Chapter 9

9

Brock's lips caught Frankie's, and the tingles spread...everywhere. Santa help her! She was in trouble. She was melting faster than whipped cream on hot chocolate.

What was she doing? She pulled away, trying not to look as stupefied as she felt.

He grinned. It was a very cocky grin. "How was that for a sales pitch?"

She had to admit, "Pretty good."

He raised an eyebrow. "Just pretty good?"

"Okay, very good. But, really, Brock. I just don't..."

She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence because he was kissing her again, his fingers threading through her hair. Oh, mercy. It had been so long since she'd been kissed. She'd forgotten how wonderful it felt.

But something was off. She needed time to think. She pushed him away. "Okay, we need to stop."

He looked surprised, then he nodded. "Oh, yeah. Let's go back to your place. Let me finish my sales pitch."

With that second martini and her supercharged hormones conspiring together, she would probably let him. Not a good idea. She was in no frame of mind to think wisely.

She didn't want to think. She wanted to be loved, to feel a man's hands on her, to fall asleep in his arms.

Still. "We'd better quit while we're ahead," she told him.

His smile faded. "You are going to give us a chance, aren't you?"

Take a chance on me.

She shoved the line from the old ABBA song out of her mind. "I need time," she said. "I haven't dated since..." She couldn't finish the sentence. She wanted to cry again. Instead, she sniffed and downed the last of her martini.

He laid a hand on her arm. "I get it. It took me a long time to recover from my last breakup."

He was comparing a breakup with his girlfriend to her husband's death. There was more than an age gap between them. There was an understanding gap. They were planets apart.

"I need to go." She scooted out of the booth, and he followed her. He helped her on with her coat, then walked her out to her car.

"Are you okay to drive?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'm fine."

"Yes, you are," he said with a smile.

The one she returned was weak.

"I'll call you," he said, and gave her another kiss, a quick reminder of the sample he'd given her in the bar.

Don't bother. She kept the words inside her mouth. It would have come across as insulting.

Instead, she nodded and got in her car. He watched while she put on her seat belt and started the engine. Then he stepped back and lifted a hand.

She managed a small wave in return and pulled away. "What am I doing, Ike?"

Back in her house, she turned up the heat, grabbed a blanket and plopped on the couch with her phone. Viola's husband, Terrill, would be patrolling the streets of Carol in the hopes of finding someone misbehaving so he'd have something to do, and Viola would be watching something on HGTV, waiting for Frankie to report in.

Viola answered with, "Why are you calling me so early? You should still be out getting into trouble with Brock."

"I started to," Frankie said.

"Yeah? Tell," Viola commanded eagerly.

"He kissed me."

"Oh, baby. Did he give you a buzz?"

Frankie sighed. "He did. It felt good to be kissed."

"Then why are you home so early and calling me?"

"Because it doesn't feel right."

"What do you mean?"

"We don't think on the same plane."

"What?"

"You know, when I first kissed Ike..."

The memory flooded her, transporting her to that night when they'd parked out at the lake and he'd kissed her. She'd wanted him to go on kissing her and never stop. And he hadn't. They'd only gone out a couple of times, but she'd known he was the one. She'd known from the first hello that they'd be together, and that kiss had been proof.

"I knew we were meant to be together. I felt it."

"Well, you felt something when Brock kissed you, right?"

"Yeah, I felt turned on. But it didn't feel like proof."

"Proof," Viola repeated, mystified.

"That this would work over the long haul."

"You're worrying about the age difference."

"Yeah, but it's more than that. We're not a fit."

"Maybe you could be if you gave it a chance," Viola suggested. "He's a nice guy, right?"

"He is. It's just... He's not..."

"Ike," Viola supplied.

"I know I'm never going to have what I had with Ike."

"You're not. Every relationship is different."

"I understand, but I'm sure this one isn't going to work. I need to stop the sleigh ride. There's someone else he's supposed to be on it with," said Frankie.

"I guess you've got to listen to your heart," Viola said.

"I do," Frankie agreed. Her hormones wouldn't be happy about her decision, but they'd have to deal with it.

Brock texted her the next morning. Want to do lunch?

Sorry, things are crazy right now.

It was no lie. The closer Christmas came, the busier the shop got. There was no time for leisurely lunches with sexy younger men. She was already going to leave everyone at Holiday Happiness to hustle without her since meeting with the Santa Walk committee would take up the morning.

You gonna ghost me? he texted, adding a laughing emoji.

It was hard to ghost someone who worked right next door.

No , she texted, and doubled his laughing emoji. They would have to have a serious talk. As soon as she figured out what it would look like. Meanwhile, it was time to hop on over to the office of the Carol Chamber of Commerce and meet with the Santa Walk movers and shakers.

She entered the meeting room to find the other committee members already there: Hazel Willis, who owned Wonderland Toys; Autumn Silvers, who, along with her husband, owned The Salad Bowl; James Warshaw, who owned Chez James Salon and knew the secrets of almost all the women in town; Theresia Nordlie, who owned Best Bakes Bakery and was the queen of the chocolate croissant; and Barbara Fielding, of course, who had, as chairman of the committee, claimed the seat at the head of the table.

"We were about to give up on you," Barbara greeted Frankie, who was all of five minutes late.

"When would I ever miss a Santa Walk committee meeting?" Frankie said sweetly. "Especially since the Santa Walk is my baby."

Barbara frowned, deepening the marionette lines on both sides of her mouth. Thin and gaunt as she was, someone should have told her not to dress in black. It made her look like the Grim Reaper's wife on a tour of New York City. Frankie always thought someone who specialized in knitting should look soft and pillowy, like everyone's favorite grandma. Like Adele. There was nothing soft and pillowy about Barbara, either in her looks or her personality.

"Your baby belongs to us all. It takes a village," Barbara said lightly, and almost smiled. "Well, now that we're all here, let's get started. How are we coming with our social media, James?"

James looked like he should have owned the yarn store. He was soft and pillowy. He favored jeans and T-shirts when he was working, but in honor of the committee meeting, he'd paired the jeans with a white shirt and a red vest.

"We're good. I just put up a slideshow on Insta of shots from last year's walk."

The one Frankie had been in charge of. If she hadn't gone off on that Christmas cruise right after last year's walk and missed the post-event meeting, she'd still be in charge. Barbara had done a ton of campaigning in her absence, and when the committee met next, she'd already gotten herself nominated as chairman for the following year.

Frankie had had too much class to nominate herself, but she hadn't been above asking Autumn later why the committee had put Barbara in charge. And why Autumn had nominated her. It had felt like a betrayal.

"Barbara told me you were worn out from running the event, and you wanted a break," Autumn had explained.

The only thing Frankie had wanted a break from was Barbara. She still did, but oh well, everyone had someone in their life who was their designated irritant, and Barbara was Frankie's.

"She's jealous of you," Adele liked to say. "You have the cutest shop in town, and everyone likes you."

"Well, someone must like her," Frankie would reply. "She's still in business."

"They like yarn."

There was that.

"I assume the paper is going to start giving us a boost, aren't they, Frankie?" Barbara asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

Somehow it was assumed that because Frankie knew the editor and her sister worked for the paper, Frankie had an in. The paper gave the event lots of space, not because of Frankie or even Stef, but because the Santa Walk was a big deal in Carol.

"Of course," Frankie said.

"Please tell your sister I'm ready for an interview any time she is," said Barbara.

"Will do," said Frankie. She would also suggest Stef look for other stories to cover instead of bothering with an interview with this year's chairman. Who's passive aggressive? Not moi .

The discussion continued, with reports regarding arrangements to clear Main Street for the morning's Santa parade, of the vendors and artists lined up for the market in the town square and, of course, Barbara had to pat herself on the back about bringing in the Dickens Carolers. "Always good to keep things fresh," she said.

"Speaking of fresh, I think we should have a baking contest," said Autumn. "Holiday cupcakes. Or gingerbread houses. We could display the entries all over town, and people could vote for their favorite."

"That's a lovely idea," Barbara approved. "But it's too late in the game for this year. You should have suggested it back when we were first brainstorming last spring."

Autumn frowned and muttered, "It wouldn't take that much effort."

Way to encourage people , thought Frankie. "I think it's a great idea, and we should for sure do it next year."

"We can only fit in so many things," Barbara said sternly. "Now, on to Santa and Mrs. Claus," she said, shifting gears and smiling. "As you all know, Mitch Howard has agreed to be Santa again this year."

Frankie smiled, anticipating that she would be announced as Mrs. Claus. She'd told the committee way back in their early planning stages that she'd be happy to continue her role.

"As for Mrs. Claus..."

Frankie tried to look humble.

"I think it would be good to give Frankie a break."

What? Frankie's humble smile got overtaken by a frown. "I said way back last spring I'd be happy to be Mrs. Claus."

"Yes, but you're so busy with the shop and your duties on the committee. We thought you could use a break."

That again. "Who, exactly, thought that?" Frankie challenged.

"Anyway, we should give others an opportunity," Barbara said, skirting her question. "I was talking with James..."

Poor James suddenly looked like he'd cut a finger with his hair shears.

"And we thought it would be fun to have a Mrs. Claus contest, let some of our women here in Carol compete for the honor."

"How will you choose?" Frankie demanded.

"We'll make it like a pageant," Barbara answered.

So, no time for a baking contest, but time to find a replacement for Frankie. "What, you're going to see who's got the whitest hair?" she taunted.

Barbara ignored her. "We'll have it Friday night, before the big day. Our Mrs. Claus contestants can campaign around town, and on the night of the pageant we'll interview them, and everyone will vote."

Autumn snapped her fingers. "Each entrant should have to bake something and display it at the pageant. A gingerbread house! That can be part of the competition."

"There you go," said Barbara graciously. "We can work in some holiday baking after all."

Hazel was looking at Frankie in concern. "What do you think, Frankie?" she asked.

Frankie forced a smile. "I think it's a great idea."

And really, it was. She had no problem campaigning. She'd get Natalie to help her with the gingerbread house, and...

"But committee members should not be eligible to enter," said Barbara, the mind reader. "That way it will be fair and unbiased."

No, that way Barbara would make sure Frankie wouldn't be Mrs. Claus. Frankie forced her clenched jaw to loosen so she could smile as she wished all manner of holiday disasters on her nemesis. May your Christmas tree fall on you. May you eat raw cookie dough and get sick. May your latest ex start dating a Victoria's Secret model and post it all over social media. May you find a snake in your Christmas stocking.

Oh, wait. The snake would be the one hanging the stocking.

She could almost hear a little elf whispering, Let it go .

Okay, fine. She could be magnanimous. She didn't need to be a spotlight hog. Maybe, somewhere in Carol, there was a woman who needed this honor, whose confidence and spirits needed a boost. And who could make gingerbread houses.

"Shall we take a vote?" asked Barbara. "All in favor?"

Everyone raised a hand and said, "Aye," including Frankie. She could be a team player...even if she didn't like the team captain.

"Good. Now, I've already contacted KZAM..."

"Before we even voted on this?" Frankie demanded.

Barbara shrugged. "I knew we'd all be in agreement."

Unbelievable. Barbara wasn't chairing the committee. She was ruling it.

Frankie fumed while the details regarding the newly minted Mrs. Claus pageant were hammered out and Hazel was put in charge of making it happen. Then the meeting was adjourned.

"Are you really okay with not being Mrs. Claus?" James asked Frankie once they stepped back out onto the sidewalk.

Magnanimous. You are magnanimous. She repeated the mantra to herself. "Of course I am," she said. "I have to admit, at first, I was a little shocked. Just between you and me, I feel like the Santa Walk is being taken out of my hands." So she was only semi-magnanimous. It was the best she could do at the moment.

"That's what happens with a good idea. It grows, and soon it's too big for just one person," he said. "But we do all think of you as Mrs. Claus. This whole event was your idea." He looked over his shoulder. "Barbara sort of steamrolled us into going along with this Mrs. Claus thing just now."

"It's okay, James. I'll miss being Mrs. Claus, but if someone else really wants the job, it's fine by me. The whole purpose of the event is to help our local businesses and bring the community together."

And she needed to keep that in mind. Still, she felt grumpy. She needed an eggnog latte. Fast. And a listening ear.

She texted Mitch. Got time for coffee?

Sure , came the response. Meet you there.

Minutes later, Frankie and Mitch were ensconced at a table in The Coffee Stop, sipping on eggnog lattes. Frankie's treat this time.

"It's the least I can do considering the fact that I'm making you my personal shrink," she told him.

"Now what's Barbara done to piss you off?" he asked.

"She's taken away my Mrs. Claus apron, that's what she's done. She convinced the committee that I'm too tired and overworked to be Mrs. Claus. I am Mrs. Claus," Frankie finished, and took a big gulp of her latte, burning her tongue in the process. Punishment for complaining , she thought as she set down her mug with a scowl.

"You're just mad 'cause you can't spend the day with me," Mitch teased.

Come to think of it, she didn't like the idea of someone else taking her place next to Mitch. They'd been doing this together since she first started the Santa Walk two years earlier. She'd assumed that would continue.

"It's not right," she grumbled.

"Well, cheer up. This way you can come see me and sit on my lap."

"Ha ha."

Sitting on Mitch's lap—why did that kind of sound like a good idea? It shouldn't. They were only buddies, and that was how it had to stay.

"I know I'm being immature about this," she confessed, turning her attention away from thoughts of Mitch's lap, "but darn it all, it hurts being dethroned. And I know Barbara manipulated all of this out of spite. That woman has never liked me."

"She's jealous. Take it as a compliment."

"I would if she wasn't acting on that jealousy."

"It's a done deal for this year. How are you going to cope?"

She held up her mug. "Latte overdose?"

He chuckled. "Christmas will be good for you, no matter who ends up being Mrs. Claus. You've got your family, and you have friends who care about you. It's more than Barbara can say."

True. Barbara was divorced and didn't have any kids. Frankie knew from the dependable town grapevine that Barbara and her sister weren't on speaking terms. All she had was the committee. And her shop with its lame location.

"So, who do you see as Mrs. Claus?" Mitch prompted.

"Nobody," she said, returning to her pity party.

"There's got to be someone."

"I'll have to think about it."

"Here's a chance for you to put on your helper elf hat, and we all know how much you love that."

Hmm.

"I bet you'll think of somebody," he said. He downed the last of his drink. "I've gotta get back to the store."

"And I need to get back to the shop. I'm sure Mom is ready for her lunch break. She has a date with one of her friends."

They said goodbye at the door of Holiday Happiness, and Frankie slipped back inside.

The lights on the trees in her little holiday forest glimmered. The display of nutcrackers saluted her. Customers were milling about, checking out snow globes and ornaments and chatting. She had picked the right name for her shop. It exuded happiness.

In a back corner Adele was giving a hard sell on a handcrafted wooden Advent calendar that they had marked down 20 percent. Elinor was ringing up a sale for old Mr. Barrows, who always bought his granddaughters ornaments for Christmas, and Natalie was boxing some of her homemade candies for Viola. And there was Stef, taking pictures of it all.

This was Frankie's kingdom, and it was a happy one. She didn't need a committee to dub her Mrs. Claus. She already was.

"What are you doing here?" she greeted Stef.

"I'm going around town taking pictures of all our shops in action. It's for a lead-up piece for the Santa Walk. Like someone suggested a couple weeks back." That someone having been Frankie.

"Someone had a good idea," she said with a wink.

"I've got a picture of you from last year as Mrs. Claus. I'll include that."

"And you can start adding pictures of the candidates for Mrs. Claus this year."

"What do you mean?" Stef asked, and Frankie told her of Barbara's machinations.

"That skunkeroo," Stef said with a shake of her head.

"Oh well. Maybe it is time for someone else to be Mrs. Claus. Maybe someone in town could use the ego boost."

But who? Who would make a cute Mrs. Claus?

Frankie's gaze rested on Elinor, who was smiling at Mr. Barrows as she handed over the red Holiday Happiness gift bag filled with goodies. Elinor was smiling more lately. That makeover had done wonders. Maybe being Mrs. Claus would, too.

"Elinor," Frankie decided. "She's sweet. She'd be perfect."

Stef lowered her voice. "I don't see it. She's so shy."

"But friendly. This would be good for her," Frankie said with a decided nod. "Elinor," she called, and hurried over to the checkout counter, "how would you like to be our town's Mrs. Claus this year?"

"Mrs. Claus?" Elinor repeated. "But aren't you usually Mrs. Claus? That's what Natalie told me."

"Are you giving up your seat in the sleigh, Mom?" Natalie asked.

"For the right person," said Frankie, and explained about the upcoming competition. "And I think Elinor would be the perfect woman for the job," she concluded.

Elinor paled. "Oh, I couldn't."

"Sure you could," said Frankie cheerfully. "You can borrow my new red dress. It will be perfect for the pageant."

"Will I have to answer some sort of question?"

"Probably not," Frankie assured her, conveniently forgetting Barbara's mention of interviewing the candidates.

"But if you do, the answer is always ‘I want world peace,'" said Viola, which made Natalie giggle. "Don't laugh. That's how I became Miss West Seattle back in the day."

"There you have it, advice from an expert. You've got Viola to coach you, and we can all help with the gingerbread house."

"Gingerbread house?" Elinor repeated weakly.

"It's going to be part of the pageant," Frankie said, then moved on quickly. "We'll make posters to put up around town, including in our window. It really is fun being Mrs. Claus, and it's not like you don't know Santa. Mitch is great to work with. And all our customers will vote for you," Frankie added.

"Mitch?" Elinor perked up.

"He's always Santa," said Natalie.

"I'll have Terrill get everyone at the station to vote for you," promised Viola.

"There you go. You're a shoo-in," said Stef. "Hey, how about an interview as the first official candidate for the position of Mrs. Claus?"

"What should I say?"

"Whatever comes to mind," said Stef. She pushed Record on her phone. "So, as Carol's Mrs. Claus, what would you like to see happen this year?"

Elinor's eyes got wide. "Umm."

"World peace," whispered Viola, making Natalie smile.

Elinor considered. "You know what, if I was Mrs. Claus, if I could have any Christmas wish come true, it would be to see families able to get together and all getting along and every child smiling on Christmas morning." She smiled at Frankie. "Maybe that's why I like working here at Holiday Happiness. I know that things can't make you happy, but fun holiday decorations can remind you to be happy."

"Wow," said Stef. "That was brilliant."

It was indeed. Frankie smiled on her protégé. It looked like Elinor really would make a good Mrs. Claus.

"Are you looking forward to taking part in our first ever Mrs. Claus pageant?" Stef asked.

"Well, I'm looking forward to meeting more of the people here in Carol. I'm so happy I moved here." Elinor was on a roll, and she obviously didn't need coaching.

A thirtysomething woman had come in and was hovering over by the nutcrackers, watching the proceedings with interest.

Frankie remembered her. She'd been in for their Black Friday sale, looking for a Christmas music box for her mother. She'd also wound up buying some of Natalie's bonbons. "An early Christmas present," she'd said, "for me," which had made Frankie laugh. She'd returned a couple of days later to buy more candy, this time for a friend. She and Frankie had chatted briefly about favorite holiday recipes while Frankie rang up her purchases. A nice woman.

Frankie moved over to her. "Welcome back."

"You remember me?" The woman looked surprised.

"I remember all my customers," Frankie said. "What may I help you find?"

"I'm looking for something Christmassy for a little boy."

"What does he like?"

"The usual—LEGO, video games. I'd like to get him something more traditional for Christmas, though. Maybe a train set if you have something like that. It doesn't have to be fancy."

"We have just the one. It's back here," Frankie said, and led her to where a little engine pulled several cars on a track around a small Christmas tree. She had set up a village for it, complete with lampposts, a church, a store and some houses.

"Oh, that is cute. I think my nephew would love it," said the woman. "It's not on par with getting a mommy for Christmas, but it will have to do."

"No mommy? That's so sad," Frankie said.

The woman's face clouded over, and she shrugged. "She was way too young."

"Cancer?" guessed Frankie.

The woman shook her head. "Aneurysm. It was a shock to all of us."

"I can imagine," Frankie said, remembering the shock of losing Ike so suddenly. "It's hard to keep going after a loss like that."

"I wish my brother would find someone. He's a good man, and he deserves to be happy."

The wheels began to turn. "Maybe he needs to ask Santa to bring him someone fun for Christmas." Like Stef.

"I don't think he and Santa are on speaking terms at the moment. His son wrote a letter to Santa, and my brother got it taken off the Clarion 's page."

The pieces clicked together. This was the angry dad Stef had talked about. "My sister does that page. That's her, at the front of the store. She's interviewing one of my employees."

"I hope my brother didn't get her in trouble," said the woman.

"He might have. He probably feels badly about it. Might want to apologize," Frankie suggested. Like in a cute holiday movie. She could already see the scene playing out.

"He should," said the woman.

"Maybe you and your brother should bring your nephew to see Santa at the Santa Walk. Stef will be there, taking pictures for the paper. Did I mention she's single?"

"Really?" A speculative smile bloomed on the woman's face.

"You never know who you might meet at the Santa Walk," said Frankie.

"You're right. You never know," the woman said, and they shared a conspiratorial smile.

Stef had left for other shops by the time their conversation was done. Maybe it was just as well, Frankie decided as she boxed up the train set for the woman. Stef might balk at meeting Mr. Grinch. And that would be a shame because Frankie had a good feeling about this.

Getting Elinor set up to be Mrs. Claus, possibly finding a man for Stef—all in a day's work for Santa Frankie.