“And I’m grateful that you agreed to go north and participate in the holiday activities we’re arranging for you.”
“No pushback from me on any of that, promise.”
“Thank you,” Nigel replied. “Of course, your participation in these events, while essential, isn’t all that we’re asking of you.”
Daniel shifted on the couch. “I agree, that’s not all you’re asking of me. You also want me to learn more about the holiday and I’m fine with that, too. I’m here to learn. Bring on the learning.”
“Glad to hear. The final piece of the ask, of course, is for you to tell the world that —”
“That I’ve had a change of heart, that my eyes have been opened, that I’ve learned how wonderful Christmas is, that everything I wrote in the essay was completely wrong.”
“Exactly,” Nigel said.
As she watched their interplay, Penny realized that Daniel wasn’t coming across as impatient or anxious or irritated. He didn’t appear to be overly resentful about being strong-armed into leaving New York and driving to a small town in northern New England to take part in activities he clearly had little interest in.
But neither, on the flip side, did he appear to be happy or excited. She had yet to see anything approaching a smile from him.
“As I said in New York,” he said, “what I’ll say after I immerse myself in Christmas is something I’ll figure out after I immerse myself in Christmas.”
Yes, definitely a vibe from this one. Direct and no-nonsense, like he knew who and what he was about. He was being polite, which was to his credit. But clearly he wasn’t enthused about being here.
It hit her: The feeling she was getting from Daniel Bedford was one ofpurpose.Thatwas his vibe. He feltready.
But ready forwhat?
If Daniel Bedford wasn’t here to get himself out of the mess he made, she found herself wondering, then why was he here?
CHAPTER 8
The following day, as the afternoon sun slipped below Heartsprings Ridge and dusk settled over the town square, Penny left the bustle of the bookstore, adjusted her red scarf around her neck, and hurried down the street to where she’d parked her car. Being away from the store for even a few hours during one of the busiest shopping days of the year was something she wasn’t happy about —at all — but her team understood the deal with Daniel Bedford and recognized the importance of a new roof and had basically just shooed her out the door. “Go, boss,” Nancy told her. “You have an author to babysit. We’ll be good here — promise.”
As Penny aimed her car toward Northland Orchard for the second time in two days, her thoughts returned again to her new charge. Last night, after closing the bookstore, she’d gone online and watched several interviews that Daniel had done while promoting his books. In the interviews, he came across much like he had in person: serious, courteous, direct, clear. He spoke with confidence. He listened intently.
Plus, he’s handsome, her inner voice whispered.
With irritation, she pushed against the thought. Daniel Bedford’s appearance was completely irrelevant to the job she’dsigned up for. Her responsibility, her focus, her commitment, was specific and limited: to be his tour guide during his brief stay in Heartsprings Valley. She’d accompany him to his events, make introductions, and do what she could to help him and his team craft the tale of personal transformation that they hoped would repair the damage he’d caused with his Christmas essay.
His demeanor remained a puzzle to her. Clara had labeled him a grouch, but that description wasn’t really a precise fit. He was definitely serious, but serious and grouchy weren’t the same thing. Grouchy implied a gruffness or rudeness that he had yet to display.
Still, the label wasn’t completely wrong. His critique of the business of Christmas was very much a complaint, and if there was one thing grouches were good at, it was complaining. Also, he wasn’t enthused about being in Heartsprings Valley. He seemed to regard the visit as a responsibility he owed his publisher.
Instead of calling him grouchy, perhaps it was better to think of him as quietly tense. He seemed to be holding back, though why or from what she had no clue. He’d been careful with Nigel on the call. A dance was going on between them, a subtle sparring. Announcing that he’d figure out what he’d say about Christmas after immersing himself in Christmas —there was nothing random or casual about that statement. He’d said that for a reason.
Her car headlights played across the snow-covered fields as she turned onto the road leading to the orchard. Whatever was going on, Daniel’s decision to hold back seemed like a missed opportunity. The holiday events he’d be taking part in would likely be a lot of fun, or at least would be if he allowed himself to loosen up.
She let out a sigh. Seriously, would it kill him to crack an occasional smile? He might even have a nice one —assuminghe was still capable of smiling, of course. She’d read somewhere that dozens of tiny facial muscles were required for smiling. Perhaps his muscles had atrophied from lack of use?
Okay, stop it, she told herself.His face isn’t atrophied and his emotional state is none of your concern. You’re here for a job. Do your work well, do it efficiently, then get back to your bookstore’s blizzard of busy.
The rest of the drive flew by and before she knew it, she was pulling again into the orchard’s gravel lot. A number of cars were already there. With the Wassail event about to start, the lot would likely soon fill up.
Before hopping out, she took a moment to examine her face in the car mirror. Mascara and eyeliner —check. Lips —almost. After rummaging through her handbag for her lipstick, she applied a touchup, then turned her attention to her hair, which was still pulled back into a ponytail. She’d meant to brush out her hair before leaving the bookstore, but in her rush, she’d forgotten to do that and time-traveling wasn’t an option, so….
Rummaging again through her handbag, she discovered, to her annoyance, that she’d also forgotten her hairbrush. For a brief second she considered leaving the ponytail in placebut then visualized her mom shaking her head and saying, “But your hair looks so much better down,mija,” and knew that Mom, as usual, was right.
With a sigh, she unwound the ponytail, then used her fingers to separate her thick tresses as best she could. The result was less smooth than she would have liked, but it would have to do.
She glanced down at the dark jeans and dark blue wool sweater she’d chosen to wear. The sweater was one of her nicest, which mattered because — and this was the reason she’d given herself while getting dressed that morning — she might end up being seen in the social media put together by Nigel’s team andit was important, for the sake of the bookstore, to present herself in a good light.
