Read Online Christmas in Wine Country by Addison Westlake - Free Book Online
Authors: Addison Westlake
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extinguisher?”
Lila considered just saying ‘yes’ to Gram, but her conscience won out. “I’m not sure,” she admitted.
“Put the phone down and go take a look,” Gram instructed. “You need to have one. Check in the kitchen.” With a smile, Lila agreed and put the phone down to go check. Gram still lived in a world of phones with cords that needed to be set down while one went from one room to the other. She owned a cell phone, but it was usually turned off or the talk button eluded her.
Lila padded in her socks along the hardwood floor, walking the short distance from the living room to the kitchen, really one long room all together. In her new apartment. In Redwood Cove.
It had all happened quickly. Her head was spinning from the cavalcade of recent, massive changes in her life. It had begun at the bookstore, the one with the gleaming golden wood and gorgeous chairs. She’d settled in as planned, finding unexpected happiness in a used book section. The store carried a surprisingly large number of P.G. Wodehouses in paperback, making Lila exclaim in delight and gather three back at her chair to page through.
The owner, a matronly Brit named Marion, had stopped to chat about the Wodehouse, apparently a personal favorite she felt was overlooked in the literary canon. Lila wholeheartedly agreed and together they were off discussing favorite characters and settings and Lila found herself answering the benign question, “What brings you to Redwood Cove?” with an unintentionally honest, “I lost my job and my boyfriend but decided to come along up here on a holiday by myself to see my old friend Annie.” Which, in turn, prompted a little chat about Annie, known and beloved by Marion in their small town, working just a few shops down on Main Street. And led to Marion pausing, giving her a quick but serious appraisal, and then asking “I don’t suppose you saw the help wanted sign in our window?”
Lila had, indeed, seen the sign and though she hadn’t considered it personally at the time, it suddenly made perfect sense. After some more conversation about her English degree from Colgate and her previous experience in client relations and database management, Lila had been hired on the spot.
“I’ve got a good feeling about you,” Marion had said as they were saying goodnight. Lila had been tempted to ask “Did I have you at Wodehouse?” but guessed Marion wasn’t the type to get references to big Hollywood movies.
A quick phone call to Annie and Lila had a lead on what she described as “the perfect apartment.” Five blocks from Main Street and the coast, the apartment was the fourth floor of an old Victorian home converted into units. From just the right angle in the kitchen, she could see a patch of ocean and rocky coastline.
Gazing out at it from the window in her new apartment’s kitchen, Lila felt excitement bubble up into a smile across her face. It was, clearly, insanity taking over. Her roommates back in San Francisco had nearly checked her into a mental hospital. Or, they would have had they cared much. Instead, they made a few remarks about needing to go see a therapist or taking a valium and posted an ad on Craig’s List for a new roommate. Adding, this time, ‘must like to party!!!’
She had to agree with them that it made no sense, leaving her career in advertising—which had, admittedly, hit a bump but no doubt could be resumed elsewhere—to become a low-level service employee ringing up sales at the cash register. In an independent bookstore, no less; what could be more on the fast lane to extinction? She couldn’t explain about the gleaming wood and the Wodehouse and huge red wrapped box in the corner with
Lila considered just saying ‘yes’ to Gram, but her conscience won out. “I’m not sure,” she admitted.
“Put the phone down and go take a look,” Gram instructed. “You need to have one. Check in the kitchen.” With a smile, Lila agreed and put the phone down to go check. Gram still lived in a world of phones with cords that needed to be set down while one went from one room to the other. She owned a cell phone, but it was usually turned off or the talk button eluded her.
Lila padded in her socks along the hardwood floor, walking the short distance from the living room to the kitchen, really one long room all together. In her new apartment. In Redwood Cove.
It had all happened quickly. Her head was spinning from the cavalcade of recent, massive changes in her life. It had begun at the bookstore, the one with the gleaming golden wood and gorgeous chairs. She’d settled in as planned, finding unexpected happiness in a used book section. The store carried a surprisingly large number of P.G. Wodehouses in paperback, making Lila exclaim in delight and gather three back at her chair to page through.
The owner, a matronly Brit named Marion, had stopped to chat about the Wodehouse, apparently a personal favorite she felt was overlooked in the literary canon. Lila wholeheartedly agreed and together they were off discussing favorite characters and settings and Lila found herself answering the benign question, “What brings you to Redwood Cove?” with an unintentionally honest, “I lost my job and my boyfriend but decided to come along up here on a holiday by myself to see my old friend Annie.” Which, in turn, prompted a little chat about Annie, known and beloved by Marion in their small town, working just a few shops down on Main Street. And led to Marion pausing, giving her a quick but serious appraisal, and then asking “I don’t suppose you saw the help wanted sign in our window?”
Lila had, indeed, seen the sign and though she hadn’t considered it personally at the time, it suddenly made perfect sense. After some more conversation about her English degree from Colgate and her previous experience in client relations and database management, Lila had been hired on the spot.
“I’ve got a good feeling about you,” Marion had said as they were saying goodnight. Lila had been tempted to ask “Did I have you at Wodehouse?” but guessed Marion wasn’t the type to get references to big Hollywood movies.
A quick phone call to Annie and Lila had a lead on what she described as “the perfect apartment.” Five blocks from Main Street and the coast, the apartment was the fourth floor of an old Victorian home converted into units. From just the right angle in the kitchen, she could see a patch of ocean and rocky coastline.
Gazing out at it from the window in her new apartment’s kitchen, Lila felt excitement bubble up into a smile across her face. It was, clearly, insanity taking over. Her roommates back in San Francisco had nearly checked her into a mental hospital. Or, they would have had they cared much. Instead, they made a few remarks about needing to go see a therapist or taking a valium and posted an ad on Craig’s List for a new roommate. Adding, this time, ‘must like to party!!!’
She had to agree with them that it made no sense, leaving her career in advertising—which had, admittedly, hit a bump but no doubt could be resumed elsewhere—to become a low-level service employee ringing up sales at the cash register. In an independent bookstore, no less; what could be more on the fast lane to extinction? She couldn’t explain about the gleaming wood and the Wodehouse and huge red wrapped box in the corner with
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