Christmas Wishes: A Small Town Christmas Love Story Page 5

  “And maybe you will do it all the time. Someday soon.” Her mom sounded thoughtful. “The Kerstmans have really taken a liking to Miami. Howard has become a real beach bum. I think I saw him headed towards the water with a surfboard.”

  A chill went down Molly’s spine.

  “Who’s supposed to run the store when they’re retired and living full-time in Miami?”

  Nicholas’ words came back to haunt her as she tried to remain calm on the phone. “Did they mention anything? About anything?” she asked her mom.

  “Did they mention anything about anything?” Mrs. Carmichael asked. She laughed at her daughter. “I guess they mentioned that their son, Nicholas, might be dropping by. Have you seen him?”

  “Yeah. He came by the store tonight,” Molly admitted.

  “Has he already been visited by the first ghost?” Mrs. Carmichael asked.

  “Ghost? What do you mean?”

  “You know, the Ghost of Christmas Past, The Ghost of Christmas Present—” she explained.

  “Mom...” Molly couldn’t help but chuckle at her mom’s implication. “He’s not a total Scrooge. I think he just doesn’t get Christmas. It’s like he doesn’t know how to enjoy it or something.”

  “Well, if he hangs around you long enough, he will. If there’s one thing my baby gets, it’s Christmas,” Ms. Carmichael said. Her tone was tender and warm. “And, if he’s as bad as his parents say he is, getting to know you might do him some good—"

  “Emma! Hurry! They’re serving the last round of mint margaritas by the bonfire!” Her father's voice cut through their conversation.

  “Jim,” her mother yelled back. “I'm talking with Molly!”

  “Hi, Molly! Love you!” her father yelled. “Please don’t burn down the store! Tell Liam I said hi! Emma, come on!”

  Molly wasn't going to keep her parents from enjoying their vacation.

  “Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” she quickly said. “Go have fun.”

  “Bye, sweetie! I love you!” Ms. Carmichael ended her phrase with several kissy noises before she hung up the phone.

  Molly flopped down onto the bed, the article returning to the screen on her phone.

  Nicholas Kerstman was a problem she was going to solve. There was no way she was going to let Christmas Wishes turn into a corporate sell out. She wouldn't allow it. It went against everything she stood for.

  “Make it seem fun... make it seem possible... make it seem worthwhile...”

  Molly chanted the phrase over and over before she was lulled to sleep by her own endless repetition.

  * * *

  Molly dreamed.

  She was fifteen years old again. She'd been forced by her parents to leave New York with all its hustle and bustle for a tiny town with no hustle and definitely no bustle. She wished she had something to make this place better.

  She was in the town square, walking around, pouting and daydreaming about all the New York field trips she was going to miss with her old friends. Not to mention the shops and holiday activities. It was Christmas time and she was homesick for the big city.

  She sat down on a bench with a view of the big Christmas Tree. There was supposed to be a big lighting ceremony, but she didn't have anyone to go with. She wished that she had something to do that would make this holiday season a little bit better.

  That's when she met the woman dressed from head to toe in Mrs. Claus attire. It was Mrs. Kerstman.

  “You’re Molly Carmichael, aren’t you?” Mrs. Kerstman asked. She sat down on the bench next to Molly. Molly wasn't worried about strangers here. The town was too small for anything bad to happen. “Emma and Jim’s daughter?”

  “Yes,” Molly said before letting out a small sigh. “Unfortunately.”

  “No, no, no! There’s no need for that kind of attitude. Not at Christmas.” Mrs. Kerstman shook her head as she clasped her hands together. “Yes, you’ve been whisked away from all the sights and sounds of New York City, but do you know what’s better than N-Y-C?”

  “Nothing,” Molly said, kicking at a small pile of snow by her feet.

  “Wrong.” Mrs. Kerstman nodded in Howard Kerstman’s direction. Molly’s gaze followed Mrs. Kerstman’s nod, and her eyes soon landed on a man dressed up like Santa Claus. He was surrounded by several small giggling children, all holding their hands out towards him..

  Within a couple of blinks, Mr. Kerstman somehow made glitter and candy canes appear out of thin air. They screamed in unison as some dashed for the candy canes, and some chose to spin around a few times in the abundant glitter. Molly couldn't help but smile at their delight.

  “What was that? Did he just do magic?” Molly asked, her mind trying to figure out the secret behind the trick. “How did he—”

  “Ah, ah, ah. That’s the kind of thing you’ll learn on the job, Ms. Carmichael,” Ms. Kerstman said. “You know, we just moved here and we’re looking for a Head Elf for our new store. Someone to look after the shop from time to time. Would you be interested in helping us out?”

  “How much does it pay?” Molly’s eyes narrowed. She wasn't going to work for free.

  “Don’t worry. It pays cash, at least until you turn eighteen,” Mrs. Kerstman said with a laugh. “Although, Ms. Carmichael, the older you get, the more you’ll realize just how little money is worth.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Molly said, eyeing Mrs. Kerstman with suspicion. “But I’ll take it. I’ll take anything if it gets me out of the house long enough.”

  “Well, this’ll get you out of the house from November through January, guaranteed,” Mrs. Kerstman promised. “And maybe, along the way, you’ll find out what’s better than N-Y-C.”

  “No way. There’s nothing better than—”

  “M-A-G-I-C.” Ms. Kerstman gave Molly one last, definitive smile. “Magic always, always wins. A Christmas wish is a powerful, powerful thing.”

  “Whatever you say, lady,” Molly said. She was acting aloof, but she did feel a little bit better than she had five minutes ago. She didn't know it yet, but her wish for something to do had come true in the best way possible.

  Molly smiled at her dream, pulling the covers up higher and snuggling into the good memory.

  Chapter 8

  Molly

  Molly went to work the next day feeling invigorated and hopeful.

  She had an answer to the Nicholas Kerstman problem, even if she didn't have all the details exactly figured out yet. It would come to her.

  She whistled as she walked down the street to the store. As she came closer, she noticed that it was already open for business. She frowned, checking her watch and seeing that she wasn't late.

  She then spotted Nicholas working behind the counter, smiling at customers as he checked out their items, and nodding over towards Liam when someone asked for a bag of candy to-go.

  Molly felt taken aback, not expecting Nicholas to have any familiarity with working retail. The fancy suit certainly didn't suggest retail work.

  She slowly approached the counter, watching Nicholas smile and greet customers. “Good morning? Nicholas Kerstman, right? You’re actually Nicholas Kerstman?”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny, Ms. Molly,” Nicholas said. He didn’t turn to look at Molly, keeping his eyes on a gift he was wrapping. He was actually good at it. He finally glanced up for a moment and grinned at her. “Wrapping gifts is how I put myself through business school. I spent my days in class and my nights at Debbie’s Gift Shop.”

  “I'm guessing it wasn't a Christmas store, though,” she said, leaning against the counter.

  “Nope.” Nicholas shook his head, and handed the finished, wrapped gift to the woman standing in front of the counter. “Merry Christmas! Happy holidays!”

  “Such a polite young man.” The woman brought a hand over her heart, and shot a look over at Molly. “Molly Carmichael, this is a good one. You should snatch this one up quick before the other girls in town find out about him.”

  “Thanks for the tip, Ms. Y
arborough,” Molly said. She smiled, but it didn't really touch her eyes. She certainly didn't think of Nicholas the Scrooge as someone she should snatch up quick. “But I'm pretty sure he's already taken.”

  “Ah, well, that’s a pity and a shame.” Ms. Yarborough shook her head, and ambled out of the store.

  “You think I’m seeing someone?” Nicholas asked as he proceeded to clear off the wrapping station, putting away bits of sliced up paper. “What gave you that idea?”

  He held up his left hand to show no sign of a ring.

  “You aren't?” Molly failed to hide the astonishment in her voice. “You just seem so put together. With the suits. And the watch. And the whole cool guy vibe. Plus, you live in New York. I just figured someone would’ve already fallen for it.”

  “You think I’m cool?” Nicholas asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “No. I don’t think you’re cool. I’m saying other people think you’re cool.”

  “But you can definitely recognize my coolness,” Nicholas said with a grin. He seemed different today. Happier and less serious. “And why are you paying so much attention to my clothing choices?”

  “I’m not!” Molly shook her head, hoping that would convince Nicholas of her white lie.

  “Sure,” he said. He didn't sound like he believed it for a second.

  Molly sighed. “What do you need me to do today, boss?”

  “Come over here,” Nicholas replied, motioning to the spot behind the register as a customer came up to check out.

  Molly took his place, stepping behind the register. “Okay.”

  “Okay, Ms. Molly, I’m going to time you,” he informed her, holding up his fancy wristwatch.

  “What?” Her eyes went big.

  “It’s not a big deal. This is just the small stuff that corporations look at before they think about buying a place. They want to make sure we’re as efficient as possible,” he explained. He kept his eyes on his wristwatch. “We can start with the next customer in line. Five minutes is the red zone. Can you check them out in two minutes or less?”

  “Can I check them out in two minutes or less?” Molly looked at the next customer in line, and panicked for a second. The next person in line was Ms. Vincent, a customer who Molly knew thoroughly enjoyed small-talk and chitchat.

  She'd never check her out in less than two minutes, nor would she want to. Ms. Vincent was one of their best customers, and she always said how much she enjoyed her interactions with staff at Christmas Wishes.

  Of course, Nicholas wouldn’t know that about Ms. Vincent, and he didn’t know how much interacting with customers like Ms. Vincent was vital to the store’s sales goals, either. A slow smile filled her face as she realized she wasn't going to make his two minute goal. But today, Molly was going to make sure that he learned something better. Something that made the store special.

  “Ms. Vincent!” Molly greeted the woman with a big smile.

  “Molly Carmichael.” Ms. Vincent leaned across the counter to envelop Molly in a tight embrace. “Merry Christmas!”

  “Merry Christmas! Did you find everything you needed in the store?” Molly asked, reaching toward Ms. Vincent’s items and beginning to scan them.

  “And then some, as usual,” Ms. Vincent replied with a laugh. “Are you and Hannah still the best of friends?”

  “Of course. How else do you think I get those cookies?” Molly pointed to the plate of gingersnap cookies set out for customers to enjoy while they shopped.

  “Good! Then she wouldn’t mind me telling you about the three-tiered cake she’s making for my holiday dinner at the church,” Ms. Vincent whispered conspiratorially. “It’s supposed to be a surprise, but I can barely hold it in!”

  “A three-tiered cake? Is each tier a different flavor?” Molly had finished scanning Ms. Vincent’s items, and she now began the bagging process. “Is Hannah making one of the layers her secret chocolate surprise?”

  “I wouldn't have it any other flavor,” Ms. Vincent replied. “And you know what the other two flavors will be?”

  “Um, vanilla?” Molly asked, pausing to think.

  Ms. Vincent nodded. “And she's making me a caramel flavored version that no one else has had yet. I tried it and I have to tell you, it's to die for.”

  Molly heard Nicholas not-so-subtly cough somewhere beside her, but she didn’t show him even an ounce of attention.

  “I think Hannah mentioned that she made you a gingerbread house last week? For your church recital?” Molly asked. They didn't have any more customers, so she felt no guilt at keeping the conversation going. “How’d the recital go? What songs did you guys sing this year?”

  “All the classics. ‘What Child is This’, ‘Away in A Manger’, ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen’, and a few others I can’t remember off the top of my head,” Ms. Vincent replied, ticking off songs on her fingers. “I’ll have to bring you a program. Maybe I’ll swing by tomorrow.”

  “I’d really appreciate that, Ms. Vincent. Hopefully you can give me some inspiration for the kids’ choir.” Molly clasped her hands together, almost as if in prayer. “Inspiration that I need more than anything lately. Directing the kids’ choir is...complicated.”

  “Then it’s a done deal,” Ms. Vincent assured her. “I’ll get you that program as soon as I can.”

  “I really appreciate it,” Molly replied.

  “Molly.” Nicholas’ voice broke through the conversation, and he moved to stand closer to her side. “You’re at five minutes. Over, actually.”

  Molly ignored Nicholas’ warning. She bent down below the counter and came back up with a miniature sized white horse and golden carriage, which she placed on the counter in front of her.

  Ms. Vincent gasped at the sight of the item and reached for it. “Please tell me the town square will be auctioning that off at the parade this year.”

  “They sure will,” Molly said with a smile. “You want to buy an entry ticket, Ms. Vincent? It’s just twenty-five dollars.”

  “I’ll buy six.” Ms. Vincent rummaged through her wallet while Molly wrote her name on six golden tickets. Crisp bills went directly into Molly’s waiting hand. “Ooh! I hope I win. There’s absolutely nothing like a Christmas Wishes original.”

  “You got that right.” Molly winked at Ms. Vincent as handed her the golden tickets. “Thank you, again. The town appreciates it.”

  “Thank you, dear!” Ms. Vincent called back as she exited the store. The door chimed shut and the store was quiet for a moment.

  Molly then turned towards Nicholas, placing the wad of bills into his hand. “The town square lets local businesses submit items for auction during the parade. The town makes money on the auction, and we make a little extra money selling tickets to it. Your five minute time limit would’ve cost us $150.”

  “You could’ve just asked her if she wanted to buy tickets as soon as you were done checking her out,” Nicholas replied stubbornly. He still had his watch out timing her.

  “No, I couldn’t have, because then it would feel like a sale,” Molly explained. “Ms. Vincent isn’t a woman who likes to be sold. She likes to be approached like an old friend. And you wouldn’t cut your friend off in the middle of one of their stories, would you?”

  “Time is money,” he replied.

  Molly’s eyes drifted towards Nicholas’ ever-present watch, and she second-guessed her initial response. “Actually, maybe you would cut your friend off in the middle of one of their stories...”

  “You’re seriously suggesting that we take our sweet time with each and every customer who walks in?” Nicholas seemed flustered by the mere idea. “No matter how long it takes?”

  “No, Nicholas. That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Molly sighed. He just saw a customer as money, rather than an investment. She took the cash from him and neatly into the register. “I’m saying that there’s something valuable in getting to know your customers, and not just seeing them as little blips on your store’s timer that need to be hand
led as soon as possible. Taking your time with people is worth it. It always is.”

  “It’s not very efficient,” he replied, crossing his arms.

  Molly sighed. She wasn't sure if she was helping or hurting her case.

  “Mr. Brownstone’s on the phone! He said he wants to speak to a grown-up!” Liam interrupted, shoving the phone into Molly’s hands. She gave Nicholas a small smile before positioning the phone to her ear.

  “Hello? Mr. Brownstone? Did you want me to set aside your usual order of lights?” Molly asked pleasantly as she reached for a nearby paper and pen.

  “Actually, my dear, I was wondering if you might deliver those lights to my home this year. It’s a bit rough for me and the missus to get around with all this beautiful snow,” Mr. Brownstone explained, his voice wheezy. “Would that be possible? Or are we out of luck this Christmas?”

  “You’re never out of luck at Christmastime, Mr. Brownstone,” Molly assured him. “We'll bring them over. Does sometime during lunch sound good?”

  “That's perfect. Thank you so much. You're an angel.” Mr. Brownstone’s overwhelming gratitude showed in his voice. “We’ll see you around noon. Can’t wait to see what kind of lights we’ll get this year.”

  “I can't wait either! I’ll see you soon,” Molly promised. She hung up the phone, and handed it back to Liam, who skipped away to place it back in its proper phone-stand.

  “Can’t wait? See you soon?” Nicholas shook his head, not meeting her eyes. “Must be someone important. That's some nice flirting. Mr. Brownstone must be a special customer.”

  “Really? You think I'm flirting with Mr. Brownstone?” Molly asked, a laugh coming into her voice. “Mrs. Brownstone, his wife of thirty-five years, would certainly have something to say about that.”

  Nicholas’ mood seemed to brighten at that bit of information, although Molly couldn’t imagine why. She then wondered if somewhere, deep down, Nicholas was a sucker for a lifelong romance, too.