Chapter Seven
Juniper
Troy's hand encircled my wrist, a firm but gentle pull that drew me away from the festive chaos of the party. The twinkling lights and holiday laughter faded as he guided me into the quiet hallway lined with vibrant paintings.
"Juniper," he started, his voice echoing slightly in the narrow space, "I've been thinking—"
“About?" I cut him off, tucking a rebellious curl behind my ear, a nervous habit that I couldn't shake in his presence.
"Us." His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I was transported back to a time when those eyes didn't feel like shards of ice. "I made a mistake letting you go."
The confession hung between us, his words wrapping around me like the winter wind outside. I could see the Troy I once knew peeking through—the one who whispered sweet nothings and promised forever under starlit skies. But memories were tricky; they omitted the sharp edges of reality.
"Letting me go?" I scoffed lightly, trying to keep my voice steady. "You mean dumping me over voicemail because you’d been hooking up with Paris?"
"Juniper, I was wrong. She’s all wrong for me. I just didn’t realize it until I saw you again." His tailored suit did nothing to hide the tension in his shoulders. "I was an idiot to let you go. Let's give this another chance."
A laugh, bitter and hollow, escaped me before I could stop it. "Another chance? Troy, you walked away without looking back. You chose your image of perfection over us."
"Please," he urged, stepping closer, his cologne mingling with the scent of pine from the nearby Christmas tree. "I can't stop thinking about you. I know now that you're what I need."
"Need or want, Troy?" My heart thundered against my ribs, fighting the old pull of attraction. "Because there's a difference, and I'm not interested in being the old toy you pick up again because you've gotten tired of your current plaything."
"Juniper, I…" He faltered, the fa?ade cracking.
"Save it, Troy." I withdrew my hand from his grasp and took a step backward. "You can't just waltz back into my life and expect everything to be the same. I’m sorry, but I have no interest in getting back together with you. I hope you have a merry Christmas, with or without Paris."
I left him standing there, the furrow between his brows deepening, as I returned to the party feeling as though a weight had been lifted off my chest. Troy Stone may have once held my heart, but he would no longer dictate its rhythm.
The festive lights blurred into a sea of twinkling stars as I tried to steady my breath after the charged conversation, scanning the room for Mason. Suddenly, I wanted to see him now more than ever.
"Junie, darling, there you are!" My mother's voice cut through the din of the surrounding chatter, dragging me back to the present. "Now before you drift away again, could you be a dear and refill the cookie platter? My ginger snaps are all the rage tonight." She flashed me her trademark hostess smile, one that could convince anyone to do anything.
"Of course, Mom." I offered her a half-hearted grin and made my way to the kitchen, located down a hallway off the storeroom in the rear section of the building that contained the boutique. Mason was nowhere in sight. Maybe he was just in the restroom, but my stomach tightened with nerves anyway.
The kitchen was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where the noise softened, and the smell of baked goods filled the air like a warm embrace. I found another tin of ginger snaps and began arranging the remaining cookies on a fresh platter. As I worked, my mind wandered back to Mason. Where could he have gone?
"Junie, honey, you're a lifesaver. That could have been a real disaster!" my mother said, breaking through my reverie as she breezed into the room. “It was becoming a disaster.”
"Disaster is a strong word, Mom," I replied with a chuckle, handing her the replenished tray. "It's just cookies."
"Sweetheart, never underestimate the power of a good cookie," she winked, carrying the treats back to the eagerly waiting guests.
Left alone with my swirling thoughts, I leaned against the cool countertop, pondering Mason's sudden disappearance. Could he have overheard the conversation with Troy? Did he think I was going back to my ex? The very idea sent a pang of distress through me.
A sliver of light caught my eye from the adjacent storage room, its door slightly ajar. Curiosity urged me closer, and I couldn't resist the pull.
"Brian, I can't do this anymore," Ginger's voice, usually so composed, quivered with restrained emotion. "We're pretending for the kids, for the family, but I feel like I'm suffocating."
My sister’s words stopped me in my tracks. Was her marriage in trouble?
"Maybe it'd be better if you just moved out after the holidays," She continued, her words striking a discordant chord in my heart. "You'll be busy at the hospital anyway, and I'll have the new baby to look after. We...we can figure out the rest later."
I pressed myself against the wall, my breath catching. The perfect Ginger McCall North, whose life seemed as flawlessly arranged as the boutique window displays, was crumbling before my very ears.
Ginger emerged, her red-rimmed eyes immediately finding mine. They were wells of anguish, spilling over as she stumbled into the hallway.
"You heard, didn’t you?” Her voice broke, and she collapsed against me, sobs racking her body.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," I murmured, my own shock giving way to fierce protectiveness. “I’m your sister, remember? Talk to me.”
"Brian and I...we've been struggling all year,” she said through tears and ragged breaths. “His promotion to department head at the hospital...it's like he disappeared, became someone else. The kids and I barely see him anymore. They ask for him, and I don't know what to say."
My heart ached for her; the sister I thought had it all was fighting her own silent battles. I held her close, a silent vow forming within me to be there for her, no matter what.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," I whispered, guiding her toward the sanctuary of the bathroom. The bathroom door clicked shut behind us, the chatter and laughter of the party muffled as if we were suddenly miles away from Candi Couture's Christmas Eve extravaganza. Ginger leaned against the vanity, her reflection a ghost of its usual immaculate self.
"Look at me," she choked out, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as she wiped smeared mascara from beneath her hazel eyes. "So much for Mrs. Perfect, huh?"
"Stop it," I said firmly, dampening a towel with warm water. "You don't have to be perfect, Ginger. Not for Brian, not for Mom, not for anyone."
I dabbed gently at her cheeks, my movements tender but resolute. "You're my sister, the girl who used to steal cookies from the jar and blame it on me. Perfection is overrated."
A half-smile flickered across her face before dissolving into fresh tears. "I just wanted to make everyone proud... especially Mom. She's worked so hard to keep our family's name respected in Springfield since Dad walked out."
"Mom loves you, no matter what," I assured her, though a knot of doubt tightened in my stomach. Our mother's expectations often felt like a straitjacket, one that had chafed at me until I'd finally broken free and moved away.
All of a sudden, the bathroom door swung open, and there stood Candi as if silently summoned by our conversation.
"Girls? What’s wrong?” Worry lines immediately appeared on her forehead as she took in the scene.
"Mom, I'm sorry," Ginger sobbed, rushing into her arms. "I've been pretending, trying so hard to be the daughter you wanted. But my marriage is falling apart, and I've let you down."
Candi enveloped her in an embrace, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Oh, sweetheart, you haven't let me down. You could never. Or you, Juniper," she said, turning to me with a warmth I hadn't seen in years, "you're both stronger and more wonderful than you realize."
"Mom, all this time, I thought..." My voice faltered, my confession barely above a whisper. "I thought Ginger was your favorite. She had it all together, the perfect life, perfect family..."
Ginger's laugh, soft and tinged with bitterness, stopped me cold. "Junie, are you kidding? You're the one who's always been strong, independent. You have talents, you're smart." She wiped away a stray tear, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that shook me.
"Me?" I scoffed, unable to mask the incredulity in my voice. "But I'm just...I left."
"Exactly!" There was a spark in Ginger's tone now, a fervor I rarely heard from her. "You moved away, built a career. You've seen more of the world than the inside of this town. And me?" She let out a humorless chuckle, shaking her head. "I've never even considered moving out of Springfield. I went straight from living in a sorority house to being in Brian's arms. We got married, I got pregnant, and before I knew it, my identity was wrapped up in being a mother and wife."
My heart ached for her, the realization hitting me like the frosty December wind. "But you help Mom out at the boutique, you're amazing with the kids..."
“That’s true honey,” said Candi, nodding. “And there’s nothing wrong with being ‘just’ a wife and mother. Having you girls is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
"I try." Ginger's gaze drifted to the floor, her voice a mere whisper. "But you,” she said, looking up at me again, “actually made something of yourself. Me? I'm just... lost."
"Lost," I repeated softly, the word echoing in the hollow space between us. I couldn't believe it. All these years, I had envied her, thinking she had everything I didn't: stability, love, acceptance. And yet here she was, envying me for the freedom and independence I had fought so hard to build for myself.
"Juniper McCall, landscape designer extraordinaire," Ginger said, a smile finally touching her lips. "You decorate the world, while I've been too scared to redecorate my own life."
It was true—I loved my work, shaping beauty from the earth, creating spaces where people could find peace and joy. And maybe, just maybe, I'd underestimated not only the value of what I'd accomplished, but the women standing in front of me.
"Hey," I said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "We're both just trying to find our way, right? In gardens or in life."
“We all are.” Candi reached around us for the tissue box, plucking one from the top before passing it to Ginger and dabbing at the tears now running down her cheeks. “One thing I know for sure, is that I love both of you girls more than words can say.”
"Mom," I blurted out, my own feelings a jumbled mess at the sight of her vulnerability.
Without another word, she wrapped us both in her arms, enveloping us in the scent of her floral perfume.
"Mom?" Ginger's voice was muffled against Candi's silk blouse.
"Shh, my darlings," Candi whispered, her embrace tightening. "I've never had a favorite. How could I? You're like the two most precious sides of the same coin." She pulled back just enough to look at us, her gaze fierce and tender all at once. "Juniper, you’re this incredible force, capable and determined. And Ginger, my sweet girl, you bring people together like no one else can. The world needs both of your gifts."
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I felt years of misconstrued competition melt away under her words. We were different, yes, but equally loved.
“Let me say this,” she continued. “I know it's been hard since...since your father left. There are so many things I wish I could redo, make easier for you both." Her voice cracked, and she took a deep breath, steadying herself. "But I can't change the past. All I can do is love you, here, now."
"Mom," I started, my heart aching with a mixture of regret and newfound understanding. "We don't need apologies. We just need this—the truth, and each other."
"Forgiveness," Ginger added, her eyes shining.
"Yes." Candi pulled us in again, and this time the hug was a promise, a balm healing old wounds. "Forgiveness and new beginnings. That’s what Christmas is all about, isn’t it?"
“And love,” I added, smiling through my tears.
There, in the storeroom of Candi Couture, amidst the chaos of Christmas Eve, we’d found something more profound than any perfectly curated holiday display: a family stitched back together again with the threads of honesty and unconditional love.
The warmth of the moment lingered as we stepped back from our embrace, wiping away tears and smoothing down our festive attire.
“Ready to face our guests, again, girls?” Candi asked, reaching for the knob of the bathroom door. Ginger and I nodded, and we stepped out of the bathroom, making our way back to the party.
A portly male figure holding two glasses filled with sparkling champagne spotted my mother immediately as we entered the room, and a broad smile broke over his round face. His white hair and long beard looked as soft as snow under the warm glow of the lights. He handed my mother one of the crystal flutes with a flourish.
"There’s my Candi-Apple! I have your bubbly, darling."
I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Ginger, my lips curving into a wry smile. "Darling?" I whispered. The word hung in the air, ripe with implications and uncharted territory.
Ginger looked equally amused and surprised, her previous distress momentarily forgotten. Her eyes twinkled with curiosity and mischief—a side of her I saw all too rarely.
"I think Mom's got a secret admirer," I said, leaning closer to my sister, welcoming the moment of levity after the heavy tide of confessions.
"Seems like more than just an admirer," she whispered back, her gaze flitting between Candi, who was now blushing a shade of pink that matched the poinsettias lining the walls. "Candi-Apple? That's... adorable?"
"Adorable or cringe-worthy?" I teased, unable to resist. It felt good to banter with my sister like this—light, easy, free from the shadows of doubt and competition that had clouded our relationship for so long.
"Maybe a bit of both?" Ginger conceded, a genuine laugh escaping her.
"Definitely both," I agreed, sharing a conspiratorial grin.
Our mother cleared her throat, regaining her composure as she stepped forward to accept the glass of champagne. "Albert Gold, these are my daughters, Juniper and Ginger."
"Ah, the famous McCall sisters," Albert said, extending his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet the women who've helped shape the legend of Candi Couture."
"Legend? Well, I suppose we do have our reputations," I laughed, shaking his hand, my mind still reeling from the unexpected turn of events.
“Albert’s our new dentist in town,” my mother explained. “And my new…friend.”
"Indeed,” Albert said, stroking his beard and gazing at her with a look of pure adoration.
As they sauntered off amidst the partygoers together, Ginger and I exchanged glances once more.
"Guess Candi’s been keeping some secrets of her own," Ginger giggled, her earlier vulnerability replaced with a newfound camaraderie.
"It certainly is a season of surprises," I said, my thoughts drifting to Mason, wondering again where he could be.
"Speaking of surprises," Ginger began, her tone shifting, "have you—"
"Later," I cut her off with a smile, my heart suddenly too full, my mind too worried about Mason and where he might have gone. "Right now, let's just enjoy the night."
"Agreed," Ginger nodded, linking her arm with mine as we stepped back into the flow of the party. Our progress was interrupted by the arrival of one of Ginger’s friends, Marla, breathless from weaving through the crowd.
"Sorry to break this up, but I need to steal you for a sec, Ginger," Marla said, a touch of urgency in her voice. "It's about the secret Santa mix-up."
"Of course," Ginger replied, giving me an apologetic glance. "Duty calls." She disappeared into the throng, leaving me with a sudden hollow feeling. Not because of Ginger's departure, but because a more pressing matter clawed at my insides.
I needed to find Mason.
My curls bounced untidily as I navigated through clusters of chatting guests, my gaze darting from face to face. Where could he be? My pulse hammered louder with each step, a mix of frustration and concern knotting my stomach.
"Looking for someone?" Lexi's voice cut through the din, and I was grateful to see my old friend’s familiar cherub-like face.
"Have you seen Mason?" I asked, barely able to conceal the desperation edging my words.
"Actually, yeah," Lexi said, her expression unreadable. "But not for a while. He took off maybe twenty minutes ago?"
"He left?" My heart sank. "Did he say anything?"
"No, he just walked out." Lexi's brow furrowed slightly, as if she sensed there was more to his departure. "Why? Is everything okay?"
"I'm not sure," I admitted, chewing on my bottom lip. "We... he might have overheard something he shouldn't have."
"Hey," Lexi reached out, her hand briefly touching my arm. "You'll sort it out. You always do."
"Thanks, Lexi. I hope you're right." But as I watched her melt back into the crowd, I wasn't convinced. Somehow, I had to set things right with Mason. The party swirled around me, a blur of reds and greens, the scent of pine mingling with laughter and music. But the festive atmosphere did nothing to ease the tightness in my chest. With each passing second, Mason's absence grew more palpable, an ache that wouldn't subside. As I threaded through the crowd, their merry chatter grated against my frayed nerves. Had Mason left because he’d overheard Troy asking me for another chance? The thought tormented me, twisting like a knife. He wasn't one to jump to conclusions, but what if that moment had been enough? What if he believed I still harbored feelings for Troy?
I straightened my spine, determined that somehow, someway, I'd find my chance to make things right. What lay in my heart was now clear as day, and I owed it to Mason – as well as myself – to tell him. What he would do with it, I didn’t know. But tomorrow was Christmas. And after what had happened tonight with my mother and sister, I still believed in miracles.