Page 26 of A Christmas Spark
Just as she walked toward where Rascal was rolling around with a piece of discarded ribbon, George on her heels, the shelf gave way with acrackthat made Mabel jump.
“Watch out!” Vanessa called from where she was setting up the gift station, and Mabel froze, watching in horror as the shelf—and a third of their hard work—started to collapse.
George jumped forward, grabbing the edge of the shelf just in time to keep all of the dolls from sliding off and crashing to the floor in a heap.
“I’ve got it,” he said calmly, as if catching falling furniture was a regular part of his day.
Mabel pressed a hand to her chest. “Thank you,” she managed, and George shrugged, peering at the underside of the shelf.
“Looks like the bracket gave way,” George observed, examining the shelf with a critical eye. “This shelf is kind of old. I think a screw might have started to come loose.”
“I thought it might be a screw,” Vanessa said as she came over to join them, reaching up to remove the dolls from the now-broken shelf.
Mabel felt a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. “I was going to fix it this weekend,” she said defensively, avoiding George’s eyes. “I figured it would hold up until then.” Her flushdeepened as she heard how that must sound to him. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was incompetent.
“I can take a look at it for you,” George offered. “Wouldn’t take all that long. I’ve got some tools out in the truck?—”
“You’re doing enough,” Mabel interrupted. “Just grab Rascal so she’s not underfoot. I can handle the shelf myself, I’ve been doing repairs on this shop for years, all on my own.”
She could hear how tart her voice sounded, but she couldn’t help it. George was already doing her a favor, and she didn’t want him to start thinking she was depending on him. She’d done just fine on her own all these years, except last winter, when she’d hurt herself. And in a roundabout way, as they’d already established, that was on him, since she’d been pranking him when she’d done it.
George raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. “But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Mabel nodded, busying herself with collecting the remaining dolls to hide her flustered state. She was being ridiculous, she knew. George was just being helpful, as he always was. But something about accepting his help with the shelf felt like admitting a weakness, and Mabel had spent too many years proving she could run this store on her own to start appearing incompetent now.
“I’ll just get Rascal,” George said, going to scoop the kitten up off of the floor, ribbon and all. “There’s the troublemaker,” George said gruffly, holding the kitten like a tiny football in his broad hand. Rascal promptly buried her claws in the fabric of his sleeve and started kneading, purring contentedly.
Grateful for the distraction, Mabel hurried toward the back room, grabbing a small red quilted bag and handing it to George. “Her food and toys are in here,” she said. “As requested. She likes the catnip Christmas tree toy best, but she’ll playwith anything she can bat around—and usually what she’s not supposed to.”
“She is fond of Christmas trees.” George chuckled. “Alright, I’m out of here. See you tonight when you come pick the little nuisance up.”
The way he said it was far too fond, Mabel thought, for him to really mean it. “Thanks again,” she said quickly. “This is a huge help.”
“Happy to do it,” George said, and she thought he actually meant it. He certainly didn’t look as annoyed by the kitten as he had before. “See you later. Have a good day, Vanessa.”
Vanessa waved him off as he turned to go to the door. Mabel watched them, nervous as a parent watching her child go off to school.
“Don’t give the baby any sweets!” she called after him, and George chuckled, shaking his head as he opened the door, waving her off without turning around. The door jingled as it closed behind him, only to open a moment later as a mother and her three children spilled inside.
Mabel straightened her shoulders, shaking off her lingering embarrassment. Another holiday shopping day had begun.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Vanessa hummed along toThe First Noelas she carefully wrapped a boxed wooden train set in shimmering red paper, creasing the lines with exact precision as she reached for the tape. She glanced at the list next to her, making sure to note what color ribbon Agnes Henderson had asked that the gifts be wrapped with.
There was a list several customers long of custom-wrapping orders, and Vanessa had been put on that job while Mabel worked on fixing the shelf that had broken earlier. The last customer had left fifteen minutes ago, the store was closed down, and now they could work on the after-hours tasks in the peaceful pine-and-cinnamon scented space with Christmas music playing quietly.
Vanessa couldn’t help but compare it to her old job—to the stress and constant rush, the endless micromanaging and the way she’d never really been ‘off.’ She could never have imagined a slower pace back then, had told herself that she thrived on always being needed, on being the most capable person in her office. But now, she couldn’t imagine going back to that. She’d be done here in about an hour, and then she’d be off work for the rest of the evening, with no thoughts about it until shecame back to the store in the morning. She’d grab takeout from the Maplewood Tavern, maybe have a hot bath at home with an eggnog-scented bath bomb that she’d picked up from the market, and wind down with a glass of peppermint tea before going to sleep.
She’d had no idea what she was missing, back then.
“I think that’s the last one for Mrs. Henderson’s order,” Vanessa said, tying a gold ribbon around the package with a flourish. “Her grandkids are going to be thrilled.”
Across the room, Mabel was perched precariously on a step stool, her silver hair catching the warm glow of the Christmas lights that adorned every corner of The Toy Chest. She was focused intently on the broken shelf that had given way earlier, her tongue poking slightly out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. Vanessa shook her head, more than a little worried that Mabel might end up hurting her wrist again, the way she’d done last year. Fixing a shelf was one of the excuses she’d used to cover up the truth—that she’d hurt it pranking George—after all.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone to fix that properly?” Vanessa asked, unable to hide the concern in her voice. “George seemed like he would have helped if you’d asked.”
Mabel waved a dismissive hand without looking away from her project. “Nonsense. I’ve been fixing things in this shop since before you were born. Besides, George has his hands full with Rascal and the Christmas tree farm.”
