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“Come on, we’re going to dinner. We’ve got to plan.” Bradley wanted to take Jessica’s shoulders and hug the self-conscious slump out of them.
He jogged across two rows of the parking lot and met Jessica before she climbed into her little red hatchback.
“I really just need to get back to the store, Bradley. I don’t know what I thought I could accomplish in there. We all have passion, but we’re just small businesses. Emphasis on the small.”
“No, you don’t need to go back to your store, Jessica,” he said matter-of-factly. “You need to save your store.”
“I just need to accept the inevitable. I need to make plans to close my store. You heard them. They won’t do anything to save local businesses right now. There’s no saving Bretton’s.” She tucked a stray blonde curl behind her ear.
Jessica had been bold in there, but she’d remained respectful—as he’d known she would. She’d followed his advice as best she could, but her sweet disposition wasn’t going to allow her to push back as hard as she’d needed to. He’d formulated his plan based on how he would have responded. He hadn’t had time to tweak it for her more gentle personality.
But he hadn’t given her his advice just because sitting in that room right beside her, feeling both her nervousness and the way his hand cupped her knee perfectly had made him remember the crush he’d tried to keep in check for a year.
He’d more given the advice for himself. If they were going to turn him into a party planner, he was going to plan the biggest and best party the island had ever seen. And do it without breaking the crazy rules that covered the city right now.
Getting to plan it beside Jessica Bretton’s side would just be a bonus.
“I don’t understand what you’re thinking, though,” Jessica said.
Bradley smiled again. "Come to dinner with me, and you'll find out. There is a way to make this happen."
Jessica looked at her watch. “Dinner? It’s four-thirty in the afternoon.”
“I didn’t get lunch.” He jingled the keys to his truck. “Come on—I’ll even give you a ride and let you call the meal lunch or dinner or whatever name you want.”
She turned and walked toward the truck, shoulders still weighed down with the defeat of her proposal by the City Council. “Okay.”
He opened the door for Jessica, then closed it behind her. She deserved the royal treatment anyway, but especially now. He would lighten her load any way he could today. "Let's get to Porter's, and I'll lay everything out for you."
Jessica wasn’t in a chatting mood, but Bradley coaxed her out of her shell by making small talk for the few blocks it took to drive from the city government building to Gulfview Boulevard and Porter’s Seafood, a Port Provident institution for almost as long as Bretton’s had been in business.
"I've lived here my whole life—but I still don't think I'll ever get tired of looking at the waves," Jessica said as she stole a glance at the surf crashing upon the sand.
“I couldn’t agree more, although I haven’t lived here nearly that long.” Bradley turned into a parking space near the door. “I hope they have a table available by the window.”
Once they were seated and had placed their order, Bradley turned the conversation back to the day’s events. “Do you have any more paper in that folder? I might need to take some notes.”
“Sure.” Jessica pulled out several sheets of plain white paper and a pen. “Will this do?”
“Perfect.”
Bradley pushed the loaf of warm bread to the edge of the table and laid the pen and paper in the center of the white tablecloth.
“Here’s what you’re going to need to do. I saw the number of people there today supporting you. It seems like a number of downtown businesses want to take part in this.”
Jessica took a sip of iced tea, then placed the glass back in the corner. “They do. Everyone I’ve talked to has been enthusiastic about the idea.”
“Well, that’s good because everyone is going to have to work together. If you all have small events in your own businesses on the same day at the same time with the same theme, they can’t stop you. There aren’t permits needed for that kind of thing.”
Pulling the paper closer, Bradley began to write down the names of the different stores that could get involved and then matched them with ideas.
“Look here—Café Provident can serve wassail and roasted chestnuts. Bretton’s can host photos with Queen Victoria and Santa Claus and Tiny Tim. Betsy’s Boutique can have a choir singing. The Port Provident T-shirt Company can host a reading of A Christmas Carol. The theatre can perform it a couple of times that day. Do you see what I’m saying? These are all off the top of my head—you’ll probably want to refine them, but if each business hosts something unique, then tourists can walk from one business to the next and get a fulfilling experience.”
Bradley watched Jessica’s eyes scan the notes he’d scribbled on the page.
“But how will they know? How will we make sure everyone gets from place to place?”
“There can be maps and a list in every store. Maybe some kind of card they can get punched for some kind of prize or gift at the end? That will help make sure everyone goes inside of each location.”
Slowly, a smile began to cross Jessica’s face. “So... if we coordinate, we won’t need a permit?”
“Right. You don’t have to ask the city’s permission to hold a sale in your store or to have a special event like a cookbook signing, do you?”
She shook her head. “Well, no.”
"Same thing. A ton of this city’s event permits come to my desk in some form or fashion. I have a defined scope of things that I can approve without going back to City Council. As long as we keep things within those parameters, I'll greenlight other ideas, too."
“You’d do that for me?”
Bradley wanted to say yes, he’d do it for her—that he was doing this all for her—but he couldn’t. She’d made it clear that she didn’t think of him as anything more than a friend, as someone she had a very cordial working relationship with.
It would be wrong of him to do anything that didn’t respect the signals she’d given.
But just as much as he could see the flicker of hope in her eyes as she pieced together the small threads that would come together to revitalize Port Provident’s tradition of a Victorian Christmas, he couldn’t help but wish that just once, he could see that same flicker in her eyes because of him.
Jessica knew she wouldn't sleep much tonight. The longer she and Bradley brainstormed about how to pull off the Victorian Christmas celebration, the more excited she became. This was going to become a reality—and it had the potential to be even better than she'd ever hoped or dreamed.
If she could just get enough momentum to stay afloat until Spring Break, when beach-loving tourists returned to the island, then she might keep Bretton's doors open.
“Do you mind if I make a stop on the way back to dropping you off at your car?”
“After everything you’ve done for me today? Absolutely not. I’m not in a rush—even if I went back to the store, my mind is racing so much I don’t think I could focus on anything. I’d probably start giving people the wrong change back or something.” She gave a dry laugh. “And I really can’t afford that these days. You’re probably doing me a favor by keeping Donna behind the counter instead of me.”
Bradley turned at the stoplight, then drove a few blocks and pulled up in the circle in front of one of the island’s oldest churches, First Central Church of Port Provident—known to locals as First Provident.
“You can come in if you’d like. I just need to drop off a camel harness. You don’t have to wait in the car,” he said.
Jessica’s first instinct was to wave off the invitation. But then she realized she had too much energy flowing through her veins to sit still and alone in the car. Maybe if she walked off a little of this idea-induced adrenaline, she could settle down and get focused.
“Camel harness?” She reached for the door handle.
“This is where I go to church. I’m helping out behind the scenes with the live nativity this year.” Bradley reached out and touched her left hand. “Just stay put. I’ll get that.”
He got out, walked around the front of the truck and opened the door.
“Really, you don’t have to do that. I can get my own door.”
He nodded. “I’m sure you can. You’re a very capable woman who runs her own business. But you shouldn’t have to. My mom’s been in Heaven for fifteen years, but no amount of time will ever erase the sound of her voice in my ear, telling me what behavior was expected of me.”
Jessica placed one foot gingerly on the running board and the other on the concrete below. “My mom’s been gone for two years. Sometimes, I worry that I’m forgetting the sound of her voice in my ear.”
Bradley seemed to hesitate, then lightly squeezed Jessica’s shoulder. Instead of feeling uneasy and trying to duck the friendly gesture, Jessica surprised herself as the corners of her mouth turned up to a small smile.
“I didn’t know your mom had passed away,” she said quietly as they walked up the stairs to the front door of the red brick building with the tall white steeple on top.
"Yeah. She was working New Year's at a restaurant in Houston, and a drunk driver hit her on the way home from her shift. He walked away from the accident with two bruised ribs and a cut on his head that required three stitches. She didn't even make it through the doors of the hospital with a pulse. It changes things. It makes you remember the things they said, especially the ones that didn't seem so important at the time."
Jessica felt a shake inside. "It changes everything. My dad had trouble coping with losing her and said he needed to get away. He turned the store over to me and went to Florida. In the space of three months, it was like I lost them both."
“Have you talked to him about what’s going on at the store?”
Guilt washed over her with the glare of a spotlight finding a target. “No.”
She could barely get the one word out.
“Do you think you should?”
She couldn’t tell him how many times she’d asked herself the same question as she listened to the silence inside of Bretton’s the last month or so. But in the end, she’d always come to the same conclusion.
“It wouldn’t change anything one way or the other. He’s started a new life. I don’t think he wants to be reminded of this old one he’s left behind.”
The sound of her mother’s voice had started to fade with time. But so had the sound of her dad’s. He hadn’t called in months. And Jessica hadn’t picked up the phone, either, because she didn’t know how to start a conversation with someone that had left when she needed him the most.
Bradley cupped her shoulder and gave it one more squeeze. He didn’t say anything—he just let her know he was there. Jessica hadn’t felt like anyone had been there for her the last two years.
She lifted her head and walked into the church, wondering if—like a present—there had been more to Bradley Thorpe than she’d let herself see. She’d considered him a friend for a while now, but had she only seen the wrapping paper and not the substance underneath?
Jessica watched as Bradley walked down the hall to the choir rehearsal room. She didn’t quite see the connection between musical numbers and camels, but it was possible that she was too filled with stress about the store and ideas for the Victorian Christmas to fully appreciate the situation.
As external evidence of all her tossed-up internal feelings, Jessica began to pace near one of the front windows, lost in thoughts of the City Council meeting and the meal with Bradley.
And she also couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d gently reassured her more than once today, when she needed it most.
“Jessica, honey, you’re going to wear a hole in that carpet. Even Hurricane Hope didn’t do that kind of damage in here.”
Jessica turned her head slowly upwards and saw Diana Peoples, Port Provident’s unofficial matriarch. If Diana had been sitting on that City Council dais earlier, she wouldn’t have left Jessica hanging. No one cared more for the people, the history, and the traditions of Port Provident than Diana Peoples.
All of a sudden, Jessica’s feet came to a complete stop.
The thought recycled in her mind. No one cared more for the people, the history, and the traditions of Port Provident than Diana Peoples.
Diana would know what to do.
“I’m sorry, Diana.” Jessica fumbled over the apology as she tried to figure out how to approach the older lady.
“You don’t need to apologize to me, Jessica—or even the floor. I can tell something’s wrong. What’s going on?”
Just like that, Jessica felt a door opening. Diana had asked. Jessica needed to answer honestly and not give some well-meaning platitude, like she usually did. This wasn’t a time for small talk.
Small talk could only lead to small action.
And saving Bretton’s would require big action.
“It’s the store.” Jessica put it directly out there. She knew she needed to say more, but this would give her a start as she searched for the best way to describe things to Diana.
Diana nodded thoughtfully. “Well, it’s almost Christmas. And that should be the best time of the year for Bretton’s, right? Things should come together soon.”
Jessica shook her head and held her breath. She could feel a few wayward tears pricking at her eyes. Diana didn’t see what was going on, either. Perhaps she wouldn’t be able to help Jessica and the other business owners after all.
Diana looked at Jessica with a quizzical expression. “Is something going on?”
“The tourists. They’re not coming. They’re not buying. And the City Council just canceled Santas on the Street for this year. There’s nothing to get people down here to buy. And without customers...” Jessica let out a sigh. “Well, you know what that means.”
This time, Diana’s nod was slow and measured. “I absolutely do. Makes it hard to pay the bills, doesn’t it?”
Relief washed over Jessica like one of Hurricane Hope’s waves. She couldn’t talk to her dad about this, but she could talk to Diana—and that was close enough for now. Diana got it. And Jessica felt the power of that knowledge deep in her bones. If she could convert the formidable Diana Powell Peoples to become an ally for the downtown merchants, then maybe...just maybe...
“It does,” Jessica answered.
Diana jumped in with a question before Jessica could continue. “Is it just your store, or are there others feeling this slow down?”
Now was her chance to advocate for the entire downtown district. “It’s all of us. It’s not that people aren’t buying for Christmas. It’s that they think Port Provident is still shuttered and down because of the hurricane. They’re still celebrating the season and spending their money, but they’re doing it on the mainland and in other places.”
“Didn’t Mayor Ruiz just go on TV in Houston and the other major Texas cities? Wasn’t she talking about how well the recovery is going?”
“Yes, she did. She’s been everywhere the past few weeks,” Jessica acknowledged.
“So maybe just a little more time is what we need?”
Jessica could feel the icicles of fear again. They snaked through her veins every time she thought about closing Bretton’s doors for the last time.
And she thought about that final turn of the key in the lock often.
Too often.
“I wish it was that simple. But I’m hurting. Badly. Café Provident is hurting. The theatre is hurting. It’s everyone in every business type across the board. And with several months of income literally washed away by the hurricane, we just cannot afford a soft holiday season. The news says this will be one of the biggest Christmas buying seasons on record, but we aren’t seeing it. And it’s killing us.”
Diana placed her purse in a nearby wingback chair. “Have you talked to Angela Ruiz? She’s going to be a great mayor. She cares about this city and the recovery. Deeply. I’m so glad she’s leading the way for us now.”
“I spoke at today’s City Council meeting. I laid out some ideas that our group had.”
Jessica saw a light in Diana’s eyes. “Wonderful. What did they say?”
“That we were on our own. There’s no budget to provide city services for anything extra right now.”
“I can understand that.” Diana leaned over and dug in her purse. She pulled out a small notepad and a pen. “But I also understand that the situation you’re describing is just as critical to the long-term health of our city. So, what were your ideas?”
For the second time today, Jessica stated her case. She’d left her notes in Bradley’s truck, but this time, she didn’t need them. Bradley had given her so many ideas and so much inspiration while they dined at Porter’s.
This time, Jessica spoke from the heart. She talked with her hands. She over-explained. She connected the dots.
And when she finished, a smile crested on Diana’s face.
“Is that all?”
Jessica almost felt out of breath. She’d just pulled off a marathon. “Basically.”
“I like it,” Diana said as she closed her notepad. “You know, my dear, I’ve always wanted to be Mrs. Claus. I’m meeting Jake and Gracie and the grandbabies for movie night at their house, so I have to run. But let’s talk more about this soon, okay?”
Jessica felt the line of her eyebrows squish together. She didn’t quite understand where the older woman was going with that. If she was honest, Diana’s initial reaction disappointed Jessica.
She hated to admit it, but she’d been hoping for something like a big check to pull it all together. Not just some ho-ho-hos and an offer to chat more later.
They could definitely find a place for Diana to take part, and just having her involvement would mean something.
But nothing meant more than cold, hard cash.
Talking more later would be too late. She needed some forward motion now.
Something deep and sticky pooled down in Jessica’s belly. Loathing, pure and simple. That was it. It pulled Jessica down.
Moments before, she’d been so excited to share her ideas with Diana.
And now, she felt as though she’d been slapped back down.
She hated this feeling. She hated that instead of seeing Diana for the amazing woman she was, Jessica had chosen to pin her hopes not on Diana the person, but Diana the checkbook.
Jessica had been raised on Christmas. And she’d hoped that A Christmas Carol would be the key to saving her store. But now, all she felt like was Scrooge.
The loss she’d gone through the last two years—culminating in the current struggle after Hurricane Hope—had turned Jessica into someone she didn’t recognize or want to be.
