Page 123 of The Blessings of Christmas
“Yeah, I know. What the heck am I doing, right? But it's all a tax write off. At least, that’s what my daddy would say.” Victoria laughed. Daddy would never believe it if he saw her at that sink.
“You amaze me.” Scooping up the boxes, Maisy disappeared. Glancing at the clock, Victoria realized she was famished. Must have been all that hard work this morning. Rubbing her sore right shoulder, she wished she had time for a massage this week. Slapping together a ham and cheese sandwich on rye, she couldn’t help but look around her kitchen with new respect. The stove that was designed for restaurants. The huge double-door refrigerator. And the farmer’s sink that could fit large baking sheets. What a laugh compared to the plain shelf sink in the back of the clinic. She couldn’t help but compare them. As she rubbed cream on her hands, she made a note to buy some rubber gloves.
Why was she doing this? Every time she thought of Derek’s gray eyes that turned smoky blue when he was serious or laughing, shivers made their way down to the soles of her feet. She wasn’t giving up. Her trips to the Open Hearth Clinic were becoming important to her.
Time to check email. Taking the rest of her sandwich into her office, she set it on the desk and flipped open her laptop. Nothing new and nothing from Dr. D. What did she expect? A thank you for washing the dishes that morning? Phyllis’ grateful smile had been thanks enough. Going into the invoice for the Christmas stock, she quickly fired off a note to Maisy with the pricing.
What a morning she’d had. Exhaustion rolled over her. She meant to lay her head down for a few minutes but nodded off. In her dreams, Dr. Darling was massaging her hands, every single finger, as he talked to her about the needs of the clinic. His therapeutic touch turned her to liquid. His words stoked other fires. Warm to the point of uncomfortable.
When she woke up with a start, her neck ached and she’d drooled all over the papers on her desk. Sitting up straight, she winced from a twinge in her back. Ibuprofen might be called for here. Or maybe another trip to the urgent care? But she was through with that. Pulling herself from that dream, she smiled as she rubbed cream into her sore neck.
Everything seemed so quiet out front. What time was it anyway? Her wall clock couldn’t be right. Why, it was almost closing time. Springing up, she went to her door and peeked down into the store. Evening came so quickly in December. Allthe lights were on in the shop and it looked as if outside the street lamps had come on.
Giving a stretch that only reminded her of the work she rarely did, she went out front. Maisy and Darla were cleaning the cases. The Christmas mugs, teapot cozies and other seasonal gifts were arranged neatly on the shelves.
Picking up a mug with Victoria’s Pantry scripted below a jolly Santa, Victoria smiled. “Nice job, you two.” The tree still needed a little help, but the pantry definitely had a seasonal appeal now.
“Are you coming to the lighting of the Advent wreath this Sunday?” Maisy asked. “A crew has been getting everything ready on the square.”
“No kidding.” Going to the window, she peered out.
Her parents rarely attended events on the square. Her mother preferred private parties. But now Victoria lived here in her own apartment. Every night she looked out her window at the square. The lights strung through the trees created a fairyland, or so it seemed to her. Greenery topped by a huge red bow cascaded from each glowing gaslight. White reindeer lit by tiny lights had been placed throughout the trees and bushes. Last night, she’d seen workmen putting together the manger that would sit empty until Christmas Day.
She thought ahead. “Do we want to donate refreshments for the first night they appear? People come and sing Christmas carols, right?”
“Of course they do,” Darla said.
“I haven’t been around much before Christmas,” Victoria offered, with an apology in her voice. “We’re usually in Palm Beach.”
“Do you know when you’re leaving?” Maisy asked.
“Um, haven’t decided yet.” Now, where did that come from? A few days ago she’d been counting on their yearly trip. Rightnow she wasn’t sure. Her mother had left a message that gowns had arrived for her to try on. But she hadn’t had time to stop back at the house.
“Palm Beach,” Darla said, stars in her eyes.
“Trust me. It sounds a lot more glamorous than it is.” Really? Did she feel like that?
Maybe it was the pull of Victoria's Pantry and all the responsibilities, but those gala affairs that her parents enjoyed so much in Palm Beach? Maybe she was over them. This year she didn’t feel like schmoozing with the rich and famous. The decorations would be over the top. There would be enough food to feed everyone in the city, but the women picked at their steak tartare, fresh shrimp and bruschetta appetizers and hardly touched the main courses of lobster or steak. Food that the patients at the clinic would wolf down. Or maybe they wouldn’t. The food served there was plain and nourishing.
And everyone would be drinking way too much champagne imported for the occasion. Some of her father’s friends would be giving her hugs that were a little too tight, their boozy breath on her face. Maybe she had to rethink her yearly holiday trip.
This fire in her heart felt new. She pressed a hand to her chest. Was she getting all I-am-woman-hear-me-roar because of her new shop? Or did this have something to do with a ridiculously hot doc and the sweet clients at his clinic?
Maisy and Darla left for the day. Victoria locked up. Before she went upstairs she studied the tree. More ornaments appeared every day and each one had a story. She loved that. Her customers usually shared that story while they hung the ornament.
Once upstairs, Victoria noticed her blinking answering machine. Probably her mother, who refused to text or send emails. Victoria pressed a button. Yep, this was her mama. The messages were increasingly shrill. The dresses were in. Theywere leaving in a week after their open house. Victoria hadn't called her back. Would Victoria be coming with them? “Who will you be with on Christmas Day if you stay here?” she asked in her most recent message.
Good question. One she wasn’t going to worry about right now. Victoria hit the delete button so hard on that one, that she bruised her finger. She didn't know where she'd be this year. But she wouldn’t be in Palm Beach. Now, how would she tell her parents?
Victoria fellinto the pattern of going over to the clinic on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. And each time she went, she brought boxes of cookies and loaves of fresh bread. Seeing Big Mac’s smile lit up her heart. The day she brought in a bag of dog food, she thought he might kiss her. In her purse was a bag of dog treats, which Friskie sniffed immediately. He sat up and begged, looking so darn cute. Ripping open the bag of treats, she used too much force and they shot everywhere. Victoria had to race to pick up the treats before Friskie gobbled them all and got sick.
A hearty chuckle made her look up. Dr. D. was lounging in his doorway. “Looks like you’ve got a new friend.” How long had he been watching?
“Glad I’m appreciated by some people.” She looked down and gave Friskie a good scratch behind the ears.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Looked like he’d been seeing patients. One of those things that took your heartbeat hung from his neck. She drew closer. Grabbing the circular end of it, she pressed it to his chest, while she held one of the ear pieces to her ear. The thud of his heartseemed to kick up as they stood there. He smelled like soap and a guy who’d been working. Her knees weakened.
