Things Remembered (30 page)

She let herself in with her key. The bell over the door sounded her arrival, summoning Jim from the back room.

“Welcome home.” He came forward, his arms outstretched.

“Thank you. It's good to be back.” It was, but not as good as she'd expected. He gave her a hug and the kind of kiss saved for relatives. “The place looks wonderful. I see you bought some new decorations.”

“Amy did. She loves doing that kind of thing. At first she was a little worried you might not like it, but I told her you weren't the kind who let things like that bother her.”

“Is she here?” Somehow Karla actually managed to make it sound casual.

“She went back to L.A. a couple of days ago. I told her you wouldn't mind if she stayed, but she thought it would be better if she weren't here.”

Smart woman. Or maybe just thoughtful. “Still serious about her?”

He nodded. “As a matter of fact, I asked her to marry me.”

How could she have convinced herself she was prepared for this? “I assume she said yes?”

“Can you believe it? We've even set the date. The amazing thing is she knows about us, and what I did to you, and she's still willing to take a chance on me.” He ran his hand across his mouth as if trying to contain excessive glee. “You're the first person I've told about the engagement.”

The gesture reminded Karla of a little boy standing in front of the class telling about his new puppy. “I'm honored. Congratulations.” Her throat dry, the lump in it too big to swallow, she was in desperate need of a drink of water. “To both of you.”

“That means a lot to me, Karla. I don't want to lose you as a friend.”

A quiet acceptance went through her. Jim was truly out of her life, at least in the way she'd talked herself into believing she wanted him there. In its place came the fledgling hope that as unlikely as it had seemed when she left, the friendship thing might actually be possible.

“I would hate to lose you as a friend, too.” When had this transition taken place? “I'm not sure I'm up to attending the wedding, though. At least not if it's anytime soon.”

“I understand.”

She went behind the counter and poured herself a glass of water. She studied him as she drank, and when she finished, said, “You've changed.”

“I know. I'm sorry it didn't happen sooner. I'll never forgive myself for the way I hurt you.”

She didn't want to hear this. The time for mea culpas had passed. “I've changed, too.”

“So you and Anna made your peace?”

“And then some.”

“I'm glad to hear it. It was a long time coming. And as much as I hate to say this, she was right about me, you know. I wasn't good enough for you.”

The self-effacement was too far over the top for her to ignore. “Oh, please—let's not go there.”

He smiled at her impassioned plea. “I have to get going. I told Amy I'd try to get to her place before ten.”

She glanced at the clock on the far wall. It was a quarter past six. If he didn't get tangled in too much traffic on the coast highway, he should make it in plenty of time. “Wait a minute and I'll write you your check now.”

“I don't want it.”

“Of course you do. You earned it—and then some.”

“Consider it rent money for the house.”

“That's crazy. You could have rented three houses for what I owe you.”

“My time here was a favor for a friend. What I owe you is a lot more than I'm ever going to be able to pay, so let me do this one small thing without making a big deal out of it.” He smiled. “Okay?”

She saw how much it meant to him and pushed her own pride out of the way. “Okay.”

He held out his arms again, gave her a quick hug and kiss, and headed for the door. At the last second he turned and said, “One more thing. I didn't use your bedroom. We stayed in the guest room.”

He was gone before she could think of anything to say in reply.

Chapter

22

N
ot only had Jim and Amy slept in the spare bedroom, he'd stripped the bed and left the clean sheets and blankets folded on top of the bedspread. The entire house was as clean as the bedroom. Not one room contained evidence that anyone but Karla had ever lived there.

Why couldn't Jim have changed, why couldn't he have been just half this sensitive to her feelings, before the divorce? She would have settled for an effort, a few steps in the right direction, a promise, anything to hang her hopes on.

But then she was beginning to see that she'd made a remarkable transition herself, one she didn't fully understand. She didn't want Jim anymore. At least not the way she had when she'd left for Anna's. As usual, because she couldn't understand the transition, she didn't completely trust it. In the back of her mind she was half-convinced she was going to wake up the next morning, or the morning after that, and give into the old, foolish hope that Jim would come to his senses and realize she was the woman for him.

The next morning, she was through with her shower and dressed for work before it occurred to her she hadn't thought about Jim at all. Normally he was the first thing on her mind when she got up and the last thing before she went to sleep. In between she gained freedom with work.

Anxious to get back to that work, she arrived at the shop a half hour early, convinced she would find a dozen small things left undone. Jim could be counted on for most things, but he wasn't a detail person by nature. He had no problem with the obvious, like remembering to inventory the coffee supply every night, but he could never think to check for little things, like stir sticks and napkins.

Karla had her key in the lock at the back door when she heard someone calling to her.

“Hey, Karla—I was beginning to wonder if you were ever coming back.”

Eva Karls owned the Christmas shop next door and was a longtime customer. “Me, too.”

“How is your grandmother? I meant to ask Jim but kept forgetting.”

“She's doing a lot better than I expected. I'd like to talk her into coming down for Christmas.” Where had that come from? Heather would be furious if she knew Karla had even considered asking Anna to go to Solvang for Christmas. Since it was impossible to have the family get-together at Anna's, Heather felt she had priority rights for Anna to be with her.

Eva had her own door unlocked and had bent to pick up a package before going inside. “I told Amy I wasn't expecting to get any more of those miniature nutcrackers she used for the baskets, but some came in yesterday, so if you need them, they're here.”

Karla had no idea what she was talking about and didn't want to take the time to ask. “Thanks, I'll let you know.”

“She sure is a sweet gal. Jim did okay by himself with her.” She held the door with her foot and breezily added, “Since Jim couldn't work things out with you, it's nice that someone like Amy came along for him.”

“Yeah—nice.” Karla's smile was as wooden as one of Eva's nutcrackers.

The early-morning cold penetrated her thin coat, and after telling Eva she'd tap on the wall when her coffee was ready, she hurried inside to turn on the lights and heater.

Something was different, and it wasn't just that the supply shelves were full and in perfect order. She stood and stared and then looked around trying to figure out what had changed. And then it came to her.

There was a new coat of paint on the walls.
She looked closer. Sure enough, the scuff mark by the back door and the scratches the plumber had left when he repaired a leaky pipe were now gone. Had she bothered to go into the back room the night before, she would have noticed and could have questioned Jim about it then.

Agitated that he could still act as if the walls were his to do with as he pleased, she went into the main part of the shop and turned on the lights. She'd been so focused on Jim last night she hadn't paid any but cursory attention to the changes he'd made in there. There was the obvious—the Christmas decorations—but she'd missed the subtleties involved with them. Everything was displayed with the same artistry as the painting on the windows. Not only was there a color scheme, burgundy and gold, there was a theme, the toys of Christmas past.

The antique hutch she normally used to display coffee paraphernalia was decorated with fresh-cut greenery laced with expensive burgundy ribbon. The corners were accented with gold balls and stars and small toys. Elegant in its simplicity, it was the perfect backdrop for the dozen-plus gift baskets that had been wrapped in clear burgundy cellophane and tied with gold ribbon. Each basket held two cups, a package of coffee or tea, a tin of imported biscotti, a miniature nutcracker, and a small, hardbound book of Christmas stories. She looked closer and saw that some of the books were about cats and that the nutcrackers and cups had cat themes. Other baskets focused on dogs. The rest were Christmas in general.

Gift baskets weren't anything new. Karla had made them for her customers on Valentine's and Mother's and Father's Days. Only these were better than anything she'd come up with. Not only was the packaging beautiful, the way they were displayed in the hutch gave them importance. Priced to be affordable for a hostess or business gift, they were also perfect for a friend or gift exchange.

Brilliant, beautiful, creative, savvy—those were just a few of the words that came to mind. Only one emotion surfaced, however. Karla was annoyed. Big time.

It was everything she could do not to dig in and rearrange everything Jim and Amy had done. This was her shop, damn it. She'd decorate and display and sell her products her way. If she'd wanted someone to come in to paint her scratched walls or to show her what she was doing wrong, or at least how she could do things better, she would have asked.

But what really grated, what actually hurt, was that the decorating came together better than anything she could have come up with had she spent an entire year in the planning.

She looked around—at the fresh flowers on the tables, the Christmas napkins on the counter, the tree in the corner decorated with ribbon and bows and coffee scoops and tea strainers that had been painted gold.

The gifts under the tree established the theme—toys from decades past. At first Karla didn't understand why Amy had chosen the old toy part—and then she spotted a doll like one she'd had when she was a little girl. Her reaction triggered the answer. The tree and toys were meant to appeal to her customers, not children. Nostalgia. A surefire winner if you could figure how to reach a target customer.

And Amy had.

Karla didn't even consider the possibility that Jim had contributed time or talent to the decorating. He could no more tie a bow than walk a tightrope. He had the people skills, the charm that convinced customers they wanted pastry with their coffee and that they couldn't get along without taking a freshly ground pound or two of that same coffee home with them.

Knowing she wouldn't find anything, Karla still checked under the counters and tables and in the corners for something the cleaning service might have missed. She had two absolute rules for her business—serve the best product she could provide, in the cleanest shop.

The back doorbell sounded. She glanced at the clock. The first of the pastry orders had arrived. Tonya and Margaret, her part-time employees, would be there in another hour and the work day would officially begin.

Karla slipped back into the routine of running the shop as easily as a cloud releases rain. At the beginning of December she extended her hours from three in the afternoon to six in the evening. While the days passed in the usual holiday blur, Karla left the shop each night without her accustomed sense of accomplishment. She had come to live for that feeling and was unsettled without it.

The shop was everything, providing her with a social outlet, a sense of family, and a sense of accomplishment at a job well done. But something had changed there, too. Only the answer wasn't as easily found as fresh paint. She still got up each morning with enthusiasm for the day ahead, but for the first time since taking over the shop herself, she looked forward to the end of each day and to her one day off with longing.

When she arrived home at night, she checked her voice mail before she put down her purse or took off her jacket. In the week she'd been home Mark had called twice, leaving funny, intimate messages that she listened to again and again. She tried returning the calls, but reached his machine so often she started hanging up on the fourth ring.

She'd left a message on Jim's voice mail thanking him again for the work he and Amy had done at the shop and checking to see if he'd found his own place yet, but she hadn't heard back and was beginning to wonder if he and Amy had eloped.

She'd talked to Heather twice and called Anna every other night and had even chased Bill down at work to ask him if Heather was doing as well as she said she was.