Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Lorelei had forgotten her gingerbread house. Memory should be a good aunt and run it over, but then she’d have to see her sister again, and she just wasn’t feeling it at the moment.

Memory grabbed a wash cloth out of the drawer by the sink and turned the faucet on as her dad did his best to brush the loose flour into the trash can. Over his years as a single dad to two girls, he’d seen his fair share of messes, but she imagined he’d need a shower after this one.

“How was your day, honey? You looked happier than usual when you came in—until we ruined it for you.” Bryce turned and gave her a stilted smile, the flour in his hair making him look older than his fifty-two years.

“It was a good day,” Memory said, ignoring the last part of his comment because she wasn’t sure what to say. She’d planned to come in and tell him all about Ellie and how interesting she was, how she’d shown up just when Memory needed her most, but now, she really wasn’t in the mood to talk about anything cheerful. Kirsten had her worried about the house again. It had been a few weeks since Memory had gone out to survey the damage, and with the fresh snow, there was a possibility the tarps may have shifted. If any more water got on the ballroom floor, it might not be salvageable, and she’d hate to see her grandmother’s favorite room in the house ruined....

“Honey, she’s just trying to help.” Her father stopped what he was doing, demanding her attention, and Memory paused in her cleaning to look up at him.

“I know, Dad. It’s just.... It’s not her problem. It’s mine.”

“We all loved Grandma. We all loved her place.” He put his hands on his hips and looked up at the ceiling. “I swear she said she had a life insurance policy.” He shook his head and picked up the trash can he’d been brushing the debris into back to the pantry. “For the life of me, I can’t figure out why I can’t track it down.”

“Because it doesn’t exist,” Memory muttered. “Dad, you and Kirsten work for an insurance agency. Surely, if Grandma had one, you’d be able to find record of it without us tearing every room in the house apart looking for the paper proof—again.”

He nodded, but his eyebrows were still heavy. “It all depends on when and where she purchased it. Not every single document issued is backed up by computers, you know. Back in the old days, we used to have to walk from one office to the next just to talk to one another. It was like living in the stone age.” He chuckled, and Memory carried the wash cloth over to the sink to wash it off while her dad grabbed the broom.

“That Lorelei sure does have some energy.” He moved the chair his granddaughter had been sitting in back to the dining room and pushed the high chair into the corner where it sat most of the time until Anson visited. Bryce began to sweep the flour into a pile as Memory slung the wash cloth over the faucet to dry and grabbed the dustpan. “I sure am glad you girls live close by. This time of year must be rough for people with no family.”

Memory bent down to hold the dustpan where her dad could sweep the crumbs and piles of flour into it, her mind returning to Ellie. The sweet woman had mentioned she had no family since her husband had passed. “Yeah, that’s got to be tough. You know, Dad, the funniest thing happened today.” The dustpan was full, so she turned to dump it while her dad gathered up the bits they’d missed.

“What’s that?” he asked. Memory came back for the last bit of debris off the floor. She crouched down, and Bryce pushed the crumbs into the dustpan while she contemplated how to word what she was about to say.

“Well, this woman came into the shop today. Older—not too old. Maybe in her sixties.”

“Yes, that’s ancient.” Bryce chuckled, and Memory tried not to roll her eyes at him. She carried the dustpan over to the trash, dumped it, and then hung it back where it belonged, taking the broom from her dad and also putting it in the closet.

“Anyway, she was really interesting. She said she used to own a similar shop and just loved mine. We got to chatting. She doesn’t have any family now that her husband has passed away, and before I knew it, she was volunteering to work in the store a few hours a day.”

Bryce leaned back against the kitchen counter, folding his arms. “Volunteering?”

“Yeah, I know it seems weird. I mean, I told her I couldn’t afford to pay her right now, and she said she wouldn’t expect me to, that she just missed chatting with the customers. I went to help a family that came in, and when I’d turned around, she’d stocked the shelves and straightened a bunch of items I’ve been trying to get to for days. She’s really fast, too.” Memory remembered how shocked she’d been to see everything Ellie had accomplished in the few minutes she’d been helping the family who spent all that money. She also recalled how strange it was that she had no recollection of propping that stock room door, but none of that seemed relevant at the moment. “Anyway, I let her watch the shop for a few minutes while I ran to the post office, and she’s great. She sold a lot while I was gone—and she didn’t take anything, either, before you ask. Isn’t that odd?”

“Hmmm,” her father said, scratching his chin. “It is odd. You’re sure you can trust her? Just because she’s older, that doesn’t mean she’s not a scammer.”

“I’m pretty sure. Maybe I should install some cameras in the store.” That seemed like a drastic measure to take as a precaution against one older woman who so far had given her no cause to think she would do anything underhanded. “Anyway, if she really does like it and continues to come in a few hours every day or so, that will be such a big help. I can get more shipped, get more done on the website.... It’s like an angel just fell down from heaven.”

Bryce chuckled. “Now, you sound like your grandmother. What do you want for dinner?”

Memory didn’t hear the last part, she was stuck on the first half of what her dad had said. There were so many characteristics Ellie shared with her grandmother. If Grandma Helen could conjure up the perfect assistant for Memory this time of year, it would be someone exactly like Ellie....

“Ree? Dinner?”

“Oh, right. Uh... gosh, I’m starving.”

“We could run the gingerbread house by Kirsten’s and head to the diner.”

Memory couldn’t think of anything she had on hand that would be quick enough to cook before her stomach began to digest itself. If her dad took the gingerbread house in, she wouldn’t have to talk to Kirsten. “Sounds good,” she said, even though she didn’t really want to go back out into the cold. Still, the diner was a cozy place this time of year, with Christmas music playing and lights twinkling over every booth. “I’ll get my coat.”