“I have a matching bracelet if you’re interested,” Will said to customer Myra Holt. He dug beneath the table, located it and handed it to her.
“This is gorgeous, Will. I love the colors.”
“Thanks.” His attention drifted toward the doorway, looking for Christine, then back to Myra.
She eyed the price tag and didn’t flinch. “Let me get Gus, and see what he says. I’ll be right back.” She sent him a smile and headed down the aisle looking for her husband.
Will leaned back in the folding chair, grabbing a moment’s break before the next customer arrived. Everyone knew everyone on the island, so the Christmas Bazaar seemed one big party.
A woman passed wearing a red jacket, and the color took him back to yesterday afternoon when he’d had the nerve to insist Christine write her initials in the snow. She’d flushed, he’d noticed, and he wasn’t sure if she was embarrassed or flattered. He hoped it was the latter.
Something about Christine had worked its way into his thoughts and wound around his heart as tightly as tendrils on a morning glory. He felt the spiral squeeze, and his pulse raced. The dream was ridiculous. He wanted to ask Grandma Ella Christine’s age, but he didn’t have the nerve. Anyway, it was difficult to talk with Ella alone. Christine always seemed to hover nearby like flies at a picnic.
Will grinned to himself. He loved her hovering, but not when he hoped to talk privately to her grandmother. Will wasn’t sure what difference it would make, but sometimes age bothered women. He liked her maturity. At times, she seemed girlish, like the times they’d spent on the sled when her smile lit up the sky and her laughter rekindled his longing for someone to share his life.
Will knew the day would come when she would leave. Maybe sooner than he thought. On Monday, she’d said she had to call her boss. Could he say no to a family’s need? She’d hinted that she had a difficult relationship with him, and Will had wondered what that was about. Had it been a romance or some work-related conflict? He drew in a deep breath. So many things he would probably never know.
“Here it is,” Myra said, returning. She held the bracelet and pendant toward her husband.
The man looked at it with a blank face, obviously not interested. “If you like it, buy it,” he said, after a cursory look.
“Are you sure? You could wrap it for Christmas,” Myra said.
“Wouldn’t that be dumb? You know what it is.”
“Maybe by then I’d forget.”
Gus brushed her off with a hand motion. “Buy it. Enjoy it.”
Her glum look brightened, and she turned back to Will. “He said it’s okay.”
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy these pieces, Myra.” Will slipped them onto the cotton and put a lid on the white nondescript box he used for the jewelry. He pulled out the gold foil Sea of Glass sticker and added it to the top. When he lifted his head, Christine stood beside Myra. He felt a smile grow on his face.
“Hi,” he said. “I wondered if you would come.”
“It took a little longer getting Grandma here.”
Will realized he was still holding Myra’s package. He handed it to her. “Myra, this is Christine. She’s Ella Summers’s granddaughter from Lower Michigan.”
The women greeted each other while Will’s gaze wandered over Christine’s form. She carried her jacket on her arm, and he could see her attire. She’d worn a sweater the color of autumn leaves—shades of orange, coral, red and gold—that highlighted her honey hair and hazel eyes. She looked like an Indian-summer day.
Myra stood between them for a moment, and when the conversation didn’t go anywhere, she said goodbye and headed in the direction Gus had gone.
“What do you think?” Will asked.
“About the bazaar?”
He nodded.
“It’s nice. I’ve only been here a few minutes.”
“Where’s your grandmother?”
“She found a seat by one of her circle ladies. She’s selling quilted things—toss pillows and baby blankets.”
She glanced over her shoulder as if checking on her grandmother, and Will rose and came out from behind the table.
“I have a friend who’ll sit in for me for a while when you’d like some ice cream.”
She turned back. “Thanks. I’ll pass for now. Maybe later. I want to see what you’re selling.”
He backed away and allowed her room to study the glass pieces he had on display. She admired his work, and he enjoyed hearing her oohs and aahs.
“I’d like to buy a few things for gifts. It’s beautiful stuff, Will.” She eyed the table again and then shifted to the jewelry. “How do you do this?” She studied the pendant, holding it to the light. “Is it really glass?”
“Fused glass. I have some fluted bowls and dishes back at the studio made in the same way.”
“Really?” She shifted to a bracelet, then earrings. “It’s amazing. Tell me how it’s made.”
“I heat it in a kiln to various degrees until it’s fused. You can see some is rough—the glass has melted together and adheres, but you can feel the ridges of each color.” He lifted her hand and ran her finger along the piece of glass.
He loved the feel of her hand in his, her fingers warm and soft like smooth glass cooling from the kiln.
“Or you can fire it at a higher temperature, around eighteen hundred degrees, and then—”
“You get this,” she said, raising a pendant, the colors melded together in one smooth piece.”
“That’s it,” he said, squeezing the hand that he held in his. His confidence rose, knowing she hadn’t pulled away from him. That had been real progress with Christine.
“If you come to my studio sometime, I’ll show you how to make glass beads like these.”
She grasped the strand of flowing beadwork and turned it in her hand. “I love this. The colors and—” She looked at him in what he could only call admiration.
“You have a gold mine here, Will. I’m amazed.” She laid the necklace down on the velvet-covered table. “How does this work? Do you donate some of your profits?”
He shook his head. “It’s all donated. I’m giving these items away.”
“Giving? You’re kidding.”
“That’s the spirit of Christmas. The money’s divided five ways—the four churches on the island and the medical center.”
“But this is worth so much.” She gestured toward the display.
“The churches and medical center are worth much more. Where would we be without them?”
“I suppose.” Her eyebrows lifted as she turned to view a sun catcher, then hung it back on the stand. She paused a moment. “I have some ideas for you.”
He managed to hold his stance, but his instinct was to draw back. Ideas meant interference. He wanted no part of strategies. His father admired those. Will grimaced inwardly, realizing, instead of interfering, perhaps she had a jewelry design idea. He changed the subject.
“Visit the studio, and I’ll show you how to make glass beads. They’re easy, really.”
She grinned. “For you maybe.”
He drew her closer and gave her a squeeze. “You’ll just have to trust me. Now stay right here, and I’ll get someone to cover my booth so we can take a walk.”
Christine watched him walk away, her mind spilling out marketing ideas. She turned again to study the jewelry, wondering how much promotion he did and what yearly income he netted. She could double it. He could hire other workers to do the simpler steps—like the bead making—and he could use his time for the artistic creativity.
Her skin prickled with excitement, anxious to tell him about her thoughts. When she looked at the crowd and the buzz of activity around her, she wondered if this was a practical time to talk. She could see Will in the distance, cornered by two people who seemed determined to carry on a lengthy conversation. He’d gestured her way, but that hadn’t stopped them.
Small towns. She’d never seen anything like the friendliness she’d noticed here. Besides church, in stores and on the street, people called to Will by name, and not just a few, but about everyone he passed.
Even yesterday, the postman had called her by name. The postman. Obviously she had a postman in Royal Oak, but to have him call her Christine seemed beyond her comprehension. She didn’t know a tenth of the people who worked in the office building where Creative Productions had their suite let alone a whole town.
Finally, she saw Will make his way down the aisle. After two more stops, this time shorter, he returned to her side, and within seconds, so did a woman.
“Christine, this is Janet Deacon. She works for me part-time in the store during the tourist season.”
Christine took the woman’s hand in greeting. She was an attractive lady, perhaps her age, and Christine eyed Will to see if she was more than a part-time employee, but Will’s eyes were on her, and she let the question fade. When her mind made queries like that one, it set her on edge.
“We’ll only be a half hour or so,” Will said.
“No problem, Will. I’m happy to help.” She sent him a smile, which he returned, then he took Christine’s arm and led her away from the table.
“Where’s the booth you left Grandma Ella at?” he asked, craning his neck to look along the busy aisles.
“This way,” she said, pointing.
He walked beside her, stopped every few minutes for conversation and introductions. Christine figured they’d never get to the ice-cream area.
Finally her grandmother came into view. “How are you doing?” Christine asked as she approached.
“Okay,” Ella said, looking a little tired but happy.
“You want to leave?”
“No, I’m fine for a while. Enjoy yourself.”
“How about an ice-cream sundae?” Will asked, patting her shoulder in the gentlest way, which made Christine’s heart surge. He would be a good father, she could tell.
“We had a sundae a few minutes ago, but thanks.”
“You did?” Christine asked.
“Darlene’s son brought them to us. The best ice cream. Fattening, but who cares?” Ella said.
Christine grinned. “I care.”
Will shook his head. “Does this lovely woman look overweight to you?”
Darlene chuckled. “No, not even without love in my eyes.”
The comment startled Christine, but she forced herself to laugh. What were people thinking? She studied Darlene, who prattled on about her son and her sales. What did the woman see in Will’s eyes? What did she see in Christine’s?
“Ready?” Will asked, clasping her arm.
“Sure,” she said, the word nearly inaudible. She needed to get a grip. Darlene didn’t know romance from friendship.
Will guided her along the aisles toward the ice-cream stand, but before they reached it, he stopped by a table of handmade knitted items.
“Can I help you, Will?” the woman asked as he plowed through the scarves.
“I’m looking for a red one.”
She laid down her knitting needles and leaned below the table. When she straightened, she held a bright red scarf. “Like this?”
“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll take it.”
She watched him pay the woman, and when she slipped it into a plastic grocery bag, he turned and handed it to Christine.
“For me?”
“To match your red gloves.”
She grinned at his endearing expression. “But it’s not even Christmas.”
“It’s always Christmas in my heart,” he said, steering her to the back of the building where ice-cream chairs and tables had been placed.
Christine stared at the plastic bag, touched by the unexpected gift. So many of her experiences on the island had been unexpected. “Thanks. You’re too good to me.”
As they walked, she couldn’t help but compare him to other men she knew—men at her office and men who lived in her apartment building. Some were nice, but they either seemed patronizing or pushy or with a goal in mind—a goal she didn’t share.
At the stand, she and Will designed their sundaes, amid others in line who knew Will’s name and soon learned hers.
When they’d settled at the table, her thoughts moved from Will’s charm to her business ideas.
“How do you like the bazaar?” he asked, dipping into the mixture of ice cream, syrups, cherries, nuts and sprinkles topped with whipped cream.
“Fun. Different. Life here seems easy. Not easy really, because things like shopping and dentist appointments are more complicated, but easygoing. Sort of cozy.”
He gave that some thought. “It’s definitely close-knit and friendly.”
“I can see that,” she said, eager to move along to another topic. “I wanted to talk to you about those ideas I mentioned.”
“Jewelry ideas?” Concern settled on his face.
“All your products. I’m just curious if you do marketing and promotion?”
He laughed. “We have an automatic market when the tourists arrive. They hit every shop on Main Street and Market. It’s what they do.”
“But after tourist season? What then?”
He slipped his hand over hers and gave it a pat. “Then we get cozy.”
Cozy. The word came back to bite her. Apparently Will didn’t have her drive for success. She imagined he could double his income, triple it, maybe, with Internet marketing. Items handcrafted on the island would automatically have a draw. Before she could speak her mind, Will spoke.
“Talking about business. Tell me about Creative... What’s it called again?”
“Creative Productions. We develop marketing strategies and create commercial advertising for different venues—TV, radio, newspaper, magazines—you get it.”
“Sounds challenging. How long have you been there?”
“Twelve years or so. I worked at Commercial Design for about three years out of college.”
A look came over him that Christine couldn’t read.
Will delved into his sundae and the conversation faded. He hadn’t seemed interested in hearing her ideas and he certainly didn’t like something she’d said about her work.
“I’d better get back to the booth,” he said.
His abruptness startled her. “I need to get Grandma home, too.” Yet she faltered, not wanting to leave with the tension she sensed between them. “I’ll walk with you to the booth so I can—”
“I have much more at the studio. I think that’s better.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that. Was it better she buy her gifts another time or was it better she leave? Hurt by his behavior, she clutched her gift to her chest. “I’ll head over to Grandma then.”
“See you later.” He gave her a quick wave and walked away.
She stood a moment trying to collect herself and to hold back tears that threatened to sneak from behind her eyes.
Will kept moving forward. He wanted to turn back and look at her, but he couldn’t. He felt like a heel, pushing her away like that, but she’d thrown him a curve when she answered his question.
His addition was good. Twelve years and three years equaled fifteen. She’d gotten out of college at least fifteen years ago. Fifteen years ago he’d been a freshman in high school. Will didn’t care, but he feared Christine would. They’d become friends, and they’d just begun to have fun together. Once she realized his age—and she would—it was all over, and he knew it.
Someone grabbed his arm and, when he turned, Jude stood beside him with a grin on his face.
“So that’s the chick you were telling me about,” he said.
Will drew back. Chick? He’d never considered Christine a chick. “She’s the woman,” he said, hoping to make a point.
“She’s not bad at all,” Jude said. “So how’s it going?”
“Good. Sales are better than last year, I think.”
Jude punched his shoulder. “Not the sales. I mean with her. How’s that going?”
“Fine. We’ve come to an amiable agreement. As long as she’s here, we can tolerate each other, I think.”
“Tolerate? Dude, where are your eyes? That lady’s a better prize than that new sled outside Doud’s.”
“Do you want me to put in a good word for you, Jude?”
“Would you?” His eyes widened.
“No. And remember that.”
Jude drew back and held up his hand. “I’m only kidding, Will. You said you’re not interested, but apparently I have that wrong. Sorry, man.”
Will opened his mouth to rebut, but nothing came. He was interested in Christine. Why try to pretend he wasn’t? “It’s okay,” Will said, extending his hand.
“Sure, man,” Jude said, giving him a curious look. He rattled on about the restaurant and Doud’s sled, but Will’s mind had stopped at his own admission.
He liked Christine, and he feared his feelings had headed off in directions he couldn’t control. He barely knew the woman, but he sensed a pull that only God could cause. The attraction made no sense to him.