Page 8 of A Second Chance Christmas Kiss

What would my life have been like if I had married Melody? I’d wondered the same thing many times over the years, but I’d pushed it aside because I knew she was happily married and had a child. I’d tried to stop her wedding, and I’d failed. Yet today, when she hadn’t answered my question about her husband and son … well, it led me down a mental rabbit hole.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my pocket, irritated yet grateful for the interruption. I answered. “Steve, sorry. Can I call back in about fifteen minutes? I was sidetracked.”

“You bet. Call back.”

I hung up and put the phone on the desk, trying to shake off the thoughts that were haunting me from the past. I had a deal to work out for King Enterprises. Of course, I didn’t have to be the point person on this project, but it was a billion-dollar deal, and that kind got my attention. I opened my laptop and went to the files that I needed to review quickly before negotiating this deal—a commercial real estate contract for half of the city of Boston.

I couldn’t push thoughts of Melody away. All the methods I’d used over the years to block her failed at the same time. The walls would no longer go up. Melody was on my mind, and I didn’t know how to get her off of it.

Finally, I called Steve back. “Can we push this deal until the beginning of the new year?”

He scoffed. “Are you kidding me? We were supposed to go over the dotting our i’s and crossing our t’s.”

“I’m sorry. Something has come up, and I won’t be able to do this until the new year.”

“Fine. I’m putting you down for a closing date of January third. That work?”

“Thank you. That’s great.”

“Okay. Merry Christmas. Bye now.”

“Thanks. Merry Christmas.”

I hung up and stared out the window. Melody Paine. What was her story?

As I walked into dinner that night in the formal dining room, Grandmother looked good. She was alert and vibrant, waiting for me in her seat. This was her custom. I’d been told that even when no one was here, she took her meals in the dining room.

“Charles,” she said. “Good evening.”

I bent and kissed her cheek. “Good evening, Grandmother.” I moved to the head of the table and took my spot.

Immediately, Henry brought in the food. “Salmon and a vegetable medley tonight, with mashed potatoes and brown gravy. As requested, ma’am.” He put the food on the table, then stepped back. “Would you like me to dish up?”

I put my hand up. “Not tonight. Thank you.”

Grandmother caught my eye and looked curious. She waited until Henry left before taking my hand. “I’ll say grace. Dear Lord, we are so grateful this night to have Charles home. To have this good food. To have so many blessings and so much of thygrace. We would ask for blessings on the rest of our family. And bless this charity event in Gracie’s name. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

“Amen,” I said. It was refreshing to be with my grandmother. We always prayed over the evening meal, and I attended church with her whenever I was here.

With the prayer finished, I dished some food for my grandmother and myself, starting with the meat and then moving on to the vegetables and mashed potatoes.

She put her napkin on the table and then lifted her fork and knife. “Hazel told me that you wanted to speak with me when I woke up, but I needed some time to get ready for dinner, so I thought we could just talk now.”

“I think you’re in trouble, old lady.” I always said “old lady” when I was teasing her. Even though I really wasn’t teasing her. How could I get mad at someone who was eight-three and had always been more like a friend than a grandmother?

Her eyebrows lifted, and she took a bite of meat and then chewed for a bit. She put her fork down and then lifted her napkin to dab at her lips, ever the mannered lady. “Is that right? Why am I in trouble?” Her face didn’t show a hint of teasing.

I swallowed a mouthful and said, “I picked up your doll today.”

“Oh, that’s right. Thanks for getting that. Who are the new owners, then?”

Did she really not know? I chewed on another bite and then took a sip of water. She just watched me, like she was anticipating the reason why she was in trouble.

I put my fork down and turned to her. “Did you really not know that Melody is here?”

She looked startled. “Melody Harris? Or Paine? No. Is she here for the holidays? What was she doing in the doll shop? She sold it a couple months after her grandmother’s death.”

My grandmother was good at keeping secrets, but she never kept them from me. “She still owns the store. Apparently, she runs the place.”

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