Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
PENELOPE
I step into Seaside Grocers, our little grocery store on Main Street, with Noelle balanced on my hip. She’s bundled in her winter coat and warm pants, which makes her feel like a giant marshmallow in my arms.
A gust of crisp December air follows us inside, carrying the scent of pine and the distant tang of the ocean. Santa Claus is Coming to Town plays through the air, and I stop. I look down at Noelle. “I didn’t even know they had speakers in here.”
She gurgles back at me and grabs my hair. She likes to hold it when I carry her. I don’t mind because she never tugs and it’s precious. I put her in a cart and she lets go to grab onto the handle. I unzip her coat so she doesn’t over heat and we are off.
Christmas music isn’t the only change here. There are garlands strung along the checkout counter and a large wreath over the frozen foods section.
I can’t help but feel a flicker of warmth at the sight. It’s strange how simple changes can make a difference in the atmosphere. As I navigate the crowded aisles, I can’t help but notice that several people are humming along with the music, and when two people almost bump into each other at the end of an aisle, they chuckle and offer for the other person to go first.
I walk past the large windows up front and see Nick outside, wrapping a street lamp in greenery and lights. I shake my head at his indomitable Christmas cheer. He’s not even wearing gloves. He climbs the ladder like he hasn’t a care in the world and works fast.
Really fast.
He’s a man on a mission.
It’s mesmerizing, and I can’t tear my eyes off his broad back and sure movements. He’s wearing jeans and black work boots, along with a light coat and a black stocking hat that brings out the dark red in his hair. I touch my own auburn locks. I’ve always been partial to men with red hair and red beards, which do me in completely. I think I may be part Viking.
Nick would make an awesome Viking. I can see him at the helm of his ship, forging into the foggy unknown with unwavering courage and—.
“Penelope. Oh, and Noelle, too.”
The cheerful voice pulls me from my fantasy, and I whip around to see Mrs. Johnson beaming at us. My face flushes. Not that she could read my mind, but still! Having such a proper older lady catch me ogling our town’s newest resident will not do. I have a reputation to uphold around here.
Mrs. Johnson’s silver curls peeked out from beneath a jaunty red beret. I stare at it for a moment too long, and she reaches up to touch it.
“I know it’s so bright, but I couldn’t resist. It looks like Christmas, don’t you think?”
“It does.” I respond easily. “And it suits you.” I greet her warmly. “Doing some shopping?”
“Oh, just picking up a few things for my booth at the Bazaar,” she replies, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Isn’t it just wonderful, what that nice young man is doing for our little town?” She nods at Nick outside. He’s moved down a light pole but is still visible from where we stand. I wonder if he can see us, too. If he can, he’s not looking this way. My heart sinks an inch, which is silly. I don’t want him to notice me noticing him.
When he told me he wanted to bring joy and hope into my life—right along with the rest of the town—I almost fell over. It was such a good thing to say that it almost didn’t sound like a pickup line.
Almost.
The thing is, it was such a good-guy thing to say that I’ve had a hard time shaking it off—and it’s been three days.
“It’s great,” I say, my voice sounding like an echo because I’m so deep in my own thoughts about him.
“The whole town is buzzing about it! Everyone is so excited to be a part of the Bazaar. You wouldn’t believe how many people have been squirreling away crafts and things for years. Mrs. Thomas has seven totes of crocheted table runners and hot pads she’s made over the last two years, and she had no idea what she was going to do with all of them. Here’s the answer!”
“Here it is,” I parrot.
“Not to mention Joyce and her wood carvings.”
“Wood carvings?” I’ve known Joyce for years, but this is the first I heard of her carving anything. “Joyce?”
“Oh, sorry. Not carvings. What is it she called them?” Mrs. Johnson taps her chin, “Turnings. She has a lathe, and she makes everything from pens to ornaments. They’re stunning. You’ll have to check them out.”
“I will.” I’m shocked. “Why don’t they sell these things during the tourist season?”
“The shops are full. Unless they owned space on Main Street or Waterfront Street, there isn’t a place for them to sell their things.” She runs her hand down Noelle’s cheek. “I love this little one. When can I watch her again?”
I chuckle. Mrs. Johnson is my backup for when I can’t take Noelle to work with me. Usually if she has a runny nose or I need to catch up on things. A couple of hours of focused attention and I’m Super Employee. “Soon. I promise.”
“Listen to me going on about the Bazaar when you probably have more information than I do.” She laughs at her self.
My eyebrows creep up on my forehead. “I don’t. Actually.” I admit. My face flushes. “Nick said he’d take care of everything, and he has.” I glance over at the flier by the door and see his cell phone number posted for questions, booth reservations, and everything else. Maybe I should be more involved. “I had no idea it was such a big deal,” I mumble to myself.
“Oh, it is.” Mrs. Johnson nods emphatically, her bell earrings jingling with the motion. “You should hear the chatter at the community center. Mr. Thompson is bringing his famous homemade jams, the Davis family is setting up a booth with their beautiful glass blown ornaments, and I heard the local dance school is planning a special holiday performance.”
“That’s... incredible,” I manage, shaking my head in wonder. “I had no idea Nick’s plan would be so well-received.” Here, I thought everyone was exhausted from the tourist season and wanted a few months off. Maybe that was just me.
Mrs. Johnson pats my arm, her weathered hand warm and comforting. “It’s more than just a plan, dear. It’s Christmas and a chance to celebrate together. A lot of us are getting on in years, and it’s harder to travel to see our family. We needed this sense of togetherness.”
Her words strike a chord deep within me, and I feel a lump form in my throat. She’s right, of course. In the aftermath of Noelle’s father’s abandonment, I’ve been so focused on protecting my own heart that I’ve forgotten the importance of connection, of being a part of a community. I thought that since I wanted to be left alone, everyone else must feel the same. Wow. Talk about being self-absorbed.
“You’ll come to the Bazaar, won’t you?” Mrs. Johnson asks, her eyes hopeful. “It just wouldn’t be the same without you and Noelle.”
I find myself nodding, a small smile tugging at my lips. “We wouldn’t miss it.” I can see myself pushing Noelle’s stroller past the booths and talking to people I rarely see this time of year. It’s a good image.
Mrs. Johnson beams. “It’s going to be a wonderful time. And who knows,” she adds with a mischievous wink, “maybe you’ll even find a little Christmas magic of your own.”
Noelle let out a happy shriek, making us both laugh.
“I think someone is ready to get her jingle on,” Mrs. Johnson teases, cooing at Noelle’s delighted giggles. “Merry Christmas to both of you.” With a final wave, she trundles off down the aisle, humming “Jingle Bells” under her breath.
I watch her go, feeling a sudden rush of affection for the kindhearted woman who’s been such a constant source of support and encouragement over the last year. She didn’t even blink an eye when I became a single mother and needed help. She just jumped right into caring for Noelle.
As I make my way through the rest of my shopping list, my mind keeps circling back to Nick and the Bazaar. I marvel at how quickly the community has embraced the idea. It’s been three days, and the place is already buzzing with a new sense of holiday awareness.
It’s a far cry from the Grinch-like grumblings I’d expected, and I find myself wondering if perhaps I’ve been too quick to judge the man behind the merry. After all, anyone who can bring this much joy to a sleepy little town like Founder's Grove must have a good heart, right?
By the time I’ve paid for my groceries and bundled Noelle back into her stroller, the sun is high in the sky, glinting off the freshly fallen snow like a field of diamonds.
As we make our way back to the Bakery, I find myself humming along to the strains of “White Christmas” floating out from a nearby storefront, my steps feeling lighter than they have in months. Noelle is fast asleep in her stroller, her little rosebud mouth slack and peaceful, and I feel a surge of love so fierce it takes my breath away.
“We’re going to be okay, you and me,” I whisper to her. “We’ve got Grandpa, and we’ve got each other, and that’s enough.”
But even as the words leave my lips, I can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there’s room in our little family for a little bit more. Perhaps the magic of the season isn’t just for children and fairy tales but for lonely single mothers, too.
The thought fills me with a fluttering warmth, a tentative hope that feels as fragile and precious as a snowflake on my tongue. I tuck it away in my heart like a secret, not ready to put my thoughts to voice.
Back at the bakery, I settle Noelle in her playpen for a nap. The apartment is warm and cozy, filled with the scent of vanilla and cinnamon from the batches of sugar cookies Grandpa baked this morning. One of the benefits and downfalls of living over the bakery is that the home is filled with the scent of whatever he’s making .
I sink into a chair at the kitchen table, cradling a steaming mug of peppermint tea between my palms.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
I glance up to see Grandpa standing in the doorway; his kind eyes crinkled with concern. I smile, gesturing for him to join me.
“Just thinking about the Bazaar,” I admit, tracing my finger around the rim of my mug. “I had no idea it had grown so big, so fast.”
Grandpa nods, easing himself into the chair across from me with a soft grunt. “That boy has been working his tail off. I don’t think I’ve seen him sit still for more than five minutes since he got here.”
“It’s strange,” I murmur, almost to myself. “I was so sure he was just another one of those slick city types looking to make a quick buck off our town’s nostalgia. But now...” I trail off, unsure how to put into words all that I’m seeing in Nick.
Grandpa regards me thoughtfully. “You should spend some time with him.”
I scowl into my mug. “Why would I do that?”
“To learn how to do what he does so well. Greg can’t keep doing his job and spending winters in Florida. The man is old.”
I burst out laughing. “Greg is twenty years younger than you.”
“Yes, but I’m thirty years younger than him in spirit. He’s halfway retired, and you should have his job when he quits. ”
I nod slowly. “You’re right. I took over permits last year.”
“He’s holding tight to the 4th of July though.” Grandpa looks deeply into my eyes. “If you can do Christmas, you can do that—even with the addition of fireworks.”
Greg has a strangle hold on the 4th. He doesn’t include me in meetings nor copy me on emails.Even the fire marshall is only allowed to speak to the fireworks team if Greg is present. I’m sure I can do his job if given the chance and I don’t want to miss out on the opportunity because I felt grinchy and didn’t help with the Bazaar.
“It could work…” I muse. “But that would mean spending time with Nick.”
“Sometimes, the greatest gifts come in the most unexpected packages,” Grandpa says.
I feel my throat tighten. I feel foolish and vulnerable at the idea of asking Nick to help me. “What if it’s all just a facade?” I ask, giving voice to the niggling doubt that’s been plaguing me for days. “What if he’s not really the good guy?”
Grandpa leans back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”
I choke out a laugh, shaking my head ruefully. “You’re a sly old fox, you know that?”
He winks. “I prefer the term ‘wise beyond my years,’ thank you very much.”
“Of course you do.” I playfully shove his arm. I’m so glad I have him. “I’ll stop by the community center tomorrow and talk to Nick. Hopefully, he’ll be willing to walk me through how it’s all set up.”
“I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to help. It seems like that’s his default setting.”
I chuckle. But even as I get up to see Noelle, I can’t help but wonder if that’s really true. Is Nick as good as he seems? Or is he just putting on a show? I tickle Noelle’s tummy on the way to the bathroom for her tub and can’t help but remember the way she responded to Nick. Maybe my daughter, who isn’t so jaded about men, is a better judge of character than I am.
I’ll just have to put him to the test.