by Toni Blake
That didn’t make her any less wary in her heart, though. In fact, the way the touch of his hands on hers stayed with her as she got in her car and began to drive home was . . . downright troubling.
Well, I just have to avoid him while he’s here, that’s all. Which just meant avoiding the General Mercantile. And the church. And the community building. And finding other ways to help with the efforts that didn’t require her being on-site.
And maybe that seemed like a lot of effort to go to, but it would be worth it. Because it would keep her life simpler, something she’d endeavored to do, pretty successfully, ever since the last time she’d had her heart shattered by someone just like him.
Grampy Hoskins stood in his usual spot behind the counter at the General Mercantile. He’d been running the old general store for most of his life, it seemed, standing in this spot so long that the floorboards were worn from it.
The bell above the door tinkled and he looked up to see Anita Garey walk in, bundled in a furry winter jacket and a scarf that glittered. She held the hand of a three-year-old boy, nearly swallowed up by the puffy parka and hat he wore.
“Well, looks like y’all are stayin’ warm,” Grampy said. “You been out buildin’ snowmen, young fella?”
Jenny and Mick Brody’s little boy smiled up at him conspiratorially and shook his head. “Nope. Looking for reindeer.”
Grampy laughed. He loved Christmastime for just this reason—the light it put in children’s eyes and the imaginings it planted in their sweet little heads. “Is that so? Ya find any?”
Dustin shook his head, appearing disappointed. “But Grandma ’Nita says we might find some on the square.”
“So we stopped in for some hot chocolate to warm us up on the way,” Anita added with a wink. Her small house was located only a few blocks away, close enough to walk to town.
“This time o’ year, apt to find ’em about anywhere,” Grampy said knowingly. “Could be around any corner.” Then he leaned down over the counter as if to confide in the child. “Gotta keep a sharp lookout, though—they try to keep outta sight. But if ya look real hard, ya might just catch a glimpse o’ one.”
The boy didn’t look the least bit surprised by that. “Grandma ’Nita says Santa sends ’em to make sure kids are being good.”
Grampy gave a solemn nod. “Your Grandma Anita’s a wise woman. So I’m sure you’re bein’ a good boy, right?”
The child nodded profusely. And then wandered over to a display of Christmas candy.
Anita helped herself to the hot chocolate machine he kept out in cold weather, running two cups, then carrying them to the counter, setting them down to pay. “Add on one of the little chocolate Santas for him, too,” she said.
Grampy replied, “Candy’s on the house,” and told her the price of the hot chocolate. Then gave the boy another glance before looking back at her. “You’re real good with him.”
She was a woman with sharp features, and who made bold fashion choices. And her shoulder-length hair was currently a very dark red, one of many shades he’d observed on her over time. She still looked like the Destiny transplant she was, even all these years after buying the Dew Drop Inn—but she fit here now, and folks had seen past the boldness and the glitter to the good-hearted woman underneath. “That little one’s a light in my life,” she said, glancing over at the olive-skinned boy who favored his daddy and was gonna be a lady-killer one day. “Reminds me of my own at that age.”
This last part caught Grampy off guard, though. “Didn’t know you had any kids, Anita.”
And then a stark sadness he hadn’t expected passed over her face as she murmured, “I don’t usually talk about it—don’t even know why that slipped out.” She looked down at the counter, fumbling with money, but then raised her eyes back to his. “I lost him—my son.”
As a pall fell over the room, Grampy proceeded cautiously. “How did he die?”
But she quickly shook her head. “Oh—no, he didn’t die, thank God. It’s just that . . . his father took him, ran off with him. When he was just a little boy. We didn’t have Amber alerts and such back then.” A tired-sounding sigh came out. “Some days it’s still hard for me to believe—but I haven’t seen my son since he was little. And I pray for him every day, just hoping life has treated him fair and that his scoundrel father hasn’t poisoned his sweet brain.”
“Well, that’s a downright awful thing, m’dear,” Grampy said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. He’d never called Anita by an endearment before—but he’d never seen the woman look the least bit weak or troubled, either. He knew he was witnessing a side shown to precious few.
And as he might have expected, she recovered her usual brave face then and said with a smile, “But life—it does go on. And brings good things to replace those you lost. And Walter, and his family—they make me far happier than I ever thought I’d have the good fortune to be. I’m lucky to be marrying him.” Just then, Dustin came running over to Anita, a chocolate Santa covered in foil clutched in his tiny fist. She bent down to scoop him up into her arms. “And lucky to have this rascal to hunt reindeer with!”
The little boy laughed and Grampy could feel the way it filled up the hole he’d just learned about in Anita Garey’s heart.
“Real sorry about the situation with the church,” he told her.
Another long sigh escaped her. “Me too. Not gonna say everything goes my way all the time, that’s for sure,” she said on a cynical laugh. “I sure did want my wedding to my Walter to be special, in that pretty church where he’s gone all his life, surrounded by the people we both love.”
“And it will be,” Grampy said. “There’s plenty o’ time between now and then to get that roof repaired and get the place lookin’ nice again. Same thing at the community buildin’. It’ll all come together—you just have ya some faith.”
She nodded, again looking like the stalwart woman he’d come to know. And now he understood a little better how she’d gotten to be that way. Losses in life could toughen people. He was just glad she’d let Walter soften some of those sharpened edges.
“What I have faith in,” she said, “is all the good people of Destiny. I appreciate more than I can say how they’re pulling together for Walter and me, trying to make this happen.”
“That’s what Destiny’s all about, Miss Anita,” he reminded her. “We’re always here for each other. Always have been, always will be.”
She lowered the little boy back to the floor, then handed him his cup of cocoa, reminding him it was hot and to be careful. Then she looked back to Grampy. “If you don’t mind my saying, sounds like you’re speaking from experience, Mr. Hoskins.”
The truth was, Grampy didn’t go sharing his woes in life much, either. Not so much because he wanted to keep them private as that they’d happened so long ago most people never thought to wonder, or ask, about his past. It didn’t hurt his feelings—Destiny was a town filled with folks who had much busier, active lives than his: friends, romance, drama, and lately, some kids of their own, starting that cycle of life over yet again.
So he didn’t mind being honest with Anita. Since she’d asked. “Reckon I ain’t immune to loss, either, m’dear. Lost my lovin’ wife too young—in an auto accident.”
Anita tilted her head. “I didn’t know that.”
He supposed many people didn’t. Even as much of a fixture as he was in this town.
“And my own son, our only child,” he went on, “moved away after he went off to college. He lives up in Chicago—has a sweet daughter and a strappin’ boy, both grown now—but don’t see as much of any of ’em as I like. They used to come every summer for a spell—but they don’t so much anymore. Life is hectic these days, I know.”
Hell, he thought he sounded sad saying it, guessed he was sad saying it. He just tried to keep as busy here as he could, tried not to think about it too much. He didn’t want to be some sorrowful old man who held other folks responsible for his happiness.
&n
bsp; And none of that was the same as what had happened to Anita—but on the other hand, he guessed loss was loss, and loneliness was loneliness, and everybody knew those feelings at some time or another.
Now it was Anita who reached across and did the hand-squeezing. “Next time your boy or grandkids come to town, I’d be honored to meet ’em,” she said.
“And I’d be most pleased to introduce you,” he replied.
She tilted her head back the other way and said, “Funny—I guess the way people call you Grampy, I just assumed you had a whole passel of grandchildren hidden off somewhere.”
He chuckled softly at the assumption. “Not sure how that started up, actually, or even when. But reckon somewhere along the way I musta just somehow appointed myself grandpa to the whole dang town, whether they liked it or not.”
“Well, they’re all lucky to have you,” she said. “We’re all lucky to have you.”
“Come on, Grandma ’Nita,” the little boy on the floor next to her pleaded, tugging at her coat, “let’s go! I wanna find reindeers!”
Both adults just laughed, and Anita said, “Guess I better get on my way with this one before the reindeer head back to their stables for lunch.” She ended by tossing a wink toward Grampy as she and Dustin walked toward the door in their snow boots.
“Sweet woman Chief Tolliver’s gettin’,” Grampy remarked.
She smiled in parting, and Grampy felt richer for the encounter.
He surely hoped the town would be able to get the two buildings fixed in time for her wedding—she deserved to have exactly what she wanted. And he supposed that spirit of being there for one another was the thing that kept him feeling . . . like he was part of something. Even if he got a little lonely sometimes.
Though that loneliness . . . well, maybe it wasn’t something he often admitted to himself. But maybe the older he got, the easier it was to feel it. The easier it was to . . . quit feeling relevant, like he added much to anyone’s life.
A few minutes later the door opened again and in walked Shane Dalton. The boy needed a warmer coat for this weather. But Grampy supposed it wasn’t his place to say so, especially since he knew the young fella wasn’t in a position to run out and buy one.
“What’s the news from the church?” he asked.
“Insurance adjuster came this morning and did his part,” Shane said. “But they can’t find any construction crews to start the repairs until after the holidays. So the plan now is to focus mostly on the church rather than the community building—and to make temporary repairs to the roof, enough to hold until after the New Year. And to try to get everything inside fixed in time for that Christmas Eve wedding.”
“My goodness,” Grampy remarked. “And how’s the work on that goin’?”
Shane ran a hand back through his hair. “Slow so far. The tarps people brought were too small to cover the damn hole in the church roof. So we spent the morning using them at the community building—they worked for that one, and should keep the weather out until the construction guys can come in January. Duke and Lucky are headed over to Crestview now to find bigger ones for the church and we’ll deal with that later this afternoon—get it covered over until we can get some plywood up there.”
Grampy liked how Shane sounded right now—almost energized about the tasks at hand. It was something he hadn’t felt in the fella upon first meeting him. He was the sort it would be easy to assume the worst about—but Grampy had thought he’d sensed something good underneath the dry exterior, so he’d taken a gamble.
“Care if I grab a hot chocolate to warm me up a little?” Shane asked.
“Not a’tall,” Grampy said. “In fact, I’ll go ya one better.”
Shane looked up, arching one brow in Grampy’s direction.
“Since ya got a couple hours to spare, how about I treat ya to lunch at Dolly’s and then me and you’ll head over to my friend Edna’s orchard to get some apples from her root cellar for the store here.”
He couldn’t read the younger man’s expression—he was skilled at hiding his responses. But finally he replied, “I’m not gonna turn down a hot meal.” Then he eyed Grampy curiously. “Mind if I ask you something?”
“Shoot,” Grampy said.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” He sounded almost suspicious.
And Grampy made a slight face. “A fella can’t just be nice?”
Shane looked a little skeptical. “It’s just . . . you don’t even know me.” And true enough—besides offering him a place to stay, Grampy had driven him back to Mo’s to get a couple duffel bags of clothes and other things from his truck, and now he was buying his lunch. “In my experience, most people don’t go out of their way for people they don’t know.”
“Maybe I like havin’ some company,” Grampy said. “Or maybe I’m tryin’ to save my old back from carryin’ bushels o’ apples around in the snow. Or maybe I’m just gettin’ old and sappy.”
“You don’t seem so old. Or sappy. Until right now,” Shane said. Then ended with a quick wink Grampy hadn’t expected.
And as they walked out the door to lunch, Grampy thought maybe when you boiled it down, the simple reason was . . . sons. His son. Anita’s son. This fella was somebody’s son. And now he was on his own. And maybe Grampy was missing his boy and hoping that if he ever needed help, someone would give it to him.
Five
“Haven’t you got any romance in you?”
Bert, It’s a Wonderful Life
Brenda Lee sang a slightly scratchy version of “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” over Edna Farris’s old record player as the ladies of Destiny sat around her antique dining room table eating tiny ham and turkey sandwiches, potato salad, and tea cookies off plates festooned with holly. Tubs and tins of cookies were stacked on the credenza to one side, ready for the official cookie exchange after lunch.
Candice enjoyed taking part in the chatter, though mostly she just listened. And though the big news of the day was the plan for temporary repairs to the church roof and trying to get the inside ready for the wedding—“which is going to be a race against the clock,” Rachel explained—after that, conversation turned lighter.
Candice found out that Sue Ann Simpkins’ daughter, Sophie, who was twelve now, was going to be Mary in the middle school nativity play, and the role of Joseph would likely go to one of Adam Becker’s twin sons, though neither of them—according to Sue Ann—were all that interested. “They’re more into football these days—but Sophie is begging for one of them to be her Joseph so she won’t end up with some kid she doesn’t like.” Sue Ann and Adam had been a couple for so long that Candice was surprised they hadn’t gotten married yet. But they were both busy people—he ran a landscaping company and Sue Ann refurbished old homes and worked in real estate as well—and seemed happy in their relationship the way it was.
And there was talk of Jenny and Mick’s little boy, who apparently swore he’d seen a reindeer peek out the door of Amy Whitaker’s bookstore on town square yesterday. And Rachel and Mike’s little girl, it seemed, could speak of nothing but seeing Santa soon. “Apparently she’s going to ask him for another cat,” Rachel said, looking tired. “Like the enormous one we already have isn’t enough. Mike’s about to have a cow—one cat is more than enough for him and we’re not sure what we’re going to do about this Santa/cat business.”
“You can adopt Holly. She’s a sweetie,” Amy said from across the table. They all knew Holly was the current stray living at Under the Covers and waiting for a home.
“I think Shakespeare would probably squash her,” Rachel said of their large tabby that everyone knew Mike only just barely managed to put up with.
“If you need a cat,” Candice added jokingly, “you can have mine.”
“Bite your tongue,” Amy said, looking aghast. “Frosty is an amazing cat!”
Of course, Amy thought any cat was amazing. But Candice said, “I’m only kidding—I wouldn’t give the big knucklehead away. Even thou
gh he escaped out into the blizzard the other night. A white cat—in a blizzard. You see where I’m going with this, right?”
A collective sigh issued from all the cat-owning women around the table. Then Candice’s cousin Tessa said, “I was once cat-sitting Mr. Knightley for Amy and he got out. It’s how I met Lucky.”
Amy’s head darted around to cast a glare at her friend. “What?”
“Oh crap,” Tessa said. “I forgot I never told you about that.” She bit her lip. “But it was years ago and Lucky saved the day and all was well.” She ended with a smile, silently encouraging Amy to forgive and forget.
“Candice had a handsome rescuer for Frosty the other night, too,” Jenny offered up, a tea cookie between her fingers.
And all eyes swung in Candice’s direction as Rachel’s feisty grandma, Edna, said, “Do tell.”
Oh brother. Candice wanted to kill Jenny. The way she’d said it suggested romance. Romance that didn’t exist and certainly wasn’t going to happen. Handsome or not. Now it was she who cast a glare—at her neighbor—but then she tried to fluff it off. Because fluffing it off was actually the honest thing to do, given her lack of interest in Shane Dalton. “It was no big deal,” she said to the room at large, shaking her head. “Just a guy who wrecked his truck in the snow and came looking to use the phone.”
“Well, what happened then?” Sue Ann asked.
“Get to the handsome part,” Edna prodded.
And Candice told them, “That’s really all there is to it. He lured Frosty down from a tree, was towed away the next morning, and that’s it.”
Unfortunately, Jenny was quick to add, “That’s not it. He’s stuck here until his truck can be repaired, so he’s staying above the General Mercantile and helping with the church repairs.”
“And still nobody’s gettin’ to the handsome part,” Edna groused, lifting a cup of eggnog to her lips.
“Okay, okay,” Jenny said. “He has dark hair, broad shoulders, a strong jawline, and . . .”
