Page 4 of The Merry Matchmaker

Probably not as busy as Frankie’s shop. Location, location, location. He-he.

“I just stopped in to tell you that we now have Dickens Carolers lined up to stroll the sidewalks and sing during the Santa Walk.”

And gloat over her latest accomplishment as chairman of the committee.

“That’s a great idea,” Frankie said, and meant it. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

Barbara gave her a superior smile. “I thought so. The committee has some other ideas...for a few changes. But I won’t bore you with that now. You’re probably ready to get back to work.” She took in Frankie’s outfit. “Or maybe not.”

Frankie was not a match with her daughter and Elinor, who were wearing their red Holiday Happiness aprons and Santa hats.

“Oh, I am. Just had to step away. But not for long. We’re always busy here. It’s such a good location,” Frankie couldn’t resist adding.

Barbara frowned, deepening the lines on both sides of her mouth. She ran a hand along the side of her sleek black hair, smoothing it out. As if so much as one strand would dare get out of line.

“I need to get back to work, myself. We’re always busy, too.” Barbara changed gears, shifting to a smile for Natalie. “Natalie, my salesclerk tells me you’re contributing your fabulous Christmas bonbons to the teacher appreciation lunch. That is so nice of you.”

“Just doing my part,” Natalie said humbly.

“I know it’s appreciated.”

“Thank you. And I hope your granddaughter enjoys the Advent calendar,” Natalie said.

“It’s important to support our local businesses,” said Barbara.

This was said for Frankie’s benefit, of course. “Someday I’m going to learn to knit,” she promised.

Now, why had she said that? The crafting gene had skipped a generation in her family, and she wasn’t any better at creating confections like her daughter or crocheting like her mother than she was at wallpapering. Anyway, Mom spent a small fortune at Some Kind of Yarn, and that should be enough business to give the entire family brownie points.

Barbara merely rolled her eyes and made for the door.

The other customer, who had been following the exchange, took her bagged ornament and asked, “What’s the Santa Walk? We’re new in town.”

“It’s our yearly holiday festival,” said Natalie. “All the stores participate and offer bargains and door prize drawings, and there’s a parade with Santa. Then, later at night, there’s a Santa pub crawl where the men dress up like Santa and the women like elves or Mrs. Claus.”

“Or Santa,” put in Frankie, thinking of what a fun Santa Cindy Carlson had turned herself into, wearing long red underwear and a long shirt that said Off Duty, Buy Me a Drink.

“We’ll have to check it out,” said the woman. “And your candy sounds wonderful,” she told Natalie.

“It is,” said Frankie. “She’ll be making another batch soon, so be sure to check back.”

“Maybe,” added Natalie.

“I will,” said the woman.

Frankie turned to Natalie as the woman went out the door. “See? We could sell twice as much of your candy.”

“If I had twice as much time,” Natalie said. “But I don’t. Gotta go, Mom.” And she took off her apron, ending a discussion that they’d had on more than one occasion. “Jonathan and Warner are back from his mom’s, and I need to get home.”

“Okay, fine,” Frankie said, sounding mildly grumpy. “Thanks for putting in the extra hours,” she added, opting to lose the grumpy mom tone once Natalie had donned her coat and was headed for the door. “Kiss my boy for me.”

“Will do. See you tomorrow at Gram Gram’s,” Natalie said, then left.

Frankie sighed. Another business pep talk aborted. Why on earth her daughter balked at taking Frankie’s advice and turning her candy-making hobby into something lucrative was a mystery to Frankie. Natalie’s bonbons were wonderful, with fillings ranging from nutmeg to peppermint mocha, and always decorated with tiny royal icing fir trees or candy canes. Come Easter, they would turn into eggs.

“Why are some people so blind to what’s good for them?” Frankie muttered. She walked around to the other side of the counter to dig out a small red gift bag for Viola’s Handy’s Hardware card. “I swear, nobody listens to me.”

“Natalie?” Elinor interpreted.

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