Page 17 of Christmas Promises

5

LANEY

The morning after her dinner with Nolan Hayes, Laney rose early for a dance class at the studio not far from Aunt Edna’s bookshop. By nine she’d finished class and showered, feeling peppy and energized. She found Aunt Edna sitting in her kitchen having coffee and toast, bent over an actual paper newspaper. Her aunt was old-school.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Edna said. “How did you sleep?”

“Really well. The dance class was great too.”

“You were home pretty late last night.” Edna looked at her sideways, a smile playing at her mouth.

“I know. It was after ten. We had so much fun talking and catching up that I lost track of time.”

“He’s a good man, that Nolan Hayes. They’re all fine young men. Grace did well with them. Regardless, Nolan’s always been my favorite.”

“He’s my favorite too.” Laney helped herself to a cup of coffee from the pot.

“I was wondering if you could help me decorate the store today. Usually, I get it all done before Thanksgiving, but this year I’m behind.”

“I would love to.” Laney adored Christmas and everything about it. “What’s left to do?”

“We need to decorate the tree. I have a fake one for the shop. And then I was hoping you might have some ideas of ways to make everything seem a little more festive. Those scented pinecones aren’t really adequate.”

“Put your mind at rest. I’m all over it,” Laney said.

Aunt Edna explained where all the boxes containing the decorations could be found, and Laney promised to get started right after breakfast. She poured some granola and milk into a bowl and joined her aunt at the table.

Sighing with pleasure, she ate a few bites of her aunt’s homemade granola made with flakes of coconut, raisins, and almonds. The kitchen in the apartment above the shop had changed since her last visit. Exposed stone walls and the sturdy wooden beam overhead were the same, as was the light streaming in through the small-paned windows. But her aunt had installed a modern yet classic range cooker, surrounded by pots, pans, and an array of lovingly curated ceramics and cookware. The cabinetry had changed colors too. It used to be painted a pea green but was now covered in a warm cream hue. Attractive brass hardware gave it a more modern look. An array of vases and potted herbs topped the wooden countertops, and stylish kitchen tools lined the shelves.

Almost messy, but not quite.

Laney smiled, thinking what her mother would say about all the items on the counters. The kitchen in her mother’s home was stark white and uncluttered.

“Did you buy the building with the intent to open a bookstore?” When her aunt had suggested she buy her out of the bookstore, she’d made it clear that she would continue to own the building. In exchange for letting her stay in the apartment, Aunt Edna would rent the bookstore space for cheap. Edna said she planned on leaving the building to Laney when she passed away. Years and years from now, Laney thought. Aunt Edna was like Laney’s mother, youthful and fit. Although Edna would turn sixty at the end of month, she had the energy and appearance of a woman much younger.

Aunt Edna nodded. “The retail space was a gift shop back then. My dream was to own a bookstore, so when I saw the listing for the building, I jumped at it. Did you know your father lent me the money for the down payment?”

“What? I had no idea.”

“He and your mother had just gotten married, and he’d inherited money from his grandmother. Some of it he used for your mother’s first house, and some he gave to me. I paid it back. Every cent. But without interest, so you can see how much he helped me. I’ll never forget that kindness.”

“Daddy’s a big, sweet bear.”

“Yes, he is. Your mother thought I was delusional to buy this old building. She’s not a fan of country life.”

“No, not really.” My mother’s idea of roughing it was having lunch at a place with a walk-up counter.

“Regardless, she and your father were happy to support my dream. Thirty years later, here I am.”

“Any regrets?”

A wave of sadness flickered in Aunt Edna’s eyes. “Only one. But don’t ask me what it is. I don’t like to talk about it.”

This roused Laney’s curiosity, but she didn’t press. As kind and nurturing as her aunt had always been, she was a private person.

“Tell me about last night,” Edna said. “Did he cook you dinner?”

“He did. It was delicious, too. We talked and talked. He told me about his work. I told him about my humiliation. It’s strange how we just seemed to pick up where we left off. Only we’re thirty instead of fourteen.”

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