Santa Loves Curvy Girls

7. Belle

7

BELLE

A couple of days later, I baked another big batch of cookies. This time, chocolate chip with and without pecans.

When baking was your favorite pastime and you dreamed of having your own bakery in town one day, you quickly ended up with four dozen cookies taking up all of the counter space in just one afternoon. So once they cooled, I wrapped them all up in tiny little plastic bags and packed them into a giant holiday basket.

I still had a couple hours before my shift as an elf at the mall. I’d have plenty of time to distribute cookies. So I pulled on my hat, mittens, and scarf and made my way into town.

Jingles was the famous chocolate shop in town. We also had Candy Cane Co., where you could stand at the window and watch Neve Cole make candy canes from scratch. And we even had Cocoa Corner, possibly my favorite, where you could get the best hot chocolate and coffee in town.

But there was no bakery. Garland needed a bakery with the best cookies, scones, and muffins in town. Maybe one day that dream would come true. In a few more years perhaps I’d muster up the courage to make that wish upon the Christmas star. For now, I’d perfect my baking as much as I could and keep spreading holiday cheer via cookies.

I walked into Santa’s Bag first. It was a souvenir store that had been running for almost a century. Old Mrs. Curran stood behind the register. Their tiny store had everything from the most unique, handcrafted tree ornaments to holiday mugs and tiny holiday trinkets.

Mrs. Curran always lit up when she saw me. I came by every year to drop off some cookies.

“Good afternoon!” I said. “I brought cookies.”

“Belle,” she replied with her usual smile. Her hazel eyes gleamed from behind her glasses. She wore a thick blue knit sweater with yellow stars all over it. “You’re one of my favorite reasons for the season,” she quipped.

Smiling at her, I took out several bags of cookies from my basket. “For you and Mr. Curran.”

“Thank you, dear.” She held up a cookie. “These are my favorite.”

That’s why I’d baked chocolate chip pecan this morning. Especially for her. She knew about my secret hopes to open a bakery one day, and she was my biggest cheerleader. “I hope you enjoy them.”

“Oh, I definitely will. Won’t be long now before you’re running that bakery of yours.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “I hope you’re right, Mrs. Curran.”

Mr. Curran appeared from behind a shelf and joined her behind the counter. “She’s never wrong,” he chimed in. “Number one secret for a long and happy marriage,” he whispered to me.

Mrs. Curran laughed, playfully hitting him on the shoulder.

I said goodbye and headed off to my next stop.

I went by the Snowed Inn and dropped off some cookies at the front desk for their guests. Mr. Atwood saw me with my basket on the way back out. “Are those your homemade cookies?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

He nodded. “Must make for a fun hobby, especially for a young girl like yourself. I’m sure you’ll be baking cookies for your own family soon enough.”

He left before I could say another word.

As I walked out the front doors and down the steps, I couldn’t help but feel a little irked. Every year, I got at least one comment like that. They meant well, but it annoyed me anyway. To me, baking was so much more than just a hobby. It felt like a calling. This was the one thing I was good at in a world where I felt invisible all the time. Especially to boys.

I went by Santa’s Elves and The Nutcracker, a home decor store, next trying to get my mind off of the hobby comment. Santa’s Elves housed a food pantry and ran all of Garland’s local charity work. They made sure Christmas was magical for every family in Garland. My parents sponsored this place every year. Meanwhile, The Nutcracker was run by another one of my favorite old ladies, Ms. Merriweather.

By the time I made it to Cider Center and the Garland Mall and transformed into one of Santa’s elves in a too-small bathroom, I’d been walking around for a while.

Maybe I should’ve thought of that before , I thought to myself.

When I walked out in my costume, Santa was already there, saying hi and talking to people.

I hadn’t seen him when I’d first arrived, but it made sense that whoever was behind the suit wouldn’t get ready here.

I’d saved a few cookies especially for him, since he’d liked them so much last time.

My stomach swirled with nerves just at the thought of going up to him, but I grabbed a bag of chocolate chip cookies and walked his way to say hi.

“Belle,” he said. “Hi.”

He knew my name? I quickly racked my mind, trying to remember if I’d told him my name.

“Hi,” I replied, walking up to him. We stood near the winter wonderland backdrop where we’d be working together for the next several hours.

“More cookies?” he asked. Once again, the only part of his face I could really see were his sparkling blue eyes. Everything else was hidden by his disguise, and part of me ached to see the rest of his face.

I nodded and handed him the bag of cookies. “For you,” I told him. “Chocolate chip this time.”

His white eyebrows raised a little in surprise. “Really? How thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

My face felt hot, and I clasped my hands nervously. “You’re welcome. Baking is one of my favorite things to do.”

“That’s impressive,” he said.

I felt my face turning hot again. Before I could say anything, one of the elves came and grabbed him, whisking him away.

He was an important guy. Too important to stand around talking to me, that’s for sure.

Later, when our shift was finally over and I was about ready to collapse, he came up to me again. The cookies I’d given him earlier were in his hand.

“You did a great job again today,” I told him. “You’re so good with the kids.”

His eyes crinkled. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m starting to think maybe I should study to be a teacher or something.”

A clue, I thought. So he hadn’t finished college yet. That confirmed why he seemed so young.

“You totally should,” I replied.

“Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks again for these,” he said, holding up the cookies.

“You’re welcome,” I said, getting ready to say goodbye and leave. He was just being polite. No one like him had ever acted interested in me before.

“Has anyone ever told you that you should be a professional baker?” he asked.

My heart lifted at the compliment, but I had to tell him the truth. “Most people think it’s just a hobby, I guess,” I said with a shrug.

His brows knitted together. “A hobby? That’s like saying Lebron James has a hobby of playing basketball. Or that Lionel Messi has a hobby of playing soccer.”

I smiled. “I don’t know who that is, but I’ll take your word for it.”

He pulled a cookie out of the bag and took a bite. “Mm, definitely not a hobby.”

My smile grew wider. Were those butterflies in my stomach again? Couldn’t be. I tried to ignore them.

“I was going to ask you… How do you make all the different shapes? I always wondered how people did that.”

Was he really asking me to nerd out right now? “Well, I always shape mine by hand. But there’s actually a special machine that professional bakers use to shape cookies faster and easier. It’s a whole thing,” I said, making myself not go on and on about it.

“Really?” he asked, taking another bite.

“Really,” I said. “I’d love to have one, but they’re expensive. Maybe next year.”

His eyes twinkled again. “Maybe you should ask Santa to bring you one then,” he said. “I hear you can write him a letter asking for such things.”

I smiled. “You don’t say?”

He held up a finger. “But not if you end up on the naughty list, of course.”

My cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so much. “Uh oh, I might be in trouble then.”

We said our goodbyes, and I started making my way home, smiling like a complete doofus. My heart still pounding at the way he looked at me.

Uh oh.

I was falling in love with a guy… but I had no idea who he was.