Page 45 of Love, Lies and Mistletoe
He needed to change the subject. “So busy day tomorrow?”
“I expect so if these last few weeks are any indication. I hope I don’t run out of merchandise.” Her tone had lost its lightheartedness. Him and his big mouth. Layla’s gaze shifted to him again. “Are you working through the weekend or is business slowing down now?”
“Not working. I’m heading out of town.”
Layla’s expression had regained its merriment. “Are you cooking someone else’s Thanksgiving feast?”
He laughed. “No. It’s business. I’m looking at a possible place to relocate.”
“Oh?” Her expression faltered a bit. “You still haven’t found a place?”
“No luck.”
“But you’re still looking in the Twin Cities?”
“Maybe. An old friend of mine has a place in Chicago. Judging by the photos he sent me, it would be perfect. So I’m going to take a look.”
“All your contacts are here though.”
He shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to crack a bigger market. Now may be the time.” His family was spread throughout the Midwest. Most of his employees were seasonal. Only Joan and Jeff were employed full-time. He could very well leave the two of them to look over operations in the Twin Cities while he launched in Chicago. It was a reconnaissance trip anyway. No documents to sign, no commitments made.
A chorus of coyotes sang somewhere near the river. That wasn’t something he heard in St. Paul, and it alarmed him for a moment. He liked Copper Creek. It had a relaxed vibe. No cars honking or music blaring from a house down the street. Brant didn’t want to get into his car yet, but the topic of moving his business was a heavier one than he wanted to delve into at the moment. Besides, Layla hugged her arms across her body and had started hopping in place. He could take a hint, even if she didn’t intend it that way.
“I should let you get back inside. Before you turn to an ice sculpture.”
“Good idea.”
She rewrapped the bulky sweater around her chest, and the gesture caught him off guard. For a second he thought she was moving in for a goodbye hug. He stepped forward, one arm out. Her eyes widened as she leaned in a hair. When he realized he’d misjudged and she stayed rooted to the spot, he clapped her softly on the arm. It felt very buddy-ish, all wrong.
“Good night, Layla.” His voice was hoarse.
She laughed nervously and gave him a small smile. “Nice to see you again.”
As he drove away into the clear night, Brant glanced into his rearview mirror. Layla had stopped outside her front door. In the soft light of the front porch, she stared after him. Her figure grew smaller in his mirror, watching him drive away until his car climbed a slight hill and dipped before he came to the four-way stop.
If he moved away from the Twin Cities, there might be something to leave behind after all.
Chapter Twenty
Layla stood in front of her bathroom sink with the door open. In the kitchen, her mother prepped a pie at the kitchen counter for dinner that night. It was both a curse and a blessing that her upstairs apartment was so small she could stand in the bathroom and see through the kitchen to the tall front windows of her living room. While her mom tended to the pie, her father sat near the window with his laptop, working. The three of them talked freely without having to shout or drop what they were doing.
“How is the store doing? You’ve sure done some darling things to it since we were here last,” Mom said.
Layla gave her hair a quick brush, tucked it behind her ears, and made a face at her reflection. These days she was lucky to do anything more than shower and let her hair air dry.
“One word: insane.” She came out of the bathroom and poured herself some orange juice. Leaning against the counter, she watched her mother swirl a spoon through the bowl of pie filling. “I’m not complaining, but something strange has happened. Business has been crazy for such a small community.”
Her mother raised her brows while she set the spoon in the sink then poured the cranberry-apple filling into the pie crust. “That’s wonderful. Have you been advertising?”
“Nothing more than in the local paper. I mean, people come through Copper Creek from the Twin Cities to Duluth and vice versa. But I never imagined this kind of traffic. There really isn’t a big draw in town, if you know what I mean. No destination restaurant or attraction of any sort.”
“You’rethe big attraction, sweetheart,” Dad offered.
“Of course she is, Gerald. Our girl has always turned straw to gold, no matter what she does.”
She laughed. “That makes it sound like success just fell into my lap.”
Mom shook her head, looking up at the ceiling. “I wasn’t implying it did. Hard work is yourmodus operandi. Always has been.”
