“How’s business so far?” Linc asked as we started eating.
“It’s okay.”
“Just okay?” He raised a brow.
“There’s competition. A cool food specialty store that’s like something you’d see in a bigger city. It’s called What Did You Expect?” Bella seemed a little too excited about the store that was trying to put Smith’s out of business.
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“Thank you.” I nodded at Chase. “It’s not good. Epperly isn’t big enough for two specialty stores.”
“But Kael is so nice.” Bella continued to play devil’s advocate.
“Kael?” Chase frowned.
“Yes. He’s the owner. He was actually here this morning. You would have met him had you not been sleeping in forever. He cleared the driveway. And he does all kinds of nice stuff for people. I’m pretty sure he and Amber are a thing.” Bella and her rumors.
I hoped they were rumors.
“Are you sure about that?” I asked as casually as I could while focusing on my green bean casserole, stabbing at it with a little more force than was necessary.
“Amber seems to think so.”
“How old is this dude?” Linc asked.
“Thirty,” my expert daughter answered right away.
“And Amber is what … nineteen?” Linc continued.
“She’s twenty.”
“Ten years. Wow. He’s preying on the young ones.”
Bella rolled her eyes. “Ten years is no big deal. They’re both adults.”
I liked the new direction of the conversation, even if it was about Kael and Amber. On the odd and awful chance that anyone found out about my new pastime, knowing how my kids—and maybe most of Epperly as a whole—would react was a good thing. Sort of.
“So you would date him? I mean … if ten is okay, is twelve? Fifteen?” Linc asked Bella.
“Stop. You’re being stupid.” Bella shook her head. “But yeah … I’d date him in a heartbeat if I thought Mom wouldn’t have a heart attack.” She shot me a smirk.
I mirrored her smirk, but mine was more from nausea, not any sort of orneriness. Kael and my daughter.
No. That didn’t sit well with me.
He was in the middle—Bella twelve years younger and me twelve years older.
“So, Haven … you’re thinking med school?” I asked Chase’s girlfriend.
I had to get the picture of Kael and Bella out of my head.
Kael and Amber.
Kael and anyone else.
Monogamy was ingrained deeply into my personality. It was how I was raised. It wasn’t teaching an “old dog new tricks.” It was rewiring my brain.Black Friday.
Smith’s biggest sales day of the year.
Until everything went sideways.
Santa had an early case of the flu. The photographer’s uncle died, and she had to cancel. And when I opened the boxes of candy canes, they were broken, missing some of the wrappers, and littered with mice droppings.
“It’s fine. We’ve got this,” Bella tried to reassure me.
To give our employees a long weekend, the kids helped at the store, as they had done for years before Craig died. Customers loved stopping by to catch up with our children. But I feared my children—as wonderful as they were—would not be enough to attract the usual crowd.
Santa guaranteed parents coming with their young kids. And that led to purchases.
“Where’s Santa?” A young child burst with excitement as customers poured into the shop the second Linc unlocked the front door and turned on the neon Open sign.
“He’s …” Sick? I couldn’t say sick. Did Santa get sick? Would it have scared young kids to think of him getting sick? If he could be sick on Black Friday, then he could be sick on Christmas Eve. “Running a little late. I think he stopped for hot chocolate.”
Linc’s eyes widened as he stood behind the young girl and her mom.
I grabbed Bella’s arm. “You need to get on your phone and check with your friends. Someone has to own a Santa Claus costume in this town.”
She snorted a laugh. “Yeah. I doubt it.”
“Call Marilyn Hubert and ask her if we can borrow Leonard’s costume.”
“Why? Are you going to dress up?”
I gave her a tight grin as customers milled around closer to the register. “If need be, yes.”
No. I would not be Santa. Leonard was easily two hundred and fifty pounds, and maybe six feet two inches. I was just over five-three and a buck twenty-five in weight.
“Whatever.” Bella escaped into the back room while I fielded all questions about Santa and the missing candy canes.
“He’s coming.” I held firm to that promise. “And instead of candy canes this year, we have chocolate.”
“We do?” Finn mumbled behind me.
“Yes.” I grabbed the basket of individually wrapped truffles at the end of the counter. They were a dollar a piece. Fifty cents my cost.
“You’re giving those out?” the mom asked.
“Of course.” I smiled.
“Cha-ching,” Finn said behind me.
The little girl grabbed three.
“Just one, sweetie,” her mom said.
“But I used to get three candy canes for Christmas past, Christmas present, and Christmas future.”
Way to go, Craig.
“Of course you get three truffles.” I smiled.