Mistletoe Season by Michelle Major

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LATERTHATWEEK, Angi waited near the loading dock at the old mill. Gabe had found a rental company about an hour away that was willing to donate a portable stage and parquet floor they could use for the big dance.

She appreciated his dedication to the cause, although she felt strangely nervous around him again after the night spent in his arms. Neither had talked about the intimacy, and she was unsure where it left their relationship. All she knew for certain was she liked him way more than she should.

The latest donation was a huge savings and would mean nearly a thousand more dollars could be donated to the local charity instead of using ticket revenue to cover their costs for the event. She’d visited Carrie yesterday to go over their progress on all of the Christmas on the Coast activities and felt so proud when the soon-to-be mom had cried happy tears at everything Angi and Gabe were accomplishing.

That almost made up for the fact that she was relying even more this week on caffeine and sheer willpower as she continued to try to balance all of the things on her to-do list.

A car door slammed, and she stepped to the edge of the open door, waving Mariella to that side of the building. The shop owner had offered to meet Angi today to help put together the stage and make a plan for decorating the large space. She had an intrinsic eye for design, and Angi appreciated not having to handle every last detail on her own.

“This place is creepy,” the cool blonde commented as she approached, pulling the sides of her camel-colored trench coat more closely around her. It amused Angi that Mariella thought she blended in with the small town of Magnolia. To Angi, her friend gave off big-city fashionista vibes for days with her wedge-heeled boots and trendy tattered jeans.

Although they still liked to tease and banter, for the most part the animosity that had bloomed between them like an aggressive weed when they’d first met had all but disappeared. At this point, Angi couldn’t even remember why the hostility had started, but she was relieved not to deal with it any longer.

“Are you sure it’s the right place for a holiday event?” Mariella mock shuddered. “I’m getting definite horror-movie vibes.”

“Dylan said they’ve just about inked the deal to lease the space to a sportswear company. This time next year, it will be unrecognizable. And with your help, we’re going to transform it into a Christmas on the Coast winter wonderland.”

“What company?” Mariella came to stand next to Angi, obviously examining the empty mill with new eyes.

“It’s called The Fit Collective,” Angi told her. “We met the new CEO. I think he’s a friend of Dylan’s or something.”

“Interesting. I know that brand. They make a quality product, but the founder went off the rails at one point. More out of control than me, even. She made a big deal about being a woman-owned business and then said some awful things about her female clients and whether they actually deserve to wear Fit Collective apparel. Capped off with a tone-deaf remark about needing thigh gap to wear her leggings.”

“Oh, that’s bad.” Angi made a face. “I didn’t hear any of the history.”

“The brand took a hit.” Mariella tapped a finger on her chin. “I guess they’re trying for a new start or at least a second chance. I can appreciate that.”

“Does it give you any ideas?” Angi asked. “You design the most beautiful wedding gowns I’ve ever seen. You made women feel beautiful.”

Mariella’s gaze took on a faraway look. “I liked that part of it. Women should feel beautiful.” She bit down on her lower lip and glanced around before turning to Angi. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ve started making dresses again,” she said quietly, as if the words might echo off the walls if she spoke in a normal tone.

“You’re going back to the fashion business? Your studio in New York City?”

“No,” Mariella said almost aggressively. “I’m a one-woman shop.”

“Is there money in that?” Angi asked.

“Not exactly,” her friend admitted with a frown. “But there’s more satisfaction than I would have guessed. I like designing, but I forgot how much I like the sewing part, as well. My social life isn’t exactly thriving, so working on one dress at a time gives me something productive to do at night.”

“Because vegging in front of the television isn’t an option?”

Mariella shook her head. “Not for me. It’s hard to be still. The only time I was good at it was when I was high or drunk, and I’m not going back there again.”

“Oh, well, I guess that’s a positive.”

“I guess,” Mariella agreed with a harsh laugh. “Not all of us can be as perfect and strong as you.”

Angi made a show of glancing around. “Who are you talking about? I’m not perfect. Far from it. You’ve seen me at some of my worst moments. Hiding behind a door at the inn to avoid my mom. Sneaking out of her house at night even though I’m a grown woman. You have a pretty messed up version of strong and perfect if I’m your benchmark.”

“Maybe perfect wasn’t the right word,” Mariella admitted. “But I stand behind strong. You’re a fantastic mom—”

“Debatable.”

“And a wonderful, dedicated daughter.”

“Did you miss the part about me sneaking around because I’m too cowardly to stand up to my mother?”

“You’re a good person,” Mariella said, her tone going somber in a way that had the little hairs on the back of Angi’s neck standing on end. “I hated you for it at first.”

Angi wasn’t sure how to respond and so asked the first question that came to her mind, “Is that why we didn’t get along? I probably shouldn’t have played into that narrative, but it was kind of nice to have an outlet—even misguided—for all of my anger.”

Before Mariella could answer, her eyes went wide with alarm like she’d seen a ghost. “No, no, no, no,” she whispered, color draining from her face.

Angi reached out a steadying hand and then turned to see Alex Ralsten, Dylan’s friend or at least his soon-to-be tenant, walking toward them from the back of the building.

She knew from Dylan that the native New Yorker had been spending more time in Magnolia in preparation for The Fit Collective’s big move. He’d even gotten the company to agree to make a sizable donation to the dance as a sponsor when she’d explained the goodwill it would foster within the community.

He was looking down at his phone, punching in something on the screen with his thumb. As if he could sense the tension coming from Mariella, he looked up with a start, and the device clattered to the concrete floor.

Angi cringed as she glanced down and saw that the screen had shattered.

If Alex noticed, he didn’t react. He bent with stiff movements to pick up the phone, and when he straightened again his features were devoid of any emotion.

The same could not be said for Mariella.

“What’s wrong?” Angi asked, shifting toward her enemy-turned-friend like she was the other woman’s protector.

“I can’t...this isn’t...he shouldn’t be...”

“Well, this is a small world,” Alex said with a sardonic smile. “Or a small town at least.”

“Why is he here?” Mariella spoke to Angi, but her gaze remained locked on Alex.

“He’s the CEO of the company I told you about.”

“No,” Mariella repeated. “Why?” she demanded.

“I needed a change,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “I assume you can understand my motivation for that.”

“You had to know I was here.” Mariella lifted a hand to her throat, gripped the scarf she wore like it was choking her. “I spent most of the wedding weekend avoiding you.”

Angi studied the handsome man. His features remained neutral, but there was a flush of pink across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and she noticed he gripped the shattered phone so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

He’d been a guest at the first wedding hosted at the Wildflower Inn, the best man of the groom, a US senator from a lauded political dynasty. To be honest, Angi hadn’t paid much attention to Alex. He was undeniably handsome but far too polished for her. Mariella hadn’t mentioned knowing him or what their shared background was, but Angi did not like seeing her usually unflappable friend in this kind of state.

“Are you suggesting this town isn’t big enough for the both of us?” Alex demanded, his full mouth curled into a slight sneer.

Angi took a step forward and held up a hand. “I don’t think we need to resort to a Wild West standoff. I’m sure whatever—”

“I’m saying I want you to pick somewhere else.” Mariella’s tone had gone from upset to outright desperation. “Please.”

“You can’t always get what you want. I definitely wouldn’t have chosen for an angry, unhinged drunk to interrupt my wedding and reveal my fiancée’s infidelity in front of two hundred of our closest friends and family.” He inclined his head. “You did it anyway, Mariella.”

Suddenly the strain between the two of them made complete sense. Angi hadn’t watched the viral video of Mariella storming into the church during a famous client’s wedding to confront the woman who had been conducting an illicit affair with Mariella’s own fiancé.

The scandal was bad enough, but the obscenity-filled speech Mariella had delivered while clutching the neck of a wine bottle had been caught on camera. Although the bride was guilty of cheating, she’d launched a media blitz to ruin Mariella’s reputation and erode the trust her clients and potential customers had in her. Mariella’s company, Belle Vie, was one of the premier wedding dress design studios in the world. She’d just taken the company public, and the new board had wasted no time in firing her.

“I sent you a note of apology,” Mariella answered, looking away as Alex’s eyes narrowed.

“Apology not accepted,” he muttered. “I don’t particularly give a rat’s ass whether you want me in Magnolia or not, and I could give even less of a care about your feelings. I’ve become an expert at avoiding things I don’t like since my wedding day, and trust me, you’re at the top of the list. As far as I’m concerned, we can go back to being strangers.”

Mariella squeezed shut her eyes for a long moment, and Angi’s heart ached when a single tear leaked out. She knew her friend wouldn’t want to break down in front of Alex—or anyone—but sometimes trying to hold back the emotions was impossible.

“You should go,” Angi told Alex, facing him fully.

His dark brows lowered. “You realize I’m running the company that’s sponsoring your little town dance.”

The tone he used expressed clearly that Alex Ralsten wasn’t a man who was used to being told what to do.

“Yes,” she said slowly, trying to tamp down her temper. “I also know my friend needs you gone right now. Magnolia may be big enough for both of you, but it’s going to get uncomfortable quickly if you make it hard on her.”

Alex shook his head as he glared at Angi. During the first meeting at the mill, he’d been charming and affable, but it was clear the man had his own demons to contend with, and many of them involved Mariella.

Still, he didn’t argue. “I’ll go for now, but you can’t get rid of me or shame me into leaving. I picked this place, and I intend to stay.”

As he turned on his heel and stalked away, the sound of his boots on the concrete echoed in the ensuing silence.

Angi gave Mariella a moment before turning back to her. The blonde still looked like she’d just been sucker punched in the gut, but her eyes were clear of tears. “How can he be here?” she asked, her voice just as miserable as it had been earlier. “I left my past mistakes behind.”

“No,” Angi said, shaking her head. “You can never really run from the past, hon, even in those fancy heels you like to wear. If you don’t deal with things, the past lives inside you, which is almost as damaging as having it come for you outright.”

Mariella dashed a hand across her cheeks, as if she could still feel the tears there. “I’m not sure anything could be worse than the thought of having to see Alex on the regular.”

The sound of a truck engine had them both looking toward the edge of the parking lot. Gabe drove in, pulling a trailer loaded with supplies for the stage. Angi could see Cam in the passenger seat. The local furniture maker had offered to help on the construction end of things.

She glanced at Mariella. “If you need some time, we can handle this without you. I can get things in the basic locations, then you can come back when—”

“I’m here now.” Mariella took a deep breath as she stared at the far end of the space, where Alex had disappeared. “I might not want to deal with Alex, but he’s not going to chase me away. Not yet.”

Angi reached out an arm and hugged Mariella to her. “Never, if I have anything to say about it.”

“You’re better at this friend thing than I would have thought,” Mariella told her with a muffled laugh.

“I like you as a friend more than I would have guessed,” Angi answered with a wink.

Mariella flashed a smile, which felt like a victory, and they headed toward the front of the building together.

GABEWALKEDINTOthe flower shop that afternoon and heard the telltale sound of grunting and smacks against the punching bag he’d hung in the back. He exchanged a glance with Maybelle, the young woman he’d hired to help run the shop when he couldn’t be there.

“I told the kid he should wait until you came back,” she said by way of an explanation.

“And yet...”

“He’s stubborn for such a little squirt.” Maybelle held up a printed order form. “Good news, though. I’ve got another stack of orders. This vintage Christmas thing you’ve got going is a hit.”

Gabe smiled as warmth infused him. He thought about how his grandmother would react when he told her, and his smile grew. Until he heard a guttural yell from the back room. An older couple, browsing for gifts in the corner, gave him an alarmed stare.

“All good,” he said. “He’s rehearsing for the Christmas pageant and those are some voice exercises.”

Maybelle snorted, and then schooled her features and came around the counter. “Let me show you the collection of ceramic angels that just came in,” she told the couple as Gabe headed for the back room.

The door to the utility closet where Gabe had hung the punching bag was ajar, and he could see Andrew’s small fists encased in bulky boxing gloves pummeling the leather. Conflicting emotions warred within Gabe. He’d missed the boy’s afternoon visits, which had been curtailed by Angi after the incident at school.

And they hadn’t talked more about the situation or his thoughts on how to help Drew. He didn’t bring it up because what right did he have to intervene in her parenting choices? Hell, he had little experience with kids other than having been one. Plus, she was under enough pressure, and he didn’t want to add more to it. But the kid was still struggling, and if Gabe could help with that, he wanted to.

The urge to intervene didn’t make sense. The boy was simply one more complication that Gabe would have argued he didn’t want, but he couldn’t deny the connection he felt with Andrew. Different but no less important than his relationship with Angi.

A subject he hadn’t broached since they’d had the best sex of his life. He was too damn scared to take the risk of hearing her say it had been a mistake.

“Hey, Rocky,” he said as he pushed open the door. “I thought we talked about working with the bag after the shop closed. You’re scaring the customers.”

Andrew stopped moving and gave Gabe a mulish glare. “I needed to let off some steam.”

“Try push-ups,” Gabe suggested. “Or meditation.”

“I tried meditating like you said.” Andrew pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes with one oversize boxing glove. “It didn’t work. I just had all the same stupid thoughts running through my head.”

Gabe nodded. “We talked about that. The point of meditation is to quiet those thoughts. Notice them and let them run through. Your job is to let them come and watch them go.”

The kid looked doubtful. “Does that really work?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Gabe told him. Another thing for which he could thank his gran. It had been a low point in his military career, when he was stationed in some godforsaken desert in a hostile country. He’d sent a letter to his grandma late one night when he couldn’t sleep, telling her how close he felt to the edge. When her next care package arrived, the box had included not only his favorite rice cereal treats but also a book on mindfulness and meditation.

Gabe hadn’t planned to read it, but the insomnia had been almost debilitating. He’d spent so much time working on his body, making it strong and powerful because he’d hated the weakness of his childhood. But he’d done nothing to shape his mind, and the emotions swirling around inside him had been dragging him down. The mindfulness practices and meditation he’d made a daily part of his life had helped calm his brain.

When Andrew had first come to him, Gabe had focused on the kid’s body because that was where he’d started. After the suspension, Gabe realized that he was doing the boy a disservice by not also helping him to train his mind. So he’d done some research on teaching mindfulness practices to kids and introduced several of the concepts to Drew.

“Tell me what has you needing to beat the tar out of the bag today,” Gabe said, making his tone purposely casual. “And does your mom know you’re here?”

Andrew scowled. “She’s too busy to notice where I am.”

“Not true, and we both know it.” Gabe took a step forward and reached for the boy’s hand. He tugged on the boxing glove until it came off. “Give her a break, buddy. She’s balancing a lot right now.”

“She doesn’t understand.” Andrew sniffed and wiped his sweaty brow on the sleeve of his Iron Man T-shirt. “She doesn’t care that I don’t have a dad.”

“You have a dad, he’s just too stupid to want to be a part of your life.”

Andrew’s mouth pursed into a thin line, and he blinked rapidly like he was trying not to cry.

Holy hell. Gabe couldn’t take it if the kid cried.

“For the record, my dad wasn’t a part of my life either. I never even knew who he was. My mom wouldn’t tell me.”

“Then you don’t know if he would’ve liked you or not.” Andrew went over to the water bottle he’d placed on a table and took a long drink.

Gabe just waited, understanding the kid needed a moment to collect himself.

“My dad told me he didn’t want anything to do with me,” he said, studying the top of the water bottle like the orange plastic held the secrets of the universe. “I might as well not know him.”

“What do you mean he told you?” Alarm bells clanged in Gabe’s brain.

“I got the number of the restaurant where he works from the internet, and I called him.”

“I’m assuming your mother doesn’t know that either.”

Andrew shot him a “duh” look.

“Why?” Gabe asked, rubbing a hand across his jaw, trying to ease some of the tension. He was seriously considering catching the next flight he could get to New York City and pummeling Angi’s ex.

“He said it wasn’t a good time,” Andrew told him. “It’s busy at the restaurant and he’s opening a new location in Vegas so it won’t be a good time for a while.”

The guy was a bigger dolt than Gabe had even imagined.

“Why did you call him?”

Andrew sniffed. “Because I want to go on the scout overnight trip, and stupid Johnny says I can’t because it’s a stupid father-son thing and I don’t have a stupid dad or even a grandpa this year.” The boy’s voice cracked on the word grandpa, making Gabe’s chest clench.

Was this how Scrooge felt when faced with adorable and pathetic Tiny Tim?

“What’s so important about this overnight?”

Maybelle peaked her head into the back room. “Gabe, I’m heading out. Can you watch the front of the shop?”

“Yeah,” Gabe called, then gestured to Andrew. “Let’s finish this conversation with a snack. I have some leftover bear claws from the bakery.”

“I guess,” came the downtrodden reply from Andrew. The kid must be really bad off if Sunnyside pastries didn’t put a spark in his eye. Gabe knew they were his favorite, which might have been why he’d started stocking them. Not that he was going to come right out and say it.

They walked to the front of the shop, which was empty of customers at the moment. Gabe didn’t worry about that. He’d had more foot traffic since putting up the decorations than he’d had in the previous couple of months. Add that to the online orders and his new association with a national florist registry, and the store was going to be in the black for the month of December.

He was both proud and conflicted, as he didn’t want to do anything that would please his mother. But Gran was so happy with the changes he’d made that he couldn’t regret them.

Andrew climbed up on his normal stool behind the counter, and Gabe put out a plate of pastries and a juice box. The boy looked at them with a longing sigh, but didn’t reach for one.

Tough times, indeed.