Chapter 13: Chapter 13
Melody pushed open the door to Delaney’s Delights and braced herself for the barrage of Christmas music. There was no avoiding it now; it was everywhere she went, and though she did her best to tune it out, there were times when particular songs came on that memories of her father flooded her senses, and she needed to step away or turn it off. Luckily, this afternoon, her entrance was greeted by a particularly poppy rendition of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” and there was nothing specifically remarkable about that song.
Delaney was sliding a muffin across the counter on a bright red plate to a customer as Melody walked in. She looked up and smiled. “Hey, two days in a row! How did I get so lucky?”
Laughing, Melody crossed the crowded room to the counter. “I was just dropping some boxes off at Mom’s shop and thought I’d come by and ask you a quick question.”
“Cocoa?” she asked, gesturing at the always present pot of her secret recipe.
“Not today, thanks,” Melody said, thinking of how easy it was to put on a pound or two this time of year if she wasn’t careful. “That Christmas tree farm we are headed to Saturday—did you ever find out if it is an actual lot where you can pick out a tree yourself, or do they just deliver to other locations?”
Delaney’s smile brightened. “No, you can buy a tree there. It’s actually really cool. They have all sorts of activities and even a shop or two. I looked it up online last night. I’m really excited.”
Melody could tell by the twinkle in her eye just how true the statement was. “Okay, good.” She cleared her throat and continued. “You don’t mind if I ask a couple of friends to meet us there, do you?”
Delaney’s eyebrows arched, but she said, “No, of course not.”
“Good,” Melody repeated, letting go the breath she was holding, “because I already invited them.”
Laughing, Delaney grabbed a damp cloth and wiped down the counter. “Who are they? Anyone I might know?”
“Well, this is a small town. There’s a chance you’d know just about anyone.”
“True,” Delaney said, tipping her head to the side and giving a shrug.
Melody hesitated. There were a few customers nearby, as well as Edie, the older woman who worked behind the counter. “It’s kind of complicated, but there’s this little boy, Michael, and we’ve sort of become friends this week. He wanted me to go with him to pick out his tree—so I invited him to meet us there. With his dad, of course.”
No longer interested in the counter, Delaney was looking at her as if she thought she had lost her mind. “You made friends with a little boy? Like, an actual little boy or just a guy that’s way too young for you?”
Scoffing, Melody said, “No, he’s an actual little boy. He’s five. He made the bus driver drop him off at my house yesterday. It’s complicated….”
“Is he one of the kids from church?” she asked.
Realizing she needed to stop beating around the bush, Melody said, “No, his dad fixed a broken door knob at our house last week, and Michael just happened to be with him.”
“Oh, you mean Reid’s little boy?” Edie asked, stepping behind Delaney. “I met him a few weeks ago when Reid had to come over and fix a busted pipe one night. What a cutie!”
“Do you mean the boy—or the dad?” Delaney asked, smiling mischievously at her coworker.
“Yes!” Edie said with a wink before she flipped her curly red hair over her shoulder and went on about her business.
Questioning brown eyes peered at her, waiting. “Michael asked me to go,” Melody assured her friend.
Delaney’s wide smile told Melody she wasn’t buying it. “Okay…” she said, but the way she drew out the last syllable was more proof that she thought something was up.
“What’s the name of the tree farm?” Melody asked, deciding it was about time for her to make an exit.
“Taylor Tree Farm. Tell him we’ll be there around 11:00?”
“Perfect. Thanks, Delaney,” Melody said with a smile.
“Sure thing. See you later!”
Melody waved goodbye at Delaney and Edie, who was standing in the distance behind her filling a coffee mug. She pulled her white coat tighter around her as she went back into the chilly December air.
Walking to her car, she thought about calling Reid to tell him where and what time to meet them on Saturday and felt the butterflies in her stomach buzzing around like dragons. While she really wanted to speak to him, calling him on the phone made her feel very nervous, and she thought she should maybe put it off for a day or two. Maybe she’d get lucky and he’d call her—or she’d bump into Michael again somewhere. Texting would be easier, but that seemed so impersonal, so she knew she’d have to get the courage up to call him. In the back of her mind, she heard a nagging voice questioning whether or not he really wanted to talk to her at all and if he had only said he’d meet her at the tree farm to quiet his excited child.
Christmas decorations were everywhere now. Garlands and large, velvety red bows hung from the lampposts, and every shop had a wreath on the door, their display windows covered in red and green. Each evening when the sun began to go down, the entire downtown area would blaze to life with the sparkle of thousands of twinkling, white lights decorating every building, every post, and every tree. Charles Town was absolutely beautiful at Christmas, and even though she longed for the days when she’d walked these streets hand in hand with her father, this year getting past the pain of losing him did seem a bit easier than the one before. She was hopeful that the trend would continue and eventually she could look at a Christmas tree without thinking of that Christmas Eve night when her mother had gotten the phone call that her dad wasn’t ever going to make it home.
Sighing, and pushing the thought out of her mind, she unlocked her door with the key fob and slid into the driver’s seat. The desk had been delivered, as had four more boxes of various collectibles. Her mother had been able to sell quite a bit this week, and Melody was beginning to think her social media efforts were paying off. Still, she needed to hurry home and post some new pictures she’d taken of the items her mother had put out on display this morning. Owning a family business meant the work never stopped, and for a moment, she missed her old life in Chicago where she’d been able to go home at 5:00 each evening and let the rest of her work wait until the next day.
She threw the car into reverse and made sure her path was clear before heading home. Charles Town was so different from Chicago. Though she’d only had a few friends there that she had made at work or college, there was always something to do in the big city, something to see. Here, you couldn’t even watch a movie without driving to another town. The area was rich in history, and as a child she’d enjoyed going with her parents to visit the museums and battlefield nearby, but most of the year, Charles Town did not have a lot going on.
The next few weeks made up for that, however. The people of Charles Town certainly knew how to celebrate Christmas. There would be a parade, Santa would visit the library, and then there was the festival. Even though the First Baptist Church hosted it each year, it was more of a city wide occasion, with people coming from far and wide to enjoy the festivities. As Melody pulled into the driveway, she remembered all of the times she had stood on stage at church on Christmas Eve singing her heart out while her father played the piano, every seat in the house filled with friends and family.
With a sigh, she turned the car off and pulled the keys out of the ignition. Part of her missed it, but the thought of standing up there all alone amidst a thousand people brought tears to her eyes. “I miss you, Daddy,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes tight to keep the tears from falling. Making her way to the house, she thought, At least this year I have Michael to keep me distracted—and maybe someone else, too. Although, she really had no way at all of telling what Reid really thought of her. Maybe spending more time with him on Saturday would let her know if she had a chance of making some of those daydreams come true or if this would be another Christmas spent all alone.