Page 19 of A Cozy Holiday
Wait.Wait.Is he asking for himself?My pulse kicks up in a way that feels dangerously close to hope, which is stupid because I’m basically emotional roadkill right now, and this man probably collects women’s phone numbers like his daughters collect hair accessories.
“Unattached,” I say, aiming for casual, but it comes out clipped.
“Noted.”
That’s it?Noted?What does that even mean?
“If the school’s not far, I can meet you there after I’m finished at the café,” I say quickly. “These feet were made for moving. Plus, after yesterday’s snowmobile adventure, I could use the exercise.”
“It’s two miles. And there’s more snow in the forecast.”
I wave him off. “I’m from the Northeast originally. I think I can handle it. What’s the worst that could happen? I get hauled out of a ditch by some reindeer cowboy?” I let a smile crack through. “Oh, wait.”
“Still safer if I pick you up.”
“Jamie. I need to move my body or I’ll explode.”
He sighs like he knows better. “It’s just down the road from the café. Can’t miss it.”
“See?” I smirk. “That wasn’t so hard.”
He parks the car and hesitates, one hand on the keys still in the ignition.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” But he’s looking at me, and it doesn’t feel like nothing. “Just…thanks for doing this. Really.”
Something smoldering and unwelcome unfurls in my chest. I squash it immediately, jump out of his black Chevy truck, and take in the Carp-e Diem Café, which sits in a three-story blue house with fishing nets draped over the silver stair railing like cobwebs. A wooden sign shaped like a bass above the door declares SEIZE THE FISH! in hand-painted letters.
I head inside with Jamie behind me. My first impression is that it’s like a Bass Pro Shop that’s owned and managed by hoarders. Every inch of the honey-colored walls is covered in fish photos, fish sculptures, and fish trinkets. There are carved catfish, knitted marlins, minnow wind chimes that spin from the wooden fan above, and at least three taxidermy fish.
“Wow,” I say under my breath.
“You impressed?” a woman behind the counter asks. She’s around my age, maybe a bit younger, and is sporting salmon-shaped earrings. Her curly, shoulder-length light-brown hair is pinned back with plaid bows, and her apron reads,Catch of the Day.
“I…” I search for something diplomatic. “I love a committed theme.”
“Told one person when I was five that I liked fish.” She throws her hands up in mock despair. “Now I’m the fish lady of Cranberry Hollow. It’s a hard cross to bear.” But she’s grinning, clearly delighted with her aquatic empire.
“Hi, Winnie,” Jamie says. He nods toward a carved pink-and-silver pufferfish hanging on the wall. “Adding to the collection, I see.”
“You know it. Found her on eBay. Got into a bidding war that lasted until two in the morning. Some bastard from Portland kept driving the price up, but I outlasted him.” She pumps her fist. “Miss Puff is mine.”
“So, you do have a modern postal system out here,” I say, shooting Jamie a look.
Winnie’s eyes ping-pong between us, curious and delighted. “Ooh, she’s got jokes and attitude. I like her already.” She drums her fingers on the scarred wooden counter.“Takes forever to reach us, but that high you get when a box you ordered three months ago finally arrives? Chef’s kiss.”
“Joy is gonna hang out here for the afternoon to do some research,” Jamie says.
“Research sounds like coffee. What can I get ya?”
“Do you do oat milk lattes?” I ask.
“Darling.” Winnie giggles like I just asked if she stocks caviar…though I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. “The only milk we’ve got is from Josie out back.” She speaks as if she is double her age, but there is a charm to it.
“And Josie is—”
“The town cow,” she replies. “We pasteurize the milk in-house, probably better for you than the oats.”
