Cozy Christmas

Whitney whisked it away and smiled, although Josh was certain it was an effort for her to do so. “Well, you’ve promised to bring hot drinks to the tree-lighting ceremony on Saturday so I guess I’ll see you there. Right?”

“Of course.”

She held out her hand as if wanting to shake his. What could he do? He accepted her friendly overture.

The moment their fingers touched, however, he felt a surge of emotion that went straight to his heart and sent warmth flowing through and around him as if an invisible blanket now encompassed them both.

His first mistake had been taking her hand. His second was looking directly into her eyes and recognizing their emotional connection.

Time stopped. It was as if they were totally alone in the midst of the coffee shop, even though Matt was currently waiting on another customer.

More moisture sparkled in Whitney’s eyes and Josh sensed his own vision beginning to cloud. He was a practical man, just like his father had been. So what in the world was wrong with him? He didn’t need anything but his work to be content. He was planning to sell out and leave Bygones soon. His company needed him back in the home office.

Besides, maudlin sentiment was not a part of his makeup. Nor did he need sympathy. He liked his life as it had been. He knew who he was and where he belonged. Period.

Whitney was the first to break contact. Blinking, she turned away and started for the door.

As Josh watched her leave he was struck by a sense of loss beyond anything he had experienced in the past. Common sense had nothing to do with it.

And that was what scared him all the way from the top of his head to his toes.

If he could no longer rely on pure logic to answer his questions and direct his life, what else was there?

Chapter Four

Whitney felt like patting herself on the back as she carried the pink bakery box from her car to the park Saturday evening. It had taken monumental self-control to keep from opening it at home and having just one or two tastes of the goodies within. Knowing herself well, she had refrained from breaking the tape holding the flaps closed. In her opinion, there was no such thing as having only one cookie.

Besides, it was the Christmas season. If a girl couldn’t break a few diet rules now, when could she?

That thought brought a wide smile, as did the friendly waves of others who were arriving early to set up for the event. Spotting Coraline standing at a long table next to the fence surrounding the snow-blanketed community garden plot, Whitney headed straight for her.

The decorating committee had outdone itself once again. Every tree, whether evergreen or deciduous, was festooned with twinkling lights, apparently powered by the library on one side of the park and Elwood Dill’s Everything store on the other. The lights decorating the gazebo where the carolers would soon gather were reflected off the glassy, half-frozen waters of the nearby pond, making the surface glimmer as if glazed with silver and dotted with diamonds.

In the center of the park, between the fallow garden and the playground, stood a stately fir. Whitney remembered it as being very tall when she was a child but of course she and the tree had both grown since then. The evergreen had been planted long before her birth by descendants of Bygones’s founders, Saul and Paul Bronson, whose legendary feud over a woman had led them to finally settle there and let bygones be bygones. Hence the town’s unusual name and its motto, Family First.

Coraline greeted her with a wide grin and reached for the bakery box. “Thank you so much, dear. I’m afraid my volunteer elves are planning on eating more than they pass out. We’re going to need every spare cookie.”

“Well, I didn’t nibble,” Whitney told her, “but I was tempted. Melissa’s place smells so much like Christmas it made me really crave a taste.” She scanned the park, noting that daylight was rapidly fading. “Where’s the hot cocoa going to be set up?”

“Looking for a certain handsome barista?”

Whitney scowled. “Of course not. I was just wondering if he’d need power and how we’d get it to him.”

“Ah, yes. I see.”

“Well, I was.”

“Whatever you say, dear.” Coraline handed Whitney a tray of neatly arranged cookies. “Why don’t you put those over there on the end of the second table and stand guard so the kids don’t grab them ahead of time?”

“Over there?” Whitney inclined her head to point since she had her hands full.

“Yes,” Coraline said sweetly. “Right next to where I told Josh to park his van.”

* * *

Inching into the park with Matt Garman seated beside him, Josh leaned over the wheel to peer through the frosty windshield. He’d been to Bronson Park often enough, helping with the community garden project and other things, to know where he was going. Still, he didn’t want to damage the grass. There wasn’t enough snow to make traveling dangerous, just slippery going if he wasn’t cautious.

He flashed his headlights on high beam.

“Over there.” Matt pointed. “See? By the fence.”

“Got it.” Josh could see long tables decked with food, and people gathering around them. There was Coraline. And that looked like Melissa and Brian arriving, too.

At the closest end of the line stood an unmistakable figure wearing a familiar coat, scarf and gloves. Whitney Leigh. Josh gritted his teeth. If that nosy reporter was working with Miss Coraline, there was no telling what leading questions she’d feel free to ask before the evening was over.

As he eased the van to a stop at the end of the last table, Josh spoke to Matt. “I’ll keep the supplies coming. You’ll be in charge of serving.”

“Yes, sir.”

Josh bailed out and zipped his leather jacket, noting the misty clouds that his warm breath made when he exhaled into the frigid, evening air.

He circled the white van and slid open the door displaying the Cozy Cup Café logo. It was done in two shades of brown with a cup and saucer as the base. Rising from the cup, like wafting aroma, were ribbons of steam that connected here and there to spell out the name of his specialty coffee shop. Since he had designed the graphic himself, via computer, he was particularly proud of it.

Matt waved to Whitney and the others, then got busy setting up a smaller table containing stacks of foam cups and napkins.

Inside the van, Josh had warmers to keep large containers of rich hot chocolate at serving temperature. They weren’t going to offer their usual coffee menu, not even regular Kona coffee. It would be impossible to protect it from turning bitter if they brewed it ahead of time, particularly since he didn’t have enough special air pots to hold all they’d need.

Because he had done the prep work back at his shop, it only took him a few more minutes to get everything ready. The park was beginning to fill with an amazing number of celebrants; adults and children. Some were standing still and rubbing cold hands together while others, particularly the younger ones, were racing back and forth between the playground area and the cookie tables.

Matt drew cup after cup of cocoa, adding a squirt of whipped cream as he served them. He even made a special effort to hurry over and present a cup to Whitney when he had a spare moment, although Josh did also see him exchange a handful of cookies for the drink.

He was so deep in thought about the enigmatic reporter he failed to notice Matt’s approach.

“Excuse me, Mr. Smith?” the young man said, poking his head in the door past the stainless steel warmers.

“Whoa! You startled me. What’s wrong? Are we low on something? Do you need more cups? More whipped cream?”

“No, sir. It’s the choir. My grandpa’s about to pray and start the singing. They’re real short of tenors. Would you mind if I sang with them like I do for church?”

What could Josh say? “Of course not. Go. I can handle this by myself for a while. Just come on back when you’re done, if you can.”

“Thanks!”

The wide, relieved grin on the youth’s face gave Josh a really good feeling. He might not be used to this kind of seasonal celebrating, but there were clearly plenty of others who were. Of course, a preacher’s grandson would be among them.

Josh slid out of the van and slammed the passenger side door. He’d left his gloves back at the shop and his hands were freezing now that he was fully outside, so he rubbed them together for warmth before stuffing them in his jacket pockets.

A feminine voice at his elbow asked, “Cookie?”