Page 72 of Stella's Christmas Rescue
“Wonderfully, thank you. How are you doing?”
Her eyes twinkle brightly, “I am quite well, thank you. I’ve heard a little rumor, and I’m wondering if you can confirm it for me.”
I smile down at her. “That depends on the rumor. I wouldn’t feel right telling someone else’s secrets.”
“I have heard you’re starting a business.”
“Oh, that. Yes, I am. An online customized scent business.”
“You mean, like perfumes and such?”
I nod. “With all my former resources available again, I am able to shift my business model to one that’s a lot more flexible and modern. I’ll be doing perfumes, lotions, room fresheners, candles, all of that. And it will all be customized to the client’s tastes.”
“That sounds ambitious. What does Jordan think about it?”
“He’s proud of me.”
Mrs. Black smiles, and her eyes almost vanish behind her cheeks. “I am so happy for you, Darlin’. In my day, a man felt threatened when his wife was a go—getter. I am so happy to know it’s not that way anymore.”
I shrug. “I’m sure it is for some people. But it’s not that way for us.”
“Well,” she pats my hand, “I will be your first client when you get it off the ground. I’ll text you my email, so you can send me the link to your website.”
“You’re the best, Mrs. Black, thank you. And your cookies are, too. Jordan warned me I shouldn’t bother to make Christmas cookies, and I am so glad I listened to him.”
She giggles. “He’s a smart one, that Jordan. You keep a tight hold on him, alright, Darlin’?”
“Oh, I will.” I wink. “Wouldn’t want him to fall for an older woman.”
“Oh!” she laughs. “He’s a little muscular for my tastes. But your grandfather, is he single?”
I laugh, “No, my grandmother is that one, the woman asleep in the easy chair.”
“Damn, he’s a doll. Oh, well.” She toddles off and makes mischief with some of the women from church.
I take a deep breath and sigh. The lights twinkle, the music plays, and everything smells wonderful. I never thought I’d have so many people in my life, or a house full of love on the holidays. Alex walks to me, and his limp is nearly unnoticeable these days. He delivers a glass of eggnog and says, “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas. How’s the leg?”
“I guess this is my anniversary, huh? It’s good. I’m done with physical therapy, and I’m still keeping up with my exercises. Me and Grandpa do them together. On the days I don’t see him, he texts me a reminder.”
I smile at him, then Grandpa. “He’s doing well. Thanks to you.”
Alex shakes his head. “He’s doing well, thanks to him and Grandma. They’ve been doing everything right, listening to the doctors?—"
“Alex. Stop.” I set our eggnogs down and take his hands in mine. “Last year, you were shot because you came to tell me how our grandfather was doing. And he was doing well, because you worked with him on everything. I know this was you, so stop deflecting the credit you earned. I know Grandma helps, but I spoke to her and she told me about everything you did for them. You went with him for all of his appointments, you kept track of his medications, you made sure he did his physical therapy, all of it. This was you. He is here for this holiday because of you. Thank you.”
The bottoms of his eyes flood, and he sniffs and looks away. “You know, I’m starting to wonder if I have a dog allergy.” He rubs his eyes and pretends that’s all it is. “Hope not.”
“I hope not too, but if you do, I have meds in the bathroom cabinet.”
He smirks. “Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome.”
He picks up both eggnogs and hands me mine. “Cheers.”
“The smell is killing me. I should get some sparkling cider for the toast, just a second.” I pour myself a glass.
