Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Monday morning, bright and early, Mabel puttered around her kitchen making coffee.
She had a new blend that Jackson had ordered in for the diner, and some of the local eggnog creamer that Vanessa had insisted she try last Christmas and that Mabel was now completely in love with.
She still loved her old standby of peppermint creamer, but the eggnog lattes that Vanessa had shown her how to make were delicious, rich and creamy, and—as Vanessa had said when she’d shown her grandmother how to make them—added a little luxury to the holiday season.
She glanced at the clock as her small kitchen started to fill with the rich scent of brewing coffee, drawing in a deep breath of the relaxing scent.
She didn’t need to leave to start opening the toy shop for another two hours, and usually she would have slept in a bit.
But she hadn’t been able to sleep well the night before, and had woken up an hour before her alarm, wide awake.
She’d thought about just lying in bed to read for a bit, enjoying the early gray of the morning and relaxing in the warm nest of her duvet and soft pillows for a little while longer.
But the thought of a cup of coffee had called to her, and when she’d remembered that she had fresh maple cinnamon rolls bought from the bakery to heat up for breakfast, she’d decided to get up, throw on her robe, and head down to the kitchen for a slow morning.
Her thoughts were anything but relaxed, though, and she thought that maybe that was why she’d had such a hard time sleeping.
There was so much to do at the shop still to fully prepare for and get into the swing of the holiday season, and she figured she was just eager to get started on it all.
There were the window displays to finish, the nutcrackers to set up, and a special display to organize for the sought-after toy of the season.
She also had her annual Santa and Mrs. Claus event to organize, and she needed to start preparing and planning for that, soon.
Every year for as long as she’d been running the event, she’d been Mrs. Claus, while George Lowery had always played Santa.
Last year, because of the injury to her wrist, she’d had to drop out of the event and be content with running it from behind the scenes, while Vanessa and Jackson had stepped in to play Mrs. Claus and Santa.
But this year, she was back to perfect health, and she was more than ready to pick up her former mantle and once again play her beloved role of Mrs. Claus.
She could admit that she was looking forward to the fact that George would once again be Santa.
They always had a fantastic time together, greeting the children and listening to their requests for Santa and laughing over comments they both made in between taking pictures and letters and gift requests.
George didn’t have children or grandchildren of his own, and of course, Mabel’s granddaughter was an adult now.
They both loved cooing over and listening to the eager questions from all the children, and seeing how happy it made them to meet Santa and Mrs. Claus.
Every year, it was something she looked forward to. She was happy that this year would be a return to tradition.
Humming to herself, she got down a mug hand-painted with snowflakes that she’d made at a local pottery night, and poured herself a cup of coffee.
She added a bit of eggnog creamer, stirring it around with a spoon as she looked out of the small window above the sink.
The tree just on the other side of it was coated with icicles, a sight that she always thought was incredibly beautiful.
The little shards of ice hung from the branches like glass, the early morning sun glinting off of them, and Mabel watched for a moment longer, seeing a small finch hopping along one branch as she finished making her coffee.
She took a sip, enjoying the rich warmth of it, and went to the fridge to pull out the cinnamon roll she’d planned to have for breakfast. It was large and covered with maple icing, with extra on the side, and she turned her oven on to preheat, setting the cinnamon roll on a baking sheet.
She was glad she’d gotten up early that morning after all; she tried hard not to have to rush in the mornings, but a slow morning like this was an extra special treat.
Just like the coffee and cinnamon roll for breakfast.
Mabel was just sliding the cinnamon roll into the oven when she heard an odd scratching coming from outside.
She paused, and heard it again, coming from the same place.
It seemed to be coming from the side of the kitchen where her small breakfast nook was, and she frowned, setting her coffee down as she walked over to open the window and peek out.
The windows were the sort that latched in the middle and opened out to either side, which was lovely in the warmer seasons, when she could fling the windows open wide and enjoy the pleasant breeze that would then fill her entire kitchen.
When she opened the window to look, shivering a little as the frigid air came in, she couldn’t see anything unusual.
After a second, she heard the scratching again, a bit more insistently this time.
Frowning, she glanced at the timer over the oven and walked to the adjoining mudroom to slip on her snow boots. She tugged her robe a little closer around herself as she walked out into the winter morning to investigate.
It was probably a mouse, she thought, or maybe a bird trying to burrow into the gutters or some crack to get out of the cold and find a warmer nook.
Possibly even a raccoon. She didn’t usually have a mice problem, although she’d had to run one or two out of her house with a broom over the years.
She felt bad at the thought of such a small creature being out in the cold, even though she knew she couldn’t possibly allow one to live in the house. That would create all kinds of havoc.
Walking around the edge of the house, she couldn’t see anything.
There was no evidence of any creature, small or medium, trying to work its way into or underneath the house, and no tracks in the snow that she could see.
She looked up at the gutters as she walked, trying to see if any birds were attempting to make a home up there, but there was nothing there that she noticed either.
Even the finch that had been perched on the icicle tree had flown away, undoubtedly, to find a warmer spot.
She walked around the back of the cottage again, intending to head back inside before the timer for her cinnamon roll went off, when she suddenly heard the noise and caught sight of the culprit, all at the same moment.
A tiny ball of black and brown fluff was sitting in her bird feeder, scratching at the bottom of it with eager paws.
Mabel blinked, squinting at it as she stepped closer, and realized that it was an adorable tortoiseshell kitten, with gleaming amber eyes that were now looking intently at her from the black puff of its face.
“Well hello there,” she said quietly, trying not to spook the kitten. It looked as if it might spring away at any second, and the last thing she wanted was for it to run off in the snow. It was below freezing out, and there was no telling what might happen to the kitten if it got away.
It scratched at the feeder again, giving a tiny meow as it looked at Mabel. She held out a hand, still worried that it might spook and run away, but it just watched her as she slowly approached, her boots crunching in the snow.
“Hey,” she murmured, stepping close enough that the small kitten could sniff her outstretched fingers.
“How on earth did you get in there?” The opening to the bird feeder was small, technically just large enough for a kitten to wedge its way in, but it would have had to crawl up the pole and clamber in.
A quick look at the post holding up the feeder told Mabel that it had done just that—there were tiny claw marks all in the wood.
The kitten meowed again, bumping its small, soft head up against Mabel’s fingers, and her heart melted a little.
The small squeaking sounds that it made absolutely enchanted her, and she scratched behind one tiny ear, only jolted out of staring at the adorable kitten by a sudden gust of wind that reminded her just how cold it was out.
“We need to get you inside,” she said decisively.
She reached in carefully, wrapping her hand gently around the small creature, and lifted it out.
It wriggled a little in her grasp, quickly calming down when she tucked it against her robe, once again letting out a series of small meows that made Mabel grin with delight.
“It’s too cold out for tiny things like you,” she said, rubbing the top of the kitten’s head with her thumb as she carried it back in. “Let’s get you some breakfast too, hmm?”
She carried the kitten back into the house, making sure that the back door and the window that she’d cracked open were securely closed. Holding the small animal against her robe, she glanced at the timer on the oven—which was nearly up—and went to the cupboard to take out a small saucer.
The kitten meowed again as she went to the fridge, taking out a carton of milk from the local farm. She poured a little into the saucer, setting it atop the oven for a moment to heat up, just as the timer went off.
The sudden beeping startled the kitten, which dug all four paws into Mabel’s robe. Thankfully, it was thick enough that the claws didn’t go through, and Mabel chuckled, trying to soothe the small animal as she got her cinnamon roll out.
“You’re alright,” she promised it, putting her breakfast on a plate, and adding a bit more coffee to her cup to reheat it. The milk in the saucer was lukewarm now, and she took it off of the stove, setting it down along with the tiny kitten, next to the table in the breakfast nook.
“There you go,” Mabel cooed. “You eat your breakfast, and I’ll eat mine.” She settled into the nook with her cinnamon roll and coffee, drizzling a little extra maple icing over the pastry as she sipped her eggnog latte and watched the kitten.
It looked at the milk suspiciously for a moment, before dipping its head, taking one taste, and then beginning to lap eagerly at the puddle of it in the saucer.
Within seconds, there was a small white beard of milk on the black and brown kitten’s chin, and Mabel chuckled delightedly as she watched the small creature scarf down its breakfast.
She ate hers a bit more leisurely, enjoying the cinnamon roll and coffee in small bites and sips, keeping one eye on the kitten as she took in the lovely, snowy landscape of her backyard from the breakfast nook.
Finally, she glanced at the clock and saw that it was a little past time for her to be getting ready for work.
“You,” she said firmly to the kitten, as she carried her plate and mug, and the kitten’s saucer, to the sink. “Wait right here for me. I’ve got to go get ready for the day.”
The kitten responded with a plaintive meow that Mabel hoped was in the affirmative. Mabel reached down to scratch it once more behind the ears, before heading upstairs to get dressed for the workday.
A half hour later, she was ready. She always dressed comfortably for work, usually in a pair of broken-in jeans that were soft with wear and age, and one of her many thick wool sweaters this time of year.
Today she’d chosen one in a deep plum, and pulled her curly, bobbed silver hair back with a headband that had small silver sugarplums on the black silk.
She added a pair of festive, sparkly silver snowflake earrings and headed downstairs to check on the kitten before leaving for work.
The moment she stepped into the kitchen, she saw the puff of brown and black fur sitting on the countertop, right in the middle of a pile of scattered utensils. It had, quite clearly, knocked over the utensil container while exploring her kitchen countertops.
Mabel sighed, walking over to the counter to scoop the tiny creature up, reorganizing the utensils in their ceramic container with her other hand.
She would likely be a few minutes late to start the opening duties for the shop, but she supposed that was one of the perks of working for herself—she was the only one she really had to answer to.
The kitten let out a small meow, burrowing into Mabel’s sweater with its small claws buried in the neckline. Mabel couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling it start to purr as it curled against her chest.
“Well, if I leave you unsupervised all day, I don’t think I’m going to recognize my home when I get back.” Mabel let out another sigh, looking down at the tiny creature.
“I suppose you’re coming to work with me today, then.”