Christmas Carol Clash Page 2

  This was everything she had dreamed of, worked for, and planned out. Years of study and learning was going to make this the success it was meant to be. Wrapping her arms around herself in a tight hug, Carol dialed down on her excitement and paced off the room, checking the work that the crew she had hired was doing.

  “Ma’am,” the foreman in charge nodded, greeting her as if he had just stepped out of one of her favorite western historical romances.

  “It’s looking good,” Carol said, keeping her face neutral. The older man was built like a crate, but his easy manner gave her confidence.

  “We’ll be finished today unless you have other work for us.” His eyes flickered to the scarred linoleum flooring, and she followed them there. “You could have a new floor in a couple of days.”

  “Thank you for the offer,” Carol said. “I’m afraid it just isn’t in the budget at the moment. I’ll need to wait a few months until I’m up and running.” She scowled, knowing how inconvenient it would be to have to close the shop and have new floors done. “I’ll look into it though and see if we can manage something. I’d hate to have to close for repairs later.”

  The foreman nodded then moved along the far wall helping another man adjust and level a shelf. Today they would finish the heavy lifting, and tomorrow she would start setting up shop. A sudden rap on the door made Carol jump, and she placed a hand over her heart at the shock.

  Walking out of the shadows of the room, she peered through the large glass door, scowling as a round-faced postman smiled back at her.

  “Hello?” Carol greeted unlocking the door and opening it. “Can I help you?”

  “Are you Carol Evergreen?” the man looked down into a heavy mail pouch slung over his shoulder then back to her.

  “Yes,” Carol scowled again. Surely she wasn’t already getting mail here at the store. She had only updated her business address two days ago.

  “Package for you, ma’am.” The postman reached into his bag and pulled out a shimmering orange box. It was only a few inches wide and square, but it was wrapped so well it took your breath away.

  “I’m not expecting a package,” Carol said, taking the shimmering box that sparkled in the morning sun. “I haven’t even moved in yet.”

  “Well, it’s got your name on it,” the pudgy postman smiled, his dark eyes bright. “This is the address and everything.”

  “Thank you,” Carol looked down at the package, wondering if it were some sort of welcome gift from her new landlord.

  “Have a nice day,” the postman offered, turning and striding down the sidewalk.

  Carol caught the door leaning out and calling after him. “Thank you.”

  As the door swung shut, Carol’s eyes dropped back to the package in her hand. Whoever had wrapped, it had done a perfect job. She could barely see the seams where the paper folded in on itself.

  Pulling her keys from her pocket Carol carefully broke the seals and peeled back the paper before prying the box open.

  A thin gold string poked from the depths of dark gold tissue paper, and Carol looped it over her index finger, giving it a tug. A large tabby cat ornament sprang from the box in a flurry of paper that drifted to the floor like falling leaves.

  Carol laughed, looking at the cheeky little face and hand-painted whiskers. The cat seemed to wear a knowing expression as if it knew a secret but wouldn’t tell. Gently turning the exquisitely sculpted ornament, Carol checked for a logo, sticker, or signature, but found none. Looping the string over her wrist, the young woman peered into the box, looking for a card or indication of who had sent it.

  Her eyes caught the dispersed golden paper on the floor, and she knelt, picking up each piece and stuffing it back into the box. A bright red card shaped like a maple leaf skittered across the floor, and Carol grasped it, lifting it to read the elegant script.

  Fortune and favor come with feline friends. Mrs. Claus.

  Carol chuckled, reading the note then spun the little cat on her arm. Someone must have thought it a good joke to send her a silly cat ornament just as she was opening her dream store. She would call her college friends tonight and see who it had been.

  Carefully replacing the ornament in the box, Carol turned to the old wooden counter at the back of the store and placed the box under it. There was too much to do to play silly games, but she appreciated how everyone had helped and encouraged her in her new endeavor.

  Now, she had work to do, and she called to the foreman once more, directing him to help lift the much larger box on the floor. It was time to unwrap her cash register and begin preparations for the newest shop in town.

  Carol’s Christmas Creations was bound to be a hit in Banesville. The holiday season was already upon her, and busy shoppers would soon be pouring through her door in search of the perfect decorations, gifts, and Christmas attire.

  If only she had started sooner. Halloween was only weeks away, and then in a blink, Black Friday would rock the nation in sales.

  Carol plugged in the stark white cash register and then walked to where two men were placing a large table near the door. “A little more this way,” she said, offering a smile. She could see it all now: lights, decorations, Christmas cheer. The store would be a gold mine in no time at all.

  By the end of the day, Carol was exhausted and famished. She and the crew had rearranged, organized, and built-in new displays. Tomorrow she would start unpacking the truck of goodies she had parked outback. Her phone buzzed as she locked the door behind her, and she pressed the screen, not looking at the caller ID.

  “Are you coming home?” her mother’s voice echoed. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

  “I’m leaving now, Mom.” Carol grinned. She’d only been home a week, and already her mother was fussing. “Ouch!”

  “Honey, what’s wrong?” Mrs. Evergreen’s voice was worried.

  “Nothing,” Carol squatted the phone still to her ear. “There’s just this enormous cat, and he practically climbed up my leg.” Her fingers rubbed the cat behind the ears, and he shoved his face at her giving a deep purr.

  “Don’t bring home any cats,” her mother’s voice was sharp. “And don’t pet it, it could be dangerous.”

  “Mom,” Carol looked up as a dark shadow passed over her. “Oh, hello.” Her eyes climbed up the frame of a tall man with sandy hair meeting his deep blue gaze. He wore dark brown pants, a white shirt, and a sweater vest in gold, orange and brown. “I’ll be home soon,” she said, clicking off the phone and standing to look into a handsome face whose bright blue eyes were framed in geeky glasses.

  “I’m sorry,” the man’s voice was warm, rich, and deep. “I didn’t see Kooter get out. I hope he isn’t bothering you.”

  Carol shook her head as she met his smile with one of her own. The big cat swirled around her ankles, making her trip, and the man’s arms shot out to steady her.

  “He’s a very big cat,” Carol said, her hands lingering on the man’s arms as she regained her balance.

  “He’s a Maine-coon. They are big.”

  “Oh,” Carol shook her head slightly, her locks shimmying over her shoulders.

  “I’m Ryan,” the man offered his hand. “Ryan Troutman. I have the shop next door.”

  Chapter 2

  Carol looked down at the hand then reached out, shaking it. It was warm and strong but didn’t linger too long in her grasp.

  “Carol Evergreen,” she said. “Pleased to meet you.” She tried to peer around the man’s broad shoulders at the sign over his shop. She had been too excited about her new, affordable, place of business to worry much about who was next door. “I’ll be opening my place soon. I can’t wait for the holidays.”

  Ryan grinned. He felt the same way. Thanksgiving was just around the corner, and it was by far the best time of the year.

  “What kind of shop?” He asked as Kooter climbed up his pant leg and sprang to his shoulder. The cat was far too big for this behavior, but at least he hadn’t clawed Miss Evergreen’s ni
ce suit.

  Carol’s smile beamed with delight. “Carol’s Christmas Creations!”

  “Christmas?” Ryan heard the growl in his voice at the word. Another growl low and menacing came from his shoulder, and he felt Kooter stiffen. “You’re putting a Christmas shop right next to my Thanksgiving-themed shop?”

  “Thanksgiving? Who has a shop for Thanksgiving?” Carol felt her hackles rise, much like the bush on the big cat’s tail. “Thanksgiving is just a day for food and football. How can you even make a living with a shop dedicated to one day?”

  “We do just fine,” Ryan barked. “The people of Banesville love the Triple T and order tons of smoked turkeys each year.” The man’s blue eyes flashed. The woman before him was one of those people who was all about the commercial Christmas fluff. Fake trees, fake food, fake frivolity.

  Carol crossed her arms over her blazer and glared at the man. Who was he to question her choice of holidays? Everyone loved Christmas. It was the most beloved time of the year. Happy people, busy shoppers, fun food. Christmas was magic. “I’ll try not to take too many of your customers,” she snipped. “After all, everyone loves Christmas.”

  “Not everyone,” Ryan ground through clenched teeth. “It’s nothing but a commercial holiday where people spend too much money on things they don’t need, then fight with their family. At least at Thanksgiving, they are reminded to be grateful for what they have.”

  “I see,” Carol’s voice was sharp. “You’re one of those.” She dragged out that last word making it an accusation.

  “One of those what?”

  “A Christmas Hater.” Her eyes flashed. “A person who hates Christmas because it doesn’t suit their idea of some sappy Hallmark movie.” That last jab cost her since those were her favorite movies, and she watched them all year long.

  Ryan shook his head, trying to pull his temper back. He had just met this woman, and already she was giving him a headache.

  “Maybe I am a Christmas Hater,” he said, more softly. “I don’t like all the hype and rush. People all end up stressed, grumpy, and broke. How is that a good thing? I bring people a reminder of how many blessings they have. You don’t need fancy toys, bright baubles, or big bills to make you happy. The beauty of the world is right in front of us if people will just look.” He gestured around him at the rolling hills, only beginning to hit at the glory the fall colors would bring.

  “You seem to be missing the whole point of Christmas then,” Carol grumbled, sticking her chin up. “Christmas is magic. It’s full of wonder and music and fun.”

  “You mean shoppers and spending.”

  Carol shook her head. “I can see there is no point in arguing with you.” She met his deep blue eyes, and for a moment, her heart seemed to stop. “I’ve leased the shop next door to you, and it will be a Christmas delight in this little burg. You don’t have to like it, but you will have to get over it.” With her final word, she spun on her heel and started toward her battered sedan. “See you tomorrow.”

  Ryan watched the young woman sashay across the parking lot, her figure highlighted by the gold of the setting sun. She was pretty, but sharp, just like all those Christmas ornaments people put on their trees.

  “Now what do you think of that?” he asked cocking his head at an odd angle to stare Kooter in the face.

  The cat sneezed, making Ryan blink, then gave his odd little cack-cack-cack sound.

  “I agree,” Ryan said. “She’s squirrelly.” He grinned, but it lacked any real conviction as he turned back to his shop and locked the door. “I suppose you’re going to stay up there until we get to the car,” he grumbled at the heavy cat. The beast weighed over twenty-five pounds, and Ryan felt every ounce of it as well as the claws digging into his shoulder.

  The cat purred, making Ryan shake his head as he headed for his old Jeep. No sooner had he opened the door than Kooter leapt onto the seat and sauntered to the passenger’s side.

  “You’re no help at all.” Ryan sighed, turning the key and closing his door.

  Kooter placed his paws on the dash peering out the windshield, his green eyes focused forward as his tail lashed.

  Ryan reached over and stroked the cat’s head. The monster had been a tiny thing when he’d found it outside his door the week his shop had opened. Now the cat was his constant companion and an icon of the Triple T.

  “Let’s go home,” the young man said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I’m sure you’re as hungry as I am.”

  The cat turned green eyes on his owner. “Cack-cack.”

  Ryan chuckled, wondering if Kooter could understand him. The beast certainly gave that impression. With Miss Evergreen’s stately departure still on his mind, Ryan Troutman put the Jeep in gear and headed for home.

  Turning down the long road toward his apartment, Ryan tried to put the pesky woman out of his mind and was finally distracted by his phone ringing. Pressing the button on the steering wheel, he answered, smiling when his mother’s voice echoed into the car.

  “Come for dinner.” Her voice was even, but there was no question in it. She had obviously decided he needed to be home for dinner tonight, and truthfully he was happy at the prospect of something other than cold pizza for his evening meal.

  “I’m on my way,” he grinned. “I have Kooter with me.”

  “That’s fine.” Ryan could hear his mother’s smile in her words. “I’m sure he’ll have fun terrorizing the turkeys.”

  The phone clicked off, and Ryan gave the cat a stern look, receiving a squint in reply. “You behave yourself,” the young man said, pushing his glasses up his nose again. Kooter was big enough to take down a full-grown turkey if he wanted to, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “We need the money from those birds,” he glanced at the cat again. “You’ll just have to wait for Thanksgiving like everyone else.

  ***

  Carol slammed into the house, still fuming over her encounter with the man who ran the shop next door. What business school did he go to if he didn’t understand the appeal of Christmas shopping and the bounty to be made during the festive season?

  “Carol, is that you?” her mom’s voice drifted down the hall.

  “It’s me,” Carol called back, marching toward her room. “I’ll be right out.” She stormed into the room, closing the door a little more gently than she had the first one and slipped out of her suit. As much as she liked to present a strong businesswoman persona, she was happy to pull on her faded jeans and old sweatshirt.

  “So, how was it today?” Mrs. Evergreen asked as Carol walked into the kitchen, stealing a carrot stick. “Did you get everything organized?”

  “It was good,” Carol’s eyes sparkled. “The crew got all the shelves in, and we rearranged the tables. I wish I could afford to put in a new floor, though.”

  “You know your father, and I would help.”

  “I know,” Carol snatched another carrot and popped it into her mouth. “I don’t want to do that right now.”

  “Are you sure? Wouldn’t it be better to do it now before you open?”

  Carol met her mother’s eyes, thinking about it. “I’ll look at the numbers tonight, and then we’ll talk to Dad. I’m already maxed out with inventory. This would be adding to the debt.”

  Judy Evergreen patted her daughter’s cheek. “So if today went so well, why were you trying to rattle the front door off of its hinges?”

  Carol rolled her eyes. “I met the guy that runs the store next to mine. He’s a Christmas Hater.”

  “Really?” Judy looked at Carol. “I thought it was a holiday store. I know your father plans on ordering our Thanksgiving turkey from them. Everyone in town raves about it.”

  “Mom!”

  “What, I like a good turkey.”

  “But he’s the enemy.”

  “I think that is a little dramatic,” Judy raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “You’re going to have to learn to get along sooner or later. You’ll be neighbors, and who knows, maybe you’ll find a
way to complement each other in sales.”

  Carol shook her head emphatically, walking to the stove to see how much longer until dinner was ready, then moved to the cupboard to pull down dishes. “It won’t work. He’s a Christmas Scrooge. He went on and on about Thanksgiving and commercialism, blah, blah, blah.”

  “Carol,”

  Carol turned, looking at her mother. It was never wise to ignore that tone of voice.

  “Yes?”

  “Be kind.”

  Carol felt her shoulders sag under her mother’s glare. “I’ll try. Besides,” she started setting the table in the little nook off the kitchen. “I’ll be so busy I won’t have time to worry about Mr. Ryan Troutman.”