Chapter 4
Alight was glowing in the back office when Ryan reached Branson Motors later that evening.
Did Stanley ever go home? Cutting the engine, he hurried through the cold to the back door, the white box tight under one arm.
The smell of chocolate had driven him crazy all the way up Red Arrow.
Stamping the snow off his boots, he went inside.
Seeing Stanley through the glass of the enclosed office, Ryan hesitated.
Was the old man talking to himself? Glasses low on his nose, he sat staring at his computer screen.
Ryan poked his head into the office that smelled of burned coffee. “You working late again?”
“This dang thing.” Ripping off the glasses, Stanley rubbed his eyes. “Just getting ready for the end of the year. You know, accounting stuff. Take a load off.” He nodded to a chair piled with old newspapers.
“You’ll never win an award for housekeeping.” Setting the box on the desk, Ryan transferred the newspapers to the floor and sat down.
“Don’t want one.” Stanley’s eyes zeroed in on the cookies. His nose twitched.
Ryan stretched his legs out. “Man, this feels good.” Standing for hours in the bakery left him with a serious back ache. “Don’t you leave the books to your accountants?”
“The man who doesn’t run the numbers for his own business is a fool. I liked the old paper ledgers, not these fancy computer spreadsheets.” Stanley’s eyes were still riveted to the box of cookies. In the small enclosed space, the chocolate scent became overpowering. “What have you got there?”
“Just some cookies I baked tonight.” Man, this felt girly and weird.
Stanley had that box open in a flash. “You baked these yourself?” Scooping one out, he studied the cookie like it was the new Harley catalogue before biting down.
The sounds he made were almost indecent.
By the time Stanley finished munching, crumbs were everywhere.
Taking one finger, Stanley pressed down on them, one at a time. “Boy, you missed your calling.”
Ryan felt pleased. “It’s Sarah’s recipe. Mexican hot chocolate cookies.”
“Kinda got a kick, don’t they?” Running a tongue over his teeth, Stanley reached for another.
Getting up, Ryan moved to the desk and leaned over the spreadsheet. “That’s what makes them special. You mind if I look at this?”
“Have at it.” Stanley pushed his chair away.
“These spreadsheets have some basic formulas.”
“Son, you’re speaking a foreign language.” Getting to his feet, Stanley stepped back. “Can you show me?”
Ryan sat down in Stanley’s chair. For the next ten minutes he gave Stanley a quick course in Excel, or what he could remember since high school. By the time he surrendered the chair, the old man looked impressed. “You are a wizard.”
“Trust me, I’m not.” After jotting down some of the basic formulas, Ryan eased himself back into the chair. “Let me know if you need more help.”
Stanley’s chair squeaked when he swiveled to face Ryan. He closed the box carefully. “Want to save some of these for later.” Then he sat back and studied Ryan, hands folded on his stomach.
Uncomfortable, Ryan squirmed in the chair. The old guy sure had x-ray eyes. “So you start your day early in the morning, work here and then head back to town.”
“Ryder said that was okay. I put in at least eight hours here,” Ryan reminded him. He didn’t want Stanley to think he was goofing off.
“Sounds like you’re burning the candle at both ends.”
The concern in Stanley’s eyes caught Ryan right in the gut. Taking off his belt had been his dad’s answer for everything, not that Ryan didn’t deserve it. “It’s only for three weeks or so. I’m helping Sarah through the holidays.”
“So you said.” Stanley’s lips slowly twisted into a cocky grin. “Well, I hope your efforts are appreciated.”
“I think they are.” The hug that morning had felt way too good. For a second there, Ryan almost forgot this was Sarah, the sweetest woman on the planet. “I’m just filling in.”
“Uh huh. Why do I think there’s more to it than that?”
“What?” Keeping up with his own son had honed Stanley’s radar.
“Do you have feelings for Sarah?”
Avoiding Stanley’s eyes, Ryan focused on the pricing list posted on the wall. “She’s a good woman.”
“I know that, son. I’ve met Sarah. She’s fun. Cheerful. The kind of woman who keeps a good house and probably can make a pot roast last for six days. But that’s not what I’m asking.”
Man, it was hot in here. He opened his jacket. “I don’t think of her, you know, romantically.” The words felt strange on his tongue.
“Maybe you should.”
Ryan’s mind drifted back. The soft brown hair that framed Sarah’s rosy cheeks. The hands that fluttered when she talked. This was crazy. Just thinking about her made his heart race.
“So you’re taken by the widow woman.” Stanley was cackling. And there was no other word for it.
Feelings surged through him and Ryan had to clamp them down tight. “Wouldn’t do much good, Stanley. Sure I can help in her bakery. Take my nephews go-karting. But...”
“But what?” Stanley looked mystified.
Couldn’t the man see? Lurching to his feet, Ryan limped to the door. “Maybe you missed something but I’m a gimp-legged fool. Sarah was married to Jamie––honor roll student, football star and war hero. What would she ever want with me?”
Outside a storm was brewing, rattling the doors on the service bays. After today, he might lie in bed tonight and think of Sarah, all warm curves and sparkling eyes set off by that darn red scarf.
“Ryan, there’s a lot more to a man than the way he walks.”
“Easy for you to say. I feel like a reject, and I did this to myself.” The words cast a familiar gloom over him. “And I’ll probably pull something just as stupid in the future.”
“Not if you think first. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Stanley laced his hands behind his head, staring up at the fluorescent light like it had some answers. “Every man makes mistakes. My wife was a patient woman. Sarah seems like that kind of girl, someone who’s interested in more than looks.”
“Easy for you to say. Your son can walk into the Rusty Nail and have the attention of every woman in the place without even trying.”
Stanley snorted. “Yeah and look where that landed him. He’s lucky he got Phoebe back after that one indiscretion. You can be a sour puss but you’re not hard on the eyes.”
“Thanks, Stanley,” Ryan gritted out. “That’s real comforting.”
“Look, that accident could have been worse. You weren’t wearing a helmet and you might have left your face scraped right off on the asphalt.”
“I really need to be reminded of that.”
Stanley was pleased with himself, like a father who’s delivered a speech he’d had stored away. “So it’s the limp, is that it?”
He wished the old man would give it a rest. “Yeah. I’m the gimp with a limp.”
“No, you’re the man who has to learn how to woo a widow.” With one leg resting on his other knee, Stanley patted a black boot. “Seems to me you’ve been punishing yourself instead of looking for solutions. Listen, I know this shoemaker up in St. Joe.” And Stanley laid out a plan.
“Is it all right if I take some time off tomorrow?” Ryan asked, slowly digesting Stanley’s idea.
“I’ll have to ask the boss.” Stanley stood up and yawned. “Yep, fine with him. Now I have to drive home to bed and you need a good night’s sleep. Courting a widow woman requires energy.”
Ryan chuckled all the way up the stairs.
Sarah barely had time to feed the boys and get them ready for bed.
Her book group was coming. Although they’d talked about skipping this month, in the end they decided to bring their favorite cookies and talk about classic Christmas stories.
Then no one would have to read a new book. At least that was the plan.
But this group hardly ever stuck to the plan.
“Why do we have to go to bed so early?” Nathan complained as she tucked him in.
“Because Mommy’s friends are coming over. And you have school tomorrow.”
“You sound just like my teacher.” He sounded way older than kindergarten and it broke her heart. “But we’re going to see Santa this Saturday, right?”
“You promised,” Justin threw in from the other twin bed.
“Yes, Grandma will mind the shop during the Holiday Walk. And we’ll see Santa.”
“Good. I’ve got my list. And so does Justin.” Nathan hunched down under his covers.
Sarah’s heart sank. How long were their lists? This Christmas she was on such a tight budget. But she wouldn’t think about that now.
Tucking the comforter under Nathan’s chin, she smoothed the strawberry blonde curls from his eyes.
In time the hair would turn chestnut, just like his daddy.
Just like Ryan. “Sleep tight, sweetheart. But remember, Santa has a lot of boys and girls to give presents to at Christmas. He can’t give children everything on their list.”
“Of course he can, Mommy,” Justin said with the innocence of a three year-old.
Don’t I just wish. She gave each boy a kiss. “See you in the morning.” After snapping on the night light, Sarah left the door open a crack and scurried downstairs. The girls would be here soon.
She was stacking wood in the fireplace when Chili burst through the door. “Hey, Sarah. Need help?” Toeing off her boots, Chili left them on the brown runner. Then she swirled a plate onto the coffee table, lifting off the foil. “Mexican hot chocolate cookies. Christmas with a bit of spice.”
“Thanks. We’re making these at the bakery tomorrow.” Sarah gave Chili a big hug.
Framed by Chili’s dark curls, her friend’s brown eyes danced. “You and your Mamacita?”
“No, Ryan’s helping me.”
“Oh, I see.” Pulling away, Chili shrugged out of her red parka and walked over to cram it into the front hall closet.
The woman was a whirlwind. In addition to raising three kids, she helped her husband Nacho in his produce store on Red Arrow Highway.
The place was crazy busy during the tourist season, but in December? Not so much.
“Want to help me start this fire?” That way Sarah could avoid answering questions.