Chapter Twelve
Viola shut off the car engine and heard her phone buzz. Before checking her notification, she removed her gloves and shoved them in her coat pockets.
Sina: Hey, big sis. What ’ s up?
Viola: About to earn my halo. I ’ m at the Pine Valley soup kitchen preparing to serve some hungry souls.
Sina: I ’ m pretty confident you ’ ve already earned your halo, but good on you.
Viola: Thanks. I ’ m about to go in.
Sina: Do a good job. You know how I feel about wasting food, so make sure to serve big portions.
Viola stuck her phone in her purse and headed to the volunteer entrance of the building. Flurries drifted around her, and Christmas music floated out from the establishment.
This was the remedy she required. After numerous run-ins with Jonas, she wanted to clear her mind and open her heart to the community. She’d woken up with the longing to recapture the holiday spirit. Jonas was a Grinch, and Viola needed to distance herself from that energy.
The back door to the kitchen was propped ajar with a small, wooden wedge. Viola pulled the door open and found a bustle of activity. A dozen people in aprons moved about the kitchen like clockwork. She scoped the area, trying to figure out who was in charge. Her gaze landed on a familiar face. Rachel scurried about the kitchen, placing jars on shelves and moving empty trays to the dishwashing station. Her hair was twisted into a messy bun atop her head.
“Rachel.” Viola waited for a man carrying a metal container of cooked potatoes to pass before she approached.
“Hey, Viola.” Rachel added more rolls to the tray on the counter in front of her. “I didn’t know you were volunteering tonight.”
“Yeah. You know, the season of giving.”
“That’s great.”
Viola glanced around. “So, where am I needed? Do I have to check in with anyone?”
“Consider yourself checked in.” Rachel gestured to the left with her chin. “A couple of volunteers who’ve been here a few hours are leaving soon. They’re out front on the serving line.”
“Okay, you got it.”
“I’ll go out with you and show you where.” Rachel placed the last of the rolls on the tray. “Have you done this before?”
“Yes, I have. But I don’t mind a refresher.”
“You can store your stuff in the back room. Just pick any of the free lockers.”
Viola unraveled her scarf from her neck. “Great. Be right back.”
After quickly locking her coat and purse in a locker and washing her hands, Viola followed Rachel to the main area, where a long counter was laid out with trays of food. The dining hall was filled with people, half of whom were sitting at tables, digging into their hot meals. The other half stood in line.
“Ah, wonderful. Another set of helping hands.” Mr. Mason, who held a pair of tongs, patted Viola on her back, greeting her with a huge smile.
“Happy to help. This inexplicable urge to come here tonight has been nagging me all day. I could blame it on the week I’ve had, but something tells me this may be the universe’s doing. Or fate.”
“Maybe the magic of Christmas.” Rachel replaced the empty tray by Mr. Mason with a full one. “What happened this week that’s got you worked up?”
“I’ve had a couple run-ins with the guy who owns the Lakeside Chateau.” Viola sighed. “He literally yelled at me. I don’t know. It’s like he’s got a vendetta against me, and every move I make is wrong.”
Rachel gave Viola an apron and exchanged a look with her father. “Oh. Well, I’m sure he doesn’t have a vendetta or anything.”
“Maybe you should talk to him,” Mr. Mason suggested. “Maybe it’s all a big misunderstanding. Jonas has always been very kind to me the few times I’ve spoken to him.”
“Everyone is kind to you.” Viola’s mouth went dry. “Wait. Jonas? You know him?”
“A bit.” Mr. Mason leaned closer. “You want me to put him on my naughty list?”
Viola laughed as she secured her apron.
“Okay, you two, cut it out,” Rachel said, interrupting. “Dad, why don’t you scoot over and take over dishing out the carrots, and I’ll give Viola bread duty.”
“Sure, sure.” Mr. Mason passed Viola the tongs.
“So, pretty straightforward,” Rachel said to Viola. “One roll for each person unless they want more.”
Viola nodded. “Got it.”
Rachel was focused on something over Viola’s shoulder. Her eyes widened for a moment. “I think I’m going to help out back. Someone needs to start tackling those dishes.”
“All right. See you later.”
Rachel disappeared, and Mr. Mason grinned before scooting over to the carrot station, tagging out one of the other volunteers.
Viola swiveled her head, wondering what had caught Rachel’s attention. A pair of green eyes locked with hers.
Jonas Brickman. Of course.
At first, Viola didn’t recognize him because he wasn’t in a suit. Instead, he wore a burgundy sweatshirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. He appeared almost—dare she say it?—normal.
Almost normal. His flawless complexion spoke of an expensive skincare routine, and she was convinced his hair was under strict orders to remain in place at all times.
She grimaced, hoping he hadn’t overheard her complaining about him.
Jonas acknowledged her with a nod before returning to his task of placing slices of roast beef on passing plates.
For a second, Viola’s face, neck, and ears grew impossibly hot. She fidgeted as she averted her gaze.
Why, of all nights, does he have to be here tonight?
Viola adjusted her apron and pushed thoughts of Jonas away.
I’m here for the homeless, not to ponder Jonas Brickman’s every move.
The line of patrons stretched along the counter and halfway to the front door. Viola forced herself to smile and exude a merry disposition as she used the tongs to pass out the rolls.
The faces of the grateful people receiving food filled her soul with a sense of purpose. She had to admit, she was also glad for the distraction from the intruding thoughts of Jonas. With each roll she placed on a tray, she felt a comforting calm take over.
After half an hour, Mr. Mason turned to her. “I’m leaving for the night. It’s getting close to my bedtime.” He chuckled.
“All right,” Viola responded.
“You staying long?”
“I signed up until eight.”
He settled a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t stay out too late. See you at the shop.”
“Yeah. See you. Have a good night.”
A couple more volunteers came out from the kitchen to the serving line. There was a bit of commotion as people switched places, and Viola wasn’t sure if she should stay where she was or move. One person came out and refilled her tray of rolls, and she took a step back to give them room. As she did, she bumped into someone.
“Sorry.” Viola’s face fell, and she felt the need to swallow the lump in her throat. “Um, Mr. Brickman. Hi.”
“Hello, Ms. Carver.” He situated himself at the station next to hers, ladle at the ready.
“What, uh, brings you here?” As soon as she’d asked, Viola’s cheeks burned. What a dumb question.
Jonas Brickman smirked as he set down his ladle and retied the strings of his apron. “Same as you, I’m guessing.”
“I would have never guessed you spend your free time helping the less fortunate. What a pleasant surprise.”
“Are you kidding? I do this every year.” Jonas grabbed his ladle and gave it a twirl. “You know, you really shouldn’t judge someone until you get to know them better.”
She opened her mouth to retort but quickly shut it again. He had a point. But it had been her point, and she was merely feeling sour that he had said it first.
After serving a few more patrons, she said, “It’s just that you always seem preoccupied with work.”
He gave her a sideways look . Is he smirking at me?
“Yes. I am. In fact, I’m going over the numbers of my year-end report as we speak.” Jonas gestured at the dining hall. “But this is important, too.”
He turned to smile at the people at his station as he scooped food onto their plates. Viola couldn’t figure him out. Until now, she’d regarded him as a cold-blooded, money-driven robot with no soul. Could Jonas actually have a heart?
“How’ve you been, Sherry?” Jonas said to the woman in line.
“I’m surviving.” Sherry’s eyes were droopy, and her coat sleeves were torn.
“How’s Carl?” Jonas went on. “Did he take care of that back of his?”
“You know Carl. Refuses to listen to anyone.”
“You tell him to come see me.” Jonas flashed her a smile. “I’ll have a talk with him.”
“You’re kind, Mr. Brickman. I’ll tell him. Don’t you worry.”
Viola placed a roll upon Sherry’s tray and watched her move down the line. “Wow, who knew you were such a big hit among the masses?”
Jonas chewed the side of his mouth. “I’m willing to bet there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“I suppose.” Viola adjusted her grip on the tongs. “I mean, I guess the only thing I know about you is that you seem really stressed lately. Maybe even … grumpy?”
His eyes widened. “Oh. Okay. Grumpy.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’ve got a lot going on.”
“Such as?”
“I mentioned I run a business in Billings.”
She bit back a grin. “Hm, yeah. You did mention that.”
“And I’ve got the chateau.”
She waited. “Go on.”
His brow furrowed. “Well, that’s a lot.”
“What about friends, family?” Dare I say it? “Committed relationship?”
He averted his eyes, rubbing his jaw before looking at her again. “I’m afraid my lifestyle doesn’t leave much time for those benefits. To tell you the truth, splitting my time between here and Billings is literally me burning a candle at both ends.”
“Well, maybe you should think about changing that.” Viola couldn’t believe she was being so bold.
“Now that you mention it, I’m considering giving up one of my endeavors. Selling one business so I can concentrate on the other.”
“Okay, well, that makes sense. But you should also try to incorporate a little fun into your schedule. For instance, what are you doing this Christmas?”
“Working.”
“What a surprise.” Viola let out a huff of a laugh. “Do you even have a Christmas tree up in your house?”
He scoffed. “Do I look like I have the time to set up a tree?”
“You have time to do this.” She gestured at the dining hall.
“This is a service. What will a tree do?”
“Lift your spirits?”
He raised a brow. “Highly unlikely.”
She sighed and went back to her task. The conversation was going nowhere. He’s one of those guys who will never change . She studied him again. He smiled at another patron, asking how their dog was. Weird, though. He seems to be kind. There must be more there than what I’m seeing.
At seven-thirty, Viola’s legs were suffering the weight of her work. Someone came from the back and tagged her out. As she moved toward the kitchen, removing her apron, she was surprised to see Jonas following her.
“You’re off, too?” she asked.
“I think four hours is sufficient. And they’re shutting down in half an hour anyway.” He held the kitchen door open for her.
“Thanks.”
They went to the lockers, and Viola was tempted to get to know him better. It was like a puzzle she needed to unscramble. A code she had to crack.
“Hey, listen,” she said to him as she wrapped her scarf around her neck. “I still feel bad about ruining your coat. The least I could do is offer you a coffee, on me. What do you say?”
He seemed to study her face, but she couldn’t read him.
“That’s considerate of you.” He fastened his buttons. “But my coat’s not ruined. See?” He ran his hand down the front of it. “All better.”
“Still, I mean … I know a coffee doesn’t exactly amount to you having to get it drycleaned, but it’s, you know, a gesture?” She wrung her gloves in her hands, and her toes curled up in her boots.
“It is a gesture. A nice one. As it happens, I’ve got plans.” One corner of his mouth inched upward. “Raincheck?”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure.” Her stomach twisted in a knot, and her cheeks were on fire. “Raincheck. Goodnight.”
She couldn’t leave the building fast enough. What was I thinking? Inviting him out for coffee? And he probably has a girlfriend. She swiftly got into her car and shut the door, burying her head in her arms over the steering wheel until her blush faded.