Mistletoe Season by Michelle Major

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THEPHONEONthe shop’s counter rang for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. Gabe stared at the ancient rotary dial, wishing his grandmother at least had a device with caller ID installed. Who didn’t have caller ID in this day and age?

Not that Gabe needed it to know who was so incessantly trying to get a hold of him.

His mother had been calling nonstop for the past three days, and he’d grown tired of arguing with her. Two older women who’d stopped in on the rainy morning quickly let themselves out of the shop after he cursed out loud at the ringing telephone. He wasn’t sure whether to applaud or groan. He’d promised his grandmother a visit to the shop, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from letting it fall to ruin just to piss off his mother.

The phone was blessedly silent for a few seconds and then began to ring again. He grabbed the receiver and barked a terse “What?”

“You can’t ignore me, Gabriel.” His mother’s husky voice, deepened by decades of chain-smoking, was like sandpaper across his soul.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“The bills,” his mom said before he heard the deep inhalation of her taking a drag. It was a sound so familiar to him that he could envision the thin plume of smoke rising to the ceiling of her cramped apartment. Plenty of his friends had smoked overseas, but Gabe never took up the habit. Too many bad memories of his childhood, back when he’d been worried about his mother’s health. When he’d pour water over her precious packs of Marlboro Lights, risking her wrath in some unrequited hope that she’d finally stop with the cancer sticks.

“I’m taking care of upkeep on the store and Gran’s house,” he answered, keeping his tone neutral. “Plus paying for the facility. There’s no frivolous spending going on.” No way would he give her the satisfaction of knowing how much she upset him.

“You’re paying her bills with my money.”

“With Gran’s money.”

“Put her in a cheaper place.”

“No.”

He wasn’t going to explain again how Shady Acres was the best facility within fifty miles of Magnolia. Or the fact that Iris had friends who lived there and people she knew in the community who visited. He knew his grandma hadn’t planned to remain long-term in the nursing home, yet he couldn’t see a way that would change.

When he’d first arrived in Magnolia, she’d told him that she expected to be released at any moment. But it had become apparent that she wasn’t in a place to take care of herself or the shop, and although it was clear she struggled with the decision, Iris had agreed to become a long-term resident. He still held out hope she’d recover enough to return to her house.

“Do you know how much Shady Acres costs per month?”

“Insurance covers most of it,” he countered. “Gran’s savings are good for the rest.”

“She’s going to drain it so there’s no inheritance left for me other than that stupid flower shop, the one you’re supposed to be taking care of. I called Mary Ellen Winkler, Gabe. She told me you haven’t even decorated for Christmas and that sometimes you scare away customers. Are you trying to run the place into the ground so the business fails before I get it?”

“I’ve made a few updates. Besides, you don’t want it, Mom.”

“I want the money I can get from selling it.”

“Gran doesn’t own the building.”

“The business is worth something,” his mother insisted.

That was true, and Gabe had been determined to rejuvenate it when he’d first come to town. At that point, he’d felt he was making it better for his grandmother’s benefit. So she would return to a thriving storefront. He’d filled the place with plants and flowers because he knew Iris would be happy surrounded by so much flourishing green.

Then his mother had called for the first time. He’d thought she wanted to check on Gran, but he should have known better. After all, this was the woman who’d accepted money from him, wired when he was abroad still on active duty, to travel from her home in New Mexico to Magnolia in order to be with his grandmother after her surgery.

But she’d never come to Magnolia. Iris had been alone, first in the hospital and then in the rehabilitation wing of Shady Acres until Gabe had finally arrived almost a month after her fall.

Okay, it might be an exaggeration to say she was totally alone. She’d lived in the small town for over half her life and had many close friends. People loved her. But there had been no family. Gabe and Poppy were her only family.

Now his mother was hinting that she anticipated her own mother’s death so she could claim an inheritance and that the money coming to her was more important than Gran’s quality of life.

“I’m going to go, Mom,” he said flatly. “If you want me to keep the business going so it’s worth something to you, I need to work.”

“I want her moved to another facility,” his mother told him, and his stomach churned with acid. He’d met with his grandmother’s attorney, Douglas Damon, shortly after arriving in Magnolia but still knew very little about Iris’s will. He’d been granted power of attorney, but if his mom decided to challenge him, it could get messy.

Gabe didn’t have time for messy.

“Let’s get through the holidays,” he said, forcing fake cheer into his tone. “I’ll talk to the people at Shady Acres about the money, and if we can’t work something out, I’ll look at other places.” That was a bald-faced lie. If his grandmother was happy at the home, he’d do anything to keep her there.

He also wanted to get Poppy off his back.

“We used to be a team,” his mother said.

We were never a team, he thought.

“I love you, Gaby.”

Yeah, now that she thought he was giving her what she wanted.

“Goodbye, Mom.”

He hung up and fisted both his hands in front of him, trying hard to resist the urge to punch his fist into a wall or hurl a ceramic pot across the store. Anything to get rid of some of the tension curling inside him.

Except he’d just have to clean up the mess, and he had more than his share of those at the moment.

A feminine throat cleared behind him, and Gabe whirled to find Angi standing just inside the shop’s entrance.

“You didn’t hear me come in,” she said, as if that wasn’t obvious.

“How much did you hear?”

She lifted one shoulder. “Enough from your end to understand why you’ve let this place go the way you have.” She stepped forward, one long finger trailing over the leaf of a poinsettia. “I don’t remember ever meeting your mom during the summers you stayed with Iris.”

“Probably because she barely pulled to a complete stop before pushing me out the door.” Angi was in her normal uniform from the restaurant—a crisp white button-down and slim black skirt. He imagined she’d left the green apron that completed the ensemble back at Il Rigatone. “Trust me, I’m not complaining. I loved summers here with my grandma and dreaded the day my mom would return to collect me. Sometimes I wished she’d just kept traveling. Why do you look like a waitress today?”

She sniffed. “Because I am one today. Annie took the day off to take her daughter shopping up in Raleigh.”

“Is there anything you can’t handle?” he asked, feeling his mood lighten ever so slightly.

“This list is long,” she answered. “Can you fight your mom for ownership of the shop?”

Cue the return of the black emotions. “I don’t know that I want to. The whole purpose of me taking care of things was to make them better when Gran returned. I’m still hoping she can, but the problems with her memory since the accident concern me. Some days it’s good, but others are a struggle.”

“I saw you here in the summer, Gabe. You were having fun with the shop and that didn’t have anything to do with your grandma. What changed other than your mom’s interest in the store?”

“That’s plenty.”

“You promised your grandmother that you’d bring her here for the holiday shopping event.”

“I know.”

“So...” She gestured around the shop’s drab interior. “You have to decorate. That’s why I’m here.” She glanced at the oversize watch that encircled her wrist. “Only for a minute, actually. I wanted to tell you I’ll come by after the lunch shift ends. Well, after lunch and after I check on Andrew.”

He lifted a brow. “Is he with your mom for the suspension?”

She gave a tight nod. “He wanted to come to the restaurant, most likely so that he could sneak over to hang out here. There’s nothing that feels more like a punishment to a ten-year-old boy than being stuck at home with his grandma with the job to clean the baseboards.”

“I’d argue the grandma part, but the baseboards are a nice touch.”

“Thanks.”

A charged silence fell between them, and Gabe’s heart suddenly felt like a flock of birds were fluttering against his rib cage. It was stupid to be so aware of Angi, but he couldn’t stop it.

He tried to remember that she didn’t belong to him. He didn’t want her to be his. He just wanted her help with the store, but no part of him was buying it. Still, he forced himself to remain where he was. “You could have texted me about the decorating date.”

Color bloomed in her cheeks, and an answering heat pooled low in his belly. “It’s not a date. It’s an appointment.”

“Still.”

She glanced past his shoulder like she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact. “I also wanted to apologize for how I acted yesterday. I know Andrew’s suspension isn’t your fault.”

“It’s okay. I understand you were upset.”

“Don’t let me off the hook,” she said, her tone raw with an emotion he couldn’t name. “It’s like when we were younger, and I was cruel because I wanted to be part of the popular crowd.”

“We’re not kids anymore, Ang.”

She took a step toward him, her dark eyes flashing. “I know, which is why I need to do better. I need to model better behavior for Andrew so he knows he has options other than flight or fight. I don’t want him to feel like he has to run away from his life. The way I did.”

“You’re a good mom,” he told her. “Trust me, I know the difference.”

He had started to reach for her, unsure which of them needed comfort more, when the bells over the front door chimed.

“Oh, I must have the wrong place,” an older woman said, her face falling as she took in the shop’s drab interior. Andrew had done his best to help Gabe, but the interior needed more. Way more.

When Gabe didn’t answer, Angi gave him a quelling look and then smiled at the potential customer. “What were you looking for?” she asked.

“I thought this was the same little flower shop I stopped in last year at this time.” The woman took off her gloves. “I’m driving down to Charleston to see my grandkids, and I bought the cutest ornament and holiday arrangement. My daughter was so tickled by it, I thought I’d make it an annual tradition.” She frowned. “But this can’t be the same shop.”

“It is,” Gabe muttered, guilt spiking at him because he’d let his animosity toward his mother change how he treated his grandmother’s precious flowers and plants. What could he do about it now?

“We’re behind on getting our Christmas stock on the shelves,” Angi explained, like the store belonged to her as much as it did him. “The owner had a bit of crisis.” She flicked a glance toward Gabe. “The store will be transformed by this weekend.”

The customer perked up. “That’s good to know. I’m visiting my girl for a few days, then driving back. I could stop in on my way home at the beginning of next week.”

“We’d love that,” Angi assured her.

Gabe would love no such thing but didn’t argue.

“You might even consider bringing your daughter for a visit and staying overnight in town.” Angi pulled a business card out of the pocket of her skirt. “The town is having an art walk and shopping event on Friday. All of the shops will be offering promotions and specials. You can do your Christmas shopping right here in Magnolia. Plus, there’s a new inn, the Wildflower, that opened this past summer.” She handed the woman the business card. “It’s amazing.”

“She should know.” Gabe placed an arm around Angi’s shoulder and squeezed. “She’s the in-house chef and is fantastic. She’s even gotten praise from a US senator.”

Angi’s body went rigid. “Well, there’s no pressure to stay, but at least stop back in to shop.”

“I will.” The woman nodded, studying the card. “I may even make a reservation.”

“That was unnecessary.” Angi stepped away as soon as the door closed behind the customer. “No point in talking up my part in the inn when it’s going to end at the beginning of the year.”

“Not if you explain to your mom that you’re going back.”

“You aren’t exactly in the best spot to be doling out advice on setting boundaries with mothers.”

He inclined his head. “True.”

Angi frowned as if she’d expected him to argue. When he didn’t, she blew out a breath. “You’re annoying, but I’ll be here after lunch.”

She held up a hand before he could answer. “No arguments, and I’m bringing you a meatball sub.”

The relief that flooded him was as strong as a river’s current after the spring thaw. “I wouldn’t dare argue with meatballs,” he told her, earning a small smile as she walked out.

That smile made him feel like he’d accomplished something monumental, which made him a massive fool.

ITWASNEARLYthree before Angi made it back to In Bloom, and she half expected that Gabe would have closed early just to avoid accepting her help.

Instead, she walked into the shop and did a quick pivot as she took in the transformation that had occurred in a few hours.

He’d cleaned up the mess in the corners and on the shelves, and strewn handfuls of tinsel across most every horizontal surface. Several large bins of decorations sat in front of the counter as if they were waiting to be placed.

“Where did all of this come from?” she asked as Gabe straightened from wiping a spot of dried dirt on the floor.

Something about the look in his eyes made her heart skip a beat. “Also, I brought you a sandwich,” she added, holding up the brown bag in front of her to draw his attention.

“Gran’s attic,” he said with a smile. “After you left this morning, I went to see her. I needed to remind myself why I was doing this and to distance myself from that call with my mom.” He straightened. “I admitted to my grandma that I’d let things go with the store because taking care of it felt like I was helping my mom.”

He picked up a snow globe only half filled with water and studied it like it offered answers to the great mysteries of life. “I wasn’t raised with any sort of religion, but I’m guessing it’s what recalcitrant kids feel like going to confession. I stole two cookies from the cookie jar and all that business.”

Angi was bowled over by the sincerity in his tone, and also equally amused. “Have you never admitted to any wrongdoing in your life?”

“Not to anyone who mattered.”

“Seriously? What about as a teenager? No sneaking out or stealing your mom’s liquor.” Her voice trailed off as he gave her a “for real?” look.

“You knew me back then. Not only was I not getting into any trouble, my mom wouldn’t have cared if I did. Hell, I might have actually made her proud of me.”

“Gabe, you served our country. Of course she’s proud of you.”

“Not even a little. I would have been better off aspiring to a career as a grifter if I’d wanted to impress my mom.” He held up a hand when she would have argued. “Let me be clear, I never wanted to try. Gran is a different story.”

“Did she offer you absolution and assign penance in exchange for a promise of Christmas decorating?”

“You’ve got the lingo down.”

“Italian on both sides,” she said with a laugh. “It’s in my blood.”

“Gran was sweet and also lucid today, which helped. As far as penance, she wants to come for the downtown shopping event on Friday night. So I have four days to turn the store around and make it the best Magnolia has to offer.”

“Tall order,” Angi said, whistling under her breath. “Did you see the cute Christmas tree Stuart made out of books?” She stepped closer. “And Lily at the hardware store is doing holiday craft demonstrations that night. Avery and Meredith are helping with the art gallery since Carrie can’t be there.”

He blinked. “How do you know all of this, and is it your version of a pep talk?” He placed the globe on the counter. “Because you aren’t going to be giving Tony Robbins a run for his money anytime soon.”

“I’m the festival chairperson. I take my duties seriously.” To Angi’s immense horror, a yawned stretched her lips, and she quickly tried to stifle it. “Sorry. You didn’t see that. Let’s get going on these decorations.”

“We’re the festival chairpersons,” he reminded her, then reached out and took her hand.

She was so shocked by the gentle touch that she allowed herself to be led around the counter and into the back room.

“You’re supposed to share the responsibility with me,” he said. “Not take on everything by yourself.”

“You found the space for the dance. That’s plenty.”

“That was nothing and we both know it. Dylan Scott is to thank for that. Or really Carrie, since he’d do anything for her.”

“They’re a cute couple.”

“So are we,” he said. “Everyone thinks so.”

“We aren’t a couple.” Heat spiked through her, followed quickly by a cold rush of anxiety because her body reacted to those words, even though she knew he meant them as a joke.

“We’re still cute.” He released her hand and pushed her down onto the small love seat that was shoved up against the back wall of the office.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you a break,” he said conversationally, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “When was the last time you had one?”

“I take breaks,” she argued.

“Tell me the last time.”

“I took a break when my mom had her heart attack,” she said, then wrinkled her nose.

“What did you do on that break?”

“I took care of her,” she admitted. “No need to gloat.”

“I’m not gloating.” He pulled up a wooden stool and sat in front of her. Then he lifted her foot into his lap.

Angi had already started to relax into the small couch’s soft cushions but immediately stiffened and tried to jerk away her leg. “What the—”

“Relax,” he told her, and flipped off the clog she wore during waitressing shifts. “Let me take care of you, just for a few minutes.”

“Don’t you have boughs of holly to—” She broke off with a moan of pleasure as he pressed his thumb into the bottom of her stockinged foot, kneading the arch. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“Relax,” he said quietly and, despite her misgivings, she did. How could she do anything else when his hands worked their magic on her sore feet. There was nothing overtly sexual about the touch, but it felt intensely intimate just the same. “There was an issue with Gran’s decorations.”

“She has too much mistletoe?”

Gabe’s gaze took on a wolfish gleam, and Angi did her best not to squirm under it. “Just the right amount of mistletoe. But she had most of her newer decorations in the garage in cardboard boxes, some of which have water damage. I’m guessing that corner flooded during the huge storm this summer. I was so busy shoring up the house that I didn’t realize it. So now I’m left with the older stuff I found in the attic. Most of the decorations look like they date back to circa nineteen seventysomething or even older. I guess I can drive up to one of the big-box stores in Raleigh and load up on decorations before Friday. I don’t think kitschy retro is the theme most businesses in Magnolia focus on for the holidays. Hell, I’m not sure what people do with strings of silver or color wheels.”

Angi smiled. “That’s tinsel. My mom always complained that it multiplied worse than Easter grass.”

“I understood about a tenth of what you said there.” Gabe paused in the act of lifting her other leg into his lap.

“You just keep up with the massage.” Angi rubbed her hands together. “I think we can work with what your grandmother has on hand. A retro Christmas theme with all of her vintage stuff. Think about how happy it will make her to step back in time and see all decorations she’s collected over the years.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then looked down at her feet again. She noticed that his fingers trembled as he massaged.

“Gabe, what is it?” She pulled her legs off him and slipped back into her shoes. “What’s wrong? If you want to get new—”

“She’ll love it,” he said gruffly, and she could hear the emotion in his voice. Despite his size, the scruff covering his jaw and his obvious strength, she suddenly had a memory of the sweet, sensitive boy she’d met all those summers ago. The one who seemed uncertain about everything other than how much he loved his grandmother.

“Then we’ll make it perfect for her.” Angi reached forward and cupped his face in her hands. She held steady until he finally met her gaze. “This isn’t about your mother or the future. It’s about you and your grandmother.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, and Angi realized there was no place she’d rather be than in this moment, decorating for the holidays with Gabe Carlyle.