Tidings of Trouble: A Christmas Shop Mystery by Kathleen Suzette

Author:Kathleen Suzette [Suzette, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-12-08T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

The phone call from Jake had been completely unexpected. He called my motel room, which was surprising enough. I couldn’t even remember if I’d told him which motel I was staying at. Somehow, he’d figured it out, gotten my room number, and called me. His voice, warm and familiar, was tinged with something I couldn’t quite place—nervousness, maybe? He said he wanted to talk and asked if I could meet him at his farm. He offered no more details, and I didn’t press for them.

I spent thirty minutes pacing my tiny motel room, staring at my limited assortment of clothing choices. Finally, I settled on well-worn jeans and a black sweater. It was simple, practical. As I slipped into my boots, I checked the time. It was 4:30 in the afternoon, and the crisp winter day felt like it belonged on a postcard. I couldn’t imagine what Jake wanted to talk about. Couldn’t he have just said it on the phone? The thought was a bit unsettling. What could be so important that he needed me to come to his farm?

Then another thought crept into my head, one I wasn’t prepared for. Was this a date? No, it couldn’t be. Could it? My heart fluttered for a moment, and I shook my head. I was so out of practice. I hadn’t dated in twenty years. Was this how people did it now? A call, an address, and suddenly it was a date? I laughed under my breath, the sound brittle in the quiet room. Nobody would do something like that. At least, I didn’t think so. Still, the idea lingered, stubborn as a smudge on a window. I grabbed my keys, squared my shoulders, and drove out to his farm, determined to keep an open mind—and maybe a shield over my heart. The ink on my divorce papers wasn’t even dry.

The farm stand came into view as I pulled onto the gravel driveway. The place had a charm uniquely Jake—rustic but cared for, with an inviting warmth that made you feel you belonged there. Wreaths adorned the interior, their vibrant green color popping against the weathered wood of the stand. Jake was inside, his broad shoulders slightly hunched as he worked on something at the counter. When he spotted me, his face lit up with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Hey! How are you this afternoon?” he called out, his voice carrying easily over the short distance.

I shrugged, trying to match his casual tone. “I’m good. What’s going on?” My eyes wandered over the farm stand. Several wreaths were missing from their hooks, and I realized he must have sold a few. Behind him, a half-finished wreath lay on the counter, surrounded by evergreen clippings and sprigs of dried berries.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, his smile widening. He came closer to me—I could smell his aftershave, warm and woodsy like him—waiting for me to ask.

My heart skipped a beat, and I forced myself to stay calm.

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