Chapter Fifteen

Stan tilted his head back and let the hot water sluice through his hair, finally getting rid of the last of the temporary color after the third application of shampoo.

He didn’t know why he thought playing dress-up and going out on a fake date would be a good idea.

All it did was show him how much he was missing.

Just like in a proverbial B-grade chick flick, love, in all its stages, surrounded him.

At work, whenever Jordan thought about the baby, his eyes lost focus and he made a goofy smile, then snuck away to phone his wife, Trish, and check on her.

Then there was Hayden, his best friend, who after a short and painful marriage, desperately searched for the right love.

Tonight they’d seen Ralph and Debbie from church with stars in their eyes, nearly swooning over each other, just about to become engaged.

Then Blake and his wife, whose name he still couldn’t remember, from the garden club, who’d left the kids at home with a sitter and went to a nice-but-not-too-expensive place, just the two of them, for a night out.

And Amber’s aunt and uncle. After more than forty years of marriage, they snuck out together to have some forbidden fruit, or rather, forbidden steak.

At first it had been fun acting the play couple. Until there was only one piece of lobster on the plate between them, and they’d both reached for it at the same time. They’d stopped and looked up at each other, and Amber had puckered up and blown him a kiss. By then, all of her lipstick was gone and he’d frozen up, and all he could think about was leaning over the table and kissing her for real. While he sat there staring at her like an idiot, she stabbed and popped the last piece of lobster into her mouth, then made a big drama about how much she enjoyed it as she chewed. He’d sat there in a trance, watching, considering ordering another lobster tail just to have it happen again, and then kiss her for real.

If there was ever a pivotal moment in his life, he’d had it tonight. Not like back in high school when Amber had whacked him up the back of the head with her math textbook and told him to stop fooling around so much and concentrate on his studies or he’d never graduate. Not when they’d both decided at the same time to go to college together. Not at graduation, not when he’d decided to hire staff after struggling with his business for a few years and prayed he could bring in enough income to cover their paychecks.

That lifetime pivotal moment came when Amber gave him a fleeting peck on the cheek and slammed the door in his face.

He’d had his chance to kiss her for real after their first real date, and he’d been too slow on the draw.

At that moment it had occurred to him that he was in love with Amber. Whom he’d been buddies with his whole life. Together since they were in diapers. There had never been a time in his life when they hadn’t known each other, bonded to each other, even if they were too young to know what bonding meant.

Just like Hayden searching for a soul mate, it hit Stan that, unlike Hayden, he already had one and hadn’t realized it.

Amber.

He didn’t know why it had taken so long to see it. He loved her. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he hadn’t loved her.

But she wasn’t in love with him. As friends, they were inseparable. He saw Amber more than he saw his best friend, Hayden.

He knew she liked him, but after tonight it was clear that she didn’t want to kiss him.

Now he wanted to kiss her more than ever.

He wiped the fog off the mirror, looked at his reflection, stroked the stubble on his jaw, and ran a couple of fingers on the skin under his nose.

Amber had liked his look. He wasn’t about to go to the salon and spend big money to put fancy colors in his hair that would just grow out anyway, but he could grow a mustache without an expensive stylist. He had a feeling that was what she liked more than the blond streaks anyway.

He’d heard that a mustache made a guy’s nose look bigger, and that was something he really couldn’t afford; but for Amber, he’d take the risk.

Stan swiped the towel over his hair, which was finally the right color, and squeezed some toothpaste onto his brush as he got ready for bed. Tomorrow was Monday, his most hectic day with all the weekend breakdowns and people who were desperate for their cars. But more than that, it was time to make a plan and put it into action.

Amber’s heart made a little flip-flop as she approached her store. From down the street, as she’d walked closer she’d seen what appeared to be some kind of plant in a pot in front of the door. As she got closer, she spotted a new envelope wedged in the door.

Because it was easier, she searched the plant first, to see if the two were related. She didn’t find a note or anything tucked into the leaves. All it had was the usual plastic tag with care and watering instructions. The tag promised this plant was easy to care for, and that it flowered for most of the summer when kept in a sunny location. In a black felt pen, looking suspiciously like Stan’s sloppy handwriting, a note added, “Put beside your front door.”

With the tag in her hand, she stared at the envelope wedged between the door and frame, afraid to open it; at the same time, afraid not to.

The last note had hinted about Christmas, but Bloomfield was too small to support a business that catered to Christmas all year long. Those kinds of places only existed in the large cities. The only thought that she and Stan had shared was that with Gnorman’s white beard, he was a shoo-in for Santa. Which was no help in finding him, only that they had figured out what his next costume would probably be.

With trembling fingers, Amber tore the envelope open.

Who is a cheery and jolly fellow

With a heart of gold and a belly like a marshmallow?

With hair and beard changing to white

He’ll do what he can to put up a good f ight.

Amber stared at the words. She ignored the bad rhyme between fellow and marshmallow and concentrated on what was hopefully the important clue. Santa’s hair was already white, so she could only think that the changing hair color was a clue as to where she would find Gnorman—dressed like Santa. The first person with changing hair color she thought of was Stan, even though that change had been artificial, and temporary, and hopefully still anonymous. By today it would all be washed out and back to his normal dark brown.

She smiled. Knowing Stan, he’d probably washed it all out last night. He didn’t know that she knew, but because of his job, he always showered in the evening when he got home from work, then didn’t shower in the morning in his mad rush to get out the door.

Tucking the note under her arm, she turned the key and carried her new plant inside, quickly turning off the alarm.

From across the room the red light on her phone flashed, telling her that she had a new message.

As soon as she heard Sylvia’s recorded voice, she knew before listening what the news would be, and she was right. Gnorman was gone, and Sylvia didn’t see anyone take him. There was no note.

The next new note, of course, was already in her possession. And if the pattern was going to be the same, someone would call her within an hour to say that they had found Gnorman in their backyard, not knowing how he got there, and that he was wearing a new costume. This time she suspected that person would find Santa Claus . . . along with a new note.

The phone didn’t ring often, but every time it did Amber felt like her heart would leap out of her chest. Yet every time it rang, it was a real customer with a real question.

By the end of the day, not only had no one phoned to say they’d found Gnorman in their yard, but also, Stan hadn’t phoned to say why he’d left her a plant.

At closing time, before she prepared to lock the door, Amber once again read the note. She didn’t know any women in the garden club who had a belly like a marshmallow. The only person she knew of was the pregnant wife of one of Stan’s mechanics. But that belly was nothing like a marshmallow.

No men she could think of had an expanded waistline like a marshmallow either. Although she did know a lot of people with hearts of gold.

Again she looked down at the plant.

Stan certainly had a heart of gold. But he wasn’t old enough to have his hair starting to go gray like Santa.

She’d recently gone through the membership list in her hunt for a backyard swing, but she’d stopped at the Es, at Sylvia’s name. So instead of leaving, she locked the door, turned on the light to say she had closed, booted her computer back up, and opened the garden club membership list.

This time, she skipped by all the female names, and concentrated on the men, assuming that no women in the club could grow a beard. She’d gotten all the way to the Ws without success, when off in the distance, her cell phone rang out from her purse.

By the time she made it across the room and found it in the bottom of the jumble, it had stopped ringing. She tried to get her fingers to stop shaking enough to hit the buttons to show the caller ID and find out who had called.

As soon as she hit the button, she stiffened from head to toe. Andy Barnhardt. The fire chief. And also the past president of the garden club.

She hoped and prayed he wasn’t calling because her townhouse was on fire.

Instead of picturing the charred remains of her home, she pictured Andy. She figured he was close to fifty, and he did have a bit of gray at his temples, although he was always clean shaven. He certainly didn’t have a belly like a marshmallow. But then again, being the fire chief, he was active in charity events, especially at Christmas time. If memory served her correctly, last year he had dressed up as Santa and had done something for the children’s wing at the hospital. For that night Andy did indeed have a belly like a marshmallow, and he did have white hair and a beard.

She’d found Gnorman.

When Andy answered the phone, she smiled. She was right. Andy had been working a twelve-hour shift and just gotten home. When he opened his patio door, he’d seen the red of the Santa costume and called her.

Naturally, after she disconnected, she aimed her finger to autodial Stan, then stopped.

Every day she’d bugged Stan, obligating him to help her find Gnorman, and hopefully the trophy. The quest to recover her gnome from the Gnome Gnapper had turned into a wild goose chase.

It was time to give Stan his life back. He had better things to do. He’d been such a sweetie last night at the restaurant, she couldn’t remember ever having more fun on a date, and with Stan of all people. She hadn’t pictured Stan as a romantic kind of guy, but he was. He’d been charming and delightful, and, even though she’d never thought about him in that way before, he was hot. She always thought of all the things they’d done together when they were growing up and never gave him credit for the man he’d become. Living in the present, he was charming and handsome, and instead of taking up all his free time, she owed it to him to turn him loose.

Watching Ralph and Debbie at the restaurant, probably a day or two before Ralph proposed, was a reminder to her that even though they were older, both she and Stan were still painfully single.

For herself, she couldn’t do anything about that until she settled her finances with her uncle. Her liabilities and heavy debt load were her problem, and she couldn’t start a relationship with a man when she could possibly be dragged into bankruptcy. Nor could she start a relationship in Bloomfield if she failed before she got her loan paid off and had to move to Chicago.

But Stan could, and should, start a relationship. His business was successful and stable, and it was time to find that special someone before everyone was married except for him, and her. Which meant giving him the time he needed, without her pestering him every day.

Amber texted Stan with a nice thank-you for the plant, shut down her computer, locked up her store, and went to Andy’s house alone.