“You have the cutest things in here,” the woman said as her gaze swept over the flocked tree next to the counter. It was one of Layla’s favorite trees in the store, decorated with Swedish straw ornaments and red knitted hearts.
Layla came around the counter and handed the bag to her. “Thank you. Is this your first time here?”
“Yes, it is. But not the last.”
She grinned. “That’s what I like to hear.”
The woman dug into her purse. “I almost forgot: Do you stamp this or something to show I was here?”
Layla had no idea what she meant until she saw one of those promotional cards again for the Kringle Market Crawl with the list of Twin City businesses. Copper Creek Home was the only one not in the Minneapolis-St. Paul metro area. She took the card from the woman when she handed it over, glancing at the cute graphics and the list of participating businesses again. “No, I think you show your receipts to the chamber when you visit everyone.”
“Wonderful! You’re the last place I needed to visit,” the woman said.
“Thanks again for stopping.”
The woman held the door open for Marybelle as she came into the shop. Layla had told her to take a lunch break since she’d been gift-wrapping nonstop for the last two hours. Marybelle was still under doctor’s orders to take it easy, but she insisted she could wrap packages “without burning one brain cell.” Layla worried Marybelle had more bravado than common sense sometimes. She looked more tired than usual since her fall.
“You came back at the right time.” Layla set a new roll of wrapping paper and tape on the card table as Marybelle sat. “There seems to be a nice lull now.” Only a handful of customers were browsing. The door chimes jingled. She waved to Henry as he came in for his weekly flower bouquet.
Marybelle leaned back and sighed loudly.
Layla touched Marybelle’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, it’s that nephew of mine again. He thinks he knows more about how I should live than I do. You know what I told him?” She paused, letting the drama build. “He should stick to diagnosing hearing problems.Mydoctor specializes in old ladies, not ears.”
Layla chuckled. “I think he’s just worried, Marybelle.” She dropped her hand. “He cares about you.”
“I know. Did I tell you he apologized for missing all of our calls on Thanksgiving?”
“No, but I expected he would.” Kyle had called Layla early the next day, frantic that the calls hadn’t registered on his phone until after he’d gone to bed that night. The distress was evident in his voice. She didn’t doubt his sincerity this time.
Marybelle played with the tape while she shook her head. “It’s not nice to complain. But you know me. I like being independent, and at my age, it’s more important than ever.“
“I understand. More than you know. Sometimes it can be a fault though.“
Marybelle looked at her over her glasses in typical Marybelle fashion. “Being independent is way different than being alone.”
Layla knew what she meant. They’d had this conversation each time Marybelle set her up on one of her blind dates. Layla was anxious to change the subject.
"What's that?” Layla pointed to the bag sitting at Marybelle’s feet.
“Your friend’s casserole dishes from Thanksgiving.”
She was instantly sorry she asked.
Marybelle averted her eyes. “Would it be too much bother to return them for me?” Hers was a simpering tone. She wasn’t fooling anyone.
Layla scowled at the heavy-lidded dishes.
“Oh, come on now. I’m not asking you to propose to the guy. Just return the dishes.”
“Why didn’t you give them to him when he came to see you?” Layla peeked into the bag. There were too nice not to give back.
“He came to seeyou.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Layla enunciated each word.
“I forgot.”
