One Sweet Christmas (Sweeter in the City #4)

Chapter 1

ONE

Hailey Wells dropped two homemade marshmallows into a mug of steaming hot chocolate and sprinkled the foamy top with a spoonful of crushed candy canes. The smell never failed to boost her mood, even if her Christmas spirit was waning. And it was barely the second week of December.

“That’ll be four-fifty,” she said as she slid the drink across the counter to a customer who was eyeing with mug with a smile that reminded Hailey why she did what she did. And loved it.

Well, most days.

“Four-fifty!” a voice harrumphed loudly from deeper in the line.

Hailey’s gaze darted to the silver-haired woman who clutched a leather handbag close to her chest as she let out a giant huff. Her beady dark eyes narrowed on the display case, silently judging the cookies and brownies and other pastries that Hailey baked fresh each morning until they sold out, usually somewhere around mid-afternoon. Only today, they hadn’t sold out. Today, like most days recently, there were still far too many left to go stale—or be eaten by her for dinner, in pajamas, of course, while binge-watching her latest show.

She’d considered making fewer treats for the café, but somehow that felt like admitting defeat. And she wasn’t quite ready to do that. Not yet, anyway.

Besides, it wasn’t like she was sleeping much. Worry had a way of waking her well before dawn, meaning that there was no excuse not to tie on her apron strings and start baking. The routine of it was comforting; it always had been, ever since she was young, and she used to help her grandmother in the kitchen. She loved nothing more than stirring batter, frosting cakes, and watching the delight on the neighbors’ faces when she hand-delivered their Christmas gifts each year: homemade fudge, one of Gran’s most cherished recipes.

And while it was the season of joy and giving, there was no delight in the face of the woman who was standing second in line, shifting from one foot to another impatiently, releasing an audible sigh every few seconds and making contact with anyone and everyone around her, hoping they would share her exasperation.

Hailey would love to tell the woman that she didn’t have to order anything, that really, she could be on her way. But business was slow, even now when it was usually booming. And so, she pulled in a breath, smiled a little bigger, and focused on the grateful customer who was standing before her.

“I hope you enjoy your Christmas hot chocolate,” she said loud enough for Miss Grumpy Pants to hear. “It’s a tradition here.”

One she had started the very first year that she’d opened the business, when this little storefront in the Lincoln Park neighborhood of Chicago was fresh and new and oh so full of possibilities. Before the bills started pouring in and the accounts needed to be balanced. Before she learned that running a business was about a lot more than just baking her grandmother’s favorite recipes in the small kitchen—that she had to clean, too.

Those early days were long and scary. And now, more than seven years later, they were still long. And, lately, scary.

But those days when she was first getting started were exciting too.

Now? Not so much.

“Looks delicious,” the friendly customer replied as she slipped her change into the tip jar and crossed the room to settle herself at a table near the window where just that morning, in a fit of fleeting festive cheer, Hailey had strung lights to frame the paned glass.

Hailey stood back, trying not to sigh as the Grinch herself pinched her lips at the decadent hot chocolate and moved to the front of the line, no doubt deciding whether the freshly whipped cream, crushed candy canes, and pillow-soft vanilla marshmallows that covered the deliciously aromatic melted chocolate were worth the price.

“Drip coffee,” the woman said tightly, her decision made.

“To go?” Hailey asked hopefully.

“For here.” The woman stared at her as if Hailey should have known better. “I already claimed my spot right near the window.” She pointed at a table where, sure enough, four shopping bags took up two chairs.

Hailey supposed that even a Scrooge might enjoy the view at this time of year. The lampposts along Armitage Avenue were wrapped in garland and twinkling lights. Snow-covered wreaths were hanging from shop windows and the front doors of the brownstones on all the surrounding streets.

There was no escaping the fact that it was Christmastime in the city, a time when most people were a little more willing to splurge on indulgences like Christmas hot chocolate. Maybe this woman just wasn’t feeling it this year. Hailey understood more than this woman probably knew. In another setting, she might slide the woman a rueful look, mutter something about the over-the-top decorations that went up earlier each year, comment on those endless carols that you couldn’t escape from, maybe even launch into a passionate debate about commercialism and the meaning of the season and all that.

Instead, she lifted the coffeepot from the burner and filled a mug with fresh brew. “Cream and sugar are in the corner,” she explained with a pleasant smile .

“You know,” said the woman, leaning across the counter as if she had some secret to share. “That new place across the street only charges three-fifty for a hot chocolate.”

Hailey felt her smile fade. As if she needed to be reminded of the national chain that had opened its doors a week before Halloween and stolen half her daily revenue ever since.

“Are their marshmallows made from scratch?” Hailey inquired, already knowing the answer.

The woman bristled. “I don’t think so.”

“Do they add a sprinkle of crushed candy canes?” Hailey tilted her head, again knowing the answer. Right now, she’d love nothing more than to take her rolling pin to a bag of candy canes. It was an excellent stress reliever.

“Well, no.” The woman sniffed.

“That explains it,” Hailey said. “I’m guessing that they don’t use imported chocolate for their drinks, either.” She forced another smile to show that she was not only proud of what she offered but also completely unfazed by the comparison. “Here at the Corner Beanery, we use only the freshest and finest ingredients.”

Seeming unconvinced, the woman pinched her lips tighter and pulled back from the counter. She said nothing as she carefully pulled her wallet from her handbag and handed over the exact change, right down to the penny.

“Happy Holidays!” Hailey said as the woman walked to her premier table with her coffee, still muttering under her breath.

Happy Holidays, indeed. Hailey helped the next two customers and then glanced at the door, hoping a few more people would come in for a break from the cold. The lake-effect wind was fierce today, and the passersby were walking with their heads bent, scarves tied, pom-poms bouncing on their woolen hats.

When no one else entered, Hailey considered it a blessing that her part-time assistant was home with a cold. She sighed, grabbed a rag, and began scrubbing the wood counter a little harder than needed, her eyes trained on the storefront across the street, all lit up and sparkling and full of life. She squinted at the latest addition: a hand-painted mural all over the windows, depicting a winter wonderland of sorts, with dancing snowmen and frolicking reindeer, but even through the cheerful design, she could see the customers gathered inside filling every table, and more in line at the counter. Many more.

She stopped scrubbing and stood to set her hands on her hips. She didn’t need to march across the street to know what brought them there. Dry scones, mass-produced cookies, and the promise of an experience that had already been given a mighty big stamp of corporate approval.

While her café…Hailey sighed as she roamed her gaze over the half-empty room, the radio now droning one of the sadder tunes of the seasons as if to underscore the depressing reality of her situation. It was a gamble, she’d known, to take on a lease in such an expensive part of Chicago, to dare to believe that she stood a fighting chance and that she could take a dream an d make something of it. Every time she saw a restaurant or small business shut its doors, she felt a chill roll down her spine and she had to look away and tell herself that she was one of the lucky ones, but deep down she wrestled with that nagging voice in her head, the one that told her to enjoy it while it lasted, because it would all catch up with her eventually, that it would be her turn at some point.

And then what? She didn’t know. She’d given up everything for this place. Her childhood home back in Missouri. A solid, stable job at her dad’s law office. Baking her grandmother’s recipes in her mother’s kitchen, long after Gran was gone.

And Pete.

Hailey’s heart felt heavy at the thought of her college sweetheart, and she looked over at the college-aged girl sitting near the window who was heartily enjoying her Christmas hot chocolate, trying to imagine when she was once so young, when so much still felt possible. When she couldn’t wait to move to the big city—with the person who had promised to share it with her.

Only half that dream had come true, and now it was slipping through her hands, just like her first relationship.

Well. There was no use getting ahead of herself. Hailey wiped down the espresso machine until it gleamed. She was still in business, and eventually, the novelty of that generic coffeehouse across the street would fade, people would get bored and lose interest, and they’d say, “Oh, Look! What a quaint and unique place right across the street. Let’s go there instead! ”

Yes, that was definitely what they would say.

In her dreams.

Hailey pulled in a breath and realized with a start that it sounded eerily close to a whimper. Tears prickled the back of her eyes, and her bottom lip was starting to wobble, and good grief, there were customers. Only a few, one of which would probably delight in her misery, but still, there were a few. Ones she couldn’t run off. Ones she had to be sure would want to return.

Right. She’d just put this out of her mind for a bit. Focus on something happier. Like the Ugly Christmas Sweater Party she’d decided to host to get into the holiday spirit. The holidays had never been an easy time, but with her struggling business, she knew it would be tough—if not impossible—to find some cheer this year. She’d keep it simple: eggnog and cookies, maybe some of the many leftovers from the café too. Her small walk-up apartment would be filled with laughter and conversation, and instead of feeling alone as she usually did this time of year, she’d be reminded of how full her life in Chicago was. Just thinking about her plans for this weekend made her smile.

It was almost enough to make her love Christmas again.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket to see if she’d received any responses to the invitation she’d sent last week, but there were no new texts or missed calls. She slipped into the kitchen for a moment and called her friend Mary, who ran an ice cream parlor down the street. Maybe she’d be willing to bring some of her famed eggnog ice cream to the party if Hailey supplied the toppings.

“That’s this weekend?” Mary said when Hailey suggested it. “Oh, I completely forgot, Hailey. I’m so sorry. Every week of December is busier than the next! We’re taking Violet skiing in Wisconsin that day and won’t be back until late. Ben and I made these plans months ago, and Violet’s so excited. Next year?”

This was a one-time thing. Hopefully, by next year, business would be booming again and Hailey would be too busy to host a party—or even think about the holidays.

She fought back the disappointment that Mary wouldn’t be able to make it. They’d been friends for years, and their bond as shop owners only strengthened the relationship. There was no way that Hailey could expect her to cancel a promise to Violet for her party—Mary’s soon-to-be stepdaughter would be crushed.

“It’s fine,” she said, even though it wasn’t. Mary was one of her favorite people in her adopted city, her home away from home. Her new home. And it was people like Mary who made it home. “Why don’t you bring Violet into the café this Friday after school, and she can help me decorate cut-out cookies?”

“Oh! She’d love that!” Mary sounded relieved. “And you know we’ll be there next year.”

Next year. It seemed so far away—and uncertain, just like her first few months after moving here. After she’d shed her jitters, Hailey had grown accustomed to her daily walk to the café, turning on the lights, and starting her morning in a quiet kitchen before her assistant Mandy began her shift. By the time the first customer of the day walked in, she was always prepared and welcoming, and over the years she’d gotten to know her regulars, Mary and her sister Lila being amongst them.

Unlike Mary, Lila was very organized and certainly wouldn’t have double-booked herself, even during the hectic holiday season. Hailey called her next.

“Do you have your ugly sweaters ready?” she asked in a more jovial tone than she felt.

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” Lila said with a heavy sigh. In the background, Hailey could hear Lila’s husband Sam muttering something to her about a new campaign pitch—a sure sign that the couple was still at their advertising firm just down the street. “We have a client thing that night. Corporate holiday party. There’s no way out of it. But you know I’d rather be at your party!” When Hailey didn’t say anything, she added hopefully, “If we don’t get out of there too late, maybe we can stop over for a drink?”

Meaning, I would love to make it but can’t.

Hailey muttered her understanding, even though her heart was beginning to feel heavy. She’d met Lila a little over seven years ago when she’d first opened the café. Lila had just moved back to Chicago from New York, and they were both starting over in a sense. And both nursing broken hearts. But now Lila was back together with her man—married to him, in fact—while Hailey…Hailey was dangerously close to a party for one.

In every possible way .

Not willing to give up quite yet, she called her cousin. Surely family wouldn’t desert her on her one event of the year. Claire was practically obligated to come, right?

Wrong. “Oh no, Ethan and I were invited to a wedding that night by a client…”

Clients, clients, everywhere—except at the Corner Beanery!

Hailey listened patiently while Claire detailed the veil that she and Ethan’s sister—her business partner—had designed for the bride at their vintage clothing and accessories shop, apparently beaded with antique crystals that Claire had snagged at a recent estate sale in a posh North Shore suburb.

“I’m so sorry to miss it! But have fun! I can’t wait to hear all about it! Oh, another customer just came in. Gotta run!”

Another customer. Imagine that. Hailey stuffed her phone into her apron pocket and pushed back through the kitchen door into the café. The Grinch near the window was sniffing into her mug of coffee now, as if she wasn’t sure she could trust it. And the man over near the door had been camping out since about two, and he had asked for three refills until Hailey finally told him three was the limit.

And then there was the nice girl who had ordered the hot chocolate. Hailey watched as she scooped the last of the marshmallows from the mug and smiled. There. A satisfied customer. If only she could bring a few friends along next time. Maybe a few dozen friends …

The man near the door folded his paper and emptied back his third refill before slamming the mug to the table. Catching her eye, he nodded gruffly as he stood and pulled open the door, letting in a blast of cold air.

“Merry Christmas,” she called out to him. More like bah-humbug , she said to herself.

Sighing, she walked to the display case and began carefully loading all the sweets into a paper bag, admitting defeat for the day. She’d take them home, eat them, and watch a movie that didn’t even remotely remind her of Christmas and all its endless cheer. Or memories. Maybe one of those serial killer documentaries. Yes, that would distract her. And maybe then she’d research cats, and where to buy one. Because thanks to her life choices, that was the closest thing to a companion she might have this holiday season. Or any other, from the way things were going.

When the café finally cleared out, she went around the empty room, clearing tables, cleaning the floor, and making sure that the kitchen was prepped for another early morning of baking treats that wouldn’t get purchased, all while the radio played Christmas carols until she finally flicked it off.

She stood in the doorway for a long moment, staring at the quiet room, remembering how it felt when it was filled with people and conversation, hoping that energy might return, but knowing, deep down, that it might not. Her shoulders felt heavy from more than the heavy parka she wore when she turned off the overhead lights. The fairy lights glittered against the window glass, casting a warm glow over the room and a promise that tomorrow might be different.

Maybe even better.

With this thought, Hailey tightened her wool scarf around her neck, hugged her bag of leftovers a little closer to her chest, and pushed out into the early winter evening, feeling better than she had in hours—until she saw it.

There, being set up in the empty parking lot that had once belonged to a school, caddy-corner to the still-happening coffee chain, even at this hour, was the worst reminder of the season ever. She blinked through the snow that had started to fall, wondering how this could even be possible, why now, of all years, this space would suddenly be occupied. But no, it was real, as real as the lights twinkling from their lampposts, as real as the fresh smell of pine she could make out across the street, cutting through the crisp winter air.

Hundreds of trees blocked her view of the old historical building that had been poised for development for years, and not just any sort of trees. Christmas trees. “Fresh from the farm!” the sign next to the gate read. Already a few people milled about, walking through the urban forest, their boots leaving footprints in the snow.

Hailey turned her back to the scene and buried her chin in her scarf as she huddled against the biting wind.

A tree lot across the street from her café. Another reminder of just how much her life had gone off-course. That plans were broken, by choice, by circumstance, or just by sheer bad luck .

She trudged through the snow, past the big, red bows, festive window displays, and the lights that brightened even the darkest winter days, but today, they did nothing to lift her heart. It would take more than a little Christmas tinsel to do that.

It would take…magic.