Page 20 of The Christmas Mittens
“Indeed. Not only did I wish to see you—and that went much better than I dared to ever hope—but to see if you would introduce me formally to Miss Franny across the highway so that I might ask her if she would be interested in carrying my eggs to sell for a worthy local charity.”
I gaped. Openly. And then I walked to him and patted his cheek with an open palm. His brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yes, you are real and not an illusion or some fantasy a lonely old single dad dreamed up,” I said with more than a tiny bit of whimsy mixed with some truth. This man could not be this wonderful. Something had to be wrong with him. Surely.
“Silly goose.” He chuckled, his eyes holding all manner of things that I couldn’t discern right now. Perhaps I never would. “I’m flesh and blood. A man, no more and no less. So, for the eggs, would you be willing to do that for me?”
“Of course. We’ll go right now.”
“Thank you. I would like to help Grouse Falls in any way I can. This town has been good to me. No one has judged me or—”
“Well, plenty are speculating,” I tossed out as the playful pat turned into a gentle caress. I could touch him forever. I really needed to get a grip here.
“Surely, and that is fine. I’m used to speculation and gossip. But everyone has been kind, accepting, even when they thought perhaps I was just a poor drifter who had a tiny baby that ate her mittens.”
I coughed/laughed in embarrassment. Thinking back on that, it did seem a bit far-fetched. “Yeah, that was pretty dumb.”
“No, just imaginative.” We shared a nice laugh at my expense. “I’ll share with you what I can when I can but just know that I am not here with any nefarious plans or schemes. I just want to live unfettered as my true self and perhaps take you to dinner soon.”
“Oh. Like a date?”
“Exactly like that. Would you be willing? We could bring Gilda as well if you like?”
I had mixed feelings. Actually, my emotions were a bubbling cauldron that would need to be strained and the tiny bits all examined like a tea leaf reading, only with sentiments.
“I’ll see what she says. But I am a definite yes.” He grinned. “Now, let’s go show Franny these eggs of yours.” I offered him a hand, which he took and held onto all the way to the funky craft shop. I’d left myOPENsign alone. I could watch from Franny’s packed front window to see if anyone pulled up at my shop while Franny and Anders haggled.
There was no haggling, though. Franny was tickled seventeen shades of pink to finally meet the mysterious Frenchman—and she would not accept that he was from Östermon and not France—and see his eggs. Peeking around him at the two beautifully decorated goose eggs in the tissue-lined shoebox, I whispered a soft “Wow” when he uncovered the eggs. Each one was exquisitely decorated with small glittering beads, red or green ribbons, and delicate wire that was also beaded and then threaded through the top and bottom of the egg. The bottom was teardrops of matching beads and pearls, the top much the same but with a thin wire and a hook to hang the egg on a tree.
“These are gorgeous!” Franny shouted. I could only nod in agreement.
“Thank you. It’s a family tradition. I would like to try to sell them and donate the cash to a local charity. Would that be possible? I have at least two dozen finished in my camper. Oh, and will purchase more beads and hot glue sticks while I am here.”
The deal was struck with a firm handshake. Anders bolted off to the wall of beads to start filling baggies supplied by Franny. I stood by her counter, admiring the goose eggs, and got a firm poke in the ribs.
“Ow,” I muttered and looked right at her.
“You better hang onto him. Men like him don’t just fall into our laps like that all the time. He’s a real prince,” Franny whispered, which was more of a hoarse shout than a soft whisper.
Yeah, he was something special, that was for sure. It was going to hurt when his wanderlust disappeared and he flew back to his little island in the Norwegian Sea.
Chapter Nine
Tuesday, December 15
Ten days.
Ten days to get the biggest birthday—so far—of my daughter’s life set up while wrapping up the sweater that still needed another four to five hours to complete. Then, I needed to wash and dry it to relax the stitches while checking for any issues like shrinkage or color bleeding. That was all done by hand in icy cold water with a specially formulated wool wash detergent, followed by some gentle squeezing and laying it out on a flat surface on a clean towel to dry. So, that would be done here at the shop to cut down on the possibility of her seeing it.
Also, there was the party at the fire hall that I needed to get settled. And a play at the junior high school to go see and run Gilda to nightly now. And a tree that needed to be picked out and cut and decorated. And smaller gifts to wrap. And food for the Christmas meal to buy. And work. Can’t forget work. That buys all the other goodies and keeps the gas and electric on.
“I’m tired just thinking of what I need to do.” I sighed at the dismantled ice auger lying before me. For some reason, I couldnot seem to find the get-up-and-go today. It was nearly noon, and I’d done jack and shit. Unless you counted making mental lists, fretting over the size of the mental list, and drinking two pots of coffee. This may have accounted for the inability to get my head into a relatively simple job. I mean, hello, Mitchell, it’s an ice auger. They’re pretty straightforward. I had the new carb kit. I just lacked motivation. “Okay, damn it, no more lollygagging. We’re going to do this job, eat your egg salad sandwich while you knit, and then we need to call the fire hall and talk to Penelope about how many tables they’re letting us use. Good. Yes, focus.” I picked up a screwdriver. “Here we go.”
My phone buzzed on the bench beside my fourteenth cup of coffee. I leaped on it like a cat spying a lame mouse.
Oh! A text from Anders was coming in. Should I be this excited?
Hello! I am making soup and bread for lunch. Would you like to join me at the camper?—A
