Christmas on Candy Cane Lane Read online

  A weekend that was supposed to have been Rob’s. She’d been both irritated and pleased when he’d called asking her to switch weekends with him. Pleased at getting the extra time on Saturday, but irritated that while she was in Icicle Falls, catering to hordes of shoppers, he’d be in Seattle with his new girlfriend, whooping it up. Oh, he hadn’t told her he was taking the other woman to Seattle, but Icicle Falls was a small town. Things had a way of getting out. This was the second woman he’d been with since they split, but who was counting? Not her.

  “Well, call me back if you get stuck,” Mutti said.

  “I will,” Ivy said, and ended the call. Still holding Robbie, who was straining to get free, she thumbed the number for Cass Wilkes’s daughter Amber, who helped her out a lot.

  “Hi, Mrs. Bohn,” Amber answered.

  “Oh, Amber, I’m glad I got hold of you. I’m in desperate need of a babysitter,” she said as Robbie cried, “Noooo,” and started kicking his feet.

  “I’m sorry. I’m at the bakery today, helping Mom.”

  Of course. With the many visitors in town, it was all hands on deck for local business owners.

  “No problem,” Ivy said. “I hope you guys do a ton of business.”

  “We already are,” Amber said. “I’d better go. I have to ring up this customer.”

  “Oh, sure. Thanks, anyway.” Ivy mentally crossed two other babysitters whose families owned shops in town off her list.

  Who else could she try? Jordan Donaldson had taken a babysitting class through the Red Cross and was just starting to babysit. Maybe she’d like to earn some money.

  Ivy called the Donaldson home, hoping Maddy hadn’t brought her daughter to work. All she got was Maddy’s cheery voice mail. “Happy Thanksgiving. You’ve reached the Donaldsons. Leave a message and we’ll get back to you.”

  I can’t find a babysitter and you were my last hope was probably not appropriate. Ivy didn’t leave a message.

  Her cell rang again. This time it was Nicole. “Please tell me you’re on your way.”

  “I’m working on it,” Ivy said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Next she tried her sister’s phone. Of course that went to voice mail. “Where are you? They’re swamped at the shop and I can’t get a sitter.”

  Okay, she was going to have to bug her parents, after all, and her poor kids would have to go to No-No House. She called home again. No answer, which meant they’d already left. She tried Mutti’s cell phone and it, too, went to voice mail.

  Meanwhile, Robbie was kicking his feet and howling, a true poster child for the terrible twos.

  Great. “I can’t find anybody to watch the kids. Help!”

  Robbie was still carrying on and Ivy finally snapped. “Stop it right now!”

  He stopped and regarded her in affronted shock.

  She continued her message. “Mom, if you’re anywhere within range, can you call me back? Please?”

  This was not how her day was supposed to go. She’d planned on a nice day with her children, a chance to recover from being on her feet for ten hours the day before, a chance to decorate the tree and drink cocoa and pretend her life was great. Instead, here she was in a mess. Deirdre was most likely off skiing, while Rob was in Seattle enjoying a different kind of sport. Everyone was having a blissful day but her. She looked at her barely decorated tree and wanted to shove the thing over. Instead, still holding her son, she fell on the couch and burst into tears.

  Her crying shocked Robbie into silence. He studied her, as if trying to figure out this very un-mommy-like behavior. Then he put a little hand on each side of her face and kissed her.

  “Oh, sweet baby.” She hugged him to her and indulged in shedding some more tears.

  A moment later her daughter was next to her on the couch. “Don’t cry, Mommy,” she said, patting Ivy’s leg. “It will be okay.”

  “Yes, sweetie, it will,” she agreed, and pulled Hannah close.

  “Are we gonna dec’rate our tree now?” Hannah asked.

  The doorbell rang, and that was enough to distract Hannah from the subject of tree decorating. She scooted off the couch and ran for the door. “I’ll get it!”

  “No, you don’t open the door. Mommy does that,” Ivy said, setting Robbie down and hurrying after her.

  Hannah was already looking out the window panel. “It’s Oma and Opa!” she cried, and, forgetting her mother’s instructions, unlocked the door, turned the handle with both hands and swung it open. “Oma!”

  “Hello, my darling girl,” Mutti said, scooping her up as Dad picked up Robbie. “We thought we’d better make sure you found a babysitter,” Mutti said to Ivy as she joined them in the hallway.

  Ivy shook her head. “No luck. I was just trying to call you.”

  “You know she never turns that stupid phone on,” Dad said.

  “Oma, we’re gonna dec’rate our tree,” Hannah announced.

  “Tonight,” Ivy told her. “First, how would you like to go for a drive with Oma and Opa and get some ice cream?” A drive, no matter what the destination, always included ice cream.

  Hannah bounced up and down in her grandmother’s arms. “Yes!”

  Robbie mirrored the action. “Oma!”

  “Thanks,” Ivy said to her parents. “You’re lifesavers.”

  “No problem. What’s retirement for?” her father said. “Anyway, I’d rather play with your kids than be in the shop today.”

  Actually, Ivy would have, too. She got the kids’ things together and sent them off with her parents. Then she abandoned the unfinished tree, donned her dirndl (official work uniform of all Christmas Haus female staff members) and drove to work. The tree should’ve been decorated by now and she should’ve been putting out her flicker candles, her nativity set and the little ceramic angels that spelled Noel. Rob used to rearrange them to spell Leon when she wasn’t looking.

  He used to sneak into the snowball cookies and the fudge she made, too. “I can’t help it, babe,” he’d say whenever she caught him. “Your Christmas cookies are too good to resist.”

  But not good enough to keep him from getting restless. Maybe there was something to that seven-year-itch theory. After seven years of marriage, Rob had decided he was through.

  Of course, they’d been together a lot longer than seven years. They’d been together since high school, for crying out loud. Could that be the problem? They’d gotten together too young? He’d missed his youth. After two babies she didn’t look like she did in high school anymore.

  But heck, she was only thirty-five. Her life wasn’t over. She could find another man...to break her heart again. Maybe not.

  Driving through town was like driving through a holiday movie set—trees festooned with twinkle lights, shoppers stopping in the street to visit with one another, people skating on the little skating rink. Ivy looked at the skaters and sighed. She’d love to have been out there, whisking around the rink, the wintry breeze caressing her cheeks. (These days that was the only caressing she got.) In the town center gazebo, Santa and Mrs. Claus were seated on festive thrones and families were lining up to get their pictures taken with them. Bah, humbug.

  “Happy holidays,” she muttered, and then indulged in one of her favorite mind games, making up new lyrics to old songs. “Happy holidays,” she crooned. “I’m a rat in a maze. This was s’posed to be a good day but it’s stinking through and through. Those merry bells are ringing but my life has turned to poo.”

  Well, that was inspiring. She frowned at her reflection in the car’s rearview mirror. “Can you please not be so cranky? There are people starving in the world. People who don’t have parents around to help them with their kids. People who are on diets and can’t eat red velvet cake. People who’ve never seen It’s a Wonderful Life.” Okay, things could be worse.r />
  What was Rob doing right now with that mysterious girlfriend?

  Oh, who cares?

  She pulled into one of the parking spots behind the store reserved for the Christmas Haus crew and went inside. A CD of Christmas instrumentals was playing “Angels We Have Heard on High” and she couldn’t resist making up yet another lyric. We have the best shop in town, always full of Christmas cheer. There’s no place I’d rather work. I am always happy here.

  It was true. She loved her family business. The family had changed the name from Kringle Mart to Christmas Haus, which they decided was a better fit with the town’s Bavarian theme. The outside of the building had a winter woodland fresco and the requisite flower boxes at the windows. Inside was pure magic.

  She’d been working in this place since she was fifteen and she still felt a holiday high coming in, seeing the kaleidoscope of colors and hearing the happy sounds of Christmas. The shop was huge, taking up two floors. The bottom level held Christmas trees decked out in various color themes—blue, red, white, gold, pink. Ornaments of every shape and style, all arranged by color, of course, hung from the walls. A front corner of the shop was dedicated to snow globes. A back corner held Advent calendars, ranging from inexpensive paper versions to elaborate wooden works of art. Upstairs, customers could find more ornaments, as well as every imaginable kind of tree lights, night-light, tree topper, stocking hanger, flicker candle, scented candle, CD and music box. Christmas Haus was a holiday delight for the senses, and walking into the store always lifted Ivy’s mood.

  Today it didn’t lift quite as high. She’d get there, though. And soon she’d be too busy to think about her subpar morning.

  At quarter to eleven, the place was packed with shoppers and poor Pete and Nicole, the shop’s dynamic duo, were working like crazy to help customers and ring up sales. Pete had been working in the shop almost as long as Ivy. When he wasn’t at Christmas Haus, he was over at Bavarian Brews, which he co-owned with his sisters, doing the books and ordering coffee and syrups. Come the New Year Pete was going to be moving on. He and his sisters were expanding their business empire, opening another coffee shop in nearby Cashmere. She was going to be sorry to lose him. He was the ideal employee, good with customers and totally dependable.

  Unlike some people. Ivy had her hands full managing the store and dealing with the kids. The last thing she needed was having to deal with younger-sister-induced headaches, as well. Why couldn’t Deirdre be more like Cousin Pete?

  Because she didn’t love the shop the way Ivy did. Obviously, since she couldn’t even be counted on to show up and work the floor on one of the busiest days of the year.

  Nicole was off helping a customer and three women stood in line, waiting to have snow globes and tree ornaments rung up. But no one was complaining. Pete could take credit for that. He was not only gorgeous, he was also the world’s biggest flirt. Women loved him.

  “My gosh,” he said as Customer Number One stepped up with her purchases, “you aren’t...? Do people know you’re in town?”

  She looked at him, confused. “Excuse me?”

  He glanced sideways as if checking for eavesdroppers, then lowered his voice. “You are Julia Roberts, right?”

  Yeah, if Julia had gained forty pounds and aged ten years overnight.

  The woman’s cheeks turned pink. She shook her head and smiled. “No.”

  “No? Really?”

  “Really.”

  “I bet you get that a lot, don’t you?”

  Ivy was willing to bet she didn’t.

  “Well,” the woman hedged.

  Pete shook his head. “Darn, I could have sworn we had a celeb in here.”

  Pete himself looked like a celebrity with his dark hair and eyes and that big, toothy smile. He also had a drool-worthy body, and the customers were having no problem entertaining themselves while they waited, enjoying the sight of Pete in lederhosen.

  “I didn’t need to come in,” she whispered to him as the satisfied customer handed over her charge card. “Everyone’s happy to stand around and gawk at you.”

  Pete frowned at her. “Yeah, right.”

  “I can help the next customer,” Ivy said, moving to the second computer.

  Customer Number Two seemed almost disappointed as she stepped over to have her purchases totaled. Oh, yes, Ivy was going to miss Pete when he left.

  The next hour rushed by as she rang up sales and assisted customers in finding their way around the store. At eleven-thirty someone new arrived, a pretty thirty-year-old with the same blond hair and hazel eyes as Ivy. She wore a dirndl and an apologetic expression.

  Ivy wrapped a pink teapot tree ornament in tissue paper, placed it in a red Christmas Haus bag and handed it to the customer along with her receipt. “Merry Christmas,” she said with a smile.

  “Same to you,” the woman responded.

  Ivy turned to her sister, who’d slipped in next to her, and lost the smile. “You were supposed to be here at nine.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep last night. I finally took a sleeping pill at three. I just woke up.”

  “Just woke up” might’ve been a slight exaggeration considering the fact that Deirdre’s makeup was on and her hair ironed flat. But Ivy let it slide. Now that her sister had arrived, her anger had dissipated and she could sympathize with Deirdre’s unhappiness.

  “At least you’re here,” she said.

  “And you can go home and hang with the kids. Are they at Mutti’s?”

  “They’re with Mutti, but they’re on the way to Issaquah to see Grandma.”

  “Oh, poor them.”

  “So I might as well stay.” Ivy took a new customer’s snow globe to ring up.

  “There must be something you can do.” Deirdre took the snow globe from her and wrapped it in tissue.

  She could go skating. She could go home and take a long bubble bath. She could play her piano and sing all her favorite Carrie Underwood songs. She could make fudge. She could finish the hat she’d started knitting.

  Her sense of responsibility won out. “I’ll stick around. We’re pretty busy.”

  “Go already,” Deirdre insisted. “If you don’t, I’ll feel guilty.”

  Making her sister feel guilty, that would be fun.

  Pete had gone to help a customer and was back now, carrying several boxes of tree lights shaped like peppermint candies. “Well, guess who showed up? Where were you, anyway, off giving Santa a lap dance?”

  Deirdre frowned at him. “You are so disgusting.”

  “Thank you,” he said, then got busy ringing up the sale and flirting with the customer, a middle-aged woman with a naked ring finger who was looking at him like a hungry woman eyeing a big chocolate Santa.

  “Now that she’s here you can scram,” Pete said to Ivy. “We can handle this.”

  Ivy did need a break. “Okay, you talked me into it.”

  “Good.” Deirdre nodded. “See you tonight.”

  Oh, yes. They were going to have a movie marathon night after the kids went to bed and consume a ton of popcorn and eggnog.

  Meanwhile, all that free time was a present waiting to be unwrapped. She left work and went home via Gingerbread Haus, where she visited with Cass Wilkes and picked up some gingerbread boys and cream puff swans for her movie night. What the heck, why not? ’Tis the season to get fatter. Fa-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la.

  Okay, if she was going on an eating binge she should get some exercise first. The skating rink was calling. She’d throw on some warm clothes and enjoy a few turns on the ice.

  As she drove down the street she saw most of her neighbors now had their lawns and houses ready for the holidays. Okay, forget the skating rink. She’d better put out her candy canes and hang the outside lights. There’d probably be people cruising down th
e street tonight, and if she didn’t have something up, she’d hear about it from Maddy Donaldson. Except hanging the lights had always been Rob’s job. The idea of doing it by herself was daunting.

  “You can do it,” she told herself. “You don’t need Rob for anything.”

  Yes, she did. She needed him for a lot of things.

  No, she didn’t. She had her parents to help with the kids. She knew how to pay bills. And any fool could put up Christmas lights.

  She pulled into her driveway and saw the truck and cars next door, and remembered that she’d planned to take some pumpkin bread to her new neighbor. She wondered if Maddy had been over to visit Tilda yet and offer a discount on the requisite candy canes. Tilda didn’t strike Ivy as the candy-cane type. But she could be wrong. Rob hadn’t struck her as the leave-your-wife type.

  You never knew about people. After all, Tilda had surprised Ivy and helped her get her tree home. And hadn’t given her a ticket. She put away her Gingerbread Haus treats, then changed into ski pants and a sweater. Okay, ready to hang lights. Ugh. She hated that job. Ivy sighed and started for the garage.

  Oh, wait. The pumpkin bread first.

  No, first let Gizmo out. He was ready for a potty break. Although he had a doggy door, he seemed to think that convenience was for lesser animals and preferred to wait for someone to let him out. At least, with the ground frozen, she wouldn’t have to worry about him digging out under the backyard fence and going next door to make a nuisance of himself. She opened the back door, and he happily ran out and down the porch steps.

  She sawed off several thick slices of bread (sampling a couple as she went), then arranged them on a plate, which she covered with foil. She dug out a bow from her wrapping supplies in the bedroom closet and stuck it on her goody package. There. She hoped Tilda liked pumpkin bread. And maybe Ivy’s welcome-to-the-neighborhood visit would be the beginning of a new friendship.

  She put on her parka and outdoor boots and made her way across the front lawns to Tilda’s place. As she went up the steps to the front porch, she could hear banging and commotion and laughter. It took her back to when she and Rob had moved into their house. He and his buddies Eric Wallace and Bubba Swank had about killed themselves moving her heavy player piano. Bubba had dropped a box of pots and pans on Rob’s toes. Rob and Eric had gotten the bed stuck in the bedroom doorway and had to remove the door. She’d nicknamed them Three Stooges Moving, which they had, perversely, taken as a compliment. Later, they’d hooked up speakers to Rob’s iPod and had music blasting, and she’d ordered pizza from Italian Alps.