Christmas With Tiffany (4 page)

“No, the café is fine.”
Tiffany didn’t bother mentioning that she rarely splurged by eating out at all.
She usually brought her lunch from home. “I like the café.”

“Then the café it is,”
Bain said in a cheerful tone. He stepped back so Tiffany could precede him to
the front door. He put his package in the trunk of his car while she locked up,
then he joined her on the sidewalk. The sun had set and the evening was cold,
but she welcomed the chill. That
Christmasy
feel to
the air, combined with the twinkling lights of the many decorations on storefronts
along Main Street,
always
raised her spirits.

And tonight, with Bain
at her side and his hand lightly touching her back in the protective gesture
she recalled from years ago, she was convinced she could have simply floated
across the street to the café. She wasn’t sure what that said about her. Was
she weak? Pathetic? Or just
a heartache
looking for a
place to happen?

*
* *

When Bain opened the
door of the café where he and Tiffany had once shared more than a few after-school
burgers, he was inundated with smells of the past. Scents of cinnamon and
ginger from Mrs. Timmons’ apple pies hung in the air, and strains of
I’ll Be Home for Christmas
floated out to greet them.

Although it was nearing
dinnertime, the restaurant was relatively
uncrowded
.
Bain immediately looked toward the booth that he and Tiffany had always favored
and was pleased to see it was vacant. “Shall we?” he asked, motioning toward
the booth.

She merely nodded. Bain
was beginning to wonder if perhaps this was a mistake, asking Tiffany out for
dinner, especially when he realized that everyone at the five occupied tables
had turned to stare at them. Was he out of line in some way? For all he knew,
Tiffany could be engaged, and he could be putting her in a precarious position
with the townspeople.

Then she looked up at
him and grinned. “Don’t mind the gawkers,” she said while encompassing everyone
in the restaurant with a wide wave. “They’re just trying to figure out if they
know you.”

Bain glanced at each
table, nodding to the occupants. “I don’t think they do. At least I don’t
remember any of these people.”

“In that case, we don’t
need to speak to anyone. Let’s go.” Tiffany walked to the booth and slid into
the side that put her back to the door, just the way she’d always done when
they dated in high school. A strange sensation slid down Bain’s spine, almost
as though time had reversed itself.

But it hadn’t of course.
Tiffany was as beautiful as ever to him, but she had changed. She’d cut her
hair so that it barely brushed her shoulders rather than hanging halfway down
her back.

And her glasses had
disappeared, probably in favor of contacts.

There were even a couple
of laugh lines around her eyes that obviously hadn’t been there in high school.

“You’re staring,”
Tiffany said, raising her eyebrows.

He shrugged. “What can I
say? I’ve always loved looking at you,
Tif
.”

She laughed, a short
huff of sound that more nearly resembled anger than amusement. She then opened
her mouth as though to respond but closed it again when their waitress
approached.

“Can I get you folks
something to drink?” The waitress paused, pen to pad, and her eyes widened.
“Oh, hi, Tiffany. I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I thought you were open
until six.”

“I closed early today,
Mabel. I’ll have water with lemon.”

Bain realized that the
waitress had shifted her gaze to him. “Do you have hot chocolate?” he asked
without really thinking about it. He always associated hot chocolate with
Tiffany around Christmas time. She’d loved it.

“We do,” Mabel replied.

He looked at Tiffany.
“Will you have a cup with me?”

 
“I guess.” She almost smiled, or at least
that was his impression.

“Two hot chocolates
coming up,” Mabel murmured. Bain felt her gaze sizing him up before she turned to
walk away. “Don’t forget the marshmallows,” he called after her, and she
nodded.

“You have a good
memory,” Tiffany commented when they were alone again.

“Some things are easy to
remember.”

“And some are apparently
easy to forget.” Her tone bordered on accusatory, but before Bain could ask
what she referred to, the waitress was back with their hot chocolate. Two large
marshmallows floated in each steaming cup. She placed the mugs on the table,
then
asked, “Can I get you folks some dinner?”

“Give us a few minutes,
please,” Bain said. He had no interest in food. He merely wanted to sip his hot
chocolate and enjoy the moment.

Tiffany picked up her
spoon and used the back of it to dunk the two marshmallows, just as he recalled
her doing in the past. “So tell me about your open house,” he said. There were
other questions he’d have rather ask, but Tiffany had erected a wall around her
that was keeping him at a distance. He figured he’d be best advised to just
chip away at it rather than trying to bulldoze his way in.

“It’s an annual thing I
do on a Sunday afternoon in December after I get all my Christmas merchandise
in,” she responded. “Mom makes lots of Christmas cookies, I have punch and
spiced hot cider, and people are invited to visit from two until five o’clock.
Hopefully, they’ll buy while they’re there.”

“From what I saw today,
you’re getting in some very pretty ornaments. I would think your sales would be
good.”

“I’m hoping so. I have
quite a bit of merchandise this year.” She took a sip of her hot chocolate and
melted marshmallow adhered to her top lip. Her tongue flicked out to wipe it
away, and Bain felt his temperature shoot up. He remembered that gesture from
the past too. So much about Tiffany had not changed.

And so much had.

She propped her spoon in
the cup and looked across the table at him, her expression solemn. “You were
going to tell me what you’re doing back in Rushville.”

He turned up his cup and
drained it, then returned her solemn gaze. “The company I’m with now recently
transferred me to Crow’s Creek. I’ll be living there for the foreseeable future,
maybe until I retire.”

Her eyes widened a
smidge, and—was it his imagination or had her face just paled? “Really?
What do you do?”

He held her gaze. “I’m
in charge of the Home for the Holidays Hotel.”

“In charge of how? I
thought you wanted to be an attorney.”

“I changed my mind and
majored in business instead. I like what I’m doing. It’s a different challenge
every day. Do you like what you’re doing, Tiffany?”

Her chin shot up a bit.
“I do. It’s pretty much the same every day, but that suits me just fine.”

“I’d think there would
be quite a bit of variety. You must change merchandise with the seasons.
Valentine’s Day.
Easter.
Mother’s Day.
Fourth of July.
Halloween. Thanksgiving. There are
dozens of occasions throughout the year when you would be redecorating your
window, changing out your merchandise. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

Tiffany actually smiled
for the first time since they’d entered the restaurant. “Actually, it is, but
frankly, I’m a little surprised that you would see it that way. All of this
must seem so—I don’t know—small potatoes to you.”

“Why? Because I work for
a large corporation and you work for yourself?”

“No, because you’ve
traveled all over the world and I’ve barely been out of Rushville.”

He shrugged. “That
doesn’t make what you’re doing small potatoes. As long as you’re happy…”

She started to respond
but stopped when their waitress approached. “Are you folks ready to order or do
you need some more time?”

Tiffany glanced at her
watch. “I’d better order so I can get home. I’ll take the Blue Plate Special.”

Bain had no idea what
the Blue Plate Special consisted of, but he ordered it too. He then leaned
back, trying to decide which question to ask next, but Tiffany spoke first.
“How are your folks?”

“Good.
Dad was offered a job by a competing car manufacturer
about
four years ago. It was too good an opportunity to pass up so he took it. He and
Mom have been living in Japan for the past three years.”

“Japan? Wow! Do they
like living there?”

“They seem to. I’ve
visited them a couple of times and got the impression they’re quite happy.”

“Won’t you get to see
them for Christmas?”

“I doubt it, although
Mom says she’s going to try to work something out. They know I can’t go to
Japan. I couldn’t get away from work that long this time of year.”

“That’s understandable.”

Mabel had just arrived
with their dinners, so neither spoke while she set plates in front of them
consisting of meatloaf, creamed potatoes, and green beans.
 
Bain couldn’t hold back a smile. “Wow,
this looks familiar. Has the Blue Plate Special stayed the same over the past
eight years?”

Mabel laughed.
“Everybody knows that if we’re serving meatloaf, it’s
gotta
be Tuesday. I guess you’ve eaten here before?”

Bain grinned. “A time or
two a long time ago. Say, could I have a cup of coffee now?”

“Sure thing. You need
anything else, Tiffany?”

Tiffany looked at her
water glass. “No, I’m fine, Mabel. Thanks!”

Once they were alone
again, Bain devoted himself to his food for a couple of minutes. He was
surprised to discover he was hungry and even more surprised to discover he had
missed meatloaf during the past years. It wasn’t a staple in the places where he
usually ate.

Tiffany appeared to be
enjoying her meal too, at least at first. With half of her food uneaten,
however, she pushed back from the table. “That was good, but I really have to
go.” She grabbed her purse off the seat beside her. “Thanks for dinner, Bain.
It was good seeing you again.”

Damn, she was brushing
him off. He set his teeth. “Can I walk you to your car?”

“No, you finish your
dinner. My car is just across the street.” She picked her folded coat up off
the bench seat where she’d placed it.

Bain immediately stood and
held it for her. A muscle had started twitching in his jaw. “Really, I’d feel
better if you’d let me walk you to your car.”

She hurriedly pushed her
arms into the sleeves. “That’s not at all necessary. I really have to go. Thanks
for dinner. Goodbye Bain.”

He watched her walk
away. There were a lot of things he’d wanted to ask, but he figured she’d given
him the only answer that mattered. She’d written him off eight years ago and
she wanted nothing to do with him now.

“So be it,” he murmured,
wishing his sense of loss wasn’t settling in his stomach like a jagged stone.
Food suddenly held no appeal. He turned and caught Mabel’s eye. “Check please,”
was all that was left to say.

Chapter
Four

Tiffany struggled on the
drive home to keep from crying. Up until today, she’d thought she was over
Bain. The pain of losing him had faded during the past eight years from a
persistent ache to an occasional pang, but now it was back in full force. Who
would have thought she’d still be in love with him after all these years?
Certainly not her.

She was somewhat
embarrassed about the way she’d left the restaurant so abruptly, but she’d been
terrified that she was going to learn things about him that would merely
accentuate the chasm that had grown between them. He hadn’t been wearing a wedding
ring, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t involved with someone, and Tiffany didn’t
think she could bear hearing about that.

She figured that when
she got home, her mother would quiz her about the “friend” she’d met for
dinner, but her mother was preoccupied because Holly’s stomach was upset. It
sounded to Tiffany as though Holly had a simple stomach virus, but after what
had happened with her father, she understood why her mother never took stomach
problems lightly.

By the next morning,
Holly’s stomach was better but she was feeling totally drained, so both Tiffany
and their mom insisted Holly stay home and in bed. Tiffany wasn’t feeling great
herself, but she knew her sluggishness resulted from a near sleepless night.
First she’d had trouble going to sleep. Then she’d dreamed she was back in high
school and that she was invisible, so no one ever realized she was there. She’d
watched Bain making out with a girl who looked just like her but wasn’t. She’d
wanted to tell him he was kissing an imposter, but since she was invisible, she
had no voice.