Once Upon a Winter's Heart (5 page)

After the second night
of sharing a room with her mother and the realization that it wasn't only her dad who snored, Emma started putting together an escape plan. But first she needed to clear it with Nona. “Do you mind if I do some rearranging of the rooms upstairs?” she asked her grandmother as the two of them lingered at the breakfast table. Saundra had already left for an early appointment at work.

“No, not at all.” Nona reached for her coffee cup. “I hardly make it up the stairs these days. With you and Anne all grown up, I don't sew. I'd rather knit.”

So after finishing cleaning up the breakfast dishes and kitchen, and seeing that Nona had taken her pills and was comfortably settled in front of a crackling fire with her knitting and a good book nearby, Emma went back upstairs. Rolling up her sleeves, she went into attack mode, clearing and cleaning and organizing until she started carving a space for herself in Nona's old sewing room. The hide-a-bed was still sturdy and sound and it actually felt more comfortable than the twin bed she'd been sleeping in.

She took a break at lunchtime to warm some soup for Nona and herself, explaining her progress as they ate. “I hope you don't mind that I stored even more things in Poppi's library.”

Nona waved her hand. “Poppi would be glad to know you are making yourself at home, Emma. Do as you please.”

After lunch, Nona retired to her room for a nap and Emma returned to her upstairs project. By the time Saundra came home from work, Emma was just putting the freshly laundered bedding on the sleeper sofa and smiling in satisfaction at her progress. The old sewing room was transformed into a cozy-looking bedroom. All Emma needed to do now was to move her things in and get settled.

“Well, well…” Saundra came into the room and looked around. “It's not terribly stylish, but it is less crowded than the other bedroom. Want to flip a coin for it? Or should age come before beauty?” She laughed lightly.

“What?” Emma blinked. “You want this room?”

“Well, I know how much you and Anne loved that old bedroom,” Saundra said. “I just assumed you'd prefer it to this one. I can easily move my things in here. I don't mind at all.”

Emma was dumbstruck. She looked longingly at the freshly made bed then turned back at her mother and sighed. “Sure, if that's what you want.”

Saundra ran her hand over the faded blue floral wallpaper. “You know I could get some of my people in here to do a complete makeover. This space could be quite attractive in just a few days.”

“Or you could leave it and call it shabby chic.” Emma shrugged. “I'll help you move your things in here.” Seeing the spare bedroom, Emma reassured herself it was a fair trade. This room, with its southern exposure and larger closest, really was better than the old sewing room. At least she could have her bed by the window back…as well as her privacy. By the time her mother's things were moved out, Emma was just fine with it.

Although Emma desperately needed a shower after all of today's cleaning, she knew it was time to get dinner started. And by the time she got to the kitchen, Nona was already poking around in the fridge and insisted on helping with dinner. But since they still had food from the generous neighbors and friends, it was mostly a matter of heating some casseroles and setting the table and Nona's company was pleasant in the kitchen.

“How long do you think your mother will be staying with us?” Nona asked quietly as they worked together.

“I have no idea. I honestly didn't think she'd be here this long.”

“Saundra can be stubborn.” Nona checked on the oven.

“I know.” Now Emma confided to Nona about how her mother insisted on having the sewing room.

“After you worked so hard?” Nona frowned.

Emma laughed. “The truth is I like the old spare bedroom better anyway.”

Nona nodded, patting her arm. “Yes, yes. It is better. More sunshine.”

Tonight the three women dined in the kitchen instead of the dining room. Saundra seemed determined to keep the conversation cheerful and upbeat, making small talk about work and happenings in town. No mention was made of her extended stay or the situation with the bedrooms upstairs.

Then, after dinner as they were clearing the table, Nona noticed the calendar on the fridge. “Oh, no—is it true?”

“Is what true?” Saundra asked.

Nona tapped a crooked finger on the calendar. “Is it
February
?”

“Oh, yes. Today is February first,” Saundra told her. “I turned the calendar over for you. Surely, you don't mind.”

“Oh…
Mama mia
.” Nona shook her head with wide eyes. “How can it already be February?”

“I know what you mean.” Saundra set some dishes by the sink where Emma was already running water. “Time goes by so quickly…the older we get.”

“No, no, that is not it,
cara
.” Nona sat down on the yellow kitchen stool with a loud sigh. “Oh…dear…”

Emma turned around to look at her grandmother. “Are you okay, Nona?”

With her hands over her face Nona groaned. “It cannot be.”

Alarmed, Emma hurried over, placing a hand on Nona's shoulder. “Nona, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick?”

“Sick at heart,
dolce
.”

“What's wrong?” Saundra asked with concern.

Nona looked up, pointing at the calendar with a dismayed expression. “Poppi would be sad…so sad.”

“Why?”

“Because it is February today. And Poppi's Valentine decorations are not yet up. It is wrong. All wrong.”

“Oh…I forgot.” Emma grimaced to remember Poppi's obsession with this particular holiday. Poppi always decorated the bookstore to the hilt on the first day of February. He'd been doing it for years. As a child, she had loved this tradition. As an adult…well, it seemed a bit much.

“Maybe Virginia and Cindy already put the decorations up…?” Saundra suggested weakly.

“No…no…they have never done it before. They would not know where to find them or how to put them up. That was Poppi's job.” Nona sighed. “Maybe it does not matter…all things must come to an end…someday.” She slowly stood. “I am very tired. Very tired.”

“Don't worry, Nona, I'll go put the decorations up,” Emma said quickly. “I used to help Poppi all the time when I was a kid. I know how to do it.”

“Oh,
cara mia
!” Nona grasped Emma's hands in her own. “
Grazie, grazie!
You are an angel!”

Emma smiled. But she was glad that Nona couldn't see through to her heart since Emma's attitude toward decorating for Valentine's Day was anything but angelic. “Don't you worry about it, Nona. The store will be festive and bright before the night is over.”

“Ah, for the energy of youth,” Saundra said. “All I want to do is put my feet up.”

“We will finish the dishes,” Nona told Emma as she handed her a set of keys. “You go to the store,
dolce
. It's closed now. No one will be there to disturb you. Hurry, hurry.”

As Emma hurried out to her car, she was relieved she hadn't taken time to shower yet. Digging around in the dusty back room, climbing up the ladder and mucking around, it was just as well that she still had on her old blue cardigan and worn gray cords. Thankfully there would be no one around to see her.

It was just beginning to rain as she started her car. Grumbling to herself over the foolishness of decorating for such a silly holiday, she drove the few blocks to town and turned onto a nearly deserted Main Street. The rain was coming down hard now and, according to the readout in her car, the temperature was close to freezing. Perhaps it would turn to snow before long. She parked directly in front of the darkened bookstore, dismayed to see the sad black wreath hanging on the door. Most likely this was Nona's doing. And, really, it seemed more fitting to this time of year and tonight's weather than the garish hearts and cupids she would soon be releasing from their boxes. But, out of respect for Poppi and concern for Nona, she would complete this task.

She quietly let herself into the bookstore, turning on the lights and locking the door behind her. The familiarity of the store warmed her heart slightly. Books were always so friendly, so homey. Perhaps she didn't really want to be the Grinch who stole Valentine's Day after all. She heard the familiar meow of the bookstore cat.

“Hey, Gattino,” she called gently to him. “You're being invaded tonight, old boy.” He rubbed up against her legs and she bent down to scratch his furry head. “Not just by me either. Before I leave, this place will be crawling with cupids. I hope you don't mind.”

She headed for the back room and turned on the lights. She soon found the cabinet where the Valentine decorations were stashed up high. She considered hunting down a stepladder, but thought perhaps she could reach them. After all, she was nearly as tall as Poppi had been, and he never used a stepladder. She stretched up to balance the highest box on her fingertips. She was just easing it down when the whole thing tipped and tumbled and, opening up, cascaded down upon her with a loud crash.

Stunned to find herself sitting on the hard cement floor surrounded by lacy pink hearts and purple flowers and scarlet cupids, she felt like screaming. So this was her reward for trying to be a good sport? All feelings of warmth and goodwill evaporated and suddenly she felt like shredding all these old cardboard cutouts to pieces. She picked up a stuffed white bear holding a red satin heart and maybe it was her, but he seemed to be smirking. Honestly, did Burcelli Bookstore really need this nonsense? Did she have to make the dignified bookstore resemble an advertisement for a totally frivolous holiday? A commercialized occasion that was more about chocolate and roses than it was about true love and romance? Seriously, would anyone really care or even notice if these Valentine monstrosities mysteriously disappeared?

Yes…Nona would care. So would Poppi…if he knew. Tempting as it was to dump all this into the Dumpster out back, she would never be able to live with herself if she did. Emma was plucking a pink crepe paper streamer from her hair when she heard the sound of a door creaking open. At first she thought it might be the cat, but how would Gattino open a door? Holding her breath, she listened.

“
Hello?
” a firm-sounding male voice called out. “Anyone in here?”

She froze, unsure of what to do and wondering where her phone was, then asking herself,
Would a burglar call out a greeting?

“
Hello?
” he called again. “Virginia? Cindy? Anyone in here?”

The sound of approaching footsteps sent a chill down her spine—and yet if this intruder knew the names of the employees, he probably wasn't about to rob the place,
was he
?

She considered pulling the Valentine box over her head and hiding beneath it, but at the same time knew that was just silly. Although she did glance around to see if there was something handy to use as a weapon—just in case. Perhaps she could whack him with a large book. Still hunkered down in the Valentine mess, she watched helplessly as a man emerged from the shadows back by the employees' restroom.

“Hello?” he called again. “Anyone here?”

As he stepped fully into the light, she instantly recognized him. Although he wasn't wearing the stylish charcoal suit, she knew who he was.
“Lane Forester?”
She stared at him in wonder. “What?”

“Emma?”
He looked as stunned as she felt. “What are you doing—
what happened
?” He rushed over to help her to her feet. “Are you
okay
?”

“Yes.” She brushed off the streamer. “Well, except for feeling pretty clumsy.”

“What are you doing here?”

She explained how Nona was so distressed. “Poppi always put the Valentine's Day decorations up on February first.” She shrugged. “So I offered to come do it.”

He nodded. “That's right. Today
is
the first.”

She bent to pick up a lace trimmed heart, dropping it back into the box. “The truth is I'd just as soon light a match to all this than hang it up.”

“Really?” He squatted down, helping her to pick up the decorations and replacing them into the box.

“Can you imagine what a glorious bonfire this would make?” She whirled some crepe paper around like a banner.

“It would probably burn fast.” His brow creased with concern, as if he thought she was serious.

“The truth is…” She dropped a pair of arrow-connected hearts into the box. “I hate Valentine's Day.”

“Wow…that's really sad.”

“I'm sorry.” She tossed in another cupid. “But I just happen to think it's a dumb holiday.”

“Why is that?” He peered curiously at her.

Now even though he was casually dressed in a sweater and cords, she felt like a bag lady in her dirty cleaning clothes. And her hair—was it still in the same messy ponytail from this morning? Perhaps that's what made her decide to speak her mind. What difference did it make what he thought of her? “Valentine's Day is like a cruel joke,” she said as she scooped up some cupids. “First of all, for those who aren't in a relationship, it simply reminds them of their pathetic loneliness. And for couples it's just an excuse to go out and waste good money on fattening chocolates or hothouse roses or overly expensive jewelry. And then, of course, there's always the guilt trip for those unfortunates who forget about the holiday—woe unto the husband who shows up empty-handed. And then there's the hurt and disappointment for the ones with dashed expectations.
Happy Valentine's Day.
”

“Wow, it seems you've given this some serious thought.” He set the last of the decorations on top of the box and stood up straight.

She shrugged, wishing she had taken a little more time to clean up now. “Well, I worked in advertising long enough to get a bit jaded about commercialism.” She shoved her hands in her pants pockets. “Sorry to be so gloomy. But thanks for helping. Now I better get busy.”