Do You Believe in Santa? (2 page)

Chapter 2

“Did I miss anything?”

Mrs. Swanson came into the store about half an hour after Mandy's tall, brown-eyed customer left. The shop owner stowed her purse and sunglasses on a shelf behind the counter.

“Not too much.” Mandy set down the reindeer figurine she was dusting. One down, seven to go. “We sold one of those beautiful Jim Shore figures, some salt and pepper shakers, and a pinecone necklace. And I got to tell a little boy about Santa.”

Mrs. Swanson nodded her satisfaction. She'd never been one to lay on the compliments—not even, from what Mandy heard, to the third-graders she'd taught before she retired. Mandy hadn't even been in her class, and she still never called her anything but Mrs. Swanson. The older woman's appearance never seemed to change: always the same dark gray hair, just a shade away from brunette, worn in the same carefully ordered waves.

She still didn't miss anything, either. She crossed the store to appraise the tree Mandy had just finished decorating. It met with the same brief nod of approval. Coming from Mrs. Swanson, that was as good as an A.

“I'll bring some more things out for the fall table after lunch,” Mandy said.

To the right of the register stood the table they used for merchandise to fit the current season, or the one just ahead. It offered a few more choices for people who weren't in the market for Christmas merchandise just yet. Right now it was decked with pumpkins and scarecrows displayed on small bales of hay.

Mandy's handsome customer hadn't wandered over to that side of the shop, or he might have spotted the newspaper clippings on the south wall.

“Did you leave anything for me to do?” Mrs. Swanson said.

Mandy grinned. “There's always the dusting.” But she didn't quite have the nerve to hand Mrs. Swanson the feather duster.

Walking behind the counter, Mandy set the duster on a shelf and grabbed her purse. “Guess I'll go to lunch.”

If she knew Mrs. Swanson, some dusting would get done. But the owner's primary task these days was to fill in when Mandy was off duty. It was a pretty effective two-woman operation, except for the holiday season, when they hired extra help.

“Don't be long,” Mrs. Swanson said, straight-faced. “I don't know if I can handle this rush all by myself.”

 

 

Most days, Mandy brought her own lunch and ate it in the back room, but today she felt like getting out.

She stepped onto the sidewalk and breathed in the evergreen scent that Tall Pine was blessed with all year round. Most people who lived here said they stopped smelling it after a while, but Mandy never did, and she never got tired of it.

Not sure what she was hungry for, she turned to the right of the store, where most of the restaurants were located. As she approached the Pine 'n' Dine, she noticed a familiar-looking man seated at a table near the black wrought-iron fence that enclosed the restaurant's patio. Thick brown hair, light blue polo shirt, khaki slacks . . . and a folded bag from The North Pole on the table in front of him. Yep. It was the man who'd just bought the pinecone necklace.

He was facing the street corner just past the cafe, his left side to the street, giving Mandy a view of his profile. He leaned slightly back in his chair, a large tablet of paper resting on his knee. A pen or pencil moved over the page, and as she got closer, Mandy made out a studious expression on his face. Sketching? Curious, she stepped closer to the wrought-iron fence, trying to sneak a glimpse.

Instead of a drawing, she saw a lined sheet with columns of handwritten figures.

Numbers,
she thought. Disappointed, she started to sidle away, but her shoe scraped on the gravel, and he turned in her direction.

The slight furrow disappeared from his brow, and a wide smile crossed his face. “Hey, it's the Christmas girl.”

His quick transformation caught Mandy off guard. “That's what they call me.”

“Always?” As she fumbled for a response, he prodded, “You must have a name.”

“Mandy.” She smiled. “Mandy Reese.”

“Jake Wyndham.” Straightening in his chair, he held out a hand to her over the bars of the little fence. “It's nice to run into you again.”

She took his hand and felt her smile get bigger. “Long time no see.”

Brown eyes met hers with a steady, perceptive look. No wonder she'd pegged him for an artist, instead of an accountant or whatever he was. Mandy fought off a sense of self-consciousness.

Jake released her hand and shifted in his chair. “So, help me out.” With his pencil, he tapped the menu on the table in front of him. “I haven't ordered yet. What's good here?”

That was easy. “I love the Chinese chicken salad.”

He nodded. “Do you have a second choice, keeping in mind that I'm a guy?”

Mandy fumbled for a response. Was he flirting with her? It wasn't like she had a lot of practice, so it was hard to tell. The local men her own age were all the same ones who'd teased her in school, and the clientele at The North Pole wasn't heavily male. Last summer a customer had asked her out, but she didn't think one sixteen-year-old blond surfer dude really counted.
Mandy Reese. Twenty-four-year-old cougar.

“I don't suppose you'd care to join me?” he asked.

Her heart thumped. Maybe he was flirting, or maybe he was just being friendly. Either way, she didn't take long to debate her answer. “Sure.”

Mandy circled to the restaurant's entrance to join him. Didn't he know she hadn't even gone to her prom? Of course he didn't. Not that this was anything like prom. Just a friendly lunch, not exactly a date.

After they ordered, Mandy nodded toward the tablet Jake had stashed on the unoccupied chair at his right. “So, what's with all the numbers?”

“Well, here's the deal.” Jake glanced at the pad of figures. “I work for Regal Hotels. It's a national chain. Have you heard of it?”

She recognized the name from television commercials. Mandy nodded.

“They sent me to see about opening a new location out here. Sometimes things look good on paper, but you can't be sure until you come up and see a place.” He nodded at the pad on the chair, like a third party at their lunch. “So far it feels great. This is a really nice little town.”

He looked at her as if he were paying her a personal compliment. When Mandy didn't respond, he went on.

“So for starters, I come up here, talk to some people, crunch some numbers. Get a feel for the population, how much tourist traffic there is, cost of putting in a location. That's step one. If everything looks good, I start working with city officials, checking into land availability, permits, that kind of thing.”

“Oh.” So their little chat was actually a fact-finding mission. Mandy looked at the tablet again. She decided she didn't much care for the uninvited guest on the chair between them.

Something else about his mission niggled, and she wasn't sure what it was.

“Tall Pine is more than numbers,” she heard herself say.

“Of course it is.” His brown eyes took on a puzzled look. “That's why I'm here.”

Their waitress arrived with their drinks—a Coke for Jake, iced tea for Mandy. The interruption gave Mandy a chance to remember that he was just doing his job. She plucked the slice of lemon from the edge of her glass and adjusted her expectations, officially filing this lunch under
not-a-date.

“You say you've lived here your whole life?” he asked when the waitress left.

She nodded.

He rested his chin on his folded hands. “And you don't like the idea of someone coming here and sizing up your town.”

“I guess that's it.” She stirred her tea. “Sorry. Nothing personal.”

“Don't be sorry. It's your home.” Jake contemplated her. “It's smaller than the other areas I've worked in,” he said. “We've been in the major cities for a long time, and a whole lot of the suburbs too. The thinking is, when we branch out to nice tourist towns like this one, customers can find a place to stay that's consistent. We're not fancy, but we're dependable. People know what to expect from a national chain.”

That
was the problem.

“You're going to have a hard time here,” she said.

“How so?”

“You're talking about a national chain. Look around you.”

Jake obliged, casting his gaze up and down the sun-dappled street.

“Do you see any fast-food franchises? Chain department stores? Even our grocery store is mom-and-pop.”

“And I'll bet you pay higher prices because of that.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “The nearest town is Rolling Hills, and they don't have a chain grocery either. I'd say the nearest one is an hour away, so I don't go comparison shopping. Some people go down the hill to buy their groceries once a week, or a couple times a month—”

“And the town loses business that way.”

Mandy bit her lip.

He leaned forward. “You see, once a Regal Hotel opened up here, there'd be more jobs. More shoppers. More money would stay up here, because you'd have more customers for your stores.”

She couldn't argue with that. But—“You're missing the point.” She gestured out toward the sidewalk. “It's deliberate. They've made it a point to keep big nationwide businesses out of Tall Pine. So it doesn't look like every other town in America. It has its own personality. Its own—”

“Character.” He nodded. “I get what you're saying. But if you weigh the benefits—”

He was back to ledger sheets again. She held up her hands. “Remember, it's not me you need to convince.”

“But it's a lot of people who feel the same way you do.” He didn't seem particularly wounded. In fact, he smiled. “A small army of Mandys.”

She felt the corners of her mouth tug up. “Makes me sound kind of dangerous.”

“Oh, I can think of worse things.”

Their food arrived. At a loss, Mandy jabbed at her Chinese chicken salad. Here she was, across the table from a nice-looking man who seemed like a decent person, and she was arguing with him. And he was being so calm and reasonable she had no right to get mad at him.

“Hey,” he said when they'd been eating in silence for a minute or so.

Mandy looked up. His eyes were serious now. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had looked at her so directly. Why did he have to be talking about hotels, for heaven's sake?

“Thanks for being honest. You've given me an idea what I'll be going up against, and I understand.” His eyes wouldn't let her go. “But I want you to know—I'm not here to ruin any of this. I meant what I said. I've just been here a few hours, and I really like it. I won't be bringing in bulldozers towing in half a dozen McDonald's or what-have-you. It's just one hotel.”

“But as soon as there's one chain outfit, it opens the door for more. That's the way the town council's going to see it.”

He nodded, and they finished their lunch.

When the waitress brought their bill, Mandy reached across the table for it. “How much do I—?”

Jake brought his hand out and laid it on top of hers. “No. My treat. I invited you.”

He imagined a warm little current running from her hand to his. Maybe she felt it too, because her blue eyes looked at him uncertainly.

“Thank you.” Her smile, so quick at the store, was a little dimmer out here.

“No problem.” He returned her smile, hoping to bring up the wattage in hers. “I enjoyed the company.”

That reserved look remained, and it dawned on him: this had started out as a friendly lunch, and he'd been all business.
Stupid.

Jake set out his payment card in the plastic tray the waitress provided. He used his personal card rather than the corporate one, although the company paid for his meals when he was on the road. Mandy wouldn't be aware of the difference, but he'd know.

The waitress brought his card back, Jake signed the payment slip, and they rose to leave. “Mandy, I want to ask you two favors.”

“What?”

“People don't know why I'm here yet. For the first couple days, I'd like to keep it that way while I'm asking around about things. It's easier to get a natural answer when they're not thinking about why I'm asking. Could you not mention it to anyone yet?”

“Okay,” she said cautiously.

“Number two.” He drew himself up a little straighter and plunged ahead. “I just wasted a perfectly good lunch talking business with you. It's not what I planned on. Would you go out with me tonight? No shoptalk this time. I promise.”

The faint furrows between her brows faded. “You mean, like dinner?”

“Dinner, maybe a movie—you name it.”

She seemed . . . what? Unsure what he meant? Resistant to the idea? The sandwich he'd just eaten formed a ball in Jake's stomach. He must have come off like a real jerk.

“Okay,” she said, still looking a little confounded.

“Where can I pick you up? I'll meet you at the store if that makes you more comfortable.”

“Oh.” She glanced down at her clothes. The simple blouse and slacks she wore now looked fine to Jake.

“You wouldn't need to change unless you really want to,” he said. “That is, we could save the caviar and escargot for the second date. I mean, if you . . .” He trailed off.

And suddenly, there it was. A warm smile, worthy of the ones he'd seen back at the store. Jake's stomach loosened.