Caught in the Candy Cane Chaos (Christmas Tree, PA #5)

Chapter 1

Jenna

“I’m sorry to throw this on you first thing. When I asked you if you would take over the shop, I wasn’t thinking I was going to break my leg and baptize you with fire.”

I look at my Aunt Janet. She’s propped up in bed, her leg almost completely casted from her foot to her hip. Getting out of bed to use the restroom is a major ordeal.

“I’m just happy your accident wasn’t worse. I don’t know what in the world you were doing on a ladder in your store by yourself. That was the main reason I wanted to come help you. So that you’re not alone.”

I don’t want to give my aunt a hard time, but when she offered me co-ownership of her business, with the possibility of buying it next year, I jumped on the chance. It’s not that I’ve been floating since high school. I went to college, got my degree, and have been working in the marketing department of a major corporation in Millerstown. The problem is, I just don’t like that life. I miss my hometown and my family. I would have done pretty much anything in order to get back home to Christmas Tree, PA.

But I didn’t want to get home and see her laid up.

“The Lord knows. He knows, and if it had happened before you came, I wouldn’t have had someone to fall back on.”

She’s right, and I don’t disagree. Except, I wouldn’t have minded her being around to give me a little bit more guidance. I know how small towns can be. Everyone expects everything to be the same year after year, plus they also have their small-town competitions, which are cutthroat. I am not sure I’m ready for that level of competition.

As though my aunt can read my mind, she says, “The candy cane shipments should be arriving any day. There was a shortage this year, if you can imagine it, and I don’t have my shop window decorated, like I usually do. The judging is the day after tomorrow. So that doesn’t leave you much time. I’m sorry,” she adds, grimacing a little, and I move closer and put my hand on hers.

She’s lying in her bedroom in her small apartment above the shop.

There’s a little room with a kitchenette behind the shop, and she gave that to me. I am used to a little bit more room than that, but I’m grateful to have a place to stay. The housing market is crazy right now.

But that’s the least of my worries. “Do you have designs written down detailing what you usually do?” I ask, concerned as soon as she said “judging.” Did I mention that small-town competition can be cutthroat?

“I have pictures. I’ll send them to you. I... I know it’s short notice, but the top finisher in the competition gets first place in the parade and also gets a good bit of attention from the town council throughout the season. I... I could really use the business.”

I know we could. I want this to be a success. My aunt has lived here all her life, and the shop has supported her the whole time. I’d like to be able to carry on the tradition, although shops across America, small ones like this, have been closing by the thousands.

I’m not sure why I think this one would be any different.

But I won’t know until I try. Just like I won’t know whether I can win the candy cane competition until I try.

A bell rings, and I look around.

“That’s the doorbell. The deliveryman is here. I bet it’s the candy canes!” Aunt Janet says, pushing herself up, grimacing, and then falling back.

“You take it easy. I know that hurts. I’ll go see,” I say, waiting for her nod before I hurry out.

She was in a bit of a rush, so I assume that she wanted to go meet him.

One of the problems with coming back to my small town is that it holds a few memories for me. Most of them are good. I loved growing up here, and for the most part, my return has been positive. But Abby Tillis, the shop owner next door, and I have a bit of history.

I want to say she stole my boyfriend, but she couldn’t steal what I didn’t have, and while I was completely enraptured with Nate, he fell under Abby’s charms and broke up with me just before prom our senior year.

We had been together for three years before that, and honestly a lot of my teen memories are connected to him. I was the typical teenage girl who was so totally enraptured with her boyfriend that we went everywhere together. I thought about him all the time and thought that we would end up together.

Obviously I was mistaken.

I really don’t blame Abby, although she deliberately went after a guy who she knew had someone. I suppose we weren’t married or anything, so it wasn’t like she went after a married man, but I would never go after a guy who was in a relationship. It’s just not right. But then, a guy who would break up with his long-term girlfriend to go after someone else wasn’t a keeper.

Even as I think that, I know Nate really was. He wouldn’t have cheated on me or allowed me to find out about Abby and him without him breaking up with me. But he did the honorable thing. He blamed our breakup on the fact that we were going to two different colleges in separate areas of the country, since he was heading to California and I was staying here in Pennsylvania.

I hurry down the stairs and through the Christmas train shop that my aunt runs. I’ve always loved trains, and even walking through it makes me smile.

I’m still reliving old memories, times of fixing the trains with Janet’s husband, my Uncle Tim, and hours sitting in the shop after school, talking with them, eating cookies, drinking hot chocolate, and feeling like Christmas all year long. Maybe that’s why it takes me a bit after I open the door to recognize the person standing on the other side.

He’s holding a large box and waiting expectantly.

“Hello—” I break off abruptly, on the verge of telling him to bring it in. “Nate?”

It’s been eight years, but I recognize those gorgeous blue eyes, that slightly crooked nose, the sandy blond hair, and while there is a sprinkling of beard growth over his face, I can still see where his dimple indents.

My heart flips, and even while I’m still struggling to catch up with the fact that my old high school boyfriend is standing in front of me, I’m castigating myself for having any kind of reaction at all.

“Jenna?” he says, and his voice is deeper than it used to be, but I still recognize that tone I loved. The tone that I’m familiar with. We weren’t just high school sweethearts; we were best friends for years. All of my good memories are tied to this man standing in front of me. All of my heartbreak, too.

I’d do anything to be able to disappear right now.