Page 33 of Second Chance Christmas

Fine lines graced the edges of soft brown eyes and the cold teased a fair pink to color robust cheeks made plump by her affection for cookies and her husband’s bakery, no doubt. This only lent to the happy sparkle in the older woman’s eyes.

See. This town was Hallmark-fucking-perfect.

“Aren’t you a sight to see! It’s been too, too long, Ivy honey. After our talk this morning I hoped I would get to see you sooner rather than later. Merry Christmas, sweetie.”

Ivy smiled widely. “Merry Christmas to you too, Mrs. December.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the warm welcome and enthusiasm. “I trust Mr. December is back at the bakery with fresh ideas on how to beat Mr. Hardt this year?”

Mrs. December’s hands made a muffled thump as she clapped her gloved palms together. “That man hasn’t left the bakery since Thanksgiving. I’m beginning to think I might not ever have sex again. Or at least not until after the New Year the way this year is going.”

Okaaay. “Neck to neck I see. That has to create some excitement. Nothing like a good old-fashioned competition.”

Mrs. December nudged her wire-rimmed glasses a notch up her nose as she rolled her eyes. “Honey, there isn’t one old-fashioned thing about this year but the two old geezers trying to outdo each other. But you won’t hear me complain when all the extra food goes to the orphanage.”

Mrs. December’s passion for as long as Ivy could remember. A minute later Mrs. December looped her arm in Ivy’s as they sought refuge from the cold in the grocery store. “With Mr. December’s bread delivery to the church, what’s the score now?”

Ivy moved to grab a cart, but Mrs. December beat her to it.

“Who can keep up these days? I’m too worried about my cookie delivery for the Dixcemberfest. You know the girls gather at my house every year, but this year we’ll have to work double time with the growing number of people coming to our small town to join our festivities. And this year your gran has added to it.”

“I heard. Will you be using the bakery this year?” They passed a stand filled with wrapping paper and bows. Another with pretty bundles of variously flavored cookies and another with the dreaded fruitcakes. All of them made their way into the cart and Mrs. December continued. “Have you ever tried to fight for a little kitchen space with a master baker? I like being married and I’d hate to take a rolling pin to the man, you know what I mean.”

Ivy fought back a laugh. Instead, she canted her head a little. “Fair and good point.”

She had seven brothers and sisters. Fighting for space growing up came with the territory.

“I know a thing or two about it.”

Mrs. December smiled. “I bet you do, hon. So I’ve talked Mr. December into a quick kitchen makeover. A new stove and while I’m at it a new countertop section to expand my kitchen. You should come out and see it. You would love it! Aspen can bring you. He’s overseeing the installation of the new stove tomorrow. I’d love to get your professional thoughts on the new design of the kitchen too. ”

With a shaky laugh, she asked, “Umm. I’m a little busy at the B&B. I don’t know if I can pull away.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of time. I bet if you ask, Aspen would love to help you at the B&B. With only a few days until Christmas, you’ll need to hurry. Plus, Mrs. Hardt just put in new countertops at her place. I haven’t revealed mine yet and I want to make sure they are perfect. Can you help? I want them to blow the stockings off Mrs. Hardt’s kitchen and have all the girls chatter about it for months?”

Small-town entertainment at its best.

“Well then. That’s pretty hard to turn down. How do we know what Mrs. Hardt’s counters look like anyway? How are you so sure yours will beat hers?”

“Your gran dug up some pictures on Facebook, of course.”

Ivy didn’t know if she wanted to sigh or laugh. Instead, she said the only thing that made sense. “Naturally.”

In went another bag of goodies followed by a stuffed snowman and something sparkly for girls’ ponytails. She didn’t get a good look because her eyes were too busy spotting a man in a red plaid shirt and black jeans walking around a corner with a short brunette.

She picked up the pace a little with Mrs. December in tow. “Oh, hon, I see the fire chief is here.” She reached out and patted her arm and leaned in a little. “Has he asked you out on a date yet? Your gran mentioned you were single again.”

“What? Is there no one that doesn’t know?” The opening notes of “Grandma Got Ran Over By A Reindeer” carried over the shoppers, and Ivy felt a keen affection for that song at the moment. She drew a deep breath and swallowed the automatic denial that wanted to come out. “I’m only here long enough to touch up the place, Mrs. December. I have a job offer in New York and I’m taking it.” She hoped she didn’t sound rude dodging the question, but that was a question she didn’t want to touch in the middle of the bread aisle. Besides, it was neither here nor there.

“Then I better work fast.”

Ivy had a feeling the other woman didn’t mean her kitchen renovations with how she worried her lip and tapped her chin. The creases around her eyes deepened too, and that made Ivy raise a brow in question.

“Work fast?”

“Never mind, hon. You know splitting my time between the cookie baking and helping out down at the sheriff’s office makes a schedule really tight this time of year.” Mrs. December came to an abrupt stop by the eggnog and red wine with a conveniently placed strip of condoms hanging on the side. “Oh, excuse me hon.”

Mrs. December didn’t even flinch when placing two boxes of ribbed extra-large in the cart and Ivy fought to hold back a smile. She only wished her sex life was that active.

“By the way, hon, did I mention Aspen would be there?”

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