Chapter 1
Bah humbug! The week after Thanksgiving and Victoria still didn't have a Christmas tree up in her shop. “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas” played on the sound system, so perky and warm. But not for her. She looked around. No pine cones or magnolias. No bright bulbs or shiny ornaments.
And no wonderful piney smell. No holiday spirit.
Her shop didn’t look like Christmas. And her heart didn’t feel like it either. She had to do something. Fast.
Victoria’s Pantry had only been open a few months.
She desperately needed a successful holiday season.
Where was her holiday merchandise? Mugs, hand towels and tea cozies?
She’d ordered late and the darn stuff still hadn’t arrived.
Her small shop needed some Fah-la-lah. Every other store bordering the square of Sweetwater Creek was aglow with lights.
Angels, elves and Santas smiled invitingly in every window.
Victoria had fallen behind and she hated it.
When she lived at home, her mother had been the queen of Christmas.
Augusta Pomeroy handled everything. Well, of course Maribelle made all the arrangements for the decorators to work their magic.
Franz came all the way from Atlanta to sprinkle pixie dust in every room.
Garland and pine cones here. Magnolias and elves there. Magic.
Why hadn’t she paid more attention? Maybe she’d been too busy moving into the apartment above her shop.
But after Emily Sommers’ wedding to Jackson Hart, Victoria couldn’t wait to move into the space where Emily had lived.
Since he owned a bunch of companies dealing with coastal construction and design, Jackson had helped with the renovation.
And now Christmas was bearing down on her. “The artificial tree looks so, well, fake.” Flicking a dry branch, she frowned at Maisy, one of her employees.
“County Ordinance. No real trees in shops. They’re a fire hazard.” When Maisy shook her head, her dark curls shivered. “Bummer.”
Like all the other stores on the square, Victoria’s Pantry was closed on Sundays. Victoria wasn’t about to tackle this herself, so she’d asked Maisy to help. But her assistant was in a bad mood.
“Look, for an artificial tree, it looks fine. Tall and skinny so it doesn't take up the whole store.” Cracking her gum, Maisy adjusted some of the lights they’d strung on the limbs.
From her gloomy expression, she wanted to be someplace else.
Victoria felt the same. She worked way too much.
Dating? Not happening. Not since she broke up with Lance months back.
Her Christmas wasn’t looking jolly. And it sure wasn’t looking romantic.
“So what have you got for ornaments?” Maisy turned toward the glass-topped tables where Victoria had stacked her loot from the Five and Dime across the square. Opening a box, Maisy peeked inside. Her face fell. “Okay, these are...very red and green.”
“This was all they had left.” Collapsing into one of the wrought iron chairs, Victoria crossed her legs and bobbed one of her red leather boots. “No candy canes or elves. No angels or nutcrackers. The shelf had been picked over big-time.”
“Hey, take a deep breath.” Maisy put a hand on Victoria's shoulder. “It’s not that bad.”
“Oh, I think it is. “ Victoria’s laugh turned into a hysterical giggle. “This place should feel festive, with that homey southern touch.”
“Why not borrow some of your mother's ornaments? She must have tons of stuff she doesn’t use.”
Victoria’s foot stop bobbing. “Of course. That huge attic with all the tubs from past Christmases.”
“She won’t mind, right?” Maisy kept working with the fake pine limbs that refused to fluff.
What had their tree looked like last year? “Mama’s always on to the next color scheme for each room. We have a three-tree minimum at the Pomeroy house.”
“Your mother’s cast-offs? I'd call that a Christmas bonanza.”
Drumming her fingers on the table where ladies sipped sweet tea and nibbled cucumber sandwiches, Victoria considered past holidays. “But I’m not sure all Mama’s glitter and glitz would be right in here.”
“Nothing wrong with gold.” Frustration vibrated in Maisy’s voice. She’d mentioned she was meeting a friend. Just like every Christmas season, the movie Scrooge was playing at the Sweetwater Theater. Scrooge played on Sundays, with Home Alone shown on week nights.
Her mind racing, Victoria jabbed a hand through her blonde hair.
Although she hated to depend on her parents––they were still miffed that she’d moved out––her desperate situation made short work of any reservations.
Victoria’s Pantry had been well-received.
Pretty freaking amazing. Now she had to live up to her reputation.
Her shop had become the hub for good food and tasty gossip.
Daddy had been so proud when she opened Victoria’s Pantry.
Of course, he’d bank-rolled the whole thing.
She’d only been out of school a little more than a year.
The whole town loved coming here, but they had expectations.
A few fake orange leaves and some pumpkins and cornucopias had covered Thanksgiving.
The smell of pumpkin pies and homemade apple sauce had filled the air.
Christmas called for more.
Coming closer to the tree, Victoria sniffed. “Maisy, there’s no smell.” Running her fingers over the stiff bristles, she groaned.
Coming closer, Maisy took a whiff. “Okay, let’s buy one of those things you plug in. One that smells like spruce or pine.”
“Wouldn’t that just be more fake stuff?”
“Welcome to the modern world.” Maisy was becoming exasperated with her.
“Maybe the gingerbread men cookies that are coming tomorrow will help.” Maisy glanced at the list next to their old-fashioned register. “Cinnamon bread too. That should perk up the place.”
Going to the window with Victoria’s Pantry scrolled in white script, Victoria glanced at the square with disgust. “Last night the crews strung white lights in the trees. When it gets dark, it’s a bloody fairyland out there.
Every decorating service is probably booked.
And my mother will never share her own.” Fighting panic, she twirled a length of hair around her fingers.
Maisy gasped. “Why not? After all, she's your mama.”
“You've met my mother, right? Franz is sorely needed. She entertains endlessly over the holiday season. Well, until we head for Palm Beach.”
“When will you be leaving?”
“Probably the week before Christmas.” Victoria could tell from Maisy’s expression that her employee wasn’t thrilled. The Palm Spring Christmas was one more thing she hadn’t thought through. Could Maisy and Darla handle the shop alone?
Granted, it wouldn't be too hard for the two to fill the cases. But Emily, who had been supplying the delicious, healthy salads was slacking off. Victoria wasn’t much of a cook herself.
Usually her friend could be counted on to help.
But since she married Jackson Hart, she was MIA.
The pantry pipeline rumored that she was pregnant.
Emily had left her recipe cards. That would have to do.
Could Maisy and Darla whip up quinoa salads with red tomatoes for color and orzo with green broccoli?
Circling back to the pathetic fake tree, Victoria whisked her fingers over the dry, artificial branch and sniffed. “Smells like polyester.”
Biting her bottom lip, Maisy turned to the clock on the wall. “Okay, I’m going to be late for the movie. Can we make some decisions?”
Grabbing the bag from the Five and Dime, Victoria rummaged around until she dug out a gold garland that dripped from her fingers in a glittery trail. “This will have to do.”
Grabbing one end, Maisy flashed a smile. “Perfect. Very Victorian.” Fifteen minutes later, gold gleamed from the tree and Maisy left.
The song “All I Want for Christmas is You” came on.
Her momentary satisfaction hit a wall. Where was her own “someone”?
She didn’t have time to date. The shop kept her busy.
Besides, the supply of men in Sweetwater Creek was limited.
Sometimes she wondered if coming back home after college had been a good move.
Going back to the window, she glanced out at the square.
Her shop was one of many that boxed in the large grassy expanse that had been there since the 1800s.
In the center stood a three-tiered fountain with a white gazebo to one side.
Beautifully landscaped, the square was a place to wander and relax.
Dusk fell so early in December. As she watched, tiny lights blazed to life, transforming the square into a winter wonderland.
Under the trees and around the bushes, the maintenance department had arranged white wire deer, outlined with lights.
The South wasn’t graced with a white Christmas, but they sure had the holiday lights, draped from tall trees to bushes.
Reinvigorated, Victoria turned back to her pathetic Christmas tree.
Maybe she should stop at one of the lots on the edge of town.
Buy a real tree and chop it up somehow. But the idea of jamming a tree into her tango red Audi convertible turned her stomach.
What if she scratched the paint job? The car had been a graduation present from her parents. Daddy would go ballistic.
Then an idea struck her. Was she brilliant or what? Dashing around the shop, she turned out all the lights except the ones in the window. Back in her office, she grabbed her tote, locked up and zipped upstairs to her apartment.
At first she’d considered her new home as sheer good luck.
But the place sure needed a lot of work.
The four-room apartment was 1980s vintage, when harvest gold appliances had reigned.
Her mother had almost fainted when she came for an initial walk-through.
But Daddy assured her that Coastal Homes, one of Jackson’s companies, would make it all right.