Memories Under the Mistletoe Read online

  _______

  Liam Marks bi-passed the line of travelers that had formed in front of the information desk at gate fifty-six, his black carry-on strap over his shoulder and his cell in his hand. Everyone was furious that their flight had been delayed for over eight hours, with little to no information being provided to them. They’d been handed their meal tickets and told to wait patiently, as though they were no more than disobedient children. Two hours ago they’d been given another meal ticket and told to wait a little more patiently.

  He’d since run out of patience.

  When he got to the counter he gave a thirty-something woman with a ticket in her hand a smile, then dismissed her and addressed the airline employee, whose nametag read Kevin Art.

  Liam put on his seller’s face. Honey went a long way. He’d save the vinegar for later, if needed. “Kevin, from what I’m seeing on the radar the storm that has been holding us up is just now hitting Aberdeen. How much longer is this flight going to be delayed? It looks like the blizzard is sticking around South Dakota throughout the night. Should I pack up and go home, or is there a chance I’ll be in South Dakota tomorrow?”

  The employee looked down and swallowed. “We’re not exactly sure on the time, sir, but from what I understand, this flight will leave sometime tomorrow morning. Around five. Which means you should be there around eleven. I’m going to make the announcement now.”

  “Thank you,” Liam said, smiling as he made his way back to an empty chair—away from the children swirling around the legs of their parents. The airport was packed with kids. The very young were screaming or munching on high-sugar snacks, and the older kids were all nose-down into their phones.

  This was not how he’d planned the evening to go. Proposing to Mel in front of a family he’d just met was one thing. Proposing to her in front of a family he’d barely said hello to was another. If he’d arrived on Christmas Eve as planned, he would have dished out the presents he’d bought for her brothers and mother, and he’d have shown them that Mel would be making a fantastic choice in marrying him.

  Now he was going to look like a man who did things last minute.

  He slipped out of his double-breasted, European black coat and scarf and draped them over an arm. Might as well head to the first-class accommodations and secure a hotel room for the night. His Mercedes was already in long-term parking and he wasn’t going through the nightmare of going back home for the night, fighting traffic and getting up early to do it all over again.

  It was going to be a long night, but he would be in Pine Grove tomorrow as planned. By the end of the day tomorrow Melanie Edwards would be the future Mrs. Liam Marks.

  Chapter 11

  John made a few half-hearted attempts to get away from the hardware store throughout the past hour, but people had been coming in and out as though the door to the shop had suddenly started revolving and didn’t squeak like it had since the early nineteen eighties. Being that he was the only employee there to hand out candy, his attempts to escape had been in vain. Christmas Eve in Pine Grove had become so popular that even people from surrounding towns had come to join in the fun. From what he could recall, there had never been this many people partaking in Pine Grove’s festivities. Harrison’s Hardware had been jam-packed since four that afternoon. He’d been too busy to do much more than hand out candy and keep up with the door prizes they were giving away.

  Too often he’d caught himself looking across the street through the front windows to catch a glimpse of Mel, just like he’d done when they’d been in high school. Within seconds he’d chastise himself for being an idiot and walk away from the window. Within minutes he’d find his way back—not that he’d caught a glimpse of her. Instead of seeing Mel, all he saw was how much busier the café was than his own business happened to be.

  He glanced at his watch. Only half an hour before members of the City Council would come in and evaluate each business. The winter storm warning had been updated to a blizzard warning, which went into effect in an hour or so. The snow had already begun to fall, but it was light and only added to the Christmas cheer that was currently engulfing Pine Grove.

  In a few more hours people were going to be glad they were home where it was warm. But for now, most of them were at the café across the street. He wished he were one of them.

  The lights flickered, and everyone—him included—glanced up at the ceiling as though it had all the answers. They flickered once more. Someone muttered, “Well, shit.” A few laughs accompanied the words. Then the lights flickered a third time, and everyone knew what was coming.

  The power went out completely a few seconds later. The hardware store turned quiet. Then someone called out, “Damn. The power’s out already and the storm hasn’t hardly begun.”

  A round of grunts and agreements followed. One patron said, “Can’t handle an early-winter blizzard old man?”

  “Can you even afford a generator, son?” was the quip thrown back.

  More ribbing between friends and neighbors followed, and John waited patiently for the lights to come back on before he made the decision to start his generator. Sometimes the power would flicker in the shop just before a storm, but the longer he stood there, the more he figured the power would be out for a while.

  “Everyone hang tight. Let me start ‘er up,” he said, heading to the back of the store.

  Twenty minutes later most of the businesses on Main were also up and running, as one after another window lit up. He’d been watching the café for the past fifteen minutes, waiting to see Sophie’s lights come on. Brian and George had come jogging down the road, disappearing inside the darkened café a few minutes ago. Virtual superheroes to their mother’s rescue. Surely they’d get her generator up and running for her. He told himself over and over again that he wasn’t looking for an excuse to go over there. Sophie had worked hard to win the Christmas Eve plaque this year, and he was going to make sure her lights were on before the city council members made it to her shop, even if he had to go over there himself.

  Hell, even if he had to disconnect his own generator and give it to her.

  This had nothing to do with Mel. Well, not entirely.

  Five minutes later he ushered a few lingering guests out of the shop and locked the door. He had no choice. The Council Members were no doubt starting to judge the businesses. He didn’t know where they’d start, but he wanted to make sure Sophie was up and running before they came into the café.

  He maneuvered around several children, a few leashed dogs, and a handful of parents as he jogged across the street to see what the hang up was with Sophie’s generator. He knew the Espresso Café would win the plaque, because Sophie had put everything she had into her remodel, and had decorated the café beautifully for Christmas, but she might not win if her power was out. A lot of the visual she’d created had to do with the white lights she’d strung throughout the café.

  He eyed the mistletoe—a dreadfully cheerful reminder of a relationship he’d once cherished—that hung above the door, telling himself once again that he wasn’t there just to see Mel. She was in a relationship anyway.

  Hell, she loved the guy, whoever he was.

  Bells chimed on the top of the door to the café when he walked in. A few customers, cups in hand, lingered inside and grumbled about the storm, but the Edward’s clan was nowhere to be seen. Knowing they were in the utility room, he made his way to the back of the café, down the hallway and into the back room. The aroma of coffee beans, cinnamon and chocolate accompanied him. Brian had a flashlight trained on a big, gray breaker box, and George was fiddling with wires while Sophie and Mel looked on.

  A quick glance at Mel revealed that she wore ripped jeans, a tight gray sweater, and a fuzzy white vest. He hadn’t seen her since Saturday, but by the way his pulse had kicked up, you’d think another eight years had gone by. Were all her sweaters tight?

  Her eyes widened for the briefest of seconds when she finally saw him. He could still hear her tellin
g her boyfriend on the phone that she loved him. Best he not forget that—or let that fact wander off too far. He doubted he’d ever forget overhearing that particular sentiment.

  She slowly walked over to him, almost as though she were apprehensive to speak to him. “Who’s watching your store?”

  The rest of her family looked at him then, but he ignored them. “I locked it up.”

  She didn’t say anything for a few beats, only looked at him in question. Finally, she thrust out her hand, palm up. “Give me the keys. I’ll open it back up and keep an eye on it. The city council hasn’t been through to judge yet.”

  Maybe he’d been wrong about her. She wasn’t as changed as he’d originally thought. Wasn’t as selfish or spoiled as he’d once believed. Even so, he didn’t want to get tangled up with her. He knew it’d be a losing battle, and he’d lost the war a long time ago. He wished he knew what it was about her that got under his skin and nestled there like a tick. Because if he knew what it was, he could kill it.

  He cleared his throat. “It’s fine. The plaque means a lot more to your mom than it does me.” He knew Mike would agree. “Let me see what I can do to get her up and running again.”

  Mel stepped back and he politely asked George if he could take a look, all the while feeling Mel’s gaze on his back like a branding iron.

  George shrugged. “I brought in the generator we use out at the house this morning, just in case we’d need it, but it’s not wanting to run. It usually starts right up.”

  John had worked on several generators with his father throughout the years in the back of the store, and now that his father was semi-retired, all the generator work had fallen to John and Mike. Mike hated working on generators, so John was usually the one to pick up the slack. “I’ll get it running. I’ve been working on these for a while now. It’s just outside the door, correct?”

  George nodded. “We moved the trash bins and put the generator inside that enclosure, to keep the snow from building up on it. It’s well ventilated.”

  True to his word, he had the generator running in less than ten minutes. Perfect timing, since the lights hadn’t been on for more than thirty seconds when Becky Granger and Bob Riley from the city council shouldered through the door, bringing with them several large flakes of snow.

  John made his way toward the front door, a wave in Sophie’s direction. Sophie walked up to him and tugged on his sweater until he bent down toward her. She kissed his cheek.

  “You just scored a pot full of chili all to yourself and all the cornbread you can eat.”

  Sophie reminded him of his mother, in that all she wanted to do was feed him. “You don’t owe me anything,” he said. And he meant it. Her family had given him more than he could ever repay. They were more like family than friends, something he thought might have changed when Mel left. It hadn’t.

  “I do, and you’re not going to deny my food again,” she insisted.

  He nodded at Sophie, but didn’t have any real plans on going over to her place until Mel was gone. “Good luck,” he said, referring to the plaque. “Not that you’ll need it.”

  She thanked him again, and then went back to seeing to her customers. He looked around the café as though for the first time, wondering if the judges had seen the café recently. He was sure they had, and just as certain that they were aware of how much time and effort Sophie put into her café this Christmas.

  All the decorative lights were on, though Sophie hadn’t turned on the overhead lights, which allowed the Christmas lights on the tree and above the fireplace to give the coffee shop a soft, white glow. The candles along the fireplace ledge were lit and he could see that the judge’s gazes were drawn straight to them.

  John glanced out the window, back at his own business, and all the families gathered together on the sidewalk. The siren from the firetruck sounded in the distance, causing all the children along a snowy Main Street to run to the very edge of the sidewalk and look down the road.

  The sight reminded him that he had to remember to give Ben his presents when he arrived. It’d be after Christmas, but he doubted Ben would mind.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee while you’re here? Obviously on the house since you’re the reason we can serve coffee.”

  Mel’s voice broke through his melancholy thoughts. He hadn’t heard her approach. He wanted to ask Mel if they’d be sitting at their usual booth if he took her up on the coffee, but he bit down the response. Their old booth was long gone, and she’d likely just hand him his coffee and go to help her mother. “Thanks, but we have coffee on over at our store.”

  She smiled without showing teeth and then looked back at where her mother was serving drinks. “Anything like ours?”

  Not even close. “It’s not bad.”

  Silence stretched between them. The type of silence that made people start to jabber just to end the awkward, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk. Wasn’t in the mood to do much more than head back home.

  “I have to pay for that jacket anyway,” she said, clearly not giving up. “A cup of coffee might not—"

  He shook his head and held up his hand, interrupting her. “I already told you, the jacket is on me.”

  “John, listen, I’m sorry,” she said, cutting through the bullshit small talk.

  This was not a conversation he wanted to have. He could literally see Mel’s muscles tense as she worked up to what she was about to say, and he barely stopped himself from telling her it wasn’t needed. Because it really wasn’t. There wasn’t anything to apologize for, unless she was going to say she was sorry for dumping on him all those years ago.

  But even so, she’d merely gone to college and they’d grown apart. Like she’d said so often. Apparently she believed that version, so he’d allow her to have it.

  She certainly didn’t need to apologize for telling her boyfriend that she loved him. “It’s fine, Mel. You take care of yourself.” He wasn’t even sure why she felt the conversation was needed. Then again, the way he’d left on Saturday spoke volumes. “I’ll see you around.”

  Translation: Maybe after another five years or so.

  Perhaps then he’d have grown a pair and wouldn’t be so dramatic about what they had once shared.

  _______

  Mel jogged up the steps to her room, taking two at a time. It was strange how quiet the house was after the cacophony of noise from earlier. Her brothers had just left after celebrating their mom’s Christmas Eve win, and that’s when Mel decided to settle down and get her blog article posted. Only two more articles to go and she wasn’t sure that what she was sharing about small town life was breaking the door down to that new office she wanted. If she didn’t deliver, Cindy wasn’t going to be in a position to offer her a promotion. Friend or not, Cindy didn’t own the company.

  She used her cell to light up her room, since the generator only ran so many things in the house. When she did find her laptop, she’d have to go to the kitchen to post her article.

  There was nothing quite like sitting down to write during a storm, nestling under a blanket while watching the snowflakes stick to the window, a nice hot cup of hot chocolate next to the laptop. She’d taken several pictures of kids with Santa this evening, and with the snow falling as a backdrop, the pictures had turned out beautiful. She had to post about Christmas Eve tonight, and follow it right up with Christmas morning.

  She had no clue what she was going to come up with for Christmas morning, but it had to be something that would top the Main Street festivities. She figured she’d go with something sentimental. Just a family getting together on a cold, South Dakota morning. Coffee, presents…the works. Something akin to a sappy Folger’s commercial. The article might not get her that corner office, but she couldn’t magically make a man appear to propose to her. She’d just have to come up with something else.

  If she could just figure out where her mom put her laptop.

  She ransacked her bedroom and checked her mom’s room as well. Her lapt
op was nowhere to be found.

  She headed back downstairs, frustration level high and caffeine level low, despite ironically having worked in a café all evening. She’d been too busy handing out coffee and treats to everyone else to partake in the festivities. Not to mention wiping tables, keeping the front entrance from being slippery due to all the snow everyone had been tracking in, and keeping a watch on Harrison Hardware because she was an idiot.

  She’d invited John to have a cup of coffee with her, but he’d refused. And he’d refused in such a way that he’d been letting her know that their lives were separate and needed to stay that way. She honestly felt as though that chapter was finally closed. He wanted nothing to do with her, and though it hurt, she knew there was absolutely no future to be had for the two of them. What they’d shared all those years ago hadn’t just faded. It had finally died—just about in the same place where it had begun—under the mistletoe that hung just outside the door of the café.

  “Hey mom,” Mel called out. She found her mother sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee in hand, staring out the window. “Where did you put my laptop?”

  Her mom, who’d been smiling ever since the city council had awarded her a plaque, frowned. That was Mel’s first clue. “You grabbed your laptop. I saw you.”

  Mel had no idea what she was talking about. “No. I only sat at your desk to write the article and upload my pictures to edit them later because I was afraid the generator might stop running. My camera was connected to the laptop. I didn’t touch my laptop after that. You said you’d put it next to your purse so we wouldn’t forget it, and that’s where I found it to upload the pictures, but that’s where I left it when I was done. I started to help you clean up.”

  Her mother’s facial expression said it all. “Oh shit.”

  That was Mel’s second clue. Her mother rarely cursed. “It’s at the café, isn’t it?”