Snowflakes and Coffee Cakes (20 page)

*  *  *

Vera reaches her mittened hand to his face needing a shave, and that’s when she realizes he rushed here first thing this morning to get that sign hung before the grand opening, rushed enough to not even shave. “I didn’t write the article, Derek. But Abby’s such a part of this town, I want to show you what I did instead. Come see.” She takes his hand and leads him around to the barn’s store entrance, pulls out her keys and unlocks the red-painted door.

It never stops delighting her, walking in through that door and seeing Christmas everywhere. And to think she might be able to have this every day of her life, if Snowflakes and Coffee Cakes does well, it’s a thought that makes every bit of trying worthwhile.

“I hope you’ll like this,” she says when she drops the keys and her coffee cup on the checkout counter. “Follow me.”

Derek pulls off his hat and sets his empty coffee cup on the counter with hers. They walk through the barn to a display set on a side table beneath the loft. She reaches over and hits a switch and the glittering swan carousel begins whirring slowly around in a circle, the swans’ necks arching gracefully, their motion calm and gentle as they pass the three ships in the center, three painted ships sailing at sea. On the wall behind the white swans is the tribute she made for Abby, one that includes photographs and quotes from family and friends of Derek’s, and from Abby’s friends too, along with a brief verse Vera wrote to one special little girl, with thoughts on love and peace and the fragility of it all.

“Vera,” Derek starts to say as he takes it all in.

“Wait,” she interrupts, taking his hands. “Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not, not at all.”

“It’s just that, well, when I was a little girl, my mother would bring me to the Christmas Barn every December, and every year I searched for this swan carousel. I was so
taken
by it. And then I found it a couple weeks ago,” she turns toward the barn stockroom, “back there. With all the rest of this incredible inventory. And it brought back so many memories from when I was a girl.”

“It’s okay, I understand.”

“Wait, there’s more. You see, to me, swans are all about love. They pair for life, did you know that?”

He nods slightly.

“And Abby is a part of you, always, Derek … for life. So there’s that. And swans are also about transformation. You know the bit, the ugly duckling into the beautiful swan idea. And when I saw the town of Addison so transformed the other night, such that everyone’s everyday life was put on hold for one day, all on account of Abby, it seemed fitting to have these swans be hers now.”

Derek looks away then, and she sees it, the way his eyes fill with tears. Sad tears.

And so she whispers,
Derek
, bringing his gaze back to hers. “Mostly? Well mostly I chose these beautiful swans as a tribute to your daughter because when I think of swans, I think of the sea. And an old friend once told me, an old beach friend, that the sea, and the salt air, well … it cures what ails you.”

“Vera, you are so amazing,” Derek says quietly, touching her hair softly and pausing for a moment before pulling her into a long embrace. When he backs up a step and kisses her, his hands hold her face while he stands very close, making her feel so necessary.

“Hellooo!” a voice announces. “Vera?”

She smiles into Derek’s kiss, but doesn’t pull away. Instead she leans closer into him and kisses him, once, twice and a third time longer before stopping.

“Vera?” Brooke and her mother call out together.

“The gang’s here,” she whispers to him and he nods, letting her go as she heads toward the doorway where they stand with trays of coffee cakes.

“Hey, Derek,” Brooke says. “Just the guy I need, someone with big, strong arms to lift a few more trays of pastry from my car?”

“Right away.” He winks at Vera as he pulls on his hat and heads out to the parking lot.

As Vera unpacks some of the coffee cakes, her mother tells her the Marches will be stopping by, and that they’re thrilled at what Vera’s doing with the property. “They found someone with a garage to lease, so no worries.” When her mother plugs in the coffee maker, she gives Vera a happy thumbs-up.

And suddenly the barn is transformed once again. Brooke tends to her coffee cakes, setting them up in the bakery display case they managed to get their hands on and delivered the day before. And her mother spoons coffee grounds in the commercial coffeepot, stacks cardboard cups and napkins and plates, and wipes down the counter. And Jingles somehow finds a random sleigh bell that he bats across the floor right between them all, chasing after it in a soft, fluffy blur.

Before she can even say, well, before she can say Snowflakes and Coffee Cakes, more people arrive. Brooke squeals and gives their very first customer a welcoming hug, and when she backs up a step, Vera sees that it’s Amy from Wedding Wishes, here with her young daughter for a special Christmas tradition.

“I want to get a new ornament every year, a collection just for Grace.” She lifts her daughter up in her arms to get a better view of the magic of the barn. “Then one day, when she has a home of her own, I’ll pass along the whole collection for her own Christmas tree.”

As she’s talking, her friend Sara Beth, the local antiques dealer, arrives in the doorway too, stamping the snow off her boots and pulling off her hood. “Wow,” she exclaims while looking up at the hundreds of gold snowflakes hanging from the ceiling beams. “What a wonderland.”

And behind Sara Beth, Vera sees Derek. He hitches his head to her, motioning for her to come out. She does, and they walk side-by-side toward his pickup truck.

“I’ve got to get going, Vera.”

“And I’m really glad you stopped by. The sign? It’s just perfect.”

“You have your friend from the beach to thank for that. So it’s a sign from the sea.”

She smiles, nodding. “Love it.”

“Okay, good luck today.” He unlocks his truck door. “You’re busy.”

“Santa’s workshop busy, I’d say.”

He opens his door, puts on his gloves, then turns back and pulls her close, giving her a kiss as the snow begins to fall again, a light dusting drifting down from the sky. “I’ll call you later,” he says before climbing into his truck. “We’ll have dinner and talk, maybe stop at Joel’s to toast your Christmas shop?”

“Sounds good.”

When he starts to back out of her driveway, she motions for him to stop and as she catches up, he rolls down his window.

“One more thing,” she tells him, a little breathless. “About tonight? At Joel’s?”

“Does it work for you?”

“Oh yes, and here’s why,” she says, smiling easily. “I’ll meet you under the mistletoe.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

THE SNOW HASN’T STOPPED FALLING since the blizzard more than a week ago. It’s as though that snowfall triggered winter in the skies, keeping the heavy clouds drifting lazy over the cove, dropping sparkling white stars onto Addison this entire Christmas season. Because that’s the type of snow it’s been—a flurry here, a snowsquall there, a dusting of large flakes spinning down easily from above.

So what Vera thinks when she looks up at all her delicate gold snowflakes hanging from the ceiling beams in her barn is this: Those gold snowflakes are her way of bringing the beauty of snow inside her shop, and she decides not to sell them. They will be a permanent fixture now, well-suited to Snowflakes and Coffee Cakes.

Her last customer of the day left a half hour ago and now Vera begins what is becoming a daily routine, the way she walks through the store, shutting off most of the displays and decorated trees. A few she leaves on for atmosphere: candles in the windows, the wreath on the barn door, the fir tree outside the barn. Those are set on timers to turn off later in the night, closer to midnight. This way, anyone driving past on their way to the cove, maybe taking a Christmas ride by all the grand historical homes so elegantly decorated for the holidays, or just wanting to sit by the peaceful water awhile, well, her barn and its few illuminated decorations bring a happy light to the night.

“It’s Christmas Eve, and Derek will be here soon,” she says to Jingles. The big cat’s been watching her from a tabletop, waiting for her to slide a bell across the floor for him to chase. “Not tonight, Jingles. Everything’s all cleaned up for Santa. But maybe, just maybe,” she says as she rubs his ears, “he’ll bring you some new bells to play with.”

When she’s dusting off the checkout countertop, the cat jumps down and manages to find a lone silver sleigh bell in a dark corner. His paw swats it across the wooden floor and it jangles a happy melody while he chases behind it toward the entrance door. “You behave now,” Vera tells him as she locks up the checkout drawers. “You have to be a good kitty for Santa or he won’t leave you anything.”

With Jingles still toying with his bell, she goes back to the storage room where she’d hung her coat earlier. It has been so busy this past week, there’s hardly been time to think about Christmas Eve, and yet, here it is. Just like that. If she’s learned anything these last few months, it’s that life keeps coming right at you, like it or not, ready or not. “Isn’t that the truth,” she remarks at her own thought while gazing into her very real Christmas shop, while hearing her cat getting into mischief, while waiting to see Derek—her life branching off into so many directions, beautifully, like a stellar dendrite snowflake. And just like with those snowflakes, nearly impossible to predict exactly what it will eventually look like.

She slips her arms into the coat sleeves and all the while the bell ringing grows even louder, as though Jingles found a boxful of bells. They ring over and over, jingling and jangling a happy chime.

“Jingles!” she calls out while closing up the storage room. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

The bells continue to
ring-a-ling-ling
inside the dimly lit barn, rhythmically now. “Jingles?” she asks, looking toward the front entrance door. And Jingles
is
there, she sees that clear as day. He’s sitting silently on the window ledge looking outside, his long tail flicking gently, with not a bell in any close proximity to his swatting paws. In fact, he seems pretty darned mesmerized by something outside.

“What are you watching so intently? The snowflakes falling down?” Vera asks while pulling on her mittens. “Or is Derek’s truck out there?”

As she nears the cat, the ringing bells get louder. “Huh, sounds like Santa’s arrived early.” She rushes to the window with a quick glance out.

And the view has her stop in her tracks. Riveted. Her and Jingles both. Because making its way down her snowy driveway is a sight so unexpected: Derek drives his family’s one-horse open sleigh, the reins in his hands, the sleigh bells ringing out with each trot of the prancing horse ahead of it.

*  *  *

“Donder.”

“No, sir.” Vera shifts close beside Derek as they head out of her driveway on the red and gold sleigh. She wears her fluffy earmuffs and mittens and okay, the biggest surprised smile, and snuggles beneath the plaid blanket he brought to keep warm while taking a Christmas Eve tour of Addison. “That is not the horse’s
real
name,” she insists.

“Once a year, it is,” he says with a flick of the reins. “Every Christmas Eve, that’s the name he answers to. Donder.”

As if on cue, the horse picks up the pace, jingling the sleigh bells in a happy chime.

“First stop, the cove?” Vera asks quietly.

Derek looks at her, then nods and turns out of her driveway, steering the sleigh along the street into the cove area. They don’t actually stop; instead he has the horse circle around the parking lot once, jingling its sleigh bells merrily. When they pass the dark water, she sees the way Derek looks out at it, a regretful smile on his face. And so she reaches over and takes one of his hands in hers, just for a moment, as he thinks of Abby.

They continue on then, away from the cove toward Main Street, a plume of powdery snow rising from the curved sleigh runners. They glide past the vintage bridal shop, and coffee café, and local jeweler, all closed for Christmas. Wreaths and twinkly lights decorate the dark storefronts, and people are walking into the white-steepled chapel for evening services, waving at them as they pass.

And still it snows.

“Your father must have put in a special order for this weather.” Derek tugs his knit hat a little lower and turns up his coat collar. “Here, take the reins for a second.”

“Me? I don’t know how to drive one of these.”

“It’s easy. Watch.” He clicks his tongue and softly lifts the reins as the horse continues along the snowy street.

Vera takes them and gives the long leather reins a little shake, the horse answering with a friendly nicker. And if ever she’s been thrilled, isn’t this one of those times, steering their one-horse open sleigh on one of the most magical of nights. Derek opens the thermos he brought along and pours her a steaming cup of hot chocolate.

Which makes everything all the more sweet. They pass a group of carolers strolling door-to-door, bundled in thick coats and warm boots, bringing Christmas carols to the homes—homes with evergreen trees shining bright in living room windows, and balsam wreaths hung on front doors, little colored lights of red and blue and green twinkling on shrubs and snow-laden trees. Smoke curls from chimneys and windowpanes are frosty. A white picket fence is strung with garland and red velvet bows.

And the snow still falls.

“Do you know what this feels like?” Vera asks. “Riding along these snowy streets on your beautiful sleigh, with Donder leading the way?”

Derek wraps an arm around her shoulder and pulls her closer. He kisses the side of her head and after a moment, answers her. “No. Tell me.”

Vera looks out at the dark night settling on the prettiest town she’s ever known. The gold sleigh runners swish through the powdery snow, the air is brisk. “It feels like I’m in a snow globe. And someone just tipped it so that all those sweet, delicate snowflakes fall gently over everything.”

“Well.” Derek settles closer as they ride along. “That’s not a bad place to be.”