A Snowglobe Christmas Page 2

  Dana took two thick slices of gingerbread and slid them onto China saucers. “That’s my girl. No looking back.”

  Exactly. She hoped.

  As they settled into the dainty chairs with their snacks, Amy turned her thoughts from herself to her mother. After Amy’s father had left, Dana Caldwell had thrown herself into the store without complaint, making it better than ever. She must have been devastated by Dad’s betrayal, but Amy had been too young and heartbroken to consider anyone else’s feelings. Now she saw things in a different light. Like King David in the Bible, her mom had grieved the loss. Then she’d wiped her tears, set her eyes on the future and moved on, never looking back at what she could not change.

  Was that what God expected her to do? Even with Rafe living in the same town?

  She took a nibble of the spiced bread, thinking about how she had changed in the past five years. She’d grown up, grown closer to the Lord. She’d been so ready to come home and take over the shop. She couldn’t let her mother down.

  But she hadn’t reckoned on Rafe.

  Chapter Two

  By closing time, Amy was in the swing of things at the gift shop. She’d made sales, wrapped gifts with shiny foiled papers and voluminous colored ribbons, unpacked the new stock of handcrafted glass ornaments and delivered flowers to New Life Church.

  At the latter, she’d enjoyed a chat with Pastor Jacobson and allowed herself, with little effort, to be persuaded to help with the charity food basket preparation and delivery.

  “I’ve always loved doing the Blessing Baskets,” she’d told her mother when she’d returned to the shop.

  Dana was cleaning up, setting the shop to rights for closing time. With a smile, she said, “It’s a good thing to do and the interaction will put you right back in the heart of Snowglobe’s Christmas celebrations.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.” Amy took the bottle of Windex from her mother’s hands and spritzed the glass countertop. “Pastor says he’s had more applications for help than ever this year.”

  “Times are difficult for many people. That’s why it’s important to do what we can. Some towns have angel trees. In Snowglobe we have food and gift baskets.”

  “Apparently the church has had a mountain of donations but not enough volunteers signed up to help sort, box and deliver. Pastor seemed thrilled that I wanted to.”

  “Interesting. I know several who’ve mentioned helping. In fact...” Mom’s voice trailed away and she got a strange expression on her face.

  “What?”

  Her mother reclaimed the Windex bottle and grabbed a paper towel. Without answering, she crossed to the plate glass window and spritzed, rubbing the pane with all her might.

  “Mom.” Amy carefully pushed aside a box of glass ornaments and followed her mother. “What’s the deal? Why are you acting weird?”

  Outside the gleaming windows, the sidewalk shone dark and damp beneath golden street lamps adorned with red bows. Snowflakes swirled fat and lazy like falling feathers. Cars motored down the streets past other businesses dressed for the holidays. The tiny town of Snowglobe was a Christmas fantasy, a wish come true.

  Inside the warm, sweet-smelling gift shop, Dana lowered the Windex bottle and turned slowly to meet her daughter’s gaze. “Did Pastor Jacobson mention who was in charge of the Blessing Basket drive this year?”

  “I thought Pastor was.”

  “No, he’s not. Rafe is.”

  “Rafe!”

  Two people passed the shop windows and slowed to admire the display of a snowy lighted village.

  “Working with Rafe won’t be a problem, will it?”

  Amy swallowed past the protest rising like a volcano. Work with Rafe? In the same room? For hours on end?

  “No,” she managed. “No problem at all.”

  * * *

  Returning from a test drive, Rafe parked the snowmobile in the maintenance bay of Westfield Sports Rentals and dismounted. He pulled off his goggles and helmet, hanging them on the back wall with the rows of similar rental equipment.

  His younger brother, Jake, exited the office and strode in his direction. Brotherly love swelled in Rafe’s chest. If not for Jake, he would have arrived home another jobless vet. But before he’d left for the marines, while he was still licking his wounds over losing Amy, he and Jake had come up with the idea of opening a sports rental business. With Rafe’s money, thanks to several years of combat pay, Jake had done the hard work of building the business from the ground up. Knowing this business and his little brother were depending on him had given Rafe something to focus on when war had threatened to overwhelm.

  He’d told Jake none of this, of course. But he was grateful.

  “How’d she do?” Jake asked, nodding toward the Polaris. In jeans and pullover sweater, he looked like the college man he would be if not for the shop. Good-looking guy, even if Rafe did say so himself. Dark curly hair, blue eyes and a grin that warned the onlooker he was up to something. Mom claimed her sons looked alike but Rafe figured Jake won the handsome dog contest.

  “The carburetor’s still not right,” Rafe answered.

  “I’ll break it down tomorrow. There must be some sludge buildup in one of the jets.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.” Rafe fell into step with his brother and returned to the office, a cozy room that served as both business center and customer service area. Rock music boomed from the piped-in stereo. “You gotta change that to Christmas music.”

  Jake shrank back in horror. “A steady dose of smarmy muzak about chestnuts and reindeer? Dude! That stuff poisons the soul.”

  Rafe grinned a little at his brother’s over-the-top reaction. “Customers like it.”

  Jake gripped his throat and made a strangling sound.

  “Deal with it. Customer service and all that.” Rafe tapped a fist against his brother’s shoulder. “Besides, a dose of real Christmas would be good for your soul, not poison.”

  “Brother, you’re scaring me. You’ve turned into an old man.”

  The comment, meant as a sibling jest, struck a tender spot. Jake didn’t get it. He hadn’t been where Rafe had been. He hadn’t seen and done and heard things that make a man ponder the important things in life. Rafe thanked God for that. And there was the crux. God. Like Rafe had been before joining the military, Jake’s faith didn’t mean much. He was morally a decent man. That was enough.

  Or so Rafe had thought.

  If there was one fact big brother had learned on the front lines, it was that men die with God on their lips. Some curse Him. Some call on Him.

  The latter died in peace. Rafe still heard the former in his dreams.

  The song changed to hard-driving heavy metal. He’d heard plenty of that in the desert, too.

  Everyone needed a little Christmas with its promise of hope and peace. Especially him. If that made him an old man...

  He turned down the stereo. “All the rentals back in for the day?”

  “Two still out.” Jake arched a black eyebrow toward the darkening sky. “Shouldn’t be much longer. Wanna help me count the money?”

  Rafe grinned. “Won’t turn that down. You’re making me a rich man.”

  Both brothers laughed. They were far from rich and, like most new businesses, struggled at times, but they were growing, too. Rafe moved behind the long, low counter that served as a desk. The counter reminded him of Dana Caldwell’s gift shop. And Amy.

  “You’ll never guess who I ran into today,” he said as casually as he could.

  “Amy?”

  He looked up in surprise. “News travels fast.”

  “That’s a fact. So, how is she?”

  Rafe let a beat pass while he thought about how to answer. Amy, in her jaunty knit beret with her warm smile and her voice breathy an
d excited, had stolen his senses the moment she’d sailed into The Snowglobe Gift Shoppe arm-in-arm with her mother. He’d had a minute to compose himself, to pretend he hadn’t thought about her every day for the past five years, but her effect lingered with him still.

  She looked the same with shaggy blond hair that flew around her face in wisps and honey-brown eyes she considered too small and plain for beauty. She was wrong about that. Amy sparkled.

  He’d known she was coming home, had even prepared himself to see her again. At least he’d thought so.

  “She’s home to take over The Snowglobe Gift Shoppe,” he said, pleased at how light and normal his voice sounded. “Dana told me.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “How do I feel?” Rafe made a rude noise. “You sound like a psychiatrist. How I feel about anything doesn’t mean squat.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Tell it to someone who doesn’t know better.” Jake clapped him on the shoulder. “I was there, dude. Remember?”

  Rafe kept his head down, sorting rental receipts into neat stacks. “Ancient history.”

  “She broke your heart.”

  “I broke hers.” Amy had wanted to get married before he left for the military. He’d wanted to wait. He was still fuzzy on the particulars but at some point, they’d fought until she’d handed him his ring.

  “Reciprocal stupidity if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t. We made the right decision.” If he’d been killed in combat, Amy would have been a widow. He couldn’t bear the thought of what that would have done to her. Or worse, what if she’d had a baby? A fatherless baby to raise by herself. The break-up was the best gift he could give her before he left.

  “That was then,” Jake said. “This is now.”

  “My brother the philosopher.”

  “So, when are you going to ask her out?”

  Rafe’s heart jerked. Ask her out? “She wasn’t exactly excited to see me.”

  “Ask her anyway.”

  “I’ll pass.” No use digging up dry bones.

  Jake slid the cash receipts into a zippered bag for the night deposit at the bank. “You still in love with her?”

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Rafe made a notation on the paper pad. Later, he’d do the data entry on the computer.

  “Can’t. My big brother spent four years of his life making the world a better place. I want him to be happy.”

  Rafe grunted. Little brother knew how to get to him. “I am happy. This business makes me happy. Being home makes me happy.” He cast an eye toward the stereo. “Christmas music would make me happier.”

  Jake snorted but didn’t go away. “Amy’s pretty hot-looking. Nice girl. So...just to be clear on the subject. If I ask her out, you’d be okay with it?”

  Before Rafe could stop the reaction, he was up and out of his chair, scowling at his little brother over the counter.

  A slow, knowing smile spread over Jake’s face. “Gotcha.”

  Chapter Three

  Amy’s boots echoed in the empty hall between the side door and the family center at the back of New Life Church. All day long she’d felt jittery about coming tonight. Now, to make her even jumpier, the church seemed unusually quiet. She’d expected a crowd to help sort the boxes of donated foods and gifts, and to act as a buffer between her and her ex-fiancé.

  Slipping her gloves from her fingers, she stuffed them into her pockets and rolled her suddenly stiff shoulders. As she entered the large common room, Pastor Jacobson spotted her and came forward, his ruddy face open and smiling.

  “Amy, you made it.” He offered his hand, swallowing hers in his much larger one. The forty-something former pro wrestler was the size of Paul Bunyan with an equally big heart.

  She returned the smile and unwound a thick scarf from her neck. “I must be early. Where is everyone?”

  “You may be it,” he said. “A scout troop was scheduled for tonight but something’s going on at the school and they canceled. With time short, we’re falling behind, so Rafe comes in most nights for a few hours. You’re a blessing for volunteering to help him.”

  Blessing? She sure didn’t feel that way, and when Rafe appeared from the kitchen area toting a box labeled “green beans,” she wished she’d not come at all.

  “No one else volunteered?”

  “A few others may pop in. You never know.” Pastor patted her shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m headed over to the hospital. Sadie took a fall. Keep her in your prayers.”

  Amy stared in dismay at the pastor’s departing back. Just like that, she was alone with Rafe Westfield. All day she’d considered backing out. Now she wished she had. But when she’d mentioned working late at the gift shop, her mom had pushed her out the door.

  Behind her, Rafe slammed a box onto a table. Amy spun around.

  “Hi,” he said, calm as could be. “Thanks for volunteering. We’re shorthanded.”

  Amy swallowed a flutter of nerves. “So I see.”

  “Might as well take off your coat and get comfortable. There’s a lot to do.”

  Get comfortable? That was not likely to happen. But she shed her coat and hat, wondering how she’d gotten into this miserable situation.

  “Look, I—uh...” She pressed her lips together, trying to think of a reason to leave but nothing came. The truth was she loved this project, had volunteered all through high school and beyond. Why should she allow an unimportant man to take that pleasure from her the way he’d taken her heart? With a soft exhale, she said, “Tell me where to start.”

  She could do this. She would do this. Rafe didn’t need to know how awkward she felt. Or that the anger and resentment of their broken engagement simmered just beneath the surface of civility. Resentment she’d thought was long gone.

  Rafe zipped a knife along the top of a box and flipped up the flaps.

  “We set up empties on those tables,” he said, pointing, “and the finished ones over there. And these are the donated items to pull from.”

  “Just like always.”

  “Yes. Like old times.”

  Old times? She didn’t think so. In old times, this would have been fun. They would have laughed and teased and made a game of sorting and packing. He would have tossed a bag of rice at her and later, when he wasn’t looking, she would have taped his shoe to the floor. Between the pranks and hijinks, they would have talked about any and everything and planned their holiday adventures.

  Those times were as gone as their love.

  Stiff as a mid-January icicle, Amy took a list and began sorting through random items donated by service groups and individuals. Several minutes passed while neither spoke. The tension in Amy’s neck tightened. She was intensely aware of Rafe’s every movement, of being alone with him for the first time since their break-up. The huge, mostly empty hall echoed with painful silence, except for the rattle of cans and scrape of boxes. She could even hear herself swallow!

  “A-w-k-w-a-r-d,” she muttered to a can of yams.

  “Did you say something?”

  Amy didn’t look up. She didn’t need to look to know Rafe was burning her with a questioning stare. “Nothing.”

  Tin cans clattered against the brown Formica tabletops while she repeated her mantra. She was doing this for Jesus and the needy. Rafe could go take a leap in a snowbank. She didn’t like him. He’d left her, broken her heart. She could work beside him for the sake of others. He would not affect her.

  As if he read her thoughts, Rafe moved his half-filled box directly across from hers so they were standing face-to-face. His gray-blue eyes searched hers. “You all right?”

  “Fine.”

  He nodded, all the while stacking canned goods into a box with automated efficiency. Tension simmered. If he didn’t feel it and
get the message that she didn’t want to talk to him, he was an insensitive slob.

  “Snowglobe’s a great place to be during the holidays,” he said, rattling boxes of macaroni and cheese.

  Really? Then why had he left? “It’s a great place to be any time.”

  If he comprehended the jab, he dodged it. “Spokane must have agreed with you.”

  “What?” Frowning, she glanced up. “Why?”

  “You look good.”

  “Oh. Well. Thanks. I enjoyed the time there.”

  “Your mother seems really happy to have you home.”

  “She is.” Now shut up and leave me alone. And stop looking at me as if you’re even the slightest bit interested in my life.

  “Are you happy about taking over the shop?”

  Amy suppressed a sigh. He was as insensitive as she’d thought. “For the most part. I’ve missed the small-town things we do at Christmas. The tree lighting, caroling door-to-door.”

  “I’m looking forward to those myself. The ski race, too.”

  She resisted the urge to ask why he’d changed his mind and come home. She didn’t want to care why he did anything.

  When she didn’t speak, another uncomfortable silence fell. With an inner groan, Amy wondered which was worse, talking to Rafe or dealing with the awkward silence.

  She stacked four cans of corn into a box and stole a glance toward the doorway. Not another soul anywhere around.

  When she could bear the quiet no longer, she asked, “Are you competing?”

  “In the race?” He shook his head. “No, but Jake is. I’m minding the store. The recreational rental business should be brisk when tourists hit town.”

  “So, how’s that working out for you?”

  With a box of stuffing in each hand, he grinned, transforming his serious expression into a thing of beauty. Thick lines radiated from the corner of his eyes, lines that hadn’t been there five years ago. A pinch of concern prodded Amy. She wasn’t stupid or uninformed. She knew where he’d been for most of his military career, and now she wondered what kind of toll war had taken on the breezy young athlete she remembered.