Chapter 17

17

Since the shop was closed on Monday, it was the perfect time to in vite Mitch out to lunch and get to the bottom of what was going on with Elinor. She'd better have tied him to the couch and held him captive. It was the only excuse Frankie would accept for standing her up.

Don't be bitchy , she lectured herself as she toasted her English muffin. She'd brought this on herself by remaking Elinor and then pushing her into being Mrs. Claus.

She and Mitch often met for lunch on Mondays, so inviting him out wouldn't look suspicious. She'd find a way to extend lunch into spending the afternoon together and use that time to explain to him why Elinor wasn't right for him. Brock could manage the hardware store just fine in his absence.

Lunch? she texted.

No reply.

Hellooo.

It was eight in the morning. He practically lived at the store. He should be up and at work. Why wasn't he replying?

Okay, maybe he was meeting with his staff. She'd give him some time to answer. She gave him an hour. More than enough time. She abandoned texting and called.

It took several rings before he answered with a sleepy, "Hello."

"Were you still asleep?" Frankie asked in surprise.

"Yeah, I'm in bed. I feel like shit. I think I picked up some kind of stomach bug. Was up half the night."

Probably the result of eating Elinor's brownies, Frankie decided. Served him right.

"Can I bring you anything? Chicken soup?"

"No food," he said firmly. "I'll sleep this off and be fine. Did you need something?"

Other than to have a serious talk with him. "No, no, that's okay. I'll catch you when you're better."

"Okay," he said, and ended the call before she could even say goodbye.

At least he hadn't been ignoring her texts because he was with a certain someone. Tomorrow Frankie would get this all sorted out.

Meanwhile, she had a post-event meeting with the Santa Walk committee. She made sure she got an eggnog latte on her way to the chamber of commerce office. She knew she'd need a stiff shot of caffeine to face a gloating Barbara. The woman would, of course, be basking in the glow of success, hogging all the credit in spite of having a hardworking committee doing all the heavy lifting.

Frankie entered along with Theresia, who was happy with the volume of business the bakery had done on Saturday. "We sold out of everything," she told Frankie. "There wasn't so much as a crumb left behind. And, of course, our gingerbread Mrs. Clauses were the first to go. That was such a great suggestion. Thank you."

"I'm glad, and you're welcome," Frankie said.

"You come up with so many cool ideas. I swear, you're a regular idea factory."

"Always thinking of ways to make the Santa Walk better," Frankie said.

Theresia stopped before they entered the meeting room. "So, what did you think of the pageant? Really? Are you okay with someone else being Mrs. Claus?"

"It was hard to give up," Frankie admitted. But it looked like a new tradition had begun and she suspected her reign as Mrs. Claus was over. "But that's okay. It was someone else's turn."

Theresia lowered her voice. "I feel like Barbara sort of took over. How would you feel about chairing the committee again?"

Like I'd be back where I'm supposed to be. "I'd love to take on that responsibility," Frankie said.

Theresia nodded decisively. "I'm going to nominate you. I just wanted to make sure you weren't burned out."

"I was never burned out," Frankie said, and Theresia gave a knowing nod.

The others were already in the meeting room, and just as Frankie had predicted, Barbara was all smiles and pontificating on how well the event had gone. "I've heard lots of good feedback on our Dickens Carolers," she said, "and I think the pageant was a huge success."

"The gingerbread houses made a great fundraiser. We should definitely do that again," said Autumn.

Barbara doled out a triumphant smile to Frankie as she seated herself. "Frankie, I hope you're happy with how well your Mrs. Claus replacement did."

Replacement. Nice word choice. Frankie took a big gulp of her drink. "I'm happy with how everything went. You did a good job of filling in this year," she added, and offered Barbara her sweetest smile.

It wasn't returned. "Well, we should get right down to it," Barbara said.

The next forty minutes were spent analyzing all aspects of the event, from how the new location for the vendors had worked to the entertainment.

"The principal at the high school told me that she'd like the school glee club to be allowed an entertainment slot after Santa's done with the kids next year," said Hazel.

"That sounds good. James, will you make a note of that?" Barbara said.

"Will do. But I can't be secretary next year," James said.

Barbara looked at him in shock.

"Sorry," he said. "I've got too much on my plate."

"James. We all have things on our plates. We all have to make sacrifices," Barbara said sternly.

"I'll help with setup and takedown at the pageant again next year, but I can't do all the other stuff."

"All right, fine," Barbara said in a clipped tone. "I accept your resignation. Now, we all do want to do the pageant again next year, don't we?"

Everyone looked to Frankie. If she said no, they'd back her.

But maybe there were other women who wanted to have the fun of greeting the children who came to see Santa. She'd started the Santa Walk with pure motives, had played Mrs. Claus because it seemed like a great addition to the fun. She'd achieved what she started out to do. She'd created a successful party for the whole town. She didn't need to hog the spotlight. In fact, she realized she'd rather be running the show than in it.

"I think the pageant is a fun idea, and we should do it as long as we have women who'd like to play Mrs. Claus," she said.

Barbara smirked. She obviously thought Frankie was surrendering her role because she'd been beaten. Let the woman think what she wanted. Frankie knew she was surrendering her role because adding the pageant made the Santa Walk that much more fun for everyone.

One thing Frankie wasn't ready to surrender, though, and that was being in charge of the whole shebang. This was her baby, and she wasn't ready to adopt it out.

"I agree," said Hazel. "Let's keep the pageant going."

Barbara nodded and made a note on one of the many papers in front of her. "So, we're all in agreement then?"

Everyone was.

"And other than James..." here Barbara looked at him like he was a defector "...everyone else is still good with their responsibilities?"

The others nodded.

"All right," Barbara said. "I hope one of you will consider filling the secretary position for next year. I'll give you all time to think about it. Now, if that's all, I think we can adjourn."

"Wait. One more order of business," said Theresia. "I'm thinking we should see if Frankie would like to come back as our chairperson."

Barbara's smile froze, then cracked and fell away. "Well," she said.

"Good idea," said James. "You up for chairing next year, Frankie?"

"Yes, I am," she said firmly.

"We know you've had so much to deal with ever since, er, your loss," Barbara said.

"It never stopped me from serving my community," Frankie said. "And if you remember, I started this after my loss." It had helped keep her sane.

"We thought you were burned out," Barbara continued.

Only gaslit. "I'm not. And I'm sure you could use a break," Frankie said.

"Then I motion we elect Frankie to chair the committee," said Theresia.

Barbara cleared her throat. "Well. We have a motion to elect Frankie as our chairperson for next year's Santa Walk. Do we have a second?"

"I'll second that," said James, Autumn and Hazel simultaneously.

"All right," Barbara said stiffly. "Shall we vote? All those in favor?"

It was almost unanimous. Barbara abstained from voting. Afterward everyone was smiling.

Barbara even managed half a smile. "I'm probably going to be busy this year now that I have someone new in my life," she announced.

"How nice," said Hazel.

Nice for Barbara. Poor Brock.

"I think Barbara did an excellent job of keeping things going," Hazel said to Frankie as she followed the others out. "But it's nice to have you back at the helm. I just wish you'd still be our Mrs. Claus."

"Oh well. I can share." The job, not the man.

"Maybe we need to have a Santa competition next year as well as a Mrs. Claus pageant," Hazel said thoughtfully.

"Maybe," Frankie agreed. She rather liked the idea of someone other than Mitch doing the pub crawl with Mrs. Claus.

Mitch. Hopefully, he'd be feeling better soon. She was anxious to talk with him.

Stef was coming out of a meeting at the paper when Harlan the receptionist found her and told her someone was waiting in the lobby to see her. An intriguing mystery. Friends and family simply texted if they wanted to get together. No one came to the paper. Who could be looking for her?

She froze on reaching the lobby and seeing who it was. Oh no. Not him , she thought as he left his seat and started toward her. She could feel her pulse picking up speed.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"To make up for being a jerk," he replied.

How did you make up for being a jerk when you were one? She kept the thought to herself and waited for him to continue.

He took a deep breath. "I've been going through a rough time, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"You're right. You shouldn't have," she said.

"I'm sorry."

A man saying he was sorry. Now, there was a refreshing change.

"I'm not a total jerk. Give me a chance to prove it. Could I buy you a cup of coffee or a latte? I think I owe you one," he added.

"Along with a big serving of sorry," she said.

"As big as it takes."

It was tempting. He was tempting. "So, you're really not a jerk? I mean, you could have fooled me."

He dropped his gaze and nodded. "I know. I've been fooling a lot of people." His gaze returned to her. "How about it? Give me a chance to make peace?"

She considered. This man was broken. His out-of-proportion anger was evidence of that. But everyone got broken at some point in life. Hadn't she herself been broken by her disastrous marriage? But she'd healed. Maybe he could, too. Maybe she should give this man a chance. Anyway, it was only coffee.

"All right," she said. "I can make time for an eggnog latte in an hour."

"An hour. Meet you at The Coffee Stop, then?"

She nodded. "The Coffee Stop."

He smiled. It was tentative, the kind of smile that looked like it had been kept in storage for a long time. But it was enough to flush away the scowling Scrooge mask. What a difference from the angry man who'd come at her at the Santa Walk. He was the holiday version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Maybe he needed someone to help him find his lost hope again. Maybe, like most people, like her, he simply needed a second chance to get his life on track.

And maybe she'd better not expect anything to come of a shared moment in a coffee shop.

All the way there, she told herself that this was no big deal, certainly not the beginning of a romance novel come to life. Until she walked in the shop and saw him waiting at a table, looking like he should be in a TikTok video in that gray suit, his coat over the chair next to him.

He stood when she approached the table, and there was that smile again. Just big enough to hint at how, if turned on full force, it could keep a woman warm on a cold winter night.

"Thanks for coming," he said. She started to shrug out of her coat, and he was quick to help her.

"Every Scrooge deserves a second chance," she said lightly.

"So, what are you, the Ghost of Christmas Future?"

Did she detect some cynicism in that teasing? She frowned.

He held up a hand. "Just joking."

"Were you now?"

He cleared his throat. "I'll get you that eggnog latte," he said, and strode to the counter to order.

She studied him as he walked. He didn't slouch like some men. Instead, he walked with his shoulders back. He looked like a man who could face any storm.

She wasn't so sure he was succeeding. She suspected he was having trouble trying to raise a child alone after the loss of his wife. Was he mourning her out of guilt because they'd had trouble in their marriage, or was he, like Frankie after losing Ike, mourning the loss of a part of himself that had been cut away? What had his wife been like?

Griffin returned with large drinks for each of them. "I came back here looking for you," he said as he settled on his seat.

"No."

"I did. I was in here the next day, sitting at this very table."

"I was home all day with a monster migraine. I saw you at the school concert, though."

"You were there?"

She nodded. "My nephew was a snowflake."

"My son was an S in Merry Christmas. His big speaking part was, ‘To everyone.'"

"A future star." Stef took a sip of her latte. "I looked for you afterward. I was going to come say hi, but you vanished. Did you get sick?" she teased.

He made a face. "My son did. You wouldn't have wanted to see either of us."

"You have a sweet little boy."

"He takes after his mother."

It seemed like the perfect time to ask about his wife. "Tell me about her." Pain shot across his face, and Stef instantly regretted asking. "You don't have to."

"No, I want to. I think I should have been talking about her a lot more than I have."

He pulled his wallet from his back pants pocket and took out a picture. His wife had been pretty. Not gorgeous but pretty. She had a longish face framed by long blond hair, a delicate nose and full lips and nice green eyes. And a big smile.

"She's lovely. What was she like? Tell me."

He looked at the picture and blinked hard. Got busy returning the picture to his wallet, then putting it back in his pants pocket. "She was amazing."

"What was amazing about her?"

"I don't even know where to start."

"Sure you do," Stef coached.

"She laughed a lot. She was always happy. And patient. She never got mad."

"Seriously?" Who never got mad?

"Not really. She'd get irritated sometimes, like when I'd forget to pick up something at the store on my way home from work. But she'd make a joke out of it, kiss me and say, ‘You'll do better next time, Mr. Wonderful.'"

"Mr. Wonderful," Stef repeated.

"Hard to believe, huh? It was her way of always forgiving me. Always urging me to be better. We both knew I wasn't wonderful. Unlike her, I wasn't patient. And I'd get mad easy. I, uh, guess you noticed that."

"I guess so."

"Mostly I'd get mad over unimportant stuff—a flat tire, messing up trying to fix a leaky kitchen sink." He gave a grunt. "What did any of that matter, really? What does any of that little stuff matter? It's the people in our life..." He shook his head. "Okay, this wasn't supposed to be a shrink session. Sorry."

"Don't be. I asked."

"You can stop asking now," he said, but not meanly. More like he was embarrassed to have shed his manly shell and revealed his vulnerability.

"I can't help myself. I'm a reporter. Remember? So, one more question. What's her name?"

"Kaitlyn. Her name was Kaitlyn."

"It still is. She may not be here with you anymore, but her memory is."

He nodded slowly but said nothing.

Stef raised her cup. "So, here's to Kaitlyn and the great memories she gave you and the great kid."

There was the smile again, small, almost balancing out the sadness in his eyes. "To Kaitlyn," he repeated, and took a sip. He set down his cup and said, "Okay, that's enough about me. How about you? How did you end up being Santa's helper?"

"It was my sister's idea, actually. She suggested it to my editor, and I got to do it. I love doing the page. And most people really like it," she added.

He held up a hand. "I know, except for us Scrooges."

"Scrooge changed," she pointed out.

He gave a grunt. "Now you're channeling my sister. But never mind Scrooge and me. Tell me more about you. What do you do besides fill in for Santa?"

"I like to read, watch movies. I ski occasionally. Badly," she added. "I do a lot with my family."

"No real Santa in your life? No Mr. Wonderful?"

She shook her head. "Only an ex-Grinch. Every time I find myself wishing I had a child, I think of Dick and am glad we didn't have children together. They might have turned out like him."

"Dick, huh? That's his name?"

She grinned. It gave her such wicked pleasure to shorten her ex's name. "He preferred to be called Richard, but Dick fit him better."

"You do have a way with words," he said.

"He didn't appreciate it."

"I bet not. That tongue of yours is probably a lethal weapon."

"Not always. It has many uses," she said, then felt herself blushing. Behave yourself, Stef.

He chuckled. "Are you always this funny?"

"Oh no. Sometimes I'm funnier."

He sobered. "I really am sorry I lit into you like that."

"I'm over it." She cocked her head and studied him. "You're kind of like the proverbial bear with a sore paw. Only in your case, you got your paw completely cut off."

"More like my heart cut out," he said. "My sister keeps telling me I need to move on for Corky's sake."

"Corky, that's such a cute name."

"He's a cute kid. He deserves better."

"He's already got better than a lot of kids. He's got a good dad and an aunt who cares."

"And two sets of grandparents," he added. "Hard to keep in touch with the in-laws. They're in Arizona, and the last time we visited, it felt..." He shrugged.

"Uncomfortable?"

"Yeah. Hard to keep a conversation going, you know."

"I don't know, but I can imagine."

"They want to talk about Kaitlyn, and every time they bring out the old pictures it nearly kills me." He swore. "There I go again, spilling my guts to someone I just met. Maybe I need to see a shrink."

"Or maybe you just need to get out more," Stef suggested. "What do you like to do?"

"Besides feel sorry for myself? I don't know."

"Oh, come on, you must like to do something."

"I used to ski. Before I got married. I like watching the Mariners. Kaitlyn and I played in a Jack-and-Jill softball league when we were first married. It was a lot of fun. You like sports?"

"I was never any good at softball, but I intend to go to every one of Warner's Little League games. I don't like football."

"Who doesn't like football?"

"Me. But I do like a good Super Bowl party. Does that count?"

He smiled. "Sure. What else?"

"Board games. My ex would never play them with me. He said they were childish."

"Not into Monopoly, huh?"

She grinned. "Not into anything. He hated losing, and he lost a lot. Especially at Sequence. Nobody beats me at that."

He cocked an eyebrow and smiled. "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah."

"We might have to see about that," he said, and his words coupled with that smile he was getting more accustomed to using made her heart do a little skip.

"Might we?" she said playfully.

He hesitated a moment, then asked, "Did we survive having coffee together?"

"I'd say we did," she said. There was so much to this man. She'd never have seen it if they'd stopped with their skirmish at the Santa Walk.

"Then how about dinner tonight? Corky's baking cookies with my sister, and I've got nothing to do."

"Poor you."

"So, what do you think?"

"I think you'd better tell me you like Chinese."

"I do. Can I pick you up?"

"Are you strong enough?"

He pointed a finger at her. "You enjoy being irritating, don't you?"

"Only sometimes," she replied. "Yes, you may, and here's my address."

She gave him both her address and her phone number, and he put them in his phone.

And just like that, she had a date with Jekyll and Hyde. And maybe, just maybe, Hyde was on his way out, and the good man who was starting to emerge would be able to break free.

"By the way, Griffin is a cool name. Do you know what it symbolizes?"

"Don't tell me you do."

"I looked it up before I came. It symbolizes power and prestige. And courage."

"Courage, huh?"

"Just thought you'd like to know."

"Thanks. It is good to know. See you tonight. Six?"

She nodded. "It'll be you, me and the general."

His lips cocked up in a half smile. "Tso?"

"That's the one."

"All right," he said. He gave her a little salute and then left the coffee shop.

She stayed put and texted her sister. Can't come over tonight. Having dinner with the Grinch.

????

He came to the paper to apologize. We had coffee. I think there's a good guy hidden in there somewhere.

Keep me posted , Frankie texted, and added a smiley face emoticon.

Will do , Stef assured her.

Of course she would. Stef adored her mother, but Frankie was her confidant and adviser, had been since Stef was little. Frankie had been rooting for her little sister to find true love and erase the bitter taste of what Richard had dished out.

Eating Chinese with Griffin Marks would be a good place to begin. Maybe nothing would come of seeing this new man, but they could at least help each other look for the road to happily ever after.