Page 28 of A Christmas Spark
“Mm-hm.” Vanessa smiled. “Well, you should probably get going and pick up Rascal. I can finish up here. You’resurethat shelf will hold?”
“Don’t question my innovation,” Mabel said tartly, but Vanessa could hear the note of teasing in her voice. She could also see how proud Mabel clearly was of her solution to the shelving issue—whether or not it actually held.
Vanessa went back to her wrapping as Mabel did one last turn around the store to make sure that all was as it was supposed to be, and then waved goodbye as Mabel headed for the back room to leave and go pick up Rascal. She finished the last of the gifts—a dollhouse wrapped in shiny gold paper with tartan ribbon—and let out a soft sigh, pushing herself up from the floor to stack the gifts on the table for pickup and delivery tomorrow.
As she did, she couldn’t help thinking about all the gifts she’d seen for Jackson again—the silly t-shirt, the cooking gadget, the special edition mystery series. She knew that it was important to stick to their agreement, but she couldn’t shake how much she wanted to get him something. It just felt wrong to bypass so many perfect gifts that he would love so much.
The thought lingered with her as she locked up, heading out to her car to drive home to her apartment. And it stuck with her for the rest of the night too, no matter how hard she tried to shake it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
No matter how hard Imogen tried, she just couldn’t stop thinking about Katie’s letter to Santa.
They’d dropped it off after finishing up skating and eating pizza at Lincoln’s rink, and Imogen had tried to put it out of her head. She’d resolved to make Katie’s Christmas as perfect as she could, otherwise, and there was nothing she could do about that particular request. But it still nagged at her. She’d been so sure that they were happy and fulfilled, and now she was questioning if she had just missed something that Katie wanted and needed.
The letter kept replaying in her mind as she stood in front of the Snowdrift Diner, staring unseeingly at the customers inside. She’d planned to go in and grab some takeout for lunch at the shop, but she was so distracted that she found herself just standing on the path in front of the door, still seeing that piece of red paper with the glittery silver writing in Katie’s childish scrawl.
“Imogen? What’s got you contemplating our local diner so seriously? Are you trying to decide between rhubarb or pumpkin pie? Because I’d recommend both.”
Mabel’s warm, teasing voice broke through her churning thoughts, and Imogen blinked, turning to see her approaching.She was wearing a green cable-knit sweater and jeans, her silver-gray hair tucked beneath a green wool beanie with a sprig of holly pinned to it, and Imogen couldn’t help but think that the older woman looked more spry than ever these days. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes twinkling, and Imogen felt sure, in that moment, that Mabel Stewart was going to outlive them all.
Imogen laughed, although it sounded a bit hollow even to her own ears. “I must have been off in another world,” she said ruefully. “I was going to grab some takeout.” She gestured in the direction of the diner.
“Oh? Just picturing your lunch before you order it?” Mabel teased, heading past Imogen to walk into the warm, richly scented interior of the diner. Imogen followed, shaking off the lingering malaise that had stuck with her for days now. She breathed in the scent of wintry food—meat and melted cheese and pumpkin soup and warm bread—and tried to think about what she might want to eat instead of how Katie felt that their family was missing something.
That was when she noticed that, instead of going right to the hostess stand, Mabel was pinning something to the community bulletin board just to the left of the diner’s front door. Imogen peered a little closer to see a neatly printed flyer with a photo of a small tabby kitten, “FREE TO GOOD HOME,” typed in bold letters, followed by Mabel’s contact information.
“You’re giving away your kitten?” Imogen asked, surprised. “I thought you were quite taken with the little sweetheart.”
Mabel sighed dramatically. “Sweetheartis an overstatement,” she said ruefully. “Rascal—that’s what I named her—is living up to her name a bit too well. Last night, she managed to climb the Christmas tree in my living room, knock off at least three glass ornaments, unravel an entire ball of yarn I was using to knit a scarf, and then fall asleep on my face.” She adjusted the pin securing the flyer. “I’m not as young as I used tobe. I need my beauty sleep. And this kittenneversleeps. I swear she’s awake twenty-four/seven.”
“Why not just keep her? She sounds entertaining, at least,” Imogen suggested, grateful for the distraction from her own thoughts.
“Oh, she’s entertaining all right. Especially at three in the morning when she decides my toes are the most fascinating prey she’s ever encountered.” Mabel shook her head fondly. “But between the toy shop being so busy this time of year and trying to keep up with all the holiday festivities, I just don’t have the time to properly train her. She’s a little menace, and she needs more time than I have, honestly.”
Imogen tilted her head. “What about George? Vanessa said he was helping you out with her. Would he want to keep her? She’d be an adorable shop cat for the front office at the tree farm.”
At the mention of George Lowery, Mabel’s expression softened in a way that made Imogen wonder if there was more to their arrangement than just shared kitten duties. “He might have a soft spot for her,” Mabel allowed. “But at the end of the day, he’s just doing it because I guilted him into it. It’s all very begrudging. Although—” she chuckled. “You should have seen his face when Rascal climbed up his pant leg the other day. He tried to look annoyed, but I caught him sneaking her treats when he thought I wasn’t looking, right before I took her home for the evening.”
“Well, it’s a shame you have to rehome her,” Imogen sighed. “I can tell you really care a lot about her.”
“Speaking of caring—” Mabel narrowed her eyes slightly at Imogen, that grandmotherly look that said she was about to start prying crossing her face. “What has you so preoccupied that you’re standing out there in the cold, staring off into space?And don’t tell me it’s nothing—I’ve been around long enough to recognize when someone’s carrying something heavy around.”
Imogen sighed, pressing her lips together. “I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
Mabel studied her for a moment, clearly deciding whether to pry harder or not, and then glanced over the hostess stand into the main room of the diner. “Vanessa should have a booth for us already. Why don’t you join us for lunch? My treat.”
Imogen hesitated. She’d planned to just grab something quick and get back to the store—but it would be slow for another hour or so, while the tourists and shoppers were having lunch themselves. Leaving the store closed for a little longer wouldn’t make that much of a difference, and if she was being honest with herself, she could use the company right now. The thought of sitting down with friends suddenly seemed like exactly what she needed. “That would be lovely, thank you,” she said softly, following Mabel. She was immediately glad that she had. The holiday music playing softly in the background, the cheerful chatter of the lunch crowd, and the rich smell of the food was already beginning to thaw the chill that she’d felt from the inside out while she was standing in the cold.
Jackson waved to them as he came out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of steaming dishes, and both Imogen and Mabel waved back. They found Vanessa seated in a booth by the window, her dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, a steaming mug of what was likely coffee cradled between her hands. Her face lit up when she spotted them.
“I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost,” she teased as Mabel slid into the booth beside her, leaving Imogen to take the seat across from them. “Imogen! I wasn’t expecting to see you. This is such a nice surprise.”
“I was outside the diner and Mabel invited me to join you.” Imogen slid into the booth across from Vanessa, next to Mabel. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not! It’s so busy lately that I don’t get to see you nearly enough.” Vanessa waved a hand.
“I got a bit sidetracked,” Mabel explained, unwinding her scarf. “I was putting up a flyer for Rascal.”
