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“He’s very handy,” Mabel said with smile. “Always the type to fix things himself rather than call someone else to do it.” It was one of the things she loved about him. He was capable and reliable, the kind of man you could count on when things went wrong.
A moment later, she heard the sound of work boots on the steps, and looked up to see George coming down into the lobby. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him in his worn flannel rolled up to the elbows, his graying hair a little mussed from work.
The sight of him made her heart squeeze with affection. How could she have doubted him, even for a moment?
He saw her, and his eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled. “Mabel! What a nice surprise. And cookies?” He grinned. “Those couldn’t possibly be for me, could they?”
Mabel chuckled, holding up the stacks of festively wrapped cookies. “Maybe,” she said with a grin. “I thought I’d bring you a snack to keep you going while you’re working so hard. It’s all your favorites.”
George smiled. “That’s very thoughtful,” he said, leaning in to give her a kiss. “You didn’t have to do all that.”
“I wanted to,” she said firmly. “Especially after the last week or so. George, I—”
She was just about to launch into what she’d planned to say, to tell him that she was sorry for how short and withdrawn she’d been and apologize for it all, when she heard the soft click of heels on the hardwood floor coming from the kitchen.
“Oh, there you are, George. I thought you might be getting a bit peckish, so I brought you something—”
Mabel looked to see Eda Leopold walking toward them, holding a silver tray with what looked like fancy shortbread cookies and a carafe of something that smelled like expensive coffee. The widow was dressed impeccably, in a cream-colored cashmere sweater and perfectly pressed slacks, her silver hair styled in an elegant updo. She wore pearls at her throat and wrists, and her makeup was flawless.
She stopped short when she saw Mabel, and for just a moment, something flickered across her face—surprise, or maybe disappointment. But it was gone so quickly that Mabel thought she have imagined it.
“Oh,” Eda said, her voice smooth as silk. “I didn’t realize you had company, George. How lovely.”
Mabel felt her stomach drop. The widow had brought George cookies. And coffee. Not simple homemade cookies, but something that looked like it had come from an expensive bakery overseas somewhere. She’d thought to bring him a work snack, just as Mabel had.
Everything she’d been preparing to say to George evaporated from her mind, and the jealousy erupted once more, hot and uncomfortable in her chest. She could feel it rising up her throat, threatening to spill out in words she knew she’d regret.
She bit them back, not wanting to make a scene. That would only make things worse, and then Eda would win. Mabel forced herself to smile, even though it felt brittle on her face. “How thoughtful of you, Mrs. Leopold,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “George is lucky to have so many people looking out for him.”
“Eda, please,” the widow said with a pleasant smile. “And it’s no trouble at all. I simply can’t abide the thought of someone working so hard without a little treat to sustain him. These are imported butter cookies from a little bakery in Vienna. I had them shipped here specially for the season.”
Of course she did, Mabel thought, her chest burning. Of course Eda Leopold had fancy imported cookies while Mabel had simple homemade ones. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream or cry, but neither reaction was one a woman of her age should have in public, so she swallowed them both down, even though it felt like she was about to explode.
George was looking between the two women with an expression that Mabel couldn’t quite read. He still held Mabel’s stacks of cookies in his hands, and he seemed uncertain about what to do with them now that Eda’s elaborate spread was in front of him.
Mabel felt that she had to get out of there.
“Well,” she said briskly, shouldering her purse. “I can see you’re well taken care of here, George. I just wanted to drop off my offering and leave you to your work. I know you have a lot to get done today.”
“Mabel, wait—” George started, but she was already moving toward the door.
She couldn’t stay. Not with Eda Leopold standing there looking so perfectly put together, not with her own jealousy threatening to bubble over and make her say something she’d regret. She needed to leave before she embarrassed herself, and before she let George see just how annoyed and insecure she really felt.
“I’ll see you later,” she said over her shoulder, trying to keep her voice light and casual. “Enjoy the cookies. All of them.”
“Mabel—” George started to say, but Mabel was already walking out of the front door.
The cold air rushed in to meet her, and she welcomed it, hoping it would cool the heat in her cheeks and the uncomfortable tightness in her chest.
She heard George call her name one more time, but she didn’t turn around. She couldn’t. If she looked at him now, she might cry, and she absolutely refused to cry over something so silly as a wealthy widow bringing cookies to a man who was just being polite.
The door closed behind her with a soft click, and Mabel stood on the porch for a moment, breathing in the cold December air and trying to collect herself. Through the window, she could see George still standing in the lobby, looking toward the door with a concerned expression on his face. Eda was saying something to him, gesturing toward the tray of cookies, but Mabel couldn’t hear the words.
She turned away and started walking, her feet carrying her automatically down the familiar streets of Fir Tree Grove. The Christmas decorations that had seemed so cheerful on her way to the B&B now felt almost mocking. Everywhere she looked, there were happy couples holding hands, families laughing together, children squealing with delight at the holiday displays. And here she was, a grown woman dealing with a squabble over a man like she was a teenager again. It wasn’t the high-school feeling she normally enjoyed from the novelty of having a boyfriend again at her age.
Mabel wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cold despite her layers. She walked without any real destination in mind, just needing to put distance between herself and the B&B and the image of Eda Leopold standing there with her imported cookies and her perfect hair.
She’d been so ready to apologize to George, so prepared to tell him how much she trusted him and appreciated him. And then Eda had walked in, and all of those good intentions had crumbled like day-old gingerbread.
