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“He’s very good with her, carissima,” Gia says in her soft, rolling tongue.
I nod, even though she can’t see me, and tell her I’ll be there before dinner time. When we hang up, I have to take a minute to process what she’s said.
Seb started so reserved and stand-offish with Charly that I’m still surprised with each step he takes toward a relationship with her. He’s definitely made real strides. But the fact he’s teaching her a dance without my being there is still kind of a big deal.
Of course, Gia is a little—or a lot—biased when it comes to Seb, so her idea of being “very good” with Charly may be different from mine. But he deserves credit for working on it. I can even let myself hope that with more practice he will be “very good.” Even great.
Carson and I work the entire day, going back and forth with the different details for both the wedding and Yulefest. We make a good team, even if I do say so myself. I liked working for Carson remotely, but I love working in the same office with him. He’s an easy boss, and I’m learning so much.
I know he likes working with me, but right now he doesn’t have many events scheduled after December. Enough for me to stay part-time, but that’s it.
And I can do what he needs for those events remotely, so it doesn’t make sense to pay rent in Paradise. Especially when long-term rentals are hard to find and are expensive. Property owners want short-term renters during the summer season because they can make more money on them than on people like me who want to pay the same rate every month. Why rent for a thousand dollars a month when you can get that weekly for four months straight?
So I’m crossing all my fingers and sending up all my prayers that the wedding and Yulefest will bring in enough business that I can not only stay full-time, but also get the raise I’ll need to rent a place of my own. All those details sit in a corner of my mind, reminding me why I have to work so hard on these projects.
By the time Steve pops his head into the office to tell us he’s closing the store for the night, the sun has set.
“Shoot, I didn’t realize how late it is.” Carson pushes away from his desk. “I was supposed to pick up the mistletoe from Thomsen’s this afternoon so we can use it in the barn tomorrow.”
“Do you want me to pick it up? I can swing by on my way to get Charly from Gia.” I check my watch.
It’s time for dinner now, so I’m already late. But I know Carson still has phone calls to vendors to make and a million other things that must get done by tomorrow. I’d like to stay and help, but Charly has been at Gia’s all day. I need to get her home, fed, and in bed. Then I’ll go back to work, but at the kitchen table with my laptop instead of here at the office.
“If you don’t mind, that would be amazing.” Carson is already scooting back to his computer and picking up his phone.
“I don’t mind.” I grab my purse and shut down my desktop. “I’ll see you bright and early at the barn.”
I walk behind Carson’s desk to squeeze his shoulders and kiss the top of his head where his hair is starting to thin. This is the relationship we have now. He’s like a surrogate dad. Or at least a much older brother.
“Thanks again for letting me bring Charly. I’m afraid she’s starting to think Gia is her new mom. I’ll have her iPad and other stuff to keep her entertained.”
“Of course.” He squeezes my hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry things are so crazy, but you’re doing splendid work. I’ll let Pete know you’re on the way.”
I’m not sure how we’ll get all the mistletoe we’ve ordered in my Honda, but we’ll figure it out. Not only do we need it for the wedding, but we also need it for the Jingle Ball and Yulefest decorations. Carson ordereda lotof mistletoe, because, as he said, “once it’s gone, it’s gone.” We don’t want to run out.
And fake mistletoe is not an option. Especially for the wedding. Evie and Georgia made that clear.
When I arrive at Thomsen’s Grocery and Hardware store, I park around back. Pete has a fresh mistletoe contact, so he put in the order for us, and he’s got it stored in the Christmas tree tent that sprung up overnight in the store’s parking lot.
“Hello, Hope!” Pete greets me with a big hug, and I wonder again how Adam is his offspring.
At his best, Adam is a side hug guy. And that’s when he really knows a person. I’m still waiting for mine.
“Come on to the back,” Pete says, and I follow him around the tree tent. “The boxes aren’t heavy, but there’s a lot of them. I’ve already got them on a flatbed cart. I made sure to put them somewhere safe though. I didn’t want anyone accidentally selling my soon-to-be daughters’ mistletoe. Gotta start off on the right foot, don’t I? And with the mistletoe shortage this year, it’d be hard to get anymore.”
Pete talks the whole way to the corner of the parking lot behind the tent where mesh-wrapped Christmas trees are on their sides, stacked two feet high. There’s not much light back here, but even as we get closer, I still can’t see any boxes. At least not any that are intact.
There’s smashed boxes strewn around, and a lot of pine needles and other debris. But I don’t see any boxes full of mistletoe, no matter how hard I squint in the dim light.
Something scurries in front of me, and with a yelp, I practically jump into Pete’s arms.
“What in the world?” Pete fumbles with his phone, then shines a light in front of us.
My heart immediately slows when giant eyes meet mine, and I let go of Pete’s arm. “Oh, it’s a squirrel! Whew. I thought it was a rat.”
I almost laugh at myself for being so scared, especially because the squirrel is soooo cute with its little paws holding a green, leafy thing while he—she?—nibbles on it.
“That’s adorable,” I say. “And look! There’s more! They’re everywhere!”
