Page 37 of A Frosty Flirtation
Ginger shuts off the mixer and scrapes the beaters clean with a spatula. “Want to do the honors?” she asks, nodding toward the parchment-lined pan.
“Sure.” I take the bowl from her and pour the thick batter. The scent of pumpkin fills the air, making my stomach growl. She smooths the top before she slides the pan into the oven.
She wipes her hands on a towel before she sets the timer. “We’ve got thirty-five minutes.”
“Should we stay in here and see how long it takes before they notice?” I tease. All I can hear from the front of the shop is muffled music and an occasional laugh.
Ginger looks at the ceiling, contemplating my suggestion. “Sounds tempting, but there’s no way Willow wouldn’t drag us out there at some point.”
I glance toward the door, then back at her. “I’ll go help them.”
“You don’t have to,” she says, but there’s a flicker of relief in her eyes. “I’m sure they’d appreciate it, though.”
“Does Willow really appreciate anything?” I joke. She’s known to be a ballbuster.
Ginger smiles. “She’s not as tough as she likes everyone to think.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” I move to the door and pause before going through it. I’d rather stay back here with her. “Give me a shout if you need help with anything.”
Out front, the shop looks like there’s been an explosion of Christmas spirit all over the floor, and there’s a stepladder in the middle of it all. “What happened here?” I ask.
Nina makes a choked sound. “Willow.”
“Hey, let’s not be so quick to play the blame game. There’s a method to my madness,” Willow defends.
I quirk an eyebrow. “Which is?”
“Now that everything is out of the box, I can see what we have to work with.”
Nina rolls her eyes. “Too bad we can’t walk on the floor.”
“How about we group the decorations by kind?” I suggest. “Then we can see how much we have of each item and then decide where they should go.”
Nina nods eagerly. “Great idea.”
Willow seems less impressed, but she grudgingly nods her agreement.
We spend the next five minutes getting everything organized into neat piles. “What’s the plan?” I ask.
Willow defers to Nina. “You’re the expert.”
“Yeah, at marketing, not Christmas decorating,” she says.
“They might not be the same, but they both need a keen eye. You know what’s aesthetically pleasing for buyers,” I point out.
Nina nods. “That’s true.” She gets to her feet and studies the open space. “Let’s hang a garland around the front windows.”
“I’ll get started on that.” I move the stepladder over.
“I found these,” Willow says, holding a pack of clear sticky hooks. “Figures Ginger wouldn’t want holes in the wall.”
“Thanks.” They’re the same kind we used when we hung lights on her front porch, and they’re surprisingly sturdy. I place them around the window where needed, then climb the stool and begin threading the garland through. The back of my neck tingles, and when I glance over my shoulder, Nina’s watching with a closed-lip smile.
“What? Is something crooked?”
“No, it looks great. I’m impressed by your investment in spreading holiday cheer.”
Willow snorts. “That’s not what he’s invested in.”
