Page 21 of Kiss the Girl
He walked out, a touch slower than he would have a year ago but better than I’d seen him in months. He was still wearing out easily, but him even having the energy to come in and boss me around today had been a major improvement.
It kept a smile on my face for the rest of the morning, and even cranky Cheryl Biggle couldn’t get me down when she came in with her Pomeranian tucked in her giant purse to demand a refund on a pair of garden gloves. She tried to return at least one item every week because her puffball—Captain Braveheart—chewed on everything his devilish teeth could get to. Today I handed her cash without even pointing out that the “defect” in the gloves clearly showed teeth marks.
My dad was getting better, and not even Creekville’s most ill-mannered dog could get me down.
No, it took a call from my sister on the way home to do that.
I eyed her number in the call display of my Audi dashboard—a car bought when I was making Boeing money—and frowned. I didn’t want to talk to Tabitha, but I hadn’t returned either of her last two messages. I groaned and hit answer.
“Hey, Tabitha. How’s New York?”
“What? Oh. Busy. Crazy. Crazy busy.” She sounded distracted, and sure enough, she said, “Hang on a sec,” then covered the phone up while I listened to her give muffled directions to someone involving the word “chiffonade.” “Sorry about that,” she said coming back on the line.
“It’s dinner time there too. Are you still at work?”
“Yeah. We’re shooting our Thanksgiving episodes next week and this week has been full of late nights testing recipes in the studio kitchen.”
“Got it.”
“Mom called,” she started, and already I wanted to grit my teeth.
“Did she?”
“She said Dad’s feeling better, and you’re already packing your bags to leave.”
“Not exactly. If anything, she’s trying to pack my bags for me.” She’d been hellbent on “launching” us out of Creekville since we were kids.
She paused.
“What, Tabitha?”
“Is that a good idea? Is Dad ready to go back to work?”
I shouldn’t be irritated with Tabitha when she was only being concerned, but I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t been able to help it since Tabitha had made it clear that it would be me who would have to quit my job to take care of Dad.
I was honestly glad that I’d been here to help. But I resented having her micromanage me from New York and showing no faith in my judgment. “I’ll stay until we’re sure he’s in remission and he’s strong enough to take over. That’s at least a month.”
“You’re going to leave before Christmas Town?”
I cursed.
“You forgot Christmas Town? How do you forget Christmas Town?”
It was a reasonable question, but I didn’t like the accusation in her tone. “I don’t know. I guess I overlooked it in my excitement that Dad is getting better. Can’t we just focus on that?”
“Not better enough to be ready to take on Christmas Town by himself.”
She was right. Christmas was the biggest season of the year for Handy’s, not only because of the decorations, but because the town Christmas fundraiser and celebration poured so much money into the store as people built their displays. Even if Dad and Gary could handle all the extra business, Dad had always helped the high school build their booth. I had done it for him last year, spending several nights a week at the high school supervising in the two weeks before Christmas. Of course it would be too much for Dad on top of running the store.
“We’ll hire holiday help,” I said.
“Help that can build an elaborate booth?”
Christmas Town was exactly what it sounded like: a temporary town that sprang up in the Main Street square for two magical days on the weekend before Christmas. It was corny. I was not corny, but even I sort of liked it.
Fine. I liked it a lot.
“It’ll be fine, Tabitha.”
