Chapter 5
With her grade school ornament tucked in her red Gucci tote, Victoria headed straight to the shop. Not bothering to stop in her office, she trotted out front, inhaling the fresh pine smell. Those few minutes in her mother’s Christmas closet may have brought her some Christmas spirit after all.
Maisy hadn’t arrived yet. Surrounded by the early morning quiet, Victoria liked being in the shop alone.
Maisy had attached an extension cord with a foot pedal to the tree lights.
When Victoria tapped it with one red boot, the tree sprang to life.
Her heart lifted. No more sad artificial tree with stiff boughs that didn’t look or smell real.
The lights threw everything into dark relief.
How she loved the dancing reindeer and the pink flamingo string of lights.
Stepping back, she admired the mixed-up conglomeration of ornaments and lights, laughing when she compared it to her parents’ carefully planned trees.
Being here alone felt peaceful. Anytime she’d ventured down here at night because she’d forgotten something, the silent shop had creeped her out.
In the dark, the shelves and counters assumed strange shapes.
The spooky shivers running down her spine reminded her of being a kid.
At night sometimes she’d creep downstairs to get Randall some milk.
He’d had a nervous stomach as a kid. That marble foyer with all its plants stands and statuary had been downright scary.
Humming “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” she dug her felt ornament from her purse and hung it on the tree.
How crazy she’d been in fifth grade. Had she really thought her parents would appreciate this funny little lump of an ornament with the crazy stitching?
No wonder her mother had tossed it into the container marked “Old Decorations.” While her crudely made treasure hadn’t fit into her mother’s scheme, it fit in here at Victoria’s Pantry.
Taking her tote back to her office, she put it in her desk drawer.
Before closing the drawer, she grabbed three of the recipes Emily had given her.
Yesterday she’d picked up things like onions and bacon.
She felt like cooking. Tying on her apron, she headed for the kitchen in the back.
Sticking her recipe to the refrigerator with a Victoria’s Pantry magnet, she got to work.
Certainly she could make potato salad herself.
As she chopped up the onions and diced the bacon, her thoughts went back to Dr. Darling.
She flushed with embarrassment. This time his attitude had been different and maybe she deserved his suspicions.
He knew she was faking her headache and had pretty much kicked her to the curb.
“What smells so good in here?” Maisy poked her head into the kitchen. Soft morning sunlight fell through the back window. “What? You’re cooking?”
“Don’t sound surprised.” The potato salad had turned out great and sat in a big bowl on the counter. “Want to take this out to the case?”
Grabbing a hairnet from the box on the counter, Maisy snapped it over her dark hair and grabbed the potato salad. “You’re always full of surprises, Victoria.”
“Better get used to it.” And she smiled. This new found confidence felt strange but good.
By ten o'clock trucks were rumbling down the alley. Everything came into the kitchen for approval before Maisy arranged it on a tray to be carried out front. The gingerbread men, chocolate brownies and hot chocolate cookies smelled heavenly. Before Maisy could whisk away the thumbprints, Victoria snatched one. These buttery, melt-in-her-mouth delights were her favorite. Maribelle always made them at holiday time. The pecan-crusted thumbprints filled with sticky sweet orange marmalade were Victoria’s favorite.
When she was little, she would sneak downstairs at night to carefully lift the top off the Santa Claus cookie jar that Maribelle set out each Christmas season.
Grazing the cookies, she worked her fingers around until they hit sticky marmalade.
Even at that age, she’d chuckled, picturing the horror on her mother’s face if she ever found out that her little girl had mauled their Christmas cookies.
The cleaning crew might have found crumbs in her bedding, but of course they never mentioned anything.
Mama had insisted that Maribelle make single batches, although every other recipe was automatically doubled. “One batch will do us just fine or you know who,” Mama had said with a nod in Victoria’s direction, “will make a pig of herself.”
Now Victoria bit into the buttery bliss. Oink, oink.
“Just one more,” she managed to say before Maisy marched to the front with her treasures. Darla arrived and the two girls continued to freshen the cases. Maisy switched on the music, and “O Little Town of Bethlehem” filtered through the shop with its sweet soothing strains.
Just after they opened, Bryn stopped in.
She always seemed to bring sunshine with her.
Trevor and Bryn made such a great couple.
Their wedding right before Thanksgiving had brought tears to Victoria’s eyes and an ache to her heart.
Would that ever be her in a flowing white gown?
Arranging her reindeer mugs on a shelf, she nearly dropped one.
“Oh my gosh. It smells so good in here.” Pausing at the case, Bryn took a deep breath. “I could never work in your shop, Victoria. I’d gain three hundred pounds.”
“You're telling me? I have to deal with this every day.” Victoria chuckled. “Who's watching your place?” Bryn was the proud owner of Bryn’s Blooms, a flower shop over on Rookery Road.
A smile tilted the corners of Bryn’s lips. “My mother-in-law. She’s wonderful, and I never thought I’d say that.”
The two of them burst into chuckles because Cornelia Daniels had been a trip. Trevor’s mother had totally disapproved of Bryn, calling her “unsuitable” for her son. Now that was all history. “I love being able to shoot down to the square during the day,” Bryn said with one of her shy smiles.
“A mother-in-law would sure add a different wrinkle to everything.” Victoria couldn’t imagine her own mother working with her in these close quarters. She’d have to set some ground rules. Rules for Augusta? That wasn’t ever going to happen.
Maisy stepped behind the counter. Studying the cookies, Bryn got down to business. “I’ll take three of the gingerbread men and Santa Claus cookies. Throw in a dozen sand tarts and the tea cookies from Scorsese's. My customers will love them.”
“How’s business?” Victoria asked while Maisy wrapped up Bryn’s purchase.
“The holiday season is always great. We’re doing a brisk business with poinsettias and amaryllises. Lots of orders for table decorations too.”
“Aren’t we lucky?” Victoria said, caught up in the holiday spirit. “We get to add a little joy to everyone’s Christmas.”
“Pretty awesome. Do you have time for sweet tea?” Bryn asked. “I hate to go back to work. The square is so pretty this time of year. And your shop is placed perfectly.”
“You bet. Time for a break.” Pouring sweet tea for both of them, Victoria carried the glasses to one of the glass-topped tables.
“How's your eye? No patch today?” Setting her pastry box on the table, Bryn took a seat across from Victoria.
“Coming along fine when I remember to put in the drops Dr. Darling gave me.” Victoria’s voice drifted off. She could feel the silly smile on her face.
When Bryn grinned, her eyes formed little smiley faces. “Do you think you’ll see Dr. Darling again?”
“Oh, I was there last night.” Maybe she should keep that to herself.
Bryn’s eyes widened. “What happened?”
“Sadly, nothing.” Talk about feeling like an idiot. “I faked a concussion.”
Bryn’s lips formed an O. “So that's how it is.”
“Yeah, I’m crushing bad and feel stupid. He didn’t take me seriously. I suppose he has tons of pretty nurses chasing him.” The thought made her reach for another cookie.
“Victoria, you’re gorgeous. But a doctor can’t hit on pretty women who come into his urgent care center. I mean, even if he wanted to.”
“You think?” Was this the light at the end of the tunnel? “He has a clinic somewhere.”
Sipping her sweet tea, Bryn appeared to be thinking. “I read about that in the Sweetwater Gazette. A vacant storefront over near Amblebury. It's for folks who don’t have health insurance. Gosh, wouldn’t that be terrible?”
“Absolutely. I don’t go to the doctor that often. But I wonder what a trip to an urgent care center would cost.”
“Tons,” Bryn said with no hesitation. “Trevor put me on his policy after we got married. I was so relieved. Insurance sure cost a bunch when I took it out independently.”
Victoria swirled her tea with the straw. “Guess I’m still on Daddy’s plan.”
“You’re so lucky.”
“Guess so.” Her mind circled back to the clinic.
“So, are you going to drive over to Amblebury?” Bryn batted her eyes innocently. “See what’s happening?”
But Victoria shook her head. “No way. What would I say?”
“Pretend you’re a reporter. Interview him for a follow-up article.”
The thought left her paralyzed. “Are you kidding? I’ve never written more than a grocery list.”
“Of course I’m not kidding.” Bryn gave an impatient shake of her head.
“Sometimes you have to step outside your comfort zone, like I did. Malcolm told me to take a chance on something. That was right before we broke up. So I did. I took a chance on Trevor. Even called him when I had no clue what I should say.”
“You told me about that.” Victoria’s mind spun, a plan forming in her head.
The Sweetwater Gazette did use a ton of stringers.
She’s always gotten A’s on any papers she did get around to turning in but never considered herself a writer.
But she pulled her mind away from crazy schemes.
Their conversation quickly zoned in on Bryn’s perfect life and Emily’s pregnancy.
Jealous much? A lot. But Victoria was happy for her friends.