Page 25 of A Second Chance Christmas Kiss

“Your decorations.”

This time I did laugh. “They’re with me. They’re mine.” I hung up on him.

I took the time to get the little vacuum and make sure the carpet was nice and clean. It was, even though we had more foot traffic than normal. I tried to put Peter out of my mind, but I kept coming back to what he’d told me. Will wasn’t talking to him. Good. And the Christmas villages? Pfft. Those were mine. He’d never put any of them up. In fact, he’d complained about them every year.

I made myself focus. To keep busy, I straightened shelves and dolls, looking for any that were out and going to the back to replace them. Some sections were emptier than I’d expected.Probably because the girl who worked here, Mandy, had pulled them and never taken the time to replace them. Ah, teenagers.

That made me think of my son. He was almost twenty, not a teenager anymore. I missed those days. We had always been close. There had been countless nights when he’d brought his whole lacrosse team home, and I’d baked for them and sat around teasing them. My son had always included me, which I’d loved. It was only since the divorce that he had been different. Maybe he blamed me somehow. He wouldn’t stay on the phone long enough to have a conversation about it.

After getting everything squared away, I went to the computer to look up the receipts and pull up the accounts. I analyzed everything for the month and saw we were ahead of our target. Which was good, because we would still barely make ends meet. Or rather,Iwould barely make ends meet.

Anger surged within me, and I picked up the phone and pressed my ex-husband’s number, ready for a fight now. It went straight to voicemail, so I left a message. “Peter, I need the 401(k) money. You know this. I’m supposed to have it by the end of the year. Call me back.”

I hung up and felt gross, like I needed a shower. I hated demanding money from him. One of my girlfriends back in Colorado, Sharon, had called a couple days ago and told me he was no longer dating Tonya, the one he had been dating when he ended our twenty-year marriage. Now he was dating some other girl that we’d both known from our book club. She’d only been divorced a little over a year.

I cringed and tried to focus on things I could control. That was the best thing. Right?

But I couldn’t help feeling depressed that my son would not be here this week for Christmas. I’d truly thought he would celebrate the holiday with me. He had asked to stay in my mother’s home for New Year’s, and that troubled me. I didn’twant to go in there, but I would do it for him, if that was where he wanted to be. Maybe tomorrow afternoon I would clean it up.

The door opened, and I smiled as my friend Gretchen hurried in. She looked out of breath.

“Hey, I just got a call from the school,” she said. “Max got in trouble. I’m going to put up a sign next door and tell them to come to you if they need anything. Is that okay?”

“Of course.” I moved to her side and took her hand. “Are you okay?”

She shrugged. “Truly, no. He’s been getting in trouble so much. I can’t tell if he’s starting these fights or someone else is. I’ll talk later.” She rushed out the door, and I watched her go.

It wasn’t like the shop would get so busy that I couldn’t cover for her, but Mandy wouldn’t be here until three. So hopefully it all didn’t take too long. Not that you could ever count on school stuff to wrap up when it was supposed to.

I didn’t have time to worry about it too much, because the door opened and a mother and daughter walked in. They were clearly here on vacation: they were wearing beach clothes and looked highly unprepared for the fifty-degree weather with humidity.

The woman smiled at me, and I couldn’t help noticing she’d put on too much makeup. “I heard this was the best doll shop. My daughter and I are looking for some dolls for Christmas.”

The daughter seemed to be eight or nine years old. She was interested, which was nice. Sometimes mothers brought in daughters who were not interested at all.

“You’ve come to the right place. Most of my Christmas dolls are right up front, here in this display.” I motioned to the display that had the little Christmas village with all the dolls in different positions. “Look around the store, because I have a few scattered. Don’t be afraid to take some hot cocoa. I’m going to make some right now.” I’d read online about differentsuccessful brick-and-mortar stores. One thing they mentioned was that the store always gave something small away. It was a psychological trick that made the customer feel more obligated to buy something.

I went to the little kitchen in the back and quickly put together some hot chocolate. When I brought it out, I was delighted to see that the girl was holding two of the dolls. The mother was looking at a shelf of sleeping dolls, which were much better than the crying dolls. The crying dolls honestly freaked me out a little.

I situated the hot chocolate and then smiled at the daughter. “I see you’ve chosen Christmas Mistletoe and Little Miss Snowflake. Great choices.” I motioned to the table. “Do you want some hot chocolate?”

The mom shook her head, still fascinated by the sleeping dolls. “No, but she can have some.”

Quickly, I put the hot chocolate together and handed it to the daughter, exchanging the cup for the dolls. I put the dolls on the counter. “We will keep them here to keep them safe. But go ahead and look if you want.”

I walked over to the mom, who was now holding a sleeping doll named Rose. “Rose is special,” I began, and I was startled to realize I sounded just like my mother. She used to say things like that about dolls for so many years as I’d grown up living and working in the store.

The door dinged, and Charles walked in. Why was he here? I wouldn’t reward him showing up by giving him any attention. I didn’t want him here. Did I? Adrenaline spiked through me.

I locked eyes with him. “Just a second. I’ll be right with you.”

Charles nodded. “No problem. I’ll just be looking around.”

I turned back to the mother, who seemed to be getting emotional as she pulled the doll into her arms. “I had this doll when I was growing up. One day, I came home from school,and she was gone. I didn’t know how someone had taken her. I looked for her for months, years. I loved this doll.”

“We do get attached to our dolls,” I said, feeling compassion for her. “It’s the magic of childhood. Are you going to get that one for yourself?”

The woman hesitated and then shook her head. “I don’t know.”

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