Mistletoe Season by Michelle Major

CHAPTER TWO

HOWCOULDONEchild produce so many questions in the span of a few minutes? Questions that seemed to tear scabs from old wounds as easy as ripping off a bandage. Gabriel Carlyle had tried to brush off the boy with no luck.

Andrew Guilardi was small in stature but big in curiosity.

Gabe didn’t appreciate curiosity.

“How do you even breathe with all that yammering?” he muttered as the kid followed him toward the back of the store.

“I’ve been practicing holding my breath in the bathtub,” Andrew answered, clearly missing the rhetorical nature of the question. “Did you know Navy SEALs can hold their breath for two or three minutes?”

The sound of the chimes over the front door gave Gabe an excuse to move past the boy. “A customer,” he ground out, tossing a pointed stare at Andrew. “I have actual work to do.”

“I’ll wait.” Andrew climbed onto one of the stools near the worktable. “I don’t got much homework.”

The kid couldn’t take a clue if Gabe handed it to him.

He let out a soft curse at the woman striding toward him. “Where is he?” she demanded, like Gabe was holding the boy hostage or something.

“Hi, Mom,” Andrew called as he heard his mother’s voice. “Me and Gabe are hanging out.”

One feathery brow arched as she glared at Gabe, her dark eyes flashing with temper. They often did when her gaze met his, which was complete bull because Gabe had done nothing to Angi Guilardi. After the hell she and her snotty friends had put him through when he was a goofy, misfit preteen, he didn’t even want to look at Angi.

Especially based on how his body reacted to her. He chalked that up to having a pulse. No one could look at Angi, with her tall, willowy form, olive-colored skin from her Italian heritage, dark hair and eyes and not appreciate her beauty.

But looks could be deceiving, and Gabe had learned that the hard way with Angi. Since returning to town, he’d done his best to avoid her, although working with Emma at the Wildflower Inn had made that more difficult.

He managed. Managing was his specialty.

“He won’t leave,” he said under his breath. “Trust me, I tried.”

She sniffed. “I can only imagine. Why is he here?”

“He wants me to tell him about my military career.”

“What the...why... I don’t understand.”

After the initial shock, though, Gabe had a feeling she understood more than she was telling him about why her son had sought out Gabe. When he came to Magnolia in the spring, he hadn’t made a huge deal about his career or the accolades he’d received throughout his stint in the army. He’d rather not think about that time, at least if he wanted to get more sleep. But it was a small town and people talked.

His grandmother was a popular resident and her store a fixture in downtown, even if it was somewhat musty and in need of a thorough cleaning. This was something Gabe hadn’t bothered with over the past eight months because it had felt that admitting the store was a mess would only make him more culpable for not being there when his grandma had needed him.

“Talk to him,” Gabe suggested with a shrug. “Preferably someplace other than in my store. I have work to do.”

She glanced around the dingy shop. “Yes, I see.”

He picked up a slip of paper from the counter. “An order.” He held it in front of her face. “To deliver today.”

“Andrew, let’s go.” Angi took a step toward the back room, then growled under her breath when the boy didn’t materialize. “I mean it.”

“Mom tone. Impressive.”

She shot Gabe another look and, despite his desire to avoid her, he felt one side of his mouth lift into a smile. Gabe didn’t have a lot of reasons to smile in life, so it felt unfamiliar. He liked the idea of getting under her skin the way she did to him, so when Andrew finally appeared in the doorway, Gabe shocked even himself by the words that came out of his mouth.

“If he doesn’t have much homework, he can stay. I’ll put you to work,” he said to the boy, whose eyes lit up like sparklers on the Fourth of July.

“Yes. Mom, please.”

Angi hissed out a breath. “You just told me you wanted to be rid of him.”

True enough. “Changed my mind,” Gabe told her.

“Because it bothers me that he’s here?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Do I bother you, cannoli?”

“Do not call me that.”

The golden flecks around the edges of her dark eyes flashed in pain, and Gabe almost felt guilty for using the nickname he knew she hated. Almost.

“Listen to your mom, kid,” Gabe told Andrew. “Go with her if that’s what she wants.”

She elbowed her way past and crouched down in front of her son. “You have to let someone know if you’re going to leave the restaurant after school.” Her tone had turned gentle, far softer than Gabe would have expected. “I didn’t know where you were, and I was worried, Drew.”

“You weren’t there after school,” he said, an accusation more than an observation.

“I’m sorry. I had to drop Nonna off at home after the doctor. But you can tell Dom or Annie or one of the other waitresses.”

The boy looked down at his scuffed sneakers. “I hate going to the restaurant after school. Nobody wants me there, and it always smells like meatballs.”

Gabe noticed the shift in Angi, the way her shoulders went rigid at Andrew’s words. Leave it to a child to have the ability to gut his mother without even trying.

“Nothing I can do about the meatballs,” she said with what Gabe guessed was fake cheer. “It’s only temporary that you’ll be at Il Rigatone. Remember that you chose not to go to the aftercare program at school.”

“I hate it there, too.”

Angi bowed her head, and Gabe suddenly felt he was witnessing a moment too intimate for the nature of their abrasive relationship.

“You know what a good remedy for hate is?” Gabe stepped forward. “Hard work. You can take out your anger on the dust bunnies in the corners.”

“What’s a remedy?” Andrew asked his mother.

“A solution,” she answered. “Something I’m fresh out of.”

“Gabe’s got lots of dust bunnies.” Andrew patted her shoulder as he looked around the shop. “Maybe even some dust rhinos.”

Angi let out a small, tired laugh. But the boy’s face cleared. Gabe knew the kid hadn’t meant to upset his mom. He remembered what it had been like to try to coax smiles or an infrequent laugh from his mother, the effort made more challenging by the fact that she was usually nursing a hangover or halfway to her next buzz. His mom was a mean drunk.

His gran, in contrast, hadn’t had a mean bone in her body. She’d been sweet and caring, always ready with a kind word or a hug for her grandson. Being back in Magnolia made Gabe miss those summers he spent with her with an intensity he hadn’t felt in years. It also reminded him of the things about Magnolia that hadn’t been good for him.

Angela Guilardi topped that list.

“I meant you can sweep up around the restaurant,” he clarified. “Do some odd jobs for your mom to keep yourself busy when you finish your homework.”

Angi straightened, shooting him a curious gaze, like she couldn’t figure out why he’d be offering suggestions to make things better for her son.

She could get in line behind Gabe on that front.

“The restaurant’s already clean,” Andrew reported as he moved to the front of the store. “I’m just in the way.”

“You’re not,” Angi argued. “Everyone there loves you, Drew.”

The “yeah, right” look Andrew shot his mother was priceless. Gabe had to hand it to him. He might only be a tiny wisp of a kid, but he had one hell of a backbone.

“I can come here after school and work for you,” Andrew told Gabe. “You need help.”

“No, I don’t.”

“He doesn’t,” Angi said at the same time.

The kid rolled his big, guileless eyes. “You said you’d put me to work.”

“Just for today if it’s okay with your mom.”

“I’ll come every day,” Andrew countered.

“No.”

“Drew, if you want things to do after school, I can find stuff at Il Rigatone.” Angi wrinkled her nose. “That’s a better place for you, especially with your asthma. There might be things you’re allergic to in here and definitely the...” Gabe followed her gaze around the shop, noticing the dead flowers decaying on a shelf and the general clutter in every corner. He had a tendency to overlook those kinds of details. His goal was to get through the trickle of orders as fast as he could so he could visit Gran at the nursing care facility he’d moved her to, or return to the solace of her house.

In truth, the florist part of running the flower shop wasn’t the thing he liked best about returning to Magnolia. Instead, he loved his grandma’s old greenhouse behind her house a few blocks away with the scent of fresh dirt filling the air. The intricacies of botany fascinated him, and he tended her garden and the living things she loved with a dedication he hoped would make her proud.

Maybe he needed to focus a bit more on the shop. It didn’t seem to matter, though, when the bulk of the orders came from online sales. When it was just him in the store, he could do whatever he wanted.

Looking at it through Angi’s judgmental eyes made him see the space in a different light.

“Listen to your mom,” he repeated. He might be able to view the store with fresh eyes, but he wasn’t going to change everything—or anything—just for her. Suddenly his offer for the boy to hang out with him seemed desperate, as if Gabe couldn’t stand his own company. Ridiculous, because even when he’d been surrounded by a platoon of fellow soldiers he’d been alone in the deepest part of himself. “You’re better off out of my hair. Take a hint and don’t make a nuisance of yourself where you’re not wanted.”

Andrew’s chin jerked up, and Gabe heard Angi’s harsh gasp of breath. Maybe he’d gone too far with his words. So what? She didn’t want her kid hanging out with Gabe, and Gabe didn’t want it either. A clean break would be better for all of them.

“You’re mean,” Andrew said. “Just like everybody else.” He pushed out the front door, and his mother hurried after him.

“I know you hate me,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “I probably deserve it. But Andrew didn’t do anything to you. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

Gabe realized his chest was heaving in and out when the store descended into silence once again. He stood there for a long moment tamping down the shame that threatened to overtake him, and then he returned to filling orders, knowing he hadn’t been proud of himself for a very long time.

ANGIBURSTTHROUGHthe back door of the Wildflower Inn on Friday night, her gaze darting between Emma and Mariella Jacob, the former famous wedding dress designer who handled most of the inn’s marketing and branding. From the website to social media to selecting the aromatic diffusers in each bedroom, Emma rightly trusted Mariella to choose the best. Somehow, the cool blonde also managed to source amazing deals on everything from high thread count sheets to locally made toiletries for the bathrooms.

Plus, Angi had noticed the steady foot traffic in and out of Mariella’s secondhand store a couple of blocks over from the restaurant. The dress designer might have left her society life and fast-track career behind in New York City when she’d moved to Magnolia, but there was no denying her talent for design and marketing. Some people were just built to be successful.

Too bad Angi wasn’t one of them.

“What’s wrong?” Angi demanded. Having responded to an SOS text from Emma, she expected to find some sort of crisis playing out with guests or the last-minute details for tomorrow’s wedding.

Both Emma and Mariella had the good sense to look sheepish.

“We thought you needed a break,” Emma said, then pointed a finger at Mariella. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

“It’s a great idea.” Mariella smiled and handed Angi a glass of white wine. “Just one quick drink and you can go back to wallowing in your self-pity.”

Emma nudged Mariella. “The idea was not to make her even more stressed.”

“Can you get more stressed?” Mariella asked Angi, almost as a challenge.

“Perhaps if the local sheriff locks me up for beating the crap out of you,” Angi answered with a sweet-like-candy smile.

Mariella shrugged. “I’m scrappier than I look. Have a drink and talk to us. We’re your friends.”

The words made Angi’s irritation deflate like a popped balloon, but she still couldn’t bring herself to admit how much she missed them and her work at the inn. “I’m sure Emma filled you in, so we’re all on the same page.” She downed the wine in two big slugs. “Nice seeing you both.”

“What do you think about frozen puff pastry cups?” Emma asked suddenly. “Ham and cheese or spinach?”

“Neither.” Angi glanced at the refrigerator that she’d stocked with appetizers for the reception. “I stayed up half the night last weekend making homemade stuffed mushrooms and spanakopita. What happened to them?” Her annoyance had returned full force.

“After the guests were asleep last night, I invited Cam over for a visit.”

“A booty call,” Mariella stage-whispered.

Angi rolled her eyes, although she really couldn’t blame Emma. Cam Arlinghaus, Emma’s fiancé, was tall, dark and handsome—plus he wore a tool belt better than any man Angi had ever seen. Unlike Emma, Cam had grown up in the area, but he’d become a recluse when his wife died in a car accident years prior. Through a strange twist of fate, he’d ended up helping Emma with repairs on the inn before its opening. Although they didn’t seem like a match on paper, the two had fallen madly in love. Angi was glad for her friend and not the least bit jealous. Okay, maybe the teensiest smidgen jealous, but she let that go because she loved them both.

“I missed him,” Emma said with a shrug. “I’ve been busy this week. He committed to work with Dylan Scott on the new headquarters for that sportswear company moving to town, so his schedule is just as packed as mine.”

“What does Cam being here have to do with my appetizers?”

Emma cringed. “A few of the guests got the late-night munchies and raided the fridge. Unfortunately, they left the trays on the counter and Cam’s dog pulled them down.”

“The dog ate my appetizers?” Angi felt her mouth drop open.

“Not all of them,” Emma said quickly. “We heard the noise in the kitchen and came out. I thought he was closed in the laundry room for the night. I’m so sorry, Ang. They spilled all over the floor, and Toby got excited and...”

“He stress peed on them,” Mariella finished with wide eyes. “Couldn’t salvage a thing.”

“We can’t serve guests stuffed mushrooms that have potentially been peed on,” Emma explained as if it weren’t obvious.

“You also can’t serve them prepackaged mini quiche.” Angi spoke through clenched teeth. She tapped a finger on the rim of her empty wineglass. “Was the plan to get me liquored up to soften the blow?”

“No,” Emma and Mariella said at once.

“The appetizers weren’t even on the agenda.” Mariella gave a pointed look at Emma. “You weren’t supposed to mention them.”

“I don’t know which ones to go with,” Emma argued, throwing her hands up before sending a beseeching glance at Angi. “It’s just this once, I swear. We didn’t want to upset you or stress you out any more.”

“This must be what rock bottom feels like,” Angi muttered, then dug in her purse for her keys. “I need to go get supplies. I’ll have new appetizers here tomorrow—noon at the latest. What time is the wedding?”

“Two,” Mariella said at the same time Emma stepped forward. “No, it’s fine. You don’t have to redo anything.”

“Of course I do. My reputation is synonymous with the food the inn serves at its events.”

“I thought you were done with our partnership,” Emma said quietly.

“We seriously invited you over to make you feel better,” Mariella added. “Not so you could swoop in and save the day.”

“Sleep is overrated,” Angi said with a weak smile.

“We’ll help,” Emma offered.

Mariella snorted. “Uh, I don’t cook.”

“You can chop or clean up.”

Angi waited for Mariella to refuse. The former designer to the stars hadn’t exactly lost her sophisticated edge. Angi couldn’t imagine Mariella taking orders from anyone.

“Tell me what to do,” she said, placing her still-full wineglass in the kitchen sink. “Give me a list and I’ll do the grocery run. They’re open until midnight on weekends, so I’ve got forty-five minutes. Surely we can knock out food for a reception of fifty in a few hours?”

“You’re seriously going to roll up your cuffed sleeves and be my sous-chef servant?”

“Why is that such a shock?”

Emma leaned closer to her. “Because you avoid domestic work like you’re allergic to it.”

“I might be,” Mariella admitted. “But my friend needs the help, so I’m going to give it to her.”

“Thank you,” Angi said quietly.

“Me, too,” Emma added. “I know the whole situation was my fault, and I really am sorry. I’ll stay up as long as you need.”

Angi sucked in an unsteady breath. This was in no way how she’d planned to spend her Friday night, but both Andrew and her mom had gone to bed. Bianca was doing much better than even her doctors had expected after the surgery, and Angi knew her mother would call if there was a problem.

The truth was, she didn’t want to go back home to the bedroom still decorated with her stuffed animal collection and posters featuring various boy band members. She should have updated the room, but changing things to reflect her adult taste felt too much like giving in and admitting she was right back where she started.

“Then let’s get to work, ladies.” Her shoulders relaxed as she stepped forward.

Maybe she’d have to give up her catering business and her work at the inn eventually, but not tonight.