Wrapped Up in Christmas Joy

by Janice Lynn

  Pulling off her blue gloves, Rosie then undid her parka. “He’s driving me crazy with these ‘set the date or else’ threats. Fine. He wants a date? How about never?”

  “You can’t mean that, Rosie.”

  Rosie’s face twisted with worry, making her look near her age, which was rare. Rosie usually had such a youthful vivaciousness that it was difficult to believe she was in her late sixties. “Of course I mean it.”

  Even as she made the claim, she twisted the diamond solitaire on her left hand.

  “Wouldn’t it bother you more if Lou was okay with indefinitely putting off the wedding?”

  Rosie plopped down into a vacant chair next to the cutting table, pretending to be very interested in the pieces of material sitting there.

  Sophie had known Rosie for as long as she could remember. In addition to being one of her aunt’s dearest friends, the older woman was a mainstay at church and in the community and was too vibrant to have not stood out even in Sophie’s earliest memories. Only following the death of her late husband did Sophie ever recall Rosie losing some of her sparkle. Rosie’s sparkle wasn’t flashing now, though.

  “What’s wrong? Why don’t you want to set a date with Lou?”

  Rosie arched a painted-on brow and attempted to wave off Sophie’s concern. “Not that I blame the old coot for wanting to rush me down the aisle, but maybe I’m not in a rush to give up my single life.”

  Sophie leaned against her cutting table and eyed her friend. “Is that it? You’d rather be single than become Lou’s wife?”

  Rosie hesitated just long enough that Sophie had her answer regardless of what words were spoken.

  “I’m wearing his ring. That should be enough.”

  “Most people believe wearing an engagement ring indicates a commitment to end up with a wedding,” Sophie reminded.

  “So you think I’m being ridiculous, too?”

  Too? Sophie’s eyes widened. “Who said you were being ridiculous? Maybelle? You know she doesn’t mean the things she says to you.”

  “It’s not Maybelle. I know that old biddy is just jealous of me being more than a decade younger than her and,” Rosie fluffed what little of her hair stuck out from beneath her hat, “always finer.”

  Sophie smothered a smile at the comment that Rosie would just as readily have said in front of Maybelle as not. Too bad Maybelle wasn’t there to come right back at her with a return jab. The two women were a hoot when you put them together.

  Only, it wasn’t her friendly rivalry with Maybelle bothering Rosie. It was Lou.

  Sophie’s heart gave a squeeze. She adored the big-hearted diner owner. “Is something wrong with Lou?”

  “Just that he thinks he’s in love with a foolish old bat like me.”

  It was unusual to hear Rosie say anything that wasn’t flattering of herself, so Sophie was stunned by her friend’s comment.

  “I’d say that it’s a good thing that he loves you.” Sophie placed her hand over Rosie’s. “I’ve seen you two sitting in church together, so I know how Lou lights up when you look at him, and how he always makes a big deal of opening doors for you and holding your hand.”

  Sophie had felt a pinch of jealousy a time or two at how the older man doted on Rosie. Rosie kept him on his toes, for sure, but the diner owner was happier than Sophie had ever seen him now that the two of them were together.

  “Lou is a lucky man to have you, Rosie.”

  They were lucky to have each other. Not that Sophie wanted…she stopped the thought because maybe she did want what Rosie had with Lou. Maybe she wanted it a lot. With Cole.

  When Rosie’s eyes lifted to Sophie, they were watery, and that was something Sophie had rarely seen.

  “Only, he’s not a lucky man,” Rosie deflated with a long sigh. “He wants to get married and says if I don’t hurry up and set a date, he’s going to take my ring back and ask that Alberta Jennings to marry him instead.”

  What? Lou wasn’t in love with Alberta. Why would he even threaten such an absurd thing?

  Rosie crinkled her nose. “Can you imagine him replacing me with her? Why, that would be like having vanilla pudding after being privy to the finest restaurant’s prized tiramisu.” Sophie suppressed another smile. “Or more like bland stale bread after sampling some of my grandmother’s cinnamon bread,” Rosie said with a burst of fire. Apparently, even mentioning Alberta’s name had riled her up.

  Sophie nodded in agreement. “Absolutely.”

  “I just don’t see what the big rush is.”

  “Lou has wanted to marry you for a long time,” Sophie reminded, thinking perhaps there was more going on than met the eye. Why else would Lou threaten Rosie with Alberta? “Remember that romantic carriage ride he took you on and then popped the question? And the dozen or so times he proposed after that before you said yes?”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  Sophie nodded. “That was almost a year ago, Rosie. Lou isn’t wrong to want the wedding to take place, or to at least have a date set, after all this time. Many would say he’s been quite patient in waiting on you.”

  “I suppose so, but we have our whole lives.” Rosie wrung her bejeweled hands. “What’s the problem with waiting a little longer?”

  Sophie imagined that when she met the man of her dreams that she’d want to be with him as much as possible and would barely be able to wait to walk down the aisle to be his forever. Just as Sarah felt about walking down the aisle to Bodie. Shouldn’t Rosie feel the same excited anticipation?

  Rosie let out a long breath. “I’m going to have to marry him, aren’t I?”

  That didn’t sound encouraging, either.

  Sophie scooted her chair over next to Rosie’s and placed her hand over the older woman’s. “I guess I’m a little confused. Don’t you want to marry Lou?”

  Rosie stared at where Sophie held her hand. “Of course I want to marry him. The big ole teddy bear loves me with all his heart and is just so sweet—usually. It’s just…”

  “Just what?”

  Sighing, Rosie grimaced a little. “You know I’ve already been married three times.”

  Sophie nodded.

  “Three times,” Rosie repeated, shaking her head a little as if she couldn’t quite believe the number. “All three of my husbands died, Sophie.” Closing her eyes, Rosie took a deep breath. “I just don’t think I could go through that again.”

  “Oh, Rosie.” Sophie’s heart squeezed.

  “That Maybelle would start calling me a Black Widow if it happened, and then I’d have to come up with a name to remind her how much older she is than me and worn out, to boot. Why, it would just ruin a perfectly good friendship.”

  Sophie recognized Rosie’s comment for what it was: misdirection to distract from what she’d admitted. Rosie was scared to marry Lou for fear something would happen to him, the way it had to her other husbands.

  “Don’t you think you should talk to Lou about this?”

  Rosie huffed. “I have. He’s the one who told me I was being ridiculous.” Sophie didn’t say anything. “Don’t tell me you think he’s right?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t not say it, either.”

  Sophie shrugged. “I think this is something you’re going to have to figure out for yourself. There are no guarantees in life, but I do know love when I see it. Lou loves you and you love him. It would be a shame for him to have to settle for stale bread after sampling your grandmother’s famous cinnamon bread.”

  Rosie pouted a perfectly lipsticked lower lip. “That darn cinnamon bread is what got me into this predicament to begin with. I never should have made it for him when I know its power.”

  Rosie’s grandmother’s cinnamon bread reportedly made men fall in love with the baker. Sophie wasn’t superstitious, but she knew that many a woman
around Pine Hill would love to get their hands on the recipe so perhaps there was something to it.

  “Speaking of that cinnamon bread, do you need me to whip you up a batch in honor of your date to Sarah and Bodie’s little winter wonderland party this past weekend?”

  Sophie’s cheeks heated. “It wasn’t a date. And I absolutely do not need you to make me any cinnamon bread.”

  “No? You and Cole looked quite cozy riding on the sled together, and you know the way to a man’s heart is his stomach.”

  Sophie thought back to the cookies she’d made Cole. His favorite type of cookies. They’d been good, too, as she knew because she’d had to sample a few, just to make sure they’d turned out right. But she hadn’t made them because she’d been trying to find the way to his heart. She’d just wanted to express her gratitude for his coming to her rescue.

  “Sledding with Cole was no more a date than when Isabelle and I went down the hill on the same sled.” She felt dishonest saying it. Technically, it was true that she and her sister had ridden on the same sled just minutes before she’d taken the trip down the hill with Cole, but the ride with Isabelle hadn’t made her insides feel as light and fluffy as the snow that had been drifting down from the night sky.

  Sophie was glad her sister could only see her and Rosie if she glanced at the security camera feed, and that even if she looked, she wouldn’t be able to hear this conversation.

  Her sister had had more than enough to say about Cole already.

  “You Butterflies shouldn’t have tried to get him to share a blanket with me, either. Poor Cole.”

  “Poor Cole? Honey, haven’t you ever heard that the best way to warm up after some time out in the snow is to snuggle up next to someone? We were just trying to make sure you stayed warm.”

  “Please don’t try matchmaking us. Cole is my toy drive partner, nothing more.”

  Even if he felt like much more.

  Which was only because she’d read his journal.

  And because she felt so good inside when she was with him.

  And on the occasions that he let loose and smiled…okay, so Cole was more than just her toy drive partner.

  She wanted to be his friend. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be his friend. He was newish to town and needed more friends. Sophie was a good friend. Just ask anyone—well, anyone except the cat that continued to evade her attempts at friendship. But no one should ask the cat that was as elusive as Cole had been since leaving Hamilton House on Saturday night.

  Shouldn’t he have at least texted to see if she’d been sore from when she’d fallen back in the snow during their snowball fight? Okay, so that was stretching it, but he could have texted to ask her that.

  Or any other of a thousand things, such as why do birds sing? Why do Butterflies matchmake? Or something just as inane.

  Or he could have asked her to dinner under the guise of working on the toy drive. Or not used a guise at all and just asked, telling her he wanted to spend time with her, too.

  He could have done that.

  “Child, you’re blushing.”

  If Sophie hadn’t been, she would be after Rosie’s words. Eek. How had she gotten so lost in her thoughts under Rosie’s eagle eye?

  “I’ll tell you what, Rosie. Let’s not talk about Lou, weddings, or Cole anymore today. Instead, we’ll focus on what we’re going to do to make sure this year’s toy drive is the most successful ever.”

  Rosie laughed and clicked her tongue at Sophie. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing here, but, yes, let’s brainstorm on ideas for the toy drive, clever girl.”

  Thanksgiving Day arrived and Sophie, Isabelle, and their mother had dinner at Aunt Claudia’s. It was a huge gathering of family and friends that included Maybelle, Rosie, Sarah, Bodie, Sarah’s dad, Claudia’s kids, and her grandkids. The house was pure chaos.

  Sophie loved it. The noise. The smiles. The laughter. The bickering between Maybelle, Rosie, and her aunt that was better than any comedy act. As was tradition, Ruby had cooked a big meal for her large family and would get together for a Friendsgiving with the Butterflies at a later time.

  They’d just finished eating and some had started migrating from the dining room, where various tables had been set up along with the large main dining table, to the living room.

  “Who’s hanging around for cards?” Aunt Claudia asked. “I picked up the neatest deck when we were in Alaska over the summer and can’t wait to break them in on a game of Nertz.” Smiling, she added, “I got a deck in Europe, too, but we broke them in over Labor Day weekend when we were at the lake cabin.”

  Sophie’s aunt had spent most of her life dreaming of traveling the world, but Uncle George had been content to never step foot outside Pine Hill. In his eyes, there’d been no need. Why go somewhere else when everything and everyone they needed and loved was right there? Maybelle had lit a fire under his feet last Christmas and he and Aunt Claudia had gone on several trips that year. He must have liked them as they had more planned for the following year. Or maybe he just liked how blissfully happy they made Claudia.

  “No cards for us tonight,” Sarah answered, smiling at her father. “Dad and I have our standing Thanksgiving date to put up his tree and watch a movie together. Plus, he wants to run Sunday’s sermon by me. I think his topic is on honoring your mother and father, so it wouldn’t look good if I bailed on him.”

  Sarah winked and everyone chuckled. If ever a child honored her father, Sarah honored hers.

  Sarah had a great dad and Sophie had a great mom.

  Too bad the two had never shown the slightest interest in each other. Sarah’s dad seemed content to have loved once and Sophie’s mom had gone through too much with Sophie’s dad, apparently, to risk loving again. The two were friendly, as you’d expect from two people in the same social circle in a small town, but there had never been anything more than friendship.

  Sophie glanced at where William Smith sat talking with Uncle George. Yeah, it really was too bad the two had never noticed each other romantically as she’d applaud that union.

  “What about you, Bodie? You and Harry headed to William’s?” Maybelle asked, her brow quirked high as she regarded him with great affection. It had taken Maybelle awhile to warm to Bodie, but ever since she had, she’d begun treating him as a favored son.

  Petting his dog, Bodie shook his head. “Not this year. Sarah and I decided Thanksgiving night was a tradition we were going to keep just between her and her dad, at least for the time being. Down the road, after the wedding, we may relook at it.”

  Maybelle nodded her approval, apparently pleased that Bodie encouraged Sarah to maintain her special bond with her father.

  “Besides, you’ve seen the Christmas trees at Hamilton House. I’ve done more than my share of decorating.” He sent an indulgent glance toward Sarah. “Guess I’ll be doing lots more over the years to come, though.”

  Sophie needed to get with it on decorating her own tree. Isabelle and her mother enjoyed the holidays, but not like Sophie. Sophie loved Christmas: the bright lights, the music, the parties, the On-the-Square festival and parade. And the tree lighting. She liked that, too.

  She was excited to put up and decorate a tree, but she just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. She’d been busy working on her latest quilt; making Petdanas as they’d seen a spike in orders, probably due to the holidays; getting things ready for her Quilts of Valor Foundation booth at the Christmas festival; and planning for the Make Your Own Christmas Stockings class she’d be teaching the following Tuesday evening. And every day for the past week, she’d been putting in extra-long hours at the shop to help others stock supplies for all of their own projects.

  Tomorrow, they’d open earlier than their usual nine, having their annual The Threaded Needle Black Friday sale from eight until six, and then another big “shop local” sale on Saturday b
efore they closed at noon for the On-the-Square Christmas Festival, tree lighting, and Christmas parade later that night.

  Sophie might not have her tree up at home, yet, but the shop looked amazing. She’d stayed late several nights putting up more decorations for the town’s biggest Christmas event. For their window display, she’d done a red pillows-and-fabric fireplace display by pushing two thin shelves together and running a board across the top where she’d placed a row of brown and gray fabric bolts turned on their sides to look like layered bricks as a mantle on which she’d hung several of the stockings she’d made for her class. Next to it, as a tree, she’d created a Christmas-fabric-and-pillows display that she’d placed on a tall tiered triangular-shaped shelf that had the shape of a tree. She’d even put a giant bow on top and draped it downward. A Christmas quilt was draped over a wooden rocking chair in front of the “fireplace.” She’d been quite pleased with the overall look.

  She loved how every business on the square decorated. The overall effect was a Christmas-card-worthy square that she was proud to be a part of.

  As for their personal, family tree, she’d recruit her mother and Isabelle to help, and they’d get their tree up at home soon.

  “You’re lost in thought. Wouldn’t be thinking of a certain firefighter, would you?” Sarah interrupted her thoughts.

  Sophie felt heat rush to her face, then shook her head. “I was thinking about the shop and the parade and tree lighting this weekend. I hope I’ve done enough decorating. It’s important for every business to show our support for such a great community event.”

  “Are you kidding me? I was in there yesterday buying fabric and was blown away by the window display that Isabelle told me you’d designed. Girl, it looks amazing and should be on a magazine cover.”

  Sophie beamed. “Thank you. I love coming up with different ways to display our fabrics and sewn goods for sale.”

  “Do you need me to do anything to help with the booth Saturday night?”

  Sophie shook her head. “You’re already volunteering with the ornament hunt for the kids and the snowflake sale for the church. The last thing you need to do is volunteer to work the Quilts of Valor booth, too.”