Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tuesday morning, instead of heading to the Christmas tree farm, Mabel and George were on their way to get some fudge.
George was finally feeling better, and Mabel had known that for sure when that morning, after he’d polished off the oatmeal and blueberry maple sausages that she’d made him for breakfast, he’d given her the look that she had come to know meant he was craving something in particular.
“You know what sounds absolutely perfect right about now?” he’d said, setting down his fork.
Mabel hadn’t been able to keep the smile off of her face, because she could see that George really had gotten over his flu.
His color was better, his fever had broken two days ago, and he had energy for the first time in two weeks.
“What’s that?” Mabel had asked, collecting the dishes to take them to the sink.
“Some of Imogen’s eggnog fudge. She always makes it with real nutmeg, and you can taste the rum flavoring. I’ve missed enough of the holiday treats, I think. We should go and get some. Get some fresh air too.”
The fact that he was craving something other than soup and crackers had thrilled Mabel, but she’d also been over the moon at the thought of heading to the chocolate shop and finding out how Imogen and Lincoln’s sleigh ride had gone—besides the fact that they’d gotten lost on the way.
She couldn’t think of a better way to start off the day.
“Well then,” she’d said, reaching for her coat with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm, “I suppose we’d better remedy that situation immediately.”
Now, as they walked hand in hand down Main Street toward Artisan Chocolates, Mabel could barely contain her excitement. She’d been practically vibrating with curiosity ever since Henry had called to let her know he’d successfully rescued the lost couple from the back roads north of town.
And now she had the perfect excuse to visit the chocolate shop. After all, George genuinely did want that eggnog fudge, and it wasn’t her fault if she happened to be curious about how the evening had progressed.
Imogen was at the counter when they walked in, the store mostly empty of customers. She looked up as the bell above the door chimed, and Mabel breathed in the comforting scent of chocolate and peppermint and holiday spices.
“George! Mabel!” Imogen called out from behind the counter, her face lighting up. “It’s so good to see you, George, you look so much better! I’m so glad you’re feeling well again.”
“Thanks,” George said with his usual gruff smile. “I am feeling much better. And I’m in the mood for some eggnog fudge, if you have any left.”
“I do,” Imogen said. “I’ll wrap up a block for you right now. Mabel, do you want anything?”
“I wouldn’t say no to a box of peppermint bark,” Mabel admitted, and Imogen smiled.
“A block of eggnog fudge and a box of peppermint bark, coming right up.”
“So,” Mabel said, trying to sound casual as she leaned against the counter while Imogen began packaging the chocolate, “You had quite an adventure last night.”
Imogen paused, looking up at her. “It did get a little overly adventurous, there at the end. With the getting lost in the snow part. But you know about that—Lincoln called you.”
“I imagine it was,” Mabel said, trying to keep her tone casual. “But aside from the getting lost part, did you enjoy yourself? You weren’t lost the whole time, after all.”
Imogen pressed her lips together, setting the fudge into a sparkly red box.
There was a tiny smile at the corners of her mouth.
“It was… nice,” she admitted. “I forget sometimes how easy it is to just spend time with Lincoln. We haven’t had a chance to really talk like that in years, just little snippets here and there.
It was fun to reminisce over the old times—we have so many memories, after all. ”
She tied off a red bow on the box. “I forgot just how much there really was that happened back then. And we got to talk a little more about the gifts we exchanged for the Secret Santa. It was more fun than I would have expected.”
Mabel smiled with satisfaction. That was exactly what she’d been hoping to hear.
She looped her arm through George’s, squeezing gently as she tilted her head toward his.
“There’s nothing better than building special memories with someone,” she agreed, unable to stop the smile on her face from broadening as she looked at George.
“Wasn’t it just the best idea ever to create opportunities for her and Lincoln to spend more time together?
I mean, the Secret Santa exchange, and then the sleigh ride—”
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and Mabel felt her stomach drop as she realized what she’d just said. George’s arm tensed under her hand, and she knew she’d said too much.
Oh no. No, no.
Imogen had gone completely still, the box of fudge forgotten in her hands as she stared at Mabel with widening eyes. For a moment, the only sound in the shop was the soft Christmas music playing from the speakers overhead.
“What did you just say?” Imogen asked slowly.
Mabel felt heat flooding her cheeks as the magnitude of her slip-up became clear.
Imogen and Lincoln might have suspected they were being nudged toward one another, but suspecting and hearing were two different things.
And she realized that her slip might have just blown the whole thing up, from the look on Imogen’s face.
All because she’d gotten carried away by her pride in their matchmaking success.
“I… well…” Mabel stammered, looking desperately at George for help.
George said nothing, just looked at the two women as he waited to see how it was going to play out.
“The Secret Santa,” Imogen said, her voice growing stronger as understanding dawned. “And the sleigh ride. You planned all of it, didn’t you?”
Mabel swallowed hard, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how to salvage the situation.
But there was really no point in denying it—the truth was written all over her face, and Imogen was far too smart to be fooled by any attempt at backtracking.
Especially when she’d already been suspicious.
“We meant well,” she said quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I promise you, Imogen, we only had the best intentions. We could see how happy you and Lincoln were when you were together, and we just thought—”
“We?” Imogen interrupted.
Mabel winced. “Well, yes. Vanessa and I planned a lot of it… George was more of just a sounding board, really—”
“Vanessa was in on this too?” Imogen’s voice rose slightly, and Mabel could see her carefully controlled composure beginning to crack.
“It’s not like that,” Mabel said hastily. “We care about you both very much. We could see that you were meant to be together, and we just wanted to give you a little push in the right direction.”
Imogen set the box of fudge down on the counter slowly. “A little push,” she repeated.
“You did have fun last night, didn’t you?” Mabel asked hopefully, grasping at straws. “I mean, regardless of how the evening was arranged, you enjoyed spending time with Lincoln, right?”
Imogen stared at her for a long moment, and Mabel found herself holding her breath, waiting for the anger that she had a feeling was building. But instead, Imogen’s shoulders seemed to sag slightly, and she went back to the display case to take out the box of peppermint bark.
“Do you want anything else?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral. “If not—”
“Imogen—” Mabel began.
“How much did you say you wanted?” Imogen asked, still not turning around. “A half pound? A full pound?”
Mabel exchanged a worried glance with George, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable with the entire situation.
“A half pound is fine,” Mabel said quickly. “We’ll get out of your hair.” She watched Imogen take out the box and head toward the register with growing distress, realizing that her careless words had probably ruined everything she’d been trying to accomplish.
“The weather’s been nice for December, hasn’t it?” Imogen said as she rang them up, clearly trying to steer the conversation toward safer territory. “Not too much snow, but just enough to feel festive. No big storms yet.”
“Yes, it has been,” Mabel agreed, but she barely registered what Imogen was saying.
Her mind was spinning, trying to figure out how to fix the damage she’d just done.
She knew she should follow Imogen’s lead and make polite small talk about the weather and the holiday decorations, but she couldn’t bear to leave things this way.
She cared too much about both Imogen and Lincoln to let her own big mouth ruin everything.
“Imogen, please,” she said, stepping closer to the counter.
“I know you’re upset, and I completely understand why.
But please don’t let our meddling ruin what you and Lincoln have rediscovered.
Whatever feelings developed last night, they were real.
Our scheming might have created the opportunity, but the connection between you two—that was all genuine. ”
Imogen smiled, a little tightly. “It’s fine,” she said. “Do you want to do cash or card?”
“I just wanted you both to be happy,” she finished quietly.
Imogen let out a breath, looking up. “I understand that you meant well,” she said carefully.
“And I appreciate that you care about my happiness. But Mabel, don’t you see how this makes everything more complicated?
Now I don’t know if Lincoln was actually enjoying himself last night, or if he was just going along with whatever scheme you all had cooked up.
I don’t know if his feelings were genuine or if he felt obligated to be charming because he knew people were watching and expecting a certain outcome. ”