When he’d reached his teenage years, being out of step with popular culture had been akin to death, so he’d decided to take action. He’d approached his coolness problem the way he approached all things—through study.
He hadn’t been able to make his personality cool. But he had been able to make his clothing and hair as cool as possible. Fixing those two things had helped matters tremendously, which was a sad commentary on the shallowness of high school.
As he’d gotten older, he’d gained confidence over the years in ways that had nothing to do with clothing and hair styles. Even so, he knew that in certain social situations, he still came across as overly formal and stiff.
Maddie Winslow, on the other hand, had a way with people. It wasn’t that her personality was bulletproof, the way Olivia’s had been. It was more that she had a talent—despite her moments of uncertainty or awkwardness—for putting other people at ease.
The elderly woman went off to browse, and Maddie made her way to Charlie. Charlie had been bouncing off the walls inside, so his sisters had brought him outdoors a half an hour ago.
Maddie lowered to Charlie’s level and straightened his winter cap before the two of them launched into a conversation. Intuitively, Maddie knew how to talk to Charlie. She’d sat onhis parents’ rug earlier today and played blocks with Charlie patiently, something that Leo didn’t always have the time or the desire to do.
His memory stretched back to the day when Maddie and Britt had driven to Idaho to visit them in the hospital after Charlie was born. Maddie had taken Charlie into her arms and made holding a newborn—something he hadn’t been very good at himself back then—look like the most natural thing in the world.
He hadn’t thought about that in years.
He and Maddie had been communicating often since they’d become Mission:Christmas partners. On the way here today, Charlie had commented, “You’re feeling happy, aren’t you, Daddy?”
He’d realized that he was. Then he’d realized it was because he was looking forward to spending the day with Maddie.
She approached him, carrying Charlie on her hip. “Charlie’s cold, so I’m going to take him back inside.”
“I can take him in if you’d rather.”
“It’s no problem.”
“In that case, just drop him off with my dad. He’s probably hiding in his study.” His parents often took turns with Charlie when their grandson spent time at their house. His dad would keep an eye on Charlie while his mom read. Then, like a wrestling team, his mom would tag in and watch Charlie while his dad read. He had it on good authority that it was his dad’s turn.
Charlie reached for the piece of jewelry pinned to Maddie’s green coat. The big gem glittering in the center of it had to be fake. Even so, he didn’t want Charlie, who could destroy anything in seconds, anywhere near it. Leo peeled Charlie’s fingers from it.
“That’s pretty,” Charlie said to Maddie.
“Thank you,” Maddie answered. She turned to Leo. “I found this brooch going through a box in my parents’ attic, looking for garage-sale items.”
“Ah. Are you wearing it as an advertisement to sell it?”
“No. It turns out that this is a family heirloom my mom forgot to tell me about.” She gazed at him with wry amusement, then swept inside with Charlie.
Leo sold a pair of side tables to a couple, then a box of records to a teenage boy.
When business hit a lull, Maddie rejoined him beneath one of the space heaters. They stood side by side, their gloved hands in their jacket pockets. She wore a white winter hat that looked like a beret, but was big enough to cover her ears. She had compassionate olive-green eyes and delicate brows. A straight, firm nose. A chin that assured him she could stick to something if she put her mind to it.
She took out her phone and snapped a few shots of the sale, then one of him. “For Instagram?” he asked.
“Indeed.”
“Are you going to put a screen on top of the picture?”
“A screen?” She wrinkled her nose. “Oh! You mean a filter? You’re quaint.”
“Quaint?” He pretended outrage.
“Adorably so,” she said. “Look.” She added a filter that turned the picture sepia-toned, typed in some accompanying words, and posted it.
“That didn’t take you any time at all.”
“I’m a pro.” She nodded toward the elderly woman she’d been haggling with earlier. “She wants that lamp over there. It’s marked at fifteen, and she offered seven. I told her I can’t take less than ten.”
He laughed. “What if she decides not to buy it? Then we’ve lost a sale.”
