She groaned as she stood and stretched her back. “That reminds me that I need to get someone to volunteer to put the lights up outside this week.”
“Volunteer?”
“Normally, my grandparents pay someone, but things are a bit tight.” She gave a slight shrug. “I’ll post on social media, and someone will volunteer. That’s the way things are in a small town.”
“That’s great.” He wondered how she’d react if he offered to pay for it. He guessed not too well.
She pulled her phone out and typed something in. “There. I bet I’ll have it taken care of in an hour or so.”
“Good.” As they started putting ornaments on the tree, he asked about local holiday traditions.
“We have a parade and Christmas festival. I’m trying to finish getting ready for that. I still have half a dozen windows to paint, plus finish a bunch of stuff to sell at the booth.” She hung a cartoon character on the tree and stared at it critically before moving it.
“What kinds of things do you make?”
“I do a lot of gift tags and hand painted signs.” She pointed to the signs hanging up the wall by the staircase. “I did all of those.”
He’d already studied them. They were excellent work - some kind of calligraphy with a line or two from old hymns. “They’re great. I’m impressed. I don’t have that kind of talent. Not even a little bit. There’s not an artistic bone in my body.”
Dean hung up a couple of ornaments, but Wendy reached for one of them.
“That one goes over here,” she told him as she hung it near the one she’d just moved. “They’re a set.”
He stared down at her and when she glanced up at him, he thought about kissing her.
So why didn’t he?
Setting her small folding table in front of the bakery, Wendy tried to get that near kiss out of her head.
Thankfully, Dean’s phone rang before they had to actually make a decision about whether or not to kiss.
She’d finished the tree while he went upstairs to conduct some business. By the time he returned, the moment was long over, and neither of them spoke of it. Instead, she bragged about the town coming to her rescue. The Beach brothers would put the outdoor lights up in the next day or so.
Painting the bakery window wasn’t on her agenda for the day. She’d planned to do it in the morning, but she found herself too restless to sit at home and work on other projects.
Instead, she changed into her painting clothes, grabbed her cart, and loaded it with her plastic tub with her paints and brushes, her water cup, a step stool, then wheeled it across the street.
Stepping back to the curb, she stared at the windows and tried to decide exactly what she was going to put on them. This year’s theme was winter wonderland, though they’d had precious little snow so far.
Another year had been tinsel and trees. The year before was gingerbread people. She had no idea what they were talking about for the next year.
It didn’t matter.
This year needed snowmen and snowflakes and whites and blues.
After another moment of contemplation, she squeezed a big glob of white paint onto a plate and started her first snowman.
“What are you doing?” The bakery owner poked her head out the door. “I thought you weren’t doing that until tomorrow.”
Wendy shrugged. “Decided to do it tonight.” The base snowball had taken form. “Do you have anything you definitely want or definitely don’t?” They’d talked about it briefly and the other woman hadn’t given her much direction.
“Not really. Just make it the best one on the block.”
Wendy grinned at her. “They’re all the best one on the block.”
“What are you doing on the BnB windows?”
That was a great question. “I don’t know that I’m going to do the windows. I’ve got a lot of other things to do.” Main Street Boutique would be done in the morning. That definitely needed a special touch.
Mrs. Smith frowned. “They have to be done or else it won’t look right.”
“I’ll try.” The top of the snowman took shape. “We’ll see.” She could at least get a few hills of snow on them.
“How’s that handsome hunk of a man who’s staying there?” Mrs. Smith leaned closer. “He’s been in and tipped so well I could have closed for the rest of the day.”
She started on a hill the second snowman would sit on. “That’s nice.” How much money did that guy have? If he traveled on holidays and tipped really well, and tipped the bakery that much, he had to be loaded.
“Have you spent any time with him?”
“Not really. He’s in town on business.”
Would Mrs. Smith ever leave her alone?
“Don’t forget to put mistletoe over a couple of them,” Mrs. Smith went on. “Maybe one of them could be a bit bashful about it.”
So much for not having any thoughts about it. “That sounds like a fantastic idea.”
The phone inside rang giving Wendy a reprieve. It took a while, but eventually, the white was done. Hills of snow with white balls of snow were ready to be touched up and detailed.
As she worked, an idea for the KrazBnB windows came to her. If she could find the time to get it done.
The bakery closed long before she finished. She continued working, finishing with the mistletoe.
“I didn’t know snowmen kissed.”
Wendy turned to find Dean standing there. “I have no idea if they do or not, but she wanted mistletoe so she gets mistletoe.”
She used red to make the ribbon holding the sprig.
“This is amazing,” he told her. “Really fantastic.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like to grab a bite to eat?” he asked.
Wendy stepped back to look at the windows. Did they work? With a nod, she decided they did. “Let me get everything put away then change clothes.” She used her water cup to rinse the last paintbrush she used.
To her surprise, Dean helped her put her things away then pushed the cart back across the street for her.
She parked it in the laundry room. The building had four doors. Three went into rooms on the lower floor. One went to stairs that led to the upper story and one of the lofts.
Two of the three remaining doors went into lofts. This one led to a laundry and storage area and then had another door that led to the apartment Wendy shared with her sister.
Stashing the cart in the laundry area, she hurried into the apartment and changed into something less paint-spattered.
When she walked back outside, Dean was staring at the bakery window across the street. He glanced both ways then trotted back over to her side.
“That’s really incredible,” he told her. “I can’t do anything artistic.”
They started to walk toward the diner. “I studied art education in college. I taught art for a while in Spring Meadow. It’s about an hour-and-a-half from here near the Time Trek and Creature Quest theme parks.”
“I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never been.”
“You’re missing out. We get passes every year. But anyway, my grandparents needed someone to come help out, so my sister and I moved back so we could. I’ve been substitute teaching and doing art lessons and the Painting with Pals classes.”