Page 2 of Christmas Spirits

She laughed again, and I chuckled along with her. It’s all things I usually heard in the store when people debated what to buy. That, along with the occasional, “How do you stay so thin? I’d be five hundred pounds if I worked here.”

I didn’t mind, really. People said the dangedest things when indulging in their guilty pleasures. I, on the other hand, didn’t see a reason for excuses. I mean, who didn’t love chocolate and dessert? Why be ashamed of it?

“I have to say, Kay, you really outdid yourself. It looks amazing,” she continued to gush, leaning in closer to the plate of cookies. She snatched one and finished off half of it in one bite. As she chewed, her eyes rolled back and she moaned loudly. “Oh my God!” She covered her mouth as she kept chewing. “These are to die for!”

Pride filled my chest and I grinned. This was always my favorite part—when customers took their first bite and the look of pure joy passed over their face. Seeing them enjoy my cooking—Grandma Abigail’s cooking—made it feel like she was with me again and we were baking in her kitchen.

“I’m glad you like them,” I said.

“Like them? Kay, I’m hooked! I may just have to take this tray of cookies and hide them just for myself.” She laughed again, but the way she eyed the stack of sugar cookies and grabbed another told me it was an idea she was really considering.

As she nibbled on her cookie, she strolled across the kitchen, opened one of the top cabinets, and pulled out a white envelope. When she came back, she handed it over to me.

“Here you are, dear. I hope cash is fine,” she said, and I nodded.

“Of course.” Most business owners preferred cash transactions. Less of a chance of a bounced check or credit card chargeback. I began to open the envelope to get a peek at the amount inside. I didn’t want to be rude and make it look like I didn’t trust Mrs. Harris to give me the right amount, but I didn’t want to be shorted either. When I thumbed through the money and saw ten crisp hundred dollar bills, I almost gasped out loud.

That was over four hundred dollars more than I had quoted her for.

I quickly closed the envelope again, feeling all the heat that had been clinging to my body rush to my cheeks. That could definitely be a solid start to a company van’s down payment, but I couldn’t accept it. Not when I had promised her a job that was so much less…

She grabbed another cookie the second she swallowed her last one.

“Mrs. Harris… You g-gave me too much,” I stammered, passing the money back to her, but she waved her hand at me.

“It was done on purpose. You’re the one who helped me out in such a pinch. It was the least I could do.”

Still unsure what to do, I hesitated and continued to hold the envelope of money between us.

Seeing my discomfort, she smiled. “Think of it as a tip. Or a gift, whichever you like. But it’s yours.” Then she took three more cookies from the tray. “You deserve it.”

In the adjoining room, the music changed to the more upbeat song, “Jingle Bell Rock,” and Mrs. Harris squealed with excitement. “Would you like to stay? We’re going to sing our favorite Christmas songs on the karaoke machine. Looks like I’m up first.”

“Thank you, but I really have to get back and get the shop ready for the morning,” I replied.

She bit into another cookie and hurried to the doorway. “Don’t work too hard, now! Oh, and Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” I called out to her, but she was gone before the words left my mouth. I glanced down at the money again, a bit stunned. I had been hoping this job would get me more customers through Mrs. Harris’s word of mouth. I definitely hadn’t expected a four-hundred-dollar tip.

Putting the envelope safely into my apron pocket, I pulled out a couple of my business cards and put them on the dessert table. Then, I grabbed my heavy coat, hat, and scarf off the back of a chair, and put on my winter layers.

The moment I stepped outside into the biting cold, I missed the oppressive heat of the kitchen. I debated calling Laurence and telling him about Mrs. Harris’s kindness, but knowing it was so late and that he was probably trying to get Zach to sleep for the night, I decided against it. I’d let him know the good news when I got home. Maybe tomorrow we could even check out some used car dealerships after the shop closed.

Excitement began to bubble up inside me as I started down the sidewalk, back towardOh! Kay’s. Maybe I could do this. I’d be spreading myself thin for a few months—maybe a year—with running the store and handling the catering on weekends, but it’d be worth it. Who knows. Maybe I’d be able to hire some more employees to help out soon, too. Then weddings, a brand, my desserts stocked on grocery store shelves, and vacations. Lots and lots of vacations. That was the goal, anyway.

I didn’t remember what not working felt like. I’d been on the go…well, pretty much forever. Taking a break wasn’t really in my DNA. At least, it’d been ingrained into it ever since my grandmother was given sole custody of me and my siblings. She worked a tight ship, but while my older brother and my younger sister rebelled, I wanted nothing more than to make her proud.

Grandma Abigail was a Medium, too. And since my sister and brother didn’t share the gift, I got most of her attention. And most of her strictness and rules.

Don’t get me wrong. Growing up with Grandma Abigail wasn’t easy. She was a strong, no-nonsense kind of woman who clung tightly to her traditions, her culture, and her religion. But she was all I had since our mother was…unable to care for us, and I cherished her teachings.

Of course, it was always easier to appreciate someone when they’re gone or when you’re older, but my grandmother’s toughness and hard lessons made me the woman I was today. And there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about her.

Crossing my arms across my chest to keep some of my body heat in as I walked, I thanked our luck that it’d been a rather warm winter. Wet and still bitter cold, but warmer than usual. Because of our closeness to the coast, most of our potential snowstorms had turned to rain.

I wasn’t complaining. While most people were praying for a white Christmas, I’d be okay with skipping the snow and ice part of it. One, because it slowed down business, and two, because I always managed to slip on the hidden ice patches and bruise my bum. Ever since last year’s spill down my apartment’s steps, I was okay skipping something like that again.

Hurrying across the street, static energy tickled across my skin, making me pause on the sidewalk. Pulse jumping into overdrive, I searched the shadows around me. A similar sensation would pass over me every time I walked out of my store. My guess was that it was because of the rip in the veil separating our world and the other side, where all things not alive dwelled. That included Hell, Heaven, the afterlife, and all the mysteries that came after death.

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