One Kiss for Christmas (The Happy Holidays Series Book 4)

by Michele Brouder

  “I’m going out at midnight to help with the soup table. I’ve got to get a quick nap in before I go.”

  Donna laughed, her eyes crinkling. “I understand. Maybe another time.”

  “Definitely.”

  She hesitated, her hand on the door and added, “Would you mind if I went with you later tonight? To the soup table?”

  “Not at all,” he said. He’d love for her to come along with him and see what it was all about.

  “Great. Why don’t you come over half an hour before you want to leave and we’ll have a cup of hot chocolate?”

  “Perfect. See you then.”

  By the time Jim arrived at Donna’s house later that evening, she was pouring hot chocolate into two mugs for them. They sat down next to each other on the sofa. As they did, Jim’s thigh brushed up against hers and his heart rate shot up. Christmas music played in the corner on the stereo. Jim thought he could get used to this very easily. And very happily.

  After two mugs, Jim saw it was getting late and he knew she had to work in the morning.

  “We better get going,” he said, standing up.

  Donna jumped up from the sofa and took the two empty mugs into the kitchen. After she rinsed out the mugs and set them in the sink.

  “Dress warm, the night air can be bitter,” he advised.

  “Will do,” Donna said and she disappeared upstairs.

  Jim put on his coat and scarf and waited in the kitchen. His knit cap was in his jacket pocket. Standing at that table for more than an hour by the underpass could leave you very cold. But no colder than those poor souls who slept beneath the underpass. Donna reappeared in the kitchen wearing a heavy sweater over a turtleneck and jeans. She chatted as she put on a hat, scarf, and coat.

  He smiled at her.

  “What? Is it too much?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No, Donna. It’s just perfect.” He thought to himself, You’re perfect.

  It was nice to have company as he walked toward the underpass.

  Donna mentioned that she was worried about the supposed warm front rolling into the area on Saturday. Jim told her not to worry. That it was still pretty cold. And at least there was still Friday for ice skating and tobogganing. Her excitement was contagious. He knew he loved Donna. And maybe for him the love had always been there. Dormant. He wondered if Donna could ever feel the same way. He chose to be hopeful.

  And could he remain her next-door neighbor if she didn’t? He knew he couldn’t. He was too old for disappointment. And at their age, you either knew or you didn’t.

  Later, as they walked home, he could see Donna was shivering, and he picked up the pace, wanting to get her back to her warm house.

  “Serving those people really puts things in proper perspective for me,” Jim said.

  “It’s amazing how it can do that,” Donna said, her teeth chattering.

  “It makes me grateful and not wanting to take things for granted,” he said.

  “Exactly.”

  “You know that job offer in California?”

  Donna nodded. “I do. Have you decided what to do?”

  “I’m going to wait one year to see how it goes in Orchard Falls. Who knows, by then the job may not even be available. But Donna, if I go, I’d like to invite you to come to California with me. Now, I know you said you’d never leave here . . .”

  “Well, I guess a lot would depend on how this year goes, Jim, but I would give it serious thought.” They stopped and faced each other on the sidewalk.

  “You would?”

  She nodded and smiled. They started walking again toward home.

  He couldn’t ask more than that from her.

  Chapter 15

  Donna couldn’t wait to go to work on Friday morning, if only to see the effects of the yarn bombing along Main Street. She left home ten minutes earlier than usual because it had snowed again overnight and she wanted to have time to drive up and down the street.

  It looked even better than she’d imagined it would. The whole of Main Street was decked out in brightly colored knitwear. Every tree had a knitted cozy around its trunk. Every pole for a street sign, traffic sign, or lamppost was covered with something knitted. And Horace looked dapper with his new scarf, courtesy of Alice Kempf. It looked great. Excitement filled Donna in anticipation of the upcoming weekend.

  Her plan was to leave work early at three so she’d be able to enjoy the ice skating and the toboggan races later that evening. She and Jim were spending the evening and the next day together, either working the festival or partaking in it. For the first time in a long time, Donna was happy. For years she’d been content, but this was something different. And this happiness she felt made her feel younger.

  Donna was at the community center late that afternoon when Christine walked in.

  “The ice sculptures are here,” Christine announced. She waved Donna on. “Come outside and see.”

  Donna, who had just pulled her coat off, shrugged it back on and followed Christine outside. The weather forecast called for unseasonably warm weather coming in later that night, but Donna had a hard time believing that. At that moment, it was cold and crisp outside and she shivered in her coat.

  In front of the community center was a long, refrigerated truck. A young man in his twenties jumped down from the cab.

  “Hey, Sam,” Christine said, smiling.

  “Hey, Mrs. Horst, how are you?” he said. He removed his baseball cap and nodded toward Donna. Christine introduced them.

  Sam released the latch at the back of the truck and with a good tug, the back door flew up. Donna’s eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth when she saw the contents of the truck.

  “Oh gosh!” Donna exclaimed.

  Beaming, Christine looked from the truck back to Donna.

  The vehicle was filled with life-sized Christmas ice sculptures. There was a Santa Claus. A reindeer. A snowman, an angel. A Christmas tree. At the back were more sculptures of various holiday themes.

  “I can’t thank you enough for picking these up for me and transporting them,” Christine said to Sam.

  “No problem, Mrs. Horst. I’m glad you called,” he said.

  “Oh, I thought you were the sculptor,” Donna said.

  “No, he’s on the other side of the state.” Sam laughed.

  Christine laughed. “No, Donna, Sam used to be in one of my Boy Scout troupes. I knew he drove a refrigerated truck, so I gave him a ring and asked him to pick them up.”

  “Well thank you for transporting them, Sam,” Donna said graciously.

  “Let’s not stand around gawking. Let’s get these things out of the back of the truck!” Christine said enthusiastically.

  “Where do you want them?” Sam asked Christine.

  Donna and Christine looked at each other. Christine asked, “Where do we want them?”

  “Oh gee, I hadn’t gotten that far,” Donna said. How had she missed this? Because she’d assumed Christine would have taken care of it. But truly it had been her responsibility. At the very least, she should have checked with Christine. Quickly, Donna looked around. “I don’t know if we can just put them on the sidewalks in front of the shops; we might need a license for that or something,” Donna muttered.

  “What about in front of the town hall? The square with Horace?” Christine suggested.

  “Yes, that’s perfect,” Donna agreed. There was a large amount of green space around the statue and as it was now covered in snow, it would be perfect.

  “Okay, Sam, we need you to drive this down to the other end of Main Street.”

  Sam nodded, closed up the truck, and jumped back up into the cab. Christine got in on the passenger side. “I can handle this from here, Donna,” Christine said.

  “I was going to call Walt and make sure we had permission,” Donna said, referring to the mayor.

  “I’ll talk to Walt when I’m there,” Christine said.

  “That’s great,” Donna said. It was one less thing
for Donna to do. Donna watched the truck pull away, hoping her lack of sorting out a venue for the ice sculptures was the only hitch for the festival.

  At six, Jim picked Donna up from the community center to drive out to Snow Ridge Way just outside of town, where there was a toboggan run and ski lifts. She and Jim were helping out with refreshments in the chalet for the toboggan race.

  There were about twenty other townspeople volunteering at the event. The mayor would be there soon to open the festival with the races. Jim went to help the crew setting up tables and chairs. Donna joined the team in the kitchen making urns of hot coffee, tea, and cocoa. They arranged paper lace doilies on plastic silver trays and doled out all the donations of Christmas cookies, cakes, and bars.

  As Donna laid out a platter of cookies on one of the tables covered in holiday-print paper tablecloths, Sarge reached out for two cookies.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Sarge said. She was all bundled up for the toboggan races in a blue plaid Elmer Fudd hat and a scarf wrapped several times around her neck.

  “All ready for the races?” Donna asked her. The toboggan races were Sarge’s favorite event. She’d competed in more races than Donna could count, and she took it very seriously.

  “I was up early this morning waxing the bottom of my toboggan,” Sarge said, biting into a cookie.

  “What does the wax do?” Donna asked.

  “Makes the toboggan go faster,” Sarge replied.

  “Is that allowed in the race rules?” Donna asked.

  Sarge shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’ve been waxing my bottom since 1972.”

  “Oh,” Donna said, trying not to laugh.

  “I’ve got to go—don’t want to miss the start because I was eating Christmas cookies,” Sarge said with almost a smile.

  “Good luck,” Donna said.

  Sarge stopped in her tracks and turned around to face Donna. She was now scowling.

  “What did you say?” Sarge asked.

  “Good luck?” Donna said, unsure. “Okay, then, break a leg!”

  Sarge sighed. “Donna, are you serious? You just jinxed me!”

  Before Donna could protest and do something wild like tell Sarge she was overreacting, Sarge stomped off.

  The volunteers took a break and stepped outside to watch the start of the races. There were ten toboggan chutes, and all the sleds were in place and ready to go. The mayor stood at the top of the chutes and held a starter pistol up in the air, and as soon as the crack of the report was heard, the toboggans were off, hurtling down the chutes. In the middle chute were Sarge and Ralph and their crew of four other people, most likely their neighbors or customers from the shop. Sarge tended to randomly assign people to her toboggan, and one didn’t dare refuse. Donna had been asked once, about twenty years earlier, and was never asked again. These days, Sarge had it down to a science as to the height and weight requirements of the people on her team in order to maximize the speed.

  Donna shivered, rubbed her arms, and went inside, not waiting to see who was declared the winner. She and the other volunteers began to set out the carafes of hot beverages, as the tobogganers would be arriving soon, their cheeks flushed and all excited, recounting their runs. What had gone wrong and what had gone right. But the excited, charged crowd never arrived.

  Frowning, Donna stopped what she was doing and tilted her head. There was a change in the atmosphere. Instead of the noise of excited racers, the sound was one of frantic voices and yelling and shouting. Quickly, she set down the carafe she was holding and ran to the door along with everyone else. As she did, sirens wailed in the distance.

  “Oh no,” she whispered, more to herself than to anyone.

  When the door was opened and she stepped outside, there was frenetic activity and shouting. People were running away from the lodge, coming down from the chutes, and running to the dense copse of trees beyond the end of the toboggan run. Donna sighed. It had been brought up year after year that the wooded area was going to cause trouble one of these days for a high-speed toboggan. And that day is today, Donna thought sadly.

  As someone rushed past, coming up from the hill, Donna reached out and asked, “Hey, what’s going on?”

  It was Stan, who owned the car dealership just outside of town, who replied. “Somebody was hit by a toboggan!

  Donna’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh no!”

  “I’ve got to direct the paramedics!” Stan shouted and ran to meet the ambulance, which was just arriving in the parking lot. The flashing lights and the obnoxious siren disrupted the idyllic winter setting. EMTs jumped out of the ambulance and pulled a gurney out of the back. They navigated the snow with the gurney, looking grim-faced but determined. Donna hoped that whoever it was would be okay.

  One of the women standing next to her had walked down the hill a bit to gather information and returned shortly with a look of worry on her face. She said to Donna, “They’re saying it’s Sarge!”

  “Sarge?” Donna repeated, feeling all the color drain from her face.

  They all stood there, tense and waiting, the refreshments forgotten. Jim appeared and stood next to Donna.

  “Is it Sarge?” Donna asked, searching his face and hoping it wasn’t.

  “Yeah, she and Ralph and their team came in second place. Sarge gets off the toboggan and starts telling her crew what they did wrong when another toboggan came by and clipped her.”

  “Is she all right?”

  Jim hesitated. “It looked like her leg was broken.”

  Donna cringed.

  “What’s wrong? You’re as white as a ghost!” Jim said. Usually, she’d find the concern for her on his face very sexy but not at this moment. She recounted her exchange with Sarge before the race.

  Jim laughed. “Come on, you did not jinx her. Sarge wouldn’t blame you.”

  Donna raised her eyebrows. “You’ve apparently forgotten Sarge.”

  Jim went to say something, but they were distracted by the paramedics wheeling a gurney with Sarge strapped to it. From where she stood, Donna saw the state of Sarge’s leg and whispered, “Oh, no.”

  When Sarge spotted Donna, she sat up, pulling the oxygen mask from her face. She looked straight at Donna and asked, “Happy?”

  Donna wanted to crawl down the snow-covered slope and just die in the densely wooded copse.

  “Donna, do not blame yourself,” Jim said. “These things happen. Unfortunately.”

  “But Sarge will blame me. I’ll have to find a new grocery store,” Donna lamented.

  Jim laughed. “No, you won’t.” He reached for her gloved hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Come on, let’s go inside and get some coffee.”

  Donna was grateful for the distraction of Jim. For the rest of the evening, he kept her occupied and she was able to put Sarge’s future wrath out of her mind, at least for the time being. She hoped that was the worst that would happen at the weekend’s festival.

  Chapter 16

  The following morning, Jim, still half asleep, stepped outside to grab the morning paper and did a double take. He blinked hard to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

  All the snow was gone. Every last bit of it. There were patches of grass showing that he hadn’t seen since October. Shiny, wet asphalt and mucky lawns were what was left. The meteorologist had said a warm front was moving through the area, but when were they ever right? He straightened up and drew in a deep breath. The air was practically balmy for December.

  He headed back inside and put on the coffee. Hazel walked slowly into the kitchen, regarded Jim with curiosity, and meowed. Who knew where Tiny was—probably in the bathroom, using the toilet. If he ever caught that cat taking a newspaper into the bathroom, Jim would move to another state. Hazel had recovered but seemed more fragile than before. She wound herself around Jim’s legs and purred loudly.

  “Is Leah still sleeping?” he asked the cat. He maneuvered around her carefully, not wanting to accidentally step on her. She’d been through enough. Bu
t the cat followed him, rubbing up against his legs and purring.

  Sighing, Jim picked up the cat carefully and cradled it. He scratched under her chin and the cat purred louder.

  Once Hazel was fed, he poured coffee and sat down. He’d only taken one sip of his coffee when there was a knock at the side door. He glanced at the clock, wondering who was out so early on a Saturday morning.

  Donna stood in his driveway with her arms folded against her chest.

  “Oh, good, you’re up. I was just going to take a ride to see what’s left of the ice sculptures,” Donna said. But her expression said she knew what condition she’d find them in. “Want to go with me?”

  “Let me get my coat” he said. “Do you want me to drive?”

  Donna shook her head. “My car is warmed up and ready to go.”

  After he downed his coffee in one gulp, he grabbed his coat and bundled into it.

  As they drove up to Main Street, Jim took in the sight of Donna next to him in the front seat. Her hair shone in the morning sunlight and her eyes were as beautiful and bright as a pair of emeralds. Her face was naked of makeup but she wore perfume, something light and reminding him of vanilla. The thought of how he would like to wake up next to her every morning filled his head.

  Saturday-morning traffic was light as they drove along Main Street.

  Jim remarked to Donna, “The yarn bombing looks great!”

  Donna looked absentmindedly out the window. “Oh yeah.”

  “Come on, Donna, it’s not your fault,” Jim said. “No one could have predicted fifty-degree weather in December.”

  “The National Weather Service predicted it,” she said forlornly.

  “But they get it wrong more than half the time,” he pointed out.

  “I suppose,” she said. “I should have been more prepared.”

  “It’s not going smoothly, is it?” Jim asked with a sympathetic glance.

  “Nothing is ever perfect, I guess,” she admitted.

  “Nope,” Jim agreed. “But it doesn’t have to be perfect to be good.”