One Sweet Christmas (Sweeter in the City Book 4) Read online

  OLIVIA MILES

  ~Rosewood Press~

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Also By Olivia Miles

  Author Bio

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Hailey Wells dropped two homemade marshmallows into a mug of steaming hot chocolate and slid the drink across the counter to her customer.

  “That’ll be four-fifty,” she said.

  “Four-fifty!” a voice harrumphed loudly.

  Hailey’s eyes darted to the silver-haired woman who clutched a leather handbag close to her chest as she let out a giant huff. Her beady dark eyes narrowed on the display case, eying the cookies and brownies and other pastries that Hailey baked fresh each morning until they sold out, usually somewhere around dinnertime. Only today, they hadn’t sold out. In fact, today, like most days recently, there were still far too many left.

  She’d considered making less, but somehow that felt like admitting defeat. And she wasn’t quite ready to do that. Not yet.

  “Christmas hot chocolate,” she said pointedly to the friendlier customer who had ordered the drink. “It’s a tradition here.”

  “Looks delicious,” the college-aged girl replied as she slipped her change into the tip jar and crossed the room to settle herself at a table near the window where just that morning, in a fit of fleeting festive cheer, Hailey had strung lights to frame the glass.

  Hailey stood back, trying not to sigh as the disgruntled customer eyed the mug with a critical eye as she moved to the front of the line, no doubt deciding whether the freshly whipped cream or the crushed candycanes and puffy vanilla marshmallows that covered the deliciously aromatic chocolate were worth the price.

  “Drip coffee,” the woman said tightly, her decision clearly made.

  Hailey knew better than to feed into the woman’s earlier remarks. It was the first week of December and already the streets of Chicago were draped with twinkling lights. Snow-flocked wreaths were hanging from lampposts and front doors, and holiday music bleated over every radio channel. Even Hailey’s own café, the Corner Beanery, was decked out, albeit modestly.

  Yes, there was no escaping the fact that it was Christmastime in the city. Maybe this woman just wasn’t feeling it this year. Hailey understood. More than this woman probably knew. In another setting she might slide the woman a rueful look, mutter something about the damn decorations, comment on those endless carols that you couldn’t escape from, maybe even launch into a passionate debate about commercialism and the meaning of the season and all that.

  Instead, she lifted the coffeepot from the burner and filled a mug with fresh brew. “Cream and sugar are in the corner,” she explained with a pleasant smile.

  “You know,” said the woman, leaning across the counter as if she had some secret to share. “That new place across the street only charges three-fifty for a hot chocolate.”

  Hailey felt her smile fade. As if she needed to be reminded of the national chain that had opened its doors a week before Halloween and stolen half her daily revenue ever since. “Well, they don’t use imported chocolate and fresh cream for their drinks, either,” Hailey said, forcing another grin to show that she was not only proud of what she offered but also completely unfazed by the comparison. “Here at the Corner Beanery we use only the freshest ingredients.”

  Seeming unconvinced, the woman pinched her lips and pulled back from the counter. She said nothing as she carefully pulled her wallet from handbag and handed over the exact change.

  “Happy Holidays!” Hailey said as the woman walked to the edge of the room with her coffee, still muttering under her breath.

  Happy Holidays, indeed. Hailey grabbed a rag and began scrubbing the wood counter a little harder than necessary, her eyes trained on the storefront across the street, all lit up and sparkling and full of life. She squinted at the latest addition: a hand-painted mural all over the windows, depicting a winter wonderland of sorts, with dancing snowmen and frolicking reindeer, but even through the cheerful design, she could see the customers gathered at the windows, filling every table, and more in line at the counter. She stopped scrubbing and stood to set her hands on her hips. She didn’t need to march across the street to know what brought them there. Dry scones, mass-produced cookies, and the promise of an experience that had already been given a mighty big stamp of corporate approval.

  While her café…Hailey sighed as she roamed her gaze over the half-empty room, the radio now droning one of the sadder tunes of the seasons as if to underscore the depressing reality of her situation. It was a gamble, she’d known, to take on a lease in such an expensive part of Chicago, to dare to believe that she stood a fighting chance, and that she could take a dream and make something of it. Every time she saw a restaurant or other small business shut its doors, she felt a chill roll down her spine and she had to look away, tell herself that she was one of the lucky ones, but deep down she wrestled with that nagging voice in her head, the one that told her to enjoy it while it lasted, because it would all catch up with her eventually, that it would be her turn at some point.

  And then what? She didn’t know. She’d given up everything for this place. Her childhood home back in Missouri. A solid, stable job at her dad’s law office. And Pete.

  Her heart felt heavy at the thought of her college sweetheart, and she looked over at the girl sitting near the window, trying to imagine when she was once so young, when so much still felt possible. When she was secure in the knowledge that she had someone to go home to. Someone who loved her.

  She’d dated here and there over the years since moving to Chicago, but no one had filled that hole in her heart, and eventually, she’d stopped looking. She had her business to occupy her time, after all. If she didn’t—

  Well. There was no use getting ahead of herself. Hailey wiped down the espresso machine until it gleamed. She was still in business, and eventually the novelty of that generic coffeehouse across the street would fade, people would get bored and lose interest, and they’d say, “Oh, Look! What a quaint and unique place right across the street. Let’s go there instead!”

  Yes, that was definitely what they would say.

  Hailey snorted. She pulled in a breath and realized with a start that it sounded eerily close to a whimper. Tears prickled the back of her eyes and her bottom lip was starting to wobble, and good grief, there were customers. Only a few, but there were still a few. Ones she couldn’t run off. Ones she had to be sure would want to return.

  Right. She’d just put this out of her mind for a bit. Focus on something happier. Like her annual Ugly Christmas Sweater Party. It was a tradition she’d started her very first year in Chicago, back when she barely knew anyone and was determined to know everyone, or at least a few people that would make her feel like she wasn’t floating aimlessly in a city she barely knew, or remind her of the one person who was missing…

  This year marked the seventh anniversary of her party, and over time, it had come to be one that most people in her social circle looked forward to, and not just because of the treats she offered. A few years back, she’d invited all her guests to help her decorate a Christmas tree, and this year would be no different. She smiled at the thought, the image of her small, Lincoln Park walk-up being filled with Christmas carols and laughter, an
d waking up the next morning to see the beautiful tree in her bay window, all glistening and lit up.

  It was almost enough to make her love Christmas again.

  She pulled her phone out of her pocket to see if she’d received any responses to the invitation she’d sent last week, even though it seemed moot at this point. Everyone knew her party was the first weekend of December. It was marked on their calendars!

  She frowned as she stared at the blank screen of her phone, but recovered quickly. People probably assumed they didn’t need to RSVP, given the tradition.

  “That’s this weekend?” her friend Mary cried when she dialed her at the ice cream parlor she owned and operated. “Oh, I completely forgot. We’re taking Violet skiing this weekend! Ben and I made these plans month ago, and it’s too late to cancel our reservation. Next year?”

  There was no way that Hailey could expect her to cancel a ski weekend for her party—Mary’s soon-to-be stepdaughter would be crushed.

  Hailey tried to cover her disappointment and ended the call quickly, moving onto Mary’s older sister Lila. “Do you have your ugly sweaters ready?” she asked in a more jovial tone than she felt.

  “I’ve been meaning to call you,” Lila said with a heavy sigh. In the background she could hear Lila’s husband Sam muttering something to her about artwork—a sure sign that the couple was still at their advertising firm just down the street. “We have a client thing that night. Corporate holiday party. There’s no way out of it. But you know I’d rather be at your party!” When Hailey didn’t say anything, she added hopefully, “If we don’t get out of there too late, maybe we can stop over for a drink?”

  Meaning, I would love to make it but can’t.

  Hailey muttered her understanding, even though her heart was beginning to feel heavy. She’d met Lila a little over seven years ago, when she’d first opened the café. Lila had just moved back to the city from New York, and they were both starting over in a sense. And both nursing broken hearts. But now Lila was back together with her man—married to him, in fact—while Hailey…Hailey was dangerously close to a party for one. In every possible way.

  Not willing to give up quite yet, she called her cousin. Surely family wouldn’t desert her on her one event of the year. Claire was practically obligated to come, right?

  Wrong. “Oh no, Ethan and I were invited to a wedding that night by a client…”

  Hailey listened patiently while Claire detailed the veil that she and Ethan’s sister—her business partner—had designed for the bride at their vintage clothing and accessories shop, apparently beaded with antique crystals she’d snagged at a recent estate sale.

  “I’m so sorry to miss it this year! But have fun! I can’t wait to hear all about it! Oh, another customer just came in. Gotta run!”

  Another customer. Imagine that. Hailey stuffed her phone back into her apron pocket and looked around the room. The Scrooge in the corner was sniffing into her mug of coffee now, as if she wasn’t sure she could trust it. And the man over near the door had been camping out since about two, and he had asked for three refills until Hailey finally told him three was the limit.

  And then there was the nice girl who had ordered the hot chocolate. Hailey watched as she scooped the last of the marshmallows from the mug and smiled. There. A satisfied customer. If only she could bring a few friends along next time. Maybe a few hundred friends…

  The man near the door folded his paper and emptied back his third refill before slamming the mug to the table. Catching her eye, he nodded gruffly as he pushed through the door.

  “Merry Christmas,” she called out to him. More like bah-humbug, she said to herself.

  Sighing, she walked to the display case and began carefully loading all the sweets into a paper bag. She’d take them home, eat them, and watch a movie that didn’t even remotely remind her of Christmas and all its endless cheer. Or memories. And maybe then she’d research cats, and where to buy one. Because thanks to her life choices, that was the closest thing to a companion she might have this holiday season. Or any other, from the way things were going.

  When the café had cleared out, she turned off the overhead lights, flicked off the radio, and stared at the room for a long time. The fairy lights glittered against the glass, casting a warm glow over the room, and a promise that tomorrow might be different. Tomorrow might even be…magical.

  With this thought, Hailey tightened her wool scarf around her neck, hugged her bag of treats a little closer to her chest, and pushed out into the winter night, feeling better than she had in hours—until she saw it.

  There, being set up across the street, in the empty parking lot that had once belonged to a school, was the worst reminder of the season ever. She blinked through the snow that had started to fall, wondering how this could even be possible, why now, of all years, this space would suddenly be occupied. But no, it was real, as real as the lights twinkling from their posts, as real as the fresh smell of pine she could make out all the way across the street, cutting through the crisp winter air.

  Hundreds of trees blocked her view of the old historical building that had been poised for development for years, and not just any sort of trees. Christmas trees. “Fresh from the farm!” the sign next to the gate read. Already a few people milled about, walking through the urban forest, their boots leaving footprints in the snow.

  Hailey turned her back to it and buried her chin in her scarf as she huddled against the biting wind.

  A tree lot across the street from her café.

  Well, wasn’t that just perfect?

  Chapter Two

  “Just sold a Douglas fir to a lady who insisted it was a spruce.”

  Pete Cameron looked up from the table where he sat reviewing an email that had arrived that morning and blinked at his cousin. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  Mike shook his head. “We just got our first sale of the day.”

  Well, they’d need about fifty more if they expected to turn the business around, Pete thought, but refrained from saying it aloud. Mike was younger than him by a few years, eager to be part of the business, and way too close to his mother for his own good. Any hint of trouble would travel back to Timber Valley, Wisconsin, by this evening, and then his own mother would be calling him in a panic, which was exactly what Pete wanted to avoid. It was half the reason he’d offered to show Mike the ropes of selling firsthand at a lot. Normally he was back on the farm, managing the day to day operations. But he couldn’t face his mother right now. Hell, it was hard enough facing Mike.

  He minimized the email from the bank before his cousin got curious and walked over to the coffeepot in the kitchenette. Empty, aside from a few grounds floating in some murky dregs.

  He checked his watch. It was nearly lunch time. And they’d just made their first sale.

  Fighting off panic, he said, “Why don’t you take a break and go grab us something to eat? I’ll cover the lot.”

  He grabbed his coat from the hook on the wall and opened the door of the trailer they’d set up at the back of the space, next to the vacant outparcel building they’d set up as a makeshift holiday shop, complete with mistletoe and garland and all the usual tree trimmings and decorations. Evergreens of all shapes and sizes filled his view, but even this couldn’t distract him from the knowledge that he wasn’t up on the farm in Wisconsin. He was in the city. Chicago, to be exact. And he couldn’t get wait to get out.

  Twenty-two more days, he told himself. Twenty-two more days and Christmas would be here, this lot would be stripped out, and this city, and every memory it brought to the surface, would be in the past.

  But Cameron Farms might also be in the past, he realized uneasily. They had until December 31 to pay off the loan, or thanks to the lien on the property, they’d lose the house. His family house. His mother’s house. And every memory that was kept behind its four walls.

  “Hottie at two o’clock,” Mike said, already walking over to a pretty brunette who was studying a Scots Pi
ne.

  Pete watched in amusement as his cousin began chatting up the poor girl by heartily offering to not only help her pick out a tree, but deliver and set it up, free of charge, of course. In other words, things that usually came with a fee. And one they needed. Badly. As he listened to his cousin recite the list of merits of each variety they carried, he could only shake his head. Let one of them have a little fun this Christmas. God knew he wouldn’t be finding any.

  “I’ll grab us that lunch!” he called to Mike, who gave him a discreet nod before turning back to the girl, who was laughing politely. No doubt Mike was telling the joke about the reindeer again.

  Pete shook his head as he marched out of the lot, coming to a stop at the corner of an intersection. Lincoln Park was a quaint area of Chicago, and luckily one with heavy foot traffic. Shops lined both sides of the street, their awnings blowing in the wind, and up ahead a subway train rumbled across the elevated tracks. Just across the street was a big name coffee chain and, on the opposite corner, a smaller, no name option with a discreet wrought iron sign. Floor to ceiling windows were edged with lights, and from this distance he could see a few people in the window.

  Just the kind of understated place he preferred. He’d never been one for those fancy drinks with those long, specific names he could never get quite right. Strong black coffee would suit him just fine, and maybe a bowl of soup or chili. Mike, he knew, would prefer a burger, but Pete wasn’t up for exploring the neighborhood today. His mind was busy, and he had that agitated twist in his gut every time he thought about the latest letter from the bank.

  He didn’t wait for the walk sign to appear before darting his eyes to the empty street and jogging across the slick pavement. The front door of the café was large, with glass panes and a big brass handle. A wreath bounced against the glass when he opened it to let a woman and her toddler pass onto the snowy sidewalk, before ducking into the warmth. He inhaled sharply, feeling momentarily distracted from his troubles. The smell of roasted coffee beans filled the air. At the display case, baskets of baked goods were neatly arranged, each offering more delicious looking than the next. Not the place he would find a sandwich, he realized, but a thick slice of that quiche would do.