Chapter 16

16

Elinor obviously was envisioning herself with Mitch beyond this day. She needed to get her vision checked. She did not belong with Mitch. Frankie belonged with Mitch.

And there it was, reality staring her right in the face. She'd been perfectly happy to keep him at arm's length, figuring that was so much safer than taking their friendship to a deeper level. She'd even tried to match him up with other women. But now, seeing him looking so cozy and at ease with Elinor, she knew that she didn't want to see Mitch with someone after all...unless that someone was her.

Selfish, really.

"I hope you don't mind me wearing your dress one more time," Elinor said. "You were right. I should have bought it."

Sharing is caring , Frankie reminded herself. She liked Elinor, wanted her to have a good life, but she was done sharing her dress. And Mitch. So what had all her earlier matchmaking been about anyway?

Fear. She'd been afraid to risk her heart, so she'd kept pushing away the one man she could really share that life with. Dopey her! Now what was she going to do?

Sit there and be jealous, it would appear.

Or get proactive.

"You can give it back to me tomorrow," she said to Elinor. "Good job today, by the way. You must be pooped. You don't have to keep up with the Mrs. Claus thing." Go home.

"Oh, I'm fine," Elinor said breezily. "I'm having so much fun." She smiled, not at Frankie, the one who'd been behind her success, but at Mitch. "It's been a wonderful day. Mitch is the best."

Mitch, the big fathead, smiled like a golden retriever who'd just been patted on the head and told he was a good dog. "You did a great job," he said to Elinor. He caught Frankie's frown and added, "Of course, you were following in some impressive footsteps."

That was better. Frankie rewarded him with a smile. "I'm glad the event was a success."

"Never doubted it would be," he said.

At that moment Stef arrived and plopped onto the last vacant seat at the table. "I need a peppermint martini," she announced. "What a day."

"It was a good day," said Elinor.

"For you, maybe," Stef said. "I had to deal with Scrooge the Second. Plus, a kid barfed all over me when I was doing an interview."

"Should have gotten a picture of that for the paper," Mitch teased.

Stef was not amused. "Ha ha," she said with a frown. She stuck out her arm to summon a passing waiter. "Peppermint martini, Cam, ASAP. I'm dyin' here."

"You don't look bad for a dying woman," he joked, and gave her a wink.

"Future husband?" suggested Mitch as the server headed for the bar to put in her order.

"He still lives with his mom. Yeah, he's at the top of my list," Stef replied. "I swear, there's not a decent single man left in this whole town."

"Oh, I don't know," said Elinor. "Mitch is pretty amazing."

Frankie frowned. Gag. Although she'd been about to say the same thing. Elinor had beaten her to the punch. Since when did Elinor throw flattery around like confetti?

Mitch grinned. Frankie wanted to kick him.

"That goes without saying," said Stef. "Mitch, how come you've never asked me out on a date?"

"He's holding out for Mrs. Claus," Frankie answered, and smiled at Mitch, sure he would remember his comment in the coffee shop earlier in the month.

"Might be," he said, and Elinor preened.

Frankie sent her a psychic message. Not you!

Elinor laid a hand on Mitch's arm. "Mitch, do you think we should make a couple more stops? I'm sure there are more people wanting to talk to Santa."

"We're not lacking for Santas tonight, in case you didn't notice," Frankie informed her. She sounded irritable. Hardly surprising, since she was feeling irritable.

Mitch looked apologetically at her, then said to Elinor, "Sure." He pulled out enough money to pay for all their drinks, then stood. "I guess we'd better get over to Lulu's."

"We'll catch up with you," said Frankie.

"No worries if you don't," Elinor said airily. "You're probably tired," she added, using Frankie's earlier tactic.

Tired of watching you try to take over my life. "I'm not that tired," Frankie said, but Elinor was already leading the way out of the restaurant.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Mitch told Frankie, then followed her.

"Unbelievable," Frankie said, frowning.

"That was kind of weird," said Stef. "What's going on?"

"Elinor's after Mitch."

"Elinor?" Stef looked disbelieving.

"You didn't see the way she was looking at him?" Frankie demanded. "Putting her hands on him? She's been playing keep-away-from-Frankie with him all night."

"Well, you did want him to find someone," Stef pointed out, echoing what Viola had said earlier.

"Not Elinor."

"Why not Elinor?"

"She's not right for him." She needed to play with someone her own age.

Stef cocked her head and studied Frankie. "Who is, sissy?"

Frankie squirmed. It was one thing to pry into Stef's love life—quite another to expose her feelings. "Nobody, and Elinor should be with William Sharp. They're a perfect match."

"Looks to me like she's settled on her perfect match," said Stef. Cam arrived with her drink, and she thanked him, took a sip and sighed. "That's better. I wish I'd had this when I met that poor little boy's beast of a father."

"He's certainly not what you need," Frankie said.

"I feel sorry for his kid."

"I feel sorry for the dad, too," Frankie said. "It's hard to make a normal life for yourself after losing someone you love, especially when you've got a young child. Still, that's no excuse for the way he behaved."

"You've got that right." Stef raised her glass. "To lucky escapes." Then she frowned and took a very long draw on her drink.

"Hey there," boomed a voice, and the sisters turned to see they had company. It was the same man who had almost knocked Frankie over earlier. He'd added a Santa hat and a sloppy leer to his outfit.

"Oh, please," said Stef. "Go away."

He bent down and leaned his arms on the tabletop. "You don't mean that," he said, and hiccuped.

"I do," Stef told him. "We're waiting for our boyfriends. They're cops."

Their visitor blinked. "Cops."

"Got any outstanding tickets?" Stef asked.

His brows dropped and met at the center. "Well, I guess I...need another drink."

"Yeah, that's what you need," Stef said as he swayed off. She downed the rest of her martini. "You know, I think I'm gonna go home before I get all sloppy and maudlin. I'll go stream Sleepless in Seattle ."

The last thing Stef needed to watch. Frankie looked at her in horror.

"Just kidding, sissy," she said, and managed a smile. "I'm going to find something with murder and mayhem. That fits my mood better."

Frankie sighed. The night hadn't exactly gone as planned so far. She strongly suspected it wasn't going to get better. "I think I'll go home, too."

Stef gave Frankie a kiss on the cheek, then left. Several Santas watched her go, but she didn't notice. Somewhere the right man for her was waiting in the wings. Frankie wished he'd hurry up and make his appearance.

She, too, started for the door. Burl Ives was singing, wishing her a holly jolly Christmas. It had been holly jolly until she'd seen what was going on with Elinor and Mitch.

"Bah, humbug," Frankie grumbled.

She was going out just as Viola and Terrill were coming in. "You're leaving already?" Viola asked.

"The party's over," Frankie said.

"Since when is the party ever over for you?" Viola teased.

"Since now. You two have fun." Somebody needed to. Frankie sure wasn't.

The snow was really starting to come down, and it looked like they'd get a lot more than predicted. Which meant there wouldn't be a lot of shoppers the following day. Maybe that would be just as well. She wasn't sure she'd be in the mood to greet people with a smile and spread the Christmas cheer.

Elinor had better bring back her dress.

"And God bless Santa," Corky said, then finished his bedtime prayer with an enthusiastic "amen."

"Amen," Griff echoed, not quite so enthusiastically. Corky scrambled into bed, and Griff pulled the covers up to his chin. "Remember, Santa only brings toys."

Corky nodded. "I know. But I told him I wanted a mommy anyway."

Griff groaned inwardly. How many times were they going to go over this?

"What did Santa say?" he asked. If that fake Santa had promised to deliver a mom for Corky, Griff was going to hunt him down and knock his bearded face off.

"He said, ‘Merry Christmas.'"

Good. No false promises. Santa could live to ho, ho, ho another day.

"All I want for Christmas is a mommy," Corky said.

Griff sighed. "I know. And I'm sorry you don't have one, but meanwhile, we're gonna be happy with Aunt Jenn and Grandma and Grandpa, right? And you've got me." He kissed the top of his son's head.

"And you," Corky said with a nod, smiling up at Griff.

That trusting smile, it squeezed his heart like a vise. If only Griff could give his son what he wanted. But he couldn't. There was no one who could take Kaitlyn's place.

He wandered back out into the living room. Looked at the artificial tree his sister had helped Corky and him decorate. He smiled at the memory of his son standing on tiptoe, trying to help them string the garlands around it.

The smile faded as he remembered decorating that tree with his wife their last Christmas together. She'd been wearing red leggings and a short black T-shirt. She'd bent over to pull an ornament out of one of the too many boxes they had and caught him admiring her butt.

She'd winked at him and said, "If you're a good boy, you might get lucky tonight."

He'd come over, pulled her to him and teased, "What if I'm a bad boy?"

"Then for sure you'll get lucky," she'd said, and he'd laughed.

She'd laughed, too, as they fell on the couch.

"I'll love you forever, Griffin Marks," she'd said right before he kissed her.

I'll love you forever, Griffin Marks.

He felt ill, like he'd been sucker punched. Every time he thought he was doing better, the memories came at him like ninjas, jumping on him out of nowhere. He went to his fridge and pulled out a beer, plopped on the couch and wished he could wash them away.

No, that wasn't right. He wanted to keep the memories.

He just didn't want the pain anymore. He wanted to get out from under the crushing weight of it, wished he could find that mother that Corky so desperately wanted. Wished he could start again.

For a moment, in the coffee shop, he'd had a glimpse of possibility. What a joke. The hottie from the coffee shop had turned out to be the pill from the paper. Ugh.

He took a swig from his bottle, shut his eyes and relived their afternoon encounter. He could clearly see the flash of anger in those pretty hazel eyes of hers, could almost hear again the scorn in her voice.

He could definitely remember the scorn in his sister's voice when she'd said, "Way to go, Scrooge."

Just because he'd let Stefanie Ludlow know how wrong she was, that made him a Scrooge?

A text came in from his sister. You know, Scrooge changed.

He ignored it.

His phone rang. It was his mother's ringtone. He could ignore his sister, but he knew better than to ignore his mom.

"Hi, Mom," he answered, schooling his voice to sound pleasant. Nothing wrong here in Scrooge Land.

"How was Corky's visit with Santa?" Mom asked.

Griff wished he hadn't told her they were going to the Santa Walk. The last thing he wanted was to relive the day. "We got it done," he said.

"I'm glad you went ahead and took him."

"I'm not. He's still convinced he's going to get a mom. It doesn't matter what I say or do. He's going to be disappointed."

"For a minute. Until he gets distracted playing with his toys."

"Yeah, every kid will take toys over a mom."

"We'll get him through," Mom promised.

His son's disappointment would be short-lived, and yes, they'd all keep him busy and distracted. But the longing would return. Griff knew. You could move away from those longings, but in the end they always caught up with you. How did you outrun them?

He said goodbye to his mother, and misery came crashing down on him. An unmanly sob escaped before he could catch it. Was this what the rest of his life was going to feel like?

He wanted to move on with the memories but without the pain. That probably wasn't possible, but was it possible to at least bring the pain down to a more manageable level so he wouldn't feel so bitter and frustrated? So he wouldn't lash out at people who really didn't deserve it?

His behavior earlier had been over the top. What would Kaitlyn have had to say about that? Moot point. If she was still with him, he wouldn't have behaved like that. He'd have been happy.

Stefanie Ludlow had told him to go back to his Krampus cage. He was living in a cage. How had she known?

How could he break out?

He texted his sister. How did Scrooge change?

The answer came back. He got up the next morning and did something different.

Hmm.

Frankie was still feeling grumpy when she opened the shop on Sunday. Neither church nor a good helping of Christmas cookies during the social hour after the service had helped. Neither did entering her little Christmas kingdom.

Natalie was off, spending the day with her in-laws, which was fine. Frankie didn't expect many customers and probably didn't need both her mother and Elinor. She wished she'd given Elinor the day off as well, as Frankie wasn't in a proper frame of mind to deal with her employee.

"No one's going to come out today," she grumbled as she came in from spreading ice-melting compound on the sidewalk.

"Okay, spill. What is wrong with you?" Adele demanded.

"Nothing," she said.

"I always know when there's something. Don't make me drag it out of you."

"Okay, if you must know, it's Elinor."

"Elinor? What did she do wrong?"

"She's late."

"All of ten minutes. After the snow we got last night, she's probably taking her time on the road. Or she's dragging from her big day."

"That's no excuse. It was only a couple of inches. And you made it in fine."

Adele frowned at Frankie. "All right, what's really bugging you?"

Frankie ignored the question. "Do you think Elinor and Mitch are a match?"

Adele blinked in surprise. "Elinor and Mitch? Does Mitch know?"

"Funny, Mom."

"What happened yesterday?"

"Elinor latched on to him like a little Christmas leech and wouldn't let go. That's what happened."

"You were wanting Mitch to find someone," pointed out Adele. "You should be all puffed up like a toad over this."

If one more person told her what she'd wanted for Mitch, Frankie's head was going to blow off. "I wanted William to find Elinor, not Mitch."

"I guess she didn't get the memo."

Frankie ignored the crack. "Everything I did for her—helping her with a makeover, campaigning for her for Mrs. Claus. Now she thinks she is Mrs. Claus. She thinks she's me!" Frankie fumed.

"So, you've spent all this time helping Elinor come out of her shell and look her best, and now that she's out, you're dissatisfied with her and want to put her back. Good luck with that. Looks like you've created a monster, Frankiestein."

That she had. "It's not that I don't want her to be happy."

"You just don't want her to be happy with Mitch," Adele suggested.

"She's living my life!"

"No, she's living hers. Maybe not the way you want her to, but we don't get to decide how other people live their lives. The only life you have any control at all over is your own."

"I don't like the way my own is going," Frankie grumbled.

"Then what are you going to do?"

Good question.

Adele put an arm around Frankie's shoulders. "I had a dream last night."

Frankie rolled her eyes. "Oh no. Here we go."

"This is serious. It was about you."

"Me? What did you dream?"

"You were at some kind of fair, standing next to a merry-go-round. It was slowing down, and people were calling to you to get on, but you wouldn't. In fact, you were backing away. They gave up, and it started going faster. Everyone was laughing and having fun. You finally tried to get on, but it was going too fast and it bucked you off and sent you flying."

"Yikes. What kind of dream is that?" Frankie protested.

"You tell me," said Adele.

The bell over the door jingled, and in rushed Elinor, her cheeks rosy from the cold. She was smiling, wearing the lipstick Frankie had bought for her. Frankie had felt like a fairy godmother when she'd helped Elinor with her makeup. This morning she felt more like Maleficent.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Elinor said breathlessly. "I had two cars almost skid into me."

"See? Told you," Adele said to Frankie.

"It's all right," Frankie said, determined not to sound like Scrooge. "We probably won't get a lot of customers in today after how busy we were yesterday."

"You were busy. How did you like being Mrs. Claus?" Adele asked Elinor.

Elinor beamed. "It was wonderful. Mitch is wonderful."

Okay, enough already. Elinor needed to be reminded of who she was supposed to be with. "Now, how would William Sharp feel if he heard you raving about Mitch?" Frankie said, keeping her voice light.

Elinor looked at her, puzzled. "I don't know. Why would that matter?"

"Elinor, we've talked about that special someone you were interested in," Frankie reminded her.

Elinor's rosy cheeks turned scarlet. "Yes. And I hope he's interested, too. Mitch is the sweetest man in Carol."

"But what about William?" Frankie pressed. William's your man.

"He's nice," Elinor said with a shrug, "but I was never into him. I'd better get my apron on and get to work." She hurried to the back room to shed her coat.

Shocked, Frankie looked to her mother.

Adele merely shrugged. "Looks like you've succeeded in finding a match for Mitch."

A match for Mitch—it sounded like a bad book title. Frankie had to force the scowl from her face when a customer walked through the door.

She spent the whole day fighting off that scowl and was glad when the day was over and she could finally turn the sign on the door to Closed. Spending time with her family for their usual Sunday get-together would, hopefully, improve her mood.

"I'm off to heat up the lasagna. See you in an hour," Adele said to Frankie. "What are you up to, Elinor?"

"I'm going to go home and bake. I have my grandmother's brownie recipe."

"Sounds good. I hope you'll share some," Adele said.

"I'll make another batch and bring it in on Tuesday," Elinor promised, then hurried out the door.

"At least you know she's not with Mitch if she's home baking brownies," Adele said to Frankie. "See you at the house."

And then she was gone.

Frankie locked the door and slowly made her way to her car. The temperature was dropping, and the streets were turning icy. If it kept up, she'd have to throw out a ton of rock salt when she came back in on Tuesday.

She drove home, avoiding the occasional parked car stranded at an angle on the street. Even though snow was becoming more common, people in the Pacific Northwest still hadn't figured out how to drive in it.

She changed into her favorite leggings and comfy red sweatshirt. She took the garlic bread she'd bought to take to her mother's from the pantry, along with the bag of her daughter's chocolates, then she pulled on her coat and her snow boots and made her way down the street.

Surprise, surprise, Mr. Bellagamba's car was parked out front right along with Stef's, and Frankie entered to find everyone already celebrating with eggnog. A nice bit of bling was glinting from Adele's finger, proof that she'd decided not to wait until Christmas Eve to make her big announcement.

"Did you know about this?" Stef greeted Frankie.

Adele's warning look informed Frankie that she was not to blab how she'd learned about the new man in their mother's life. "Wow, really?" she said, doing an excellent job of faking surprise. "Congratulations, you two." She set down her goodies and went to take hold of her mother's hand for a closer look. "That's gorgeous. And what a great Christmas surprise." She hugged her mom and future stepfather.

"Natalie's going to be mad that she missed out on this," Stef predicted.

"She'll learn soon enough," said Adele.

"When's the wedding, Mr. B?" Frankie asked.

"Call me Mario," he said before adding, "Soon, I hope."

"Fourth of July," Adele decided. "That way, no matter how senile we get, we'll never forget our anniversary. Plus, we'll always have fireworks."

"Good idea," he said approvingly, and grinned.

"I hope one of you girls is next," Adele said to her daughters.

"Don't hold your breath for me," Stef said, opening the silverware drawer. "I really think I'm through with men. Let's get the table set and eat."

"I'll help you," said Mario, and opened the dish cupboard.

"He sure knows his way around your kitchen," Frankie said to her mom as the other two went to the dining room table. "Good thing he had honorable intentions."

"Don't get smart," Adele scolded. "And speaking of intentions, what do you intend to do about your future? Did you figure out the symbolism of my dream?"

"Mom, even Freud couldn't figure out the symbolism of your dreams."

"I think this one is pretty easy," Adele said softly, and gave Frankie's arm an encouraging rub. "It's time to quit stalling and get on the ride. If Ike were here, he'd say, ‘What are you waiting for?'"

"A guarantee?" Frankie ventured. Although, look where that had gotten her. Mitch was now pub crawling with someone else.

"You know there's no such thing. Stop worrying about what might happen down the road and let something good happen right now. When a certain someone comes over tonight to watch that cop show, get out some handcuffs and go for it."

"Mom! As if I have any."

Adele shrugged. "I don't have any, either. I guess you'll have to improvise. Seriously, daughter dear, you two are natural together. The man's crazy about you. Don't wait around. He might get sane and go looking somewhere else."

Frankie got the message. It was her turn to host Cop Stop , so after they ate, she hurried home, then got busy lighting candles, turning on her tree lights and setting out Mitch's favorite Chex Mix munchies. And redoing her makeup and hair and spritzing on that perfume she hadn't worn in a long time.

At ten to eight, she was perched on the couch, trying not to watch out the window for his truck. At five till, she was looking out the door to see if she could spot it coming down the street. No sign of him. Where was he?

She grabbed her phone and texted. Almost Cop Time. Where are you?

There came the dancing bubbles. Hopefully, he was letting her know he was on his way.

Words appeared. Sorry. Something came up.

Nothing ever came up on Cop Stop night. What??? she texted.

Got drop-in company.

Company! On Cop Stop night? Who trumped Cop Stop night?

Anybody I know?

Elinor.

Elinor and her brownies!

Catch you tomorrow? he texted.

Not even an invitation to come over and join them.

Clobber you tomorrow. But Frankie deleted her reply before she sent it. She threw her phone onto the sofa with a growl, then marched to the kitchen and dumped the Chex Mix in the garbage.

Then she returned to the sofa, grabbed the phone and called her mother. "Elinor's over at his place."

"Well, Frankiestein, what are you going to do about it?"

What, indeed?