Page 3 of Holiday at Home
Elizabeth pokes her head out of the kitchen, tendrils of gray falling from her braid and a slash of flour streaked across her forehead. “I’m gettin’ a little behind in here.”
“Go, go,” Nora says, waving me into the kitchen. “I’ll man the counter.”
“I can help, too!” cries Nash.
“You don’t have to—” I begin, but he places his little hand on my arm with an adorably solemn look in his eyes.
“I like to help.”
I glance at his mom, who nods, so I hand him a rag. He scampers off to wipe down tables while I join Elizabeth in the kitchen. By the time the bakery shelves are nearly picked clean, my helpers look every bit as exhausted as I feel. The stream of customers tapers off and we stare at each other with wide eyes.
I fold my elbows on the counter. “I think we saw everyone in Stillwater Bay at least once.”
Nora nods her agreement while Elizabeth blows a piece of hair out of her face.
“Aunt Vi?” Nash asks, shoving his hand into his pocket. “Can I buy a treat with the money people gave me?”
He threw himself into keeping the seating area clean today. So much so that he earned a couple dollars in tips… and plenty of “oohs,” “aahs,” and “what a good boys” along the way. Heseemed embarrassed by the praise, excited about the money, but downright thrilled to have been able to help.
“Here’s the secret best part of working for a bakery,” I say, beckoning him over. “You don’t have to pay for your treats. Come over here and pick one out.”
Nash scampers behind the counter, skipping and hopping in excitement, and I wrap an arm around him. He has his dad’s dark hair and the gray eyes that mark him as a member of the Sterling family.
“Want a sugar cookie snowman or a gingerbread Christmas tree?”
“Neither. I want the last ooey gooey yummy nummy cim-a-nom roll.” Nash points at the tray with a wide grin and I reach for it, pausing when the bells over the door jingle again.
I glance up.
My jaw drops.
My heart does a tumultuous flip-flop.
He’s taller than I remember, broader too. Shoulders filling the doorway like he owns the light pouring in behind him. Jet-black hair tumbles into eyes the color of deep ocean water after a storm—blue, striking, impossible to forget. For a heartbeat, I forget to breathe. The scent of cinnamon and sugar turns sharp in my lungs. I clutch Nash closer, a living shield against the ghost of my past and the man I once thought would be my future.
“Simon?”
He lifts a hand in greeting, then rakes it into his hair. “Hey, Vi.”
There’s a soft smile on full lips and stubble on a square jaw and my heart skips a beat just like it always did when he walked into a room. Like it hasn’t been three years since I spoke to him. Like he’s not my first bad Christmas memory.
Whatever holiday spirit might have been growing inside me crashes to the floor. Of course Simon Holiday would pick today to show his face.
“It’s, uh, it’s been a while,” I say instead ofwhat in the world do you think you’re doing here?
“It has been a while.” Simon’s expression is unreadable.
Staring at him reminds me of some of the best years of my life. Date nights and homecoming with Nora and Robbie, laughing into the wee hours of the morning, planning a future together that seemed so possible, so beautiful...
I don't know how to process seeing him again after the way things ended.
“It’s been three years of utter silence.”
Simon rakes his hand through his hair, and it flops right back into his eyes the same way it always did. “I’m in town for the holidays. I heard about what happened to your parents. Man, I’m so sorry, Vi. They were good people.”
“The best,” I manage, drawing Nash even closer for moral support.
“Mom said today was your grand reopening and I thought it’d be cool to pop in and wish you good luck.”
