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Hope swiped her fingers underneath both eyes to mop up tears. She hated crying. Hated feeling weak and vulnerable. She’d shed a boatload of tears over Zach and what had they gotten her? Squat.
Gabe entered the kitchen.
“What do you want?” she snapped defensively.
“Darlin’.” He wrapped an arm around her. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Hope melted into him, appreciating his support, but she couldn’t tell him everything. She simply couldn’t tolerate pity. She would muscle through this. “Nothing,” she murmured.
“Liar. And let me tell you, secrets aren’t good for the soul,” he said. “I know. They eat you from the inside out.”
“I . . . I don’t have a secret,” she stammered.
“Is it your no-good husband? Has he established limits for your kids? Has he said there’s no fun for them unless he’s there to share in it?”
“No, he—”
“As if he has any right. He ceded those the day he walked out. What kind of man does that?” Gabe released Hope and stared hard at her. “No man, I tell you. No man worth his salt.”
“It’s not him. He didn’t . . .” She shook her head. “It’s just that I’ve heard about Disneyland, and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Happiest place on earth,” Gabe quipped.
“Yeah, but the kids don’t need it. Not really. They’ve got plenty to make them happy in Hope Valley.”
“Kids might not need something, Hope, but it doesn’t mean they don’t want it. They called in to KPRL. That means they want the prize, and they won.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Take some time. Maybe go for a walk. Find your smile and think about it. In the meantime, I’m tending to Steve and his colleague.”
“Colleague? How formal.” Hope elbowed Gabe.
His cheeks tinged pink.
“She’s quite attractive,” Hope said.
“Is she?”
“And successful. She has a beautiful smile.”
“Yes, she does.”
Hope threw on her parka and headed outside, thankful for a moment to decompress. The instant she turned onto Main Street, she dug deep into her motives. Why had she turned down the prize? Yes, because she’d lose days of work, and yes, because there would be extra expenses not covered by the all-expenses-paid promise, but was there more to it? Did she want to confine Todd and Melody to Hope Valley? To narrow their horizons? Her stomach soured when she thought about what her children would do if they heard about the run-in with Santa. What if they learned they’d won the prize but she’d rejected it? They would hate her. Her personal reasons wouldn’t hold sway with them. They were kids. They needed fun. They needed to dream.
Hope paused in front of an art store, her spirits sagging. She’d failed them. Failed them for not being able to turn Zach around. Failed them for not being able to make a go of it in Portland on her own. Failed . . .
“Excuse me,” a woman said, cutting around Hope.
She looked up. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who’d had the idea to get some fresh air. Dozens of people were strolling along the sidewalks. To fool herself into feeling brighter and normal, she pushed away her negative thoughts and greeted each person she passed with a smile.
At Happy Paws, she peered in the window. Four adorable tuxedo cats were roaming the kitty condo. Plenty of customers were milling about. At Cathy’s Closet, the owner was tweaking a display model, fitting it with the latest in upscale winter jumpsuits. Beyond the owner, Hope spied at least six eager women waiting to ring up their purchases. At the Art Guild, two customers seemed to be arguing over an oil painting of Mt. Hope dusted with snow.
Sweet Place was as busy as Hope had ever seen it. A long line of customers picking up pre-ordered cakes or pies had formed on one side of the raspberry-pink shop. An equally long line of people had formed on the opposite side to put in new orders.
“Hey, Hope.” Denny Benton stepped out of the bakery. He looked merry in his red sweater and green scarf. The pink box tied with green raffia that he was carrying looked festive, too. “How are you?”
“Pre-occupied. What did you buy?”
“Cookies for my mom.” He jiggled the box.
“You and she are close.”
“Sure are. Ever since Dad passed. She’s having an early Christmas party this year so she can go on a cruise with a bunch of girlfriends.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“My mom always has a great time, no matter what she’s doing. She’s that kind of person.”
Like my parents, Hope reflected. How she missed them. How she could use their wise counsel now.
“Where are you off to?” Denny asked.
“I’m walking through town to mull over a problem.”
“Want me to join you?”
Hope shook her head. “Don’t take it personally, but I need to figure this out on my own.”
“I’m a good problem solver and an even better listener. My mom says—”
“That’s sweet, Denny. Thanks for the offer. But no. And I bet your mom is looking forward to receiving those cookies. Plus, I just remembered, I have to buy a book.” Hope picked up her pace, leaving Denny standing in front of the bakery. From a discreet distance, she glanced over her shoulder. He looked perplexed.
At the Curious Reader, Hope turned in and drew in a deep breath. Visiting the store always stirred memories for her. Her mother reading to her young customers. Her father whistling as he opened a new shipment of books. The cha-ching of the cash register. Nothing had changed in the shop since her parents had owned it. It still featured floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on the walls and moveable bookshelves placed helter-skelter. As usual, placards touting the most popular books stood atop each of the moveable shelves. For the season, the owner Isabel, a former librarian who’d always dreamed of owning a bookshop, had positioned miniature Christmas trees alongside the placards. Twinkling lights lined the edges of the ceiling. Instrumental strains of “O, Tannenbaum” was playing merrily through a speaker at the register.
Isabel said, “Hope, how lovely to see you.” As skinny as a licorice whip, she looked even thinner in her thigh-length sweater over denim leggings. “Did you see the sign?” She nudged her wirerimmed glasses higher on her nose. “We have a two-for-one sale today.”
Hope brightened. In her Christmas budget, she’d planed a book apiece for her children. Getting two for each would make their holiday that much merrier. It wouldn’t squelch the pain of not winning the Disneyland trip, but it would be a start. Why, why, why did it have to be Steve Waldren delivering the prize? She’d hated turning him down. The pained look in his eyes nearly made her reconsider.
“Isabel!” an elderly customer cried from across the store. “Help.” She was carrying a stack of at least twenty books.
“Oh, mercy,” Isabel murmured. “That woman does this every time, even though I tell her to bring her purchases to the counter. Roam to your heart’s content,” she said, and raced to assist.
Hope found herself breathing easier as she studied book titles. By the time she’d found two for Melody and a sports-themed book and graphic novel for Todd, she was at peace, convinced she had been right to have turned down the prize.
Life was filled with disappointment, but that didn’t mean joy couldn’t be found in simpler things.
