step,” Josh told her. “If there’s Wi-Fi on the ship you can keep me posted about all the fun you’re having.”
“I suppose so,” Susanna replied softly. “I miss you, honey.”
“I miss you, too. We’ll get together and catch up on everything after you come home all tanned and relaxed.”
“I’m surprised it’s taking you so long to set up that new branch of Barton Technologies.”
Josh had almost forgotten his necessary cover story. “I should be done by the first of the year.”
That much was true. Actually, he could have left Bygones months ago and been assured that his money was being well spent. So what had kept him?
The notion that he might be starting to like his life in the small town was too ridiculous to consider seriously. He was completing a necessary job, that’s all. He might not be creating the computer software design administrative center that his mother imagined, but he was still working. And he was pretty proud of the results he was seeing.
Main Street had recovered beyond his wildest dreams. Merchants and the Save Our Streets committee had worked together to produce a model shopping area that was not only appealing, it was also profitable. Even his coffee specialty shop and computer gaming business was showing a slight gain, and it was just a front for his real occupation as a cutting-edge software designer and founder of Barton Technologies.
There were times when Josh felt like one of those comic book superhero characters, with a mild-mannered facade hiding extraordinary powers.
Grinning at the inane image, he told his mother, “If your computer would boot up, I could fix it from here. Since it won’t, I’ll send somebody over before you leave for your cruise. How about tomorrow?”
“That’s fine,” Susanna said. “Love you.”
“Me, too,” he mumbled, returning to the reticence he had learned so well while growing up. “Bye.”
Affection was rarely shown and even less often spoken of during his childhood. That was simply the way it was. Only after his father’s death had his mother begun to tell him she loved him. It was still difficult to echo her sentiment in spite of the fact that Josh loved her dearly.
He ended the call, stared at the phone for a few seconds, then shoved it back into his pocket and sat down at one of his computers to email the Barton tech support team.
* * *
As Whitney entered Melissa Sweeney’s Sweet Dreams Bakery, she couldn’t repress a grin. Seeing macho Brian Montclair behind the counter with his blondish hair and sporting a holiday-themed apron was just too funny. The guy was built like a linebacker, yet he’d managed to fit into this job. Finally. Getting rid of the chip on his shoulder over not getting a chance to start a repair garage had taken some doing. Of course, romancing his boss hadn’t hurt, either.
“Hey, Brian,” Whitney said. “I need to place a rush cookie order.”
“Sure thing. Melissa’s already got a bunch of those stacked up. What do you need and when?”
“Late Saturday afternoon. About three dozen. I’ll make it easy for her and just take whatever kind she bakes. They’re for the tree-lighting ceremony in the park.”
“Gotcha.” He was painstakingly making note of her order. “You still poking into the secret Santa deal?”
“If you mean looking for the mysterious money man, yes. Why? Do you know who it is?”
“Nope. But Melissa got another one of those pep talk messages in the mail. I figure the others did, too.”
“Interesting. Mind if I have a look at yours?”
“Not at all.” He reached behind him to a ribbon where his boss—and fiancée—had hung a string of Christmas cards, and plucked one from the group. “Here you go. Short and sweet.”
“Rats. It’s printed, just like before. I was hoping to see a handwriting sample this time.”
“Guess the guy’s too smart for that,” Brian offered.
“Do you think it’s a man, too? I didn’t at first, but I’m starting to lean that way now.” Whitney handed the card back to him.
“Yeah, I do,” the former mechanic said. “I guess it’s because of the way he operates. You know. Using plain stationery at first, now that card. Compared to the frilly way Lily designed all the Christmas decorations and the fancy cakes Melissa makes, that’s barely even a holiday greeting, let alone girly.”
Pensive, Melissa studied the card as he hung it back up. “You’re right. It not only looks masculine, it’s generic. Not even very festive. I suppose it could have been chosen just to throw us all off but it does make me wonder.”
“Anything else I can get you?” he asked.
“Um. I’d love to take home half the goodies in your cases but I just had a mocha latte at the Cozy Cup so I’d better not.”
She started for the door as new customers entered. Waving, she called, “I’ll be back for the cookies after three on Saturday. Okay?”
Brian’s nod and smile was all the answer she needed.
That plain greeting card was a clue. It had to be. And if all the other new businesses had received identical messages, maybe she’d be able to trace their origin.
Chances of doing so were slim to none, yet, at this point, Whitney was ready to try anything. Her next move was a visit to each merchant in the heart of Main Street to ask if they had received cards similar to the one at the bakery.
Love in Bloom was right next door. That was where she would begin, walking rather than bothering to move her car out of the lot behind the bakery.
“Plus, I can ask Lily how it feels to have had the first wedding,” she muttered, once again recalling the phenomenon of escalating romances. Lily had been the first to succumb. Therefore, if Whitney’s next column needed a personal interest touch she could always include more about Tate Bronson’s whirlwind courtship of the pretty florist.
Besides, she added, this was going to be his daughter, Isabella’s, first Christmas with both a mama and a daddy, so it would lend family interest to the article.
A sense of contentment bathed Whitney as she remembered celebrating Christmas as a child. Rather than there being a specific memory of past holidays, she felt it more as an overall sense of well-being, of love.
Those thoughts brought her directly to the love that God had shown when he’d sent His son into the world so long ago. That was the basis of her love of Christmas. Pleasant family experiences merely grew from the core of her heavenly Father’s amazing gift.
Reaching the door to the flower shop she paused to send a silent “Thank You, God,” into the wintry sky.
In the deep reaches of her subconscious there was a stirring of another sentiment. Another reason to give thanks.
As she probed her thoughts, an image appeared. It was the smiling face of Josh Smith.
