Once Upon a Winter's Heart Read online

  “Oh…Mama mia.” Nona shook her head with wide eyes. “How can it already be February?”

  “I know what you mean.” Saundra set some dishes by the sink where Emma was already running water. “Time goes by so quickly…the older we get.”

  “No, no, that is not it, cara.” Nona sat down on the yellow kitchen stool with a loud sigh. “Oh…dear…”

  Emma turned around to look at her grandmother. “Are you okay, Nona?”

  With her hands over her face Nona groaned. “It cannot be.”

  Alarmed, Emma hurried over, placing a hand on Nona’s shoulder. “Nona, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?”

  “Sick at heart, dolce.”

  “What’s wrong?” Saundra asked with concern.

  Nona looked up, pointing at the calendar with a dismayed expression. “Poppi would be sad…so sad.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it is February today. And Poppi’s Valentine decorations are not yet up. It is wrong. All wrong.”

  “Oh…I forgot.” Emma grimaced to remember Poppi’s obsession with this particular holiday. Poppi always decorated the bookstore to the hilt on the first day of February. He’d been doing it for years. As a child, she had loved this tradition. As an adult…well, it seemed a bit much.

  “Maybe Virginia and Cindy already put the decorations up…?” Saundra suggested weakly.

  “No…no…they have never done it before. They would not know where to find them or how to put them up. That was Poppi’s job.” Nona sighed. “Maybe it does not matter…all things must come to an end…someday.” She slowly stood. “I am very tired. Very tired.”

  “Don’t worry, Nona, I’ll go put the decorations up,” Emma said quickly. “I used to help Poppi all the time when I was a kid. I know how to do it.”

  “Oh, cara mia!” Nona grasped Emma’s hands in her own. “Grazie, grazie! You are an angel!”

  Emma smiled. But she was glad that Nona couldn’t see through to her heart since Emma’s attitude toward decorating for Valentine’s Day was anything but angelic. “Don’t you worry about it, Nona. The store will be festive and bright before the night is over.”

  “Ah, for the energy of youth,” Saundra said. “All I want to do is put my feet up.”

  “We will finish the dishes,” Nona told Emma as she handed her a set of keys. “You go to the store, dolce. It’s closed now. No one will be there to disturb you. Hurry, hurry.”

  As Emma hurried out to her car, she was relieved she hadn’t taken time to shower yet. Digging around in the dusty back room, climbing up the ladder and mucking around, it was just as well that she still had on her old blue cardigan and worn gray cords. Thankfully there would be no one around to see her.

  It was just beginning to rain as she started her car. Grumbling to herself over the foolishness of decorating for such a silly holiday, she drove the few blocks to town and turned onto a nearly deserted Main Street. The rain was coming down hard now and, according to the readout in her car, the temperature was close to freezing. Perhaps it would turn to snow before long. She parked directly in front of the darkened bookstore, dismayed to see the sad black wreath hanging on the door. Most likely this was Nona’s doing. And, really, it seemed more fitting to this time of year and tonight’s weather than the garish hearts and cupids she would soon be releasing from their boxes. But, out of respect for Poppi and concern for Nona, she would complete this task.

  She quietly let herself into the bookstore, turning on the lights and locking the door behind her. The familiarity of the store warmed her heart slightly. Books were always so friendly, so homey. Perhaps she didn’t really want to be the Grinch who stole Valentine’s Day after all. She heard the familiar meow of the bookstore cat.

  “Hey, Gattino,” she called gently to him. “You’re being invaded tonight, old boy.” He rubbed up against her legs and she bent down to scratch his furry head. “Not just by me either. Before I leave, this place will be crawling with cupids. I hope you don’t mind.”

  She headed for the back room and turned on the lights. She soon found the cabinet where the Valentine decorations were stashed up high. She considered hunting down a stepladder, but thought perhaps she could reach them. After all, she was nearly as tall as Poppi had been, and he never used a stepladder. She stretched up to balance the highest box on her fingertips. She was just easing it down when the whole thing tipped and tumbled and, opening up, cascaded down upon her with a loud crash.

  Stunned to find herself sitting on the hard cement floor surrounded by lacy pink hearts and purple flowers and scarlet cupids, she felt like screaming. So this was her reward for trying to be a good sport? All feelings of warmth and goodwill evaporated and suddenly she felt like shredding all these old cardboard cutouts to pieces. She picked up a stuffed white bear holding a red satin heart and maybe it was her, but he seemed to be smirking. Honestly, did Burcelli Bookstore really need this nonsense? Did she have to make the dignified bookstore resemble an advertisement for a totally frivolous holiday? A commercialized occasion that was more about chocolate and roses than it was about true love and romance? Seriously, would anyone really care or even notice if these Valentine monstrosities mysteriously disappeared?

  Yes…Nona would care. So would Poppi…if he knew. Tempting as it was to dump all this into the Dumpster out back, she would never be able to live with herself if she did. Emma was plucking a pink crepe paper streamer from her hair when she heard the sound of a door creaking open. At first she thought it might be the cat, but how would Gattino open a door? Holding her breath, she listened.

  “Hello?” a firm-sounding male voice called out. “Anyone in here?”

  She froze, unsure of what to do and wondering where her phone was, then asking herself, Would a burglar call out a greeting?

  “Hello?” he called again. “Virginia? Cindy? Anyone in here?”

  The sound of approaching footsteps sent a chill down her spine—and yet if this intruder knew the names of the employees, he probably wasn’t about to rob the place, was he?

  She considered pulling the Valentine box over her head and hiding beneath it, but at the same time knew that was just silly. Although she did glance around to see if there was something handy to use as a weapon—just in case. Perhaps she could whack him with a large book. Still hunkered down in the Valentine mess, she watched helplessly as a man emerged from the shadows back by the employees’ restroom.

  “Hello?” he called again. “Anyone here?”

  As he stepped fully into the light, she instantly recognized him. Although he wasn’t wearing the stylish charcoal suit, she knew who he was. “Lane Forester?” She stared at him in wonder. “What?”

  “Emma?” He looked as stunned as she felt. “What are you doing—what happened?” He rushed over to help her to her feet. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She brushed off the streamer. “Well, except for feeling pretty clumsy.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  She explained how Nona was so distressed. “Poppi always put the Valentine’s Day decorations up on February first.” She shrugged. “So I offered to come do it.”

  He nodded. “That’s right. Today is the first.”

  She bent to pick up a lace trimmed heart, dropping it back into the box. “The truth is I’d just as soon light a match to all this than hang it up.”

  “Really?” He squatted down, helping her to pick up the decorations and replacing them into the box.

  “Can you imagine what a glorious bonfire this would make?” She whirled some crepe paper around like a banner.

  “It would probably burn fast.” His brow creased with concern, as if he thought she was serious.

  “The truth is…” She dropped a pair of arrow-connected hearts into the box. “I hate Valentine’s Day.”

  “Wow…that’s really sad.”

  “I’m sorry.” She tossed in another cupid. “But I just happen to think it’s a dumb holiday.”

  “Why is that?” He
peered curiously at her.

  Now even though he was casually dressed in a sweater and cords, she felt like a bag lady in her dirty cleaning clothes. And her hair—was it still in the same messy ponytail from this morning? Perhaps that’s what made her decide to speak her mind. What difference did it make what he thought of her? “Valentine’s Day is like a cruel joke,” she said as she scooped up some cupids. “First of all, for those who aren’t in a relationship, it simply reminds them of their pathetic loneliness. And for couples it’s just an excuse to go out and waste good money on fattening chocolates or hothouse roses or overly expensive jewelry. And then, of course, there’s always the guilt trip for those unfortunates who forget about the holiday—woe unto the husband who shows up empty-handed. And then there’s the hurt and disappointment for the ones with dashed expectations. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  “Wow, it seems you’ve given this some serious thought.” He set the last of the decorations on top of the box and stood up straight.

  She shrugged, wishing she had taken a little more time to clean up now. “Well, I worked in advertising long enough to get a bit jaded about commercialism.” She shoved her hands in her pants pockets. “Sorry to be so gloomy. But thanks for helping. Now I better get busy.”

  “So, even though you despise Valentine’s Day, you’re still going to put up all these decorations?”

  “Oh, yeah…” She reached up for another box. “It’s a tradition, you know.” She forced a smile.

  “Here, let me get that for you.” He stepped in front of her, easily lifting it down from the cabinet.

  “Thanks.”

  “Well, this is all wrong.” He set the box in her arms then bent down to pick up the larger one from the floor.

  “What’s all wrong?”

  “This bah-humbug attitude over Valentine’s Day.”

  “I know,” she admitted sheepishly. “And I do feel guilty for being so negative. I know Poppi would be disappointed in me.”

  He nodded. “He would definitely not approve.”

  She turned away now, walking toward the front of the store. She could hear him following her as she went over in the lounge area. It brought no comfort to her to realize that the lighting out here was much brighter than the back room. But why should she care about what her sister’s boyfriend thought of her? She set her box down on the coffee table then turned to peer at him. “Hey, how did you get in here anyway? Do you have a key or something?”

  “I leased the office upstairs from Poppi. It’s the headquarters for KidsPlay. I normally use the outside exit when I work late.” He set down his box. “I was just getting ready to leave when I heard the noise down here. I knew the store was closed by now, so I thought I better check it out. I came down the interior stairs.”

  “Oh…” She picked up a sassy-looking cupid and attempted to straighten its slightly bent bow. “Do you always work this late?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Well, thanks again for your help.” She made a stiff smile as she tossed the cupid back into the box. “I better get busy or I’ll be here all night.” She glanced around, wondering where the ladder might be hiding.

  But Lane just stood there and, with a stern-looking expression, folded his arms across his front. “I’m sorry, Emma, but I think an intervention is needed here.” He stepped between her and the boxes, almost as if he was protecting the decorations.

  “What?” She frowned at him but then remembered her threatening words about burning everything. “You don’t honestly think I’m going to destroy my grandfather’s decorations? I was just kidding about setting them on fire.” She forced a laugh. “Don’t worry, Lane, I’m not really a pyromaniac. And I won’t be torching anything tonight.”

  “No, I didn’t think you would. But just the same I believe you need an intervention. Especially since you’re going about this all wrong.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean you do not have the right spirit.”

  She let out a long sigh.

  “And if you can’t decorate the bookstore cheerfully, you should not do it at all.”

  “I know…I know…” She held up her hands in a helpless gesture. “What can I say?”

  He rubbed his chin as if thinking. “You’re probably not aware that I helped Poppi decorate for Valentine’s Day these past couple of years.”

  “Seriously?” She tilted her head to one side, studying him. “You honestly helped him decorate?”

  He nodded. “Uh-huh. Which is precisely why I know you’re going about this all wrong, Emma Burcelli.”

  “So…what do you recommend?”

  “I recommend that you go find the ladder, the Scotch tape, the masking tape, the push pins, thumbtacks, and whatnot. Meanwhile I’ll go get what’s missing.”

  “What’s missing?”

  He shook his finger at her. “You take care of your list and I’ll take care of mine, Miss Burcelli, and we will meet back here.”

  It didn’t take long to locate tape and pins, but the ladder was another matter. She finally found it tucked behind a shelf in the storage room. She was just dragging it out when she heard music starting to play. That wasn’t so unusual when the store was open. But why now? As she emerged into the bookstore, she realized it was Dean Martin. Well, of course—Poppi would approve that. She couldn’t help but chuckle as she carried the ladder out to the lounge area. But when she saw Lane standing by the coffee table with a bottle of wine and two glasses—and an opened box of chocolates on the table—she was too stunned to respond.

  “I see you found the things on your list,” he said as he filled a glass with red wine.

  “What on earth are you doing?” She stared at him in shock.

  “This is how it’s done.” He handed a filled a glass to her then filled his own and held it up. “Poppi always started with a toast to—”

  “No way,” she said. “I helped Poppi decorate all the time and he never did anything like—”

  “How old were you the last time you helped your grandfather?”

  She considered this. “Well, I was still in high school…eighteen maybe.”

  “Uh-huh.” He gave her a knowing look. “I doubt Poppi thought it was appropriate to serve his underage granddaughter wine. But, trust me, this is how Poppi taught me to decorate for Valentine’s Day.” He nodded to the comfortable chairs. “Please, take a seat and I’ll explain.”

  Feeling a bit like Alice through the looking glass, Emma sat down.

  “You see, the first time I came down here to help Poppi was on a night much like this. Dark and stormy. Your grandfather brought out a bottle of wine and—”

  “Since when did he keep wine at the bookstore?”

  “I don’t know when he started this tradition…but for book clubs and special events…he always seemed to have a few bottles on hand in the back room.” Lane gave her a tolerant smile. “May I continue?”

  “Please, do.”

  “So, before we could start decorating, Poppi insisted on pouring us a glass of wine and then he made a toast.” Lane held his glass up. “He said, ‘To Valentine’s Day and to true love.’” Now Lane reached over and clinked his glass against hers. “Come on, you have to say it too.”

  “To Valentine’s Day and to true love?” she echoed with uncertainty. What was going on here? Was this guy for real?

  “Very good.” He took a sip and, feeling like she was playing a part in a movie or maybe just dreaming, she followed his example.

  “Not bad,” she said as she tried another sip.

  Now Lane picked up the box of chocolates and held them out to her. “And this was the next part of the preparation.”

  “Seriously?” She stared at the lush-looking treats.

  “On your Poppi’s honor,” he said with a sincere expression.

  She hesitantly reached for a chocolate. Taking a cautious bite, she studied him with curiosity. “You’re not pulling my leg?” she asked. “Poppi really gave you wine
and chocolates and played Dean Martin for you?”

  He laughed. “Yes. He told me that he wanted to put me in a Valentine’s state of mind before we decorated. He said if you didn’t do it with the right spirit, it would ruin everything.”

  Emma nodded slowly. “Yeah…I actually remember him saying that when I was a girl. But I always had the right spirit back then.” She took another sip of wine, savoring it with the flavor of the dark chocolate, suddenly remembering what fun they’d had decorating together. Maybe he had played music.

  Lane reached for another chocolate. “Well, the truth is, I was a bit like you when I met Poppi. I wasn’t too keen on Valentine’s Day either. I suspect that’s why he invited me to help him decorate that year.”

  “Really? You were a Valentine’s Day Scrooge too?” She felt unexpectedly hopeful.

  “Yep. I didn’t believe in true love anymore…long story, but Poppi got me to tell him about it. And Poppi helped me to deal with it.” He held up his glass again. “Here’s to Poppi.”

  She clicked her glass against his for a second time. “To Poppi.” And as they sat there in the lounge, listening to Dean Martin, drinking red wine and eating chocolates and talking, she wondered if it was possible that romance still lived after all. Perhaps she’d been wrong to declare it dead.

  Chapter 6

  By the time they finished decorating, it was nearly eleven o’clock, and Emma thought the bookstore had never looked better. “I don’t even know how to thank you,” she told Lane as they put the ladder and empty boxes in the back room. “Nona will be so relieved.”

  “I think Poppi would like it too,” Lane said as he flicked off the light switch.

  They gathered their coats and turned off the music and lights in the store and were both leaving by the front door when Emma realized that she hadn’t had this much fun in ages…maybe years. It was almost like being on a really good date. But even as the thought hit her, it was immediately doused with a heavy load of guilt. Lane was her sister’s beau. And because he had been Poppi’s good friend, he had come to her aid tonight. That was all there was to it. To imagine anything more wasn’t just foolish; it was downright dangerous. And she loved Anne too much to even consider such a thing.