Christmas on Main Collection

Prologue

Prologue

AURORA

The lawyer’s words suddenly give my life some much-needed direction.

"Seriously?" I ask with excitement at the same time my older sister, Allegra, asks in disbelief.

I turn and stare at her profile, wondering why she isn’t feeling like our world has just opened to all sorts of new possibilities. My mind is swimming with ideas of what I can do with this money.

We’ve been summoned to the law offices of our late great aunt’s lawyer. A stocky older man with crisp white hair who looks like he should be sitting in a rocking chair on his front porch littered with grandchildren, not in a cramped office with piles of manila folders and loose paper stacked near to the ceiling.

“That’s what it says right here.” Mr. Griffith says, holding up the paperwork in front of him. “The last will and testament of your Great Aunt Doris clearly states that she’s left her store in the township of Central Coast, California, to the joint ownership of one Allegra Melody St. Clair and Aurora Alice St. Clair.”

I can't control myself as I fidget in my wooden chair. After years of my mother yelling my full name whenever she was upset with me, hearing him read it out loud brings back an uneasy feeling like I'm a child in trouble and not a twenty-two-year-old adult.

Mr. Griffith takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. It is as if simply giving us this news is weighing on him as well. It’s not until this moment that I realize that Allegra and I aren’t the only ones who lost Doris. She was a beloved member of this small town, not only because her shop brought joy to the community. She loved to pay it forward and care for anyone who crossed her path.

I remember once, when I was a little girl and visiting over the summer, there was a teenage boy sitting out on the bench in front of her shop. His clothes were worn and dirty, and his hair grew in a matted mess on his head. The fear I felt when he looked up at us as we approached the store stopped me dead in my little Mary Jane tracks. If it weren’t for my hand in Aunt Doris’s, I might have run off in the other direction down the street.

But Aunt Doris held onto me tight, not letting my fear get the better of me and forcing me to really see the boy in front of us. His eyes were dark like the night sky and filled with a sadness that my seven-year-old self wouldn’t understand until years later. He wasn’t sitting on that bench because he was waiting for his mom or dad to pick him up. He was sitting there because he had nowhere else to go.

Aunt Doris spoke to him in hushed tones that I couldn't hear, but the boy nodded at whatever she said to him. I don't know what came over me at that moment, but I reached my little hand into my pocket and pulled out a small carved wooden snowflake. Aunt Doris had let me pick out something to keep in her shop earlier that morning, and I thought nothing was more magical than snow.

Just as the boy walked away, I pulled my hand from Aunt Doris and ran after him. It took my little legs twice as many steps to catch up with him, but when I did, he stopped and stared at me in confusion. Neither one of us said a word, but I handed him my snowflake. Hoping it would bring a smile to his face the way it did mine.

“What does that mean exactly?” Allegra asks, interrupting the memory that I’d long since forgotten until this moment.

“It means you own her store, Christmas on Main, as well as the adjoining parking lot,” Mr. Griffith says.

“So how much is that in dollars?” I ask, ignoring the side-eyed look I’m surely getting from my older sister.

It's terrible to ask such a question at this moment, but just that momentary trip down memory lane is stirring up all sorts of emotions inside me. I need something else, anything else, to focus on to keep the feelings of grief from hitting me. Allegra doesn’t need me crying, especially in front of a man we only met.

“The building and lot alone are worth a pretty penny.” Mr. Griffith gestures to the paperwork. “But when it comes to the business itself, it’s hard to put an exact dollar amount on it, but it’s easily worth four or five times as much as the property alone.”

“Seriously?” Allegra and I both ask again in unison.

I had no idea a small year-round Christmas shop could be so profitable. I’m sure Allegra is already crunching the numbers in her head. I mean, this is what she does for a living. And there is no way she's going to be interested in halting her climb up the corporate ladder to run a Christmas store in small-town Central Coast, California with her younger sister.

“Your Great Aunt Doris knew what she was about. I don’t mind telling you, there have been some big-name investors eyeing it, but she refused all their offers.”

“Why?” I blurt out the question, and this time, I definitely feel Allegra’s judging eyes swing over to me.

Mr. Griffith shrugs. “Sentiment. The desire to leave a legacy. That store was Doris’s life’s work.”

Her legacy is so much more than that shop. But seeing as she was a woman who never married or had children, it was easy for her to dedicate her life to it. I just feel bad that we are the only ones left for her to leave this place to—a workaholic and a wanderer.

Another memory pops into my mind—Aunt Doris letting me help her set up the display window.

“Does she still have that little village with the ice figures skating around in the front windows?” I ask.

Mr. Griffith thinks for a moment before he gives me a quick nod of assurance. Allegra cuts me off before I can ask about the motorized train set that runs on a track around the perimeter of the shop. I always loved following it around the store, wishing I could be riding it, traveling to some great adventure.

“What’s been going on with the store since she passed?” Allegra asks. “Did she have any employees? Has the store been open at all?”

I’m not surprised my sister is thinking about the logistics. I doubt she’d even care what kind of shop it is as long as it is successful. If she's not careful, she'll end up alone with only her spreadsheets to keep her warm.

“Doris had a part-time gal who came in a few times a week,” he explains. “But she’s due to have a baby the week before Thanksgiving, so she won’t be available to help you this Christmas season.”

I sneak a glance over at Allegra. She may be able to hide what she's feeling in a corporate conference room, but I’m her sister. The flicker of concern in her expression makes me think that she might be feeling in over her head.

Her uncertainty of the situation causes a pit to form in my stomach. Allegra has always been the one who has had a handle on whatever situation we find ourselves in. I guess it's just the burden of being the older sister. She makes everything she does look so simple. Too often, I forget that just because she makes it look simple, that doesn’t mean that it is. I’m going to need to step up and show her and my parents that I’m more than a flake squandering my college education, hopping from one job to the next.

“There are also a couple of young men around town who would help out as needed.” Mr. Griffith says. “I think it was some farmer and handyman, but that was all off the books.”

My concerned gaze meets Allegra's. Neither one of us says anything, but our shared look speaks volumes. Neither one of us is equipped to run this place. Sure, this is right in her occupational wheelhouse to take it over, but Allegra is already so busy at work. She can't take this on, too.

I, on the other hand, have had plenty of retail jobs all through college. But none of them had the responsibility that comes with being the boss. If I screwed up at my old jobs, I’d get canned and move on to the next one, no harm, no foul. But this time, it’s not just me who will be affected if I screw up.

I may not be exactly what we need to fill Aunt Doris’s shoes, but my unused degree might be able to help us keep the doors of Christmas on Main open. Setting up social media and updating the website for the shop could help bring in a whole new group of clientele. The more people that spend money, the quicker we can hire extra help. I’ve seen plenty of case studies where a strong social media presence helped a small business grow to a household name.

According to Mr. Griffith, Christmas on Main isn’t exactly floundering, but we’d be a fool to think its success isn’t a direct result of Aunt Doris. Now that she’s gone, Allegra and I are going to have to prove to this community that we can carry on Aunt Doris’s legacy.

“I’m sure you ladies will have more questions. It’s a lot to process, but your Aunt Doris left you her store for a reason. I know she had every confidence in you both.”

I don't miss the doubtful expression that appears on Allegra's face. She may not think we are the right people for the job, but there must be a reason that Aunt Doris chose us to take over.

"You'll be needing these." Mr. Griffiths pushes the legal documents across his desk towards us.

There is no mistaking that Allegra isn’t officially on board with this whole situation. She’s going to need to feel some sense of control at this moment, so I try to give her a reassuring look and let her grab the paperwork. We both know that I'm not the responsible sister who should be holding on to it anyway.

He jingles two sets of keys in his hand before handing one to each of us. “Look, there’s even two little angels. One for each of you.”

Mr. Griffith pushes up from his seat, letting us know that our business with him is done. The bowl of candy corn, which I've been eyeing since we walked in, calls to me as Allegra turns to follow Mr. Griffiths to the office door. I sneak a few pieces and pop them into my mouth quickly before following them.

I tap my finger on the tip of the small conical hat of the witch figurine sitting on the receptionist's desk. It's nearly Halloween, and before we know it, Christmas will be here. We don't have much time to find our feet before entering the shop's biggest season of the year.

“Should we grab a coffee or maybe some hot apple cider?” I ask, pulling my scarf over my head and wrapping it around my neck as we head out of the law office.

Allegra is quiet for a moment, and I'm sure she's about to give me some excuse about needing to get back to work, but then she surprises me.

“Yeah,” she says with a nod. “We do have a lot to talk about.”

There's no controlling the smile that spreads across my face. It's the first time I've smiled since we got the news about Aunt Doris's passing. As the younger sibling, getting a chance to spend time with Allegra was the height of my day. And since it's been forever since we've spent any time together, besides the afternoon of my college graduation, the feeling of excitement strikes me, even if we are just going to get a drink.

We walk down the street and find a small café with the delicious scent of coffee wafting outside, luring us in.

“I’ll get a green tea with a slice of lemon, please,” Allegra says.

Ugh, that's so boring.

I’m looking for something that is equal parts tasty and photogenic. It’s been a few days since I’ve posted anything on social media, and my followers wonder when I go quiet. So, posting a picture of my favorite pumpkin drink with the hashtag #sistertime will be enough to let them know I’m still alive.

“And can I get an extra dollop of whipped cream and some nutmeg shavings on top?” I ask with my brightest smile to the barista. “That will really make it pop in the picture.”

A man in line behind us lets out a derisive snort that stops me dead in my tracks. I'm so tired of men and their unasked-for commentary about women and their preference for pumpkin-flavored anything. With this world going to hell in a handbasket, is it too much to ask for the simple things in life to be enjoyed in peace?

I turn to give the man my most withering stare, but my eyes meet nothing but a mountain of thick muscle. My eyes roam up his chest to meet the man’s dark blue gaze.

"Do you have a problem?" I ask, ignoring the heat pulling deep into my lower belly as I take in his handsome face.

The bearded man smirks, but not in the flirty way I'm used to getting from guys. It's more like he can't be bothered with a woman like me. I guess the decade of years he has on me makes him think I'm a stupid little girl.

"Yeah," he says. "I need my caffeine fix, and you are holding up the line."

Before I can really lay into the guy, Allegra tugs on my arm and mumbles something about needing to get back to work. This guy is lucky I have more important things to do than slice him with my words. But the next time I see this guy, he will be hurting.

I follow Allegra to a corner of the café and sit down.

As tasty as this drink looks, I must take a moment to get a few pictures and upload my post. The notifications on my post start appearing on the screen before I can even put my phone down and take a sip.

Allegra sets her cup of tea down on the saucer with a clatter, making me look up. “I’m just going to say it. What do either of us know about running a Christmas store?”

“I don’t know?” I dip my finger into some of the whipped cream and lick it off. “How hard can it be?”

I’m trying to sound like this isn’t going to be some big undertaking, so Allegra doesn’t run screaming from this café back to her life in the city.

“It could be fun,” I add.

“It could also be a lot of work and lead us both into debt.”

I don’t mention that my backpacking trip through Europe last year already beat the shop to it.

Allegra opens the folder Mr. Griffith gave us and scans the pages. "I will say he wasn't kidding. We could make an awful lot of money if we found the right buyer."

“How much money?”

“Enough money to cover a couple of years of living expenses in New York City while you ‘figure things out.’”

It stings when my family points out the fact that I haven't figured out exactly what I want to do with my life. Maybe I was subconsciously waiting for this moment. Maybe this is my time and the place where I find what I want to do with the rest of my life. Just because Allegra has known what she's wanted with her life practically from the womb doesn't mean the rest of us don't need time to make that decision.

"You mean enough money to impress that boss of yours into giving you a promotion," I snap back.

Allegra meets my gaze, and I can see the moment she decides to take this crazy journey with me.

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking. Right?” I ask.

“If you’re thinking we make this the most profitable holiday season ever at Christmas on Main so we can flip it in the new year and with our pockets full—” she says with an unsteady chuckle. “Then yes.”

“So we’re doing this?” I raise my mug to her.

She nods and lifts her mug to clink mine. “We’re doing this.”