Chapter One

“Santa’s not coming this year?”

A high-pitched voice reverberated against Candy’s eardrums. She glanced down at the little girl gripping her pant leg, tears streaming down the child’s rosy pink cheeks.

Mindy Gower’s cry caught the attention of the other children in Cane’s Chocolate Shop. They all stared up at Candy, eyes flooding and bottom lips trembling. The exception was little Ralphie Schuller, sucking loudly on a chocolate Santa lollipop.

Candy knelt on one knee, at eye level with Mindy. She wiped the tears from the little girl’s cheeks and tucked a blonde ringlet behind her ear. “Of course, Santa is coming.”

“But Virginia said Santa’s sick and couldn’t come. I heard her.”

Candy glared at Virginia, reprimanding her assistant with a scowl.

“I’m sorry,” Virginia mouthed.

Candy glanced past the fudge stand. Mindy’s mother was at the front of the shop, eyeing the chocolate sampler tray. Mary Gower popped a caramel bomb in her mouth and turned to the group of children huddled near the counter with Candy and Virginia.

Candy held up a hand and then pointed at the children, hoping to convey she had the situation well under control. Candy smiled at Mindy. “It’s true, honey. Santa isn’t feeling well today, but he’ll be here tomorrow.”

Mindy squinted. “Santa’s not coming today?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“But why?” the little girl whined.

“He’s a bit under the weather. Santa’s going to get lots of rest and he promised to be here tomorrow.”

The sobs and whimpers ceased. Candy gathered the children and ushered them to the back corner for story time.

Steve leaned against the red velour chair, a tray of juice packs balanced in one hand, a storybook in the other. “Who wants to hear about two mice who braved a snowstorm to be home in time for Christmas?”

The children cheered and settled on the mats by the oversized chair, lifting their expectant faces.

Candy showed Steve a ‘thumbs up’ before returning to the front cash counter. “That was close,” she whispered to Virginia, and smiled at the moms seated at the table across the room.

Every story time was the same. Each day the mothers would show up at eleven with their children, relax with a cup of complimentary coffee, and enjoy the snacks on the treat tray. Candy wasn’t sure if the mothers came more for their kid’s enjoyment or their own. For a whole hour they could share quilting tips or trade the town’s latest gossip.

“I’m so sorry,” Virginia said. “I had no idea Mindy was standing behind us.”

“We got lucky this time. Let’s be more careful in the future.” Candy checked the register for the morning sales receipts.

“Um...you told them Santa would be here tomorrow.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Candy grimaced.

Andrew Bailey, Candy’s friend-slash-boyfriend, had played Santa the past four years, filling the role after Candy’s father retired. But Andrew had phoned earlier, whispering his apologies. A bad case of laryngitis would hinder his role for possibly the next few days.

“So what should we do? Who else can we get?” Virginia drummed her nails on the counter.

“I don’t know.” Candy shook her head. Andrew’s sister, Chloe, covered for him at the restaurant when he portrayed Santa. “Christmas is a busy time for everyone in town and most of them are already under-staffed. One of the fire fighters would happily volunteer, but they are stretched thin as well with a few guys leaving to go out west.”

“What about Steve? He’d love to play Santa.”

“The children would recognize him straight away.” A lock of chocolate brown hair slipped from Candy’s ponytail and she tucked the wayward coil behind her ear. “This town has seen far too many hardships. I will not let the children lose Santa, too.” She walked past Virginia toward the baking room, and then paused, looking over her shoulder at her friend. “Santa will be here tomorrow,” she whispered. “Even if I have to wear that red suit myself.”

Candy closed the door behind her and removed the chocolate caramel moulds and lollipop sticks from the fridge. She brought them to her workstation, turned and opened the stock cupboard. She selected red polka dot bags for the caramels and holly leaf-patterned bags for the lollipop sticks. With her supplies spread across the worktable, Candy slipped on her rubber gloves and packaged the goodies.

Christmas was the busiest holiday for Cane’s Chocolate Shop and this year’s Christmas profits needed to be the best yet. If sales plummeted any farther, a no-show Santa wouldn’t be her only problem. She’d already spent the morning discussing...no, arguing her options with the bank.

Candy sealed the ties on the lollipop sticks and placed them on the shelf with the other packaged candy. She boxed the chocolate truffles Mrs. Potter had ordered, and decorated the jar filled with chocolate pretzel rods for Mr. Marley. The next task: slice last night’s fudge, starting with rocky road and vanilla nut.

Each morning, Candy awoke at six to help long-time family friends, Violet and Sam Cartwright, prepare breakfast at Redford Falls Inn. As a teen, between classes at school, Candy had helped out at the inn almost as much as she had at the chocolate shop.

Once breakfast at the inn was prepared, she headed to the shop to package the treats she’d baked the previous night. During Virginia’s lunch break, Candy covered the register and inventoried the shelves. If time allowed before dinner, she usually whipped up a few more treats before the store closed, then headed back to the inn to assist with the evening meal. The inn only had few vacationing couples this holiday season, which allowed Candy to return to the chocolate shop before the day grew too late.

In the evenings, she’d bake up a storm of fudge, cakes, lollipops, cocoa balls, truffles, or whatever inventory the store needed. Whenever she removed one tray from the large convection oven, she inserted another. And while those cooled, Candy would decorate the first batch of chocolate goodies with sprinkles, flavoured drizzle, or a dusting of sugar. Her nights were usually late, not returning to the inn until after eleven, or even midnight if she was prepping for a holiday.

With shopping for supplies and the business paperwork as well, she rarely found a free moment to call her own. But Candy loved her job and she wouldn’t change a thing.

She’d been running the family business ever since her father retired four years ago. He used to bake in their small kitchen, and every evening when Candy arrived home from the inn she helped her father add ingredients, stir, remove hot pans from the oven, and decorate their creations. Over the years, he shared all his recipes and taught her his secrets. And, as time passed, she added many of her own special touches.

Three years earlier, when the jewellery store next door closed, Candy recognized the business opportunity. No more baking from her parents’ tiny kitchen. Most of her savings went into buying the property and hiring a construction crew to build an adjoining entry and professional kitchen.

Business had been good, especially during winter when the ski lift was open. But when the area required extensive renovations, the owners sold the land to the bank and left town. Several small businesses owners followed. Redford Falls and the surrounding towns suffered. Tourism took a nosedive. More and more people abandoned the small town charm and serenity for big city noise and distractions. The population of Redford Falls dwindled. Kids left as soon as they graduated from high school to seek their fortunes elsewhere.

In the beginning Candy ran the shop alone, but baking while tending the front counter resulted in burnt chocolate, which was not an appealing aroma for the customers. She hired Virginia Dakin to help with the front desk and then, after devising a way to hopefully secure a stream of regular customers, she hired Steve Welch to assist with packaging and taking orders, as well as the perfect story teller. Candy’s plan worked. The children left the book corner with a bag of free goodies, but not before their mothers generally purchased their favourite selection from the sampler tray.

Candy knew she’d got lucky. Her employees went above and beyond the call of duty. While she ran back and forth between the shop and the inn, they arrived early, rarely took breaks, and stayed late, all without ever having to be asked.

Things ran smoothly for months until Candy’s brother, who also happened to be the bank manager, started with subtle warnings. With two property mortgages and sales at an all-time low, Colin’s warnings soon became demands. His advice that morning? Lay Steve off and reduce Virginia’s hours to part-time. Candy couldn’t do that to them. Steve had moved from the city to care for his ailing grandmother, and Virginia’s husband had recently been laid off from his construction job. With two children to care for, they needed Virginia’s full-time income. Screw Colin for suggesting she get rid of her employees!

Candy stopped cutting fudge and propped her elbows on the table, dropping her head into her hands. Staff reduction was not an option. But what if she had no other choice? Her heart weighed heavy in her chest. If she could just make enough to cover the winter expenses, Christmas sales might get her through the worst. But then what?

Candy stood straight, sighed and picked up the knife. She had plenty of time to worry about that after the holiday. Right now, she had to find a Santa.

****

Jackson Frost’s stomach pulled into a tight, winding knot. He didn’t suffer from anxiety, so what was with the cold sweats? Maybe exhaustion was setting in after the eight hour flight from Victoria, British Columbia to Halifax, Nova Scotia and then driving for an hour and a half in the rental car he picked up at the airport.

He drove along the recently ploughed highway, tipping his head side-to-side to relieve the tension in his neck. He left the highway, turning onto the exit ramp toward Redford Falls, and his stomach lurched again. What’s wrong with me?

The week before Christmas usually meant warm climates, partying with friends, surfing the high waves, and lounging by the pool with beautiful women. His latest business venture would make him millions. So much, he should be having the time of his life. But instead, he had been driving through frequent snow squalls on his way to Redford Falls, which was a small town two hours from Halifax.

It had been ten years since he’d last seen Redford Falls. A fight with his father and they hadn’t spoken since. Nor any communication with his younger brother, now with a wife and three children: a five-year-old niece and twin three-year-old nephews Jackson had yet to meet. The only family contact had been through his mother, and those conversations were few and far between.

Confronting them after all these years would be stressful, even though Jackson longed to be greeted with open arms. Isn’t that how families were supposed to work? Forgive and forget? Well, so what if they didn’t? He’d done just fine on his own the past ten years. Besides, Jackson planned to turn around and leave town before anyone noticed his return.

The real joke was how this whole journey to Redford Falls had nothing to do with family drama. No, family wasn’t the reason for his return. She was.

He gripped the wheel, his knuckles white. The muscles in his neck pinched and pulled tight. Every sensible part of his brain told him to turn the car around, to get on that flight to paradise. He could always come back in the spring when the weather wasn’t so bitterly cold and miserable. He briefly closed his eyes, considering the option. A second later his focus returned, but it was a second too late as a rabbit darted onto the snow-packed road in front of him. Jackson jerked the wheel to the right, to the left, and back to the right, before the front end of the car slipped into snow covered bushes on the side of the road. Whoa! He jammed the gear-shift into Park as the rabbit stopped to glance at the car and then continued his hop across the road and into the woods. What the heck? If Jackson didn’t know better, he would have sworn that rabbit just smirked at him. Could he be the infamous Thumper? “Nah.” The old tale of the legendary fur ball was just that…a fictional character the elderly people in town told stories about.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and pounded his fist on the dash. Nine months he’d spent putting together the business deal of his career. A contract that stood to make him more money than he ever imagined. Now everything hinged on one woman and a piece of paper.

He slipped his hand inside his breast pocket, pulled out the document, and unfolded it along the dash. The words seemed straightforward, and his lawyer had confirmed the authenticity.

The windshield wipers swished, smearing streaks of moisture and clearing white flakes off the window. He lifted his head and searched the snow-masked landscape. If he didn’t move soon he’d be stuck. Jackson shifted the car into Reverse and willed the tires to grip, smiling when they did. He backed away from bushes and pulled onto the road, double-checking to make sure Thumper was no longer in sight. The rabbit’s fable of imminent love to those who were lucky enough to spot him was rubbish. That rabbit was just as much as a nuisance as this return trip home. Jackson tucked the document back into his pocket. Driving would require his complete focus. The stress and anxiety wearing his muscles, and thoughts, would be gone soon enough.

Twenty minutes later, Jackson slid the sedan into a parking spot in front of the chocolate shop. A walnut sign in the shape of a chocolate bar hung above the door. He flipped up the collar of his coat and stepped onto the pavement. The snow had eased to a dusting, but a north wind stung his bare face. He tucked his chin deeper into his coat collar and shoved his hands in his pockets.

As Jackson entered, a woman with shoulder-length blonde hair flipped the sign in the window. “We’re closing soon, but feel free to browse, and if you see anything you like, let me know.”

Jackson definitely saw something he liked. However, the gold wedding band on her finger derailed his wandering thoughts. “Thank you.” He raked his gaze around the store. “I’m actually looking for Candice Cane. If memory serves, she used to practically live here.”

The cute woman blushed. “She’s in the kitchen. I’ll get her.”

He brushed the snowflakes from his shoulders and flipped his collar down, watching her walk about halfway down the aisle and disappeared into a room. A tall, slender woman stepped out. She wiped a brown substance off her hands onto a red and green striped apron. Her smile evaporated the minute her eyes landed on him.

Jackson stepped back. This wasn’t the girl he remembered. That young girl had short, brown hair and wore large glasses that slipped down her nose. Ordinary would have best described that girl. But this girl…this woman who stood before him was far from a plain Jane. He soaked in her long, chocolate brown hair, the cobalt blue eyes, sleek nose, and her pink full lips. The dirty apron pulled tight around her slender waist highlighted the cleavage peeking from her V-neck top and a set of long legs that went on for miles.

The sight of her took his breath away.

The knot in his stomach twisted. Jackson sputtered and choked. “Candice Cane.”

“Well, if it isn’t Jackson Frost.” She eyed the length of him, one hand resting on her hip. “What on earth brings you back home?”