Blame It on the Mistletoe (11 page)

“Me, too! Oh my gosh, it’s gorgeous in here. I want my whole apartment to look like this!” Callie said, her arms wide to encompass the entirety of the shop. Another woman entered behind her. She looked a little older than Callie, and very pretty in an understated yet polished way. She was completely put together and effortless-looking, her blonde hair in a sleek ponytail, her skirt perfectly pressed, her skin flawless. She was the kind of woman you could easily hate, but when she gave Brooke a sincere smile, those thoughts vanished.

“Hi, I’m Anne. I apologize for not coming in sooner. I’ve been meaning to because this is just my kind of shop.” Anne put her hand out to Brooke. Even her voice was soothing and kind, and she reminded Brooke of a mother on a 1950s TV show who could pull out a tray of homemade cookies any second.

“Thank you so much. I take it you live here in Preston?”

“I do. I moved here with my daughter a few years ago.”

“She lives over on Sunset Lane in the cutest little bungalow,” Callie interrupted. “You’d love it. She has the best decorating style.”

Anne shushed Callie with a wave of her hand, embarrassed at the praise, and Brooke instantly envied the easy friendship the two women shared. On the outside they seemed complete opposites: one carefree, loud, and expressive; the other poised, controlled, and classic. But they were obviously close friends, and their personalities appeared to complement each other.

Suddenly Callie’s mouth dropped open and she turned to Anne, her eyes wide. “You should feature Brooke, Anne. She makes this jewelry, you know.” Callie turned to Brooke. “Do you have an online shop? I mean it wouldn’t really do any good unless you were capable of selling online. Gosh, I should have thought of this the other day.”

Brooke was confused, but before she could answer, Anne spoke. “I was actually already thinking the same exact thing. I heard you give classes here. You should do an online tutorial for the site—our readers would love that. We could even put up some photos of the shop for those who are local.”

“I do have an online shop. It’s not super successful, but I have some loyal customers.” And then suddenly all the dots connected in Brooke’s mind. Anne’s face, her style, and the comments Callie just made. Brooke couldn’t believe it. “Wait a minute. Are you the
My Perfect Little Life
Anne? And you’re Callie that posts baking recipes?”

Anne gave her a shy smile. “I am. Sorry. I figured Callie already told you.”

“I totally should have,” Callie said before turning to Brooke. “Do you read the blog?”

“Yeah. I mean, I do when I have time. Honestly, I haven’t done much of anything these past six months unless it involves this business. But about a year ago I read one of your columns in the
Star
. You suggested a cute little shop down in the West Bottoms and now Janie, one of their artists, sells here on commission. I knew you were local somehow but I had no idea it was Preston. Wow. It’s so nice to meet you. Your blog is one of my favorites.”

Anne blushed a little. Her lifestyle blog,
My Perfect Little Life
, was wildly popular. It was only a few years old, but it had become an internet sensation fairly quickly. Brooke knew from reading it when she had the time that Anne was a mix of homemaker, businesswoman, and party planner extraordinaire. Callie posted amazing baked good recipes, and if Brooke remembered correctly, there was also another woman who contributed project tutorials. The blog was updated at least four or five times a week with beautiful photos of crafts, recipes, projects, and all sorts of random things that inspired women to be and do their best. Anne also did a weekly column in the
Kansas City Star
. Women across the country wanted to be Anne, and here she was in the flesh, standing in Brooke’s shop.

Offering a feature.

Callie leaned into Anne’s side and squeezed her arm. “I’m here to tell you she
is
as perfect as she appears to be.”

“My goodness, stop. I’m the complete opposite of perfect. I just like to help people, and try to make things special for them.”

“I love that,” Brooke said. “Please feel free to look around. I’d love your feedback. I’m still new to this.”

While the two women browsed a little more, chatting about what they loved in the store, the possibility of being highlighted on Anne’s blog sank in. It would be huge. For a small business, being on a site like
My Perfect Little Life
was like hitting the jackpot. It could change everything for her jewelry line and for her store. If she was able to maintain some consistent online profit, then maybe she would be able to breathe a little when it came to the retail shop.

The front door opened, and Brooke turned, her polite business smile in place, only to lock eyes with Alex. Without thought she grinned wide, then instantly regretted that she’d so obviously lost control over her emotions. She forgave herself, though, when he grinned back. Oh, this
so
wasn’t good.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Anne and Callie whispering to each other, their eyes darting between her and Alex and a piece of furniture they were pretending to find fascinating.

Brooke reined in her thoughts as Alex swaggered through her store, his scent nearly overpowering everything in his wake, and met her in front of the register. She couldn’t help the silly look on her face as she spoke quietly. “My, my. A morning-after visit, Mr. Coleman? Give a girl a chance to miss you.”

His chuckle sent pleasure tingling through her body. “How long do you need? I missed you the second I stopped kissing you.”

Her stomach flipped at his boldness. Had he truly missed her? God, she hoped so, but that wasn’t a path she wanted to go down right now, so she changed the subject. “Where are you staying? You never said.”

“The first night I had to go back to KC, but Friday morning I was able to get a room at the hotel down the street.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” She really wanted to ask him how long he was staying, but couldn’t bring herself to do so. She knew at the very least he’d be here until Saturday if they had plans Friday evening. “So did you come here to help me make jewelry?”

“No, I’m actually taking my mother to lunch. Just thought I’d stop in and say hi.”

“Oh, how sweet. She’ll enjoy that. I really like your mom. I go into the Stop & Go for grape soda at least three times a week. I’d never known her when I was younger, but she’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, she’s doing really well. I was surprised.”

“You should be proud of her.”

“I am. Really.”

For a moment neither one of them appeared to have anything to say. She couldn’t get over the fact that he’d come in just to see her. Suddenly his eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to the side.

“Grape soda, really? Didn’t know anyone actually drank that.”

She laughed. “Well, now you know.”

He scratched his neck awkwardly, but she didn’t miss his smile. “Well, I guess I’ll head over there.” He glanced at his watch. “Her break starts in five minutes.”

“We still on for Friday?”

“We better be.”

They exchanged quick good-byes, and he went out the front door, leaving her alone once again with Anne and Callie, the latter of which was quickly making her way up to the counter.

“Soooo, I know we don’t know each other very well yet, but ummm,
wow
.” Callie leaned on the wood and grinned at Brooke. Anne was still shopping. “That’s Alex Coleman, right? Eric’s description didn’t do him justice.”

Brooke threw her hands up in the air. “Yes, Eric. That’s his name. I knew I recognized him the other day in your shop. He was a year or so behind me in school. How is he?”

“Great! He’s my bestie and employee, so clearly he’s very lucky. He said he remembered you also when you came in. We saw Alex the other day, and Eric nearly fainted. Said he was the hottest guy to come out of Preston in his lifetime. Are you guys seeing each other? Eric will be so jealous, not that he’d ever had a chance. Alex looks about as hetero as it gets,” Callie said with an eyebrow wag.

“We did go out last night, but we aren’t seeing each other.”

“Well, a date is certainly something.”

Anne joined them at the counter, a pair of earrings in one hand and a necklace in the other. “I’m officially in love with your jewelry. I’m buying both of these, and I’d love it if you would let me feature them on the blog.”

“Whenever Anne posts a picture of her outfits, people go bonkers,” Callie said with a wink.

Brooke couldn’t hold in her excitement. “Oh, I’d love it. Thank you so much. And please let me gift them to you. I mean, if you’re going to feature me, it’s the least I can do.”

“Oh no, she won’t let you do that,” Callie interjected. “Anne has an honesty policy.”

Sensing Brooke’s confusion, Anne explained. “I like to be able to tell my readers when I love something that I bought it for myself because I genuinely wanted it. Not that I don’t have products sent to me. But when everything you talk about is sent from a company or a person for your review, I think you lose some credibility, you know? Anyway, I’m paying, so don’t give it another thought.”

Brooke walked around the counter and rang up Anne’s jewelry. She folded it carefully into tissue paper and tucked it into a little paper bag with Sweet Opal Studio stamped on the front. “Anne, I really can’t tell you how much this means to me. Getting a business off the ground is so hard. I just appreciate any help I can get to get my name out there.”

“It’s my pleasure, these are exactly the kinds of things I love. And you’re local, so even better.”

“Yeah, well, you better get ready, girlfriend. Especially since Christmas is coming.” Callie hitched her purse over her shoulder. “The orders are going to flood in. You’re gonna feel like you work in a sweatshop by the time our readers are done with you.”

Brooke could only hope for that much business.

**

Brooke went to the mirror for the twentieth time. She’d made a brand-new necklace for her dinner with Alex and Beverly Coleman, and she was trying to match the perfect outfit to it. She finally settled on black pants, a green wrap sweater, and black ballet flats.

The scooped neckline on her sweater highlighted her jewelry, a multiple-piece bib necklace made of seven large soldered pieces. Each one contained a swatch of green-and-red vintage holiday material. She was obviously partial, but she was in love with how it turned out.

She’d curled her hair and done her makeup with precision. All that was left was waiting. They hadn’t specified if he would pick her up in the front or back, but she figured back since that’s where he’d dropped her off a few days ago. Sure enough five minutes later—not a minute late—Alex knocked on the back door.

When she opened it he was standing there in hat and coat. It was snowing, and hard.

“Oh, wow. Guess I should watch the news occasionally, huh?”

He was still looking at her. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Well, thank you.” She fidgeted with her necklace, a nervous gesture that brought his eyes down to it.

“You made this?”

“Oh, yes. I did.” A little embarrassed now, she laid a hand over her neck. He gently pushed it out of the way and lifted the necklace away from her skin to examine it.

“You’re really talented Brooke. This matches your eyes.” Damn, there went her heart pounding again. He really needed to stop saying sweet things like that she thought, as she buttoned up her coat and wrapped her scarf around her neck.

He escorted her through the snow into the car, and not ten minutes later they were pulling into Beverly Coleman’s driveway. The Colemans’ house had been lovely for as long as Brooke could remember, and it was gorgeous in winter. Christmas lights adorned the entire porch, accented with giant green wreaths on every post; smoke whirled from the chimney above. It was the quintessential home, welcoming and warm. She wondered if Alex felt the same.

They hadn’t really spoken about his relationship with his grandparents, so she was curious as to how this would go. Brooke only knew a little from rumors, but she was sure that Alex hadn’t had much to do with them growing up. In fact she’d been a little shocked when he’d invited her over. He hadn’t even come back to town for Mayor Coleman’s funeral, which, while not surprising anyone, caused quite a bit of gossip in the small community. Her mother had been in on it. She always was.

Alex grabbed her hand and led her through the inch of snow, up the stairs, and onto the wraparound porch. She didn’t have time to dwell on her thoughts before Beverly was opening the door with an infectious smile.

“Hello, you two. Come in before you catch cold,” Beverly said, leading them into the foyer. A giant staircase was lined with greenery and ribbon, and the house smelled of cinnamon. It was so festive, and when Beverly pulled them each in for a tight hug. Brooke couldn’t help smiling.

“I was so happy when Alex called to tell me he was bringing you, Brooke,” Beverly continued. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Thank you, I’m so happy I could come.”

Beverly took their coats and hats before ushering them into the formal living room, chatting about the weather. A gorgeous fireplace was burning warm and bright, and a large Christmas tree was decorated with white lights and many heirloom ornaments. On instinct, Brooke walked over to admire them. One in particular caught her eye. It was made of yellow construction paper that had faded with age to a dirty cream. It was covered in glitter, and in the center was a school photo of Alex’s father, Brett.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she let the ornament drop back onto the branch. “I’m sorry,” she said on instinct.

“Don’t apologize,” Alex said beside her. He lifted the ornament and looked at the photo silently. “I’m sorry to say I didn’t inherit his artistic ability with paper and glitter.” Brooke let out a small laugh, and they smiled at each other.

Beverly walked into the room carrying a tray of appetizers, and they joined her on the sofa. Brooke was relieved and also a little embarrassed when Alex sat close to her, resting his arm behind her head.

It all felt homey yet a little formal at the same time. Brooke’s family did well, but her parents’ money was a drop in the bucket compared to the Colemans’. Alex leaned into her side and whispered, “Don’t be nervous.”