“I did. First chance I got, I was outta here.”
“Too bad you didn’t stay out.” A young woman interrupted their conversation with an unforgiving scowl. Normally sweet and cheerful, Lucy Wilson looked as if she’d just run across her worst enemy.
“Hey there, Lucky,” Nick replied. “How’ve you been?”
“I know you and your idiot buddies all thought that was funny in high school,” she snarled, “but it wasn’t. It’s even less funny now.”
“Right. Sorry.” His brush-off tone made it clear he wasn’t sorry at all, and Julia couldn’t understand why he seemed to be going out of his way to make Lucy angry.
“What are you doing here anyway?” Lucy demanded.
“Mom invited me up for Thanksgiving,” he replied smoothly, not showing the tiniest bit of concern about the bitter reception he’d gotten. “You wouldn’t want me to disappoint her, would you?”
“You haven’t been back in what? Seven years?” she challenged him. “Why now?”
For the first time, the seemingly unflappable man showed irritation with her less-than-welcoming attitude. “Planning to showcase my personal business on page one of the local paper again?”
Julia couldn’t imagine why on earth they were going at it in public this way. She was starting to feel uncomfortable standing in the middle of this showdown, but there was no polite way to walk away.
“That was ages ago, and you totally deserved it.”
Still locked in a glaring contest with her, he said, “Not that anyone around here will care, but I wanted to meet my niece and nephew.”
“Whatever. Take my word on this one,” she cautioned Julia. “He’s been nothing but trouble his whole life.”
Julia glanced at him, and he nodded solemnly in agreement. His glum expression was clearly an act, though. The bemused twinkle in his eyes gave him away. Without another word, Lucy shoved past him and charged out the door without ordering anything. The overhead bells jangled sharply as she left, and Julia faced Nick with a frown of her own. “You were needling her on purpose.”
There was that wicked grin again. “Yeah.”
“Why on earth would you do that? Especially this time of year.”
“You mean because it’s Christmas?” When she nodded, he shrugged. “To me, vacation’s over, and I’ve got a ton of work to do. I need a bagel, some decent coffee and a wireless connection so I can plow through the pile of emails I haven’t been able to read since I got here Wednesday. I don’t have time to make nice with someone who’s determined to hate me no matter what I say or do.”
Julia was confused. “Why haven’t you been able to check your email? I thought you were staying with your sister, Lainie, and her family.”
“I am.” He gave her a suspicious look that appeared so natural for him, she assumed it was his normal way of interacting with people he’d just met. “How did you know that?”
“When I moved here in the spring, I didn’t know anyone, and she took me under her wing. She and I have gotten to be good friends. She told me you were coming and would be staying with them. I know they have wireless at their house.”
“Sure, but no privacy. I can’t concentrate with everyone yakking all the time.”
Why had he even bothered to come back? she wondered. The holidays were for family, but aside from the comment about meeting his niece and nephew, he didn’t seem to appreciate that at all.
Not her concern, she reminded herself sternly. If he wanted to neglect his relatives, that was his own business.
They moved up a spot in line, and Julia told him, “There’s no internet in here.”
“I know, but someone around here must’ve smartened up by now. Know any place in this map dot town that’s made it into the twenty-first century?”
Julia had the kind of connection he needed at her shop, but she was hesitant to tell him so. If she did, it would be common courtesy to allow him to use it, and she wasn’t at all certain she wanted him camped out in her store on such a busy shopping day. With his brooding vibe and incessant grumbling, he’d probably scare away half her customers.
You get what you give, Julia.
In her memory, she heard her mother’s gentle voice repeating one of her personal philosophies. Gisele Stanton had lived her entire life that way, abandoning a promising orchestral career to accompany her ambassador husband to every corner of the globe. While Julia had no intention of putting aside her own wishes for anyone ever again, she always did her best to follow her mother’s generous example.
“I have wireless at Toyland,” she finally said before she could think better of it. “You’re welcome to use it—with one condition.”
“Twenty bucks a minute?”
While she knew he was joking, the cynical remark spoke volumes about how this jaded journalist viewed the world. “You have to buy a toy to place under my Gifting Tree. They’ll go to local children to make their Christmas a little brighter.”
He blinked. Charity appeared to be a foreign concept to him. “You’re kidding.”
“Not at all.” She gave him her sweetest smile, the one that over the years had charmed countless dignitaries and a crown prince or two. “That’s the deal—take it or leave it.”
“Next!”
Eyeing Julia incredulously, Nick turned to the young woman behind the counter. Dressed in a red-and-green-striped shirt and fuzzy stocking cap, she tilted her head expectantly. “What can I get you?”
He rattled off a complex order, and she laughed. “You’re kidding, right? I don’t know what half that stuff is.”
“Fine.” His jaw tightened, as if he was struggling to keep control of what seemed to be a remarkably short temper. “What’ve you got?”
“Regular or decaf, large or small. I’ve got some choco-peppermint holiday creamer if you want that.”
His grimace made it clear he wanted nothing to do with creamer, holiday or otherwise. “I’ll take a large regular, black, with a poppy seed bagel.” At her give-me-a-break look, he sighed. “Plain bagel.”
“Coming right up.”
He didn’t respond, but as the overhead speakers crackled with “Deck the Halls,” he groaned softly. “This Podunk town wouldn’t know a latte or decent music if someone force-fed it to them.”
Because she was far from perfect, Julia made it a habit to be tolerant of other people’s shortcomings. But his constant griping was getting on her nerves. “Not a morning person, Mr. McHenry?”
“Not a Christmas person,” he corrected her as he reached into his inner coat pocket for his designer wallet. “Lainie calls me Scrooge, and she’s not far off. I’m not into the decorations and sappy carols and all that. Never have been, never will be.”
She waited a moment, then attempted to lighten the mood with, “Aren’t you going to say ‘bah, humbug’?”
He replied only with a wry grin, and she wondered if he enjoyed his Scrooge-y demeanor. He certainly had no qualms about showing his more abrasive side. Although she was still new in town, something told her Lucy wasn’t the only local resident who wouldn’t be pleased to see him. In a few short minutes, Julia had discovered he had a bristly personality and a sharp tongue. Honing that kind of sarcasm must have taken years, and she suspected he’d never been one who played well with others.
“This