Page 11 of The Christmas Cottage
Disappointment washed over him again as he saw Patty handing her a to-go cup, this time for a different reason. He wanted to go over and chat with her, see how she was settling in, find out what had made her decide this year was the time to come back to see her grandmother. In all the years he’d known Mabel, he hadn’t had any idea that she’d still had family around. He was unstoppably curious about Vanessa, but he didn’t have time to go over and do so much as say hello before she was taking the coffee and heading quickly back toward the front door, clearly in a hurry.
All the same, his gaze followed her out of the diner, as she headed back toward her grandmother’s toy shop.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Since a little after opening that morning, Vanessa had been helping Mabel in the toy shop.
All things considered, her first morning in Fir Tree Grove had gone… okay. She’d been appalled to realize that she’d woken up at eight, before remembering that she was probably still getting used to the time difference, and Maine was three hours ahead of what she was accustomed to.
She was more tired than usual, since she wasn’t used to sleeping away from home, and nothing was as she was used to. The shower was different, the water pressure was different, and although she’d spent some time the night before setting out all her various skin care items and toiletries, it all felt a bit… off, somehow.
She had been glad to come downstairs and find out that the breakfast menu the B&B offered did have some options that weren’t fried in grease or coated in sugar. She’d opted for steel-cut oatmeal with a bit of fresh cream and maple syrup on the side, and she had to admit that she had been entirely charmed by the fact that both the cream and the syrup had come in tiny miniature ceramic pitchers, on a tray printed with a cheery Christmas design along with her bowl of oatmeal. She’dordered some fresh-cut fruit as well, along with a hot pumpkin spice latte, and taken it back up to her room. The dining room downstairs was filled with guests, and that wasn’t conducive to work.
There was plenty of work that needed doing. She’d tried to get some done the night before, but that one full day of travel and settling in had already put her behind, and Russell wasn’t happy with the fact that there were tasks she hadn’t completed. Her email inbox was all but full too, and she focused on that first once she’d set up at the small writer’s desk next to the window in her room, nibbling at her oatmeal and fruit and sipping coffee as she worked.
The view was lovely. Still a bit overwhelming, with the flood of Christmas decorations everywhere she looked, but the snow was crisp and white, the buildings and streetlamps charming, and it was a bit like having a postcard as her view while she worked. She couldn’t complain about that, and it was very peaceful. The quiet, in fact, made it so that she got through her backlog of emails in half the time it normally would have taken her during a morning at the office, when Russell or one of the other employees would have constantly been popping their heads in with comments or questions.
A little after ten, Mabel called her to ask if she might have time to come by the shop and have a morning snack with her. Vanessa was deep into her morning tasks by then, and her first instinct was to say that she didn’t have time, and would see her grandmother later for dinner. But her conscience pinged at her.
After she’d told Mabel yesterday that she wouldn’t be able to stay in town long enough to help with the shop in any significant way, Mabel hadn’t brought it up again. They’d gone out to dinner at the Maplewood Tavern, a large, rustic log structure that was all knotted wood and leather inside, charming except for themounted animal heads above the fireplace and in several other spots, which Vanessa had found a bit shocking.
The food had been delicious. They had actually had a salad on the menu—cider-roasted chicken and squash over a lettuce mix with pumpkin seeds, gorgonzola cheese, and a maple-Dijon dressing. Mabel had dug into a venison burger with red onions, arugula, pepper jam and goat cheese, as well as a hefty serving of duck fat fries. When Vanessa had side-eyed the fries, Mabel had teased her to stop looking at them like she was counting the cholesterol, and shoved a few in her direction. Vanessa had to admit, they’d been incredible.
Mabel hadn’t brought up needing help at the shop again, not even once. But Vanessa knew, deep down, that her grandmother wasn’t only calling because she wanted to share a scone and catch up.
She was probably struggling to keep up with her wrist in that brace, and Vanessa had seen her wince more than once during the brief time she’d been at the shop the day before, and while they’d been out to dinner. Her grandmother needed help, and truthfully, Vanessa didn’t understand why she didn’t just hire additional help for the season. But Mabel had dismissed that comment as quickly as Vanessa had made it yesterday.
“I’ll be right over,” she told Mabel, stifling a sigh as she closed her laptop. “I’m going to run over to the diner and grab some coffee, and then I’ll head that way.”
She couldn’t stay in town long, but she also couldn’t ignore the fact that her grandmother needed help while she was there. And she’d planned to use the mornings and evenings to get her work done anyway. Russell would just have to deal with the fact that she wasn’t glued to her laptop twenty-four/seven while she was in Fir Tree Grove.
She bundled up, heading out into the crisp, cold air as she walked in the direction of the diner. She was uncomfortablyaware that she looked out of place in her designer peacoat, high-heeled boots, and pom-pom beanie, but that was what she’d brought with her, so it would just have to do. Even most of the tourists looked like they were out of a L.L. Bean catalog, not Nordstroms, but she figured they must be from other places in New England. Not clear across the country, where she had no idea what kind of style fit a sleepy Maine town.
Still, she didn’t love the feeling of eyes on her as she walked into the diner. She tried not to think about it, instead focusing on how incredible it smelled. She breathed in the scent of coffee and maple bacon and something that smelled like pumpkin and sugar, and she decided she would have to come by for the pumpkin French toast at least one morning before she left. Once wouldn’t hurt, and it sounded so good.
Patty filled up a to-go cup of coffee for her, handing her three pumpkin self-serve creamers to add, and Vanessa fought the urge to look around the room for the handsome owner that she’d met the day before. Jackson. She couldn’t help but wonder a bit about him as she was settling in the night before—if he’d lived here all his life, what made him decide to open a diner, if he was single.
As soon as the last thought entered her head, she’d quickly pushed it away, because that particular line of thinking was pointless. She wasn’t staying in Fir Tree Grove for more than a couple of days, so developing a crush on the flannel-wearing owner of the local diner was more than pointless.
Successfully resisting the urge to look for him, she hurried out of the diner and down the sidewalk, picking up her pace in an effort to get to the toy store and give her grandmother a hand.
Two hours later, she’d come to find that she didn’t mind helping out around the shop as much as she thought she would. She wasn’t crazy about Christmas, and she doubted she ever would be. After she and her parents had moved away from FirTree Grove, Christmases had become much more muted. Bills piled up, and it was harder to get into the Christmas spirit in a place that didn’t really get all that cold anyway. Once she went to college, Christmas just became a family dinner night, without much fanfare. And after that—well, after that, she’d stopped paying attention to the holiday at all. There wasn’t a point in celebrating when there was no one to celebrate with.
Now it just seemed like a lot of noise and chaos and bright colors to her. The town seemed obsessed with it, happy and festive to a point that was overwhelming, but Vanessa could understand a bit of the appeal as she spent the morning helping out. Seeing the children browse the store with excitement in their eyes, pointing out toys they wanted for Christmas and dropping off their letters to Santa reminded Vanessa of old memories, of being a child herself, making her Christmas list with her grandmother’s help.
There was a large red velvet bag near the counter, stuffed with tissue to keep it round, that the kids could drop their wish lists into when they finished them.
“I collect them all and keep them on file,” Mabel explained. “Then when the parents come in, they can ask to see their child’s letter to Santa, and I’ll let them know what specific toys they wanted. Parents love it, it’s one less thing for them to have to remember, because we do it for them. And after all,we’reSanta.”
She smiled brightly, and Vanessa couldn’t help but smile in return. Itwasan incredibly cute idea, and she could imagine it did make things easier for parents.
She found she enjoyed watching the parents choose things for their children, as well. It didn’t seem like just a task to be checked off—they all seemed excited at the prospect of putting the gifts under the tree, of seeing their children’s faces on Christmas morning when they opened exactly what they wanted.They weren’t in any rush either, she noticed—not like what she was used to seeing on the few occasions that she’d ventured out back home to shop for anything that she hadn’t managed to get set up to be automatically delivered.
They lingered, chatting with each other about school plays and PTO meetings and book club. Even the tourists seemed to chatter with each other, as if the easy-going mood of the town was infectious, talking about where they were visiting from and if they’d been to Fir Tree Grove before, and what their favorite spots were.
“Are you doing okay over there?” Mabel asked as she rang up a pair of nutcrackers, setting the boxes to one side for Vanessa to grab.
Since gift-wrapping was one of the things that seemed to bother Mabel’s wrist the most, Vanessa had taken over that station. She’d been cutting paper, twining ribbon, and taping edges practically nonstop since she’d arrived, but she found that she actually liked it. It suited her exacting, disciplined nature to make sure that the packages were perfectly crisp and even, and just about every customer had complimented her on her gift-wrapping abilities.
