Clearing my throat, I followed Madison up the icy pathway, shaking my head as if the action would physically push her from my mind. My intent in this dinner was to get to know my grandmother, regardless of how keenly I wanted to further a connection with Madison.
I stepped through the door into a magical world of Christmas. The banister on the stairway in front of me was wrapped in garland and twinkling lights, perfectly balancing the glorious Christmas tree on the other side of the room set before the large bay window. Christmas cards hung from a string tacked to the far wall and Blue Christmas played while the smell of gingerbread and something citrus hit my nose.
This was the Christmas I’d dreamed of as a little boy. This was what I could have had if my parents had remained on speaking terms with my grandmother.
I swallowed the bitter taste that crept up my tongue and reached forward to hug Grandma Hart, giving her a squeeze before following her and Madison into the dining room.
The table was laid with holiday decor and plates rimmed in painted holly berries. It was almost too much to bear, but I sucked in a breath of Christmas laden air and sat across from Madison, anchoring myself in her eyes. She smiled encouragingly and I suddenly felt like I could handle whatever was coming. Whatever Grandma Hart had to share with me this evening, I was going to be fine.
Grandma Hart laid dinner on the table and we chatted amiably about the various town characters that came together to create a wholesome, rich community. Madison shared the story of the hot sauce bottle and I laughed, despite my acute embarrassment.
The time flew by until I was sitting on a sofa in the living room, enjoying a slice of pecan pie that was otherworldly in its superiority, and watching Grandma Hart and Madison laugh about the incident with Santa in the parade the year before, when the horse he had been riding got spooked and ran amok on Main Street. My heart warmed at the easy camaraderie between the women and I suddenly had the strong desire to move to Holly Springs and live the rest of my life in this small-town bliss.
“There were quite a few terrified children, to say the least,” Madison said amidst her laughter.
“The poor man didn’t know what to do. It’s a good thing they swapped out the Santa this year. Derick Winston wouldn’t have screamed had the horse gone crazy.”
Madison nodded in agreement.
“So tell me,” Grandma Hart said, turning her eagle eyes on me. “What do you do for a living? Are you working for your father?”
Her intelligent gaze stunned me and my fork paused midway between my plate and my mouth. I dropped the plate and fork onto my lap, my mouth suddenly dry. How much did Grandma Hart know? And how much was she trying to reveal to Madison?
“He still runs a real estate firm, I assume,” she continued.
So she did know some things. I swallowed, nodding. “He does. And I help them out sometimes, but I run my own firm.”
I hazarded a glance at Madison and she was chewing a bite of her own pie, watching me with a small wrinkle between her eyebrows.
“What is it your firm does?” Grandma Hart asked.
“I go into failing businesses and help them figure out what they need to do to succeed.”
I sensed the shift in the room without even looking at Madison. I couldn’t. I was too afraid of what I would find.
My grandmother didn’t seem to be bothered by my answer. She smiled appreciatively. “What a worthy profession.”
“I like to think so,” I agreed. “I’ve had a lot of amazing experiences helping people turn their lives around and save their companies.”
“And they’re surviving without you? Your firm?” Madison asked.
I faced her, relieved not to find anger. “It’s really just a couple of other guys, and we all do our own thing. They check back in with me periodically, but I trust them.”
“Because they’re in the business of helping others.”
I nodded. “They have sharp minds, too.”
Grandma Hart stood, gathering our plates. “Do you have a tree in that apartment, young man? Or do you plan to go home for Christmas?”
Would it be too forward to request spending the holiday in her home? I really didn’t want to spend it alone. Mark was right sometimes. I was the sentimental brother.
I said, “My family has plans in Palm Springs, so I was considering staying here, actually.”
Grandma Hart’s face froze. “Christmas in Holly Springs?”
I nodded.
She glanced at Madison. “Do you have plans already?”
“No,” she said.
“You are both welcome here, if you’d like.”
The tree behind Grandma Hart and the music playing from the radio on the mantle were a beautiful preview of what my Christmas could look like this year, and I liked the thought a lot. “I would love that.”
Smiling in that happy way that only grandmas could, she stood and bustled to a bookcase on the far wall. “I have a photo in here of your first Christmas. Give me a moment and I’ll find it.”
Well, that was odd. I didn’t remember ever spending time with my grandma. But if I was a baby, then I wouldn’t remember it. I looked at Madison and she was quiet, patiently waiting for Grandma Hart to come back with the photo album.
“Found it!”
She brought over a large book and sat on the couch beside me. Madison came over and sat on her other side and we looked at photos of my mother holding me beside Grandma Hart. The hair was a lot bigger on both women, but aside from added wrinkles, not much else had changed.
“Your mother loved Christmas,” she said quietly. “I can’t imagine that has changed much.”
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t about to tell her that our Christmas celebrations lacked most of the typical traditions one sees in the movies. There were no tree decorations with music playing, or a fire burning in the hearth. Our Christmas celebrations were often spent at charity functions or galas. Well, now they were. Before I got old enough to attend the events with my parents, they were often spent with babysitters.
She turned the page and pointed to a photo with one wrinkly finger. “And this was when you were around three. Or, maybe four.”
I froze. The photos on the left side were no longer Christmas, but summertime pictures of two dirty boys with mud on their faces. Mark and me, no doubt. The tent behind us indicated a camping trip. Strangely, Mom was absent from all of the photos.
I turned the page, pulling the book onto my lap and looking at summer vacations and Christmas celebrations containing Grandma Hart, Mark, and me. And there was something oddly familiar about these photos, as if I could vaguely remember being there.
But where was Mom?
“Did you have your own vacations with your grandsons?” Madison asked. “What a special tradition.”
I looked to Grandma Hart. Her mouth was pinched in frustration as she trained her gaze on the fire.
Silence fell on the room, broken by the upbeat strains of Jingle Bell Rock on the radio. I would have spoken for her, but I didn’t know the answer. And I couldn’t change the subject, because I wanted to know the answer.
Grandma Hart looked from the fire to the book of photos in my lap, and then gave me a commiserating smile. “It wasn’t intentional, but yes. Our vacations turned into special grandma trips.”
“Why?” I asked, forgoing good manners. I needed to know.
She looked me in the eye. “Because your parents were busy. It was the only way I was able to see my grandsons.”
This wasn’t sounding like the story I’d been fed my whole life. This sounded nothing like a woman who didn’t care about her family. “Then why did it stop?”
“Because I had an argument with your father.”
Shaking her head, Grandma Hart rose from the couch and crossed the room, wringing her hands together. “We didn’t see eye to eye on the way you boys were being raised and I made the mistake of sharing how I felt about it.”
The silence was thick. My breath became sha
llow as I waited for her to continue.
Pushing her purple-rimmed glasses up on her nose, Grandma Hart leveled me with a nervous look. “When you were young, we planned to go stay at a cabin near a lake not far from here for a family vacation. But something came up and your parents changed their plans in the last moment, leaving you and your brother here for two weeks while they went to New York for a work trip. When your mother came back to get you, I tried to remind her of the importance of family relationships and spending quality time with her kids. I was fed up with her planning family vacations, and then having something always come up where she and your dad had to attend a work thing instead. She was deeply offended. Your father—who heard about it later—was livid. He called and argued with me, telling me I’d lost all privileges with you and your brother and not to bother contacting them again.” She smiled in a self-deprecating way. “I should have known better than to tell anyone else how to raise their children. But your parents’ pride is what has kept you away. I’ve tried to apologize for my part in the argument many times.”
I hated to admit it, but that sounded exactly like my father. He had a temper, he was extremely prideful, and he did not like being told what to do.
What hurt was that Dad’s ego had gotten in the way of me having a normal relationship with at least one member of my family. All of the lies I’d been fed culminated, pulsing through me with the fire of resentment. I needed to be cautious before I overreacted. Madison and Grandma Hart did not deserve my wrath.
“Maybe we should call it a night,” Madison said. She looked sad, and I felt horrible for ruining her evening.
“That might be best,” I agreed. We rose and walked to the door, pulling on coats and scarves and hugging Grandma Hart goodbye. Her guileless half-smile fed my irritation toward my parents and I had to force myself not to call my dad right then.
But I would call him as soon as I got back to the apartment.
The drive back to the diner was silent. I parked the car in an open spot on the back street and left it running, staring ahead through the windshield at the headlights highlighting the falling snow.
“You drive in the snow well for a city boy.”
I smiled at her teasing. “You mean I drive cautiously?”
“I mean slow.”
I chuckled, then turned to look at her, resting the side of my head on the seat rest. “Are all families this messed up?”
“No.”
Laughing again, I reached for her hand. She let me hold it and the inner Jake Tyler slam dunked a basketball. Outwardly, of course, I was calm and collected. “Sorry the evening ended so abruptly.”
She shrugged. “Are you going to call your parents?”
Sighing, I let go of her hand and looked outside again. “I don’t know.”
A beat of silence passed before she said, “Take it from someone who has no family around. Prideful, grudge-holding parents are probably better than nothing.”
“You’ve got a huge family. You’ve got this whole town.”
I stared into her blue eyes, and she didn’t move. The radio was on low, playing We Wish You a Merry Christmas in the background. Would Madison reach over and turn it off? I’d heard her complain at the parade about how much she hated that song.
Had that really only been last week? It felt like it had been significantly longer.
A loud knock pounded on the driver’s window and I jumped, turning to look over my shoulder. Rolling down the window, I gave Madison’s saucy waitress an unamused smile. She’d completely ruined the moment.
“Hey Madison, I’m done for the night. I know we don’t close for another hour, but we haven’t had anyone come in in a while and Joey went home.”
“That’s fine,” Madison said. “Goodnight Tessa.”
Tessa shot me a wink before sauntering away.
“So much for your brilliant publicity move,” Madison said.
My hand came up in defense. “Hey! You’ve got to give it more than a couple of hours. I liked the photo of the pies. I think it’s going to work.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you?”
I gazed at her, unsure if she was being facetious or was irritated. Clearing my throat, I said, “Are you upset?”
“No,” she said, playing with the hem of her red dress. Her coat covered most of her outfit but the hem was visible where it sat over her knees. Was she cold? I could ask, but she didn’t look cold. I reached forward and turned the heater up, just in case.
“I mean,” she continued, “it’s not like you went in there intending to fix my business. You just had a good idea. And I don’t blame you for it, since you do it for a living.”
Well, great. What was I supposed to say now? Should I correct her, and explain that I did, in fact, intentionally come to Holly Springs with that purpose?
Her round eyes watched me hesitantly, and I balked. I couldn’t say anything now. Not right before Christmas, at least. I knew I needed to tell her eventually, it just couldn’t be now.
“In fact,” she continued. “I probably would have listened to you sooner had I known your credentials.”
“Really?”
She seemed to ponder it a moment before grinning. “No, probably not. I can be pretty stubborn, too.”
I couldn’t help it anymore. I leaned across the center console and laid a kiss on her lips. I felt her mouth turn up in a smile before she kissed me back, and my whole body simultaneously cheered and relaxed. The rest of my life might be a complete mess, but none of that seemed to matter when I had Madison by my side.
15
Madison
I was going to get the dumb tree into the back of my truck whether it wanted to be there or not. I glanced over my shoulder at Mr. Johannsson, but the man had gone back to his camp chair after selling me the tree, his feet already back up on his ice chest.
He was going to be no help at all.
Taking a big gulp of air, I let it out slowly, relaxing my shoulders while my breath clouded in front of me. I could do this. It wouldn’t be that hard. Squatting lower, I got a good grip on the tree and lifted, sliding it into the bed of my truck in one quick motion.
Success.
And now, I deserved some pie.
I got in the truck and slammed the door, chuckling when I saw Mr. Johannsson jump through my rearview mirror. I turned the radio on and switched it to the Christmas station, forcing myself to leave it be when the strains of the jolly music hit my ears. I forced the images of Dad on the hospice bed from my mind and tried to think about the memories from all the years before that.
Jake’s sad family drama from last night had solidified one thing in my mind: I needed to appreciate the times I had with my father and not stress so intensely about not loving the holiday now. He would be furious if he could see how I’d avoided Christmas. In fact, he was probably watching me now and lamenting my poor attitude.
You’re right Dad, I do know better.
I drove to the diner and let myself in the back, going to the refrigerator and pulling out a slice of pie. I knew I would be disappointed because it was nowhere near as good as Mrs. Hart’s, but it was the next best thing.
“I thought you were decorating your tree?” Joey asked, coming up to lean against the counter opposite me. I pulled a fork from the bin and dug into the pie right then.
Alright, so maybe I was a little sensitive from grabbing Christmas by the horns and moving full steam ahead, but I deserved the pie. Just getting the tree into the back of my truck by myself had been difficult.
It wasn’t overly heavy, but it was awkward.
“I needed some sustenance,” I said around a bite of pie. “I’ll get back to it soon.”
I was probably going to have to call Britney and Todd for backup, and I was not looking forward to that. I really didn’t hate the guy, but I didn’t trust him either. And I was usually a good judge of character, so I tended to listen to my gut when it spoke to me. He’d just been gone so much more often of late, and half t
he time Britney had no idea to where.
Whether or not he was doing anything nefarious, I couldn’t tell. But he’d been distant, that much was clear. If he had nothing to hide, then why wouldn’t he just be upfront with her about all of his work trips?
I glanced around the empty diner. Something in me rebelled against pushing my desserts, but I was also excited to see if it could be successful. Maybe I should whip up some macarons, just in case…
“Hey, Madison,” Jake said, coming down the stairs and pausing at the bar. “Pie for lunch?”
“Maybe,” I said around another bite. I lifted a pecan. “It’s got nuts in it. So, protein.”
He chuckled, turning his attention to Joey. “How’s it going, man?”
“I’ve got a truck to fix and my niece’s oil to change. I’m looking forward to getting off work.”
Jake raised an eyebrow at me. “He likes working on cars?”
I finished off my pie. “Just let me get my tree up really quick and I’ll come relieve you.”
“You’re putting up a tree?” Jake asked. “Need any help?”
His smile made my heart gallop. Putting up the tree with Jake sounded a hundred times better than asking for Todd’s help. “If you aren’t doing anything, then yes.”
He glanced behind his shoulder. “I’ve got nothing to do that beats putting up a tree.”
He followed me outside and we drove to my house, listening to Christmas music along the way. I could feel Jake’s gaze resting on me and I ignored it, watching the snowy roads for deer and pretending that nothing had changed. I really liked this guy. Like really, really liked him. I might as well throw caution to the wind and enjoy the time I had with him.
I’d just pick my broken heart up off the ground and dust it off after he left. I didn’t need to worry about that now.
We pulled onto my secluded road and I surreptitiously watched for his reaction when we came around the bend and the house came into view.
His gasp was everything I’d expected it to be. “This is your house?”
Snowflake Wishes (Holly Springs Romance Book 1) Page 12
