a local boy right out of high school. “I’m having a little Christmas-style birthday party in his honor on Saturday. Why don’t you come? It’ll be a great way to see old friends again.”
“I’d love to! Are you sure it’s okay? I don’t want to be a fifth wheel.”
Katie made a noise in the back of her throat. “Stop. This is Snowglobe. No one is a fifth wheel here. Bring a little gift for the gift exchange if you want. It’ll be fun.”
“Are you playing Dirty Santa?”
Katie fingered a particularly pretty birthday card before putting it back on the shelf and selecting one with a grinning mule on the front. “We play Nice Santa, sort of. All the gifts are decent, but some are great. No one loses, but it’s lots of fun to see the guys in a friendly fight over a new snowboard and the girls bartering for a gift certificate to Molly’s Massage.”
“Mmm. Molly’s Massage.” Amy rotated her shoulders, tight after the unexpected confrontation with Rafe. “Sounds wonderful. I’m in.”
“Last year I ended up with a set of deer antler salt and pepper shakers.” Katie laughed. “Todd thought they were so cool!”
Amy laughed, too, feeling much better after reconnecting with her old friend. When Katie left, a steady stream of customers entered the shop, most of them people Amy knew, though a few tourists had already begun to gather for the annual Christmas ski race. Vacationers usually rented cabins and lodges in the countryside or stayed at the Snowglobe Bed-and-Breakfast, eager to catch the spirit of a small-town Christmas in the snowy Rockies.
Amy fell into the familiar rhythm of working the store, aware that business was brisk. But no matter how busy they were, she kept picturing her handsome, rugged ex-fiancé leaning against the glass counter.
During a lull, her mother said, “There’s mulled cider in the urn. Let’s grab a cup while we can.”
“Got any cookies to go with it?”
“Gingerbread from Porter’s Bakery. Becka made it fresh this morning.”
“Oh, yum.” They headed to the back corner of the store where a silver urn brewed something year-round according to the season. For Christmas, the small table was draped with green linen brightened by red napkins and Spode Christmas tree China. The centered urn emitted the warm, cozy smell of spiced cider, and beneath a glass cake stand sugar-sprinkled slices of gingerbread tempted the shopper to linger. In the background, a recorded harpist strummed “White Christmas.”
Dana Caldwell was a master at presentation.
“Aren’t you glad you’re home?” her mother asked, handing her a steaming mug complete with cinnamon stick.
“I am, Mom. Really,” she said when Dana pressed her lips together in the mother’s sign of concern.
“Goodness. After your reaction to Rafe, I was afraid you might back out on me. I can’t wait to turn this shop over to you and kick up my heels a little.”
“Mom? Kick up your heels?”
A rosy flush darkened her mother’s cheeks. “I don’t mean go wild, but I would like to travel and do some things while I’m still healthy and young enough.”
Amy lifted the steaming mug to her lips and sipped, thinking. As a child, she’d never considered her mother as anyone but a mom and shopkeeper. Now, as an adult, she was a little taken aback to realize her mom might want something more, something for herself.
“I guess running the shop tied you down.”
“Don’t think I’m complaining. I love this shop. God provided a way for me to raise my daughter and make a living without shortchanging either, and working with beautiful things is right up my alley. But now, you need this place. And I don’t. I’m so glad you’re here to take over, and I pray this shop is as wonderful to you as it has been to me.”
“You’re incredible, you know that?” Wasn’t it sad that she’d waited twenty-eight years to realize such a thing?
With a smile, her mother fluttered a hand. “You weren’t thinking that a few minutes ago when Rafe was here.”
“Not true. I’ve always known I have an exceptional mother.” She stirred the cinnamon stick around in the mug. “Rafe was the past. I can’t let his presence ruin this homecoming.”
Dana took two thick slices of gingerbread and slid them onto China saucers. “That’s my girl. No looking back.”
Exactly. She hoped.
As they settled into the dainty chairs with their snacks, Amy turned her thoughts from herself to her mother. After Amy’s father had left, Dana Caldwell had thrown herself into the store without complaint, making it better than ever. She must have been devastated by Dad’s betrayal, but Amy had been too young and heartbroken to consider anyone else’s feelings. Now she saw things in a different light. Like King David in the Bible, her mom had grieved the loss. Then she’d wiped her tears, set her eyes on the future and moved on, never looking back at what she could not change.
Was that what God expected her to do? Even with Rafe living in the same town?
She took a nibble of the spiced bread, thinking about how she had changed in the past five years. She’d grown up, grown closer to the Lord. She’d been so ready to come home and take over the shop. She couldn’t let her mother down.
But she hadn’t reckoned on Rafe.
Chapter Two
By closing time, Amy was in the swing of things at the gift shop. She’d made sales, wrapped gifts with shiny foiled papers and voluminous colored ribbons, unpacked the new stock of handcrafted glass ornaments and delivered flowers to New Life Church.
At the latter, she’d enjoyed a chat with Pastor Jacobson and allowed herself, with little effort, to be persuaded to help with the charity food basket preparation and delivery.
“I’ve always loved doing the Blessing Baskets,” she’d told her mother when she’d returned to the shop.
Dana was cleaning up, setting the shop to rights for closing time. With a smile, she said, “It’s a good thing to do and the interaction will put you right back in the heart of Snowglobe’s Christmas celebrations.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” Amy took the bottle of Windex from her mother’s hands and spritzed the glass countertop. “Pastor says he’s had more applications for help than ever this year.”
“Times are difficult for many people. That’s why it’s important to do what we can. Some towns have angel trees. In Snowglobe we have food and gift baskets.”
“Apparently the church has had a mountain of donations but not enough volunteers signed up to help sort, box and deliver. Pastor seemed thrilled that I wanted to.”
“Interesting. I know several who’ve mentioned helping. In fact...” Mom’s voice trailed away and she got a strange expression on her face.
“What?”
Her mother reclaimed the Windex bottle and grabbed a paper towel. Without answering, she crossed to the plate glass window and spritzed, rubbing the pane with all her might.
“Mom.” Amy carefully pushed aside a box of glass ornaments and followed her mother. “What’s the deal? Why are you acting weird?”
Outside the gleaming windows, the sidewalk shone dark and damp beneath golden street lamps adorned with red bows. Snowflakes swirled fat and lazy like falling feathers. Cars motored down the streets past other businesses dressed for the holidays. The tiny town of Snowglobe was a Christmas fantasy, a wish come true.
Inside the warm, sweet-smelling gift shop, Dana lowered the Windex bottle and turned slowly to meet her daughter’s gaze. “Did Pastor Jacobson mention who was in charge of the Blessing Basket drive this year?”