“You’re not supposed to ask.” Cheeks ruddy, Dad shoved it in the box.
And because I was in a mood, I pulled out his card before he had a chance to escape. I glanced at who it was addressed to and ran after him. “Grams, I’m going on break.” I darted out the door into the cold in my T-shirt, apron and blue jeans. “Dad!”
He stopped on the sidewalk and slowly turned around. “Cards are private, Allie.”
“But…” I glanced down at his. It was addressed to Mama Christmas. I looked at my father. “Are you Father Christmas? Are you exchanging cards with Mom?”
Dad jutted his jaw. “And what if I was? We’re married.”
“But…” I shook my head, shuddering from the cold. “You don’t really talk to each other. Or…seem to like each other that much.”
“I love your mother,” Dad said gruffly, walking back to me. “I know that looking from the outside, we have an unorthodox relationship.”
“Dad.” That was being generous.
“But we love each other.” He took the Christmas card from me. “We always have. And we knew coming into our marriage that things would never be easy between us. We expected to disagree. But we also promised each other to work things out. And do you know why?”
I didn’t and said so.
“Because loving someone means being there for them, through their fears and insecurities, through their laughter and happy tears.” He handed the card back to me. “We’ve been sending each other holiday cards through the Sleigh Café since the program took off a few years ago. And do you know what?”
I shook my head.
“In these small pieces of paper, I can see the woman who stole my heart all those years ago. And I think that she can see me, the man she gave up everything for.” He heaved a sigh. “So please, don’t make a fuss about this. It’s one small bridge between us, but especially this year, it’s an important one.”
“I understand.” I hugged him, careful not to drop his card.
“All these hugs.” Dad chuckled.
I took a step back, toward the door. “I think we’re becoming a hugging family.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” He gave me a smile and a wave, and then disappeared around the corner.
I went back inside and as soon as I had a free moment, I dashed off a card to Rudolph.
But I didn’t put it on the bulletin board.
“What areyou two doing in here?” Friday afternoon, I stopped just inside the door to Mom’s shop after my strained shift with Nick at the Sleigh Café was over, surprised to find my dad and Tim inside. “And what are those boxes?”
It was easier to confront them than Nick.
I’d spent the day with a chest tight from heartache and a neck stiff from holding my head high. I bet Nick felt the same. Neither one of us wanted to fight. But since we’d never fought before, it was difficult to navigate our way back to smoother waters.
When I’d entered the boutique, the men in my family had just set down a big box on two other big boxes, each about six feet long as if they contained boards of some sort. They hadn’t answered my question about the boxes, which only added to my prickly mood.
“Is there a problem?” I came over to see what was up, because Dad and Tim were still silent, which was never a good sign. It meant they were unhappy about something. And come to think of it, I was unhappy about Mom buying anything new when times were tight. I reached the stack of boxes. “What are these?”
Tim had his blue jacket tied around his waist by his sleeves. Smirking, he tugged the ends tighter and explained nothing.
Dad ran a hand over his receding hairline as he cleared his throat. “Your mother thought the store needed more shelves.”
“Maybe. The final decision about inventory is still up in the air.” I peered at the photo on the top of the top box. “But these are cheap bookshelves. Particle board, like the ones students put up in their college dorms.” In no way did they say,“I belong in a boutique displaying irresistible items.”In no way did they say,“I am a high end, beachy display case.”
“You didn’t go to college, Allie,” Tim said mulishly, still clinging to the cuffs of his jacket sleeves.
I assumed my baby brother was annoyed since he was here instead of at home livestreaming his video game play and earning more money than I’d make in a week at the Sleigh Café.
I had no sympathy for him. I flicked my finger against his shoulder. “Hey, kid. I lived in a dorm room on the campus of the Arts Academy. I’ve seen stuff like this before. I’ve also seen them go into the dumpster at the end of the year.” I crossed my arms and gave them both a disapproving stare. “I’m sure these were affordable, but they need to go back to wherever they came from.”