A Christmas Miracle

“I’ve heard a few things. Is it true about the loan?”

“Absolutely true, but everything’s fine. I have a new one that I’ll be able to cover, and the shop will be fine.”

“I don’t care about the shop.” Her mother paused. “Right now, anyway. You sound sad.”

“No.” Fleming lied as she never had to her mother before. She couldn’t explain that her heart had gotten involved without her permission. “I’m fine. Where are you calling from?”

Her mom didn’t answer.

“Hello?” Fleming glanced at the phone. It was a long way to a beach hut, but the call remained connected.

“I asked Hugh if we could come home early. Just a few days. I’m on my way from Knoxville right now. I hope you won’t be upset with me for being concerned, but we both thought you might need me.”

Fleming didn’t know how to respond. “I’m twenty-four, Mom, not a child. Hugh will think—”

“That I wanted to see my daughter. He’s part of our family now, too. He understands what the shop means to us both. Besides, he’s excited about getting back to the hospital in the morning. Who knows how cardiology might have changed since the great Dr. Belford tempted fate by taking a vacation?”

Her mom was rightly proud of her new husband, who’d never go out for pastry and disappear. “Thank him for me,” Fleming said, “and be careful getting here. It’s starting to snow.”

“Oh, that’ll be good for business.”

CHAPTER SIX (#ud9f8e295-b3cb-5612-b5a3-34d995d4522e)

FLEMING HAD ALL BUT tackled her mother when she arrived at home the night before. Over hot chocolate and oatmeal cookies, they’d discussed what had happened with the shop and the loan, and then they’d gone to bed.

In the morning, Fleming woke to the smells and sounds of breakfast. She jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs. Her mother turned from the stove, where she was frying bacon.

“I thought pancakes and bacon and coffee and some fresh fruit,” she said. “How’s that with you?”

“Amazing. I usually just grab an apple or a boiled egg. Even your coffee smells better than mine.”

“Help yourself.” Katherine went to the fridge and took out pancake batter she’d already mixed. “We should be eating in about ten minutes.”

Fleming rubbed her stomach. “Can’t be soon enough.”

“Now tell me what you’re doing to bring up sales in the store.”

“I’ve distributed flyers for an ornament-making workshop. I haven’t decided what I want to do so it’s pretty vague, but I’ll provide the materials as part of the cost.”

“I wondered if you’d keep up with the ornament tradition. You should do one each week.”

“I was thinking papier-mâché. My friend Julia did some in art school. She might help me come up with something.”

“Would she consider running the workshop?”

“We could share the profits if she’s willing. I have the shop and she has the skills. She might even be able to put on other classes during the year.”

“I’d talk to her,” Katherine said. “Call her after breakfast.”

“I will. Actually, I kind of have an idea. You know the special ornaments we do each year? I modeled the ones for this year on the snowflakes the town puts on the streetlights.” They were 3-D stars with six sides, made so that each leg formed a diamond point. “What if we did something like that, only in jewel colors, with varnish? Nothing ornate—these would be for the children.”

“Might be worth the effort if it brings in shoppers.”

“And their little ones. We’ll keep it easy so the children can be involved in making them.”

“Good idea. You should try.”

Fleming smiled. “That wasn’t so hard for a few minutes of work.”

Maybe she’d been putting all her creativity into her writing. Writing her mother didn’t even know about. Her own little secret.

“Don’t rest your brain now. You’ll need more of that kind of work,” Katherine said.

“If you have ideas, I’m open to them.”

Fleming set silverware and plates on the table. Her mother brought the pancakes and bacon.

“I could stay until you feel better about handling the business and the new loan.”

“You could, and I appreciate the offer, but you have a life with Hugh. I’ll call you if I have questions. I’m so glad to see you, but I feel guilty that you’ve come all this way, and ended your vacation early.”

Her mom grinned. “Don’t. I’m not sure Hugh and I are vacation people. Remember, all you have to do if you need help is call me, and I’ll be on my way.”

Katherine reached out and squeezed Fleming’s hand. “I’m a little worried that you’ve committed to this because you feel as if you owe me the store. You don’t. It was my dream, not yours.”

“It’s part of all the Christmases we ever had, Mom. Part of the thread of my life. I want the store. And someday, if you and Hugh come home to this house, after he retires, you may be so bored you’ll want the business back.”

Katherine laughed. “I can’t actually deny that.” She sat, tucking her napkin in her lap. “I’m glad I came.”

“So am I. Stay a day or two, and we’ll visit, if Hugh doesn’t mind. You always restore my faith in myself.”

Faith that Jason had shaken, not because he was cruel or meant to hurt her, but because he was, himself, a pragmatic, practical businessman who’d shown her she’d been complacent and trusted the wrong person.

* * *

JASON WAS WALKING to a lunch meeting when he saw the chalkboard on an easel outside Mainly Merry Christmas: “Make a Blissful Ornament. Papier-mâché. Classes Inside.”

He lifted both brows. Not a bad idea. Something for parents and children to do together. Something for Christmas.

A gust of wind burned his eyes. He tried to imagine living here, being part of this community. It was easier to imagine his sisters and brother having families. Bringing some sort of Macland tradition back here with the kind of marriage his grandparents still kept alive.

But his grandparents were the exception, not the rule of Macland marriages. No one in his family would be coming back here. And he wouldn’t be staying.

He sped up, his feet eating up the sidewalk. Thoughts of his mother and her note came to mind. She was family. He hadn’t even tried to see her.

She hadn’t tried to see him, either, when he’d needed her most, but suddenly, for the first time in a long time, he wondered why. It wasn’t that he’d love to forgive and forget, but a guy who spent most of his life uncovering answers to troubling problems shouldn’t have been so content to just let the years slide by.

Something about the holidays must be getting under his skin. He glanced at Fleming’s sign again.