by Toni Blake
He let out a laugh and the group of four chatted a little about the tree and the snowcats—until Edna and Candy started talking about the big party at Miss Ellie’s, which was coming up in a couple of days. He took the opportunity to draw Grampy a few steps away and ask, “You make a move on Edna yet?”
“Shush, boy—keep it down,” Grampy said, though Shane thought he’d been pretty quiet about it.
“Well, have you?”
“If ya must know—no,” Grampy replied, sounding a little put out with him. “And why are you so all-fired determined about this anyway? Don’t take this the wrong way, son, but I ain’t seen you this gung-ho on anything since you come to town.”
“Maybe when my dad died,” Shane told the old man, “it just made me see that life is short and all that. And seems like you’ve already wasted a hell of a lot of time here.”
“Have I?” Grampy asked. “’Cause I’m not sure I see it that way. What I mean is . . . I’ve always enjoyed Edna’s company and companionship just the way it is. So don’t know as I wanna go messin’ with a perfectly good situation when I don’t even know if . . . if . . .”
“If what?”
Grampy lowered his voice yet still a little more. “If I got them kinda feelin’s for her.”
Shane thought this through. To him, it was still either something you felt or something you didn’t—pretty cut and dried. But maybe for Grampy, in a long-standing relationship, it was harder to figure out. So he said, “Would you like to kiss her? Does that idea do anything for you?”
Grampy’s brow knit. “Kiss her?”
“Yes, kiss her. Surely you aren’t so old that you forgot what a kiss is? Or what it feels like to want one from somebody.”
Grampy looked uneasy as he glanced over at Edna, who now chattered away to Candy, something about a gingerbread house.
“Well?” Shane prodded.
“Well . . . maybe you just let me think on that awhile,” Grampy said, giving a decisive nod about being totally indecisive.
Shane just sighed, since thinking seemed to be Grampy’s answer to this every single time they discussed it. “Yeah, you just take your time and let a few more years pass while you puzzle it through.”
Just then, Amy’s voice sounded over a microphone. “Attention everyone! First, thank you all so much for coming to the inaugural Destiny Snowcat Competition. I think we can agree that all the entries are magnificent—real works of snow art!” She paused and let people applaud.
After announcing winners in the kids and youth categories, she moved on to the adult category. “Third place, and a $25 gift card good toward purchases at the Farris-Romo Family Apple Orchard, goes to Dan and Caroline Lindley, for their adorable cat and mouse creation. Second place, with six movie tickets to the Ambassador Theater, goes to Mike and Lucky Romo for their exquisite cat on a motorcycle—which, for what it lacked in artistry it made up for in originality.”
“Hey!” Mike groused from somewhere nearby, eliciting light laughter from the crowd.
“And first place, along with a very generous $50 gift card from Dolly’s Main Street Café, goes to Adam Becker and Sophie Simpkins! How about that, folks? A twelve-year-old bold enough to compete with the adults and she takes the first place prize!”
“Comes as no surprise to me,” Candy informed Shane matter-of-factly. “Adam and Sophie have made a tradition of building a snowcat in her front yard every year since she was little. It would have been more shocking if they hadn’t won.”
Of course, Shane still thought the only really shocking thing about this was that everyone acted like building snowcats was completely commonplace—but he kept his mouth shut. He was learning to do that around here, at least in some respects. This little town was unique in a lot of ways and this was just one more.
When people started moving to their cars, ready to warm up, Shane was more than a little surprised to realize he was actually sorry the event was over. He was in a holding pattern in Destiny, just biding his time and waiting to leave—he’d never expected to actually start liking it here. And he wasn’t sure if it was the event itself or the people there or the woman next to him wearing sparkly pink mittens, but he wasn’t yet ready for the evening to end.
So when Candy tentatively suggested, “Um . . . if you wanted . . . we could get some pie or something at Dolly’s,” he was quick to say, “That sounds good, Candy Cane.”
Normally at any Destiny event, Grampy was caught up in conversation. He knew everyone in town, after all, and many since they’d been born. Events like the Christmas tree lighting and this snowcat celebration—odd an event as that seemed like to him—were a highlight of his life, and truthfully, had been for a long time. Maybe too long.
Now, though, he found himself standing quietly alone near the funnel cake stand that was shutting down for the night, a little melancholy that soon he’d be heading to the quiet solitude of home.
Which, no doubt about it, had been made a lot more cheerful by that Christmas tree Shane and the ladies had brought him. A gesture that had touched him, and shown him he hadn’t been wrong in seeing something good in the younger fella.
But the house would nonetheless be quiet and still. Maybe it was a feeling that came on harder in winter, when the ground was covered in snow. He loved Christmastime, but a winter’s night could have a bleak feel about it.
As Sue Ann and Adam walked by, their kids in tow, he lifted a hand in a silent wave as Adam held up his and Sophie’s first place trophy with a grin. He imagined they would go back to Sue Ann’s house on Holly Lane, not far from the General Mercantile, to celebrate with some of her cookies and eggnog around the fireplace. And it brought back a warmth from a long time ago—memories of Christmases with his wife, Dory, and their boy when he was young.
“Don’t let this go to your head, Mike, or I’ll have to knock some sense into it.”
The familiar voice drew his glance to the right, where Edna stood talking and laughing with Mike and Rachel Romo about his win tonight. Mike and Rachel shared ownership of the orchard with Edna and helped her run it, so they were a tight-knit group, right down to their pretty little girl, who Mike toted on his hip at the moment. Farris held the second place trophy while Mike said teasingly, “We better hide that from Great-Grandma Edna or she might steal it. I think she’s jealous.”
As he added a wink, Edna said, “Yep, done gone to your head.”
“Doesn’t take much with him,” Rachel added good-naturedly.
“You wouldn’t like me if I weren’t a self-assured man,” he replied.
“It’s known far and wide,” Edna said with great authority, “that Rachel is the only woman on the planet who could handle you and all your self-assurance, Michael Romo. You’re dang lucky she came along when she did.”
“Don’t worry, Edna—I’m clear on that. She never lets me forget it.” He ended by leaning over to kiss Rachel on the cheek.
And Grampy let himself imagine . . . kissing Edna on the cheek. Or the mouth. Like Shane had suggested.
That was when a chill ran through him. Dag nab—must be getting even colder out here. Then he gave his head a little shake to clear it. Of confusion. Since he supposed that was what he felt at the idea of kissing his dear old friend.
And it was at just that moment that Edna saw him in the shadows and headed toward him. She wore the same practical blue down parka he’d seen her in for years and on her head a fuzzy hat with a ball on top. Her gray hair curled around the edges of it and familiar faded blue eyes smiled up at him. “Whatcha hidin’ over here for? Nearly mistook ya for a stranger.”
He gave his head another shake. “Just tired, I reckon. Too much snowcat excitement for me.”
She chuckled. “The kids are bringin’ Farris back to my house to warm up with some hot chocolate. Me and Farris have been workin’ on a gingerbread house and we might finish that up while we’re at it—and of course I got a fresh batch of gingerbread for eatin’, too. Seein’s as you generally never me
t a piece of gingerbread you didn’t like, thought you might want to join us.”
For some reason, Grampy felt a little frozen in place by the invitation.
Not that invitations from Edna were unusual—he’d enjoyed many such gatherings with her and her family over the years. He was at ease with about anyone.
And hadn’t he just been quietly lamenting his loneliness, almost wishing he had something like this to do tonight?
So it made no cotton-pickin’ sense at all when he heard himself say, “Sweet of ya to ask, Edna, but I’m pert tuckered out, so I’m gonna head on home and enjoy that Christmas tree.” He even smiled.
And of course his old friend smiled back. “Well then, you get on home and get rested up—and reckon I’ll see ya at the party on Saturday.”
And with that, he turned and walked his weary old body toward the parking lot. His joints were stiff, bones aching from the cold. As he climbed into his truck and turned the key, then cranked the heat on high, it felt good to know he’d soon be warm again.
But there was more than one kinda warm in this world, and he’d just passed up one of them—for no good reason at all. And as he turned out of Creekside Park onto the road that led home, he thought maybe he deserved to be lonely.
Candice and Shane parked on the far side of the square in order to walk past the tall, lit tree on the way to the café. Just like the last one, she wasn’t sure where this invitation had come from, but it had simply popped out of her mouth when she’d realized . . . she wasn’t ready to go home yet. She liked being with him too much now. When on earth had that happened?
Decorating Miss Ellie’s yard? Stringing popcorn for Grampy’s tree? On the sleigh ride when he’d given her those kisses that were more delicious than any holiday treat Edna could ever whip up? She wasn’t sure—she only knew that the feeling was growing, becoming a pervasive thing, a thing she didn’t want to let go of.
Now would be a good time to run. Just end this. Take back the pie invitation—pretend you’re tired or sick or something.
Because something had shifted in the last day or so. She’d crossed a certain line. The line of desire. No turning back. A wanting that couldn’t be undone or taken away or turned off. She knew herself too well—and this was exactly the feeling she’d been trying to protect herself from all this time. But now here it was.
She could blame Tessa for pushing her toward this. She could blame Rachel for sending him to Miss Ellie’s the other day. She could really blame all the girls for their reckless encouragement. But of course she knew deep inside that she was the only one responsible for it. Because she knew better. She knew that once you let yourself go there, into desire, there was no getting back out. It was like a bottomless well—once you climb in, you’re in.
And of course, she saw softer sides of him now—whether or not he meant to let them show. He’d wanted to give Grampy a Christmas tree, after all. And watching a tough guy like him learn to string popcorn had warmed her heart—and other parts of her at the same time. He’d opened up to her a little about his father, and about his mom’s abandonment when he was little; he’d let her know he felt things. He didn’t seem like a man who knew a lot about giving and receiving love, except possibly with his dad, but . . . maybe that made him seem all the more in need of some love.
Not that she was in love with him—she was thinking of love in the broader sense. But she’d seen something in him now that drew her to him—more and more with each passing hour, it seemed.
“My hands are cold,” he told her as they walked past the tree, and she looked over to see him slanting a slightly sly, playful look her way.
“Last I checked, you still have perfectly good pockets,” she teased.
“But keeping them warm between your mittens is more fun.”
“Fine,” she said, then reached out her mittened hand and took his. And they walked the rest of the way holding hands.
Just before reaching Dolly’s, though, Candice pulled up short as they passed the jewelry store next door, glancing in the display window to see if a locket she’d noticed a few weeks ago was still there. It was.
She started to move on, her hand still in Shane’s, when he asked, “Whatcha got your eye on there, Candy?”
She used her free hand to motion to the old-fashioned, oval-shaped locket. “It’s a lot like one I used to have,” she explained. “It was a gift to my mom from my father when they were young and it had a picture of him in it. She kept it and gave it to me to remember him by.”
Of course, this drew a questioning look from her companion—so she said, “I know, I know. I told you he was a jerk, and yet I valued this piece of jewelry from him.” She shook her head. “I can’t explain that really, except . . . that maybe it felt like just one tiny little piece of him to hold on to.” After which she shrugged. “But when I lost it one summer, I figured it was meant to be gone. And I haven’t really missed it. Except . . . ever since this showed up in the window here, I keep checking back on it, wondering if I should replace it. I did really love the locket.”
What she didn’t tell him was that she hadn’t actually lost it. It had been among the jewelry Bobby had stolen from her. Having the sentimental piece taken had only added insult to injury.
When they walked into the diner, a few tables were taken and Candice led him to a booth as far from the other diners as possible. They ordered two slices of pumpkin pie as Johnny Mathis informed them over the loudspeakers that it was the most wonderful time of the year.
“So, how’s your truck?” she asked as they both dug into the pie.
He shoveled the first bite in his mouth and told her, “At the body shop as of yesterday. Engine and grille repairs all done—the parts they were waiting on came in. So it’s looking good to get to Miami by Christmas.”
Christmas. It was just over a week away now. But when she thought of Shane leaving, she feared hers wouldn’t be very merry. She hoped that didn’t show on her face as she tried to cover it with, “Great.”
“Good pie,” he said.
And she nodded. “Dolly’s makes great pie. So this job,” she went on without bothering to segue, “what’s so special about it that you’d go all the way to Miami for it?”
“Pays good,” he said simply, still eating.
She attempted not to sound overly concerned with his business as she mused aloud, “A lot of jobs pay good. Just seems like there must be something pretty outstanding about it to take you so far.”
“Maybe I wanted a new start—someplace different than I’ve ever been before. So maybe it’s not just about money. I don’t know about you, but I could live without all this snow.” He wiped a napkin across his mouth.
And she tilted her head, thinking. “I guess I like having all four seasons. And snow is nice at Christmas.”
He shrugged. “If you’re a Christmas person, I guess.”
He resumed eating, and she studied him, suspecting he could like Christmas more than he thought if he’d only let himself. “For a guy who doesn’t like Christmas, you sure have been throwing yourself into it. Decorating gardens and trees, stringing popcorn. You even drove a one-horse open sleigh, for heaven’s sake. I mean, you can’t get much more jingle-all-the-way than that.”
He laughed. “I’ve just been helping out is all. But I do like that movie.”
“What movie?”
“Jingle All the Way.”
Candice just stared at him, nonplussed. “As a Christmas movie aficionado, I’m going to call that Arnold Schwarzenegger’s worst acting job ever.”
Shane raised his eyebrows. “Ever? Come on? The man’s a pretty bad actor, so that’s an awful bold statement. And there’s a lot of funny stuff in it. Sinbad as the crazy postman? The runaway reindeer? The wooden wise man whose head ends up on fire and gets kicked through a window at carolers? It’s a great movie.”
Candice just gave him a look. As drawn to him as she’d become, and as . . . well, as let down as she felt about his unwavering det
ermination to go to Miami as soon as possible, she was kind of disappointed to hear this was his taste in film.
And clearly her look said it all, because he replied to it with, “Okay, if you’re such a Christmas movie authority, what’s your favorite?”
“Easy. It’s a Wonderful Life.”
“Never seen it.”
Her eyes flew wide, and her fork paused midair. “What? You’ve never seen It’s a Wonderful Life? How is that even possible?”
He laid down his own fork and held up his hands. “Because it just is. Everybody can’t see every movie.”
“Well, you need to see that one. It’s amazing. It never gets old. I watch it every year.”
His eyebrows shot up again. “Every year?”
“Without fail. My Christmas isn’t complete without it.”
The way he looked at her then implied that maybe she needed to get a more exciting life. So she sort of wished she’d shut up already. But on the other hand, she couldn’t help thinking that if he only saw it, he’d understand. “I own it,” she told him.
“I’m not surprised.”
“And you seriously need to watch it.”
He leaned slightly forward over the table. “Are you inviting me over, Candy?”
“Yes,” she said.
“When?”
“Right now.”
Thirteen
“I think I’ll go out and find a girl and do a little passionate necking.”
George Bailey, It’s a Wonderful Life
Just like the invitation to the snowcat competition, Candice hadn’t thought this through. She’d just heard herself saying it before she could even consider the words. And as they drove to her house, she felt the weight of what she’d put into play here.
She’d just invited a man over to her house. After dark. A man who’d recently kissed her and she’d more or less pushed him away. But now she kept issuing invitations. Snowcat contest, pie, movie—each one drawing him a little deeper into her space, into her world. So if he thought she was inviting him over for sex—well, she didn’t think that was an unreasonable assumption.
