Love Finds You Under the Mistletoe

by Irene Brand

  What was he up to? “So, did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

  “Lily showed up, and her pet mouse, Dracula, got out again. Sharp teeth, you know. There was a lot of screaming among the customers until we got him back in his cage, but other than that all was quiet.” He disappeared into the back room.

  Holly picked up her favorite snow globe and gave it a shake. The tempest of white encircled the castle and its tiny folk with enchantment. If only she could make life as safe for everyone she loved as the world encased inside that snow globe.

  Her father came back into the main room with his hands behind his back, obviously hiding something.

  “What is it?”

  He had a twinkle in his eye. “Our store was just voted the number one Christmas store in America. This just came in the mail.” Her father pulled out a plaque from behind his back and handed it to her.

  “Really?” Holly studied the shiny gold lettering engraved on the wood, which stated those very words about their shop. Then she remembered their customers sending in a marathon of letters to a contest through one of the independent business associations. She’d never given it another thought. “So, it was all those notes people sent in. We have such good customers.”

  “Yes, and it’ll only improve our business. We can add this award to all our promotion materials…put it on our Web site. And I’ll call the newspapers.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “What a day. What a day. I think I’ll celebrate with a nap.” Her dad headed toward the back room again, doing a circling Hobbit jig all the way. It was great to see him so happy. Holly mulled over every angle of the news, located the perfect place on the wall for their award, and then busied herself dusting ornaments and singing “Ring, Christmas Bells.”

  After a few minutes of work Holly paused as she did every day to take in the wonder of the place—the old-world atmosphere, the golden warmth of thousands of twinkly lights, the angels suspended in the rafters. It was a bit like heaven come down to earth. God had certainly chosen a lovely place for her to grow up.

  She stepped on a small ladder and gave a swish of the duster to the Christmas ball, a glass orb that held the cherished cluster of mistletoe that had been passed down from her grandmother to her father and now to her.

  Holly gazed inside the ball, listening for whispers of the past. Not much left of the bouquet of mistletoe and berries and pinecones, but it represented a sweet story nonetheless. In 1946, as the tale went, a young woman named Annie Rose Walker received a package from her cousin Julia Mayfield in Mistletoe, Kentucky. The package contained a mistletoe ball, and when Annie held it up, the young man standing next to her—a stranger passing through town—swept her into his arms and kissed her. One day later he proposed, and Annie said yes. That was the history of Holly’s grandparents! She knew stories got embellished over the years, but she liked to imagine all of it was true.

  The shop bell jingled, and Owen Quigly—Holly’s dearest friend since diapers—burst through the front door, smirking all over the place as usual. “Hey, Holl.”

  “Hey, Quig.” Holly stepped down from the ladder. “What’s up?”

  “I heard the news about the shop.”

  She smiled. “Dad’s right. News does travel faster in Noel than it actually happens.”

  Owen walked over to Holly and gave her the infamous elbowrub, shoulder-bump greeting they’d been giving each other since the second grade. He wore his usual ensemble—jeans and a flannel shirt, which he claimed was the ultimate utilitarian attire for work, play, church, and in a pinch, bed. He pointed to the pie. “Pumpkin.” He scooped out a hunk from the middle and stuffed it in his mouth. “Mmm. Your dad’s getting better…no globs of eggs this time.”

  When the bell jingled again they both looked toward the door. A stranger stood in the entry as if he’d just burst through the saloon doors in Dodge City. On closer inspection she saw that it was the antiseptic loafer guy she’d encountered on the sidewalk earlier.

  The man’s face lit up when he saw her. “It’s you.”

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “So you are…the Holly Rose Goodnight?”

  “I am.”

  He pushed on the bridge of his glasses, making a production out of it.

  “How may I help you?” Holly tried not to start her romantic assessments again. He was probably seeking her out on some business-related matter. Perhaps it had to do with winning the contest.

  “Well, I, uh—” The stranger cleared his throat. “I’m Van Keaton.” He announced his name as if there should be a trumpet flourish.

  Holly walked over to him and shook his hand. “I’m glad to meet you.”

  “I guess you don’t know who I am.”

  “No, I’m sorry. Should I?”

  Van Keaton glanced over at Owen and then back at her. “Well, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something—in private.”

  Holly straightened. “Whatever you have to say may be said in front of Owen. He’s like part of the family.”

  “Okay, then. I have a rather delicate question for you.” Van Keaton stepped closer to her. “I’m just going to say it.”

  “I wish you would.” To busy her hands, Holly picked up a snow globe and gave it a swish with her duster.

  Van paused, catching her gaze. “Is it true that when you were a baby, your mother abandoned you on the doorstep of this shop on the night before Christmas?”

  Holly’s fingers lost their hold on the snow globe. She let out a gasp as the glass ball—with its tiny perfect world inside—crashed to the floor.

  “Oh. I’m so sorry.” Van reached downward, gaping at the mess.

  Owen stared at Van. “I think you’d better explain why this is any business of yours.”

  Numb, Holly looked down at the shattered snow globe, the broken castle, and the pool of sparkly water. In one brief query, the man named Van Keaton had performed quite a magic trick by conjuring up a subject the town had been silent on her whole life—until now.

  Chapter Two

  “I’ll pay for the snow globe.” Van Keaton set a wad of cash on a display table. “And I’m sorry I came off so blunt. Well, bluntly is correct. Hate poor grammar.” He laced his fingers together. “But I really do need to talk to you alone.”

  “Being alone won’t matter.” Owen handed Van a broom and a dustpan as well as a trash bin. “This isn’t a topic people talk about here. Especially strangers.”

  Holly crossed her arms. “All of what you said is true, Mr. Keaton, but I’d like to know who gave you the information. Are you a reporter?”

  Van swept up the pieces into the dustpan. “It was an anonymous tip. I have no idea who—”

  “This subject is painful to Miss Goodnight.” Owen put his hands on his hips. “And so—”

  “I’m not a reporter.” Van pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, knelt down, and began daubing at the water.

  “Then who are you?” Holly tried to keep the edge out of her voice.

  “I’m a novelist.” Van wrung out his handkerchief into the plastic waste bin. “When I heard about your story, I thought it might make a great novel.”

  “A great novel.” Holly pondered his words. “I thought writers were supposed to come up with their own stories.”

  “Yes, but some of the best books are based on true stories.” Van kept using his hanky method of cleanup. “You know, creative nonfiction.”

  His efforts were so pathetic that Holly nearly chuckled. “I doubt I’d be interested.” Really, though, she already knew what her answer would have to be. She wouldn’t put her father through such an ordeal.

  Owen showed up with a wad of paper towels and started to sop up the water.

  Van backed away and scrubbed his hands on a sanitizing wipe, which he’d just whipped out of his pocket. Then he pulled out a little card as well. “I’ll leave my business card on this table. Let me know your decision as soon as you can. I’m only in Noel for a couple of days.
”

  “Actually, just so you’ll know, the name of our town is pronounced like the name Joel, not like the song, ‘The First Nowell.’”

  “But isn’t this called the ‘Christmas City of the Ozarks’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Guess I’ll have to do some more research about it online.” Van scribbled something onto a notepad. “Nice to meet you both.” And then the stranger walked out the door without another word.

  “Odd sort of guy.” Owen put the wet paper towels in the trash and looked over at Holly. “I know that must have been hard to hear—after all this time. Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay.” Holly grimaced. “I guess I just never expected to hear my past described like that by a stranger.” People in town had always known her history, and yet to hear the words spoken out loud had taken her by surprise. Unfortunately, Van’s question still hung in the air like rotten mackerel, so Holly lit a few spiced candles. At least her father hadn’t been in the room at the time. It would have made the scene much more complicated.

  After everything was put away from the cleanup, Holly tried to put Mr. Keaton and his strange proposal out of her mind.

  Owen lowered himself under one of the new Christmas trees. “I noticed you have some limbs dangling funny here.”

  “Hey, weren’t you supposed to be at an investors’ conference in St. Louis?”

  “Postponed.”

  “You know, if I ever started paying you for all your work around here, I think I’d owe you about ten thousand dollars by now.”

  “I don’t need the money.”

  “True.” Holly stepped over Owen’s long legs. He was such an incredible guy—all things kind and fun as well as handsome in his own boyish way. And even though he was wealthy, he never flaunted it. She couldn’t believe some woman hadn’t snatched him up. In fact, she could hardly believe someone hadn’t snatched her up too.

  “Hey, wanna go to a movie sometime?”

  “Wish I could, but I’ve got too much to do with Christmas season coming.” Holly opened a new box of ornaments and one by one placed them on the same tree Owen was working on. “Why don’t you ask Marlene? She’s always fluffing her feathers around you.”

  Owen huffed. “Yeah, and I know why. She just thinks my money will make a nice soft lining for her birdhouse.”

  “Oh.” Holly opened up the branches of the tree, poked her head inside, and looked down at Owen. When he grinned, his dark eyes glistened at her. “Wow, do you know who you remind me of when I look at you upside down?”

  “I look like Spiderman, right?” He cleared his throat. “You know, in that cool upside-down kissing scene.”

  “No, I was thinking you looked more like Gollum from Lord of the Rings.”

  “You are so cruel.” Owen placed his hand over his heart. “Do you know that?”

  Holly chuckled. “You were my mentor.”

  An all-out war of words commenced, and then they dissolved into a laughing, heaving mess.

  When they recovered and Owen had scooted himself out from under the tree, he took on a most curious expression. It was a look Holly couldn’t place, but then it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

  “Hey, I’ve got a great new tree theme.”

  Holly gave Owen’s curly red hair a flick with her duster to remove the dust bunnies. “Oh yeah? What is it?”

  “For the ladies, a Jane Austen tree. It could be covered with faux candles, miniature horse-drawn carriages, tea pots, and antique books.” He held up his finger. “And—”

  “And tiny ball gowns, satin bows, and lace hankies shaped like fans.” Holly pretended to fan herself and then gave Owen an affectionate shove. “Great idea, Quig. Let’s do it for a summer promotion.”

  The front door jingled, and in rushed the four Westin boys—Jake, Jude, Jerald, and Jeremy—full of bluster and sticky fingers. Fortunately, their mom followed closely behind them.

  “Hey, Sandra.”

  “Do you have any of those miniature Christmas trees?” Sandra asked. “Jake needs some for a school project. Oh, and I need five more boxes of those blue Christmas lights and three of those miniature music boxes I saw in the window.”

  “All right.” Holly gathered up all the merchandise as Jake reached into her apron pocket for some candy.

  “Better ask your mom first.”

  “Mom?”

  Sandra nodded.

  “Thanks.” Jake lifted four pieces of sugar-free taffy out of her pocket as stealthily as a thief, popped one into his mouth, and gave one to each of his brothers. “Got a sorry grade in math.” He waved a sheet of paper like a white flag, wadded it up, and tossed it in a nearby trash bin.

  Holly retrieved the paper and smoothed out the wrinkles. “And did you see what went wrong?”

  “Yeah, Mom and I finally figured it out,” Jake managed to say around the taffy in his mouth.

  “Cool.” Holly folded the paper while Jake was talking and while the rest of the family shopped. When she’d finished her tucks and creases, she handed back Jake’s math paper in the shape of an origami lion. “You were brave to face all that red ink on your paper.” She ruffled the boy’s hair. “Good job.”

  Jake pulled away, pretending not to like the attention, but his smile gave him away. “Sure.”

  When the purchases were made, Sandra walked to the door with her boys. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Holly signed the words “See you later” to Jeremy, who was hard of hearing, and then waved good-bye to all of them as they exited the shop.

  As soon as they were gone, Owen started gathering up gold plastic eggs from here and there around the shop. Apparently, while Jake schmoozed her for taffy, his three brothers were snatching up what the six geese were “a-laying” from a display and were “a-hiding” them like Easter eggs. Very clever, boys.

  Owen looked at her with a quizzical expression. “Hey, Holl? I was just wondering…is your dad still retiring soon?”

  “Maybe at the end of the year. Why?”

  “I know you’re always worried whether he’ll have enough to retire on. So, I was thinking about that novelist, what was his name? Van something. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing to have him write your story. It could bring a lot of attention to the store. Might be good for business. You know, add to your dad’s nest egg.” Owen juggled several of the gold eggs and then let them land next to the six geese.

  “Sure, Quig. I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Holl?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I can tell you’re blowing me off. I know what your mother did to you is hard for you to talk about, but sometimes letting things out is good. Telling this guy your story might not only be lucrative for the store, but freeing for you.”

  Holly paused and looked him over, surprised at his sudden assertiveness on the subject, and then nodded. “Okay. I really will think about it.”

  “For real?”

  “For real.”

  “By the way, since we’re on topics we don’t discuss, I have something to tell you. Something important.” He tapped his knuckles together.

  There wasn’t much Owen could tell her that would shock her, but she was curious about his earnest tone. “So, what astonishing thing do you have to tell me? Please don’t say you’re going to buy a pickup truck.”

  “No.” Owen grinned. “I’ve decided to get married.”

  Chapter Three

  “What do you mean you’ve decided to get married? To whom? You haven’t even been dating anyone. Have you? I mean, I would have known if—”

  “Holl.”

  “Yes?”

  Instead of answering her, Owen walked toward the back of the store. Being his usual tall self, his head almost grazed the bottom of the beloved Christmas ball. How funny. Over the years Owen must have passed under the mistletoe a hundred times, and yet she hadn’t noticed before how close he came to touching the heirloom.

  Owen sat down on the loveseat, which was s
ituated in the little space reserved for the children’s story hour. “Come sit.” He patted the seat next to him.

  Sensing the seriousness of his request, Holly complied. “What is going on?”

  “I haven’t proposed to anyone yet. I haven’t even been dating anyone. But all these years when I didn’t seem too interested in getting married—well, I am now. I’m going to actively pursue it.” He scrubbed his hands along his jeans.

  “You say it like you’re hunting skunks.”

  Owen laughed. “I hope it turns out to be more pleasant than skunk hunting.”

  “Depends on the woman I guess.”

  “Holly Goodnight, are you trying to discourage me in my quest?” Owen sounded hopeful for some reason.

  She gave him a nudge. “Not in a thousand, trillion years would I do that. I want you to be happy. It’s just, well, this news—it’s so huge.” Holly stroked her earlobe to help her think. “So, what in the world brought on this epiphany?”

  “I guess it’s been a lot of little things…over the years. And as I grow older I think more about having a family.”

  “Wow, a family? Well, you would make a great dad. It’s just going to take some getting used to.” Holly tapped her shoes on the rope rug. “This is just so huge.”

  “You said that already.”

  “Because it is.” She loosened her velvet apron, since the ties suddenly felt too constricting. “So, how are you going to find a woman to marry?”

  “I thought I’d just put up a mesh trap during tourist season. See what it brings in.”

  “Come on, now. Seriously.”

  “I don’t know yet. But if I can figure out how to make money in the stock market during a bad economy then I can figure out how to marry the woman of my dreams.”

  “I think the latter might be a tad harder. Falling in love with the right woman can’t be easy. And then, of course, you’ve got to make sure she falls in love with you too. That could be a real problem.” Holly took a piece of taffy out of her pocket and stuffed it into her mouth.

  “You’re right.” Owen shrugged with mock surrender. “Sounds impossible.”