Sitting at the kitchen table, bemoaning his circumstances, wouldn’t do any good. He’d traded his car in for a truck yesterday and had an entire cab and bed of studio gear to unload from his trip to Knoxville.
He’d made a day of it, also stopping by a furniture store to purchase beds for the guest rooms. His sisters could share one for the week, but he also bought a futon just in case. Only ten more days until they arrived, and he couldn’t wait.
His life was busy preparing to open his studio. Making friends came easily to him, and in the short time since he’d moved to Outlook, he’d made several acquaintances he’d soon consider friends. Plus, he had Cora—kind of. He was building a good life for himself in Outlook, but he missed his family.
Standing up, he stole a glimpse of the Christmas tree. He didn’t consider it solely his, but his and Cora’s. It was as much a part of her as him. His memory slipped to two weeks ago when they’d spent the afternoon decorating it. He remembered the delight in her eyes when the bulbs first lit, her peals of laughter when she tried to see his salt dough ornament.
Most of all, he remembered how she felt in his arms as they slow danced around his living room. Those moments were the closest he’d felt to home since he’d moved.
A strong desire to see her welled in his chest. They’d had dinner before Wednesday night service, and he’d pick her up before church tomorrow morning, but that wasn’t soon enough. He glanced at the clock, saw he had just enough time to unload the truck and then meet her as she closed for the day.
Rushing through, he set all his purchases directly inside the doorway, vowing to himself he’d sort them properly when he got home. He changed out of his shirt, dusty and grimy from all the boxes he’d carried, and put on a navy thermal. On the way out the door, he added his leather coat to the ensemble and wrapped a scarf around his neck. Another storm was on its way, dropping the temperature rapidly.
Please hold off until after church tomorrow. Selfishly, he didn’t want to miss time with Cora if the storm became too fierce. He also enjoyed church services, and always left with insight from the pastor’s sermons.
Cars lined the streets of Outlook. As Christmas approached, the stores drew larger crowds, even at closing time. He squeezed into a parking spot, making several attempts as he adjusted to the larger vehicle. Though accustomed to driving trucks around his parents’ farm, he’d never had to park them in narrow spots.
Mistletoe Mercantile had a line of customers waiting to check out when he walked in, even though the sign had been flipped toClosed. Marie stood at the register, scanning barcodes. One of the part-timers helped package items.
When he didn’t immediately spot Cora, Gabe strolled through the store, He straightened messes left behind by customers, and picked pieces of trash from the floor.
Cora came to his side. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Thought I’d help while waiting for you.”
She squinted. Confusion scrunched her features. “Did we have plans?”
“No, but I came in hopes of enticing you to a late dinner.” He flashed his best smile, then lowered his lashes and gave her puppy dog eyes.
The effect worked, and she laughed. “I’d love to.”
“Breakfast for dinner?”
“Perfect.” She removed a broken bulb from the tree next to them. “Give me a half hour, and I’ll be done here.”
“What can I do to help?”
She opened her mouth, to protest he was sure, then stopped. “If you want, I could use help restocking for Monday morning. I’d planned to pop in tomorrow, but the weather might not allow that.”
“Point the way.”
Stepping away, she waved over her shoulder. “I have boxes of merchandise staged in the hallway.”
He followed her behind the door and listened to her instructions. While he waited for her to finish the closing tasks, he filled bins with small gifts for children, then hung stockings from pegs on a cardboard chimney.
Marie and the part-time employee left, leaving him alone with Cora. He stopped stocking and watched her run the closing reports on the register. She had a pen tucked behind her ear, and she bit her lip while she worked. A smile pulled on her lips, and he prayed that meant it had been a good sales day.
“Once I run these to the office, I’ll be ready to leave,” she called out.
He finished the box he worked on, then broke it down and stacked it on the other flattened cardboard. Lifting the entire pile, he carried them out back and deposited them into the compactor shared by multiple stores. When he returned inside, Cora had her coat.
She fastened the buttons on her coat. “Want to walk?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind the cold.”
“My car won’t have time to warm between here and there.” She pulled a knit beanie over her head. “I’ve got layers.”
He admired her energy level after being on her feet all day, though he did see she wore practical shoes, not fancy heels. “Does Tennessee usually get this much snow?”
