Chapter Five
Bo
“ Knock, knock. ”
I looked up from my laptop where I was settled on the chair by the window and knew Holly’s voice when I heard it.
“It’s open.” After breakfast, I didn’t think I ever locked it again, which by the way was its own form of torture. I wouldn’t bother boring you with all the details, but let’s just say I didn’t think I was cut out for staying at a bed and breakfast. At least not in a small town where the gossip mill ran faster than Louie when he was being chased by a great dane back in college.
As Holly entered, I had to actually stop my eyes from bulging out of my head like a cartoon character when I caught sight of what she was wearing.
An ugly Christmas sweater.
At least, that was what I thought it was, since there was a reindeer’s head quite literally coming out the front of it. There was three-dimensional and then there was this thing. Why on earth would someone wear something that. . . horrific? Let alone purchase it to begin with.
I knew one thing for sure—if someone gifted that thing to me, it would go straight to the back of my closet never to be seen again. I wouldn’t even regift it, that would just be harsh. I didn’t hate anyone enough. Maybe I would toss it right in the incinerator, that sounded like a much better idea.
“I come bearing gifts,” she said, bringing the hand she had behind her back to the front of her and showing off a small tree. “I always make it a point to put one in each of the guests’ rooms around this time.” She twirled it around like I had never seen a fake tree before and let out a happy sigh as she smiled. “Isn’t it the cutest?”
I scratched my chin and searched for the right words. “It’s something,” I finally settled on.
Clearly not paying a bit of attention to the fact that I wanted no part in that thing, she continued, “I just love decorating for the holidays. It’s one of my favorite parts of owning my own place with so many rooms. There’s so much space to decorate.”
That was one way to put it. Call me boring, but I much preferred to leave the place the way it came—clean, free of clutter.
“I leave them undecorated, though, so if the guests want to, they can decorate it themselves. Add their own fun spin on it, you know?”
I cocked a brow and stared at it like it was Medusa’s head. “Yeah, I’m not much for the holidays, so I probably won’t be decorating that, but I appreciate you bringing it by.”
What did no one understand about this concept? Some people—okay, not these people, but some people—just didn’t enjoy this time of year. Just because I was here in this town of Christmas lovers, didn’t mean I would become one of them.
Yeah, that was right—Christmas lovers.
Christmas connoisseurs.
If Christmas was a person, they would kiss them senseless, take them in their arms and hold onto them for dear life.
Christmas equated to a four letter word for these people—l-o-v-e.
“So you’ve said.” She placed it on the table by the window and draped the white cotton she had already down around it. “But you might find that being here might just change the way you see the holidays, Bo.” Before leaving, she pointed to the tree. “And try to decorate it, if you could, you don’t want it to look all sad, do you?”
Can a tree look sad? I looked over at it and tilted my head thinking about her words. “Maybe you should decorate it then for me.”
She sliced a hand through the air. “Nonsense!” she exclaimed. “I told you why I leave them as they are.”
As she closed the door, I groaned. “I’m not decorating it,” I shouted back.
Even if she did catch that, I doubted she’d actually retain it. This woman was as stubborn as a bull. How many times did I have to tell these people I did not like Christmas? I wasn’t going to spend my time decorating a freaking tree. Correction: freaking fake tree. That was definitely not my idea of a good time.
Not that anyone asked, but my version of fun for the holidays was sitting in the leather chair in my home office with classical music playing in the background and my laptop.
Now that, that right there was a good freaking time.
Just then my phone signaled a new email and I looked down and saw it was from Izzy. And there we go. If it wasn’t bad enough to be subjected to the Christmas vomit in this room, then quite possibly the most excited person in the world had to be contacting me. Again.
As I opened it, suddenly all I could hear in my head was fa-la-la-la-la, man, you are in trouble .
Upon reading it, I realized it actually wasn’t so bad. She just wanted to meet up. Big surprise there, especially since she knew I was in town. And it was for Louie and Fiona of course.
How bad could cake tasting be?
I sent back a reply.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: In town
Set it up and I’ll be there. Wherever there is. I might need a name or address.
Obviously she was sitting around waiting for my reply because I got another notification not two seconds later.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: In town
We could call each other if you want to give me your number. Might be easier. Phoebe said in two hours works for her. She’ll close early for us. Her bakery’s address is below.
Call me? The idea of this woman having my number so she can call me anytime she wanted sent chills down my spine. I didn’t even want to think about all of the excited voicemails I’d have from her.
Izzy wasn’t bad, by the way. She was nice and considerate, obviously cared a great deal about her friends and loved this town, so all of that had to say something about her. I just wasn’t sure what that something was and I still wasn’t giving her my number.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: In town
Email is good for me. Thanks for the address. See you then.
* * *
Pickleball.
Hiking.
Skiing.
Surfing.
Going to the dentist.
Walking a dog.
All things I’d rather be doing than this.
The this, you ask? Cake tasting.
There are certain things guys should never know. Like the name of their girl’s perfume, how much time it takes them to get ready in the morning, where stores are located in the mall, and anything having to do with weddings. That included the ins and outs of cake tasting.
You’d think it wasn’t complicated to just taste a cake, say you like it and move on. But nope. That wasn’t the case. At least it wasn’t what was happening here with Izzy.
“Bo,” Izzy leaned forward, her face in front of mine, a hand waving in front of me. “Hello, earth to Bo. What do you think of the chocolate raspberry one?”
I shook my head, trying to bring myself back to the here and now. “Hmm?”
“The chocolate raspberry?” she prompted again.
I looked down at the table filled with a variety of cake slices. “It’s good,” I answered as my eyes ran over each one. Mind you, there were more than a dozen here.
When she didn’t respond, only lightly swatting my arm, I asked, “What? I said it was good.”
She rolled her eyes. “This is their wedding cake. This is not just some cake. They’re going to cut it together, one of their first acts as a newlywed couple. Photos will be taken. They’re going to save the top tier for their first anniversary. All of their family and friends will surround them as they take a bite of this cake. I don’t think you’re understanding just how serious this is.” She sighed before continuing to go on, “Sure, the ceremony is important, but the reception is like its baby and the baby needs to be cared for and nurtured. It needs love and attention. It needs a great cake, a kicking seating chart, and a slick dance floor with popping music.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, you sort of lost me on the whole baby part.” Man, what was she talking about? Izzy needed to come with like a dictionary of her own. Because half the time I swore it was like we spoke two completely different languages.
Not that I ever wanted to learn whatever language she knew, considering half of what she said sounded like mumbo-jumbo to me.
She rolled her eyes and was about to speak when Phoebe brought over yet another platter of cake slices. “Okay,” she exclaimed practically breathless, “I have five more options for you. Are there any here we can definitely eliminate?” she asked looking at the table as she made room for the new one.
“Bo likes the chocolate raspberry, but I know Fi and she’d love the lemon.”
“Lemon?” I practically gagged. “That was the worst one.” Then I looked up at Phoebe and actually felt bad. “No offense,” I added.
She smiled and shook her head. “It’s not for everyone.”
“It tasted like soap,” I explained. “And not just yours. Ask anyone and they’ll say the same thing,” I said, trying to smooth it over.
She shrugged. “I actually like it myself.”
“Me, too,” Izzy defended.
So that made three, counting Fiona in. “Well, I know Louie,” I said, decidedly taking up for my friend, “and he’d want chocolate.”
Izzy sighed. “It’s not like we can very well have a chocolate lemon cake. Now that sounds disgusting.”
Phoebe gave us a lopsided smile. “Can’t argue with you there, but what I can do is make an orange chocolate cake.”
Izzy brushed her off. “Nah, Fiona gave me explicit instructions: no citrus unless it’s lemon.”
I harrumphed. “No to orange, but she has no problem with lemon?”
“Would you mind giving us a second, Phoebe?” she asked. “We’ll try the new ones and see if we can come to an agreement.”
Phoebe started to walk away, but stopped before she hit the back door. “Just so you know, I can always do a groom’s cake if they can’t agree.”
“No,” I nixed the idea. “Louie wouldn’t want that.” I picked up my fork again and reached for some chocolate swirl concoction. It tasted like chocolate, smelled like chocolate. It wasn’t bad. “You should try this one.”
But Izzy was already shaking her head. “No, no.” She shoved her fork in my face. “You have to try this one,” she insisted, bringing it to my lips, which I promptly shut and backed up.
Brows furrowed, I studied her. “Are you trying to feed me?”
Laughing, she pushed the fork closer. “Come on, it’s fine. Just try this,” she said, her hand under the fork. “Bo, open up.”
Looking at her, I extended my hand and clutched the fork, trying to remove her hand. “I got this.” I slipped it in my mouth and let the flavors do their thing.
Let’s just say this: Izzy and I had very different palates. This cake was not good. I swallowed begrudgingly. “What is that?”
“Lavender. Can’t you read the tag?”
My eyes went wide. “Lavender?”
“It’s sophisticated,” she defended.
Shaking my head, I decided I had enough of sitting at this table with her, she who had no tastebuds. I pushed my chair back and stood up. “It’s gross. Lavender is for perfume, not consumption.”
Sitting back, Izzy heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. We can’t do this. We’re too different.”
“No argument there,” I said before turning to walk around the otherwise empty bakery. “Listen, it’s not about you or me. Louie likes chocolate. He told me he proposed to Fiona with her ring in a piece of chocolate cake, so that means she must like chocolate, too, right?” I asked, trying to wrap this up. “So what’s the problem with good old chocolate?”
She shook her head. “That’s a good point, but I don’t know. There’s just so many options. I think we need Phoebe.” Then she shouted, “Phoebe! Can you come out here for a minute?”
Pushing open the swinging door from the back, she came out in a hurry. “Did you decide?”
“Not necessarily. We narrowed it to chocolate cake, though. There are just so many,” she said, gesturing to the table. “Can you help us?”
Nodding, Phoebe stuck the pencil she had in her hair and adjusted her apron. “Sure.” She immediately started removing plates, putting them on the surrounding tables. “These are all the chocolate ones,” she pointed to the variety that remained.
I walked over, ready to sit down and pick a cake for crying out loud. “What’s this one? I think I liked this,” I said, trying to remember. They all looked the same.
“It’s got a mocha buttercream filling,” Izzy explained, pointing to the card.
Oh, yeah. I picked my fork up and took a bite. “Not bad.”
Izzy did the same. “I agree, but I just don’t think it’s their wedding cake.”
“Okay, so we’re getting somewhere,” Phoebe said optimistically. “Here, try this next. If you liked the mocha, you’ll like this.”
We each took another bite. I shook my head. “Too sweet.”
She removed the plate. “Try this one. It’s got cherry.”
Izzy scrunched up her face. “Too tart.”
She removed the plate and this continued until we were left with one piece. “Well, I think Fiona and Louie have their cake,” Phoebe declared triumphantly.
Izzy looked at me, our eyes connecting for the first time all day. “Yeah, I think they do,” she agreed.
And that folks, wrapped up the cake tasting portion of the day. “We done here?” I asked, ready to hightail it out of the bakery and find the nearest gym. Although, I had a feeling, I’d have to leave town for that one.
Nodding her head, Izzy signed some papers Phoebe put in front of her. Then Izzy spun around and put her hand up. “Wait!”
“What?”
“You’re on my way. Let me drive you back,” she declared, a smile creeping across her face as she walked toward me, clutching her purse and digging her keys out.
It was a nice gesture and all, but there was one teeny tiny problem with it. “How do you know where I’m staying?” I hadn’t told her. In fact, I’d made sure to never really say. Not that there were many options in this town, but still. I had a fighting chance, didn’t I?
Touching my arm, she led us out the door. “I don’t.”
“So how can you be sure it’s on your way?” I asked, eyebrow raised.
She threw her head back in laughter. “Everything’s on my way. You remember I own the bookstore, right? Well, that’s at the back of town, right before you hit Lakespur. I almost didn’t buy the place because it was so out of the way.”
Staring at her hand clutching my arm, I wondered when she’d let go. “And yet you did.”
She nodded. “I did,” she responded, oblivious to the fact that she was still touching me and I didn’t know why.
In New York I knew this kind of thing could get a person arrested for battery, but here apparently it was no big deal to just touch strangers. It was interesting and much too friendly for me.
“So where are you staying?” she tried again.
Groaning, I knew I didn’t stand a chance. Sooner or later someone would see me. Or Holly herself would go blabbering. So I swallowed hard and tugged my arm free of her grasp. “Holly’s B&B.”
Her face lit up like one of those Christmas lights I’m sure Izzy loved as she unlocked her car door. “Perfect. Get in.”
This was anything but perfect, but who was I to argue with her? We’d done enough of that at the bakery, going a few rounds over cake.
I opened the passenger door and slid in.
“So which room are you in?” she asked as she started the car and pulled away from the curb. “Holly decorates all the rooms in themes this time of year. Isn’t that just adorable?”
“Precious.”
“Well, which did you get? I have a particular fondness for the room dedicated to Scrooge.”
My eyebrow shot up at that one and I turned to eye this woman who just said the most contradictory thing I’d ever heard.
“What?” she asked, taking her eyes off the road and looking at me when I didn’t respond right away.
I shook my head. “It’s nothing. I’m just surprised, is all. You, liking Scrooge.” In fact, it went against everything I knew about Izzy Monroe. Wasn’t this the same woman who took a stand for candy canes?
Laughing, she diverted her gaze back to the road. “I didn’t say I liked Scrooge. I just like the way she does the room. She blends past, present and future nicely. She also has those old timey clothes hanging as decor, it’s just perfectly done. That’s all I was saying. So what’s your deal? You hate Christmas or something?”
Did I hate Christmas? Yes, I did. But was I about to confess that to her ? No. Certainly not with her behind the wheel. I valued my life way too much, thank you very much. “No. It’s just. . . not my favorite holiday.” And that was counting in days like Flag Day, Martin Luther King’s Birthday, Washington’s Birthday, oh and you couldn’t forget about Columbus Day.
Then to my great surprise, Izzy challenged me. “You’re lying. You hate Christmas, don’t you? You hate the happiest day of the year? I bet you also hate all this wedding stuff. And hugs, tiny babies, and butterflies, don’t you?”
Reeling from the list and the way she just nailed me, I angled my head and pulled back, the seatbelt suddenly feeling like it was choking me. “No,” was all I could manage to croak out.
Her eyes going wide, she looked back at me again. “It’s true. Who hurt you Bo?” she asked, sadness in her eyes.
I shook my head. “I’m not having this conversation with you. I like those things just fine. I do have a life, though, and they just aren’t a very big part of it. Big deal. I even have a small Christmas tree in my room, I’ll have you know. Holly delivered it this morning.”
Laughing again, she waved a hand in the air. “So what? I bet you don’t plan on decorating it. You probably already calculated it to see how much fire wood you can make out of it.”
“It’s fake,” I pointed out. She didn’t know me as well as she thought she did.
“Whatever,” she said. Then she turned in front of the B&B and came to a stop. “You should decorate it, you know. It’s Christmas destiny.”
“It’s Christmas destiny?” This sounded oddly like Holly’s whole “the tree looks sad” theory.
She nodded. “Sure. Trees like that are meant to be decorated. Just like the big one in the center of town square.”
Yeah, the big, gargantuan tree that could easily be on television. I’d seen it. I’d also heard about the tree decorating thing. “Maybe you should spearhead decorating that and leave me and my small, fake tree alone.” My hand was on the door handle, ready to make my escape once and for all, but her next words stopped me.
“We already do that. It’s an annual tradition. One night in December the whole town comes out and we decorate the tree. We use the balls with our names on them. A gift from our city chairman for all residents once we call Silver Springs home. They’re rather lovely, hand-painted by one of our own, I’ll have you know, because I can already see the wrinkles forming on your forehead like you’re confused or disgusted,” she said, pointing to the space between my eyes. “It’s about being part of a community.”
Trying to smooth out my forehead, I nodded. “Sounds nice. Well, this is me,” I stated the obvious and opened the door, not sure I was made for this whole community thing she talked about.