2. Shane
2
SHANE
I ’d had a shit-tastic day. I grabbed the early flight, got rerouted, only to be stuck on my second connection when a storm blew in. I cursed at the hordes of people milling around the Ottawa airport. My first Christmas off in three years, the first Christmas my whole family would be together in five years, and I got stuck in an airport?
Fuck that. I needed to get back to the Toronto area.
I headed to the row of car rentals and yelled out, “Who has a four-wheel drive SUV for rent? I don’t care about the cost!”
Four hands went up. I went with the one who added a wave for good measure, and within thirty minutes, I was on the road. I was going slowly in the poor conditions, but I was moving. Using the Bluetooth device, I spoke to Elly periodically, assuring her I would arrive later that night. All was going okay until she called to say another storm system was crashing down on them, and they were all worried about me driving in it. She suggested I get as close as I could, then hole up in a hotel for the night and come later the next day when the roads were cleared, even though it would be Christmas Day.
“We’ll put everything off a few hours, Shane. We want you to be safe. We have the whole week.”
It made sense, but it still pissed me off. I got even angrier when she told me the parcels I had sent never arrived.
“They were supposed to be there three days ago,” I insisted.
“I think they’re backed up. There have been so many storms. It’s fine,” she soothed. “We get you—the gifts will come later.”
I drove another hour until I knew from the weather reports I was getting I couldn’t go any farther. I pulled into the small town of Simcoe and was lucky enough to find an inn. It was older but still well-kept and, most importantly, had a vacancy sign. The elderly woman was chatty, and when I asked, she gave me the information about the only place I might be able to find some presents at the late hour.
“Callie is usually open until six.” She scribbled down directions to Toys and Treasures. “If you hurry, you should make it.”
I got turned around but finally located the quaint store, parking with minutes left to spare, only to see the light switch off. Desperate, I knocked, calling her name.
“Callie James? Mrs. James, are you there? Please be there!”
I was expecting a woman around Mrs. Cooper’s age. That wasn’t what I got.
A woman, my age or younger, peered at me from behind the glass. The lights caught the red of her mahogany hair that tumbled over her shoulders, and her deep, soulful brown eyes were nervous as she regarded me. She was short, with a lacy white blouse that fluttered as she moved. Her skirt was a festive red, scattered with glitter. Even her hair sparkled. She looked like an angel.
Which was exactly what she turned out to be when she let me inside. My own personal angel. She allowed me to browse; she fed me cookies and made me coffee. She listened to me chat about my family. The truth was, I knew almost instantly what I was going to buy. The store was well laid out and the items were all unique, but I found I wanted more time with her, and after her soft confession that she had nowhere else to be, I took full advantage of it. I was thrilled to learn she was indeed a Miss, not a Mrs. I was intrigued by this woman and her sad, expressive eyes. They called to me, igniting a feeling I had never experienced before today. I was desperate to know why she had nowhere to go and nobody to be with on this holiday.
I followed her to the back of the store, where she unlocked a heavy-looking door and let us into her home. It was a large, cheerful room with a couch and an overstuffed chair in front of a small fake fireplace where a lazy cat slumbered. He opened one eye, looked at me, then stretched, farted, and went back to sleep. I chuckled at Callie’s admonished,“ Jake! ”
The kitchen was along the back wall, and the room smelled delicious.
“The bathroom is through my room over there, if you want to freshen up,” she offered.
“Thanks.”
Her room held a queen-sized sleigh bed and a simple dresser. The bed was a jewel of colors—reds, greens, golds, plaids, stripes—a symphony for the eyes. It was like Christmas in linen. I used the bathroom, sniffing at the soap. I recognized it as one of the ones I had chosen as a gift.
I hurried back, finding Callie already placing a heavy pan on the small round table. A bottle of wine was open, and she had set two places.
“Help yourself. I’ll be right back.” She brushed past me, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out to halt her. It was as if as soon as she was close, I wanted her closer. Her eyes widened as I leaned down and brushed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.”
I felt the warmth of her skin heat up as she bit her lip and whispered, “You’re welcome,” then hurried from the room.
I sat down, looking around. It was a comfortable room, filled with pictures and pieces of Callie. Stained glass hung in the windows, reflecting the lights from outside and the snow still falling. A tiny tree was by the fireplace, the twinkling lights soft in the room. I frowned at the mere two small parcels under the tree. She deserved more than that. Maybe she would go somewhere tomorrow to celebrate. I certainly hoped so. For some reason, the thought of her alone made my chest ache.
She returned, with her lacy blouse and festive skirt gone. In their place was a pair of fuzzy pants and a sweater. I chuckled at her slippers decorated with snowmen.
“You didn’t start,” she scolded gently.
“I was waiting for you.”
My voice sounded odd, almost as if I had just issued a proclamation. She bit her lip and lifted my plate, placing a large square on it.
The aroma hit me full force, and I had to hold myself back from grabbing the plate and devouring whatever it was. I waited until she had served herself before I picked up my fork and cut into the dense offering. I chewed and swallowed, my eyes drifting shut in appreciation.
“What is this?”
“Mexican chicken lasagna. It has tortillas instead of noodles.”
“I think it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”
She laughed softly. “Or you’re starving.”
“Both, I think.”
She lifted the wine. “Would you like any?”
“One glass.”
She poured, and I lifted my glass to hers. “To the greatest treasure I found tonight.”
She looked at the table, flustered, the color in her cheeks deepening again. I wasn’t sure the last time I had seen a woman blush. Where I lived, and in my line of work, it was pretty rare. I found it highly attractive—at least on her.
I smiled and returned my attention to the food on my plate.
CALLIE
He wasn’t lying when he said he loved the casserole. He ate three huge pieces, then devoured a half dozen more cookies with a cup of coffee.
We never stopped talking during dinner. He asked question after question, finally laughing when I told him it was my turn.
“What do you do for a living, Shane?”
“I’m a doctor. A pediatric specialist.”
“Really?”
“I love kids. I work in Calgary, and I’ve drawn the short straw the last three years and haven’t been with my family during the holidays. With other people’s commitments, it’s been five years since we were all together.”
“That’s why the gifts were so important.”
“My mom always made Christmas so special, and I know how sad she’s been every year when one or more of us isn’t there. I wanted this year to be great for her.” He traced the edge of the table with his thumb, looking sad. “We had a scare with her this year and almost lost her.” He looked up, his eyes serious. “But she’s okay, and I did everything I could to get here this Christmas. We all did.”
I covered his hand with mine. “You’ll get there. I heard the storm is going to lessen overnight, and it’s only a short drive. You’ll make it.”
He flipped his hand, encasing mine. Once again, I felt that strange surge of warmth. “Thank you, Callie. For the meal, your company, your help—everything.”
The air around us grew heavier. Warmer. His eyes darkened, and my breathing picked up. He leaned forward slightly, and I stood quickly. “We should get those gifts wrapped. We can bring them back here where there is more room.”
He blinked and cleared his throat. “Right. Good idea.”
I hurried down the hall, Shane behind me. At the counter, I grabbed his bill to hand to him, then widened my eyes. “Um, Shane?”
“Yes?” He glanced at me from the pile of boxes he had in his hands.
“Your credit card was declined.”
His face blanched. “ What?”
I bit my lip and giggled. “Ho-ho-ho.”
“Not nice, Callie. I think that just put you on the naughty list.”
He was laughing as he went down the hall again, and my goal was accomplished. We were back on easy terms.
As for the naughty list? I was sure I was already on it as I watched his ass move in those tight jeans.
He was good with corners. Meticulous, even. It was strange how easy it was to be with him. He teased and tossed ribbons at me. Critiqued my corners compared to his. Tsked over my lack of proper usage of enough tape. In turn, I called him anal, which made him laugh, informed him the amount of tape he used made the gifts Fort Knox-worthy, and told him his ribbon-curling skills sucked. He picked up gifts, comparing them, then agreed and announced that, between us, we were awesome partners. Slowly, the pile of presents disappeared as the time passed, and I sorted them into bags, adding in the baskets, cookies, and candy. I made sure the earrings for the women, plus the bracelet he purchased were in a separate bag and slipped it inside one of the larger ones, showing Shane where they were.
I glanced at the clock, shocked to see it was eleven. My usual lonely evening had not only flown by, it had been the nicest one I’d had in a long time.
“How long have you been here?”
“Most of my life.”
“You lived here? At the store?”
“Not this store. Another one.”
Shane stood and stretched. “What’s upstairs?”
“My studio.”
He held out his hand. “Will you show me?”
I led him upstairs, and he walked around, looking at the different areas. He hummed over some stained-glass pieces I was working on, sniffed some new bath lotions I was mixing up, then paused at my newest workstation. “You make jewelry?”
“I’m learning.”
He held up a leather cuff I had embellished with silver. “This is awesome. Wow.”
“It’s a work in progress.” I moved closer and snapped it on his wrist. “It has a flaw. See?” I pointed. “Right here. I have to learn the technique better.”
“Sometimes, the flaws are what makes something perfect, Callie,” he whispered.
“Maybe.”
He went to unsnap the cuff, and I reached out, halting him. “No. I-I’d like you to have it.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Thank you for sharing Christmas Eve with me, Shane.”
His eyes darkened again, and before I could stop him, he reached out and pulled me into his arms. His scent washed over me, filling my head. I fit under his chin, and his arms enveloped me totally. “Thank you, Callie. For everything.”
He stepped back but kept his arms around me. “Why are you alone? Why aren’t you surrounded by family and friends on Christmas?”
I smiled sadly. “My parents split when I was young. My mother walked away from us when I was nine. She got tired of small-town life and being the wife of a shopkeeper, as she called him. He ran the general store in town—his parents had run it before him. He liked living in a smaller town where he knew everyone and everyone knew him.”
He nodded, encouraging me to continue.
“My dad was pretty helpless, so I learned to cook, do housework, and look after him. I helped out in the store after school and on weekends.”
“He never remarried?”
“No. I don’t think he ever got over my mom. We never heard from her again, but I think he always hoped she would reappear.”
“It sounds like you had to grow up overnight.”
“I suppose. Anyway, I went to school and graduated, then went to college. I wanted to be a teacher. I loved kids. I loved teaching.”
“I know how that feels.” He grinned.
“I got a call one day. There had been a fire, and my dad was hurt. I came home right away. Dad was in the hospital. The strain of the fire was too much, and he had a heart attack.” I paused, tamping down the sadness. “He never really recovered. I looked after him for the next few years until he died.”
Reaching out, he grasped my hand. “Callie, I’m so sorry.”
I was quiet, lost to the memories in my head. “The store burned to the ground. There was literally nothing left but ashes. The insurance paid for the building, and I kept the property but used the money to look after him.” I sighed. “When he died, I sold the land. There was no need for a general store anymore. People drive to bigger towns for what they want at a better price. Dad had barely been scraping by, and it made the most sense.”
“And this place?”
“While he was ill, I needed to stay busy. I started making my soaps and stained glass, and I sold them at little fairs and markets. I really enjoyed doing it.”
“You’re very good at it.”
“I had allowed a building company to put up this model home here on the edge of the cleared property of the general store. They did well for a bit, but then interest fell off. When I sold the land, I had been able to have it divided, and I kept this piece and bought the model home from them. They finished it off inside so I could have my little store and live here. Things had started to pick up in Simcoe, and I thought a place like this would do well. We were getting lots of tourists, and the townsfolk needed a place where they could pick up gifts that were unique.”
“And?” he prompted.
“I did well the first year. Not so well the second, and this year has been bad.” I smiled slightly. “Your shopping spree was more than I made all month, Shane. Thanks to your lost parcels, I can stay afloat for a few more months.”
He frowned. “And then?”
I sighed. “Then I start again. It’s the same every year. But I suppose that’s life, right?”