Snowdrop Kisses Part Eight
A Christmas love story featuring a plucky florist and a tall dark and handsome entrepreneur
Previously…in Part 7 Wendy raced to make the dinner reservation and James told Harry and Minna about the set-up.
Chapter 15
Wendy strode into the restaurant’s foyer. She was fifteen minutes late. The whole drive over she’d been plagued by the nagging feeling that something was wrong. She frowned, going through a mental checklist: It was the correct night; her dress wasn’t inside out; she looked down at her shoes — she wasn’t dragging toilet paper.
A Maître-D with a pencil thin moustache and a supercilious expression, waited by the door.
“I’m with the Crofton party,” she said.
He looked at her as if she were from outer space.
“I’m a little late.”
He didn’t respond, simply stared.
Wendy knew French waiters were meant to be rude, but really. “James Crofton? I’m here to meet him.”
“Of course, Madamoiselle.” He grabbed a menu and led her through the dimly lit restaurant. Every now and then he glanced back, staring at her. What an odd man. Candlelight flickered against the heavy furniture and an air of muted elegance permeated the room.
There was the table. Crofton looked devastating in a black jacket. Harry was on his right. Sitting beside Harry was a gray-haired elderly lady in a high-necked green dress.
“Hello. Sorry I’m late!” Wendy smiled around at everyone, sensing immediate tension from their postures. She sat in the chair beside Crofton. They all gaped at her. She turned to Harry. “I hope you found the place easily enough.”
He nodded, looking at her searchingly.
“Is this some sort of joke, James? I do not enjoy jokes, James.” Mrs. Smythe stared at Wendy in disgust.
“It’s a pleasure to join you for dinner, Mrs. Smythe. How do you do?” Wendy got a glare in return.
Mystified, she turned to Crofton, experiencing that now familiar jolt as she looked into his eyes.
He was laughing. “Wendy. Did you by chance have a delivery this evening?” He pointed to her cheeks, which she touched wonderingly.
“Yes I did. That’s why I’m running late.”
“You were in a hurry to get here?”
“Yes, I didn’t want to be rude.”
“Wendy, maybe you should check a mirror. You have dark black villain eyebrows and bright red circles on your cheeks. Your nose is also painted bright pink.”
She’d forgotten to wash off the Santa makeup! She felt a tide of red wash over her face. She stood up stiffly, determined to preserve some dignity. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll freshen up.”
She left the table to the sound of Crofton’s laughter, Minna tittered as well and even Harry chuckled at her expense. She was tempted to keep walking, get back in her car and head to Alaska. She could live in a hut, dress in animal skins and subsist on seal blubber and roots. It would be better than returning to that table. Instead, she squared her shoulders and asked a waiter directions to the ladies’ room. He gave her a sympathetic look, and pointed the way. Five minutes later, she returned to the table, her face scrubbed raw.
The tension had eased. Apparently belly laughs at her expense cleared the air. She sank into her chair.
“Are you all sorted out, dear?” Minna gave her the once over. “In my day women took a little more pride in their appearance.”
Harry rose to her defence, sort of. “I think Wendy deserves a round of applause, I mean - Santa-plaus - for her handling of the situation.”
“Santa-plaus, Harry? You can do better.” Wendy said wearily..
“You’ve got to admit, you’re scattered,” Crofton weighed in.
She looked at him inquiringly.
“In the limited time I’ve known you, you’ve dumped coffee on me, insulted me, lied to me and showed up at one of Ottawa’s most expensive restaurants with your game face on.”
“When have I ever lied to you?” Wendy demanded. She was more hurt by the accusation than she would have expected. Why was this man able to goad her so easily?
“You told me you’d mixed up the bouquets.”
“I was protecting Kim!” Did he really think so little of her? “Oh forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”
Harry coughed. “If we could step out of the boxing ring for a second. We were having quite an interesting discussion before you joined us, Wendy. Apparently you and Jamie are matchmaking.” Harry raised a bushy grey eyebrow.
Wendy opened her mouth to deny it, but one look at Crofton’s face told her there was no use.
“I don’t appreciate being manipulated.” Minna wagged a long finger at them both.
Harry laughed: “I’m disappointed at how stupid your plan was. What, just because we’re two old ducks -- no offence --” he nodded at Minna. “You expect us to fall in love over dinner? Ridiculous.”
“I don’t find the situation amusing at all. I’m frankly insulted at your idiotic plan and I certainly won’t stay here to be party to it.” Minna stood. “My car should be here any moment.”
Wendy turned to Crofton in alarm. It would be a shame if all their efforts came to nothing. He met her gaze, and turned to Harry and Minna. “I’m sorry. We were out of line. Since we’re here, however, let’s not waste this lovely setting. Please, let’s make a celebration of the night. Order anything you’d like.”
Minna eased back in her seat, turning to Harry. There was a twinkle in her sharp eyes. “I’m still deeply disgusted, but as he said to the girl, this is one of Ottawa’s most expensive restaurants. Since the president here is footing the bill, let’s see what kind of damage we can inflict to his platinum card.” She reached for her phone and cancelled the car.
Harry’s usually dour face transformed into an expression of glee as Minna’s words hit home. “I like the way you think, lady.”
Before Crofton could protest, Minna had waved over a waiter. “We’ll have a bottle of your best champagne.” She grinned, the mischievous look giving Wendy a brief glimpse into the willful girl she must have once been. “In fact, make it two.”
Harry was reading over the menu. “I’m going to start with the foie gras, then I’m going to get the Lobster Thermidor. No the veal. What the hell,” he grinned over at Minna. “I’ll get both!”
She smiled at him with approval.
Crofton started to look a little green.
Harry ordered a round of scotches. “Make sure they’re older than me,” he instructed the waiter. When the drinks came, Harry sipped his with relish, and Minna followed suit. “Smooth isn’t it? Young people today don’t understand the subtleties of the ageing process. I was a mechanic in the Korean War, but do I get any respect?”
“My brother fought in Korea!” Minna looked at Harry with new-found appreciation.
“Really, what unit?”
While Minna and Harry swapped stories, Wendy turned to Crofton.
“Sorry I bit your head off before,” she apologized.
“Don’t worry about it. I think your pink cheeks saved me from getting murdered.” He smiled, and a grin formed on Wendy’s lips. It was hard to stay mad at a man who looked so good.
“I guess our matchmaking failed,” she said.
“I’m not so sure.” Crofton nodded to the other side of the table. The two were leaning toward each other, champagne glasses in hand, having an animated chat.
Wendy kept her voice low. “Do you think this will be enough to distract Minna from your business?”
Minna waved the waiter over and ordered another bottle.
“I think I might be admitting her to rehab after tonight.”
Wendy laughed and asked him something she had been curious about since learning about the holiday gala. “The LCC party is being held at your family estate. I thought they only had those in England, along with bad teeth and polo playing.” She shifted in her seat, and their legs brushed briefly under the table.
“Stonehaven’s really just a big old house in the country. It’s been in my mother’s family for years, and every new generation seems to add another wing.”
A waiter poured champagne into Wendy’s glass.
Crofton continued. “An architect friend visited a few years back. He said the house gave him a headache, because it’s such a mish-mash. I like the old place though. It might not have style, but it’s got character.”
Harry interrupted. “What’s that, Jamie? Are you talking about me? No style, plenty of character?” He burped discreetly and reached for the champagne bottle. Luckily the waiter arrived with the first course, distracting Harry with his very expensive appetizer: foie gras and truffle mousse. He and Minna were soon embroiled in a conversation about their bewilderment with TikTok, SnapChat and “Instergram” as he insisted on calling it.
Wendy leaned toward Crofton. “Why don’t you live at Stonehaven? I know it’s out of town, but couldn’t you commute?” She was so close to him she could see the stubble forming on his chin. She stifled the urge to reach out and run a finger along his jawline.
“Maybe, but the place is pretty cavernous when I’m out there by myself.”
His voice was deep and rich. Wendy had never noticed before how the timber of someone’s voice could be so sensual. “Well, someday you’ll have a family to fill it up.” She could picture his children: Little boys with square jaws and stubborn expressions and beautiful girls with strong wills and his jet-black hair.
Crofton shrugged. “I don’t think that wife and baby stuff is for me. There’s a reason the Mafia is known as ‘The Family’ –- Marriage is a recipe for dysfunction.”
Harry tuned into their conversation again. “I keep telling him to find a woman who can be his partner. You and Mona,” he nodded at Minna agreeably, “are nice ladies. You should show him, Wendy, that relationships can work.”
Wendy looked down: “I’m not in the market, Harry.”
Minna pointed an unsteady finger at Wendy: “Quite right, girlie. I’ve been through four husbands, and none of them could keep up with me.” She winked at Harry and said in a loud whisper: “I don’t only excel in the boardroom, you know…”
Wendy gaped. Crofton smiled that lopsided grin of his and Wendy’s grinned in response.
“You have a knack for getting people to say the strangest things,” he murmured.
She shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
Harry’s gestures were getting wild. “On a weekend pass to Seoul, I…” His arm knocked the champagne bottle, which teetered dangerously.
Crofton’s hand shot out and grabbed it. His arm brushed against Wendy’s breast as he caught the bottle. His touch sent an electric jolt shivering throughout her body.
Her eyes flew to his face, and they held one another’s gaze for a pulse.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Wendy breathed. Do it again! Was what she wanted to scream. Instead, she forced her attention back to the older couple.
She and Crofton spent the rest of the meal trying to pry an assortment of drinks out of Harry and Minna’s hands.
By dinner’s end Harry was introducing Minna to the intricacies of flaming Sambuca. Blue flames reached up from the shot glass; Harry swallowed down the fiery liquid, and then puffed out a small plume of smoke. Minna clapped her hands in delight. Minna herself was now attempting a shooter. “This one’s called “Sex on the Beach.” The older woman giggled at Harry.
It was past eleven when Crofton finally stood. “Okay, everyone, it’s time to go home. Wendy, if you could help my chief investor to the door, I will take Harry to the facilities. It looks like he’s about to be sick.”
Crofton hustled Harry off to the bathroom.
Wendy ushered Minna to the entrance and smiled at her as she swayed ever so lightly. “You know young lady, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you all night.”
Wendy leaned closer. She felt she had connected with the older woman, perhaps even bonded. “What’s that?”
“You really shouldn’t wear blue shoes with a black dress.” Minna burped discreetly. “It’s a terrible faux pas.”
A waiter appeared with Minna’s coat, and Wendy helped her put it on.
The men appeared. “False alarm, thank God,” said Crofton.
Harry seemed to have lost his steam. “I think I need to lie down.”
“Come on,” said Crofton patiently. “I’ll take you all home. Do you need a lift, Wendy, or do you have your Santa sleigh handy?”
“I’ve got my car, thanks.” She smiled up at him. She was reluctant to let this crazy night end. “Well, goodnight everyone. It’s been an eventful evening.” She turned and walked to the door.
Crofton stared after her. “It certainly has,” he murmured.
Chapter 16
Despite her mother’s disapproval, Wendy knew that Sunday nights were made for eating macaroni and cheese directly out of the pot, wearing comfy sweats and streaming trash television. She curled herself more deeply into her old couch, pulling a brightly coloured afghan around her and propped her laptop on her knees.
It had been been a hectic week, what with running the store, planning the LCC bash, and last night’s crazy dinner. Wendy frowned. What had Harry thought of it all? Was he still angry at her and Crofton, or had his irritation eased?
With an effort, Wendy pushed herself out of the couch’s embrace and hunted for her phone.
The call rang and rang before she heard a feeble, “Hello?”
It took Wendy a moment to realize she was talking to Harry. “Hi, it’s Wendy. How are you doing.”
His voice was a plaintive groan. “What did you do to me, woman?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been poisoned. My head has been pounding all day, and it’s like I’ve got a set of angry raccoons clawing at my guts. Did someone slip me a mickey?”
Wendy smiled. “I think you did it to yourself, Harry. Remember the whiskey, the Sambuca shooters, the Sex on the Beach?”
There was an awkward pause on the other end. “Parts of last night are a little fuzzy. I didn’t… We didn’t…”
Wendy gasped. “No, Harry. ‘Sex on the Beach’ is a shooter. You and Minna had them toward the end of the night.”
“That was that fruity thing. A woman’s drink. It’s why my tongue has felt so furry all day. I’m not used to all that sugar. Maybe I have an allergy to it.”
“Harry, you’re hungover because you and Minna had a ton to drink.”
His voice was stronger now, “I haven’t caroused like that since the buggers down at the Legion started dying off.”
“So, you had a good time?” Wendy held her breath.
“Well, Mona is some kind of woman. She acted like the goddamned Queen of England when I first got there, but she loosened up after the booze hit. She can drink a sailor under the table, and she swore like a trucker when she got going.”
“So, you like her?”
“I wouldn’t go that far, my girl. I liked her drunk. Sober, she was pretty hoighty-toighty.”
“I’m sorry we ambushed you like that, Harry. It wasn’t fair.”
“No it wasn’t,” he agreed. “Still, I have to admit, I had a good time and I’m pretty sure we put a dent in Jamie’s credit card.” He snickered
“Would you want to see Minna again?”
There was a short pause. “I’m tempted to say ‘no’ just to annoy you and Jamie, but going out again with her beats staying home and watching ‘Wheel of Fortune.’”
While that wasn’t the ringing endorsement Wendy might have hoped for, at least he was open to another date. “OK. I’ll see what we can do.”
“That’s fine, Wendy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go lay my head down on a very soft pillow, in a very dark room.”
She hung up. Even if Harry and Minna didn’t work out, at least she hadn’t ruined her friendship with the older man.
No sooner had she hung up, than the phone rang.
“Hello?” she asked.
“It didn’t take.”
Her heart rate accelerated at the sound of Crofton's voice, but she was damned if she would let him know that. “Who is this?”
He sighed. “It’s James. Listen, the dinner last night, it didn’t work.”
It was strange talking to him over the phone. Wendy imagined him scrolling through the other names in his contact list to choose her. There was something weirdly intimate about the thought. “Did you really expect them to fall in love instantly?”
“No, but I had hoped that they would at least like each other.”
“I just talked to Harry and he didn’t seem to hate her.”
“Thank God. I’ll call him after I talked to you and grovel for putting him through that.”
“Maybe Minna had a good time ,” Wendy said.
“She didn’t. She called me at eight o’clock this morning and gave me hell for trying to set her up. She also blamed me for the fact that she had passed out with all her makeup on. Apparently the last time she did that was the moon landing. She was in a tizzy about her pores.” Crofton’s voice was bewildered.
“Didn’t she say anything about Harry?”
“Let me see… I made sure to remember it exactly. She called him a ‘loutish rogue, with a certain down-market charm that would play well in a trailer park.’”
Wendy grimaced. ”That’s not good. She’s probably mad because he couldn’t remember her name. By the end of the night all he could slur out were raunchy limericks. Maybe if her name rhymed with Nantucket…”
Crofton laughed, a rich warm chuckle that sent shivers racing up Wendy’s spine. “Well, the whole matchmaking thing is a bust, and Minna’s still on my case about LCC. She called me four times today to talk about business strategies.”
Wendy smiled, picturing Crofton running his hand through his thick hair. She’d noticed him make that gesture when he was frustrated -– which seemed to happen a lot around her. “I’m on board to try again with a set-up. I think Harry likes her.”
“Slow down. We can’t continue. I don’t want to piss Minna off more than she already is.” He paused. “She kind of scares me.”
Wendy laughed again. “Come on. You saw the two of them. They were having a great time. Harry got Minna to loosen up.”
“A well-placed socket wrench couldn’t loosen her up.”
“You’re not being fair. Minna is a woman, not just your cranky investor. I bet if you gave her the chance, she’d surprise you.”
“Kim said something similar. Just for argument’s sake. How do we get them to fall for each other?”
“Hmm. Harry’s on board, but we’re going to have to finesse Minna.”
“If we throw them together enough, won’t they just end up in the sack?”
She was annoyed by his remark. “Come on, Crofton. It isn’t all about sex, and love isn’t based on proximity.” ’
“I do pretty well in the relationship department, thank you.”
His voice sounds so smug it irritated her further. “Sure. That’s why I’m constantly delivering those break up bouquets.”
His voice got colder. “I didn’t realise I was being judged by my florist.”
His words brought her to her senses. Crofton was a client and she was in a business relationship with him, as he’d he’d just made perfectly clear. She matched his cold tone. “I’m sorry for my comment. It was out of line.”
There was a pause and when he spoke he was obviously trying to lighten the mood. “You’re right. I’m an anomaly in thinking relationships are a waste of time -- like small talk or sit-coms.”
Wendy forced a chuckle, though she was bothered by his glib answer.”What about love, companionship and someone to cuddle with?”
“You can get all that from a dog,” was Crofton’s clipped reply. “Anyway, I don’t see a ring on your finger.”
“I’ve made some bad choices.” An image of Martin’s smarmy face, confessing everything, rose in her mind. “But I haven’t given up on love forever.” Wendy frowned into the phone.
“See, that’s where we’re different. I know that real love is a rare commodity. It’s better to get what pleasure you can from life, as often as possible. The important thing is to break up before you start to bore each other.”
“Well, what if you meet someone who never bores you?”
“Then we’d get married and live together happily ever after in a rose-covered cottage, with a white picket fence and two point five children.”
She was even more annoyed with this answer, but she knew not to engage. “Fine, Crofton. You’ve made your point. So, how do we set Harry and Minna up again?”
“The problem is that those two don’t move in the same social circles. Somehow I can’t picture Minna at a monster truck rally.”
“True, but Harry’s a multi-layered guy. His bed and breakfast is pretty high-end, after all. He loves classical music and art. He’s just a bit more folksy than Minna.”
They both lapsed into silence. Wendy enjoyed the sound of his soft breathing coming over the line. It was comforting in its quiet, even, steadiness. What would it be like to fall asleep to the sound of that rhythmic breath every night?
Ugh. She was getting romantic over a man who equated relationships with sit-coms.She had to save herself from herself. She cut into the companionable silence. “Listen, I’ve actually got plans tonight. Can we talk about this later?”
“What? Oh sure. I’ve got plans as well… Things I’ve got to do. I’ll give you a call later this week.”
Wendy hung up. She knew she had done the right thing in ending their conversation. Why, then, did she have the urge to phone him right back? She resisted, turning back to the television. A new reality show had started. This one involved a bevy of bottle blonde women vying for the love of a handsome young man, or possibly he was a plastic surgeon doling out free procedures. Wendy couldn’t be bothered to figure it out, because she was busy re-hashing every second of the telephone conversation.
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Just popping in to say I'm enjoying this story so much! Wendy is adorable, and I love the sparkly-fun this whole endeavor. Can't wait to see what happens tomorrow!