Page 22 of The Grump Who Stole Christmas
“He was a fan too. I assume you’ll want to stop by at the inn. Check it out, get some ideas.”
She nodded. “Yes. Definitely. I will come. To see the inn. And your dad.”
“Matt’s not there,” I said. “At the house. We wanted him to come home and help out but he and my dad…things are never easy between them.”
“Matt can be stubborn,” Jasmine pointed out. Then she got this faraway look in her eye, like she was remembering what they’d had together. I never knew what went down between them, but I’d always had this sense, at least from Matt’s side, that there was unfinished business there.
But I had little time for sentimentalities and long-lost love. I had a business to fix, and Jas was at least two-thirds of the way through her frappuccino.
I checked my watch again. “Okay, I gotta run. I’ve got an interview with two different bakers in town.”
Jas refocused on me. “You need baked goods for the inn?”
“Yes. Rhonda, who handled all that for us, retired recently.” Or quit. But retired sounded better.
“Go ahead and interview them both, but you’re going to want Darlene and Jake.”
Darlene Hammersmith, the owner of Sweet Bliss, was one of the two interviews I had. The other was Gus Radcliff from Gus and Son’s Bakery.
Jasmine finished off her drink and stood. “Gus’s operation is bigger, but Darlene and Jake can do everything he can, and her malted brownies are legendary in this area. She bakes and Jake handles the store. Together, they run a solid operation. Trust me.”
“Okay. Thanks for the heads-up. I’m really looking forward to seeing what you can put together on such short notice.”
“Me too.” She smiled. But it was a smile that said she was up for the challenge. I liked that about her.
We shook hands again and I’d started to walk away when she called out. “So you asked Matt to come home and he said no. I just want to make sure I’m clear on that?”
“Yes. Ethan and I both asked him and he said no.”
“Okay. I would say have a good day, but if you’re going to try one of Darlene’s brownies that’s already a given.”
I didn’t eat brownies. I didn’t eat cake or cookies or sweets of any kind. In New York you were expected to look a certain way. Like you were always hungry for…something. A man, power, food. It didn’t matter.
Now here I was, strolling down main street Salt Springs on my way to a bakery where apparently I was going to buy some brownies.
In that moment I could feel how my life was suddenly and dramatically on another set of train tracks heading in a different direction.
I need to turn around. Figure out where I misstepped. Get back what I’d had.
Except my dad needed me, and my brothers, unbeknownst to them, needed me because I was the only one of the four of us who could make the hard financial calls when it came to the inn.
Because I was the ice queen.
SIX
Later That Night
Kristen
I was sonotthe ice queen.
How did I know that? Because I was creeping down the hallway in a pair of flannel pj’s and socks, my hair pulled back in a messy bun, not turning on any of the hallway lights because I didn’t want to wake anyone at one in the morning.
I had a plan. A plan with many steps.
Step one, make sure Paul Bunyan saw my boss lady mug in the cabinet.
I’d made a point during dinner to show him how well I’d cleaned it and put it back in the cabinet in its regular spot.
