At the end of it all, Paula and Jill had been civil, even bordering on cordial. But there was a band of tension between them that stretched tighter as the hours went on. By the time the women had completed their mistletoe activity, Rachel worried her mother’s forced graciousness would snap her fake smile right in half.
Shaking off the frustration, Rachel rolled the yarn project in her hand. It had turned out even cuter than she imagined it would. She could envision it in a shop on the corner, one that specialized in handmade items and one-of-a-kind designs. But that wasn’t Rachel’s industry. Easily duplicated, bulk manufactured items were December Décor’s claim to fame. Sometimes, she wondered if those parameters actually stifled her creativity, knowing she had to fashion something they could mass market.
It wasn’t as though she’d be satisfied making and selling homemade items in a quaint mountain town, but the story behind a product like this sure held more meaning than the ones she’d created over the years.
She tucked the sprig of yarn into her purse, all the while taking in Main Street at its holiday finest. Large red bows adorned every lamppost, a repeating of scarlet red that made the entire town feel wrapped up like a present. And the window displays—those were her favorite. Every storefront boasted winter scenery, from fluffy fake snow to twinkling lights to displays filled with little villages and moving trains. Even her parents’ small grocery store, Main Street Market, got in on the holiday action with stacks of green pasta boxes constructed in the shape of a Christmas tree and links of cased salamis adorning the window like strands of garland.
The outdoor music piped through the square was a welcome treat too. Not unlike the carols on constant replay back at the Joy house, these melodic holiday tunes aided in a little growth of their own. By the time Rachel reached the Coffee Bar, her Christmas spirit had expanded by several sizes and her step felt instantly lighter, like a weight lifted from her once-weary shoulders.
She’d had a bad attitude about everything, but that was about to change. Work could wait, competitions could continue without her involvement, and a cup of hot coffee would help put everything in perspective.
The handsome face beaming up from his table near the back of the café helped a little with that too.
“I was wondering if I’d find you here,” he said, rising halfway to stand. “Would you care to join me?”
Until that point, they’d only shared workspaces side by side, but Rachel gladly took the chair opposite him. “I would love that.” She placed her purse between them. “That, and a massive cup of coffee.”
“Rough day?”
“Weird day.”
“Weirder than ours yesterday?”
She laughed. “Yesterday wasn’t weird. It was different.”
“Like the mistletoe.”
“Speaking of.” She slipped her hands into her bag and unveiled her crocheted project. “I came across another variety.”
His head tilted slightly and a lock of hair swept over amused eyes. “And what’s that type used for?”
“I don’t know yet,” she said before stowing it back in her purse, a grin challenging her lips. “Haven’t tested it out.”
His lips parted. He blinked a few times. “Can I get you something to drink? My treat.”
“I would love one of those holiday specials. That peppermint one, if they have it.”
“Coming right up.”
She didn’t mean to pry, but his open laptop beckoned her gaze. The results from an internet search filled the screen with images of large noble firs resembling the very one growing in her parents’ backyard.
Sooner than she had expected, he came back to the table. “Should be up in just a couple of minutes.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” she said. “You doing a little Christmas tree research?”
He looked at his computer, then at Rachel. “No, why do you ask?”
“Your computer screen. I wasn’t meaning to snoop. I just happened to look over and saw all the trees.”
“Oh.” He clamped the laptop shut. “Nah, that’s for something else. But would you believe it’s almost the second week of December and I don’t even have a tree up yet?”
“I don’t have one either. I mean, I do at the place I’m staying here. But not at home.”
He leaned back. “And where’s home for you?”
“San Francisco.” Rachel folded her hands in front of her on the table. “I live on the twenty-fifth floor of my building, so it’s not even that feasible to get a Christmas tree all the way up. I usually settle for one of those small tabletop ones instead.”
“You should never settle when it comes to a Christmas tree.”
