Charlotte’s fingers itched to draw out Maggie’s stunning porch with the individually carved balusters. She absently reached for her colored pencils. “Give me just a second.”
“That’s my cue to go,” Jacob nodded to Maggie. “Give her a few minutes, and you’ll have a masterpiece. She’s wicked good.” He leaned over the counter and tossled Charlotte’s hair. “Just in case Mr. Confusing comes back.”
She smacked his hand away–already caught up in creating the Christmas scene on paper. “I never expect to see him again,” she protested, her voice sounding far away in her ears because she was on a front lawn, staring at a black door that needed a wreath. But what kind?
“And I’m taking this.” He jumped up and tore the mistletoe down.
“You act like you’re doing that for her.” Maggie hooked her thumb toward Charlotte. “But we all know you plan to spring it on your wife.”
“You and Cash are no better,” he winked as he tucked the mistletoe into his jacket pocket.
Maggie flushed. “Can I help it if he looks good in a tool belt?”
Jacob threw his arms out to the side. “All the good ones do.”
The bell rang, and he melted into the foot traffic on Main Street. Maggie turned her full attention to Charlotte and the drawing. She gasped. “That’s so pretty. Way better than what I planned.”
Charlotte beamed. “It’s the wreath. Which, by the way,” she glanced at the front door, “I’ve laced with mistletoe. You and Cash can kiss all you want–’tis the season.”
Maggie threw her head back and laughed. “I hope you take your own advice.”
Charlotte pumped her eyebrows while she wilted inside. It’d been a hot minute–try five years–since she’d had a boyfriend at Christmas. Even if she was willing to date a man who didn’t enjoy her absolute favorite holiday, she had the unpleasant task of talking his daughter out of her Christmas wish.
Couldn’t she have her wish and enjoy it too? In all her years, she had never felt so selfish, and it was all Micah’s fault! If he hadn’t stumbled into her town at Christmas, then she wouldn’t be in this uncomfortable position.
ChapterEight
Snow pelted Micah’s face. A surge of gratitude went through him as he thanked the Lord for his snow pants and a heavy coat that protected him from the worst of the storm. He and Lizzie looked ready to build an igloo–not attend kindergarten.
Lizzie clung to his hand as they trudged to the school doors and had her other wrapped tightly around her imaginary pet, Wishy. She’d fallen to sleep singing Christmas songs to it last night–the sweet sound of her little voice softly singingSilent Nightwas enough to send a prison full of sinners to confession.
Looking down at her now, he gauged her reaction to the storm. Her eyes squeezed shut against the wind, and she trusted him to get her to the classroom despite the snow being higher than her knees. You’d think the janitor would be out with the snowplow or at least a shovel. Transferring to a new school in the middle of the semester meant she was behind the other children, and he didn’t feel like he could keep her home because of the weather. Besides, she’d worried Jenny would be alone at recess.
He shielded his eyes and looked around. A few cars were in the parking lot, but most people must have stayed home. The ones there were four-wheel-drive vehicles already covered with six inches of snow.
Living in the mountains wasn’t for the faint of heart. He had a new respect for the miners that settled in this town and worked in harsh climates for minimal pay–surviving on rations and tree bark.
Okay, maybe the cold was getting to him.
He grabbed the door handle and pulled. It rattled as the deadbolt kept it from swinging open. He cupped his hands and leaned against the glass, peering inside. The front office was dark.
“What in the world?” he mumbled.
Tucked up against the building, they had a bit of a wind block. He pulled out his phone to call the secretary and realized he hadn’t taken his phone off airplane mode last night. He often did that to keep distractions at bay as he worked. The creative process demanded all of his attention, and he didn’t get anything done if his phone beeped at him every time there was a weather update or the Red Sox scored.
As soon as he switched it over, his phone lit up.
Ding. Weather alert: Large storm approaching
Ding. Possible school closures. Stay tuned.
Ding. Snow day. Please stay off the roads.
Well, that was informative. He put his phone back in his pocket. “Looks like we’re spending the day together.”
Lizzie’s face melted into disappointment, and tears welled in her big eyes. “But today was our practice day. I haven’t learned my lines, Dad! Teacher said she would help me.”
An all-out meltdown boiled just under the surface. The school Christmas pageant was a big deal to his little girl cast as an angel. An angel with lines, no less! He didn’t have a script, or he could help her. He had his Bible, but what if they changed the wording?
