Page 43 of The Christmas Cookie Crush

I squirm in my seat, opening my mouth to say something, though I don’t know what exactly.

Grampy holds up a hand to stop me from speaking. “For the record, I’m thrilled that you used my cookie recipe to woo your young lady.”

“It’s very sweet,” Nana interjects, reaching over to pat my hand. “Your grampy won me over with his baking skills.”

Chuckling, Grampy shakes his head. “That’s not quite how I remember it.”

“Oh, you hush,” Nana says, sitting back and folding her hands primly in front of her. “It was certainly a contributing factor.”

“Sheila also mentioned how dedicated you were,” Grampy continues, “covering the costs of the failed batches out of yourpaycheck. She also said you did well after just a little bit of instruction.”

“It wasn’t that hard once she showed me what to do. I just …” I spread my hands in front of me and shrug. “I hadn’t decorated cookies since I was a kid, and I don’t remember any of them being that detailed.”

“Exactly,” Grampy says as though I just made his point for him. “You’re a natural. Which only makes sense, considering.” He lays his hands in front of him on the table, palms covering the green placemat. “What I’m trying to say is that I—we—would like it if you stayed on past Christmas. Past whenever I’m fully back on my feet. I want you to help me run the bakery.” He pauses to examine my face. “If you’re interested, that is. I know Arcadian Falls isn’t that exciting for a young man such as yourself. And while you’re certainly welcome to stay here with us for as long as you like, I intend to pay you enough so you can support yourself just fine if you want to live on your own.”

I blink a few times, staring at my hands, a little shocked that this is coming up now. And that Grampy’s the one bringing it up. I figured I’d have to talk him around to letting me stay on with the intention of eventually taking over. I didn’t think he’d offer it to me on a silver platter like this.

“We know it’s not the best time to move and that most of your stuff is still in Portland with your parents,” Nana puts in when I don’t respond right away. “And considering the fact that you’re finding somewhere to spend the night tomorrow, we know we’re cramping your style to some degree. We appreciate all your help, but we don’t expect you to live with us forever. We know you need your independence. But we’ve always loved having you around. Even though we understood why your parents decided to move you and your brother to Portland when you were a child,we hated losing that connection with you. It’s been so lovely having you here again.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand, and I turn it over to hold hers.

“It’s been my pleasure, Nana,” I tell her, finally responding. “Yeah, the hours have been long for ChristmasFest, but I enjoy working at the bakery. I’ve loved that place since I was a kid, and it’s been fun to see how it works from the inside.” Giving her hand a squeeze, I release it and face Grampy. “I’ve actually been thinking I’d like to stick around and help out too. I was planning on talking to you about it after Christmas, thinking I’d need some time to make a convincing argument about why you should let me stay.”

Grampy chuckles. “Austin, your nana’s right. We love having you here. I know I’ve been a crotchety old man this visit, and I’m sorry for that. Pain and frustration bring out the worst in me. But I know I’m not a young man anymore, and as much as I wanted to pretend I could go on at the same pace forever, the truth is, I’ve been feeling my age more and more in recent years. Sheila’s almost like a member of the family, so I’ve been letting her take on more of the work, but I always envisioned passing on the bakery to one of my children”—he gestures to me—“or grandchildren. But for so many years, that didn’t seem like something anyone would want. And then you came to help out.”

“Yes,” I say, making my voice as firm and definitive as I can. “I want to stay. I want you to teach me everything you know as soon as you’re up to the job.”

Holding up a finger, Grampy wags it at me. “Not until after New Year’s. You’re taking that week off, young man. I’m still the owner, which makes me your boss, so what I say goes.”

“Yes, sir,” I answer, grinning. Standing, I move around the table to give him a hug.

He makes an, “Ohhh,” sound, like I’m being overly demonstrative, but pats my shoulder all the same.

When I go around to Nana, she stands and gives me a solid hug in return. “I’m so happy you want to stay,” she whispers, and all I can do is nod in response, not trusting my voice around the lump in my throat.

“I should get going,” I say, stepping out of her hug.

She pats me on the arm once more. “We’ll let Sheila know you’re running a little late so she has today’s order for the kiosk ready and waiting for you.”

I grin. “She always does.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Nora

I’m thrummingwith anticipation the next day waiting for ChristmasFest to be over. Austin and I grabbed a quick post-Fest snack and walked around by the water downtown last night, but didn’t get to spend as much time together as I would’ve liked. But I was under strict orders from my mother not to stay out too long. “Your brothers are only here for a little while. It’ll be good for you to spend at least an hour with them.”

And she’s not wrong. Well, a little wrong. I could do without my brothers. Well, I could do without Dylan, at least. He’s still giving me the stink eye for dating Austin, sighing loudly and grousing that Austin should be hanging out with him any time it comes up. Fortunately, everyone else tells him to shut up, so at least I don’t have to. Especially since he listens to them more than me. But spending time with Lydia and Olivia is fun. Especially when they’re the ones asking me about Austin, which means they’re also the ones telling Dylan to hush the most.

So close to Christmas, every day is slammed with people trying to finish all their last-minute Christmas shopping and planning. In a town the size of Arcadian Falls, you wouldn’t think there’d even be this many kids who need to get their picture taken with Santa. And probably, if it were just the residents, there wouldn’t be. But there’s all the tourists from out of town, plus the people who drive here from the neighboring area to fill up all the slots. Sure, many of them could probably find places to get photos with Santa in their own towns, but none of them have the magic and appeal of ChristmasFest.

But the constant activity means I’m not sitting around watching the clock, and before I know it, the day is nearly done, and I’m taking pictures of the last session with Dad—a brother and sister. The brother’s clearly over the whole pictures-with-Santa thing. He looks about twelve, with the broccoli hair and attitude to match, and getting him to smile is nearly as hard as the crabby toddlers. To be fair, he technically smiles on command, but it’s that terrible faux smile that looks awful, and I pride myself on photographing as many genuine smiles as possible.

So I pull out the big guns—the Rudolph puppet and Mr. Penguin. Yeah, they usually work best on the under-five set, but the younger sister—who said she’s eight—is still young enough to think my antics are funny. I’m hoping that the combination of silliness with stuffed toys and his sister’s giggles will be enough to provoke a real smile from the big brother, but all he does is roll his eyes at my antics.

Dad can tell what I’m doing and leans in to whisper something to both kids. I don’t know what he says, but it works. A small but genuine smile appears on the twelve-year-old’s face, and I snap the picture before it can disappear again. Dad says something else that has both kids laughing, and I manage to snap a fewmore shots, and I know at least one has everyone looking at the camera.

Awesome.

“Good job!” I tell the kids, which gets me another eye roll from the big brother, but I don’t even care at this point. I’m glad to be done for today.

---