It’s funny, the weird things a person thinks to themselves in stressful situations. For some reason, all she could think about right now was what outfit she’d chosen to wear. Her favorite pair of white jeans, a colorful Christmas sweater with a red bird on the front and a pair of sparkly white tennis shoes she’d bedazzled years ago with her bridge club. Maybe it was too much, but it was a little late to think about that now.
Harry opened the door, a huge smile on his face. “There’s my beautiful daughter!” She stepped through the threshold and hugged her father tightly, not noticing Dixie yet.
“Daddy! I’m so glad to see your face in person! You look good!”
“Well, I feel as good as I did twenty years ago!” His deep voice bounced around the small foyer and caused Dixie to turn down her hearing aid a bit.
“You have Parkinson’s,” she said, laughing at what she thought was the absurdity of her father feeling good with a progressive disease.
“Honey, this thing doesn’t control me. And I also have an amazing wife to share my life with, so it doesn’t get much better!” He stepped back a bit and put his arm around Dixie like he was showing off his most prized possession. “Carrie, I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Dixie.”
Dixie smiled nervously. She didn’t get rattled easily, but she felt like she was meeting royalty or her favorite TV cooking show host.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Carrie. Harry has bragged on you so much that I feel like I already know you.”
Carrie, who looked like she just stepped out of a fashion magazine with her perfectly coiffed blond hair and her smooth, flawless skin, smiled. But it wasn’t a genuine smile. It was the smile of someone who was trying to play a part. A woman could tell when another woman was faking a reaction, and she was certainly doing that. The question was, why?
“Nice to meet you, Dixie. Dad has spoken highly of you.” She reached out her manicured hand, complete with French tipped nails, and shook Dixie’s. Now, Dixie had grown up in the south, where girls were taught how to have a firm handshake. Carrie’s handshake felt a bit like a dead fish, and she worried she might break the poor girl’s delicate bones.
Harry pulled Dixie close to him and kissed the top of her head. “She’s the best thing that’s happened to me in years. You know, we’ll start traveling again after Christmas, and we’ve got some big adventures planned!”
Carrie blew a quick breath out of her nose, almost imperceptibly, but Dixie noticed it, nonetheless. This girl had a problem with her, and she didn’t know what it was. Happy holidays, Dixie thought to herself.
Chapter Two
Darcy rang up the last customer of the day and walked out from behind the counter to lock the front door. It had been an exhausting day and she was ready to get home, eat dinner and crash into her bed. Having a small child, she knew the likelihood of going to bed early was slim to none.
Hatcher had recently started having nightmares, so she was waking up multiple times at night. Her husband, with his crazy work schedule, did his best to help, but he was often out of town, leaving Darcy to do most of the work with their son.
She locked the front door and turned to head back to the register, eager to balance it and get out of there. Covered in flour and smelling like straight sugar, she needed a hot bath and a nice cup of gingerbread hot tea to end her long day. Just as she was tallying up the day’s profits, she heard someone tap on the glass door. It wasn’t quite dark yet, but she couldn’t quite see who was there until she walked closer.
An older gentleman, wearing a hat and a long coat, was standing there. He looked like something out of a movie, maybe a private investigator or sleuth. He had a white beard, reminding her a bit of Santa Claus, especially at this time of the year. She leaned a little to make sure he wasn’t hiding a large bag of toys behind him.
Feeling a little worried that this random stranger was knocking on the door, she got as close as possible and spoke loudly. “Sorry, we’re closed.”
He smiled, which was a good sign that maybe he wasn’t there to kill her. “I know, and I’m sorry to bother. I’m looking for SuAnn.”
Maybe he was a private investigator. If anyone would have one chasing them, it would be SuAnn. There was no telling what that woman had done in her past.
“She’s gone for the day,” Darcy called back. He looked dejected by the idea that she wasn’t there, and against Darcy’s better judgment, she unlocked the door and opened it. “She left a few hours ago.”
“Oh, darn! I’d hoped to see her. Will she be in tomorrow?”
Darcy chuckled. “Honestly, I never know. She’s a bit… unpredictable.”
Again, he smiled. “That sounds familiar.”
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing. I guess I’ll check back tomorrow and see if she’s around.” He started to walk away.
“Hey, wait! What’s your name?”
The man turned and smiled again. “Just tell her Nick stopped by.”
Nick? She watched him walk down the street and around the corner, and she had to wonder who this mysterious stranger was and what did he want with SuAnn?
* * *
SuAnn stared at her. “I don’t know anyone named Nick.” She continued kneading the dough to make her cinnamon apple bread.
“Well, he knows you, and he’s coming back today to see you.”
“That’s creepy.”
“He looked a lot like Santa Claus, actually,” Darcy said, wiping down one of the tables.
SuAnn stopped and looked at her. “So, a guy named Nick came looking for me, and he looks like Santa? Are you sure someone wasn’t playing a joke?”
“I don’t think so. He seemed pretty serious about it.” Darcy walked over and turned the sign from closed to open.
“Well, if Santa is coming to kidnap me, I guess there are worse things,” SuAnn said, rolling her eyes.
Darcy walked around the counter and picked up her purse. “Okay, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Wait. Where are you going?”
Darcy sighed and shook her head. “You need to get your memory checked. I have a dentist appointment this morning, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right,” SuAnn said. She wasn’t worried about her memory. It wasn’t that she couldn’t remember things; it was that she often wasn’t interested in what people were talking about. A bad personality trait, yes. A memory problem, no. “Are you getting them whitened?”
Darcy glared at her. “No, SuAnn. I’m getting a cavity filled. Working at this place is going to make my teeth fall out from all the sugar.” She walked toward the door.
“Still, a good whitening wouldn’t be a waste of time!” SuAnn called behind her. She wasn’t sure, but Darcy may have made a crude hand gesture at her through the plate-glass window.
“I was just trying to help,” she muttered to herself. As she turned to pick up her ball of dough, her hip hit the counter and knocked an entire bowl of flour all over the floor. “Oh, good Lord!”
SuAnn hurriedly walked to the back room to get the broom and dustpan. She hated a mess, and since she was the only one working, she needed to get it cleaned up quickly. As soon as she crouched down to clean up, the bell on the door dinged to let her know a customer had come in.