by Kate Kisset
Settling in behind her booth, she watched the grannies happily totter over to their foxy posse and indulge in chit-chat. They would probably miss the socializing as much as the baking. Her eyes flicked to Brett’s booth. She didn’t expect him to be there, and of course he wasn’t. His grandmother waved at her, and Lilly stuck a fake smile on her face and waved back.
“Lilly, Lilly!” Jessica tapped her shoulder, and when Lilly turned, threw her arms around her. “Thank you for being so understanding. I’m sorry I had to drop out on you so last minute.”
“Don’t be crazy.” Lilly hugged her tight. It felt so good to see her friend again.
Her heart slammed against her chest. The feel-good moment ended the second Lilly remembered how she harassed Jessica’s brother. Jesus. Did Brett talk to her about me? Does she think I’m a lunatic now?
She felt heat pulse on her cheeks. She’d have to face the consequences with him someday.
Lilly swallowed the lump in her throat. “How’s your father-in-law doing?”
“He hit a rough patch for a while, but he’s out of the hospital and on the mend at home.” She put her hands on her hips. “Look at this place! It’s stunning. How did you ever find it?”
“Your brother. Um, Brett helped.” Lilly’s stomach felt like a brick. “Brett was wonderful…”
“He is a great guy, isn’t he?” Jessica actually asked.
“Uh-huh. Yep. Great.” Lilly looked down at her apron, hesitating before giving in and asking, “Have you seen him since you’ve been back?”
Jessica’s pretty face lit up with smile. “Yes. I saw him last night right after we got home. He’s safe and sound, thank God. Brett said he was coming today. He might even be here, somewhere.” Jessica scanned the room.
“I’m glad he’s okay.” Lilly looked over her shoulder and checked his booth again. His grandmother had a few customers, but there was still no sign of him.
“What can I do to help? I’m ready to work.” Jessica crouched down and looked under the table. “Do you want me to unpack these fruitcakes?”
She hesitated, considering her friend. “Um… We need to talk about the fruitcakes Jessica.”
She looked up. “Oh?” She straightened.
Lilly edged closer keeping her voice down. “You have to promise to keep this a secret.”
Jessica considered her solemnly. “I will. I do. I swear.”
“ChiChi and Cha-Cha’s cakes aren’t selling, so don’t give out any samples. Just stand here and look friendly. When the grannies check the sales, tell them the concoction is flying off the table.”
Lilly made another row with cakes down the table. “Begin each hour with twenty on display just like this.” She pointed to the row. “Stash two or three under the table every fifteen minutes. I’ve been smuggling the cakes out to my car every night. I’m buying the whole lot.”
Jessica’s jaw dropped, and her eyes were as big as sundials. She covered her mouth and looked around room, possibly checking for spies. “How many are we talking about?”
“Two hundred and eighty—but who’s counting, right? Look,” she leaned closer to Jessica and whispered, “I don’t want anyone in this town to find out, especially Deidre Potter. Trust me, she’ll stop by today and give you the third degree. Just keep it light and tell her everything is perfectly peachy. After the fair, I’m giving the cakes to a homeless shelter out of town. Most of the batches are good enough to eat, but just not exciting enough to buy.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Sadly, I am not.”
Jessica straightened the plastic wrap on one of the cakes. “You’re going to all this trouble over fruitcakes?”
“Keep your voice down.” She glanced over her left shoulder for anyone with their wonder ears turned up, and then made a casual turn to her right. “The inedible cakes can probably be used as fire-starters. They have enough rum in them to burn for hours, and they’re a completely natural product. As far as I know, the grannies don’t use preservatives. Except for maybe the cherries. They’re a little suspicious.”
Jessica crouched down to get another look under the table. She cautiously moved the tablecloth out of the way.
“They’re not going to bite. They’re just fruitcakes.” Lilly laughed for the first time in almost a week. “And most of them don’t move,” she teased.
“Well, as long as they’re not going to burst into flames or anything while I’m standing here.”
“Three weeks and not a smolder.” Lilly placed her hand over her heart. “Scout’s honor. So, you’re okay with the plan?”
Jessica stood up. “I’ve got this handled. Yep. And you really are the sweetest, Lilly.”
“I feel bad about lying to the grannies, but I’ve tried every possible tactic to get them to change the recipe or make something else. I just don’t want to see ChiChi and Cha-Cha get hurt.”
“You’re in good hands, girl. I’ve got your back. Go check out the crafts and the other booths.” Jessica grabbed an apron and tied it around her waist. “You’ve probably been stuck behind this table the whole time. Go on…” Jessica waved her away.
“Are you sure?” Lilly scouted the premises. She wouldn’t mind taking her mind off Brett, and unfortunately Jessica reminded her of him. Then again, so did everything. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
Lilly popped one of Mrs. Laughlin’s cabernet-infused chocolate truffles in her mouth and waited for the endorphins to kick in. Her craft sale shopping spree managed to keep her mind off Brett for exactly twenty-seven minutes. Luckily, Mr. Blue-Eyes hadn’t arrived on the scene yet. She hoped to avoid Brett somehow, for another day, or at least until she could face him without falling apart. Lilly’s puffy eyes burned, and her bones ached with exhaustion from her whacked-out sleep-cry-panic schedule.
On a positive note, she acquired a basket full of stocking stuffers for her parents, her sister Juliana, and a little shoe ornament for her great aunt GiGi. Her orthopedic shoe-tracking device was taking the world by storm. Heaven help us. Lilly chuckled. Cha-Cha and ChiChi were hard enough to handle. When GiGi, their oldest sister, got into the mix, the three of them were incorrigible. Still, she couldn’t wait to see her for Christmas.
Jessica caught her eye across the room and cupped her hands on the sides of her mouth, calling out, “Go outside.” Jessica gave her a go-on-don’t-come-back-to-the-table gesture.
Fine with me. All the better to hide from your brother. Lilly hadn’t checked out the photo booth yet. She waved back to Jessica and then wandered outside. At least twenty pint-sized Maltisomethings, along with a good number of larger mutts and twenty arrogant cats, waited in line to have their pictures taken with Santa Paws. All were on leashes or in carriers and, surprisingly, everyone seemed to be getting along.
Staying out of the way, Lilly leaned against the barn and popped another truffle in her mouth. The next pooch in line launched up on Santa’s lap. Not shy at all, the brown and white dog looked straight at the photographer and stuck out his tongue. With the vineyards behind Santa’s bright red suit and the crystal sky above, she couldn’t imagine the photographer getting a better shot.
Next up, a nutty little barker. He was cute enough, with his stubby tail and white coat, but the owner had a hard time controlling him. The barker kept getting back in line and wrapping the leash around his mom.
Apparently frustrated, Santa called the photographer over for a word in private. After a moment, the shutterbug turned and waved someone over.
“Would you please come over and help?” she called out, but no one answered. She kept waving. “You.”
Lilly nibbled on another truffle and looked over her shoulder into the barn.
“No. You!” the photographer yelled again.
Lilly looked up from her bag of chocolates. “Me?” She patted her chest, wondering if the pooch paparazza knew she was a volunteer. “Sure, I guess...” Lilly tossed the truffles into the shopping bag and hurried over. “What do you need?”
>
“Santa wants you to help the owner situate Carl on his lap, and I wouldn’t mind the help, either. This is the last shot before my break.”
“Sure, I’ll give it a go.” Lilly put her shopping bag with the photographer’s purse and jacket. “Carl,” she called and slapped her thigh. Looking like he’d dart away any second, Carl cautiously moseyed over. “Come here, cutie.” She wrangled him into her arms, and Carl covered her with kisses.
“Thank you so much for helping,” Carl’s mom held on to his leash. “I hurt my back, but thought I could manage.”
“No problem. Come on, Carl.” Lilly carried him over to Santa. “Now you sit here.” She carefully placed him on Santa’s knee, and Santa held his collar. “Okay Carl, look cute.” Lilly stepped out of the shot and waited for the photographer to get the picture. Santa waved.
“Hold up.” The photographer stepped away from the camera. “We need you on Santa’s lap.”
Lilly did a double take. “Come again?”
“You, Carl, on Santa’s lap. Hurry, I’m ready for my break.”
“But that was a perfect picture. Carl looked adorable. I don’t understand why I—”
“Puh-leeze, just do it.” The shutterbug seemed at the end of her rope. Probably one of those temperamental artist issues.
“Fine.” Lilly snatched up Carl, who was running around in circles again. Once she had a firm hold on him, she marched over to Santa. “Okay, where do you want us?”
Santa patted his knee.
Lilly hedged. She flicked her gaze at the annoyed photographer, and to the long line of fur-baby parents ready to pay twenty-five bucks for a photo with the big man in red. “Let’s do this, Carl.”
She cradled him in her arms and cautiously sat on Santa’s knee, but didn’t put her butt all the way down. Carl’s owner stood nearby.
“Do you want me to smile?” Lilly asked, trying not to think about her photo being on Carl’s mom’s Christmas cards.
The photographer peeked out from behind the camera. “It doesn’t matter, I’m just going to crop you out. Ready? One. Two. Three. Say Santa Paws. Again. One. Two. Three.”
“Santa Paws,” Lilly grinned.
The paparazza snapped the shot, and Carl’s mom rushed over. “Thank you so much.” Lilly passed the little wiggler to his owner, who took off for the doggie potty break area.
She started to get up.
“Not so fast,” Santa growled.
Lilly spun on his knee. “I beg your pardon.”
“I like you on my knee, but I’d prefer you in my bed.” Santa wasn’t enunciating his words very well, and sounded like a muffled freak through all that white hair on his face.
Where the heck did they find this guy? “You can’t say that, Santa. This is for charity. There are children here,” Lilly said, as kindly as possible, while wondering who hired the perv.
“I only say that to you. No sharing.”
Her heart jumped. She leaned close and caught a whiff of something clean and spicy. With a mind-numbing mix of delight and then dread, Lilly examined the white fluff on his face carefully moving some of it away from of his eyes. Santa’s baby blue eyes flashed back at her. She tugged on the beard. “Brett?”
Lilly bolted from his lap. “You’re Santa? What are you—you’re here!”
“Who were you expecting?”
“I’ll be back in thirty minutes, everyone,” the photographer announced, shouting to the fur-baby moms and dads. “Thank you for your patience. You can keep your place in line, or feel free to mingle. Don’t worry, you’ll all get your pictures taken today.”
Brett patted his knee. “Come back to my lap,” muddled through his beard.
“But.” She couldn’t finish. Her voice tangled in her throat. Shattered and humiliated, she blurted, “You’re probably going to embarrass me in front of all these people.” Not that I don’t deserve it.
“You’re not going to kiss me hello?” Brett-Santa rose, and Lilly caught her breath. Even in that damn Santa suit with a crooked beard he was gorgeous, and it killed her.
“Are you joking?” she snapped, her eyes stung holding back tears. “Just toying with me? Trying to rub in how pathetic I acted?”
“I take it you don’t like the suit.” He lifted his beard and scratched his chin. “You have no idea how uncomfortable this is, and what I had to go through to get you on my knee.”
“I have no idea how uncomfortable this is?” Oh this—this is going to be torture.
“Let’s move. They’re staring at us.” Brett-Santa pointed to a group of children and reached for her hand. For some reason she didn’t yank it back when he held it and led her off the photo stage. She might as well get it over with.
“We need to talk,” he said, sounding perturbed. Which didn’t surprise her in the least, and wished he’d waited a few more hours to break it off with her. Brett-Santa scratched at his face again. “Let’s go around back where I can take this thing off.”
They walked behind the little Santa vineyard setup, out of sight from the folks in line. Keeping his distance, Brett plucked the beard off and tossed it on hay bale. “What is it Lilly?” He sincerely looked perplexed, like he truly didn’t understand her actions, and it frustrated the heck out of her. “Are you mad?”
“You mean mad, like I’m crazy?” Way to start with the name calling.
“No. Mad. Mad. Like you’re angry.”
She studied his expression and came up confused. “Is this supposed to be a trick question? Because I already know you’re the one who’s about to blow a gasket.”
Brett ran a hand up and over his forehead and down the back of his head. He angled his head to the side, as if it would help him understand, and silently stared down at her.
There he was. The hunky, gorgeous, tender, sexy man she agonized over for days. The very one who made her brain technically malfunction, causing her to send all those needy texts. She melted. Right there in front him. Her knees started shaking and her eyes flooded with tears the size of rain drops. The kind you can’t hide. “I’m so relieved, you’re okay.” Her jaw trembled. “Thank God you didn’t get hurt.” Hot tears rolled down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong, Lilly?” His voice ached. “Are you upset because of the fire?” He let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known how hard it might be for you. But somehow you’ll have to trust,” he said, coming closer, looking exhausted, “that when I go out on calls, I know what I’m doing.” There were bags under his eyes she hadn’t noticed. Brett ran his hands up and down her arms in a soothing caress. “I promise I won’t take any unnecessary risks.”
Lilly’s head spun. “So you’re not angry?”
“Why would you think that? I called you before I left. Didn’t you get my messages?”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “No, about my texts. All the calls from me.” A boost of hope shot through her heart and straight down her spine. “You didn’t get them?”
“No. Not a one. The cell reception was sketchy.”
Brett, reached out and gently brushed away the tears with his fingers. “And once I’m on a fire, fighting it is all I have time for. Twenty-four hours straight, we’re just trying to stay alive.”
Lilly stepped back, trying to make sense of how clueless she’d been the past few days. He never received my messages. She rubbed her temples and then wiped away another onslaught of tears, this time tears of relief. He didn’t respond, not because he was upset… He couldn’t get a call through. Thank you, God for bad cell reception. Thank you, God…
“But now I’m here and we can catch up in person.” He slipped his arms around her waist. “C’mon.” He nudged her lower back, pressing her against him, and she nestled into the fuzzy fabric. “What did you text me?”
She choked. “Um…”
Lifting her head off his chest, she ran her hands down his arms, reluctantly shrugging out of his grip. She needed to look him in the eye so Brett would know how serious she was.
Everything was on the line.
Lilly sucked in a shuddering breath. “Once you turn your phone on, you’re going to get about a million idiotic messages from me. I want you hit delete for every one without reading them.”
“Now why would I do that?” Brett matter-of-factly slipped his hand into his Santa pocket and pulled out his phone. “I haven’t turned it on since I got home last night.” He hit the power button.
“No, don’t!” she shrieked, grabbing for his phone, but he swiveled away.
“Tight end, remember?” Brett teasingly waved the phone. “Let’s see.”
“Oh, God, please don’t,” she begged. “Please don’t read them.”
Ping. Ping. Ping, ping,ping,ping,ping,ping,ping,ping,ping,ping,ping,ping,ping.
Brett raised his eyebrows at the screen. “This ought to be good. Ten texts, five voice mails. Fifteen messages from Lilly Martelli.”
Oh, no. Lilly held her breath.
“First message. ‘I loved hanging out with you Sunday night. I can’t wait to see you again.’”
Gulp.
Brett grinned devilishly at the message. “As I recall, we did a lot more than hang out.” He scrolled. “Message two, ‘I miss you.’” He nodded and looked up. “I missed you too, by the way. “Hmm, message three…” As he continued scanning through the messages, his smile disappeared.
He glanced up at her with concern, and then scrolled again. “You were really worried, Lilly,” he said keeping his eyes on the phone. “You didn’t know I was at the fire…”
“I told you not to read them…”
“Did you think I would just drop you like that…after everything?” He asked point-blank, looking a little angry.
A jackhammer pounded away at her skull. “Yes—Well, no, I-I…didn’t kn—”
