style="font-size:15px;"> “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I got through it then and I’ll get through it now. It’s only for a few weeks, right?”
She nodded, thinking how much she wanted to tell him to be grateful he had family at all. She’d never known her dad—he’d run off before she’d been born. But that had been okay because she’d been raised by her grandmother and her mother. The two women had been warm and loving and she’d had a blessed and happy childhood.
Even after she’d moved to Los Angeles for law school, they’d stayed close. The two women had driven out to spend every summer with her. They’d been there to celebrate with her when she’d landed her first real job at a prestigious law firm in Century City and had screamed and celebrated with her when she’d passed the bar.
Only they’d been killed during a twenty-five-car pileup on I-10 while driving back to Florida. Noelle missed them every day of her life and would give anything to have them back.
But she’d also learned that telling people that only made them feel guilty. That Gabriel would have to figure out for himself the need to appreciate what he had, while he had it.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s get you settled. I’ll show you where to put your stuff. I need you to fill out a W-4 for my accountant and then I’ll give you a tour of the store.”
Fifteen minutes later, it was official. Gabriel Boylan was an employee of The Christmas Attic.
She walked him through the basic layout. “I keep baskets up front,” she said, showing him the stack of lightweight oval baskets. “Most of what we carry is small. Encourage the baskets. Otherwise, when a customer gets her hands full, she tends to head for the register.”
“Makes sense.”
“You can see we have sections. Ornaments and home decorating over there, the nativities on that wall.”
“Including gourds?”
“You think I’m kidding. You need to go check it out.”
“I will.”
“The bears are over there, with all the kid stuff close by. We have some books, but mostly send people looking for Christmas books over to Morgan’s.”
“Don’t you want to have Christmas books here?” he asked.
“No. Not with a perfectly good bookstore less than a block away. I’m not stepping on any toes. What if every other store started carrying ornaments and teddy bears?”
“Or this,” Gabriel said, picking up a Santa pin from a display.
She leaned close and moved the hidden switch on the back. Santa’s nose lit up.
Gabriel stared at the bright nose and slowly shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Something along the lines of, ‘Why Mrs. Smith, your mother, aunt, granddaughter will love that pin, I’m sure.’”
He nodded and turned off the switch, then returned the pin to the display. “Point taken.”
She was pleased with his response and even more excited to see there wasn’t any blood on the bandage.
“Then there’s the bear section.”
He followed her around the corner and came to a stop. “I saw this before, but it seems bigger.”
“I’ve put out a few more. Bears sell.”
Three large sets of shelves rose to the faux rafters. Each shelf was crowded with different stuffed animals, mostly bears. Brown bears and white bears, bears that were fuzzy and plaid. Some played music and some you just wanted to squeeze.
“I have a layout in the stockroom,” she said, leading the way. “That will help you when you have to put things out. And now I’ll teach you the mysteries of the cash register.”
Gabriel learned the system quickly. Noelle had chosen a credit card service that didn’t give as many reports, but was a whole lot easier to deal with on a daily basis. Right at ten, she unlocked the front door and let in a couple of waiting customers.
The next few hours passed quickly. There was a steady stream of business. Just before noon, a pretty woman came into the store. She had short brown hair and looked to be in her late fifties. Noelle was about to greet her when she saw Gabriel staring at the woman. Something in his expression told her this wasn’t just any customer.
Noelle walked over. “Hi. Welcome to The Christmas Attic.”
Gabriel glanced between them. “Noelle, this is my mother, Karen Boylan. Mom, this is Noelle Perkins. She owns the store.”
“It’s lovely,” Karen said, unbuttoning her coat. Underneath she wore a bright purple sweatshirt with a shell logo and the words Blackberry Island. In smaller print, the sweatshirt proclaimed Stay for the Wine.
“Great color,” Noelle said. “Where is Blackberry Island?”
“Washington State. Just north and west of Seattle. Norm and I went there a couple of years ago. We did the whole west coast, heading north through the summer. Then we drove home. It was a very nice trip.”
“It sounds like it.”
Karen turned to her son. “Your dad and I sent you a few postcards.”
Gabriel nodded. “Right. They were great.” He looked at Noelle. “I should run those errands now. Before it gets too busy. I’ll be back.”
He was gone before she could ask what on earth he was talking about. Seconds later he was in his jacket and heading out the front door.
She opened her mouth, then closed it when she saw Karen’s face had settled into lines of deep sadness.
“That was my fault,” his mother said. “He’s running away from me. I don’t want you to think badly of him.”
“I won’t,” Noelle said, then glanced around the store. It was quiet, at least for the moment. “Why don’t I fix us both some tea?”
She led Karen into the back room and filled two mugs with water. After putting them in the microwave, she turned to Gabriel’s mother and offered a slight smile.
“How are you settling in for your stay?”
Karen blinked several times and drew a breath. “Fine. It’s beautiful here. What a sweet little town. Norm and I have traveled a lot and we’ve never been anywhere like this. I’m excited about all the festivals.”
“Me, too,” Noelle told her. “I moved here in the spring, so this will be my first Christmas. I hear it’s crazy busy. There’s a parade on Thanksgiving and the day of giving. I plan to throw myself in the center of all of it.”
“That’s a good attitude.”
“Thanks.” Noelle noticed the other woman’s earrings. “Are those garnets?”
