Page 10 of The Christmas Dash

“Grandma Eloise loves Ivy’s spunk,” I say. “And since you’re proposing this month, Ivy can show off the ring when they visit at Christmas.”

“I know. That’s what I was thinking too.” He looks both happy and sad. He and Grandma have a special bond, and it’s still hard for him that she and Grandpa Karl live out of state. She was a teacher, and she inspired him to follow in her footsteps as an educator.

After college, the two of us settled in Dasher Valley, where our grandparents still lived. Jack was offered his dream job as a physical education teacher and varsity football coach at the high school in town.

As for me, the real reason I chose to move to Dasher Valley after college is something I don’t talk about.

Of course I loved this place and had fond memories of my high school years here.

Of course the opportunity to take over the bookstore from my former employer and friend, Old Man Jankins, was too good to pass up.

Of course it was good to live close to my grandparents, at least for a few years before they moved south.

But those were only half the reason.

The real reason went off to be a musician and never looked back.

I blink the thought away.

Ever since running into Gabe at Craft Corner on Friday, he’s been in my head more than usual. I’ve made my peace with our situation. Truly. I have. I don’t think about him romantically like I used to. We just . . . didn’t work out. And that’s okay.

Besides, now, I want to be rooted in Dasher Valley for my own sake. I need a man who is willing to live here, in a small cozy town. Not a famous singer and songwriter.

“It’s looking great in here.” Jack gestures around the long, narrow bookshop.

I have my holiday displays set up, with faux candles affixed to the tops of each bookcase. Ivy and I tied long cream ribbons into bows that dangle down from each shelf. The door to the office in back is covered in old-fashioned red and green wrapping paper, and we’re highlighting Christmas titles on each of our display tables throughout the store. Linen tablecloths serve as a neutral backdrop for both the books and the vases filled with holly and ivy that we’ve used as centerpieces. The brick fireplace along the side wall is draped with icicle lights, and glistening crystal snowflake ornaments are hung with care between homemade felt stockings. A sign on the hearth invites shoppers to drop off a toy for a family in need. We’re donating them to the local community shelter.

Twinkle lights outline the shop’s front window, casting a dusty glow on the glass panes as they flicker. In the display case, we’ve fashioned a Christmas tree out of books, with hardcover copies stacked to mimic branches. I wound colorful oversized bulbs around the bookish pile and placed a vintage snow globe on top. The result is cozy and quaint.

“Thanks.” A swell of pride courses through me. I’m proud of what I’ve built here, and no time of year does my store shine more brightly than at Christmas. “Hopefully the Chamber thinks so too.”

“They will. If they know what’s good for them,” he adds in a menacing big-brother voice.

I laugh.

“Nice garland.” He points to the front counter, where my hard-fought strand is hanging half up around the front edge. It’s a work in progress.

I chuckle and tell him about my effort to retrieve it from Craft Corner, including how Elena recruited me to help with the Christmas Dash. I leave out my run-in with Gabe. Jack and I don’t really talk about our former mutual best friend. Jack used to try to bring him up, and while I never admitted that Gabe and I kissed and I thought we were going to be more than just friends, I think Jack knows. At least he knows enough to realize that I don’t want to talk about Gabe. As far as I know, Jack still keeps in touch with him.

Jack lets out a booming laugh as I finish a dramatic reenactment of my topple from the top shelf. It warms me up from the inside out.

The door in the back of the bookstore opens and slams shut.

“Beth, you out there?” Ivy’s bubbly voice sounds faint, but it grows louder as she adds, “I brought us muffins from the Clatter.”

“Don’t say anything,” Jack hisses to me as Ivy appears in the main part of the store, toting a small paper bag and a drink holder with two to-go cups from the Clatter Café, steam rising from the small openings in the lids.

“Jack?” Ivy tips her head to the side, even as her face lights up. She sets down the baked goods and drinks on the counter. “What are you doing here?”

She crosses to him, and he kisses her before tucking her to his side with his arm over her shoulder.

“Just checking in on my sister after the busy weekend,” Jack says easily.

I roll my eyes and point at Ivy. “More like using me as an excuse to see you.”

“Guilty.” Jack kisses Ivy’s temple and she grins. “Now that I’ve accomplished what I came for, I’m off to school.”

“We’re still on for the Christmas Market?” I ask.