‘No, but we’ve spent the last month hauling stock up that hill and using the back entrance by the tree lot …’
Hmm. Good point. I suppose it’s feasible that there was a sign up somewhere that we could’ve missed by shortcutting around the back. ‘But why would someone who hates Christmas voluntarily run a Christmas shop in a Christmas village? And since when are there vacancies here? You know how crazy the availability for these shops was. I had to register our interest at 12.01 a.m. on a January morning, submit an application by February along with our stock samples, and then we had to wait months while they assessed all applicants and chose the most suited ones. He makes it sound like he wandered past and they happened to have a spare shop. And if they did have a vacancy, why not go back to the original applications and offer it to the next best?’
‘I think you might be overthinking this …’
Once again, I’m annoyed by how well she knows me. What am I doing – looking for flaws in his story that might somehow prove he’s a wooden doll come to life? Trying to prove that you can’t take anything a man says at face value?
‘Do you know you haven’t stopped smiling since you got back in here? And even mentioning Brad hasn’t done it. Maybe this James guy is some kind of magical prince after all … It would definitely take magical powers to put a smile like that on your face.’
‘Nooo,’ I say quickly. ‘He’s exactly the type of person I hate, Stace. He hates Christmas and is keen to tell everyone how much he hates it at any opportunity. It’s fine if people don’t like this time of year, but they have no right to try to stop other people’s enjoyment of it.’
‘He’s selling Christmas decorations. And judging by that nutcracker you’re lovingly caressing, he’s giving them away too. It doesn’t sound like he’s trying to spoil anyone’s enjoyment of it. Is he single?’
‘I don’t know, but there’s no way. You haven’t seen him. Men who look like that aren’t single. And he was nice too – sweet, funny, engaging. No wedding ring, but his left arm is in a cast up to his thumb; he’d probably have taken it off.’
‘Or he could be a magical nutcracker come to life solely meant for you to fulfil your wish on another magical nutcracker … There seems to be an influx of magical nutcrackers around this place.’
‘Which, once upon a time, was what made it so popular.’ Thinking about Nutcracker Lane and its rapid decline is one thing guaranteed to get the smile off my face. ‘And I don’t actually think he’s a nutcracker, I just think there are a lot of coincidences.’
‘Like the universe is winking at you—’
I cut Stacey off with the old British excuse for everything. ‘Didn’t you say something about a cup of tea?’
I hurry off to the back room to make it with our little kettle, because I can’t think about things like that. James seemed lovely, and even though there was something about him, he’s just going to have to be lovely from a distance. Single or not is irrelevant. I’m nowhere near ready to trust another man, and after so many relationships ending in lies and cheating, I’m not sure I ever will be again.
Chapter 3
‘Well, that explains the spring in your step this morning,’ Stacey says as we both huddle at the window of our shop the next day, watching James across the way. ‘What is he doing?’
‘Taking my advice.’ He’s standing on a stool outside his shop, repainting the sign to read “Twinkles” instead of “Tinkles”. He’s already been out there a few times to paint over the original T to blank it out, and now he’s up there again with a much smaller brush, gliding a smooth outline to the new letters in gold paint. His left arm is still in a sling so he’s got the paint pot balancing on the outer ledge of the shop window and he keeps having to lean down to reach it and wobbling around precariously on the stool, and I’d be lying if I said my heart wasn’t in my throat. I don’t want to watch in case he slips, but I can’t tear my eyes away.
‘He’s going to break the other arm if he’s not careful,’ Stacey mutters.
‘He’s going to break his neck.’ I groan as he bends to reach the paint again. ‘Come on, James, get down from there,’ I say even though he can’t hear me. ‘I wish I hadn’t said anything about his shop name now.’
‘You’re very concerned about his wellbeing.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m cheering him on. Y’know, woohoo, go on, break the other arm. Close your shop because you won’t have enough functional limbs to run it.’ I wave an imaginary pompom.
She laughs and shakes her blonde hair back. ‘I thought he wasn’t getting involved in the competition.’
‘Well, it’s easy to say that, but not everything in his shop is Nutcracker Lane stuff. He’s got rows and rows of cheap import decorations that the new owner wants shifted too. Everyone is competition now. That’s what’s so horrible. Even if he’s not back next year, the shop will be if it makes more money than us.’
‘Which it’s practically guaranteed to do. Look at the number of customers he’s got going in.’ She nods towards him as he clambers down off the stool and rushes inside to serve a woman standing at the counter with an armful of decorations. ‘So far this morning, we’ve only sold two necklaces and one of those make-your-own wooden gingerbread house kits you put together.’
‘That’s because you can see
