Page 18 of The Christmas Cottage
She stared at the phone for a long moment, hardly able to believe that she’d actually prioritized Mabel over her work. Her job had been her first and only priority for so long that it took a second for it to sink in. She hadn’t seen her grandmother in years, and didn’t know her all that well any longer… but she’d put Mabel first, and she felt good about it.
She took the last sip of her coffee, folded up the blanket, and went inside to get ready for the day.
CHAPTER TEN
Jackson headed over to George’s Christmas tree farm on Friday morning to pick up a small tree for the diner’s counter. They already had the large, fully decorated tree that they’d had up for a month now, but he thought the diner could use something a little extra. One of the guests had mentioned over breakfast yesterday that a little table-top tree would be festive, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since.
He walked under the squared-off wooden archway that led into the farm, boots squishing in the mud where the snow had turned to slush down the driveway. A large sign with the farm’s name on it swung above him, and he breathed in the cold air scented with pine and fir. There was nothing comparable, he thought, to the scent of fresh Christmas trees. No air freshener or candle could compare. And definitely not any of those fake, pre-lit trees. It was the real thing or nothing.
Which reminded him, he still needed to get a tree for his own house. He’d been so focused on decorating the diner and making sure it was as festive as possible that he hadn’t prioritized his home. He spent most of his time at the diner anyway, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. But he liked having Christmas cheer around as much as possible.
George was inside the small log-cabin style shop that was situated halfway up the twisting driveway, with the apple cider stand off to one side, and the machine to wrap the trees on the other. The shop smelled strongly of pine needles, with a series of small tabletop-sized trees lined against the front window. The rest of the shop was full of kitschy local decorations, sold on consignment.
“Hey there, Jackson.” George raised a hand in greeting. “What can I help you with?”
“Just thought I’d get a little guy for the diner counter.” Jackson walked over to the line of small trees, surveying them thoughtfully. “Just string a few lights on it, hang a handful of ornaments. Brighten the place up even more.”
“Well, take your pick.” George leaned on the counter, watching as Jackson studied the trees. “Whichever one you want.”
“Did you ever go and check on Mabel?” Jackson asked, a bit mischievously as he picked up a tree that he thought would fit well on the front corner. “See how that wrist of hers is holding up?”
“I did.” George rubbed a hand over his beard. “She said she hurt it trying to get to a shelf that was up too high. It’s a good thing that granddaughter of hers is helping out. Makes me feel better, knowing she has an extra pair of hands. Especially since she’s down one,” he added.
“Yeah, I heard Vanessa is giving her a hand at the shop,” Jackson said neutrally, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. “Just for a little while.”
“I’ll take dinner by for Mabel soon too, I think,” George said thoughtfully. “Make her some of my famous beef stew. Pick up a sourdough loaf from the bakery, maybe, take it by there. She’ll appreciate that.”
Jackson grinned at him. “The two of you are awfully friendly,” he noted, slipping a few twenties out of his wallet to hand to George for the tree. “Bringing her dinner, now? You guys must be getting closer. The town is going to start talking.”
George rolled his eyes. “Like they don’t already.” He rang up the tree, handing Jackson back his change. “You seem pretty interested in her granddaughter yourself,” he shot back with a grin. “Vanessa.”
Jackson frowned. “Well, she’s going home today. Probably already on a flight out, actually. So it really doesn’t matter one way or another.”
His heart shouldn’t have dropped as much as it did in that moment, when he said it. He’d barely even met her, and it had been clear from the start that she’d never intended to stick around. She was just another tourist passing through, even if she was related to Mabel.
“Ah, well.” George frowned. “I should definitely check on Mabel, then, if her granddaughter’s taken off. Make sure she’s holding up all right with that wrist hurt the way it is.”
“You do that.” Jackson wanted to tease him a little more about the situation with Mabel, but after thinking about Vanessa leaving, he just didn’t have it in him. He pocketed the change, hefting the small tree up and preparing to carry it back to the diner. Thinking about decorating it cheered him up a bit, and he tried to focus on that rather on the fact that he wasn’t going to see Vanessa again.
Also, she hadn’t returned his travel mug. But he couldn’t fault her for that, exactly. It was a good mug. And she’d seemed like she had a lot on her mind—the least of which was probably remembering to bring back his coffee cup to the diner.
By the time he reached the diner again, he was puffing out clouds of warm breath into the frigid air. Carrying the small tree the whole way had proved to be a good bit of exercise, and hewas glad to set it down on the diner’s countertop. The breakfast rush was in full swing, but Patty and the other servers seemed to have it under control, and he went into the back to see what Christmas decorations he had left that he could add to the small tree.
Halfway through digging through a box, he had the bright idea to string it with lights, then add all the decorations to a basket that he could set on the counter next to the tree. Guests could come in and hang something up when they sat down, or before they left.
He spent the next several minutes checking strings of lights, finally finding one long, multicolored strand that was left that wasn’t missing any bulbs and lit up all the way down. The rest were all faulty, and he rolled them up and set them on the end of his desk, reminding himself to toss them out.
Armed with the lights and the basket of spare decorations—a festive hodgepodge of ornament balls, small fluffy holiday animals like a sheep, a moose, a mouse, and a deer, snowflakes and a few random things like a pair of skates and a bell—he walked back out into the diner, setting the basket down next to the small tree as he began to wind the string of lights around it, plugging it in just under the counter.
He’d just switched it on, admiring how it twinkled and brightened up the counter, when the door opened and Vanessa walked in.
His heart tripped in his chest. She looked beautiful, with her thick auburn hair pulled up in a high ponytail, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a long cranberry-red sweater that hung down to her hips and looked soft. She had a light brown leather purse slung over one shoulder and she didn’t look as if she were going anywhere in a hurry. She also had his travel mug in one hand, and he breathed out a sigh of relief.
The relief was immediately followed by his stomach clenching again when he remembered that her returning the mug undoubtedly meant she was leaving. Her flight just wasn’t as early as he’d thought it would be.
He didn’t know how she’d managed to affect him this much. He hadn’t met a woman who made him feel like his heart was flip-flopping in his chest, his stomach full of knots, in years. Maybe not ever—he couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt this way. And it was just his luck that it was someone who had absolutely no intention of staying in town a second longer than she had to.
“Morning,” he said with a smile as she walked up to the counter, and Vanessa smiled back, sliding onto one of the counter stools as she set down the travel mug in front of him.
