On Monday afternoon, Sydney drove home at lunchtime to be sure the boxes of pretzels and additional supplies had arrived and they had everything they needed for that night. Bea had loaded her up with two shopping bags of plastic containers full of what she called the “delightful parts,” which she later learned were different colored sprinkles, colored sugars, coconut, teeny chocolate chips, and toffee bits.
She opened the door and took the inventory to the kitchen, then went back and wobbled the big box on its edges to get it through the door. Sliding it down the hall, she got it to the kitchen, where they’d be setting up for the decorating tonight.
The kitchen was her favorite part of this old house. Even the outdated harvest gold was growing on her after she and RayAnne decided to do the room up right in an old-fashioned sunflower theme. The huge island in the middle would give them plenty of space to set up an assembly line of sorts. Hopefully, it would be a fun project for the kids.
Sydney unloaded the box, stacking all the pretzels at one end of the countertop. After doing a little research she’d determined the slow cooker might be the best way to melt the chocolate and allow multiple people to dip and decorate at the same time. Four mason jars would fit perfectly into her slow cooker in a water bath that would keep the consistency of the melted chocolate just right. Plus, they could do some in white chocolate and some in milk chocolate that way.
She texted Mac.
Sydney: We’re on for tonight.
Mac: Looking forward to it.
Sydney: 7?
Mac: See you then. ☺
It was a little after six when Bea showed up. She’d insisted on driving herself over despite Sydney’s objections, stating that she’d driven in this town for so many years she could do it blindfolded.
That thought was a little scary.
“This place looks so inviting,” Bea said as she walked inside. “You’ve really added your personal touch to things.”
“Thank you,” Sydney said. “Still a work in progress, but we’re starting to get settled in, wouldn’t you say, RayAnne?”
“For sure,” RayAnne said from behind Bea. “And thank goodness Hopewell isn’t nearly as boring as I thought it would be.”
Relief flooded through Sydney. She’d hoped RayAnne was taking a shine to this town. Maybe things really were going to be okay here.
Bea followed along to the kitchen, then paused at the island. “Looks like you have a real system set up here, Sydney. It’s like a factory. Not sure why I’m surprised.”
“This is a boatload of pretzels,” RayAnne said. “Good thing Mom always has a plan, else it would take forever to dip all of these into chocolate.”
Light danced in Bea’s eyes. “It most certainly is a boatload,” she said. “I’ve been doing them myself for years. Takes me a long, long time. I sure appreciate y’all helping me this year. It’s been hard enough to make the number I’d been doing every year. With double to get done, I don’t think I could handle it by myself.” Bea perched herself on the high-backed stool at the very end of the island.
“I think we’ve got everything set up.” Sydney dipped a knife into the chocolate and gave it a stir.
Bea peered into the jars. “I should have told you to pick up some good, old-fashioned shortening. Sometimes you have to thin the chocolate down a little.”
“Not a problem. I have some.” Sydney got it from the pantry and set it on the counter in case they needed it later.
The doorbell rang. “They’re here.” Sydney straightened her shirt before turning.
Bea grinned. “Yes, they are.”
Sydney flipped the hand towel she was carrying into Bea’s lap. “You’re incorrigible. And a hopeless romantic.”
“Sue me,” Bea yelled behind her. “Why can’t you be the new owner of The Book Bea, and in love with the most handsome man in my town?”
“The Book Bea? No problem. I’m going to make you so proud. The other? That’s just silly talk.”
“No, it’s not. I have a feeling you could make Mac pretty happy, too.”
Sydney half-ran to the front door, then stopped and took in a long, slow breath. She exhaled to the count of three, then opened the door. Only there wasn’t anyone there. Well, maybe there was, but mostly there was just … pine. Lots of pine.
“Who … what? Hello?” she said.
A child’s laugh came from the other side of the tree.
RayAnne came around the corner. “Whoa? What is that?”
“I’m not quite sure, but I believe a tree is trying to sell us something,” Sydney said.
“Surprise,” Seth said, pulling branches aside and poking his head through.
“What is all of this?” Sydney asked.
Mac lifted the tree and carried it inside. “A hostess gift.”
“A potholder would have sufficed,” Sydney said.
Seth slipped inside. “Where should we put it?”
“This is so exciting,” Bea said, clapping her hands.
“By the window, I guess,” Sydney said. Wasn’t that where Christmas trees were supposed to go? Part of the fun was neighbors seeing your tree lit up from the road as they passed by.
Mac wrestled the fat tree through the door.
“I can move that chair.” She rushed over and scooted it across the shiny oak floor. “I can’t believe you did this. You really brought me a tree?”
“If I recall correctly your tree is at The Book Bea. I—we thought it would be nice if you had one here, too.”
“Y’all rock,” RayAnne said. “Man it smells so good.”
“Not better than chocolate,” Seth said. “Is that the chocolate for Miss Bea’s decorated pretzels that I smell?” RayAnne grabbed Seth by the hand and dragged him to the kitchen.
Sydney stepped out of the way. “Oh, gosh, I don’t have a tree stand for a live tree.”
“Don’t need one. This one is a live tree. In dirt. I’ll help you plant it out front after the holidays.”
Her throat gave a squeeze at his thoughtfulness. Had anyone done something this thoughtful for her? Ever? “Oh my gosh. It must weigh a ton.” She hopped out of the way as he moved through the hallway into the living room, toting the tree.
“Put it down anywhere,” she said. “We can just scooch it into place.”
Muscles rippled against the sleeves of his shirt. Not a huge surprise. She’d felt them when she’d clung to him as they rode the other night, but he had a lumberjack ruggedness to him tonight.
He stepped in front of the window, checked behind himself to find the center, then lowered the tree with a thud.
“Merry Christmas, from us to y’all.” He took off his leather work gloves and tucked them into his back pocket. “I guess now we all scrub up and start decorating pretzel rods.”
“Thanks, Mac. It feels very Christmassy in here now.”
Mac stepped back, admiring the tree. “You might need to unleash those kids on this tree. I bet they’d have it decorated in fifteen minutes flat.”
“They were like a Cat 5 tornado on the one at the bookstore, weren’t they?”
“Pretty much,” he agreed. “Now about those treats.”
“Yes. Come on back.” Sydney led them back to the kitchen and Mac stopped mid-step. “Was Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory this elaborate? I don’t think so. Probably smelled a lot like this though. Man, this is going to be quite a production.” He eyed Bea. “What have I gotten myself into?
“I’ve got a plan.” Sydney pointed to the sink. “You boys go wash up and when you’re done I’ve got plastic gloves for all of us. Need aprons?”
Mac spun around and shook his head. “No, ma’am. We’ve got play clothes on. We’re not afraid of a little chocolate.”
“Suit yourself. Don’t blame me if you ruin your outfit.”
Mac gave Seth a playful slap. “Outfits?”
Seth rolled his eyes and shrugged.
“Whatever,” Sydney said. “You know what I mean. Chocolate is hard to get out of clothes. Nothing wrong with wearing an apron.”
“Oh, that would be front-page news around here,” Bea laughed. “Our big, rugged baseball coach in an apron. We could raise a lot of money for this town using that as blackmail.”
“It’ll never get that far.” Mac scrubbed his hands at the sink, then dried his hands on a paper towel. He turned and scanned the room.
“Trashcan is over there,” Sydney said pointing across the room.
Mac tossed the paper towel across the room, high over Bea’s head, right into the trash bin.
Sydney spun around to him. “Okay, now you’re just showing off.”
“Pretty much,” Mac said.
Seth rolled his eyes. “He does that all the time. Everywhere.”
“No throwing in the house,” Sydney said in her sternest mom voice. “That goes for all of you.”
“Awww, man.” Mac smirked. “I can’t get a hall pass since I brought you a Christmas tree? I mean that’s way better than some lousy flowers.”
“He’s got a point,” Bea said. “And it’s a live tree.”
“Fine. I’m going to lose this one, aren’t I?”
“I’ll let you throw in my house,” Mac said.
“Are we ready to get down to business?” Bea asked.
A resounding yes couldn’t have been more in sync if it had been rehearsed.
“Okay,” Bea said. “Sydney has us set up like a manufacturing plant here. We’ve got stations. We’ll each have a job. We’re going to need dippity dunkers, pretzel-doodlers, and wrap-and-packums.” Bea counted on her fingers. “Did I get that right?”
“Yes. RayAnne and Seth, I was thinking you two could be the pretzel-doodlers. Mac and I will do the dippity dunking. Mac, we just dunk the pretzel rods into the Mason jar, then tap-tap-tap the excess off—that’s very important—then place them on the wax paper for the doodlers to do their thing.
“Tap-tap-tap,” Mac repeated, mimicking her hand movements. “Just three times. Not four? Not two?”
“Precisely,” she teased.
“Got it.” Mac gave a quick and exaggerated nod.
“RayAnne and Seth. We’ll start with one of the vats of goodies. Your choice, and do that one kind of decorating until those are gone. Then we’ll switch to another. Sound good?” Bea said.
“Yes, ma’am.” Seth leaned forward on the counter. “Man, there’s good stuff. I think I want to do the confetti-looking sprinkle dots first.”
“I’m doing the tiny candy snowflakes.” RayAnne pulled her container toward her.
“I think we’re ready,” Sydney said. “Everybody put your plastic gloves on.”
“Let’s do this.” Mac picked up a pretzel rod and made like an airplane from the counter, ending with a nosedive into the melted chocolate. “Tap-tap-tap.” Then he placed it on the wax paper for the kids to decorate.
Pretzels were dunking and decorations were flying, but the work was surprisingly fast.
“These are the prettiest treats ever!” Bea said with delight.
At nine o’clock they had only a few dozen more to go, but Bea was slowing down. “Bea, why don’t you lie down? You can spend the night here if you like. I have plenty of room.”
“I’m fine, but I think I will go on home. Looks like you’ll be finished up here shortly anyway.”
“Sure.” Sydney came around the island, and just as Bea stood she gave a wobble and grabbed for the counter. “Are you okay?”
“Just a little dizzy for a split second there.”
Mac rushed to her side. “Let’s get you in a regular chair.” He helped her into the living room and she sat quietly. “I don’t think you should drive. I can take you home, or you can stay here tonight.”
“But—”
Mac tilted his head. “Please let me drive you. I really think this is best.”
“How will I get my car in the morning?”
“I’ll stop by in the morning, and I’ll follow Sydney in your car. Not a problem at all.”
“I really think I’ll be fine if I just sit here a moment.” But Bea’s voice wasn’t nearly as confident as her words.
Sydney reached for her hand. It was clammy, filling Sydney with concern. “Would you like me to call a doctor?”
“No. No need.” Bea waved them off. “Quit fussing. I’m just old. We poop out sometimes. I’ll be here when you’re ready to leave.”
While Mac and Sydney were tending to Bea, the kids had taken it upon themselves to shift jobs to keep the assembly line going, and they were on the last three pretzels. “Thanks, guys. You really stepped up. I appreciate that.”
“We’re a good team,” RayAnne said.
“Think we can team up on a quick cleanup?” Sydney asked.
“Sure,” Mac answered before anyone could answer otherwise. “Where are the trash bags?”
RayAnne jumped down from her stool and got one from the pantry.
“Thank you.” Mac shook the bag with a snap, then started sweeping salt and sprinkles from the island countertop.
RayAnne and Seth wiped down the counters, and Sydney put lids on the mason jars that still had chocolate in them. She then dumped the water from the slow cooker into the sink.
“All that’s left to do is wrap the last ones in plastic as soon as they dry enough. I can handle that,” Sydney said.
“Seth, I think that was our cue to go.”
“I’m ready,” Seth said. “It was fun, but that was hard work. I’m tired.”
“Thanks for helping.” RayAnne said goodbye and then ran up the stairs. She’d probably be asleep before Mac walked Bea out to the car. “You okay to ride home, Bea?” asked Sydney.
“Yes. I’m fine. Thank you all so much for helping me with everything. I am truly so grateful.” Bea scooted up in the chair, put her hands behind her and pushed herself up. She looked steadier but Sydney was still a little worried about her.
Bea hugged Sydney, whispering, “You were serious about The Book Bea tonight, right?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Bea glanced over at Mac, and Sydney knew what that look insinuated. She gave Bea a nudge and a “stop-it” look. Bea giggled like the instigator that she was. “You two say your goodbyes, I’m going to just get a little head start.”
“Wait a second. Let me walk you to your car,” Mac said.
“No. Seth can help me. Can’t you, son?” Bea held her hand out, and Seth took it.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You raised a nice young man,” Sydney said to Mac.
“I’m really proud of him.”
“You should be. I enjoyed tonight. Thank you so much for coming.”
“Still want to do that stargazing and s’mores later this week?”
He remembered, she thought. “Yes! I’d really love that. Just tell me when.”
“We’ll make a plan in the morning when I come over. What time? Nine-ish?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” She wished he didn’t have to leave. She was tired, too, but a little quiet adult conversation would feel nice about now.
She stood at the door watching him walk out to the truck and then help Bea get in. He was gentle and patient with her, and as he backed out of the driveway he blinked his lights off and on in a little goodbye.
She shut the door behind her. She’d forgotten to thank him again for the tree. But then how many times do you thank someone? It was such a nice gesture. One that would live on, too. Probably longer than any of them.
Knowing Bea’s car was out front made her a little sad. Bea didn’t have anyone to help her. Was she really okay to be driving and living alone? The mayor had said she’d been unable to keep store hours lately. And she’d been very unsteady tonight. Her heart clenched.
Why was it that things so special were also fragile? Memories. Marriages. Friends. The Book Bea. And Bea.