A Mistletoe Affair. Farrah RochonЧитать онлайн книгу.
how precise Mr. Wallace liked his floral arrangements, and she would not give that old curmudgeon a single opportunity to complain about the treatments she’d designed for his front door this year.
“Oh, my goodness! It smells amazing down here.”
Vicki lifted her head to find Sandra Woolcott-Jacobs, one of her partners in crime in the Silk Sisters event agency, rounding the newel post at the base of the winding staircase. She walked over to Vicki’s workstation, leaned over the garland and pulled in a deep breath.
“I love this time of year,” Sandra said with a satisfied sigh. “Laurel Collins was hanging Christmas lights around the window of her gift shop when I walked past there this morning. I nearly broke out into ‘Jingle Bell Rock.’”
Vicki arched a brow in knowing amusement. “That may be the case, but for some reason I don’t think it’s just the time of year that has you singing these days.”
Sandra dipped her head, a coy grin lifting the corners of her mouth. “There may be another reason,” she admitted.
Vicki burst out laughing. “Sandra Woolcott-Jacobs, is that an actual blush forming on your cheeks?”
“Oh, stop it,” Sandra said, the blush deepening.
If that wasn’t a sign that Sandra had undergone a radical change since reconnecting with the love of her life, Vicki didn’t know what was. Isaiah Jacobs had swooped back into town and swept her girlfriend right off her feet.
“You’ve got that special newlywed glow,” Vicki said. “It looks really good on you.”
She denied the slight twinge of envy that pinched her chest, refused to even acknowledge its existence for fear that it would show on her face. She was thrilled for her friends. Truly, she was. Both Sandra and Janelle Howerton-Dubois, the third member of their trio, had found love in the past few months, and Vicki could not be happier for her two best friends.
But happiness and envy weren’t mutually exclusive. She was a multitasker; she could feel both.
“I can already tell that my first Christmas with Isaiah will be magical,” Sandra said with a look that could only be described as dreamy. “If you’re not booked solid already, I may have you put together a wreath for our front door.”
“You know I’ll make time for you,” Vicki said. “What about a tree?”
Another of those soft, faraway smiles graced Sandra’s lips. “I think we’re going to decorate that ourselves. It’ll be our first tree as a family.”
Vicki could barely contain her own wistful sigh. In the epic battle between happiness and envy, envy was winning by a landslide right now. There was no doubt about it, decorating her tree at home, once again by her lonesome self, would suck even more this year.
“I will, however, have you order our tree from the supplier you usually use,” Sandra said, finally coming out of her it’s-a-wonderful-life-with-Isaiah-induced daze. “Have you ordered the tree for the Victorian yet?”
Vicki nodded. “It’s being delivered later today. I was able to find the most gorgeous twelve-footer for the front parlor. It should fit perfectly in the curve of the staircase.”
Petals inhabited the majority of the first floor of the three-story Victorian she, Sandra and Janelle owned in their New England hometown of Wintersage. Dubbed the Silk Sisters since their high school days at Wintersage Academy, the three had gone into business together soon after college graduation. Swoon Couture, Sandra’s dress boutique, was on the second floor, and Janelle’s event-planning business, Alluring Affairs, occupied the third.
“The place looks great so far,” Sandra said, gesturing to the gathering room, which served as the lobby for all three businesses. The room’s focal point, a pillared, carved wooden mantelpiece, was festooned with silver ribbon, ice-blue glass ornaments and glitter-dusted seashells to bring in the essence of their seaside town.
“If you need help decking the halls, just give me a ring,” Sandra said.
Vicki waved off her offer. “You’ve got enough on your plate with getting Swoon Couture Home off the ground.”
Sandra and her new husband were starting a new venture, marrying her design business with Isaiah’s family’s furniture business.
“Only if you’re sure,” Sandra said.
“I’m sure. Besides, I get a bit territorial when it comes to holiday decorating.”
“Don’t I know it,” Sandra said with a snort. “One piece of tinsel out of place and the girl goes crazy.”
Vicki pointed her pruning shears at her. “If you even think about bringing a string of tinsel in here...”
“No tinsel! I promise.” She laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. “I’ll leave the decorating to you. I can’t wait to see the finished product.” Sandra started up the stairs, but stopped on the second step and called, “The Quarterdeck at seven?”
“I’ll be there,” Vicki returned.
Even though the Victorian served as their home base, it was rare for the three of them to be in one place at one time. Even when they were all here, they were so busy with their respective businesses that there was never much time for idle chitchat. Years ago they made a pact to meet on Monday nights for dinner, drinks and girl talk at the Quarterdeck, a landmark eatery on Wintersage’s waterfront.
They were in for some serious chatting tonight. These past couple of months had been a whirlwind of activity, with life-altering events happening for Sandra and Janelle.
After witnessing the transformation in both her friends’ lives, Vicki had decided it was time she undergo a few changes herself, on both the professional and personal fronts. She had sensed for quite some time that she was in a rut, but as far as ruts went, hers had been comfortable.
Honestly, what did she have to complain about? At twenty-eight years old she owned her own business, her own home, and had family and friends who loved her. She was blessed.
But she wasn’t happy. At least, not as happy as she wanted to be. As she deserved to be. Witnessing both her friends enter into that much-sought-after world of wedded bliss had brought what was missing in Vicki’s own life into stark relief.
So she’d taken matters into her own hands, undergoing a radical makeover. Okay, not entirely radical; it wasn’t as if she’d dyed her hair purple and gotten a nose ring or anything.
But for quiet, reserved Vicki Ahlfors, a chin-length pixie haircut and a closet of new cleavage-revealing blouses and dresses were pretty darn drastic. By the slew of new male clients Petals had garnered over the past week, the results of her transformation could not be denied.
She was Wintersage’s hot new item.
“Whatever,” Vicki said with a snort.
She had definitely caught the eye of several men around town, but instead of being flattered, Vicki found herself just a tad pissed off. She’d lived here her entire life. Why in the heck had it taken a makeover for all of them to finally notice her?
Despite the umbrage she’d taken over her admirers’ obvious shallowness, Vicki wasn’t entirely blind to the romantic opportunities that her newfound popularity had created.
There was just one problem: not a single one of the men who had come calling in the past week held an ounce of appeal. She found their overaggressiveness off-putting, and for the few who’d strolled into her flower shop as if they were God’s gift to the female population, Vicki had taken great pleasure in knocking the wind out of their overinflated egos.
Talk about egos! What about her own? After all her bellyaching over being single, she now had the nerve to play hard to get.
“Damn right,” Vicki said.
Not only did she refuse to settle for the first guy who walked into her