Page 7 of A Perfect Christmas Dance (Kringle, Texas #7)

Curled up on the couch in her Stanton Street cottage, Nina stared at the Christmas tree winking at her from across the room. The mantel clock ticked, keeping time with wood crackling in the fireplace.

Sell the bakery? A novel thought. Scary and yet… provocative.

Nina fingered Katherine Brothers’ card and bit her bottom lip.

For the past two hours, she mulled over the extravagant offer. She tried to distract herself with Dicken’s A Christmas Carol and then a cup of chamomile tea and madeleine cookies. A comfy fleece reindeer-themed throw and her sweet calico Speckles did little to calm her restless thoughts.

The kind of money Katherine Brothers flaunted would change everything , and that was the problem. Nina wasn’t ready for change.

With a sigh, she got up and walked to the window. She pushed aside the lace curtains and peered out at her quiet neighborhood. Festive Christmas lights hung from the houses, and candles flickered in windows. The holiday cheer should have lifted her spirits but only highlighted her loneliness.

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the cool glass. What would Gee say about the offer? Would he want her to sell out? Forbid it? Or tell her the decision was up to her?

Whatever his reaction, if she told him of the offer it was bound to stir memories of her grandmother.

The bakery had been Ellie’s pride and joy.

Her grandmother poured heart and soul into her breads and pastries.

The family had just been along for the ride, and then once Ellie was gone, they continued on to keep her alive in spirit.

Every corner of the bakery, every original recipe, held memories and letting go of that felt like losing her all over again.

But the idea of not waking up at dawn every day, of not constantly worrying about keeping a struggling business afloat… well, the money Katherine Brothers offered was life changing and if Nina stayed on to manage the shop, she could hire people to arrive at 3 a.m. to start the baking.

What would life be like without that weight, without those expectations? What would the freedom to find her own path feel like?

She plopped back onto the couch, Katherine’s card still in her hand. How could she sell? Gee wouldn’t express his hurt to hurt, but the bakery was all that remained of her grandmother, of the life he shared with Ellie. Of course, he wouldn’t want her to sell.

And yet, Gee would never stand in Nina’s way. He’d tell her to do what she thought was best. She couldn’t bear his kind understanding, his sacrifice.

Nina picked up her phone and wrote a text.

Thank you for the offer, Ms. Brothers, but we’re not interested in selling.

She stared at the words for a moment, and then she hit ‘send.’

* * *

With less than two weeks before Christmas Eve, Ryan had tackled his party to-do list every evening after he finished his ranching chores. Thanks to vendors like Nina, the photographer, Ava Sutton, and the party supplier offering him either discounts or payment plans, he was back under budget.

But just barely.

On Wednesday night, he cleaned out the barn, which, in between holiday celebrations, served as a storage unit.

He owned a second, newer barn for the livestock.

Stacks of crates, boxes and containers needed to moving into the spare bedroom until after the event.

Luckily, he and Jenny labeled and organized everything, so it was simply a matter of toting things from one place to the other.

For the past two hours he shifted and moved boxes, but his mind wasn’t on the work. His thoughts kept drifting back to Nina and the dance they shared in her bakery.

He thought of how they laughed together as he twirled her around, the softness of her hand in his. He hadn’t expected to feel anything special, let alone the strange lightness that lingered long after they stopped dancing.

He reached for a dusty, square tin hidden high on a shelf, and recognized it instantly. His mother’s treasured recipe box that she once kept in a prominent place on the kitchen counter tucked next to the flour jar.

Ryan opened the lid, the smell of aged paper and cinnamon rising to meet him. Inside, the recipe cards were yellowed with age, and the handwriting familiar and flowery. He flipped through them, his fingers brushing over titles that brought back snippets of long-ago holidays.

His pulse quickened as memories flooded his mind.

Mom’s head thrown back laughing, flour on the end of her nose.

Dad waltzing Mom around the kitchen to “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.” Ryan and Jenny sitting on the stairs on Christmas morning, giggling together and waiting for the signal to come down and open their presents.

With each recipe, another memory.

Then his fingers hit one labeled Heavenly Honey Buns, the ink slightly smudged, as if the card got wet at some point. Ryan stopped and plucked it from the box.

Those honey buns were his absolute favorite—soft, sweet, and filled with the flavor of home. After their mother died, he’d told Jenny not to make them, the thought of tasting them again too sharp, too close to the bone.

He hadn’t thought about the heavenly honey buns in years. Had almost forgotten how much they once meant to him.

Almost.

Ryan set the card down, the instructions staring back at him. The recipe felt like a challenge, like something left unfinished.

Should he make them for the church potluck tomorrow night?

Could he?

He bit down on his bottom lip, sorrow bitter on his tongue.

And then the bitterness swept away as his mouth filled with yeast and honey, tastier than any cinnamon roll.

He saw the domed bee-hive-shaped buns with the sweet caramelized surface his mother molded by hand.

Her supreme recipe was nothing like those gummy prepacked things in the store. Mom’s honey buns were a thing of glory.

Did Nina ever make honey buns? Ryan couldn’t recall seeing them in her bakery, but he was certain she knew how. She was a talented baker.

He read over the recipe. It sounded pretty complicated, but he’d watched his mom make the pastries dozens of times. If he messed up, he’d just try again.

Do you really want to stir this all up again?

Ryan blew out his breath. Did he?

To be honest? He didn’t know. Mostly, he compartmentalize his emotions from the party, but the thought of sharing his mother’s prized recipe with the community, with the people who remembered her, felt like something he needed to do.

For Mom.

And for himself.

He stood for a long moment in the silent barn, the darkness outside surrounding him, the old recipe card in his hand, a spark of hope in his heart.

The potluck was nothing really, an everyday gathering, but somehow, it seemed more significant than that, like a chance to bring something back to life.

Ryan didn’t know whether the honey buns would taste the same or even if he could get through it without breaking down, but maybe that was the point. Perhaps it wasn’t about recreating what was lost but about finding what remained.

About creating something new in the process.

He closed the recipe box, keeping out the Heavenly Honey Buns index card, shut up the barn and called it a night.

And when he fell asleep, he dreamed of honey buns and waltzing under the mistletoe with Nina Ellis.

* * *

Excitement loomed like a wooly bear in Garrett’s imagination, big and scary. Last night, just before he fell asleep, Jean Deerling texted that she was looking forward to their morning coffee date.

The operative word being date .

He hadn’t dated since he’d lost Ellie. Hadn’t even had the desire. But now, he wanted to see Jean. Oh yes, he did, but was this old dog too tired to hunt? At seventy-six, he still had a few good years left in him, but not all that many.

It was still dark out when unlocked the front door and stepped into the bakery, the familiar scent of yeast and cinnamon calming his nerves. It was just coffee with Jean. No need for his heart to be hammering like a teenager’s, right?

“Gee?” Nina called from the kitchen. “That you?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Thought I’d come in early today and help you open up.”

Nina appeared in the doorway, flour dusting her apron, her hair escaping from her messy bun. “Well, well, don’t you look dapper this morning?”

Garrett’s neck burned, and he smoothed a hand over the flannel shirt, still creased from the packaging. “Nothing special.”

“New shirt, starched jeans. What’s up?” Her smile teased.

“Can’t a man make an effort without the third degree?”

Nina laughed. “Oh, Gee, you’re as transparent as cellophane. What’s her name?”

“I’m having coffee with Jean Deerling, but don’t make a thing of it, okay?”

Nina held up her palms. “Far be it from me to stand in the way of Cupid’s arrow.”

Garrett cleared his throat. “What can I do to help?”

Nina plucked a piece of chalk from the blackboard. “Fill out the specials.”

“Which is?”

“BLT and potato soup for lunch. Chocolate profiteroles, pecan pie and pumpkin bread are the desserts of the day.”

“On it.” Garrett pulled out the step stool they kept under the counter and climbed up to erase the previous day’s specials to write in the new additions.

He really enjoyed this second act with his granddaughter after retiring from medicine.

Helping out in the bakery was a way to stay busy and connected with the community he loved so much, but lately, he’d felt… well… bored .

He needed something new in his life. A challenge, perhaps, or an adventure. Could that be Jean?

Part of him felt torn. He’d loved Ellie with everything inside him, and they’d been a good match, a solid team, but she’d been gone for over a decade. He missed her. Missed being in a loving relationship.

He wanted to love again, but he was scared to hope. Afraid to try. What if it didn’t work out?

Oh, but what if it did?

It was Ellie’s voice in his head, optimistic and encouraging. She’d told him when she was sick that she wanted him to marry again, to move on, embrace life, but he’d been reluctant. Worried that no one, nothing, could ever measure up to what they had. It wouldn’t be the same.

It doesn’t need to be the same, silly goose. It shouldn’t be the same. It’ll be a new love. A new way of being.

Shaking off the memories, Garrett found ways to be helpful, keeping himself busy until seven—polishing the counter, greeting customers, filling orders, and ringing up purchases.

The bell jingled at 6:59. He raised his head, and his gaze landed on Jean as she came through the door.

His heart skipped a beat.

She looked him straight in the eyes and smiled, resplendent in a deep green sweater, which compliments her silver hair, black car coat and matching black slacks. “Good morning, Garrett.”

“Morning, Jean.” A rush of heat fled up his throat, and he felt ridiculously out of his element. “You look fantastic.”

Jean’s smile deepened. “Thank you. You’re looking quite snazzy yourself.”

Nina cleared her throat.

Garrett looked over to see his granddaughter gazing at him with affection. “Why don’t you two have a seat? I’ll bring over some coffee and some crullers. They’re fresh out of the fryer.”

“That sounds lovely,” Jean said.

“How do you take your coffee?” Nina asked her.

Jean gazed into Garrett’s eyes. “Black with three sugars. I like it strong but sweet.”

Garrett stuck out a hand to usher Jean over to a table in the far corner. He pulled out the chair for her and cast a glance toward Nina who had an absent-minded look in her eyes and slight frown tugged at her lips as she poured up the coffee.

Something was bothering her. Garrett knew his granddaughter well since they’d worked closely together for the past four years, and he could tell when something was eating at her. Was it Jean? Was she bothered that he had a date?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jean said, drawing his attention back to her.

Garrett sighed, debating how much to share as sat down across from her. “It’s probably nothing, but… I’m a bit worried about Nina. She seems… off somehow for the last couple of days.”

“In what way?”

“I’m not sure exactly. Just a feeling, I suppose. Like she’s carrying some kind of burden, she doesn’t feel comfortable sharing with me.”

Jean reached across the table, taking his hand. “Have you asked her about it?”

“Not yet. I don’t want to pry.”

Jean nodded. “I get that. Sometimes, it’s difficult to know when we’re helping or interfering with family.”

“I worry that she’s working too hard. Not getting a chance to have a life of her own.

I can’t help feeling like she got saddled with the bakery, and she feels compelled to keep it up out of tradition.

I don’t want her to feel obligated—” Garrett broke off as Nina came over with the coffee and crullers.

“Enjoy!” She gave them a warm smile, but beneath it, Garrett spied shadows under her eyes as if she hadn’t slept well.

“Nina are you okay?” he asked.

Her smile wavered, but just for a moment. “Of course, Gee. Why wouldn’t it be?”

The bell chimed, and Nina hurried off to greet the new customers.

Jean touched his hand, and he turned back to her. “Trust her to tell you in her own time if something is bothering her.”

Garrett nodded. “You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s… well…”

“You love her and want to protect her.”

He nodded. “I do.”

“Perhaps she feels the same about you.” Jean peered at him over the rim of her coffee mug.

Whatever secret Nina was keeping, he wouldn’t push. Jean was right. He needed to give his granddaughter space.

“Oh my gosh,” Jean said, biting into her cruller. “This is delicious!”

“After breakfast, would you like to go to the Farmer’s Market?” he invited.

“Why, Garrett, I would love that.”

They made small talk, discussing their Christmas plans and finished their crullers. Then Garrett got up to make them to-go coffees as Jean shrugged into her coat. He caught Nina’s eye as she turned to get pastries for a customer from the display case.

She raised an eyebrow, glancing from him to Jean.

Garrett gave a half-shrug and a smile.

His granddaughter smiled back and then returned her attention to the customer. He would talk to Nina later about whatever was weighing on her, about the future of the bakery, and about the delicate balance between independence and family.