“They’re my brothers, Mom, and yeah.Though I’m going to handle it myself.”
“Don’t go getting arrested, Saint.Christmas is only six days away,” she warned.
“No one is going to get arrested.I promise to be here on Christmas Day.”
She made a few wreaths, and I could tell she was mulling something over in her mind.“What kind of trouble is she in?Maybe she isn’t as nice as I thought she was.”
“It’s not her problem, Mom.”
She glanced at me.“Then why does she need help?”
I sighed heavily.“Because her dad got into some money trouble, and now the people are going after Belle to get the money.”I didn’t want to tell my mom what was going on because it wasn’t my business to tell, but I didn’t want her to think that Belle was some kind of trouble.
“Good people don’t go after someone else for money,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, I know, Mom.That’s why I’m going to handle it for Belle.”
She made a few more wreaths.“I think you should help Belle.”
“It’s almost like you didn’t listen to me the last two minutes.That is exactly what I am going to do,” I drawled.
She wagged her finger at me.“Don’t sass your mother, boy.I may have called you Saint, but you’re not acting like one right now.”
“I’m not sassing you, Mom, but you’re telling me to help Belle like I didn’t just tell you that I was.”
She shrugged.“I guess I just needed to come to the same conclusion that you did on your own.”
I pushed off the counter.“I’m gonna go pick up your gingerbread house.Belle and I are going out for a drink after.”
Her face lit up.“You’re bringing Belle with you to drop off the gingerbread house?”
I shook my head.“No.I’m picking up the house, bringing it to you, and then going back to the bakery to pick up Belle.I don’t really think our first date should involve coming to my mom’s house.I’m thirty-four, not fourteen.”
She wrinkled her nose but didn’t argue.“Fine, I’ll be waiting.”
I pressed a kiss to her cheek and headed out the door.
Cookie Haven was even busier than usual when I pulled up.
Late Friday afternoon, six days before Christmas, and the place looked like a snow globe full of chaos.People lined up outside.Kids pressed their noses to the windows.Inside, I could see Belle moving fast, directing traffic like a general.
I waited.
Didn’t rush in.Didn’t want to add to the pressure.
When I finally stepped inside, warmth wrapped around me.Heat, sugar, spice, and that familiar pull I couldn’t shake.Belle looked up from the register, relief flickering across her face before she caught herself.
“You’re right on time,” she said.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I replied.
She disappeared into the back and came out a moment later carrying a large white box tied with a red ribbon.She set it on the counter carefully, like it was alive.
“Classic design,” she said.“Snow-dusted roof.Sugar lights in the windows.I even added a little wreath on the door.”
I opened the box.
The gingerbread house was perfect.Not flashy.Not overdone.Just… warm.Inviting.Like something you’d want to come home to.
