Page 7 of The Christmas Cottage
There was one salad listed, almost as an afterthought, and the promise of green beans on the side for the meatloaf and the Pilgrim sandwich. But overall, she thought, it was nothing like what she was used to eating, and all food that made her jeans feel tight just reading through it.
She certainly wasn’t going to be able to eat any of it with the way she felt right then.
“You’re sitting at my bar, basically.” The man was still standing there, that grin on his face, and Vanessa realized she’d gotten distracted again. “This diner is my place.”
Oh. She felt her cheeks heat slightly, and she hoped he didn’t notice.
“So what’s worrying you anyway?” He set the coffeepot down. “No one should have that look on their face this close to Christmas.”
Vanessa waved her hand dismissively. “It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Anyway, I don’t even know your name, so I don’t know how I could start telling you all about my business.”
“It’s Jackson.” The merriment in his eyes only brightened, making it all the more evident that they were a soft, rich brown. Warm, almost soothing. “And if you don’t want to pour out all your troubles over a cup of delicious pumpkin spice cream with a dash of coffee, won’t you at least tell me what you’re doing here? I know I haven’t seen you around before.”
Something in her chest jolted a little at the idea that he thought he would notice her if she had been. She shrugged the feeling off, reaching for her cup of coffee to take a sip. Jackson was right, therewastoo much cream in it.
“I’m here to see my grandmother,” she told him. “Mabel Stewart. I haven’t seen her in forever, so I thought I’d come out for a visit.”
Jackson chuckled, topping off her coffee again as soon as she set the cup back down. It was starting to look like a more reasonable color.
“Stalling?” he asked with that same grin, and Vanessa frowned, feeling a flash of annoyance that he’d pinged her so quickly. She’d hoped it wouldn’t be that obvious.
She reached for her cup instead, taking a long drink without answering, and as soon as she set it down, he filled it up once more with a grin. She couldn’t help but think he was trying to tellher that it was fine for her to sit there as long as she wanted, until she was done stalling, which felt odd.
She was used to restaurants with servers that would be pointedly annoyed if you didn’t order at least appetizers within a reasonable time frame. Even coffee shops in San Francisco didn’t like loitering unless you kept ordering coffee, and something to nibble on besides. All she’d done was sip at a cup of plain coffee.
“How long will you be in town?” Jackson asked, and she frowned again.
“Not long,” she said firmly. “I’m needed back home. In San Francisco. My boss won’t know what to do with himself if I’m gone for too long.”
“I believe that.” Jackson eyed her for a moment longer. “Well, however long or short your stay, you know where to get unlimited coffee.” He raised the pot in her direction and then turned toward an older man on the other side of the bar who was tapping his mug against the laminate, and ambled in that direction.
“Thank you!” Vanessa called after him, unable to help the smile that spread over her face. Unlimited coffee was a way to perk up her mood, that was for certain. And the fact that it was being served by such an attractive man didn’t hurt either.
She finished the cup, and let out a sigh. There was no way she was going to eat until she got this first conversation with her grandmother over with, so she might as well go, she decided. She left a ten-dollar bill on the counter for her coffee and tip, and then got up, going to collect her things.
It was time to face the inevitable.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Now be careful with this,” Mabel cautioned the woman standing at her register as she finished carefully wrapping the porcelain doll that the woman had just purchased, complete with a fur-trimmed red velvet dress, small leather boots embroidered with a holiday pattern, and a little red and white-trimmed cape. “The dolls I sell are made a bit sturdier than other collectibles, but she’s still fragile.”
“Of course,” the woman said, and Mabel managed a smile as she slid the doll into one of the green matte bags that she’d ordered for the holiday, tucking in the rustic brown tissue printed with small sketches of trees, sleighs, snowmen and reindeer. Packaging was just as important as presentation, in her opinion, and part of the charm of the season. But her wrist throbbed as she arranged it all, and it was an effort to keep the smile on her face. It hurt very badly, and just as Dr. Ellis had warned, continuing her usual schedule at the shop had only made it more tender. Despite resting it at night, alternating hot and cold compresses, and taking painkillers, it was still bothering her.
Silently, she chided herself for hurting it over something so foolish. She was a grown woman, and she should be acting herage. She knew better than to put herself in harm’s way in order to get someone’s attention, especially when harm’s way was so easy to come by in one’s golden years. But even with her wrist throbbing, a small smile quirked the corners of her lips at the thought of George Lowery. He was just so fun to get one over on, she couldn’t help it. It almost made the sprained wrist seem worth it—almost, considering the pinch it put her in this time of year.
The customer with the porcelain doll gathered up her bag and left with a thanks and a “Merry Christmas!” that Mabel returned, and then the shop was empty. It was a little after noon, which was always a quieter time, since a lot of the town was at work and the tourists were starting to drift off to lunch.
She had a new shipment of nutcrackers to organize, including a few of the special edition lumberjacks, and a train to set up on the table she’d arranged for it. Taking it slow, she started to take out the nutcrackers one by one and set them out on the counter, trying not to strain her wrist as she started to unwrap them. She was so caught up in the task that she didn’t see the shop door open, until the bell over it chimed and she turned around to see who had just walked in.
She would recognize the auburn haired, green-eyed young woman hauling the suitcase behind her anywhere, even if she hadn’t seen her granddaughter since Vanessa was little. Her heart leapt with joy, and she set the nutcracker in her hand down, opening her arms wide for a hug as she hurried over to greet Vanessa.
Setting the suitcase and her bag down, Vanessa hugged her back, but Mabel could feel the hesitation in her granddaughter’s embrace. She tried not to let it bother her. Vanessa was an adult now, and understandably more reserved, but she couldn’t help but feel an ache in her chest. She remembered how, as a child, Vanessa used to throw herself into her grandmother’s arms, andnever want to leave her side, and she missed that. She didn’t often feel lonely, but just then, with that reminder, she did.
Mabel stepped back, still smiling as she looked her granddaughter up and down. “I’m so happy you’re here,” she said sincerely, the emotion suffusing every word. And she was. It meant the world to her to have her only remaining family standing there in her little shop, home for the holidays at last.
Vanessa managed a small smile, and Mabel could see that she was at a loss for words. Vanessa looked around the shop, taking it in, as if buying herself some time to decide what to say.
“The invitation was… a surprise,” she admitted, finally looking back at Mabel. “I hadn’t thought about coming back here for Christmas.” She gave the shop another sweeping look. “The couple of times we came back to visit when I was a kid, I guess it was always in the warmer months. I forgot how decked out Fir Tree Grove gets at Christmastime.”
