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Hope awoke Thursday with a kink in her neck, but when she heard gold-crowned sparrows chirping merrily outside and caught a glimpse of sunshine glistening on the new dusting of snow that lined the VW’s windows, she dared to feel optimistic. Buoyant, in fact. Quietly, she slipped into her work outfit, set out the children’s clothes, and prepared a protein-rich breakfast. When everything was ready, she cried, “Rise and shine! Get up and get dressed, kids. Hop to it.”
“Mom, I wore this last week,” Melody said holding up the blue plaid shirt.
“I know, and you looked adorable. It’s freshly-laundered.”
As Hope did every morning, she checked Melody’s insulin and brushed and styled her hair. Todd was allowed to finger-comb his.
On the drive to Hope Valley Elementary, the children chatted about the upcoming day camp and what they planned to do: arts and crafts, baking, music jam. Hope had listed all the possibilities on the way home from school yesterday. When she’d added that Gabe’s niece Khloe was going to be in charge and she would be one-on-one with them this coming Saturday, two days before camp started, that had sealed the deal.
As the kids hopped out of the VW and slung on their backpacks, Hope said, “I’ll return in a few hours to see the holiday play. Todd, you’ll sit with me.”
“Okay.”
Weeks ago, using items she’d picked up at a second-hand store, Hope had cobbled together a costume for Melody, who was as over the moon as a ten-year-old could get about a red scarf.
“And Melody, remember—”
“The scarf knot goes at the back of my head,” Melody chimed, holding up a thumb. “Got it.”
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At Aroma Café, Hope was wiping down the counter with a clean rag while doing her best to avoid eye contact with Denny. He had come in for coffee and a slice of pie.
Zerena sidled to her. “Denny has a crush on you,” she whispered.
“Yep.”
“What’re you going to do about it?”
“Nothing.”
“He’s cute. Single. And he has a steady job.”
“Not interested.”
“He even loves his mother.” Zerena made smooching sounds.
“Maybe a tad too much,” Hope snarked.
Zerena snorted and elbowed Hope. “C’mon, don’t you want someone to grow old with?”
“I had somebody. He split.”
Zerena sighed. “If you’re always putting on the brakes—”
“I’m fine on my own.”
“Just saying.” Zerena sashayed away.
Denny waved his chit at Hope, ready to pay.
She threw the rag into a bin beneath the counter and ambled to him. “How was everything?” She didn’t offer a smile. Didn’t encourage him. Denny was nice but he wasn’t . . .
Hope paused. He wasn’t what? Steve Waldren?
“Best pie in town, as always,” Denny said.
“Don’t tell the owner of Sweet Place.” Hope winked and regretted the gesture because Denny winked back.
Then he grew serious. “Say, did you get things sorted out yesterday?”
“Sorted . . .” Jogging her memory, Hope recalled her excuse not to let him walk with her. “Yes. I did. I’m good to go,” she lied. She wasn’t. Melody and Todd were going to find out what she’d said to Steve and despise her. But Denny didn’t need to know that.
“Great.” Denny drummed the counter. “Hey, I’m still counting on that date sometime.”
“It’s always good to be optimistic,” Hope said, kicking herself for such a coy reply.
“Yes, indeed. Helen Keller said, ‘Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement.’” He waved on his way out.
Hope knew the quote. She’d even believed it at one time in her life.
“Morning.” Brie Bryant sauntered into the café and took a seat at the counter. She was wearing one less layer than she had the day before. Her multiple braids were swept over her shoulders. “What a lovely morning.”
The sun was out, but the weather was crisp.
“It is,” Hope said cheerily.
“Coffee, please. No cream. No sugar.” Brie perused the menu briefly before setting it aside. She glanced around as if looking for someone.
Please, please, please not Steve, Hope thought. She didn’t want to face him again. If only he hadn’t been the one to offer the prize. She liked him. She would’ve liked to have gotten to know him better. Now she wanted to avoid him at all costs.
“How do you like Hope Valley?” Hope asked as she set a mug of freshly brewed coffee in front of Brie.
“It’s magical. The lights, the decorations, the look of peace and goodwill on everyone’s faces. I haven’t celebrated Christmas in years.”
“Why not?”
“Long story short, my folks gave up on Christmas when I was ten. It was just too hard to decorate, buy presents for me and my four brothers, and make everything seem happy when they were miserable and ready to divorce. And then husband number one soured it even more.”
Number one implied there was a second husband and perhaps a third. Was Brie expecting Hope to ask about that?
“But now,” Brie said, “in this town, this café? It’s the whole ball of wax!” She flourished a hand. “I can’t wait to put up a tree in my apartment when I get home.”
“Good for you. That’s the holiday spirit.”
“I’m going ornament shopping after breakfast. There has to be someplace in town—”
“The Christmas Attic is the place,” Hope cut in. “The Waldrens own it.”
“Well, silly me. Why didn’t I know that? I had dinner with them last night and they didn’t mention it. But I didn’t ask. Bad me. I must be more curious in the future. No one needs a narcissistic anything.” Brie leaned forward on her elbows and cradled her coffee cup in her hands. “By the way, Steve—”
“Is narcissistic?”
“That’s not what I was going to say. In fact, he’s far from it.”
“It doesn’t matter. Save your breath,” Hope said. “I’m not changing my mind.”
“Okay, okay. A stubborn woman is like a bronco. Hard to break.”
“I’m not stubborn. I’m . . .” Hope sighed.
“Between a rock and a hard place.”
Hope nodded.
Brie took a sip of her coffee. “Yum. Is this Kona coffee?”
“Mm-hm. Gabe dreams of seeing the USA when he retires. Hawaii is first on the list. He has it shipped in.”
“Ooh, I’ve never been there, but I know I would love it.” She sang the opening words to the Hawaiian Christmas song “Mele Kalikimaka” while doing a hula move with her free hand.
Hope wanted to travel with her kids, too. Not to Disneyland. Maybe to visit all of the national parks. She and Zach had talked about doing that. Someday she would. Someday. After she got her pie shop on its feet again. After . . . She pushed the bittersweet musings aside. “The Kona coffee is Gabe’s way of bringing the islands to us.”
“What a thoughtful guy.”
“You have no idea.”
“You two seem close.”
“He and my dad were good friends.”
“Were?”
“My parents passed away.”
“I’m sorry.” Brie didn’t press. She took another sip of coffee. “Where is your handsome boss, by the way?”
Handsome? Gabe? He was nice enough looking, but Hope had never pegged him as handsome. “He’s in the back.”
Brie glanced in that direction. Hope smiled. Did Brie like him? Gabe had seemed keen on her, too. Hope wondered if she should—
No. She was not a matchmaker. Gabe and Brie were from two different worlds. Gabe was a small-town guy. Brie was worldly. If he was going to settle down with someone new, it should be someone from Hope Valley. Someone who loved the same things he did.
“He’s making the icing for the cookie decorating contest,” Hope said.
“Which is when?”
“Sunday.” Hope grinned. “My kids are looking forward to it. They can’t win, of course. No employee’s child is eligible. But they love to participate. My daughter is quite the artist. My son goes heavy on the icing.”
Zerena swooped next to Hope and slung an arm over her shoulders. “Guess what, girlfriend?”
“What?”
“Roman asked me to go ice skating.”
“To which you said yes.”
Tears blossomed in Zerena’s eyes. “No.”
“Yes,” Hope said more forcefully.
Zerena shook her head.
“Why not?” Hope persisted. “You rock at ice skating.” Zerena excelled at all sports.
“That’s just it. Roman has never been on skates. He thought it would be fun for us to try.” Zerena licked a tear that slipped across her lips. “I don’t want to show him up, and I didn’t want to tell him that I—”
“Men.” Brie rapped her knuckles on the counter. “They have such fragile egos.” She aimed a finger at Zerena. “You need to tell this Roman—” She eyed Hope. “Who is Roman?”
“The chef.”
“Aha, your chef.” Brie glanced toward the kitchen. “He’s very ooh-la-la. That smile? Worth a million bucks. Plus he can cook. He’s a keeper!”
“Tell me about it.” Zerena shook her head. “I burn toast.”
“Do not pass up this opportunity,” Hope said.
“So what do I do?” Zerena asked, a pleading whine in her voice. “I want to go on a date with him. Anywhere. Just not skating.”
“The tree-lighting ceremony is Sunday night,” Hope said.
“The town has a tree-lighting ceremony?” Brie thumped the counter. “Of course it does. That’s a perfect first date. And trés romantic.”
“Great idea.” Zerena squeezed Hope’s arm and returned to her station.
Brie aimed a finger at Hope. “I’ve heard about you. Gabe says you always know the right thing to say to make people feel special.”
“Exactly when would he have told you that?” Hope cocked her head.
“Last night, after dinner at the Waldrens, I stopped in for a cocoa to go.”
A cocoa to go that turned out to be an opportunity to chat, Hope mused.
Brie smirked like the proverbial cat who’d eaten the canary. She sipped more coffee and said, “By the way, Ellery and Frank Waldren raved about you last night. You are high on their list”—she motioned above her head—“of favorite people.”
“I’ll bet Steve didn’t rave.”
Brie snickered. “Let’s just say he’s disappointed he couldn’t romance you into a yes.” She sputtered. “I didn’t mean romance romance. I meant—”
“I know what you meant.”
“Anyway,” Brie continued, “like I was saying, I moseyed over here for a cup of cocoa to help me sleep . . .”
“Uh-huh.” It was Hope’s turn to smirk.
“And Gabe and I got to talking. He says you’re a wizard with Lincoln Waldren. He said not many could handle serving him, but you make Lincoln feel comfortable so he doesn’t get ahead of himself, and that helps his folks.”
Hope smiled. “Lincoln is challenged but he’s so sweet. Now, his brother is—”
“A looker.”
“Yes.” Hope felt a flutter in her stomach.
“But not sweet.”
“He was sweet when I met him last year.”
“You met him? Do tell. Steve didn’t mention that, but he can keep his private life private.”
Hope filled her in on the chance meeting, and Steve telling her he liked to bake. “But this prize thing—”
“Has made him intense.” Brie sipped her coffee. “In his defense, he’s got a few challenges of his own.”
“What kind of challenges?”
“No. Uh-uh. I’m talking out of turn.” Brie swatted the air.
Hope remembered back in high school how her girlfriends had gone on and on about Steve being so talented and so-o-o smart. He had been a terrific basketball and baseball player, although not major league-worthy, plus he’d been the star reporter for the school newspaper. He had the gift of gab and could get anyone to cough up a good story. She recalled the one time they’d met, when she was selling pies to raise money for the sports teams, and he’d thanked her for her service. For a nanosecond, like her girlfriends, she’d developed a small crush on him. Then he graduated and life went on.
“I really want you to know that Steve means well,” Brie said.
Means well? Hope flashed on Zach, who had started out with the best of intentions—how often had he told her he’d meant well—only to succumb to his habit, ultimately breaking her and her children’s hearts.
“Meaning well and doing well aren’t the same thing.” Hope picked up a wet towel, slapped it on the counter, and began to wipe with fierce intensity. End of discussion.
