by Nancy Thayer
For the rest of the day, Christina and Wink were busy unpacking boxes, checking off the inventory list, sticking on price labels, and placing items on the shelves. Few customers came in, but when they did, they bought piles of presents. It was a good day.
“Mom said she wants to ask you a favor,” Wink said.
“She does?”
“You know the gingerbread house in the middle of your table? Did you make it?”
“I did! Years ago. It’s real gingerbread. But it’s so old no one could eat it now.”
“Do you have, like, a recipe and instructions for making it? Because Mom really liked your Christmas cookies, but she wants to do something extra special with me.”
Not that she’s competitive or anything, Christina thought with an inward smile.
“Of course,” Christina said. “I’ve got the directions at home. I’ll snap a photo of them and send them to your mom.” With a crooked smile, she added, “I’ll get your mom’s email address from your uncle Andy.”
“Cool.” Wink skipped away at four o’clock, while there was still some light in the sky.
At six, Christina closed the shop. The poor wilted white roses had not revived in the vase of water, but she wrapped them in paper, laid them in the bike’s basket, and took them home anyway. She wanted to keep them until the petals fell off. Roses from Andy! Although of course, they were really for the Christmas party.
* * *
—
That night was a relaxing one for Christina, and she was glad. She had presents to wrap and cards to send. She biked to the Easy Street Cantina to pick up tacos to take home for dinner, which she ate in her robe while she zoned out on TV. She gave Mittens a special helping of treats, read part of a novel, and went to bed early.
She ordered herself not to think about Andy Bittlesman.
She thought about him anyway.
* * *
—
The next morning, she was in her shop, chatting with Freddy who brought the mail, when her heart sank.
At the top of the pile was a very business-looking envelope addressed to Christina Antonioni from Bittlesman and Company.
Inside, she found a letter informing her that her building and the other three buildings on the wharf had recently been purchased by Oscar Bittlesman. As of February 1, her rent would be raised by ten percent.
She couldn’t breathe.
Her cell buzzed.
“Did you get the letter?” Mimi asked.
“Just now. I think my head exploded.”
“Come here at lunch. We all must talk.”
* * *
—
Christina texted Wink to tell her not to come in today. She might spend any free time on the phone with a lawyer or one of the Shedders and she didn’t want the girl to hear her in a bad mood, and she was definitely in a bad mood.
* * *
—
Harriet, Jacob, Mimi, and Christina sat in a circle in the back of Mimi’s shop.
“So we all got the same letter, right? Bittlesman’s raising our rent by ten percent. That will take a huge chunk of our profits,” Mimi said.
“He can’t do this!” Harriet protested.
“Actually,” Jacob said grimly, “he can.”
“Is there anything we can do about it?” Christina wondered.
The three other merchants stared at her.
“What?” Christina asked.
“You’re dating Bittlesman’s son,” Harriet pointed out.
“We’re hardly dating,” Christina said.
“Yeah, well,” Harriet continued aggressively, “you had Delia Bittlesman and her kid at your party. It’s on you to do something about this. Tell Bittlesman you’ll stop babysitting his granddaughter if he ups the rent.”
“Harriet! I’m not babysitting Wink! That little girl has nothing to do with—”
Mimi intervened. “This rent hike slams us all in the face.”
“In the pocket, too,” Jacob added.
“So we’re all upset and emotional. Let’s take a day or two to think of possibilities.”
“I’ve got a possibility,” Harriet snapped. “I’m going to buy a slingshot and learn how to use it, and when Bittlesman comes out of his house—”
“Stop that right now!” Mimi said. “It’s Christmas.”
“Yeah, well, Bittlesman sure does not have the Christmas spirit,” Harriet grumbled.
The Shedders all returned to their stores. Even with her small space heater turned to high, Christina couldn’t get warm.
Outside, night fell early. The Shedders usually kept their shops open until six in December, in case any island person who worked until five needed a chance to shop. But the wind was picking up. Waves were slapping against the pilings supporting the wharf.
Christina opened her door and looked out. Was it going to snow? It was certainly cold enough. But a crescent moon hung bright in a cloudless sky.
“Bah humbug,” Christina said.
Just as she was cashing out, her cell rang.
“Christina!” Andy sounded full of good cheer. “I just got back to the island. Can I take you out to dinner tonight?”
Her heart rose—and she remembered her rent hike. “I’m sorry, Andy, not tonight.”
“Does this have anything to do with my father?” Andy asked. When Christina didn’t answer immediately, he said, “Remember, my father and I are two different people.”
“I know that,” Christina said. “I’m just…tonight’s not good for me.”
“I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow,” Andy said.
“Great,” Christina told him, but she couldn’t force herself to sound enthusiastic.
* * *
—
Christina biked home through the dark streets, cheered by the lights of Christmas trees in the houses. Some people had put electric candles in their windows. She especially liked those. They made her think of these houses in the past, before electricity, and how a candle in a window would cheer the person heading home through the dark.
She made a plan as she biked. She would not allow herself to obsess over Andy Bittlesman or over the rent hike. She’d keep herself busy making a stew, and maybe her mind, simmering on the back burner, so to speak, would surprise her with a solution.
Inside her house, she turned on the lights of her tree and sat admiring it for a few moments while Mittens curled in her lap purring loudly, glad Christina was home.
It was hard to be unhappy in the presence of an adoring cat and a beautiful Christmas tree, but the rent hike stabbed at her thoughts like a spear.
Ten percent? She would have to close her shop.
She went into the kitchen, prepared Mittens her evening feast, tied on an apron, and began putting together her stew. Somehow slicing carrots, potatoes, and parsnips was calming. She browned the stew meat, the minced garlic, and the chopped onions in olive oil, poured water and a good helping of red wine into the pot, covered it all, and let it simmer.
As she took off her apron, she felt much better.
The phone buzzed. Caller ID: Wink Lombard.
“Hi, sweetie,” Christina said.
“Mom wants to know, can you come to dinner here tomorrow night?”
Christina was dumbfounded. She’d spoken only a few words to Delia the night of the tree decorating party. Would Oscar Bittlesman be there? Would Andy?
Whatever, Christina was not going to pass this up!
“I’d love to come, Wink. What time?”
“Mom says six-thirty.”
“I’ll see you then.”
What do you wear to dinner at a billionaire’s house?
What do you wear to dinner at an evil landlord’s house?
The same thing you wear to dinner with a child you adore
and a man you were on the verge of falling for until his father hiked the rent on your shop. Did Andy know about the rent hike? Did he care? Could he appreciate what the hike would mean for Christina and the other Shedders?
Could she mentally separate Andy from his father for this one night and enjoy being around the man who made her heart beat faster?
Be careful, her Inner Christina warned her.
Christina wore a formfitting dark green silk dress and a string of pearls. Janice Harris opened the door to her knock and said, “Welcome. Wow, Christina, you look fabulous.”
“Thanks, Janice.” It meant a lot to get the other woman’s approval.
She was ushered into the living room where only a few days before she had helped put the Christmas tree in its stand. Now it was covered with very beautiful glass ornaments and, around the base, a few handmade Santas and snowflakes.
Oscar Bittlesman sat like a king in his throne in a dark leather chair near the fireplace. He wore a suit and tie and wing tips. Not the kind of guy to relax at home. Christina was glad she wore pearls.
“Christina!” Wink ran across the room to hug Christina. She wore a flouncy rainbow-colored party dress.
“You look so pretty!” Christina told Wink.
“You do, too.” Wink held her hand and led her to a sofa.
“Hello, Christina.” Delia wore white wool trousers and a white cashmere sweater.
“Christina.” Andy nodded to her, smiling as if they shared a secret. He wore a navy blue sweater over his button-down shirt and tie.
What a bunch of stiffs! Christina thought.
“We’re having prosecco,” Delia said. “Except for Father, who’s having Scotch. What would you like?”
“I’d like some prosecco, please.” Uh-oh, Christina thought. I’m turning into wood just like them! Turning to Andy, she asked, “Did you have a good flight from New York?”
“It was bumpy,” Andy told her. “I think the weather’s changing.”
Fortunately, that launched the group into a discussion about weather, which Christina thought would be a peaceful topic, and it was, until Wink announced that her former teacher was worried about global warming and climate change. Christina kept quiet, but watched with interest and admiration as Wink politely argued with her grandfather.
Christina studied Oscar Bittlesman. He was sixty-five (she’d googled) but looked a decade younger. He was slender and fit, and Christina clearly saw where his children and granddaughter got their looks. His blond hair had turned white. He kept it in a brush cut as if he was still in the military. (He’d been in the Marines; she’d googled.) When Andy or Delia quoted a fact about melting icebergs, Oscar waved it away. Poppycock!
Christina didn’t know people even said poppycock these days. But when Wink quoted a fact, her grandfather listened and grudgingly said he was sure that was incorrect but he’d check it out.
Janice arrived to announce that dinner was ready. Following Oscar, they filed into the dining room, a large formal room with a seascape painted on the four walls. The table was beautifully set. Fresh flowers and candles in the middle. Shining silver utensils. White tablecloth and napkins. China plates in a pale green lavishly decorated with gold—Christina would have hung them on the wall.
“It’s a simple family dinner tonight,” Delia told her. “We won’t have an appetizer.”
“It smells divine,” Christina told her.
The simple family dinner consisted of petite filet mignons for the women, much larger ones for the men, twice-baked potatoes, asparagus, and a small green salad. A red wine was served to everyone except Wink, who had milk. Everything was cooked to perfection, and everyone was glad to allow Wink to dominate the conversation so the rest of them could concentrate on the food.
Then Janice removed the plates. Oscar Bittlesman leaned back in his chair, patted his mouth with his stiff white linen napkin, and cleared his throat.
“You’ve lived here all your life, haven’t you, Cheryl?”
Christina froze. Did he get her name wrong because he wanted to insult her? Or was he at the age where he simply had trouble remembering names? Would it be rude of her to correct him?
Wink saved the moment. “Oh, Grandfather, her name is Christina!” she told him, giggling.
“That’s what I said!” Oscar Bittlesman retorted. He glared at Christina, as if she’d done something wrong.
“Yes,” Christina replied. “I was born here, which makes me a native. I went off to Wheaton for college, and returned here when I got my degree.”
“So you’ve never traveled.”
“Actually, I have traveled. I’ve been to Europe with friends in college and to several states to visit friends.” Oscar Bittlesman seemed intent on putting Christina in her place, whatever that place was. She wanted to derail this conversation. “I’m sure you have been everywhere,” she said, gazing at the older man with intense admiration. And she did admire him. She knew he had accomplished a great deal in his life.
“Yes, actually, I have. I’ve been to Europe, of course, and Japan, China, India.”
“Oh, dear, Christina,” Delia cut in. “Now you’ve got him started. We’ll be here all night.”
Her father ignored her. “Australia and New Zealand, Iceland, and even Greenland.”
“Have you been to Antarctica?” Christina’s question sounded like a challenge, as if there was at least one place on the globe Oscar Bittlesman hadn’t set foot.
Oscar smiled. Clearly he was enjoying this verbal jousting.
“Yes, actually, I have. I went on a National Geographic tour.”
“And he saw penguins!” Wink interrupted enthusiastically. “Grandfather showed me pictures. Did you know there is a species of penguin called the macaroni penguin?”
Christina laughed. “I didn’t know that. Why on earth would the bird be called that?”
Wink turned to Oscar. “You tell her, Grandfather. You know all the big words.”
Oscar chuckled.
Oscar chuckled! Christina nearly fainted.
“The macaroni penguin is distinctive for the jaunty yellow crest it sports on top of its head. It got the name in the eighteenth century when the word ‘macaroni’ meant a flashy, flamboyant man.”
“Like Elton John!” Wink said.
Christina burst out laughing at the thought of a penguin, Elton John–style. “How do you even know who Elton John is?”
“Oh, Mommy listens to him while she’s exercising.”
Delia cleared her throat. “All right, little missy. It’s time for bed.”
Wink pouted for a few seconds. Then she said, “Grandfather, may I please be excused from the table?”
“Of course,” Oscar said. “Come give me a good-night kiss.”
Wink jumped up, kissed her grandfather’s cheek, and raced over to Christina.
“Thank you for coming!”
Christina hugged the little girl. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“It’s time for me to retire, as well,” Oscar said, standing up.
Christina rose from the table. “Good night, Oscar, and thank you for inviting me.”
Oscar flapped his hand, as if the evening meant nothing. “I’m sure we’ll be talking again,” he said, and just like that, he morphed from stiff but likeable curmudgeon to rapacious landlord.
Wink left the room, holding her mother’s hand. Oscar followed.
“I have to go, too,” Christina said.
“I wish I could drive you home,” Andy told her as they went into the hall where Janice stood holding Christina’s coat.
“I drove here myself,” Christina reminded him. She wanted to kiss him good night, but Janice Harris was obviously determined to watch what happened next. “But I wish you could drive me home, too,” she added in a softer voice, letting her eyes meet
Andy’s.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Andy told her.
Christina smiled. She turned to Janice. “Thank you for the delicious meal, Janice.”
“You’re more than welcome,” Janice said. “I hope I see you here again.”
Janice’s words made Christina feel warm and cozy, and then she stepped out onto the front porch.
It was raining.
“Brrr! If it’s going to be this cold, we should at least have some snow!”
Andy took her hands in his. “I would love to keep you warm.”
She smiled. “I’d like that, too.”
“What did you think of Father?”
Christina took a moment to choose her words. “He’s certainly impressive. Not quite as terrifying as I expected, and clearly he’s got a soft spot for Wink.”
“True. She’s the apple of his eye.” Andy pulled her close to him. “Can I see you tomorrow night?”
“I don’t know. The store will be busy tomorrow.” At the thought of the store, the knowledge of the rent hike hit her full force. “Andy…I have to tell you something. Just to clear the air.”
“Okay.”
Christina pulled away from him. “I don’t want…oh, I’ll just tell you. Your father has raised the rent on our sheds by ten percent, starting February first. I received a letter yesterday, and so did all the other Shedders.”
“I didn’t know that,” Andy told her, speaking quietly. “That will be hard for you all, right?”
A streak of anger whipped through her. “Hard for us? It’ll mean we will no longer be able to continue renting the sheds.” Christina turned her face, not wanting him to see the helpless tears rising in her eyes. “I’m going to have to close my shop.”
“Christina, I had no idea. I’d offer to talk to my father, but right now I’m afraid that would do more harm than good. He’s furious with me because I want to move to the island.”
