never given back to Jane.

  It was colder in here today, and it felt dustier, too. Still, hard work was never something she had been afraid of—without it, she wasn’t sure what she would do.

  She tossed her coat on a chair, and, after selecting a stack of picture books for Sophie, she set to work, starting with pulling the financial documents from the file cabinets so she could go over them later. Then she began clearing out the overflowing shelves. She went on instinct, placing anything that she didn’t think would ever sell in a big box for donation. Next, she took stock of the new inventory in the back room—the boxes her father had never even opened. It didn’t feel right, doing this without him, but somehow, standing there, hunched over the new titles, she couldn’t help but feel him looking down on her.

  She hoped he was at least.

  CHAPTER

  18

  Gray clouds rolled in over the mountains as thick white flakes of snow fell slow and steady, collecting on the bare treetops stretching as far as the eye could see. Luke turned from the window and crouched to stoke the fire, adding another log to the flames. He rolled back on his heels and stood, sweeping his gaze over the expanse of the room, suddenly feeling the house was too large for him.

  The soaring wall of glass ran perpendicular to the oversized stone hearth, and Luke lost himself in the view once more, wondering if he could really give it all up. He’d thought of it, more than once, but no matter what had happened here or the memories it held, he couldn’t let it go.

  Then again, letting go had never been his strong suit.

  He’d had the house built six years ago, and even now, regardless of the jokes that Mark might crack, he knew it suited his needs. Tucked into the forest, on a long, winding street off Mountain Road, the red-cedar log cabin was hardly a cabin at all. He’d taken a good percentage of his inheritance and had it built, knowing it would be the house he would live in for life. Not a detail went unnoticed, and the modern-rustic details had been created exactly according to his vision, from the hand-hewn beamed ceilings to the multileveled decks looking out over the mountain chains.

  He loved this house, but its sheer size sometimes reminded him of how empty it was. How empty his life was.

  He tore his gaze from the window once again. Now what?

  It had been a long morning, and no matter how hard he tried to fill it with useful tasks, he couldn’t tear his mind away from Grace, or the conversation he’d had with her that morning.

  Grace Madison. Back in Briar Creek. He had never thought it possible. He thought she could never live here, that doing so would be a sacrifice, not a choice of her own free will. And yet, her announcement was delivered with a smile.

  His gut knotted. Every doubt had been absolved; every nagging question that lingered in the recesses of his mind over the years had been answered. But not in the way he had hoped.

  All this time he had wondered what would have happened if he had made a different choice all those years ago. He wondered if he had done the right thing in letting her go, sticking with the woman who loved him and their life, who saw it as enough, rather than as a compromise.

  Grace had made it clear when she left for New York how badly she needed to get out of this little town. He’d been planning to propose when they finished their master’s programs—he had been waiting for the house to be ready first. Their house, he thought grimly.

  The plans had all been in place, hadn’t they? And then she had to go and mess it all up—tell him she could never be inspired in this town, that there was nothing new for her, that if he loved her, he wouldn’t keep her here.

  What choice had she given him? He let her go.

  What she was really asking was for him to go with her. And he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. She thought he hadn’t loved her enough; he thought she hadn’t loved him enough. At the end of the day, they wanted different things. It was as simple as that.

  Yet now… now his worst fears were confirmed. He’d let her go that fateful spring day when she’d come back for him, convincing himself that if she stayed she would come to resent him. He was sure of it. Almost. It was the little part of him that wasn’t sure that could never rest.

  And now he knew for sure. She was moving back to Briar Creek. And she seemed downright happy about it. Luke exhaled deeply and shook his head clear of the mounting fog. He crossed the room to switch on a light and grab a soda when he realized the only thing inside his fridge was an expired carton of eggs and a long list of condiments. A trip to the store was the last thing he needed right now, what with all those tacky decorations and the holiday music and the in-your-face cheer. He didn’t feel cheerful right now.

  Even if Grace might be moving back to town.

  It would be a challenge to keep his feelings under control, but he’d had years of experience. He was used to being tormented by her image, and in some ways it might be easier when she was close by. She would no longer be a mystery. She would be a tangible, accessible, beautiful woman—Stop right there, Luke.

  He walked down the hall to the closed door at the very end and brought his fingers to the handle, closing his eyes. With a thumping heart, he turned the knob, hearing the click of the latch, and he pushed the door inward an inch. Was he really doing this? This was Helen’s haven, her studio, filled with her things.

  A knock at the door startled him, and he quickly pulled the door closed tight behind him. Rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans, he retraced his path down the hall, noticing his mother through one of the windows that framed the solid door.

  “Hey there,” he said, ushering her inside.

  She pecked him on the cheek, and he reflexively swabbed his face with his fingers. His mother loved her lipstick almost as much as she loved the ballet.

  “One of my students made me this,” she said, thrusting into his hands what appeared to be a chocolate cheesecake garnished with crushed candy canes. “As if I could eat such a thing and still wear tights!”

  Luke fought off a smile. He seemed to recall that only the night before his mother couldn’t get enough sugar cookies into her hands, but he decided not to point this out. Cookies were one thing; an entire cheesecake, he presumed, was another.

  “Why don’t you save it and we’ll eat it on Christmas. I’m sure Mark and Brett will make short work of this.”

  “Well, I could,” his mother said hesitantly. “I didn’t know if we were still doing a family dinner this year.”

  Luke furrowed his brow. “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “Well, we all know how you feel about Christmas.” She made a furtive show of shifting her eyes over his house. “I mean, you still don’t even have a tree! So, forgive me for not wanting to assume you’d be coming over to celebrate the holiday.”

  Luke lifted his shoulders in exasperation. “Mother, I am still coming over for Christmas dinner. I may not have much holiday spirit these days, but I always come over for the family meal. I came last year, didn’t I?” He forced a grin, hoping to lessen the strain. “You know I can’t resist your twice-baked potatoes.”

  Rosemary beamed. “Then it’s settled.”

  “How about a cup of tea?” he asked, deciding he could use the company.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” his mother said, already sliding off her coat. “This house is much too large for one person. It’s not healthy for you to stay here alone all the time.”

  Luke ignored the insinuation. “It’s my home, even if it is… big.”

  “Big!” Rosemary scoffed. “The scale of these rooms is positively dramatic!”

  Luke bit back a sigh. His mother had a point. It had become much too easy for
him to hole up in this enormous house, all by himself, for days on end. Tonight was a perfect example of how destructive this kind of behavior could be. He was going down a dangerous path, thinking about things he shouldn’t, and it only served to make him feel worse.

  “It’s the style of the house,” he said. “Besides, your house isn’t exactly small,” he said, with a lift of the eyebrow.

  “Your father left us comfortable, but my situation is entirely different,” she said, regarding him closely.

  “How’s that?”

  “I raised three children in that house! I needed the space!”

  Luke felt his temper flare. He didn’t need to be reminded of his single status. “How’s rehearsal for The Nutcracker coming along?” he asked abruptly, as he took her cashmere scarf and coat and hung them both on the rack near the door.

  Rosemary made a grand production of rolling her eyes. “Don’t get me started. Besides,” she added, walking toward the kitchen. “I’m not here to discuss my boring old life. I’m here to talk about you.”

  Luke drew a hand over his weary face. He stood in the hall, watching his mother retreat, and summoned up the energy to reply. “Great,” he muttered to himself.

  He wandered to the back of the house and sat down at the kitchen counter, while Rosemary helped herself to a box of tea in the cabinet above the sink. A stack of unopened Christmas cards was strewn next to the empty fruit bowl, and he quickly shoved them in a drawer before his mother could remark.

  After she set the water to boil on the stove, and took it upon herself to wet a rag and wash down the already clean granite counter, ignoring his protests, Rosemary finally whirled around and met his eye. “I’m worried about you, Luke. It’s going on two years now since Helen passed—”

  “Mom,” Luke groaned. He raked his hand through his hair in agitation.

  “Now hear me out. I’m your mother, and sometimes you need to listen to what I have to say, whether you take my advice or not.”

  “Fine,” Luke grumbled. “Let me have it.”

  “I’m not here to let you have it, Luke. I’m here to tell you that I understand.”

  Well, this wasn’t what he had been expecting. Luke leaned forward. “Go on.”

  “I lost my spouse, too,” she said quietly. “I know how it feels in a way that others cannot. And that’s why I want to tell you that it’s okay to move on. I sometimes wish someone had told me that.”

  Luke stiffened. “Mom.”

  Rosemary shook her head softly. “It’s fine, Luke. I have a full life. Three children, a thriving business. But when you children were young… Well, there were many lonely nights.” The teakettle began to whistle and she turned to pull it from the range, taking her time in filling two mugs until the steam curled toward the post and beam ceiling.

  Sliding a mug to Luke, she looked him square in the eye. “I don’t want you to be lonely. I want you to know it’s okay to move on, to find love again. Maybe not now, but someday. Enough time has passed, but only you know when you are ready. And in case you didn’t know it was okay, just in case you were feeling… guilty, well, I wanted to tell you what I wish someone had told me.”

  She lowered her eyes, looking sad and young all at once, and Luke’s heart ached, thinking of his young, widowed mother, sitting alone in the house each night when he and his sisters had gone to bed. He didn’t want that for her, as she didn’t want it for him.

  “Well, that’s the thing, Mom. I do feel guilty.” There. He had said it. Out loud. The relief he felt in that moment was like his chest finally being filled with air for the first time since Helen died.

  Rosemary squinted. “Guilty for wanting to move on with your life?”

  Luke shrugged. “That. But for other things too.” He considered his words, wondering where to even begin. Something still haunted him, and he turned his face to his mother, ready to face the truth. “Did I seem happy to you on my wedding day?”

  Surprise sharpened Rosemary’s features. “Of course. Why would you ask such a thing?”

  Luke frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I guess I never really knew if I was completely happy. If I felt the way I should feel.”

  Rosemary gave him a withering smile. “Marriage is wonderful, Luke, but it isn’t without its challenges. Of course you were happy with Helen.”

  See, that was the thing. He was happy with her, or at least, he thought he was, until the doubts started creeping in, and something within him shifted. He could never seem to find his way back after that, no matter how desperately he tried. She was slipping away, he had lost her, and he couldn’t make himself feel what he had once felt. If what he had felt was ever even real. Or enough.

  “I don’t know if that’s exactly true.” He couldn’t meet his mother’s eyes, but the heat of her gaze burned a hole straight through the empty part of his heart. “I don’t know if I ever loved Helen the way I should have. The way she deserved to be loved.”

  “Luke.” Rosemary’s voice hitched on the word and she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. “These are normal feelings. You lost someone who meant the world to you, and now you’re beating yourself up wondering what you could have done differently.” She tutted. “You did the best you could, Luke. You loved her, and she loved you. I was there, trust me.”

  Luke took a sip of the tea, hoping to chase away the ache in his throat.

  “If you didn’t love her, you wouldn’t be feeling the way you do,” his mother added.

  He lifted his eyebrow. She had a point.

  Rosemary sighed. “This is about Grace, isn’t it?”

  Luke’s eyes shot up to his mother’s. He opened his mouth to protest and stopped. There was no sense in trying to deny it. “That obvious, huh?” He grinned sheepishly.

  Rosemary’s lips curved into a sly smile. “Just a hunch. I saw the way you two were canoodling over at the eggnog bowl last night,” she added and a spark danced through her blue eyes.

  “We weren’t canoodling,” he corrected. “We were talking. But, yes, this is about Grace.” Wasn’t it always? “I always felt like something was wrong. That I should have felt the same way for Helen as I did for Grace. And I didn’t.” There. It was out.

  He waited for his mother to sneer, to shake her head in shame, but all she did was shrug and say, “So? How can you be expected to feel the same for two completely different people?”

  He had never thought of it that way. Relief flooded him like a warm bath after a rough, dirty day, until he remembered how far his feelings had gone, and the familiar uneasiness returned.

  “You and Grace knew each other for a long time, Luke. Since you were kids. You practically grew up together.” She shook her head. “You can’t expect Helen to have filled that same space.”

  Luke rubbed his hand over his chin in thought. “No. You’re right.”

  But had he? Had he expected the impossible from her? Had he set his wife up to fail? It tore a hole through his gut to think he might have—that he might have waited and waited for something more, rather than enjoying what they had. That in the end he might have let her down in the worst way possible, all because his love for her was different. Not better. Not worse. Just different. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Rosemary paused. “Do what you will, but learn from me. Don’t end up alone, Luke. You have a whole life waiting for you.”

  “But—”

  Rosemary interrupted, “You know, I used to think I could never love another person like I loved your father, and the truth is, I couldn’t. But that’s not a reason to never love again, Luke, and it’s not a reason to close off your heart to the possibilities. Each love is different. You aren’t replacing that space in your heart. You’re just filling another part of it.”

  Helen had filled a part of his heart, that much was true. She had shown him what constant, patient, quiet love could feel like. And he still wanted that, even if at one point he thought it wasn’t enough.

  “Oh my!” Rosemary announced suddenly,
glancing at her watch. “I should run. Rehearsal for my sugarplum fairies, and based on yesterday’s practice, this should be a long, tear-filled afternoon.”

  Luke chuckled, standing to walk his mother back to the door. “Don’t be too hard on the girls, Mom.”

  “Who said anything about that?” she cried. “When I said tear-filled, I was talking about myself. If my two pink sugarplums don’t nail their pirouettes, we’ll be the laughingstock of town come December twenty-third!”

  Luke helped his mother slip into her coat and handed her the soft, red scarf. “Thanks for stopping by. And don’t forget the cake.”

  Rosemary eyed the decadent dessert that was propped on a chair in the front hall and pursed her lips. “If I must, but you’re taking home the leftovers on Christmas.”

  “Deal.” Luke leaned in and gave his mother a peck on the cheek and opened the door. Raising his hand in a wave, he watched her scurry to her car, tucking his hands in his pockets as the wind whipped through his lambs’ wool sweater.

  He waited until his mother’s car had disappeared out of sight and then picked up the phone. Without pausing to think, he dialed the Madisons’ number. After all this time, he still knew it by heart.

  He closed his eyes and waited as the first ring went through. It was time to confront his past, once and for all.

  CHAPTER

  19

  The Winter Festival was yet another annual tradition in Briar Creek, one Grace had also missed for the last five years. But like Mark’s party, little had changed in her absence, and she was grateful for it. There had been too much change recently. It was nice to know there were still some things she could rely on these days.