Chapter 7
By the time Natalie unlocked the front door of Winter Wishes after church Sunday morning, the square had already come alive.
Christmas music drifted from speakers mounted beneath the gazebo roof.
Children hurried ahead of their parents, still dressed in their Sunday clothes, eager to press their noses against decorated windows while adults lingered on the sidewalks catching up after the service.
Natalie switched the sign from CLOSED to OPEN, stepped behind the counter, and glanced around the shop with satisfaction.
Everything sat exactly where it belonged.
The rebuilt display outside looked as though it had never collapsed, and the lamppost bows still looked welcoming instead of sad or smug. Mark had done good work.
The bell above the door jingled before she had finished straightening the register drawer, and Mrs. Barlow walked in carrying a handbag large enough to survive a week in the wilderness. “Good morning, Natalie.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Barlow.” Natalie smiled as she closed the drawer. “How was church?”
“Wonderful.” Mrs. Barlow wandered toward the ornament display without much interest in the ornaments. “I was hoping I’d catch you before things got busy.”
Natalie had a feeling she knew where this was going. “What can I help you find?”
Mrs. Barlow picked up a hand-painted cardinal ornament and turned it over thoughtfully. “Oh, I don’t really need anything.”
Of course not.
Natalie folded a length of ribbon beneath the counter. “Then what can I do for you?”
Mrs. Barlow returned the ornament to its hook and smiled knowingly. “I was only wondering how that nice young Mr. Clemons is.”
Natalie’s hands stopped moving. “I’m sorry?”
“Mark,” Mrs. Barlow clarified, as though there were any question which Mr. Clemons she meant. “I saw the two of you working together yesterday.”
“He was helping fix the display.”
“I know.” Mrs. Barlow drifted toward the Christmas village table. “He looked very attentive.”
Natalie opened her mouth then closed it again. “He was being helpful.”
Mrs. Barlow nodded smugly. “I always did think he was a dependable young man.”
“He is.” Natalie frowned slightly as soon as the words left her mouth. Why had she answered that?
“Well, I’m happy for you.” Mrs. Barlow picked up a tiny ceramic church, set it back down, and smiled one last mysterious smile before moving toward the snow globes.
Before Natalie could decide whether correction was necessary, the bell jingled again and two more customers entered. By the time she had greeted them and helped one choose a memorial angel for her sister, Mrs. Barlow had left the shop wearing an expression that made Natalie very uneasy.
The rest of the morning passed in a pleasant blur.
A grandmother searched for matching ornaments for four grandchildren.
A young father needed help choosing a Christmas gift for his wife because, as he quietly admitted while tugging his hat lower, “She always says she doesn’t need anything, and then somehow buys the perfect present for everyone else.
” Natalie suggested a silver snowflake necklace, and he bought it with such visible relief that she wished she could package confidence along with the gift.
A newly married couple spent nearly twenty minutes debating whether a handmade nativity would survive their curious golden retriever, and Natalie recommended putting it on the highest bookshelf they owned.
By lunchtime, Winter Wishes buzzed with conversation and laughter, and Natalie barely noticed the time passing until Mrs. Dixon stepped through the front door carrying two paper cups.
“I brought coffee.” Mrs. Dixon lifted one cup with a grin.
Natalie looked up gratefully. “You are my favorite customer.”
“I haven’t bought anything yet.” Mrs. Dixon crossed the shop and set the cup on the counter.
“You brought coffee,” Natalie said as she wrapped a set of wooden ornaments in tissue paper.
“Fair point.” Mrs. Dixon leaned one hip against the counter and glanced toward the window. “I saw your display yesterday.”
Natalie accepted the coffee and took a careful sip. “So did most of the town.”
“I heard Mark Clemons fixed it.” Mrs. Dixon’s expression stayed innocent for approximately one second too long.
“He repaired the support.”
“I also heard the two of you make a pretty good team.”
Natalie nearly spilled her coffee. “You heard that already?”
“Natalie.” Mrs. Dixon lowered her voice and smiled. “This is Shooting Star Canyon.”
Natalie sighed and reached for another sheet of tissue paper. “Right.”
“We don’t exactly keep exciting news to ourselves.”
“It wasn’t exciting.”
“If you say so.” Mrs. Dixon sipped her coffee and watched Natalie over the rim of the cup.
Natalie leaned against the counter and started to say, “We’re not…”
Not dating? Not seeing each other? Not interested?
Mrs. Dixon waited politely, and Natalie realized she did not actually want to explain anything.
“Did you need anything besides dropping off coffee?” Natalie asked, turning toward the ribbon wall.
“I came for ribbon.” Mrs. Dixon followed her, her smile bright. “I can tease you and shop at the same time.”
Natalie laughed despite herself. “You fit in here entirely too well.”
“I’ve lived here my whole life,” Mrs. Dixon said as she examined a spool of red velvet ribbon.
“Exactly.”
The afternoon passed in much the same way.
Mrs. Hernandez asked whether Mark preferred traditional Christmas decorations or rustic ones.
Natalie had no idea. Mrs. Lewis commented that the rebuilt display looked sturdy enough to survive until New Year’s, and when Natalie agreed, Mrs. Lewis added, “It’s nice having a handy man around. ”
Natalie somehow thanked her.
By three o’clock, she had answered more questions about Mark Clemons than about Christmas merchandise.
When the customer rush finally slowed, she locked the register, grabbed her coat, and crossed the street toward Honey Creek Bakery.
The bell above the bakery door rang as she stepped inside, and warm air wrapped around her immediately, carrying the scent of cinnamon, fresh bread, and sugar.
Violet Hoffman looked up from boxing cookies and smiled. “Natalie!”
“I desperately need a cinnamon roll,” Natalie said, unwinding her scarf.
“Long day?” Violet folded the lid of the cookie box with neat, practiced hands.
“You have no idea.”
Mr. Hoffman emerged from the kitchen carrying another tray of pastries. “We’re fresh out.”
Natalie’s face fell.
He grinned as he set the tray down. “I’m kidding.”
Violet gave her father an exasperated look. “One of these days she’s going to believe you.”
“Not today.” Mr. Hoffman winked at Natalie.
Natalie laughed and stepped closer to the counter. “I almost did.”
Benny Hoffman appeared from the back carrying a fresh pan of rolls and smiled when he spotted her. “Perfect timing.”
“I’ve been told.” Natalie looked at the pan with open appreciation. She dug her wallet out of her purse and placed the proper bills on the table.
“Cinnamon roll?” Benny reached for a box.
“Please.”
Benny selected one of the largest rolls. “Should I pack one for Mark too?”
Natalie stared at him. “What?”
Benny looked genuinely confused. “I thought you were together.”
Violet closed her eyes briefly. “Benjamin.”
“What?” Benny looked between them. “Mrs. Barlow said?—”
“Mrs. Barlow says many things,” Violet interrupted gently.
Natalie felt heat climb into her cheeks. “We’re not together.”
Benny blinked. “Oh.” He looked so disappointed that Natalie almost felt guilty. “I thought maybe…”
Violet rested a hand on his arm. “Let’s let Natalie enjoy her cinnamon roll before we start planning weddings.”
Natalie’s eyes almost popped out of her head.
Mr. Hoffman chuckled as he slid the pastry box across the counter. “That’s usually good advice.”
Natalie accepted the box and tried to smile normally. “Thank you.”
Benny scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Natalie meant it.
Mostly.
As she turned toward the door, another customer walked in and smiled brightly. “Oh, Natalie! Tell Mark those bows outside your shop look wonderful.”
Natalie opened her mouth to explain then closed it again. What was the point?
She smiled and shifted the bakery box to her other hand. “I’ll mention it if I see him.”
The woman nodded happily and moved farther into the bakery.
Natalie stepped back outside into the crisp afternoon air, pausing beside one of the lampposts Mark had decorated. The bow hung neatly beneath the garland, perfectly centered and welcoming.
Across the square, Winter Wishes glowed under the pale December sun, its repaired display standing exactly where it should. People passed by smiling.
No one stopped to ask whether she had met anyone lately. No one tilted their head sympathetically. No one mentioned an eligible bachelor from Amarillo, a widower from the neighboring county, or somebody’s nephew who was “such a nice young man.”
The questions had stopped because everyone apparently believed they had already been answered.
She ought to correct the misunderstanding.
It was the honest thing to do, and she had no interest in becoming the subject of one of Mrs. Barlow’s rapidly expanding stories.
Still, as she crossed back toward Winter Wishes with the cinnamon roll tucked beneath one arm, she could not deny the unexpected relief settling over her.
The rumors weren’t true. She and Mark Clemons weren’t dating.
They hadn’t gone to dinner. They hadn’t even spent time together outside of hanging decorations and repairing a Christmas display.
Yet for the first time in years, people had stopped looking at her as though something in her life was missing.
Natalie unlocked the shop door and stepped inside, letting the familiar scent of cedar, cinnamon, and candle wax settle around her. She set the pastry box on the counter and looked through the front window at the decorated square.
“Lord,” she murmured as she rested one hand against the edge of the register, “I’m not sure what You’re doing, but thank You for today.”
Another family paused outside to admire the display. She smiled, untied the bakery string, and decided there were worse ways to spend a quiet Sunday afternoon than with a warm cinnamon roll and a shop full of Christmas.