Page 299 of Screwged for Christmas

“He asked you to stop by when you get a chance. Something about Ryder needing to run through some safety measures with the new bakery equipment he’s having installed.”

Ryder, the third oldest of the Kennedy crew, took over the family-operated grocery store when Aspen stepped down to become a firefighter and later a hotshot down in Cali. “Got it. Leave the list on the counter and I’ll pick up the items in a few minutes.”

Maybe if he kept busy enough, he could forget Ivy was in town long enough to survive Christmas.

* * *

IVY SNATCHED THE KEYS to the Caddie from the side table by the kitchen door after disconnecting with Jon and took a second to pray over the wheel the old-timer would crank. Faded shades of yellow cracked through a few split clouds and glistened across the ice crystals formed over the hood. “Please. Please. Please let something go right today.”

After several years away in Seattle, Ivy wasn’t used to the heavy snowfall anymore. But then, Seattle brought its own challenges.

Relief warmed her veins even if the cold of the leather bit through her jeans. She missed the seat-warmer of her car on days like these. She slumped over and let a sigh of half relief, half dread at what came next as heat filtered through the vents and gradually warmed the spacious cabin. She snatched a quick glance at her watch.

In record time, Ivy wove through the light traffic and hoped the oversized white Caddie would not stand out among the crowd as she paid little attention to the speed limit.

Snow-capped peaks rose in the far distance and offered a stark relief against the once again graying skies and lent a touch of elegance to the small town. Fresh snow dusted parts of the sidewalks and manicured pines the size of small buildings dotted the entire length of Main Street. In between each tree stood old-fashioned lamp posts straight off a Hallmark card. From each post hung giant red velvet ribbons with their clipped ends waving in the chilled breeze as if greeting holiday shoppers and passersby.

Ivy smiled. As a child and later on in her teenage years, her family would sign on to help with the town’s decoration. This year the running theme seemed to be reindeer. One, in particular, she would wager.

All the storefront windows featured a large silhouette of the town’s newly minted mascot. Fresh garland lined the window frames with various glittery baubles to finish off the festive touch. At night, everything would twinkle with hundreds of lights, another postcard moment.

She slowed when she spotted Dixen’s fire house. The white building stood back from the road with a huge empty lot in the front. For ease of access with the fire engines, she surmised.

She sat up, curved her arms over the wheel, and squinted. “What is that?” She took a double glance. Off to the side of the fire station, someone with a big sense of humor rigged up a scaled firetruck as a makeshift sleigh. Complete with a fat plastic Santa in the back and a flashing red light for Rudolph’s nose in the front. It even featured eight not-so-tiny reindeer down the sides of the large toy fire truck in lieu of tires.

“Cute.” She laughed. If not a little tacky in the paint department. Someone had a good idea, but not a clue on how to use a paintbrush.

Fireman red plaid and black jeans came into view from around the back. She slowed to a crawl for a better look.

Aspen stepped out from behind the rig every defined muscle easy to spot even from the street. He’d always loved Christmas decorations.

Thick forearms peeked out from rolled-up cuffs and she pressed the brake to enjoy how he flexed lifting a fat, plastic reindeer into place.

A loud blast of a horn brought her attention back to the road, and she realized she’d come to a complete stop outside the firehouse. “God, Ivy! What is wrong with you!” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Get your head in the game.”

Nerves had her hands shaking like a leaf in a tornado as she turned into the grocer’s parking lot a couple of minutes later. She killed the ignition and sat there counting out each breath as she gathered her composure.

Her phone buzzed from deep in her jacket pocket and she jumped to dig it out from among the empty cookie baggie still stuffed in her pocket.

A message flashed along the top that notified her of a new email.

She nearly forgot to breathe for the next few seconds as she read over the email.

Dear Ms. Winters,

We are happy to inform you that we were very pleased with our interview yesterday afternoon. Due to the high demand in the area of Victorian home renovations and your expertise in bed and breakfasts—thank you, Gran—should you wish to work with myself and my wife in the restoration of our inn, we accept your proposed plans. Should you be willing to start the day after Christmas, we are willing to double your fee. More details to come. We have reserved a time for a follow-up call at noon your time. Talk then.

She fist-pumped the air which caused the car to rock and several people to look her way.

“Yes!” Her Facebook update wouldn’t be a lie after all. One more conversation and the job would be hers. She could already see the trimmings she wanted to add to the wraparound porch. The banisters that would need some loving from a good architect. Her brother, Colden would be perfect for the job. She really enjoyed working with him on the few occasions he could pull away from his own growing architecture business.

Having a good understanding of her profession, he completely understood her need for organization and having everything planned down to the tiniest detail. When he wasn’t busy building his skyscrapers, he liked to get out from behind mountains of blueprints and get his hands dirty with hands-on jobs like hers.

She hit reply and confirmed the time with her soon-to-be new employer and took a moment to let the possibility of her futurenotmelting into a pile of goo sink in. She just might survive after all.

A pang of something, she didn’t know what, settled over her. Unfamiliar as it was it felt like guilt or like she missed something important and couldn’t remember.

Ivy dug in her handbag for a pencil and scribbled the call into her planner and sat back. She would need to call Colden soon, too. Before he committed to another job. She hoped he didn’t mind working over New Year’s.

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