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Hope blamed the hot cocoa for why she’d said yes to Steve again, but if she was honest, she knew it hadn’t been the cocoa. It had been his attentive gaze. Those hazel eyes. He’d acted as if he was really listening to her. Getting her.
“Mom,” Melody said, “are you listening?” She had hold of Hope’s hand and was dragging her back into the bazaar’s shopping mecca. Todd had a grip on the hem of Hope’s coat.
“Yes, I’m listening.”
“No, you’re not. You’re in la-la-land. Santa had the most incredible baritone voice.”
“That’s nice.”
Hope hadn’t told the children about the prize yet. Steve and Lincoln had slipped away before the kids exited Santa’s Village, so the children hadn’t spotted them.
“He knew all about sports, too,” Todd said.
“He told Todd there’s a collectibles seller at the bazaar,” Melody said. “That’s what Todd wants to spend his money on.”
“Okay.” Hope smiled, loving how her daughter was looking out for her brother.
At the vendor’s, Todd gleefully purchased a single baseball card for a dollar.
“Pizza!” Todd announced when he accepted the bag from the seller.
During dinner, the talk turned to statistics. On the drive home, Hope glanced at her children’s sweet, expectant faces. She deliberated telling them about the trip and decided to save the news for after camp tomorrow. They’d celebrate in the proper way with dinner and cookies and the party poppers she’d purchased at the dollar store to save for a special occasion.
But at dawn, she rose with doubt once again swirling inside her. Was saying yes the right choice? Was it bad of her to have waffled? If she said no again, Steve would think she was a flake. He wouldn’t understand. But she had so many expenses, so many obligations.
No, she rebuked herself No. She’d said yes. The answer would remain yes.
Without waking Melody and Todd, Hope hurried to the showers in the trailer park. The water was tepid, but after running from the reporters, she needed to cleanse herself of the stench of fear that clung to her. When she returned to the VW, she dressed for work.
An hour later, Hope drove the kids to the community center. It was a white-and-brown, one-story expanse with multipurpose rooms, an outside area with tables for eating, and a playground where kids could work off pent-up energy. In other words, perfect.
Gabe’s niece Khloe, a natural beauty with carrot-orange hair and a pert turned-up nose, came out to meet them. She smiled broadly and opened her arms wide. “Hello, Lyons! Welcome, welcome.”
Though Melody and Todd knew Khloe, both looked reluctant to exit the camper.
“Go on,” Hope encouraged. “She’s excited to spend time with you.”
Melody grabbed her backpack and basketball, and Todd, already wearing his backpack, fetched one of his prized comic books.
“I have so much planned for you two today,” Khloe said, as they joined her on the sidewalk. “Art, crafts, and music jam.”
“Music jam. Yes!” Todd gave an emphatic fist pump.
“Maybe we’ll even shoot a few hoops, Melody,” Khloe said.
“In the snow?” Melody asked skeptically.
“Sure, why not? It’s not that deep.”
“Um, okay.” Dressed in her pink parka and pink snow hat with pompom, Melody looked younger than ten.
“First, cocoa.” Khloe looped an arm around them.
“Sugar-free,” Melody said.
“Sugar-free! Done.” Khloe guided them along the path to the entrance. “Wave bye to Mom.”
They obeyed.
An hour later, as Hope was wiping down the counter and almost giddy about Steve and the prize, Gabe approached her.
“Hey, darlin’, are you okay?” he asked. “You’re staring into space.”
Hope snapped to. “Yes.” No more daydreaming, she chided herself. She had customers. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Tend to those tables then come back here and talk to me.”
“Gabe . . .”
“Don’t Gabe me. Do it.”
Hope nodded. After she made sure everything at each of her tables was okay, refilling coffee cups and delivering second servings of cocoa, she returned to Gabe. “I’m fine, really,” she murmured.
He nabbed her elbow, guided her to a stool at the counter, and forced her to sit. His face was filled with concern. “Spill.”
“Here?”
“No one is listening. Everyone has his or her life to manage. Talk.”
“I did something bad yesterday.”
“Something bad, as in illegal?” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to prison?”
“No. Nothing like that.” Nervously, she weaved her hands together.
“Phew. I was worried. You’ve got the look of a criminal,” he teased, twirling a finger in front of her face. “Kidding.” He touched her shoulder. “Okay, so what did you do?”
She threw her arms wide. “I said yes to Steve Waldren. I accepted the prize.”
“I know. I was there. I gave you time off. Have you forgotten?”
“Yes . . . No . . .” Hope rubbed her neck and chuckled. “I’ve got mush brain.”
“I like when you laugh.”
Me, too, Hope thought. Years ago when she’d met Zach, she’d laughed at the silliest things. Goofy faces. Funny movies. But then life changed, and her laughter ebbed.
Gabe perched on a stool beside her. “I’m glad you said yes about the trip. You deserve something good in your life.”
“But then I said no.”
“No?”
“To Brie. Because she said KPRL would want to go public with my story.”
“Your story?” He looked perplexed.
“About being homeless.”
“Homeless?” He look dismayed.
“Not homeless, per se. We live in my VW at the trailer park.”
“Why?”
“Zach left us high and dry.” Deciding it was time to loop Gabe in fully, she explained her predicament. “Brie said because I’m a single mother who struggles, the station would pay me to talk about my story.”
“How did she find out?”
“Steve and she and Lincoln followed us from the school to the trailer park.”
Gabe nodded. “Go on.”
“Brie said they’d want to talk about Zach, and I put my foot down and said if that meant no prize, then no prize. But then reporters found out somehow, and they chased me and the kids, but we eluded them by running into the bazaar.”
Gabe’s mouth fell open.
“I ran into Steve there,” she went on.
“Why was he at the bazaar?”
Hope wasn’t sure. Had he seen her being chased? Had he come to rescue her? She shook her head. “I don’t know, but he bought me cocoa, and we talked, and he said he’d make sure KPRL honored our privacy—no story. So I said yes again.” She fought tears.
“That wasn’t bad.”
“Yes, it was! Oh, Gabe, I know you gave me time off, but if I accept the prize, I’ll miss work.”
He wrapped her in his arms and cradled her head like her father used to. “You’ll go in January. We’re slow then.”
“I can’t afford to lose wages. I’ve been scrimping. Every last penny. I’ve been trying to save to . . . ” She couldn’t put words to her dream. She didn’t want Gabe’s pity.
“You won’t lose wages. You’ve earned two paid weeks off.”
Hope wrinkled her nose. “Ha! You don’t give anyone paid vacation.”
“Well, it’s about time I did.” He winked.
Hope remembered how her father or mother would wink at her whenever they’d wanted to perk her up. She missed them so much. Gabe hadn’t replaced them, but he was all she had.
“Maybe if I did give paid leave,” Gabe went on, “I’d have more loyal employees.”
“You have the best, and they adore you.”
Brie appeared over Gabe’s shoulder. “Yoo-hoo, Gabe? I was wondering . . .” She hesitated. “Sorry, Hope.” She looked mortified. “I can tell I’ve interrupted a serious conversation.”
Gabe flashed a smile, clearly happy to see her. “We’re talking about vacations,” he said. “Have a seat and give us a minute. I’ll be right with you.” He patted the stool next to him.
Brie didn’t hesitate. In fact, she was acting as if she belonged. Worry shot through Hope. Didn’t Gabe realize Brie would be heading back to Portland soon? Was she going to break his heart?
Gabe hailed Zerena. “Coffee for the pretty lady.” He refocused on Hope. “As I was saying, a bonus or paid vacation goes a long way. You deserve it, and I’m doing it. See? You’re starting a trend. Making me a better guy. A magnanimous guy. I’ve always loved that word. Magnanimous.” He stressed the second syllable and patted her cheek.
Hope smiled.
“Are you taking a vacation, Hope?” Brie asked, apparently not understanding Gabe’s request to give them a minute.
“She is,” Gabe said. “And she’s going to Disneyland.”
Brie gaped. “You’re saying yes again?”
“She already did,” Gabe chimed.
“Last night,” Hope said. “To Steve. At the bazaar.”
Brie whooped.
“Except Gabe will be one waitress short, and—”
“I can take your shifts.” Brie waved a hand. “I used to waitress when I was putting myself through college. Gabe, will you let me help out?” She batted her eyelashes.
“You live in Portland,” Hope retorted. “It’s not an easy commute.”
“I won’t live there for much longer.” Brie rose to her feet and planted a fist on her hip. “I’ve decided to officially retire January first and move to Hope Valley. I love it here.”
Hope gawked at her.
“So, Gabe,” Brie said sassily, “can I sub for Hope?”
He grinned. “Absolutely.”
A moment of sensual electricity passed between them. Hope was dumbfounded.
Without breaking her connection with Gabe, Brie said, “Go to Disneyland with your kids, Hope. It’ll be fun.”
Suddenly Hope couldn’t breathe. Her chest felt cinched with duct tape. “I need some air.”
“Sure. Take all the time you need,” Gabe said. “Say, why don’t you go for a drive? Open the windows. Drink in the beautiful weather.”
Hope couldn’t leave the café fast enough. On the sidewalk, she stood shivering, wondering whether the universe was conspiring against her. Get real, Hope. Conspiring to make you happy? To make your kids happy? She glanced over her shoulder at Brie and Gabe, chatting like old friends with him leaning in to her and Brie blushing like a schoolgirl, and a rash of resentment cut through her. All of this merriment and Christmas spirit and fellow man helping out another fellow man was not real. She had to keep her guard up. If Zach had taught her anything, it was that.
Feeling as wound up as a Jack-in-the-box, she slogged to the parking lot and climbed into the VW. She headed to the north end of town and decided to tour the streets to check out the merry decorations. As she drove, she thought of Melody and Todd and smiled. She was doing the right thing. They deserved a trip. They deserved joy.
But then, out of nowhere, the VW started coughing. Not just coughing. Juddering and sputtering. “Crap,” she muttered under her breath. “No, no, no.”
Hope cycled through the possibilities. She wasn’t out of gas. She’d filled up two days ago. Was it the fuel system? The catalytic converter? During her teens, her father had shown her how to change her oil, check the radiator, and more. He’d said he never wanted her to be a damsel in distress. So why did she feel stressed to the max now? She couldn’t be without the VW.
Frustrated, she drove to the mechanic, a sweet guy who had been in business since she was a girl. He took a quick look and declared that she needed a mass airflow sensor. He could swap it out right away, and it wasn’t too expensive, but Hope did the calculations and knew the cost would empty her savings account. Even so, she agreed. She had to.
As she waited for the car, she thought again of Melody and Todd. Yes, they deserved a trip, but, more importantly than that, they needed their mother to provide food and insurance and a place to sleep. Gabe’s generous offer of two weeks paid vacation would cover the basics, but it would not provide for unforeseen extras—like the van they lived in conking out.
Hating how reality had once again reared its ugly head, she cursed Zach . . . and then she called Steve. When he answered, she blurted, “I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t accept the prize. I know I said I could last night, but I can’t. My van. It died. I . . . I’m sorry.”
“But—”
She ended the call and sobbed.
