The Christmas Eve Kiss: A Snow Valley Christmas Romance Page 2

  “It’s like my wife always tells me, ‘You may have the money, but I’m the reason you spend the money.’” He roared into a laugh. “Are you still good to cover everything when we leave on Christmas Eve?”

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Hollingsworth. I’m on it.”

  He frowned. “Molly, why don’t you ever go home for Christmas?”

  I could feel my cheeks flush. “Well, it’s…”

  He waved his hand into the air and shook his head. “I know, I know my wife always tells me it’s none of my business when I get too personal with people.”

  “It’s fine, sir.”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, listen, young lady, whenever you need time to visit your family, you take it. Family’s important, you hear? It’s the only thing that matters in this life.”

  Amicably, I nodded, grateful I didn’t have to try to make up some lie about why I wasn’t going home for Christmas. The truth was something I’d much rather forget. “Yes, sir.”

  He paused and then a wide grin swept across his face. “Pretty girl like you, I bet you have quite a bit of men knocking on your door.” He gave me a quizzical look.

  I kept my smile in place, not answering his question.

  The end of his finger tossed back and forth in front of my face. “Young women these days don’t know how to use their feminine wiles to get what they want. They just…” He pinched his lips distastefully. “They just want to fight with men.” He waved a hand in the air and shook his head. “I sure hope you’re not like that.”

  I mimicked his head shaking. “No, no I don’t think I am.” I pointed to the computer. “I was almost done putting in the sales.” Hint. Hint.

  Both of his hands lifted into the air like he was about to surrender. “Don’t let me stop you.”

  For emphasis, I picked up a receipt to check it against our system. “Have fun on your trip.”

  “We will. The whole family is going.” He beamed. “Nine grandchildren in all. It will be a Hollingsworth event.”

  The grin I gave back matched his enthusiasm.

  “We’re set on the radio spot later this week?”

  “Check.”

  “And you’ve got all the giveaways?”

  “Done.”

  He grinned. “You have a gift for this business, I’ll give you that.”

  Pride filled me. I’d always had good business sense. My mother used to tease that I would sell her cookies for the PTA bake sale before she could bake them. “Thank you.”

  “Just one thing, Molly.”

  Even though I didn’t want to endure another lecture, I swerved my attention back to him. “Yes, sir.”

  The side of his face lifted into a smile and he winked at me. “Stan wanted me to wait until after Christmas to tell you. He wanted to make sure that sales stayed up and all that. But, you got the store. And…we’re lowering the buy in by ten grand for you.” He winked, again. “You’re like family to us now.”

  I stood there. Stunned.

  A loud, barking laugh jerked out of him. He slapped his leg. “I should have gotten that on one of those candid camera shows.” He slapped his leg, again. “You should see your face.”

  I got the store. I got the store. I got the store! Doing the first thing that came to my mind, I leaned across the counter to give Bob Hollingsworth a red kiss on the cheek, leaving lip prints as proof.

  All laughter stopped and his eyes widened. “Now that’s feminine wiles—good job, Molly!”

  At this, I let out a laugh. The first one I’d let out in a long, long time. I did a hop and clapped my hands together. “Thank you! Thank you, Mr. Hollingsworth!”

  He recovered. “Merry Christmas, Molly O’Hare.”

  At that point, I knew this would be the Christmas I finally celebrated.

  Mr. Hollingsworth walked to the door, turning back and leaving me with a grin. “Just take care of my Christmas Eve shoppers and we’ll call it even.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  This is what I’d been working for, for the past two and a half years. My own store. I did a twirl and let out a sigh. My salary would more than double. I could take my own trip to the Bahamas and, I glanced at the silly star ring on my pinky, I could get my own kind of diamond—might as well have one, even if I didn’t have a man to go with it.

  I picked up my phone and noticed I had a new voicemail. I never had a new voicemail, except from my mother.

  “Molly. Molly.” Her voice was unsteady. “You have to come home, your father’s had a heart attack.”

  Chapter 3

  Unlike getting bad news on a movie screen, getting bad news in real life didn’t let you just fall apart.

  After I got off the phone, I finished closing the store. I succinctly balanced everything on the computer, turned on the alarm, made sure the doors were properly shut. I drove home. I walked into the Christmas filled apartment and remembered Christina worked late on Thursdays. I packed my bag. I calmly got on the computer and booked a flight to Billings, Montana. The earliest I could get was ten o’clock the next morning.

  I ignored the nausea in my gut. I ignored the way my hand shook so hard I could barely navigate the mouse. I ignored the unceasing images of my father that kept popping into my brain; the slightly messy hair he had every morning before milking the cows, the way he always smelled of old spice and earth, how he used to twirl me in my tutu anytime I wanted him to, the way his reading glasses rested halfway down his nose as he read Irish poetry.

  I thought of that letter. The one that I still had tucked into the side pocket of my purse. I wanted to throw it away, at times, but then I would pull it out and remind myself of why I couldn’t go back.

  Maybe I should have told my parents I found it. But, it was right after Kevin had broken up with me and it only cemented the fact I had to leave Snow Valley. Leave and never look back.

  Christina’s hand gently touched my shoulder. “Molly?”

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t heard Christina come into the apartment and call for me. I had, somewhere back in the hazy part of my brain that was still on semi-function. The part that had closed up the store, driven home, and packed my suitcase. The part that knew I still had to get on a plane and then drive to Snow Valley, Montana.

  “What happened, chica?”

  I opened my eyes and her familiar thick make-up and the strong scents of shampoo comforted me. “Hey.”

  Concern wrinkled the corners of her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s…” I gulped in a breath. “It’s my dad, he had a heart attack.” I clung to the numb part of me.

  Christina pulled me into a hug. “Madre Mia! I’m sorry. Shh, it’ll be okay.”

  All I knew at that moment was that it was not okay. And I would not deal with that letter.

  ***

  Snow Valley, Montana was a typical Montana small town.

  As typical as you could get, if you wanted every kind of horrible Christmas television special times ten wrapped into a town.

  Benjamin Snow settled in the valley back in the early eighteen hundreds. They were the premiere pioneering family for the town and Mr. Snow cleverly named it Snow Valley.

  At that point, he, his five sons, and four daughters were the only ones here, so I guess they had the vote on names.

  Snow Valley was only an hour from Billings and the drive had been fine. Well, truthfully, the drive had been icy with patches of skidding, but, as all Montana drivers know—that means fine.

  I had been numb last night. According to Christina, I should have had a break down. ‘You are always too dry,’ she’d commented as she’d fed me some homemade bean soup.

  I’d called the two sales associates, Sally and Joe, and asked them both to cover for me. Both of them had agreed. Stan Hollingsworth reassured me that I was fine to go see my dad. But, his voice had gone business-like when he said, “If you could be back for Christmas Eve, that would be great.”

  Of course, I would be back. My father would be fine and I would be
back sooner than that.

  I’d spoken to my mom a couple times on the phone. Being an only child was hard at times like this. But my father was okay. They still didn’t know what caused it, but he was awake and hooked up to ‘everything under the sun’ my mother had said. That comforted me. She sounded nervous and fluttery. That was a good thing. That was her.

  I crested the valley peak and started down into town. It was cushioned in windswept snowfall and the fences only appeared where the wind had blown the snow pack down far enough. Unwillingly, I couldn’t stop the smile on my face, even though I did not want to be here. It was beautiful.

  The same amount of harsh weather and landscape was equal to the amount of beauty around me. The mountains peaked high, almost like a cardboard cutout you could reach out and touch.

  I passed the Wilson’s place, the furthest ranch on the outskirts of town. I looked over and saw Porter Wilson coming down his lane with a plow on the front of the truck. I tried to get a better look at him. The Wilson brothers had always been worth an extra look. Next, the Henley place, and then the Jensen’s. The golf course was on my left, of course that was a very limited attraction in Snow Valley. And then a Snow place. And another Snow place. And another Snow place. I shook my head.

  The Snows. Wasn’t it bad enough the whole town had to be named after them? Then, they’d all stayed. Like they wanted to rub it in the face of the rest of us if you weren’t one of them.

  Well, except one. His face flashed into my mind. ‘The heartbreaker’ Christina had called him. I let out a nervous laugh and wondered if he would be home for Christmas. It was just my luck that he would.

  A gas station marked the beginning of town, two old men—Mr. Henry and Mr. Jensen, sat in the old, wicker chairs, bundled in their Carhartt gear. The only kind of gear that was worth its salt. I paused and both of them lifted a hand. They probably couldn’t see me, but that didn’t matter in Snow Valley. Everyone waved.

  My heart raced as I turned down the Main Street, going past Dove Grocery store, Big CC’s drive up and Style it Up, the only salon in town. I waited at the stoplight. The only stoplight. The other gas station was on the corner, IFA on the opposite corner. Even though it was quiet, the decorations were not.

  Every light post had a giant plastic candy cane or snowflake on it. Strands of Christmas lights were draped between every post. I rolled down my window, the sound of Christmas music blared through speakers that were hung under the Christmas lights. This had been the improvement that the committee made to Snow Valley my senior year in high school.

  I passed the church. The marquee read, “God is sending you a prayer request—Come in to Respond.”

  I laughed. Pastor John. I’d missed him – and my friends. The friends I’d ignored since leaving, only seeing their lives on Facebook.

  I never posted. Granted, I didn’t have anything to post. Well, until now. Maybe I would post about the store at some point. But right now, I wished I would have kept up a ruse of a glorious ‘internet life’ in case I ran into them.

  I thought of that summer in seventh grade, when we’d gone to bible camp together and burnt down the outhouse. Pastor John hadn’t told our parents. That’s partly why I still had a soft spot for that man. But he had made us pay in other ways over the years, always pulling one of us aside and asking us to do this or that for him. I grinned and the light turned green. I passed the city park on the right and a dollar store on the next corner.

  I turned right next to the Dollar Store and drove past the cemetery and further out until I finally got to the ‘new’ hospital. The hospital wasn’t new. It was about ten years old, but—before the new hospital, the old hospital had been across the street from the park and down one street.

  So, this was the new one.

  As I drove into the parking lot, my insides felt queasy. I hadn’t eaten much before getting on the plane. I wasn’t hungry. Now, I parked and tugged at my purse. Christina had put a couple of granola bars into it, telling me to eat one to keep my blood sugar up.

  I got out of the car and tore off a bite of granola bar. I needed my blood sugar up. The closer I got to the door, the faster I walked. Even though I knew he was okay. I knew that from my mother, but I didn’t know that from seeing him.

  My father.

  Had a heart attack.

  I rushed through the blue and silver decorated double doors that opened effortlessly. Susan Hinks was at the admittance desk, a ridiculous reindeer and Santa in a large display next to her. I knew her. This was Snow Valley. I knew everyone. I looked around and realized I didn’t know anyone at the attending desk, except her. Well, I used to know everyone.

  Susan flew to her feet, her eighties-style perm bouncing, and wrapped me in a hug. “Your mama’s been waiting for you, sweetie.” She pushed open the door that led to the main part of the hospital. “They moved your father out of the E.R. today and got him all admitted to the hospital.”

  We got to the end of a hallway and there was a nurse’s station. I had a flash back from eighth grade when I’d sprained my ankle and gotten a concussion from some hefty girl pushing me down on the other basketball team. “Okay.”

  Susan stopped walking, pointing to a room. “He’s in there.”

  I went for the door. “Thanks.”

  “Wait.”

  I turned back, Susan had her hands on her hips, her primed bangs and eighties perm matched her out-of-character anger. She pointed her finger at me. “It’s been hard on them having you gone for so long, be nice to them.”

  Chapter 4

  Family.

  All of the times I’d been hugged and chastised by someone in Snow Valley played through me. Countless. They were like family. They treated each other as family whether they knew you that well or not.

  I nodded and then pushed into the room, the quiet hum of the television balancing out the beeping of a heart monitor. The blinds were pulled closed and the room was dark.

  My mother didn’t hear me enter. I watched them, my father lying there. His eyes closed. My mother. Her red hair was the same color as mine. It looked like it had a lot more grey now. Even though she had barely turned forty this past year, I she was always in a hurry to get things done. And she did, even with her limp. She never let her hip degeneration get in the way of her taking care of everything and everyone else.

  No one was watching the television that cast an eerie glow over the bed. My mother held his hand, her eyes closed. I recognized the way her lips moved silently. Praying.

  Of course, my mother would be praying. It’s what she did.

  The wall I’d held in place the last two and a half years felt fragile. “Mom?”

  Her eyes flipped open and she rushed at me. “Molly.” A cry of relief.

  We hugged, but I quickly pushed back. “How is he?”

  My mother swallowed. “Doctor Taggert said it could have been caused by a lot of things, but I just think he works himself too hard. I’ve been trying to tell him, well, forever, you know, but he doesn’t listen to me.” Tears welled in her eyes.

  I nodded and moved next to him, trying not to think about the letter.

  His eyes fluttered open, a slow smile spread across his lips. “My Molly.” His voice was a whisper. He reached for my hand.

  I took his hand, not letting his fragility or endearment reach me.

  The pounding of my heart whooshed into my head, making me hold to the back of the chair next to him. I gave a rubbery smile to both of my parents. “He’s okay?” I questioned my mom.

  My mother pushed her hair behind her ear and her blue eyes fluttered rapidly. “The doctors say he needs to be on heart medication and he needs to off-load some of the ranch work, but we’re working that out. I think the Wilson boy, Porter, I don’t know if you remember him?” She questioned, not really wanting an answer, and then continued, “He’s going to help us out with the chores right now. We’ll pay him.” She shook her head, like she was trying to shake out the rest of the words. “It’ll be fine
.” A small, quick smile, and she turned to my father. “It’ll be fine.”

  I recognized that ‘it’ll be fine’ for what it really was—just words. It would not be fine. She was worried. I pushed it away. “Good.”

  I stared down at my father’s rough, callused skin and then wanted to pull away. “I have to get back to the store as soon as I can.”

  “What?” My mother’s voice was desperate. “You’re not staying?”

  I turned to her. “You don’t need me, he’s fine.”

  She threw her hands into the air. “What do you mean, we don’t need you? You’re our daughter. Our only daughter, you should be here.”

  My pulse was fast, but I slowly unwound my hand from my father. “I have to go.”

  “No.” He pushed out the breath.

  I reluctantly looked back at him.

  He looked at my mother. “A minute, please.” His voice was so weak.

  A surge of worry went through me.

  I knew she didn’t want to leave the room for a second, but—he’d asked. She gave me a sad smile. “Okay.”

  I knew she thought if anyone could talk me into staying, he could. It had been that way between us when I was growing up—I’d been daddy’s girl.

  Without warning my hand shook. The last two and a half years of pain settled into me. I focused on my fingernails, picking at the polish I had been destroying the whole flight.

  The door lightly closed.

  “My Molly.”

  Emotion bubbled into my throat. No, I wouldn’t do this. I was a wall, my pain a shield against him.

  “Forgive me, Molly.”

  I stared into his face. His skin was like leather from working countless hours in the sun. His green eyes that I’d often been captivated by when he’d spoken to me, pierced me.

  “For what?” He didn’t know I’d seen the letter.

  “We should have come to visit you. Your mother wanted to, but I always hoped you’d just come home.”

  My heart squeezed, but I ignored it. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.”