Chapter 4
four
WHITNEY DROPPED her wooden spoon, and it clattered into the silver mixing bowl, catapulting a few apple pieces in an arch across the kitchen. They landed on the floor with a plop, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from Aretha’s face.
She must have misheard. There was no way Aretha wanted her to help Daniel and Ruby fall in love.
“I’m sorry, get them to what?” she croaked.
Aretha smiled gently. “I want my nephew to have someone to lean on—someone who will take care of him when life doesn’t go as planned.” She shrugged and nodded toward her right foot. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been alone when I broke this. Jack was ... well, I hadn’t known I could love him more than I already did. But I do. That man literally carried me all summer.”
“You want Ruby to—to—to carry Daniel?”
With a laugh and a quick pat of her arm, Aretha shook her head. “Not literally. It’s just that the Good Book says it’s not good to be alone. I want him to have someone to help him when life is tough.”
“What if he wants to be single?” Whitney was reasonably impressed with her own quick response, but Aretha responded even faster.
“He doesn’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
A sadness veiled Aretha’s face. “He was almost married. Three years ago. He was excited about their life together. Not exactly demonstrably. But I could tell. He wanted to build a life with her.” Aretha shook off the gloom that cloaked her and replaced it with a smile. “So we’re going to help him build a life with Ruby.”
Whitney pressed a hand to her stomach as it bounced clean to the floor and then all the way up to her throat, where it promptly cut off her air. “A whole life together?” That seemed like more than falling in love.
“They are perfect for one another. Didn’t we already decide? We just have to help them along a little bit.”
“I can’t—that is, I’ve never—I don’t think I could be much help.”
“Sure you can. We’ll work together.”
How could Whitney help when she’d never even been in love? Unless she counted from a distance. She’d been thoroughly smitten with her neighbors Roger Billings and Jeremy O’Connell in elementary school. And in high school there had been Josh Frank and Roger’s older brother Randy. She’d even liked Jonah, the boy who’d sat behind her in church and pulled on each of her curls individually.
But not a single one of them had been interested in her. If she couldn’t get a man to fall in love with her, how on earth could she make a man fall in love with Ruby?
Then again, Ruby wouldn’t need much help. She was stylish. Educated. Decisive. She was everything Whitney was not.
A shot of envy burned through her chest at the memory of Ruby’s perfect ponytail. Not a single hair even pretending to misbehave.
Whitney huffed at the frizzy curl that chose that moment to fall into her face.
Aretha stood up, pushing the stool away and favoring her injured foot. She leaned in close until her floral perfume nearly overtook the scent of the sweet cinnamon pie filling.
Whitney began shaking her head to answer her own question before she even asked it. “Do they even need help? Like you said, they’re both good-looking and smart. Won’t they figure it out on their own if it’s meant to be?”
With a laugh of disbelief, Aretha somehow leaned closer. “Of course they need help. I love Daniel, but he won’t make a move on his own. He’s been too hurt.”
“Maybe Ruby will.”
Pursing her pale pink lips to the side, Aretha hummed. “Perhaps. But if she doesn’t, we’ve missed our opportunity.”
There flew that we again.
Aretha sighed and fell back onto the stool, making it scrape across the tiled floor. “Oh, I know it’s probably none of my business, but you have to understand. He doesn’t want to be alone. I know he doesn’t. But if he waits too long ... well, he’s nearly thirty.”
“Oh no, not thirty,” Whitney singsonged, only a few years away from that dreaded birthday herself.
Aretha tsked but then laughed. “Very well, he’s still young. But in this case he needs to listen to his elder.” With a pointed look, she clearly implied Whitney needed to as well.
Whitney moved on to her pie crusts, wishing she could change this topic of conversation as easily. But it was clear Aretha wasn’t going to let go of the idea. “Why don’t you ask Marie?”
“Ask me what?”
Whitney didn’t even bother to turn around, her hands frozen in the flour jar, chin low, shoulders stooped. Marie didn’t have time for Aretha’s matchmaking shenanigans. She didn’t even have time for her regular life right now.
And now she was going to assume that Whitney was volunteering her services to help set up a couple who probably didn’t need it anyway. They wouldn’t need four weeks to realize their connection—if there was one. She was betting on two. Maybe three, tops.
“We’re going to set up Daniel and Ruby,” Aretha whispered.
“Oh, really?” Marie said.
Without looking at her, Whitney couldn’t tell if the other woman thought it was a great idea, so she risked a quick peek over her shoulder.
Marie was holding Jessie on one hip, her parka slung over the opposite arm.
“Are you going somewhere?” Whitney rushed around the kitchen island, reaching for the baby. Jessie immediately leaned over, snuggling against her shoulder.
“I’ve got to get Jack to the church for pageant practice. Can you watch Jessie for a couple hours? She’ll go down for a nap in a little while.”
“Sure.” Whitney smoothed a hand over the little girl’s dark curls, leaving a streak of white. An attempt to dust that off proved to only exacerbate the situation. Marie chuckled, kissed her youngest on the head, and called for her other two to meet her out back.
Which pretty much reiterated what Whitney had already known. Marie didn’t have space in her schedule to play matchmaker.
After the kids clomped down the back stairs and flew through the kitchen, stopping to give both Aretha and Whitney hugs, silence between the women hung heavy in the room.
Whitney knew what Aretha wanted. She also knew that her excuses weren’t deterring the older woman.
When Aretha opened her mouth again, Whitney steeled herself against another onslaught.
“Your mother told me you’re planning to attend culinary school in Charlottetown in the spring.”
Whitney let out a soft sigh as she set Jessie on the floor with a pair of lids that she clanged together. “Yes. I’m hoping to. If I can earn enough at the Christmas markets to pay for tuition.”
Aretha hummed an appreciative tune. “And if you don’t earn enough?”
The question wasn’t meant to be cruel. But it stabbed her just the same.
“I suppose...” She hadn’t really let herself think about it. If she didn’t make enough this year, she’d ... well ... she’d find a job. Maybe Caden’s dad would hire her at the bakery. And she’d have to start the application process at the school all over again. She doubted they’d hold her spot. Not when there were so many other candidates ready, willing, and able to pay their tuition.
Whitney said none of that out loud, but Aretha seemed to know it anyway. “Perhaps I could make a donation to your tuition fund.”
Her head spun for a moment, and she grasped the edge of the counter, sending a trickle of flour onto the babbling baby below.
“If you’ll help me, I could see to it that whatever gap you have left at the end of the year is fully covered.”
Whitney wheezed out a cough and stared unblinking at Aretha. It was too much. And it was everything she needed. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am. Extremely.”
“But how could I be worth that much money? I don’t know how to make people fall in love.”
Aretha’s coy smile slid into place. “There’s no make about it. We just have to orchestrate the opportunity. They’ll figure out the rest.”
“But I don’t have any ideas. I mean, what am I going to do? Hang up mistletoe and try to get them to kiss under it?”
With a cackle of delight, Aretha drew her into a warm hug. “See, you’re already coming up with good ideas.”
Daniel adjusted his glasses but still couldn’t make sense of the numbers swimming before him on the computer screen.
Numbers never failed to add up, so it had to be his eyes. Or maybe Aretha’s unique accounting system. He didn’t remember it being quite so convoluted when she’d shown it to him all those summers ago. Or when he’d set her up with new software a few years before.
She clearly had a system. She just didn’t always follow it. And there were far too many entries counted as sales for zero dollars. He rubbed his temples with his thumb and middle finger. Setting his laptop to the side, he stood and stretched his sore neck. Then his shoulders and arms. The stiff fabric of his button-up crackled as he moved, and he frowned at the cuffs tugging at his wrists.
He didn’t need to wear his normal uniform. Not at the inn. And not for his aunt. But he hadn’t brought anything else with him. Honestly, he didn’t own much else, unless he counted the sweatshirt from uni that he wore to sleep. It had been washed so many times that it was softer than goose down. It also had a hole the size of Newfoundland under the arm.
Shrugging against the restrictive fabric, he strolled across the parlor, then pulled his knee up to his waist and held it for three seconds before taking another step and repeating the process.
“Will you grab that box, Jack?” Whitney’s voice was almost as sweet as the scent of her pies, which insisted on floating up the stairs past the guest rooms and tempting him at all hours of the day and night.
The chatter of small children grew closer, and he scooped up his computer just before the littlest one arrived on all fours. She squealed, and it sounded happy, though he was not an expert on interpreting such things. Her siblings quickly followed, each carrying a cardboard box commensurate with their sizes.
“Mr. Danny!” The older girl’s eyes lit up, and he tried not to cringe at the use of his nickname. “Are you going to dec-rate with us?”
“Daniel?”
He whipped his head up to see that Whitney had arrived, rolling a clear plastic bin in her wake.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were going to be in here. I assumed you’d...” She waved in the general direction of the bay across the street and the antiques store on the far side.
Maybe he should have gone with Aretha when she’d begged him to join her and Ruby in evaluating inventory, but he’d thought he would have a few quiet moments to review last year’s books. That was looking like a pipe dream at the moment.
“Come on, kids. Let’s let Mr. Daniel have some—”
“But you said we were going to dec-rate some more,” Julia Mae said.
Whitney released her bin and squatted in front of her little charge. “We’ll put up the decorations another time. Mr. Daniel has work to do.”
Julia Mae stared up at him, her lower lip quivering dangerously and her huge blue eyes blinking against tears. Did someone teach girls how to do that, or did they come out of the womb knowing that move?
Whitney tugged on the little girl’s hand and steered her toward the exit, but Little Jack hadn’t moved, save for the frown that stretched across his face. The littlest one wasn’t deterred, though. Daniel looked down as she crawled up to his foot and tugged on his slacks with chubby fists.
“She wants to be picked up,” Jack mumbled.
“Oh, Jessie.” Whitney raced to him and scooped up the little elf decked out in a red and white striped one-piece. Basically, a crawling candy cane.
At her fullest height, Whitney barely reached his shoulder. And at least some of that height had to be her hair. She’d attempted to restrain her curls with some kind of claw, but it was a losing battle, more than a few wisps falling into her face.
“I’m really sorry we interrupted you,” she whispered, tiptoeing her way toward the door. “We’ll come back later.”
“You want to hang up more decorations?” He swung an arm wide to indicate the trimmed tree in front of the window.
Whitney’s cheeks turned a sweet shade of pink as she glanced toward the ground. “There’s still stockings to be hung, and the kids found another box of ornaments, so—”
“You can stay,” he mumbled, not sure where the words had come from. He scowled at himself for inviting the extended interruption, shaking his head at his own foolishness. He’d have to make use of the desk in his room.
Whitney’s lips opened, but before she could say anything, Julia Mae giggled with glee. “We’re going to have the best time. Come on. Come on, Mr. Danny—”
“Mr. Daniel,” Whitney corrected with an apologetic smile in his direction.
He nodded his appreciation.
“Mr. Daniel. That’s what I said.” Julia Mae placed her box on the steamer trunk turned coffee table and ripped off the lid to reveal an assortment of Christmas ornaments. It took her two seconds to empty the box across the tabletop, already oohing over the colorful figures.
Hugging his computer to his chest, Daniel shuffled around her, his escape mere steps away.
“Where’re you goin’?”
Julia Mae’s question made him freeze, and he pointed toward the stairs.
“But you have to help. Miss Whitney can’t reach the top of the tree.”
“Julia.” Whitney’s single word was sharp but not stinging. “Stop being bossy. He has important things to work on.”
“Meemee Aretha said he’s our guest. And guests don’t work.”
Whitney rolled her eyes. “Just leave him be, all right? As long as he has his computer, he’s working.”
Julia Mae ran up to him, nearly bumping into his knee and staring straight up at him. “You can go put your pupe-tur down and then come right back.”
“Julia Mae.”
He didn’t know if it was the exasperation in Whitney’s voice or the innocence in Julia Mae’s, but for some reason, he nodded. “All right. For a little while.”
There was no telling who was more surprised—him or Whitney. But it was too late to back out now. Not with Julia Mae’s smug smile as she handed him a fistful of ornaments and began directing him to open spots on the tree.
Little Jack soon joined him, hanging an assortment of homemade sleds and walnut-shell mangers until every branch was full. With each shift, a few needles sprinkled to the floor, the rich scent of pine filling the room.
When he turned after several minutes, he realized that Whitney had silently transformed the rest of the room. There was a string of garland over the wooden mantel. A red and green quilt across the back of the sofa. A wooden nativity scene set up on the corner table where he’d put his cup of coffee that morning. Those and a hundred tiny details made the room come alive with the spirit of the season.
At some point Whitney had put an old vinyl Christmas album on the wooden player in the corner. He caught himself humming along to carols so familiar that he could sing them in his dreams. And those were the only times he’d enjoyed them.
Until today.
The kids’ laughter covered the music as the bigger ones threw sparkling tinsel across the branches they could reach. It didn’t seem to bother them that the bottom half of the tree looked like a disco ball, the top half a deserted forest.
Imperfect and rudimentary. But it spoke to family. More specifically, to this family. A little messy, a lot of love.
“Dad says I can’t stand up on chairs,” Jack said, interrupting his thoughts.
Daniel stared at him for a long second before realizing that he was speaking to Whitney, who was shimmying up a step stool beneath the wooden entryway. The wide opening led directly into the main hallway and the dining room beyond, its dark wooden border now sporting more greenery with red ribbon wrapped loosely around it.
Toes pressing against the second step of the stool, Whitney stretched her arms far over her head, coming up just shy of the frame. With a harrumph, she took the last step. The stool leg slipped against the floor at that moment, and she wobbled precariously. Her arms flailed, seeking purchase, but she was too far from either side of the frame to find a hold as she let out an unrefined squeak.
Jogging three quick steps to her side, Daniel held out his hand, which she completely ignored for the support of his shoulder.
Her fingers were cold near his collar—even through his shirt—her grip surprisingly strong as she dug into him. Then she immediately let go, almost losing her balance again.
He hadn’t touched a woman in years, but he grabbed her waist before he had time to think about it. Her curves were soft and smooth, warm. He’d only meant to steady her, but even when he was sure that she had regained her footing, he didn’t let go.
And he couldn’t stop staring at her. At the pink of her cheeks and the breathless laugh on her smooth lips.
“Thanks.” She sighed. “Guess I should have had something to hold on to.”
“That’d have been smart.”
A flicker of a frown pinched her eyebrows together.
“What are you trying to do?”
She held up the loop of a wide gold ribbon, a bristly green ball bouncing from the other end. “Just trying to hang this.”
Finally, he let go of her waist and took the ornament from her. “Let me.”
The corner of her lip slipped between her teeth as she considered his request. After a long beat, she scampered down the steps.
“What’s that?” Julia Mae asked.
Whitney shot him a guilty smile. “Mistletoe.”
Daniel paused, one foot on the first step. Seriously? She had him hanging mistletoe.
“It’s Marie’s.” Something about the way she said it made him think there was more to the story. He didn’t press.
He only needed one step to reach the nail and easily hooked the trimming around it.
“See? I told you we needed you,” Julia Mae chanted, dancing back to the tree, waving tinsel overhead.
“Oh, you’ve done it now,” Whitney whispered at his elbow. “She’ll be insufferable for the rest of the day.”
He snorted. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he had to bite back a smile.