A Warmth in Winter by Lori Copeland Read Free Book Online Page B

disagreeably.
    â€œPlumb crazy,” he muttered, not looking at her. “I could get up there and do that.”
    â€œThought you wanted to rest.”
    â€œI’m not so tired I can’t give you a little help.”
    The phone jingled, startling Vernie. Her right foot slipped on the rung and Elezar’s hand shot out to catch her. Teetering on one leg, she grasped hold of the shelf and righted herself. “Let go of me and answer that! Folks will think we’re closed.”
    â€œWe are closed,” Elezar mumbled, but he moved toward the phone.
    If not for the grocery needs of her neighbors, Vernie would have had to shut down for the winter. The months of November and December, however, replete as they were with holiday baking occasions, helped keep the Mooseleuk Mercantile profitable even when tourists were as rare as a two-door outhouse.
    Keeping an eye trained on Vernie, Elezar edged toward the phone and snatched up the receiver. “Mooseleuk’s.”
    Humming along with the Christmas carols playing in the background, Vernie dusted the jars of maple syrup. Outside, a bright sun glittered on frozen ground. Land, it’d been weeks since they’d seen sunshine, but by the sounds of things, the reprieve was going to be short-lived. Weathermen were predicting a storm to blow through in the latter part of the week. But if you didn’t like snow and cold, Maine wasn’t a place you’d likely take up residence.
    She shoved a couple of pints of maple syrup to the side and dusted around the cans. No one liked bad weather, with the possible exception of Floyd Lansdown. Floyd was taking a ten-week correspondence course in mechanical engineering, so no matter what the weather he was content to sit in front of the fire, his feet propped up on the hearth, and study his lessons. Floyd apparently thought the Heavenly Daze fire engine needed an overhaul. For the life of her, Vernie couldn’t see why. Other than Floyd’s starting the engine every couple of days to keep the pistons lubed, the truck sat idle. She didn’t see how an engine could wear out from that kind of activity.
    She glanced over her shoulder when she realized Elezar wasn’t talking. He cradled the phone next to his ear, listening, while a frown marked his sober features.
    She caught his attention and mouthed, “Who is it?”
    Shaking his head, he turned so she couldn’t see his expression. Peeved, she stopped dusting. He hesitated a moment and murmured something in a soothing tone, but Vernie couldn’t hear a word.
    Shimmying down the ladder, she tossed the feather duster on the counter and busied herself filling out the supply order. She needn’t worry about Elezar. He’d been her trusted employee for longer than she could remember, and he could handle anything that came up.
    She licked the tip of her pencil and studied her order form. Most of the mercantile’s regular stock came from Wagner’s, a wholesale grocer located upstate. She was running low on baking supplies and produce, plus she’d promised to order fresh cranberries for Babette. Babette brought the salad each year to the town’s annual Christmas party, and the menfolk didn’t think the holiday season had arrived until they ate some of Babette’s cranberry salad. Then, of course, there wasn’t a dash of nutmeg left on the island since every woman had sacrificed her stash to bail Birdie out at the bakery. And yesterday Birdie had mentioned she was running low on sugar, so it wouldn’t hurt to order fifty pounds this time.
    Pencil poised in midair, Vernie racked her brain to see if she’d forgotten anything. She’d order another bottle of vanilla syrup for her soda pop. Somehow she’d gotten hooked on putting that sugary stuff in her midafternoon pick-me-up. Last month she’d switched to sugar-free syrup, but she still felt a mite self-conscious about the habit. She kept the