Page 50 of The Art of Being Merry
She points in his direction. “Closer than amazing.” Her eyes close again as she relishes the flavors. “Why is it so good?”
“They only serve it during December, so I’d suggest you get your fill over the next few weeks so you don’t have to wait an entire year to have it again.”
Her eyes fly open wide. “You’re right. I should go every day to make this last.” She shakes her head. “But no. That won’t be good for my budget or my waist. Nope. Gotta limit myself and savor each one I get.”
I’m not in the best financial position, but one morning coffee from Winterberry Brews is worth sacrificing for. But it’s just me I have to worry about. I don’t have to make sure my kids have everything they need and then use whatever’s left.
I add “grab Clementine coffee” to my mental list of tasks. Though I doubt if I showed up every day with coffee, she’d be asaccepting as she was today. She’d appreciate it for sure, but she might not feel deserving of it.
Then I remember she has my credit card, and my note changes to “remind Clementine to treat herself to coffee on me.” I’ll have to figure out how to tell her without it sounding like she’s a charity case. I set my mind to work on that in the background as I go about my day.
Atlas is itching to get on the road to see Santa. He hasn’t said as much, but the way he can’t sit still and keeps scanning the time is a clue he’s antsy. So, after we finish our snacks, I suggest we be on our way.
“I’ll need my car seat from the van,” Jace declares, having decided we’re taking my truck.
“No need. I got one.”
I’d almost forgotten I found one to keep in my truck until he mentioned it.
Clementine’s lips fall open silently. “What do you mean you got one? Is it safe? Is it new? Is it used and expired?” Her voice pitches higher with each question as terror sets in. I have to set her mind at ease.
“A customer of mine was done with it. She bought it brand-new but only used it for a year. How long are they good for?”
She visibly relaxes, the tension melting away with my assurance. “A few years at least. That was very kind of you, Dax.”
I can’t help but smile at her complimenting my forethought. It wasn’t something I sought, but when a customer at work mentioned not needing it anymore when her car was in the shop this week, I scooped it up. She was happy she didn’t have to toss it into a landfill. I’m happy because it put that smile on Clementine’s face.
“Sure thing. Saves you the trouble of reinstalling it so many times.”
“Do you mind if I double-check it’s secure in your truck? Not that I don’t trust you. It would give me a little more peace of mind.” There’s an air of embarrassment about her asking, whichshe shouldn’t have. Her kid should be safe at all times, and she shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting the best for him.
“Figured you’d want to put it in yourself, so I didn’t bother.”
“Oh. Great. Thanks. That was thoughtful.”
Again with the compliments. I could get high on the praise from this woman. Maybe that’s why I can’t seem to help myself from doing kind things for her. The aphrodisiac of her thanking me is a high I’ve never experienced. Guess I know what to do to never let it end.
“Can we go now? Puh-lease. Haven’t I waited long enough?” Atlas stands at the door, his coat and hat on, his arms waving in the air with his exasperation.
With a devilish smile in my direction, Clementine says, “Your truck has gas, right?”
I pick up immediately on what she’s throwing down. If she’s starting this game, I’ll play along.
I snap my fingers. “I knew there was something else I had to do. We’ll stop on the way.”
“No,” Atlas complains. “We’ll take Mama’s.”
“Mine needs gas, too,” she says.
Atlas misses the teasing lilt. “No,” he whines. “This is taking forever. We’re going to miss him.”
“Santa’s there all day. You won’t miss him.” I walk over to Atlas and squat, so I’m more at his level. “My truck’s got gas. But if you need someone to blame, it was your mama’s idea.”
“Hey,” she quips. “Traitor.”
Atlas throws his hands in the air. “How about we stop all the tomfoolery and be on our way?” He looks between the two of us. “Can we do that? Please?”
“Since you asked so nicely, I think it’s time to depart.” He wants to smile, but he’s still untrusting of Clementine’s words. “Excellent use of tomfoolery. Aunt Willa would be proud.”
