Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
“We’ll put everything off a few hours, Shane. We want you to be safe. We have the whole week.”
It made sense, but it still pissed me off. I got even angrier when she told me the parcels I had sent never arrived.
“They were supposed to be there three days ago,” I insisted.
“I think they’re backed up. There have been so many storms. It’s fine,” she soothed. “We get you—the gifts will come later.”
I drove another hour until I knew from the weather reports I was getting I couldn’t go any farther. I pulled into the small town of Simcoe and was lucky enough to find an inn. It was older but still well-kept and, most importantly, had a vacancy sign. The elderly woman was chatty, and when I asked, she gave me the information about the only place I might be able to find some presents at the late hour.
“Callie is usually open until six.” She scribbled down directions to Toys and Treasures. “If you hurry, you should make it.”
I got turned around but finally located the quaint store, parking with minutes left to spare, only to see the light switch off. Desperate, I knocked, calling her name.
“Callie James? Mrs. James, are you there? Please be there!”
I was expecting a woman around Mrs. Cooper’s age. That wasn’t what I got.
A woman, my age or younger, peered at me from behind the glass. The lights caught the red of her mahogany hair that tumbled over her shoulders, and her deep, soulful brown eyes were nervous as she regarded me. She was short, with a lacy white blouse that fluttered as she moved. Her skirt was a festive red, scattered with glitter. Even her hair sparkled. She looked like an angel.
Which was exactly what she turned out to be when she let me inside. My own personal angel. She allowed me to browse; she fed me cookies and made me coffee. She listened to me chat about my family. The truth was, I knew almost instantly what I was going to buy. The store was well laid out and the items were all unique, but I found I wanted more time with her, and after her soft confession that she had nowhere else to be, I took full advantage of it. I was thrilled to learn she was indeed a Miss, not a Mrs. I was intrigued by this woman and her sad, expressive eyes. They called to me, igniting a feeling I had never experienced before today. I was desperate to know why she had nowhere to go and nobody to be with on this holiday.
I followed her to the back of the store, where she unlocked a heavy-looking door and let us into her home. It was a large, cheerful room with a couch and an overstuffed chair in front of a small fake fireplace where a lazy cat slumbered. He opened one eye, looked at me, then stretched, farted, and went back to sleep. I chuckled at Callie’s admonished, “Jake!”
The kitchen was along the back wall, and the room smelled delicious.
“The bathroom is through my room over there, if you want to freshen up,” she offered.
“Thanks.”
Her room held a queen-sized sleigh bed and a simple dresser. The bed was a jewel of colors—reds, greens, golds, plaids, stripes—a symphony for the eyes. It was like Christmas in linen. I used the bathroom, sniffing at the soap. I recognized it as one of the ones I had chosen as a gift.
I hurried back, finding Callie already placing a heavy pan on the small round table. A bottle of wine was open, and she had set two places.
“Help yourself. I’ll be right back.” She brushed past me, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out to halt her. It was as if as soon as she was close, I wanted her closer. Her eyes widened as I leaned down and brushed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.”
I felt the warmth of her skin heat up as she bit her lip and whispered, “You’re welcome,” then hurried from the room.
I sat down, looking around. It was a comfortable room, filled with pictures and pieces of Callie. Stained glass hung in the windows, reflecting the lights from outside and the snow still falling. A tiny tree was by the fireplace, the twinkling lights soft in the room. I frowned at the mere two small parcels under the tree. She deserved more than that. Maybe she would go somewhere tomorrow to celebrate. I certainly hoped so. For some reason, the thought of her alone made my chest ache.
She returned, with her lacy blouse and festive skirt gone. In their place was a pair of fuzzy pants and a sweater. I chuckled at her slippers decorated with snowmen.
“You didn’t start,” she scolded gently.
“I was waiting for you.”