Small Town Christmas (Blue Harbor #4) - Olivia Miles Page 0,6
on high alert. She darted her gaze to the paned door again, hoping to see the handsome man from yesterday, but it was just a little girl in a puffer coat.
Still, Cora couldn’t help but smile at the way the child’s eyes lit up and a gasp overtook her before her face broke out into a smile. She had dark curls that fell to her shoulders under her knitted hat, and the oversized pom-pom was comically toppled to the side.
Cora walked over to her, holding a plate of cut-out cookies that she’d commissioned Maddie to make special for today.
“Would you like a cookie?” she asked, and then, thinking the better of it, added, “Or do you need to ask your parents first?”
“I’m nine years old. I know the rules.” The little girl licked her bottom lip in anticipation as she hovered her hand over the plate, clearly torn between the sparkly sugar cookie in the shape of a mitten and the equally sparkly cookie in the shape of a wreath.
She went for the mitten, the larger of the two.
“We have hot cocoa at the back of the store, too,” Cora said. It was a hazard, she knew, to be offering beverages in her store, especially when everyone was crammed together in their bulky winter outerwear, but luckily, despite the amount of products she had on display, most people were very careful. Sure, things did break from time to time, but over the years she’d learned to place the more valuable items at higher reach, both on the shelves and on the trees.
“Oh, goody!” the little girl said through a bite of cookie. “You know, this cookie is way better than the ones I had for dessert last night.”
Cora looked at her with interest. “You didn’t have pie on Thanksgiving?”
The little girl frowned briefly. “No. My dad forgot. But that’s okay,” she said, with a shrug. “He said that I could pick anything I wanted to make up for it.”
“Anything?” Cora bit her lip to keep from laughing. She supposed that failing to give this sweet little girl a proper Thanksgiving dinner was worth a big favor.
“Well, anything he can buy, like a toy or doll. I can’t ask for a dog or anything.” Now the little girl frowned again, deeper this time, and Cora felt so bad that she held out the cookie tray and gave the girl a wink. Immediately, the little girl lit up like Cora’s brightest Christmas tree.
“A dog is a very big responsibility,” Cora said, not that she would know. She herself would love a furry companion, but with her work at the store, she knew that she wouldn’t be home long enough to give it the exercise and attention it deserved, even if she did live just upstairs from the shop. She’d considered the possibility of allowing a dog to stay with her in the store all day (she’d name it something festive like Merry or Dasher), but again…there were just so many products. It wouldn’t have space to roam.
“My mom said that it wouldn’t be fair to take a dog back and forth between two houses, especially all the way to California,” the child said sagely. “And my dad doesn’t even have a house. He has an apartment. No yard or anything.”
“I see,” Cora said, hiding a smile.
“But my mom and Arthur are moving to Indiana soon and that will be closer to my dad, so maybe I’ll ask again.” The little girl looked troubled. “But I think that my stepdad might be allergic.”
Now Cora frowned. “Tell you what,” she said, determined to cheer up the child and also noticing that a line had begun to form at the counter. She noticed Gladys O’Leary, who seemed to be making a dramatic gesture of sighing and tapping her foot, even though it was plain as day that Cora was standing just a few feet away. “You go help yourself to some hot chocolate and look around the store, and when you’re ready, I’ll show you my Christmas wishing ball.”
“A Christmas wishing ball?” The little girl’s gray eyes were round and bright, in sharp contrast with her dark hair.
“Well, it’s a snow globe, really, but a very special one,” Cora explained. She’d taken great pride in setting the new addition to her shop on the counter this morning, almost daring to feel her mother’s presence was with her. “Sometimes the best things we can ask for can’t be bought.”