Page 63 of The Clause in Christmas
“That would be lovely. Thank you.” Cassie decided not to mention she planned to send the card to her mother. And knowing Donna, her smile would be of the upside down variety. But maybe some of the Christmas spirit Cassie found in Poppy Creek would find its way into her mother’s heart, too.
Kissing both girls on the cheek, Maggie said goodbye and sailed out of the bakery with an unmistakable skip in her step.
Grinning after her, Eliza squeezed Cassie’s hand. “I’m so glad you suggested this! She works way too hard. And she’s seemed tired lately. A break will do her some good.”
“Happy to help.” Cassie swiveled on her heels, excitement fluttering in her stomach as she scanned the shop. “Where should I start?”
“First,” Eliza said, placing both hands on Cassie’s shoulders, spinning her around, “I’ll show you the register. Half the keys stick and it won’t calculate the change for you.”
Cassie let out a good-natured groan. “What have I gotten myself into?”
“You’ll get the hang of it. Just don’t accidentally short Frida Connelly on her change. She’s a retired math teacher, and she counts it every time.”
Eliza laughed, and the infectious lilt teased a giggle from Cassie’s lips, too. Since the moment she met Eliza, the spunky blonde won her over with her endearing honesty and well-meaning meddling. And Cassie could tell that working together was going to be more fun than quality control at Santa’s workshop.
Cassie had experienced so much joy in Poppy Creek, she simply couldn’t understand why her mother had ever left.
* * *
As Cassie sat at the white wicker dining set situated in Maggie’s cheery kitchen nook, she sifted through a stack of glittery Christmas cards, enjoying the scent of cinnamon and sugar filling the homey space.
“I can’t believe you took a break from the bakery to come home and bake,” Cassie teased.
The corners of Maggie’s eyes crinkled as she laughed. “I’m so busy managing the operations side of the business, I hardly get to bake for myself anymore.” Maggie rolled the plump ball of dough in a shallow dish of cinnamon and sugar. “And that vanilla cinnamon latte you made me earlier left me craving a fresh batch of snickerdoodles.”
Cassie’s mouth watered as her gaze drifted toward the oven. “Theydosmell delicious.”
“The first batch will be ready by the time you’re finished with that Christmas card.” Maggie smiled, nodding toward the stack Cassie had only sifted halfway through. “And who’s the lucky recipient?”
Cassie fidgeted with a particularly gaudy card with hearts and flowers bursting from Santa’s sack, which appeared to be crafted from an actual swatch of red velvet. “My mom,” she murmured, running a finger over the soft fabric.
“How lovely. I’m sure it will make her day.”
“Maybe. If she even opens it. She usually avoids any hint of holiday mail as though an elf might pop out and sing a telegram.”
Maggie chuckled. “Do you think your mother will visit you in Poppy Creek for Christmas?”
“Not a chance.” Cassie sighed, thumbing through the stack of cards absentmindedly. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you could pay my mother to come back here.”
Frowning, Maggie rolled another clump of dough in the palm of her hand, making a perfect circle. “That’s too bad.”
A niggling thought tugged at the back of Cassie’s mind. One she’d debated asking Maggie half a dozen times, but could never quite bring herself to form the words. “Maggie…”
“Hmm?” Maggie concentrated on lining all the cookies in a perfect row on the baking sheet.
“Did you…” Cassie paused and swallowed past the uncomfortable lump in her throat. “Did you know my mother?” There. The question was out. She couldn’t take it back now.
A ball of dough slipped from Maggie’s fingers, bounced against the edge of the cookie sheet, and flattened on the tile floor.
As Cassie watched Maggie scoop it up with a spatula and toss it in the trash, her heart beat in an anxious rhythm, awaiting Maggie’s response.
Maggie returned to the mixing bowl and began rolling a replacement when she finally answered. “I knewofyour mother. I was a bit older, so our social circles didn’t cross paths all that often.”
“What was she like? As a kid, I mean.”
“Well, as a youngster, she seemed adventurous and precocious. Always getting into trouble. She wanted to do anything the boys could do, but better. Whether it was climbing the tree higher or riding her bike faster.” Maggie chuckled, shaking her head. “Your poor grandmother. She was a bundle of nerves worrying after your mom.”
“And my grandfather?”
