Gnawing her bottom lip, Kat paced the musty bedroom, waiting for Fern to answer the phone. Her gaze kept drifting to the empty box and perplexing riddle. Definitely not how she’d expected the day to go.
“Hi, mija. I’m just starting the tamales. When will you be home?”
“I’m afraid I won’t be back tonight after all.”
“Oh?” Despite her inflection, she didn’t sound surprised.
“The special errand I mentioned earlier is taking longer than I’d anticipated.”
“You mean the top secret one you won’t tell me about?”
“Yep, that’s the one.” Kat smiled at the older woman’s teasing lilt.
“Should I send you a few things? A change of clothes, perhaps?”
“No, that’s all right. I should be home by tomorrow night at the latest. I can make do until then.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. But thank you.” Kat definitely didn’t want to explain what had brought her to Poppy Creek. Although, she sometimes wondered if Fern could read minds and knew her thoughts even before she did.
“Have fun, mija. I can’t wait to hear all about your mysterious adventure when you get back.”
Feeling comforted—as she usually did after talking to Fern—Kat bid her goodbye and ended the call.
A second later, Penny pranced through the doorway, a grin splashed across her face. “Guess what? Trudy has a room available! And she said there’s no charge since my family is her family.”
“Oh, I couldn’t impose like that,” Kat insisted, despite her empty bank account.
“Good luck talking her out of it. She can be pretty stubborn,” Penny said warmly. “Before you check in, let’s get something to eat. I’m famished and there’s someone I want you to meet.”
For some unknown reason, Kat’s thoughts immediately flew to the man she’d assaulted on the street earlier. Jack was his name, wasn’t it? Either way, she had no idea why the image of his benevolent blue eyes flashed into her mind. Or why her stomach fluttered the instant it did. “I am a little hungry….” She’d brought a couple of Fern’s cookies for the drive, but that’s all she’d had to eat since her cup of black coffee and dry toast that morning.
Penny spun toward the door, then froze, her face brightening with a sudden recollection. “Wait! First, we need to find you some clothes.”
“That really isn’t necessary….” Although a generous offer, she’d already settled on washing her undergarments in the sink and hanging them to dry by a furnace or fireplace, assuming her room had one.
“Don’t be silly! Half the fun of my job is helping people put together beautiful outfits. And I just got in a gorgeous peacoat in the most stunning shade of kelly green that’ll go perfectly with your red hair. You’ll look like Christmas personified.”
Kat ran a hand over the faded black wool of her shapeless overcoat, contrasting it with the shimmering vintage shawl wrapped around her sister’s tall, willowy frame.
“Maybe the coat,” she relented. “If it’s not too expensive. I don’t have much room in my budget for new clothes.” Or a stick of gum, she thought morosely.
Penny placed one hand on her hip, her copper eyes twinkling. “I see you’re going to be a tough nut to crack. Are you this bad at accepting Christmas presents?”
Kat hesitated. Truthfully, she’d only ever exchanged gifts with Fern. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m not used to strangers being so generous.”
She realized her blunder a second too late. Sure, the term was technically accurate, but calling her sister a stranger sounded harsh even to her own ears. How would she balance keeping an emotional distance without being cold and uncaring? It seemed next to impossible.
At her words, Penny’s smile faltered, but only for a moment. “Well, let’s see if we can change that, shall we?”
Halfway through browsing the racks of elegant vintage clothing, Kat forgot all about her reticence. Penny found several items that fit her like a glove—including a pair of caramel-colored driving gloves in the softest suede imaginable.
While boisterous Christmas music played in the background, she tried on various ensembles, posing in front of a large gilded mirror. Penny even brought over a plate of sugar cookies and scrumptious tea, nibbling on the refreshments while she added snippets of commentary on each outfit as though they were in a movie montage.
In the merriment, all of Kat’s self-conscious reservations slipped away, and she hardly recognized her cheerful, glowing complexion reflected back at her.
How was it possible that she’d barely met this woman and already felt as though they’d known each other their entire lives?
And how could she keep their unexpected bond from growing any stronger?
Before someone got hurt.
Keeping one eye on the front door, Jack scrubbed the wraparound bar for the hundredth time. If he wasn’t careful, he’d rub the shellac right off and wouldn’t be able to slide the old-fashioned soda glasses across the counter with the same level of ease.
Every time the door hinges creaked, his heart catapulted into his throat. And every time someone entered the diner who wasn’t Kat, it plummeted into his stomach.
Even in the midst of stalking the entrance, he found his level of interest baffling. It wasn’t as if he had feelings for the woman. He’d known her for a grand total of ten seconds. But the truth was, no one had affected him as strongly since his ex.
Ashley Tanner had flipped his world upside down the moment she’d walked into it in sixth grade. More like sashayed into it. She’d possessed a level of confidence most girls her age couldn’t even fathom. And yet, she wasn’t arrogant or condescending. Her kindness had attracted him as much as her ink-black eyes and full lips perpetually poised on the edge of a smile. Completely captivated by her charm, he would have done anything for her—except abandon Poppy Creek and all of his principles.
The door burst open, letting in a rush of cold air, and Jack’s gaze once again darted toward the latest arrival.
Disappointment mixed with dread as Mayor Burns strode inside as though stepping out of a Wall Street board meeting. Dressed in a slick cashmere coat, Burberry scarf, and leather gloves, the man certainly wasn’t subtle. In fact, in Jack’s opinion, he exemplified the expression big fish in a small pond. It wouldn’t have bothered Jack if the mayor didn’t seem so determined to expand his swimming hole.
“Jack! Just the man I wanted to see.” Burns plastered on a smarmy smile.
“What can I get for you today, Mayor?” The man never actually sat down to eat in Jack’s establishment. Probably for fear the diner’s tasteless decor would taint his designer duds. But he wasn’t above ordering takeout on a regular basis.
“Nothing today. I just came by to tell you about the Christmas Carnival we’re hosting this year. You weren’t at the town meeting.” His last sentence carried a hint of censure.
Jack suppressed a groan. He’d purposely stopped going to the meetings because he found the mayor’s relentless schemes to increase tourism tiring.
But he’d heard about the latest marketing effort through the rumor mill. Burns wanted to hold a huge holiday extravaganza inviting all the neighboring towns to participate. At the end of the night, he’d grandiosely bestow an award for the best holiday display—probably as an excuse to give another one of his famously verbose speeches.
All well and good until he’d wanted to replace the long-standing tradition of Pajama Christmas—which Burns deemed trite and childish—but he’d been overruled, thankfully. Instead, he’d moved the event to Christmas Day. Or rather, the evening of Christmas Day, claiming the carnival would be the perfect way to close out the holiday.
“I’ve heard about it,” Jack told him, trying to keep his mounting irritation from creeping into his voice.
“Wonderful! Then I don’t need to tell you that I expect your display to be done as soon as possible.”
“My display?” He’d assumed participation was optional. He didn’t have time to put out a potted poinsettia let alone organize an elaborate storefront display.
Burns sighed heavily. “Jack, I shouldn’t have to impress upon you the importance of town-wide cooperation. We’re a community. And as such, it’s important we all participate. Don’t tell me you’re short on Christmas spirit this year?”
Jack bristled. This wasn’t the first time they’d butted heads. Burns had been pestering him for years to “revitalize” the diner, as he put it. He made it sound like Jack’s restaurant was a neglected landmark in need of massive reconstruction—or demolition.
Wringing the dishrag tightly in his hands, Jack muttered, “Sure thing, Mr. Mayor.”
“Excellent. I look forward to seeing your best efforts.” With a smug grin, Burns turned on his heel.
Gritting his teeth, Jack resisted the urge to flick his retreating backside with the damp towel. The man had a lot of nerve spouting off about the importance of community. But what irked him the most was the mayor’s jab at his lack of Christmas spirit.
As much as he hated to admit it, he was in short supply this year. Between the cancelation of his sister’s visit, his misgivings about Kat, and now the added pressure to create a Burns-approved storefront spectacle, he’d almost run out.