Page 25 of Sugar Plum Serenade

CHAPTER 10

A typical Saturday night at The Magnolia combined with thoughts of Olive and a Monday night date kept Tuck’s mind off the news Colt had shared earlier in the week. At least, ghosts and grandmothers weren’t all he thought about as he poured drinks, talked to customers, and kept the peace when it was necessary. He was glad to be busy with other things, happy to have his mind on other matters. He wasn’t yet sure what to do with the information Colt had shared, if anything.

In quiet moments his mind wandered, and as the crowd thinned and quieted, unwanted thoughts came roaring back.

Colt had dropped a real bombshell. Tuck could’ve spent the past couple of days searching family trees on the Internet or hiring a PI to do the search for him, but he’d done neither. Did he really want to know? He hadn’t decided. His mother, gone more than twenty years now, would’ve loved to know her birth mother. She would’ve cherished the story of Phillip and Maude and latched onto the fact that her parents had loved one another so much.

He wasn’t a sentimental person; years ago he’d accepted that he had no living family and wouldn’t, unless the day came that he made his own. A wife. Kids. He’d never even come close.

Tuck couldn’t afford to get lost in sentimentality, but finding out he’d had a grandmother living right down the street all these years hit him hard. Harder than he’d expected. His carefully constructed world had been turned upside down, and he didn’t like it at all.

He could choose to simply ignore what Colt had told him or write the entire story off to fantasy, a crazy man’s hallucination. Why not? What difference did it make? He wasn’t about to burst in on Maude’s family, when and if he identified them, with a big “Surprise!” No one wanted long-lost relatives showing up on their doorstep, especially this time of year. Unless he had some kind of proof, they’d write him off as a con man. Or a crazy person.

To be honest, he felt a little crazy at the moment. Between the granny news and Olive, that wasn’t a surprise.

To take his mind off ghosts, he pondered where to take Olive Monday. Two days seemed a very long time to wait. Could he show up at her house in the middle of the night? Tonight? Sure. Would she let him in? Probably. But he didn’t want to do it that way. She deserved better. She deserved a real date, a special evening before they went where he was damn sure they were headed.

Unfortunately he’d already taken her to Maggie's, which was the best place for a date in Seawolf Beach. The other options were too noisy, too crowded. The music was too loud. They could drive over to Biloxi, as he’d planned to tonight, but he didn’t want to be that far way from home when they were done. It wasn’t that far, but still… far enough.

She’d said that this year Christmas was nice. He had to admit, he didn’t feel as much a Scrooge about the holiday as he normally did. Olive wouldn’t be here much longer, but while she was around… was it possible they were actually good for one another? He’d never thought himself a positive influence on anyone. He’d especially never expected to be the one to bolster anyone’s Christmas spirit.

Olive was a special woman. She deserved to be treated like one. No man should ever drop her again.

When inspiration hit, he started making phone calls. Those calls took his mind off surprise relatives, lost grannies, and everything else. Everything else but Olive.

Olive didn’t bake,so the process with Dawn and her kiddies was challenging. The rest of the year there was no reason for her to spend an entire day in the kitchen. Why make cookies or cake for one? There was a great bakery close to her condo where she could buy a couple of cookies, or a slice of cake, or a small loaf of freshly baked bread. It wasn’t like she had anyone to bake for at home.

Baking with children was messy. Fun, filled with laughter, but messy and chaotic. Dawn’s lovely, large kitchen was in turmoil, likely not for the first time. Dawn didn’t seem to mind the noise, the flour all over the floor, or the screeching. Oh, the screeching.

A few hours after the process began, they had several containers of freshly baked cookies placed throughout the kitchen. Chocolate chip. Gingerbread. Oatmeal raisin. The misshapen cookies were set to the side for the bakers — and Mike — to test, while the prettier ones were saved for friends. One big box went into the freezer, the only way to save them for Dawn and Mike’s annual Christmas Eve gathering. The baby was due Christmas Eve. What was Dawn thinking, to keep that tradition! The baby could come early, or late, which could change their plans in a heartbeat. Who knew with babies?

Not her.

When Olive had asked her sister why she didn’t just schedule a C-section, Dawn had become almost angry, for a moment. If it was necessary, sure, she’d do it, but her daughters had come into the world in a natural way and her son would do the same. Giving birth wasn’t supposed to be convenient.

Olive wasn’t sure she agreed, but arguing with Dawn these days wasn’t wise.

Willow and Ava were adorable, loving, energetic girls. But they were also a full-time job. Now a little boy would be thrown into the mix. How would Dawn manage? Three kids, a husband, a household, a business…

Olive turned away to look out the back window for a long moment. Was that gnawing sensation in her gut envy?

Nope. No way. If she did feel a bit of jealousy, it was some weird biological thing. A ticking clock Tuck had wound up tight and left unsprung.

She wondered if he was awake yet. He worked late. What time would he get up on a Sunday?

Nope. No. She was too old and too careful to chase after any man.

Ava danced her way to Olive, who’d just taken a seat at the kitchen table with a misshapen chocolate chip cookie in hand. Dawn had been sitting for a while, with her own cookie. A gingerbread man with no head.

“Rosaline is very sad that she can’t have a cookie,” Ava said as she twirled. “She misses cookies. Among other things, but she won’t tell me what the other things are. She says I’m too young to hear about it. I’m not too young. I’m four years old!”

A ghost or an active imagination? What about Giles? The whole thing about a pirate ghost seeing her and Tuck kissing, that was impossible, right? Be brave. The kiss had been… a lucky guess. Had to be. As for the be brave, she must’ve misheard. Ava didn’t always speak clearly. Maybe she’d been trying to say something else, a completely ordinary word Olive had no hope of deciphering.

Yeah, right.

There was no reason to alarm Dawn with these questions, but… “How many invisible friends does Ava have?”

Dawn sighed. “Three, but Rosaline seems to be the most popular. I know she’ll outgrow this one day, but for now it’s exhausting.”