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Wednesdays were invariably busy at Aroma Café. Hope had been bustling from the moment she’d entered the café without a moment to think about her children or her life or her dream of saving enough to start over. She was so busy that by two p.m., her feet were killing her and perspiration was swizzling down her back.
As she was serving strawberry waffles to table six—breakfast was offered all day—the door to the cafe opened. A man dressed as Santa and a stunning African American woman, who was bundled as warmly as if she was prepared to visit the North Pole, sauntered in. The woman looked familiar, but Hope couldn’t place her. Santa hitched his belt over his fake belly. He was obviously too thin for the heavy suit. His gaze landed on Hope, and he smiled.
That was when she recognized the two of them. It was Steve Waldren and his co-host, Brie Bryant.
Hope said, “Help you, Santa?”
“Hey, Hope, it’s me, Steve Waldren,” he said under his breath. “We met last year.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“I’ve been meaning to . . .” He didn’t finish and cleared his throat. “Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas, Hope Valley,” he bellowed to the entire café and weaved heartily. “Me and my assistant are looking for Mrs. Lyons. Todd and Melody’s mother. I have a prize to bestow. Young lady, can you point me in the right direction? Ho, ho, ho.”
Hope faltered. “Steve, I’m . . . I’m Mrs. Lyons. Hope Lyons.”
“Really? It’s you?” His eyes twinkled with good humor as he threw his shoulders back and crooned, “Congratulations, Hope Lyons.” He whipped a piece of paper and pen from his pocket. “You and your children have won an all-expenses paid vacation to Disneyland. All I need is your signature of consent. Merry Christmas! You are one lucky lady.”
Hope yelped.
Gabe hurried from behind the counter. “Is there a problem, Hope?”
People in the café were staring at her. She couldn’t find her voice. Her children won the contest? Honestly? No, it couldn’t be true, could it? She hadn’t let the children watch the show last night, too worried that when they didn’t hear Steve say their names, they’d go to bed crying.
Gabe eyed Steve. “Santa, I’m the owner. What’s going on? Why is my best waitress speechless?”
Zerena tapped Gabe on the shoulder and mock-growled. “I’m your best waitress.”
Gabe didn’t acknowledge her and lasered Steve with his gaze. “Speak up, Santa.”
Again, Steve cleared his throat. His eyes flickered with wariness. “Gabe, sir, it’s me. Steve Waldren. Hope Lyons and her family have just won an all-expenses paid trip to Disneyland from KPRL to be taken any time between January and March.”
“Photo op,” Brie said, aiming her Nikon at Hope. “Santa get in there. Smile.”
Steve slid in beside Hope and slung an arm around her. The warmth of him, the nearness of him made her woozy.
Brie snapped a series of shots and repeated, “Smile, Mrs. Lyons. Lots of teeth.”
Hope couldn’t. Her lips were tight. Her throat had gone as dry as parchment paper. Suddenly, she realized she hadn’t thought the whole thing through. If she accepted the prize, she’d miss work. She’d lose pay. She couldn’t afford to do that. “No, thank you,” she said. “It’s very nice of you to offer, but no thank you.”
“No thank you?” Steve dropped his arm and faced Hope. He looked flabbergasted. Pained, almost.
Gabe put a hand on Hope’s shoulder. “Now, wait a sec, darlin’. Don’t give it up out of hand.”
Hope backed up a step. “I’m sorry, Santa . . . Steve . . . but we can’t. Find someone else.” She turned to retreat to the kitchen.
Steve followed her. “Wait a sec. You can’t refuse the prize.”
“Yes, I can.” Hope whirled on him. “Read my lips. No, thank you.”
Brie’s mouth dropped open. Virtually everyone in the café looked stunned.
“Maybe you didn’t understand,” Steve said. “All expenses paid.”
Hope put her hands on her hips. “What about snacks? Mementoes? Movies on the hotel television? Side trips? Silly but adorable hats? And are you going to cover my time away from work?”
Steve glanced at Brie and back at Hope.
“Yeah, no, I didn’t think so, Santa. Not all expenses,” Hope snapped. “No, thanks. We have to pass.”
“But your kids will be disappointed,” Steve said.
“My kids will rally.” Before she could change her mind, Hope fled into the kitchen.
Steve started after her.
“Hold it, Santa.” Brie put a hand on his arm and held him back. “You understand when a woman says no, don’t you?”
“Can it, Brie. This is my job we’re talking about.”
“Your job?”
Steve pressed his lips together, unwilling to say more. He didn’t want to test Dave. Not until he had another job lined up. He scanned the café. People were staring at him, and he felt anger rise up his throat. How dare Hope Lyons embarrass him like that? And to think he’d been fantasizing about her all this time. Crap! What had gotten into her? Another notion reared its ugly head. What if Dave found out what Hope had done? Was anyone other than Brie taking photos? Or worse, videos? Would Hope’s refusal go viral on YouTube? On TikTok? That’s all he needed, an Internet hailstorm.
“Cut!” He mimed to Brie, ending the photoshoot.
Obediently, she capped the camera and let it hang on the strap around her neck. Then she jutted her hand to Gabe and smiled broadly. “Hello, sir. I’m Brie Bryant. KPRL.”
“Gabe Greeley. Aroma Café. And please don’t call me sir. I’m Gabe to everyone.” He gestured toward his café. “Welcome to the best food in town. Let me find you a table.”
“Gabe,” Steve said, seething, “is Hope Lyons always this prickly?” He shot a hand toward the kitchen. “I mean, get real. A free trip. For her kids. Don’t they deserve it?”
“Son, her husband left her high and dry. She had a life before Hope Valley. And she’s struggling to make it work, but . . .” Gabe sighed. “As she made very clear, she doesn’t want her kids to face disappointment. Going to Disneyland and not having the whole ball of wax? That can leave a bad taste, you know? So, what she says goes, in my book.” Gabe made a thumbs-up gesture. “She’s like a daughter to me. I won’t argue with her, and if I were you—”
“But it’s a free trip.” Steve splayed his hands. “How can that be a disappointment?”
“I went to Disneyland two years ago,” Gabe said. “The lines were long, and I didn’t see Mickey Mouse. Not once. Plus, like she said, everything costs an arm and a leg. Want a photo on Splash Mountain? Pay for it. Want a—”
“All expenses paid!” Steve smacked one gloved hand against the other.
Gabe reiterated Hope’s question, “What about snacks and mementoes?”
“And silly adorable hats?” Brie quipped.
Steve snarled at her.
Gabe said, “Give Hope some time, Steve. Maybe she’ll reconsider. In the meantime, sit. Lunch is on me.” He grabbed a couple of menus and led Steve and Brie to a table. “Let me chat with her.”
Brie whipped open her menu and batted her eyelashes at Gabe. “What’s the specialty here, handsome?”
Steve gawked. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Brie flirt.
“Pancakes,” Gabe said. “The cranberry ones with whipped cream are my seasonal favorite.”
“Done.” Brie slapped her menu closed.
Steve said, “I’ll have eggs, crisp bacon, and coffee. Lots of coffee.”
When Gabe left the table, Brie leaned in and said, “How about a piece of humble pie, Voice?”
“And pumpkin pie, if you have it,” Steve called after Gabe.
Gabe waved a hand in acknowledgement.
“Hope makes the most incredible pie crust,” Steve said. “She bakes all the pies here.”
“You don’t say.” Brie propped her elbow on the table and leaned her chin on her fingers. “When did you two lovebirds meet?”
“A year ago. When I came to see Lincoln.”
“Aww.”
Steve folded his arms on the table and slumped forward as another wave of crankiness scudded through him. “Can you believe it? She refused. Flat out refused.”
“Not everyone likes theme parks.”
“If Dave finds out.”
“He won’t.”
“Oh, yeah? Wanna bet?” Steve flailed a hand. “How many people in here have caught it on their cell phones and sent videos to KPRL by now? Ten? Twenty?”
A waitress—her nametag read Zerena—set two glasses of ice water on the table and left.
Steve drank down the contents and slammed the glass on the table. “Man, she chose the wrong day to buck me.”
“To buck you?”
“Yeah. I’m on a mission.” Steve stabbed the table with a fingertip. “I intend to see it through. Or else.”
Brie chortled. “Or else what, Big Man?”
“Or else I strangle that woman.”
“She’s quite pretty,” Brie said.
Yeah, she was, Steve had to admit. As beautiful as the woman he repeatedly dreamed about. So what? And double so what if he’d been thinking about her on the drive to Hope Valley, clinging to the possibility that she was the waitress in question? After all, she’d said she had kids and they watched his show.
Zerena set a plate with a slice of pie on the table. “Eggs and pancakes are coming.”
Steve didn’t give a frick about eggs. He tucked into the pie with gusto.
