CHAPTER ONE
Missy Sherwood glanced around at the bare walls and empty room. The late afternoon light filtered in through the battered blinds on the small window. She’d always planned to replace them but never had found the time or money to do so. Probably just as well since she’d only be leaving them behind now.
She slowly left the room, closing the door behind her. She crossed the cramped space that served as a kitchen and sitting room and dropped her apartment key on the counter. It was best that her two roommates were at work now, she didn’t really want a fancy goodbye, or even words of encouragement.
She’d tried to take Nashville by storm, wanting to be a country singer along with every third person in the city. All the singers-slash-waiters or singers-slash-receptionists.
Now the company where she worked as a receptionist had closed, so she’d lost that job and couldn’t remember the last time she’d even had a backup singing gig in spite of constantly going to auditions. She’d had high hopes of getting hired as a backup singer to Keith Harper after getting a second call back, but nothing. She’d promised herself she would give herself until the end of this year to make it, if not, she would call it quits and find another way to make a living.
The Christmas lights blinked on a pathetic but free tree in the corner. She placed two small presents beneath the tree for her roommates.
She tugged a hat on her short, unruly curls and with one last look around the apartment, she turned and headed out the door, pulling it firmly closed behind her. She walked the three blocks it took to get to the parking garage, hauling a suitcase with a large tote bag balanced on top and her guitar in her other hand. The garage had been the closest parking space she could afford by her apartment. Christmas decorations dotted the store windows as she walked past. Music spilled out on the street when a man hurried out of a liquor store. She walked into the parking garage and struggled up the two flights of stairs to her spot. At least she wouldn’t have to wrestle her way up and down these stairs anymore.
She set her guitar in the backseat of the car. With a tug and a push she leveraged the heavy suitcase into the trunk and dropped the tote bag on top of it. The slam of the trunk echoed through the garage, closing on the end of her non-existent career, the end of her dreams.
She had nowhere else to go but home.
* * *
Missy sat in her car on the street in front of her mother’s house. She was sure this was the house, though she hadn’t ever been there before. Her mother and her new husband had moved in a few years back. If only they’d stayed in the house she’d grown up in, where she felt at least a bit like she belonged. At that house she would have just walked in the door, calling out for her mother. But at this house, she was almost a stranger. She’d only met her mother’s new husband a handful of times, at the wedding, and a couple of times when they’d come through Nashville on one of their many trips.
Now she was just going to show up on their doorstep? What was she thinking?
But what choices did she have? Out of work. Barely enough savings to survive until she found some kind of work. Any kind of work. Her things were in the basement storage at her apartment—her former apartment—and she’d assured her roommates she’d be back for them soon. She couldn’t face coming home to Comfort Crossing with her belongings crammed into her car, announcing her defeat. She needed a few weeks to adjust to everything.
She swung open the car door and headed for the front porch. Her mother, as usual, had decorated the house to within an inch of its life. It had embarrassed her as a young girl growing up, but now it made her smile, a touch of familiarity in her life. She climbed the porch steps and rang the doorbell.
The door swung wide. “Missy.” Her mother smothered her in a hug and covered her with flour at the same time from the bag she held in her hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. Look at the mess. I was baking. Guess there’s a rip in the flour sack. Come in, come in. Why didn’t you call? No, never mind, I’m just so glad to see you.”
Her mother bustled her inside as Missy let her mother’s words wash over her. It was always a stream of sentences with her mother.
“Hi, Mom. Thought I’d come home for Christmas and surprise you.”
A look of concern flashed across her mother’s eyes, but was quickly hidden behind her smile. “Well, come in and sit in the kitchen. I have a batch of cookies about to come out of the oven.”
“Oatmeal?” Missy could only hope for her favorite.
“Oatmeal it is. I was going to mail off a batch to you later today. But here you are.”
Missy followed her mother to the back of the house and sat down in a large kitchen with high white cabinets, stainless appliances, and the largest stovetop she’d ever seen. Her mother must be in heaven. She loved spending time in the kitchen. Light flowed in the big windows and a breakfast nook was tucked over near the side.
“Mom, your kitchen is beautiful.”
“It is, isn’t it? I tell you, Dwayne spoils me. He had the whole kitchen redone and let me pick out everything. We had a formal living room, but who needs that? We knocked down the wall between the living room and kitchen and made the kitchen bigger.” Her mother pulled a baking sheet of cookies from one of the double ovens. “I guess they finally decided to give you some time off for the holidays? I know you always say it’s a busy time of the year and hard to get away. It will be so nice to have you here this year, though. So nice. It’s been so long since you’ve been home for the holidays. Cookie?”
She’d missed her mother’s rambles. And her cookies. Missy decided it wasn’t really a good time to go into the fact she was homeless and jobless. She reached over and snagged an oatmeal cookie. Nothing like comfort food to chase away a person’s problems.
The back door swung open and Dwayne entered with his arms full of packages. “I think I got everything you need for baking your cookies for the tree lighting ceremony.” Dwayne hip checked the door closed behind him, then saw Missy sitting at the island in the kitchen.
“Missy. Great to see you.” Dwayne set the sacks on the counter.
“Thanks, good to see you, too.”
Missy caught a quick look flash between Dwayne and her mother and that hint of concern popped up in her mother’s eyes again.
“Missy has come home for the holidays.” Her mother rolled a bit of cookie into a ball and plopped it onto the baking sheet.
“You don’t say. Well, that’s nice.” There was that look between Dwayne and her mother again.
“I really should have called first…” Missy shifted back on the counter stool.
“No, of course not, dear.” Her mother plopped another cookie on the baking sheet.
“Well, I’ll let you two catch up. I’m going to head back to the Gazette. Got to get the weekly paper all put to bed.” Dwayne headed out the back door.
“He’s been the editor at the paper for like a million years, hasn’t he?”
“Twenty or so. Along with running an insurance business, but he’s retired from that and just works at the paper now.”
“Mom, is everything okay? You’ve got that look…”
“What look?”
“That look that says something is wrong and you’re trying to fix it for everyone.”
Her mother washed her hands and sat down on the stool beside Missy. “Well, it’s just that Dwayne’s two daughters and their husbands are coming for Christmas. They each have two kids. We only have three bedrooms. But we’ll make it work.”
“I should have called. I’m sorry.”
Her mother leaned over and wrapped her in a hug. “Don’t be silly. You’re always welcome here. I’ll sort it out. The more the merrier.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
But even at home in Comfort Crossing, the town she grew up in, she felt out of place.
* * *
Missy headed over to Main Street with no real purpose in mind. She loved that she could walk from her mother’s new home to Main Street. She could walk to almost any place she wanted to in Comfort Crossing. She’d forgotten how nice that was. It was a bit chilly this time of year, with a nip to the air. She pulled her jacket closed to keep out the wind. Her hometown was an interesting mix of weather. A person would be just as likely to be wearing jeans and a t-shirt this time a year as they were to be bundled up in jackets.
She crossed down the side street and came out on Main. Decorations and lights were strung across the street. Each business had elaborate decorations in their windows in preparation for the window decorating contest the town held each year. She’d forgotten about that. There was a lot she’d forgotten about her home town in her years away.
Magnolia Cafe was right across the street and she decided to pop in and see if her cousin still worked there. She hadn’t seen Becky Lee in years. Missy pushed through the door of the cafe and the smell of cinnamon twirled around her, whisking her back in time, filling her with memories. Christmas music drifted through the restaurant. Now this felt like home. She’d spent so many hours here, with friends or just sitting and chatting with Becky Lee as she worked.
“Missy Sherwood, don’t you even give your cousin a heads up when you’re coming to town?” Becky Lee set down a tray of dishes and hurried over and smothered her with a hug. “You are a sight for sore eyes. I’ve missed you, Cuz.”
“I’ve missed you too, Bec.”
“You come home for the holidays? You haven’t been here for Christmas in forever. Aunt Clara said you never get time off this time of year. I guess the nightclubs and bars are busy during the holidays, huh?”
“Well, I, uh… I have the time this year.”
“Good for you for making it a priority.” Becky Lee gave Missy one more hug. “I gotta get back to work. Grab a table by the window. Just a couple of tables left over from the lunch crowd and I’ll be able to sit for a bit.”
Missy shrugged off her jacket and sat at a table by the window looking out on Main Street. Shoppers hustled by, laden with packages. Which reminded her she still needed to find a gift for her mother and Dwayne. An inexpensive gift.
Becky Lee swung by the table. “Pecan pie and coffee? You haven’t gone all diet-y on me, have you?”
“Pecan pie for sure. No one makes pecan pie like Magnolia Cafe.”
Becky dropped off the pie and coffee at the table. “Be finished in a sec.”
Missy took a bite of the pie, savoring it. She’d missed this pie and she’d missed her cousin. She’d avoided coming home for the holidays for too long. Oh, she knew why she hadn’t come home. Everyone always asked about her music. Where she was playing now. Thinking she had some glamorous life in Nashville, playing in trendy bars and nightclubs. She hadn’t bothered to mention to anyone that her main income was a series of low paying clerical jobs and waitressing.
Becky Lee came over and plopped into the seat across from Missy. “Going to have a cup of coffee with you before I start in on the after-lunch chores. So, catch me up on your life.”
“Not much to say, really.”
Becky Lee cocked her head to one side. “You okay?”
“Sure, I’m fine. Just a bit tired from the drive here, I guess.”
“So, how did you like your mom’s kitchen? Pretty great, isn’t it?”
“It is. Dwayne sure knows how to make Mom happy, give her a nice kitchen to bake in. I bet she’s barely had that oven off since the kitchen was finished.”
“She’s probably busy making cookies for the tree lighting ceremony, isn’t she? She always helps out with that.”
“She is. She was making oatmeal cookies when I was there and was headed into making chocolate chip.”
“That’s my Aunt Clara. I think I must have gotten my baking genes from her. I sure didn’t get them from my mom.”
Missy glanced out the window just then and saw him. Shawn Poole.
Becky Lee must have seen the surprise on her face because she looked out the window to see what Missy was staring at. “Ah, Shawn.”
Missy cleared her throat. “What’s he up to these days?”
“He works with his dad at the landscape business. They’ve got some big contracts now with the school and two of the plantations right out of town. Their company does landscaping and lawn care now. They still have the Christmas tree lot every year, too.”
“He always did like working outside with his dad.”
Just then a little boy came running up to Shawn and he scooped him up in his arms. The little boy smothered him with kisses.
Becky Lee looked over at Missy then back out on the street to Shawn. “That’s his son.”
Missy caught her breath. His son. Shawn had a son.
“He married Belinda Rider.”
Her thoughts were a riotous mess of memories and feelings. “Really? Belinda? Wasn’t she a year behind me in school?”
“I think so. Anyway, they started dating after you left. Got married about four years ago. Their son is about three now, I think.”
“Wow. Somehow I just never pictured Shawn as the settling-down-having-a-kid type.”
“Well, he is now. They seem really happy.”
Good for Shawn. He was happy now. That was just great. Great.
Of course he’d always said he’d be happy in Nashville with her. Until he said he wasn’t going with her the night before they were set to leave.
“You okay?” Becky Lee set down her coffee and reached across the table to touch Missy’s hand.
“I’m just… surprised. A lot has changed here, hasn’t it?”
“Some things change here, some things stay the same. Like your love for our pecan pie.” Becky Lee smiled and nodded toward the empty pie plate.
“That won’t ever change. Love that pie.”
“So, I bet your mom was glad to see you.”
“She was, though I guess I should have called first. She’s going to have a houseful of Dwayne’s family for Christmas.”
“Well, then you should stay with me.” Becky Lee’s eyes lit up. “I’d love to have someone for the holidays. Heck, I’m just around the corner from your mom’s place. You can go over there for whatever festivities you want to, but have an actual room and bed at my place. What do you say?”
“I say yes. That would be great. Mom will be relieved to have a solution to the whole how-do-I-fit-everyone-in problem.”
“The key is under the flowerpot by the front door. When I even remember to lock the door.”
“That will work out great, thank you.”
“Well, I better get back to work.” Becky Lee stood up. “You go over there and unpack anytime. You know where the guest bedroom is. I’m working the dinner shift, too, but I should be home around nine thirty or so.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you tonight.”
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