Page 7 of A Christmas Spark
LINCOLN: No, that’s totally fine. I’m happy to stay open until you get here.
Imogen let out a small sigh, but she texted him back to tell him that she was on her way, then. As she picked up the totes, groaning a little at the weight, she couldn’t help but think how kind and accommodating Lincoln was. She was sure he probably didn’t want to stay late any more than she did, but clearly he thought it would be easier for her to get the delivery over with that evening, and he was staying at the rink so that she could do just that. It really was incredibly sweet of him.
But then again, she thought with a burst of nostalgia, he always had been sweet, even when they were back in high school. They’d been friends nearly from the moment they met as teenagers, and it hadn’t taken long for that to blossom into the kind of first love that was unique to being high school sweethearts. Imogen sighed, feeling wistful for that uncomplicated, innocent kind of love that she’d experienced back then. Everything was so much more complicated as an adult, and doubly so because of being a mother. Katie came before everything else, and while she would never have changed a thing, she felt that bit of nostalgia at the memory of a simpler time.
That simple, innocent love had come to an end when she and Lincoln had gotten into different colleges, and decided to go their separate ways. It had been a mutual breakup, and they’dboth agreed it was better to just end things amicably rather than go through the strain of a long-distance relationship, especially when they’d both been so young. But she hadn’t been happy about it back then, and she knew Lincoln hadn’t either. They’d tried to be pragmatic and grown-up about it all, but neither of them had really wanted to end things.
Most people might resent having to see the person they used to date on a regular basis, she thought ruefully as she walked back out into the shop. But Lincoln had always been kind to her, never once hinting at their past or any kind of resentment that she’d come back to Fir Tree Grove alone and with a baby—and with no intention of getting back together with him.
“Ready?” Vanessa asked, tucking her book back into her purse and raising an eyebrow at the heavy tote bags Imogen was carrying. “What on earth is all of that?”
“Hot chocolate powder,” Imogen said with a laugh. “I need to drop it off at the ice rink. It’s Lincoln’s weekly order for the hot chocolate stand.”
Vanessa looked at her curiously, standing up to walk over and peek into the totes. Her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, that’s a lot of hot cocoa,” she said with a laugh. “There’ssomuch of it. How much does this cost Lincoln? Andeveryweek?”
Imogen laughed. “It’s not cheap,” she admitted. “His order really contributes a lot to the shop’s sales for the month. I mean, we do fine on gift baskets and regular hot cocoa and chocolate sales, but it really helps, you know?”
“I believe it.” Vanessa shook her head. “Alright, let’s go, then. We’ll drop that off and then head over to the tavern?”
Imogen nodded, fishing her keys out of her pocket to lock up as they walked out. “Thanks for being patient,” she said, locking the door and gesturing for Vanessa to follow her to where her little Subaru was parked. “I know we were supposed to leave like thirty minutes ago.”
“It’s totally fine,” Vanessa assured her, helping slide one of the totes off of Imogen’s shoulder so that they could pack them into the back of the station wagon. It was starting to lightly snow, and both women hurriedly got into the car, Vanessa rubbing her mittened hands together as they waited for the car to warm up. “Jingle Bells” came on the radio, and Imogen hummed along, backing slowly out of the snowy parking lot.
“It’s neat that Lincoln decided to shop local and get your hot chocolate powder for the rink,” Vanessa said as they pulled out onto the road. “Honestly, I’d have thought he’d go for a more economical option, even though I know yours is probably amazing. Just for profit margins, you know?” She glanced sideways at Imogen, who shrugged.
“I guess he’s just really committed to supporting local businesses,” she said. “What other reason could there be?”
Imogen glanced over, and saw that Vanessa had a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. “Oh, I don’t know,” Vanessa said, a smirk on her lips. “Maybe it has something to do with your past together. That’s possible, right? Maybe he still has a little of that old flame going, and wants to make sure he’s doing business withyouspecifically?”
Imogen rolled her eyes. “Absolutely not,” she said firmly. “We were kids back then. There hasn’t been anything between us in years, not like that. He’s just being nice, trying to keep his business local. And,” she added, glancing at the clock, “we need to hurry up. He’s staying open so I can get this dropped off tonight. He should have already closed up the rink by now.”
Vanessa’s grin widened. “Wow. It’s awfully nice of him to agree to stay later at work, just so you don’t have to get up earlier tomorrow to do your drop-off. What a nice guy.” She laughed. “He could have even just told you to drop it at the door so he didn’t have to wait around. I’m sure it’d be fine until themorning, right? But he decided to stick around and make sure he saw you for a minute.”
“Oh, stop.” Imogen shook her head. “There’s really nothing deeper to it.” She turned into the parking lot for the rink and found a spot close to the door, hopping out to grab the tote bags. To her surprise, Vanessa got out of the car and followed her.
“I can take one of those,” Vanessa said, and Imogen narrowed her eyes at her.
“The car’s warm. Are you sure you don’t want to just wait? I don’t really need help?—”
“I haven’t really seen the rink this time of year,” Vanessa said with a grin. “It’s fine. I don’t mind helping.”
“Okay, here.” Imogen sighed, handing her one of the bags. She suspected that Vanessa had ulterior motives in wanting to come in—like wanting to see how Lincoln behaved around Imogen. But she didn’t have any intention of hanging around—they’d drop off the cocoa powder and head to the tavern, just like she’d planned.
When they stepped into the rink, Imogen was immediately struck by how festive it all was. Lincoln had strung multicolored Christmas lights from the ceiling in long swaths across the building, and they twinkled brightly, sending rays of festive light over the gleaming ice in the rink. The hot cocoa and concession stands had garlands decked in ornaments wrapped around them, and there was a large Christmas tree next to the bleachers where parents could sit, fully decorated with lights and various ornaments and glass balls. The bleachers themselves had garlands and bows on the railing, and on the other side of the rink where a set of tables were arranged, garlands hung from the sides of each table.
Christmas music was still playing from the speakers as a man on a Zamboni smoothed out the ice on the rink, and as Imogen swung her tote off of her shoulder and set it on one of the tables,Lincoln came bustling out of the small office at the back of the rink.
“Here, let me grab that,” he said with a smile, taking it from her. “And—oh, thank you,” he added, taking the other bag from Vanessa. “Thanks for bringing this over so late. I’m sure you have other plans.”
“We were heading to dinner,” Imogen admitted. “But it’s no trouble, really. I’d rather bring it over tonight than have to get up in the morning. It was really sweet of you to wait on me. I’m sure you’re ready to get home too.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Lincoln assured her. “Where are the two of you heading to dinner?”
“Maplewood,” Imogen said.
“I haven’t been there in ages. I heard they have a new winter special on the menu that’s incredible—something about duck leg and winter squash? One of the moms that brought their kid in for skating lessons mentioned it.”
“I’ll have to give it a try.” Imogen smiled. “I haven’t been out much lately, honestly. Business has been crazy. But that’s a good thing.”
