Blessings of the Season by Annie Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

gentlemen.” Maimie raised her hands, commanding all eyes outside and in. “Welcome to Goodwin’s Department Store. Home for the next twelve days, excluding Sundays, of course, of Nathan and Adelaide Goodlife.”
    As the small group applauded politely, Nate turned to his counterpart and whispered, “You know I’ve been so involved in taking care of Jesse and pitching in around here when I can, I never thought about the actual event. What are we going to do all day long?”
    Outside Maimie raised her hands again, and the group, which had drifted from applause to foot-shuffling and mumbling, quieted.
    Addie froze. “I’ve been so focused on the Web stuff and getting the word out that when Maimie said she’d take care of all of that, I left it to her.”
    Nate’s stomach lurched as if it had actually taken a dive from the height of his admiration for Addie to the depths of his good-natured frustration in dealing with the formidable Mrs. Goodwin.
    â€œThe Goodlifes will be going through these next few days demonstrating life as we knew it way back when Goodwin’s first opened its doors, fifty years ago.”
    He adjusted his tie, which suddenly felt much tighter around his throat than before, and muttered, “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Chapter Seven
    Christmas with Mr. and Mrs. Goodlife
    See how good the Goodwin’s life can be 10 a.m.—7 p.m. Monday-Wednesday 10 a.m.—8 p.m. Thursday-Saturday
    Closed Sundays
    A ddie stared at the sign posted front and center in her side of the twin plate-glass windows. Because the whole stunt had morphed into a challenge for charity, she and Nate had agreed to longer than normal hours six days a week. In return they got time off to enjoy hot lunches brought in by local eateries, to take breaks to roam the store and talk with customers, even run errands around town as long as they stayed in character and costume. Though they never got to leave the windows at the same time.
    In accordance with Maimie’s agenda, Addie gave three cooking demos a day, though since the oven wasn’t functional she didn’t actually cook so much as combineingredients, put them in the oven and then take a break to “wash up,” run to the breakroom and pick up a premade clone of what she had made. Sometimes it worked all right, but for the most part Mrs. Goodlife came off looking like a pretty lame homemaker. The crafts projects went better, to some degree, but because she had to stick with ideas gathered from women’s magazines of the day, they tended to be heavy in the glitter and spray-painted macaroni department.
    She sank into the unforgiving stiffness of the kitchen chair.
    â€œHow’s life on the home front, Mrs. Goodlife?” Nate called out from his side of the dual display.
    â€œBoring,” she called back, unafraid to speak frankly in the midafternoon lull with no customers around to hear her.
    â€œWhat do you expect? It’s 1959. Fun hasn’t been invented yet,” he teased.
    She laughed, then sighed. “I had no idea it would be this tedious.”
    â€œTedious? You want to talk tedious? Try sitting at a desk all day pretending to shuffle paperwork when what you’re really doing is monitoring the Web site, posting blog updates and reading through the comments, a third of which wouldn’t make sense even if they were spelled right.”
    â€œYou find that tedious?” She slapped her palms flat on the tabletop then pushed back her chair and stood. She walked toward the side of her window nearest to him, stretching up on tiptoe as if that might help carry her voice as she called out, “Are youkidding? I’d love that. I’m stuck over here in the kitchen all day doing demos every ninety minutes. In a day and a half I’ve done more cooking and crafting here than I did the whole year and a half since I graduated from college.”
    â€œYear and a half, huh?