Must Love Mistletoe

Leaving him with only one question he could speak aloud.

“French toast?”

Gram’s kitchen was quiet, and so was Bailey as she watched him make coffee and then turn to the refrigerator for eggs and milk. He’d taken her there knowing it was stocked with all the necessary ingredients.

“You don’t really cook,” she said.

“All grown up.” He shot her a look, noticing the new color flushing her cheeks. So she hadn’t forgotten that moment, or the new connection they’d forged. It satisfied him for now, just knowing she couldn’t pretend-he’d given up on it, of course-that they were merely two people waxing nostalgic.

This wasn’t scratching an old itch.

This was stroking new skin, caressing a brand-new version of a first love.

It was more than they’d ever had before.

All grown up.

She cleared her throat. “Finn, I think we should…”

Her voice trailed off as Gram walked into the kitchen. She stopped short in the doorway, a smile breaking over her pale mouth. None of her bright lipstick today. “Bailey.”

The GND popped up from the table. “Mrs. Jacobson!” She rushed around the chairs to embrace the older woman in a gentle hug, as if afraid Gram might break.

Finn frowned. Bailey had a funny expression on her face as his grandmother lifted a thin hand and stroked her blond hair. “I enjoy hearing your voice in this kitchen,” Gram said. “What a treat.”

Bailey cleared her throat again as the two women moved apart. Then she held out a chair for Gram. “Let me bring you some coffee.”

Gram smiled again. “Spoiling me like Finn.”

The GND turned away and he saw her knuckle away a tear from under her eye. His frown deepened and he glanced over at his grandmother. She didn’t look so bad…did she?

But his gut clenched as he saw her through different eyes. When had she become so shrunken? When had the shadows beneath her eyes become so dark?

He hurried forward with her plastic container of pills and a glass of water. Then he stepped back, almost plowing into Bailey. She put a hand on his back, gave him an absent pat.

He felt it to his heart.

She slid a mug in front of Gram and sat down beside her. “He says he can do breakfast,” she said. “What are the odds?”

Gram’s gaze flicked from his face, then back to Bailey’s. Her smile went secretive as she picked up the hot coffee. “Take me to Vegas right now. I’m feeling lucky.”

The women chatted. Finn moved about the kitchen, then suddenly stopped, an egg in one hand and his coffee in the other. I’m smiling at nothing, he thought. I haven’t felt so relaxed in months.

Still smiling, he tuned back in to what the women were discussing.

“Actually,” Bailey said, “my mom and Dan are doing well. Better than well.” Her laugh tinkled like glass breaking.

The sound sliced down Finn’s spine. His sixth sense stirred. He turned.

She was looking into her cup of coffee. “They’re back together. It’s official. As a matter of fact, they’ll be opening the store this morning.”

Her eyes lifted to Finn’s face. “That was my good news. What I felt like celebrating about.” Her gaze jolted back to her mug. “I’m going back to L.A.”

Finn’s hand tightened, cracking the egg he held, mirroring what his suddenly coiling emotions were doing to that poor battered organ in the middle of his chest.

Trust me, she’d said in the shower, and he had. Dumb sap. Because there was nothing new in the fact that she was going to be leaving him. Again.

Here came the get-ugly part.

The night before, when her mother had finally called to tell Bailey where she was and why she wasn’t coming home, Tracy had urged her to take the next day off. Yet at midmorning, Bailey still found herself at The Perfect Christmas anyway. Because she wanted to make sure her mother and stepfather were really together, she told herself.

Not because she missed the store already.

Not because she had to get away from Finn, so close by next door.

God, and Mrs. Jacobson! Finn had said she’d been sick, but her frailty turned Bailey’s stomach inside out. Just another thing to run from…and now she could.

The bells jingled their familiar tune as she pushed open the door. It wasn’t quite opening time, but on the hospitality table, the cookies and chocolates she’d ordered last week sat on the holiday platter in perfect circles. The coffee urn beside them gleamed. A rich java smell mingled with the store’s distinctive scent.

She saw her mother unpacking a box and hanging an ornament on the tree by the register. “Mom!” She hurried over. “I think that one looks better with all natural ornaments. Just the shells and coral and such.”

Tracy looked down at the glass figurine in her hand. “No Little Mermaid?”

“Oh! Well.” Embarrassed, Bailey stepped back. “Of course you can do it however you want.”

“There she is!” From the back room, Dan strode out, a happy grin on his face. His gaze met Tracy’s, and Bailey swallowed, watching them exchange a secret communication. She remembered it from the past.

Then Dan swept her up in a strong embrace. She clung, even aware that she was doing it. But couldn’t she be happy for them? Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, hard. Shouldn’t she be happy for them?

Dan’s arms didn’t let go. “There, there,” he said, as if she were eight years old and had fallen off her bicycle. His palm stroked the back of her head, as Mrs. Jacobson’s had done in her kitchen. Bailey blinked away a tear.

Silly me. Nothing hurt here.

She broke away, and smiled as wide as the empty place in her chest. “It’s great to see you guys back at the helm.”

Her mother and Dan telegraphed another quick thought. Indecipherable to Bailey. “We’re glad to be here together,” Tracy said. Her hand reached out and Dan clasped it, that goofy grin back on his face.

“We’ll always be together,” he said.

Good luck with that, Bailey thought, another stupid tear welling.

She cleared her throat. “Can I do something? I know you said to take the day off…”

Tracy’s gaze cut to Dan’s, then back to her face. “Well…”

“Or if you don’t need me, I was thinking about heading home.”

Tracy stilled. “Home to…to Walnut Street?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Home home. L.A.”

An awkward silence welled.

Dan rubbed his hand over his gray-less head. “Here’s the thing, Bay-”

“Harry will be home day after tomorrow,” Tracy interjected. “Can’t you stay through the holiday? We’re only open until noon on Christmas Eve.”

Bailey frowned. “You’re going to be closing at noon? The Christmas Eve afternoon hours are primo time, Mom. All those people on the way to holiday dinners making a quick stop for the perfect hostess gift-which means the quick hostess gift. I was planning to put the most expensive stuff at the front of the store and also right beside the register. Christmas Eve shoppers are desperate.”

“Noon on Christmas Eve,” Dan said, his voice firm. “We’re going to start doing things differently.”

She shrugged. “Okay. It’s your store.”

“That’s what we wanted to talk about on Christmas Eve afternoon,” Tracy said, the words rushing out. “The store. I mean, that it’s ours.”

Bailey frowned. “Well, it is.”

“We might as well tell you we’re thinking of making some changes in our life,” Dan said, his gaze gentle on Tracy’s face.

Her mother swallowed, hard, her eyes unwavering as they met Bailey’s. “And we want to give The Perfect