Page 17 of Mistletoe Misses
“Kendall and Aaron.”
“Are they coming home, too?”
“Next week.”
“That’s wonderful.” With both hands, she pushes my card and order forward, her friendly smile vanishing. “Have a great day, Maddox.”
She pushes through the swinging kitchen doors, leaving me alone in the empty café. Strange exit for someone who seemed content to keep me here talking all day only moments ago. Witha shrug, I put away my debit card, collect the bag of muffins and cardboard cup carrier, and cross the street.
Nana must have seen me coming with her special treats.
“Good job,” I say as she holds open the door and helps me inside. “That’s the kind of welcome customers expect.”
“Stop your griping and give me that muffin. I can tell that’s what you got in the bag.” She snatches the bag from my hand and reaches inside. Without bothering with the paper wrapping, she sinks her teeth into the top of the muffin and groans. “Willa sure knows how to bake bread and pastries, but she’s got a thing or two to learn about pies. I’m keeping my crown this year.”
“I hope so. For everyone’s sake,” I add in a mumble to myself.
“I heard that.” She takes another bite before giving her attention to me. “By the way, I saw the tools you brought in here. You’re not as sneaky as you think.”
“Whatever complaining you’re conjuring up, I don’t want to hear it. This place needs work, and if you won’t do it, I will.”
“It’s not your shop. I’ll fix what I want when I want.”
“Nope. You gave up that right yesterday when you told me to shut up and listen. Now, I’m saying the same to you. You can try to fix whatever you think is broken in my life, and I’ll do the same with the one thing you love as much as family. Got it?”
I expect her to argue, nag, or throw something at me. I never thought I’d hear her to say, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Want me to write it down for you?”
“Damn, Nana. I got it.”
“Good.”
I remove my muffin from the bag and take a bite, fully understanding Nana’s reaction to hers. The symphony of flavors melts on my tongue as I chew.
“Why haven’t you fixed the issues around here,” I ask, and resign to playing twenty questions when she ignores me. “Doyou not have the money? Don’t trust Dad with tools?” That got a chuckle out of her. He really is a danger to himself with power tools. Everything I know, I learned from Carmen’s father and the Army.
“Revenue isn’t exactly flowing steady these days, thanks to online stores, but I’m not dry yet.”
“Do you have any ideas for changing that? You need to adequately support yourself. You can’t operate the way you did when you first opened. You have to evolve, Nana.”
“You’re one to talk.”
After that little nugget, we eat in silence until Nana steers the conversation back to my life and ruins the bliss.
“Chrissy asked about you yesterday.”
“Who?”
“Bachelorette number two.”
“Good Lord, Nana.” Snatching up my coffee, I stalk to hall closet where I not so slyly (apparently) hid the toolbox. “How do I get upstairs?” My escape route.
“Stairway in the lounge.”
“I’m going up to find the leak. Let me know if you need anything.”
