Muffins And Mistletoe (A Starlight Hills Holiday Novella) (2 page)

Everything she planned to say stuck in her mouth like a glob of boardwalk taffy.

"Jimmy, I didn't think I was ready. I thought you'd understand that I was only asking for time—"

Bang
. He hammered in another nail and then his narrowed eyes met hers across the platform. It might have been the reflections from the Christmas lights blinking around them, but she thought she caught a tear in his eyes, too.

His jaw clenched and then he leaned toward her. All six-foot-one, broad shoulders and angry, tensed muscles focused on her. "It might as well have been
no
. You needed time to decide if you wanted to be my wife? Seems to me that would be something you'd know in your heart. You shouldn't need time to think about it. Hell, I've known since the fifth grade. I thought you did, too."

He pulled out another nail and the hammer easily found its mark with another bang. Her whole body stiffened with the vibration and the room suddenly got quiet. All eyes, and ears, were on them.

"Can we go outside for a few minutes and talk about this?" She wanted to beg, wanted to reach out and run her fingers over the flannel encasing the muscles of his arm, to put her hand over his heart and stop the hurt she caused. Most of all she wanted to lean into his embrace and ask him to forgive her for being scared and not taking the leap of love he'd offered.

He dropped his hammer on the stage and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "A week ago I would have gone anywhere you asked. Time changes things, doesn't it? Well, I don't have time right now to guess at how you feel. I've fooled myself long enough."

He picked up his hammer and walked away. She swallowed the lump in her throat, wiped the tears from her cheek and yelled after him, "Stop being so stubborn, Jimmy. What's it going to take? A neon sign for you to understand that I'm telling you how I feel right now?"

Corinne stood there and watched his retreating back until he disappeared behind the stage curtains. Suddenly, Bitty's arm was around her shoulder and she dangled the sprig of mistletoe in front of her face.

"He's not going far, don't you worry about that. There's magic under the mistletoe, we just have to get him under it. And I've got my ways."

TWO

"This is wrong, and I will not be a part of your schemes."

Bitty Crane kept her back to her husband, pretending she didn't hear him while she filled the display with her fresh baked muffins. Fifteen minutes before the
Itty Bitty Bake Shop
opened in the morning and he wanted to get in her way? Good thing she'd already planned her defense, knowing his old-fashioned attitude would have him protesting her latest idea.

"Stop being so dramatic. I've got it all under control." She turned, gave him a wink and blew an air kiss in his direction.

George was having none of it this morning. He leaned over the counter with one finger hooked through the edge of his suspenders and blocked her retreat to the kitchen. "Elizabeth. You've gone too far this time."

Calling her Elizabeth wasn't going to work either. Honestly, the man should know better by now.

"I haven't
done
anything," she said with a smile as she wiped her hands on the red Santa apron tied around her waist. "Sometimes fate just needs a helping hand. And, when it comes to the Starlight Hills Preservation Society, any fundraising is good fundraising. If I can catch two fish with one line, all the better. So pipe down and move out of the dark ages."

George grumbled under his breath as she scooted around him with her empty tray. "How am I supposed to enjoy myself tonight? You have to stop meddling. No one likes it. How am I going to explain this to Pete and Clem?"

"Really? No one?" she challenged. "And those old poker cronies of yours wouldn't be married if I hadn't introduced them to Phyllis and Annie, so they should be the last ones complaining."

She paused, empty tray in her hand, and looked into his caramel brown eyes. Silver-gray strands threaded through the hair at his temples and had begun infiltrating his mustache lately. Still, her heart skipped a beat whenever he was near. That same flutter of excitement had been a constant in her life since she'd first seen George Crane at the top of the playground slide when she was nine years old. He was two years older, and despite them being children, she'd known he'd felt that zing, too.

Love. It was a feeling, an awakening of the soul, like basking in the summer sunshine every day of your life—even on those below-freezing days here in the Adirondacks. And somehow she simply knew when two people had it, and she couldn't keep that knowledge to herself. It just wouldn't be fair.

She wanted as many people as possible to experience the pure joy of being in love. And she wanted them to be well fed.

Was that so wrong?

Love from the oven and into their hearts. She had a calling, and like anyone who received the call of a higher power, she accepted her fate and embraced it.

She knew what people around town called her, and she didn't mind. The "
Matchmaking Muffin Maven"
was her favorite these days, but being the "
Starlight Hills Cupid"
wasn't bad either. She preferred to believe she was cooking up
love muffins
in her little bake shop.

George was happy that their bake shop had always been been in the black, so he rarely did more than raise an eyebrow at her antics. This time was different, and she'd known she'd have an uphill battle pulling this off with him hot on her heels, but love would prevail—of that she had no doubt.

She wasn't fooling around this time, not with a heart on the line as important as this one.

When he didn't respond, she walked around him. "Have a muffin, honey. And try to relax."

He trailed her into the kitchen, like a bloodhound latched on to a scent. "Auctioning men off to women is just wrong. If a man is interested in a woman he asks her out—it's that simple."

"You make it sound so sordid and dirty. It's not a slave auction, George. It's a one-night date."

He reached for a gingerbread muffin from the cooling rack, his lips curling at the edges in his classic look of annoyance. "It's crossing the line. I don't think Chief Conway is going to like this either."

She couldn't believe he had just resorted to dropping the name of the chief of police. Right after the holiday she was going to make an appointment with the doctor for George. He was obviously a few eggs short of a dozen to even suggest she was doing something against the law!

Frustrated, she shoved her hands into her red oven mitts and pulled the cranberry crumb muffins from the oven while shaking her head. "You do know his wife Roxanne is on the committee, right?"

He reached for a second muffin and this time she slapped his hand.

"Besides, it's all in good fun and we'll raise money we need to restore the Gallagher Movie Theater." She paused to touch his arm and went in for the kill. "Don't you believe in our cause, George? We had our first date there. You remember, don't you?"

His brow furrowed with her well-played guilt-laden line. It wasn't often in their thirty-five years of marriage she'd resorted to guilt, but this time it was necessary to get him on board. If the women in this town had to wait for the men to do all the asking, they were in big trouble. Their stubborn son, Jimmy, was no exception. Aside from providing Corinne with a two-by-four to hit him over the head, this was Bitty's next best idea. She'd get those two under the mistletoe tonight if she had to drag them both kicking and screaming.

The auction was the perfect blend of fundraising the town desperately needed, good holiday fun and a chance for some of the single ladies of Starlight Hills to take a chance on love.

George stared her down and tried to look stern, his brown eyes narrowing. "Did the rest of your committee agree to this?"

"In fact, it was almost unanimous." Bitty nodded and began loading her gingerbread muffins onto the tray, leaving two to be hand delivered to Corinne Mackenzie.

He folded his arms across his chest, shaking his full head of thick salt and pepper hair. "It's the
almost
that concerns me."

* * *

"Talking about me?" Jimmy walked in through the back door, letting it slam shut behind him.

Both his parents jumped and then turned and smiled, but he didn't think it was his imagination the mood was a little frosty in there that morning. He'd bet the last twenty in his wallet the chill in the air had nothing to do with the near-freezing temperatures outside and everything to do with his love life. Or lack thereof. A situation his mother probably planned to change as soon as possible. He wasn't an idiot. His mother loved Corinne, thought she was perfect for him.

Apparently Corinne didn't get that memo.

His heart ached whenever he thought of her, then he kicked himself for being so stupid. She'd publicly rejected him and his proposal. He wanted to believe her yesterday. Her tears were so real they ground his gut into sawdust. And her words were so sincere he'd almost kissed her right in the middle of the hall before he caught himself and walked away. He'd been a fool for too long already.

After dating for three years and knowing each other their whole lives, how much more time should she need? He'd been embarrassed at the Thanksgiving table in front of family and friends when she'd politely declined. The past week had been hell, and a few tears and tender words weren't enough to sway him.

He stomped his feet on the mat to rid his work boots of any snow that still clung to the soles, just like Corinne had stomped on his heart. He shook it off and headed over to the coffee carafes waiting to be moved to the front of the store.

His father uncrossed his arms and leaned over to shake Jimmy's hand as he walked by. "Why do you think we're talking about you? Guilty conscience, son?"

"Hardly. How about yours?" He nodded in his mother's direction.

"You know your mother. She's always up to something."

Jimmy forced a laugh, grabbed two large cups off the shelf and poured steaming coffee into each one. "Don't let me interrupt you two. I just need to grab a couple muffins and coffees to go. Dalton's meeting me here in a few minutes. We have a busy day ahead hanging lights around town, and Wendy's drywall isn't going to hang itself."

His mother sighed. "I'm glad Wendy has finally decided to fix up the place. I guess she needed a little more time to be sure she was ready to commit to a change."

"Whatever keeps us working, I'm not complaining."

"You know she's been thinking about redoing that room for a few months now, hasn't she? It's scary making changes you have to live with a long time, I know it's been hard for her."

"It's paint Mom, not a lifelong commitment." He glanced at the clock on the wall over the sink, hoping she'd get the hint he wasn't here to talk. He knew where she was headed with this and he wasn't talking about it with her at seven in the morning over breakfast. He wasn't twelve anymore. "Just give me two muffins, please. I gotta get going."

Damn the allure of a free breakfast. He should have paid attention to that little voice in his head that begged him to stop at Charlie's Coffee Hut instead. A few prepackaged donuts wouldn't have killed him.

She tsked. "I hope Dalton's going to come in. It's been too long since we've seen him." His mother wiped her hands with a paper towel and handed him lids for the cups he poured. Still no muffins. Her eyebrows arched as she looked at him with a hopeful smile.

She expected him to drag Dalton in here so she could get a good look at him, to peer into his soul and then start meddling in his life, too. The wheels in her head were spinning, hiding behind the bright blue eyes and beneath the hair-net.

For a split second Jimmy considered serving Dalton to her on a silver platter if that would get her off his back—but he couldn't do that to his friend.

Why couldn't she just give him the muffins? He snapped the lids on the cups. "Dalton's not coming in. I told him to pick me up out front. Just need those two muffins to go, Mom."

"That's too bad. I guess we'll just see him tonight. Won't we, George?"

His father grinned at her, then grabbed his mug off the stainless island and poured his own cup of coffee. "If I had the choice, I wouldn't go. Maybe Dalton has a date. Leave the boys alone, Elizabeth."

He twisted to the side to avoid the towel she swung at his arm.

"Gingerbread muffins okay, Jimmy?" his mother asked, her voice dripping with sweetness and mischief.

Just like that, the chill in the air was back. He couldn't go five minutes without something reminding him of Corinne. Now he couldn't even escape her in the kitchen of his own mother's bake-shop. Those gingerbread muffins were Corinne's favorite, but his mother knew that and it was part of her scheme. She was up to her tricks. One of these days he wouldn't be surprised if he walked in and found her with a crystal ball at the back table.

"I don't have time for this right now," he said. "Give me two blueberries and I'll leave you two to get back to whatever it is I walked in on."

"Jimmy, I don't know what you're talking about. Your father and I were just chatting about the gala tonight. You know all those last-minute details that need to be done." She grabbed a yellow bag from the counter and walked over to the cooling rack, the little smirk on her face telling him everything he needed to know.