Page 118 of The Blessings of Christmas
Pulling into her parking space in back of the shop, she tried to quiet her chattering mind. Ideas flashed through her head. For one thing, she’d ask Maisy to increase their orders to all of the bakers they used. That buffet needed more cookies, more holiday pastries.
As she came in the back door, the smell of bakery hung sweet and heavy, along with a distinct lacing of pine. Had she smelled pine needles at the clinic? Even Amblebury had rules, she supposed. Was Derek Darling a rule breaker?
Eyes wide, Maisy ducked into the kitchen while Victoria stood there, wondering which rules Dr. D. would break if he could. The possibilities made her shiver.
“We have to order more gingerbread cookies, Victoria.” With that Maisy hoisted another tray from one of the racks that stood ready. “The gingerbread men as well as the Santas are going fast.”
Delegate. Delegate. Daddy’s favorite mantra came to mind. “I'm putting you in charge of inventory this Christmas, Maisy.” And she threw out a nice increase in her salary. Victoria hoped she’d still realize a profit. Daddy would have a fit if their accountant went to him, saying the pantry was bleeding red ink. That was a sure sign to “pull the plug” on a venture, or so her father once told her.
Maisy’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “No kidding? Excellent. I’m on it.”
Slipping out of her red sweater jacket, Victoria went into her office and tucked her tote away. Tying on her apron, she studied herself in the mirror on her office wall. What had Derek seen as they talked? Plumping up her long curls, she cringed thinking of those hairnets. Now that was scary. Maybe she could come up with a new hairdo. One that would look good with a net. That might be a real challenge.
Heck, the whole clinic was a challenge.
If she could just get her mind to settle down, Victoria could concentrate on an action plan. That’s what Daddy always called it. Her father was all about goals. The only thing was, once you wrote them down, you had to meet them. Nerves twitching, she had so much to do. How long would she volunteer? Just until Christmas? The clinic was an unknown in her mind. But she wouldn’t wimp out. That much she knew.
Put on your big girl pants, Victoria.Other years, she’d be writing her Christmas list right now. Should she ask for a cruise in the Mediterranean or a shopping spree in New York...or maybe on Rodeo Drive? She never failed to surprise her parents. Randall couldn’t think of anything half as exciting as the gifts on Victoria’s list. Poor guy. He had no imagination. Daddy had said no to the Porsche. But sometimes her parents actually came through with a cruise or an absurdly high shopping spree.
What crazy Christmas mornings she’d known in Palm Beach. Thinking back, she almost felt embarrassed. What had her parents been thinking? She’d blown through huge amounts of money. And she’d never thought twice. So, what was different now? She couldn’t help but think of what that money could have purchased for the Open Hearth Clinic. Equipment. Medications. And of course, food.
The sound of laughter in the store drew her from her office. When she reached the happy gathering out front, Miss Charlotte and her two friends, Genevieve and Melinda Sue, were enjoying the shrimp orzo salad, along with sweet tea.
“What if Vinny gives you a ring this Christmas, Charlotte?” Eyes sparkling, Melinda Sue wrinkled her nose. “Won't that be exciting?”
Uh, oh.Sliding behind the counter, Victoria pretended to be arranging the Christmas petit fours. Thinking of her daddy’s comment about the jewelry store, she wanted to catch every word.
But when she cast a sidelong glance, Miss Charlotte was fiddling with her holly berry earrings. “Oh dear. Do you think he might?” She didn’t look happy.
Victoria cringed. Melinda Sue’s fork clattered to her china plate. Maybe she should buy heavy crockery for the Pantry, the kind used at the clinic.
“You can’t be serious, Lottie. Is there any question? The man adores you.” Genevieve was clearly horrified.
A man like Uncle Vinny didn’t come along every Christmas. Was Miss Charlotte crazy? Victoria loved her uncle with all her heart. He was fun, not uptight like her parents. When she was growing up, Uncle Vinny would take her and Randall to the Saturday matinee along with his two boys. Daddy worked all the time. Uncle Vinny would buy them popcorn, a frozen drink and a box of some candy that was sure to cause cavities. He had his own boys but they were older. Aunt Leena always went overboard buying clothes for Victoria––frilly things that often raised her mother’s eyebrows.
Aunt Leena’s death had left him so sad until he reunited with Miss Charlotte at Victoria’s open house last spring.
“Lottie, what is it?” Melinda Sue prodded gently.
Yes, Miss Charlotte. What is going on?
“I don't think I want to get married.”
The words sucked the air right out of the room, leaving only silence. Victoria almost collapsed into the petit fours. Even the women at two of the other tables had stopped talking to view Miss Lottie with wonder. At the third table sat a young mother with two children who were busy destroying the place. Maybe too much sugar. If the little boy opened one more carton of exotic teabags from the Orient, Victoria would scream. Those Christmas gift items had just come in.
“I get your point. Really I do.” The young mother wiped mashed up gingerbread cookie from her little girl’s face.
Pushing her empty plate aside, Miss Charlotte wore a thoughtful expression. “Remember a while back when we were talking about the laundry and having to cook dinner for someone?”
Her two friends nodded, their gray hairstyles bobbing. Victoria vaguely recalled being here for that conversation. At the time, she thought it was funny. But these women were dead serious.
Casting her eyes over to the Christmas tree, Miss Charlotte smiled. “I think I'm finished with all that. Believe me, seeing a man––well, Vinny––for dinner or a show is great fun. He brings me chocolates and flowers. Of course I enjoy the attention. Who wouldn’t? But since my dear Raleigh has been gone, my life has changed. It’s a lot simpler now. I do what I want to do, when I want to do it. If dishes pile up, I let them until I’m ready to clean up the kitchen.”
Her friends gasped. Was Miss Lottie revealing dark secrets? Or every woman’s dream? She wasn’t finished. “Of course I don’t cook a big meal for myself when I’m alone. Why bother? A scrambled egg with toast does just fine and then I settle in to watch the shows on my DVR. Right now I’m binge watching ‘The Villages of England.’ A show no man would want to watch with me.
“If I invite Vinny for dinner, he’s very pleased. But I don’t intend to cook a roast with browned potatoes every night.”
Obviously, Miss Charlotte had given this a lot of thought. Although Victoria could see her point––she wouldn’t want to cook every night either––Uncle Vinny would be devastated.
