Sweet Christmas Kisses (141 page)

“I don’t know. This town maybe doesn’t have elves.”

Lillian was thinking about something. “Maybe it does and we just didn’t realize.” She started toward the truck. “Everyone ready to head back? I think I need to make a few calls.”

I was surprised at her change in attitude and wondered what she had in mind.

“O-kay. We’re gonna call elves.” Matthew hurried to catch up with Lillian.

Once again Jim and I had a moment, just a single moment, together.

“I don’t know what she has in mind, but I like the light in her eyes.” He turned his back to his mother and my son, blocking them from my view and me from theirs. “I’d like to see a light in your eyes too, Mel. Not only the kind you have when you’re proud of your little boy, but the kind you used to have when you looked at me. I want you to know I’m making that a goal this Christmas season.” He touched a finger to the little cleft in my chin, spun back around, and walked to the truck.

I followed a few paces behind, watched him put his pruners away. He called for Daisy and she ran out of the trees, happy and out of breath. Once she had jumped back up into the truck bed, Jim closed the tailgate again.

I watched it all with detachment, as if I weren’t one of the people in this scene. After all, I had left this simple life behind years ago. So many times, I had been out on this farm with Carla and Francie, or with Jim, and seen the same landscape, felt the same breezes, smelled the fresh pine smell. It had been my second home back then, and yet not mine at all. Like now, when I cared about what happened here, but it really didn’t have anything to do with me.

Why was I forever on the sidelines, wanting to be a part but not belonging?

The Standish farm had always been a peaceful oasis for me. As a kid I had run through the rows of trees playing hide and seek with the girls, and sometimes with David and Jim as well. When we were teenagers, Alice, Carla, Francie and I had many important discussions in the cool, quiet privacy of the evergreens. When Jim and I were dating, there were secluded places on the farm where he could drive his car and not be seen. We lay on an old blanket spread over the car hood and watched shooting stars that were brighter here than anywhere else. We talked about the future, and, of course, we made out. But Jim hadn’t pushed me further. He respected and cared for me—I had thought.

My own family lived in a crowded neighborhood of small clapboard houses in a grimy part of Serendipity. There was never enough room or enough privacy, and in the summer there didn’t even seem to be enough air to breathe in our part of town. Shortly after I graduated from SHS, the biggest factory in town closed, and my parents moved to the Indianapolis area where my dad and mom both found jobs. There would never be a reason for them to move back to this little town.

I still had moments of second guessing my own decision to return.

Part of it was business. I knew I could take up the slack left by the retiring Parkers. My name was local, which means a lot in a small town, and although it wasn’t famous, at least it didn’t have any black marks by it. The second reason was that Serendipity, though not perfect, was a better place for me to raise Matthew. Alice and the Standish family were like family to me, and were becoming that way for Matthew. I wouldn’t have had a head start on a career anywhere like I did here, and the difference in cost of living between a large city and Serendipity was major.

The last reason was the house. Which of course was how the conversation began in the first place. But if the rest of the factors hadn’t been there, the Osborne house would have remained an unfulfilled dream.

The presence of Jim Standish in the midst of all this good karma was a bit confusing to my system. I didn’t want to be around the guy who had dumped me for no reason. But since coming back to town, I hadn’t seen any sign of that Jekyll/Hyde personality. I had only seen the Jim Standish who was a good son and brother, worked hard without complaint, and paid wonderful attention to Matthew. This is a man I really liked. I just had to remember—and remind him if necessary—that our relationship stopped at friendship, period.

Back at the house, Lillian invited us in for sugar cookies and hot cocoa. Matthew and I accepted, but Jim excused himself. He had convinced David to help him sharpen hand saws and get some other preparations made for the season.

“I guess you realize this Thursday is Thanksgiving.” He looked as if he were gauging his mother’s reaction, looking for signs of distress.

“Yes, son. That’s why I bought a twenty-two pound turkey last week.”

He shifted from one foot to the other. “First customers will show up.”

She sighed. “Yes. I imagine I could name some who are always here the first day. I have calls to make this afternoon. My last orders for the Christmas shop are supposed to arrive tomorrow or Tuesday. Francie and Carla and I have accomplished great things in there, you know. We’re nearly ready for the season to start.”

“Okay. That’s good, Mom.”

“We’ll make it, honey.” Lillian put her hand in his and then grabbed mine too. “It’s so very hard this year, but this is what we do.”

Later, over cookies and hot cocoa, she told Matthew and me some of what they had accomplished this week. She was happy to have made so much progress, while dreading the heartache that she knew would accompany the holiday.

“Harry was everywhere during the season, you know,” Lillian said wistfully, tracing with one finger the pattern of holly on her big white mug. “He handed out handsaws and showed people on the big map where to find the kinds of trees they wanted. He would turn up when someone had trouble cutting their tree and cut it down for them without making the person feel too embarrassed. He tied the trees to cars, dashed into the Christmas shop to get a cup of cocoa or wassail, and give me a kiss.” She blushed. “Then he was gone again on some other errand. Always happy, always whistling his favorite Christmas song. My goodness, how we grew weary of that song, and yet—you know, it’s just what we all need to hear now. Of course, I can’t bear the thought of hearing it on the radio. I’ve made David promise to make a CD of Christmas music to play in the shop. Every single Christmas song there is
except that one
. Maybe next year, you know? Next year should be easier.”

“You’ll always miss him, Lillian. I hope nobody is trying to push you into ‘getting over it,’ because that’s just wrong.”

“Maybe a couple of people, friends of mine, think I should hurry up and get my grieving done. Those ladies are well-intentioned and loving, but they aren’t widows. They don’t understand what it is.”

Heartbreaking
. That’s what it was to watch this woman who was missing the man who’d been her best friend for so many years. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to live it first-hand.

She shook off the reverie and smiled gently. “I certainly hope we can plan on the two of you being here for lunch on Thanksgiving Day.”

“Well—”

“We eat at noon, sharp. Everything has to be eaten, cleaned up, and leftovers put away because our first customers will arrive an hour before the posted opening time. I don’t know why they can’t wait one hour. I guess everybody has their traditions.”

The farm was open to customers every weekday evening until Christmas Eve, and opened at noon on Saturdays and Sundays. A grueling schedule I knew I would dread if it were my own, even without the lurking sadness of Harry’s absence.

“Mommy? Please?”

Thanksgiving? It was a family event, and we weren’t family. My parents had invited us to be with them for an early evening meal, but I wasn’t looking forward to the round-trip drive knowing I needed to have my office open Friday as usual. You could never predict when someone would want to look at real estate, and as a new business owner, I needed to be known for excellent service.

“Lillian, I was just planning a little Thanksgiving feast for the two of us, followed by a viewing of the original
Miracle on 34 Street
. You know, just keep it low-key.”

“Mommy! It’s time to sell Christmas trees. I gotta work. Remember?”

Lillian smiled at me and I rolled my eyes, giving in without a fight. Who would want to crush a Christmas spirit like that?

“Okay if I bring Waldorf salad?”

“Perfect.”

On Monday morning when I pulled into my driveway a little after eight, Jared Barnett was leaning on my doorbell. Matthew had been draggy this morning, so I was a few minutes late getting him to preschool and then driving back here. The sign on my door said the office opened at eight, and I adhere to that. Except for this one time, and you’d know it would happen with a potential client I wasn’t sure what to do with. I parked the SUV in my drive instead of pulling all the way into the garage, then walked up onto the front porch where he stood.

“Mr. Barnett. Nice to see you again.” I unlocked the door and opened it, preceding him into the spacious living area. It hit me every time I came in the front door, how open and almost empty this space was. It made me feel peaceful, not hemmed in.

Barnett was muttering something about the greasy breakfast and fuel-oil-flavored coffee he’d had at The Diner before coming here. Obviously, the man wasn’t used to small towns. For all he knew, I was related to the owners of the diner. You just don’t go around slinging words like that, unless you’re prepared to have them slung back at you sometime.

I walked quickly behind my desk, gesturing for him to have a seat. “What can I do for you today?”

I saw his mental dismissal of something crude he’d like to have said. I silently counted to ten, trying not to dislike him or have any personal feeling about him at all. The guy was a potential business associate. Could be nothing, could be important—for me and for the Standish family, if they decided to go that way.

 “Ms. Singer, you remember when I was here last and told you the type of property I’m looking for?”

“Yes, of course I do.” I picked up a pen and slid a pad closer in case he was going to say something worth writing down. “Nothing has really changed on that though. No big parcels have come onto the market.” 

He leaned back and steepled his fingers. “No? Well, I think there’s one you may have failed to mention. The Standish farm.” His over-bright eyes bored into mine, watching for a reaction.

“To my knowledge, that farm isn’t for sale.” My voice was clipped. “I don’t know where you heard otherwise.”

He didn’t move, barely blinked, keeping eye contact. Hoping I would flinch first?

“I realize it isn’t exactly on the market, but I also know there are issues with the family. With the old man dead and his widow grief-struck, they’re struggling to go on with business as usual.” He sat up a bit straighter. “But it isn’t business as usual, is it?” He shook his head, feigning concern for the afflicted family members.

“I understand what grief is, Ms. Singer. I’ve had my share.” He sighed heavily. “It’s difficult to decide it’s time to let go of the past. But the Standish family needs to consider the present as well, and the future.”

I wanted to interrupt him—shut him up—but found myself speechless as he continued his soliloquy.

“What of Jim and Carla and David? Do any of them have a chance to have normal lives when they’re burdened by a tree farm as well as their own careers? And Francie, who’s been here for months looking after her mother. Her husband must wonder when she’ll come back to him. What kind of strife must this be inflicting on her marriage?

“Ms. Singer, I understand you know the Standish family quite well. And that your son is out there several days a week when he isn’t at preschool. You care about them, I’m sure. Think about what all of this is doing to their health.” He raised a hand. “I understand they’re all relatively young. Except Lillian, of course. Wouldn’t it make the best sense for the farm to sell, Lillian buy a nice little place in town where she can grow her flowers and get together with friends? Wouldn’t it be better if Francie could go home, and come to visit when she wanted? Wouldn’t David be better off in the city where he belongs? And Carla would have all the time she wanted to pursue her design career instead of putting it on hold because of the extra work she has to do. She’d have more time to spend with friends too, wouldn’t she? And Jim. You know Jim has worked himself to exhaustion. What if he has a massive heart attack like his dad, out in the midst of those trees some evening? Who would know until it was too late? He doesn’t have anybody—does he?” He raised a brow.

Barnett stood up and leaned both hands on my desk pleadingly. “Think about
them
, Ms. Singer. They deserve to be guided by someone with knowledge of the business, knowledge of their needs—and knowledge of the potential price for their property
at this moment in time
. Serendipity is close enough to Louisville to make this development successful. And you, Ms. Singer, are close enough to the Standish family to make the development happen in the first place. I think if you listen to your heart, you’ll discover this is the right thing to do. Likely it’s why you were led back to Serendipity in the first place. To broker this deal for the Standish family…and then see what results from it, for you and little Matthew. Your lovely home here is a demonstration of the fact that you appreciate the finer things in life. You and I both have an idea what your commission will be on the sale. It would do a lot for a college fund for the little guy.”

Straightening again he smiled and extended his hand. “You think about that, please. I have confidence you’ll do the right thing.”

****

I locked the door briskly after Jared Barnett left, stood back a little and watched through the sheer curtain as he pulled away from the curb in that sleek BMW. The man was an incredible salesman—I had realized that the first time we met, but today I felt as if he’d reached into my soul and used its contents against me. Of course, I was already worried about the whole Standish family and what they were going through. I didn’t need to have a total stranger point those things out to me.

Same with the situation at the farm. That wasn’t something that could be locked away and ignored. It wasn’t my place to solve the problems there, but I wanted to help. It was the least I could do as a friend. A potential commission wasn’t the issue at all. So it would have been vastly easier to know I was considering presenting Mr. Barnett’s idea to the Standishes because I cared about them, as opposed to foreseeing a huge improvement in my own bank account.