Christmas in Wine Country (41 page)

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Authors: Addison Westlake

BOOK: Christmas in Wine Country
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“I guess I’m not wearing a coat.” Jake looked down as if just realizing it himself. “Probably should have.”

“Lots of people are wearing them tonight,” Lila agreed, then lapsed again into the tight confines of complete silence.

“All right then.” Jake rapped the counter with his knuckles, making an overly loud noise that startled them both. “Don’t work too hard with all those.” He gestured in behind Lila and made his way into the main room.

Turning around, Lila took a few moments to straighten already straightened coats and shift around hangers that were perfectly fine where they already were. This would not do. She was going to take some deep breaths, regain her composure, and act like a normal person having a normal time at a casual town get-together. Nothing to get worked up over. And she was sure that given a nice glass of punch—preferably spiked—and some hors
d’o
e
uv
re
s
—could she find a few that had some kick to them? Maybe some liquor-filled chocolates?—she’d be just fine in no time.

Once her coat check stint had elapsed, Lila had no more than a few seconds upon entering the main room of the barn to take in the scene before Charlotte’s chubby,
sticky hand wrapped itself firmly around Auntie Lila’s and began marching her around the room to explore. Most decorations were provided courtesy of Redwood Cove’s elementary school students, past and present. The paper mache Santa was lilting to the side, but his wire-sculpted reindeer looked more than up to the task of pulling the sleigh up into the sky.

             
The swing band began its first set, slender and dapper frontman Fred Trumbull in a pale blue tuxedo. With enough gray hair left to wax into a pompadour, he would have made quite a pair with Zoe in her lemon chiffon. Pete’s friend had done a great job stringing up lights; the rafters glittered with tiny white points. Folding tables lined an entire wall bearing home baked goodies.

             
At the start of a sassy swing rendition of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” Lila drew Charlotte up into her arms and took her onto the dancefloor for a spin. Her presence once again caused some problems as Emma—taken out for a spin of her own by her Uncle Jake— spotted her. When Jake drew near, quite possibly attempting another hello, Emma asked loudly “Where Mr. Meows?” Thankfully, the band swelled into a crescendo and Jake was able to whisk her away and divert her remarkably persistent demands.

             
Charlotte safely deposited back with her parents, who were about to baton pass with Grandma to safely deposit her back home in bed, Lila made her way over to the food. She helped herself to some of that punch. By the edge of thick, velvet curtain of the community center’s stage Lila thought she spotted Godfrey, all in black as usual. He scuttled out of sight before she could be sure.

             
“Not working coats anymore?” Jake came up next to her, holding a clear plastic punch cup of his own.

“They let me out,” Lila agreed, taking a sip of hers.

“Looked like you had a lot of them.”

“Yeah.” After a pause, she added, “Because it’s cold outside.”

Messing with the back of his hair, Jake murmured, “I can’t stop talking about coats.”

“I think I just brought up the weather,” Lila offered.

With a smile into his punch cup, Jake asked, “So, how are you?”

“Good. Busy.” Taking a deep breath and marshalling the bravery required to actually talk about something, Lila continued, “I’ve been working on that store you guys were going to buy but then decided not to.”

“Right.” Jake nodded and helped himself to a Santa-shaped Christmas cookie from one of the many plates of food.

“What happened? Why did you change your mind? Did you break the lease or did your dad?” Once started down the road of real conversation, Lila found herself unbridled and racing with questions. 

             
“Yeah, about that…” Jake took a bite of his cookie and Santa lost his head.

             
“You told me your dad was set on it and then—”

             
Shaking his head, Jake insisted, “You had all those good plans you’d been working on for the café. And my dad had plans to… become the gourmet Nestle.”

             
“The gourmet Nestle?” 

             
“Things were getting kind-of crazy with him.” Cupping his hands as if holding up a giant watermelon, Jake added, “Grandiose.”

“Really?”

“He was pretty much starting to talk world domination.”

             
“Wow.”

             
“Yup.”

“So you pulled out of the lease?”  

“I’ve been pulling back on a lot of fronts lately.” With a laugh, he added, “It’s really pissing people off.”

Still confused, Lila decided to try straightforward once again. “Did you decide it wasn’t a good business idea to expand into the store?”

“That’s part of it.” Shifting weight onto his other foot, Jake still wasn’t doing a great job of meeting her eye. “Things have been pretty crazy lately. I’ve been wanting to—”

A sixty-something silver-haired woman sashayed toward Jake in bright purple slacks, a large holiday wreath pin twinkling on her lavender sweater. “Where have you been hiding yourself Dr. Endicott?” she asked with coy flirtatiousness that would have rivaled Scarlett O’Hara. “You and I have a date with that dance floor.” 

“Doctor?” Lila murmured to Jake.

“I’m not a doctor,” Jake confirmed.

“Take me out for a dance, young man,” the woman insisted, giving Jake a wink. Lila swore if she had a fan she would have batted him on the shoulder with it as she declared, “My, you did turn out handsome.”

“Thank you Mrs. Crockett,” Jake answered, suddenly ten years old. Turning to Lila he whispered, “Was a good friend of my mother’s,” then dutifully took the woman’s hand and led her out to the dance floor.

             
Watching them out dancing to “That’s Why the Lady is a Tramp”, Lila noted that Mrs. Crockett appeared to be singing every word of the song to Jake. With gusto. To his credit, he spun her around as if nothing were out of the ordinary, even when she kept insisting on dips.

When the next song began and Mrs. Crockett showed no sign of letting go, Lila decided to head to the Take Your Photo With Santa corner. Looking more like a dimly-lit grotto than Santa’s workshop, she found the line had dissipated. She sat right down on Santa’s lap and told him she’d been a good girl. When Santa’s arm snaked around her waist and he lurched in close with that gigantic white beard to ask her if she’d be at Ted’s later, she realized it was Trucker Tom. The complimentary photo of her leaping off of his lap as if on fire was surely going to be a keeper.  

Over at the punch bowl once again, Jake made his way over to her side. “Sorry about that,” he began. “Mrs. Crockett’s an old family friend.”

“That’s OK, Dr. Endicott.”

“Yeah,” Jake acknowledged the title. “I can’t tell if she really thinks I’m a doctor or if…”

“She’s just flirting with you?”

Jake shook his head. With a look bordering on grim determination, he began, “So, I’ve been wanting to talk to you. There’s been a lot going on. I’m in charge now. I’m CEO.” Breaking off the start of Lila’s congratulations, he continued, “Because my Dad
had a heart attack. It was mild, but...” Jake shook his head, looking down at his shoes. “Anyway, he’s doing a lot better. And it turns out it was this huge wake-up call for him. He’s done this 180 turn-around. It’s…I’ve never seen anything like it. He’s gone from Donald Trump to Ghandi.”

             
Picturing Big Bob draped in a white cloth and advocating nonviolence, Lila asked, “That’s good, right?”

             
“Yeah.” Jake exhaled. “It’s good, it’s just a lot of…adjustment.”

             
“And it must have been pretty scary.”

             
“Oh yeah,” Jake said, as if the words were a tremendous understatement.

“Were you able to find a second in the middle of it all to just sit and have a cup of tea and some Bundt cake?” Immediately feeling foolish, Lila amended her image, “or a glass of wine, I guess?”

“Bunny cake?” He bent down slightly as if not hearing correctly.

“No, Bundt cake. You know, the round kind with the hole in the middle?” Lila made a circle with her fingers. 

“No, I haven’t tried it.” Jake looked along the long food display. Pointing to the other end, he asked, “Is it down there?”

“No, I brought it by your house. Week before last.”

“You brought a cake by my house?” Jake leaned down a bit again, as if closer proximity might help him make sense of it.

“Vanessa and Ashley were there. They took it for me.”

Tilting his head back, Jake closed his eyes for a moment as if putting it all together. Looking back at Lila, he explained, “I never got that cake.”

“You never got it? I wonder—”

“Listen,” he interrupted, abruptly raising his voice and pointing his finger with intensity at Lila. “I’ve got some things I need to say to you.”

“OK,” Lila agreed, a bit taken aback.

“That came out wrong.” Jake raked a nervous hand through his hair.

“No,” Lila reassured him, then couldn’t resist teasing, “I mean, a little psycho but…”

“I’ve just had some stuff in my head for a while.”

“That’s not less psycho.”

“Pipe down and let me talk for a minute,” Jake laughed. Lila kept her laughter mostly quiet as she nodded her assent. “I screwed up. Back when everything happened.” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “I mentioned you were about to lease the store to my dad. I had no idea he would pull rank on you and lease it himself. But when he did, I should have stopped him.”  

“Oh, that’s OK.” Lila felt instantly ready to forgive, forget and get back to the good stuff. She could still remember how great it felt to be in his arms. 

“No, I should have stopped it,” Jake insisted. “I should have ended it before it happened, about the store and a lot of other things. Instead, I convinced myself it was just business. It wasn’t until I saw you at the auction that I realized what a big deal it was to you.”

“We were pretty devastated,” Lila admitted.

“So I broke the lease. I just hope it wasn’t too late.”

“Oh, it wasn’t,” Lila assured him. “We’ve got the place now. You should see it, it’s coming together so well.”

“No, I mean, too late for us.” Jake awkwardly cleared his throat and looked into his empty punch cup.

Lila smiled up at him. Tentatively reaching her hand up to his shoulder, she started with, “Jake—”

Loud bursts of sparklers gave way to thick fog on either side of the stage. Coughing and waving his hand before his face, the swing band’s frontman looked bewildered as he took the mic for their second set.
             
“Does someone need to call Tim?” he asked into the microphone, referring to the town’s Fire chief.

             
A disco ball dropped down from the ceiling and Lila realized what they were witnessing and just who was responsible.

             
“Fear not, good people of Redwood Cove!” Godfrey’s unmistakable voice emerged from behind the stage’s velvet curtain, a la Wizard of Oz. “These are but toys to assist in your play.”

             
“Could you cut the smoke?” Fred asked what everyone else was thinking.

             
“As you wish,” Godfrey assured the crowd. Once the smoke calmed down, the disco ball cast a shower of rays and sparkles all over the partygoers.

The band swelled into the start of “I Get a Kick out of You.” Jake gestured to the now crowded dance floor. “We might have to get out there and dance, you know.”

“Yeah?” Lila asked with a smile. Following his lead into the throng, she laced the fingers of one hand th
r
ough his and rested the other up on his shoulder, enjoying the feel of his hand around her waist.

Boogying down not too far away, Zoe caught Lila’s eye and gave her a questioning look. When Lila just smiled in response, Zoe issued a more pointed query by summoning Olga and laying a finger by the side of her nose. Giving her head the slightest shake and mouthing ‘no’, Lila called Olga off.

She most definitely did not want to be rescued from this moment. In fact, she’d put up quite a fight—purple pantsuited family friend or no—with anyone who tried to break it up. The stubble of Jake’s chin grazed lightly against her cheek and she tried hard not to lose her balance as her stomach did a flip even the Russian judge would have to give a ten. As she leaned in close she remembered his smell and couldn’t stop a small sigh of pleasure, which she then panicked and hoped was quiet and discrete instead of a loud, lip-smacking “Mmm-Mmm.”

Feeling his chest rumble slightly, she looked up and saw him chuckling. “You know what I was just thinking about?” Lila shook her head and issued a small, silent prayer: Please don’t let it be ‘why is Lila licking her lips over me like I’m a fresh-baked glazed donut.’ “How you’re so good at saying exactly what I don’t want to hear.”

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