Chapter 8
eight
DANIEL FROWNED as he scrolled slowly through yet another spreadsheet. This was the seventh one his aunt had sent him this week. And there were another ten or twelve to go—if she was to be trusted.
He knew her to be a capable bookkeeper, except for her penchant for marking items sold at zero dollars. If no money exchanged hands, it wasn’t a sale. But he couldn’t be sure how many of the null figures were broken items. Or maybe they were gifts.
That was how Aretha had always worked. If someone saw something they liked and couldn’t afford, she’d give it to them. If a child wanted a unique gift for Mother’s Day, Aretha made sure they had it.
She’d been like that as long as he’d known her.
But he couldn’t pass off an incomplete log with a flimsy excuse that that was just the way Aretha did things. So he tapped a few quick notes into the spreadsheet—reminders to follow up with her.
Then, with brisk keystrokes, he produced a graph of monthly earnings. They were on a steady incline. Nothing that would make headlines, but the trajectory was definitely positive.
And her outgoing expenses hadn’t increased much over the years. Rent on the property hadn’t gone up in about a dozen years, and sales had more than outpaced the slow rise in heating and cooling costs.
The store was a solid investment. It wasn’t going to make anyone rich, but it was a community staple. It would remain that way, so long as Ruby convinced her bosses to back down. She had to.
Before he could begin imagining what that conversation would be like, light footfalls skipped down the hallway outside the parlor. Craning his neck, he tried to find the source of them, but he was still alone in the cozy room. Just him, the oversized Christmas tree, and that ridiculous ball of mistletoe.
He scowled at its bright red and gold bows for no reason other than that it had the gall to be so merry. The tree was pretty joyful too, all glittery and glowing in the afternoon sun. Sure, the kids probably loved it, but he hadn’t been a kid in a long time. And the last time he’d had a merry Christmas...
Those Christmas memories were all stained now.
His eyebrows pinched together, and he punched the keys on his laptop harder than necessary.
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw some movement in the doorway, but then it was gone. A few seconds later, the same thing.
Maybe he’d been staring at the screen too long. There was no use in pushing through to finish this project. Aretha had made him promise he’d stay for Christmas. At least. And Ruby had said she would talk with her boss early the next week.
Might as well have something to do to fill the time. The Lord knew he wasn’t going to spend it on the trappings of the season.
Lifting his glasses and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he leaned his head on the back of the sofa. The ceiling was covered in an intricate pattern—something that was probably popular on those DIY design shows—so he let his gaze wander through its curves and hollows as he closed his laptop.
Immediately the sprite appeared around the far arm of the cozy blue sofa, her blue eyes enormous and her dark curls bouncing with each skipped step. “Miss Whitney says I can’t bother you while you’re working. You’re done now.”
Her pronouncement held so much conviction that he almost believed it.
Little Julia Mae held out a book that was half as big as she was, and when he didn’t immediately take it, she shoved it into his hands. “You can read to me now.”
Daniel couldn’t keep in the snort that her statement elicited. “Oh, really?” He flipped the hardcover book right side up. The collected stories of Winnie-the-Pooh. Classic.
She nodded firmly before putting her hand on his knee and crawling up beside him. She wedged herself into the space by his hip and leaned over to look at the book.
It was strange, that feeling of her tiny hand on his arm, so trusting, her little fingers squeezing the stiff sleeve of his button-up.
Most people took one look at him and kept their distance. It wasn’t like he didn’t have any friends. But they were from before. They knew. They understood. And they expected nothing but what they got.
Julia Mae was something completely different. She didn’t know about his past. And she didn’t seem to care.
Oh, to be a child again.
“You can start with the second story. I don’t like the first one.” Her little nose wrinkled up at the mere mention of the disliked tale, making a few of her freckles disappear.
“Why not?” The question surprised even him.
“Pooh gets stuck, and I got stuck one time. In the cupboard in the kitchen.” Long black lashes lowered over her eyes, and her lips pursed to the side as though she was trying not to remember the memory. “I was scared. Papa Jack saved me, though.”
“I’m glad to hear he saved you.” Taking another look at the book in his hands, he shook his head. “Maybe you should ask him to read to you.”
She tilted her head, peering intently at him. “But I asked you.”
“I should get back to work.”
“But you’re taking a break. You closed your screen. I waited until you were done.” Her lower lip trembled in the middle, her eyes turning glassy.
His gut twisted sharply. Flipping open the book, he sighed. “The second story?”
Julia Mae’s bow-shaped lips immediately formed a bright smile that displayed her baby teeth, any hint of tears vanishing.
Little faker.
Daniel began reading the story as Julia Mae leaned over his arm. He traced his finger beneath each line as he spoke, a habit he’d picked up in grad school to help him memorize information. This wasn’t so academic, but before he could pull his finger back, she put her little hand on top of his. He glanced over to see her mouthing each of the words as they pointed to it.
The story of Pooh bear and his friends quickly came to an end, punctuated by Julia Mae’s contented sigh. She leaned back into the sofa, folding her interlaced fingers against her belly like a man who’d eaten too much and was in search of a good nap.
“You’re kind of like Eeyore, aren’t you? Sad sometimes.”
She said it with no guile, no agenda. Only the truth. Kids had a way of doing that, cutting to the quick.
But he didn’t like thinking of himself like that. He wasn’t sad. Exactly.
He couldn’t bite back his scowl fast enough, and her eyebrows rose, her pert little nose wrinkling. “You shouldn’t be sad, you know. It’s almost Christmas. And no one’s sad at Christmas.” Julia Mae hopped to her knees and bounced on the cushion. “There’s presents and pie—Miss Whitney makes the best pie. And Mama is always singing Christmas songs. And on Christmas Eve”—her voice dropped in hushed wonder—“we get to light candles.”
“Candles, eh?” He matched the pitch of his voice to hers.
She nodded vigorously. “And Jack is going to be in the pageant this year. He’s the star.”
Daniel wasn’t sure if that meant Jack was the star of the show or the literal star of Bethlehem. But there was no time to ask for clarification as Julia Mae chattered on, stopping only when her name rang through the inn.
“Julia Mae!” Pounding footsteps in the hallway behind him stopped as Whitney flung herself into the room. Honey-colored curls had escaped her ponytail, framing her face and the trail of flour down her cheek. “There you are.” She sighed. Only then did she seem to notice him, a guilty grin breaking out as she wiped her hands on the flowers of her apron. “I’m sorry,” she said. Then to Julia Mae, “I told you I’d read to you after I put the pies in the oven.”
“But Mr. Daniel wanted to read to me.”
He nearly choked, holding back a snort at her brazen lie.
Whitney wasn’t buying it. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared down her nose at her young charge. “Would you like to take a nap like Jessie?”
Julia Mae scrambled from the couch and yanked the book from his grip. “Thanks,” she whispered before darting toward her nanny. With one apologetic look at Whitney, she disappeared into the hallway.
“I’m sorry about that.” Whitney’s smile returned, gentle and soothing—all hint of the reprimand she’d had for Julia Mae gone. “We’ll try not to interrupt you again.”
“It...” His voice trailed off as he tried to find the words. He ended up with a muttered “No problem.”
The truth rang somewhere deep inside him. It had been fun.
Her gaze darted around the otherwise empty room. “No Ruby today?”
He shrugged. “We finished the inventory, and she had some video calls with the home office. I was just going over some more of the financials.”
Whitney glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen. “If you’re not busy, we’re going to walk over to the church in a bit and pick up Little Jack from pageant rehearsal and then go look at Christmas lights.”
His gaze darted toward the window. It couldn’t possibly be late enough, but the afternoon sun had already dipped low in the sky. It wouldn’t be long before the twinkling lights shone at their brightest.
“Would you like to come with us?”
Daniel bit back his immediate response, forcing his face to remain impassive.
Whitney swallowed quickly. “And you should invite Ruby to come too.”
“Invite me where?” Ruby swished into the parlor, her hair, makeup, and crisp red shirt all pristine. Not a wrinkle in sight.
Daniel almost rolled his eyes as he noted that she was wearing creased black dress pants—and a belt too. Nearly everyone he knew dressed for video calls from the waist up. Business on top, party on the bottom. Or at least relaxed on the bottom.
He glanced at his own khaki pants and tugged at the cuffs of his button-up. He hadn’t even had a meeting today, unless you considered Julia Mae. And she couldn’t have cared less what he was wearing, so long as he kept reading.
“The kids and I are going to look at the Christmas lights when Seth gets home. Mr. Huntington does a huge display every year.” Whitney’s eyes lit up. “Would you like to go with us?”
Ruby ran a hand over her ponytail, her features turning a bit grim. “Are you going to drive?”
Whitney looked confused. “We’ll walk. It’s just a few blocks.”
“But...” Ruby looked at him as if asking for help. But Daniel didn’t have any to offer.
“I’ll go,” he said.
“You will?” Both Whitney and Ruby sounded as surprised as he felt.
He hadn’t meant to agree to go. But the look on Ruby’s face, her disdain at the idea of a chilly winter stroll...
He refused to be that person.
He didn’t care about the Christmas lights or decorations. He wasn’t going to ooh and aah over the display. He was going because even Eeyore spent time with his friends.
Daniel shrugged. “Sure. I could use the exercise.”