Christmas Dreams and Santa Schemes Read online

  “Look, I’ll show you.” After all, he was in training. She neatly cracked open an egg. Letting the yolk slide from one shell to the other, Sarah watched the clear egg white drip into the bowl. “Now, you have to be careful. If you get one speck of yolk into the whites, they won’t whip up nice and firm.” Finished, she dropped the yolk into the second bowl and set the shells aside. “Your turn.”

  Looking as if he were diffusing a bomb, Ryan picked up an egg. Sarah stepped back. Hovering might make him nervous. Forehead furrowed, he tapped the egg lightly on the edge of the bowl. Nothing happened.

  “Harder.” She reached for the egg.

  One look from Ryan and she froze. “I’ve got this, Sarah.”

  She fell back. When he cracked the egg, she cheered. Maybe she overdid it.

  “Is that really necessary?” Sweat beaded on his forehead.

  “You’re doing great.” She zipped her lips. He was still staring at her. “What? What are you looking at?”

  Reaching out, he brushed her forehead softly. She felt that touch clear to her toes. “You’ve got flour in your hair.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” She gave her head a soft shake. The radio played. Ryan cracked eggs. And Sarah wondered what was happening to her.

  Just as they were finishing up, her mother popped her head in. “Everything fine back here?” Looking from Sarah to Ryan, Lila gave a perky smile.

  “Yep,” Sarah said over her shoulder. “Ryan’s doing great.”

  “Oh, goody. The chocolate chip cookies were just snapped up by Cole Campbell. He’s taking them over to the PR office for Mercedes and Kate.”

  “I wonder if Kate brings that baby to work with her.” Her friend Kate had given birth to a little boy at the end of August.

  “I guess so,” her mother said. “Isn’t she nursing?”

  With that, Ryan wandered back to the ovens.

  “Yes, I think she mentioned that. She has a La Leche woman helping her, although I told her to call me any time, especially if she, you know, leaks.” Sarah directed her attention to Ryan. “Come back here, you. We have work to do.”

  Hands on hips, he looked exasperated. “Are you two finished talking about, you know, babies and stuff?”

  “Time for me to leave.” With a girlish giggle, her mother swirled back to the front.

  Sarah turned back to Ryan. They whipped the egg whites. Then, scooping out a spoonful of dough, she rolled it into a ball. “Want to try?”

  But she held back a laugh, watching him grab a bit of dough the size of a dime. “Bigger, Ryan. They should all be the same size.”

  He scooped up a larger lump. “Better, Mom?”

  “Fine.” Their pace picked up. After rolling all the balls in egg whites and then the pecans, they arranged them on the baking sheets lined with parchment paper. Ryan had preset the temperature and he slid the cookies into the oven.

  “So did I pass?” Easing out a breath, he looked relieved––like he’d deactivated that bomb and saved the city.

  “We’ll know when we taste them. They’re buttery and melt-in-your-mouth delicious. I love orange marmalade in the middle but... well, some people prefer strawberry.” Her voice trailed off and her eyes fluttered open.

  “Jamie.” Her brother-in-law’s face emptied. “He always spread strawberry jam on his toast.”

  “He did like strawberry.” She bit her bottom lip and, darn it, her eyes filled.

  Before she knew it, Ryan was hugging her. “It’s okay, Sarah. I miss him too.”

  “I know you do.” She let her head fall upon his chest. For a second she lost herself in the comfort of a shared loss. Beneath her cheek, his heart beat, steady and strong.

  But what was she doing? Pushing away, she straightened her apron. Arms falling to his sides, Ryan looked a little stunned himself. “Time to clean up.”

  “Right.” He ran his hands down his apron.

  She whisked the bowl to the sink while Ryan sponged off the counter.

  Sarah didn’t know her brother-in-law that well until Jamie went overseas. Two years behind them in school, Ryan had been the boy who tagged along. Unlike Jamie, he never did that well with his studies. Instead, he drove their parents crazy with his stunts. The motorcycle accident wasn’t a surprise. Jamie had warned him plenty of times about driving over the speed limit without a helmet.

  Although their mother came from Chicago during Ryan’s hospitalization, she was in a new marriage and didn’t seem to know what to do. When Ryan was out of danger and on the mend, she left. Sarah had no idea if they’d talked since then.

  After Jamie left for Afghanistan, Ryan would show up at The Full Cup or give her a casual call, saying he had something for the boys. The motorcycle accident left him on crutches for a while. She’d invite him for dinner or drop off food at his apartment. But he’d become moody and withdrawn.

  “So, gone on any interesting dates lately?” she asked when he was carrying the last pan to the ovens. Stumbling, Ryan caught himself in time to save the thimbles.

  “Dates?” Disbelief lifted his voice. Opening the oven, he slid the pan in and then slammed the door shut.

  “You know. You pick up the girl and take her to a movie or out for a meal.”

  The set of his lips told her she was pushing things. “What about you? I don't see you dating.”

  Sarah didn’t expect that. Her heart squeezed tight while the radio played “Jingle Bells.” “I just couldn't,” she whispered.

  Ryan’s handsome features folded. “I’m sorry, Sarah. That was a stupid thing to say.”

  “That’s okay, really. I had no right to pry into your private life.” Since when had she become his dating service?

  “Okay if I leave now?” Already stripping off his apron, Ryan glanced up at the clock.

  He wanted to escape. Who could blame him? “Sure. No problem.” She felt relieved when the door closed behind him.

  Alone in the workroom, Sarah cleaned the bowls and the beaters. When the last batch of thimbles was turning golden, she took them out and dabbed them with preserves––first orange, then strawberry. She’d show Ryan how to do this too. Her mother stuck her head through the swinging door. “Okay if I take a long lunch hour?”

  “Sure. No problem.” Looked like everyone was cutting out on her. Usually they ate back here together. She enjoyed those cozy, quiet times.

  Her mother glanced around. “Ryan gone already?”

  “Yes. He left. Didn’t even stay to taste a thimble.” If her mother took a long lunch hour, Sarah would have to work the front. Maybe the break would be good for her.

  Mom left. Sarah took the last pan of cookies from the oven. Going to the front window of the shop, she watched the snow sift over the street. Only a few cars were parked diagonally in front of the shops. After all, it was December, always a slow time. After a hectic summer that had brought love to Lindsay, who had become a close friend, and a beautiful baby boy for Kate Campbell, Sarah should feel happier.

  But she didn’t expect to feel happy ever again.

  The list of Christmas chores played in her head as she stared out at Whittaker Street. She felt so far behind. The boys wanted a train set for Christmas––at least, she thought they did. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken them to Tom’s Train Store that Saturday after Thanksgiving. But the blinking lights in the window had been hard to ignore. The trains were set up in a separate room, chugging through tunnels, stopping at train stations and tooting at toy people along the way. Miniature trees and houses completed the display. What boy wouldn’t want this?

  Nathan and Justin had pressed their faces to the glass, transfixed by the magical miniature train whirring around the track. But the train was expensive, from the tiny train station to the coal shoot that loaded the car. They must have stayed there at least an hour. What was the harm in dreaming? She had so little to offer this Christmas. Somehow she had to make their Christmas dreams come true.

  She was arranging the cheese crowns, brownies and pecan rol
ls when Mercedes Wheeler passed the front window. Head bent into the wind, she struggled to hold down her blonde hair whipping about the collar of a stylish black cape. No doubt those gloves were real leather. Her years in New York had made Mercedes a fashion plate, although she’d been like that in high school.

  The bell above the door jingled as Mercedes swirled inside, bringing a cold blast of air with her. “Wow. It’s freezing out there. And this snow!” With a stamp of her high-heeled boots, she shook off the snow before stepping onto the tile floor.

  “Think of it as holiday cheer. We're just beginning the season.”

  “Don't remind me.” Studying the case, Mercedes pointed. “Cheese crown, please. I need my sugar fix.”

  Grabbing one of her white bakery bags, Sarah slid out the tray and chose a plump pastry loaded with almond frosting. “So how does it feel to be an aunt?”

  “Oh, I just love that little guy. Quinn is perfect. I think my sister comes in just to show him off.” Mercedes handed Sarah her gold credit card.

  “Did Kate enjoy the chocolate chip cookies Cole picked up earlier?”

  “Trust me, we devoured them.”

  “Wait. You can be my taste tester.” Only took a minute to dash back and pop three thimbles into a bag. Returning, she handed the bag to Mercedes. “Ryan made these.”

  “Oh, he did, did he?”

  Her friend’s sly look made Sarah’s face flush. “He’s helping us this year.”

  Mercedes propped an elbow on the high counter. “That boy is seriously hot.”

  Sarah’s cheeks felt as if she were standing in front of an open oven. “Please. He’s Jamie’s little brother.”

  With a glint in her eye, her friend said, “Well, I got news, missy. He’s all grown up.”

  Sarah waved her away. “Take your cookies and go.”

  “Does this mean another two hundred calories?” Mercedes moaned, marching to the door.

  “Better you than me.” They both laughed.

  After Mercedes had scurried back out into the snow, Sarah decided to bring her lunch out front. Sitting at one of the glass topped tables at the window, she opened her ham and cheese sandwich. The snow was picking up. She would have to shovel their little patch of sidewalk. No one would be coming in now and her spirits plummeted.

  But maybe she was wrong. A car that looked like her mother's blue Chevy pulled up into one of the spots out front. A blonde stepped out. The wind caught her red paisley headscarf, but she wasn’t giving it up.

  Time for some fresh coffee and Sarah went back to fill the pot with water. Grabbing a warm thimble, she returned and set the pot to perking. She’d just bitten through the nutty layer of the soft, warm cookie when the door opened. There stood the blonde. Realization turned the thimble to a lump in her throat. Sarah had a hard time swallowing.

  “Mom. What have you done to your hair?”

  Chapter 3

  Sarah’s mother fluffed her pert new hairdo. Gone were the frizzy white curls pinned back with a headband. A sleek blonde wave hung to her mother’s chin. “What do you think?”

  Sarah struggled to find the right words. “Gosh, Mom. I hardly recognized you.”

  Her smile slipping, Mom tucked the scarf in her pocket. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  Now she’d made her feel bad. “Forget what I said. You look great, Mom.”

  “I just thought, after seeing Lindsay's mother at the wedding, that her blonde hair looked so pretty. You know, so young.” The last bit was delivered in a whisper.

  “So you’ve been thinking about this for a while?”

  Her mother nodded. Sarah had to agree. Rose Wheeler, Lindsay’s mom, had been blonde for ages. She did look about ten years younger than Lila. Well, not anymore.

  Slipping off her heavy gray coat, her mother looked pleased. “I just thought I’d give myself an early Christmas present.”

  “You look more like my sister than my mother.”

  “Oh, nonsense.” Her mother couldn’t stop smiling. “Phoebe said to say hello.”

  “Oh she did, did she?” A member of Sarah’s book group, Phoebe owned and operated Gull Harbor’s hair salon.

  “Guess I’ll hang up my coat.” And her mother whirled through the swinging half door, humming some Christmas tune.

  Had Sarah been too busy starting up her babysitting co-op that she’d missed a change in her mother? Almost thirty, Sarah viewed sixty as mature but not old. Her mother was pretty and still relatively young.

  Tying her apron strings, Mom reappeared and peered into the case. “How did your thimbles turn out? You know, the ones you made with Ryan?” Did she give Ryan’s name a mischievous uptick?

  “Delicious. I could eat all of them. But I won't.” Her words were a promise to herself. She was going to fit into her red Christmas dress if it killed her. After all, that dress was tradition. She’d had it since high school, but every year she had to let out the seams out a little more.

  “The thimbles look so yummy. I have to try them.” With that, her mother reached into the case. One little bite had Mom closing her eyes in ecstasy. “These are perfect, sweetheart. So soft and buttery. Maybe Ryan would make a good pastry chef.”

  “Oh, I don’t think cookies are his thing.” Resting her chin on one hand, Sarah peered out the window. The lake wind caught the falling snow, shaping ghostlike figures and mini-drifts. “If this blasted snow keeps up, we'll be lucky to sell these today. No one goes out in this kind of weather.”

  Her mother stopped chewing. “Maybe I should take some to the library.”

  Sarah wheeled around. “What? With all this snow?”

  Granted, her mother did visit the library every other week. Mildred Wentworth, the head librarian, set new romances aside for her. Of course, that was before Mom’s recent interest in ancient history.

  “You might get stuck.” Sarah didn’t want to have to dig Mom’s car out of a snow drift. The fact that she’d made it back from Phoebe’s salon was amazing...and scary.

  “Oh, for goodness sakes. It’s just up the highway.” Averting her eyes, her mother took another bite. “In weather like this, people like to read. Why not hand out cookie samples?”

  With that her mother began to put together one of their white bakery boxes. Then she scooped fresh cookies from the tray. “After all, it's the season to share.”

  Sarah moaned. “Good grief, Mom. I haven't even started my Christmas shopping.”

  “No worries,” her mother practically sang out. “We have lots of time. Besides, Christmas isn’t about presents. It’s about people.” By this time her mother was back in her coat. She didn’t even bother to take off her apron. Shaking out the paisley headscarf, she wrapped it carefully around her new hairdo.

  In the past Sarah's mother had been terrified of driving in snow. All that seemed to be a thing of the past. Box in hand she disappeared through the front door, the bell giving a final jingle as she pulled the door shut. Ten seconds later her old Chevy rumbled as she backed out, leaving Sarah at the window.

  In the summer, tourists often made The Full Cup their first stop. The women in Sarah's book group visited regularly for cheese crowns and ganache brownies. But today? The only movement on the street was the blowing snow.

  Everything was quiet. Too quiet for her.

  Time to get to work.

  Bustling into the back area, she went to her corner desk and grabbed the recipe binder. The Mexican hot chocolate cookies had been a big success last summer, and she’d ordered a Christmas bell stamp to add a festive touch. Just as she finished mixing the ingredients, her mother returned.

  “Your cheeks are as red as my strawberry jam,” Sarah said with a laugh. “So what did Mildred think of the thimbles?”

  Mom was studying her new hairdo in the mirror next to the bathroom door. Sarah watched with fascination. Lila had never been one to fuss over herself. “Oh, Mildred isn't there.”

  “Really? Is she sick?”

  “Didn't I tell you?�
� One more pat of approval for the hair. “She took the month off to visit her daughter for the holidays.”

  “So who's running the place?” Sarah couldn’t picture that desk without Mildred’s smiling face.

  “A substitute.” Drifting over to the table, Mom picked up the cocoa and began reading the label. “So, what are you making now?”

  “Mexican hot chocolate cookies. Remember how they sold last summer?”

  But her mother didn’t seem to be paying attention. Hugging the cocoa tin to her chest, she wore a soft smile.

  “After I get these going, I thought I'd get things set up for Ryan.”

  The name snapped Mom from her haze. “So he’s coming back?”

  “Yes.” They’d gone over all together just last week. “Ryan’s working on bread at night and cookies in the morning.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to have Ryan all day?”

  Having Ryan all day. A knot the size of a cheese crown formed in Sarah’s throat.

  “I needed someone at night,” she finally choked out. Well, there it was again. That huge pastry. She cleared her throat. “To handle the bread, you know, since I’m busy with the boys. And you were....” Getting older. But she decided not to add that.

  “Of course, dear.” Her mother began to leaf through the blue binder. “Spritz, chocolate pecan bark, sand tarts. You two will have a great time. Is Ryan happy helping with the Christmas cookies?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. You should have seen him separating the eggs for the thimbles.” She smiled, remembering.

  Her mother stepped to over to the radio and turned up the dial. “I’ll be Home for Christmas” was playing. Bing Crosby’s soothing voice filled the room. The bell jingled out front and her mother rushed to wait on a customer. Thank goodness someone had come in despite the snow.

  Maybe Sarah would save the hot chocolate cookies for tomorrow. It might be fun to watch Ryan work the stamp. Instead, she busied herself with cinnamon rolls. Inhaling the cloves and cinnamon lifted her spirits. Before long, the snow stopped and the scratchy sound of the snow plows came down the street. Good, the streets would be salted by the time she left to pick up the boys.