Sarah Jane Countdown to Christmas by Kirsten Osbourne Trifecta Books Book design and layout copyright © 2015 by Trifecta Books Cover design copyright ...
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Sarah Jane Countdown to Christmas
by Kirsten Osbourne Trifecta Books
Book design and layout copyright © 2015 by Trifecta Books Cover design copyright © 2015 by Jenni James
This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Copyright© 2015 by Kirsten Osbourne
Table of Contents
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Epilogue Author Bio
Chapter One
Sarah Jane Jefferson sat in church, listening to the new preacher with half an ear. Usually she was more attentive during Sunday services, but she had to find someone to play Santa Claus for the orphanage, and she was running out of ideas. No one wanted to don the suit and padding required to play the part. She really couldn't blame them, because she wouldn't want to do it either, but she still needed someone. Her eyes landed on the new preacher yet again. He was so young and handsome. She'd heard some of her "sisters" talking about him, but she wouldn't lower herself to fawn over the new preacher in the small town of Nowhere, Texas. No, he was there as God's representative, and there was no way she'd stoop so low. Now, asking him to play Santa Claus? That she could do! He'd only been in town for a month or so, and already all the young ladies in the congregation were flummoxed. She couldn't deny the man was handsome. Well, sort of. He needed a haircut badly. He certainly didn't look like a preacher to her—more like a cowboy. Why, there was even a cowboy hat on a chair near him. She knew he'd plop it back on his head as soon as he was out of church. Now, what kind of preacher wore a cowboy hat? Sarah Jane had been an orphan for as long as she could remember, but there was a short time, when she was nine and ten, when she'd lived with a preacher and his wife, and it was the happiest time she could remember. Ever since then, she'd made it her goal in life to do everything she could to be a good Christian, hoping that someday, they'd be proud of her. They'd only been able to keep her for two years, and she'd cried wretchedly when they'd taken her back to the orphanage with all the other children. She'd been sure they'd come back for her, but five years later, she and all the other girls in the orphanage in Orlan, New York, had been ejected from their home. Sarah Jane had to admit that her circumstances in Nowhere, Texas, were much better than they'd been back in New York, because she and all of her friends had been adopted by an eccentric old couple who loved them dearly. She fidgeted a bit in her seat, and Edna Petunia, her new "mother," pulled a peppermint stick from her cleavage and offered it to her. "No, thank you," Sarah Jane whispered. "I don't think we should eat candy in church." Edna Petunia shrugged her shoulders and popped the peppermint stick into her own mouth. "A little bubby sweat never hurt anyone," she whispered to Sarah Jane. Sarah Jane closed her eyes. She didn't think the word "bubby" was appropriate for church either, but Edna Petunia had never worried about what was appropriate for anything. She just didn't seem to care. Sarah Jane's eyes went back to the new preacher, Pastor Micah Barton. He was a man of God, dedicating his life to serving Him. Surely he'd be willing to dress up as Santa for a bunch of orphans. If he wouldn't, who would? When the sermon was over, Sarah Jane waited until most people had finished shaking the pastor's hand before she took her turn. "I have a question to ask you, Pastor Barton." Micah Barton looked at the pretty girl standing before him. She looked like she was fresh from the schoolroom. He'd rarely seen her smile, though, and that worried him. He knew she was one of the orphans who lived with the Sanders, but wasn't certain which one, other than she was the one he wanted to get to know better. There was something about her eyes that mesmerized him. "What can I help you with, Miss Sanders?" Sarah Jane bristled at the sound of her adoptive parents' last name. She'd been given permission to keep the name she'd been born with. "It's Miss Jefferson," she corrected. "Sarah Jane Jefferson." "Oh, pardon me. Miss Jefferson. How may I help you?" Micah wanted to laugh at the girl. She seemed so proper to him, as if she thought she was above everyone else. She'd learn as she got older not
to judge everyone by her own narrow view of Christianity. "I volunteer at the orphanage," she told him. It had been established shortly after she and her sisters came to town. "We're organizing a Christmas party for the orphans, but we've been unable to find someone who is willing to play the part of Santa Claus." "And you think I'd make a good Santa Claus?" He stared at her in open disbelief. "Becoming a pastor must have changed my appearance more than I realized!" Sarah Jane shook her head. "I'm not saying you look old, because of course you don't. The young ladies my age wouldn't be acting crazed trying to get your attention if you did. No, I just need someone, and I hope you have it in your heart to do this for the orphans." If she'd phrased it any other way, it would have been easy to say no. "I suppose I can. Do you have the suit? When is the party?" "Saturday night. We have gifts for each child that are all wrapped and ready to be given to them. All you have to do is pull them out and read the names on the tag. Then each child will sit on your lap and tell you what they want, and you give them the gift." "What if I don't give them what they want?" He had a mental image of one of the children crying hysterically because he gave them a pair of socks when they wanted a toy train. He didn't want to be responsible for that! "The gifts the children get at this party will simply be special toys they've asked for. Nothing else. They'll get clothing and boring gifts at the orphanage on Christmas morning." Micah nodded. "Yes, I'll do it. Where can I pick up the suit?" "Come to the orphanage tomorrow morning. I have it in a box, and I'll give it to you while the children are at school. I don't want them to have any idea it's you. Most of them are still young enough to believe there's a Santa." He raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying you don't believe, Miss Jefferson?" Sarah Jane scoffed. "I've known better for many years, Pastor Barton. Some of us learn the truth at a very young age." She looked out the door to where Edna Petunia was making odd hand motions at her. "Whatever are you doing, Edna Petunia?" Micah turned to look at the older woman who quickly hid her hands behind her back as if she were innocent. "I was trying to get you to ask the pastor for Sunday dinner!" Sarah Jane looked at the pastor, wondering vaguely if Edna Petunia had him in mind for one of the girls to marry. She hoped not. "Would you like to come to Sunday dinner with my... family?" She hesitated to use the word, because her household was like no other. He had not been looking forward to another Sunday meal alone. He was surprised how much he missed the camaraderie of the seminary in Dallas. "I'd like that a lot." She smiled sweetly, wanting to grit her teeth. She had no desire to see him with her sisters. She had too much respect for any man of God to want that. "Do you know how to get out to the house, or do you need directions?" "Sarah Jane, stop being so uptight and just offer to ride with him. There's no sin in being in a buggy with a man if you can be seen the whole time." Edna Petunia shook her head. Sarah Jane blushed. "I guess I can ride with you. If you don't mind, that is." "Not at all." Micah looked around the church and saw that everyone else had left while he talked to her. "My buggy is at the house. Can you wait a minute while I hitch up the horses?" Sarah Jane turned pleading eyes on Edna Petunia. No matter what the older woman said, Sarah Jane knew it wasn't a good idea to be alone in the company of an attractive member of the opposite sex. She wouldn't be alone with him. "Do you want to wait for us, Edna Petunia? Or do you want to leave one of the younger girls to ride with us?" "Well, I really don't really see that you're in any danger from the pastor, but why don't you take
Theresa with you? She'll keep you company." Edna Petunia didn't wait for an argument, which she certainly would have gotten. Theresa was there a moment later. "Oh, I'm so excited that I get to ride with you, Pastor Barton. I really like going on rides with the older girls, but they always choose Katie because she's so quiet and meek, and that's just not who I am." She linked her arm through Sarah Jane's, tugging her along after the pastor, who was walking briskly toward the stable that was next to the parsonage. "Thanks for asking for me, Sarah Jane. I didn't even know you liked me. Sometimes you're hard to read, you know." As they walked, Theresa chattered on and on about a new book she had read and enjoyed, and all about school. She was a very bright girl, but she never quit talking! It made Sarah Jane want to snatch her bald-headed at times. They stood and talked quietly while the pastor hitched up his buggy. Well, Theresa talked while Sarah Jane listened. As usual. When the buggy was ready, Pastor Barton handed first Sarah Jane and then Theresa up and made certain the lap robe was tucked around their legs. "Are you warm enough?" Sarah Jane laughed softly. "Texas winters are very mild compared to the winters we saw in New York State. We're fine." Theresa nodded. "Of course, some hot chocolate wouldn't be amiss, but we'll be fine." "How long have you lived in Texas?" Micah asked. Sarah Jane waited a moment for Theresa to respond, but when she didn't, she answered. "Three years. Our orphanage was purchased by a church whose leadership committee didn't think boys and girls should live together under one roof, so we were sent here to Texas. Do you know Tino and Cassie Hayes?" Micah nodded after a moment. "I think so. They have two small children?" He pictured a couple in their late thirties, hoping it was them. "Yes, that's the Hayes. Mrs. Hayes was the matron of our orphanage, and she traveled here with us. Mr. Hayes drove us down here in a bus." "A bus? Really? That's a long drive!" "It was. We camped on the side of the road every night. It was long and difficult. When we arrived, there was no house waiting for us like we'd been promised. That's why Edna Petunia and Cletus took us in, even though they were newlyweds." Sarah Jane didn't add that Edna had always wanted a houseful of bastard children because she hated that word. She knew Edna Petunia said it with love, but others didn't. "Those two were newlyweds three years ago? Really?" The elderly couple seemed as though they'd been married for many years to Micah. Why, she was constantly calling her husband an old coot, which Micah had rarely seen even in couples who had been married for fifty years, let alone three. Sarah Jane nodded. "They're an odd couple, I'll admit. They are very loving and generous, though, so I can't complain." Well, she could, and often did in her prayers, but deep down, she knew they loved her more than anyone else ever had—except maybe Cassie Hayes. "They seem to care for all of you." "They do. They make it very clear." Sarah Jane sighed. "They treat us like we're special to them, and that's all that really matters. You don't get much of that in an orphanage." She pointed ahead. "You need to turn there, off to the right." He turned where she indicated, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. She was a pretty little thing, but so serious. He wondered if she ever laughed or showed any kind of emotion. She'd seemed very intense when she'd asked him to play Santa Claus, but he'd watched her adopted sisters, and they all seemed to laugh and joke with ease. "How many of you were adopted by the Sanders?" he asked. "Fifteen total. There are still thirteen of us at home. The two oldest have married and moved out.
Opal and Ruby." "Were they related? Someone obviously liked gemstone names." "Yes, they're twins, but not identical." "So there are thirteen young women living together in one house?" He couldn't imagine a house big enough for that many girls. He was the lone boy in a family of seven children. Sometimes he was shocked his sisters had never killed one another. Sarah Jane nodded. "It's just as loud as you're imagining. Some of the girls are . . . chatty." If Theresa hadn't been there, she'd have mentioned her frustration with one girl in particular who just couldn't seem to stop talking, but she didn't want to hurt her feelings. "I'm sure it's a loud place to live." He shook his head. "I have six sisters, and they never shut up." "Do you like quiet?" From what she'd seen, she was usually the odd one, preferring to be alone in the quiet rather than surrounded by sound. She'd been thrilled when the twins had married, and she'd gotten her own room. It was so much easier for her without the constant chatter. He shrugged. "Most of the time. I've had very little of it, though. I went straight from a houseful of sisters to the dormitory at the seminary. I was given this assignment right after I graduated in August." "Have you been here that long?" she asked in surprise. It seemed like it had only been a couple of weeks. "I went home for a month first. To visit with my family. I've been here since the beginning of October." "So two months." He nodded. "I'm doing my best to get to know everyone, but it's hard. Nowhere's a small town, but people come to church from all over the area." "Do you do home visits?" She remembered when she'd lived with Pastor Brown and his wife. They'd gone to the home of a different parishioner every Sunday evening. "I'm trying to give everyone time to invite me rather than just showing up at their homes, but so far, I've only been invited by a few families. After the first of the year, I'm going to start inviting myself." He leaned toward Sarah Jane and whispered, "I'm sick of my own cooking." Sarah Jane looked at him for a moment, trying to determine if he was serious. Finally, she forced a laugh, deciding he must be joking. "They didn't teach you to cook at seminary?" "Not one of the classes I was blessed to take." He shrugged. "I get by, but I sure do miss my mother's cooking. She was a true genius in the kitchen." "You need to stop by anytime you're hungry. I enjoy cooking, and Edna Petunia and I always make enough to feed an army." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Sarah Jane regretted them. Would he think she was like all the other young ladies in the congregation, just wanting to show off her cooking skills for the new pastor? She hoped not. With her upbringing, she simply believed in having a generous spirit, especially toward those called to the ministry. He nodded with a smile, liking the idea of dropping in on occasion. "I'd be very happy to do that." She directed him to a large white house located about fifteen minutes out of town. He looked at it with surprise, not having expected something quite so nice or so big. He got down and helped both girls to the ground. Theresa ran into the house, and he fell into step beside Sarah Jane. "How much time do you spend at the orphanage?" "I go there every day except Sunday, but sometimes I go on Sunday as well. I know what it's like to live in an orphanage, and I want every child there to realize that God loves them." "Your orphanage must have been very devout," he said, following her into the house. She shrugged. "Not particularly, but I lived with a minister and his wife for two years during my childhood. They taught me well." Edna Petunia popped her head out of the kitchen. "Sarah Jane, throw on an apron and help me. None
of the other girls can make a gravy half as good as yours." Sarah Jane blushed as she hurried into the kitchen to obey. She knew Edna Petunia's words were because Pastor Barton was there. No other reason. They were true, but she didn't need to be told that. She knew she was the best cook in the house, except for maybe Edna Petunia, but she was at least as good as the older woman. Micah stepped into the kitchen behind her. "Is there something I can help with, Mrs. Sanders?" Edna shooed him out of the kitchen with her hand. "Have one of the girls take you to see the old coot. I think he's sitting in the formal parlor with his feet up. It's what he does." Theresa was standing watching them. "I'll take you, Pastor." He followed her through the house, and she chattered on about how nice it was to have someone other than all of the girls there for a meal. "Cletus, Edna Petunia says you need to entertain the pastor for a while." Cletus glanced up from the book he was reading, and Micah looked at the title with astonishment. "Modern Law in Texas? Are you studying to be a lawyer, Mr. Sanders?" Cletus shrugged. "I was a banker and studying to be a lawyer before the War of Northern Aggression, and I'm fascinated by it. I just have a bit more studying to do before I have a law degree. I might do it." Micah was surprised. The man had to be in his sixties. "Would you practice law?" He didn't wait to be asked to sit, but instead sat across from Cletus on the other sofa. "I'd probably run for judge. I spent a lot of years not caring about anyone or anything around me. Edna Petunia changed all that, though." "How?" Micah was fascinated by the relationship between the older couple. Cletus set his book on the table beside the sofa. "My parents died during the war while I was off fighting for states' rights. I came home to nothing. I still owned this house, sure, but I had no desire to be here because it brought up lots of memories and made me sad. So I lived as a hermit in a tent in the woods." "You could have lived here, and you lived in the woods instead?" "There's no point in having great wealth if you have no one to spend it on." Micah blinked a few times. The words made sense to him, but he'd rarely heard anyone speak them. "That's true, sir." "When Edna Petunia came to town, I fell in love the moment I saw her." Cletus's eyes got a faraway look. "With peppermint sticks in her cleavage and a flask of cough tonic in the pocket of her apron. Dr. Iris would constantly shake her head at her, and not let her take her flask to church, but I saw in her a kindred soul, one I knew I needed to spend the rest of my life with." "And she didn't want to live with you in a tent?" Cletus laughed. "No, she didn't. She made me promise to build her a house, said she'd be content with a small cabin in the woods." Micah grinned. "You didn't tell her about this place?" "Heck no! I wanted her to marry me because she loved me, not because I could offer her riches. Since she wouldn't let me . . ." Cletus trailed off, blushing a little. "Well, since she wouldn't show me her love before marriage, I waited to show her this place until after we'd said 'I do.'" "I imagine she was surprised." "Surprised? The woman was shocked as spit! I think it's the only time I've ever surprised her—well, except when I walked into the church for our wedding with my hair cut and my whiskers shaved. My beard was halfway down my chest when we met." Cletus chuckled. "It's surprising she agreed, but she loved me too. God blessed me with a beautiful, kindhearted woman, and now I feel like I need to give back to the community. Yes, I'm going to finish my schooling and run for judge. I've seen a lot in my seventy-odd years of life, and it's time for me to do what's right."
Micah nodded, smiling. "It's amazing what the love of a good woman will do for a man." Cletus let out a shout of laughter. "Who told you Edna Petunia's a good woman? Why, she's a handful, but she's my handful. I think I'm going to keep her." "I don't think you have a choice at this point, Mr. Sanders. She seems like the type to wallop you with a frying pan if you try to put her out." "You do know my Edna Petunia. She's trying to teach all those girls to be just like her too, but some of them just don't have it in them. Why, a couple of the girls are downright meek and soft-spoken, much to Edna Petunia's annoyance." "Why would that bother her?" "Oh, she thinks girls should have a 'backbone,' and be able to stand up for themselves. I've tried to teach all the girls to shoot and be strong, but a couple of them just won't do it." "Like Sarah Jane?" Micah asked, curious about the young lady. Cletus nodded. "I tried to get that girl to learn to shoot a pistol. She's such a pretty little thing, I wanted her to be able to protect herself from unscrupulous men. She wouldn't have anything to do with it. Was acting like it would bite her if she even touched it. That girl is a pacifist if I've ever seen one." Micah nodded. "I'm not surprised. She seems very . . . soft to me." Cletus raised an eyebrow. "You better not be speaking from experience. No one touches my girls unless they're married to them. Especially Sarah Jane. She's got a special place in my heart." "I promise, I've only shaken her hand. I've never touched her in any other way." Micah was shocked the man's mind had gone there. "Glad to hear it. I wouldn't want to have to shoot you." Micah blinked a couple of times, wondering if the man was threatening him or not. "I'm a man of the cloth." "I know that. You still don't get to touch my girls. You're a man. And she's a beautiful young woman. I'll do anything I can to protect her." Cletus leaned back on the sofa and studied the younger man. "How well do you know my Sarah Jane, anyway?" Micah felt as if he were being dissected by the other man's eyes. "Not well at all. She asked me today if I would play the part of Santa Claus for the Christmas party at the orphanage. That's all." "You said yes?" "I did." Micah didn't really want to do it, but he had agreed, and he did want the orphans to have a good Christmas. "Well, hallelujah. I didn't want to get roped into that one!" "It's a worthy cause," Micah protested. "Oh, sure it is. I just don't want to have to dress up in that suit. Edna Petunia would find a way to get a photographer out here and hang the resulting photograph above the mantel where she could look at it and chuckle every day for the rest of our lives." "She wouldn't really, would she?" "Oh, yes, she would. The woman has a mean streak a mile wide," Cletus told him with obvious pride. "And that pleases you?" Micah asked with surprise. "If it didn't, I wouldn't have married her, now, would I?"
Chapter Two
Theresa saved Micah from responding by stepping into the room. "Lunch is ready." Micah jumped to his feet, thrilled not have to finish the conversation he was having with Mr. Sanders. "It smells delicious." "Oh, it will be," Theresa said. "Between Sarah Jane and Edna Petunia, the meals around here are always delicious. I'm surprised any of us can fit into our dresses!" She hurried out of the room, and Micah followed her, hoping she was leading the way to the dining room. They reached a room with a huge, long table where the entire family was sitting, waiting. The seat beside Sarah Jane had been left empty, so he sat down, pleased to be beside her. She seemed like a little piece of calm in the room that was full of chaos. "Pastor Barton, would you mind saying the prayer for us, please?" Edna Petunia asked. Everyone around the table reached out and took the hands of the two on either side of them, and he felt Sarah Jane's hand slip into his. He squeezed it tightly, suddenly thinking of her in ways he shouldn't think of one so young. She was over eighteen, wasn't she? "Heavenly Father, thank You for this food You've provided, and for the opportunity to fellowship with one another. Thank You for giving me the chance to get to know this . . . interesting family. I pray this in the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ. Amen." Sarah Jane bit her lip to stifle the giggle that threatened to erupt when he called the family interesting. She sobered her face before everyone raised their heads. She had learned before she'd ever gone to the orphanage that people didn't like loud females, and she knew that laughing wasn't something she should do in public. And with a family as large as hers, her whole life was public. Micah looked over at Sarah Jane, noting the laughter in her eyes and wondering what had caused it. Her face was as serious as ever, though. Why didn't she smile when she found something funny? "Tell me about the orphanage. Are there many children?" "Only ten. Seven girls and three boys. Eight are in school, and there are two toddlers who are still home all day. I take care of them to give the matron the day off so she can take care of things around the property and handle any personal matters. She really only has to really work with the children in the evenings then." "I'm sure that makes her days a lot easier." Sarah Jane forked up a bite of the pot roast on her plate. "Oh, it does. She would never have time for herself otherwise. I'm not sure how Mrs. Hayes did it with all of us." Evelyn, who was twenty and helped out at the school, grinned. "She was good at delegating. I spent a lot of time changing diapers, and you spent a lot of time cooking. Opal helped everyone with their homework. She used all of our strengths to make things easier on herself." Sarah Jane smiled. "And here I thought she was teaching us to be good, responsible adults." "Oh, she was. In the most effective way possible. Trial and error." Evelyn shrugged. "She was good at what she did." "Obviously. I never even realized." Micah looked around the table. "So all of you grew up up together. Do you ever fight?" "Constantly," Theresa said. "We all fight with Gertrude. She's bossy." Gertrude glared at Theresa. "I'm not bossy! I just know better ways to do things than you do!" Edna Petunia grinned, removing a peppermint stick from her cleavage to stir her tea. "Just be careful they don't start throwing peas at each other, Pastor." Hope shook her head. "We do not throw peas, Edna Petunia. We were raised better than that. We catapult them." She took a pea and set it on the tip of her spoon, flinging it through the air so it bounced off
Sarah Jane's forehead. "Like that!" Edna Petunia glared at Hope. "No more." Her words were soft, but they were spoken with emphasis. Micah shook his head. It was like being home with his sisters, but there were more of them. It was mass pandemonium. He wasn't certain if he felt nostalgic or overwhelmed. Probably a bit of both. After the meal, he was invited to sit in the parlor and visit. Sarah Jane didn't have to clean the dishes. She said something about how anyone who cooks didn't have to clean in their house. "Sounds fair to me," he told her. He thought it was odd she was explaining herself, but said nothing about it. When he got to the parlor, he sat down with Sarah Jane, Edna Petunia, and Cletus, who had once again picked up his law book. "What are you reading now, you old coot?" Edna asked, her voice full of love. "Law books." "Still? You think you can get this town to elect you judge? After all the years you lived like a hermit in the woods?" Cletus shrugged. "Yup. My family name means a lot around here, and I'm still the richest man around. I'm a family man now." Edna shrugged. "They couldn't get a better man for the job." Cletus leaned over and gave Edna Petunia a loud smacking kiss on the cheek. "You're something else." Edna put her hand on his shoulder, pushing him away. "Get away, you crazy old man." Micah shook his head, laughing. "Sarah Jane told me you two have only been married for three years. It's hard to believe." "Why?" Edna Petunia asked. "Because we're older than dirt?" Micah wasn't certain how to respond to that. "Mostly because of how you act around each other. I'd have thought you'd been married for fifty years." Cletus patted Edna Petunia. "I think the boy's complimenting us. Don't get your back feathers ruffled." "Of course it's a compliment. I admire you both. You did something special, taking in fifteen orphans the way you did." Edna shook her head. "They did something special for me, coming to live here. I've always had a real soft spot for bastard children." She smiled over at Sarah Jane, who was doing her best not to cringe. "Even though most of them were born in wedlock, which is disappointing, this group needs love more than most." Micah was confused. "Why does it matter if they're bastards? Didn't you just want to take in orphans?" "Well, sure, but there's just something sweeter and more magical about a bastard. Don't you think?" Micah blinked a couple of times. Was she serious? "I suppose." Cletus shook his head. "Don't mind Edna Petunia. She's got it in her head that bastards need more love than other children, and she can't seem to get it out. She tries to look at all of our girls as bastards, even though most of them aren't, but just lost their parents at a young age." "I'm not sure I follow, but I'm not certain I need to. As long as you're taking care of orphans, I'm thrilled." Micah frowned at Sarah Jane. "You don't make the older ones leave when they reach a certain age, do you?" "Of course not!" Edna exclaimed. "Our oldest orphan is Evelyn, and she's already twenty! If we haven't made her leave, we won't make the younger ones leave." That still didn't tell Micah how old Sarah Jane was, and for some reason, the answer to that question was important to him. "How many girls do you have who are over eighteen?" he asked tentatively. Sarah Jane answered. "The oldest two are already married. Then there are five of us here who are
older than eighteen. I was eighteen in September." Micah felt a sense of relief. He knew that many women married at sixteen or even younger, but in his head, no one was old enough to marry before the age of eighteen. He was starting to feel attracted to Sarah Jane, and he didn't want to feel like he was doing something wrong. "What are your intentions toward Sarah Jane?" Cletus asked, looking between the two of them. Micah wasn't surprised the older man sensed his interest in the girl. "I intend to pick up the Santa Claus outfit from her in the morning," he said. "Beyond that, I have no plans. Maybe I should take her to get some hot chocolate from the ice cream parlor when she finishes at the orphanage tomorrow, though." He looked at Sarah Jane, hoping she'd take his words as the invitation they were. Sarah Jane blushed. Was the pastor showing an interest in her? She didn't know if she was ready for that. "I suppose we could get hot chocolate." "I'll drive you home after. What time do you finish up there?" he asked. "Three, which is really early. I'll understand if you have something else you need to do." He shrugged. "I'm visiting a couple of sick families in the early afternoon. It would be no trouble at all to come by the orphanage to take you for hot chocolate at three." He looked at Cletus, who was watching them both with an eagle eye. "I'll have her home by five at the very latest." Cletus nodded. "That suits me. Closer to four would be better, though." "Who will be there to chaperone?" Sarah Jane blurted out. "Do you feel the need to be chaperoned with me?" Micah asked. Was she afraid of him? Sarah Jane shook her head. "It's not that. I just don't want anyone to think that something improper is going on." "Does it matter so much?" He was surprised she was thinking of chaperones when the idea of one hadn't even occurred to him. "Well, I learned from the pastor I lived with for a couple of years that a rumor can ruin a clergyman's career. I wouldn't want that to happen to you. There are plenty of tongues that would wag at seeing the handsome young pastor riding out of town with the orphan girl. I could walk home after the hot chocolate, though. Then it wouldn't matter." He shook his head. "No, but I appreciate you for thinking of that. Why don't we take one of the other girls with us?" "Maybe Penelope? She works at the mercantile in the afternoons, and it wouldn't be a hardship for her to come." Sarah Jane was closest in age to Penelope, who was only a month older than she was. They had a good relationship. Micah nodded. "Of course. Whomever you would like to be with us." He stood. "I should get back to town. Thank you for lunch, Mr. and Mrs. Sanders." Edna Petunia nodded, but didn't stand. "You're welcome anytime, Pastor. Just drop by at mealtimes. There's always enough." "Thank you. I may take you up on that." He walked toward the door. Edna Petunia looked at Sarah Jane, making odd hand motions again. This time, Sarah Jane understood her. She got to her feet. "Let me walk you out, Pastor." "Please, call me Micah." "Oh, I couldn't. That's far too informal." He raised an eyebrow at her. "If you don't call me Micah, then I can't call you Sarah Jane, and I like the way the name feels on my tongue far too much to forgo the privilege. You wouldn't want to make me feel uncomfortable by calling you by your Christian name while you call me by my title, would you?" Sarah Jane smiled at that. "I'll call you Micah, then." "Good!" They walked side by side out to his buggy. "Thanks again for lunch. I really enjoyed it." "I'm glad you came," she said simply, wondering if she was being too forward. He was the most
sought-after man around, and she didn't want him to think she was making a play for him like many of the other young ladies. He reached out and briefly touched her cheek before getting into his buggy. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. I'll just pick up the suit when I see you for hot chocolate." "That seems sensible. Goodbye." She raised a hand to wave to him before he drove off. Once he was out of sight, she raised a hand to her cheek where he'd touched her. Where had the hope that he'd kiss her come from?
* * *
Sarah Jane had a difficult morning with the two orphans who were in the home during the day. Little Zachariah hadn't been feeling well, and she'd had to spend the day fetching medicine for him and coddling him. By the time Micah arrived to take her for ice cream, she was worn out. She wanted to cancel, but she didn't know how to do it in such a way that she wouldn't offend him, and he would ask her again. "Are you ready?" he asked. She nodded tiredly. "Let me get my things." She had brought her small drawstring purse with her, and she hurried to get it along with the Santa suit which was wrapped in brown paper. She rushed back to him, and he helped her up into the buggy, while she fought back a yawn. "Didn't you sleep well?" he asked, watching her as he climbed into the buggy beside her for the short ride to the ice cream parlor. "I did. One of the orphans was sick this morning, and he wanted me to carry him around and pace back and forth. It took a lot out of me." "I'm sorry you're tired. Do you want to do this tomorrow instead?" Sarah Jane thought about it. Ten minutes before, she was certain that was what she wanted, but now they were sitting together in his buggy, she wasn't so sure. "No, I think I can manage." She'd just go to sleep earlier than usual. It wouldn't hurt her not to read that night before bed. "Where's Penelope? You did say she'd be the one chaperoning us, didn't you? Do I have the name right?" "Yes, you do. She said she had a rush order to finish, but we could pick her up after we finish. She would be ready by then. The main thing I was worried about was having someone with us when we weren't in a public area, so that should be just fine." He nodded. "I think that's a good compromise." He pulled up in front of the ice cream parlor, thrilled they were serving hot chocolate during the colder months. Jumping down, he walked around to help her to the ground. He took her elbow in his hand as he led her into the parlor, though he felt awkward doing so because he wasn't used to escorting women. Once they were inside, he led her to a small table in the corner and pulled a chair out for her. He sat opposite. "So tell me about you. How did you come to live in the orphanage in New York?" She made a face. "My parents and younger brother all died from the measles when I was four, and I moved to the orphanage then. I had no other family who could raise me." "And you lived there until you moved to Texas?" Hadn't she said something about living with a pastor? "When I was nine, a pastor and his wife took me in for a while. They meant to keep me, but they were called to go west a year and a half later, and they decided it would be easier to get an orphan child once they were there rather than taking one on the long journey with them." Micah frowned. "So any orphan would do? It didn't have to be you?" "They were good people. They taught me a lot." She wouldn't let him say anything bad about the
couple. "I see. Do you ever hear from them?" Sarah Jane shook her head. "They thought it would be easier for me to transition into living in the orphanage again if they didn't write." She still missed them, though. Micah thought they were callous people to be able to leave her at the orphanage after living with her for so long, but he said nothing. The waitress was there, and he asked her to bring them each a hot chocolate. "I could never drop off a child I couldn't keep at a children's home like someone would dump a pet they no longer wanted in the country." "It wasn't like that!" she protested, thinking he was taking her words in a way she hadn't intended. "I'm sorry. I just hate the idea of you being left twice. Once is enough." "I was loved at that orphanage. The matron cared about all of us. It was better than most, I'm sure." Micah nodded, deciding that he wouldn't say another word about it. "Tell me about the Christmas party I'm going to dress up for." Sarah Jane smiled. "It was my idea. We're going to have all the volunteers there. I asked the businesses in town to each donate a gift or two. Edna Petunia has been sewing, and so has Mrs. Hayes. There will be plenty of gifts for all the children." "What activities are planned, other than Santa giving gifts?" "The children have been practicing some Christmas carols they'll sing for us. Many members of the church will be there. We'll have punch and cookies." She would make the cookies herself on Friday to have them ready. "It's only going to last a couple of hours. At the end of the party, we'll have Santa come in and give the children their gifts." "So I shouldn't come until the end of the party?" "I was thinking you should come for the Christmas carols, and then make your excuses so you can change into the suit." He nodded. "I could do that." The hot chocolate was set on the table before them. He reached out and took a sip from the mug in front of him. "You'll save me some cookies?" She laughed. "I'll bake an extra dozen just for you." "I'd like that a lot," he told her with a grin. "I'm pretty fond of sweets." "Well, between me and Edna Petunia, we'll keep you supplied. We both enjoy baking a great deal." "I'd appreciate it." Suddenly, he understood the loneliness other men from the seminary had talked about after graduation. He was in a good place here in Nowhere, but what if there hadn't been people around to pander to his every whim? "What are your plans now?" "Plans? I suppose I'll keep volunteering with the orphans. I enjoy working there, and I don't need to be making money." She shrugged. "Most of the girls start working as soon as they finish school to save as much as they can, but I'm not certain why. I don't need anything that's not provided for me, and I'd rather do some good." "So money isn't important to you?" "Well, it's important that someone around me has it so I can eat and wear clothes, but I'm not one who thinks she needs to have jewels dripping from her or a huge house to live in. I'm content with little." She sounded like she'd be a perfect pastor's wife. "You're a logical woman." "Most of the time. My family thinks I go overboard in trying to be good, though." "Is that even possible?" She laughed. "Well, sometimes I try to force how I feel about certain things on them, even when they're not technically doing anything wrong. That makes them angry." He smiled. "Like needing a chaperone?" "Exactly." She looked down at her hot chocolate for a moment, worried she'd offended him. "Did that
bother you?" He shook his head. "Not at all. I appreciate you thinking that way. I would have never given it another thought." "The Pinkstons pounded their way of thinking into my head." "The pastor and his wife?" She nodded. "Yes. They made it very clear that it was my responsibility to worry about others' souls as well as my own." "That's a big burden. Does it ever bother you?" She frowned. "Burden? I never thought of it that way, I guess. To me, it's just what I'm supposed to be doing." "It's my job now, so you can drop that burden from your shoulders." He hated the idea that she felt like other people's souls were her responsibility. She wasn't a preacher, so she shouldn't have to feel that guilt. He saw that she was finished with her hot chocolate, so he went to the counter to pay. Walking back, he smiled. "Are you ready?" She nodded, sad their time was over. She wanted to get to know him better, but she'd spent the whole time answering his questions. "What was your family like?" He shrugged, taking her elbow again to walk her to the buggy. "I've told you all there is to tell. Our house was loud." Sarah Jane grinned. "I bet it wasn't as loud as ours." He laughed, shaking his head. "No, not nearly as loud as that." "It's a lot, but Edna Petunia is a good mother to us all. Well, when she's not trying to get us to drink her 'cough syrup.'" "Cough syrup? It's not whiskey, is it?" She shrugged. "Early on, Mrs. Hayes warned us not to drink it, so none of us ever has. We're pretty sure it's some kind of spirit." He sighed. "You'd think a woman that age would know better. Does she cough a lot?" Sarah Jane shook her head, her eyes twinkling. "Never. She says that just goes to prove it's working." "That sounds like Mrs. Sanders. The woman is a bit off." "She is, but she's the most loving person I've ever met." Sarah Jane leaned close to whisper, "She offered me peppermint sticks in church yesterday." He laughed, concentrating on driving toward the mercantile, but wishing he could watch her as they talked. "And did you take one?" Sarah Jane shook her head. "I told her I don't think we should be eating candy during service, so she ate it herself." "Of course she did." He pulled up in front of the mercantile. "Do you want me to go in and get Penelope?" "No, I want to talk to Ruby—she married the owner of the mercantile. You can come in or wait here." He walked around the wagon to help her down. "I'll come in. I've met Ruby, but I had no idea she's one of your sisters." "Oh, yes." Sarah Jane hurried into the store. When she saw Ruby behind the counter, she rushed over to chat for a moment. "Ruby. You look beautiful!" Ruby smiled, patting her huge stomach. "Another five weeks or so, and this one will be here. Lewis is upstairs with the twins. I needed a moment without them." Sarah Jane smiled. "Before today, I don't know if I could have understood that. One of the orphans was sick, though, and he was so clingy. I'm exhausted."
"It's hard when they're sick." Ruby sighed. "I hear you're stepping out with the new pastor." Sarah Jane blushed. "Not really. He had to come pick up the Santa suit for the orphans' party this weekend, and he took me to get hot chocolate while he was out." Ruby grinned. "And he couldn't have found someone else to take out for hot chocolate?" Micah stepped up behind her. "I could have, but I wanted to take Sarah Jane." "I thought that might be the case," Ruby said with a smile. "I always pictured Sarah Jane being a preacher's wife someday." Sarah Jane gasped. "You're jumping to conclusions, Ruby." "Not entirely," Micah responded with a laugh. She looked at him with wide eyes. "But...we barely know each other." "We're working on that." Sarah Jane had no idea what to say to that, so she remained quiet. After a moment of the two of them looking at her, she blushed. "I'll tell Penny we're ready." He nodded, saying nothing as he watched her walk away. "You really like her," Ruby said. Micah smiled. "She's pretty special. I think you're right about her making a good preacher's wife, and I know a preacher who's just about ready to settle down." "Do you now?" Ruby laughed at him. "I think you need to make your intentions very clear. Our Sarah Jane doesn't understand subtleties very well." "I'll keep that in mind."
Chapter Three
On the drive back to the Sanders' home, Micah wanted to bring up his intentions to court Sarah Jane, but he didn't want to do it in front of Penny. Penny was chatting about her day, probably just to fill the silence. Once they pulled up in front of the house, Penny jumped down and ran inside, leaving the two of them alone. "Would you mind sitting here for a bit? I'd like to talk for a moment." Sarah Jane was surprised by his request. "You could stay for supper if you want." "I might, but first I want to talk to you where no one can overhear." He took a deep breath, nervous about the conversation they were about to have. "I thought I was making myself clear when I invited you out for hot chocolate today, but Ruby told me I should spell it out for you. I want to start courting you. Would you be all right with that?" Sarah Jane blinked a couple of times. "Courting me?" He nodded. "To see if we're compatible." For marriage? He's interested in marrying me? "I think that would be all right. You should probably talk to Cletus, though. He's overprotective of all of us." Micah looked toward the house with a frown. "I can do that. I guess I'll stay for supper after all." Sarah Jane bit back a giggle at the look on his face. She rested her hand on his arm. "He doesn't bite. You'll be fine." Micah sighed. "I'm sure I will be. I just—well, I just wish I could find a way to talk just to him and not Mrs. Sanders and all of the girls." "Your best time to try is right now. I'll be in the kitchen helping Edna Petunia cook, and most of the girls prefer to take advantage of the free time they have between work and supper." Micah jumped down, walking around to help Sarah Jane to the ground. He'd never liked the idea of asking a father for permission to court a girl because he thought the girl should be allowed to make up her own mind about it. Sarah Jane led him back to the formal parlor, where Cletus was again reading law books. It was odd to Micah that he would want to start a new career at his age, but he had to respect Cletus for it. "Mr. Sanders?" Cletus looked up. "You again? Well, come in and sit down, as long as you're not here to tell me that my soul needs savin'. I heard enough of that when I was young." Micah smiled. "No, sir. Not this time." He cleared his throat, forcing out the next statement so he could get it over with. "I want to ask your permission to court Sarah Jane." At that Cletus set down his book and gave the younger man his full attention. "Sarah Jane's an awfully special girl. You going to take care of her while you're out with her?" Micah nodded. "I will." "And you'll make sure you always have a chaperone? Normally, I wouldn't think that would be necessary, but it is in this case. Sarah Jane has some really old-fashioned ideas, and she likes for everyone around her to live by her ideals." He nodded again. "I can see that. I will happily have a chaperone at all times if it makes her feel better." "Then I guess you can court her. Treat her right. If I hear you've hurt her in any way, I'm going to come after you." Micah wasn't a bit surprised by the older man's words. He seemed the type who would hunt down a man who harmed someone he loved. "I'll keep that in mind. I have no intention of hurting her or anyone else."
"Good. You better treat her like the precious jewel she is." "Always." Micah was thrilled to have the conversation over with. "Sarah Jane invited me for supper." "Of course she did. Sarah Jane feels the need to feed the world, just like my sweetheart, Edna Petunia. You'd never hear either of them admitting it, but out of all the girls, Sarah Jane is most like my wife. Oh, she doesn't run off at the mouth like Edna Petunia, but she has the same basic need to take care of others." Cletus smiled. "It's hard not to feel like she's extra special as a result of that." Micah smiled. He could see the similarities for himself though he was pleased Sarah Jane didn't do some of the outlandish things Edna Petunia was constantly doing. "I can see it. I really will take good care of her." "I know you will. You wouldn't dare do otherwise." Cletus picked up his book again. "I'm done talking for a while. If you want to read, there's a Bible on the shelf." Micah grinned. He walked to the shelf of books along the wall, and chose one that interested him. It wasn't the Bible, but he didn't think Cletus would care. Settling back down into the chair he'd just vacated, he opened the book and began reading. In the kitchen, Sarah Jane was peeling the potatoes for dinner. "Pastor Barton will be eating with us again." Edna eyed Sarah Jane. "He courting you?" Sarah Jane blushed. "He's asking Cletus for permission." "Good. You two suit each other." Sarah Jane looked at Edna Petunia with surprise. "Do you really think so?" "Definitely. I thought so when he first moved here, but I was certain you'd have a problem with me trying to fix you two up together." "I would have. You have to let things happen as they will." "Because there are no arranged marriages in the Bible?" Edna Petunia asked, a smirk on her face. "We don't live in Bible times any longer. Why, look at the modern world around you. We even have indoor plumbing and electricity here!" "We do. It's a pretty nice place to live, this modern world of ours. I'm happy here." Sarah Jane smiled at that, setting the huge pot of potatoes on the stove to boil. Edna Petunia was frying some chicken on the second stove. "Why don't you whip up a couple of cakes? The pastor would probably enjoy some baked goods. It's got to be hard for a bachelor to move to such a small town where there's not a bakery or anything." Sarah Jane nodded. "I'll bake three cakes so he can have one to take home with him." "That's the spirit, girl! No faster way to a man's heart than through his stomach. Unless, of course, you're planning on kissing him, but knowing you, that won't be happening anytime soon." "I don't think people should just run around kissing each other. If we were engaged, it would be different." "Well, how are you going to know if you want to be with him for all time if you don't kiss him? You have to know if he makes your heart speed up!" Sarah Jane shook her head. "I'll know." She already knew he did. Every little touch, even if he was just helping her into her buggy, made her feel special. Edna Petunia's face broke into a wide grin. "He's already made your heart beat faster. He's the man for you. I'm glad." She turned a piece of chicken on the stove. "Bake those cakes, girl. I want to see the two of you married soon!" Sarah Jane sighed. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Edna Petunia. He may not have feelings for me." "He wouldn't be in there asking that old coot for permission to court you otherwise." Sarah Jane just nodded as she measured out the sugar. It was odd to think that she'd be the next one
courted when there were so many older than her still at home. Still, she was thrilled. There was just something about Micah that made her want to be with him all the time. At dinner, he sat beside her again, and he took her hand automatically while they prayed. Sarah Jane felt as if she were doing something wrong, but she was holding Evelyn's hand on the other side, and she knew that wasn't wrong. She'd never made a habit of holding a man's hand before. Why, she'd never been courted at all before. Micah was the first. After the prayer, she pulled her hand from his, not meeting his eyes. She didn't want him to realize that it affected her when they held hands, even during prayer. Cletus forked up a bite of his mashed potatoes before his eyes landed on Micah. "So, what does a preacher do all day?" Micah felt put on the spot, but answered anyway. "I spend part of the day visiting the sick. I work on my sermon. Do any repairs necessary on the church. Basically, I work just like everyone else. My tasks are just a bit different." "Do you enjoy your work?" Edna Petunia asked. "Does it ever get to be too much of a trial to have to do good all the time? I mean, at times doing good is fun and makes you feel pleasant, but sometimes it just gets downright tedious." Micah couldn't hide the smirk. "I like doing good, so no, it doesn't bother me. It's hard to always have to worry about what other people will think of what I'm doing, but usually that's easy as well." Sarah Jane smiled as she took a bite of her chicken. Micah thought very much the same way she did. Maybe someday they could get to know one another well enough that they could marry. Hope wrinkled her nose. "You sound just as boring as Sarah Jane. I sure hope you won't ask me to chaperone you two. I'm not sure I could stay awake for it." Edna Petunia sighed. "Don't be rude, Hope. Not everyone is good at saying whatever is on their mind, and it's a good thing. Imagine what the world would be like if we all told people when their shoes were ugly or we found their conversation boring. Not a good place." Hope looked down at her plate for a moment before her eyes met Sarah Jane's across the table. "I'm sorry for being rude." Sarah Jane wanted to kick her, but instead, she gave the reply she always knew she must. "I forgive you." Micah shook his head. It was hard to believe all the personalities from the girls had come from the same upbringing. Where Sarah Jane was quiet and sweet, some of the others were downright rude. He didn't really know Hope at all, but she seemed very judgmental, a trait that he'd assigned to older women in the Christian congregation, not to young ladies of his acquaintance. After supper, Sarah Jane walked Micah out to his buggy. "How did your talk with Cletus go?" she asked, almost embarrassed to do so. It was hard for her to know what was too forward and what wasn't. He smiled at her. "He said we could court. I have to treat you right, though, because you're special to him." "I'm sure he says that about all fifteen of us." "I'm sure he does too, but today, you're the one he's worried about." He took a step closer to her. "You're the only one I'm worried about as well." Sarah Jane looked up at him, surprised he was so close. She felt like she could melt into his brown gaze. "I like your eyes." As soon as the words were out, she wished she could get them back. Now he would definitely think her forward. "I like yours too. They're a beautiful shade of green." He smiled at her. "May I kiss you?" Sarah Jane felt her heart pounding in her chest as she shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea. The couple I lived with, the pastor and his wife, told me I should save lip kisses for after I'm married." "They probably have the right of it." He sighed. "Doesn't stop a man from hoping, though."
She blushed. "I'm sorry to disappoint you." "Truthfully, I'm a bit disappointed in one way, but in another, I'm pleased. If you feel that strongly, that means that you haven't kissed any other men either. I like that idea." "You do?" He nodded. "I do. I like everything about you, Sarah Jane. May I give you a ride home tomorrow?" She frowned. "I'll see if one of the girls can chaperone us again." He brushed her cheek with his fingertips in farewell, needing to touch her just for a moment. With her hard and fast rules about not kissing and never being alone, he wasn't certain if he'd be able to wait long before he asked for her hand in marriage. She was special. He was pretty sure he wasn't in love, but thought he could be soon. So far, it seemed to be just a strong attraction. As he drove off, he couldn't help but think of her standing outside watching him. He didn't turn to be certain she was. He was afraid she'd already gone back inside and forgotten all about him. Sarah Jane watched as he drove into the copse of trees just past their driveway. Once he was out of sight, she went back into the house. The dishes were being done, and there was much laughter accompanying them. Instead of going into the kitchen to join the others, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Thankful she no longer shared a room, she stretched out on her bed fully dressed, one arm over her eyes as she lay on her back atop the covers. She'd never had strong feelings for a man before, but she couldn't get Micah Barton out of her head. Why, she was certain he was the man God had created just for her. How could he not be?
* * *
The following day, there was a new little girl at the orphanage. She'd been transferred from the orphanage in another Texas city, but there were no reasons given why she'd been transferred. She was six years old. Really, she reminded Sarah Jane of how she'd looked when she was younger. Her hair was in blond ringlets, and her eyes were bright blue. "What's your name?" Sarah Jane asked softly. She had the paperwork the woman who'd delivered her had brought, but she hadn't looked at it yet. She found it was easier if the child would talk about herself. "Most people call me Chrissy." "I like that name. I'm Sarah Jane." "You have two names! I do too, but most people only use one." "What are your two names?" Sarah Jane asked as she took the little girl's hand and led her into the room all the girls shared. She pointed to a bed that was vacant, and the little girl sat on it and bounced a couple of times. "Christmas Carol." "Oh, that's pretty!" "My birthday is Christmas." "Then the name suits you beautifully. Do you want to be called Chrissy?" The girl nodded. "It's easier than Christmas Carol. Do you have any little girls, Sarah Jane?" Sarah Jane shook her head. "Not yet, but I hope I will someday. I want one just like you." Chrissy giggled. "I think you should have a lot of little girls just like me." "Well, let me tell you about the Christmas party we're having here at the orphanage on Saturday." Sarah Jane talked to the little girl while she fed her and did an inventory of her clothing. Chrissy had less than most of the orphans did, and there was no present arranged for her. She'd have to ask Edna Petunia to make her a pretty dress.
"What do you want for Christmas? I need to make a list." "A home." Sarah Jane frowned. "You'll have a home here. Are there any toys you want?" Chrissy shrugged. "Mostly I just want a mother and father who will love me, but I'll take a baby doll if that's too much to ask." Sarah Jane wanted to keep her forever. Never had she felt so strongly that she wanted to keep an orphan child. She had no idea why this one was different, but she was. She wanted to cry for the little girl. She remembered being her age and wanting nothing more than parents who would love her as their own. All she could think about was how she could make enough money to adopt the little girl in front of her. Of course, for now, she'd just have to go to the store and get her a baby doll. When it was time for Micah to pick her up, she put her coat on, promising Chrissy she'd be back the next day. She wanted little Christmas Carol to be hers, and she had to find a way to do it.
* * *
As they drove to the school to pick up one of the other girls, Micah frowned at Sarah Jane. "You seem sad today." She shook her head. "I'm not sad. I'm just thinking. There's a new orphan today, and I want to keep her forever." "Would the Sanders let you bring her home?" "Oh, I'm sure they would, but I don't want them to adopt her. I want to adopt her, and I'm in no position to do it. I don't know why, but that little girl has grabbed onto my heart and just won't let go." "So what will you do?" She shrugged. "I have no idea. I'm racking my brain for ways I could support both of us. I'm a good cook, and I could do meal delivery for bachelors in town because we have more than our share. But I don't know how safe that would be." He frowned. "I don't like the idea of you delivering meals to strangers. I think you need to let the idea go for now. She's going to be well cared for at the orphanage." "I know she will. It's not that. I feel like she was sent here to be mine. I know that sounds stupid, but it's true." "It doesn't sound stupid." Micah wasn't certain what to say to her, but the idea of her adopting a child when she was eighteen and hadn't married—well, it just didn't make sense to him. When he dropped her and Dorothy off at the house, he asked, "Will you promise me not to do anything in a hurry? Talk to me about it first?" Sarah Jane nodded slowly. They were courting, and she owed it to him to at least let him know of any major plans before she went through with them. "I promise." Dorothy had disappeared into the house as soon as they'd arrived. "Will you stay for supper?" He shook his head. "Not tonight, but thank you. I've been invited to eat with the Harveys." "Andy or Francis?" she asked. "Francis." "Oh, tell Dr. Iris hello from me. She and Edna Petunia moved here together." "I will." He cupped the side of her face in his hand again, just as he'd done every time they'd said goodbye. "I'll drive you home again tomorrow." Sarah Jane nodded. "I'd like that." Her mind was still far away, though. She wanted to adopt that little girl more than she'd ever wanted anything. She hurried into the house and went to the kitchen, donning her apron. "How was your day?" Edna Petunia asked.
Sarah Jane surprised the old woman by pouring her heart out over the little girl who'd arrived at the orphanage. "I just feel like I'm meant to adopt her. Almost like God's calling me to do it. I don't know if I should agree, but it feels like I should. You know?" "You don't even have work! We can have her come here and live with us, though, if you feel that strongly about it." Sarah Jane shook her head. "I knew you'd say that, but it's not what I want at all. I want to be her mother. I want to see to her every need. I don't want her to be just another one of the orphan girls who lives here." Edna Petunia nodded. "I can understand that. If you change your mind, let me know." She hugged Sarah Jane tightly, something the younger girl didn't usually like, but this time, she clung. "Was it hard for you to decide to take in all of us? Did it make Cletus mad?" "Not hard at all. I knew the minute I found out there were fifteen bastard girls at the church that I wanted to keep each and every one of you." Edna Petunia shrugged. "I think Cletus would have preferred I chose one or two of you, but that's not my way, and he realized that quickly." Sarah Jane nodded. "I wish I could feel the right thing to do. I thought maybe I could do a food delivery business to support us. There are a lot of bachelors in Nowhere, and I could take them meals for a fee." Edna Petunia frowned. "That doesn't sound safe. I don't like that idea at all." "That's what Micah said." Sarah Jane returned to her work, wishing there was some magical answer. Throughout the evening, all Sarah Jane could think about was little Chrissy, and how she wanted to make her life special. She thought of several ways she could support the girl, but every one of them was either dangerous, or wouldn't make enough money to support her and a child. There had to be something, though. She'd keep trying and praying about it, and God would surely give her an answer. If she and Micah had been courting longer, they could marry and adopt her, but they just didn't know one another well enough. He was a pastor, after all, and he needed to marry someone of the highest moral standards. She knew that described her well, but he needed to know her better to realize that
she would be a good wife for him. Chapter Four
By the time Saturday rolled around, Sarah Jane was ready to give up her spot in the Sanders' home for Chrissy, but that wouldn't get the girl any closer to having her for a mother. The first part of the party was a huge success. True to her name, little Chrissy could sing any carol they mentioned. She had the voice of an angel, and Sarah Jane wondered if she could get her singing lessons with Katie, the youngest of the orphans. Chrissy spent the evening clinging to Sarah Jane's hand and was introduced to everyone in town. When it came time for Santa to pass out gifts, they went from the youngest to the oldest, which put Chrissy's turn at third. The younger two were excited, completely absorbed with the toys they were given. Micah made a wonderful Santa Claus and Sarah Jane wished she had a photographer there so she could always remember this night and how he looked in the Santa suit, his brown eyes full of laughter above his white beard. Seeing him play Santa Claus made Sarah Jane's heart fall that last little bit over the edge of the cliff. She loved him. There was no denying it any longer. If only he could love little Chrissy the way she did, she knew they'd make a perfect family. When it was Chrissy's turn for Santa, Sarah Jane led her over by the hand and helped her to climb onto his lap. She stayed beside them, wanting to hear everything the little girl had to say. Micah's voice had taken on a much deeper tone than usual as part of his role as Santa. "Hello, little girl. What do you want for Christmas?" Instead of asking for the doll Sarah Jane had wrapped and put under the tree, Chrissy told Santa her whole story. She told of her mother not knowing who her daddy was and how she'd finally left her at the orphanage. She told him all she really wanted was a family who would love her as their own. Sarah Jane felt tears pop into her eyes as she listened to the little girl, and Micah looked up at her, his eyes obviously anguished at the girl's story. Finally, he took the brightly wrapped package that Sarah Jane ready and gave it to Chrissy. She walked away, looking at the present as if afraid it would bite her. She'd obviously seen Santa as her chance to get what she really wanted for Christmas. Micah's eyes met Sarah Jane's. "We need to talk after the party," he whispered. She nodded as she guided the next little boy to see Santa.
* * *
After his time as Santa, Micah went to talk to Mr. Sanders, still in his suit. "I need to speak with to Sarah Jane tonight. Is it all right if I take her home, along with whatever other girl you want to send with me, but we have a private discussion in your parlor? I don't want to break any of your rules, but this is important." Cletus nodded slowly. "Just don't try any canoodling or anything. I've got a shotgun, and I know how to use it." "I will be on my best behavior." Micah decided he wouldn't sit close enough to her even to hold her hand. He didn't want to betray the older man's trust. He was quiet on the ride home, not certain how to bring up what he was planning to do. It was late, much later than he'd ever been at her house, and they all needed to be up early for church, so he knew he needed to talk fast. When they arrived, Katie jumped down and ran into the house, and he walked around to help Sarah Jane down. "Mr. Sanders told me we could talk in the formal parlor, and he'd make sure we had no interruptions." Sarah Jane studied him in the dark, wondering what he wanted to say that was so important. "All
right." She followed him into the house and to the back parlor, where Cletus and Edna Petunia were talking. As soon as he saw them, Cletus got to his feet. "Come on, Edna Petunia. These young 'uns need to talk without us here." Edna Petunia looked from Sarah Jane to her husband. "I told the pastor they could make use of the room to talk, but not to canoodle." Edna Petunia smiled. "You know, Cletus, sometimes I think my outspoken ways are rubbing off on you. I like it." Sarah Jane watched them go with a half-smile on her face. "Those two are something else. I learn more about them every day." Micah sat down on the couch, indicating the chair for her. "I don't want anyone to say we did anything improper. I promised Mr. Sanders." Sarah Jane nodded. "You're starting to frighten me a bit. What is so important that we talk about it tonight?" "Is Christmas Carol the new girl at the orphanage? The one you feel compelled to adopt?" he asked. She nodded. "Yes. She goes by Chrissy. From the moment I met her, I just knew she was supposed to be mine." Micah ran his fingers through his hair. "I was afraid you were going to say that." "Why?" What was going on in his head? "I feel the same way. I feel like she's supposed to be mine. That it's my job to go to town and adopt her right this second." Sarah Jane bit her lip. She hated the idea of him taking Chrissy from her. I saw her first! "I don't know if there's a law against it, but I certainly don't think it would be proper for a bachelor to adopt a young girl." "I agree. And that's why I need you to marry me. We could take the buggy into Austin on Monday. I have a friend from seminary there who would marry us." "But, we can't just leave together with no chaperone." "Could you talk to the orphanage and get permission to take Chrissy?" he asked, forcing himself to call her by her nickname. He wanted to call her Christmas Carol and nothing else. "I could. When would we go?" She knew he was only asking her so they could adopt the little girl, but it didn't seem to matter. She wanted to be his wife. "Monday. I have to give my sermon in the morning, and we'll need to make arrangements." He looked at her, studying her face. "You're all right with marrying quickly? Without having a huge wedding?" She nodded. "I can wear Mrs. Hayes's wedding dress. She won't mind at all. Ruby wore it as well. Edna Petunia will complain, of course, because that's what she does." "Why will she complain? She doesn't like me?" Sarah Jane shook her head. "That doesn't seem to be it at all. She complains about us not giving her time to plan a proper wedding, and then she always says something about 'poor Mary Sullivan.' We all just nod like we know what she's talking about." "I guess Ruby and Opal didn't give her what she would consider proper notice?" "They didn't, and while she didn't get angry, she mumbled a lot. She made Katie promise there would be a reception even if there was a fast marriage. I have no idea why Katie, or why she made her promise, but Katie told her she'd do it. It was very strange." "She seems like a special woman to me." "She is." Sarah Jane felt odd sitting alone with him and knowing they'd be married in just a couple of days. "Have you asked Cletus for my hand yet?" He shook his head. "I'll come over after church tomorrow and ask him. I'm sure he'll say yes." "I'm sure of it too. I—I hope you don't want to marry me just for Chrissy."
He sighed. "You know, if not for Chrissy, I'd take my time about things, but I believe I'd be asking you to marry me anyway. I'm just accelerating things this way." Sarah Jane bit her lip. "All right. I just don't want you to regret it after we're married." "How could I regret marrying you?" He sat forward with his forearms on his knees. "I truly care for you, Sarah Jane. I wouldn't ask otherwise." She wanted to get up and dance at his words. "I think Chrissy is going to be very excited. Can we drive to the orphanage tomorrow to talk to her? After you've spoken with Cletus, of course." "I think that's a wonderful idea. We'll take one of the girls." He got to his feet. "I don't suppose I can kiss you now, knowing we'll marry in two days?" Sarah Jane tilted her head to one side, studying him for a moment before she nodded. "Yes, I think that would be all right." If he, a pastor, didn't see a problem with sealing their engagement with a kiss, then why should she? She got to her feet and waited as he walked to her, his hands cupping her cheeks. She tilted her face up to his, waiting as he slowly lowered his head to brush his lips across hers. Her heartbeat sped up, and she wanted to lose herself in his arms. Instead, she took a step back. "You promised Cletus." Micah nodded. "I like kissing you a great deal, Miss Jefferson." Sarah Jane smiled. "I think I like it just as much, Pastor Barton." He leaned down and kissed her one last time before he turned toward the front door. "Let Edna Petunia know I'm coming for lunch again. I've eaten more meals here than I have in all the other homes of the congregation put together." "I'll make sure you want to eat at home as soon as we're married." "I can't wait."
* * *
Micah had his talk with Cletus as Sarah Jane helped Edna Petunia in the kitchen after church on Sunday. "I want to marry Sarah Jane," he announced as soon as he had the old man's attention. "You do now? Are you going to be engaged for a decent amount of time? Or am I going to have to put up with my wife complaining about never getting to plan a wedding?" Micah grinned. "I was hoping we could take one of the orphans into Austin tomorrow and just get it done." Cletus groaned, running his hand through his hair. "Of course you want to just do it. You don't have to live with the old bat." Micah coughed to hide a laugh at the man's description of his wife. "Old bat?" "She turns into a crazy woman every time one of the girls marries without warning. I swear, I'm going to have to go live in the woods for a week." Cletus shook his head. "You're really making life hard for me, you know." "I'm very sorry it makes your life hard, Mr. Sanders, but I really do want to marry her. Tomorrow." Micah wasn't feeling the least bit guilty for dragging Sarah Jane off so suddenly, though. He knew Cletus could deal with his wife. "Fine. Marry her tomorrow. I'll deal with the cantankerous old bat." Micah smiled, sincerely hoping that he and Sarah Jane's relationship would never get to the point where he called her a cantankerous old bat. He had a great deal of respect for her now. He hoped it would always be that way.
* * *
Katie rode with Micah and Sarah when they went to tell Chrissy what they'd decided to do. As soon as Chrissy saw Sarah Jane walking toward her, she seemed to know something special was happening. She looked at Micah, studying him carefully, and suddenly, her face lit up. "You were Santa!" "I . . . uh . . ." Sarah Jane grinned, leaning down to hug the girl. "He was. He's also the town's pastor. And you know what else?" Chrissy shook her head. "What?" "He's also my fiancé. We're getting married tomorrow." "You are?" Chrissy smiled. "Then you can adopt me! Both of you!" Micah laughed. "That's right. We want to pick you up in the morning so you can ride into Austin with us. Do you want to watch us get married?" Chrissy nodded, her whole face filled with excitement. "Yes! Can I really go?" "Absolutely!" Sarah Jane was excited to be able to take the girl. "I need to run in and talk to Mrs. Henderson to let her know I won't be in tomorrow." Chrissy shrugged. "I'll wait here with my new daddy." Sarah Jane hurried into the house and found Mrs. Henderson up to her elbows in soapy dish water. "I wasn't expecting to see you today, Sarah Jane." "I know. I'm just here for a moment. I need to tell you that I won't be in tomorrow." "Won't be in? Why ever not? You never miss coming to help me out, Sarah Jane!" "I know, and I'm sorry to give you such short notice. I'm getting married tomorrow, and my fiancé and I want to adopt Chrissy." "Your fiancé? That young man who's been picking you up all week after you finish here?" Sarah Jane nodded. "I wondered if I could take Chrissy with me so we have a chaperone. We're driving into Austin to get married." "Why not have the pastor here marry you?" Mrs. Henderson asked, confusion on her face. "Because I'm marrying the pastor here." "Oh! I never got a good look at the young man who was picking you up. That's wonderful, Sarah Jane. I can certainly manage for a day or two without you." "Thank you. Why don't you plan on me missing Tuesday as well, so if I come in, it will be a pleasant surprise?" "That works for me. Do you want to take Chrissy with you now? You could make an earlier start that way." Sarah Jane nodded. "I think she'll enjoy all the other girls as well. Let me run upstairs and get her things." Sarah Jane went upstairs and carefully folded both of Chrissy's dresses and her nightgown. Her new doll had been placed with her head on Chrissy's pillow. Obviously, the doll had been more important than Chrissy had let on. Sarah Jane carried the things down the stairs and out into the yard, where Micah and Chrissy were both waiting for her. "If you don't mind, would you give Chrissy a ride to my house as well? She's going to spend the night to make it easier for us to leave early tomorrow." Micah smiled. "I'd be happy to!" He helped Sarah Jane into the buggy and then lifted Chrissy up to her. She settled Chrissy on her lap while Micah helped Katie. Chrissy talked excitedly as they made the familiar drive out to the house. Edna Petunia came rushing out and took Chrissy into her arms. "A new granddaughter. How did God know I needed you?" Chrissy gave Sarah Jane a helpless look as she was carried into the house. Sarah Jane laughed at Micah. "I think those two are going to get along just fine." Katie giggled. "Edna Petunia is going to ruin her."
Micah looked between the two giggling girls. "How will she ruin her?" "At this very moment, I would be willing to bet that Chrissy is standing on a chair in the kitchen, wearing Sarah Jane's apron, and helping bake a cake. She'll be allowed to lick the spoon, and she'll feel like she's a princess before Edna Petunia's done with her." Micah smiled. "As long as she's learning important skills, like how to bake, I'm happy." Sarah Jane rolled her eyes. "You need both of us baking you cakes? Have you already gone through those cookies I gave you last night?" "I ate them all before bed. They were delicious!" "Cooking for this man is going to require all my energy. Poor Chrissy is going to have to go back to the orphanage to get some love." Katie just giggled again before waving goodbye to Micah and going into the house. Micah grinned at the smile on Sarah Jane's face. He'd never seen her as happy as she'd been since they'd talked about getting married and adopting Chrissy. "I'll be here at sunup. I'd like to make the whole trip in one day so we can sleep at my house tomorrow. It's three hours each way." Sarah Jane nodded. "I'll be sure to pack enough food to make it through the day. Maybe you could come into the house for breakfast before we go, but I'll pack a picnic basket full for the rest of the day." Micah nodded, smiling. "I'd like that. I'll be here early." He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "I'm so glad I'm allowed to do that now." Sarah Jane blushed. "I am too." Micah got into his buggy, and she stood watching him go. At the last minute, he turned and waved, a smile lighting up his face. Sarah Jane didn't know why he'd done that, but she didn't waste time thinking about it. She hurried into the house. "I need to borrow Mrs. Hayes's wedding dress," she told Edna Petunia. "I asked her about it at church this morning." "Tino brought it by while you were out fetching my granddaughter. It's lying on your bed, all pressed and ready for you." "Oh, thank you, Edna Petunia. I'll go and try it on, just in case Penny needs to fit it to me. It should be really close, though. I'm the same size Ruby was before the babies started coming." Sarah Jane smiled at Chrissy, who seemed content to help stir the cake batter. Katie had known what was happening for certain. Edna Petunia didn't stray from her ways. She hurried up the stairs and undressed quickly, pulling the dress over her head. It fit perfectly. Ruby had been a tad bit taller than her, so the dress needed to be hemmed, but other than that, it was just right. Penny could fix it in a moment, and then Sarah Jane would be ready for her wedding. She couldn't wait. She hurried out into the hall, calling for Penny to come help her. Penny had been apprised of the situation, and she would know exactly what Sarah Jane needed. Penny stepped into the hall and smiled. "You look beautiful in that dress!" She looked Sarah Jane over from head to toe, walking in a slow circle around her. "We need to hem it, but everything else looks perfect." Sarah Jane nodded. "I came to the same conclusion." "Come into my room with me. I'll pin it, and then you can take it off. I'll have it ready before morning." "Thank you so much for working quickly to make it happen. Micah is determined to marry tomorrow." Penny grinned. "Of course he is. He has eyes, doesn't he? You're the prettiest girl in Nowhere." Sarah Jane started to get her back up, hating that people saw her as nothing more than a pretty face. There was so much more to her than that. She realized that Penny was complimenting her, and forced herself to relax. "I hope he sees more than that, but we'll find out."
"So are you leaving first thing?" "Yes. Chrissy is in the kitchen helping Edna Petunia bake." "Of course she is! I'm sure Edna Petunia is walking on air to get another bastard child to love. And now a bastard grandchild!" Sarah Jane grinned. "I don't know what it is with that woman and bastards. Too bad we're all planning to marry before having children. I bet she'd like more!" Penny laughed. "She'd fill the town of Nowhere with bastards if we let her." "We're not going to let her, though, are we?" "How is anyone going to stop that crazy old woman from doing anything?" "She changed our lives. She gave us love, a nice home, and enough money to do what we needed to do for the first time in our lives. I may not approve of everything she does, but I admire her and love her." Sarah Jane was worried it would seem like she was insulting Edna Petunia, and she wanted it made clear that she had a great deal of respect for her. "Oh, of course! I feel the same." As soon as the dress had been pinned, Sarah Jane slipped back into the dress she'd worn all day and went downstairs to see how Chrissy and Edna Petunia were getting on. She found them in the kitchen together, mixing frosting while they waited for the cake to finish baking. "I'm glad I'm going to get a new mama and daddy," Chrissy told Edna Petunia. "I am too. Every little girl deserves a special mama and daddy like Sarah Jane and Micah." "Do you think it will be okay if I call them Mama and Daddy right away? Or should I wait a while?" Edna Petunia tilted her head to one side, as if she was giving the matter a great deal of thought. "I think that would make them right proud. I can't imagine having a little girl as special as you for my own." "But you have Sarah Jane as your little girl, and she's very special. She's my new mama!" "Yes, she is. You're right. You know, Sarah Jane was an orphan too. She came to live with me just three years ago. I was so happy to get her and the other girls. I'm an old woman, much too old to have babies of my own." Chrissy nodded, her face serious. "Very old and wrinkled too." "Yes, very old. So I wanted to have daughters, but I knew I was too old to have them, so I decided to adopt one or two children. And the next thing I knew, God brought me fifteen beautiful orphan girls, and put them on my church lawn. They had nowhere to go, so I didn't just get two girls. I got fifteen!" "Wow! Did you want fifteen?" Chrissy asked. "I wanted a million. God sure did know what He was doing when He sent those girls to me. Just like He knew what He was doing when He sent you to the orphanage here for Sarah Jane to find you." "He did know. And my new daddy is just as special. God knew what I needed." Edna Petunia held the bowl they'd been mixing the frosting in lower so Chrissy could dip her finger in and have a taste. "What do you think?" "It's good! We're good cooks!" "We are." Edna Petunia spotted Sarah Jane. "We decided if you're going to be driving all day on your wedding day, you should at least have some wedding cake to take with you." Sarah Jane smiled. "And you made my favorite!" "It's good, Mama!" Sarah Jane hugged Chrissy tightly. "I'm sure it is! I can't wait to have some." She looked at Edna Petunia. "Do you need your kitchen helper to frost the cake? Or can I take her away and give her a bath? I need her clean for my wedding day!" "Well, I need her, but I suppose you can take her off for a little bit. I'll wait to frost the cake until she's done with her bath and ready to help." Edna Petunia put down the mixing bowl. "While you two are taking care of that bath, I'll make you some fried chicken for the road tomorrow. We can't have all of you
fainting from hunger. You might never make it to Austin!" Sarah Jane took Chrissy's hand and led her up the stairs. She wasn't certain how much help the girl would need, so she got her water ready for her. "I'll go get your nightgown. Can you wash your hair by yourself?" Chrissy nodded. "I'm good at washing my hair. I'll hurry." By the time the girl had bathed and washed her hair, Sarah Jane had brought her nightgown back. "You're going to sleep in my room with me tonight. Would you like that?" Chrissy smiled. "I would love that! Is Daddy coming over tonight to eat supper with us?" "No, not tonight. Starting tomorrow, the three of us will eat all our meals together, though, because we'll be a family." Chrissy threw her arms around Sarah Jane. "A family is the only thing I've ever wanted."
Chapter Five
True to his word, Micah was there early the next morning for breakfast with Sarah Jane, Chrissy, and the whole family. Sarah Jane and Edna Petunia had made pancakes and bacon for everyone, and they had just finished as the knock came at the front door. Chrissy squealed when she heard it, calling out, "That's my daddy, so I'll get it!" She ran through the house in her nicest dress, which really needed to be replaced, and wrenched the door open. "Daddy! You're here!" Micah smiled, bending down and picking up the little girl, hugging her tightly. "How'd you sleep?" "Mama let me sleep with her, and I slept great!" Chrissy clung to his neck, obviously very happy to be in Micah's arms. "She did, did she?" Micah's eyes met Sarah Jane's over the top of Chrissy's head, and Sarah Jane blushed. "I'm one of the few here with my own room here, so it made sense for her to share with me." Sarah Jane didn't want him to think that she'd done anything special. She'd been taught from a young age that you don't brag about the good things you do. "Breakfast is ready. We were just waiting on you." "Oh! I thought I was here in plenty of time. I'm sorry to keep everyone waiting." "You didn't. We just finished a minute or two ago. Go on into the dining room, and Edna Petunia and I will get the food on the table. Do you drink coffee?" "Only when I want to be able to act human throughout the day." "One cup of coffee coming right up!" Sarah Jane said, hurrying to the kitchen. She wasn't a coffee drinker herself, but she loved the smell. She had no desire to get used to the bitter taste. Micah grinned as he watched her rush into the kitchen. She was going to be a good wife to him. He could tell just by observing her with her family. He carried Chrissy into the dining room, put her on a chair, and sat down on one side of her. He knew that Sarah Jane would take the other side. After breakfast, he took the picnic basket she and Edna Petunia had packed while she removed her apron, carefully folding it and putting it into the basket. She would need it later. She picked up her two carpet bags that held everything she owned, and he took the bag with Chrissy's few things in it. Sarah Jane hugged Edna Petunia. "Thanks for your help getting everything ready." "I'm happy to help. I'd be happier if you'd waited a month or two to marry, but I really do understand why you couldn't." Edna Petunia gave Chrissy a peppermint stick. "Come back this way tonight if you're hungry. I'll make enough for all of us." Sarah Jane nodded. She had no idea how long it would take to get to Austin, let alone how long it would take to find a preacher to marry them. "We will if we have time." Micah's eyes were full of laughter as he thanked Edna Petunia for the food. "We sure appreciate you being willing to feed us today. It's going to be a long day." Edna Petunia nodded. "It's what? A three-hour drive to Austin?" Micah shrugged. "Close to that. I figure we'll get there around ten or eleven, find a preacher, and have lunch outside town on the way back." "Just make sure you keep my girls warm. Do you have enough quilts? I can send a couple more!" "We'll be fine. I'll keep them safe and warm. You have no reason to worry, Mrs. Sanders." Edna Petunia made a face. "You're going to be my son in a few hours. Might be time for you to call me Edna Petunia. Everyone else does." Micah just nodded. "We'll be back soon." He headed out to the buggy and helped Sarah Jane up before handing her Chrissy, who moved to sit in the middle of the seat.
Sarah Jane put her arm around Chrissy and made sure the lap quilt was tucked in well around her. Once Micah was seated, she gave him the other side to tuck around him. The day wasn't nearly as cold as a winter day in New York, but it was too chilly to be in the open wind. While they drove, they peppered Chrissy with questions. "Do you know why you were brought here from the orphanage in Fort Worth?" Sarah Jane asked. She wanted to know as much as possible about the girl. "They said there was no more room for girls, and someone needed to go. I said I would. I didn't mind." "You volunteered? Why?" Sarah Jane had assumed one of the adults at the orphanage had chosen her to leave. "Because I knew my new parents were waiting for me. I just had to find them. They weren't in Fort Worth." Sarah Jane smiled at Micah over Chrissy's head. The child had been confident that she'd find her parents there in Nowhere, and she'd been right. Sarah Jane knew she and Micah would always put Chrissy first, and make sure she felt happy and safe in her new home. "I'm glad you came here to us," Sarah Jane said. "I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't come along." "Me neither," Micah added. "I may never have found the courage to ask Sarah Jane to marry me. Why, I'd already been thinking about it for hours when you sat on my lap at that party." "I was meant to be here to help you get together, and you were meant to be here to adopt me. God has a plan for everything." "He certainly does!" Micah said with a smile. "You seem to know a lot about God." "Well, sure. My last orphanage taught us about God every day. I learned a lot from them. I'm glad I'm going to be the daughter of a pastor so I can learn even more." Eventually the buggy rocked little Chrissy to sleep, and she tipped over, putting her head on Sarah Jane's lap. "She's out," Sarah Jane whispered. Micah glanced over and smiled. "I'm glad we're doing this." "You're not nervous?" Sarah Jane asked, putting her hand over her belly where the butterflies were writhing and kicking. He reached over and took her hand from where it rested on Chrissy's back. "I'm a little nervous, but mostly because I don't want to disappoint you. You're too special for me to upset." Sarah Jane frowned. "I'm not special." "Of course you are! God made you, didn't He?" She smiled at him. "You make me feel like I'm special." She glanced down at Chrissy. "So does she. Why did she want us to be her parents so badly? I've asked other people, and there was no one else she was determined to have as her parents. Just the two of us." He shrugged. "I have no idea." Sarah Jane used her free hand to stroke Chrissy's hair. "She looks so angelic when she's asleep." She turned and looked at Micah. "Tell me about your house. Are you living in the parsonage in town?" "I am. It's just a two-bedroom house." Micah bit his lip, thinking about the tight quarters. "If you'd like, you can share a room with Chrissy to begin with. Then when we know each other better, and we're more comfortable, you can move into my room. It might help her transition better." "And help us transition better?" Sarah Jane asked with a smile. "Yes, I think that's a wonderful idea. I'll be a good wife in every other way." "I really do think that's for the best. And I have no doubt you'll be a fine wife. I was at the party you organized the other night. I've never seen anything like it." "I worked on that for over a month. I think we'll be good partners."
He smiled at her, bringing her hand to his lips. "I do too. You're someone I can see myself growing old with. I know we don't really love each other yet, but I think it'll happen." Sarah Jane felt her stomach fall. She was in love with him. Having him say he didn't love her—well, it hurt! She wanted him to love her. Even if he only did it in her imagination. "I think it'll come as well. Edna Petunia keeps telling me that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and I'll be feeding you nonstop!" "And I will appreciate that. I've eaten your cooking, and trust me, the thing I've missed most since coming to town is good home cooking. Edna Petunia has taught you well." "Actually, I was a good cook before we ever came here. That was my job back in New York. I cooked most of the meals." He frowned at that. "I thought people took care of orphans. It never occurred to me that you cooked your own meals." "It's not like there are people crawling out of the woodwork to volunteer in orphanages. The chores are divided among the children as much as possible. We were on the outskirts of town, so we had a farm. The boys milked the cows and they grew the vegetables, and then we girls canned them. It was a lot of work for all of us, but it was good work. We learned a lot." "Did you enjoy it?" "Oh, I love to cook, and that was mainly what I did. Some of the others would take care of the small children. Penny did all the sewing, because she was good at that. Opal and Evelyn took care of the little ones. We all had our talents, and Mrs. Hayes was very competent at figuring out what the strengths of each child under her care were and assigning them to do just that. It may not have been an idyllic childhood where we sat around with our watercolors painting landscapes, but we learned the life skills we needed to survive." "What about little ones? Like Chrissy? Would she have been made to work?" Sarah Jane nodded. "Oh, sure. Nothing major, but she'd have helped in the kitchen or been assigned to do some of the weeding. There were a lot of things she could have done." "And in our home? Will you have her work?" Micah hated the idea of the little girl having to do anything but comb her baby doll's hair. "Yes, of course, she'll have chores. I'll need to train her so she'll be a good wife and mother." Sarah Jane had never heard of a mother who didn't teach her daughters that way. "Well, what if she doesn't like it?" She looked at him. "Micah? I don't think she's been abused in any way. She's too sweet-natured for that. Yes, she's had a difficult life, but no more difficult than any other orphan. Learning to do chores and work hard is part of growing up." He sighed. "I suppose it is." "Did you have no chores growing up?" He laughed. "My life was a constant string of chores. I grew up on a ranch. I was always helping with the branding, the roundup, mending fences." "Do you think your parents did something wrong, raising you that way? To work hard?" "Well, no, but I wasn't an orphan." "We aren't going to mollycoddle her and turn her into a brat, Micah. We need to start out as we intend to go forward. I remember Mrs. Hayes being very strict with some new children who came, and Opal got angry with her. She thought it was too much. Mrs. Hayes told her that she could start out strict and soften up as she went along, but she couldn't start out soft and get stricter. It just doesn't work that way." "And you think Mrs. Hayes knows everything about child-rearing?" Sarah Jane shrugged. "I don't think anyone but God knows everything about child-rearing. I do think she knows a great deal more than I do, and I believe she has done a good job raising the children she's
raised." "That makes sense. I just hate the idea of making her work at all at her age." "At her age, she'll have to make her own bed and sweep the floor. I'll start teaching her to cook, but she won't be touching anything hot or be allowed to work with knives. Trust me. She's not going to do anything that's beyond her abilities, and I would never ask her to." "I trust you. All right. I agree with that." He looked at her as if a thought just occurred to him. "Are you going to continue volunteering at the orphanage?" "Probably for a little while. At least half days. I can't imaging leaving the matron to do everything she has to do with no help. There just aren't enough volunteers in town." "Will you take Chrissy with you?" "Of course. She's much too little for me to leave her at home alone. She'll have other children to play with as well. Once she starts school in the fall, it'll be easier." Micah nodded. "I'm glad you're here to help me with her. I would probably spoil her so badly, no one would ever want to be around her." "It's an easy thing to do. Especially with a child you so obviously adore. You want what's best for her, and it almost seems counter-intuitive to have her work. It's exactly what she needs, though." "I know that in my head. My heart says differently." He smiled down at Chrissy, who was still sleeping soundly. "She must have had a hard night." "We both did. She was so excited about us getting married today that she was bouncing around last night. Today was like Christmas for her." "Christmas. I almost forgot about Christmas. It's also her birthday, and it's in two weeks. What are we going to do for it?" Sarah Jane grinned. "I was planning on making her some new clothes. The ones she has are in terrible condition. I'll also make her doll some clothes to match hers. She'll love that." "You think? She doesn't need anything else?" "She'd have gotten a whole lot less at the orphanage. I'm sure she'll feel like she's someone special with all that." She smiled. "Besides, all she really wanted was for someone to make her their own for Christmas. We're doing that." "That's very true. She did say that's all she wanted." "Trust me. It's all any orphan wants for Christmas. We all talked about Christmas morning and how someone would come along and take us home with them. Someone would look over all of the orphans and choose just us. It never happened, but we all dreamed about it. Constantly." "Well, I hope she's happy. I plan on being a strict father, but a loving one." "I don't think you can be loving without being strict. People who are too lax with their children are doing them a disservice." "I agree." He squeezed the hand he still held tightly. "See? We're already agreeing on how to be good parents together." Less than twenty minutes later, they reached a small church on the outskirts of town with a parsonage right next to it. He jumped down. "Let me run up. One of my friends from seminary is assigned to this church." Sarah Jane nodded with a yawn. She was more tired than she'd realized. Chrissy had been so happy and giggly during the night that she really had barely slept. Chrissy woke up and looked around. "Are we married now?" Sarah Jane smiled at the child's words. "Your new daddy is talking to the pastor of the church. After he comes back, we'll get married." "Oh, good." Chrissy sat up and rested her cheek on Sarah Jane's shoulder. "I'm glad I didn't miss it." "We're not going to let you miss it! This wedding is what will make us all a family."
"When my mama got married, she left me at the orphanage. She said her new husband didn't like kids, so I couldn't live with her anymore." Sarah Jane was saddened by the little girl's words, but not at all surprised. She'd heard the same kind of story many times. "Well, we're not going to leave you anywhere, because we both love you." "He's coming back!" Chrissy told her, watching as Micah walked toward the buggy. "He's happy to marry us. His wife said you could take a few minutes to wash your face if you needed, and she'll keep an eye on Chrissy during the ceremony." He walked around to her side of the buggy and lifted Chrissy down, before holding out his hand to help Sarah Jane to the ground. Sarah Jane smiled, resting her hand in the crook of his arm. They walked up to the house together. A young woman not much older than Sarah Jane opened the door. She had red hair and dancing green eyes. "You must be Sarah Jane. Welcome!" "Thank you. This is Chrissy." Sarah Jane smiled as the girl nodded regally. "I'm Jill, Thomas's wife." "Thomas went to seminary with Micah?" Jill nodded. "They were roommates there. I've met Micah before. It's nice to see him marrying. And getting a little girl as well. He's going to be the best father!" Chrissy nodded again. "That's why I picked him. He was dressed like Santa, but I knew he was just a regular man under the beard." Jill laughed. "Now that's a story I'll need to hear while you get ready." She took Sarah Jane's arm and tugged her toward one of the back rooms. "Chrissy, stay with Daddy." Sarah Jane went with her new friend to get ready for the wedding. Chrissy nodded, walking over and slipping her small hand into Micah's. Micah's eyes met Sarah's Jane's. "I've got her. You go on." Sarah Jane shrugged off her coat off and used the pitcher and bowl Jill provided. It seemed like she was going back in time. Edna Petunia's house had a real bathroom, and she'd gotten used to it. "So, tell me how you met Micah!" She was in what looked to be a spare room. She briskly washed her hands. "He's the pastor at the church in my town. I had never even spoken to him until last Sunday, when I asked him to play Santa Claus for the party at the orphanage. I volunteer there." "Oh, that's a great way to meet!" "I thought so. My family had him over for Sunday dinner, and we got to know one another a bit better. We decided to start courting, but then Chrissy moved into the orphanage, and she changed everything." "How did she do that?" Jill asked, her face perplexed. "When she arrived, she told me her story, and something about it just tugged at my heartstrings. I knew I had to have her. I still lived at home and had no job, so there's no way I could do it on my own." "She told the story to Micah, and he reacted the same way. So we're marrying, so we can adopt her. He said love will follow." Jill frowned. "You're not in love with him?" "I didn't say that, did I?" Sarah Jane had no intention of talking about her real feelings with someone she'd just met a few minutes before, whether she felt like a friend or not. "He's awfully lovable. Why, if I didn't have Thomas, I think I'd fall for Micah in a trice." "He's a good man. I'm glad he chose me." "Well, let's get out there and make this wedding happen then, shall we?" Jill led the way back into the parlor, where they'd left the two men with Chrissy. Micah held out his free hand for her as she entered the room. "Sarah Jane, this is one of my school friends, Thomas. He's going to marry us." "It's nice to meet you, Thomas."
"So, are you ready to marry this scalawag?" Thomas asked. Sarah Jane smiled, her eyes cutting over to Micah. "I think I am. I'm not making a mistake, am I?" Thomas laughed. "I wouldn't say so. I mean, he has redeeming qualities that make up for his nonsensical ways." Chrissy moved in front of Micah, looking up at Thomas. "My daddy is going to marry my mama, and you're not going to stop them. So do it!" Everyone laughed at that. Thomas leaned close to Sarah Jane and Micah to whisper, "If she had a gun, I'm sure she would have pulled it by now." "No doubt," Micah said, his hand atop Chrissy's shoulder. "It's all right. We're getting married right now." Chrissy moved to stand beside Sarah Jane, back to her normal well-behaved self. Ten minutes later, Thomas pronounced them man and wife, and Micah kissed Sarah Jane softly. "What about me?" Chrissy demanded as soon as the kiss broke apart. Micah laughed, picking her up in his arms and kissing her cheek with a loud smacking sound. Sarah Jane followed suit, kissing her other cheek. "There, now we're all a family." Chrissy frowned. "He said you were married, but he didn't say we were a family. He has to say it!" Thomas quickly said, "And you're all a family now and forever." Chrissy sighed happily, scrunching up her little face. "Now and forever. That sounds nice." Sarah Jane hugged Chrissy, who was still held in Micah's arms. "I like the sound of it too." Micah turned to Thomas, shaking his hand. "Thank you for marrying us. I really appreciate it." Sarah Jane watched them and was surprised at how different Micah carried himself when he was talking to his friend than he did when he was talking to her. She decided not to worry about it as they walked outside. Maybe all men were different with their friends than they were with their wives.
Chapter Six
Chrissy pulled away from Sarah Jane as soon as they got to the front yard, and Sarah Jane kept walking to the buggy, assuming Chrissy was right behind her. It wasn't until Micah helped her into the buggy, and she held her arms out for the girl that she realized she was missing. "Where's Chrissy?" she asked, not letting panic enter her voice. Micah looked around. "I thought she was with you." "She was! She's gone now!" She didn't wait for him to help her down, but instead all but leaped from the buggy, standing beside it and looking in every direction for the little girl. "I have no idea where she went!" Micah gave her a look she could only interpret as annoyance before running up to the house. She heard him say, "Between the house and the buggy we managed to lose Chrissy. We need help looking!" Thomas called for Jill, and the two of them were outside within moments, both wearing coats and ready to look. Micah and Sarah Jane went one way, calling for the girl as they walked, while Thomas and Jill went the other. "Chrissy! Where are you?" Sarah Jane called, feeling the panic spread through her body. "Chrissy!" Micah called, wondering how they could have lost her in such a short amount of time. "Chrissy!" They were a good way from the parsonage, at least a half mile, when they heard a response to their calls. It was faint, but it was there. "I'm here!" Sarah Jane gathered her skirts in her hands and rushed in the direction of the voice. She found Chrissy kneeling on the ground beside a mother dog, with four puppies climbing all over her. "Chrissy, you can't just wander off that way! We were worried sick!" "But Mama, I saw this dog, and she seemed to be all alone. I want to keep a puppy. May I?" Sarah Jane looked over her shoulder at Micah who had run after her. Micah frowned. "No, Chrissy. Those puppies look too young to leave their mama. And your mother is right. You can't just wander off. Even if there are puppies." Chrissy looked down, mumbling under her breath, as if she was upset they had scolded her for chasing the dog. "I just want a puppy." "And the answer is no." Sarah Jane got to her feet. "Come on back to the buggy now." Chrissy stood up obediently, but her face was full of defiance. "Why can't I have a puppy? I couldn't have one when I lived in the orphanage because there was no extra food for a dog. Is there no extra food at our new house?" Micah took a deep breath. He knew he had to remain firm. Suddenly, the advice about starting strict and letting up later made sense to him. "Now isn't the time. I'm used to living alone. Your mama is used to living with lots of people. You're used to the orphanage. Until we're all used to living with each other, we don't need to add a dog to the mix." Chrissy kicked a rock on the ground, her face a pout. "But I want a puppy." "I'm not saying no forever. I'm saying no for now to those puppies. Maybe someday, we'll get you a puppy, but that day is not today." Micah looked at Sara Jane to back him up. "Your daddy is right. We all have to get used to each other before we get a puppy." Chrissy made it clear she was not pleased with the answer, but she didn't ask again. Soon, they found Thomas and Jill and called off the search. "She saw a dog, and followed it. She wanted a puppy," Micah explained. Thomas laughed. "Puppies are wonderful, but not on the day you marry!" Moments later, they were in the buggy, headed back to Nowhere. "I brought lunch if we get hungry,"
Sarah Jane reminded Micah. She was a bit worried about how angry he'd seemed when they'd first realized that Chrissy was missing. "Once we're out of town, we'll stop for lunch," he told her. Chrissy sat silently, her arms folded over her chest. She was obviously upset she hadn't gotten her way. Sarah Jane couldn't figure out where their sweet little girl had gone. "Edna Petunia sent some wedding cake," she told him. "Chrissy helped her make it." "She did?" Micah asked, the smile returning to his face. "I could happily eat some cake." "We have fried chicken, baked beans, and cake. I was going to make a potato salad, but Edna Petunia told me I should go easy on myself on the day of my wedding." "We'll do fine without potato salad. I appreciate you making chicken for us. It's going to be a long day." He glanced down at Chrissy, who was still refusing to speak. "But at least everything we're doing today, we're doing as a family. That's what really matters," Sarah Jane said, refusing to look at the child. "We'll be far enough out of town to stop in about five minutes. I'd rather be in the country for our picnic. Would that suit you?" She nodded. "Yes, I'm getting really hungry. And I don't feel married." He chuckled. "And how does being married feel?" "I wish I knew." Once they stopped, she pulled the quilt from the back of the buggy and spread it on the ground. When she turned to go back for the picnic basket, she saw he was already holding it. He set it on the ground for her, and she knelt on the quilt, pulling out the dishes and fixing three plates. She glanced over at the buggy and saw that Chrissy was still sitting in it moping. "Are you going to get her?" Micah shrugged. "Sure. But I'm doing it my way." He turned to the buggy and called out, "I'm saying the prayer in exactly one minute. Anyone who isn't sitting on the quilt goes hungry!" He sat down and smiled at Sarah Jane, who was doing her best to hide her grin. "Works for me," she said as she poured lemonade into three glasses. Chrissy came to the quilt and sat down with her legs crossed in front of her, her too-short, patched skirt barely covering her knees. Sarah Jane reached out and fixed the child's skirt for her before handing her the glass of lemonade she'd just poured. "I'm glad you joined us." Chrissy frowned, taking a sip of the lemonade. Micah said, "Let us pray," and then he bowed his head. "Father God, we thank You for the food You've so generously provided and for bringing us together as a family. We want to do everything we can to praise You and please You. We pray this in the name of Your Son, Jesus. Amen." He reached out, grabbed a chicken leg, and took a big bite. "This is delicious. How did I ever end up with such a wonderful cook for a wife?" He looked at Chrissy. "Isn't the food good?" Chrissy nodded. "It's very good, Mama." She said nothing else, and kept her eyes lowered, but it was enough for Sarah Jane. Chrissy was at least trying to behave, and that was what really mattered. When they arrived back in town, it was too early to go to supper at the Sanders' house, so Sarah Jane chose to go straight to their new home. She would take stock of what was needed, and decided if she needed to go shopping the following day. The house was small, as he'd said, but it was sturdy. It needed a good cleaning, but considering he'd lived there alone as a bachelor, she didn't think it was bad at all. There was a kitchen with a table where he obviously took his meals. A small parlor with a sofa and two chairs, a bathroom, and two tiny bedrooms. "Which bedroom is ours?" she asked Micah. He took her to the littler of the two rooms. "This one, unless you need the larger room."
She shook her head. "No. When we share a room, we'll want the larger of the two." Running her hand over the mattress, she smiled. "It's a good bed. We'll do just fine in here, won't we, Chrissy?" Chrissy nodded. She'd been in better spirits since lunch, but it was still obvious that she was annoyed not to have come home with a puppy. Sarah Jane put their things on the bed and quickly unpacked. "Do you have bedding for this room?" He shook his head. "I don't. I don't have much extra of anything." "I can get some from Edna Petunia. It's not a big deal." She put their things away, blushing as he stood watching as she unpacked her unmentionables. Of course, he was her husband, and he had to know she wore them. It was still embarrassing. She went to the kitchen next with both Micah and Chrissy trailing after her. She wasn't sure why they were so concerned with her actions, but she said nothing. She dug through the shelves of his pantry, finding little. "I'm going to need to go to the store first thing in the morning." He nodded. He showed her where he kept the household funds and gave her a budget. "I know you're used to spending whatever you want, but you'll have to be a bit more disciplined. Being a minister necessitates a shoestring budget, I'm afraid." Sarah Jane smiled at that. "I expected nothing else. I know how to squeeze a penny until the Indian chief begs for mercy!" "So glad to hear you won't be putting me in the poor house anytime soon." He glanced down at Chrissy with a grin. "I don't know about this one, though." Chrissy threw her arms around his legs. "I won't make us poor, Daddy. I promise!" He picked her up and hugged her tightly. "I know you won't. Your mama won't let you!" Sarah Jane smiled at the picture they made. He may not love her yet, but he made it very obvious that he loved Chrissy. That was what really mattered to her. At least, that's what she told herself.
* * *
A few hours later, they were back at the Sanders' house for supper. There just wasn't enough food in the parsonage for Sarah Jane to make a nutritious meal. She would start cooking for her family in the morning. Of course, she'd have to borrow some eggs from Edna Petunia to make it possible. When they got to the house where Sarah Jane had lived for the past three years, Edna Petunia shooed Sarah Jane from the kitchen. "You've been traveling all day. You don't need to help with supper. I've got Katie helping." "Katie's no help in the kitchen. Food burns if she looks at it!" Sarah Jane protested. "True as that may be, she's singing to me while I work, and it's keeping my ears happy." Sarah Jane shook her head, laughing. "All right. We'll go to the informal parlor. I want to have Penny help me make a few dresses for Chrissy before Christmas. Do you know if she has time?" "For her new niece? I promise you, she has time. All the girls are excited about Chrissy joining the family." "And you?" Edna Petunia laughed. "I'd give up my cough syrup habit for another six just like her." "That's saying a lot!" "It really is. Now, go! Enjoy your time with the other girls. You won't be seeing them so often any longer." Sarah Jane was in luck. Penny was in the informal parlor with her feet up, embroidering a pillow. "I need your help." Penny sat up straighter. "What do you want?" She looked at Sarah Jane skeptically. "I need to make Chrissy a few new dresses before Christmas. And a nightgown. Her clothes are in
terrible shape." "Like ours were when we first moved here?" Penny asked with a smile. "Worse! She didn't have you patching her clothes and keeping them looking fashionable." Sarah Jane sat beside Penny on the couch. "Could you help me?" "Absolutely. Does she have any old dresses we can use as a pattern for size?" Sarah Jane shook her head. "I'm afraid not. None of her dresses fit her properly. There aren't any long enough. Most are too tight in the torso. We really need to measure her to be certain to make them to fit her rather than relying on old dresses for size." "I'll run upstairs and get my tape measure. If I cut the dresses out, and pin them together where they need to be sewn, can you sew them while I'm at work?" Sarah Jane nodded. "Make sure you make it very clear where, though. Being me, I'll sew the wrong sides together, and you'll just have to take it all apart." "You're going to owe me two dozen cookies when I'm done with this one!" "I can do that in my sleep." Sarah Jane smiled, glad Penny was turning it into a trade. She wouldn't feel guilty about it then. Penny rushed out of the room, and Sarah Jane went in search of Micah and Chrissy. She was sure the little girl had stayed with her new daddy once they arrived, because she certainly wasn't with her. She found Micah in the formal parlor talking to Cletus. "Where's Chrissy?" "I thought she was with you," Micah said, his voice perplexed. "She's probably upstairs with the girls. I'll run up and check." Sarah Jane immediately started for the stairs, not particularly concerned. When she got there, no one had any idea where the little girl was. Hurrying back down, she stopped at the formal parlor. "She's not there." "Where did she go this time?" Micah asked, obviously exasperated. "I wish I knew!" Sarah Jane rushed into the kitchen. "Do you have any idea where Chrissy is?" Edna Petunia shook her head. "She might be in the stable. Thomasina just had a litter of kittens this morning." Sarah Jane sighed, shrugging into her coat and hurrying outside. Everyone had called Thomasina "that old tom cat" until she'd had kittens a year before. They'd had to change her name then, and Thomasina had stuck. Of course, they usually still called her Tom. "Chrissy!" Sarah Jane called as she walked toward the stable. "In here!" Chrissy yelled. She was at the back of the stable kneeling over the cat and her kittens, patting the cat's head. "May I have a kitten, Mama?" Sarah Jane sighed. The child had a desire for a pet that she wasn't going to have fulfilled any time soon. "No, Chrissy. We just had this conversation about a puppy a few hours ago. You can visit the kittens here." "But I want one to live in our house with us. I'll be lonely if I don't have a kitten." Chrissy held one of the tiny kittens cradled against her chest. "The answer's still no. Maybe in a year, but not today. It's going to be enough for all of us to get used to each other. We don't need to throw an animal into the works." "But I want it." Chrissy frowned. "You're my new mama. You're supposed to get me whatever I want." Sarah Jane shook her head, hearing someone come up behind her, but not turning to see who it was. "No, that's not a mama's job. I need to make sure you have everything you need, not whatever you want. And I also need to make certain you know not to speak to adults the way you've been speaking to me. It's unacceptable." "Daddy, tell Mama I can have a kitten." Sarah Jane closed her eyes and went through the books of the New Testament in order. She found it
more productive than simply counting to ten. "I said no." Micah shook his head at the scene before him. Their new daughter was proving to be a brat when it came to having an animal. "The answer is no. You will listen to your mother. We need to see that you can behave well for at least a year before we can have an animal in our home." "But I want a kitten!" Chrissy stood up and yelled at Micah. Micah shook his head. He wasn't sure how he felt about corporal punishment. He knew the Bible promoted it, but his parents had never spanked him, and he just wasn't sure if it was right. In his heart, he knew it was wrong when she'd only been his daughter for twenty-four hours. "You can't speak to us that way, Chrissy," Sarah Jane said, her voice calm. "No dessert tonight." It wasn't a harsh enough punishment, but it would do to begin with. She had to make certain Chrissy knew they were her parents, and she wasn't in charge. "You can't do that!" Chrissy yelled at Sarah Jane. "Oh, yes, I can! And if you argue with me about it, it'll be no dessert for a week!" Chrissy folded her arms over her chest and plopped down into the hay, right there in the stable. "I hate you!" Sarah Jane felt her heart break a little as her eyes met Micah's. He stared back at her, shrugging as if he had no clue what to do either. "No dessert for a week. Don't make me say a month. I will if I have to," Sarah Jane told her. Chrissy said nothing else, but continued to sit on the ground with her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn't crying, but her face was mutinous. Micah took Sarah Jane's arm and led her away to where Chrissy couldn't hear. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Sarah Jane shrugged. "I think she needs her bottom beaten, but I can't do that when we've had her for such a short time. I'll be creative with punishments until we know a bit more about her past." Micah nodded. "I don't feel like it's enough, but I also feel like it's too much. She should have come with an instruction manual!" "It's hard to know what to do. We've only been parents for a day." "I'll back up your decision. No dessert for a week. Does that mean you won't bake any cakes or cookies for me?" Sarah Jane laughed. "You look like a little boy who climbed onto the work table for a cookie, and found the cookie jar empty." "Well, I do have to say, one of my favorite things about you is how well you bake. I had visions of cookies and cakes filling up the kitchen. And now I can see that won't happen." "Why won't it?" she asked. "It wouldn't be a punishment if they weren't around. It's a punishment because they will be around, and she can't have any." "Seems mean, but I see what you're saying. Besides, I can't complain when I'll get cookies!" He turned to Chrissy. "You need to go back in the house, Chrissy. Your new grandmother has supper almost ready." "I don't want a grandmother." "That's too bad, because you have one, and your punishment will be much more severe if you hurt her feelings." Chrissy got to her feet, her eyes shooting daggers at Sarah Jane. "I'm going. I'm not happy about it, but I'm going." Sarah Jane took a deep breath and waited until the girl had left the stable. "Today, I'll take obedience. Tomorrow, we'll start working on the spirit of obedience." Micah shook his head. "What have we gotten ourselves into?" She shrugged. "I'm sure I don't know. I need to read over the paperwork the orphanage has on her.
See if we can find out about her history. She said she doesn't know her father, and her mother left her. Do we know who her mother was? Or why she left?" "I can tell you why she left," Micah mumbled. Sarah Jane laughed. "Don't be like that! You know we both still want her with everything inside us." He sighed. "We do. I just wish she was still acting like she did the night I met her." "Me too." Convincing Edna Petunia that her new granddaughter wasn't allowed to have dessert was almost more than Sarah Jane could do. "Edna Petunia, she's been disobedient and disrespectful. If we let her get away with that today, imagine what she'll be like in a year. You have to allow me to carry out her punishment." Edna Petunia looked almost as mutinous as Chrissy had just minutes before. "I don't like it." "Of course you don't like it! You're too soft. And you love having bastard grandchildren too much." Edna's eyes lit up. "Is she a bastard? Are you sure?" Sarah Jane shook her head with a sigh. "No, I'm not sure, but I guess she is. I'll be looking into her history so we can figure out how best to help her." "She's a good girl. I like her. If she can't have cake, can she at least have a peppermint stick?" "I know where those peppermint sticks have been, and the answer is no." "Oh, posh. A little sweat never hurt anyone. It'll help her grow hair on the bottoms of her feet!" Edna Petunia said with a smile. "Why would anyone want hair on the bottoms of their feet?" "I have no idea, but it would look interesting, wouldn't it?" Edna Petunia asked. "Help me carry the food into the dining room since you just can't seem to stay out of my kitchen." "Yes, ma'am." Sarah Jane picked up a platter of meat and a gravy boat, carrying them through to the dining room. Two of the other girls were rushing back and forth carrying things as well. When they were all sitting around the table for the meal, Sarah Jane noticed that Chrissy had situated herself between Edna Petunia and Cletus, obviously planning to make a play for their sympathies. Sarah Jane stared at Edna Petunia until she caught the older woman's eye. "You promised." Edna looked angry, but she nodded. At the end of the meal, when Edna Petunia and Katie were serving cake, Chrissy asked, "May I have a piece of cake, please?" Edna looked at Sarah Jane and shook her head sadly. "No, sweetie. You had dessert taken away for a week. You shouldn't even request it." Chrissy said nothing else, but she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair, obviously surprised that Edna Petunia had done what Sarah Jane wanted. She glared at Sarah Jane and Micah, who ate the cake Edna had made for their wedding. "This is wonderful, Edna Petunia," Sarah Jane said. "Thank you for taking the time to bake us a wedding cake. It's very good." Chrissy put her head down onto the table and stared at Cletus, watching every bite that went into the man's mouth. Cletus smiled at the little girl, licking his lips. "Best cake I ever did eat. You know what, snickerdoodle? I'd like another piece. Chrissy didn't get one, so I'll just eat hers." Chrissy's eyes widened with shock. Obviously, her antics had worked with other people, but they weren't working with Cletus. "You can't eat my piece!" "Won't be good in a week. You know what, Chrissy?" "What?" she asked, her eyes narrowed. "I think I'll have two desserts every night for a week, just to keep everything in the world in balance." Cletus winked at Sarah Jane and Micah, showing them his support.
Micah turned a laugh into a cough when Sarah Jane elbowed him. "Don't you dare laugh," she hissed under her breath. "Being a father is hard work!" Micah replied, keeping his face down so she wouldn't see the laughter trying to escape his lips. "Delicious cake, Edna Petunia." "You should see the hats I make!" Edna replied. "Hats?" Micah asked. He felt as if he was missing something. "I was a hat maker before I retired to start my adventure with the Sullivan girls." "Sullivan girls?" Now he knew he was missing something. "Dr. Iris Harvey was the eighth in a line of girls with flower names. Their last name was Sullivan. I made hats before I became an honorary Sullivan." Micah swallowed the cake in his mouth, nodding as if he understood. "How did you become an honorary Sullivan?" he asked, certain even as he did he'd regret the question. "By taking on a flower name, of course. You don't think someone in their right mind would name their daughter Edna Petunia, do you?" Not certain how to respond to that, Micah kept his mouth shut. This time, he was the one to elbow Sarah Jane when she turned her laugh into a cough.
Chapter Seven
Chrissy was back to her sweet self by the time they reached the parsonage that evening. She talked excitedly to Micah and Sarah Jane about their new lives together as if nothing had happened. "I'm going to be the best girl in the whole wide world!" she announced. "I'll make my bed, and help with chores, and do anything you ask of me. I'll even help cook!" Sarah Jane and Micah looked at each other over the top of her head. Micah thought she reminded him of a book he'd read recently by Robert Lewis Stevenson called Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The child was sweet as could be one moment and a real hellion the next. He never knew who she was going to be. He sincerely hoped it was simply the way she'd been raised that made her act so erratically and not something wrong with her. When Sarah Jane and Chrissy went to bed, they prayed together in the spare room. Chrissy's prayer helped Sarah Jane understand her a bit better. "Please, God, help me to be a good girl. I know I can be naughty at times, but I do want to be good. And help my new mama and daddy love me always. I don't want them to stop just because I'm naughty. In Jesus's name. Amen." Sarah Jane hugged her tightly. "We're not going to stop loving you. We'll punish you when you misbehave, but neither of us will ever stop loving you. I promise." Chrissy had tears streaming down her face. "Everyone else did." When Sarah Jane tried to get her to say more, the child remained silent, her eyes closed.
* * *
After breakfast on Tuesday morning, Sarah Jane set out for the orphanage, Chrissy's hand gripped tightly in hers. She knew she should talk to Mrs. Henderson about cutting back to half days. She needed to have time to focus on the cooking and cleaning she'd have to do as a new wife, and she wanted to spend as much time with Chrissy as possible. She was worried. Chrissy woke during the night, out of breath and crying. Sarah Jane had woken with her, holding her and rocking her back and forth, but it was two hours before either of them had gotten back to sleep. Sarah Jane hoped that wasn't a regular occurrence. When they reached the orphanage, Chrissy started crying. "Please don't give me back! I'll be good! I promise!" "I know you will, baby. We're not giving you back! I work here every day." "May I stay at home? Or with my new grandma? I don't want to go back!" Sarah Jane shook her head, not understanding. "You were here for less than a week, Chrissy! Did someone mistreat you?" "Not here," Chrissy mumbled. "Were you mistreated at another children's home?" Chrissy shrugged. "No." "Then why don't you want to go back?" "Everyone always takes me back. No one wants to keep me." Sarah Jane didn't understand, and she knew she had to. Understanding her new daughter's fears was one of the most important things she must do. When they reached the orphanage, she talked to the matron. "I'm not going to be able to keep working more than half days. I'm so sorry." The matron patted Sarah Jane's arm affectionately. "Truly, I'm surprised you're here at all. I thought you'd decide not to come back once you were married."
"I wouldn't do that to you. Not without some notice at least." She lowered her voice as she watched Chrissy skip away to play as if she hadn't just gotten upset. "I need to see Chrissy's records, if you don't mind. She's acting oddly." The matron nodded. "It's an interesting read." Sarah Jane sighed. "I was afraid of that." She followed the matron to her office. "You sit here and read while I take care of the children. I'll go for my break after you're done, and make certain to be back here by the noon hour so you can go home and do what you need to do there." "Thank you." Sarah Jane picked up the file and started reading. An hour later, she closed it, rubbing her forehead. She truly wished they'd had the foresight to read it before adopting the girl, but she knew deep down she and Micah both still would have wanted her. She belonged with them. On their way home, Sarah Jane and Chrissy stopped at the mercantile, buying the things they needed for meals for the next few days. The budget Micah had given her to spend was strict, but not so bad she couldn't make it work. As she piled what they needed on the counter, Lewis asked, "How would you feel about earning a little money?" Sarah Jane had never worried about finances, but she knew she would like to be able to buy something nice for Micah, and Chrissy desperately needed some clothes. Edna Petunia would always help if asked, but she didn't want to ask. She wanted to be able to do it on her own. "Doing what?" "Right now, it's all Ruby can do to keep up with the twins. If you could make dinner until the baby's born, and maybe for a week after, that would help us out tremendously." Sarah Jane thought about it. The parsonage was only a few houses down from the mercantile where Ruby and her family lived and worked. "I'd be happy to cook for you all. I couldn't ask for money, though." "You're not living with Edna Petunia any longer, Sarah Jane. You're going to find you need the money. Please accept it. I won't feel right about you helping out if I don't pay you at least a little for it." Sara Jane finally nodded. "That would be fine, but will you pay me in goods and not with money? There's something I have my eye on for Micah for Christmas." Lewis grinned, nodding. "I'd love to do that. Could you start tomorrow?" Sarah Jane thought about everything she needed to do and nodded anyway. "I can start today. I remember what a hard time Ruby had last time she delivered, and she didn't have twin toddlers then." "Thank you! The boys are going to rebel if I make one more meal. The twins don't seem to care." Sarah Jane laughed. "Of course the twins don't care. They're still too little to know the difference." Chrissy glared at Lewis. "We need my mama at our house. You can't have her!" Lewis laughed. "I only need her help for a few weeks. My wife is about to have a baby." "Oh. I don't much like babies." Sarah Jane bit her lip. "This baby will be your cousin." Chrissy seemed to think about that for a moment. "I guess that's all right, then." Sarah Jane shook her head as she picked up the box of goods. "Do you want us to come over to cook?" she asked, wondering how she was going to manage if he did. It would be difficult for her to cook dinner at both homes. Lewis shook his head. "Just cook it at home, and I'll come pick it up when I close the store at six. Will that work for you?" "That's fine. Thanks, Lewis." She and Chrissy walked the rest of the way home while Sarah Jane thought about what she had on hand that she could quickly turn into a meal for their family for lunch. Finally she lit on making French toast out of the stale bread on their table. That would use up the food and keep it from being wasted, but
also give them a bit of a treat. She planned to spend the afternoon baking some bread and cleaning as well as cooking supper for her family and now Ruby's. It was going to be hard to get it all done, but if she made the same thing for both families, it would help. Chrissy washed her hands, and Sarah Jane carefully tied one of her aprons around her before pulling her own over her dress. Together they made French toast, and had just enough time to get it onto the table when Micah arrived. "What's for lunch?" he asked, hugging Chrissy and kissing Sarah Jane's cheek. "We made French toast!" Chrissy announced excitedly. "You did? I don't think I've ever had French toast," Micah said. He glanced at the table. "Looks and smells wonderful." When Micah had left again, Sarah Jane gazed down at Chrissy. "You have two choices. You can help me with my chores this afternoon, or you can take a nap." "I'll help!" Chrissy said enthusiastically. Sarah Jane smiled. "I'm so relieved. I wasn't sure I could do all the work myself." She cleared the table with Chrissy following behind her. "Now we need to wash dishes. Do you want to dry them while I wash?" Once the dishes were done, they mixed dough for several loaves of bread, and while it was rising, Sarah Jane had Chrissy wash some carrots and potatoes, which she then peeled. "We're making stew for supper." "Beef stew?" Chrissy asked. "Yes, beef stew. Do you like beef stew?" Sarah Jane asked. So far the child had been willing to eat everything put in front of her, so she wasn't terribly worried. "I love it!" Once the stew was on, Sarah Jane punched down the bread and put it in pans to rise again. While it was rising, she smiled at Chrissy. "Even though you're not allowed to have dessert, your new daddy loves dessert, and so does Ruby's family. Why don't we make two cakes?" Chrissy frowned at the mention of her punishment, but she nodded. "I'd like that." It was half past four before they got the bread out of the oven and had the cakes frosted. Sarah Jane was used to hard work, but she wasn't used to doing it with her sleep so badly interrupted. She also knew she needed to share what she'd found out about their new daughter with Micah that night. Hopefully, the insight she'd gleaned would help them understand the girl better. When Micah walked into the house at half past six, the kitchen was clean, but he couldn't see that any other work had been done in the house. He was disappointed that more cleaning hadn't been done, but Sarah Jane was a new wife. And the smells from the kitchen were heavenly. When Sarah Jane brought out dessert, all was forgiven. He would never be able to get upset with her if she continued to cater to his sweet tooth. "I can't believe you had time to bake a cake." "I know how much you love sweets," Sarah Jane responded. She sat at the table with her own cake in front of her, eating small bites. She was more tired than hungry, but she wasn't about to admit that to him. Chrissy drank her milk and looked sad while they ate cake, but she didn't complain. She was taking her punishment better today. Chrissy helped Sarah Jane with the dishes after supper before going to her room to play with her new baby doll. As soon as she'd left, Sarah Jane said to Micah, "I learned some things by reading Chrissy's file today. We have a lot to talk about after she's asleep." Micah's eyes widened. "That bad?" Sarah Jane shrugged. "I think we still would have chosen to adopt her if we'd known, but we'd have had a better idea what to expect. I don't want to talk about it while she's awake, though."
Micah sighed. "All right. We'll talk later."
* * *
Once Chrissy was asleep, Sarah Jane slipped out of bed and met Micah in the parlor. She was wearing just a light wrap over her nightgown, and would normally have changed entirely, but she was married to the man. Surely it was fine if he saw her in her nightgown. Micah was working on his sermon, a stack of paper in front of him and a pencil in hand. He looked up as she came into the room, thinking that she looked beautiful with her hair in disarray. Sarah Jane sat on the sofa beside Micah, gathering her courage to tell him what she'd read in Chrissy's file. "When I got to the orphanage with Chrissy today, she started crying, so I thought she'd been mistreated in our orphanage, or in another, but she said she hadn't. So I asked the matron to let me read her file." "What did it say?" Micah was almost too afraid to ask. "Well, she's been in and out of orphanages since she was small. She was born to a prostitute in Hell's Half Acre in Fort Worth. The woman had no idea who Chrissy's father was. She kept Chrissy for the first two years of her life, but it became difficult for her to keep working in her profession with a small child to care for." Sarah Jane said the words quickly because she was embarrassed to have to talk about prostitutes, even with her husband. It wasn't something a lady should know about. "So she left her at the orphanage?" "If only that's all she did." Sarah Jane shook her head. "She left her at the orphanage, and then a month later, realized she couldn't live without her, so she went back to get her. But two months later, she was back. The periods at the orphanage grew longer, and the time with her mother shorter, until finally, when Chrissy was four, her mother married, and her new husband made it clear he didn't want a child. She dropped her off and never returned." "That's sad." Sarah Jane sighed. "I know. I feel badly for her. When she had been there about four months, a nice couple took her home, but her erratic behavior had them taking her back two weeks later. Five different couples have tried to adopt her, and they all took her back to the orphanage. That's why she volunteered to come to the orphanage here. She thought there would be new people to take her home with them." Micah frowned. "Her behavior is very inconsistent, but it sounds like her life has been crazy. If we show her the love she deserves to have, I think we can help her be the best person she can be." "I agree. I'd have taken her even knowing everything I know now, but I'd have been more prepared. Taken more time with it to explain to her what we expect and not jumped in with both feet. I know how hard it is to be left at an orphanage by people you think are going to keep you forever." Micah took her hand in his. "We're never going to do that to Chrissy. There's nothing she could do that would make me send her back. She's ours now, and we're going to make the most of it. But we're going to have to be very strict with her." "Yes, we are. By being strict and always doing what we say we'll do, we'll show her that we love her." Sarah Jane sighed. "I wish I could erase every time she's been abandoned because I know how much it hurts." "I know. It would be so much easier if we had gotten her when she was first left at the orphanage, but we can't go back in time. We can only do the best we can for her now, and that's giving her a good Christian upbringing. And loving her." He looked into Sarah Jane's eyes. "And we need her to know that we care about each other, too. I feel like we've only focused on Chrissy for days. We need to concentrate on our relationship as well." Sarah Jane nodded, feeling shy. "We do. She's going to take a lot of energy, though."
Micah leaned down and brushed her lips with his. "She will. For the next month at least, our main interest should be on her, but I think we should also set aside an hour after she falls asleep to spend time with each other. I want to know everything about my new wife." "And I want to know all about my new husband." She snuggled close to his side, her head on his shoulder. "Why did you decide to become a pastor? Didn't your father want you to take over his ranch?" "I have always had a strong love for the Lord, but I figured I'd follow in my father's footsteps. Something inside me changed when I was seventeen. We had an itinerant preacher fill in for our pastor one week, and his sermon raised the hair on my arms. It wasn't about hellfire and damnation like my normal pastor preached about. Instead, it was about God's love and forgiveness. It made me feel like I needed to help spread the message." "How did your father react to that?" she asked. "Oh, he wasn't happy with me. My older sister married a few months later, though, and her husband's ranch borders on my father's. They decided to merge the ranches together and build an empire. Now he's happy because he has three grandsons to carry on the family tradition. It won't be called Barton Ranch anymore, but at least it'll be his blood running it." "I don't know how my real parents would have felt about me marrying a minister. I have few memories of them. If I close my eyes and concentrate, I can picture a woman with blond hair and beautiful green eyes. Her voice was soft and full of love. My father was a big man with brown hair, and I remember his booming laugh. That's the only thing I remember about either of them. I hate that." He hugged her to him with the arm he'd placed around her shoulders. "What about the pastor and his wife?" Sarah Jane shrugged. "They were always kind to me, and they worked hard to instill their love of God in me. She trained me to be a good wife and mother. Both of them were very strict." She shuddered, remembering a time she'd talked back and had been forced to spend her evening on her knees praying for forgiveness for her undisciplined tongue. "I think in my mind, I've glorified the time I spent with them. I tie my years with them to my relationship with God, and that's not right. Yes, they brought me to love God, but they took me back to the orphanage like I was nobody to them. It never bothered me before, but I see how Chrissy reacts, and I realize they weren't as good as I've built them up to be." Micah gave a sigh. "I've worried about that. You look up to them so much, I was worried you would think it was all right to do the same thing to Chrissy as they did to you." "I . . . I know it's not all right. I care about Chrissy a great deal. I couldn't take her back after knowing her for a week. They must have been truly uncaring people to leave me and never even write." "I'm glad you can see that. It really bothers me that you were treated as you were." "It was a long time ago. I don't blame them for what happened." "But do you blame yourself?" She shook her head. "I don't. I realize they may not be the best parental role models I could have had, but they were good models of Christianity." He disagreed but decided not to push it. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, not wanting to end their time together, but knowing they would have trouble getting up in the morning if they didn't go to bed soon. "If we don't sleep now, we're going to be worthless tomorrow." Sarah Jane yawned. "I know. I've cut my hours at the orphanage to half days so I can do more at home, and maybe that will help." "Thank you for doing that. I know it means a lot for you to spend your time there, but right now, I think Chrissy and I need you more at home. Maybe when she starts school in the fall, you will be able to increase your hours again." His eyes twinkled as they met hers. "If you don't already have a child on the way by then, of course." She blushed. "We'll take that as it comes. For now, I'll work there every morning and here every
afternoon. Would you mind if I made extra for supper every night for us to have for the noon meal the next day? That would make it easier for me as I'm trying to transition." He chuckled. "With your cooking, I'm not about to complain if you feed me the same thing for a full week. It's better than trying to cook for myself, because I'm not very good at that." She grinned. "I'll always try to have a special dessert to feed you as well." "That's because you're a good wife!" He stood and put his hand down to help her to her feet, gathering her against him and kissing her softly. "Sleep sweet, my dear." "And you." As Sarah Jane walked back to the room she shared with Chrissy, she touched her lips with her hand. Surely he was developing feelings for her if he'd called her his dear. She fell asleep with a smile on her face, happy to know that he cared, even if just a bit.
Chapter Eight
That first full day of marriage set a pattern for the week. Sarah Jane got up early, forcing herself out of bed. Chrissy's nightmares came every night at least once, and many times twice. Sarah Jane had to fight to keep her eyes open throughout the day, but there was so much work to be done, she had to keep going. Micah visited the sick every morning, but was home by noon for lunch with Sarah Jane and Chrissy before he went to the church for the afternoon. After lunch, Sarah Jane would cook for her family as well as Ruby's, and do as much of the housework as she could without dropping from sheer exhaustion. She was able to keep up with the laundry, cook, and keep the kitchen clean, but could do little else. She was just too tired. She taught Chrissy to make the beds, and the little girl was eager to help. She made both beds after lunch every day, and she helped with the dishes and cooking as best she could. On Saturday night, after Chrissy had gone to sleep, Sarah Jane sneaked back out to the parlor to see Micah. She'd sensed he was angry about something, but she couldn't imagine what it could be. Micah had his notes spread out around him, and he moved some papers so she could settle close beside him. "How was your day?" he asked. Sarah Jane stifled a yawn. She loved her time with him in the evenings after Chrissy was asleep, but it was getting more and more difficult to stay awake. "Busy." She yawned again, covering her mouth with her hand. "Saturdays are always crazy at the orphanage because the older children are home from school." She was starting to wish she had someone to take her place there so she wouldn't feel guilty about stopping for a while. "It might be time for you to stop volunteering," he said, voicing what she'd just been thinking. "I can tell you're having a hard time." She nodded. "Chrissy is more demanding than I'd realized she would be. Even during our time at the orphanage, she wants all of my attention. She doesn't even like for me to change diapers or feed the younger children." "I can understand that, given her history. Is there any way you could stop?" "I'd have to find someone to take my place, or I would feel bad about it. There's so much need there, and I wasn't able to keep up even when I was there eight hours a day. Now that I've cut down to half days, I feel like I'm slighting the children." "Aren't there any of your sisters who could help out? Maybe after school?" Sarah Jane thought about it. "Why don't I talk to some of them after church tomorrow? I know they're all busy, but a couple of them might be able to give two hours a day, which would make up for me not being there." "I think that's a good idea. You always seem so tired, and so little gets done around here." Sarah Jane bit her lip at his words, wanting to protest, but she couldn't. He was right. Not enough housework was being done. But she was getting up well before sunrise every morning to work on a dress for Chrissy for church, which she had just finished that morning. Then she was making breakfast, going to the orphanage for four hours, heating up lunch, cooking supper for two families, doing as much cleaning as she could, all while spending time with Chrissy. There was no time for more than she was doing. "I'll try to do better." She hated that he'd noticed that the house wasn't as clean as it should be. As a pastor's wife, she should be an example of cleanliness, but her floors hadn't been scrubbed since they'd married, and for a long while before that, based on the looks of them. She did need to do more. But where would she find the time and energy? Micah frowned. He could see that his words had hurt her, but she was definitely not doing the housework that should be done. In the past, he'd had different women come in and clean while he'd been
at work, but now that he had a wife, they all assumed she would handle things. Maybe there was more to it than he could see. "Are you feeling ill? Is that why you're not getting things done?" She frowned. He didn't know about her fixing double meals, but she didn't want him to. She wanted his new Bible to be a surprise, and that's what she was working toward. The Bible he usually used looked like someone had run it over with a train multiple times. It was worn out. "No, I'm fine. I'm just not used to being a wife and mother. I'll get better. I promise." "I don't want you to think I'm angry about it, because I'm not, but I do think more needs to be done." He hated feeling like he was scolding her. They hadn't even been married a week, and he knew she'd taken on a great deal of responsibility for someone so young. He also knew she was capable of getting everything done. "Do you need me to help you manage your time better?" Sarah Jane blinked. He'd gone too far, in her opinion. "I can manage my time just fine, thank you very much. Since you can only find fault in me tonight, I think I'll go back to bed. Good night." She went to bed without kissing him for the first time in their marriage because she wanted to scream at him instead, but she knew that wasn't the answer either. While she lay in bed, she made a plan for how she could do more. She'd just get up an extra hour earlier. It wouldn't hurt her. How much sleep did a person really need?
* * *
Sarah Jane rose at four on Sunday morning, instead of her usual five. She worked for an hour on a new dress for Chrissy for Christmas, which was only a week away, and then went into the kitchen. She scrubbed the kitchen from floor to ceiling before she made breakfast for her family. When Micah walked into the kitchen, he wasn't certain what he'd find. Sarah Jane had never been angry with him before, so he didn't really know what to expect at all. He found a smile on her face and breakfast on the table. "That looks delicious," he said, walking to her and kissing her cheek. "Sit down. I'll fix you a plate." He looked around the kitchen while she piled eggs and sausage on his plate. It was spotless. She'd obviously taken his words to heart and gotten up early to clean. He was pleased that she was making more of an effort to keep the house up. "The kitchen looks wonderful." "Thank you." Sarah Jane was surprised by how thrilled she was at his praise. She would continue to get up earlier. Chrissy had a good night, and had only woken once and cried for an hour, which was much better than most nights had been. While Sarah Jane hugged her and promised they wouldn't leave her, she'd thought about how she could use her time more wisely and accomplish everything that needed to be done. She was convinced she could accomplish it all—it just meant a little more effort on her part. "I'll get Chrissy. She wanted an extra few minutes in bed this morning." She was back a moment later, the little girl in her arms. "You shouldn't carry her. She's too heavy." Micah was startled to see his tiny wife carrying around a girl as big as Chrissy. He knew she'd held her on her lap, but lifting her was surely too much. "It's fine. She's tired and didn't want to come to breakfast." Sarah Jane set Chrissy in a chair, still dressed in her nightgown. She fixed a plate for the child before sitting down beside her. "Will we eat lunch here today?" Micah nodded. "I thought I'd not accept any more Sunday lunch invitations until after Christmas. That way, we can spend a little more time together as a family on our only day off." Sarah Jane nodded, fixing her own plate. She had enough saved from last night's supper that she
could easily feed them lunch. After church, she talked to Dorothy and Hattie, two of the other orphans who had been adopted by Edna Petunia. "I have a favor to ask of you." Hattie frowned. "I hate conversations that start that way." "So do I," Sarah Jane exclaimed, making the other two laugh. "It's too much for me to keep working at the orphanage. I tried just going half days, but it's still too much. Chrissy is taking a lot more energy than I thought she would, and she doesn't sleep through the night, so I'm getting very little sleep. Could you each give two hours to the orphanage after school so the matron can get a break?" The girls looked at each other. Hattie was the first to agree. "I will. I love the children, and it will give me something to do. You need to take care of your family." Sarah Jane smiled, relieved. "Thank you! I appreciate it." "I will too," Dorothy agreed. "We're fortunate enough to have been adopted by Edna Petunia and Cletus. We need to help others the way we've been helped." "Oh, thank you both!" "Is it okay if we start right after Christmas?" Dorothy asked. "We both have a lot to do to finish getting our gifts ready for everyone." Sarah Jane nodded. She didn't want them to wait, but she was fortunate they were willing to help at all. "Of course, that's fine. I can handle it until then." As they walked home, Micah asked if she'd found anyone to take her place, and she explained. "They won't be able to do it until after Christmas, though, so I'll just get up earlier. It won't be a problem." Micah nodded. It wouldn't hurt her to get a little less sleep. It wasn't ideal, but he'd done it for years while he was at seminary. "I'm glad you've found a solution." When they arrived home, she immediately got lunch ready while she began cooking supper. Micah played with Chrissy at the table, commenting, "That's a lot of food. Why are you cooking so much? Are we having someone over?" Sarah Jane shrugged. "I'm helping out Ruby's family for a bit," she said, omitting the fact that she was doing it in exchange for his Christmas present. "The twins are still small enough that it's too much for her to care for them and cook in her condition." "When is her baby due?" "Three weeks." At least, she thought it was three weeks. Her lack of sleep over the past six days was starting to catch up with her, and she felt like her brain was a bit foggy. "Not much longer." She put two roasts in the oven, one large and one small. She'd peel the mountain of potatoes necessary to feed both families later. Pulling the leftover potato and ham casserole out of the oven, she put it on the table she'd already set. She'd have to make bread to go with supper after lunch dishes were done. She poured water for all of them before slipping into her chair and bowing her head while Micah prayed for them. As soon as they were finished eating, Sarah Jane was on her feet, clearing the table and washing dishes. The sheets needed to be washed, and it would be easier while Micah was home to entertain Chrissy. Micah sat and talked to his new daughter, recounting to her some of his favorite Bible stories. She knew some, like the story of Noah and Adam and Eve, but she'd never heard the story of Joseph's coat of many colors. She sat on his knee, listening with wide eyes while he told the story of Joseph being sold into slavery in Egypt. She fell asleep while he was telling about Joseph interpreting Pharaoh's dreams, so he left her on the sofa and went in search of Sarah Jane. He was annoyed that she hadn't come in to enjoy story time with Chrissy. He found her in the kitchen elbows deep in flour as she kneaded bread on the table. "You should
have joined us." "I have too much to do. We're out of bread, and I need to make some for Ruby's family as well. I have the sheets on the line, so we'll have clean bedding tonight." He gaped at her. "It's the Lord's day. Why are you working so hard?" Sarah Jane blinked at him. When did he think she had time to do it otherwise? "I don't really have a choice until the girls take over from me at the orphanage. I need to work when I can." Really, the only opportunity she had to sit all day was when they were together in the evenings, but she didn't tell him that. Surely he knew how much work went into keeping a house and cooking for two families. Did he think she was lazing her days away? He shook his head. "You've taken on too much. You need to stop cooking for Ruby's family." She sighed. "I'm not going to let my sister's family go hungry when I'm perfectly capable of cooking for them. Why don't you go tell Chrissy some more stories?" She didn't want to explain herself. At that moment, she didn't even want to look at him. She just wanted to get her work done so she could sit down and rest. "She's sleeping." Sarah Jane's eyes widened. The one time she'd allowed Chrissy to sleep during the day, she'd kept Sarah Jane up half the night crying. "Please go wake her. She can't take naps." She hadn't talked to Micah about Chrissy's nightmares, because she didn't want him to worry the girl was too much work for her. Micah stared in shock at his wife. "Why would I wake a sleeping child? She needs her rest." She'd been raised to always obey her husband, but Sarah Jane found she couldn't obey that. Chrissy's sleep schedule would be messed up for days if she allowed her to take a long nap. She sprinkled flour over the dough and then draped a cloth over it to let it rise before going to the sink to wash her hands. Hurrying into the parlor, she sat beside Chrissy on the sofa, gently shaking her awake. "Wake up, Chrissy. You won't sleep tonight if you sleep now." "I'm tired," Chrissy said, rolling over and facing the back of the sofa. Sarah Jane felt panic overwhelm her. She'd cut her sleep down to five hours a night as it was, and Chrissy would keep her up for at least an hour of that. She didn't think she could go on less than four hours. It just wasn't possible for her to function. "Chrissy, get up." Sarah Jane moved the little girl's feet to the floor and took her arm, pulling her to her feet. "Let's go for a walk, Chrissy. I need you to help me see if the sheets are dry." She put her arm around Chrissy's waist, helping her stay upright, and guided her outside to the clothesline. "Help me feel to see if the sheets are dry." Chrissy reached out and touched the sheets. "They're still wet, Mama." "Oh, we must not have let them dry long enough." Sarah Jane walked down to the street with the girl, trying to keep her on her feet as long as necessary for her to be fully awake. "Did you like Daddy's sermon today?" "Oh, yes. He sounds so smart when he preaches, doesn't he?" Sarah Jane breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she'd accomplished what she set out to do. "I just finished making dough for bread. Would you like to help me pinch some off for dinner rolls?" "I want to hear the rest of the story about Joseph and Pharaoh." Sarah Jane turned and saw Micah staring at her with anger in his eyes. "Go ask Daddy, then. I need to finish making the dinner rolls." Micah glared at her as he took Chrissy's hand and walked back into the house. Sarah Jane knew she'd have some explaining to do, but couldn't the man just know that she wouldn't do anything to hurt their little girl? Didn't he understand that she cared too much? It was after supper that night, when Chrissy was in bed, that Micah finally brought up what she'd done. "Do you want to explain to me why our daughter isn't allowed to nap?"
Sarah Jane sighed. "She wakes up with nightmares every night. I have to hold her and tell her we won't leave her until she stops crying and goes back to sleep." She sank down onto the sofa beside Micah. "The one time I did let her nap, she kept me up for hours. Keeping her awake during the day is the only way I know of to ensure I get any sleep at all." Micah frowned at that. "Why didn't you tell me she was waking during the night? I would have helped you with her." "I didn't want to worry you. You have a lot of responsibilities already. To me, this is all a part of being a newly adopted orphan. I remember waking up in the middle of the night when the couple I lived with first gave me back to the orphanage in Orlan. It was awful, and there was no one there to comfort me. Ruby and Opal sometimes took turns, when they noticed. Mostly, I just cried into my pillow. I don't want her to have to do that." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "So you're getting a lot less sleep than I realized. Could you leave her at the orphanage and nap for an hour or two in the afternoons?" "There's no time. It's fine. I'll only be working at the orphanage for another week or so, and then I'll have more time. Maybe I can work something out then." She shrugged. "I can manage, but she can't take naps." "Why don't you wake me up the next time she does it? Let me take a turn." "It won't help. I'm already awake. No use for both of us to be up." She yawned. "But if you don't mind, I think I'm going to go to bed now. I have a lot to do tomorrow." Micah watched as she left the room to go to the bed she shared with Chrissy. He'd misjudged her horribly. He hoped he could find a way to apologize.
* * *
Micah spent the entire day Monday trying to think of a way he could apologize properly for assuming Sarah Jane wasn't working hard. He knew her better than that. He'd watched her for a while before he'd shown his interest, and he knew she was a very hard worker. What had come over him to speak to her that way? He was working on his sermon when he ran across a scripture that gave him an idea. He would have to talk to Penny, but he was certain between the two of them, they could pull it off. He would let Sarah Jane know that not only did he appreciate her, he valued her as a man should value his wife. Soon, he hoped, they could make their marriage real in every way. For now, she needed help with their daughter, though. If only he could find a way to make her let him help.
* * *
Sarah Jane had never been a coffee drinker, but she'd heard from many that it helped them have energy. She began drinking it as soon as she woke in the mornings and continued until right before supper when Micah got home. She didn't want him to realize that she was needing an aid to stay awake. Surely he'd think even less of her if he found out. She hated that she was disappointing him. She had to find a way to make him realize she was willing to work hard and do anything she needed for her family.
* * *
Saturday was Christmas, and Sarah Jane was up as early as usual. She had finished hemming Chrissy's new dress the night before, sewing frantically during her time with Micah. He'd said nothing other than to compliment her on the pretty dress. She had breakfast ready and everything in the kitchen cleaned before the other two even came into
the kitchen. Chrissy's birthday cake was baked and sitting on the work table, covered with the chocolate frosting Chrissy had asked for. They would have a big family celebration at the Sanders' house later, but they would have a family lunch at home after church services. Sarah Jane yawned widely as Chrissy rushed into the kitchen, squealing. "It's my birthday, Mama! And it's Christmas! I share a birthday with Jesus." "Yes, you do! I made pancakes for breakfast because I know they're your favorite." Chrissy jumped onto her chair, and Sarah Jane brought her a plate of pancakes, all cut up with syrup smothering them, just like she liked. Micah came in, brushed a kiss on Sarah Jane's lips, and said, "Well, there's my birthday girl! My, she looks older than seven, doesn't she?" "Oh, much older. Why, she looks eight, even! Where did this beautiful young lady come from, and where is our little girl?" Chrissy giggled. "I'm right here!" Micah shook his head. "No! You can't be our Christmas Carol! She's only six." "I'm seven today, Daddy!" Chrissy smiled at him as he sat down across from her, obviously thrilled everyone was making such a big deal out of her birthday. Sarah Jane sat down and bowed her head, waiting for Micah to pray. "Heavenly Father, we thank You for Your Son, Who You sent into the world long ago to take away our sins. Thank You for the sacrifice You made. We have our minds and hearts on Him today, the birthday He shares with our little Christmas Carol. Thank You for sending her into our lives. Her laughter and joy make this house a home. No other child could complete us the way she has. So thank You for all of our blessings and the food we are about to eat. In Christ's name. Amen." After breakfast, they hurried into the parlor, where they'd set up a small Christmas tree right there in the house. Chrissy went on her knees and picked out a present, handing it to Micah so he could tell her who it was for. "That's for you, Chrissy." They went through each present that way until all three of them had at least one present each in front of them, but Chrissy had four. She smiled as she looked down at her small pile of presents, her eyes lit up happily. "Four presents? Two for my birthday and two for Christmas?" Sarah Jane shook her head. "Those are your Christmas presents. We'll give you your birthday presents later. It's not fair to get fewer presents just because you were blessed to be born on Christmas." Sarah Jane looked down at the small package in front of her, not opening it yet. Truly, she didn't care what she received. She was more interested in what she was giving the people she loved. Chrissy unwrapped her presents first, her new dress the first thing she opened. She held it up to her, spinning in a circle. "I'll look like a princess, Mama!" Sarah Jane laughed. "And so you will. Just don't start pretending you are a princess and forget that we all have to do our share around here." Chrissy grinned. "I won't!" Her second present was a new pair of heavy socks, perfect for winter. She wasn't as excited about those, but she was still pleased. The next thing she opened was a pretty new barrette for her hair. And the last gift was a pair of shoes, just a bit too big, to go with the dress. Now she'd look presentable for church. Micah nodded to Sarah Jane. "Your turn." Sarah Jane bit her lip. "Oh, I'd much rather you went first. Please." Micah looked down at the two gifts in front of him with a slight frown. "I only got you one gift." "This is two parts to one gift," Sarah Jane explained. He opened first the small black case. He turned it over in his hands, and then smiled. "I can carry my Bible in here."
Sarah Jane nodded. "That's exactly what I had in mind." He carefully opened the second gift and stared in surprise at the Bible in his hands. "How did you know I needed a new one?" He'd been planning to buy himself one as soon as he could, but he was supporting a family now, and money was dear. "How could I not know? You dropped three pages out of your old one at church last Sunday." He flushed, embarrassed about the incident. "It was my study Bible at school." "You don't have to explain yourself to me. I just hope you like it." "Of course I do!" He stared down at it for a moment. "Open your gift." Sarah Jane carefully untied the wrapping on the gift, opening it carefully. In it was a piece of wood. She turned it over, and the words that had been painted onto it brought tears to her eyes. She is more precious than rubies; and all the things thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her. Proverbs 3:15. "Where did you find this? It's beautiful!" He must have gotten it immediately after they married, before he realized that she wasn't doing her share of the work. She wanted to give it back to him and tell him to find someone who deserved it. "I told Penny what I needed, and she made it for me. I bought the supplies, of course, but there's no way I could have made it so beautiful." The plaque had been varnished, and there were small flowers painted in each corner. Even Sarah Jane hadn't realized Penny was so talented. "Thank you." She laid it down on her lap, fighting the tears. She had no words to express how badly she felt that she'd let him down.
Chapter Nine
All through the church service, as Micah talked about the Christmas story, he worried that he'd done something that had upset Sarah Jane. He thought she'd accept the apology the way it was meant, but maybe she needed words to go with it. Maybe she was one of those women who needed to have everything spelled out for them. It was difficult for him, but he would apologize, and make certain she knew that he valued her. Sarah Jane paid careful attention to the sermon, doing her best to help Chrissy pay attention as well. The little girl was so excited about her birthday, and the big party she'd been promised at Edna Petunia's house later, she couldn't sit still for anything. After the Christmas service, they went home to have their lunch, and give Chrissy her birthday gifts. After lunch they had their dessert. "Do I get two cakes?" Chrissy asked. "Why do you need two?" Sarah Jane asked, confused. Why did she think she'd get two? "Well, we're having one now, but Grandma will surely make me a cake, won't she?" Sarah Jane laughed at that. "I hadn't thought of it, but I'd be surprised if she didn't make you one. You're right. Are you excited to go over there for your birthday party?" It wasn't truly a big gathering, because it was only family, but with a family as big as Sarah Jane's, it would feel like a celebration. "Oh, yes. I can't wait. Do you think I'll get more presents there?" "You'll just have to wait and see, won't you? You know you can't ask for presents, though, right? If people want to give them to you, they'll do it without you asking." "Yes'm. I know." Micah then brought in the gift he'd made for Chrissy's birthday. It was a small cradle for the baby doll she'd gotten at the orphanage Christmas party. When Chrissy saw it, she gasped with delight, running to get her doll, whom she'd named Sally. Sally fit perfectly in the cradle, and Chrissy smiled, talking to her softly as she tucked her in. "I'll be right here with you, so if you get scared during the night or have nightmares, you'll have nothing to worry about. I love you, Sally." Sarah Jane felt tears prick her eyes at the words. They were word for word what she told Chrissy every night before they slept. "You're a good mama, Chrissy." Chrissy looked at Sarah Jane, and all at once, she ran across the room at her, throwing her arms around her. "You're a wonderful mama! I'm so glad you're going to keep me!" Sarah Jane was surprised at the confidence in Chrissy's voice. For some reason, she seemed to know all of a sudden she wouldn't be sent back to the orphanage. She'd never been confident before. "We love you. Of course we're keeping you." "I know." Chrissy smiled up at Sarah Jane. "How do you know?" "You wouldn't have made me special things if you weren't going to keep me. You might have made me clothes to wear so I wouldn't embarrass you, but you wouldn't have made anything for Sally. So you're keeping me." Sarah Jane smiled at the wisdom in the girl's words. "We certainly are." Micah grinned as he watched the two of them, happy to see that Chrissy seemed to realize she really did have a permanent place with them. "Are you ready to go to your grandma's house now?" Chrissy nodded. "Can I take Sally and her cradle?" "Of course you can." Sarah Jane put her arm around the girl's shoulders as they walked toward the buggy, Sally held in Chrissy's arms.
Micah picked up the cradle and followed them out to the buggy. He'd already hitched the team for them, and he helped his ladies up. The whole way to the Sanders' house, Chrissy chattered on and on about how wonderful her birthday and Christmas had been. Cletus was waiting outside for them when they arrived, and he lifted Chrissy down, carrying her into the house. Sarah Jane followed closely behind them, grinning as she heard Cletus call out in his most formal voice, "Hear ye, hear ye, the birthday princess has arrived!" The older couple had made a big deal out of celebrating each of the girls' birthdays since their arrival in Texas, so Sarah Jane had known they'd do something special for the little girl as well. Edna Petunia called out from the kitchen, "Take her to the informal parlor, and we'll have presents, and then we'll have cake!" Chrissy was squirming so much, Cletus almost dropped her. "Presents? I thought we were just having cake here," Chrissy said. "Oh, we couldn't let such a special birthday go by without giving you presents!" Cletus told her. All of Sarah Jane's "sisters" were waiting in the parlor, including Opal and Ruby. Opal had her sons on her lap, and Ruby sat, exhausted, on a sofa with the twins playing at her feet. "Where's Florence?" Sarah Jane asked, referring to Opal's step-daughter. "She wasn't feeling well, so she stayed home. I think she really just wanted some quiet time without the boys getting into everything." Sarah Jane grinned. "Do you blame her?" "Not one bit." Opal yawned, turning her attention to Chrissy. Chrissy was led to a dining-room chair that had been placed in the middle of the room and had been decorated with bright strips of cloth. "The birthday chair!" Evelyn announced. Sarah Jane felt tears prick her eyes as she looked at the sweet child. Chrissy was overwhelmed by the love being poured out onto her, and she was beaming from ear to ear. Why, her face looked as if it would break if she tried to smile any bigger. Each of Sarah Jane's sisters, in order of age, took Chrissy a gift. They had been doing things in order of their age for years, so it was automatic for them to continue on that way. First Ruby had Robert, her eldest son, take a small brightly wrapped package to Chrissy. Chrissy looked at Sarah Jane for permission to open it. "Of course you may open each gift as it's brought to you, Chrissy," Sarah Jane told her, smiling at Micah, who was gripping her hand. She knew this was a big moment for her new daughter. Chrissy carefully untied the string and found a tiny quilt made for a doll. "Oh, thank you!" she said. "This will keep Sally warm at night!" Opal brought her gift to Chrissy next, a pair of mittens and a matching scarf. Evelyn and Gertrude were next. They had made matching nightgowns for Chrissy and Sally. When Chrissy opened the gifts, she squealed with excitement. "Now my baby can look just like her mama! I'm her mama," she explained patiently. Everyone laughed at her excitement. All of the girls remembered what it was like to receive some cast-off clothes for Christmas and their birthdays and nothing more, so they were thrilled to be able to see the girl receive gifts that she would enjoy. Betsy and Hope were next. Betsy gave her a small hand mirror, and Hope had made some pretty hair bows for her and for Sally. Penelope outdid everyone with her gift, as usual. She had made a beautiful dress for Chrissy, and then she'd pulled out a matching dress for Sally. When everyone had finished fussing over the dresses, she pulled out one more dress for Sarah Jane. Sarah Jane felt tears pop into her eyes as she took the dress. "Now I can look just like my daughter for church tomorrow."
"I can't wait! I want to look like my mama!" As she watched Chrissy open the rest of her presents, Sarah Jane realized how much she loved the girl. Chrissy showed impeccable manners as she thanked each person who gave her a gift. When it came time for Edna Petunia's gift, Sarah Jane was almost afraid. The old woman was always offering the girls nips from her flask, so one never knew what was going to come from the old woman's mouth. "My gift is for you, Chrissy, but it's also for your parents." Chrissy watched the older woman, her hands folded in her lap and her gifts spread around her. She had obviously never been given so many gifts in one day and was overwhelmed by the whole experience. "It is?" Edna Petunia nodded, her old face lit up with a smile. "I'm going to keep you for two nights so your parents can have a bit of time alone together. As soon as the three of you are ready." Sarah Jane looked at Micah and blushed. She knew it wasn't time yet, but soon, it probably would be. She had to get Chrissy over her nightmares first. Chrissy clapped. "I'd love to stay with you and all of my aunts!" Edna smiled. "It'll be like having a giant party that lasts all night." While Edna Petunia was putting the birthday cake on the table to get ready to serve it, Micah pulled Sarah Jane aside. "Do you think she's ready to spend a night here with them?" Sarah Jane frowned, shaking her head. "Not yet. Maybe in a few weeks. She's still waking with nightmares every night. I can't ask anyone else to deal with that." He sighed. "I would like some time alone with you, but Chrissy needs to come first." "Yes, she does. Maybe in a week or two." Sarah Jane rested her hand on his chest and stood on tiptoes to kiss him. "Soon." "More kissing. Everyone in this family is always kissing," Robert complained as he walking into the dining room. "Good thing there's cake. Otherwise, I might have to throw up." Sarah Jane rolled her eyes. "This is Ruby's oldest. He tried to convince Lewis that Ruby would leave him if he kissed her too much." Micah's eyes were full of laughter. "Obviously, he wasn't successful." "No. And Ruby doesn't seem to mind the kissing." Sarah Jane followed the others into the dining room, and they watched as Chrissy basked in the happiness that came from being the guest of honor. "I wish it was my birthday every day!" Chrissy said.
* * *
Monday was the first day Sarah Jane got to stay home with Chrissy. She woke early as always, but she was able to cook breakfast and take her time doing the dishes. She had extra work on her agenda, because Ruby still needed meals made, but at least she wasn't working at the orphanage any longer. As much as she loved the children there, she knew her new daughter needed her more. She wondered some days if they would have children of their own or adopt more, but she never talked to Micah about it. For the time being, Chrissy was all she could handle. She didn't want to say anything to anyone yet because it was too new, but Chrissy had slept through the night for two nights in a row. She was stunned and amazed. It was wonderful to sleep straight through the night and not wake up to a child crying hysterically. When Micah came home from work that evening, she not only had supper on the table, but she had scrubbed every inch of the common rooms of the house, done all the laundry, and baked him a cake for dessert. He stopped inside the kitchen, looking around him. "The house looks amazing. You two must have
worked hard all day." Chrissy removed the apron Katie had made her for her birthday before running to Micah and flinging herself into his arms. "We missed you while you were working, Daddy, and Mama and I worked really hard to make the house look good for you." "You did such a good job. I thought I was in the wrong house." Chrissy giggled. "You did? I told Mama she was making it too clean and you wouldn't like it." "I do like it, though. I like living in a clean house. Don't you?" "Yes, but I don't like having to put Sally into her cradle with all her clothes before you get home. Tell Mama you like to see what Sally is wearing when you come home." Sally had four outfits and a nightgown, and she wore every one of them at least three times per day. "I think your mama is right. She needs to be in her cradle in your room when I get home. You can wake her from her nap after supper." Chrissy sighed as if she was agreeing to something horrible. "Yes, Daddy." Sarah Jane looked over her shoulder at Micah, laughing softly. "She wanted Sally to have her own chair at our kitchen table so she could eat with us. I told her it was Sally's nap time." "You are a smart woman." He walked across the kitchen and kissed her softly. "Did you have a good day? You seem to be in good spirits." "It was productive. I enjoyed not having to leave the house for a change. It was nice to stay here and get work done. Lewis brought over some food because I'm still cooking for their family, so I didn't even have to go to the mercantile to shop." "It must have felt like a regular vacation." She laughed. "Well, I still had Chrissy." She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "That girl is hard work!" "I am not! Tell him how much I helped, Mama." "She helped me with the laundry, making the beds, sweeping, doing dishes. Why, I know I wouldn't have been able to get half of my chores done without her." Chrissy smiled happily. "I'm a good helper." "Yes, you are." Sarah Jane touched the tip of her finger to Chrissy's nose. "And now, if you'll sit down at the table, we'll show your daddy what a good cook you are." Her eyes met Micah's. "Chrissy helped me bake the bread as well." "Well, aren't you a wonder?" Micah walked to the table and sat down. "Do you like helping your mama?" "Sometimes. And sometimes we do what we must." Micah laughed. "I appreciate you sacrificing your day with Sally to help out around the house. Soon, you'll have a house of your own, and we won't know what to do without you." "You mean when I'm grown? Not when you find somewhere else for me to live?" Sarah Jane's eyes widened. "He means when you're grown and have a family of your own. We're keeping you forever, remember?" "Until Daddy gives me away to my husband. Maybe I'll marry Robert." Sarah Jane bit her lip. "I don't know. Robert's your cousin. It might not be a good idea to marry him." Chrissy shrugged. "No matter. I'll find someone better anyway." "I'm sure you will. Why, you'll be the prettiest girl in school. Of course, you need to remember the important rule of being pretty." "What's that?" "Pretty is as pretty does. It doesn't matter how pretty you are if you act ugly." Chrissy nodded. "I promise never to act ugly." After Chrissy was tucked into bed, Sarah Jane joined Micah in the parlor. "You look better rested
than you have since we married. I'm glad you decided not to work at the orphanage." "I may go back once Chrissy is in school, but she seems a lot more settled now that we're not going there every day." "Good." He opened his arms, and she climbed onto the sofa beside him, her head going to rest on his shoulder. She knew she shouldn't sit with idle hands, but she didn't want to disturb the short time they had together every night by pulling out her knitting. "How was work today?" He sighed. "Mr. Johnson is dying. I talked to Dr. Harvey today, and she said he doesn't have much time. I worry about what will happen to Mrs. Johnson." "I had no idea he was so ill! Can Mrs. Johnson go live with her daughter in Wiggieville?" "She has a daughter?" "Yes. She's quite a distance from here, but the drive could be made in a few days. She's a lovely woman. She was here with her children last summer. She had four children and another on the way. I think she'd welcome the help her mother could give her." "That sounds like a perfect solution. I'm glad you know the people here better than I do." Micah hadn't thought about this benefit of marrying. His new wife could help with problem solving when it was something like that. "I probably should have asked Mrs. Johnson what she thought she'd do." "Oh, I wouldn't have. What if she had no children and nowhere to go? You did the right thing." She turned her head, looking up at him to find him watching her. "Do you think I should make her a meal or two? To help them out while she's nursing him?" "That would be wonderful. Why didn't I think of that?" She laughed. "Because you're a man, of course. You're worried about the long-term repercussions of him dying. I'm worried about where her next meal will come from. God made us to complement each other." "That He did." He stroked her arm. "How long do you think it will be before Chrissy starts sleeping through the night? I'd love to be able to take Edna Petunia up on her offer to watch her sometime soon." Sarah Jane hadn't told him about the girl yet, but she wouldn't lie to him outright. "She's slept the past two nights. I think that she's finally realized we're keeping her and not sending her back." "That's wonderful! That must be another reason you look so well-rested." "I haven't gotten my hopes up too high yet. If she makes it through Friday without waking up crying, maybe we can schedule her weekend with Edna for a week from Friday?" He sighed. "I want it to be sooner, but I understand your reasoning." She looked up at him with a smile. "Good things come to those who wait. Right?" He leaned down to brush a kiss across her lips. "That's what I've been told. I sure hope it's true." "Hopefully, Chrissy will continue to do well. I worry about her, but I worry just as much about leaving her with someone else. Her nightmares are difficult, and I'm not sure if she would calm down easily with someone else." "Do you think things will be easier for you now that she's sleeping better? I noticed the house looked very good today." He didn't want to remind her that she hadn't been able to keep up before, but he needed to know if she could do it now. She nodded slowly. "I'm sure I can." She felt like she had really let him down, and hated that he was stuck with her. "I'm sorry I couldn't do it before." "You did nothing wrong. It was circumstances, I know. Taking care of Chrissy, dealing with her nightmares, working at the orphanage, and then fixing meals for an extra family, all while not getting enough sleep. No one in their right mind could ask you to do more." She rested her head against his shoulder, wanting to believe he wasn't angry, but how could he not be? She'd done nothing but let him down since they got married. At least there was no orphanage he could
return her to. Edna Petunia would take her back, though.
* * *
Shortly after lunch on Tuesday, Sarah Jane had an unexpected visitor. "Dr. Harvey. Come in. Is something wrong?" Iris Harvey stepped into the small kitchen and took a seat at the table. "There's nothing horribly wrong, but I came to ask for a favor." "Of course! Would you care for some tea?" Iris Harvey and her family had been frequent visitors at the Sanders' house since they'd taken the girls in. Sarah Jane felt as if she was an old family friend. "No, thank you. I don't have much time. I have several patients to check on this afternoon." Iris rubbed the back of her neck, obviously tired. She was the only doctor for miles in any direction, and her services were very much in demand. Sarah Jane sat down across from Iris. "What kind of help do you need?" Chrissy hurried into the kitchen and saw the doctor sitting there. She looked between the two adults and left again, Sally clutched tightly in her arms. Iris smiled at the little girl as she ran off. "She must keep you busy." "Busier than I imagined a child of seven would. That's for certain." "I understand. Well, here's the situation. Ruby has started bleeding. It's still too early for the baby to come, so I've told her to rest as much as possible. She insists there's too much to do, taking care of the twins and keeping house, for her to be able to rest. I was hoping you could help her out. I'd ask Opal, but she has her hands full with Nathan and Samuel." Sarah Jane didn't hesitate. "Of course I will. I've been cooking their suppers for a couple of weeks now, but I'll start going in and cleaning as well. I can bring the twins here so Ruby can nap every day. How much is she allowed to do?" Iris shook her head. "I really don't want her to get out of bed except to take care of nature's call. That would help them out a great deal. It might even save that baby's life." "I'll head over there now." Sarah Jane got to her feet, getting her wrap. She hadn't done the lunch dishes yet, but they could wait. Ruby needed her, and she was going to do what needed to be done. What else could she do? "Chrissy!" When Chrissy hurried into the kitchen, Sarah Jane told her to get her coat. "We're going to go see Aunt Ruby and your cousins. Doesn't that sound like fun?" "I suppose so," Chrissy said warily. "You'll like it." Sarah Jane turned back to Dr. Iris. "Thank you for letting me know about the situation. I'll make sure things go as well as possible." She gathered what she'd need to cook supper for the two families, filling her arms. She'd cook at Ruby's house while she cleaned today. It couldn't be that difficult. Chrissy followed along beside her new mama, Sally clutched to her chest. "Why are we going to Aunt Ruby's house?" "Ruby is having a baby, and she's not feeling well. The doctor's afraid that if we don't help her, the baby could get hurt, so we're going over to clean and cook for them." "Oh. That's nice of us." Sarah Jane smiled. "Your job will be taking care of your cousins. They're very little, and they need someone to watch them. Do you think you could do that?" "Oh, yes. I'm very good with babies. Just look at what a good mama I am to Sally!" "Well, Jade and Crystal will need all the help you can give them." Sarah Jane went to the front of the mercantile rather than going to the door of Ruby's house. It would be simpler.
When Lewis saw her, he hurried across the store. "Thank heavens you're here. We need help!" Sarah Jane smiled. "Dr. Harvey told me everything. Don't worry—Chrissy and I will handle it. I'd like to be home by quarter past six if you don't mind. Can you be upstairs by six?" "No problem at all. Thank you!"
Chapter Ten
When Micah walked in the door at half past six, he was tired. Mr. Johnson had died, and Mrs. Johnson had been inconsolable. He'd spent most of the day with her, talking about funeral arrangements and trying to convince her to go live with her daughter. When he stepped into the kitchen and saw Sarah Jane and Chrissy hurriedly finishing up the lunch dishes, he was flabbergasted. Most of Sarah Jane's obligations had ended, and she'd told him at lunch Chrissy had slept through the night. "Why didn't you do these earlier?" he asked, his eyes narrowed. Now that she had nothing else filling her days, surely she could keep house. Sarah Jane's eyes met his. "I had just started them when we received a visitor," she began. "So you spent the day visiting with one of your friends rather than taking care of your duties? As a pastor's wife, it's your job to set an example of cleanliness. When people stop in, they should see an immaculate home. Lunch dishes in the sink at suppertime? I know you baked all morning, and I appreciate that, but did you even clean the bedrooms like you told me you were going to do today?" Micah knew his voice was harsh, but he was frustrated. Why couldn't she do the few simple tasks that all other wives did without complaint? Sarah Jane closed her eyes for a moment, mentally biting her tongue. She knew keeping her voice calm in the face of his anger was really the only Christian thing she could do. "I didn't have time to get to the bedrooms. I'm sorry. I'll clean them as soon as I finish the supper dishes." She handed the last plate she'd just washed to Chrissy to dry. "Supper's ready." She put the roast she'd made at Ruby's house on the table along with mashed potatoes, gravy, fresh bread, and green beans. She was thankful Lewis had driven her home. As they prayed, she added her own prayer. Father, please help me to keep my voice mild. He doesn't know what all I did today, and I don't know what he's done. Please help me not to judge him, and do better to meet his expectations. As they ate, Chrissy chattered on and on about some new friends she'd made. Micah finally turned to her. He couldn't let his annoyance with Sarah Jane affect how he treated Chrissy. "What are your friends' names?" "Jade and Crystal. Crystal's name is almost like mine, isn't it, Daddy? Christmas and Crystal?" "Yes, almost exactly the same as yours. I like the name Crystal." "I do too. Do you like my name? I don't know anyone else named Christmas Carol, but I like having a name no one else has." Chrissy ate quickly, spraying food in her excitement to talk to her father. "I do like the name Christmas Carol. Where did you meet Crystal and Jade?" Micah asked. "We met them at Aunt Ruby's house. They're twins, but they don't look exactly alike. I knew twins at the orphanage in Fort Worth who looked just like each other. They were both girls. I didn't like them, though, because they were mean to me." "I'm sorry about that. Why did you go to Aunt Ruby's house today?" Sarah Jane sat silently throughout the exchange. She didn't know if she should be ashamed for how little work she'd done or be angry with him for his accusations, so she simply ate her supper, waiting to see how things would play out. "Well, Dr. Iris came over, and she asked Mama and me to go help Aunt Ruby. She's having a baby, you know!" Chrissy took a sip of her milk, dribbling a bit on her dress. "I do know that. Why did Aunt Ruby need help, though?" "She's really sick, and she can't take care of the house or Crystal and Jade. So Dr. Iris asked if Mama and I could do it. I took care of Jade and Crystal while Mama cleaned their whole house." Micah closed his eyes. That was twice now he'd assumed the worst about his new wife. "How is
Ruby?" he asked Sarah Jane, trying his best to convey his apologies with his expression and tone of voice. "She's not doing well. The doctor is worried she'll deliver early and lose the baby if she doesn't stay in bed, so I said I'd help out." "As you should have." He took another bite of his potatoes, his eyes meeting hers. "Mr. Johnson died today. I spent the whole day consoling Mrs. Johnson and trying to convince her it's time for her to move in with her daughter. She wants to make a go of ranching on her own." Sarah Jane shrugged. "She might be able to do it. It would be hard, but she's strong." "I had a difficult afternoon, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry. It doesn't sound like your day was any easier than mine." "I don't mind hard work. I'm worried about Ruby and the baby, of course, but cooking and cleaning don't bother me. And I had a wonderful helper who took the twins in hand, caring for them while I did the work. I'm going to spend mornings at Ruby's, and I'll come home to cook and clean in the afternoons. The girls will nap here, so Ruby doesn't have to worry about anything." "I think that sounds logical. Let me know if there's any way I can help," Micah said. He felt like the worst husband alive, but he was willing to do whatever was necessary to help her. "No, thank you. You have enough to do." Sarah Jane wasn't about to accept help from him. The more she thought about his assumption and anger, the more upset she got. What had she ever done to make him think she wasn't a hard worker? Micah frowned, but he knew he'd be able to talk to her later, after Chrissy was in bed. He looked forward to their private time together more and more every day. After supper, Sarah Jane did the dishes while Chrissy wiped them dry, and then she cleaned Micah's bedroom, mopping the floor and even scrubbing down the walls, while he played with Chrissy. Once that task was completed, she went to the bedroom she and Chrissy shared and did the same. The bathroom was next. When it was finished, it was time for Chrissy to go to bed. She tucked Chrissy in and laid down beside her as she did every night. Instead of getting up and going to talk to Micah once Chrissy fell asleep, Sarah Jane fell asleep as well. She didn't mean to, because she had a lot to say to her husband, but she was tired. Taking care of two families was a lot of work, even when she did sleep a full night. Micah sat in the parlor until past midnight, waiting for Sarah Jane to come out and talk to him. While he waited, he practiced his apology over and over. Finally, at half past twelve, he went to Chrissy's room and carefully opened the door so as not to wake the girl. When he saw his wife asleep, he slowly tiptoed out of the room. He frowned. Was she so angry with him that she wasn't willing to speak to him? Could he do nothing right in this marriage of his?
* * *
At breakfast the next morning, Micah decided to discuss what was bothering him. Stifling a yawn, he asked, "Why didn't you come talk to me last night? I waited up past midnight." Sarah Jane felt terrible. "I'm sorry. I was tired, and I fell asleep right after Chrissy did. We'll talk tonight." Chrissy still hadn't come out of her bedroom, so he pressed a little further. "Are you certain that's all it was?" "Are you asking if I'm angry with you, Micah? Because if you are, just come right out and ask. There's no reason to beat around the bush." Micah frowned. "Are you angry with me?" Sarah Jane shrugged. "A little. But not so much that I wouldn't have come out to talk to you last night.
I have things to say, and I'll say them." Micah nodded, knowing she had every right to express her anger. He had treated her unfairly. All through the day, Micah thought about ways to apologize to his bride. He thought about flowers, but they were hard to come by in the winter. There were greenhouses in Austin, but he didn't want to have to drive that far. He didn't have money to buy her jewelry. What could he do to tell her he felt badly for the way he'd jumped to conclusions? Sarah Jane followed the plan she'd outlined for Micah the previous evening. She spent the morning at Ruby's house, making certain her sister had enough to eat and was comfortable. She cleaned everything quickly. The family had left the dishes for her and Chrissy, but she had no problem with that. She fixed the noon meal for Ruby, taking it to her room on a small tray. "I'm going to take the girls to my house for the afternoon so they don't make noise and you can nap. You'll be alone for about three hours before the boys are home from school. You need to sleep." Ruby nodded. "I'm so tired. All I want to do is sleep anyway." "Do you need me to check on you at all?" Ruby shook her head. "Tell Lewis to pop his head in at half past one. I'll be fine other than that." "Okay. I've fed the twins and will put them down for a nap as soon as we get to my house." Ruby grabbed Sarah Jane's hand. "Thank you for helping me. I never was sure how to feel about you when we were children. You've turned into an amazing woman, always thinking of others first." Sarah Jane felt a tear pop into her eye. "Thank you for saying that. I know I was more than a little self-righteous." Ruby grinned. "Maybe a bit." At home, Sarah Jane set the pot of soup she'd made for lunch on the stove. She'd left a bit for Lewis to eat, but the rest was for her family. She served the thick potato soup she'd made with the bread she'd baked the day before. Micah walked into the house at lunchtime and took a deep sniff. The breakfast dishes were still in the sink, but he knew better than saying anything about them. She'd been working all morning, and whatever she'd cooked for lunch smelled like it could be served in heaven! "I have no idea what that is, but I want a whole mountain of it," he told her. "Just potato soup. Nothing fancy, but it is tasty." Sarah Jane put a large bowl in front of him. "Thank you. Where's Chrissy?" he asked. "I fed her with the twins over at Ruby's. I thought it would be easier to feed the little ones at their own home." "Makes sense to me." He took her hand and said a quick prayer for them. "About last night—I'm sorry. I keep jumping to erroneous conclusions, and it's not fair to you at all." "No, it's really not. I'm a hard worker, and I always have been. I don't think it's right that you assume the worst of me so often. If I don't get something done, it's never through lack of effort." He nodded, his eyes sad. "I know that. I had a hard day yesterday, and I took it out on you. That's no excuse. The truth is, there is no excuse for my behavior, and I'm very sorry." Sarah Jane nodded. "I forgive you. I'm sorry I fell asleep instead of coming out to talk to you last night. I promise you, it wasn't intentional." "I realize that now. I was worried that you were angry enough with me for my harsh words that you had decided not to speak to me. I'm glad that's not the case." "Where do we go from here?" she asked. "I can't live my life the way it needs to be lived and worry my husband is going to constantly assume that I'm not doing something because I'm lazy. I want to be trusted." He sighed. "I do trust you. I won't make that mistake again." He glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned. "I have an appointment to counsel and pray for a new couple who has moved to Nowhere.
They're having some problems. Can we talk about this after Chrissy goes to sleep tonight?" She nodded. "Of course we can. I intended to do it last night." He stood, walking around the table to press a kiss to her forehead. "I know. I'm sorry I thought otherwise." For the rest of the day, Sarah Jane thought about their talk that night while she cleaned and cooked. The girls napped, and Chrissy helped her with the dishes. "Do you enjoy watching the girls?" Sarah Jane asked while they were working side by side. "Yes, ma'am. They're a lot of work, but I like them." Sarah Jane smiled. "I'm sure you were a lot of work at that age too." "Is that why my mama didn't want me anymore?" "Oh, sweetie. Your mama wanted you or she wouldn't have kept going back to the orphanage to get you. Her circumstances didn't allow her to take care of you, so she put you somewhere you could find a family who would love you. She put you there for your daddy and me." "Do you think she knew you'd come get me?" Chrissy asked, her voice anxious. "I don't know. I do know she did the right thing by putting you there. Now we're a family, and we wouldn't be without you." "Even though you and Daddy are mad at each other?" Sarah Jane bit her lip, trying to decide how to respond to that. "We're not really mad at each other. You know how when you move in with a new family, and they expect certain things of you? But you don't know what they are until they tell you?" "Yes. I got sent back once before they told me what they expected." Chrissy sounded sad. "Well, that's the place your daddy and I are in. We're trying to learn what the other expects of us, and it's hard work right now, figuring it all out." Chrissy nodded. "Because you just got married." "Yes! Because we just got married, and we had a little girl we were getting used to as soon as we married. It's not usually like that." "But you're not sending me back, because you love me." "That's right. We're keeping you forever." Sarah Jane was pleased Chrissy remembered they were keeping her. "We're not giving up on each other or on you. We're just learning to deal with each other." "And we're not going back to the orphanage?" Chrissy asked. "Not right now. I may work there again in the fall when you've started school, but for now, we're going to stay home. When we're not helping others, of course. You know, one of God's commands is for us to love each other. If we're not doing everything we can when others are sick or hurt, are we really loving?" Chrissy shook her head. "Is that why we help people?" "It is. It's because it's the right thing to do. If you knew Jade and Crystal were spending all day by themselves, wouldn't you want to help?" "Yes, ma'am." "I'm the same way. I know Ruby needs someone to help her, and we live close by. She's my sister, so I help her." "You had the same mama?" Sarah Jane shook her head. "No. I was an orphan like you. Aunt Ruby and I lived in the same orphanage, and eventually, we were both adopted by your grandma." "I like my grandma. She's nice to me." "Edna Petunia is nice to everyone. She's a little crazy, but she loves people a lot." Especially bastard children. "I love her too. She lets me help her bake." Chrissy dried the last dish. "When will I get to stay with
her like she said I could on my birthday? "Well, right now, I want to make sure you quit having your nightmares. You haven't had one for four nights. If you go three more nights without one, then we'll say you can go the following weekend." "Right now, you need me to help with the girls." Sarah Jane smiled. "I sure do!" She hugged Chrissy close. "I love you more than I ever thought I could love a little girl. I'm so glad you came to live with us." "Me too! Now you and Daddy just need to learn to live together, and everything will be good." Sarah Jane sighed. She certainly hoped it would be that simple.
* * *
Sarah Jane found Micah in the parlor as soon as Chrissy fell asleep that night. He had his notes spread out around him as usual. He looked up, and a slow grin transformed his face as he held out his hand for her. "I'm glad you joined me." She sat down beside him, folding her hands properly in her lap unlike she had most nights. Usually, she sat down and curled up against him with her head on his shoulder. Tonight, though, she needed to know where their relationship was going before she wanted to get too close. "Let's talk," she said softly, her eyes on his. He turned to her on the sofa, one leg curling up under him. "I'd love to." "I feel like we're at a strange spot in our relationship. We're married, but we don't live as man and wife. We live more like man and housekeeper. Is that going to continue? Where does our relationship go from here?" "Not afraid to get right to the point, are you?" She shook her head. "Why waste time? We both know what we need to talk about." He sighed. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm ready for a real marriage. Everything I've learned about you has made me fall just a bit more in love with you. I knew I was attracted to you from the first day I saw you in church, but now that I've gotten to know you, I know I've made the right choice. I love you, and want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you." Sarah Jane stared at him in shock. "If you love me, why did you keep getting so angry with me?" "Because you weren't telling me everything. If I'd known you weren't able to sleep at night or that you were taking care of Ruby's household as well as ours, I would have been a great deal more lenient. You never really gave me full information, and let me jump to my own conclusions." He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. "I'll do better if you tell me everything." "And you'll wait to form conclusions until you've asked?" He grinned. "You've discovered my worst flaw already. I'm impatient and not good at waiting. Now that you know that, won't it be easier?" She laughed, shaking her head. "Since I love you despite your big flaw, I think we'll do fine. Just please try to give me a chance before you accuse me of the worst." He pulled her toward him, kissing her lips. "I will try my very best. Will you try to tell me when you agree to do much more than you should for others?" She nodded, resting her head against his shoulder. "Maybe we should ask Edna to have her special weekend with Chrissy, and we can spend a couple of days really getting to know each other." "I'd like that a lot. The funeral is Friday, so the only thing I really need to do Saturday is work on my sermon." She smiled, kissing his chin. "Then let's take Chrissy to Edna Petunia on Friday night, and the two of us can have the weekend. Katie will help Ruby on Saturday." He smiled. "It's a few weeks late, but that sounds exactly like a honeymoon to me."
She laughed. "What more could we ask for? Two child-free nights will feel like heaven right about now." He stroked her cheek. "I promise you. They will be."
Epilogue
Micah was in a good mood as he walked into the house. He had spent the entire day driving around the area, visiting the sick and elderly. More than anything, he'd enjoyed the environment. The bluebonnets were in bloom, and the whole area looked as if God had painted it just for his enjoyment. As he stepped inside, he frowned. The house was a disaster once again, and his wife and daughter were nowhere to be found. He searched the house and found Chrissy in her room. She came out with her finger over her lips. "Shh. Mama's sleeping." Micah frowned. "Sleeping?" Sarah Jane wasn't given to napping, especially when she hadn't finished her chores for the day. He knew Chrissy hadn't kept her up all night because Chrissy slept alone now, and she hadn't come into their room during the night. "I'll go talk to her." Chrissy frowned. "But she's tired." "I love that you protect your mama, but you don't have to protect her from me. I love her too." Chrissy shrugged, going back into her room. Micah opened the door to their bedroom quietly, going in to sit on the side of the bed where Sarah Jane was curled up on her side, sound asleep. "Sarah Jane? Are you all right?" Sarah Jane sat up and immediately lay back down. "I'm sorry! I slept longer than I meant to." "Did you help someone today? Are you sick?" "I didn't help anyone, and I'm not exactly sick." She frowned. "Oh, this wasn't how I meant to tell you!" "Tell me what? What's going on here, Sarah Jane?" He'd learned his lesson about jumping to conclusions, and he was sure there was a reason she was sleeping the day away instead of working. He just didn't understand what that reason was yet. Sarah Jane took his hand and pressed it to her belly. "We're expecting. A baby of our own." Micah's eyes grew wide. "Are you sure?" She nodded. "I saw Dr. Iris early this afternoon, and she confirmed it." "Are you okay?" "I'm fine. I'm just really tired and queasy. When I came in here, I promised myself I'd shut my eyes for only a minute. That was right after lunch. I haven't even fixed supper." She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry!" "Don't be sorry. Are you able to cook? Should I make something?" Sarah Jane eyed him skeptically. "What do you know how to cook?" "Pancakes. I'll make some if you want." Micah was willing to do anything for her. She was carrying his child, after all. "That's all right. Pancakes don't sound like the healthiest meal I could eat. I'll fix something." She took a deep breath and rolled to a sitting position. "The queasiness seems to be over." "You're sure?" "I'm fine. I can handle supper." She smiled. "I can't wait to hold him!" "Him? Are you that sure it's a boy?" Micah teased. "I honestly don't care if we get a boy or a girl. A healthy child who will always be loved will suit me just fine. Maybe he can share a birthday with our daughter. I'm due on the twenty-third of December." Micah laughed. "Well, our little Christmas Carol wouldn't mind sharing her birthday. She thinks it's the best day in the world already." "I do too. Because it's the day she came into this world." Sarah Jane's eyes met his. "I'm so glad you're in my life."
He pulled her to him, kissing her softly. "So am I. Life would never be complete without you and Chrissy."
If you enjoyed this Christmas romance, be sure to look for the others in the Countdown to Christmas series. Find them HERE
Author Bio
USA Today bestselling author Kirsten Osbourne knows how to write romance. Each book is an experience that transplants the reader, indulging them in decadence, intense emotion, and sweeping love. Hailing from the state of Wisconsin, she has lived in Texas for over thirty years as a mother, writer, and wife. Married to the love of her life for more than fifteen years, she knows that true love exists, and shares that vision with the world. She writes contemporary and historical romance as well, and also ventures into the realm of paranormal romance. She invites you to join her in her world of fantasy, love, and make believe, no matter the location, where there is always a happily ever after at the end. You can learn more about her at http://www.kirstenandmorganna.com.
Home for the Holidays Countdown to Christmas
by Maria Hoagland Trifecta Books
Book design and layout copyright © 2015 by Trifecta Books Cover design copyright © 2015 by Jenni James
This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Copyright© 2015 by Maria Hoagland
Table of Contents
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen
Acknowledgements:
Building a book is a lot like building a house. You need creativity and expertise in many diverse technical and professional fields. Where I needed help, I brought in consultants, and this time around, they are many. Just know that although I’m sure they gave me sound and professional advice, if there are any mistakes, I probably either didn’t ask the right questions, didn’t quite understand what I was told, or completely ignored the advice given because it didn’t work with the story (because I’m that kind of rebel). But please accept my sincere thanks, even if I messed it up. To Tricia Stadler, who has spent many years in a hospital emergency department as an RN (and studying to be a PA), thank you for the ER advice. Despite the fact that I used very little of what I asked you, I appreciate your advice on Avery’s possible injuries. Thank you also to Paul Hirst, a principal architect at Oldham Hirst Design, who answered random questions about blueprints. Speaking of construction, a big thank you to Tim Bouck, a builder for David Weekly Homes, who answered questions about the process and terminology. If only I’d known the right questions to ask, I’m sure my story would have been even more accurate. And to my resident Corpus Christi expert, Nichole Giles, thanks for letting me pick your brain for details and setting ideas. It’s been a few too many years for me to remember, and I appreciated having someone to ask. It was fabulous working with Trifecta Books and the other authors of the Countdown to Christmas novellas. I’m humbled and thrilled to have my book among yours. And thank you to my readers. Without you, there would be little reason to write. Merry Christmas, friends! As always, a huge thank you to my plot brainstorming crew, my family. You are my best sounding board and never fail to extricate me when I get stuck. I rely on your support, encouragement, and ideas. Thank you, Curtis, Alex, Courtney, and Bennett. Thanks for letting me talk through it until it was written. (And after.)
Home for the Holidays Countdown to Christmas
by Maria Hoagland
Chapter One
“Beyond Repair Construction, where we build the future and restore the past.” The unexpected voice jerked Avery’s concentration from the mental checklist she’d been completing and back to her phone. She found herself momentarily flustered. The voice she’d expected reminded her of sand—comforting and spongy underfoot, firm and yet forgiving. It should have been the voice she’d heard growing up, parceling equal measures of encouragement, support, praise, and even discipline. No, this wasn’t the voice of her father or even the female office manager who’d long treated her with the care of a mother. “Uh, hello? Is anyone there?” The voice washed over her again, gently hinting at humor, adventure, and determination, the tones smooth like river rocks warmed in the sun. It belonged to a young man, and a hot one, from the sounds of it. “Uh . . . this is Avery . . . Baumann.” Avery almost didn’t include her last name, but realized she shouldn’t expect anyone to know who she was. Just because she was the owner’s daughter didn’t mean all his employees knew her. With two thousand miles between her home and college, she’d rarely found the time to travel back to the office she’d practically grown up in. Though the shop and its crew remained static in her mind, fixed like a still photograph, she knew they had changed in the intervening years. The once-shiny trucks had been scratched and dented, the logo had been improved and emblazoned on their sides with crisp vinyl lettering, and individual members of the crew had turned over multiple times, but the commitment to excellence and community spirit had never wavered. “Is my father at the shop right now? I wasn’t able to catch him on his cell.” Avery’s mind started to drift back to what had preoccupied her before the call. Making sure she’d gathered the last of the necessities for her upcoming trip, she zipped her suitcase closed. This was the first trip home she’d taken in years, and it was going to be a long one—a full ten days—but with the break between graduating with her MBA and starting her first job, she finally had the time. “Avery! Of course.” The speaker seemed to recognize her name and dropped the business formality in favor of familiarity. “Nope. He’s out of the office. Things have been a little crazy here this morning. We had a bit of an emergency.” “Oh, no!” She felt her heart race. “Is he all right? Did someone get hurt?” That was always the first worry. With a construction company, it was, unfortunately, always a real possibility. “Sorry, no. I didn’t mean to give you that impression. No one’s hurt. I just, well . . .” His reassurances, spoken in his calming voice, reminded her of an audiobook narrator or broadcast journalist, despite his stumbling over his words. “No problem, um—I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name . . .” She trailed off for him to fill in the blank. Later when she talked to her dad, she wanted to refer to him by name. Maybe she could discover a little more about him—like, if he was single. “Keenan Perry,” he said. Something about how he said it implied that he anticipated a reaction, but she wasn’t sure what it should be. Just like the voice, the name sounded familiar, but no face came to mind. The bell to her apartment buzzed, and she opened the door to accept Hayden Moore into her living room. It reminded her she had no business wondering if some random guy on the phone was single—even if that voice brought back the shadow of a memory, a good feeling she couldn’t quite place. Her reaction to the voice highlighted her waning interest in the relationship with Hayden. While she hadn’t given up on them completely, she was starting to sense they weren’t as compatible as she once thought. Since she was already locked into taking him home for Christmas, it was worth one more shot. But sometimes, she felt like the life she’d so carefully crafted over the past few years wasn’t quite what
she wanted anymore. Once in a while, she caught a glimpse of what it could be, different in some rather big ways, and wanted to find that life. She just didn’t know how to find it. How do you discover what you truly want rather than what you thought you were supposed to want? “Keenan, do you mind giving my dad the message that I called? I wanted to iron out last-minute travel details, and we’ll be leaving for the airport pretty soon.” “Sure thing.” With a voice like that, he probably had a face for radio, she assured herself, looking instead at Hayden, whose light brown hair, caramel-colored eyes, and exquisite sense of fashion made him look like the perfect J. Crew model. She shook her head, giving up on the idea of placing this Keenan Perry. She had too many other things to worry about just now. Like how Hayden was unzipping her suitcase, sifting through it as if searching for something in particular. Tempering her annoyance as much as she could, she lightly closed the lid of the suitcase over his hands and held up a “wait a minute” finger in the air. She thanked Keenan, hung up, and turned her attention back to Hayden. “Hey, you know I already packed that, right?” She forced a laugh to pretend she wasn’t miffed by the invasion of her privacy. “I’m all set.” “Do you have your swimsuit?” He made to rummage through the contents again, but Avery moved the suitcase away from him and angled it toward her. “And that blue silk shirt? It would look great with your white skirt.” She had no idea which blue shirt he was referring to, but she hadn’t even brought the white skirt, so it didn’t matter. Just the fact that he was still trying to dress her as if she were his paper doll made her glad she’d forgotten that particular outfit. “You’ll have to wait and see.” She tried to sound teasing, but it came out rather flat, and she shrugged it off. Despite the fact that she didn’t foresee a need for one because of the expected temperatures, she’d actually purchased a new tankini specifically for this trip. Try finding a new bathing suit in Burlington, Vermont, in the middle of December. But the energy and time spent was worth the effort. She just hoped he thought so too when he saw it. She zipped the suitcase closed again and set it on the floor. “Are you seriously wearing flip-flops in a snowstorm in December?” Hayden was dressed impeccably in what could only be considered yuppie New England winter style, including fashionable boots that Avery could see no use for where they were headed. “Most certainly am. It feels like home.” Absently grabbing her keys and phone from the table, she dropped them into her purse, regretting it as soon as she did. She’d have to fish them out again to lock the door behind them. “I’m ready.” “Okay, then,” Hayden said. “Let’s go to the beach!”
* * *
The softly falling snow hindered airport traffic, but according to the app Hayden installed on her phone, their flight from Burlington to Corpus Christi, Texas, was still on schedule. They were nearing the security gate when her father’s ringtone jingled from her purse. “Hey, Dad!” she said when she’d finally located the phone between crumpled receipts and scattered ibuprofen capsules, escapees from the miniature bottle she carried around. She really should have cleaned out her bag before she left the house, but she hadn’t had the time. “I’m so glad Keenan got through to you. I wanted to make sure you got my itinerary, but then I guess Coralee probably printed it out for you when I emailed it.” “Yep, she was all over that,” he said, but she could hear the “but” coming. There was something he wanted to say, though she beat him to it.
“Keenan said there was some sort of excitement at Beyond Repair today.” She put it out there, hoping it would be something simple like a windfall of new clients or a hiccup with a supplier. “Yeah. About that.” August sighed heavily. “You might as well not even come. I doubt I’ll have any time to spend with you.” He paused a beat. “Coralee’s house burned down last night. She’s devastated.” “Of course she is,” Avery sympathized, thinking about the time Hurricane Bret hit when she was nine, first making them evacuate, and then leaving them stranded while they cleaned up their flooded ranch-style house. “Does that mean you’re helping rebuild, then?” “I talked to Habitat for Humanity. Since Coralee probably wouldn’t qualify and the acceptance program is rather lengthy, it won’t be one of their official projects, but they said as long as we’re willing to do the brunt of the work and find our own corporate sponsors to donate the materials, they’d help us with some of their seasoned volunteers. Coralee’s volunteered on and off for years, so they want to help out. And you know how much she’s done for our family. She’s been with the company since your mom and I started it thirty years ago, so it’s the least I can do. The plan is to get her back into a house by Christmas.” “You want to build her an entire house in just over a week?” Avery’s surprise seemed to catch Hayden’s attention at last because for the first time during the conversation, he was looking at her. “That’s ambitious. I can see why you might not have much down time, but I want to come. Hayden and I can help.” That earned her a scowl from Hayden. She smiled sweetly at him, hoping to soften his furrowed brow into the handsome man who had attracted her in the first place. “It wouldn’t be Christmas without you, and besides, we’re already at the airport. Will you be able to pick us up, or will we need to catch a cab?” “Don’t take a cab,” August said, always the frugal one. “I’m overseeing demo right now and up to my elbows in ash and mud, but Keenan offered to pick you two up. I assume Hayden is still coming?” “Of course.” August had been a fairly accepting father, making his assessments of her boyfriends in person, and typically willing to accept anyone who made her happy. She looked forward to seeing Hayden thrown into her family dynamic, and figured it was the next step in helping her decide if he was what she was really looking for. The stink eye she was getting from Hayden hinted at mutiny, and she wondered if he would pull out of the trip. “Hey, Dad, we’re at security. I gotta go. I’ll see you soon. Give Coralee a hug for me and tell her how sorry I am. We’ll make this right. Love you.” She hung up before either of the men could protest. Christmas might not be the same with her mother gone, but without her dad, it wouldn’t be Christmas at all. “What’s going on?” Hayden demanded as she tucked the phone into the plastic bin alongside her purse on the conveyor belt. “Did I just hear you volunteer me to do something that’s not on the itinerary? Something more than holding your place on the beach next to me?” She knew he was only partially joking. “My dad’s office manager, Coralee?” She waited for him to nod his understanding. “Her house burned down, and they’re trying to be rebuild in time for her to be in her new one for Christmas.” “Seriously.” Hayden gave her a look like she must be crazy to consider it. “Is that even possible?” “It’ll be tough, but a small house with lots of seasoned workers? It’s doable.” “Are you sure it’s not a ploy to get you to work for him again? It’s fine for a diversion before you start your real job, but he may think this taste of construction will lure you back. And you don’t want to go there. If you end up working for him, you’ll be under his thumb for the rest of your life.” “That’s so not true.” Avery laughed. “I loved working with him. I know it isn’t what we planned, but I really want to help. And if I want to see my dad at all while we’re in Texas, that’s where he’s going to be.” Avery didn’t want to railroad Hayden into doing something he didn’t want to do, but perhaps he could be guided. Softened up a little. She linked her hand through his elbow. “There will still be time for us as well. What do you say—are you up for an adventure?”
“This is our vacation, Avery. We’ve been planning this for months, and there was never anything in the plans that had to do with hammers or getting dirty.” The two of them had been putting up with bitter-cold temperatures and overwhelming stress—her in completing semester-long projects and cramming for her last final exams ever, and him with deadlines and travelling to the country’s biggest cities to teach in-services. But even when he was tired and jetlagged, he’d helped her any way he could, always plying her with the encouragement she needed to go on. And this vacation was supposed to be their break. “What—are you afraid of a little construction dust?” she teased. “No.” He placed a hand at the small of her back, overly patronizing in a playful voice. “I’m concerned about you. You need this time to relax, and this trip sounds anything but restful.” If only she believed that he was worried about her welfare instead of his own. Now that they were through security, the halls were even more congested than before, if that was possible. With the pre-Christmas traffic, it shouldn’t have been a surprise, but Avery had been expecting their airport to be a destination for skiers rather than the springboard for travelers off for other places. “This is our getaway before you start the daily grind as an underling. You’ll have very few personal days in your future, don’t you forget.” He wasn’t going to let it go. At least not yet. “This job is the perfect career builder for you, but you don’t want to squander your last days of freedom hammering away on some house while you could be working on your tan—” She almost laughed out loud at the thought about her translucent, glow-in-the-dark complexion certainly not tanning “—and spending time with the one who sends your heart thumping.” “Would that be you?” she teased, though she wanted to say something about flexibility or the Christmas spirit or just being a nice person. “It might be fun to work construction before I start that stuffy office job. Help me appreciate what I have even more.” “Stuffy office job?” he repeated. “I can’t believe you had difficulty deciding between working for your father and working at Turner & Sullivan. I thought it wasn’t even a question.” “Well . . .” Avery wanted to tell him, but hesitated, aware that Hayden was more gung ho about her budding career at the firm than she ever had been. Her initial excitement had dissipated a little every day since she’d accepted it, and right now, it simply didn’t feel quite right either way. “I’m thinking of expanding my job search. I just can’t see myself working there in a year, let alone five or ten.” They took a minute to check the gate on the monitor and headed toward the correct wing. “Isn’t this job what you always wanted? What you worked toward?” Hayden said it more as a reminder, statements rather than actual questions. He thought he knew the answers. No, it’s what you wanted. Avery’s answer sat coiled on her tongue, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Especially while she was still so unsure. “I want to do something I’m passionate about, and I can safely say human resources is not it. Not at a huge company like Turner & Sullivan.” It was hard not to grimace with sarcasm as she said it. Not a good sign. “So you’re back to considering your father’s proposal?” Hayden started walking faster, winding his way around people, frustrated if there was anyone strolling leisurely. “Yes, I am actually.” Avery tried to slow him down to her own pace, but all that did was earn her a disgusted look before he quickened his step again. “So instead of having a stable job at a prestigious company, you’d rather be scrutinized by your father for the rest of your life?” She could tell he was ticked off, but it didn’t keep her from answering truthfully. “No. Just the rest of his.” “Funny.” Hayden was most definitely not amused. “It wasn’t meant to be.” Avery almost started panting trying to keep up. “My parents put their all into their business, and it provided me with a rather happy childhood.”
“Even when he lost everything, and you almost had to forfeit opportunities for higher education?” “Oh, you’re not being dramatic at all, are you?” Avery tried to check her rising anger. “We got through it, and his company is stronger than ever now.” “I just don’t want to see you give up something good because you’re feeling nostalgic.” As he spoke, Hayden steered her around a line of chairs bolted to the floor. This sudden movement of trying to duck through an open space without warning caused her to catch her foot on one of the chairs, a red-hot flare going off in her foot before she could feel the ooze of blood slicking her flip-flop. “Ow!” Avery tried not to be too loud and bit down on her knuckle to ward off the pain. She looked down to see the nail of her big toe skewed and hanging off to the side. Shaky, she dropped into the empty seat, working on steadying her breathing. It was only a toenail, for heaven’s sake, but even knowing that didn’t keep her from becoming lightheaded. “Are you okay?” Gently, Hayden knelt in front of her, careful not to touch her foot. “Dizzy.” Talking made her feel like she was going to throw up, so she closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing slower and reminding herself she was okay. “Come on, Avery. It’s just a little blood.” He placed a hand on her knee and then grabbed her hand, allowing her to squeeze, but she had the distinct feeling he was forcing patience he didn’t feel right now. Pushing the feeling aside, she pictured waves on a beach and the slowly stretching branches of a palm tree until the squeamish feeling passed. When she opened her eyes, she could look down with no problem. The toe throbbed, but the irrational panic had passed. Avery stood, embarrassed now at her reaction, but she hobbled along as if nothing had happened but a stubbed toe. “Graceful,” Hayden said with sarcasm, perhaps thinking she was ready to laugh it off. She wasn’t, so she changed the subject. “I need this chance, Hayden, to prove to myself that I want that job and our life in Vermont. I have to show my father that I’m happy with my choices so he can feel secure, and maybe even a little bit proud of me. And I have to help Coralee. She’s so dear to me, I just can’t not help her.” “And what about me? Aren’t I important to you?” He said this as he wove around and between people, forcing her to keep up. “Of course you’re important to me. I want us to spend time together. Will you help on the house with me?” Hayden grumbled a little under his breath, but reached for her hand. “Of course I’ll help. I’m sorry I’ve been making this difficult on you, honey.”
Chapter Two
Ever since Avery called the office and pulled Keenan out of his creative frenzy, he’d had a hard time getting back into the zone. He’d known she was coming, of course. August talked of nothing else. But Keenan had forgotten Avery’s soft Texas accent, at first as slight as a whisper, that deepened the longer they stayed on the phone together. She probably wasn’t even aware that when she’d initiated the conversation, she had a very bland, clipped way of speaking, no doubt picked up in her years up north, but as the minutes progressed, her cadence slowed and she relaxed into the Southern drawl she’d grown up with. Hers had never been as thick as some in the area, sweet and sticky like fresh honey, but rather just a taste. He could listen to her all day. The only problem was, he wasn’t sure Avery even remembered him. She didn’t seem to when he mentioned his name. She hadn’t asked how he was or what he’d done with his life in the intervening years. She hadn’t seemed curious about why he was answering the phone at her father’s business again. In fact, she’d been completely unimpressed in every way. That was a problem. Especially if she was still holding a grudge. A bigger problem was that she was traveling with a boyfriend. August seemed to think he was pretty all right, despite the fact that he was from a long-established family of fortune in New England, which might as well be a totally different planet. With that kind of competition, Avery never would be impressed with Keenan or what he’d accomplished. He glanced at his phone and returned it to his pocket. Time to go. Rolling up the blueprint he’d been working on, he stowed it out of the way. At least he’d been mostly done when Avery called, because he couldn’t stop thinking about her, effectively halting progress. He grabbed the keys to the company-owned truck and squeezed the short drive into just a few minutes. He was interested to see what six years had done for Avery since he’d last seen her, but he reminded himself that she’d been quite the tomboy. Maybe she wouldn’t be attractive, and he could quit worrying about girl problems and get on with his plans. The house plans. Their flight must have been ahead of schedule because Keenan knew he wasn’t that late when he left the office. His eyes swept across the dashboard clock when he pulled curbside in front of Avery and the stiff who had to be her boyfriend. The guy was staring him down with a frown. Okay, maybe he was later than he was supposed to be. Whatever. Keenan’s eyes pulled back to Avery, and he watched as she leaned down to grab the handle of her bag. He would have known her anywhere. She’d grown more beautiful. Her rough edges had been polished off in the cosmopolitan East Coast, and he had to admit he preferred her tailored clothes over the baggy T-shirts she’d once lived in. But she’d always been easy on the eyes. Easy enough that he had frequently found himself sneaking another look, and that hadn’t changed one bit. His eyes swept over her fitted white button-up shirt and tan blazer. She’d paired them with a teal necklace and dressy jeans, and were those flip-flops? Black and classy with matching turquoise that looked good with the outfit, but even to a guy who usually didn’t pay attention to fashion, they were a little unexpected. But when he saw her toe wrapped like a golf ball, he understood her strange choice in footwear. Her blonde hair was long and fell over her shoulder as she dipped down, but it swung back when she righted herself and glanced his way, her face stony. That brought him back to reality. She might be drop-dead gorgeous, but her stare reminded him that she probably did indeed wish him to drop dead. So she hadn’t forgotten about high school. Couldn’t she just let it go? Determined to kill her with kindness, he slammed the truck into park and let the engine idle while he jumped out of the cab, jogging to the passenger side to grab her suitcase for her. If he acted as if nothing had happened, perhaps she’d quit holding the grudge—especially since it was quickly approaching the
decade mark. “Sorry I’m late. I didn’t realize you’d be in on time.” Strike one to be late, strike two reminding them of it. With her suitcase handle in his left hand, he extended his right to the man standing next to Avery. “I’m Keenan, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed. You must be Hayden?” It shouldn’t have been a question, since August had mentioned the name. Several times. But he took the opportunity to size Hayden up. He wasn’t as tall as Keenan by a couple of inches, and he was trim with a runner’s physique, as opposed to the defined arms and chest that occasional construction projects helped Keenan maintain. Hayden sported dark-framed hipster glasses and expensive clothes, along with a full head of brown hair. Begrudgingly, Keenan guessed that some women probably found Hayden attractive, as Avery obviously did. He turned from Hayden and hefted Avery’s suitcase and carry-on into the bed of the pickup, and then reached for the one Hayden was struggling to maneuver. While his back was turned, Avery slid onto the pickup’s bench seat. “Where to, kids?” Might as well try to lighten things up. It had probably been a long day for them so far. “House, office, or the building site? August’s at Coralee’s, if that makes a difference.” “August’s house will be fine,” Hayden decided for them as he climbed into the cab, forcing Avery to scoot up right next to Keenan. Glancing at Avery for her approval, Keenan pointed the truck toward August’s. “No problem. He left keys to his car for you too, if you remember how to get to Coralee’s.” She nodded stiffly, never taking her eyes off the road ahead of them, never making a sound. Enduring the cold silence, Keenan pulled into the driveway, noticing that August’s Christmas lights drooped from the eaves a little off balance. Keenan had driven as quickly as he could without risking a traffic stop, and had never been so happy to live in such a small town or so pleased to drop off a pretty girl so fast.
Chapter Three
Using the key on her ring, Avery opened the front door and walked in. Nostalgic scents hit her first— sandalwood potpourri, laundry detergent, and her father’s favorite food, broccoli—reminding her she was home. The sun slipped through the curtains, spilling to the floor where Tarzan, the large ginger cat, hoarded as much warm real estate as he could. “Hey, Tarzan,” she cooed, setting her bags down and dropping to the floor next to him. He looked up at the mention of his name, or the tone of her voice, she wasn’t sure which, but then he decided this was the perfect time for grooming. She gave him a scratch in the hollow below his ear, continuing until she got the satisfied reaction she was looking for, then she got up again. “Want a tour?” she asked Hayden, who was looking at a grouping of photos on the sideboard, most of which involved either power tools or a fishing rod. He turned to her as if startled back into reality, and she could tell he was having trouble connecting her to the girl in the pictures. “Let’s start with the bedrooms. The guest room is at the back of the house, so we’ll start there. When we come closer to the front, I’ll grab my stuff.” Though it had only been the three of them when they bought the house, Deirdra, Avery’s mother, had insisted on a four-bedroom house so there would be room for a guest. Being near a beach made for frequent family visitors, which Deirdra relished, and she made sure the guest room was comfortably outfitted with its own private bath and sitting area. After Deirdra’s passing, the house had felt huge and silent—wasteful, even—and Avery wondered how August felt all alone now. Enjoying her role as host, Avery showed Hayden the rest of the house, and made sure he had everything he needed to be comfortable. “Ready to change and head to Coralee’s? We could get in a few good hours before bedtime.” “Would you mind too much if I hung out here, maybe went to bed early? I’ve had a headache all day, and with this time change and getting up at dawn thirty, I’m exhausted.” Avery took note of the lazy, half-lidded eyes that peered back at her, a pinch of regret and a handful of guilt shading her excitement to get to work. “Want me to stay? We could curl up on the couch and watch a movie.” Hayden stretched and yawned. “No, you go ahead. Go see your dad, help them out. I wouldn’t be any fun anyway.”
* * *
Raking the last of the debris around her into a pile, Avery stopped to mop her forehead, hoping she wasn’t leaving a streak of ash on her skin. The reunion with her father had been tender, but brief—a huge bear hug and an approving half smile before he directed her to an unclaimed section of the house—and since then, Avery had been in her own little world. Who would have thought a burned-down house could be cleared in one day, but the community had rallied behind Coralee. The fire had burned quickly and had been extinguished even more rapidly, so there weren’t any hot spots. After Coralee and the only other resident, her ten-year-old grandson, Nolan, had salvaged what they could, which wasn’t much, Beyond Repair brought in a front loader to knock down everything else that remained. What the machine couldn’t scoop up was taken care of by volunteers, and as twilight threatened, the concrete slab was left rather clean. Avery felt eyes on her and found Keenan staring, his dark curls shining in the last of the sunset. She gave a small wave and turned back to her work, training herself not to look. On the flight, somewhere over Missouri, the name “Keenan” had snapped firmly into place. The guy in her government class who had kept trying to strike up a study group with her and his creepy best friend, Jared. For weeks, Keenan
had been a goathead in her sock, and then all of a sudden, he wouldn’t even look her in the eye. Yet she kept finding him at Beyond Repair after school, first with odd jobs like sweeping and unloading materials when shipments came until he started to take her place at her father’s side on repair or building projects. She never understood why her father went from leaning on her to training this guy who showed up randomly, and truth be told, she rather resented it. Wasn’t she doing a good job? What incensed her now, though, was that he was still there, six years and a half years after they’d graduated high school. The project manager, from the looks of how he directed the volunteers and how August went to him first with every issue. Avery shook her head, feeling the stale jealousy resurface. Her father had offered her his company so he could retire and she had turned it down, saying it wasn’t the right time for her when what she meant was it wasn’t the right job for her. Maybe since she’d turned him down, he’d taken his offer to Keenan. And if he had, she would never forgive the usurper. Even if he had turned out gorgeous. The years of hauling construction materials had helped his arms and chest fill out rather nicely, and he looked happy, which was the biggest attraction by far, especially if she was comparing him to Hayden, which she was not. She carried the rake to the back of her father’s truck and grabbed a broom instead so she could take her frustrations out in manual labor. It shouldn’t matter. If she didn’t want Beyond Repair, August had to turn it over to someone. Of course it would be Keenan.
Chapter Four
“Come on, Hayden.” Avery tugged his hand as she stepped onto the foundation and looked around with an expression of eagerness. “Give it a chance. It’ll be fun. Something new for you, and something you can write about.” Hayden scowled at her, and Keenan wanted to laugh. Had Avery just implied that Hayden didn’t know how to have fun? That amused Keenan significantly, even though Avery realized her mistake and quickly fixed it. “You know what I mean. Building and construction are new experiences for you, not the having fun part.” She quirked a half smile at the guy at her side. “Oops! I forgot to take off my charm bracelet.” She unhooked the delicate silver chain with its swinging trinkets and slipped it into the pocket of her nicely fitting jeans—the kind that had obviously been worn frequently, but looked all the better for it. Crews from Habitat for Humanity and Beyond Repair had worked quickly to clear the fire debris the day before and at least the work area was clean, even if there was a stinky pile at the edge of the property. That would be one crew’s responsibility. Inspectors had decided there was nothing wrong with the foundation, so the house plans had been drawn to accommodate the existing footprint, though liberties had been taken to switch things up slightly—adding a few upgrades and a surprise or two for Beyond Repair’s office manager. “Okay, boss.” Avery stood with her hand on her hip in front of Keenan, Hayden obediently at her side. “Put us to work.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, a hint of humor to her tone. “You might want to keep us together, though, because I’m afraid I’ll have to start with the ‘this is a hammer and this is a screwdriver’ lesson for him.” She elbowed Hayden playfully, and the guy didn’t even crack a smile. What did she see in him? Wishing he could be the one to receive construction lessons from Avery, Keenan assigned them to Nolan’s room, where the framing crew had already worked out the exterior wall and Jerry was measuring for the next phase. “Jerry’s a few people shy of a crew. He’s good, but not so good that he couldn’t use the extra muscle.” Though Keenan was less than confident that Hayden would be much help in that department. Who showed up at a construction site in expensive leather shoes, burgundy jeans, and a button-down shirt? Keenan liked to look nice too, but it didn’t make sense at a construction site. “Hipsters,” he muttered under his breath. It surprised him to see Avery with someone like that, but then again, he hadn’t known her taste in guys in high school, let alone this much later. Of course she’d be with someone like Hayden—rich, successful, handsome. What woman wouldn’t prefer him over someone in ripped and faded jeans and a Tshirt splattered in paint? “Jerry will give y’all something to do.” Keenan left to make his rounds. Volunteers continued to trickle in and Keenan put them to work, splitting up seasoned Beyond Repair workers and assigning them a crew of amateurs. He’d been project manager plenty of times in grad school, but never one with this many volunteers. Skeptical of the quality he could expect, Keenan had voiced his concern to August, but August had assured him the community could help. “It’ll be fine—you’ll see. Everyone loves Coralee. We’ve got people everywhere from Nolan’s school and Little League to volunteers from her church and Meals on Wheels. She helps out so much, they want to return the favor. Just find easy jobs for the volunteers, and the experienced ones will fill the gaps,” August had told him. “Everyone’s in the Christmas spirit, and they want to make this happen on time. Our crew can do this.” It would be nothing short of a Christmas miracle, but with Keenan’s admiration for August, he took him at his word. He and August split the crews between them, August focusing mainly on the certified
services like electrical and plumbing. August also took on the task of procuring city permits and dealing with inspectors, schmoozing where necessary, his long-term relationship and reputation for honest hard work greasing potential roadblocks and speeding up the process. This left Keenan with the structure, the hands-on building, the part he loved. By the time he made it back to Nolan’s room, Keenan found the four hard at work, yet falling behind compared to the other groups. Avery had a nail gun in hand, demonstrating to Hayden how to hold it. “Just make sure it’s aimed exactly where you want the nail to go—generally ninety degrees, right?” “Okay,” Hayden said, but he looked like he was touching a snake, afraid it would bite him at any second. Keenan held back, watching. Just as he saw the muscle contracting in Hayden’s trigger finger, the air compressor kicked on to rebuild pressure. Hayden jumped, but was able to keep the nail gun pointing at the wood. The nail only went off track slightly, angling out of the two-by-four. Could have been worse. Much worse. The compressor must be losing air for it to kick on before being shot. The startled look on Hayden’s face caused Nolan to laugh out loud, but Avery tried to cover her amusement by twisting her lips sideways, only allowing the laughter to brighten her eyes. “Guess I should have warned you about the compressor.” She didn’t sound sorry, and Keenan had to wonder if she had actually done it on purpose. He wouldn’t put it past her. “Good job, though.” “That wasn’t funny,” Hayden complained. “I could have hurt someone! It could have thrown off my aim if I hadn’t already shot the gun.” “Which was why I was still holding it.” Avery handed it over to him. “I think you’re ready to go on your own. Okay?” Hayden shook his head and refused to take the tool. “Certainly not. I don’t have a permit for that thing.” “It’s Texas. Everyone has a gun. It’s the thing to do.” Avery’s laugh was like bubbles rising to the surface, popping lightly, filling the room with happiness. “Know what I’m thinking?” Hayden didn’t wait for a reply. “I’m thinking it’s time for us to head out and have some fun. They’d be better off without us anyway—I almost shot someone.” “You didn’t almost shoot anyone,” Avery soothed. “Can I use the nail gun?” Nolan jumped forward, extending his hands to take a turn, both wrapped in white bandages that didn’t seem to slow him down. The boy had a smattering of freckles on light skin, touched pink with sun, his dark bangs hanging over his forehead and almost to his eyes. Knowing Avery was a softie, Keenan worried she might succumb to the boy’s pleadings. “If I can’t do it, I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t either,” Hayden said. “You’re sure to hurt somebody.” Avery shot a scathing look Hayden’s direction before turning back to Nolan. “I’ll help you. I think I was about your age when my dad started to teach me.” Nolan’s smile was unmistakable. “You have to promise me you’ll never do it on your own. Not until Mr. August says it’s okay.” Nolan nodded solemnly that he understood, and she went to work showing him how to place his hands around the thick handle, his hands tiny even with the bandages. “Don’t put your finger on the trigger until I tell you.” Keenan’s attention turned back to Jerry and Hayden. He hadn’t heard what Jerry had asked Hayden to do, but the latter pulled a phone from his starched pants pocket to silence an alarm. “Now it really is time for us to go.” Hayden turned to Avery. “Ready, dear? I figured we would grab some lunch on the beach, relax a little, and I could get some writing done.” Avery scrunched up her nose in an adorable way. “Actually, Hayden, I didn’t realize we had plans, so I scheduled a meet with a potential corporate sponsor—the real estate company I interned with last summer in Boston, you remember? The VP is only in town today. I’m supposed to meet him in an hour. I can’t miss this—it could be a real help to costs here.”
“Could you send someone else?” Hayden asked. He looked Keenan’s direction, and Keenan knew he was about to be volunteered. “He could do it. It doesn’t have to be you specifically, does it?” She still looked like she was sorry she couldn’t get out of it, but for some reason, Keenan felt there was more to the situation. Like relief. “It really should be me. I’m the one he knows. You could come with me, if you want. We could grab lunch first and then head over.” “Are you going to go dressed like that?” Keenan watched as Avery’s face flushed with apparent embarrassment, and he wanted to jump to her defense. She looked perfect as she was—slightly faded jeans, a fitted T-shirt that was neither tight nor loose, hair swept up in a graceful ponytail that swished when she walked. Her makeup was minimal, enough to accentuate her natural beauty, her eyes bright and her lips tinged the slightest red. But Hayden probably had a point too—a business meeting probably required more than a contractor-casual uniform, no matter how well she wore it. Still, if he had to guess, it had been Hayden’s manner, his insinuation that she needed to fix herself up when Avery changed her mind. “You’re probably right.” Avery’s tone was sweet and patient, capitulating to Hayden. “We probably don’t have time to do it together. Why don’t you head off to the beach and get some work done, and I’ll meet with the potential investor. Then we can have dinner later. Sound good?” Hayden’s fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. Avery, though, didn’t seem to notice. She had returned to concentrating on Nolan with the nail gun, guiding the gun toward the stud that would be part of the doorframe. “I guess that can work, Avery dear.” Again with the dear. What was it with this guy? Was he, like, sixty or something? “I’ll meet you for—” Avery allowed Nolan to pull the trigger, and a nail popped. With it, the overpowering blare of the air compressor’s engine engaged again, drowning out the rest of what Hayden was saying, but his intent was obvious. Avery took the opportunity to look away from the work while keeping control of the nail gun, waving with her other hand and smiling too brightly. “Dinner. Bye!” she mouthed over the noise, and without awaiting his reaction, she focused on Nolan again. Once Hayden was out of the way, Avery seemed to relax into being on the job site, like she’d been holding back a part of herself and she no longer had a reason to. Whenever Jerry asked her to do something, she didn’t have to ask questions, nor did she walk around lost, trying to figure out what to do. Keenan hadn’t noticed a task yet that she didn’t know how to carry out, which made him wonder why she had seemed so stiff and perhaps a little chilly when she’d arrived. She didn’t even seem to want to talk about herself when he tried to coax her into conversation. So she didn’t remember him, and that suited him just fine. He was walking to his truck to grab his clipboard when another Beyond Repair truck pulled in next to his. August stepped out with the ease of a thirty-year-old, though he had to be nearly twice that, with most of those years working hard, manual labor. “The plumbing inspector come yet?” August asked by way of greeting. “Well, good afternoon to you too,” Keenan joked. “Don’t give me that. We’ve already talked a couple of times today.” August bent over the side of his pickup to unhook his toolbox and hefted it up, resting it on the sidewall and balancing it with his hand still on top. “Phone doesn’t count. This is the first time you’ve seen my beautiful mug today,” Keenan teased the man who’d been closer to him than his own deadbeat dad had ever been. “Speaking of pretty faces, how’s that girl of mine doing?” Keenan choked on a breath in his throat, but covered it with a cough. “She seems to remember her stuff like she was working here yesterday. It’s that guy she’s with that I wouldn’t trust with a rubber
mallet.” August laughed. “You didn’t say anything like that to her, did you?” “Of course not.” Keenan feigned offense. “Though I didn’t need to. I think she figured that one out all on her own. But I haven’t really had much of a chance to talk to her anyway. I get the feeling she doesn’t remember me.” “Ever think maybe that’s not such a bad thing?” August asked. Right away, Keenan’s insides squirmed with guilt and shame, and if he didn’t know August as well as he did, he never would have brought it up. “You’ve come a long way, you know. You’re not the same person she knew back then.” He paused and lifted his chin to the sea breeze that brushed past. “Tell you the truth, Avery’s not the same person she was then, either.” Keenan nodded. “I’m getting that feeling. But even though she’s changed the way she dresses and gotten a little more, shall we say, sophisticated, I would have recognized her anywhere. Beautiful as ever.” He hadn’t meant that to come out and cleared his throat. “But yes, she seems . . . different. An East Coast girl now with a classy boyfriend and a corporate job. Not that it matters much for me. If she’s still holding a grudge, I can’t blame her for not giving me a second glace. I mean, I messed up for sure.” “Son, you’ve paid your price in full and then some.” August tugged on the toolbox and held it easily at his side. “I thought you’d let it go a long time ago—I know I did.” Keenan sighed. “I thought I had too, but seeing Avery again makes me wonder if I ever really made it up to her.” August seemed pensive. “I suppose I can see how you might feel that need. But it’s ancient history, and she was pretty young. I’m not sure it affected her all that much. No offense.” “None taken. In fact, I’d be completely satisfied if it wasn’t on her mind at all.” Keenan shut the cab door on his truck, turning as if closing the conversation as well. “I’ve got to check on that group from Coralee’s church. They’ve got some pretty eager Boy Scouts who may or may not have adequate supervision.” “Oh, yeah? Where’d you stick them?” “The garage. Where any mistakes or damage might not be as noticeable.”
Chapter Five
Avery’s eyes followed Hayden as he stepped carefully through the open beams of Nolan’s room. The yard was packed mud and ash, littered now with new construction debris, and she admired the way he stooped to pick up as much trash as he could carry, depositing it in the dumpster several yards away before heading to the car. It was thoughtful, unselfish acts like these that reminded her that he had a good heart somewhere in that ambitious chest of his. He just needed to remember to let it out more often. When they first started dating, Avery had been impressed with his ability to talk to important people, finding ways to be seen and heard where others weren’t able to. She knew he’d be successful at whatever he decided was worth his effort. Yet sometime over the months, she’d started to suspect that she herself wasn’t being seen or heard anymore. At least, not as a person. It was as if he’d taken over their relationship, and his goals had somehow become their goals, and hers were lost in the shuffle. He expected her to change and adapt. She felt like she was his fixer-upper project, but she wasn’t the blank canvas he’d thought she was. She was tired of being molded into someone she wasn’t. She’d been naïve enough to think that relationships were what you made them, but now it seemed that to get the final result you wanted, you had to start with the right materials. Not that Hayden was bad and neither was she—their ideals and plans for the future just didn’t mesh. It was like he was trying to build a mansion and she, a beach house. One way or the other, one of them was going to be disappointed. Perhaps wondering if his exit had any effect on her, Hayden glanced her way and caught her watching when he reached August’s car. She waved and smiled to let him know she wasn’t upset he was leaving, but she had also been confident in her decision to keep the meeting, and work on the house in the interim. Even early into the evening, she didn’t regret the labor on the house, though her body was tired and sore from lifting and pounding, and her mind bruised from math involving sixteenths and angles. It had been a long time since geometry. The meeting with the VP she’d had that afternoon had been much easier compared to the construction math. She’d easily slipped into presentation mode and come away with a sizable donation/tax write-off to add to the kitty for Coralee’s house. But that had been hours ago, and every other minute had been spent on the job site. Her muscles screamed for relief and her stomach for food. “Ready to knock off?” asked the butterscotch voice she was beginning to crave from that first phone call. Avery looked up to see Keenan searching her face for an answer. For a second as their eyes locked, she couldn’t form a response. “Is everyone wrapping up, or are you trying to get rid of me?” “Now, why would I be trying to get rid of free slave labor?” Keenan’s eyebrows raised, along with the corners of his mouth. “We’re all calling off for a dinner break. Some might work through until dark, but I seem to remember something about you having a commitment,” Keenan said. Avery had been warming to Keenan, but being reminded of Hayden dampened that pretty quickly. “Right.” Keenan wasn’t interested in her. “Do you need a ride to the beach? I notice that your hunk of love hasn’t come back to pick you up, and Nolan and I were heading out to snag a snow cone and then down to the beach to run around a bit. Want a ride?” He walked toward her and stopped a little closer than she expected. “Don’t call him my ‘hunk of love,’ and are you really having snow cones for dinner?” “Jealous?” he asked, and she wanted to ask him the same thing. She knew Keenan was teasing her, but now that he was standing next to her, smelling of lumber and sporting a sprinkling of sawdust over his cheeks, Avery couldn’t even remember what they were talking about, let alone if she should be angry with him for accusing her of being jealous—of what?
“Well, if he isn’t your hunk of love, why are you with him? And yes, we are having snow cones for dinner. Want one?” For the first time in their conversation, Avery felt Keenan was being serious. His dark chocolate eyes were soft, and she was tempted to get lost in them until she remembered his intention, which was to drive her to her date. With another man. Her boyfriend. She looked away from Keenan and stepped back, brushing her hands down her sides and tugging at the front of her shirt, knocking off most of the stray wood dust. “I’d love a ride, except that I should catch a ride to my dad’s house rather than the beach. I should probably clean up.” She started walking toward Keenan’s truck. His smile crashed. “That could be arranged, though not necessary. You look fine.” “Maybe I wasn’t going for fine,” she said, hoping to tease his lighthearted side back out again. “Forgive me,” he said, taking the bait. “Please know that my feelings upon the subject are more than I have let on,” he intoned in a stuffy, Jane Austen-esque accent. Avery felt her neck tingle with heat, but she chanced a look at him and bestowed the briefest of smiles. They reached the truck with Nolan sitting shotgun, the window rolled down. “Are you sure you won’t have backwards night with us?” Keenan gave one last stab. Though she could guess, Avery asked Nolan, “What’s backwards night?” “Dessert first,” Nolan said as proudly as if he’d won the lottery. “We eat dessert for dinner, and then later, if we get hungry again, we eat dinner at dessert time.” “How’d you convince him of that?” Avery asked. “Or more importantly, how did you convince your grandma to agree?” “Aw, Gram thinks Keenan’s the greatest. Said she’d marry him if he was older, but said I’d have to have him as a grandfather, and that’s just weird.” He pulled a face at Keenan that made her laugh. “And I didn’t talk him into it. It was his idea.” Avery rounded a questioning look on Keenan, who responded with an innocent, “It’s hot.” Her eyebrows went even higher. “For December. We’ve been working hard all day, and I need a snow cone.” Avery switched from an I-don’t-believe-it “Umm-hmm” to an understanding, “I can see your point.” “So you’ll come?” Nolan asked with puppy-dog eyes, and she couldn’t say no. “Okay, fine. You talked me into it.” She brushed at her clothes one more time, and then reached for the door handle, which Keenan stepped forward to open for her, and climbed in next to Nolan. “Skip the cleanup and head to the beach, driver. We’ve got snow cones to find!” “What about your dinner date?” Keenan asked when he got in on the other side. “It’s backwards night,” Avery explained. “I can eat dessert with you two and still have dinner with Hayden.” She stepped from the truck into the parking lot, clutching her piña colada-flavored snow cone, which was now missing a few bites. In her other hand, she held another cone for Hayden. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you two later. Better see if I still have a boyfriend.” She’d called Hayden as they left the construction site. He said he’d found a spot on the semisecluded Padre Island, one of her favorite beaches for watching the sea turtle hatchlings in the spring. It didn’t take her long to find him, now dressed in swim trunks despite the fact that it was barely over seventy degrees—a heat wave compared to Vermont. He was sitting on one of her dad’s low beach chairs that must have been in her father’s trunk, his feet far enough from the water that even the strongest swells couldn’t touch him. Most of the waves lapped gently a good eighteen inches away. There she went with the measurements again—she’d probably dream about tape measures and miter saws all night. “Hey, Hayden,” Avery said when she got close enough for him to hear her. Engrossed in his smartphone, he jumped when he heard her, but looked up, exposing an obligatory smile that looked forced. So he was still mad. She sighed inwardly, but didn’t want to let him know it
disappointed her. She felt torn between wanting to help Coralee and her father, but also help Hayden enjoy their vacation. She only wished they didn’t have to be mutually exclusive. The fact that this hadn’t ended up being a read-a-book-by-the-water vacation didn’t bother her at all, she wasn’t the type to sit still that long anyway, but she felt a surge of guilt over how Hayden must be feeling. “Wasn’t sure what kind you liked, so I thought I’d get you something exotic. Tiger’s blood.” She extended the snow cone to him, but he glared at it, hesitating for a moment before accepting it. He held it as if he were afraid it would drip all over him, leaving him stained and sticky. “Thanks.” He didn’t seem to understand the meaning of the word. Without taking a bite, he tucked it safely into the drink holder, wiped his hands on his swim trunks, and went back to his phone, two-handed. “Give me a chance to finish this email.” Not worried, Avery dropped onto the dry sand and pushed her snow cone cup into one of the small piles, no doubt the remains of a once-carefully crafted sandcastle. It made a perfect snow cone holder. She unlaced her tennis shoes and removed them, tucking each sock into its sneaker, and then cuffed her jeans mid-calf. Retrieving her snow cone, she rose again, heading over to the water’s edge, allowing the breeze to lift away her worries as it swirled around her hair. She felt whole. Satisfied with herself and the world. Service did that. “I wouldn’t do go in if I were you,” Hayden warned from behind her. “It’s ice cold.” “That from the man who grew up watching Polar Bear Plunges.” “And never did any.” Avery tiptoed into the water, allowing an inch of her feet at a time to adjust, first flashing numb then acclimatizing to the temperature before moving on. It didn’t take long before she was digging her toes into the sand and feeling it being tugged away from underneath with each receding wave, leaving her slightly off balance and loving every second. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the weak sun warming her back and listening to the gulls screech around her. She breathed the salty air deeply, exhaling passing memories of Vermont’s office jobs, dingy snowbanks, and honking horns. Hearing the deep belly laugh of someone having a great time, she opened her eyes again, looking toward its source and finding Nolan and Keenan a hundred yards down the beach jumping waves like little kids. They were splattered with foam and spotted with water, snow cones clutched tightly in their hands. With his next jump, Nolan slipped in the sand and landed on his backside, dropping what was left of his snow cone. When Keenan just laughed all the harder, Nolan joined in, filling his cup with sea water and throwing it at him, catching him square in the face. Keenan fought back by shaking his now-wet curls in Nolan’s direction, sharing the spray like a wet dog. Avery laughed. “Plans?” she asked Hayden over her shoulder. “How about a campfire? I could call Dad, see if he’d bring something for dinner, and Nolan and Keenan are right over there.” She pointed, though she suspected Hayden remained immersed in his phone. “I bet they’d join us.” “Who’s Nolan?” Yep, he his eyes hadn’t lifted from the small screen. “You know—the adorable boy we’re building a house for.” No sign of recognition. “He was with us when I was teaching you how to use the nail gun?” “Oh. The kid.” He looked perturbed at being reminded and glanced at her for the first time, twisting his lips in disapproval. “We could detour to your father’s place to clean up and catch a nice sunset dinner.” “That’s just it. We’re already here, I’m too tired to want to go out anyway, and Dad could just swing by. You two haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other yet, and I’d like to see him. Sitting down.” She walked around behind Hayden and started massaging his neck and shoulders. “We could go on a romantic walk.” “Not with everyone else here,” he groused. “I meant after.” She leaned down to whisper this in his ear, but when she caught Keenan’s glance, she
straightened and dropped her hands from Hayden’s shoulders. “I guess you’re right. If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.” At least he was trying. “I’ll call Dad.” She pulled her phone from her pocket, turned her back on Hayden and the others, and started to stroll down the beach.
* * *
“Thanks so much, Dad.” Avery leaned back on her elbows, feet stretched toward the campfire. “And Coralee.” She indicated the large blanket where she, Hayden, and Keenan were sitting. “Dad never would have thought of blankets on his own.” “How’d you know?” August protested. “You know the blankets are ours.” “Yes, but I don’t hear you denying that it was Coralee’s suggestion.” Avery stuck her tongue out at her dad, and he wagged his finger back at her with a chuckle. “You’re welcome anyway,” he said. “It’s been fun out here tonight, but that means we’ve got to hit it hard tomorrow.” August sounded stressed. They’d only been missing from the construction site for an hour and a half, maybe two, but Avery could tell her father was anxious to get back. “Does everyone know their jobs?” They had talked through all the details while they had eaten, making it more of a working dinner than Avery had expected, but it was just what they’d needed. With such a quick deadline, things needed to move on a strict schedule. August had arranged it so each crew stuck with one thing, moving about the different areas until the entire house was done—one crew was assigned to plumbing, another to electrical, and others to installing cabinetry or tile—almost as if the compact house was being built by assembly line. It sounded like it could work. “What about you, Hayden? What can I write you down for?” August asked, completely serious. Avery swallowed hard, experiencing a little of the pressure each man undoubtedly felt. “Well, sir, I’m not all that good with construction,” Hayden admitted. “Even with Avery’s helpful instruction.” His humor was obvious and he looked pointedly at Avery but then chuckled, eliciting a polite laugh from the group. “I don’t think you’ll miss me much. Avery and I can entertain ourselves—don’t worry. We’ve got several things planned, if that’s all right.” “I was thinking about it, Hayden,” Avery began, wanting to establish a balance between work and play so as to not let anyone down. Scrambling, her mind lit upon a solution. “You would be great making phone calls and organizing volunteers.” Lists, phones, and spreadsheets were definitely his kind of thing. “Someone needs to touch bases with the people we’ve already contacted, pick up donations, and organize times for volunteers. That would be helpful, right?” Avery directed the question at the group. “Immensely,” August agreed. “Maybe Coralee could get you started.” He looked at the woman sitting next to him, and Avery noticed his face soften into a grin before he looked back at Hayden. “That would free her up to do her regular job as well as help in making decisions about the house. She’s got some tile to pick out, and no time in which to do it,” he teased her. “You’ve given me all of a couple hours to pick paint colors, flooring, countertops, light fixtures—all things I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life. It’s overwhelming! Give me some time to think!” She knocked him playfully in the arm, and he grabbed her hand, not letting go. “Avery?” Hayden’s sour tone drew her away from the surprise of watching her father flirt with Coralee. “How about that walk?” She knew she was in trouble. They walked on a wide swath of packed, wet sand left abandoned by the low tide, silent until they were far enough out that they wouldn’t be overheard. “I’m thinking we should have followed your father’s advice to stay in Vermont. We could have had a traditional white Christmas with lights and hot chocolate and snuggling in front of a fire.”
Her thoughts returned to Coralee and her father doing just that, and didn’t see where she’d given up anything. Sure, it was white sand instead of snow, and a bonfire instead of a fireplace, but it was full of family and friends and love and service. “What’s not traditional about a December clambake?” She joked, but her heart hurt in disappointment—his disappointment of unfulfilled expectations, and her disappointment that he wasn’t as adaptable as she had expected. She’d hoped that Hayden’s highest priority would have been spending time with her, but obviously simply being together wasn’t enough for him. Hayden didn’t laugh or even smile back. “You know, you aren’t the same person here. I’m beginning to feel I don’t even know you.” That was funny because she felt more like herself than she had in a long time. She weighed the consequences of saying what had occurred to her. “Do you want to?” When he didn’t answer for a step or two, she felt she had her answer. “So, what is your plan, Avery? Why do I feel like it’s changing?” Hayden stomped on a shell, breaking it into pieces under the heel of his shoe. Maybe her plan was changing. “Hayden.” She grabbed his hand. “I don’t understand why you can’t see how important this is to me. It’s family. It may not be what you were planning, but we can still spend time together.” He didn’t squeeze her hand, but he didn’t drop it either, and they finished their walk in silence.
* * *
Hayden walked from the guest room into August’s breakfast area dressed in a dry-FIT tank and nylon shorts early the next morning and dropped a kiss on the top of Avery’s head as he walked past. Avery tried to brush off her annoyance at the move and reminded herself he was trying to be romantic, not patronizing, even though it didn’t feel that way. “Going for a run?” she asked him, faking pleasantry. Hayden was more into the sport for social reasons, squeezing in three- to five-mile runs with friends on the occasional Saturday morning, yet not quite finding time to make it a regular habit. Today, it felt like an excuse to get him out of helping. She was glad, though, that he felt he had time while on vacation, if that was what he really wanted to do. “Want to join?” Instead of sitting down at the table where Avery was eating a toasted bagel spread with melting peanut butter, Hayden leaned against the bar, his hip resting against the edge. Avery scrunched her eyes tight for a second and opened them again. It would be good to spend the time with Hayden doing something he wanted to do, but she didn’t want to forfeit the time it would take to change, drive to where they would run, stretch, run, stretch, drive home, shower, and then head over to Coralee’s. It would carve out a significant portion of the morning. “Tomorrow, maybe? We could start early so I could be at the job site on time.” Hayden seemed to flinch, but acted like this was no big deal. “Maybe.” He took his glass to the sink and rinsed it, then bent over to place it in the top rack of the dishwasher. “Any suggestions where I ought to run?” An image of the perfect spot jumped to mind. “Actually, yes. If you go to the Padre Island seawall beach, you’ll have your choice of running on sand or concrete. It’s only about a mile long, but you can run back and forth or run the beach. A great view either way.” She pulled out her phone and showed him how to get there. “Pick me up at Coralee’s later?” She’d hoped he would volunteer to help out, but after last night’s talk, she wasn’t ready to bring it up again. Hayden sat to lace up his shoes. “I know you have a lot to do and I don’t want to slow you down or be in the way, so I think I’ll just go exploring on my own. I saw a few things online—the Texas surfing
museum, the aquarium, the USS Lexington—stuff you’ve probably seen loads of times anyway, right? I can entertain myself.” “I was planning to go with you this afternoon.” She was completely sincere. “I don’t mind some alone time.” Avery studied his face, wondering if he meant it or if he would feel like she was abandoning him. Still, she couldn’t help but feel relieved not to have to suffer through the boring old aircraft carrier one more time. It was interesting enough the first time or two, but between school trips and accompanying friends and family who’d come to visit over the years, she’d seen it more than enough to last her lifetime. For the first time in months, probably, even though they weren’t articulating it, it seemed they actually were understanding each other and their individual needs. He seemed to understand her desire to help her family, and she couldn’t blame him in the slightest for wanting to explore and enjoy his vacation. “I’m a big boy.” Hayden looked her deep in the eyes, but something new was missing. “Tell you what—why don’t you meet me for dinner? I’ll find us a nice place and text you a location later this afternoon, tell you what time I’ll pick you up. Deal?” “Deal.” But she had the nagging feeling that when it came down to it, she’d inevitably be elbowdeep in a project and less than willing to clean up and abandon the crew for a long, fancy dinner out. She could do that in Vermont any time, and in the meantime, Coralee and Nolan were displaced from their home with Christmas quickly approaching. She stood to rinse her plate and glass and put away the breakfast fixings so she could head over to the job site. “See you later, then.” Hayden laid a hand on Avery’s shoulder. He might have been angling for a good-bye kiss, but with the arguing and growing distance between them, she wasn’t the slightest bit tempted, so she pretended not to know what he wanted. With half a glance over her shoulder, she said, “Bye. Don’t forget to grab a water bottle from the fridge.” * * *
“I don’t think the closet wall is supposed to be there,” Jerry said when he stepped over the tape measure Avery had jutting from the side wall. He carried the wood for framing the closet and eyeballed a distance from the back wall. He’d probably built hundreds of standard bedroom closets over the years. “I’m just going off the plans,” Avery said. “Amateurs,” Jerry teased good-naturedly and chuckled. “Don’t go off the plans.” He clomped his heavy, worn boots a few paces from the corner. “It should go here.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. “Something doesn’t add up, though. With the Jack-and-Jill bathroom there, and the entrance into the hallway and entry foyer on the other side of that wall, that only leaves one of these walls for the closet. Why did they frame the window here?” “That’s probably why Keenan gave me these measurements,” Avery said. “Because a window is there, and not a closet.” It was an easy discussion, neither taking offense. “But I haven’t looked at the blueprints themselves. Have you?” When Jerry laughed, she added, “Right—you already told me.” “Jerry?” Another of the Beyond Repair crew poked his head through the wall from the bathroom. All she could see was the bill of his dirty baseball cap. “Got a sec?” “Sure thing,” Jerry looked back at her. “Want to check with Keenan? He’s got the plans somewhere. Then go ahead and start framing. I’ll take your word for it. August swears you’re the best apprentice he’s ever had.” She smiled, dusting off some of her favorite memories of holding two-by-fours for her dad. “If you’re going to talk to Keenan, does that mean I can go outside and kick the soccer ball?” Nolan asked, letting go of his end of the tape measure. She could tell the he was bored. “Sure thing, kiddo.” She tapped his hard hat and smiled at him. “See ya later.” Finding Keenan was getting more difficult now that drywall had been added to most of the rooms.
Each crew was staggered one step ahead so everyone was busy at the same time—framing in one room, drywall in another, and mud and texture in others. If Coralee had chosen her tile, it might even be getting cut and installed by now. She finally found Keenan in the kitchen, where cabinets were being screwed onto the walls. “Question for you, boss,” Avery said, wishing her father was there, or the architect would be even better, whoever that was. “Do you have the blueprints? Jerry and I need to check something.” The flash of a grin passed over Keenan’s face, and just as quickly, Avery’s temper flared. Just because she wanted to double-check his directions didn’t mean she didn’t know what she was doing. Keenan pointed to the rolls leaning in the far corner. “Have at ’em, but let’s take them to the living room where it’s quiet and we can spread them out.” A step ahead of her, he snagged them as they moved away from the grinding bursts of drills. “Come into my office and take a seat.” He handed it to her and sat on the floor, his legs stretched in front of him, ankles crossed. He’d grown a little taller since high school, and put on quite a bit of muscle, transforming him from scrawny teenager into just right. But that wasn’t what she’d come to see. She sat cross-legged and opened the blueprint like a treasure map, thinking that just seeing the shape of the closet and its relative position in the room would explain, but a cursory glance didn’t answer the question. Instead of a long, thin rectangle to be flanked with folding doors, or a deep corner carved into the space shared on the other side by the bathroom, it appeared to bisect the room entirely. That didn’t make sense at all. “So, what was the question?” “Nothing.” Avery didn’t want to admit it didn’t make sense yet. Determined to figure it out, she spread the papers out on the gleaming wood floor, installed only that morning, and lay down on her stomach for a better view. Keenan sat back, his arms behind him, holding himself up in a semi-reclined position, a smug look on his face. “This closet in Nolan’s room. It’s a little different.” She traced her finger along the line. “This rectangle must be the closet, but it’s almost floating in the middle of the room.” She finally gave up trying to look smart in front of Keenan. “What’s with this L-shaped part?” She pointed to the space beside and behind the closet. He twisted on his backside, sliding gracefully onto his stomach beside her, his elbows holding him up so he could inspect the plans with her. “Would it help to know that there’s a built-in bookshelf here?” He traced the line from the end of the closet to the other exterior wall, completely splitting the room. “Um, yeah?” She still wasn’t sure. “That would make a great little room back there, then.” Excitement started to grow within her. “Is that what it is? A secret room? Where will the entrance be? Inside the back wall of the closet? Ooo—or does the bookcase rotate?” “Good eye.” Keenan sounded as excited as she felt. “I hadn’t even thought about an entrance from the closet, but since it’ll probably be covered with clothes, it wouldn’t be as practical. Do you think Nolan will like it?” “Are you kidding me? What kid—or teenager or adult, for that matter—wouldn’t love their own secret room?” Her finger traced the lines again. “I love that it will have its own window. He could have a desk, or a hammock, or a reading nook, or . . .” She paused, interrupting herself. “It’s pure genius!” As her finger swept across the plans, looking for anything else hidden there, her hand brushed against his. She felt a spark between them and was hesitant to pull away. Instead, she pretended that she was concentrating on that particular corner of the plans, able to feel the heat radiating from his hand where it sat millimeters away. “Are there any more hidden gems?” Keenan seemed to bite back a smile, but she noticed he didn’t pull his hand away either. Instead, he covered her hand with his and guided it to the kitchen area. “Nolan certainly got the coolest surprise, but there are a couple of niceties included for Coralee, even if they aren’t as exciting. Like here.” He placed
Avery’s finger next to where the cabinets and the refrigerator connected. She stared at it, but didn’t notice anything unusual. “It’s hard to tell on the plans,” Keenan admitted, “but there’s a pull-out pantry. Basically, it’s the height and depth of the fridge, but only the width of a can of food. The face is the same as the cabinets, and it’s on casters so Coralee can pull it out into the kitchen and store her canned goods. That way, she can see them all at once. It’s a great space saver, and leaves the real pantry for the larger items.” As impressed as she was with the house plans, Avery found herself distracted by the comforting smell of lumber, drywall mud, and soap emanating from Keenan’s chest. Realizing that their closeness had produced a flutter in her stomach, she was eager to discover something else on the plans just so neither of them would move.
Chapter Six
Now that Avery had seen the two most unique features of the house and been so interested in them, Keenan wished he’d imbued the project with even more surprises, if for no other reason than to have an excuse to stay this close to her. He loved that she was able to look at his drawing and understand at a glance what many people thought of as a bunch of lines and numbers. She didn’t ask any silly questions, and seemed sincerely impressed with the overall design. Of course, maybe that would change if she knew he was the creator. There was plenty more he had wanted to do, but the existing foundation exacted a fixed footprint, including the location of plumbing and exterior dimensions. However, that didn’t mean he hadn’t changed a few things, and he hoped Coralee would see his variations as an improvement. August had been impressed, and that mattered a great deal to Keenan. To have his friend and mentor appreciate his efforts validated everything he’d worked for over the past several years. And he was thrilled that his skills could assist in a way that benefited both Beyond Repair and Coralee. That was what he’d looked for when he volunteered his services for the project. Impressing Avery in the process? A priceless bonus. He felt a surge of hope when he realized Avery hadn’t squirmed out of his reach as soon as her question about Nolan’s closet had been answered. He slid her hand across the page to the fireplace. “From an interior design standpoint, we decided to go with a modern beach cottage feel. To complement that, we’re going with Austin limestone floor to ceiling on the fireplace surround rather than brick, and a chunky, rustic wood mantel.” He wasn’t sure why, but he was careful to avoid any mention that the design was his, which made for some creative navigation around personal pronouns. “There will be a lot of white with blue and green accents.” He slid her hand across the blueprint back to the kitchen. He was relieved to be able to think of things to point out fast enough to keep cupping her hand in his. “The kitchen will have white cabinets as you probably noticed when we walked through, and this same medium-toned wood floor which extends throughout the dining, kitchen, and living areas. My favorite part of the kitchen design is the backsplash with small glass tiles in clusters of green and blue scattered subtly among the white subway tiles.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to explain, but if you saw the style board, you’d know.” He shrugged. “It’s at the office, though.” The deep sound of a male clearing his throat behind them interrupted his thoughts and Keenan jumped away from Avery, hoping he hadn’t just gotten caught by August, or worse, Hayden. “What did you find out then, Miss Avery?” Jerry asked as if he hadn’t just discovered them in the middle of a rather intimate moment. If he was going to ignore it, so would Keenan. He looked back at the blueprints with longing before lifting himself to a standing position. “Yes—did that answer your question?” Keenan asked, finally looking at Avery again, wishing he could push back the lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail. But she pushed it back herself before she rolled up the long sheets. “Next time the architect is here, I want to meet him, tell him how awesome his plans are.” With the last flick of her wrist, he saw his company logo in the corner disappear. Behind Avery’s back, Jerry raised an eyebrow at Keenan, but luckily, he kept his mouth shut. Though the guy was old enough to be his father, maybe his grandfather, they’d worked together enough times to have a comfortable comradery, enough so that Jerry knew not to spill it. Maybe Jerry thought Avery was kidding, but Keenan was sure she was clueless. “You’ve got the measurements, then?” Keenan double-checked with Avery. “Got ’em, boss.” She smiled and gave a half salute, but this time, there was more playfulness than sarcasm. Keenan started to hope that maybe, somehow, he would get a chance to spend some more alone time with Avery off the clock, so to speak, and without her shadow of a boyfriend.
Chapter Seven
“So how was your day?” Avery took a sip of her water, looking at Hayden over the simple centerpiece and into his caramel eyes. They seemed flat, reflecting the stale state of their relationship, and she wondered yet again if she even had the desire to fix it. For weeks, she’d felt like she was pushing time and Herculean effort into repairing their relationship, like sinking into a money pit of a Hydra-like home. As soon as you fixed one problem, another two popped up to replace it. She needed to decide once and for all if she wanted to restore their relationship to its former glory—which was never much, never more than a pedestrian tract home, really —or scrap it and start a completely new project, a new relationship. She felt a little guilty thinking this. It wasn’t that she was thinking of dumping her relationship with Hayden just because she’d had a few nice moments with Keenan. She didn’t want to swap one relationship for another just because the newness had worn off. But didn’t she have the right to be happy and completely in love? For weeks, her current relationship hadn’t qualified. Still, she owed it to Hayden to give it one last shot. “Go anywhere interesting today?” Hayden picked up his menu, seeming to peruse the choices instead of looking at her. “Just a second. Let me figure out what I want before we talk.” Avery took the time to glance over the menu for something to entice her from her typical standby before placing it at the edge of the table. “Let me guess. You’re getting the shrimp scampi.” She smiled and nodded once, breaking off a piece of fresh-from-the-oven cheese bread. “When you’ve got the best. . .” The bread seemed to melt on her tongue. “How do you know you have the best if you aren’t willing to be a little more adventurous? There are so many options—do you really want to be stuck with bland for the rest of your life just because you’re too loyal to branch out?” No. No, I don’t, Avery thought, more about Hayden than the shrimp. To her, the food wasn’t bland, it never got old, and she had no desire to try anything else, but she realized the same didn’t hold true with her feelings for Hayden. If that were the case, she never would have felt that spark for Keenan. Did that mean she wasn’t being faithful? “Nope, I’m good with the shrimp scampi. Have you decided what you want?” There was a pause, and then he tucked away his menu. “Okay, I’m ready.” He looked at her, his eyes still hard, but with a pleasant smile on his lips, and Avery wasn’t sure what to make of it. She was so tired of trying to figure out each expression, listening for every nuance of what he was saying, evaluating every action. Dating him was more work than fun. “My day,” he said. “Well, I went to the sea wall beach, as you suggested. Nice view, short run unless I wanted to run on sand, but I wasn’t keen on getting my shoes soaking wet. Can you believe I still ended up with sand in my shoes? Caused a huge blister before I realized it.” He went on to describe in inordinate detail every place he went through the course of the day, pausing only to place the order with the waiter, and then to tuck away a bite or two of food every couple of sentences. Not once did he ask about the progression of Coralee’s house or what Avery had worked on or even how it felt to be back home. “Sounds like you didn’t miss me one bit.” It was meant to be a joke, but there was a grain of truth in it. Not that she minded—she really didn’t. “I’m glad you had a good day.” And she meant it. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He tucked his cloth napkin next to his plate with finality and signed the credit card receipt with a flourish. She thought perhaps, then, that meant he had missed her company. “It would have been a far better day if it had been Hawaii or the Oregon Coast or even Florida, but the Texas Gulf?” He laughed softly, derisively. “It’s no resort, that’s for sure. I thought I knew what I was getting
myself into when I agreed to come, but it’s a little less than I expected. No offense,” he added quickly. He stood to leave and Avery followed, pushing her chair back in before stepping away. “Don’t forget—we have the dolphin encounter boar tour tomorrow afternoon. I already have the tickets, so I’d appreciate you meeting me at three thirty sharp at the marina, okay?” Speaking of sharp, did he have to boss her around? “I’ll try.” Surprising her, he looked disappointed, so she quickly amended her statement with, “It shouldn’t be a problem.” She fished her phone out of her purse and toggled to the calendar. “I’m putting a reminder in my phone right now so I’ll have time to clean up and meet you at the dock. Is it the one leaving from Mustang Island?” “In Port Aransas?” Hayden asked. “One and the same.” His confusion was perfectly understandable. It was difficult for someone unfamiliar with the area to know what everything was called or where boundaries were. “Then yes.” He nodded, his bangs flopping stupidly across his forehead, and she wanted, more than anything, to cut them.
* * *
“What, no shadow?” Keenan asked playfully as Avery walked through the dunnage door. While the construction door was a banged-up stand-in for the real front door, this was progress. The sun had barely risen. Avery had arrived early, excited to get working, but she knew that wasn’t the kind of shadow he was talking about. “Nope.” She wanted to say they were probably better off for it. Knowing he wouldn’t come anyway, she hadn’t even waited for Hayden to wake up before she ducked out of the house. “Just me.” “Would it be wrong to say I’m good with that?” Keenan awarded her with a playful grin. She mirrored it. “I’ll deal.” She paused in the foyer, assessing the progress with satisfaction. She’d only been in Coralee’s house once or twice before the fire, but from what she remembered, this layout flowed better. It was open and inviting. Coralee would love it. Something crinkled underfoot, and she looked down. “What’s under the paper?” Keenan pulled back a corner, giving her a peek of the 1960s terrazzo tile floor so common to midcentury ranch homes in Texas. “I was able to salvage the original tile. The stuff is indestructible, apparently. I thought she might like that, a homage to the original home.” The multi-colored flecks compressed into the white base might not be the current height of modern finishes, but it was classic for the home. “What a nice touch!” Avery brushed her fingertips across the flecks, studying the different colors. “This reminds me of something I saw on a renovation blog a couple of weeks ago that would be perfect in here.” She pulled out her phone and typed “Romance Renovations” into the search bar. She clicked through blog posts until she found the right photo. “They have the same kind of tile, which is what reminded me. Don’t you love how they chose a color from the floral-pattern rug to paint the inside of the front door? I love the pop of color.” She let him study the photo for a few seconds in silence. “I like it.” He handed back the phone. “Let’s make it happen. I’ll have Coralee pick out a rug, and we’ll go from there.” They walked toward Nolan’s room. “So, that means you’re ready for more torture?” All the walls in the house were up, taped, and textured, and the majority were in the process of being painted. Aside from the bathrooms and kitchen, which were in various stages of more complex processes, only finishing touches seemed to be lacking. Baseboards, door casings, and crown molding in the dining room seemed to be the next order of business. “Torture?” For her, this was fun. A big step up from sitting at a computer at a windowless work station which was what she had to look forward to in about a week. She’d enjoy this while she could.
“What makes you think this is torture for me?” “Well, it certainly can’t be for pleasure. If it was, they wouldn’t call it work, now would they?” Keenan looked even better today than she remembered from the day before. His orange dri-FIT shirt looked soft and contrasted nicely with his olive skin, the hint of his toned body visible underneath. “That depends on who they is, I guess, but as this isn’t my real work, it doesn’t qualify as torture.” A thought occurred to her. “Why do you do it, then, if you don’t like it? Why not find another job?” As soon as she said it, Avery regretted it. She hadn’t meant to insinuate that she wanted him to leave her father’s employ. It wasn’t like she was going to take Keenan’s place and work alongside her father every day again like she had the first part of high school. She didn’t need his job. August had prepared her for more than being a project manager, though she knew every aspect of his business. He’d started with teaching the most basic of skills—hammering, painting, measuring. By the time she was twelve and her mother passed away unexpectedly, he’d brought her into work more often with him, the two of them finding solace by spending almost every moment after school together. He taught her about self-reliance and strength by teaching her how to run each of the power tools. By the time she was fifteen, there wasn’t a single thing she couldn’t do, even if she wasn’t practiced enough—or licensed —to do it for hire. She’d known enough that if she had wanted to pursue a career in plumbing, electrical, carpentry, tiling, or finish work, she would have had the solid foundation. Her father had taught her to be the best “handyman” she knew of her age. By the time she was sixteen, August had begun to tutor her more in the business aspects, including inspections, invoicing, billing, and ordering, and that was where she started to thrive. Though he usually shielded her from a few of the nastier customers who were never satisfied, he let her run a few of the complaints, guiding her as she smoothed things over and made them right, easing her into her current career path in business management and human resources. With a few bookkeeping classes on the side, she was set up to be a great small business owner, but had yet to discover a business that impassioned her as much as what she’d grown up doing. “I don’t mean to say that you shouldn’t still be working for Beyond Repair. I just mean, if you don’t like it, why haven’t you found something you love?” “Oh, I think I’ve found it,” he said, looking straight into her. “I’m just working on a way to make it an everyday thing.” A tingle ran through Avery at the combination of his look coupled with his words, cryptic though they might be. “So you do work for my dad, but not every day?” “You could kind of say that.” Keenan seemed pleased that he had turned the tables on Avery, leaving her scrambling for understanding this time. She followed as he walked into Nolan’s room. “I couldn’t be more passionate about my job, and I owe it all to August.” Avery detected a slight pause in Keenan’s answer, a hesitancy signaling there was something more, something he wasn’t ready to say. “Now’s the fun part. Since Nolan’s not here, it’s our chance to install the swinging bookcase. I don’t want him to have a clue it’s there if we can help it.” “Oh, yeah! You don’t have to ask me twice.” Avery had never seen something like this in person, let alone helped build it. “Perfect! Could you take a look at this sketch—see if I’ve factored everything in? Check the design, the mechanics, and tell me if there’s anything that might improve it.” He flipped through his legal pad until he came to a sketch. The handwriting matched the redlines on the blueprints. “That is, if you can read my chicken scratch. I’m going to make sure we’ve got the MDF and the miter saw ready. Back in a second.” He seemed both thrilled and nervous at the same time. “If we get it framed and trimmed before Nolan shows up, he won’t even notice the turning mechanism. As long as he doesn’t ask how the space got smaller, we’ll be good.”
Avery held the pad of paper in her hands, clutching it to her chest, but watched Keenan as he walked out rather than beginning her assignment. His excitement infused him with an energy that lightened her mood. Nothing was more attractive than seeing his passion for the project and his genuine interest in the happiness of a young boy who was having a difficult time. Realizing she was staring blankly out the door thinking about Keenan, something she really shouldn’t have been doing in the first place, Avery shook her herself and focused on the bookshelf design. She was pleased that she too could contribute to this little boy’s happiness. The design was simple, but well thought out. The depth and height of the shelves were customized to the space. The creator had included an unobtrusive lip at the base of each shelf to keep items from rolling off when the door swung open. It was something she didn’t think most people would even notice, but a necessary safety measure that looked decorative at the same time. “What do you think?” Keenan asked, now back. His hands were free except for a measuring tape. “Any tweaks we ought to make?” “It looks amazing, and I don’t see why it wouldn’t work. With all these measurements along the side, I’m not sure if I can see it, but do you know if the designer is going with the standard three hinges for a door, or four to compensate for the increased weight?” Keenan quirked his head as if he were trying to recall the plan from memory. “Pivot hinges—one at the top and one at the bottom. That way, it won’t need as much clearance to turn.” “Wait. If you’re using pivot hinges, what if we hung the door so it swings just above the baseboard? Nolan would have to step over the baseboard, but then it wouldn’t have a tell-tale wheel mark, and there wouldn’t be a gap under the baseboard.” “Genius!” Keenan mimed the swinging motion of the door as if making sure it would work. When he was satisfied, he turned to her with a question. “It would be invisible that way, but you don’t think it would be bad to have him step over the bottom?” “Are you kidding? No. I think it will add to the intrigue, actually. Think of C.S. Lewis’s wardrobe— climbing through was part of the magic.” She handed him back the plans. “I’m jealous. I want a pivoting bookcase door!” Keenan handed her the end of the measuring tape as well as the sketchpad and pencil. “Want to help me double-check the measurements? Now that the floor and ceiling are finished, I’m sure things have changed slightly since—” He stopped short, but Avery knew what he meant. She took the end of the measuring tape, placing the shiny tip at the base of the wall so he could measure the existing open space between the wall and the corner of the closet. It was longer than the length of even an extra-large door, but the plan had taken that into account, designating that there would be a stationary portion of the bookcase as well as the camouflaged swinging door. “Seventy-four and three-sixteenth inches,” Keenan read off, and Avery updated the sketch by crossing off the old numbers and jotting down the new ones. “So, what do you think of Vermont? Miss us yet?” Avery narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “I miss my dad, of course.” She changed the angle of the measuring tape so he could measure the height at the wall end, making him walk her direction. “And there are a lot of things I miss about living here.” Even to herself, she sounded wistful. “Name one.” He grabbed the ladder and stepped up until he could see where the tape measure met the ceiling. “We’re just under eight feet here. We’ll go with ninety-five and three-quarter inches. Which plan did you like better? Where we build the bookcase to the height of a regular doorjamb all the way across, or build it floor to ceiling, having the top shelf stationary all the way across and then have the door move beneath that?” Collaborating on the project brought her more satisfaction than she would have thought, making her realize how infrequently Hayden sought her opinion on things. She found she rather liked feeling valued,
wanted, and invited rather than being someone’s accessory. “But I’m not sure the architect would like it if we just came in here and changed up his plans.” “That’s why there are two choices,” Keenan pointed out. “True. I think the floor to ceiling is more interesting, more unexpected, if that’s possible. And it would make more sense now that we have him stepping over. It’ll be like walking through a hole that opens up in the wall. That is, if we’re good enough carpenters to pull it off.” “No problem,” Keenan said with bravado. It didn’t sound so easy to her. As Keenan was stepping down from the ladder, Avery caught a glimpse of something on the inside of his wrist. She took a step and met him, her arm brushing his as she leaned in. The warmth where their skin touched left a spot that seemed to glow. “What happened here?” Reflexively, she reached a timid hand, stopping just shy of touching him. “Fire.” His voice was suddenly stiff, uncomfortable and she looked up in surprise. As they were close to the same height, his lips were inches from hers, but she tried to concentrate on his eyes instead. It was a losing battle. She didn’t want to back away, but she worried she’d offended him by bringing up a sensitive subject. She dropped her hand only to feel him catch it, gently guiding her fingers to touch the wrinkled web of skin no larger than an inch around. “It’s okay to touch it.” Her fingertips felt hot, whether with shame for pointing it out, or sympathy for how the fire must have felt. His even breath on her cheek made her realize how close they were, and though she was reluctant to, she stepped back under the guise of examining the scar. She enjoyed being that close to him way too much. Trying not to focus on their encounter, Avery pretended nothing unusual had happened. Because nothing had. She secured her end of the tape measure on the floor again and waited for him to step up and read the number. Hoping it wouldn’t be far off from the other side, she eyeballed it, and it looked fairly level. If it wasn’t, it would necessitate some fancy carpentry skills to make everything look parallel. “Spot on. Ninety-five and three-quarters,” Keenan said. “Authentic Tex-Mex, friendly people who smile and make small talk in line, and don’t tell Hayden, but country music,” Avery said. Because of the interruptions between him asking and her answering, she added, “I couldn’t come up with just one thing I missed most about living in Texas.” Keenan looked at her as if trying to jibe what she’d said with the person standing in front of him. “Have you been out for Tex-Mex yet, then?” Avery shook her head and stuck out a pouty lip. “Not yet.” She laughed and smiled, unable to seriously complain. It wasn’t that big of a deal. “It’s all good.” She didn’t add that she probably wouldn’t get the chance this time around because Hayden hated any kind of Mexican food. “Do you want me to start cutting the wood and building the frame while you install the hinges on the door?” By the time Nolan and Coralee showed up at the house, Keenan and Avery had not only framed the hidden door, but they’d been able to conceal it, blending it into the stationary bookcase frame with the crown and base molding. Avery had finished cutting and was now alternating between installing the finish pieces with the nail gun and caulking while waiting for Keenan to cut and bring in the next piece. She kept a close eye on the time so she could meet Hayden for the dolphin excursion, but it didn’t look like it would be a problem. The final step would be to install the shelves, a perfect job to involve Nolan. “This isn’t going to be just for books, though, right?” Nolan almost seemed afraid to ask Keenan, as though he might end up in trouble for not wanting his room to look like a library. “Your room, your shelves. You decide,” Keenan answered. Avery liked the way Keenan spoke to Nolan as if he were his friend rather than talking to a kid. “Not a big reader, huh?” Nolan’s ears tinged pink. “I like to read.” Nolan sounded less than persuasive, and Keenan gave him a look that called him on it. “Sometimes,” he hurried to justify. “But bookshelves with only books are boring. When I get a new baseball mitt, it could go here, and the trophies I’ll get.” He walked, pointing out places where shelves eventually would be.
“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Keenan agreed. “Now let’s go get the next set of shelves for Miss Avery here to install.” Keenan looked up at Avery on the ladder and winked. Her heart felt gooey at his smile, and she turned around quickly as if she could avoid it. In the movement, she almost upset the small bucket of water she had perched on the ladder shelf for the caulk. Trying to catch it, she knocked off the caulking gun, which clattered to the concrete slab. “Nice catch,” Keenan said without a hint of sarcasm. He bent quickly and picked it up before she descended. “Much easier to retrieve this than to sop up messy water.” “Are you always about what’s easier?” she goaded. “Easier is not always better.” “Don’t I know it.” Keenan grinned and turned back to Nolan. “Ready?” The pair left, and Avery turned back to her caulking. Barely a few minutes later—basically only enough time for her to finish one section, move her ladder, and squeeze out the next line of white caulk—Avery heard the guys approaching. She stretched as far as she dared to reach, busy smoothing the caulk into the crack so she could wipe off the excess before it dried. “That’s a great idea, Keenan! What if we put them right here—” Avery heard Nolan’s voice accompanied by running footsteps, and then the crash of wood into her ladder before she could center herself or hold on to anything. Falling took longer than laws of physics could explain. It was only an eight-foot ceiling, but somehow, her head managed to bounce like a ping-pong ball from the bookshelf to the toolbox until it rebounded to rest on the concrete subfloor, her pin-wheeling arms no help in breaking the fall. “Avery!” She heard Keenan yell and felt his hands on her cheeks as black slowly overtook the waning tunnel of light. Everything went dark. She dreamed she was drifting on a small dinghy in the gulf, the gentle waves buffeting it to and fro like a mother soothing an infant to sleep. She was wrapped in someone’s arms, secure and protected, and wanted nothing less than to drift with the waves. “Avery! Avery, wake up.” The sound was much too loud, and she wanted to stay in the placid water and rest. She was so tired. “Avery, you need to wake up.” Five more minutes, she tried to say, but was somewhat aware that it didn’t come out. Or maybe it had. “It’s all my fault,” she heard Nolan mutter, his words thick with regret. “No, it’s not, Nolan,” Keenan’s voice was closer than the boy’s, calm and reassuring. “It was an accident. She’ll be all right.” A whisper next to her ear seemed easier to take in. Less harsh, less intense. “Please. Open your eyes for me.” The first sensation she felt was the breath of the words on her neck, the gentleness of fingertips brushing away her hair and then caressing her cheek. As her consciousness stirred, she became aware of tingling and the expansive pull of gravity, everything heavy as if she were on a foreign planet. A hard one. Her body began to throb with each heartbeat, her head and left wrist feeling as if they might explode with every surge. Blinding light stabbed into her eyes, and she knew she’d finally successfully pushed her eyelids against gravity. “There you are.” Keenan sounded slightly less panicked, but far from relieved. “I’m okay.” Avery tried to speak, but the words squeaked out. She was lying. She moved a shaking hand—her uninjured one—to her head where it hurt, but then retracted it quickly when it was met with another swell of pain and the sensation of wet, sticky blood. Not looking at the blood on her fingers took self-control, but she didn’t want a repeat of her lightheadedness at the airport. Instead of looking at her hand, she placed it at her side, trying to push herself to a sitting position, but Keenan pressed her back gently. With his other hand, he fished in his pocket for his keys. “Nolan.” Keenan held the keys over his shoulder to the boy. “Run to my truck and get my sweatshirt.
Quickly.” Feeling safe in Keenan’s arms, Avery allowed her eyes to win the war she’d been fighting with them. I’ll just rest until Nolan gets back, she thought she told Keenan, but didn’t, because it seemed at once an hour and no time at all that Keenan was again pleading with her to wake up. She managed to sit up, which, although it made the room kaleidoscope around her, did help her stay awake. “Hospital?” she whispered. “You think?” Keenan’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Good decision. Can you walk?” Without moving, she tried to assess the damage. With her head and her wrist competing for the most painful, she figured that meant the rest of her was fine. “I think so.” Still sitting, she felt pressure where he held his sweatshirt to her head. “I’m going to help you stand. Can you hold this here while I lift?” Avery knew before trying that her wrist couldn’t possibly. “Doubt it.” She licked her lips that suddenly felt dry. “Broke my wrist, I think.” “That’s okay. I got it. I’m going to help you up now.” Keenan held the sweatshirt with one hand and slipped his other arm around her, using his body to steady her as he got her to her feet. She wobbled a bit and leaned on him. “I’ll wait until you’re ready.” They stood for a moment and she was grateful the room stopped spinning, eventually. “Okay,” she whispered. They shuffled to the Beyond Repair pickup, every step excruciating. She closed her eyes to the light, taking her cues from the movement of his body to know where to go, and tried to breathe slowly to keep the nausea at bay. “I can help,” Nolan said, running to catch up. “I can hold the sweatshirt while you drive.” “Maybe it stopped bleeding,” Avery said. Keenan peeked under the sweatshirt but pushed it back even more firmly than before. She winced. “Sorry,” he apologized, but didn’t lessen the pressure. “You still it.” He looked at Nolan. “The blood won’t make you queasy?” Nolan shook his head resolutely. “Run to tell your grandma where we’re going, and I’ll get Miss Avery comfortable in the truck.” They were about to turn into the hospital curve in front of the ER when Avery’s alarm buzzed in the front pocket of her jeans. She struggled to extract the phone and then handed it to Nolan. Reaching over her head with her good hand to hold the sweatshirt with her good hand, she said, “I got this for a sec if you could . . .” She paused for a moment, trying to remember what she’d been about to ask him. He silenced the alarm and then looked as if to check if that was what she wanted. “I need to send a text.” She could have used Siri, but as Nolan was willing and had the phone, he might as well. He toggled to the text function before she said anything else. “Send it to Hayden. Tell him . . . I can’t make it.” She would miss the dolphins after all. The boy typed quickly with his thumbs. “Anything else?” “Tell him she’s at the hospital,” Keenan directed. “And maybe you should ask him to meet her here.” Avery wondered if she even wanted that, but decided not to argue. At this point, all she wanted was something for the pain in her wrist and her excruciating headache, and maybe a nap.
* * * “You crazy girl! What were you doing up on a la dder when you’re clearly out of practice?” August’s voice boomed through Avery’s drug-induced peace. He gave her a hug and then looked her square in the face, all joviality gone. “The doctors said you
might have killed a few brain cells. That doesn’t mean you have to go back to college now, does it?” She laughed, knowing her dad well enough to know he wasn’t serious. “I think I’ll be fine. Half of what they teach you in college isn’t applicable to anything in life anyway, right? They just have to teach it all to you because they never know what you’ll need, what you’ll remember. Or what you’ll get beaten out of your head at some point.” She smirked, and a throb of pain crested over the dull ebb and flow in her head. The wrist, in contrast, still felt as if it were on fire, sharp and brittle, and she took care not to move it. “Thanks for coming, Dad. Keenan’s getting bored.” She wasn’t sure, but it felt like it had been hours since she’d been issued a bed. She darted her eyes Keenan’s direction, but moved her head as little as possible. On top of it all, she feared she’d have whiplash-like muscle soreness in her neck the next few days. “He probably sticks around so the boss won’t fire him. He thinks if he entertains me, he gets to keep his job.” “Fire him?” August clapped Keenan on the shoulder. “I could never do that. He’d be the best I’ve got . . . if only I could convince him to come back to work for me. Not that we have enough of his kind of work to keep him busy now, but he did an amazing job on Coralee’s house.” Keenan started to squirm under August’s hand and his compliments. “Taking the existing foundation and update it as he has— genius!” Keenan turned red, but August kept piling on the praise. “Just the right mix of mid-century and contemporary.” Avery rubbed her forehead. Was it the bump on the head and the drugs, or had she missed something? “He doesn’t work for you? Is he a volunteer?” With Keenan driving a Beyond Repair truck and seemingly in charge at the construction site, she’d assumed he was the project manager. “We didn’t pay him for the house plans, so technically it’s volunteer. He hasn’t been on the payroll for years—other than summers to earn the next year’s tuition.” Avery felt her eyebrows knit together, and August answered her unasked question. “He’s the architect.” Avery’s eyes widened, but before she could react in any other way, Keenan interrupted. “As much as I’m enjoying this little revelation, I really want to get back to Coralee’s to check on Nolan.” Though Nolan had ridden with him to the hospital, Coralee had followed to give him a ride back. “And to make sure work keeps going on the house. And Avery?” She looked up at him. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but you’re fired.” Avery gave him an Oh, really? look. Seeing how she’d just learned he wasn’t the project manager and therefore had no authority, she wasn’t worried, and her look said it all. “Okay, administrative leave.” “Without pay?” she teased back. He pretended to size her up. “We might be able to work out a plan to keep you on your regular pay schedule. Maybe there’s something I could have you do—something that will keep you away from the noise and the smells and the power tools.” He rubbed the stubble on his cheek that looked like sixty-grit sandpaper. “Maybe you could tweak the blueprint a little.” “That’s not even funny. You could have told me, you know.” Her voice cracked, a result of the trauma mixed with her emotions. Reflecting on their conversations, she felt embarrassed, and more than a little upset that she’d been duped. Had he been making fun of her? “I know I should have told you,” he whispered back. “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat and the emotion from his own voice, his sincerity softening her heart just a little. Avery gave an exaggerated frown, returning to her normal, jovial tone. “I don’t think the architect would like it if I changed his plans.” “I don’t know. There’s always room for improvement, and you had some really great ideas—I happen to know the architect was quite impressed. Maybe he’d take an intern. Or his firm could expand.” “Firm? Of how many?” she asked. “One.” His big, goofy grin popped that dimple again, and she caught her breath. “I hadn’t really been
looking, but I’m thinking I might be willing to take on a partner.” “Now I’m wondering which of us got bonked on the head.” Avery watched him watch her, and she suddenly felt more vulnerable than she had when she’d been splayed across the concrete floor. “Thanks for entertaining me.” Keenan took the cue to exit. He turned from Avery and offered his hand to August. “Thanks for taking care of my baby girl.” August’s appreciation was palpable. “Of course.” Avery felt his glance graze across her before he spoke to August again. “She’s a trooper. Though I hated seeing her in pain, the way she handled it with such grace—that’s a strong woman you’ve raised there, friend.” Avery sighed with relief that Keenan didn’t bring up the part where she almost fainted while the laceration in her head was being cleaned. It had been bad enough to live through once—the combination of the pain in her head, the smell of the antiseptic, and the perception of what she thought was going on had almost done her in. But she had grabbed on to Keenan, clinging to a fistful of his shirt until he’d wrapped a comforting arm around her—the exact opposite of Hayden’s reaction in the airport. Instead of embarrassment, encouragement, and instead of censure, comfort. “Hayden on his way in?” August almost stated rather than asked, but Avery was beginning to wonder herself. Though she’d been curious, she hadn’t wanted to spoil her time with Keenan by bringing up her absent boyfriend. She’d checked a few times, but hadn’t received a text back, though iMessage told her Hayden had seen it within minutes of it being sent. Was he ignoring her because he was angry that she missed the dolphin excursion? She hadn’t taken a nosedive from a ladder on purpose. Keenan shook his head in answer to August’s question, but didn’t comment. “Can I stop by tonight to check on you?” Warmth spread through her at the thought, and she agreed. “Works for me,” August said. He looked around the curtained area and back at Keenan and Avery. “Want to fill me in on what we’re waiting for?” Keenan looked to Avery, asking with his eyes if she was going to answer or if she wanted him to. She gestured for him to take over. Speaking, and especially the thought it required to remember what she’d been told by the various medical professionals, exhausted her. “They did a CT scan to make sure there are no brain bleeds or other damage. They also did an X-ray on the wrist, so now we’re waiting to hear the verdict on both.” Keenan reached over and squeezed her good hand, and the warmth of his palm spread as he entwined his fingers with hers, extending what might have otherwise only have been reassurance. Now she had to wonder if it meant something more. She also had to admit that the last few times she’d checked the phone for a message from Hayden, it had been because she didn’t want to see one, didn’t want him to interrupt her time with Keenan. “I really am going to go. I’m worried about Nolan.” He squeezed lightly again before pulling his hand away, the promise of more to come. “I’ll see you tonight.” “Keenan?” Avery asked, glad to have an excuse to stall him, to have him turn back so she could see that dimple peek out when he smiled at her one more time. “Could you tell Nolan it’s my fault? I shouldn’t have been leaning over so far. I don’t want him to feel bad about this.” “Throwing yourself under the bus, huh? We’ll have none of that. You’ve done enough damage already.” There was that dimple. Totally worth it. “We’ll make it right. See you later.” This time, he made it completely through the curtain, and when it swished back into place, Avery turned her concentration back to her father. “Thanks for coming, Dad. I know you’re super busy, and I don’t know why Hayden hasn’t made it down here yet.” She tried to shrug it off, but she was starting to get ticked that he didn’t seem to care. How could he not have even called? Her father sat in the chair next to her, his hair a premature shock of white that amused her. With the
texture and style, it appeared he styled his hair each morning by sticking his finger in a light socket. Completing the look was the circuit of wrinkles around his sparkling cobalt eyes and bulbous nose. The overall effect seemed to fit the humorous side of his personality, but looking at his beloved face now also brought an overwhelming sense of protection and comfort. He was a happy person, but he hadn’t always been. The first few years after Deirdra died had been especially difficult for both of them. Avery had lost her mother at an age when no girl should lose her best friend, but looking back, she could see it had been even harder for her father. He’d lost his true love, the one he’d basically grown up with. They’d married young, just a few years out of high school, they’d started a business, and they’d struggled with all the ups and downs of life together—finances, weather, parenting—and then, in the end, they’d suffered through her illness together. As he’d watched his wife waste away with cancer from the inside out, he must have noticed every nuance, wiped away many tears, listened to all her fears. But as a teenager, Avery hadn’t recognized the breadth of the pain they had gone through together. Now, more than a decade later, she appreciated that her father was finally in a good place in his life. Whatever it was that helped him achieve this Zen and keep it, she considered it no less than a miracle. Suspecting this had more than a little to do with his relationship with Coralee, she wished she herself could find such happiness with someone—and she had to admit, it didn’t seem to be Hayden. “Yes, I’m busy, but never too busy for my little girl.” He reached out and brushed her forearm with his fingertips as if he were afraid his touch would make her hurt more than she already did. “What about Coralee’s house? Will it still get done by Christmas?” Avery had already been skeptical that they were on schedule before the accident, and the chunk of time it had taken from Keenan and now her father couldn’t have helped. “Deadlines,” August scoffed. “They’re flexible.” When Avery pulled a face, August laughed. “If we don’t get it all done by Christmas, Coralee will understand. But I think it’s good. Don’t you worry.” Their conversation dropped into silence. Avery tried to summon a new topic, knowing it shouldn’t be difficult, considering they hadn’t had much time together. But her thoughts felt fuzzy and her head heavy. “Looks like you and Keenan have finally moved on. I wondered if you ever would.” Avery felt her face color, embarrassed at what her father must think of Keenan holding her hand in such a familiar way when she was supposed to be dating Hayden. August kept talking, ready to keep up more than his side of the conversation. “You and I had a pretty good thing going there a few years ago when he started coming around. We were in a nice routine—you helping me with the business, me keeping you from having to hang out at home alone, always being reminded that your mother wasn’t there anymore. And then he and his buddy have a night of being stupid teenagers and burn down the office. It was like losing your mother all over again—everything we had built together.” What? Avery couldn’t be hearing this correctly. Hot anger, like lava, bubbled inside her, and she swallowed, trying to calm herself, trying to listen to her father, whose motivations she no longer understood. August continued his narration calmly, as if relating an often-told story from Avery’s childhood, seemingly unaware of its inflammatory nature. “I was so angry, I wanted to throw those delinquents in jail. And then I met Keenan. What kind of kid has the gumption to go to the man who holds his fate in the balance, and owns up, offering pay for it?” As if that made it all right. “I decided to give him a chance, see if he could truly turn his life around. It made sense to me. If he was willing to work to fix something, do everything he could to make it right, why not let him do that instead of letting him waste his time doing me no good in some detention center, possibly turning worse
and ruining the rest of his life? Don’t you think?” If her father was trying to get her to agree that letting an arsonist go without punishment was the right thing to do, it was going to take a lot more convincing. “No, Dad. I don’t think. What about the legal end of the punishment?” She knew there was so much more to say, but as her pain and anger swirled in her, she couldn’t get the right words together. “How can you even trust him now? Sounds to me like he’s been taking advantage of you for the past eight years.” Avery saw pain shoot through August’s eyes, and he finally turned to look at her. She felt bad for hurting him, but he made no sense. After opening his mouth as if he were going to rebut, August closed it again, his demeanor resigned. Avery wished he’d say something, give her a chance to argue, grapple with the betrayal that hurt so much more than him hiding the fact that he was the architect. But he didn’t. Watching her father, a contemplative and sympathetic expression on his face, made her stop to consider what she’d seen of the relationship between Keenan and her father over the years. Crucial parts of the situation felt slippery, and she felt that her understanding was compromised by the concussion. She was in shock. She hadn’t known all of this then, and she needed time to process it now. What she did know was Keenan wasn’t the person she thought he was.
Chapter Eight
It had been a hard day already—for his knees. Keenan knew it sounded crazy, but his knees had gone through a gazillion emotions in one day. Weak when he could think of nothing else but wanting to kiss Avery. Fortified with adrenaline to get her through the trauma. Exhausted with relief when in the ER when he knew she was okay. Shaky with nerves as he held her hand to say good-bye. And now that he was sitting in his truck in the parking lot, they just felt numb. He looked down to make sure they were still there, and they were, his jeans caked with dried blood and gelatinous white globs of caulk from the bucket that fell when she did. He’d hated to see Avery hurt, but he was glad he’d been there to help. While she’d been at her most vulnerable, she’d also been completely trusting that he would care for her, and grateful for every single thing he and Nolan did. It added another dimension to the more-than-competent Avery he’d known all these years. He should be turning the ignition and heading back to Coralee’s. Avery would be fine, and he needed to check on Nolan, but he didn’t want to leave her. But feeling this way was stupid. It was time for him to butt out and allow August to spend time with her. Not to mention that she was here on vacation. With her boyfriend. He turned the key, and his focus. Coralee hadn’t wanted Nolan to spend too much time in the ER, perhaps worried he would see too much, but the most gruesome part had happened right in front of the boy’s eyes. What was worse was the responsibility Nolan admitted to feeling. It was a mistake anyone could have made, especially a ten-year-old, and that’s all it was—a mistake. No intent to hurt. If there was blame, maybe Keenan should shoulder it. He’d been the one to give long, heavy shelves to a boy to carry when there was someone nearby on a ladder. But that wasn’t the kind of person he was anymore. He had worked hard to learn not to take on responsibility for something that wasn’t his fault, especially if the situation, like this one, required no blame. The issue now was how to move forward, especially for Nolan. Keenan pulled into the driveway at Coralee’s house, pleased to see how the new porch completed the front and drew the eye to the wide front door being installed. The polished wood gleamed in the sun and matched the shutters. It was beautiful but very traditional, expected. That would contrast nicely with Avery’s idea of the unexpected paint on the inside. But now Avery wouldn’t be able to endure the cacophony of power tools with her concussion, and someone else would do the honors. At late afternoon, the house was a hub of activity. Almost every room hosted at least a couple of people, the volunteers mainly with paintbrushes, the construction crew focusing on the more technical aspects of pulling a house together in such a short time. There wasn’t much that needed Keenan’s attention, so he wandered from room to room looking for Nolan, not finding him. If I were ten and I felt bad about something, where would I be? Keenan asked himself. Hiding. His first thought was Nolan’s secret room, but he hoped it hadn’t been discovered yet, so he started checking closets instead. With only three bedrooms, it didn’t take long for him to find Nolan huddled in the back of the master closet, arms around his knees, head down. “Hey, buddy.” Keenan sat next to Nolan. “Avery wanted me to tell you she’s sorry your room didn’t get finished today, but it’ll get done tomorrow.” He kept his tone matter-of-fact as if nothing had even happened. “I’m the one who’s sorry,” Nolan muttered into his knees. “It’s all my fault.” “Dude,” Keenan said, bumping his shoulder lightly with his own. “I need you to look at me and believe what I’ve been trying to tell you.” There was no answer, no acknowledgment, only silence. “Nolan,” Keenan asked more sincerely, “will you please look at me?” The seconds it took for Nolan to comply felt heavy and stretched out, and Keenan almost gave up
waiting and kept up his one-sided conversation as before, but finally, Nolan peeked his eyes over his arm and caught Keenan’s gaze. “Anyone could have hit the ladder—I didn’t know she moved it and would have run into it myself if I had been first. She told me if she hadn’t been leaning over so far, she might not have fallen at all. It was a case of rotten timing and worse luck. But this I can say for sure—nobody blames you, least of all Avery. She’ll be fine. Maybe it was a ploy to take a break and get babied.” Keenan was only joking to get a grin from Nolan, but it didn’t work. “She is on vacation, after all.” An image of her lying on the beach with Hayden came unbidden to his mind, and he felt a pang of jealousy. Nolan shook his head. “No, she’d never do that. She’s a hard worker and cares too much about everyone else.” Nolan didn’t look like he felt any better. “But it’s my fault she was even here, wasting her vacation time,” he muttered into the crook of his arm. It didn’t make sense to Keenan. “Avery’s here because she wants to be, buddy. Nobody’s forcing her. Even Mr. Baumann.” “It’s my fault everyone’s here.” “How do you figure that?” Keenan pictured the fire that had brought them all together—maybe Nolan was somehow responsible. That would better explain the burns on Nolan’s hands. He mimicked Nolan’s posture, choosing to look ahead of him rather than to the side at Nolan so the boy wouldn’t feel cornered. He lowered his voice, unsure how to ask. “Were you there when the fire started?” Silence, and then Keenan perceived a slight nod in his periphery. “In the same room?” Again the pause and the nod. He struggled to know how to react, how to help this hurting child. The memory of a similar conversation, almost exactly eight years ago, came to mind. That time, he’d been the one with the secret, and August, the listening ear. Suffocating with guilt, Keenan eventually allowed the pressure to override his fear. Even if it meant exposing his best friend as well as himself, and the likelihood of prosecution for criminal mischief. Telling the truth freed him enough to move forward and accept responsibility. Perhaps Nolan was grappling with some of the same feelings now. “What happened?” Keenan asked, but Nolan didn’t answer right away. “You’ll probably feel better if you talk about it.” Keenan rubbed the scar inside his wrist. “But I don’t want to go to jail!” Nolan’s frustration and fear mounted to the point where he exploded with volume and rage. Although surprised, Keenan suppressed his reaction. He just wanted to help. If he could. “I’m not a lawyer, but I can tell you they don’t put ten-year-olds in jail for starting a fire—even if it was on purpose. And I wouldn’t turn you in anyway. The fire was an accident, wasn’t it?” Tears slipped down the boy’s cheeks. “It might help if you tell me. I can help you make it right.” Nolan’s hands dropped to the floor, his fingers sliding over the cold concrete slab. “Sometimes when Gram is tired or sad, she likes to take a bath at night with candles and bubble bath and stuff. She told me never to touch the matches.” He sniffed. “But she was sad because I had asked about where my mom is, and it was all my fault, so I wanted to make her happy. I wanted to surprise her.” He stopped for a gulp of air and started again, the momentum of the story carrying him forward. “The water was running, and I got the matches. It was hard—the match burned my finger and thumb, and . . .” He paused, scrubbing his hands across his eyes. “And then I dropped it onto the towel. And I wanted to get the towel wet to stop the fire and I tried to pick it up, but it hurt, and then the shower curtain was on fire and then I . . . I had to run. I couldn’t stop the fire. And I ran to Gram and yelled ‘Fire!’ just like they tell us at school. And we got out.” Keenan wrapped an arm around Nolan’s shoulders, offering a brief squeeze of reassurance. “I’m
proud of you. That was courageous—to try to put out the fire, to get your grandma out, and to tell me.” He paused to let that sink in before continuing, “And even though you did something your gram told you not to, the fire was still an accident.” Keenan shook his head emphatically to emphasize his point. “No way you’d get in trouble with the law for that one. Sorry, buddy, you’re not an outlaw yet.” He gave Nolan a toothy grin. “So now we just have to figure out what we’re going to do about all this.” Nolan started to squirm, obviously anticipating something painful—either physically or emotionally. “But Keenan . . .” It sounded like his heart was breaking anew. “I heard Gram crying last night. She said the fire burned up all our Christmas. I don’t care about getting anything, but I wish I had something to give her. To tell her I’m sorry. And to make her feel better.” Several ideas occurred to Keenan in a flash, not the least of which was making sure the house was decorated for Christmas when they finished the construction, but August had probably already made that part of the plan. In fact, knowing August, a few gifts under that tree wouldn’t be out of the question, either. The guy had the biggest heart of anyone he knew—the man who saw the best in everyone, offered second chances, and was generous with his time and money. “Don’t sweat it, kid. I’ve got a plan, but I can’t tell you yet.” Keenan stood and extended a hand to Nolan, who allowed himself to be hoisted into the air. The kid weighed next to nothing, and Keenan wondered how he had managed to carry the bookshelves that were half his body weight, if not more. “Are you sure Avery is going to be okay?” Nolan asked. “There was so much blood.” Just saying this, Nolan looked rather green in the face, no doubt recalling the gruesome scene. Picturing what Nolan might have been faced with when he walked back into his new bedroom, Keenan realized he’d forgotten to manage that detail of the situation. Surely Jerry had cleaned it up, but just in case, Keenan pulled out his phone and sent a quick group text to the crew. Was someone able to clean up the blood in the front bedroom? He returned his attention to Nolan while he awaited a reply. “Field trip to visit our patient in the hospital so you can see for yourself?” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’m sure Avery would love to see you.” “Yeah.” Nolan sounded tired. “I’d like that.” “Let me text Mr. August and find out where she is for sure. The hospital might already have sent her home.” Before he had a chance to text or call anyone, his phone buzzed with a response from Jerry. All clean. Didn’t want the kid to see it. Or the inspectors, for that matter. Don’t need CSU poking around. “Funny guy,” Keenan muttered to himself as he typed out ha ha, thanks and hit send. “What?” Nolan asked. “Oh, nothing.” He looked up, constant banging and staccato taps reminding him that the roof had just started going on that afternoon. Shingling would probably extend into the next day as well—all the more reason to keep Avery and her headache away from the construction site. “Let’s get out of here—we’ll go see how Avery’s doing and then we’ve got another job to do, you and me. Let’s call your grandma and make sure that’s okay with her.” He handed Nolan his phone. Relief relaxed the boy’s face. It felt good to get him out of the dumps and help him work to make things right. He didn’t hear Nolan’s exact words as he spoke to Coralee, but he didn’t need to. All he needed was to hear the renewed ease in Nolan’s voice. “Just to warn you, you can take one last look as we leave the house, and then it’s off limits to you and your grandma until Mr. Baumann says it’s done.” “What? You’re kidding, right?” Nolan asked as Keenan guided him through the family room where plastic hung over the fireplace, hiding it from Coralee’s eyes earlier that day. “Serious as your fourth-grade teacher.” Keenan made a scary face. “Need some surprises.”
“I liked my fourth-grade teacher,” Nolan protested. “’Course you did,” Keenan grumbled under his breath. When Nolan ran off to check his bedroom one last time, Keenan stood, his thumbs frozen over his phone, deciding how to find Avery’s current whereabouts. That Nolan needed to see Avery with his own eyes was almost laughable, but Keenan hadn’t been in the kid’s shoes. However, knowing what he did about Avery, Keenan knew there was no way sweet Avery could be angry with Nolan for an accident. Even if it were Nolan’s fault, Avery would have forgiven him in an instant. He sent a text to her phone. Are you still at the hospital? I’ve got someone who wants a quick visit. Fearing she wouldn’t get the text, he sent another to August. Avery still at the hospital? Bringing Nolan to see her. As he finished his walk-through, Keenan made a mental list of things he could see still needed attention, but found few. The entire house still needed the finishing touches like vents, door stoppers, and several light fixtures, but if they continued to have the steady stream of volunteers, the house would actually be completed in time for Christmas. “Ready?” Nolan met him at the construction door. Front door, Keenan checked off his list, glad he hadn’t been the one to do it. Door installation was one of his least favorite projects because of the physics of figuring out how to tweak the door frame so the door swung easily and closed without binding. For some reason, he could never figure out the angles without making things worse. On the drive to the hospital, Keenan waited for a text back, but when he pulled into the hospital parking lot and spotted August’s Beyond Repair pickup truck, he knew they hadn’t yet left. He chose a parking spot as close to his truck’s twin as he could, and he and Nolan went in the front door, making their way to the information desk. Unsure where to go, he lucked out when he rounded the corner to find that he and Nolan were face-to-face with Avery and August. “Dad, I really don’t need this thing.” Avery referred to the wheelchair she was sitting in. “I can walk.” “I know, sweetheart.” August continued to push her wheelchair across the highly polished stone floors toward the exit. “Rules are rules. I promised I’d use it.” She scowled at him. “You wouldn’t use it if you were in my position.” “I guess it’s a good thing you’re the patient, then, instead of me.” He nodded his head at Keenan over her head as if to say See what I have to put up with? “Now be patient. We’re almost there.” “Avery!” Nolan stepped in front of the wheelchair and leaned over to give her a hug. “You’re okay? Why aren’t you walking?” “Exactly what Dad and I were discussing. I’m perfectly fine, kiddo. I can walk. They just won’t let me until I’m outside the hospital.” While they were talking, Keenan noticed a spare wheelchair abandoned at the side of the hallway and snagged it, pulling it up next to Avery’s. “Hop in, Nolan,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Let’s race Avery out of this joint.” Not that they’d actually be able to, since they were only a few paces away from the automatic doors, but he wiggled his eyebrows at August in challenge. “Don’t you dare,” Avery warned Keenan, pairing the words with a pointed look and an upheld finger. Thinking she was talking to him, Nolan started to climb back out of the wheelchair he was settling into. “Not you, Nolan. You’re fine. I actually wouldn’t mind the company. If you ride next to me, I won’t feel so silly.” She glared up at Keenan, and it seemed serious, lacking any trace of the teasing or playfulness he’d expected from her. “No funny business.” “No funny business,” he repeated with mock solemnity, but Avery didn’t even crack a smile. At least, not his direction. Her smiles were solely for Nolan. “Home, James,” she commanded her father, and the four of them headed through the automatic double
doors. At the semicircular drive, August stopped short on the sidewalk. Knowing he was about to leave to get his truck, Keenan stepped over. “Keys, August?” He held out his hand. “You stay with these two, and I’ll fetch the truck.” Accepting the keys and a grateful look from August, Keenan turned, loping away, but then Avery’s voice grabbed at his attention behind him. “He doesn’t have to do that,” Avery insisted, her tone sharp. “I’m fine. We don’t need his help.” Confused at the change in Avery’s behavior toward him, Keenan was glad his back was to them so she couldn’t see the disappointment he felt. It would certainly be obvious on his face. This change in her must be a side effect of the head injury, he decided. He’d heard a blow to the head could alter someone’s personality temporarily, and if nothing else, she had to be in pain, which would be a valid excuse for her unpleasantness. August helped settle Avery into the passenger seat and walked around to the driver’s side, accepting the keys and a promise from Keenan that he’d be by later to check on her. “Sorry about that. Give her a chance to rest,” August assured him. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you later. Thanks for everything.” “No problem,” Keenan said, but he couldn’t shake the feeling there actually was a problem. He just didn’t know what it was. Or how to fix it. Instead, he went back to plan A with Nolan. He’d mentioned he had a few places for the two of them to go—step one was the hospital, and step two involved shopping. Keenan knew exactly where he wanted to go, so finding the right place was easy. The heavy wooden door opened into a bright boutique, soft Christmas music playing in the background. Silver and gold peeked from glass cases set throughout the room. The hard part would be picking out the perfect item for each of the women. There were so many choices. They peered into each case, Nolan excited about the various shapes, and chatting about why one item would be better than another until Nolan caught the price. “Keenan,” Nolan stalled, “um, I can’t pay for any of these.” “Tell you what.” Keenan had already prepared how he was going to deal with this. “I’ll pay for it now if you’ll promise to pay me back by working it off. You’ve already been a great helper these last few days, so you’ve already earned some of it. You never complain when I ask you to do something, and you always do your best. If you continue to do that, be my personal assistant for the rest of this project, we’ll call it square. Deal?” “You’ll pay for Gram and Avery’s?” Keenan raised a hand to his chin, pretending he needed to think about it. “I know you wanted to say you’re sorry to Avery, but it’s from me too, so I’ll do that one, and you do your grandma’s.” Nolan mimicked Keenan’s motions, stroking his own chin thoughtfully. “How am I going to help you if I can’t go back in the house?” The kid had a good point. “You’ll have to promise to follow my directions if I take you there. Some places will be off limits. I’ll probably have you helping out with things in the garage or the office, but if it’s at the house, you have to promise not to peek, and especially to keep everything about the house secret from your grandma. Can you do that?” “You got it. But don’t make me do anything too hard.” “Hey!” Keenan thumped him on the back. “You don’t get to make the rules. I do!” Both smiling big for the first time since Avery fell off the ladder, they went to the salesperson with their selections, paid for them, and had them gift wrapped, just two more guys in a women’s store making last-minute purchases before Christmas with the hopes that they picked out the perfect gifts. Keenan had never prided himself on being a good gift giver. He usually settled for gift cards or
standbys like flowers, but for the first time in his life, he was confident that he had found the right thing. He’d been watching. But as confident as he was, doubt started to seep in. The idea was right, but the sudden backflip of her interactions with him made no sense. What could have gone wrong? On the spur of the moment, he decided he needed to stop for flowers before heading to Avery’s house. Something was wrong, and he wanted the opportunity to make it right. Their gallivanting over, Keenan pulled up at the Beyond Repair office to drop off his new sidekick. He pulled in next to Coralee’s sedan and put the truck in park. Adjusting the air conditioning to match the temperature drop with the falling sun, he turned to Nolan. “I’m proud of you, kid. You were amazing today. You handled blood, fear, and guilt, and you’re ready to take responsibility and make things right. You’re turning into a man.” Keenan thought he was a spark of confidence ignite behind Nolan’s eyes. “Now the hard part—waiting until Christmas. Do you think you can keep our gifts a secret until then?” “Yep.” The kid had a smile like a movie star. “Thanks for . . . well, everything.” “See you at work in the morning.” Keenan made sure Nolan knew he was serious about their deal. “You got it.” They fist bumped, and Nolan stepped out of the truck. As he watched Nolan stride into the building, Keenan looked at the scrawny frame and wondered if he’d looked anything like that when he was that age. He remembered all too well what it felt like to grow up as the only child of a working mother who tried so very hard to be everything to him, yet not finding enough time in the day to stave off boredom or a longing for his dad. And here was Nolan with neither parent. Keenan decided to throw his baseball mitt into his vehicle so that anytime he made it to Beyond Repair and ran into his new buddy, they could have a game of catch in the parking lot. Though he was trying to think about how to help Nolan, his focus spiraled to his next plans for the evening—seeing Avery. He’d been looking forward to it since he’d told her good-bye at the hospital the first time, but after her cold reception the second time, he wasn’t sure what to do. Still, he had promised to visit, and he wanted to clear things up between them. He hoped to find that he’d misread her, see with his own eyes that things were all right between them. But first, the flowers. He hesitated over the bouquet choices, at a loss as to whether he should take a colorful bouquet of mixed blooms, which felt generic, the expected thing to give a friend who was hurt, or make his feelings obvious by offering roses. With some advice from the florist, he decided the only solution was a mix, and ended up with a small bouquet of three pink roses, each a shade darker than the last, accented with white daisies and oversized pink and orange blooms. “Good evening, Keenan.” August was welcoming, opening the door with his smile wide. “Come in. We just got settled.” “How is she?” Keenan stepped into the gleaming foyer. Terrazzo flooring similar to Coralee’s reflected the light, and the silence of the house echoed. “Come see for yourself.” August had a humorous expression on his face. Keenan shook his head. “You’re not taking advantage of her poor, confused brain, are you? Recording her saying crazy things, hoping you’ll have the next viral video?” “I wouldn’t do that to my girl. But while I don’t want to embarrass her in front of the whole world, that doesn’t keep me from finding some of this a little funny—as long as this goes away by tomorrow.” He got more serious. “Doc says she’s got a mild concussion—the CT showed everything was normal. She should be good within a couple of days, but she needs avoid bright light, loud noise, and using her brain too much, which includes reading, watching TV—anything like that until she doesn’t have a headache for twenty-four hours. It’s going to be a hard couple of days for her.” If Avery was in the family room, she could probably hear everything they were saying, and Keenan started walking that way, the most plausible resting place besides her bedroom. “You in here, Av?” He
didn’t expect her to call back to him, of course, but he wanted to signal both that he wasn’t trying to talk about her behind her back, and also that he was coming into the room. He stepped around the wall into the family room and found Avery sitting in an overstuffed chair, her feet propped on an ottoman, looking out the window like a small child trapped indoors due to bad weather. Her face looked at peace, though slightly sad, which Keenan chalked up to a reaction to the injury. She was probably disappointed to be banned from helping on the project now as he and August put on the finishing touches. The volunteers had been great, but with Christmas now so close, they were headed off to holiday plans of their own. He could have used her help in their stead, but her health had to come first. “Avery?” he asked gently when she didn’t turn to look at him. He hadn’t been quiet as he crossed the room, but she hadn’t acknowledged that she was there. When she still didn’t turn, he touched her elbow lightly. “Avery, you okay? I said I’d come.” “He brought you flowers, honey,” August said from across the room. “If Mom were here, she would say they are ‘lovely.’” Avery turned her face from the window, a heavy bruise pooling at the side of her temple close to the laceration. He longed to touch her cheek just below the bruise, to kiss the crown of her head as if it could take the hurt away. At one point today, he had thought that kind of intimacy was within the realm of possibility, but now it seemed to have vanished. As she reached forward to accept the flowers, Keenan noticed the black neoprene splint on her left wrist, and he frowned. Maybe his gift wasn’t as perfect as he’d thought. “Not broken, then?” He had noticed the sling when she was in the wheelchair, but had somehow missed the splint. He’d thought maybe she’d strained her shoulder or something. She started to shake her head ever so slightly, but then winced and stopped. “Strained. Not allowed to use it for six weeks.” She lifted it, showing off the splint. “Wouldn’t want to anyway, with as bad as it hurts.” He understood the physical injuries and had been pleased that they were less than he’d expected. What he didn’t get, though, was the hurt in her voice. As if he had done something. What had he done between their flirting at the hospital and now, besides buying her a Christmas/I-hope-you-feelbetter/Nolan’s-sorry gift and dreaming about being with her? Keenan was at a loss for conversation. Without her easy reciprocation, banter was out of the question, and even small talk was excruciating. “I bet Hayden will like having you around more. You can spend time with him at the beach.” He wasn’t sure why he said it. He wanted nothing less than for Avery to spend her time admiring another guy in his swim trunks and forgetting all about him. “I’m sure he will.” She was sullen, as if the thought held no appeal.
Chapter Nine
Perhaps Hayden would look forward to spending time with her on the beach. It probably fit into his stupid plan. But Avery still hadn’t heard from him after that first a text on the way to the hospital, and because of that, the last thing she wanted to do was spend time with him. Only one other thing rivaled her anger for Hayden right now, and that was Keenan. She knew she wasn’t holding up her side of the conversation, but she didn’t care. Keenan didn’t deserve her time. If he couldn’t be straight with her—and he’d had plenty of time to come clean—she didn’t want anything to do with him, either. How dare he act as if he were the hero rather than the dirty, slimy criminal who had tricked her father into feeling sorry for him? Well, she wouldn’t be fooled. She sat silent, waiting for him to bring up the next topic, relishing seeing him struggle for once. Waiting, she brooded over her reaction when she had heard his voice at the front door. At first, her heart had leaped with the delicious mix of anticipation and attraction, and then, when she remembered her conversation with her father earlier, anger. It was a bitter combination. How dare he walk into her life and take over as if he owned a spot there? He didn’t know anything about her, and apparently, she didn’t know him either. As she had listened to him chatting with her father, their easy manner testified that August had forgiven him long ago, and now they were as close as father and son. Closer, it seemed, than she was with her father, which caused her even more pain. Then, when she could hear them walking toward her, she turned from looking their direction to looking out the window, her shoulders facing outside, shutting out Keenan until she knew how to act around him. “Avery?” he asked now, just as he had when she was looking out the window. A few short hours ago, he’d seemed to be the man of her dreams. She’d enjoyed their easy conversations, happy in the thrill of their mutual attraction. When she’d gotten hurt, he’d treated her with gentleness and concern, sweetly caring for her, and because of this, had only risen in her estimation. Then, in the idle conversation of a father trying to connect with his daughter, she’d found her feelings twisted upside down, a tornado of information whipping through. She was left her in emotional tatters, furious for reasons that barely even made sense to her. “Avery?” His voice was soothing, her name safe on his lips. It also melted the ice around her heart just enough. He was trying. The flowers were a nice touch, unless it was manipulation. “I’m sorry this happened,” he said. “I should have warned Nolan to be more careful. Or I should have been carrying the shelves. I should have come in first.” He looked helpless, like he was trying to figure out the correct password for absolution. He might have been apologizing, but not for the right thing. An accident was an accident, but if it was intentional, even if it was eight years later, it still required a real apology, real remorse. And probably the most frustrating thing about it was that he didn’t even realize why she was angry. “It was an accident.” Avery stood, signaling the end of the visit. Her head swirled around her and she closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds to calm the motion in front of her eyes, but she opened them again in an instant, afraid she might fall over. She needed to sit again to lessen the pounding, but she needed Keenan to leave so she could rest and quit thinking so much. Keenan put a hand under her elbow when she started to sway, but she turned to free her arm from his grasp. “I can show myself out,” Keenan said stiffly. She felt him watch her until she sat again, and then stepped toward the foyer and out of sight. Avery heard the door close and felt a bit of her heart crumble—the part he shouldn’t have had access to in the first place. Minutes after the door closed behind Keenan, Avery heard a soft knock, and then the door opened
again without a pause. Both fearing and hoping it was Keenan, Avery resolved to extend an olive branch and meet him halfway. She owed it to him to allow an explanation, or at least to tell him what was bothering her, but instead, Hayden walked through the doorway, and her magnanimity flopped. Hayden looked windblown, but happy in the satisfied way anyone would who had spent the day exactly as they had wanted, without a care in the world—especially an injured girlfriend. “What? Did I not fit into your precious plan?” Avery bit into him without greeting. It was probably unfair not to wait for his side of the story, but she was too hurt to wade through niceties. “We already paid for the tickets.” Hayden sat on the loveseat perpendicular to her chair. He set his messenger bag at the corner between their feet, their knees almost touching. “This might be my only opportunity to go. Besides, I knew you were well taken care of. You had your dad. And Keenan.” She could hear the jealous sneer in his voice. “By the time I showed up, you would have already been treated and released, and it would have been a waste . . .” He trailed off. “So it would be a waste to visit me?” she supplied. “I knew you would take it that way. You know that’s not what I meant.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I was going to say a waste of time coming back because I would have missed both being able to help you and the dolphin tour boat. But I stopped because I knew how it sounded.” He was contrite, but probably because he had gotten caught in a selfish thought. “So it’s a waste of your time to take care of me? A waste of your time to text me back to see how I am?” “I didn’t want to interrupt you if you were resting.” “You didn’t even know what was wrong with me! What if it had been serious instead of just this?” She pointed to her stitches with her splinted hand, which made both her wrist and her head throb harder. He still had no real idea what had happened to her. She hadn’t given him the chance to ask. “I would have loved to have you interrupt me while I was resting—at least I would know you cared about me. Instead, you showed me what you really care about—your dolphins, your precious plans, and yourself.” His eyes turned cold, and after a few seconds of staring at her, he spoke, more collected than before. “You’re not who I thought you were.” Avery considered his statement. In a way, it was a compliment, though he clearly hadn’t meant it that way. Sadly, she realized she could say the same thing right back at him and mean it—about herself and about him. Hayden continued eying her a few moments before standing to leave. He walked away, shoulders held impossibly straight, toward the guest room. Not bothering to close the door, she had to infer that he wanted her to know what he was doing, and by the unmistakable sound of zippers and dresser drawers, she surmised it was packing. Fine. She didn’t want him around. Not that he had been around that much anyway. Avery grabbed at the strap of his messenger bag at her feet to set it next to his jacket on the couch. He couldn’t live without the bag, she knew from experience, and she didn’t want him to forget it. It held everything he needed for his business and social life, including his tablet and spiral notebooks. When he’d left their conversation, he had kicked over the bag, and apparently hadn’t noticed that a black velvet box had slipped out of the front pocket and onto the floor. Recognizing a jeweler’s box, she realized it was probably her Christmas present, which, with the way things just went, she obviously would not be receiving. With more curiosity than regret, she palmed the box, listened to make sure he was still banging around in the other room, and opened it. The all-white Christmas lights from the tree behind her refracted on the diamond ring, dazzling her for a second. The center diamond was large and set in a band of twining yellow and white gold, covered with tiny diamonds. Though it was clearly the thought that counted, the ring was gaudy and ostentatious, more the sign of “look what my man did for me” than a reflection of his
adoration of who she really was. The only flip that her stomach did at seeing the ring was the feeling that she had dodged a bullet—not necessarily in wearing this ring, but in wearing his. Yet she had to wonder—if this vacation had gone as originally planned, if they had spent the bulk of the time together, had the romantic walks and intimate chats, and then he had proposed with this ring over an expensive, gourmet meal on a dinner cruise, would she have felt differently? And now, if the ring were more to her taste, would she change her mind about how she felt about him? She eased the box closed without a snap and slipped it into the closest pocket of the bag, hoping she’d chosen the correct one so he wouldn’t suspect that she’d peeked. So Hayden had been about to propose. She couldn’t believe it, really. Things had gone from pretty good to not so good over the past few weeks, and she hadn’t the slightest idea that he’d been that serious about their relationship. With the way things had been between them, how could he have thought she was ready to say yes? It was as if Hayden didn’t know her at all. He hadn’t talked to her about marriage plans. He hadn’t bothered to try to find out her tastes in jewelry. And he hadn’t realized that her family had to come before schedules and plans and appearances. She could hear Hayden marching down the hall, and she sank back into the couch, waiting to see if he was really going to go. The ball was in his court. He’d clearly made a decision, and she was going to wait to hear it. He walked in, trailing his suitcase behind him. It was dark outside, but not overly late. The glitter of the neighbors’ holiday lights sparkled in the refection of the windows, but the mood in the house was anything but festive. “I think I’ve gotten what I came for. It’s time for me to leave.” He walked to her, and she stood as he neared. She wondered if he was going to hug her until he bent down to swipe at the strap of the messenger bag, pulling it up as he stood, his face inches from hers, their lips and hearts miles apart. It was clearly over. “Do you want me to find out if Keenan has a place for you to stay until our return flight?” Avery didn’t really want to do that, didn’t want to call Keenan and ask for a favor, but it seemed like the nice thing to do. “Uh, no.” Hayden laughed derisively. “I’m good. I’m heading back home to get some skiing in before my vacation time is up.” The words she heard in his tone were, “Not that you care,” but he stopped short of saying it. She did care, just not the same way she had a month or even a week ago. “Okay,” she said, reaching to give him a quick, final good-bye hug. “I hope everything goes well for you.” He leaned back, avoiding the hug. “Good-bye,” he said simply and walked to the front door, closing it rather snugly behind him. After Hayden’s departure, the sound of the slamming door echoed through Avery’s still-throbbing head. With the day’s events, all she wanted now was relief. Relief from the physical as well as emotional pain. Relief from the throbbing worry that ebbed into the crevices of her mind. She knew there must be a way to fix it, to rebuild the life that was disintegrating around her, but first she had to figure out what she actually wanted, and the only way to do that was to have silence. And sleep sounded like the best option. “Hey, kiddo.” Her father walked in with a mug of hot chocolate in each hand and offered her one, then sat in the seat Keenan and Hayden had each vacated in turn. The mug was warm to the touch but not hot, the liquid inside the temperature for drinking rather than sipping. “And you call this hot chocolate?” she accused, a hint of humor back in her voice. “I said nothing of the sort.” He took a gulp of his own drink, then lowered the mug to gaze at her. His eyes twinkled in the Christmas lights, his cheeks and nose red from the sunburn he’d sustained while working on exterior siding, windows, and roof decking. “Make sure you listen to what people actually say.” He set the mug on a coaster on the coffee table in front of them. “It’s too warm outside for hot chocolate. You, of all people, must feel that after getting acclimated to New England winters and then
coming down here for Christmas. It’s cool to us locals, but it’s got to be a heat wave for you.” “It is amazing how different things seem, coming home again. How different than I expected, yet mostly what I remembered.” She blew out forcefully, exasperated. “Dad, I’m so confused; I feel like I’ll never figure it out. I wish I could say it’s the conk on the head, but I can’t blame everything on that.” She gestured to the front door. “I suppose you heard Hayden’s good-bye?” “Among other things.” Her father gave her a shrug and a sheepish look. “I might have listened in a little when I heard him come in. I was curious what his excuse might have been for this one.” Avery almost didn’t want to ask, but knew her father would be in her corner no matter what. “Do you approve of how I handled things? Or was that a dumb thing to do?” “Are you kidding me?” August leaned back in his chair, plopping his feet on the coffee table. “I’d have thrown him out days ago!” “He’s only been here days.” “I know.” He laughed. “You gave him every chance, but you know what? You shouldn’t put up with someone who puts you last.” “But haven’t I been doing just that to him? Putting him last behind helping you and Coralee?” The worry that had bothered her most over the last day or so came out. “I didn’t mean to. I tried to get him to spend time with me by helping. I offered to teach him or give him tasks I knew he’d be good at. I wanted to split my time between what he wanted to do and what I felt needed to be done, but he wasn’t willing to compromise.” Out of justifications, she stopped talking. “The way I see it, this was a symptom of an already failing relationship. Am I wrong?” She thought back to the feelings that had plagued her for days—weeks, even. “I don’t think you’re wrong.” She was quiet and took a drink of what was quickly tasting more like warm chocolate milk and had the urge to drop a few ice cubes in it to make it cold. “Hayden doesn’t seem to be the one for me, and I think I’ve known that for a while now.” August nodded, agreeing, so she continued to sift through her thoughts out loud. She never knew her father could be such a great sounding board. “Would it be completely awful if . . .” Her face flushed, and August could probably guess what question was going through her mind. If he did, he didn’t interrupt, though she wished she didn’t have to come out and say it. “Would I be an awful person if I started dating someone else this soon after Hayden and I broke up?” She didn’t even know why she was asking, to be honest. It was crazy—she was furious with Keenan, and August for that matter. But remembering the fun she’d had with Keenan and his chocolate-brown eyes, dark curls, and playful dimple made her throat and chest feel warm as if she were drinking real hot chocolate. “Only you can answer that, honey, but there’ll be no judgements here.” Deep down, she knew that already. She suspected he’d be secretly—or not so secretly—pleased if she and Keenan got together. She shook her head, resolute. She couldn’t date Keenan. Not now. “Can you promise me something, sugar?” August leaned forward, reaching out a strong, sun-spotted hand to touch her arm. She nodded, her eyes getting heavier, but willing to promise this man anything. “Hear him out before you turn him away. He deserves that, at least. You don’t know the whole story —it’s not mine to tell. Just please give him a chance.” The warmth she’d felt in her chest spread all the way to her toes, and she assured August she would do that. Succumbing to exhaustion, Avery made her excuses so she could climb into bed, her eyes feeling almost as heavy as they had when she’d gotten knocked out, though it was barely nine o’clock. “Night, Daddy,” she said, giving him a hug. “Thank you for the talk. Love you.” “Love you too, sassafras.”
* * *
The next morning, Avery sat in the chair at the window again, her eyes watching as the leaves on the palm tree outside swayed almost imperceptibly in the slight breeze. She could imagine them whispering as they touched each other, gossiping like old friends. Like friends with a history together. Friends who had weathered hurt feelings and misunderstandings and disagreements, yet remained close because the good greatly outweighed the bad. There was forgiveness and laughter and working together, enjoying each other’s company. She thought about the last few days, recalling an instance of each in turn. If she had just met Keenan that week, she would have dropped Hayden in an instant. She would have jumped at the chance to spend every waking minute with Keenan. But she had been reserved, wary of their past clashes, waiting for something to go wrong, and it did. But it wasn’t something new. It was in the past, the distant past—dead and buried, her dad would say, but it wasn’t buried yet for her. Was it fair to hold his past against him? He hadn’t meant to hurt her this time, and high school was so long ago. She wanted to be angry that Keenan had kept all this a secret from her, but if she really thought about it, had he? Had he avoided the topic to pretend he had done nothing wrong or had he assumed, albeit incorrectly, that she already knew and had forgiven him? Should she be angry with her father instead because he hadn’t been the one to tell her before? But that didn’t feel right either. It hadn’t been between her and Keenan. It had been between Keenan and August, and August had every right to make the decision he had—to leave her out of it. But if that was true, why did she feel so betrayed? Bored, she looked around, wishing she could go to the construction site. Coralee’s house had to be close to done. According to August the night before, everything would be wrapped up today so carpet could be laid in the bedrooms tomorrow, but he’d also told her that the roofers would be there all day, and there was no way she could endure the noise. She longed to get on the computer or read an oldfashioned paperback, even watch a movie, but doctor’s orders . . . Which left . . .? Christmas baking. And no question, that meant pies. She had the time, so why not? Excited now, she jotted down a quick list so her mind wouldn’t have to hold on to anything. Pecan, of course—would it even be a Texas Christmas without one? She wasn’t a fan, but it was tradition, so it topped the list. For sure, a peanut butter for her father, razzleberry for herself, and maybe something a little lighter like a key lime. Four was doable. She checked her father’s rather stark pantry, which was stocked with only the basic staples. It was a good thing a small market was only two blocks away. She grabbed a couple of reusable bags with handles to make the walk home a little easier. She walked slowly, taking care not to jostle her head. The worst part about the shopping trip ended up being the excessive sunlight. Even with her sunglasses, the light stabbed at her eyes, and the headache returned more forcefully, but it was worth it rather than sitting at home with nothing to do but try to hold a conversation with Tarzan the snoozing cat. The smothering silence of August’s house and knowing everyone else was out working and she couldn’t did nothing to lift her spirits, and Avery was struck with the irony of having sent Hayden away. Now her schedule was clear for all the “us” time he had wanted, yet the other half that made the “us” was gone. But Hayden would never have consented to resting at home anyway. Returning home with two light bags was easy enough to manage. The thing she hadn’t factored into the baking spree was the bum wrist. Though it wasn’t in a bulky cast, it was nearly impossible to manage the can opener, and she had to laugh when she pictured how her pie crust would end up looking as she struggled with the limited use of the other hand, but she forged ahead, unwilling to let the splint or dull ache to keep her from doing something productive. Following the recipes written in her mother’s familiar handwriting was soothing, mindless as she carried out one step at a time. Avery breathed a sigh of contentment. She was home. She was comfortable with herself, in this community, and with who she was without trying to be someone she wasn’t. While the pecans toasted, she went to work on rolling out the first of the pie crusts. Unhurried, she
experimented, unwilling to accept defeat. Since her left hand was bulky in its splint and she didn’t want to dirty it or contaminate the food, she had to find a creative alternative to maneuvering the rolling pin. Eventually, she settled on plopping a ball of dough on a lazy Susan, flattening it with her good hand as much as possible. Then, holding one side of the rolling pin stationary with her left elbow, she did the work of smoothing and rolling with her right hand, pushing away in short strokes out—not unlike using a compass to create arcs on a blueprint. When one quarter of the circle was done, she gave the lazy Susan a partial turn and started again. It was tedious and clumsy, and didn’t yield the most beautiful circles, but it was effective enough. She looked down at her fitted T-shirt with the huge, friendly daisy printed on the front, now dusted with flour from rolling out pie crust, and her white denim capris, her toenails painted alternating red and green for Christmas. Hayden had accused her of being childish and urged her to go to a salon for a pedicure—choosing only one color, he’d emphasized—so her nails would coordinate with the stuffy silk blouses and tailored slacks he always wanted her to wear, even on their days off. When she was with him, she felt like she was playing dress-up, and even after the months they’d been together, she never recognized herself in the mirror. She wiggled her toes. This. This was who she was. And that was it. She needed to be a more balanced person, more true to herself. If she could take the intellectual, crazy-good at finance and business part of her and somehow pair that with her childhood passion of building and creating, all in an environment she was comfortable in, that would be a dream come true. Which meant taking over Beyond Repair. If her father would still let her. If he hadn’t already offered it to Keenan. The half-made key lime and razzleberry pies sat on the counter, smooth cream and bright fruit slick, shiny with festive color, waiting for their finishing touches when she heard the doorbell. She tossed a clean, damp dishtowel over the ball of dough she had just begun to roll out and headed toward the front door, wiping her good hand on her apron, a frilly calico circa 1980 her father had given her mother. Without looking to see who it was, Avery opened the door, half expecting Hayden to be standing there, though she hoped he wasn’t. “Hi, Avery.” Keenan looked nervous. She couldn’t blame him—she’d been ready to bite his head off the previous night, a 180-degree flip from only a few hours before, so he had to be testing where her emotional barometer might register now. “Mind if I come in?” He looked good for working at a construction site all day. He was dressed in nice jeans and a yellow polo, both worn enough that they looked soft and comfortable, but new enough to look sharp if he wanted to go out. There wasn’t a speck of sawdust or a drop of paint on him. He gave her a half smile and held up a crisp copy of a romantic Christmas novella. “Cute apron. Coralee sent me over with reading material with the express instructions that I was to read it to you, if you were bored.” His face flushed, and she almost wanted to take him up on it just to see if he would do it. “But it looks like you’re busy. What are you baking?” He stuck his head past her into the doorway and took an exaggerated sniff, closing his eyes and sighing. “Pecan pie.” She smelled soap and aftershave as he bent her direction. He took another whiff. “Have I told you how much I love you?” He grabbed her good hand, holding it lightly in dance position and placed his other on her hip, carefully waltzing her through the front door. “I guess you’re feeling better.” As soon as he cleared the threshold, she dropped his hand and pushed him away, frowning. She closed the door behind him and abandoned him, heading back to check on the pecan pie which would be done any minute. “Yes. The headache’s mostly gone, so I’m getting a little cabin fever.” He followed her into the kitchen, and she could feel him watching her as she flipped on the oven light, deciding to leave the pie for a few more minutes. A surge of frustration flowed through her, and she tried to tamp it down with logic. She had spent
several days with Keenan, and from what she could tell, he was exactly what she had been looking for— someone who liked her for who she really was. Someone she didn’t feel she had to change for in any way. He was smart, funny, talented, and, well—she peeked over at him, and her knees grew weak as she watched him admire her baking progress—gorgeous. She needed to give him a chance to explain. After all, she had promised her father she would. She had decided all of this earlier in the day. Despite her attraction, the see-saw of her emotions tipped to the frustrated, hurt side. “What are you doing here, Keenan?” And because that sounded meaner than she meant it to, she added, “I thought you had a house to finish. Don’t they need you?” “I got time off for good behavior?” He said it like it was a question, but she knew he was teasing again. “Aren’t these pies a little, um, lopsided?” He picked up the tail of pie crust that sagged out the side of the razzleberry and wagged it up and down a little. “I’ll cut that off at the end.” She didn’t want to admit that the bottom crusts were asymmetrical because she had difficulty putting even pressure on the rolling pin. Her left hand was mutinous from the fall, and the splint wasn’t her friend. “Don’t let me stop you from finishing.” He pointed to the towel-covered crust. There was no way she was about to show him how she’d managed to roll out the first few crusts with her right hand and left elbow. “I’ll get it later.” No matter how she bristled, Keenan looked at ease. Was he going to stick around just to bother her?
Chapter Ten
Keenan whipped the towel off the dough, glancing at her sideways, sizing her up. She might be giving him the cold shoulder, but she hadn’t kicked him out yet, and he was taking that as a good sign. Patience, August had warned him before he came over. It’ll be worth it. “Can I help?” Keenan asked. It had to be why she was stalling. He couldn’t figure out how she’d been able to roll out the base crust for the pies already. He admired her pluck. But since he was there, he could help. His mom had taught him how to roll a mean pie crust. “I’ll roll, and you cut and weave.” He washed his hands in the sink, not waiting for an answer, and laughed at his own wording. “That sounds like a basketball move, doesn’t it? Which I wouldn’t mind seeing you do either, but in your current condition, I think we’d better stick with pies.” “You know, I was fine doing this myself,” she grumped, but grabbed a knife anyway. Her pert little nose had a streak of flour on it, which he hoped to be able to wipe off later. “I don’t need your help.” “I know you’re capable.” Keenan set down the rolling pin and leaned a hip against the cupboard to look at her straight on. He’d warm that cold shoulder. He’d tried to finagle the reason why out of August, who refused to tell him. That’s between you and Avery. Don’t put me in the middle. “What did I do, Avery?” He made sure all traces of humor were stripped from his words, hoping not to put her on the defensive. “Are you sure you want to know?” Her tone match his in softness, giving him the hope he needed to press on, despite the challenge in her words. “I’m sure. I want to fix it if I can. What happened?” He kept his voice soft, his motions slow, as if trying not to scare a wild animal. Instead of responding, she grabbed for the rolling pin he’d set down and wedged her body between him and the countertop. Under any other circumstances, he could have enjoyed it, making a game out of it, but he stepped back, as he was certain she wanted him to. He watched her fight with the rolling pin, admiring her ingenuity, but if he allowed her to continue rolling one ray at a time, it would be midnight before they finished. She struggled through several strokes before taking her frustration with the pastry dough and rolling pin out on him through accusations she hurled at him one after another. “So you tried to burn down my father’s business to get back at me? And instead of being sent to jail or juvie or whatever, you manipulated him into hiring you, using him to pay your way through college and grad school. And now you’re using his company to launch your career? What’s next—taking over my father’s business so he can retire? How very gallant of you.” If she’d knocked the wind out of him for real, it wouldn’t have hurt more. He stared at Avery’s profile, trying to soak in all her frustration and anger, seeing it through her eyes for the first time. In high school, they never seemed to be on the same page—each of them crushing on the other, just not at the same time. Then, when he started working at Beyond Repair, things between them had soured. She had avoided him at school and ignored him at work, and he never felt welcome in her presence. He had thought, at the time, that August must have told her what had happened, and that was why she had treated him this way. To find out she hadn’t known surprised him. Feeling she’d struggled with the crust long enough, he stepped forward, wrapping his right arm around her, gently placing his fingers over hers on the rolling pin. She retracted as soon as he touched her as if electrocuted, and he let her step to the left, taking over the chore without looking her in the eye. He rolled once or twice and then smoothed a pinch of flour over the wooden surface of the roller and began again. After a couple of strokes, he spoke softly. “I’m so sorry I never apologized to you. I should have, I know. It was hard enough confessing to August, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. I was a coward.”
They stood shoulder to shoulder, careful not to touch. “It’s true—I was there when the fire started. It’s true that it all began because Jared was holding a grudge. Do you remember when Jared and I got caught cheating?” “Yes.” Her answer was simple, and he couldn’t tell how she felt about the memory. Keenan remembered that day well. The nerve. To turn us in just because we work smarter, not harder, his best friend, Jared, had sneered. Not my fault she studies all the time when a little cash in the right hands can free up your night. So my GPA’s still higher than hers. Jared had laughed heartily, pleased with himself. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. Then he’d gotten serious. Well, made me. Until she pulled this stunt. Jared and Keenan had been called into the vice principal’s office, their counselor sitting stiffly at his left, entering notes into what was probably their permanent school records. So much for getting a good letter of recommendation for Ivy League now. Jared’s had scared Keenan, and for the first time, he’d been concerned that he wouldn’t get the scholarships that were crucial for him to attend any college. Skipping those details, Keenan continued his story. “Jared said you were the reason we got caught —” She started to interrupt, but he stopped her. “I’m not blaming you. In fact, it’s one of the best things that happened to me. I’m just telling you why the fire happened, what started it.” He reached for a drop of water to repair a rip in the dough, kneading the two sides together. As he did this, he chanced a sideways look at her, but she just kept rolling a small leftover lump of dough between her right palm and the countertop, seemingly concentrating more on the story than what she was doing. “He was mad, figured because of it, he wouldn’t get into the universities he wanted, so he wanted to get you back financially too, and that meant your dad’s business. Is this thin enough?” he asked about the dough. “Too thin?” “It’s good.” Without looking at him, Avery threw the leftover ball of dough, round and perfect as a racquetball, into the bowl switched him places. She started cutting the flat crust slowly as if to extend the chore long enough to hear his entire story. He turned to her, leaning his head down toward hers to catch her eye. When she did look up at him, there was a tenderness he didn’t expect to see in her soft blues. “I tried to stop him, Avery. I really did.” He rubbed at the scar on the inside of his forearm, the one she had asked about earlier. Jared had been from the right part of town, living in the big house, set with the oil royalties rolling in fast enough to cover whatever he wanted, but Keenan’s mom had to work long hours to cover the basic necessities. Sick with a feeling of despair and loss, Keenan had allowed Jared to convince him it was Avery’s fault. But as soon as Jared had popped the cap off the can of spray paint that night in the dark, Keenan’s conscience had kicked in, and he spent the rest of the time trying to convince his friend to leave the small business alone. Despite their struggle, a little spray paint tagging spiraled out of control to slashed tires and broken windows. And then there was the stock. Lumber was gouged, molding broken, and tile thrown and shattered. If only Keenan had the courage to pull out his phone and call 911 . . . but instead, he’d tried to stop Jared himself, and ended up walking away with a broken nose, bruised fists, and a shattered friendship. The worst part, however, had been when Keenan realized that his actions had slammed the door on any possible relationship with his longtime crush, the gorgeous girl with the contagious laugh and quick wit. His voice faltered as he chose his words. “I tried to stop him, stop the fire, the whole bit. It just didn’t work.” He set the bowl and rolling pin into the sink and started the hot water, squirting a little dishwashing liquid with it. “And when I came to your father with my story, for whatever reason, he forgave me.” Keenan’s eyes misted a little as he remembered sitting with August, a scared teenager ready to face the consequences, even if it meant forfeiting his future. “He made me a deal and let me pay off my part of the debt to him. After a couple of years of working for him, he called it square, and yes, then he let me work for wages that helped me get through college, and it also helped me discover my passion.”
He rubbed his arm again. “This scar will always remind me that I can’t choose the consequences. It reminds me that mistakes happen when you don’t use your influence to do good, when you sit by and let others make bad choices. It reminds me to be courageous and generous and forgiving. I know I fall short, but it helps me remember to try.” He found a sponge and started washing. “Despite how it might look to you right now, I’m not using Beyond Repair as a springboard to launch my career. I volunteered my services to Coralee because I love and respect her. You forget, I’ve worked with her over the past eight years as well as with your father. She’s given me friendship and advice—I just wanted to give back a little. And as far as taking over Beyond Repair, I’m pretty sure that job is still waiting for you. Your dad may be ninety before he retires if he can’t wear you down sooner.” He tried to bring humor back into their conversation and was rewarded with a guarded ghost of a smile, which was better than no smile at all. She said nothing, but seemed more relaxed as he reached over to help her weave the top on the razzleberry pie. He’d given her a lot to think about. He just hoped she would. With his chore done, Keenan wrung out the dishcloth and dried his hands on the green towel hanging from the oven. “Thanks for hearing me out, Avery. I’ve got to get back over to the house. Are you going to be able to rest now that the pies are almost done?” She nodded, and he let himself out of the house.
Chapter Eleven
Avery stayed in the kitchen as Keenan left, softly closing the door behind him. At the end of his story, she hadn’t trusted herself to respond. To talk around the lump that had formed in her throat would have unleashed emotions she wasn’t sure how to channel. Instead, she surveyed the results of her baking binge. The peanut butter pie had been whipped and dumped, rather than poured, into the graham cracker crust, and loaded into the freezer to set. The pecan and key lime pies cooled on the counter like perfect sandcastles drying in the sun. One-handed, she loaded the razzleberry into the oven. The last of the pies. Keenan had been kind enough to clean off the flour and dough stuck to the granite countertop, so now all she had to do was set the timer and relax. With nothing left to distract her, Avery slumped again into the overstuffed chair, this time watching the seagulls swoop overhead. The house was too quiet, and though she longed for a listening ear and wise counsel, she decided filling the air with the gulls’ chatter would at least make her feel like she wasn’t alone. Shimmying the window open a couple of inches let in a breath of fresh air and their hopeful cries, and picturing Keenan’s biceps bulging with the simple act of rolling out pie dough, she dozed until the timer went off. In a haze, she opened the oven door and turned off the heat, and then returned to finish her much-needed nap. An hour later, Avery opened her eyes to her father tiptoeing past, the situation amusing to her as the daughter. She let out a soft laugh. Startled, he jumped. “Oh, you’re up! I was . . .” She laughed again. “You were trying to sneak past so I wouldn’t know you were going out again.” August tried to look sheepish, but didn’t quite pull it off. “Caught me.” He chuckled too. “But since you’re up, fancy a drive to Port Aransas? I’ve got to check on another of my building sites. You up for it?” Avery stretched and ran her fingers through her long hair, hoping to smooth any crinkles she might have made by slumbering in a chair. “Yeah.” She rolled her neck, and with its stiffness, she remembered to stand up slowly. “The house smells great! Did I see peanut butter pie in the freezer as well?” She shrugged and smiled as he continued to talk. “I leave you at home to rest and end up with pies all over the kitchen. Just like your mother.” “I did sleep.” She gestured to the now-empty chair. “And four pies is hardly ‘all over the kitchen,’ especially when one is in the freezer.”
* * *
Avery tipped her head back against the low headrest, allowing her hair to blow in the breeze of the open sunroof as they drove across the bridge that spanned Laguna Madre. “Keenan came by.” August gave her a glance but then looked back at his driving, allowing her to proceed when she was ready. “I did as you suggested. I let him tell me his side of the story. The whole story.” “And?” August was patient, and the night was still except for the wind noise. The stars surfaced like nature’s Christmas lights, and the farther from town they went, the easier it was to spot them. She reached forward and pushed the button to close the sunroof so she could talk and be heard. “I’m so confused. It’s hard to take this guy I remember from high school and mesh him with the man he appears to be now. We had our troubles at the time, and now I find out that he was worse than I knew back then.” “Was he worse than you thought, or more troubled than you knew?” August’s question made her pause. Wasn’t that the same thing? No. “Interesting question.” She sat quietly, thinking it through, weighing past memories against new evidence, waiting for her hindsight to
catch up to 20/20. “And then I look at him now. He seems like the perfect guy, but how much do I really know him—the real him?” She thought about the time they spent together studying the blueprints, building the hidden door, baking the pies. “He’s a really great guy. He’s kind to others—me, you, Coralee, especially Nolan, and even to Hayden, though I suspect he didn’t want to be. His past dealings with you show that he’s honorable and trustworthy. He’s got a great work ethic, and he’s crazy talented and passionate about his job.” The only sound for the next few moments was the car tires over the expansion plates on the bridge in their rhythmic thump-thump-thump. “I’m not hearing the problem yet, honey.” “I guess I don’t know how to reconcile these two very different people in my head.” August allowed a few more beats from the road before responding again. “And no one else has changed? Think of yourself. Are you the same person you were in high school? College, even?” It was as if he could see what she’d been thinking the last couple of days. “No.” She was glad she wasn’t. She and Keenan both had matured, grown up and grown past problems, and were pretty decent people now. “But even if that’s true, how do I move on from here if I want to? Will it be awkward between me and Keenan? Will he be interested in me anymore?” August let out a scoff of a laugh. “That’s the least of your worries.” He smiled to himself, like he had the inside scoop. “My advice? Tomorrow, act as if nothing happened. Go back to how it was between you two days ago. Remember all the good interactions you’ve had this week and continue to get to know him. Give yourself the chance to figure out which of those men he really is.” Avery relaxed into the seat, no longer worried. “I am beginning to see why you’d choose him to take over your company.” She said this sincerely, musing over her options, and wishing she hadn’t turned her father down a couple of months ago when he had extended the offer to her. “What?” August almost choked with surprise. “Who told you he was taking over the business? Surely he didn’t, because I helped him set up his own business—as an architect. A colleague, not a competitor, and certainly not my successor.” Now it was Avery’s turn to be surprised. “Why haven’t you handed it over to him?” “Two reasons. One, I haven’t given up hope that I can keep it in the family.” He winked at her, then turned back to the road. “And two, he doesn’t want to do construction. He said he’d consider a type of partnership, but he doesn’t want the day-to-day business Beyond Repair works on.” August feigned sadness, though a tug at the corners of his mouth belied a growing suspicion at her questions. “Now I just have to find someone I can trust to take over my business so an old, tired man like me can retire and enjoy a few good years of fishing.” “Hmm.” A bubble of hope rose in Avery’s chest, realizing the job she’d started to want might still be hers. But for fun, she decided to play along. “Whoever you choose should have a strong background in finance, marketing, and all-around business.” “Yes,” he agreed. “And she should have a rock-solid foundation in construction—understand it completely. Hands on. From the basic tasks to the history of the business.” “She?” He raised his eyebrows. “Yes, she should.” “She needs to be someone who will allow you to mentor her, someone you can work closely with for a few months or years until she’s got it all down. Someone you have a strong relationship with.” “You are so right. And that may be difficult because I’m not always easiest fellow to put up with.” He gave a solemn nod. “But we’re talking months, not years, because the one I have in mind won’t take that long to get up to speed.” There was a pause. “Oh!” Avery feigned defeat. “Coralee. She’ll be great.” August couldn’t help but laugh at Avery’s purposeful misunderstanding. “Ah, no. I don’t want Coralee taking over purely for my own selfish reasons. I thought she would make a really great fishing
partner, so half days at the office would be better.” “Oh,” Avery said with a smile. So she had been right about her father’s interest in his pretty office manager. “Then who fits the bill? Any good résumés cross your desk? I could give them a second look for you. That’s what my new job will be all about at Turner & Sullivan. I hear things are pretty busy in my corner of cubicles, but I could maybe squeeze in some time.” “There’s only one I’d consider so far, but it seems she’s got another job offer,” he said sadly. “Maybe you should offer better compensation.” Avery was having more fun with this conversation than she’d had in a while. She opened the sunroof again, emotionally relieved. “Maybe she didn’t realize I’m offering everything I have.” “Except your fishing pole, but she doesn’t care to fish.” Avery couldn’t control her grin any longer. “Is that a yes?” August asked, hopeful. Avery leaned back again, enjoying the breeze and the calm that washed over her. “That is an absolute yes.”
* * *
Two days after her accident and the day before Christmas, Avery couldn’t sit still. Her wrist no longer throbbed as long as she remembered to avoid using it, and aside from feeling like she was walking through an occasional fog, the absence of a headache was heaven. She’d already missed helping with the final projects on Coralee’s house the day before. All the volunteers were gone, and only the carpet guys were slated to come. Although Avery was itching to help with what little staging they were going to do, she was stationed at Beyond Repair with Coralee. At least she wasn’t cooped up at home again. “Your dad is over the moon that you’ve finally accepted the position.” Coralee sounded almost as happy. “I’m afraid he’ll talk of nothing else for the next month—you moving down, his little girl coming home. He has missed you so much.” The swinging of her dangly earrings matched the excitement in her voice. “But that means I’ve got a bit to do to get you up to speed with the business. But don’t worry too much—I’ll remain as long as you want me as your office manager.” “Oh, I hope so, Coralee. I can’t imagine doing this without you! You’re indispensable.” “I don’t know about that. Eventually, I want to retire too, but that’s a ways off. As your office manager, though, I expect complete transparency, at least on my end of things. I don’t ever want to do something you don’t approve first. That’s just the way I run. But we’ll work through those details later.” She waved it off. The bank of file cabinets overwhelmed Avery, but after her internships in Boston, this small-town small business would be a breeze—if all the paperwork was in order, which it had been so far. Coralee had showed her the previous quarter’s stats, and charts and summaries of the current quarter seemed to be better than normal despite the hit it was taking for Coralee’s construction. Coralee’s insurance would cover most of the associated costs, and the community’s donations would cover the rest of the materials and subcontracted labor, but their own work had been voluntary. Still, Beyond Repair was a profitable business she would have been crazy to let pass by. “Everything looks great, Coralee. You’re so organized and completely on top of things.” Avery held her head, her vision swimming in front of her again. “But with this bump on the head, I’m thinking maybe we need to take a week off for the holidays first. I am on vacation, after all.” “Oh, of course.” Coralee jumped to her feet and walked to the upright fridge in the corner of the room. She pulled out a chilled water bottle and set it on the table in front of Avery. “So sorry. Is there anything else I can get you?” Avery looked up to see a Beyond Repair truck pulling into the parking lot, and it took a second to realize it was Keenan and not her father. She watched him approach the building, amiably chatting with
Nolan, who bounced at his side like a loyal puppy. “Good morning, ladies.” Keenan smiled at each of them when they’d entered the building. He turned back to Nolan, gathering his clipboard from the boy’s hand. “Now remember, mum’s the word. No spilling it about what we’ve being doing this morning, especially to your grandmother.” He patted the boy on the shoulder. “She’ll see for herself soon enough.” “Yes, sir.” Nolan saluted, then headed off to rummage through his grandmother’s bag under her desk. A moment later, he emerged with a handheld video game player. “Avery.” His butterscotch voice was directed at her, reminding her of that phone conversation on her way to the airport. “I’d like to request the honor of your assistance this evening.” A flutter of anticipation hit her stomach, but she tried to cover it by raising her eyebrows in question. “A special project.” “Top secret,” Nolan added. “Yes, a top secret special project,” Keenan clarified. “Can I pick you up at six? I know that’s kind of early.” “It’s a date,” Avery replied, and then flushed. Maybe Keenan hadn’t meant it that way and she’d just blown it, but she wanted him to know the cold shoulder was gone. “I look forward to it.” He tipped an imaginary hat at her, and then to Coralee. “Until later, ladies. I must take my leave.” After he left, the Christmas bell jingling on the glass door behind him, Coralee blew out a breath. “Whew! This is going to be fun!” She gave Avery a pointed look, but Avery didn’t respond, not wanting to say anything in front of the boy. “And Nolan.” Coralee went to sit next to him at the conference table. He looked up from his video game. “I’m so proud of you! I’ve watched you this past week, and I’m so impressed with how hard you have been working. You’ve been doing everything Mr. Keenan asks you to do, and more. You never complain, and you always do your best.” She gave him a side hug. “You’re growing up so fast. So responsible.” Nolan glanced down at the screen of his video game, but with a flick of his thumb, turned the game off and sat looking at a blank screen until a tear or two leaked out. Avery turned away, not wanting to impose on their moment. “I’m not responsible. I didn’t do what you said.” Nolan looked at the floor. “It’s all my fault . . . my fault the house burned down.” He barely got the words out before dissolving into tears, his words no longer distinguishable, at least to Avery. Coralee turned to engulf her grandson in a secure bear hug. “I know, baby. I know. You forget, I was there. I heard you running the bath for me. You know I like candles when I’m relaxing in the tub. You were just trying to take care of me.” She gave him another squeeze before pulling back to look at him. “It was an accident. You did the right thing getting us both out of danger.” He was still looking down, so she grabbed his hands, the gauze and tape dirty on the outside and starting to fray off. Coralee chuckled. “How do you get these bandages so dirty? We changed them, what, four hours ago? I’m just so glad you didn’t get hurt worse.” She let go of his hands, pulling him to her again, swaying back and forth in the embrace. “But we lost everything.” He cried into her shoulder. “It’s just stuff, honey. Don’t you see? Things are replaceable. People are not. You and I are safe.” She leaned back again to look him in the eye. “You know, there are some really good things that came out of it.” “Like what?” Nolan sounded skeptical. “Look at all the friends who have rallied around us. So many people have come to help because they care about us. Miss Avery, Mr. Keenan, Mr. Baumann, and all those people who have come to work on
the house.” Nolan wiped his nose with his bandaged hand. “I thought you didn’t know it was me.” He started sobbing again, this time with evident relief. “I thought you wouldn’t love me anymore.” The sentiment almost broke Avery’s heart, so it had to be doing the same to Coralee. “Oh, no, baby. That could never happen. I’ll love you forever,” Coralee promised. Nolan quoted the next line of the children’s book back to her. “I’ll like you for always.”
* * *
The doorbell rang promptly at six, and Avery was pleased she’d taken the time to program it to play “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” rather than leaving it on the boring eight-tone Windsor her father typically had set. Why have a programmable doorbell if you weren’t going to use it? One last glance in the foyer mirror assured her the lipstick still looked good and her hair didn’t have fly-aways. As she compulsively smoothed her hair down anyway, her charm bracelet got caught on a lock, making things worse, and she flipped the hair away. She wasn’t used to wearing the bracelet on her dominant hand, but with the splint, she’d had to switch. Not wearing it just wasn’t an option, especially around Christmas. The bracelet and first charm had been a Christmas gift from her mother when she was ten. “Hi, Keenan.” She flung the door open, feeling free and happy. The changes she was making in her life had left her feeling lighter and more hopeful than ever. “Do I need a jacket?” He looked over her green blouse and black capris appreciatively and reached out to touch her bracelet with a smile. “Nope. We’ll be inside.” He swallowed. “You look beautiful.” “You look pretty great yourself.” She was glad she’d taken the time to dress up just a little even though she hadn’t known exactly what was on the agenda. He also had eschewed his typical jeans and polo for a muted plain button-down and khakis. She was pleased she’d chosen flats when she noticed his Sperrys. “Ready?” He lifted his elbow and his eyebrows, ready to turn as soon as she took his arm. “Ready.” She felt suddenly nervous, but not—at the same time. It was as if she’d been waiting for this for eight years. Maybe she had.
* * *
The red-and-green floodlights installed in the eaves of Coralee’s house for the holidays cast a festive glow as Keenan parked at the curb. He turned off the purring motor and they sat for a second, absorbing the atmosphere. The house was finished, and it looked fabulous. In just over a week, it had gone from embers to a shiny new bungalow, perfect for Coralee and her grandson. Keenan stepped out of the car and around to open Avery’s door. “I’d love your help with the holiday touches, if that’s okay.” “Holiday touches?” Avery was surprised. She’d thought she would get the chance to help with staging, but she hadn’t pictured Christmas decorations when she thought about it. “The house hasn’t been completely furnished in the normal sense because we wanted Coralee to be able to make it her own. But there are a couple of couches in the living area and a dining set, and beds, of course. To keep it from looking too sparse—and to get into the holiday spirit—we decided Christmas decorations would be a nice touch.” He pulled a small keyring from his pocket and turned the lock, ushering Avery into the foyer that opened up to the floor-to-ceiling fireplace she’d admired on the house plan. Now that it was finished with its white Austin limestone, it looked gorgeous. Avery slipped off her flats and ran to inspect the fireplace.
“It’s so charming! Coralee will love it.” Avery breathed in the clean scent of new carpet and fresh paint. That smell had always brought the ultimate feeling of being at home to her. She stepped to the dark chunky wood mantel and trailed her hand along its bare top. “I can’t wait to decorate this.” She could hear the clunk of each shoe as he too removed his shoes. Without them, his footsteps went silent and she jumped when he spoke from behind her. “Nolan and I went shopping for Christmas decorations this morning. I had Jerry help me bring them in here.” He looked over at a pile of boxes and bags in the corner that Avery hadn’t noticed. “But we’ve got to get started. Everyone will be here in an hour.” Keenan pulled out lighted garland to drape across the mantel, a couple of brass stocking hangers, and two stockings—one very boyish and one obviously meant for Coralee. “I let Nolan pick these out. I think that was his favorite part.” Avery’s favorite part was the Nativity set they decided would look best on the end table on the corner between the couch and love seat. The two of them liberated each porcelain piece from its bubble wrap, placing them reverently in a vignette that could be admired from either sofa. A centerpiece assembled from battery-operated candles, glittery garland, and scented pine cones adorned the dining table, and some funny snowmen that looked they’d just traipsed in from the beach flanked the front door. They saved for last the nine-foot Christmas tree Jerry had placed in a stand, but had crammed in the worst place possible. Avery and Keenan decided it would look best near the window perpendicular to the fireplace so both would be visible to anyone in the room as well as to anyone outside looking in. “I think we need music,” Keenan said, pulling his phone from his pocket and toggling to a musicstreaming app. “I’ll just type in ‘Christmas’ and see what plays.” With the first strains of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, he set the phone on the fireplace mantel before he scooped Avery into his arms, shuffling her into a jitterbug with ornaments in each of her hands. After a few dips and twirls, she laughed and transferred one of the ornaments into his hand. “As much fun as that is, we’d better keep going. You do all the green ornaments, I’ll do the red, and we’ll see who gets done first.” “Challenge accepted.” Keenan grabbed a couple more ornaments, loading up his arms before placing himself square in front of the tree. “Ready, set, go!” he said before she was ready. “No fair! Your hands are bigger than mine, and I’m handicapped,” Avery complained, trying to keep him from starting without her. “And if you break one, you automatically lose.” She also retrieved as many ornaments as she could, using her splint to help pin them to her chest, but when she came close to the tree, he moved his body in front of hers, boxing her out like a basketball player. “So, that’s the way you want to be about it?” She crushed her ornaments to her chest and ducked under his elbow, forcing herself forward and then scooting him back. “That’s fine,” he said, leaning over her head to reach for the top of the tree. He was just tall enough to crowd her head, and she felt like a turtle trying to pull in her head to steer clear of his elbows. She put up her last ornament, which was only four to his five or six. Whirling around to retrieve more, she wound up face-to-face with Keenan, and for an instant, she felt the now-familiar spin of her head that she associated with her concussion. Feeling his breath on her lips, she realized he was about to kiss her, and she had to make a split-second decision. As much as she wanted to, she wanted to win even more. She had to plan strategically. She let him lean closer, and she almost changed her mind. Just when he closed his eyes, she leaned forward as well. “Later,” she breathed, her lips brushing his in the barest slip of a touch, and ducked under his arms again to grab her last handful of ornaments. “Oh, you!” Keenan rolled his eyes and grabbed her around the waist, dropping his ornaments. “Are you sure you want to do that?” he whispered near her ear, giving her goosebumps down that side of her
body. “Um, yes?” She wasn’t so sure anymore. She wound her arms around his neck, feeling his close shave and soft skin on her cheek. “Yes, what?” he whispered, his lips moving against hers as he formed the words. It was torture, waiting for him to try to kiss her again, but she wasn’t about to be the one to pull back this time. Car lights shone through the front window, and Keenan moved back just a hair, tipping his forehead to hers. “Later,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. “For sure.” Together, they scrambled to finish loading the tree with the remaining ornaments and stuffed the boxes into the entry closet that was, thankfully, empty. The house was ready.
Chapter Twelve
Perhaps it wasn’t the best timing, but nothing was going to dampen Keenan’s mood, not when Coralee and Nolan were here to see their new house. His house. He switched gears quickly. He hoped Coralee would love it. Of course, she’d seen the first stages, so she knew how the layout had been altered, but he and August had invented plenty of tasks and errands for her to do to keep her from seeing the kitchen, Nolan’s secret room, and her garden tub. If she liked it as much as Avery seemed to, it would be all worth it. He knew he shouldn’t be nervous, but this was his first real client, and one whose opinion meant much more than he cared to admit. Avery threw the last of the ornament boxes into the entry closet and closed the door, leaning against it with a sigh that he felt as well. He didn’t know if anyone in the car had seen their embrace, but he had to assume they had. It didn’t bother him too much except that he hadn’t had the chance to really enjoy it, and he hoped that with the passing of time and the magic of the moment lost, Avery wouldn’t change her mind. He could hear Nolan running up the path to the front door. Coralee and August walked more slowly, probably so Coralee could take in the exterior. Although he couldn’t pick out exactly what Coralee was saying, Keenan could hear the excitement in her voice. Before long, they were on the wide front porch, Coralee’s heels clicking on the wood. “This is it,” he said, more to himself than Avery, but he reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing it with the intent to drop it, but she threaded her fingers through his. He didn’t mind holding on. Her smile was the finishing touch to the holiday decorations. “Yes, it is,” she agreed. He took a breath and opened the door. “Welcome home, Coralee, Nolan.” Nolan ran through the doorway. “Stop!” Coralee warned, a pie in each hand. To his credit, Nolan obeyed, stopping on a dime. “No shoes.” He obediently lined his shoes up with Avery and Keenan’s, a slowly increasing line like the bar graph of a successful business. “Can I see my room first?” He tugged on Keenan’s arm. “Please? You haven’t let me in there since we were making the bookshelf.” Keenan noticed Avery pale slightly with anxiety, and guessed that she was remembering the accident. He hoped that wouldn’t be Nolan’s first thought every time he entered his room. He had taken Nolan in there after it was cleaned up and they had finished the shelves together, making sure to build happy memories that were hopefully strong enough to push back the bad ones. “Just a minute,” August said, stopping everyone. He carried the other two pies. “Let me deposit these in the kitchen first.” He stepped toward the kitchen, and Coralee started to follow. “Not you,” he said kindly, his eyes soft on her face. “Nolan, can you carry those pies for your grandmother? You’re not allowed in there yet, Coralee.” While August and Nolan ferried the pies, Coralee took a moment to inspect the foyer. “I love the door!” She strode over to touch a reverent hand to the pale seafoam enamel on the interior of the door. “What a gorgeous color! I love the unexpectedness of it. I don’t know that I’ve ever had a door that wasn’t either wood or white on the inside.” She dropped her hand to the oil-rubbed bronze handle that contrasted nicely. “It was the perfect color to pull from the rug.” August had taken her shopping for the entry rug specifically for that reason, but the color choice had fallen to Keenan. He sighed with relief that he got it right without Avery’s help. “Wait!” Coralee had been looking down at the thick rug, and surprised everyone by bending down. “You were able to save the original tile!” She stood and threw her arms around Keenan, who laughed. “If I had known you wanted to keep everything the same—” Keenan started, but then allowed her to interrupt. “Oh, no! I love what I see so far. It’s just kind of comforting to have a little of the familiar here too.
To remind me of the good times in my old house.” Tears sparkled in her eyes until August came into the room, booming their motto, “‘Beyond Repair— building the future, restoring the past.’ You got both!” She laughed. Keenan looked from August to Coralee. “Where do you want to start?” Coralee’s eyes were wide with amazement, taking in every detail of the living and dining room ahead of her. He could see that she wanted to move closer so she could inspect every crevice, but she held back. “Let’s start with Nolan’s room,” she acquiesced. Nolan ran ahead, grabbing his grandma’s hand as he passed her, dragging her along with him. “I can’t wait until you see this bookcase. Keenan said I can decorate it however I want because it’s my room!” The slick hardwood of the hallway gave way to thick carpet in the bedroom, accentuating the stillness, creating a comfortable haven. “That is a gorgeous bookcase.” Coralee stood back, her arms crossed, admiring it from a distance. “And you helped build it?” She sounded impressed. She stepped forward to open the closet doors beside it. “Nice big closet, too. It’s a great room. Nolan, what do you say?” Like it was a small gift given to a little boy. In a way, it kind of was. His piece of a home. Little did he know. “Thanks, Keenan and Mr. Baumann,” Nolan intoned, but he was busy feeling the shelves, probably imagining what he could place on them. “Nolan.” Keenan crouched down close to him. “You haven’t seen the best part yet. This room has a secret. A special place just for you.” “Really?” Nolan’s eyes grew wide as he looked around. “Where?” “Really?” Coralee echoed. “Where?” While he looked curious, she looked skeptical. She looked around, knowing the only other door led to the Jack-and-Jill bath. “That next section there.” Keenan pointed to a place about a foot from where Nolan had been touching the shelves. Nolan moved down accordingly. “Good. Now I want you to push. Push on the bookcase like you’re Superman and you’re going to move the wall.” “O . . . kay?” Nolan looked unsure, but followed directions, and to his delight, the bookshelf caved in, revealing a dark opening. “There’s a light switch on the wall just inside there.” Nolan felt for the switch and flipped it. Light flooded the small, hidden room, a hammock chair hanging in the corner. “No. Way!” Nolan jumped through the opening in awe. “This is so cool! Like a dungeon or a prison or a spy room or a hidden control tower or an evil lair or—” “A storm shelter?” Coralee whispered over Keenan’s shoulder. He nodded, his insides warm with Nolan’s excitement. “Could be that too. The walls and shutters for the window have been reinforced.” She smiled her thanks, watching Nolan sit in the hammock chair and spin in circles. “That would make me sick.” “You and anyone else over thirty,” August agreed. “Do you want to see more?” Keenan asked the room in general. Everyone answered in the affirmative except Nolan. “Can I stay here?” he pleaded. “This is the coolest!” Coralee laughed. “Of course. We’ll call you when we’re ready for pie.” Keenan hadn’t realized how nervous he would be with the reveal, but she was one of his first real clients, even if it was pro-bono. Seeing her satisfaction quelled his nerves, and Keenan walked Coralee through the rest of the house, pleased to hear her exclamations and see her tears of gratitude. When the tour culminated with pie in the kitchen, Coralee stepped to Keenan and wrapped him in one more hug.
“It’s absolutely gorgeous! I never thought I would have a house like this.” She wiped tears with the heels of both her hands. “Mine can be the first testimonial on your website.” Then she stepped to August and wrapped him in an even bigger hug. “Thank you,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek and then stepping away, quite pink in the face. “This never would have happened without you. All the corporate sponsors, the donations, the hours you and your crew gave up for me . . .” She didn’t even try to stop the tears this time. “My pleasure,” August said, and Keenan knew there was more feeling behind the words that August let on. “What kind does everyone want?” Avery asked, pie server in her good hand. “Do you even need to ask me?” August asked Avery as Keenan left the kitchen. “Peanut butter?” She knew her father. “Yes. A small piece. And a sliver of pecan. And you might as well add a bit of key lime.” Avery laughed, a sound that made his insides melt. “I’ll get Nolan,” Coralee said, pulling herself together. “I’m right behind you,” Keenan said, opening a cupboard and extracting a gift bag that he kept behind him as he trailed Coralee. When Coralee and Keenan made it back to Nolan’s hideout, Keenan surprised Coralee by stepping past her and handing the gift bag to Nolan. “You know what to do, buddy.” “Here or at the Christmas tree?” Nolan asked. “Your choice.” It didn’t take Nolan long to decide, and though Keenan suspected the boy didn’t want to leave his new hideout, he grabbed his grandmother’s hand and led her back to the living area and a sofa. “Gram.” He sat up tall, holding up his hand, offering the white-and-silver bag. “We—” Keenan cleared his throat. “You,” he prompted softly, “not we.” “I got you something for Christmas.” A full-fledged grin split across his face. Keenan knew Nolan was proud of the gift, as he had talked about it at least once every time they were alone together. Coralee mirrored her grandson’s grin, showing a beautiful smile of extremely white, even teeth, her dangling silver earrings bobbing happily and making the smile look even wider. “Open it, Gram.” Keenan couldn’t imagine the boy sounding any more excited. Either teasing Nolan or relishing the moment, Coralee rested a hand on the bag, lingering before plunging in. She tucked a long spiral curl behind an ear, the espresso color almost black except where it was brightened by delicate wisps of silver, like stands of tinsel. “I don’t know what to say.” “You can’t say anything until you’ve opened it.” Nolan was completely matter-of-fact. She pulled the stuffing from the bag, sheets of white tissue paper which she folded neatly, to Nolan’s mounting agitation. Finally, she lifted out a small box which was gift wrapped in white-and-silver-striped paper that matched the bag. A white bow secured with the store’s logo sticker encircled the box. Coralee slipped off the paper and lifted the lid. Her eyes sparkled when she held up a pair of earrings, a silver charm dangling from each. Though Keenan couldn’t tell which was which from this distance, he knew that one of the earrings held a charm of a front door and miniature key, and the other earring boasted a small house, the center cut out in the shape of a heart. “They’re perfect!” Coralee, ever the hugger, reached out to pull Nolan in. As soon as she let him go, she removed her other earrings, silver bells with red bows, and replaced them with her new pair. “They’ll be perfect for work,” she said, smiling at Keenan over Nolan’s shoulder. “Keenan helped me. He gave me a job so I could pay for them,” Nolan explained, his chest puffed out with accomplishment. “That so?” Coralee pursed her lips as if to rein in a smile. “I hope it was a temporary job, seasonal for the holidays, because you have school starting again soon.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nolan’s respect for the rules and for his grandmother were evident. Keenan stifled a chuckle and nodded in agreement, then went to the kitchen for pie as Coralee went the opposite way to show off her gift to August, pulling Nolan along with her, essentially leaving Keenan and Avery alone in the kitchen. “What kind do you want?” Avery waved the pie server over the selections in anticipation of his answer. Silently, he walked up to the woman of his dreams, lifting his hand to her temple, barely touching her soft blond locks, caressing her bruised temple, then slipping down the curve of her cheek and running a thumb across her lips. He was considering that kiss when he saw Nolan coming in behind Avery. “Peanut butter!” Nolan announced, oblivious to the moment, for which Keenan was grateful on some level. He dropped his hand, mouthed the promise, “Later,” one more time, and said aloud, “Dazzle me with razzleberry!” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Coming up, gentlemen.” She dished two razzleberry and one peanut butter, and they headed to the dining table to join Coralee and August. They chatted over pie and holiday decorations and the renewed hope that had come with the Christmas season.
Chapter Thirteen
Festivities at the house were winding down, and Avery could feel the dull ache in her head starting again. When that happened, one of the things that helped most was fresh air. A walk on the beach sounded like the perfect prescription. Keenan pushed back his chair and stood, reaching to gather her plate as well as his own to return to the kitchen. As he leaned forward, Avery caught his eye. “Want to go for a walk?” she whispered almost inaudibly, ensuring it would only be the two of them. “Love to,” he mouthed back. He stood, the plates in his hand, and then circled the table to collect the other plates. “You don’t need to do the dishes in my house,” Coralee insisted, putting her fingertips on the edge of her plate and pinning it to the table. She reached her other hand out to demand the stack he carried. “Nuh-uh.” Keenan twisted the pile of plates from her reach. “I’m taking these at least.” August rose to his feet. “Now, children,” he teased. “You’re both right. Keenan, you take the dishes to the sink. Coralee, I get to do the dishes. You’ll have plenty of chances—no need to start tonight.” As if he’d won some kind of battle, Keenan plucked up Coralee’s plate. Coralee pretended to glare at August before brightening up. “You’ll be getting plenty of chances too, Augie. How about I let you do the dishes when you come over for dinner?” “Of course.” August pushed his way into the kitchen before Coralee. “But you’ll let me do them tonight as well.” “Dad?” This exchange only made Avery more determined to make a quick exit. Was she really watching her father flirt? She hadn’t heard anyone call him Augie in, well, ever. Though it was kind of cute. “Keenan and I are going to head out. I’ll see you at home after a while.” Distracted by Coralee, August didn’t even look her direction. “Of course, honey. See you later.” Avery had lost track of Keenan until he returned with his hand awkwardly placed behind his back. He was so obvious about it, though, that she let it slide, knowing it would come up later. “We’re heading out,” Keenan announced and gave Coralee a light hug. “Merry Christmas! Dinner at your house tomorrow, August?” “What? Now I have to cook too? Haven’t I been working hard enough this week?” August pretended to whine, but he’d begged for the opportunity earlier in the week. “See you tomorrow, kid. And take care of my little girl. Bring her home in one piece. You know what happened last time I left you two alone.” Avery’s chest fluttered, thinking that August was referring to the almost kiss, but then she realized he was talking about the concussion and wrist sprain. “I’ll do my best, sir.” Keenan placed a hand on the small of Avery’s back, leading her out the front door and guiding her so she couldn’t see behind him. He ushered her to his car, opened the door for her, and walked to the back of the car, popping the trunk, all without revealing his hand. By the time he took the steering wheel, his hands were empty, and a smug expression had claimed real estate on his adorable face. “Mind if I pick the spot?” Keenan asked, pulling out of Coralee’s neighborhood and driving toward the gulf. “You’re driving.” Avery left it up to him. “As long as it includes fresh air, night sky, and maybe a beach?” “Hmm. I can probably make that happen.” He seemed to be driving the same direction her father had the night before, but stopped before they crossed the bridge. Finding a parking spot, he cut the engine, and Avery noticed a few more cars nearby— couples watching holiday lights dance across the Laguna Madre Bridge. Mesmerized, Avery watched the red lights fade first to green, then multi-colored, and back again. She knew the beach well, having grown
up in Corpus Christi, but she couldn’t remember ever having come to watch the Christmas lights, something she’d thought of as a touristy thing to do—or maybe she had just saved it for the perfect night. If things went well, this could become a new tradition. “Yeah, I think I made a mistake,” Keenan said when he opened her door. She couldn’t think of a better spot. “What do you mean?” Had he changed his mind? Was he no longer interested? “You asked if you needed a jacket.” He rubbed his hands up and down his arms. “It might be a little colder than I thought. Want mine?” If it had been an extra, she would probably have, but she didn’t want to take his jacket from him. “I’ll be okay.” “You sure?” He walked to the trunk, pulled out a light fleece jacket, and offered it to her. “I’ve got one right here.” He was nothing if not thoughtful, but she still wasn’t going to take it from him. “Nope.” “Fine, then.” He slipped the jacket on. “I’ll wear it and warm it up for you, but tell me when you’re ready for a turn.” She slugged him playfully, but was secretly happy that he was going to wear it. A small victory for her. They started down the beach, sand creating small dunes under the arches in her flats, making it difficult to walk, but it was too cold to go barefoot. She was beginning to wonder about the advisability of choosing a beach for the weather, but for the ambiance, it was great. The water lapped gently against the sand and piers, the sound soothing the pain in her head. “That must have been fun watching Coralee and Nolan’s reactions. I bet it felt great that they loved the home you designed for them.” Avery had felt a small part of that satisfaction herself and she’d had very little to do with its creation. Keenan nodded, looking down at the sand and guiding them around a clump of seaweed. “It did feel good,” he said simply, humbly. “You have no idea what a relief it was actually. But you know what was even better?” He turned to her. The look on his face making her feel more cherished than she ever had. “Seeing your reaction. It probably shouldn’t, but that meant so much more to me.” She felt her cheeks burn. “You’re a gifted architect, Keenan, and I can’t wait to see what else you come up with.” She bent down to pick up a shell, but then tossed it into the gulf when she realized it was broken. “You know, I’ll be needing a house of mine own eventually,” she hinted. “I heard you might be moving.” Keenan made it sound like any offhanded remark between acquaintances. “Yeah, I was thinking I probably should. It’s either that or relocating Dad’s business . . . and crew . . . and Coralee . . . all to Vermont.” “Absolutely not! You can’t do that! After all the work that’s gone into Coralee’s house this week?” He shook his head emphatically. “No way. We’ll find you something here.” A gust of cold air blew by and she had to stop herself from folding her arms into her chest, but it blew by quickly and died down again. “If I’m going to move here, I might need a little assistance.” She raised her splinted hand. “At least if it’s going to be anytime soon.” Her good hand bumped into his as they walked, and he caught it, entwining their fingers. “Huh.” Keenan made a show of thinking hard. “There are these businesses, you know, guys you hire to pack and move all your stuff for you.” “No.” It was her turn to shake her head. “I don’t think I could trust them. It’s got to be someone who will take good care of me and my things. Someone I can rely on. Maybe I should look up . . . an old friend.” “No, no, no.” Keenan bristled. “You don’t have to resort to that. I could be bought, you know. Give me one, two days on the slopes in exchange, and I’d be happy to do it.”
She looked at him askance. “Yeah, and have you ever been skiing before?” Just thinking about snow made it impossible for her to hold back the shiver she’d been trying to keep in check. “Can’t be that hard.” He shed his jacket in one motion and twirled it around her shoulders without asking. “Your turn. I could learn to ski. There’s a first time for everything.” “But you could end up looking like me—or worse—and then we’d need someone to take your place.” Avery slipped her arms into the warm sleeves and folded them around her middle. There was something hard in the left pocket, but otherwise, it was soft and warm. Almost like being wrapped in a hug by Keenan himself. “So a new job, new place to live, I guess next you’ll be looking for a new boyfriend.” Avery couldn’t believe he could say things like this so matter-of-factly, and without the slightest hint of a smile. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She made a show of turning to look over the gulf at the moonlight burnished on the crest of each wave, that way he wouldn’t see her telltale grin. “You know someone?” Keenan came up behind her, wrapping his arms around hers and looking over her shoulder at the water. He pulled her back to his chest, the tickle of his breath near her ear gave her goosebumps. “Thanks for giving me a second chance.” His voice sounded husky, as if he hadn’t expected to say anything. Avery twisted in his arms so they were face-to-face. “Is that what this is—a second chance? I don’t remember giving you a first chance.” She had been teasing and said the first thing that came to mind, but now that she thought about it, it was true. What would have happened if she had given him a chance then? Taking advantage of their closeness, Keenan grabbed her hands and wound them behind the small of her back, loose and comfortable, and drew her in close to his chest. She could feel the rhythm of his breathing. “Then thanks for giving me a chance,” he whispered. She wondered if now would be the time she’d get to feel the kiss her lips had been longing for all evening. He guided their hands down to their sides again, but she didn’t step back, waiting to see if he would move closer. But he seemed distracted, fingering the dangling charms on her bracelet. “I got you something.” At her look of surprise, he patted the pocket of his jacket, the lump that rested between the two of them. “A small Christmas gift.” He pulled back, seeming to wait for her to retrieve it from the pocket. When her hand closed around a small box, her mind flashed to Hayden’s similar-sized box. Fingers shaking, she pulled out a gift wrapped in silver-and-white stripes with a white bow. Avery held it between them. Her elbows rested on his chest, and his hands were clasped behind her back. She looked up at him. “When did you do this?” He shrugged a shoulder. “A couple of days ago. When you were at the hospital. It’s no big deal.” He seemed embarrassed, but ready for her to open it. She didn’t want to open it—instead wanting to relish the moment, warm in Keenan’s arms, and the anticipation of the gift which was so much more than what was in this small, elegantly wrapped box between them. She wanted the moment to last forever. “Come on, Avery,” he whispered, and she smiled at the sound of her name on his lips. “Open it.” She hesitated one more second, wondering if she could kiss him before opening it, drawing it out even more. Keenan’s dark eyes slipped to her lips and he started to lean forward. Waiting, she didn’t move, breathless to see what he’d do, but he put his cheek next to hers. “Please.” His breath was warm and irresistible. “Okay,” she whispered back, so entranced by him, she might have done anything. She looked down at the gift and slipped the box from the bow and paper. Lifting the lid revealed two delicate, silver charms for her bracelet. A miniature hard hat lay on the puffy, white cotton next to a tiny paintbrush, looking as if it had been dipped into a bucket of paint. “How did you know?” Avery tried to think back to when he might have seen her wear her charm
bracelet, but couldn’t come up with a time. “You were wearing it the first day you came by the house.” Now she remembered slipping it into her jeans pocket that day, and how she had been careful not to wear it to the site after that. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.” She was impressed that in one day, he had noticed more about her than Hayden had in months. She admired them, twisting them around to admire the three-dimensional design. They were adorable. “But a hard hat? That’s not even funny.” She raised a hand to her bruised temple, feeling the stitches that would be removed in a couple of days. She had to bite back a smile at the same time. “That’s just mean.” He gently moved her fingers from her head and pressed a kiss near the spot. He certainly knew how to change the subject. “So, does this mean you’re okay with my change of plans? It kind of changes yours as well,” Avery said. She ran her fingertips across the charms one last time before securing the lid back over the box and returning it to his jacket pocket. She looked into his eyes, which were as smooth and deep as chocolate fondue. “You mean moving down here? I think I can work with it.” “You wouldn’t be working for my father anymore.” She loved being coy with him, watching his eyes sparkle in their wordplay. “I wasn’t anyway.” His eyes never left hers. “I may be looking for an architect to partner with on some projects.” “For your house or your business?” His hand had run up her back and was delving into her hair, a thumb warm on her cheek, then below her ear. It was distracting. “Yes.” She watched as he lowered his lips to hers, then allowed her eyelids to flutter closed, knowing this time their lips would meet. When they did, the kiss was warm and complete and perfect. And nothing like she’d ever experienced before. She returned it eagerly and entirely. It was a kiss she could come home to every day.
If you enjoyed this Christmas romance, be sure to look for the others in the Countdown to Christmas series. Find them HERE.
Author Bio:
When Maria Hoagland isn’t working at her computer, she can be found combing used furniture stores, remodeling houses with her husband, or sitting on the sideline of a son's soccer game. She loves crunching leaves in the fall, stealing cookie dough from the mixing bowl, and listening to musicals on her iPod. Maria has three published novels: Nourish & Strengthen, Family Size, and Still Time. You can learn more about her at http://www.mariahoagland.com.
Oh Come On-Be Faithful Countdown to Christmas
by Cami Checketts Trifecta Books
Book design and layout copyright © 2015 by Trifecta Books Cover design copyright © 2015 by Jenni James
This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Copyright© 2015 by Cami Checketts
Table Of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty One
Dedication To my Stockton. Thanks for being my boy, making me laugh, and always having a smile on your face. I love you.
Chapter One
Matt scanned the small brick security building, tilting his chin in acknowledgment as a state-ofthe-art camera swept over him. The young guard, Rob, was friendly, a bit too relaxed. The perimeter fence was the best money could buy, but Matt could’ve disabled the perimeter and taken out the guard in less than thirty seconds. He lifted a hand in farewell to the guard and drove his clunky Chevy Quad Cab up a long driveway bordered by a thick forest decorated by the recent snowfall. Matt wondered if the concrete was heated, as there wasn’t any snow or ice on it, even in the shady spots. The mountains west of Midway, Utah, were beautiful, but from a security standpoint, the location was a nightmare. Wealthy people loved the anonymity of dozens of acres of forest. What they didn’t seem to understand was that even if surrounded by an electric fence and cameras, dozens of acres of forest were hard to protect. He parked his truck in the circle drive and strode up to an imposing ten-foot wooden door. Glancing around, he pressed a fancy doorbell. The house blended in perfectly with the forest setting. It would be a nice place to live, if you were ridiculously wealthy. Judging from this house, these people were a step beyond that. A man opened the door. Matt had expected a uniformed butler, but this man wore a button-down shirt and slacks. With his flowing blond hair and a big smile, he didn’t look old enough or stuffy enough to work for this level of affluence. He extended his hand. His eyes flicked to the scars on Matt’s left cheek, then met Matt’s gaze with open friendliness. “Matt Degan?” “Yes.” “Thanks for coming. I’m Chaz, the butler.” Matt didn’t comment, but his expression must’ve given something away, or maybe Chaz thought claiming to be the butler was a great joke. Chaz laughed easily. “I’m just teasing. I’m Mik’s personal assistant. I do everything from answering doors to dealing with the junk she doesn’t want to deal with. Or whatever else she needs.” His face lit up as he talked about Mikayla, and Matt wondered how close the boss and her assistant were. Chaz was the type of guy who never needed a wingman. Women probably flocked to his bright blue eyes and the kind of facial hair that was just the right length to be a complete waste of time. “Great to have you here, man. We’ve all been pretty worried about Mik. Let me take your coat.” Matt liked Chaz’s easy attitude and the fact that he didn’t seem intimidated by him. He shrugged out of the comfortable Land’s End coat his ex-wife had bought him a couple of years ago. If it wasn’t for her spending problem, he wouldn’t have any nice clothing. “If you’ll just have a seat in her office, I’ll go get her.” “Okay, thanks.” Matt walked into a large office off the foyer. It definitely had a Park City feel. Custom wood everywhere—flooring, shutters, built-in cabinets, and the enormous desk. Huge windows
showcased the winter wonderland outside, piles of snow and pine trees climbing the mountain. Matt noted the wealth, but it was so out of his realm, he didn’t let it affect him. Money had never intimidated or impressed him. Maybe it was growing up surrounded by extravagance that created an immunity to its charms. Maybe it was just a blessing that he’d been content living the military life, and now he was content providing for his son and having a little extra on the side. Well, if he got this job, he’d have a little extra. The click of heels on the slate floor of the entry brought his head around. A tall, thin woman walked in, and all Matt could think was that he must be getting a little preview of heaven. Her face was absolutely angelic, and curls of white-blonde cascaded across her shoulder, the perfect complement to pale-blue eyes. She was dressed a lot more casually than he’d imagined she would be, in fitted jeans— well, he appreciated the way they fit—and a blue sweater. She clicked her way to him, and he looked down slightly to meet her gaze. The heels gave her a bit of help, but she was only a few inches shy of his six two. He’d always liked tall women who carried themselves well. “Mikayla Lambert.” She extended her hand, and Matt was impressed by the way her lean fingers squeezed his—not too powerful, but definitely not afraid of him. Some women were afraid of him. He hated that, but his large build and the scars covering the left side of his face didn’t always make the best first impression. Throughout high school and his twenties, women had hit on him constantly. The scars disfiguring his cheek changed that. He did a pretty good job of ignoring the awkward stares and fearful glances until he met a beauty like this and actually wanted to make a good impression. “Matt Degan.” “Well, you definitely look the part. I’d be scared to meet you in a dark alley.” Matt couldn’t hide a grin at the way she said it. More flirtatious and funny than condescending like he thought she’d be. “Isn’t that the idea?” She nodded, looking him up and down. He wondered if she liked what she saw, then had to remind himself this was an interview, not a dating service. He had to act professional so he could land this job and provide a nice Christmas for Brock. “Thanks for coming. Please sit.” She gestured to the leather chairs across from the desk and then settled down in the desk chair. Matt sank into the softness of the seat, holding himself stiff like he’d been trained by his dad and the military. “As you know, my head of security is retiring.” She didn’t waste any time. “Jonathon and his wife have worked for my family for years, so you can understand it’s intimidating.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, overwhelming to hire someone new.” “I intimidate you?” Her blue eyes flashed. “I never said that.” “You didn’t have to.” Matt cussed himself. It was comments like this that would keep him from securing this job.
“Yes, you are intimidating, but no man has ever intimidated me.” His eyebrows arched. Wow. Pretty impressive claim, especially since she’d been stalked for the past four years. He didn’t believe her for a second, and wasn’t sure why she was giving him the toughchick routine. He’d have some work getting her to trust him. “Got it.” “You will be expected to live on the property and assume the role of my live-in boyfriend.” She shuffled some papers and looked at them as she spoke. “We also need you to manage all security details for the property and the rest of the family.” “Wait a minute. You need me to live on the property and pretend to be your boyfriend?” The boyfriend of a beautiful woman he didn’t know sounded more than a little awkward, but the biggest worry was living here. He couldn’t do that. He’d only been home from the Army for a little over a year, and his son needed him. “Well, yes. Jonathon’s idea was for you to be my pretend boyfriend. If it’s an old boyfriend or somebody who wanted me … well, you know . . . then a boyfriend might make him jealous enough to come out of hiding.” “You haven’t had a boyfriend in four years?” She shook her head no. Her eyes said not to ask. “Jonathon didn’t tell me any of this.” Jonathon hadn’t told him near enough, except he’d be a perfect fit for this job, and he’d made him promise to protect his “girl” from the stalker nut job. He’d assured Matt there were meticulous notes in his office, and if Matt got the job, he could refer to them. Mikayla sighed. “But he did tell you someone has been stalking me for the past four years?” “Yes.” “Jonathon has been able to protect me because he and Kathy have been part of our family. She cooked and baked and basically spoiled all of us, and Jonathon protected us. We’d like you to be involved like that. I realize that’s awkward, as you don’t know us, but we feel the stalker will be held at bay better if he thinks I’m close to someone ... well built.” She blushed and looked at her computer screen. “You will only act the part of my boyfriend in public. Here at home, you’ll be monitoring security and making sure the personnel beneath you are well trained and doing their jobs.” Matt studied her and tried to decide if he could pretend to be her boyfriend, yet keep his distance. She was undeniably a beautiful and intriguing woman, but he had no desire to be involved with someone who was probably a socialite like his mother and ex-wife. Then there was the issue of his son, Brock. As soon as he brought up the fact that he wouldn’t be separated from his son, this interview would probably be over. Brock’s own mother thought he was too much to handle. What young, successful businesswoman would want a rambunctious eight-year-old tearing her perfect house apart?
* * *
Mikayla held herself rigid, like she’d been taught to do when in high-pressure situations. This man was nothing like Jonathon, who had been almost an uncle to her. The thought of Matt protecting her and even pretending to be her boyfriend made her a bit lightheaded. What would it feel like to have his arms
around her? Whoa. Do not need to go there. He pursed his lips and looked her over like she was the one who was applying for a job. There was a dangerous glint in his dark eyes that should have been terrifying, but instead intrigued her. The tense and crackly silence between them stretched on, making it more difficult to sit still. “Is this going to work or not?” she finally snapped. “You’ve come highly recommended, but if you can’t meet our expectations, we’ll find someone else.” Her chest tightened as she said it. Finding someone they could trust with the background and expertise Matt provided was going to be nearly impossible, especially someone who would be willing to leave home and family with the holidays approaching. Jonathon was a close friend of her father’s, but he’d also known Matt as a youth and followed his career in the Army. He had assured Mikayla that Matt would excel as her protector. “I need the job.” He studied his hands before meeting her gaze. “But I have an eight-year-old son, and I need to be with him more than I need this job.” Did he say eight? Oh, this is perfect. She barely resisted rubbing her hands together in glee. “That’s not going to be a problem.” His humility in admitting he needed the job, and his dedication to his son touched her. He looked up sharply, studying her like he wasn’t sure if she was being truthful with him. “You want me and my son to live here?” “In just a moment, I’ll introduce you to my sister, Sarah, and nephew, Kyler, who would be thrilled to have a boy his age living here.” “You don’t mind if Brock lives here with me?” He seemed so shocked by her acceptance of his son, he was repeating himself. “It’s actually a best-case scenario. Kyler will have someone to go to school with. That is, if he goes to Midway Elementary?” A nod from Matt, and she continued, “We can assign one of your security personnel to keep an eye on the boys.” The hope fluttered in her chest that maybe Matt’s son could be a sort of protection from the bullies at school for innocent Kyler, but maybe that was hoping too much. “Am I putting my son in danger?” Mikayla really appreciated that his priority was his son. “No. The threats have never been against my family. Always me.” She took a long breath and then forced a smile. “Why don’t I introduce you to Sarah and Kyler, and then we can do some paperwork and bring you up to speed on the rest of the security team and equipment?” She hated that she’d finished that with a question mark, but she needed to know if he was in. Matt nodded slowly. “Sounds good.” He stood and gestured for her to go in front of him through the door. She climbed the stairs, feeling strangely elated that he was following behind her and obviously watching her every step. This man could protect her. She was sure of it. If only she wasn’t quite so interested in getting to know the man behind the bodyguard. She’d been alone too long. They walked down the wide hallway and she paused to knock on Sarah’s suite, even though the door was open and Sarah never minded if she came to visit. “Come in.” Sarah’s soft voice barely covered the distance to the door.
Mikayla strode into the room. Kyler was sitting at his little desk, coloring like usual. He was very talented, but it worried her that he was never active or noisy like other boys his age. What would Matt’s son be like? Judging from his dad, he’d be a tough little boy and probably not the type who would want to be friends with a boy who colored or read books all day. Shoot. All the happiness she’d felt imagining Kyler having a friend deflated. A gasp came from Sarah. Mikayla swung around to see what was wrong. Sarah stared at Matt like he was a terrorist intent on abducting her son and pillaging the house. Oh, no. She’d been so excited for Matt to meet Sarah and Kyler, she hadn’t stopped to think about how Sarah might react to him. Jonathon had warned her that Matt had some physical disfiguration from his years in the Army, and of course she noticed the scars covering the side of his face—maybe a burn, judging from the stretched-tight look of the skin—but it only added to the aura of intrigue about him. He was more handsome than any man had a right to be, and the scars didn’t detract from that—at least, not for her. “Sarah.” Mikayla hurried to her sister’s side and took her hand. “This is Matt Degan. He’s going to be our new head of security.” Matt wisely didn’t advance toward Sarah, but he did give her a much warmer smile than Mikayla had seen from the man. If she thought he was handsome before, she knew she’d have heart palpitations if that look was directed at her. “It’s nice to meet you, Sarah. I didn’t realize you were twins. You both look like angels.” Sarah relaxed her grip on Mikayla’s hand. “I’m actually two years older, though most people mistake us for twins.” “And Sarah’s the only angelic one,” Mikayla said, smiling at her sister. “Daddy calls us his sugar and spice,” Sarah said. Mikayla kept her face neutral, but inside, she cringed. As a child, she’d hated that she wasn’t the nice one, but it was true. Sarah was all sugar, and she was all spice. It didn’t bother her now … too much. Matt smiled and then focused on Kyler, who had stood up next to his chair, a curious expression on his pixie face. Mikayla hurried to him and gave him a squeeze. “How’s my best boy?” “Good, Aunt Mik. Can we swim today?” “You bet. I’ve got a couple more hours of work, and then we’ll swim before dinner. Deal?” She stuck out her fist for a bump. “Deal.” Kyler grinned, his freckled nose wrinkling. He was a darling boy with his blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a smattering of freckles. He was tall and thin like his mother and father to the point that he seemed almost frail. The only active thing he did was swim with Mikayla. She’d suggested several times that they go skiing, but it had terrified Sarah too much, so she’d given up on the idea. Sarah had been cautious as a child, especially after their mom had deserted them, but since her husband disappeared, she’d turned into a wuss who was scared of everything and rarely left the safety of her room. Mikayla knew it was partly her fault, but she just didn’t have it in her to force her sister out of seclusion. If only Greg would come back from whatever black hole he’d disappeared into. Sarah, Greg, and Kyler had been the perfect little family. Mikayla missed her brother-in-law, and she missed the sister she used to have.
“Kyler, this is Matt.” She gestured toward him. “He’s going to be like our super ninja spy and pretend to be my boyfriend, so if you catch him kissing me, no worries.” Mikayla blushed as Matt’s eyebrows arched up. That was a Freudian slip if she’d ever made one. Kissing was definitely not in the job description. Luckily, Matt didn’t say anything, but the intriguing smirk of his very well-formed lips and sparkle in those dark eyes were enough to make her redden even more. Kyler grinned at Matt. “Cool.” “And he has a son named Brock who’s just your age. Brock and Matt are both going to come stay with us for a while.” “Really?” Kyler’s face lit up. “I’m going to have a friend?” “Yes,” Mikayla said, and hoped she was telling the truth. “Brock will be excited to hang out with you,” Matt said. “Thanks, Aunt Mik!” Kyler threw himself into Mikayla’s arms. Her heart wrenched. Was Kyler really this lonely? He’d had friends at his school in Palo Alto. Surely he’d gotten to know some of his classmates the past three months at his school in Midway. He had his mom and Mik. She glanced at her sister, who was watching with interest, but as usual, not participating much in the conversation. Okay, so he had Mik. Kyler pulled back and smiled. “I’m going to draw a picture of me and my friend. What does he look like?” Matt grinned. “He’s a tall guy, like you. He has brown eyes, tan skin, red hair, and he’s always smiling.” “Thanks, ninja guy.” “No problem.” Matt saluted him. “I’ll bring him by tomorrow.” “Yes!” Kyler double-pumped his fist and then sat down to draw. Mikayla looked at Sarah, but she’d already picked up her Kindle and was reading again. She glanced up as if feeling Mikayla’s gaze on her. “Nice to meet you, Matt.” “You as well.” Mikayla walked to Matt’s side, and he placed his hand on the small of her back as he escorted her out the door. The contact seared heat through her sweater. That was silly—it was a thick sweater. If she was hiring him to be her fake boyfriend, she’d better get used to contact. “How do you know Brock will want to be friends with Kyler?” She glanced up to meet Matt’s dark gaze. “I adore that little man, but I’m afraid other children think he’s … different.” “Kyler seems like a great kid, and honestly, Brock likes everyone. He’ll be ecstatic to live here and have a built-in friend.” “He likes everyone?” Mikayla had become pretty isolated over the past four years, and especially the past six months. She had Sarah, Kyler, Chaz, Rob, and Devan, but with Jonathon and Mary leaving, her circle of friends was shrinking, and though Rob and Devan had been with her for years, she couldn’t
really claim them as close friends. Her business associates didn’t count. She tried not to concentrate on Matt’s hand on her back and the enjoyment she’d found being around him, but she found herself hoping for a friend for Kyler and for herself. “I’ve rarely seen my son without a smile on his face, and I’ve never seen him not make instant friends with everyone he meets.” “Pretty impressive qualities.” “Wish I had them.” “But then you wouldn’t be intimidating.” He had those qualities more than he knew. “There is that.” He winked at her, and she missed a step. Matt righted her, his arm naturally going around her waist. Mikayla’s breathing shortened. He escorted her back to her office, where she placed some distance between them so she could think clearly. They talked through the different threats the stalker had made and the frustration of not being able to find the guy in four years. Mikayla realized Matt was perfect to protect her and to pretend to be her boyfriend. Unfortunately, it was going to be hard for her to remember that it was all pretend.
Chapter Two
Matt opened the back door of Grams’ historic redbrick house just off the main street of Midway to the smell of chocolate chip cookies baking and the sound of Brock’s version of his favorite Christmas carol. “Oh, come on—be faithful. Buck up and try harder. Oh, come on, oh, come on, you sla-acker guy.” Matt wanted to believe Brock was thinking of his absentee mother when he sang that song. She was the one who couldn’t be faithful to either of them. Yet the song wedged guilt into his heart as he felt like Brock was talking right to him, not his ex-wife. Matt was grateful that today, he could give his son some good news. He’d been praying for one of the jobs he’d applied for at some community colleges and universities throughout Utah to come through, but right now, he’d take what he could get, and the pay for being Mikayla’s bodyguard was better than he’d find anywhere else. The beautiful Mikayla didn’t seem like she’d be hard to be around, but he really wanted to use his master’s degree in psychology and find a teaching position, not be a glorified bodyguard/boyfriend. Yet something about that entire family tugged at him. Kyler needed some confidence as much as a friend, and Sarah obviously had issues. He wondered what had happened to make them all become such recluses. Grams laughed heartily. “I love that song.” “Me, too,” Brock said. “We could all try a little harder, right?” Matt ran into the kitchen and grabbed Brock. He tossed him into the air amidst peals of laughter. “Daddy!” Matt sat him on a barstool and mussed his curly red hair. “How’s my boy?” “Great! Grams let me eat the cookie dough.” “Yum. Did you save me any?” “No, sir, you’re too late. And I have more bad news.” “What?” Matt fought to keep a straight face. “We’re only making one cookie for me and you. Grams is giving them all away to the church ladies.” “What? One cookie isn’t enough!” “It’s a giant, Dad. I think you’ll survive.” Grams winked at him and pointed to a cookie tray with a huge circle of dough smashed in the middle. “Wow. That looks great.” “It will be digestible,” Brock promised. Matt laughed. “I’m sure it will. Hey, buddy, I’ve got some big news.” He sat on a barstool next to Brock’s. “I accepted a job offer today.”
“Way to go, Dad. Does this mean I get an iPad for Christmas?” “Nope, but it does mean we’re going to move into a huge mansion with an indoor swimming pool and a friend who’s your age.” Brock frowned, and Matt straightened in surprise. He’d been exaggerating when he said his son always smiled, but the majority of the time, the boy was smiling, and he rarely frowned. “I don’t want to leave Grams.” The look on Grams’ face said she was none too thrilled either. “What do you think you’re doing, accepting a job that takes my boys away from me?” “We’ll just be ten minutes away, in the mountains above Soldier Hollow. You can come visit us, and we’ll come visit you. Honestly, Grams, I thought you would be ready for some peace and quiet.” He didn’t usually beg, but he really needed to stand on his own two feet. What kind of a thirty-year-old Army Veteran lived with his grandmother because they couldn’t afford their own place? The kind who had been bled dry by his ex-wife. “Well, you thought wrong. I’ve had all the peace and quiet one body can take.” She paused and studied him. “You want this job, don’t you?” “If I can’t teach, this is the perfect fit for me. I’ll be head of a security team and personally protecting a beautiful—I mean, billionaire woman.” “Ah, so she’s beautiful, is she?” “Yes, but I’m going to be a professional.” “You always are.” Grams sighed as if Matt’s being professional around a beautiful woman completely depressed her, and then she turned to Brock. “I think you’re getting the best deal here, bud. You get an indoor pool and a friend, and I just get to watch The Bachelorette at night instead of American Ninja Warrior.” Brock wrinkled his nose, but his smile reappeared. “I love you, Grams, but not enough to sit through shows where they do gross stuff like kiss.” Grams laughed heartily. “Are you okay with moving for a little while, Brock?” Matt asked tentatively. The poor kid had moved more in his eight years than most adults did in a lifetime. “If you think it will be fun, I’m up for it.” “It’ll be fun.” ‘Fun’ seemed an odd word to associate with a protection detail, but Brock made everything fun, and being around Mikayla that morning had been more fun than Matt had anticipated. He smiled to himself as he remembered her telling her nephew that he might catch them kissing. Matt wished. “Can’t we bring Grams with us?” Grams stopped removing cookies and shook the spatula at him. “Sorry, bud, I’m never leaving my house. Gonna be buried in the backyard.” “Gross, Grams.”
Matt smiled as Grams gave Brock a cookie. It would indeed be hard to leave her, but even though he wouldn’t be using his degree, at least he would be using his expertise. The more he thought about protecting Mikayla and tracking down her stalker, the more intriguing it became. Now if he could just convince himself it was because of the opportunity for steady work, and the best pay he’d had since deployment, and not an angelic blonde who had hired him to pretend to be her boyfriend. That was a role he could not fully assume, not if he wanted to keep his pride—and keep his heart from getting fractured again.
Chapter Three
Mikayla sat upright in bed. Panting in fear, she yanked the covers up to her chin as if they could protect her. She glanced slowly around the darkened room, but saw and heard nothing out of the ordinary. What had awakened her? Just another nightmare that she couldn’t remember, or was someone in her room? She listened carefully, but could only hear the panting coming from her own throat. Ever so carefully, she eased her hand out of the covers and grasped her cell phone. She pushed the speed dial for the security office at the front of her property. The head of security was the only one who had ever lived in the house—the rest of the team lived in the guest house, or in their own apartments in Midway or Heber and came up for their shifts. Sadly, Jonathon and his wife, Mary, had moved out a few days ago, and Matt wasn’t scheduled to move in until the morning. Surely they should be fine for one more night. She shook her head, knowing the extent to which her stalker would go to terrify her. She sometimes wished he’d just show his face, but the paralyzing fear when she so much as got a note made her realize she wasn’t brave enough to face him. “Ms. Lambert? Is everything okay, ma’am?” “I’m not sure, Devan. I’m probably just being silly, but I woke up and felt like there was someone in my room.” “I’m on my way.” “Thank you.” Mikayla lowered the phone, but clutched it tightly in her palm. The stalker couldn’t get past the security gates and cameras. There was no way. Yet the fear was still lodged in her throat. He’d done it before. He’d left notes in her work office in Palo Alto and in their living room. “Please help me,” she prayed. A quick rap on her door came a few minutes later, and a rough whisper, “Ms. Lambert? It’s me.” She pulled the covers tighter to her chin and called, “Come in.” He walked into the dark room, and she finally caught a breath and reached for the remote next to her bed to turn the lights on. Devan always reminded her of a young Wesley Snipes, especially when he had a goatee and kept his black hair short. He could look intimidating, but was really a nice guy. With the room lit up and Devan carefully checking each nook and cranny, Mikayla felt ridiculous, but she still didn’t move out of bed until Devan lifted a note off the small desk next to her reading nook and said, “Is this yours?” Mikayla flung back the covers, not caring if Devan saw her in a tank top and shorts. She rushed to his side, but stopped as she saw the writing in bold permanent marker. I’M GOING TO RUIN YOUR LIFE JUST LIKE YOU RUINED MINE. She took a step back, not wanting to read the words again, but it didn’t help—they were imprinted on her brain. What had she ever done to ruin someone’s life? Maybe a business competitor who was upset
because she’d won a bid he wanted? The only person she could really pinpoint was Thomas, her exfiancé, who probably blamed her for the collapse of his father’s company and the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to glide through life with her money. But the private investigators who had followed Thomas had never even found him in the same area as Mikayla. They’d broken into his apartment and found nothing that could connect him to any of the notes or pictures. Thomas was smart, and held a grudge longer than anyone she knew. Yet if it was him, why wouldn’t he give her some sort of demand or do… something? The stalker had never physically hurt her, just sent these incessant notes. Vague threats, but nothing that could pinpoint who it might be. “Please call the police,” she whispered. “I already pressed the alert. The police will be on their way, and we’ll search the property thoroughly. With any luck, we’ll find this guy.” “Thank you.” “Can I do anything else for you?” “No, thank you.” Devan nodded. His eyes swept over her, and his gaze was full of compassion. Finally, he set the note back down and strode from the room. Mikayla knew it was childish, but she wanted to beg him to stay. After being stalked for the past four years, she would have thought that she’d toughen up and not react like this. She could put on her professional mask and be tough in any boardroom, but the terror of someone getting past security and being in her room while she slept felt like a torture chamber where the device squeezed her chest until she couldn’t breathe. She swallowed hard and took a few shallow breaths. She was strong. She could do this. The pep talk didn’t help much, and she found herself texting Chaz, knowing he was a night owl and needing her friend right now. He responded quickly. On my way. “Mik?” The familiar voice came from her open doorway a few minutes later. She whirled to face Chaz. “Hey, sorry if I woke you.” Chaz grinned. “You know I never sleep, especially if my lovely boss might need something.” Mikayla shook her head, unable to return the smile. “Hey.” Chaz walked toward her and opened his arms. “I’m sorry. You okay?” She nodded and allowed him to pull her into a hug. Their relationship had always been more like brother and sister than boss and assistant. What would she do without Chaz? They were the same height, so she couldn’t really rest her head on his shoulder, but she took the comfort his hug offered before forcing herself to be strong and draw back from his arms. “Thanks for checking on me. It’ll be fine.” “Do you need anything?” She shook her head, but then whispered, “Just the stalker’s head.”
“Whoa. Strong words from my sweet boss.” “We both know I’m not sweet.” “Sweet and spicy.” Chaz winked. Mikayla did smile at that. He always knew the right thing to say. “Thanks for being here, Chaz.” “I could always kiss it better.” “Ha!” She laughed. He was always joking with her, but sometimes she wondered if he didn’t want more from their relationship. She recognized that he was extremely attractive, but she’d never been attracted to him. Sometimes she wished she was because he was such a laidback, cool guy. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Chaz’s lips drooped in fake sadness. “All right, all right, I know when I’ve been dismissed. Get some rest, and I’ll go see how I can help Devan.” Her phone rang. Devan. She swiped it. “Hello.” “Found Rob. The guy must’ve knocked him out so he could mess with the surveillance equipment or something.” Mikayla gasped, placing a hand over her mouth. “He’s okay?” “Yeah, he’s fine. Probably have a huge headache. Just thought you’d want to know. I’ll call you when the police get here.” “Thanks.” Mikayla hung up the phone, sick at the thought of Rob getting hurt as he worked to protect her. “Rob got knocked out,” she told Chaz. “Wow.” Chaz blew out a long breath. “So the guy’s changing his game.” “What do you mean?” “He’s never hurt anyone before.” Mikayla nodded and pressed a hand to her stomach. “Do you want me to wait with you?” Chaz asked. “No. Go help Rob.” “Whatever you need, my beautiful boss.” “Thanks. You’re the best.” “Don’t you know it.” He gave her one more quick hug, and walked out the door. She sank onto her bed and balled her hands into fists, praying that Matt Degan was half as good as Jonathon had claimed. The FBI and specialized teams of investigators hired by her father had tried to find the stalker, but to no avail. She wanted to catch this guy. She would give anything to feel safe again and know he wasn’t going to hurt anyone around her. Her heart rate notched up again as she thought of Matt. She wondered if Jonathon had ulterior motives in bringing Matt here. She sighed. She’d just have to be strong and not make it uncomfortable for
Matt. He hadn’t asked to be her pretend boyfriend, and he didn’t need a lonely, scorned woman throwing herself at him.
Chapter Four
Matt and Brock walked into the mansion after gaining clearance from the security officer at the gate and a uniformed police officer at the door. Several policemen exited the front door, and quite a few people milled around the foyer. Matt assumed they were hired help, as they were all dressed pretty casually. Chaz gave him a friendly wave, and Matt returned it before peering into the office to his right. Mikayla was next to her desk, conferring with a plainclothes detective, a bald guy with just a hint of a paunch. Matt had worked with the military police and they often conferred with local police forces. He could always pick out detectives. Mikayla turned right then and caught his gaze. “Matt!” She rushed from the office. “I’m so glad you’re here. The stalker got in my room last night and left another note.” Matt’s throat constricted. “Did he touch you?” She shook her head quickly, but her beautiful face pinched with worry. He wanted to wrap her up and shelter her from the world and especially from an idiot stalker who was going to get thrashed when Matt found him. The detective came to her side and looked him over. “Detective Samuel Horace, Summit County Sheriff’s Department.” Matt nodded and shook his hand, grateful the Midway Police Department had bowed to the larger sheriff’s department. The sheriff’s department would have more resources, manpower, and expertise. “Matt Degan. I’m Miss Lambert’s head of security.” Detective Horace’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Why weren’t you here?” “I was just hired yesterday and wasn’t supposed to start until this morning.” He looked to Mikayla. “Why didn’t you call me?” “I’m sorry. I’ve been so distracted, and then the police were asking all these questions.” She glanced up at him with those ice-blue eyes, and Matt forgot his train of thought for a second. Nothing mattered but protecting this woman. “I need to be part of this,” he said, embarrassed that his voice had dropped low and possessive, but this was his protection detail. “I’m sorry.” She gave him a wavering smile, and he forgave her immediately. “Dad.” Brock tugged on his coat sleeve. “Can I meet my friend now?” “Oh, Brock, I’m sorry.” Mikayla bent down to his son. “I’m Mik, and we’re so happy you’re here.” Matt was surprised once again by this ultra-wealthy and obviously professional woman who kept apologizing to both of them and frankly seemed like a mess. Her hair was in a sloppy ponytail, and she wore a sweatshirt and shorts. He wanted to know all the details of this stalker, what kind of note he’d left, and how Mikayla was faring, but he really needed to stop gawking at her legs. “What if I take Brock up to meet Kyler and Sarah and…” She ran a hand self-consciously down
her shorts. “I’ll clean up while you talk with the detective, and then we can all have breakfast together.” Matt glanced down at Brock. “Are you okay to go with Ms. Lambert and meet your new friend?” “Sure, Dad.” Mikayla held out her hand, and Brock trustingly put his palm into hers. “You look like a beautiful angel, Ms. Lambert.” Mikayla grinned, the anxiety seeming to leave her body. “You are just as handsome and nice as your dad said you were, and you can call me Mik.” Brock looked back at Matt and pumped his eyebrows. Matt had to choke back a laugh, knowing Brock was already smitten with Mikayla. Detective Horace gestured with his hand and Matt walked into the office with him, dropping his coat on a chair. All traces of levity disappeared as the man told him about what he knew about Mikayla’s stalker and the note that had been left early that morning.
* * *
Mikayla loved the feel of this little man’s hand in hers. He was a well-built kid, energy and athleticism radiating from him. Matt hadn’t been lying—the boy’s smile was a foot wide, and Mikayla was certain he could charm anyone into being his friend. “Thanks for letting us come stay at your palace, Mik,” he said. “Grams was sad I had to leave her, but I promised I’d come visit. Would it be okay if she dropped by sometime?” He looked up at her. His eyes sparkled just like his dad’s. “She’ll bring cookies.” “I would love to have your grams visit,” Mikayla said, wondering why Matt hadn’t told her about a grandmother. “Does she live close by?” “Yep. Just down the mountain from here. She’s not a richie like you guys.” Mikayla bit back a laugh. “Well, what’s important is the kind of person you are, not the money you have.” “Hey!” Brock’s eyes widened in surprise. “Do you know Grams?” “No, sir.” “She says junk like that all the time. I know you old people mean well and all, but for us kids, it matters a lot the money you have.” Mikayla laughed out loud at being called an “old people,” but something tugged at her heart. Matt had been so sure that his son was friends with everyone, but obviously, someone was making him feel like less because he wasn’t wealthy. It made her sad. The door to Sarah’s rooms was shut. The police had awakened Sarah and Kyler to ask questions, see if they’d heard or seen anything, but then they’d allowed them to go back to bed. Mikayla’s chest felt tight. Had Sarah talked with Kyler about the intruder, or had she shut down and gone into her reclusive state because of her fears? Her husband had disappeared from somewhere in Central America about the same time Mikayla’s stalker had appeared. No one knew if the events were related, and though they’d
paid private investigators and had the FBI involved throughout the process, they had no answers. Only their dad could get Sarah to talk about it. She believed her husband was still alive, but the odds weren’t looking good. Mikayla knocked and then gently pushed the door open. Kyler sat at his desk, coloring. Even though he had his own room next door to Sarah’s, he spent most of his time near his mom. Not that it helped Sarah interact like a mother should, but it seemed to soothe him. Sarah’s slight form was in the bed. Mikayla didn’t know if she should awaken her sister and help her deal with the intruder, or allow her to go into her usual mode of denial and not deal with anything. Kyler looked up and then jumped off his chair. He glanced at his mom and then whispered loudly, “Mama’s asleep. Is this my new friend?” Mikayla gestured with her hand, and they all slipped quietly through the door. In the hallway, she placed a hand on Kyler’s shoulder. “Brock, this is my nephew, Kyler.” “Hi!” Brock grinned and looked so much like his dad, with the exception of red curls instead of dark, that Mikayla sucked in a breath. “Mik said we were going to be friends.” Brock extended his fist. Kyler bumped fists and gave him one of the biggest smiles Mikayla had seen on her nephew. “I want to be your friend so bad.” “Sweet!” “What do you want to do?” Kyler dropped his eyes and dragged his toe through the thick carpet. “Can you show me around the palace?” Brock asked. Kyler looked up. “Sure. I think it’s just a house, though. At least, I’m pretty sure, even though Aunt Mik and my mom look like princesses.” Mikayla laughed. These two were going to make her life a lot more fun. Most of the tension of the morning dissipated as she watched these new buddies take off down the hall. “I’m going to shower,” she called to them. “Meet me in the kitchen after your tour, and we’ll have breakfast.” “French toast?” Kyler asked over his shoulder, but then quickly turned to his friend. “Do you like those?” “Love ’em, bro,” Brock said, nudging Kyler’s arm with his elbow. “Me, too, b—bro,” Kyler said the word uncomfortably, but he radiated joy. “Thanks, Aunt Mik.” Mikayla watched them disappear into the entertainment room that housed all kinds of fun toys they rarely used and heard Brock exclaim, “You’ve got a foosball table. I love this place!” She had to clear her throat of emotion as she hurried to her room to shower. She felt like dancing and shouting, Kyler has a friend! She’d make French toast and sausage. Brock seemed like the kind of kid who would like breakfast meat. The choking fear of earlier that morning moved to the back of her mind as she thought about this adorable boy and his dangerously handsome father.
* * *
Matt finished with the detective and thanked him before escorting him to the door. He’d explained Mikayla’s plan of him pretending to be her live-in boyfriend to scare this guy off, but he really wanted to capture the jerk. Detective Horace agreed. He was going to check the note for fingerprints, but he explained that the files he had been sent from the Palo Alto police and the FBI claimed that no fingerprints had been found or an identifiable image captured on any security camera when the notes had been hand delivered. The man was covered from head to toe in baggy black clothing, so it was hard even to tell his shape. He was a phantom, and the fact that the notes always appeared in different spots and by different means didn’t give much hope to catching him repeating himself. Matt was itching to go through all the information Jonathon had promised he would find in his office about the stalker, but he needed to check on his son first. Matt didn’t know if Brock and Mikayla were still in Sarah’s room. He walked through the formal foyer and noticed that his and Brock’s bags had been moved. On the other side of the entryway was a huge formal living room with an arched entry leading into a formal dining room. Both appeared empty. He almost went upstairs, but it felt too personal. He was going to have to get over that. He wondered if his bedroom would be close to Mikayla’s. His neck warmed at the thought. He heard voices and walked around the grand staircase. The house opened up into a massive twostory living area. The entire back wall was composed of windows that showcased the backyard, which was probably amazing in the summer, and the forest beyond that. The wall to his right was all fireplace and bookshelves. To the left was a kitchen, one entire wall knotty cherry cabinets and an island that extended the length of the kitchen with a dozen barstools. A butcher block table was nestled in the wall of windows at the rear of the kitchen, and what looked to be a well-stocked walk-in pantry was to the front of the house next to an entrance to the dining area and another door that looked to be a laundry/mud room and the garage entry. Brock and Kyler sat up to the bar, talking animatedly and drinking chocolate milk. Mikayla’s hair was in a neater ponytail, and she wore a fitted T-shirt and yoga pants. She was whipping some egg concoction by hand and then set that down to lift the lid on a pan and stir sausage. Matt had to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat. This woman was nothing like he’d stereotyped. Didn’t they have a cook? She wore yoga pants? She looked amazing in those yoga pants. “Wow, something smells good,” he managed. Mikayla smiled at him. Brock jumped off his seat and flung himself into Matt’s arms. “Dad! They have foosball and a pool table and video machines, like real ones, not just a PlayStation or something, and a theater room in the basement plus a place with weights that you’ll like, and an indoor pool and hot tub and an outdoor pool, but we have to wait until summer for that. And Kyler says when it’s summer, we have like a whole forest to play in, and he’ll have airsoft wars with me as long as I promise not to shoot him in the eye because his mom would flip out, and our room is awesome and it’s right next to Mik’s, and Kyler claims she’s not a princess and this isn’t a castle, but come on, look at it!” He gestured around the room and took a breath. Matt sat him on the barstool. He loved holding the kid, but he wasn’t a lightweight. “I’m definitely not a princess,” Mikayla said, laughing and shaking her head.
“Says you,” Brock retorted. “The castle and the princess are pretty amazing, huh?” Matt winked at Mikayla and grinned when she blushed. “So cool, Dad,” Brock said, oblivious to the adults’ silent conversation. “Me and Kyler are gonna have a blast. I feel bad leaving Grams, but you know how she loves me no matter what, so I’m sure she’s gonna forgive me.” Matt nodded and watched Mikayla dip thick slices of what looked like homemade bread in a cinnamon/egg mixture and place them on a long griddle. “Can I help you with something?” “Sure. Can you get juice and milk out of the fridge and then turn the sausage?” “Got it.” He walked around the long island and found everything she instructed him to find, including plates, cups, utensils, syrup, and peanut butter. “You put peanut butter on your French toast?” “It’s the best,” Kyler told him. He met his gaze, then looked down quickly. “Will you try it?” “Sure. Try anything once.” “That’s brave,” Kyler said. “We Degans are brave souls,” Brock informed him. Mikayla laughed. “I like that. Bravery’s a great thing.” They sat down to eat. Kyler offered a short prayer, then Brock dug in. Matt leaned closer to Mikayla on her barstool. “Would you believe me if I told you he already had a huge farewell breakfast at Grams? She thought if she fed him enough, he’d know how much she loves him.” “Seriously?” Mikayla looked over at Brock, who had five sausages on his plate, one on his fork, and a mouthful of French toast. “Peanut butter rocks on French toast.” He caught Matt’s glance and grimaced. “Sorry, Dad. Swallow, then talk?” “Thanks, bud.” “And too many sausages, right?” He started to put them back onto the serving plate. “No, it’s okay,” Mikayla said quickly, then glanced at Matt. “If it’s okay with your dad.” Matt shook his head, smiling. “It’s okay, but next time, let’s start with a little less and make sure there’s enough for everyone.” Brock’s shoulders rounded a bit. “Sorry, Mik. It’s just all so delectable.” “That’s okay,” Mikayla assured him. He quickly forgot any chagrin and started shoving in more food and talking to Kyler about some video game they had in the entertainment room upstairs. Matt thought he was doing an awful job of teaching his son manners and he’d have to work on that.
He just never wanted to reprimand the boy, as his ex-wife had done nothing but correct and belittle. His son’s exuberant personality was almost extinguished when Matt had returned home from Afghanistan the last time, which about killed him, as the only thing that got him through that last tour was imagining his son happy, smiling, and safe at home. “Delectable?” Mikayla whispered. “I sure like that boy.” “Thanks,” Matt said, warming to her even more. “Yesterday he said the food was digestible, so you’ve got to feel good about delectable.” He couldn’t help but think that she was delectable too. “Do you do all the cooking?” Mikayla swallowed a drink of orange juice and shook her head. “I like to cook, but not all the time. We had to replace Jonathon’s wife, which has been difficult, but we have a cook who drives up most weekdays. She keeps the kitchens and pantries stocked with food so we can be informal.” Once again, Mikayla wasn’t what he expected. She cooked and didn’t demand someone serve her. Nice. He took a bite of sausage, not really hungry, but wanting to eat the food she’d prepared. He glanced at Brock, who was having no trouble tucking into his second breakfast. The kid was going to be a linebacker if he kept up this appetite. “You said ‘we.’ Do you mean you and Sarah?” “No, me and my dad. He still runs the business, and I help from here, but we both decided after Sarah, Kyler, and I relocated here from Palo Alto that I would only work a couple of hours a day from the home office and fly down once a month to help run things, and I would focus on being with Sarah and Kyler.” She lowered her voice. “Sarah really shut down when her husband disappeared, and Kyler needs me.” Jonathon had told him a little bit about the husband, Greg. The man had apparently been doing some kind of botanical research in Central America and then he was just gone. Nobody had seen or heard from him in the past four years. Jonathon was certain Greg had nothing to do with the stalking, but Matt couldn’t disregard any angle. Maybe the people who took Greg were involved. Maybe Greg himself. Nobody knew, but Matt was going to find out. “It’s admirable that you would give up your career to help raise your nephew,” he said, wondering if it would upset her if he asked for more details about the brother-in-law. She smiled softy. “He’s an awesome kid. I love being with him.” He studied her while she cut a bite of French toast. This beauty in yoga pants who was warm and kind to him and his son and put her nephew’s needs before her own interested him more than he wanted to admit. The young guard, Devan, had explained that Mikayla wouldn’t implement some security measures because she wanted to help Kyler have a normal life. Matt wondered what her dad thought. If Matt had a beautiful daughter being stalked by a psycho and billions of dollars at his disposal, he’d build a fortress and hide her from every danger. He wouldn’t mind being in that fortress, protecting Mikayla. “Detective Horace said your brother-in-law disappeared the same time the stalker started coming around?” He couldn’t hold it back any longer. Luckily, she just shrugged and said, “Yeah. Weird coincidence, or some kind of connection—who knows? But my stalker always seems to be after me, not Sarah, so why would he have messed with Greg?”
“You never know.” Matt stole a glance at Kyler and Brock. They were talking happily as they ate. He didn’t want to tell Mikayla that Greg was high on his list of stalker candidates. It might seem crazy to her, but nothing would surprise him after being part of different security details for the Army. “Greg’s disappearance must be hard on Kyler.” Mikayla studied the two boys too. “Horribly. But children sometimes seem more resilient than adults. Thanks for being here. After this morning, it makes me feel so safe, and Kyler really needs this friendship.” She pointed at Brock, who was grinning and shoveling in more sausage. Her reference to that morning made him pause. He’d been so concerned about the locks, the security codes, what Rob could remember about being attacked and why her security personnel hadn’t seen anything on camera that he hadn’t stopped to think about how terrifying it must’ve been for her. “I’m going to find this guy, Mikayla, and I’m going to keep all of you safe.” She gave him a brave smile and cut a piece of French toast. “Thanks, and please call me Mik.” Matt liked the sound of that.
Chapter Five After breakfast, the boys insisted on giving Matt a tour of the house. Mikayla should’ve taken the time to catch up on email, but instead, she followed along. Seeing Kyler so energized and happy was a balm for her soul. It was as if the stalker breaking into her house and her room was a distant memory. She couldn’t believe how safe she felt and how full of life the house was with this rambunctious boy and his solid dad. She glanced up and down Matt’s well-built frame encased in a T-shirt that stretched at the shoulders—very solid dad. They finally made it upstairs, and Kyler showed Matt everybody’s bedrooms. When they approached his mom’s suite, he paused. “We have to be quiet. My mom… kinda sleeps a lot.” “It’s cool, bro,” Brock said. “At least your mom is here. My mom lives on a beach somewhere, and I never see her.” Matt sucked in a breath, and Mikayla was both astonished by Brock’s openness and grateful that he took everything in stride. “My dad’s gone too,” Kyler whispered. “It’s not much fun.” “Yup, it bites,” Brock agreed. Then he turned and grabbed Matt’s hand, smiling up at his dad. “You gotta see our room.” He tugged him down the hall, and Matt made the appropriate ooh and ahh sounds as Brock showed him the double-headed shower and jetted tub and then the patio overlooking the backyard. The last bedroom was Mikayla’s, which was right next door to Matt’s. Mikayla was grateful her underwear wasn’t hanging out of the drawer as the boys ran from the dresser to the desk to the balcony. The house had six separate suites upstairs. Even though the entry and living area were vaulted to the roof, there was plenty of room for all the bedrooms, as the upstairs extended over the six-car garage. The basement also went underneath the suspended garage. Mikayla loved this house, and was grateful the people who built it had decided Utah was too cold and sold it in favor of a beach home on Maui. “Sorry. You didn’t know your personal space was going to be on display,” Matt whispered in her ear. Mikayla turned toward him and glanced up. He gazed at her with interest and appreciation. It had been a long time since she’d been this close to a man. They’d lived a pretty quiet life the last four years. Between Greg’s disappearance, her break-up with Thomas, and the stalker situation, she’d become almost as big of a recluse as her sister. She thought she liked it that way, until now. She opened her mouth to speak, but Brock interrupted. “Hey, Dad, can me and Kyler go play foosball?” “Sure, bud,” Matt said, but his gaze didn’t waver from Mikayla. The boys scampered out of the room, and Mikayla felt the intimacy of a huge, good-looking man in her bedroom. A man who was going to be sleeping next door, albeit with his eight-year-old, but still, he was all man, and he appealed to her like no one had in years. She wondered if she just needed to get out more, but then she realized Matt would stand out to her, even in a banquet-sized room full of good-looking and accomplished men. Even though he was handsome, the scars on his face and the intensity in his eyes gave him a different look that she really liked. He cleared his throat and took a respectful step back. “I’m sorry the stalker got in here last night. It
makes me wonder if he knew that Jonathon left recently and I wouldn’t start until this morning.” Mikayla shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “I hadn’t thought of that. So somehow, he’s monitoring the property or…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. “He’s got an in with one of your employees, or is one of your employees.” “No.” She shook her head. “The only new employee is the cook, Jerrilyn, and I just can’t see it.” “It’s not the new employees I’m worried about.” “It can’t be any of them.” Mikayla couldn’t believe any of her people would try to hurt or scare her. He shrugged, looking less than convinced. “It’s a pretty huge property for us to monitor. You’ve lived here how long?” “Six months.” “And the notes?” “This is the first one he’s left here, and the first time he’s been in my bedroom.” She shivered again and looked around the room, reassuring herself that no one was there watching. “We’d started to hope that he hadn’t followed us from Palo Alto. Most of the notes there were mailed, or he’d paid someone to deliver them. Creepy pictures of me undressing or playing with Kyler in the pool. Threats about what he was going to do to me, things like that.” She swallowed at the sudden bitterness in her throat. “I’ll need to see the pictures and notes. I’m hoping Jonathan kept copies of all of them.” “Yes, in your office.” She appreciated that he didn’t make a big deal about what she’d said, though a muscle worked in his jaw and she knew he was bothered by what the stalker had done to her. She tried not to think about him looking at those pictures. Humiliating. “And how long did you live in Palo Alto?” “Most of my life. My dad still has a house there, and that’s where our business is headquartered.” “Why the change?” “Hoped it would help Sarah and Kyler. Plus, I love to ski.” She allowed herself to smile, and was gratified to see him return it. “Me, too. This pretending to be your boyfriend is going to have some great benefits.” Mikayla blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” “No, it’s fine.” “So.” He cleared his throat. “Is the move helping Sarah and Kyler?” “Sarah, not so much. Kyler? Well, let me just say that the past couple of hours with Brock are the happiest I’ve seen him. Finding you seems like a small miracle to me.” She met his gaze, and though there was still that dangerous aura about him, the sincerity in his eyes left her a little weak.
“It is Christmastime.” “You’re my Christmas miracle.” She sucked in a breath. Had she really just said that? “Happy to be here.” He glanced around the room one more time and then said, “I’m going to check on the boys and then start familiarizing myself with the security team and equipment and reading through Jonathon’s information.” She nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on the boys while I answer some emails. I love that Kyler isn’t going to be alone when I’m distracted with work.” “I know what you mean. Grams is great, but not really able to keep up with that wild man.” He smiled. “By the way, what is your business?” “Bags.” Mikayla felt a little self-conscious with him looking at her. She straightened her shoulders and concentrated on the posture her life coaches had always drilled into her. “Bags? What kind?” “Purses, handbags, gym bags, backpacks. Our materials are manufactured in China and shipped here, but everything is handmade in the U.S.” “Wow.” Matt’s eyebrows arched. “And you’ve been a big part of the company?” “How do you know that?” “I can just sense your pride in it.” “I’ll try to be more humble.” “No. It’s not a bad pride—it looks good on you.” He nodded as if in appreciation. She laughed. “Well, thanks. Yeah, my dad started the company thirty years ago. After college, I worked as a sales rep for him, and we’ve doubled our distribution in the past six years.” “That’s impressive.” “My dad’s been happy. Like I said, I’ve stepped back, but I still keep in contact with most of our buyers, especially those bringing in the multi-million dollar deals.” “Wow again.” “Sorry, I shouldn’t brag. My mom would say that isn’t attractive.” Matt lifted one eyebrow. “I don’t know, Mikayla Lambert. I haven’t seen much about you that isn’t attractive.” He let that hang in the air for a few seconds, then tilted his chin like she’d seen tough guys in movies do. “See you in a bit.” He walked out the door, not giving her time to respond, but she was able to process it, and it felt amazing.
Chapter Six Matt was more impressed with the security personnel and equipment than he’d initially been after spending most of the day inspecting both. They had eight guards on staff. Only a couple of them, Devan and Rob, lived on the property and had moved with Mikayla from California. There were always two on duty, running twelve-hour shifts. The video surveillance was all state of the art, and they’d done a good job of covering the house and the property. He liked that there was monitoring equipment at the front gate house and in his office in the basement of the main house. They only thing they were missing were some dogs, but apparently Sarah would be more terrified if they got dogs. Matt found Jonathon’s notes, and after looking through the pictures and threats Mikayla had received over the past four years, he was fuming so much, he had to take a break and go pound through some reps with the weights down the hall from his office in the basement, even though he wasn’t dressed for it. The images of Mikayla infuriated him. How dare the stalker violate her like that? He finally forced himself back to his office and started a list of possible suspects—several male employees who had worked for Mikayla the past four years, the brother-in-law, Greg, Devan and Rob, and a couple of disgruntled ex-employees. He needed to dig deeper into business competitors, but had nothing right now. He forced himself to put Jonathon and Sarah’s names on there, though he didn’t believe Jonathon could do it and he didn’t want to think it could be Sarah, but who else had access like those two? Rob and Chaz were at the top of his list right now. Chaz, because he really seemed to like Mikayla, which was always a red flag. Rob, because even though his background was impeccable and it appeared he’d been knocked out this morning, he’d been with the family for six years, and he was one of those people who just couldn’t meet your eye for very long. Matt sighed, knowing the stereotypes rarely held true, and he was in for a long haul to find this guy. This was his first job in the private sector, so he wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything. He’d become a specialist in security details for the Army, trained with their military police, and worked many times as security for high-ranking military personnel. He’d also worked security for Park City Resort off and on for the past year, but he knew he’d gotten this job mostly because of Jonathon. He’d missed Mikayla and the boys at lunchtime, but checked on the boys whenever he had a break. As soon as Brock discovered the wireless intercom system, he heard from the boys pretty regularly. They were having the time of their lives in the game room upstairs. He rolled his neck to get the kinks out, relieved that he would be more of a personal bodyguard to Mikayla and not doing the usual security job of monitoring cameras and walking perimeters. He’d done enough of that in Afghanistan to last him a lifetime. A tremor raced through his body, and it was like he could feel the explosion all over again. He blinked to clear his thoughts, but sweat beaded on his forehead, and he had to take a few slow breaths. The smell of burning flesh seared his nostrils. It was just a memory, but the shock of realizing it was his flesh never quite left him. Then he’d seen his buddies bloody and screaming for help. He ran the stairs two at a time, realizing he was running from his demons, but he just needed to see Brock’s smile. It was always his biggest fear—especially during his last deployment—that he wouldn’t get to see Brock’s smile or feel one of his fierce hugs again. He searched upstairs for the boys, his footsteps heavy. They weren’t in the game room or Kyler’s bedroom. He strode past Sarah’s bedroom. The door was open, and he caught a glimpse of her sitting in a
chair reading a book. He rapped his knuckles on the door, and she glanced up with an almost practiced smile. Her blue eyes reflected a healthy amount of fear when they focused on him. “Hi,” he called out, hopefully in a friendly and not scary way. He wasn’t sure what his face looked like when he was dealing with a near panic attack, and it was obvious he already intimidated Sarah with his scarred face and large frame. “Have you seen Brock and Kyler?” Her smile reached her eyes then. “They came by to visit and said they were going swimming. Mik’s with them. They all looked so happy.” “Thanks.” He swallowed and tried to talk normally when he really just wanted to get to his son. “This has been a fun day for Brock. It’ll be hard for him to go to school on Monday.” She smiled again and then focused on her book. Matt took that as his dismissal. He needed to ask Mikayla what exactly was wrong with Sarah and how he should treat her. He strode from the doorway and down the two flights of stairs. The pool was at one end of the huge walkout basement. His office was on the opposite end. Walls of retractable glass opened up in the summer and connected it to the outdoor pool that boasted a waterslide and diving board. As he neared the pool, he heard splashing, laughing, and a scream of, “Do it again, Aunt Mik!” He walked in to see Mik climb out of the pool and then turn and jump, pulling both knees into her chest and screaming, “Cannonball!” She caused a tremendous splash that had the boys laughing and dogpaddling to keep their faces above the waves. Brock’s grin stretched across his face, and Matt’s shoulders relaxed. He caught a full breath. His boy was fine. Of course he was fine. “Dad!” Brock hollered. “This is my best day ever!” Matt grinned at his son’s exuberance. Brock had many days that he exclaimed were his best ever, but he was so grateful Brock was happy here. “That’s awesome, bud.” He smiled at Kyler and Mikayla, who had now surfaced. “Nice cannonball.” This undeniable attraction to his boss was something he was going to have to learn how to manage. The pictures flashed through his mind, and he kept his eyes focused on her face. He wasn’t sure how his role of bodyguard/boyfriend was going to work out, but he would give Mikayla the respect she deserved. She grimaced. “You saw that?” “Aunt Mik does the best cannonballs. She can do a three-sixty, too,” Kyler bragged. “Do you want to see it?” “For sure.” Mikayla laughed and splashed some water at Matt. “I’m sure you do—give you more opportunities to make fun of me.” Matt wiped the water on his arm. “I wasn’t making fun. I was impressed.” He really was. “Go get your suit on, Dad,” Brock pleaded. “Um, I’d love to, but… ” He appealed to Mikayla, embarrassed to be asking permission, but he was working here. Technically, his job was watching over Mikayla, and if she was in the pool, this could
be considered his work. This was all going to take some adjusting. “As your boss, I command you to come swim with us,” Mikayla said. “Okay.” He saluted her. “Can’t turn the boss down.” “Yay!” Brock and Kyler yelled. Matt turned and walked back toward his room, his steps much lighter than when he’d come down to the pool. Everyone was safe and happy. He had to keep them that way.
* * *
Mikayla swam after the boys with her eyes squeezed shut. “Marco?” she called. “Polo,” they both whispered, giggling. She turned, pretty sure Brock was to her right. She heard the door to the pool room open, and then Brock and Kyler squealed with delight. She opened her eyes and couldn’t control the way her mouth fell open. She hoped she didn’t drool. She’d imagined Matt would have a nice build, but imagination didn’t do this man justice. He was broad and all muscle. Scars crisscrossed his chest, but only added to that aura of danger about him that drew her in. She’d never thought of herself as being attracted to the dangerous type, but Matt was the perfect mix of responsible, fun dad, and kick-butt military man. She met his gaze and hoped she hid some of the appreciation in her eyes. “Aunt Mik,” Kyler said. “You’re staring kind of funny at Matt.” Nope, she’d failed. Matt grinned and then jumped, wrapped his arms around his knees, and yelled, “Cannonball!” The water rocked violently after his entry. The boys laughed and hollered as he surfaced and then proceeded to chase after them in the pool. When he caught one of them, he would toss them a few feet. She could barely lift Kyler and had no hope of picking up Brock, but he was throwing both of them like they were stuffed dolls. Mik stood in the shallow end and watched. Once again, probably failing to hide the appreciation. She loved the way his muscles rippled as he threw one of the boys, but she loved seeing how fun he was with his son and her nephew even more. Had Kyler ever had this kind of interaction with an adult male? Not in the last four years. Her dad was great, but Kyler and his grandpa didn’t have a rough-and-tumble kind of relationship. More of a snuggle-and-read-a- book or play-a-game-of-Risk relationship. “Throw Aunt Mik,” Kyler begged Matt. Mikayla started backing away as Matt swam to the shallow end with a predatory gleam in his eyes. She bumped into the tiled wall of the pool and just stood there, staring at him as he closed the distance between them. “Throw her, throw her,” Kyler and Brock chanted. Matt stopped right in front of her. His gaze sparkled with mischief and something else that made
the warm pool almost too warm. She grabbed on to the concrete edge. Matt’s face softened. “I would never hurt you,” he said in a low voice. Mikayla knew he wasn’t talking about anything to do with throwing her in a swimming pool. He wanted her to trust him. She needed to trust him. She searched his eyes for a few seconds and finally nodded. “I know.” He smiled. In one swift motion, he scooped her up in his arms and held her against that broad chest. If she’d thought his musculature was impressive from afar, it was unreal up close. She barely restrained her hand from reaching up to trace one of his scars. “You wouldn’t.” Their silent interchange had made her forget why he’d come after her in the first place. “How can I let them down?” he asked, grinning at her. Her heart galloped at that grin directed right at her. “I’ll give you a raise if you don’t.” She was going to say she’d fire him if he did, but she had no desire to do that and really didn’t care if he threw her. She enjoyed being in his arms enough that she was willing to banter for a minute. “You know… ” Matt’s smile crinkled his scar and made his whole face light up. “Money’s never been that important to me.” He threw her into the air, and she soared for half a second before landing with a terrific splash. She pushed the hair out of her face as she surfaced and gave him a mock glare before joining in with the boys’ laughter. It was impossible not to laugh when you were with these three, and Mikayla realized that hiring this new bodyguard was going to be an experience that she was really, really going to enjoy.
Chapter Seven
Matt lay awake, listening to Brock’s heavy breaths and thinking about his new boss. The bed was extremely comfortable and he should be exhausted and ready to sleep after a busy day, but he stewed about all the new information he’d been given about her stalker. The guy had never made physical contact with her. Last night was the first time he’d been in her bedroom—to anyone’s knowledge. The other notes and inappropriate pictures came through mail or other delivery systems. Sometimes he got them to her through someone he’d bribed in a public place. The weird thing about that was some of the people who’d been paid to deliver notes said the person who’d hired them was a female. He’d need to add some women, besides Sarah, to the list of suspects. The stalker was getting bolder—knocking a guard out and entering Mikayla’s bedroom. Those two facts were definitely keeping Matt awake. And how had he gotten into the house and snuck up on Rob without the cameras catching him, alarms going off, or one of the guards seeing him? A shuffling of footsteps outside his bedroom door jerked him upright. He threw the covers off and raced toward the door, quietly swinging it open. A shadowy form was halfway down the hallway, passing the two spare suites and almost to Sarah’s room. The softened track lighting along the floor barely illuminated the person. Matt rushed down the hall and grabbed the intruder from behind, pinning his arms down to his sides and wrapping him up so there was no way he could get away. “Ouch!” The intruder was not a man—the voice and the curves were unmistakable. “Mikayla?” he questioned. He loosened his grip and gently turned her to face him. She glanced up at him with wide eyes. “Hello to you too, Matt.” “Oh, Mikayla.” He let go of her and took a step back, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I thought you were the stalker.” Her lips pressed together. “Pretty effective to stalk yourself.” “What are you doing out here? Did you turn off the sensors in your room?” Immediately, he realized how sharp his voice was and worried that he’d overstepped his bounds. He was her bodyguard, not her commander. After dinner, he’d installed some sensors in her bedroom that would alert him personally if someone entered or exited. She crossed her arms over her chest and elevated an eyebrow. Matt swallowed as he surveyed her outfit—short shorts and a tank top. Wow, her legs were long. “Yes, I did. I like to check on Kyler at night. Is that okay with you?” Matt’s body softened. She loved her nephew like he loved his boy. He’d turn off security monitors and check on his son if he was down the hall. “Of course. Just make sure you turn them back on before you go to bed. I’m sorry… for tackling you.” Mikayla smiled at him. “It’s okay. At least I know an intruder couldn’t escape from you. Sheesh.” She rubbed her arms.
Matt reached out and touched her arm without stopping to think. “Did I hurt you?” “A little,” she admitted. He pushed a hand through his hair. “I apologize again.” “I’m okay.” She shook her head, then her eyes traveled up and down his body. “I actually feel safer, knowing how… strong you are.” Matt’s throat felt dry. She was checking him out. He resisted the urge to smile at her obvious perusal or act like a teenage boy and start flexing some muscles. “Well, thanks.” “Goodnight.” She tilted her chin up at him, then spun and strode away. Brock was right about her being a princess. She carried herself like royalty, and he’d just tackled her like she was a tight end. Oh, man, he couldn’t be thinking of tight ends. He exhaled slowly and watched her slip into Kyler’s room. Slowly counting the seconds, he waited, wanting to make sure she was back in her room with the sensors rearmed before he tried to go back to sleep. He groaned as he thought of the tackle he’d just put on her—at least he hadn’t taken her all the way to the ground. Nothing like hurting your boss on the first day.
Chapter Eight
Sunday morning, Mikayla asked if Matt and Brock wanted to attend church with them. Matt was grateful she didn’t bring up him attacking her the night before, but wished he could see if her arms had marks on them. Unfortunately, she wore a long-sleeved dress to church. The service was pretty uneventful except for how nice it felt to be sitting together like a little family. Matt didn’t want to evaluate why he liked that so much. They got more than a few questioning looks and raised eyebrows, especially from the people who were brave enough to come meet Matt. Mikayla always introduced him as her boyfriend. He smiled to himself, wondering what the preacher would say if he knew Matt was living with her. After church, they enjoyed a relaxed Sunday afternoon, eating a delicious baked pasta dinner Jerrilyn had left in the freezer for them to bake, and then watching the latest Ice Age. Matt and Mikayla both enjoyed the boys’ laughter more than they paid attention to the show. Matt wondered if this level of comfort and familiarity was what Mikayla wanted. The lines between job and life were already blurring for him. He felt like he was always on duty, but at the same time, any hour he spent with Mikayla didn’t feel like work. He kept telling himself it was because he was supposed to be the live-in boyfriend and they were both just acting the part, but this felt more personal than an acting job. Monday came, and they started a routine of Matt taking the boys to and from school each day. They’d transferred Kyler into Brock’s class, and so far, things were great. When Matt got back to the property, he spent time training the security personnel, checking on equipment and film, researching suspects, doing extensive background checks on employees, or just being wherever Mikayla was. If he couldn’t be working as a psychology professor, this job was about perfect. He got to be with Brock, and rarely letting Mikayla out of his sight was a nice bonus. It bothered him immensely that the stalker had been able to gain access to her room without any sign of forced entry or even a suspicious footprint on the grounds. He almost agreed with her about the staff. Though he was suspicious of everybody, he had a hard time pinpointing which one of them would willingly harm her, and all of their background checks were coming in clean. There was a great feeling of family and camaraderie between Mikayla and her employees. Sarah, they all coddled, and Kyler, they adored. Maybe one of them made an innocent mistake that allowed the man access, or maybe the guy was really that good. Tuesday night as they were cleaning up dinner, Kyler shyly approached Matt. “Would you like to go sledding with us?” Matt noticed Mikayla turn and look over her shoulder as she piled dishes into the sink. Her expression was hopeful and a bit wary. “Sure,” Matt said. Kyler’s blue eyes lit up. “Yay!” He ran to Brock, who was sloppily wiping up the counter. “We’re going sledding with your dad!” Brock gave him a high five and started dancing with the wet dish rag flipping around. “Sledding! We’re going sledding! Can we go to Soldier Hollow, Dad?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Mikayla and Kyler have a spot in mind.” Mikayla smiled at him and shook her head. “We’ll acquiesce to the local experts.” “That’s a lot of trust you’re putting in us hometown boys, ma’am.” Matt winked at her and grinned when she blushed. “I trusted you the first time I saw you,” she said, then turned and scrubbed intently at the cheese on a plate. Matt’s grin grew. He liked that. A lot. “What’s aqueasy mean?” Brock asked, watching both of them with a furrowed brow. “Acquiesce,” Kyler said. “It’s like, letting you have your way, kind of.” “How do you know that, bro?” Brock asked. “Before you came, I read a lot of books.” Kyler ducked his head. “Cool. I like to read too. My dad usually reads me a Time Warp Trio when I go to bed. You want to read with us tonight?” “Sure!” Kyler’s smile couldn’t have gotten any bigger. Matt finished putting leftovers in the fridge, pride for his son filling him. He was a thoughtful friend, and such a fun boy. “We can finish loading the dishwasher when we get back, or I’ll do it tomorrow when you’re in school,” Mikayla said. She had two different cleaning ladies who came up from Heber every weekday and spit-shined the place, but she’d explained to Matt that she and Kyler tried to do dishes and other light chores so she could teach Kyler how to work and so they could have the house to themselves at nights and on weekends. Matt’s admiration of her kept ratcheting up—she cared about Kyler enough not to completely spoil him. Mikayla looked at the pair of them. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go get your snow clothes.” Brock ran to Mikayla, driving his head into her chest and about knocking her over. He gave her a fierce squeeze. “You’re the best! Let’s go,” he yelled to Kyler. They raced out of the main room toward the front entry, talking and laughing. “Sorry,” Matt said. “He gives some vicious hugs.” Mikayla blinked quickly. “I love his exuberance. Does he always love everyone so quickly?” “He loves people, but he’s definitely taken to you and Kyler. It’s like you’re family.” Matt cleared his throat and studied the dishes in the sink. “I can help you load these.” She dried her hands on a towel. “No. They’ll be fine. Let’s get to the sledding.” She walked past him, but turned and said, “Thank you. I can’t tell you what it means to have you here and to see Kyler so happy.” “Thank you. This is the most pleasant job I’ve ever had.” Her smile disappeared when he said “job.” She nodded and turned away. Matt wasn’t sure what
he’d said wrong. This really was the most pleasant job he’d ever had, and most of it because of the beautiful woman who had just walked away from him. He wished he’d explained better, but that was the way it went with women sometimes. Okay, most of the time for him.
* * *
Mikayla couldn’t believe the production they’d made out of sledding at Soldier Hollow. Brock explained they were lucky even to get tickets, as it usually sold out. There were ski lifts so you didn’t have to walk to the top of the hill. The staff provided the tubes, and the entire runs were lit up, with Christmas music piped in. She wasn’t sure how much Matt had paid to get into this premier sledding facility, but it was worth it. They were waiting in line for their third ride up. Kyler and Brock bounced and talked, recounting each moment of their first two runs down the hill. “I was going to suggest hot chocolate, but if we put sugar on top of this, we might never get them to sleep,” Mikayla whispered to Matt. “I thought hot cocoa put you to sleep. Like warm milk.” Matt winked. Mikayla wondered what he really thought of her. He was so warm and friendly—was it just natural friendliness, like his son? Did he enjoy being around her, or was it all for show in case the stalker was watching? When he’d reminded her he was just here for the job, it sucked the joy out of his earlier comment of them being like family. Her family had all but fallen apart. She rarely saw her dad, never saw her mom, and Sarah was a shell of herself. Kyler was all she really had now, and to see how happy he was with Brock and Matt, it almost scared her when she’d been reminded that they would eventually move on. She wanted them to be her family. So weird, when she’d only known them such a short time. “I’m sure there’s something on the Internet that will tell us hot cocoa is a sedative,” she said. “You can find whatever research you need to back up any theory on the Internet.” Matt chuckled. “True.” Mikayla clutched her gloved hands together to keep from reaching out to him. When he smiled at her like that, she always wanted to hug him, or maybe do even more than hug him. Brock and Kyler got on the lift in front of them. Matt and Mikayla sat together on the next chair, and he casually placed his arm behind her. She felt like a teenager on her first date to the movies, wishing he’d wrap that arm around her, which was beyond silly, as she probably wouldn’t feel it through her coat. “This is quite the sledding experience,” she said to cover her nervousness. “I remember hoofing it through deep snow and being exhausted afterwards.” “We should’ve gone that route. Then those two would go to bed easily.” They both watched the boys in front of them, still bouncing with excitement as they rode the lift. Brock was chattering about something, and Kyler responded with equal enthusiasm. “Those two are kindred spirits,” Mikayla said. Matt glanced down at her with an arched eyebrow. “Kindred spirits?”
“You know, like Anne of Green Gables?” His brow furrowed. “Must have missed that one.” Mikayla had to laugh. “I guess it’s beneath a tough military man to read Anne of Green Gables.” “I’d have to turn in my man card if I read it and admitted to it.” “Ha! Well, at the risk of tattering your man card, I will explain. Kindred spirits are friends you make instantly who seem to fill in all your lonely spots, and they just…” Her voice trailed off as his dark eyes zeroed in on her, and she could hardly remember what she was saying. “…understand you.” Matt brushed some hair from her face with his gloved hand. It shouldn’t have sent tingles down her spine—he hadn’t even really touched her—but maybe it was the way he looked into her eyes, searching for something. “Could we be kindred spirits?” he asked. Mikayla’s heart thundered in her ears. She couldn’t respond. It was all she could do not to fall off the chair as he leaned closer. The chair lift screeched to a halt. “Dad!” “Aunt Mik!” Brock and Kyler were calling frantically to them. Mikayla looked around and realized they’d reached the top of the lift, but never gotten off, and their chair had continued around the corner. The operator had stopped the mechanism and was looking at them with annoyance. Brock and Kyler were next to him, watching them anxiously. Matt chuckled. “Sorry. Got a little distracted.” “It’s usually the teenagers who get making out and forget to get off,” the lift operator said. Mikayla bit her lip and couldn’t meet Matt’s gaze. “Do you want to ride back down or jump off?” the man asked. “We can jump. I’ll jump first, then catch you,” Matt told her. They were only about five feet off the ground, and the snow looked soft. “I can jump,” Mikayla said. “No, wait.” Matt launched himself and landed on his feet in the soft powder. He turned around and reached up to her. Mikayla pushed herself away from the seat, clasping Matt’s outstretched hands. She had too much momentum and was holding on to his hands, so he couldn’t grab her waist or something else to break the fall. She knocked him over, and they both sprawled in the deep snow. Mikayla could hear Brock and Kyler screaming their names, but all she could concentrate on was Matt’s body beneath hers and the chuckle reverberating from his chest. Their faces were inches apart, and she wondered what it would be like to touch the scars on his
face, to feel his lips on hers, and not to look away when he stared at her like he was doing right now. “Guess I shouldn’t have tried to catch you.” Mikayla blushed. “Sorry. I think I jumped wrong.” “I don’t know. I kind of like this.” He tightened his arms around her back and grinned as he lifted his head toward hers. Four small hands grabbed Mikayla and tugged her up. She forced herself to push off of Matt, and he released his grip on her. “It’s okay, Mik. I’ve got you,” Brock said. “I’ve got you.” He grunted from the exertion of pulling her up. She stood, then turned to the boys, who both put their arms out to hug her. “You’re okay!” Brock exclaimed. “She’s okay, bro,” he told Kyler. Kyler smiled and nodded. “I knew your dad wouldn’t let her get hurt.” Matt stood up next to Mikayla. “Dad!” Brock scolded, still clinging to her. “You almost hurt Mik.” “It wasn’t your dad’s fault. It was mine,” Mikayla said. Brock huffed. “The dudes have got to protect the ladies, and my dad just messed it up!” Matt put his arm around Brock’s shoulders, and suddenly they were in a much-too-intimate group hug. “I promise I will always protect this lady,” Matt said. Mikayla shivered. Matt would protect her, but she already hoped she was more than a protection detail to him, and she’d known him less than a week. “You’d better,” Brock said. “’Cause she’s the best.” He pulled away. “Let’s get sledding!” Brock and Kyler turned and rushed toward the tube pick-up. Matt held out his hand to help Mikayla waddle out of the deep snow. “Guess he told me.” “‘Dudes got to protect the lady.’” Mikayla laughed. “And they say chivalry is dead.” “Not with my boy.” He grinned at her and held her hand even when they reached the packed snow. Not with Brock’s father, either.
Chapter Nine
Thursday night, Brock was snoring loudly from the twin bed next to Matt’s queen. Mikayla had offered to put Brock in his own room, but Matt needed to have his son close. He’d spent too many years away from his boy, and Brock had always been his lifeline during the tough times overseas. Listening to his son breathe, or even snore, at night was comforting. Matt stared out at the moonlight reflecting off the snow and wondered how he was going to catch the stalker. They had so little information to go on, and no one on his list seemed to be a fit. He’d checked to see if any of them owned high-dollar camera equipment, as those pictures would require more than an iPhone, but Sarah was the only one who did. He just couldn’t see Sarah trying to terrify her younger sister like that. A scream for help rent the air. Matt leaped to his feet, glancing back at Brock, who slept peacefully. He didn’t take time to reach for a shirt, but ran to his door and to the source of the scream. Mikayla. He pushed through her door without knocking. The moonlight gave enough illumination that he didn’t flip the light on immediately. He glanced about the room for any indication of why she’d cried out, but Mikayla was in bed, and he hadn’t heard anything on his alarms. At first glance, it appeared she was sleeping, but as he approached the bed, his eyes darting around the room to see if there was an intruder, he realized she was panting for air and muttering, “Help, please, help.” Matt reached her and sank down onto the bed. He squeezed her arm. “Mikayla? Everything okay?” She didn’t respond. Her head thrashed a few times on her pillow, and she cried louder this time. “Please, help!” Matt wrapped his arms around her and lifted her toward him. “Mikayla! Wake up!” Her eyes flew open. She stared at him for half a second and then wrapped her arms around his bare back. “Oh, Matt, thank you!” “What’s going on? Did you hear something? See something?” “No. It was just a horrible nightmare. I couldn’t wake up, and he was coming.” “The stalker?” “Yes,” she murmured against his chest. Her warm breath against his skin was doing crazy things to his insides. He needed to be professional, but she seemed to crave comfort right now. He was being paid to be her boyfriend, too. Wouldn’t a boyfriend hold and comfort her? “You’re safe, Mik. You’re safe.” He leaned his head down, his lips brushing her forehead. She glanced up, and their mouths were inches apart. “You’ve never called me Mik before.” “Sorry. The moonlight.” He half-laughed. What kind of a lame excuse was that?
“I like it. I like you being here, Matt. I like you holding me.” Her blue eyes were pale in the moonlight, and so intriguing to him. I more than like it, he thought. His self-control was crumbling by the millisecond as he stared at her beautiful face and wondered what it would feel like if he moved those few inches and kissed her. “Mik?” His voice was too husky. She had to know how she affected him. “Am I crossing a line here?” The shake of her head was almost imperceptible, but the smile on her face was easy to read. “No, but I’m about to.” She caressed the skin of his upper back and raised up, crossing those inches and pressing her lips to his. Matt couldn’t resist as he matched her movements and initiated some of his own. Holding her and kissing her was better than anything he’d experienced. He wanted more, but he couldn’t do that. He had an eight-year-old son asleep in the next room who needed him to be a good example, and needed him to be strong until there was a commitment of forever. He couldn’t hold on to his last wife—what made him think Mikayla wouldn’t tire of him, and Brock as well? Brock couldn’t go through the heartbreak of losing another mom. Matt gently pulled away and ushered her head to his chest, resting his mouth against her silky hair. “Are you okay then?” he asked. “Yes,” she whispered. “I think.” “Are we okay?” “Matt.” She exhaled and slipped out of his embrace. “I’m not going to push you into something. You being hired as my boyfriend/bodyguard was not a desperate attempt for me to find a man.” Matt stood and stared down at her on the bed, looking so beautiful and vulnerable. “I don’t think that, and I’m sure you could have any man you want.” Of course she could—she was talented, fun, and beautiful. Why some smart man hadn’t snatched her up was the better question. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I want to be professional, though. If this makes things awkward and I lose this job…” Matt clenched his fist, embarrassed to admit to this successful woman that he really needed this job. At least until he received a teaching position. “We won’t let it be awkward.” She clung to the comforter bunched around her waist. “We’ll just… forget it happened.” “Okay.” Matt planted a smile on his face and then forced himself to walk away from her and out the bedroom door. She might be able to forget it had happened, but he seriously doubted he could.
Chapter Ten
Mikayla walked into Matt’s downstairs office and leaned against the doorframe. He glanced up and gave her that smile that always made her a little weak in the knees. She almost touched her fingers to her lips. She was finding it impossible to forget the kiss they shared over a week ago. “I’m supposed to have dinner with a couple of our buyers who are in Park City for a ski retreat. Can you?” Mikayla realized it should’ve been odd that she was asking his permission. He’d only been with her two weeks, and she already trusted him with her life and her family. “Provide security? Of course.” Matt nodded. “Be my date?” “I’d love to. Sorry—sometimes I get so into the security end of things that I forget I’m supposed to be your boyfriend.” Mikayla’s heart sank. “I’m sure it’s a tough role,” she spat out before she could stop herself. Matt chuckled. “Actually, it would be the easiest job ever if that was all I was supposed to do. Do you need me dressed up?” “Business casual,” she said. Was he serious that being her boyfriend would be easy for him? That kiss the other night had felt perfect to her. She wondered why she’d suggested they forget it had happened. He arched an eyebrow. “Dress shirt, casual slacks, no tie or jacket or anything.” “I can do that. Will Sarah be okay with the boys?” Mikayla shook her head. Sarah probably would, but she seemed to be more out of it than usual lately. The Christmas season always did that to her. She and Greg had loved Christmas. Mikayla used to talk herself blue trying to convince Sarah to stay involved for Kyler, but it seemed she was progressively getting worse. She’d have to ask Chaz to find a local psychiatrist and schedule some visits. They’d had a wonderful psychiatrist in California, and he’d made house visits. He thought this move might spur something for Sarah. It hadn’t spurred anything good. “I’ll have Chaz throw one of those pizzas they love in the oven and then hang out with them in the game room.” “He’s a… great help to you.” “Don’t know what I’d do without him.” Was that a bit of jealousy in Matt’s voice? If only he knew. Chaz had been her friend and assistant for years, but there was no spark between them. Too much like siblings or close cousins. “What time do you need me ready?” Matt asked. “Five thirty.” “Sounds good.”
Mikayla walked away and started scheming which dress she would wear to catch Matt’s attention. Usually, she’d be brainstorming how to keep the buyers happy, but tonight, her focus was all on Matt.
* * *
Matt sprayed a mist of cologne and checked his dark hair in the mirror. He’d let it grow a little bit since the military days, but it was still short and pretty boring, combed back with a little bit of spiking in the front. “Wow, Dad, you smell like a girl,” Brock exclaimed. “Do I really get to hang out with Chaz and Kyler all night?” “Yes, sir.” “Can we swim tonight? We don’t have school tomorrow.” “I think so. We’ll see what Mik and Kyler have planned.” “I love it here, Dad,” Brock said. Matt smiled and ruffled his hair. “Me, too, bud.” “But we probably better go see Grams on Sunday, or she’ll think we don’t miss her.” His face lit up. “Hey, can we take Mik and Ky with us?” “I’ll ask them. That would be fun.” Matt wondered why that felt like bringing home a girlfriend to meet the family. He smiled to himself. If only they could make kissing part of his job description. Brock gave him one last squeeze, then raced ahead to find Kyler. Matt hurried down the hallway and the front staircase, anxious to see Mikayla. Would she be in a dress, or did business casual for her mean slacks and a button-down shirt too? He hoped for the dress, but knew that even though she’d been relaxed with him, she was still a businesswoman. He waited in the foyer for a few seconds before he heard the clicking of heels on the wooden staircase. He whirled and had to remind himself to breathe. Her hair landed in soft curls around her shoulders and trailed down her neck. Her dress was simple and black, but it fit her body beautifully. It wasn’t tight exactly, but the material conformed to the right places and left little doubt that her shape was near perfect. She smiled at him, and the entire room seemed to warm up. “Wow.” He reached out, and she settled her palm into his. He couldn’t resist lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. She trembled, and Matt wrapped his arm around her thin frame. “Cold?” “No. You look great.” She smiled up at him with something like hero worship, and Matt’s chest swelled. “You look beautiful,” he said. “Ready?” She lifted her coat off her arm and started to wriggle into it. Matt grabbed the coat and helped her. Every time he touched her, it felt like coming home and the
excitement of a roller coaster ride all bundled together. He kept trying to forget about that night in her room, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever get a chance to kiss her again.
* * *
The buyers, James and Vince, chose Riverhorse on Main. Mikayla had never been to the restaurant, but immediately liked the open seating and beautiful artwork of horses. Their table was next to huge windows overlooking Main Street. Mikayla was impressed with how quickly Matt befriended the buyers. Two hard-nosed businessmen from Los Angeles didn’t seem like the best fit for a tough Army veteran, but he had them chatting about the Dodgers and the Angels, then they got into cars, and you would’ve thought Matt was raised with her father, the way he knew his vehicles. James and Vince finally stood after a delicious dinner. Mikayla didn’t frequent many high-dollar restaurants anymore, but the salmon had been more than worth the price tag. James slapped Matt on the shoulder. “Great to meet you, son.” He winked at Mikayla. “You’d better keep this one around.” Matt casually draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I plan to,” he said. Vince guffawed. “It was great to see you, Mikayla, and meet you, Matt. We’re going to walk to the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory and let you two enjoy some dessert alone.” “I’ll send those orders Monday,” James said. “Thank you.” Mikayla refrained from pumping her fist in the air. More orders from their international company meant a huge bonus for her. Not that she needed the money, but she was still competitive enough to revel in the victory. They walked away, laughing to themselves. Matt’s arm was still around her shoulder, and they were a little too close for comfort. “You were amazing.” Her eyes flickered from his lips up to his deep brown eyes. A slow grin started at his mouth until she blushed with embarrassment. “I mean, with James and Vince. I’m usually racking my brain, trying to figure out what to say to them, and you had them chatting and laughing all night.” Matt shrugged. “They looked like the kind of guys who enjoyed baseball and nice cars.” She pulled back slightly, and unfortunately, he let his arm drop onto the back of the chair. Jasmine, their waitress, came and took their dessert order. Mikayla couldn’t resist ordering the duo of chocolate decadence, and Matt got the molten chocolate cake. Mikayla turned to Matt as soon as Jasmine left. “So, you’re a big baseball and car fan?” “Not really, but growing up in Newport Beach, I was exposed to both a lot.” Mikayla’s eyes widened. She tried to school her response, but Matt laughed. “I don’t seem like the type of guy who comes from money?”
“Um, I hope you don’t take this wrong, but no, and I mean that in the best possible way.” She actually shuddered, thinking of all the snooty men she’d dated throughout her college years at Stanford and as she’d helped her father grow his business. It was nice to be away from the wining and dining. More like whining and dining. Most of the men she’d dated could whine about how rich they were until she wanted to vomit in her mouth a little bit. Matt chuckled. “Since we’re handing out compliments, I should say you don’t act the way a billionaire heiress should act.” Mikayla’s brow wrinkled. “How should a billionaire heiress act?” He smiled. “I grew up around a lot of wealthy people, and there were some who were down to earth, but some were… full of themselves. I kind of assumed you’d be like that, but you’re sincere, fun, and naturally beautiful.” Mikayla’s entire body warmed from the compliment. “Thank you.” The waitress brought their desserts. Duo of chocolate decadence lived up to its name. The waitress dropped off the bill a few minutes later, and Matt reached for it. Mikayla got there first and held it out of his reach. “Sorry, this one’s on the company tab.” Matt shifted in his seat and then met her eyes. “It’s hard for me to let a woman buy dinner.” “Chauvinist,” she said with a smile so he would know she was teasing. Matt set his fork down next to his half-finished dessert. “I was raised that way. Grams was queen of the kitchen, and Gramps brought home the bacon.” She laughed, shoved a credit card in the bill without looking at it, and handed it to the waitress. “What about your parents?” “Mom spent her life at the club, but was very good at instructing the maid and cook. Dad kept up with all the bills by working twelve-hour days as a periodontist.” Mikayla nodded. “Amazing the way parents can chose to be MIA.” Matt laughed. “Army terms. I like it.” Jasmine brought back the padded bill holder. Mikayla opened it to write in a tip and sign the receipt. The smile slid from her face, and her heart raced. She lifted the bill holder with shaking hands and held it so Matt could see the note. YOU’RE LOOKING A LITTLE TOO COMFORTABLE WITH THE NEW BOYFRIEND. DON’T THINK HE’LL KEEP YOU SAFE. NO ONE CAN. Matt read the note, gently took the bill holder from her, and set it down. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed, then spoke. “Detective Horace. I’d like someone from your department to meet us at Riverhorse. Yes, historic Main Street in Park City. There’s been another note.” Mikayla watched his actions through a haze. Could Matt keep her safe, or was the stalker telling the truth? He hung up and studied her, then without warning, pulled her against his chest and held her so
tightly, she almost couldn’t breathe. She didn’t care, as his strong arms around her were an anchor of safety. He loosened his grip and tilted her chin up. “You okay?” Mikayla shook her head, then lied. “I’m … fine.” “You’re not fine.” He placed a kiss to her forehead and kept an arm around her. Signaling a nearby waiter, he asked, “Can you find our waitress, Jasmine, please?” “Of course, sir.” The blonde waitress arrived within a few seconds. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked with a smile. “You can explain who slipped that note into our bill.” Jasmine’s face paled. She looked at Matt and swallowed hard. “I don’t know.” Her voice raised an octave on the last word. “Please sit,” Matt said. It wasn’t a request. “The police will be here momentarily. You can cooperate, or you can be held as an accomplice.” She sank into the chair, buried her face in her hands, and started talking. “About a half an hour ago, a girl brought me the note and a hundred-dollar bill. She said some lady paid her to get the note to you, but it was no big deal because she was a friend who was playing a prank on you and you would think it was funny. She said I could have the cash if I put the note in your bill.” She looked up, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I thought it was a joke. Please don’t report me. I have a two-year-old son. This job is all I have to support him.” Matt took a long breath and looked at Mikayla. She could see in his eyes that he was thinking of Brock. “I’m sorry,” he said to the waitress. Jasmine flinched like he’d slapped her. “Can you find a plastic sack for the evidence and take a break?” Matt asked. “We’ll have the detective take your statement here at the table. I see no reason why your boss needs to know what happened.” She released a ragged breath and blinked. A tear rolled down her cheek. “Thank you.” Matt nodded. “Go get the sack. Don’t think about leaving, Jasmine. I’d find you.” “I believe you.” Her voice trembled. She nodded and jumped to her feet, hurrying toward the kitchen. Matt gave Mikayla half a smile. “You okay?” “Sure. No, not really.” He pulled her into a comforting hug again. They sat with his arms surrounding her, and Mikayla was pretty sure she couldn’t be afraid of anyone with Matt close by. Detective Horace and his partner arrived. They quietly sat at their table and took Jasmine’s statement and talked everything through with Matt and Mikayla. They collected the evidence and left without much fuss. Matt stood and escorted Mikayla from the restaurant. Jasmine thanked them profusely and
promised to call the police if she ever saw the girl again.
Chapter Eleven
Matt, Mikayla, Brock, and Kyler drove down the mountain toward Midway through a light snow Sunday afternoon. Christmas was less than two weeks away, and Mikayla felt guilty that they hadn’t decorated the house yet. Brock and Kyler deserved a fun house for Christmas. She’d have to ask the housekeeper, Shelley, or Chaz to buy some decorations, and they could cut down a tree right from their own forest. She glanced at the boys talking animatedly in the backseat. They’d both love that. She frowned as she thought of her sister, sitting home alone again. Sarah wouldn’t love anything to do with Christmas, but she’d have to deal with it—or not deal with it, as seemed to be the case lately. “So, tell me about your grandmother,” she asked Matt to take her mind off her sister. “She’s great. Loves to cook and take care of everyone. Tells you like it is and hates anything to change.” Mikayla smiled. “So what does she think of all the new houses and stores in Midway and Heber?” “Not a fan. She doesn’t mind the houses so much, and any store that’s a mom-and-pop shop is okay, but box stores are of the devil.” Mikayla laughed. “Walmart is her biggest enemy. She claims she can feel the florescent lights sucking the life out of her when she walks into that store, but it mostly ticks her off that they ‘run the little guy out of business.’ She actually picketed the new store in Heber and really got fired up when she caught some of her friends sneaking in to shop.” Mikayla tried to picture either of her stuffy grandmothers picketing Walmart and giggled. “She’s kind of extreme,” Matt said, “but I love that she’s passionate about everything.” “I like that too.” Mikayla pondered why that was. Her own mother was passionate about her causes, and Mikayla definitely didn’t like it. Maybe it was because Matt’s grandmother cared about her family and her causes. “Has she always lived in Midway?” “Oh, yeah, and you do not want to ask her that story.” “Believe me, you don’t.” Brock poked his head between the seats and raised his voice. “My greatgrandparents settled this entire valley, and everyone who lived here was from Switzerland, the home country, and blah, blah, blah.” “Brock,” Matt warned, but it was half-hearted. Mikayla wasn’t successful at hiding her smile. She glanced over at Matt. “You don’t look Swiss.” He looked perfectly handsome, and still a bit dangerous with those glittering dark eyes and the scars on his face. “My dad is Italian.” “Oh? How did that go over?”
“Grams loves him… now.” He shrugged. “It only took twenty years.” “Yikes.” “Don’t worry.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “You, she’ll love immediately.” Her hand tingled from his touch, and her brain scrambled for some kind of response as they pulled into the gravel drive of an obviously historic two-story redbrick house. Thick white trim encased each window and door, and white latticework hung from the eaves like frosting. Twinkling Christmas lights outlined the high peaks of the roof and wound around the white pillars of the front porch. Brock jumped from the truck as soon as the tires stopped rotating and pulled Kyler toward the front door. “Oh, my.” Mikayla turned to Matt, who seemed to be awaiting her reaction. “I love this house!” “You do?” “It’s beautiful, like something out of a fairy tale.” Brock and Kyler disappeared inside. “Thanks. It’s a work in progress, but it’s coming.” “Wait! You restored this?” He shrugged and studied the steering wheel. “Gramps and I used to work on it whenever I could get home. Now it’s just me.” “Talk about multitalented.” He gave her a slow grin that caused her stomach to flutter. The front door swung open, and a round, white-haired lady in jeans and a sweater with Christmas ornaments on it yelled out to them, “Are you coming in to eat, or are you going to sit out there and smooch all night?” “Meet Grams,” Matt said. The warmth in his eyes betrayed his affection. Mikayla reached for her door handle. Matt rested a hand over her fingers, and heat seared through her. “Please, let me get it. I’d never hear the end of it.” “Chauvinist,” she said, but released the handle. “You know it.” He winked and jumped out of the truck, hurrying around to get her door. He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her down to the snowy ground, and Mikayla completely forgot his grandmother was there as their gazes locked. “Whoo-ee,” Grams exclaimed. “You two put on enough of a show to heat a body up.” Mikayla forced herself to step away from Matt and walk toward the house. He took her hand and escorted her. “Grams, this is my girlfriend, Mikayla.” Grams gave her an elaborate wink and pulled her into a hug. “Hello, the girlfriend. You’re just as
beautiful as Matt said you were.” She tugged her into the warm house and a comfortable living room complete with a small Christmas tree decorated with dozens of handmade ornaments. Mikayla turned to look at Matt, wondering exactly what he’d told his grandmother. He thought she was beautiful? “I swore her to secrecy on the situation.” Matt helped her out of her coat and then set both their coats on the floral coach. “Lucky for you, I don’t get out much, I’m horrible at keeping secrets.” Grams pulled a face, then turned serious as she studied Mikayla. “But I’ll never share your secret that Matt is really your bodyguard and not your boyfriend. When he finds that stalker… ” She shook her fist. “I’ll give that jerk the what for.” “Thank you, Mrs…” Mikayla felt such a draw to this lady. Everyone should have a grandma like this in their life. “Oh, you can just call me Grams. Everybody does.” She bustled past a steep staircase and down a short hallway to a kitchen and dining area. “These boys are drooling over the sugar cookies, but we have to eat first.” She looked at Kyler and Brock. “Well, what are you waiting for? Food’s a cooling—go wash those hands.” They jumped down from their barstools where they’d been studying the racks of sugar cookies in various Christmas shapes, bowls of frosting and candy to decorate next to the cookies, and ran for the bathroom attached to the mudroom off the kitchen. “What can I do to help?” Mikayla asked, loving the delicious aromas coming from this kitchen. Grams laughed out loud. “Classy lady, asking me if she can help in the kitchen.” “I told you she wasn’t like Mom,” Matt said. “Or your ex.” Grams raised an eyebrow. Mikayla watched Matt for his reaction. He’d said nothing about his ex-wife, and Mikayla knew she shouldn’t be glad that Grams obviously didn’t like the woman, but she was. Matt simply nodded, not seeming upset or surprised by the allegation. “I raised your mama right, but all that money just prissed her right up.” Grams turned to Mikayla. “Thank you for offering, sweetheart, but I’ve got everything ready. Just need to pull the casserole and veggies out of the oven. You go sit down and make yourself comfortable.” Matt escorted her to the table, where a basket of homemade rolls sat next to a lovely salad. Grams brought out a casserole that looked like a chicken-and-rice mixture and a container of green beans that Mikayla was sure weren’t from a store-bought can. She looked around and ached for what she’d never had. Her cooks had always done a fabulous job of making them delicious meals, but this food preparation came right from Grams’ heart. The boys rushed back in, and Matt offered a quick prayer before Brock started digging in and talking a mile a minute to Grams about his new house, the pool, Kyler (his new best friend), Mikayla (who was really a princess and lived in their castle), school, and a dozen other things. Mikayla got plenty of time to exchange amused glances with Matt. She was amazed, as always, at the effortless way Brock drew Kyler into the conversation, and Grams treated him like he was her own
grandson. Kyler was so happy with his new friend and even seemed to be making other friends at school. At this moment, Mikayla could almost forget she’d been deserted by her mother, betrayed by her fiancé, her sister lived in nowhere land, and a stalker was toying with her. She felt a hand on hers and almost choked on a green bean as Matt squeezed her hand and then released it. His firm lips were turned up in a half smile. She wished she could forget about that kiss the other night, especially since it wasn’t likely to happen again. He was just about perfect. If only he wasn’t her pretend boyfriend. After dinner, Mikayla and Matt helped Grams clean up while the boys smeared frosting over the sugar cookies, sitting up to the large bar. “Have you taken Mikayla to the ice castles?” Grams asked Matt. He shook his head and looked at Mikayla. “Have you ever been?” “Ice castles?” “Oh, my heavens,” Grams exclaimed. “You’ve got a princess here, and she’s never been to the ice castles? You two go. I’ve got the boys.” “Well, um, I’m sure the boys would want to go too,” Mikayla said. The thought of being alone with Matt had her insides fluttering. It would be much easier to go with their built-in chaperones. “You can take them another night. I’ve been missing my Brock, and I’m not about to give him up.” Grams gestured to the boys, who were chatting and happily eating the candy that was supposed to go on the cookies. “Go. They’re having a blast.” Mikayla looked at Matt. He shrugged. “Who am I to argue with Grams?” “See. I raised this boy right. Do you have gloves?” “I have some in the truck she can use.” “Or you can just hold her hand.” Grams winked and escorted them to the hallway. “I should tell Kyler where I’m going.” “Oh, sure, sure.” Mikayla walked back to the bar. “Kyler, honey, I’m going to see some ice castles with Matt while you decorate cookies.” “Okay, Aunt Mik.” Kyler gave her a huge smile, reassuring her that he was comfortable there. “The ice castles are cool,” Brock told Kyler. “We’ll go there another night, right, Dad?” “For sure,” Matt agreed. Mikayla loved that she knew it wasn’t an empty promise. Matt would make sure the boys saw these ice castles, but the look in his eyes said he wanted to show her alone first. She wasn’t sure if she could handle the implications of that look. She quivered at the thought of being alone with him in a romantic setting. Well, from the scheming look on Grams’ face, it was a romantic setting. “’Kay. We’ll be back soon.” She walked to Matt’s side.
“Oh, take your time. I rented The Grinch to watch after they decorate their cookies.” “Yes, The Grinch!” Brock yelled. “I read that book,” Kyler said. “What a smart boy.” Grams grinned at him. “This might be one time that the movie is actually better than the book. You’ll have to tell me if you agree.” She made a shooing motion with her hands and kept talking to the boys. Mikayla walked by Matt’s side down the hallway. He retrieved their coats and then escorted her out the front door. He opened the door of his truck, placing his hands on her waist to help her inside. Mikayla wondered how she could get so giddy every time he touched her. It had to wear off sometime soon. “Grams is great,” she said when he settled into the driver’s side. “Yes, she is. Don’t know what I’d do without her.” “You’re very lucky.” He glanced at her and grinned. “Yes, I am.” The drive to the ice castle didn’t take long. It was right downtown next to the city offices and some historic buildings and boutique stores Mikayla would’ve liked to explore. She stared in awe at the huge walls built from ice. Different-colored lights permeated the walls and changed the frozen masses from green to pink to orange. “Wow,” she whispered. Matt took her hand and walked to the ticket booth. He bought two tickets and then escorted her inside. She was grateful neither of them had thought to grab gloves as he held her hand—the warmth and excitement kept her plenty warm. They entered a large area first, and Mikayla took her time oohing and aahing over the huge ice walls. “Have they always done this?” she asked. “I think for the last few years. We came last year, but before that, I was deployed or living on different military bases, so we didn’t get home for Christmas much.” It was interesting that he thought of Midway as home instead of Newport Beach, where he said he’d grown up and his parents still lived, but Mikayla understood. She’d think of this place as home, too. “This is my first Christmas somewhere with snow, besides a few ski trips when I was younger.” “Do you like it?” he asked. She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Are you kidding? I love it!” “Elizabeth hated the cold.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “Your ex-wife?” “Yes.” Neither of them said anything more, but he held on to her hand and they started wandering the side
paths of the castle. Mikayla forced the thought of his ex-wife from her mind and enjoyed being next to him and looking at this impressive work of art. They hit a dead end in one of the alleys. Matt turned and bumped into Mikayla. Her back was up against the wall, and his strong body pressed against hers. “Oh, excuse me,” he said, staring down at her with those dark eyes. The coloring of the ice castle walls changed to pink, and Mikayla knew her cheeks probably matched. Matt didn’t retreat. If anything, he seemed to move closer. Her back was cool through her coat as it pressed against the wall, but everything else was on fire. Matt was completely focused on her. She almost looked away out of embarrassment, but really couldn’t bring herself to drag her gaze from his. He still held on to her hand. He lifted his other hand and trailed his fingers down her cheek. “Do you feel at home here in the ice castle?” “What?” she questioned, barely able to formulate the word, her breath was coming so hard and fast. “Brock is right that you look like a princess. Like Elsa from that Frozen movie.” “I hope I don’t freeze everything I touch.” She laughed, but it came out whispery. She wondered why they were still standing so close, but hoped he wouldn’t move. “No, you definitely bring warmth to everything.” His eyes flickered to her lips, then back up to her eyes. Mikayla held perfectly still, hoping he’d kiss her again. She couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss they had shared, and if she were honest with herself, she wanted it again, badly. “Mikayla.” His voice was low and rough. Mikayla trembled as his breath warmed the air around her mouth. He was just inches away now. She debated if she should cover the distance, but she’d initiated their first kiss, the one they’d both agreed to forget. She blinked and looked down. Her body shivered from the cold of the wall seeping through her coat. “You’re cold.” He pivoted her away from the wall and frowned. “I’m sorry.” He jammed a hand through his hair and turned away. “You distract me so much, I don’t think straight. Grams would have my head for shoving you against an ice wall and freezing you.” Mikayla tugged on his hand, and he turned back toward her. She swallowed, then admitted, “I didn’t even notice the cold.” Matt’s slow grin materialized. “What did you notice?” “You.” She reached up and touched his face. It was intriguing, with irregular scars interspersed with firm skin. He covered her hands with his. “Your hands are cold.” He lifted them, clasped, to his mouth, gently blowing warm air on them. A thrill raced from her hands throughout her body as he continued to blow warm air and stare at her over their clasped hands. A young family bounced into their secluded area. “Oh, my,” the mother exclaimed, and with a giggle, turned her family back around.
Matt laughed, released her hands, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “We’d better finish touring the castle and get you home for hot chocolate.” “Sounds good.” But not nearly as good as kissing him sounded.
Chapter Twelve
The boys bounded ahead of Matt and Mikayla through the snow. Mikayla was amazed at how quickly they could navigate the drifts. Matt shouldered an ax, and Mikayla couldn’t help but gawk up at him as they trudged through the snow toward the thickest section of pine trees. “What?” he asked. “You look like Paul Bunyan.” “Paul Bunyan? Wow. I feel tough now.” “You are. I never feel afraid when you’re with me,” Mikayla admitted, shielding her eyes from the sun reflecting off the snow to look at him. The smile left his face, and he nodded. “Hopefully, when we catch the stalker, you’ll feel safe without me.” Mikayla wanted to feel safe all the time, but she really didn’t want Matt or Brock to leave. Ever. “Dad!” Brock jumped up and down next to a massive pine tree. The thing was probably twelve feet tall. “This is it—this is it!” He and Kyler bounced around and started singing, “Oh, Christmas tree, oh, Christmas tree, how awesome are your presents. Oh, Christmas tree, oh, Christmas tree, you help my Santa find me!” Matt and Mikayla both laughed. “What do you think?” Matt turned to Mikayla. She thought that she loved this happiness, comfort, excitement, and everything else that Matt had brought into her life. “I think it’s a good thing we have high ceilings.” He grinned and lowered the ax. “Watch out, boys.” “Whack it hard, Dad!” Brock yelled. Matt removed his coat and swung rhythmically at the base of the tree. Mikayla stood with an arm around Brock and Kyler while they laughed and called out to Matt. Watching the smooth muscles in his back as he worked, she listened to the boys’ chatter and didn’t mind the cold one bit. If only she could stop drooling over Matt.
* * *
“We’re decorating the Christmas tree,” Mikayla said, walking toward her sister, who sat in her favorite chair by the window in her room. “Oh?” Sarah looked up and gave her a tired smile. “I hope you have fun.” “Kyler would really like you to do it with us.”
She shook her head. “His new friend is good for him, isn’t he?” Mikayla fought back the disappointment. Once Sarah said no, she never changed her mind. It had ticked her off growing up, and now it still bothered her. “Brock has been amazing for Kyler.” “I’m so glad.” “Do you want to come down for hot cocoa and cookies later?” Mikayla tried again. Chaz and Shelly had spent the past two days buying and putting up decorations. Tonight, everyone was going to decorate the Christmas tree in the living room, and then have treats. If only she could talk Sarah into coming. “This isn’t my favorite time of year anymore, Mik.” “Maybe you should stop thinking about what you want and think about what your son wants,” Mikayla shot out before she could stop herself. Sarah looked up sharply, a trace of her former self in her eyes as she studied Mikayla. “My son is happy because of you. Nobody needs me.” Mikayla wondered if she dared suggest to the new therapist who’d stopped by twice now that he up the dose on Sarah’s Prozac. She was obviously depressed, and had given up on life a little more each day that her husband was gone. How were they going to break through to her? “Pretending not to live isn’t going to bring Greg back,” she said, and again immediately regretted her harsh words when Sarah looked at her sweetly. “I know, and thanks for caring. I’ll come down for cocoa.” Mikayla schooled her reaction so she didn’t celebrate too much and drive Sarah back into her chair. “Great. I’ll send Brock and Kyler up for you.” Sarah nodded and dropped her eyes to her Kindle. Her only connection with the outside world was ordering print and ebooks on Amazon. She read every romance she could get her hands on. Mikayla loved to read too, but living in an alternate reality wasn’t helping her sister any. She walked down the hallway and the stairs, savoring the delicious smells of sugar cookies and cinnamon from some scented pine cones in a bowl. Happy voices drew her to the living room. The tree was huge and gorgeous. Even Matt would need a ladder to reach the top. Matt and Chaz had worked together to get the lights on every branch, and they’d done a great job. It glowed from the inside out. Brock and Kyler were opening Christmas ornament boxes, and Brock was singing at the top of his lungs, “Oh, come on—be faithful. Buck up and try harder. Oh, come on, oh, come on, you sla-acker guy.” Matt met Mikayla’s gaze and grinned. “Another Brock translation of a classic Christmas carol.” “That was an uplifting rendition.” “Yeah, strikes right to the heart when you think you’re the slacker guy.” “You couldn’t be the slacker guy—you’re the best.” She smiled up at him, and his answering smile had her wishing they were alone. Chaz bumped into Mikayla and knocked her away from Matt. He grabbed her arm and pulled her
against his side. “Oops, sorry, boss. Tripped over the boxes.” “No worries.” Mikayla grinned before pulling free of his grasp and turning to the boys. “Did Chaz get us cool ornaments?” “Are you kidding me?” he asked. “Of course I got the best.” “He did, Aunt Mik. Look at these!” Kyler’s face was lit up as he held aloft enormous red balls with silver stitching. “Awesome.” She bent and kissed Kyler’s cheek. He smiled and held out one of the balls to her. “Let’s get started.” “Can I sing?” Brock asked. “No,” Matt said. Brock grabbed at his heart. “You wound me, man.” Mikayla laughed. “You can sing. I’d like to hear what other Christmas carols you’ve rewritten.” “No, you wouldn’t,” Matt whispered in her ear. She shivered from the touch of his lips on her ear and leaned closer. “I’m pretty sure you’re breaking the rules of every parenting book—not encouraging creativity and all that.” “Just wait till you hear his Jingle Bells, and you’ll wish you’d listened to me.” Matt shook his head and squeezed her hand. Brock had rewritten the lyrics to almost every Christmas song you could imagine. Mikayla and Kyler couldn’t stop laughing as he sang and they all decorated. Chaz’s good humor disappeared after a while, and he excused himself to finish some paperwork. Mikayla and Matt shared a significant look. “You’re not sick of it yet?” Matt asked close to her ear as they lifted ornaments up high together. “Brock’s adorable. You?” “I have a hard time thinking he could do much wrong.” Matt smiled fondly at Brock as he and Kyler made up new lyrics to Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer where Grandma beats up the reindeer, and the reindeer gets fired by Santa for trying to hurt a cookie-baking grandma. It endeared Matt to Mikayla that he loved his son so much. Her dad had always made her feel that in his eyes, she was nearly perfect. Her mom, on the other hand, rarely seemed to care what she did. The tree was crowded with ornaments up to about five feet, as high as the eight-year-olds could reach, with not nearly as many scattered above. They all stepped back to survey the decorations. “Maybe we could rearrange a few,” Matt whispered so only she could hear. Mikayla shook her head. “Nope. It looks fab-u-lous.” She dragged the word out amidst giggles from Brock and Kyler. Matt turned to her and smiled. “You’re pretty great, you know that?” Mikayla couldn’t hide her grin.
“Time for cookies!” Kyler called out, racing to the counter Jerrilyn had spread with unfrosted sugar cookies and all kinds of frosting, sprinkles, and candy to decorate. “Your mom said she’d come down and have cookies and cocoa. Do you and Brock want to go get her, and I’ll start the cocoa machine?” “Sure,” Kyler said, turning to Brock. “Will you come with me?” Brock nodded, but for the first time since Mikayla had met him, he looked nervous. Instinctively, she wanted to help. She walked to his side and tugged on his hand. “Just a sec, Kyler. You start decorating a cookie while Brock and I chat.” She glanced up at Matt for permission. He gave her a discreet nod. Mikayla escorted Brock through the doorway and into the formal dining room. She knelt down on his level and looked in his eyes. “Does Sarah make you nervous?” Brock studied the curio cabinet full of beautiful china. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” “Why are you sorry?” “Well…” He met her eyes, then quickly glanced away again. “She’s your sister. I don’t have a sister, but I would stick up for her if I did.” Mikayla was falling in love with this little boy quickly. “I’m sure you would. But there’s nothing wrong with realizing that something is wrong with someone you love. Did you know that Sarah’s husband, Greg, disappeared a while ago, and it hurt Sarah very badly?” Brock focused on her now. Mikayla stood, pulled out a chair, and waited for him to sit before sitting in one herself. “How does a dad just disappear?” Brock asked. “I wish I knew.” Brock’s face twisted in deep concentration. “So he’s not dead, but he’s not around anymore, kind of like my mom.” “Kind of.” Mikayla ached from the hurt in his eyes. She knew how it felt to be deserted. “But we have no idea where Kyler’s dad is. We can’t call him or send him an email or anything.” “Wow. So it’s worse than my mom.” Brock nodded to her. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll try not to be weird around your sister.” “It’s okay if you’re not comfortable with her. You don’t have to go with Kyler to get her.” “I want to. It’s just… weird. There’s a couple of kids at my school who aren’t very nice to me because I’m poor and don’t have cool shoes and stuff like that, but I can still get them to laugh or talk to me. I can’t get Sarah to say much of anything.” Mikayla understood. This boy could charm almost anyone, even the bullies at his school, and he was one of those kids who didn’t stop trying until everyone liked him. Sarah probably just gave him one of her vacant smiles. Brock squared his shoulders and displayed his characteristic grin. “But I’m going to keep trying because Degans aren’t quitters.” He threw himself into her arms, gave her a hard hug, then ripped away
and ran into the kitchen, yelling, “Come on, bro. Let’s go get your mom so we can eat some cookies.” Mikayla couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she walked back into the kitchen. She turned to go into the pantry and grab the cocoa maker, but Matt intercepted her with a hand on her arm. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to him.” Mikayla looked up into his dark gaze. “Do you know what a great boy you’ve got there?” “Thank you.” Matt swallowed and dropped his hand. “He is amazing, especially if you think about what he went through with his mom.” “Well, he’s got a pretty great dad.” Mikayla smiled at him. Matt moistened his lips and moved even closer to her. “Thank you again.” Mikayla started hoping for something a little more substantial as a thank you when Brock came tearing back into the room. “They’re on their way!” He stopped short and looked between the two of them. “Why are you looking at Mik like that, Dad?” Matt grinned and stepped away. “Because she’s a beautiful angel, Brock.” “Yep.” He climbed up onto a barstool. “You need help with the cocoa, Mik, or should I start decorating some beauts?” “You decorate. I’ll make the cocoa.” Sarah entered the room, and only looked a little alarmed to see Matt standing next to Mikayla. They got her settled on a barstool with some frosting and a stack of cookies. The boys exclaimed over and over again at the artistic decorations she put on her cookies. Sarah relaxed and talked with them about what they wanted for Christmas and even agreed that they could all go snow skiing over the Christmas break. Mikayla hoped she successfully hid her shock. Sarah had come down and she was willing to let Kyler go skiing? Maybe the new therapist did know what he was doing. Mikayla made hot cocoa, ate some cookies Matt frosted for her, and wondered if this Christmas might be the best one they’d had in years.
Chapter Thirteen
Mikayla hadn’t been able to sleep, so she turned off the sensors in her room, padded down to the indoor pool, and swam laps until she was exhausted. She’d enjoyed swimming for so many years, the smell of chlorine was comforting. She dried off and decided she’d grab a bottle of water and maybe one of those sugar cookies from the kitchen before she went to shower. She climbed the stairs from the basement to the foyer and then headed to the living room without turning any lights on. It was interesting how safe Matt made her feel. Normally, she’d have the house lit up like a Christmas tree at night. She walked through the living room and saw a large shadow backing out of the pantry. “Matt,” she screamed before turning and running back toward the stairs. If only she could reach his room before the intruder caught her. “Mik!” Matt called from behind her. Behind her? Mikayla whirled around as the living room light came on, and Matt hurried to her. “Are you okay? What happened?” His eyes trailed over her swimming suit and back up to her face. Mikayla laughed shakily. “I saw you coming out of the pantry and thought you were an intruder.” “I’m sorry I scared you.” His eyebrows drew together and his mouth thinned. “No. I’m fine,” she hastened to reassure him. “I was just thinking how I’m rarely scared anymore, and then I see a shadow and run screaming for you.” “I thought you were asleep. Did you turn your sensors off?” His face was so stern, she couldn’t decide if she wanted to remind him that she was the boss or beg him to hold her and protect her. “Sometimes I need a bit of freedom,” she said. “Your safety is more important than a bit of freedom.” His concern was palpable. Mikayla immediately deflated. “Thanks for caring about my safety. Next time, I’ll have you come swimming with me, as long as you don’t throw me.” He arched an eyebrow as his eyes swept her frame. “I’d like that.” She blushed and changed the subject. “What were you doing in the kitchen?” “Making some nachos and hot cocoa. Want to join me?” Mikayla wasn’t really hungry, but she definitely wanted to spend more time with Matt. “Sure. Do you care if I shower quick?” “I don’t know. I kinda like this outfit.” He lightly tugged on a wet lock of hair. Mikayla laughed. “I’ll be right back.” “Sounds good.” She walked to the front entry, but turned and caught him staring at her. He closed his mouth.
“Sorry. Hard to look away.” “Thanks.” She shook her head and smiled, finding it interesting that Matt could look at her like that, but she still felt like he cared about all of her and not just her body. Running up the stairs, she showered in record time. She was still a little bit unsettled from her earlier fright and wanted to hurry back to Matt to alleviate her fears. She put on some comfortable yoga pants and a T-shirt and hurried back down to the kitchen. Matt gave her a grin, then retrieved the nachos from the microwave and set them next to a bowl of salsa. Mikayla poured them each a cup of cocoa from the machine. They sat at the bar to enjoy the treat, and Mikayla couldn’t help but think how lucky she’d been that he’d accepted this job. With his degrees and expertise, he probably had other aspirations than a bodyguard. “So, how is it I have a bodyguard who’s ex-military and has a master’s degree in psychology?” Matt shrugged. “You’re one lucky girl.” Mikayla ducked her head, not opposing that one a bit. “Do you want to work in your field?” “This is my field.” He winked and took a sip of cocoa. “I’m waiting on a few different teaching positions that might open up this spring or the first of the next school year.” “High school?” “Community college, some on the university level.” Matt just kept impressing her, but she hoped none of those teaching positions worked out. “Where’d you go to college?” “I kind of took the long route. Joined the Army right after graduation.” He dipped a chip in salsa. “Why the Army?” He shrugged, chewing and then swallowing before answering, “Wanted to rebel a bit. I had a football scholarship to USC, just like my dad had when he was eighteen.” He frowned. “My dad expected me to break all kinds of records like he did, and then take over the family business.” Mikayla smiled and broke a chip in half. “Bit hard to take over for a periodontist if you don’t have the degrees.” “Exactly.” “You turned down the scholarship and went into the Army to rebel?” “It was stupid. I know that now, but as a teenage boy…” She nodded. “I understand the need to do your own thing, but when did you have time to go to school?” She ate the chip, thinking she really shouldn’t be eating nachos this late at night. “When I joined the Army, I was trained as an MP, and I thought when I got out, I’d want to be a policeman. But I started a bachelor’s online, and I loved my psychology courses. I focused on that for my undergrad. I also took classes when I was home on leave. Then I finished my master’s this past year, since security with Park City Resort wasn’t as demanding as my time in the Army.”
Wow. He’d done all that while being full time in the Army, deployed, and trying to raise a son. “So, what made you leave the Army?” He sloshed his cocoa around in the cup. “Elizabeth called and asked me to sign the divorce papers quickly, as she wanted to get remarried within the month. She was moving to Costa Rica, and she was leaving Brock with Grams since Enrique…” He arched his eyebrows, waiting for her to comment. “Is that really his name?” “Unfortunately, yes.” He sighed. “Anyway, Enrique wasn’t ready for a bratty eight-year-old.” Her eyebrows shot up, anger pulsing through her. “She actually said that about Brock?” “Yeah. Nice mom, eh?” “Wow. I’m sorry.” “I’m fine. It’s Brock I worry about.” “He seems so well adjusted, and he’s definitely not bratty.” “Thanks.” Matt swirled a nacho in the salsa, studying it. “I know he’s high energy, but he always tries to please everyone, especially Elizabeth.” He shook his head. “It’s got to be hard to get ditched by your mom.” Mikayla bit her lip. “It is tough.” He focused on her face, seeming to look deep into her soul. “You know?” “My mom left us when I was thirteen. She couldn’t handle the money, the ‘pressures of being a rich person.’” She made air quotes with her fingers and rolled her eyes. “She divorced my dad, took a huge chunk of change, and moved to Cozumel. I guess she runs an orphanage down there.” “That’s admirable, in a twisted sort of way.” “Admirable until you see what it does to your sister.” She sipped her cocoa, savoring the hazelnut flavor. “Is that why Sarah…” “Part of it. Sarah’s always been fragile, and Kyler is so like her. Greg going missing has been terrible for both of them, but it’s really just lately that Sarah has become this… shell.” She broke another chip in half, but didn’t eat it. “I think that’s why I respond so well to Brock. He’s more like me. Put a smile on, make people happy, and keep working.” “He is like that. He gets teased at school, and it doesn’t even bug him.” “He told me there were some kids who teased him, but it doesn’t seem like they’d have a reason to.” She didn’t want to tell Matt that Brock had said the teasing was because he was poor, and she thought it probably did bug the little boy. No child was immune to teasing, even if they acted like they were. “Red hair, too smart, too athletic. Who knows?” He shrugged and looked away, but not before she saw the pain in his eyes. “The tables have turned since I was in grade school. The athletes were exempt from bullying.”
“Probably just jealous of him.” “He’s like the all-American boy.” “Thanks.” “Does he have contact with his mom?” She studied the granite counter top, hoping she wasn’t crossing a line. “Not really. Elizabeth and I struck a deal we could both live with. I gave her all my savings— well, what she hadn’t already spent on herself. I took her credit card debt and she signed all rights over to me, promising not to belittle Brock when she did call.” He took a long breath. “I know it bugs him, but he kind of acts like she’s a long-lost aunt. Tolerates talking to her when she decides to call, but doesn’t say anything about her when she doesn’t.” “That’s got to be hard.” “Yeah.” He sighed. “Grams warned me that Elizabeth was trouble, but you know how it is when you’re young and in love. You don’t listen to anybody.” Mikayla’s heart slammed against her rib cage. She did “know how it is,” but she didn’t need to share the story of Thomas with Matt. You’d think after four years, the embarrassment over poor mistakes would dissipate. “Thanks for the treats.” She stood and took her cup to the sink. “Anytime.” Matt carried the bowl and plate over, scraped the uneaten nachos in the garbage, and rinsed them both off. Mikayla turned to him as he shut off the water and dried his hands on the towel sitting next to the sink. The glow from the living room light cast a shadow over his handsome face. Turned the way he was, his scars weren’t as pronounced, but she never minded seeing them. She couldn’t resist lifting her hand and tracing it down the scarred part of his face. “Where did these come from?” “Landmine outside of Kabul. Luckily, we just ended up with scars, some worse than others.” She shuddered. “I don’t like thinking of you being in danger.” Matt caught her hand and pulled it to his chest. She could feel the soft rhythm of his heart against her palm. “I think you’re as dangerous as anything I’ve been through.” He smiled softly at her. “What? How am I dangerous?” He released her hand and wrapped one arm around her back, cradling her face with his other large palm. “I promised myself I’d be professional around you, but I think about that kiss all the time. You’re dangerous because you make me want to break promises to myself.” Mikayla smiled and traced her hand from his chest to his shoulder. He trembled under her touch, and she loved knowing she affected him as much as he did her. “What if I command you as your boss to forget about that promise and kiss me?” She couldn’t believe she was being this bold, but nothing felt as
right as Matt’s touch. Matt pulled her closer and lowered his head toward hers. His breath was warm and so inviting against her cheek. His musky smell wrapped around her. “I’m sure you’d be violating all kinds of employee and employer boundaries.” “Are you going to turn me in?” Matt groaned and traced his thumb down her cheek. “Not if you promise to kiss me at least once a day.” “We’ll write it into the contract,” she said. Matt grinned, then covered the short distance to her mouth. The kiss was intense and warm. He tasted faintly of hot chocolate. After several wonderful minutes, Mikayla could hardly stand on her own two feet. Matt wrapped both hands around her waist and lifted her onto the counter, bringing her body snug against his as he continued to work his magic on her mouth. The door from the back deck slammed, and Mikayla startled, bumping her nose against Matt’s. Chaz stomped into the room, anger radiating from his blue eyes. “What’s going on here?” “Would think that is pretty evident,” Matt said. His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched. He lifted Mikayla off the counter, but kept her in the secure circle of his embrace. “I would think your bodyguard is overstepping his bounds,” Chaz spat out. “Wow.” Mikayla drawled out the word. “Are you really doing this, Chaz?” Chaz’s gaze softened as he looked at her. “You don’t even know him, Mik.” Mikayla glanced up at Matt. She liked everything she did know about him. He met her gaze and offered her a brief smile. “I’m going to check on Brock,” he said. “Thanks for the hot chocolate.” She grinned. “Thanks for after the hot chocolate.” He squeezed her hand, winked, and then strode past, giving Chaz a brief nod. “Make sure you reactivate the security system,” Matt said to Chaz. “Like I’d forget that,” Chaz snarled. Matt arched an eyebrow, but kept walking. Chaz strutted toward her, shaking his head. “Mik. How long have I worked for you?” “Almost four years,” she said, confused by his reaction to seeing her and Matt together. “You’ve never gone on more than one or two dates with anyone in that four years.” “What’s your point, Chaz? That I should never have a relationship because I haven’t in the past four years?” Luckily, Chaz and a lot of the staff didn’t know about Thomas. If only she could forget. “Mik.” Chaz took one of her hands between both of his. She stepped back, surprised by the tenderness in his voice. This was Chaz, her assistant. Sure, he was good-looking with his Thor imitation—nice build, a trimmed beard, longish blond hair, and blue eyes —but she’d never thought of him as anything but a close friend.
“You have to know I’ve always hoped for more between us.” Mik shook her head and retrieved her hand. “I’m sorry, Chaz. You’re like a brother to me.” His blue eyes darkened like a storm blowing in. “That’s all?” “That’s all.” He stepped closer, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her before she could protest. Mikayla felt nothing except the pressure of his lips and hands—no tingles, no warmth, no excitement—but then, she was comparing it to Matt’s kiss that lit up everything inside her. Chaz stepped away and smirked. “Maybe you should think about that and see if I’m still like a brother to you.” He turned on his heel, activated the security system, and then slammed out the back door. “More like a brother than ever,” Mikayla whispered.
Chapter Fourteen
Mikayla awakened with a start. The suffocating fear she used to have before Matt moved into the bedroom next door was back, smothering her like a wool blanket covering her face on a hot summer night. All she could hear were her short breaths forced in and out through lungs that felt like they could barely function. If someone was in her room, Matt would know because of the sensors. No. She’d turned the sensors off when she went swimming last night, and had forgotten to reactivate them. Her brain had been too full of kissing Matt. She forced herself to snake her arm out of the covers and dial Matt’s number. It rang four times, and she was terrified it was going to go to voice mail. What would she do then? Hide under the covers and pray the boogeyman went away? Scream for Matt? “Hello.” His voice was gruff and full of sleep. She glanced at the alarm clock. 2:14 a.m. “Matt?” she whispered. “Mik? I’m coming.” The phone disconnected. She lay back against her pillow and finally caught a full breath. Her door handle turned, and Matt’s large frame strode across the room. He sat down next to her on the bed. “You okay?” he whispered. “I don’t know. I just… felt like someone was in my room or something.” He nodded and pulled out his cell phone as he stood and started searching her room. “Devan,” he said into the phone. “Find Rob. Start searching the house, and get Rob on the exterior. I think someone was in Mikayla’s room again.” She wanted to tell him it was silly to go to such extremes when they didn’t even know if there had been an intruder, but she appreciated his thoroughness and his trust in her instincts more than she could say. In Palo Alto, one of the policemen had confronted her, asking if she’d fabricated the stalker. It ripped her apart to have anyone think she could be so shallow and needy. Thank heavens for Matt and his diligence in protecting her. Matt flipped on her bathroom lights and continued talking to Devan. “You thought you saw some movement in the upstairs hallway about one thirty? But there wasn’t anyone there?” He paused and strode back into her room. “Did you turn off the motion sensors?” “Yes,” she admitted. “When I went swimming.” His mouth was set in a thin line. He went back to looking, though she was certain if there even was an intruder, he was long gone. “Check the house thoroughly, and tell Rob I’ll get dressed and come help him.” He ended the call and stopped next to her desk. He stood there for several seconds before glancing back at her. “Did you see the note and the picture?” Mikayla wanted nothing more than to stay buried under her covers. The stalker had made it into her room again, but he never repeated the method of delivery or location of the notes. Why now? With all the extra security precautions Matt had implemented, the upgraded camera system he’d installed, and him sleeping next door to her, she couldn’t believe anyone could get in. Oddly, she still felt safe with Matt in
the room and knowing all he was doing to protect her. Would it be too much to ask that he set up a cot in her bedroom? She shook her head, pushed out of her comforter, and crossed the room to him. Matt had pulled his phone out again and taken several pictures of the note. “Don’t touch it. I’ll send these to Detective Horace and let his people come fingerprint it.” Mikayla couldn’t respond. She read the typed words for the third time, praying she was reading them wrong. YOU THINK A BODYGUARD CAN PROTECT YOU FROM ME? I’LL SLIT HIS THROAT AND THEN COME FOR YOU. The picture next to the note was of Matt holding her in the kitchen tonight. Chaz was off to the side of the picture. None of them looked very happy. It must’ve been taken right after Chaz came in to confront them. She felt an odd sense of relief, looking at the picture and seeing Chaz in it. She knew Matt considered him a suspect, and even though he’d made things awkward tonight, she was glad to have proof that her close friend wasn’t doing this to her. She glanced up at Matt. His lips were pressed into a thin line, anger radiating from the tautness of his chest and arms. “Don’t you dare let him scare you. This idiot isn’t going to hurt me.” Mikayla traced a finger down the musculature of his bicep. “I know how tough you are, but he’s obviously unstable. He’s dangerous.” Matt wrapped an arm around her back. She was hyperaware that he had no shirt on as the muscles of his chest warmed her bare arm. “Mikayla.” He stared down at her. “I’m more dangerous than he is.” “That’s true.” Matt wrapped his other arm around her shoulder. “Do I scare you?” “A little bit.” She opened her mouth to take back the words. The only thing that scared her was how much she relied on him, how much she wanted to be close to him. How was she going to survive when he left? “I would never hurt you, Mik.” She arched her head back to meet his dark gaze. “Physically, I know that’s true. Emotionally, I’m not so sure.” Matt dipped his head and brushed his lips over hers. Fire started in her abdomen and worked its way out. Mikayla couldn’t help herself as she traced her fingers along his stubbled cheeks and then returned the kiss with a fervency that he couldn’t have mistaken for anything but the desire she had for him. Matt wrapped his arms around her back and pressed her closer to him, matching the passion in her kiss with a fire that seemed to surround her. Dangerous? Definitely. He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. “I would never hurt you, Mik,” he repeated. Mikayla lowered her head against his broad chest and snuggled into his arms. In this position, she could almost believe him.
The door pushed open, and Mikayla glanced up. Devan took in their proximity and cleared his throat. Matt kept his arms around her. “Did you find anything?” “No, sir. The house is clean, and Rob can’t even find distinguishable footprints coming into the house. They all blend in to where you went to get the tree the other night or Chaz, Rob, and me coming back and forth from the guest house. The police will be here any minute to confirm and look over the film.” “Who was watching the cameras?” “I was.” “And you didn’t see anything?” “Nothing but that slight movement around one thirty.” “So somehow he’s tampering with them.” “Or he knows exactly where they are and is avoiding them.” Matt growled in frustration, and Mikayla felt it throughout her chest. She burrowed into his warm embrace, content to let him deal with her nightmare and enjoy the safety of his arms. “Go let the police in and bring them up here to look at the note. Then we’ll go over the film. Tell them to keep it quiet—we don’t need to wake everyone up.” “Yes, sir.” There was an edge to Devan’s voice Mikayla had never heard before. Matt glanced at him with raised eyebrows. Devan tilted his chin and then strode from the room. “Sometimes he looks like an intimidating Wesley Snipes,” Mikayla said. Matt smiled. “He’s a pretty good kid.” He traced a finger down her face. “You’re distracting me again, beautiful princess, and I’m not doing a very good job of protecting you.” Mikayla tightened her arms around his back. “You’re the only one I want doing the job. No one’s been able to find this guy in four years. Don’t beat yourself up that you haven’t found him in four weeks.” Matt gave her one more squeeze, then let her go. “I’m going to find him, Mikayla,” he whispered. “I promise you.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Thank you for coming with me.” Mikayla smiled up at Matt, who was carrying an armload of shopping bags. The boys were in school, and she’d decided she’d better get some shopping done before Christmas. It was a gorgeous winter day, over forty degrees, with the sun sparkling off the snow piled along Historic Main Street in Park City. She could almost forget the hours of talking with the police the night before, and the fear of knowing the stalker was not only threatening her now, but Matt as well. “If I’d known the job description included shopping, I might have run.” Matt grinned down at her. “Poor baby. If I take you to lunch, will you stop complaining?” He hadn’t complained at all, but it was fun to tease him. “Depends on what you’re thinking of feeding me.” “Sushi?” she asked, hoping he liked it. “You like sushi?” His eyebrows arched up. “Love it.” “Ah, Mik. I swear when they wrote the description for my dream woman, they should’ve just sent a poster of you.” “Um, thanks.” Oh, my. He just said that. Mikayla wanted to jump up and down, cheering. They both reddened and studied the artwork in a gallery they walked past. Matt cleared his throat. “Where’s the sushi spot?” “Yuki Yama is just a couple of blocks up.” “Lead the way.” Mikayla wished she could reach for his hand, but he was carrying too many bags. She loved that he’d insisted she load him like a pack horse. No man had ever done that for her. “Let’s drop the bags off at the car first.” “Thanks. Finally thinking of me.” Mikayla laughed. She wanted to say she was always thinking of him, but she wasn’t that brave. “Mikayla?” The voice from her past came from behind, and she had no desire to turn around. She wanted to hide behind Matt, cover her ears, and close her eyes until Thomas went away and hopefully never reappeared. Matt turned to face the man, and Mikayla forced herself to turn with him. “Hello, Thomas.” It was the jerk who broke her heart, with a gorgeous redhead on his arm. He hadn’t changed much. Tall, thin, perfect facial features with salon-styled dark hair and matching goatee. She was amazed that she’d ever been attracted to such a pretty boy. Matt was much more her style. Thomas was dressed in clothing she knew cost more than he could afford. Maybe this chick had given him what Mikayla refused
to. “Wow. Look at you. Beautiful as ever.” Mikayla wished she could consider it a compliment, but she knew with Thomas, everything was underhanded. At least he didn’t make a move to touch her. His gaze traveled to Matt. “The hired help coming shopping with you now?” “This is my boyfriend, Matt, and for your information, he could kill you with his bare hands. So you might want to back off.” Matt gave her an amused glance, but his brow furrowed as he looked back at Thomas. “Still feisty as ever, too. I’d be careful with this one,” Thomas said to Matt. The redhead just stared at both of them, her painted-on mouth forming an O. “Do you want me to kill him with my bare hands now, love?” Matt asked. “Maybe later, sweetheart. I don’t want to get blood on any of Daddy’s presents.” Thomas’s face turned purple at the mention of her dad. Mikayla waited for him to explode, maybe threaten to call the police since they’d both threatened him. He was such a pouty brat, nothing would surprise her. Thomas stomped around them and dragged his girl toy with him. Mikayla stood rigid until he was a block away, then deflated. Her hands trembled, and she had a hard time not falling into Matt and begging him to hold her. “Who did I just threaten to kill?” Matt asked with an arched eyebrow. Mikayla shook her head and stormed down the block to her BMW. Matt got her door, then opened the backdoor and set the packages on the seat before walking around to the driver’s side. He pushed the ignition button, turned her heater up to eighty, and then sat there for a few seconds. “No sushi?” Mikayla could tell he was trying to lighten the mood. “I’m not letting that jerk ruin sushi.” She forced herself to smile. “Just give me a minute.” “Do you want to tell me about it?” “No.” Mikayla groaned and then chanced a glance at him. He was going to think she was such a wimp or a sucker. She wasn’t sure which was worse. “He was my fiancé.” Matt’s jaw dropped “Oh?” She studied the dash for a few seconds. “I always worried the men I dated were after me for my money. When I met Thomas, I fell pretty hard, and he was wealthier than I was, so I was certain that it was the real thing.” She laughed harshly. “Turns out his dad’s company, a material supplier of ours, was in trouble. He needed to marry me to ensure all of our contracts went through their company and to make sure he never wanted for anything. He has a bit of a spending problem.” Matt’s lips had compressed, and his brow was furrowed. Mikayla reached up and massaged between his eyes with her fingertips. He half-laughed and said, “Did I look that upset?”
“If Thomas were still here, I’d worry that you really would kill him with your bare hands.” Matt grabbed her hand and pulled it to his lips. The kiss he pressed in her palm made her stomach do a happy leap. She forgot about Thomas until Matt asked, “How did you find out the truth?” “We were at a dinner party at his parents’ house. He and his dad disappeared. I went looking for Thomas because he needed to say good-bye to one of the senators in attendance. I overheard him and his dad talking about our wedding, which was only a few weeks away. His dad told him just to deal with marrying me. He said he could have any women he wanted on the side, travel, and spend whatever he wanted because I was too innocent and stupid to figure it out.” She reddened at the embarrassment and feelings of betrayal, even after all these years. Matt stroked her fingers. “Oh, Mik. I’m sorry. He was an idiot. At least you didn’t marry him.” She felt nauseated at the thought of it. She wondered if she’d already be divorced by this point, or being cheated on and used by Thomas and not knowing it. “What happened when you broke it off?” “It was bad. The entire business community of San Francisco was in turmoil over the story, and my dad… I’ve never seen him that upset. He severed all ties with Thomas and his father, and asked all of his associates to do the same. Thomas’s dad’s business went bankrupt, and I haven’t seen Thomas since.” “When did this happen?” “Four years ago.” “Four years… what?” Matt jolted in his seat. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?” Mikayla shook her head. “I was embarrassed about it.” “Mik!” Matt squeezed her hand, hard. “This could be our guy. He’s got motive, resentment, and the timing is right.” “The police watched him when the stalking started, and my dad even had private investigators follow him and search his house, but they never found any indication that he might be the stalker.” Matt shook his head. “But you never know what people are capable of hiding, and it’s just too coincidental, him showing up in Park City when the stalker’s getting bolder and sending notes more frequently.” “But he didn’t act like a deranged stalker when we saw him. More like a jerky ex.” “You have no clue what kind of role he might be playing.” Matt put the car into gear and pushed his phone into her hands. “Will you dial Detective Horace’s number? We’ll get a tail on Thomas immediately. If the police won’t do it, we’ll use one of our guys.” He smiled at her. “This could be the break we’ve been looking for.” Mikayla wanted it to be the break, but she was afraid Matt was setting himself up for disappointment. Thomas was an angle that had become a dead end long ago. “No sushi?” she asked. “We’ll get some to take home after we get the tail set up.”
Mikayla didn’t know what to say. Thomas was definitely shady enough and smart enough to pull off something like this, but some doubts were there. He’d never really loved her, and was only motivated by money. What money was in it for him to stalk her for four years?
Chapter Sixteen
The police and a private agency had been following Thomas for a few days now, and it appeared the guy really was on a ski vacation with his girlfriend and her family. After Matt dropped the boys off at school, he ran to deposit his paycheck, which was considerably more than he’d planned on. He’d discussed it with Mikayla and had been more than a little bit embarrassed when she kept saying he deserved the money. He finally gave up, but it was awkward having the woman he was falling for paying him. He really wanted Thomas to be the stalker. He’d love to know Mikayla was safe, quit working for her, and start dating her. Cruising into Sports Authority in Park City, he stocked up on footballs, basketballs, lacrosse sticks, and baseball gloves. He could never go wrong with sports equipment for his boy. He hoped Kyler would appreciate a variety of balls too—the boy had really seemed to enjoy the times they’d played soccer and football together in the big room downstairs. Driving around Park City, he found Grams some kitchen gadgets at the outlet malls and then spent way too much money on a necklace for Mikayla at a shop on Main Street. The silver necklace with aquamarine stones reminded him so much of her eyes, he couldn’t help but buy it. Since he was already in Park City, he decided to tail Thomas himself for a bit. Devan and Trey were on duty at the house, and Matt trusted the young guards would do a good job. Detective Horace gave him the coordinates for Thomas. He was only a few blocks away from where Matt had found the necklace. Thomas and his girlfriend seemed to be dedicating the day to shopping instead of skiing. They both liked to spend money, judging by the expensive stores they frequented and the bags they were hauling out. Lunchtime approached, and they went into Zoom to eat. Matt followed them in and got a table. He didn’t dare sit too close, as the restaurant was very open and he didn’t know if he was ready to confront Thomas yet. He noticed Thomas walking toward the restrooms and decided to follow. The man was on his cell phone and talking loudly, explaining to someone that they were going home tomorrow. Matt didn’t know what to think. It appeared this whole idea of Thomas being the stalker was inaccurate. The man had made no move to find Mikayla, and he seemed pretty enthralled with his redheaded girlfriend. Matt pushed into the bathroom, debating if he should say something to Thomas and see where it led. Thomas had ended the phone call and stood at the sink, washing his hands. He glanced over at Matt, and his eyes narrowed. “Hey, you’re the guy who was with Mikayla.” “Yes, I am.” “You following me?” “Yes, I am.” Thomas’s brows arched. “Mik can’t get over me, eh?” Matt really didn’t like this guy. “I know you tried to marry Mikayla for her money. Are you stalking her now?”
Thomas turned to face him. Luckily, they were alone in the bathroom. He looked intrigued by Matt’s accusation. “Someone’s stalking Mik?” “Just answer the question.” “Guess a stalker goes with the territory when you’re wealthy and trample people, but why would I waste my time stalking her?” “You tell me.” Matt folded his arms across his chest and waited. Something about Thomas’s reaction didn’t scream to him that this was his guy. Except for the comment about trampling people, but Thomas didn’t say it bitterly—more matter of fact. It made Matt wonder about a business competitor or someone else who was jealous of Mik’s success. He’d have to work on that later, but right now, he had to focus on Thomas. “I’m planning to ask Shari to marry me on Christmas. Why would I waste time stalking an ex?” “Revenge.” “There’s no money in revenge.” “So, Mik was right and you only care about what a woman can give you financially.” “Pretty much. But I actually love Shari.” “Good for you.” Matt shook his head and turned to go. “Why would you think it was me?” Thomas asked, his tone curious, but not belligerent. “I haven’t seen Mik in four years.” Matt glanced back at the man. “The stalker started sending her notes four years ago.” Thomas’s brow furrowed. “She’s faking it for attention.” “Excuse me?” Matt’s hackles rose. He’d been pretty relaxed, but an accusation like that made him want to hit somebody. “Four years ago . . .” Thomas stroked his goatee. “We broke up. Her brother-in-law disappeared. Everyone was concerned about Sarah and the little guy. Maybe she made it up to get some attention. She always needed more than I could give her. It was tough on her when her mom left, and maybe she hoped this would bring her mom back into her life.” Matt shook his hands out. He wanted to be furious with Thomas even for suggesting it, but there was a truth to it that bothered him more than he wanted Goatee Boy to know. Mikayla had been through some hard stuff. Maybe instead of hiding like Sarah, she’d invented a stalker to get some attention for herself. But he’d seen how terrified she was after a nightmare, and a huge lie didn’t seem like the Mikayla he knew. She was too stable, and he liked her too much. He walked out of the bathroom without saying good-bye. As he rushed to his car, he dialed Detective Horace. The phone connected, and he relayed the conversation he’d just had with Thomas. “Do you think he could be right?” He held his breath, hoping Horace would tell him he was nuts. “Well… I found something out today that was interesting. About a year ago, the Palo Alto police started wondering if Mikayla was fabricating the stalker, but her dad cussed them out and threatened everyone’s jobs. He’s friends with their chief. Nobody brought it up again—it wasn’t even in her file. The
family relocated to Midway shortly after.” The detective exhaled slowly, and it came through the phone like a hiss. “This case has been bugging me, so I called the lead detective down there, and he finally shared that theory with me.” Matt didn’t want to hear any of this. He didn’t want to think these things about Mikayla or her father. “The only glimpses we’ve had on camera of the stalker show him to be about five eleven, close to Mikayla’s height,” Horace continued. “The clothing is so baggy, we can’t get an estimate on size. There has never been a forced entry, unusual footprints in the area, or a raised alarm. You tell me how that happens, with such good security and someone monitoring the cameras around the clock.” Matt cursed under his breath. He followed a line of cars that were taking their own sweet time driving down Main Street. “Has to be someone on the inside.” “That’s my thought.” “Why would Mikayla do something like that?” It couldn’t be her. He’d interview all the staff again and dig through their personal items. He’d search deeper into their backgrounds. He’d set up cameras in her bedroom and make sure she never turned off the motion sensors he’d already installed. He was going to catch this guy. “You said it yourself—she’s been through some horrific things. Mother leaving, fiancé lying to her, sister’s husband disappearing. She’s basically raising that little boy. Maybe things just aren’t right emotionally.” He cleared his throat. “She seems like a good lady, so I hate to question it.” “She is a good lady.” Matt plowed onto the freeway and jammed the gas pedal. What would he say to Mikayla? How could he confront her and not ruin the relationship they’d been building? He groaned. If only he’d been able to maintain a professional distance, this wouldn’t be so hard. Yet as he thought about Mikayla, he knew he wouldn’t regret the time they’d had, even if it was about to come to an end. “Are you going to talk to her?” “I am.” “I trust your judgment on this. Let me know what you find out.” “Thanks, Detective.” He hung up the phone and clenched the steering wheel with sweaty hands, wishing the drive to Midway would go faster or maybe last forever. He wasn’t sure which to hope for.
* * *
Mikayla and Chaz were going over numbers on a huge order, and thankfully, Chaz hadn’t mentioned their kiss in the kitchen the other night or bugged her about what was going on with Matt. She didn’t want things to be awkward with Chaz. A few minutes before noon, Matt slipped into her office. “Hi,” she called out brightly. “I’m so ready for a break. You hungry?”
“No, but we need to talk.” He glanced at Chaz. “Alone.” “Oh.” Chaz’s blue eyes turned icy, but he maintained a bright smile. “Guess that’s my cue to leave.” “Thanks, Chaz,” Mikayla said. “I couldn’t get through all of this without you.” “My pleasure to serve you, my lady.” He winked and stood, ambling past Matt with a level glare. “What’s up?” Mikayla didn’t like the darkness of Matt’s eyes. They usually lit up when he saw her, but not today. Today, they looked lifeless. Matt walked over and shut the French doors to her office, then plodded back to her desk. He remained standing, so she stood. “Is something wrong?” Why was Matt so somber? Her throat caught as the terrifying thought of something happening to Brock or Kyler choked her. “The boys?” He shook his head, and she leaned against the desk so she didn’t collapse from the relief. “What is it then? Tell me,” she all but begged. He took a long breath, then rushed out the words, “Did you fabricate the stalker for attention?” “What?” Mikayla arched back, feeling like he’d stabbed an ice pick into her heart. “No one would blame you, Mikayla. You’ve been through a lot of hard things in your life.” He held her gaze, and the doubt in his eyes ripped at her. “How could you think…?” Mikayla shook her head and bit her lip, blinking back tears. This was Matt. The man who had sworn to protect her and made her feel more desirable and wonderful than anyone in her life had. Now he thought she was making up a stalker so she could get attention? “It’s okay,” he pacified like he was helping Brock deal with a temper tantrum. “You can tell me the truth.” The tears fled as anger rushed in. “How dare you? I thought you knew me. I thought you cared.” “I do care, Mik.” His voice broke on her nickname, and a tenderness came to his face that almost stopped her anger. Almost. “If you cared, you would never accuse me of something like this. What kind of a liar do you think I am?” “Oh, Mik, I don’t think—” “Don’t.” She held up her hand. “Get out of my office. Now!” Matt stared at her for a few seconds, a muscle working furiously in his jaw. Finally, he turned and walked out the door. She slumped into her seat and couldn’t stop the tears that raced down her face. She’d let herself fall for Matt, and he obviously thought so low of her, he would accuse her of a huge lie. She brushed at the tears and wished she had fired Matt on the spot. Her heart ached to think of not having him and Brock in her life, but she couldn’t stand having him around if he didn’t trust her.
Chapter Seventeen
Mikayla never came down to dinner that night. Matt found a lasagna that Jerrilyn must’ve made earlier that day. He followed the instructions written on the foil and placed it in the oven. Brock and Kyler were great to help him cut up some apples and carrots to go with it, but when he asked Kyler where Mik was, the boy shook his head and said she was “being sad.” Matt wanted to run to her as soon as he heard that, but he got through dinner with the boys, read them a couple chapters of one of Brock’s Time Warp Trio books, and then told them they could play in the game room for an hour until bedtime. Thank heavens today had been their last day of school before Christmas break so he didn’t have to deal with homework tonight. After fixing two plates of dinner, Matt slowly traipsed upstairs. Mikayla usually took dinner to Sarah, so he figured he might as well keep up the ritual. He knocked lightly on Sarah’s door first. “Come in,” she said. Matt pushed the door open and crossed to the little table by Sarah’s chair. She gave him a halfhearted smile. “Thank you.” It was definitely time to stop helping Sarah so much, to somehow guide her to re-engage in life. He and Mikayla had talked about how they could do exactly that. Sadness washed over him. He wouldn’t be part of those plans, but at least a therapist was meeting with Sarah regularly. She seemed to be improving—hopefully, someday she’d be an active part of her son’s life. “What did you do to make Mikayla cry?” Sarah asked. Matt’s eyes widened. Mikayla had confided in her sister? “I said something I shouldn’t have. Did she tell you about it?” “No.” Sarah shook her head. “She doesn’t talk to me about things like that anymore, but I could see it in her face. Can you make it right?” Matt clenched the other plate in his hands. “I sure hope so.” “Me, too. Before tonight, she was happier than I’ve ever seen.” Sarah smiled at him, then picked up her fork and started eating, her gaze focused on the Kindle next to her plate. Matt knew she was done talking, but really wanted to pry for details. “Why do you say that?” Sarah glanced up. “She lights up when you’re around.” Matt shifted from foot to foot. “Do you think she’ll forgive me?” “Maybe. All you can do is try.” Her gaze strayed to her Kindle again, and Matt knew he’d overextended his welcome. Sarah was right, though. All he could do was try. Her sister thought he made Mikayla happy. Weren’t sisters supposed to know each other better than anyone? He hurried from Sarah’s room to Mikayla’s. His steps slowed as he approached her door. What should he say?
He knocked softly on the door. It swung open, and Mikayla tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. She looked beautiful with her hair in a ponytail, wearing yoga pants and a stretchy T-shirt. He wanted to kiss the curve of her neck. Focus, Degan. “I, um, brought dinner.” He held the plate aloft like a peace offering. She nodded and took the plate, avoiding touching him. “Thank you.” She backed up and started to swing the door closed. Matt put out a hand to stop it. “Wait, Mik, I’m sorry.” She took a long breath. “It was a pretty awful allegation, Matt. Not sure a simple ‘sorry’ is going to cut it.” “What do I need to do?” It wasn’t like him to grovel, but he’d do anything to make this right. “Oh, you believe me now?” He deserved that. “I have no proof but the fact that I know you.” He nodded. “And I do believe you. I’m sorry I was such an idiot.” “Hmm.” She looked him up and down. “Thanks for admitting to being an idiot.” “So you forgive me?” Matt’s hands clenched into fists. He should’ve asked her questions and been softer. He just wasn’t very good at that sort of thing. “Wouldn’t go that far.” She tilted her head to the side, and her soft hair spilled down her neck. “Give me some time to think about it.” “How much time?” Her nostrils flared. “You don’t accuse someone of something horrible, give them a quick apology —without flowers, I might add—and then ask them how long until they’re over it!” Matt grinned. He couldn’t help it. “So, if I bring you flowers tomorrow?” She arched her eyebrows, looking beautiful and every inch a princess, even though her eyes were red rimmed. “Flowers and chocolate, and maybe we’ll talk.” With that, she shut the door in his face. Matt laughed and shook his head. He headed down the hall to the game room. Mikayla was obviously still ticked at him, but he loved that she’d spelled out exactly what she thought constituted an apology.
Chapter Eighteen
Mikayla plodded across the thick carpet toward Matt’s door, debating how she should start the conversation. As she’d stewed most of the day, she’d realized there was no way he could claim she’d done this to herself when he’d been with her the entire time before that note appeared at dinner in Park City. Also, the pictures of her should prove it, but she supposed he could say she’d paid someone to take them or something. She was still upset about his accusations, but he’d seemed genuinely sorry. She smiled to herself, remembering his reaction to her demands for flowers and chocolate. That had been more bratty diva than she’d ever acted, and he’d taken it in stride. But she didn’t think she should apologize. She paused with her hand on the doorknob. What was she going to do? Wait for him to apologize again? Ask for more presents? Flowers, chocolate, a candlelit dinner, and lots and lots of kissing? She shook her head and raised her hand to knock softly, pretty sure Brock would be asleep. Whatever she said, she wanted to work this out. That’s what couples did—they worked through hard things. She paused with her hand raised. Were she and Matt a couple? Her heart thudded a little quicker. Oh, how she wanted them to be. The ringing of Matt’s cell phone came through the door. Mikayla dropped her hand and couldn’t help but press her ear closer. Who would be calling him at ten o’clock at night? “Hello?” She could hear his deep voice pretty clearly through the door. “Elizabeth?” Elizabeth? His ex-wife? “You’re coming… home?” Oh, no. Was that hope in his voice, or frustration? “What about Enrique? Gone?” A long pause. “That would mean a lot to Brock.” Mikayla pulled back from the door and hurried to her room. His ex-wife was coming home, and it sounded like both Matt and Brock would be seeing her. Mikayla didn’t know what that meant for her and Matt, but she knew now was not the right time to talk to Matt about their earlier issues. No need to remind him they were fighting when his ex-wife was coming back into his life. She tried not to panic and blow things out of proportion, but nothing seemed right between her and Matt, and she couldn’t imagine the ex was going to improve the situation.
* * *
Mikayla sprinted through the forest. A masked man dressed in black darted around trees and easily kept pace with her. She could see her house up ahead, and as the trees cleared, Matt stood there with his arms open wide. A gorgeous blonde stood next to him, looking at Mikayla like she was insane. “Matt!” she cried out. “Help!” Matt hurried her direction, but then he stopped just out of reach. “It’s all in your head, Mikayla,”
he said. “Stop lying for attention.” The woman rolled her eyes. “Can we please find Brock and go home now?” The stalker tackled her from behind. Mikayla hit the ground, screaming, “Please, Matt, please help me!” “Mik, Mik,” Matt called her name over and over. Mikayla felt the pressure of his hands on her shoulders, shaking her. She was yanked from the nightmare and into her moonlit bedroom. “Mik? Oh, you’re awake,” Matt said. “Matt,” her voice squeaked. Mikayla focused on his dark gaze, then reached for him. Matt cradled her against his chest, his hands rubbing her back. “It’s okay. You’re awake now.” She reveled in the feel of his muscular chest against her cheek, slowly coming back to reality and realizing she was safe. Matt was here, and he didn’t think it was all in her head. Wait. He did think it was all in her head, and his ex-wife was coming back to him. Everything was so fuzzy and confusing, but Mikayla knew she couldn’t be a pity case. She jerked out of his arms and bumped her head against the headboard. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Please leave.” “Oh, Mik.” Matt stayed seated on her bed. “I’m really sorry. Thomas messed with my head, and Detective Horace basically agreed with him.” “Thomas?” Now they were back to her ex? “I followed Thomas today, and then I questioned him. I don’t think he’s our guy, but he thought you might be fabricating the stalker. I thought it was crazy, but it kind of made sense, too. You know?” “No, I don’t know.” She gathered her blankets across her chest to try to stop the shivering. “The stalker has never forced his way into your house. He’s about your height, and the clothing he wears doesn’t allow us to see what size he might be. How could he have left these notes over the years and never gotten caught? Unless he’s someone who works for you.” “You keep saying ‘he.’ You don’t think it’s me anymore?” “No, I don’t. Because I trust you.” She nodded. “Thanks. I was planning to show you all kinds of evidence that I couldn’t have taken pictures of myself like that, and you were with me the entire time when that note came at the restaurant, and you’ve seen my nightmares.” “I’ve thought of all of that too, but it really comes down to, I do trust you. I’m sorry I said that.” Mikayla studied him. He did look sorry, but she had no clue where they stood right now. She decided to try for flippant. “You’ll have to do some serious penance for this one.” Matt’s cheeks crinkled with a grin. “I thought I’d bring you flowers and chocolate tomorrow, then
maybe we could just kiss and make up.” “You wish!” Kissing and making up sounded wonderful. Keeping things light seemed the best approach, but when was she going to ask him about Elizabeth? Mikayla hit him with a pillow instead. Matt pulled the pillow from her hands, lightly tapped her face with it, and tossed it aside. He lifted her from her pillows and gave her a soft shake. “You can’t win at a pillow fight with me.” Mikayla giggled. Matt laughed, then sobered and brushed some hair from her cheek. “Are we okay?” Mikayla sobered too. “You tell me. I heard your ex-wife is coming back.” Matt straightened. “How did you hear that?” She glanced away. “I came to your room to talk to you, but I overheard your conversation.” “You missed a lot.” His lips compressed. “Right after she said she was coming home to see Brock, she demanded more money.” He shook his head. “She basically bankrupted me with all her credit card debt, and I let her take everything of value and clean out my savings account so she would give up her rights to Brock. I told her I was done giving her money, Brock was doing great without her, and she wasn’t welcome in our lives.” Mikayla’s eyes widened. “I didn’t hear that part.” “Oh, Mik.” Matt smiled at her. “You don’t ever need to worry about Elizabeth. It’s more than over between us.” “That’s good to hear.” “So… you’ll forgive me for my stupid comments today?” “Depends how good the kissing and making up are.” Her stomach bubbled with happiness at the thought. “Oh, I’ll make them good.” He cupped her face with his hands and slowly lowered his lips to hers. He tasted her slowly, softly for a few minutes. The kisses were achingly tender, and Mikayla pressed herself closer into his arms. Matt’s hands trailed through her hair and down her back. She trembled from his touch. He groaned and increased the intensity of the kiss until her head was swimming and she had to cling to his broad back for stability. Pulling away a few minutes later, Matt whispered, “Forgiven?” “Maybe in a few days. You’ve got a lot of penance to do.” He kissed her again, then murmured against her lips, “I want your forgiveness, but if I don’t get out of here, I might not remember to keep it clean.” She laughed shakily. “Good point.” He hugged her, then stood and stared down at her. “Are you okay? From the nightmare, I mean?” “Yes. All that kissing pushed it right out of my mind.” She winked. “Glad to hear it. Tomorrow, I’ll start interviewing all the staff again, looking for holes in their stories and going more thoroughly over their background checks. He’s going to make a mistake, and I’m
going to find him.” She caught his hand. “Thank you, Matt.” “Thank you for forgiving me.” “Not quite done with that one yet.” “Flowers and chocolate?” He bent and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. “I’ll work on the kiss and making up again when we’re both fully clothed.” Mikayla laughed, but stopped when she noticed the door to her bedroom was slightly open. A shadow rose behind him. “Matt!” she cried out.
Chapter Nineteen
Mikayla’s scream increased in volume, but she couldn’t move fast enough to help him. Matt whirled, and a flash of metal caught the moonlight. The knife came down toward Matt’s throat. Matt dodged to the side and grabbed the masked man’s arm at the same time. He squeezed, and the intruder screamed in pain, but whipped the knife around, swiping at Matt’s chest. Mikayla leaped from the bed. “Mik, stay back!” Matt commanded, glancing at her to make sure she was safe. “Matt!” she screamed. The man lunged, jabbing the knife at Matt. The tip of the blade dug into Matt’s shoulder. Matt grunted, and holding on to the man’s arm, yanked the knife out of his shoulder. Blood dripped down Matt’s arm. Mikayla cried out and couldn’t stay away. She rushed to Matt’s side. Matt increased the pressure of his grip, and the knife dropped to the ground. The guy slammed his foot into Matt’s knee. Matt went down, dragging the man with him. The man launched himself onto Matt’s back, pushing his face into the floor. Mikayla shoved against the masked guy’s back, trying to move him off Matt. “Stay back,” Matt begged her. He flipped the guy off him, twisted his arm behind his back, and then ripped the mask from his face. “Devan?” Mikayla backed into the bed, her mouth falling open. “Call the police and security, Mik,” Matt said, jerking Devan to his feet. Mikayla reached for her phone in a haze. This couldn’t be real. Devan? Why would he do this? Matt didn’t loosen his grip or move, no matter how Devan struggled. Mikayla made the calls, then hung up and turned on Devan. “Why would you do this to me?” He shook his head, his black eyes tortured. “When I first started working for you, I fell in love with you. But I knew you didn’t feel the same about me, so I started scheming a way to get you to turn to me. The stalker idea seemed like a good one, and when you were scared, sometimes you’d come to me for reassurance.” Mikayla recalled a few times when she’d grabbed Devan’s sleeve or he’d put an arm around her. She thought it was just a kind employee comforting his boss. “I knew Jonathon planned to retire after we relocated here,” Devan continued, “and I thought he would place me as the new head of security. I would make the stalker disappear, and finally be close enough to be your man. Then he showed up and ruined everything.” He motioned toward Matt with his head and grimaced. “Jonathon planned to make you head of security?” Matt asked.
Devan swallowed and looked down. “He mentioned it once, but…” His voice trailed off. “I can’t believe you’d do this, Devan,” Mikayla said. “I never would’ve hurt you.” “You just came after Matt with a knife.” What if Matt hadn’t reacted quickly enough? She glanced at Matt’s shoulder, still seeping blood. His face looked impassive, like he didn’t even notice the wound. She cringed, wanting to vomit at the thought of Matt’s injuries. “I would’ve been glad to hurt him. Cocky Army vet who thinks he knows everything.” Matt grunted and tightened his grip on Devan’s arm. Mikayla didn’t want to look at Devan anymore. She hurried around them into her bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, wetting it with cold water. She returned and pressed it against Matt’s wound. “Are you okay?” “It’s fine.” Matt looked down at her with a soft smile. “What’s another scar?” Mikayla half-laughed and pressed the towel against the wound again as more blood oozed. The door burst open, and Rob and Trey rushed in. Mikayla took off the cloth, grateful when no fresh blood appeared. Matt handed Devan to the men with instructions to hold him in Mikayla’s office until the police arrived to arrest him. Trey placed some restraint handcuffs on Devan’s wrists, and Mikayla breathed a silent prayer of thanks that it was finally over. “I’ll be down in just a minute,” Matt told Rob. They hauled a silent Devan away. Mikayla hurried into Matt’s open arms. He simply held her close until the shudders turned to trembles. “I’m sorry it was Devan,” he whispered roughly. “Me, too.” Mikayla sighed, wondering how Devan could terrify her like that while claiming he was just trying to get close to her. “We need to go down and meet with the police. Do you feel up to making a statement tonight?” She nodded against his chest, unable to resist pressing a kiss to his warm skin. Matt groaned and pulled her closer. “Don’t do that. The police will have to come find us.” He lifted her chin and took command of her mouth for several wonderful moments before breaking away from the kiss. “You’d better get dressed. I’ll grab a shirt and be right back.” “Do you want a bandage on that?” she asked. He glanced down at the spot where a new trickle of blood was surfacing. “Just a flesh wound.” Mikayla laughed, but when he left, she started hyperventilating. Devan could’ve killed Matt. She swayed and sat heavily on the bed. She forced herself to take deep breaths and was almost in control when Matt re-entered her room, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. Sarah appeared in the doorframe, a silky robe wrapped around her pajamas. “Mik? Are you okay?”
Mikayla nodded. Sarah rushed to her and gave her a hug. “I heard a commotion down in the foyer and saw Trey and Rob wrestling with Devan.” “Devan is the stalker,” Mikayla told her. Sarah pulled back and searched her eyes. “Oh, Mik, I’m sorry. I always liked Devan.” “Me, too.” “What can I do to help?” Sarah looked from Mikayla to Matt. Mikayla was so astounded by the offer, she couldn’t respond. The Sarah she used to know always helped her, but the shell of a Sarah never offered or even seemed to think past her little world. “Can you listen for Brock and Kyler, and talk to them if one of them wakes up?” Matt asked. “Sure.” She smiled at Matt and squeezed his hand. “Thank you for protecting my sister, and for bringing so much happiness to my son.” Matt nodded and smiled. His eyes flickered to Mikayla before focusing on Sarah again. “You’re welcome.” She released his hand and gave Mikayla another squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re safe. I realized when Matt came to bring me dinner tonight that you have a chance at the happiness I used to have with Greg, and I’ve got to find my own happiness with Kyler. My therapist is really helping me to see that I can’t keep wishing time away and waiting for Greg to reappear.” Mikayla’s throat clogged up, and it was all she could do just to hug Sarah back and not cry all over her. She was so happy that her sister was engaging and caring. Sarah let her go and walked back out the door. Matt extended his hand. Mikayla took it and relished the feeling of his large hand surrounding hers. He’d protected her tonight, but she couldn’t help but wonder if this was the beginning of the end. They wouldn’t need much security, with the stalker caught. Would Matt decide to move on? They walked hand in hand down the hallway to meet the police. She was sick about Devan. He’d wasted his life obsessing about her, and now he was going to prison. At the same time, it was a relief to know he wasn’t going to come after her again, and at least for this moment, Matt was by her side.
Chapter Twenty
Christmas Eve snow started falling in huge clumps. Mikayla marveled at the winter wonderland outside her window that morning, and the feeling of peace and safety that was in their home. Her dad was supposed to fly in—hopefully, the snow wouldn’t keep him away. A knock on her door brought her away from the window. At least she’d already showered and put on some makeup. She swung the door open, hoping for Matt. It was the next best thing. Sarah, Brock, and Kyler stood in the hall. “We’re planning fun activities to keep us busy all day so Santa will come quicker,” Kyler explained. “Will you help us?” “Sure.” Mikayla walked out of the room and hugged each of them. “What are we doing first?” “Breakfast,” Brock said. “My dad and Grams are rocking that one for us.” “Grams is here?” Mikayla looked at Sarah. “Matt went and picked her up early this morning. She’s such a sweetie,” Sarah said. Mikayla had to force herself not to tear up with Sarah being such a normal part of the conversation. Devan had been arrested two days ago, and everyone had been busy testifying for the police and making preparations for Christmas. Sarah had been part of all of it. She hadn’t hidden out in her room. She and Mikayla had many long talks the last couple of days, and Sarah was ready to be a part of Kyler’s life again. Mikayla was overjoyed. Kyler looked like he was in heaven, with his best friend spending Christmas with them and his mom back. Chaz had taken a few days off to go skiing. Things hadn’t been the same since he kissed her in the kitchen, but she was hopeful someday they’d return to their comfortable friendship. There was still that niggling worry about when Matt and Brock were going to leave them. Mikayla would keep them there forever if she could, but she knew the kind of man Matt was, and if there wasn’t a job here, he wouldn’t stay for a handout. She wondered if he’d stay if she admitted she’d fallen in love with him. They entered the kitchen to find Grams turning sausages and telling Matt to “fetch her some blasted cinnamon.” As soon as Grams saw Mikayla, she dropped the fork and hurried to her. “There’s our girl. How are you, love?” “Wonderful. Thank you for coming for Christmas.” “First Christmas of my life I haven’t spent in my own home.” “Oh, Grams, I’m sorry. We could all go there.” “Don’t you be sorry.” Grams winked. “About time I tried something different. Even brought my swimming suit to relax in that heated pool Brock’s been telling me about.” She hurried back to the kitchen. “Breakfast is almost ready. You all sit down and talk to me.” They sat on the barstools, enjoying the spicy scents of sausage and cinnamon as Grams cooked and ordered Matt around. Matt caught Mikayla’s eye and smiled or winked a few times, but they didn’t have a
chance to talk. When Grams had cooked enough sausage, Swedish pancakes, hash browns, and eggs to feed a dozen hungry boys, they sat down at the table, prayed, and dug in. Matt sat across from Mikayla, and she felt his eyes on her quite a few times. The conversation was lively as the boys planned out their day. They were going to do everything from a snowball fight to swimming in the pool to baking cookies for Santa. Mikayla didn’t know if she’d ever been this excited for Christmas Eve. “Did you tell everyone the big news?” Grams asked Matt. Matt shifted in his seat. He glanced at Mikayla, then focused on his orange juice. “Not yet.” Grams beamed proudly. “The University of Utah offered Matt a teaching position.” Mikayla’s stomach dropped. She felt instant guilt because this was great news for Matt—of course he wanted to work in his field. “He’s going to teach satellite classes so he can do it right from home and only travel once in a while to meet with students. Plus, they’ll pay for him to get his doctorate so he can teach regular classes as soon as he’s done.” Everyone clapped and cheered for Matt, but Mikayla noticed that Brock looked as concerned as she felt. “Are we going to move?” Brock asked. “No,” Matt said, giving him a reassuring smile, but it looked forced to Mikayla. “You can go to the same school and still see Kyler all the time.” Mikayla’s stomach tied up in knots. They were leaving, and only she and Brock seemed to feel the anguish of it. “So we’ll still live here with Mik and Kyler?” Brock ventured, his voice cracking slightly. Matt glanced at Mikayla, looking uncertain what he should say, then concentrated on his son. “Buddy, my job here is done. We’ll move back to Grams’ house for a bit, then we’re going to buy or maybe build a house of our own.” There was a lot of pride in his voice at the idea, even though Mikayla could tell he was treading carefully for her and Brock’s sake. Brock jumped from the table. “I don’t want to leave. I love it here.” He ran for the front entrance. Mikayla leaped to her feet, and ignoring everyone else, ran after the little boy she loved almost as much as she loved his father. She caught him a few steps up the grand staircase and tackled him from behind. He turned and threw his arms around her neck. “I don’t want to leave you, Mik. I don’t want to leave Ky!” “I know.” Mikayla rocked him softly as tears streamed down her face. “I don’t want you to leave us either, but sometimes life changes.” “But why does my life always change?” Brock’s voice broke as he glanced up at her, his dark eyes searching hers as if she had the answers. Large arms wrapped around both of them. Mikayla burrowed into the warmth and strength of Matt and just savored it, even though she knew she couldn’t hold on to either of them. What right did she have to tell him not to take his dream job? Not to go and buy a house and live happily ever after with his son?
“Do we have to go, Dad?” Brock whispered. “We can’t really stay if I’m not working here,” Matt said. Mikayla begged him with her eyes to at least talk to her about it. At least give her a chance to make this work. “Yeah-huh. We can just be their guests,” Brock insisted. Permanent guests, Mikayla thought. Matt released them from the bear hug and took Brock’s shoulders between his hands. “Brock, I’m sorry I was gone so much with the Army and you’ve had to move around a lot. But I’m here now, and I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to make things good. Even if we can’t live here, we’re still going to see Mik and Kyler all the time. They’re our friends. We’re not going to cut them out of our lives.” Just our friends? Mikayla wanted to ask. “But it won’t be the same,” Brock said. “No, but we’ll make it work. Can you at least try?” Brock paused for several moments, his mouth twisting. He looked from Mikayla to Matt, then finally muttered, “Okay.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I’m gonna go help Grams clean up breakfast and start on our Christmas Eve list.” He sighed heavily. “Don’t worry, Mik. I’ll keep smiling and make it a rocking fun day for Kyler.” Mik couldn’t stop the tears that kept running down her face. “I know you will, ’cause you’re the best.” He smiled and walked away from them. “Poor kid,” Mikayla whispered. Matt turned to her as they still sat on the stairs. “Poor kid? What about his dad?” “Poor kid’s dad, ditching all of us for his dream job,” she whispered. She wanted to be strong but was about ready to latch onto his knees and beg him not to leave. Matt shook his head and stood. He reached down for her and gently pulled her to her feet. She stood one step above him so they were on eye level, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. “I didn’t want you or Brock to find out this way. I wanted to talk to you both alone.” Mikayla’s hands rested on his shoulders. “Couldn’t you … stay and be my security guy part time? You could do your university work from here. We have the fastest Internet access around.” She tried to smile, but knew it came out flat. “I would love to stay, Mik.” He gave her a soft kiss. “But we both know you’ll only need minimum security now. A few guards to trade off monitoring the property. I need to do this, be successful in my own career.” “I don’t want to take that from you, but I can’t stand the thought of you and Brock not being here.” “The only way I can stay here now is if you’ll agree to marry me.”
Mikayla jerked back. “Is that an option?” Matt chuckled, but then sobered quickly. “Mikayla, I rushed into my first marriage, and it didn’t work out so well.” Her heart dropped. He needed to take things slow. He’d made poor choices and been hurt and rejected. She could understand that, but she didn’t know if she could stand waiting. “But being around you the past month . . .” He shook his head. “You’re everything I’ve always wanted. But I don’t want to rush you into anything. How about we date for a few months, and I get a chance to meet your dad before I pop the question?” She looked into his eyes, and hoped that she was reading his feelings correctly. “Nope. How about you meet my dad today? We can have a week-long engagement, and on New Year’s Eve, we’ll fly somewhere warm and elope. My dad and Sarah will take great care of the boys while we go on our honeymoon.” She couldn’t believe how bossy she was being, but she wasn’t going to let this man or his son out of her life. She’d heard people say that they knew when it was right. She’d known that from almost the first moment she met Matt and Brock. “Wow.” Matt’s eyebrows shot up. “And here I thought you weren’t some domineering rich woman.” He kissed her softly. “I like everything about your plan.” “You just like me.” “Actually, I love you.” His kisses deepened in intensity, and Mikayla simply held on as he lit up her world with the joy of being loved. The front door opened and closed, but they ignored it. A throat cleared loudly. “Not quite the greeting I was expecting.” Mikayla pulled away. “Dad?” She and Matt turned, but he kept an arm around her as they started down the steps. She was grateful for that arm when she saw who was standing next to her dad. “Greg?” She broke from Matt and threw her arms around Greg’s neck, and then her dad’s. “Greg? But how?” “First, introduce me to your young man,” her dad said. “First, I want my wife and son,” Greg interrupted, smiling. “Where are they?” A gasp came from the living room entrance. Sarah stood there, eyes wide with disbelief. Then she sprang into action, sprinting across the distance to her husband and throwing herself into his arms. Greg lifted her off the ground, holding her close and then kissing her over and over again. Mikayla thought she should probably look away, but couldn’t do it. She brushed at the tears and leaned into Matt’s embrace. Her dad beamed at Greg and Sarah. “Where have you been?” Sarah asked, capturing his face between her hands. “I was kidnapped. I would never have left you willingly.” Then he was kissing her again, and it looked like a more thorough explanation was going to have to wait. Kyler, Brock, and Grams rounded the corner next. Kyler looked from his mom to his dad like he
wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing. “Daddy?” he whispered. Greg and Sarah turned together. Greg opened his arms. “Ky.” Kyler gave a little whimper, then ran straight for them. Greg picked him up off the ground, swinging him around and squeezing him tight. “Oh, Ky, my boy. You’re so big!” The little family continued their hugging and exclamations as everyone looked on and wiped their eyes. Grams gave Mikayla a big smile and a little wave, and then put an arm around Brock’s shoulder and directed him back to the kitchen. Surprisingly, Brock didn’t protest. Mikayla hoped this wouldn’t be hard on him—his best friend’s dad returning, and now getting a new mom. Matt squeezed her shoulder, and she looked up at him. Her stomach did a happy leap. She was going to be Brock’s mom. She was going to marry Matt. Hallelujah—and holy crap! Was she insane? Matt smiled down at her and she knew she was insane, but in the best possible way. “So, how about that introduction?” her dad said. “I’d like one, too,” Greg said, directing his little family closer to them on the stairs. Sarah stared up at her husband. She wiped at her eyes and said, “This is Matt Degan. He’s Mik’s bodyguard, and he’s done an amazing job of protecting her.” “Looked like a little more than protection when we walked in,” her dad muttered. Matt stuck out his hand. “Sir, I’m Matt Degan. I’m Mikayla’s fiancé.” “What?” her dad and Sarah exclaimed. “When did this happen?” her dad asked, loosely shaking Matt’s hand like he was on autopilot. “I asked him about two minutes ago,” Mikayla informed them. “You asked him?” Greg said. Matt laughed. “I know it’s hard to believe.” He focused on her dad. “Sir, I wanted to ask your permission, but she just sprang this on me.” Her dad’s face softened. “I know how she can be when she sets her sights on something.” “Like I’m such a domineering woman,” Mikayla exclaimed as everyone laughed. “Remember when she decided she was going to make the high school basketball team, and she’d never played before?” Sarah said. “She practiced every spare minute, and started every game that season.” Her dad smiled proudly at her. He gave Matt a firmer handshake. “I’m Neil. It’s nice to meet my future son-in-law. When’s the big day?” “New Year’s Eve,” Mikayla said. That brought another outburst of exclamations. “And we’re eloping.” “That’s a smart decision,” Greg said to Matt. “The wedding is miserable for the groom.”
“It was her decision,” Matt said. He kissed her in front of everyone. “We can do the huge wedding and tux, if that’s what you want.” “No. I just want you.” “Not as much as I want you,” he whispered, kissing her again. Mikayla couldn’t stop smiling, but was ready to stop being the focus, especially when she and Matt hadn’t really had time to work out all the details. “I’d like to hear where in the world you’ve been, Greg, and how you came back to us.” “Me, too,” Sarah said, squeezing her husband’s waist. Greg kissed her forehead and held her against him for a second, then bent down to Kyler. “Ky, I heard you have a new friend.” “Brock. He’s awesome, Dad.” “I can’t wait to meet him. Would you go make me some hot cocoa with your friend, and we’ll be right there?” “Sure, Dad.” Kyler ran off, his step so light and his face so happy, Mikayla almost started crying again. “I’ve been in Guatemala. I was doing some research in Honduras, and a drug cartel from Guatemala kidnapped me. I’ve been working with other botanists to develop different strains of cocaine and heroin.” He grimaced and tightened his grip on Sarah. “Smaller plants, and more effective when they’re ground into powder. The shipping is cheaper, and people become addicted more quickly.” “Wow.” Mikayla rocked back on her heels. Obviously, it had been rougher than Greg was willing to tell them. His cheeks were gaunt, and there were scars all over his hands and face that hadn’t been there before. “Greg is a biochemist with additional degrees in toxicology and botany,” she told Matt. Matt nodded, but didn’t seem as shocked as she felt by her brother-in-law’s story. “So, how did you escape?” “I’ll let your dad tell you that one. All I know is that a few weeks ago, the boss came and yanked me from my station, and then some private investigator brought me to your dad’s plane.” Neil gave them a grim smile. “I’ve been paying investigators the past four years trying to find him, searching Honduras and all the bordering countries.” Mikayla and Sarah both nodded. They knew their dad wouldn’t give up hope, especially for Sarah and Kyler’s sake. “A little over a month ago, one of my investigators finally got a lucky break and found Greg. Then it was just a matter of paying off the right people. Luckily, Greg had finished the experiments he was in charge of and they’d been successful, or I don’t think any amount of money would’ve secured his freedom.” “What about the other people you worked with?” Sarah asked. Greg’s lips were set in a grim line. “The DEA is using the information I gave them to try to
infiltrate the organization and set them free. We’re hopeful.” But his face didn’t look very hopeful. Neil took a long breath, then forced a smile. “The government has been quizzing me and Greg for the past few weeks. Luckily, they let us come for Christmas.” Sarah smiled too. “This is the best Christmas present you’ve ever given me, Dad.” She broke away from her husband’s arms long enough to give her dad a hug. “Are you hungry? Grams made a lot of breakfast.” “Sure.” Greg’s smile was genuine. “Who’s Grams?” “My grandmother,” Matt said. “I can’t wait to meet her and your son,” Neil said. They walked into the kitchen, and Grams was thrilled to meet everyone, share in the happy news of Greg’s return, and of course feed Greg and Neil. Mikayla noticed that Brock was being unusually quiet and playing with his second plate of breakfast instead of consuming it like he normally would. “I’m going to talk with Brock,” Mikayla whispered in Matt’s ear. “Can I tell him our news?” “Can I be there?” Matt asked. “Sure. Brock.” Mikayla lifted her voice. “Can you come with us for a second?” He nodded, and the rest of the family watched as they walked into the dining room. Mikayla pulled out a chair for Brock, then next to him. Matt stood behind her. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Yeah.” Brock nodded forcefully. “It’s so cool that Ky got his dad back.” “It is.” Mikayla squeezed his hands. “But you’re feeling a little left out?” “No. I’m good. I’m happy.” He smiled at Matt. “I’ve got my dad.” “You do have an awesome dad.” Mikayla took a deep breath, hopeful that Brock would be happy about their news. “What would you think if I married your dad and became your mom?” Brock’s eyes got wide, and his grin split his face. Before Mikayla could react, he’d flung himself at her and hugged her tightly around the neck. “Yes, yes, yes!” he yelled. “I’d be the luckiest kid in the world!” Matt hugged them both and laughed. “Yes, you would.” “Can I go tell Ky and Grams?” “Sure,” Matt said. Brock squeezed Mikayla again. “Thanks, Mik. I mean, Mom.” “You can still call me Mik if you want.” “No. I want you to be my mom.” He nodded and licked his lips. “I love you.” “I love you, too.” Mikayla didn’t even care that her voice broke with emotion.
Brock grinned and dodged out of the room, singing, “Oh, I’m getting the nicest mo-om for Christmas.” Matt watched him, shaking his head and smiling. “I think he took the news well.” Mikayla stood and turned into his embrace. “Did you expect any different with that kid? Oh, come on—be faithful.” He laughed and then gave her a slow, lingering kiss. “I knew he’d be happy because he’s the luckiest kid in the world.” Mikayla pushed at his chest. “Stop. I’m the lucky one.” “No, I’m definitely the luckiest one.” He kissed her again and moaned softly. “This week-long engagement is going to kill me. You sure we don’t want to elope the day after Christmas?” “Ha. I think we’re moving fast enough.” “Patience isn’t something I’ve ever been good at.” “Well, then let’s concentrate on something you are good at.” “Fighting? Security? Psychology?” “No.” Mikayla grinned and framed his ruggedly handsome face with her hands. “Kissing.” “Nice.” He nodded and moved in, but stopped a breath away. “I love you, Mik. Merry Christmas.” He didn’t give her time to say it back, but she was pretty sure he knew from the way she responded to his each and every kiss.
Chapter Twenty-one
Matt and Mikayla returned from their wedding and honeymoon on Grand Cayman. It was perfect, and being married to Matt was better than she could ever have imagined. She did feel a little guilty about leaving their family out of it, but as they waited in the airport in Atlanta, they’d booked a cruise for the entire family for spring break. When they walked in the door Saturday, January ninth, the house was decorated with balloons and streamers. Hand-written signs that were obviously done by Kyler and Brock hung from the banisters and railings. “Happy wedding!” “Congratulations!” “We love you!” “Welcome home!” “This is a great welcome home,” Mikayla said. Matt hugged her against his side. “If we had to leave paradise and come back to reality, this was a good way to do it.” “As long as I’m with you, everywhere is paradise.” Matt winked. “Don’t I know it.” Brock and Kyler tore into the entryway, screaming their hellos and hugging them again and again. Grams, Dad, Greg, Sarah, and Chaz followed at a more leisurely pace and shared in the round of hugs. Mikayla was relieved that Chaz was acting like his normal, chill self. Hopefully they could still work together and be good friends. They went back to the kitchen to enjoy a meal of roast, potatoes, freezer corn from Grams’ garden, and homemade rolls. Grams had prepared everything, and after a week of eating out, Mikayla savored every bite. “Well, do you want the bad news, the really bad news, or the really, really bad news?” Brock asked. “None of the above,” Mikayla said. “Sorry, Mom, you have to hear it sometime.” Brock sighed dramatically. “Okay.” Mikayla grabbed his hand and closed her eyes. “Tell it to me quick and catch me if I pass out.” She loved him calling her “Mom.” Matt chuckled. Brock rolled his eyes at them. “This is serious stuff.” “Okay, sorry.” Mikayla held on to his hand though, savoring the feel of his tough little hand in hers. “So, the first bad news,” Brock said. “Grams is going home to her house.” “Sorry, kiddo. I told you I was going to live there until I die,” Grams said. “I know, Grams, but you gotta let me be sad about it.” “I’m sure we can visit each other,” she said.
“That’s why you’re the first bad news, Grams, because it’s not quite as bad as the others.” Everyone had to laugh at that. “Okay, second bad news, and it’s really bad. Papa is going back to California in a few weeks, but he promises he’ll fly me down there to learn to surf and he’ll come visit all the time ’cause he likes his new grandson.” He smiled at Neil. Mikayla’s heart swelled. Those two had hit it off immediately, and it looked like their bond had just grown over the past week. “And the worst bad news is really, really bad. Kyler, Greg, and Sarah are moving back to California too, and they get to live by Papa and they promised we’d see each other all the time too, but you know it’s not going to be the same.” Mikayla agreed that it wasn’t going to be the same, but she’d expected something like this. Greg would want to get back to work at his research facility, and they needed to have their own home and family time. Kyler jumped from his chair and came to hug Brock. “It’ll be okay, bro. We’re cousins now, so nothing’s going to separate us.” He looked so sad, Mikayla just had to hug them both. “Well, I have some good news,” Matt said. He looked at Mikayla, and she nodded. “We booked a Caribbean cruise for spring break for everyone.” “Yes!” Brock and Kyler broke from the sad hug and jumped around in jubilation. When everyone had finally settled down to eating again, Mikayla nudged Brock. “Are you going to be okay with it just being us?” “Yeah. I’m going to miss everybody, especially Ky, but life’s like that, and you, me, and Dad will have a lot of fun together, right?” “For sure. I’ve never had as much fun with anybody as I do with you and your dad.” She caught Matt’s eye over their son’s head and grinned as he gave her a sly wink. “But you two can’t be kissing all the time ’cause that’s just gross.” Brock stuck out his tongue. “Sorry, bud,” Matt said, reaching over and giving her a lingering kiss. “No!” Brock yelled. “You’re going to have to get used to it,” Matt told him. Chaz pushed some food around on his plate, but then leaned back and gave Mikayla half a smile. “My parents do it all the time too,” Kyler commiserated. “Fine.” Brock folded his arms across his chest. “Can you at least try not to do it when I’m in the room?” “That’ll be tough,” Mikayla said. “I love your dad, and when you see us kissing, you’ll know how much we love each other.” Brock pursed his lips. “So it’s all part of this being a happy family stuff.”
“Exactly part of it,” Mikayla said. “I’ll be kissing you, too.” Brock looked horrified. “Is that what moms do?” “Yeah,” Kyler said. “But not on the lips. On the cheek and forehead and stuff.” Brock relaxed. “Okay. Whew. Dodged a bullet there, eh? I think I can handle the cheek.” He nodded. “We’re going to be a happy family so I’ll tolerate this kissing stuff.” They were definitely going to be a happy family, and the kissing stuff was Mikayla’s favorite part. Matt leaned in and kissed her again while Brock groaned and the other adults laughed. Yes, definitely her favorite.
If you enjoyed this Christmas romance, be sure to look for the others in the Countdown to Christmas series. Find them HERE
Additional Works by Cami Checketts
Sweet Romance
Tenderness and Terror Series (Clean Romantic Thriller)
Clean Romantic Suspense Shadows in the Curtain The Colony Poison Me Fourth of July
Run Series (Clean Romantic Comedy) Dead Running Dying to Run
About the Author
Cami is a part-time author, part-time exercise consultant, part-time housekeeper, full-time wife, and overtime mother of four adorable boys. Sleep and relaxation are fond memories. She’s never been happier.
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www.camichecketts.com
A Christmas Worth Billions Countdown to Christmas
by Jaclyn Weist Trifecta Books
Book design and layout copyright © 2015 by Trifecta Books Cover design copyright © 2015 by Jenni James
This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Copyright© 2015 by Tristi Pinkston
Table of Contents Chapter One
Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Author Bio
A Christmas Worth Billions By Jaclyn Weist
Dedication For those who need a little help finding the spirit of Christmas
Acknowledgments
Christmas has always been my favorite time of year (although Halloween is a very close second), and I especially love the stories and the movies that come along with the season. You’ll find me watching sappy Christmas romances any time of the year, and I’m always excited when Netflix puts up their new shows. This is the first time I actually tried a synopsis for the story beforehand, and I’m so thankful I did. It was my second attempt at writing romance, and this was a story I wanted to get just right. I want to thank Tristi Pinkston and Trifecta Books for giving me the chance to be a part of their Countdown to Christmas. I also want to thank Tristi for being such an awesome editor. Thank you to my mom for continuing to be my biggest cheerleader. It means the world to me! My family is my rock, and they’ve been so good to let me write when I need to get the story out of me. Thank you. And most of all, thank you to my readers. You’re the best!
Chapter 1
It was the Christmas season again, and David wanted to forget the whole thing. It reminded him of how much his wife loved everything about the holiday. This would be his first Christmas without her, and it nearly crushed him. The alarm woke him that morning with a jolly Christmas song, and he fumbled for the clock to shut it off. He rolled over and rubbed his face before climbing out of bed. It had been another night full of bad dreams, and he wanted to wipe them out of his mind before heading off to work for the day. David pulled on his sweats, scarf, and running shoes and went out for a jog. The cold air always cleared his head, even if his lungs were burning by the time he was done. He passed the old church and waved at the pastor as he continued on the trail. Moving away from the city had been good for him. Close enough to work, but far enough away that he could make a new life for himself. The diner was busy as he passed by, and he waved at his neighbors. They always invited him for dinner, but he’d managed to escape so far. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get to know them. He was just hesitant to make new friends in case they asked questions. When David returned home, he turned on the kettle, and headed to his bathroom for a hot, steamy shower. The water helped thaw him out and finished wiping away the cobwebs of the night before. The light blinked on his answering machine, so he pushed the button and listened while he poured himself some hot chocolate. “Hey, David. It’s Peter. The shareholders are getting antsy. I sure hope you’re planning to come in today for the meeting.” David shook his head and walked back into his bedroom. He’d forgotten about the meeting, but the threat of losing the company he’d worked so hard to build was enough to get him out of the house and back to the office, a place he’d rarely gone in the last several months. He changed into his suit and straightened his tie. He could do this. The phone rang again, and David let it go to the answering machine. “Hey, David. I haven’t seen you at church for a few weeks. I was hoping to meet with you tonight. Have a great day.” It had actually been a few months, but David figured he wouldn’t correct Reverend Smith. At least that meant he had plans that night. He sent a text back on his cell phone and finished off his hot chocolate. David grabbed his briefcase and headed toward his old Chevy pickup. It took a few tries to get it started up because of the bitter cold. He should have just taken his Mercedes, but it was too conspicuous in this small town. Once the truck was warmed up enough, he pulled out of the driveway and onto the street. He’d chosen the truck because it was the make and model he’d wanted in high school. The trip into the city was slow because of the ice on the ground, but David found himself looking forward to being at work again. He’d heard about some of the changes Peter had made, and he was anxious to see them in action. An hour later, David pulled into the parking garage. He chuckled at the look on the security guard’s face when he drove up. “Hey, Dan. How’s it going?” David asked. “Never been better. Wow, man. Nice truck.” Dan laughed. “I didn’t realize work was going that poorly.” “This was by choice. See you later.” David pulled forward and parked in his spot. He paused for a moment before grabbing his briefcase and headed upstairs to his office. His heart beat rapidly as he rode the elevator up to the fifteenth floor. He wasn't sure how people would react after he'd been gone for so long. And if any of them brought up his wife ... he didn't think he could handle it.
His employees greeted him with surprise as he walked past them to his desk. The spacious office welcomed him back. He’d spent countless nights here in meetings and on phone calls ever since he’d taken over the company, so many nights that he should have spent with his wife. There was a knock at the door, and Peter poked his head in. “Oh, there you are. I was worried I’d have to tell the shareholders you were gone. Again.” “Sorry. It was icy out there, or I would have been here sooner.” David leaned back in his chair and played with a pen from his desk. “Is everyone here?” “Yes, they’re in the conference room.” Peter paused. “Listen, you’ve been gone long enough …” “I’ll have you do the talking.” David stood and straightened his suit coat. He probably hadn’t needed to wear it, but his dad had taught him to always look his best. It was an old habit. The look of relief on Peter’s face was almost comical. “Great. I’ll turn things over to you once I’m done.” “Perfect.” Peter opened the door farther so David could leave the room. “It’s good to have you back, David. We’ve needed you.” David didn’t say anything as he followed Peter toward the conference room. It irked him not to be in control, but he had to admit, it made sense. He’d been gone too long. He was stopped a few times on the way to answer questions or just so people could say hello. The conference room was full when they walked in. David took a seat near the front, and Peter continued standing. Murmurs went through the room before quieting down. “Welcome to our shareholders. Let’s get started now.” Peter turned to the PowerPoint.
* * *
The meeting had taken the entire morning, but it seemed that everyone was happy as they left. “You did great, Peter. I can see I left my company in good hands.” David walked out of the conference room with Peter following behind. “Thank you. I must say I’m glad you’re here. I can go back to my old job of keeping the press away.” Peter stopped to sign for a package and then hurried to catch up. David laughed. “If you insist. I’m sure I could find you a corner office somewhere, if you’d prefer. You deserve it.” Peter stopped, his jaw dropped. “What?” “Unless you like that tiny office next to mine. Seriously, you’ve earned it.” David walked into his office and flipped through the charts on his desk. “We have an empty office, right?” Peter leaned against the wall. “You used them all up before you left, remember? You got the new account and gave them all promotions.” “Oh. Right. Sorry.” David sat down and pulled out his laptop. “What if we rented out the floor below us? We could send them downstairs so you could take their office.” Peter laughed. “It’s taken. I’m fine where I am. Anyway, I’m off to lunch. Are you coming?” “No, I think I’ll stay here. I want to look at the numbers from the meeting. Bring me something back?” “Of course.” Peter left, and David picked up the folder Peter had left on his desk. The numbers that had been quoted were much higher than David had expected. Clearly, they hadn’t missed him much, no matter how many times they said otherwise. He had a few things he wanted to change, but otherwise, he was thrilled. Peter was definitely in need of a raise after everything he’d done in David’s absence. By the time Peter got back from lunch, David had approved raises for several of his top employees, and a bonus for Peter as well. It just had to be sent through HR, and he’d announce it the week before
Christmas at their annual party. A party he’d told himself he would skip—until now. Peter set a bag of Chinese food on David’s desk. “Here’s your lunch. I’d stay and chat, but I have a few things that need to get done.” “That’s fine. I have a few things to do as well.” David pulled out the contents of the bag and arranged them on the desk. “All right. And David? I’m glad you’re back. Sorry for everything that happened.” Peter walked to the door, oblivious to the pain that hit David in the stomach. David sighed. “Thanks.”
* * *
It was later than David would have liked when he finally left the office. He shivered as he made his way out to his truck. The brisk winter weather had only gotten colder while he’d been working. The pickup groaned as it started it up, and lurched as he backed out of the spot. There were few cars still in the garage, like David had hoped. The fewer people he had to run into, the better. He couldn’t handle even the slightest chance of someone bringing up his wife. It wasn’t that Peter had meant to hurt him, but it was still raw. The snow had begun falling again, and David could only see a few feet in front of him as he made his way out of the city. He turned on the radio to keep him alert, but every station played Christmas music. Her favorite. David was grateful to pull into the church parking lot at last. He hoped the meeting wouldn’t go too long so he could get home. This was the longest he’d been out of the house since he’d moved, and he could feel the anxiety creeping up on him. Warmth washed over him as he walked inside the small church. Candles lined the room, and there were no other people sitting in the pews. “Ah, there you are. I was wondering if you would come.” Reverend Smith came forward to shake David’s hand and led him into his office. David sat in the chair across from the pastor. “Sorry about that. The snow didn’t help much.” Reverend Smith laughed. “I can imagine.” “So what did you want to talk to me about?” David shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. “I wanted to see how you are doing. I know you’ve been out and about to go running, but that’s all I’ve seen. Frankly, David, I’m worried about you. Sarah wouldn’t have wanted you to suffer like this.” His eyes were sad. David clenched his fists. The reverend had never even met Sarah, but he’d heard about her not long after David had moved in. He forced himself to calm down, and sighed. “I know. I’m trying.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s hard to get past losing a loved one.” The reverend stared at the desk in front of him. “But if we don’t move on, we’re not allowing ourselves to heal, and that helps no one.” David leaned forward. “You’ve lost someone?” “Yes. I was married once. She was the love of my life. I let her loss get the best of me, and I became very bitter. It wasn’t until I learned that service was the only thing that would help get past the grief that I was able to move on. Now I’m able to serve in a capacity I never thought possible.” “So you want me to become a pastor?” David asked, his eyebrows raised. Reverend Smith laughed. “No. Not unless you want to, but I do think you could find a few ways to serve here.” David studied him for a moment. “What do you mean?” Reverend Smith sat back in his chair. “These old knees of mine won’t allow me to climb the stairs to
the bell tower anymore. I miss the sound, and I would like someone to ring the bells for services every morning. All the instructions are up there, along with several choices of songs. Do you think that’s something you could do?” “Do I have to decide right now?” David asked. He knew the reverend was right, but that meant he’d have to leave his house more often than he had before. “No, just give me an answer on Sunday.” David nodded and stood. “Fair enough. I’ll get back to you.” “Thank you. Merry Christmas, David.” The reverend followed him out of the office. “Merry Christmas.” The words were bitter in his mouth. As he turned away, he bumped into a beautiful woman, knocking the money she’d been holding to the ground. He knelt and picked up the few coins to give back to her. Their eyes met, and he was mesmerized by her green eyes. “I’m so sorry.” Her smile lit up her face, and the dark circles under her eyes were almost unnoticeable. “It’s fine. I should have watched where I was going.” “I was the one who ran into you. Are you okay?” he asked. “Yes, thank you. If you’ll please excuse me, I need to get back to my children.” She moved past David and walked over to Reverend Smith. David heard something about tithes as he walked past two children huddled in the doorway. They stared up at him, and he winked. They smiled back before turning away. The snow made it hard to see as David trudged out to his truck and grabbed a brush so he could clean the windshield. Snow had fallen in the few moments he’d been in the church. Before he climbed into the truck, he stared up at the bell tower that stood tall and proud. It was exposed to the elements, and that didn’t seem too appealing, but … Sarah would have loved the music. David sighed and drove away. Service. It shouldn’t have been such a novel concept to him, but he’d been used to doing everything for money. It was how he’d made his billions. But wasn’t that what Sarah had been arguing about in the car that night? He’d become too consumed by money and forgot the little things. The garage door stuck for a bit before finally opening slowly. David parked the truck and walked inside. He left his snowy shoes next to the door and changed into warm pajamas before climbing into bed. He rolled over, picked up his phone, and typed in a few words.
I’ll ring the bells for you. And thank you for the opportunity.
Chapter Two
Lily woke to the coughs from her oldest, Mary. She climbed out of bed and wrapped her blanket around her shoulders. She’d need to find a way to pay for more gas for the house. It was too cold in here for her children. At least they’d be warm at school the next day. She went into Mary’s room and climbed into bed with her. “It’s okay, sweetie. Come here.” She brushed Mary’s hair away from her face. “It’s nearly morning.” “I’m cold, Mommy.” Mary snuggled in closer. “I know.” Lily kissed the top of Mary’s head. “Just sleep. We’ll find a way to warm our house, okay? I’ll make this better. Christmas is coming, so people will be out shopping and they'll need a place to eat.” Mary nodded, and soon, her breathing slowed. She coughed again, but didn’t stir. Lily stared off into the dark, remembering how it had been before. She’d been able to afford whatever Mary and Patrick had wanted, but then things at the diner had gone downhill. Now all of the money was put into paying off store expenses, leaving her nothing to pay bills at home. If they could just get past this cold spell, it wouldn’t be so bad. Lily pushed the thought away that it wasn’t even Christmas yet. It’d be a long time before winter was over, and so far, it had been harsh. If it kept going, they’d have to go to the church to ask for help. It was something that Lily wanted to avoid. She wanted to show she could do this on her own. Her mind drifted back to the man she’d met in the church. She’d seen him jogging past her home a few times, but had never seen him in church. He was handsome, and from the clothes he wore, the rumors were probably true that he was a billionaire. Far beyond her league.
* * *
“Bye! I’ll see you two after school.” Lily smiled and waved as Mary and Patrick ran into the building. They waved back before disappearing inside. Lily made her way to the family diner and smiled at her customers as she walked to the office to grab her apron. Lily's best friend, Ann, looked up from the note she was writing. “Oh, there you are, Lily. A few bill collectors have called, and I didn’t know what to say. ” “I was hoping they’d give us until after Christmas.” Lily sighed. This diner had been her grandma’s, and Lily had done everything she could to keep it open. “Well, if business keeps going like today, you should be able to pay a few of those bills. Could you help out before you call them back? Spencer called in sick, and Cindy hasn’t shown up yet,” Ann said. “Of course.” Lily grabbed her paper and pen and headed toward the first table. “Welcome to Nelly’s Diner. May I take your order?” The family rattled off what they wanted, and Lily did her best to keep up. When she read it back, they had to make a few corrections. She loved the diner, but she preferred to stay behind the scenes, making the food. She passed the order on to the cook and made her way to the next table, where a young couple sat. They ordered eggs and toast, and complimented her on the decorations. The same Christmas decorations that had been used when her grandma owned the place. She didn’t have the heart to switch them out. The bell over the door rang, and the man from the church the night before came in. Lily’s heart fluttered, and she considered hiding in the back, but she took a deep breath and walked over to the counter. “Hi. What can I do for you?” “Hey, how’s it going? I didn’t know you work here.” He smiled. “I own the diner, but I’m usually in the back.” She wanted to check her hair to make sure it wasn’t a
mess, but she kept her hands on the counter. He was just another customer. Another customer who was extremely good-looking. He sat on the barstool. “Ah. I guess that makes sense. Can I get a coffee and some toast?” “White or wheat?” She wrote down “coffee” in the notebook. “Surprise me.” He rubbed his hands together. Lily smiled and went to the kitchen to fill the order. She prepared the pieces of toast and poured his coffee before heading back to the counter. “Here you go.” He laughed. “One white and one wheat. Clever.” “Thank you.” She nodded and moved on to the next set of customers. She couldn’t help noticing that he kept glancing over at her, and she felt her face redden. When he was finished, she walked over and picked up the cash he’d left to pay for his food. Her stomach dropped when she saw the hundred-dollar bill wrapped up in the smaller bills. She looked around to find him, but he’d already left. On the receipt, he’d written,
Buy something for those beautiful children of yours.
~ David
Lily’s eyes filled with tears as she rolled the money up and shoved it in her pocket, and put the rest into the register. She wanted to give it back, but Mary and Patrick needed coats. She closed her eyes and said a quick prayer of thanks before moving on to the next customer. She’d pay David back. Someday. “Are you okay?” the older lady asked. “I’m fine, thank you. Are you ready to order?” Lily got her paper and pen ready. The woman pointed at the pancakes. “I’ll have that, and some extra bacon.” Her husband closed the menu and handed it to Lily. “I’ll have the special with some orange juice.” “Great. I’ll have that right out to you.” She smiled and turned to walk away. “Was it that David character? What did he say?” the woman asked. Lily looked back at her in surprise. “You know him?” The woman nodded. “He lives next door to us. Never says much, and doesn’t get out. I’ve heard he hasn’t been the same since his wife died.” “His wife died?” Lily asked, frowning. How awful for him. “Just recently. That’s why he moved here.” “Edith, that’s enough. You don’t need to be telling that poor man’s life story.” The old man shook his head. “Don’t mind her. She gets bored sitting inside all day.” “It’s okay. I’ll place your order.” Lily smiled to herself as she walked back to the kitchen. She leaned against the wall to get her bearings. Too many things had happened in the last few minutes, and she hadn’t been able to process it. She walked over to Ann and pulled out the hundred-dollar bill. “Look at what one of the customers left me.” She held out the money and the note from David. Ann read it, eyes wide. “I’m thinking the splitting of tips doesn’t count here, right?” Lily bit her lip. “Are you sure? It’s a lot of money.” “You must have made quite an impression on him. He didn't take his eyes off you.” Ann smiled. “And he’s cute.” Lily took a pot of coffee to refill the mugs. Was she the only one in the whole town who didn’t know anything about David? She went back to her office and called the collectors to set up payments. They would be willing to wait until after Christmas, but she wondered if she’d even be able to pay then. She went to find Ann, putting on her coat. “Hey, I need to get my kids. I’ll be back later.” Ann waved and went back to taking orders. Lily clocked out and hurried down the street to the small department store. She couldn’t wait to see
her children’s faces when they saw their new clothes. Usually, they had to wear what clothing she could find, and it was always too small or too big for them. Poor Mary had grown so much in the last month, nothing fit anymore. The choice of clothing was almost overwhelming as she tried to guess what sizes they should be wearing. Maybe it would have been better to bring them. She started for the door, deciding to come back later. “Excuse me? Can I help you?” a woman asked. She obviously worked there, by the name tag and polo shirt she was wearing. Lily hesitated. She wanted to run, but the woman’s smile was kind. “I need coats for my kids, but I don’t know their sizes. I’ll just come back.” “I can help you. How old are they?” the lady asked, walking toward the children’s section. “My daughter is nine, and my son is seven. They’re both small for their age, but my daughter is going through a growth spurt.” Lily watched as the woman riffled through the racks. “I’m guessing they’re around these sizes. Do you see one you like?” The woman held up a few. Lily checked the thickness of the coats, along with the prices. “These two look good. Thank you.” Lily clung to the coats and picked up two thick pairs of gloves. The woman smiled. “You’re welcome. Is there anything else you need? How about a coat for you as well?” Lily could feel her face redden as she shook her head. “I’m fine. I only have enough to get things for my kids.” The woman frowned. “It’s cold out there. You really should get a warmer coat.” “I’m fine. Really. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get a few other things.” Lily tried to push down the anger and embarrassment, but it was hard. Of course she needed a new coat, but her kids needed these things even more. She grabbed a few pairs of pants from off the display table and hurried to the counter to pay for everything, avoiding the sales lady who had helped her. There was just enough left for some firewood and a few groceries, but Lily would have to wait until later to buy them. Her arms were full, and it was time for her to pick up the kids from school. She jogged the last two blocks, hoping the exercise would help boost her body heat. It seemed like the temperature had dropped a few more degrees while she’d been in the store. She coughed and groaned. The last thing she needed right then was to catch her children’s cold. The school bell rang, and the door opened to let the students pour out onto the lawn. Mary and Patrick followed behind everyone else, but started running when they saw their mom. “Hi, Mom! School was fun today. We got to … what’s that?” Patrick pointed at the bags in Lily’s hands. Lily knelt and set the bags on the ground. She'd been planning to wait until they got home, but with how cold it was, they needed the coats now. “Here you go.” Mary’s eyes brightened when she saw the thick purple coat. “Wow. These are for us?” “Yes. And I have enough for food and wood for a fire tonight.” Lily held out the gloves for each of them, and then shoved the empty bag into her pocket. Patrick put his coat on, followed by his gloves. “I feel so warm. Thanks, Mom.” “You’re welcome.” Lily stood. “Let’s go get some groceries.” The grocery store was decorated with festive streamers and trees, and Christmas music played over the speaker. Lily went through the ad to find the sales before carefully choosing what they could buy. The kids looked hopefully at the candy aisle as they passed, and Lily’s heart hurt when she saw their smiles drop as they realized they wouldn’t get any. “Hey, we have oranges and some eggs for breakfast tomorrow. That’s good, right?” Lily paid for the groceries along with the firewood.
Patrick and Mary took the two bags of groceries so Lily could carry the wood. She put the bag of clothes in Mary’s bag before they left the store. They went to the diner, and Lily had Patrick and Mary sit down in a booth while she went back to pick up their dinners. She’d bring the kids to eat when she needed to close up, and Ann was busy with a Christmas party that night. Her kids did their homework and ate while Lily worked. The crowd was smaller than it had been earlier, but still busier than usual. Families and couples out in their nice clothes, most likely shopping or going to a party. Lily went back to finish up the dishes, as it was nearing closing time. She turned off all the lights and made sure they had everything before heading out into the cold. Their trip home was slow because of the weight of their bags and the wood, and Lily could barely feel her fingers by the time they walked in the door. The kids went through the bags and ran to their rooms to try on their new clothes. Lily started a fire before putting away the groceries—she wanted the house to warm up before bedtime. “They fit, Mom! Look.” Mary turned in circles, her smile lighting up her face. “They look like the pants my friends wear. Thank you.” “You look beautiful. I’m glad they fit.” Lily stood and hugged her daughter. “Go grab your pillows and blankets. We’ll have a campout in the living room tonight so we can stay warm.” “Yay!” Mary ran back to her room and told Patrick what they were doing. Lily took the blankets off her bed and laid them on the floor, then helped Patrick and Mary lay out theirs. She was the farthest from the fire, but she wanted to make sure they were warm. Mary was coughing more, and she’d heard Patrick sniffling as well. She put on an extra sweater before snuggling into the blankets, feeling warmer than she had for days.
Chapter 3
David leaned back in his chair and stretched. The plans for the work Christmas party had all been approved, and he had also finished signing the letters from HR, letting Peter and several other employees know that they’d be getting a pay raise and an extra bonus. Silver Script Ad Agency was doing better than he’d hoped, thanks to a few jewelry ads that had been put together by one of his up-and-coming agents. He wished he’d been the brilliant one to have hired her, but that had been Debra’s idea. Both of them would be getting bonuses, along with Peter. It was late when David walked down to his pickup. He’d wanted to stop by the diner again that night, but it would be closed by the time he got home. He stopped at a drive-thru and grabbed a burger instead. Seeing Lily that morning had been a shock, since he’d eaten there a few times and hadn’t run into her. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing to drop the hundred-dollar bill with his check, but he’d seen the ragged coats her children had worn the night before, and he wanted to be able to help in some way. What good was money if you couldn’t share with others? It was something Sarah had asked many times, but David had laughed until now. David pulled into his garage and closed it before heading inside. He got ready for bed and climbed under the covers with his laptop so he could get a few more things done. He would start ringing the church bells the next morning, which meant he’d get to work a little later than he had the last couple of days. A few of the ads needed to be reworked, and he wanted it done just right. David stopped tweaking one of the clothing ads and climbed out of bed to turn up the thermostat. He stared out the window at the falling snow, knowing how much Sarah had loved watching it. Maybe she was the one who'd urged to him to leave his work and glance outside. Flashbacks of that last snowstorm in March went through his mind. The ice on the road, the tree coming at them, his wife’s screams … He jerked out of his memory and tucked it back into a safe place in his mind, wiping away a tear. He climbed back in bed and pushed his work aside. That could wait until tomorrow. The window was just visible from his bed, and he watched the snow until he drifted off to sleep.
* * * The morning was crisp and cool. The snow had stopped sometime during the night, leaving everything bright and new. David found himself whistling as he made his way to the church. Reverend Smith stood just inside, and smiled when he saw David. “Ah, you came. Thank you. Come through this way.” He led David to the tower. “It’s just up there. Most churches have the ropes coming down to the lower level, but this church wasn’t built that way. Take the stairs, and the notes on how to ring the bells are in a frame next to the ropes.” David glanced at the old rickety stairs and nodded. “Got it.” “Are you coming to the service?” Reverend Smith asked. David shook his head. “Not this time. Maybe tomorrow.” He climbed up the stairs and tried to ignore the creaks and groans with each step. He’d need to repair the wood if he was going to do this every day. The instructions for ringing the bells were posted just like the reverend had said, and David did as he was asked. When he was done, he stared out at the valley that he now considered home. Several people had stopped to look up at the bell tower, so he moved away from the edge. No need to gain extra attention. He climbed back downstairs and nodded to the pastor as he slipped out the backdoor. The church had already begun filling, and he didn’t want to walk through the crowd to leave. A snow plow passed by as David stopped to cross the street. That would make it easier to get into
work. He took a step, but hesitated, then turned to go to the diner. He’d skipped breakfast that morning to ring the bells, and he was hungry. He tried to ignore the nagging feeling that he was really going to see the woman from the church. He didn’t have time for anyone right then. The diner was quieter than it had been the day before, but there were still a few families. He sat up at the counter again so he wouldn’t have to be reminded that he was alone. Lily came out of the kitchen and stopped when she saw him. He watched her straighten her apron before walking toward him. “Fancy seeing you here again.” He laughed. She laughed too, and the sound lifted his spirits more than he would have thought was possible. She leaned forward and glanced around before speaking. “You have no idea how much your tip meant to me yesterday. Thank you.” David wanted to reach out and wipe the tear from her cheek, but stopped himself. “I’m glad I could help. Your children are beautiful, like their mother.” Why had he just said that? He never said things like that. Ever. The way Lily stiffened, he knew he’d gone too far. She licked her lips and stood straight. “Thank you. They’re my life. Now, what can I get you? Toast again?” David cleared his throat. “Yes, that sounds great. And can you add eggs this time? And maybe some hot chocolate instead of coffee. Lots of whipped cream on top as well, please.” “Got it.” She turned away, but not before David caught the slight smile on her face. He tapped his fingers to the old Christmas music that played on the radio and waited for his food to be done. The snatches of conversation about how lovely it was to hear the old church bells again warmed David’s heart. Maybe it was worth it to continue. Plus, it would give him a great view every morning. “Here you go.” Lily sat the plate in front of David, making him jump. “Thank you. This looks amazing,” David said. She’d made him the same white and wheat toast that she’d made the day before, and the whipped cream was a good two inches above the mug. “I would’ve added more, but it was starting to tip. Oh, I almost forgot.” She reached below the counter, then dropped a cherry on top. “There you go.” David popped the cherry in his mouth and enjoyed the burst of flavor. “Do you always keep cherries under the counter?” “Only the ones I use for milkshake toppings.” She walked away to take orders from a small family in the corner. David shook his head and took a bite of his eggs. They were so much better than anything he could have made at home. The hot chocolate was perfect as well. Lily was busy with other customers when he was finished, so he paid the other waitress and left. Going to the diner that morning had been just what he needed. The trip to work was a little better than the day before because of the snow plows, but it still took him half an hour longer than he’d wanted. He’d already missed one meeting, and had to rush up the stairs to get to the next one. David slipped inside and sat near the back to listen to Erin give her report on the earnings for that month. The ring on her finger sparkled as she brushed some hair behind her ear. She’d not only had a successful campaign, but she’d also walked away with a new fiancé. David hadn’t been at work during that time, but Peter had kept him up-to-date. The sales numbers were higher than they’d anticipated, meaning a higher commission for the company. David clapped with the rest of the group when the presentation was over, and then left for his office. He went through the numbers and found that if they had just a few more weeks with this much success, they would be able to take on more projects. There was a short knock on the door before Peter walked in. “Hey. The invites for the company
Christmas party have been sent out. You sure you’re up for this?” No. Not at all. “Our employees have given us a very successful year, and it's time to thank them for it. I may leave early, but I want to do this.” David couldn’t help glancing at the picture of Sarah on his desk. “She’d be proud of you.” David cleared his throat. “Thanks. It’s just too bad it took this long to figure things out.” Peter nodded and put his hand on the doorknob. “Same lunch as yesterday?” “I think I’ll just have something small. I ate a big breakfast.” David turned to his laptop. “Sounds good. I’ll be back later.” Peter left the office and shut the door behind him. David leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face in frustration. His mind kept going between Sarah and Lily, and it was making him dizzy. Was it so bad that he found Lily attractive? That he wanted to anything in his power to make her laugh again? It was too soon to even think about anyone else. It was time to get both off his mind and get back to work. He spent the next few hours setting up meetings with the different clients who had called, and preparing PowerPoints for the appointments he had the next day. Later that afternoon, he was still buried in work, and jumped when Peter knocked and opened the door. “Here you go.” Peter set a sandwich and chips on David’s desk. “Figured you’d want to eat sometime today, so I grabbed this.” “Thanks.” David added the mayonnaise and mustard to his sandwich and took a bite. “Oh, man. I didn’t realize how hungry I am. Thank you.” Peter smirked. “This isn’t the first lunch you’ve skipped. Need anything else before I head out?” “No, I think I have everything pretty much taken care of. Have a good night.” David took another bite and wiped his hands on a napkin. “Oh, wait. Could you deliver these to Debra? They’re the new assignments.” “Sure.” Peter took the files and paused. “You may want to head out soon. Another storm is coming through, and traffic is supposed to be pretty nasty.” David closed his laptop. “Considering the drive I had to deal with this morning, I’m heading out right now.” “Good call.” Peter left to deliver the assignments, and David followed soon after, whistling. He made his way to the garage and adjusted the collar on his coat. If the wind blowing through the garage was any indication, he’d be lucky to get over the bridge before the town shut down from the storm. He waved at the parking attendant as he pulled out of the garage and onto the snowy road. The weather had been worse than usual, and he was ready for it to be done. The traffic was crazy as he made his way out of New York. The roads were still clear, but people were driving aggressively as they weaved through the other cars. David’s hands gripped the steering wheel as he headed over the bridge. There were several icy spots, so he went slower than the cars around him. Fear clutched his stomach every time his tires slid even a little bit. By the time he made it to his small town, he was shaking and rattled. He pulled into the church and climbed out of his truck. He could have gone home, but he needed to be around people so the nightmares wouldn’t come back. The door to the church creaked open, and he cringed when he heard the organ music inside. He hadn’t realized there was anything going on. He’d just wanted to talk to Reverend Smith about Lily. The pews were empty when he walked farther inside, and he sat on the back bench until the music stopped. “Ah, David. How long have you been here?” Reverend Smith stood from the organ and made his way toward David.
“I just got here.” David leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I didn’t know you play the organ.” Reverend Smith laughed. “I only knew a few songs, and I make sure no one is around when I play. Is there something I can do for you?” Now that David was sitting there, he wasn’t sure he wanted to say anything. “It’s … nothing. I can just come later.” “Is something on your mind? I can only help if you ask for it.” David hesitated a moment longer. “Do you know anything about Lily? The woman who brought in her tithes when I was here?” “What would you like to know about her?” Reverend Smith asked. David could feel his face burn. “I just wondered. I keep running into her, and I’m curious.” “Ah. Well, she’s lived here her whole life. She has a good heart, and loves her children dearly. I worry about them, but she won’t let me help.” He shook his head. “Is there anything else?” “No. That’s all.” David stood up, embarrassed. He couldn’t believe he was even there. “See you in the morning.” “See you then. And David? It’s okay that you find her attractive. She’s beautiful, and she could use someone with a gentle heart.” The pastor smiled at him and walked back to the organ. David listened to the Christmas melody for a moment before leaving the church. The peace he’d hoped for had come, but his heart was more confused than before he'd talked to the reverend. The storm had settled into the valley, and it blanketed the streets as he made his way home. A movement to the side of his vision made him stop quickly. Someone was out in this storm. They were huddled over in a thin coat and continued forward in the snow. He slowed down and pulled over just as the person collapsed to the ground. David ran to the person’s side and rolled them over. His stomach dropped. It was Lily. Her lips were purple, and her skin was ice. He looked around frantically for someone to help. He had no idea where she lived. “Lily? Hey, Lily.” He picked her up, and the jostling seemed to rouse her. He set her inside the truck, cranked up the heater, and then tried again. “Hey, I want to get you home, but I need to know where you live.” Her eyes fluttered open, and she tried to speak. She gestured down the street, so he pulled forward. “Tell me when we get close, okay?” He adjusted the other vents in the truck so they faced her. “Where are your kids?” Her mouth formed the word “home” while she rubbed her arms. She pointed at a small, rundown house, and David pulled into the driveway. An old car sat covered in snow, and lights were on in one of the rooms. Lily tried to open the passenger door, but she was too weak. She lay back against the seat and coughed. “Hold on.” David ran around the side of the truck and opened the door, then pulled her out and carried her inside. “I can walk.” She coughed again, her whole body shaking. David took the keys from Lily and opened the door to the house. “You can walk, but I don’t want you falling again.” Lily closed her eyes and leaned her head against him. “Just take me to the living room, please.” He carried her into the living room, where her son and daughter were sleeping next to the fireplace. The fire had died down, and the room was cold. She climbed out of his arms and curled up next to her daughter. David’s heart broke from what he saw. He stoked the fire and got it burning before walking through the other rooms. They were clean and simple, but the blankets and clothes were worn out. More coughing came from the living room, but this time, it sounded like it was one of the kids. David
searched for tea or something in the cupboards, but they were bare except a few staples like bread and some oranges. There was so much food at the diner, but she had nothing at all for them here. David left the house and climbed back into his truck. He couldn’t let them live like this, and while he hated to leave them, they needed some groceries and some medicine as soon as possible. The old corner store was the only place that was still open, so he pulled in and hurried inside. The Christmas music was upbeat and seemed to jar against what he’d just witnessed. He grabbed a cart and filled it with food, medicine, herbal tea, and milk. There was a small section with gloves and hats, so he picked some out for Lily and her kids. After grabbing a few space heaters, he took the full cart to the front of the store to pay for everything. The cashier’s eyebrows rose, but didn’t say anything as she rang him up. “Merry Christmas.” David nodded and left the store. He set everything in the truck and drove the couple of blocks back to Lily’s house. It took a few trips to unload everything, and then he quietly filled the cupboards while water heated up on the stove. Once the tea was brewed, David poured three cups and put them on an old tray. He set the tray on the couch and knelt down next to Lily. “Hey, I have something for you to drink. It will help warm you up.” Lily slowly sat up and took the mug from David. “Where did you get this?” “I bought it. I made some for your kids, too … I hope you don’t mind.” He watched her take a sip and close her eyes. “That is so nice. Thank you.” She took another sip and set it aside before taking one of the other cups. “I’ll help Mary. Will you get Patrick’s cup for him?” “Of course.” David helped Patrick sit up. “Hey, buddy. I have some tea for you. It will help your cough.” Patrick stared at him with big, sleepy eyes before glancing over at his mom. When she nodded, he took the cup from David and sipped. “What is this?” “It’s got some herbs in it that will help you feel better.” David turned to look at Lily. “I also bought space heaters if you want some for the bedrooms. Unless you like sleeping in here on the floor.” Lily smiled weakly. “We were camping out. That’s very sweet of you, but I can’t afford the electricity for the heat.” David raised his eyebrows. “Wow. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that. I can help pay for it, if you’d like. It’s cold out there.” “You don’t have to do that. You’ve already done so much.” Lily watched her children drinking their tea. “Please. It’s too cold outside to keep the heaters off.” David stood and noticed that the snow was coming down harder. It was going to be fun getting home. He turned away from the window. Lily sighed and nodded. “Thank you.” David left the room and turned on the space heaters in each of the rooms. It would take a while to warm the house, but it would get there. He walked into the kitchen and cleaned up the tea packets, then went back to the living room. “Are you all okay?” He sat on the couch and leaned forward. “Much better. You need to get going, or you’ll never make it home.” Lily nodded toward the window. “Thanks again.” “Where were you heading? I thought the diner closed a while ago.” Lily glanced over at Patrick and Mary. “They needed medicine, so I snuck out while they were sleeping. It was just going to be a couple of minutes, but then the storm hit.” "Why didn't you just take your car?" "No money for gas." She looked away. "If you hadn't come when you did ..." “I'm glad I could help. I didn’t see any medicine in the cupboard, so I bought some. It’s all in the
kitchen, if you’d like me to bring it to you.” Lily shook her head. “You’ve done enough. Go home and get some rest.” David walked to the door, but hesitated. “Are you sure you’re okay?” “Stop worrying. We’ll be fine.” Lily’s laugh turned into a cough. “Okay, but if you need anything, please call me.” David set his business card on the table and left the house with a wave. He couldn’t help feeling guilty as he pulled out of the driveway and headed for his house. The storm made it hard to see, but he was able to get home without any problems. He pulled out the couple of bags of groceries he’d bought for himself and went inside. The large rooms seemed to echo as he walked through the house. Maybe he should’ve gotten something smaller. He was just always used to getting the biggest and the best of everything. Now it seemed foolish. He popped his food into the microwave and started his own tea while he waited. The heater hummed in the background, reminding him of how warm and comfortable the house was. David ate his dinner while watching the news. The storm was supposed to stick around for another day before finally heading out. If it really did keep up, he wouldn’t be able to make it to work the next day. He turned off the TV and got ready bed before turning off the lights. It was an hour later before his mind was able to clear enough for him to fall asleep.
* * *
David rolled out of bed and changed into shorts and a T-shirt to jog on his treadmill. He would have gone running outside, but it was still cold, and he would already have to be out in the snow to ring the bells for the church. He wanted to go see how Lily was doing, but he needed to get a few things done first. The picture of Sarah stared down at him, which made his thoughts even more uncomfortable. Before, it had been motivation to get him out of bed and make him exercise so he wouldn’t be allowed to fall back into the depression that had overwhelmed him. Now it was a constant reminder that he was helping and talking to another woman. Someone who had helped awaken him. Someone he found very attractive. The timer went off, and David left the treadmill and hopped into the shower. He dressed warmly, but put on his suit coat as well. He didn’t want to go into work because of the snow that had fallen, but there was a last-minute snag in one of the accounts. Debra had assured him through email that Erin had everything under control, but he had to make sure. The air was frigid when David left his house. The snow had stopped, but the wind blew what was on the ground into large drifts. He walked briskly over to the church and welcomed the warmth inside. “Good morning, David. I’m glad to see you here.” Reverend Smith shook his hand. “How was your evening?” David shook his head and sighed. “I found Lily on the ground nearly frozen. After dropping her off at home, I grabbed some supplies for them. I probably should have gotten help, but I was too frazzled.” “Oh, dear. I’ll arrange help for her and then head over after the meeting. Thank you for telling me. Lily is dear to our little community.” “You’re welcome. I’ll probably check on her after work.” David opened the door. “Wish me luck.” The sound of the pastor’s laughter followed David up the stairs. The wind was biting up this high. David pulled on his thick gloves and grasped the rough rope, then rang the bell. He would have loved to watch as everyone came to the service, but his cheeks were already going numb from the cold. He waved to the pastor as he left the church and hurried back to his truck. The drive was smoother than he’d expected, but he knew he’d want to leave early that night to escape the freezing that was bound to happen. Employees nodded or waved at David as he walked past, and he did his best to acknowledge them.
He slipped into the meeting just as it started, and pulled out his notes. Erin had put together a presentation on what needed to be fixed and how to go about it. Debra had been right. Erin had it under control. At the end, she looked at David. “Sir, is there anything else you’d like to add?” “I think you covered everything. Well done, Erin." David turned to the client. "If you go along with these proofs she set out, you’ll have a successful advertising campaign. People will be lining up to wear the new clothes line. Now, if no one else has anything, we can be adjourned.” He turned to Mr. Carpenter, who shook his head. “We love it. I’d like to start immediately.” He wrote something in the notebook in front of him. “Perfect. We’ll have you work out those details with Debra and Erin, then.” David shook everyone’s hand and walked to his office. He quickly checked his messages and returned a few phone calls. Peter knocked on his office door and came in. “Hey, I didn’t think you’d make it to work today. How was the meeting?” “It went well. They loved the ideas.” David stood and put his coat on. “I’m heading out now. I wanted to look over a few things for the party before heading home.” Peter cleared his throat. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Our PR people cornered me this morning and wanted me to have a talk with you. They seem to think that you need a date for this party. After the drop in stock back in August, people are worried, and they want to know you’re doing well.” David grumbled. “That was four months ago. We’ve more than made up for it since then. How is seeing me with a date going to help with anything?” “I don’t know, but they wouldn’t let me go until I agreed to say something. I know it’s too soon, so we can tell them to drop it, but at least I’m doing what they asked.” “Thank you.” David glanced at the photo on his desk. “I’ll think about it.” Peter looked at him in surprise. “What?” “It was no secret that I had a rough time after I lost Sarah. It’s just a date, and then I can move on.” That was easier said than done. The thought of Lily’s smile told him that it wouldn’t be just a fleeting thing. He just hoped she’d go out with him. “Are you sure? Three months ago, I couldn’t get you out of bed. Last month, the only thing you’d do is exercise or sit on your couch. What changed?” His eyes widened. “You met someone, didn’t you?” David sighed and leaned against his desk. “Yes, but she’s a tough one. Someone hurt her, and she’s got a wall between herself and the world. She’s struggling financially and won’t let anyone help.” Peter laughed. “A woman who doesn’t want your money? Snag her, man. Most of the women who have been sending you emails and letters want you for one thing.” “I know. She’s refreshing in so many ways. She has two kids. Beautiful little girl and boy who look just like her.” With sad eyes. David wanted to do anything he could to make them happy again. “Whoa. She has kids? You are serious if you haven’t run the other way.” Peter opened the door. “I have a meeting, but I’ll let PR know you have things under control.” David followed Peter out and locked his office door before heading down to his truck. Yes, he was serious. He just hoped she would let him into her life.
Chapter 4
Lily lay in bed, enjoying the heat from the space heaters David had placed throughout the house. She’d been in and out of sleep for a few days while people from her congregation watched over her house. She’d been vaguely aware that David had been there, playing with the kids, but she was too weak to get out of bed. Meals had been brought, and the women made sure she got food to eat, then fed the children. Ann had stopped by once or twice to bring bills or let her know how the diner was doing. This was the first morning Lily felt like getting out of bed. She went into the bathroom to take a hot shower, something she’d been craving for days. She put on some old gray sweats and socks before leaving her room. Patrick and Mary were playing with an old train set Lily had found at a thrift store. Mary jumped up and hugged her mom. “You’re awake! I’ve missed you.” “I’ve missed you too. Have you been behaving?” Patrick nodded and looked up from the trains. “Reverend Smith wanted you to call when you feel better. And there are lots of notes on our door. They wanted to talk to you, but Mrs. Franklin made them leave.” “Okay. Thank you, sweetie.” Lily pulled the notes off the door and closed her eyes. Final notices for collections weren’t the best things to find after being sick for days, but at least she could get it over with. She called Ann to let her know she was alive, then wandered into the kitchen. She opened a cupboard to get a cup so she could take some medicine, but she stopped. Her eyes widened, and tears poured down her cheeks. The shelves were filled with food. Granted, they were filled with things like ramen and soup, but they looked heavenly. She had food to give her children. She located the medicine above the stove and called the kids into the kitchen. “Do you know where all of this came from? Did the church ladies bring it?” She pointed at the cupboards. Patrick shook his head. “It was David. He’s filled it a little bit every ti—” Mary quickly shushed him. “We weren’t supposed to tell.” “I’m glad Patrick told me. Now let’s get some breakfast in you.” Lily couldn’t help the small flare of annoyance that David gave them so much, but she pushed it down as she watched her children talking and laughing while they ate marshmallow cereal. Lily pulled out the accounting books for the diner that Ann brought by and set them out on the table. She had to figure out where she’d get the money for food and other supplies. "Here, Mom. I made this for you." Mary set a bowl of cereal on the table next to the books. "Thank you." She ate while she looked over the numbers. Mary and Patrick helped wash the dishes before running off to their rooms, leaving their mom at the table. The numbers weren’t looking good, but she knew that from the notes sitting next to her. Lily ran her fingers through her hair. Cutting down the menu items was an option. She could get rid of the steaks and other more expensive cuts of meat, and buy the cheaper napkins. But that would only help for so long. In the meantime, the collectors would begin repossessing inventory until she could pay the debts. Mary came into the kitchen with her coat and gloves. “Hey, Mom? Can we play in the snow? We’ll keep warm.” Lily nodded. “Of course. I’ll have hot chocolate ready for you when you get done.” Patrick cheered and followed Mary outside. Lily could hear them shouting back and forth to each other. She walked through the house and stood at the window to watch them play. A few of the neighbor kids came by with their sleds, and they took turns riding behind a snowmobile.
Lily pulled her sweater tighter and went into the kitchen to start the water. She went back through the numbers, hoping to come up with a different solution, but it was looking more and more hopeless. If things didn’t pick up soon, they were in big trouble. A knock at the door made Lily jump. She stood and opened it to find David standing there, covered in snow. “What happened to you?” she asked, moving out of the way so he could come in. “Snowball fight. I lost.” David laughed and wiped himself off before coming inside. “Your boy knows how to throw. He should play football.” Lily smiled. “That’s his dream.” “I was worried when I didn’t see you at the diner again this morning. I thought I’d check in on you.” “I’m feeling much better, thank you. I just don’t want anyone to get sick, so I decided to stay home for one more day. What are you doing here? Don’t you have work?” Lily poured some hot water into a mug and added the chocolate mix before handing it to David. “Snowed in. Everything is shut down, so I’m working from home today. I just wanted to get out of the house for some breakfast.” David stirred his drink and took a sip. “That’s really good.” Lily nodded. “That’s my grandma’s recipe. I make sure to keep a jar of it at all times.” “I like that rule.” David took another sip and watched out the window. “Your kids look like they’re doing better.” “Thanks to you.” She wiped down the counters, self-conscious. “You saved our lives.” David stared at her for a moment. “You scared me. I thought you were gone when I picked you up out of the snow. It’s freezing out there. Don’t you have a coat?” Lily could feel her face burn as she turned away. “No. Everything I get goes toward the diner or the kids. I’ll get a coat when we have the money.” “Don’t you realize that without you, there would be no kids and no diner? You have to take care of yourself.” David stood. “I can get you a coat.” “No!” She stopped and took a breath. No need to lose her temper. He was just trying to help. “Thank you for the offer, but you’ve already given me enough. With groceries and my kids’ coats taken care of, I can get myself something with the next paycheck.” Never mind that would be months from now. If ever. David’s frustration was evident as he watched the kids outside the window. “Okay. I’m sorry. I probably overstepped my bounds. I just don’t want to see you get sick again.” Lily’s heart softened when he looked at her with his dark brown eyes. How she’d managed to end up with someone so handsome in her kitchen was beyond her. She leaned against the counter. “No, I should be sorry. I was rude. I just can’t accept anything else.” David smiled at her, but she could still see the hurt in his eyes. “It’s fine. I’d better get going. With a day off, I should probably stock up my own pantry.” He stopped with his hand on the door. “I was thinking of putting up a Christmas tree tonight. Would you and the kids like to help out? Doing it myself would be a little depressing.” “We’d love that. Thank you. What time were you thinking?” Lily hadn’t had a Christmas tree in the house for years. This would be perfect for her kids. “I’ll come and pick you up around six o’clock. That is, if I can get out of the driveway.” Lily laughed and looked outside. “It doesn’t look like it’s going to let up any time soon.” “No, it doesn’t. I guess we’ll have to chance it.” David stepped outside and picked up a handful of snow, packing it into a ball. “But now, I have to plot my revenge.” Patrick ran around the corner just then, and his eyes widened when he saw David standing there. He turned back around and screamed at Mary to run away. David tossed the snowball and it hit Patrick in the back, knocking him to the ground. With a look of horror, he ran and rolled Patrick over, resulting in a face full of snow. Patrick laughed and took off
running again. Lily leaned her head against the cool doorway and coughed into her arm. When it didn’t stop, she went inside to get a drink of water. The coughing spell finally passed, so Lily went in search of a blanket to wrap around herself. The kids had been outside long enough that she had to heat the water back up again. She found a few more sweaters to slip on over the one she was wearing, and put on a hat, hoping it would be enough to keep the air from chilling her again. She walked outside to silence. Where had they gone? She’d only been inside for a couple of minutes. Panic settled in her stomach, and she ran out to find them. They were her life, and they were gone. The streets were clear of cars because of the snow, and she couldn’t see Mary or Patrick anywhere. “Patrick? Mary?” The screen door to the side of the house slammed, and Lily whipped around to see Patrick standing there. “Why are you going through that door?” Lily knew she sounded shrill, but her heart was still beating rapidly. Patrick held up a carrot. “We’re building a snowman, and I needed the nose.” Relief flowed through her. “Why aren’t you out here in front? That’s where I left you.” “We needed more snow.” He pointed toward a trail in the snow that led to the side of the house. Lily followed him around to find Mary and David waiting for them. They had built a huge snowman on the side of the house. Patrick carefully inserted the nose in the face, and David added arms. Mary pushed the buttons in, and then set her stocking cap on its head. “There. We’re done.” “It’s great. And huge. How’d you get it so big?” Lily coughed and pulled her blanket closer. Patrick hit his gloves together to get the snow off. “Each of us took a ball until they got too big. Then we all helped.” “Okay, kids. Let’s get you back inside. I have it on good authority that your mom made some hot chocolate. Then you can come help me pick out a Christmas tree.” David looked up at Lily with a questioning glance. The plan had been to go over later that night, not to pick out the tree. But how could she say no with his eyes dancing like that? She smiled, put her arms around her cheering children, and guided them into the house. “You coming?” “Of course.” He pulled Patrick up onto his shoulders and walked next to Lily. “You’re sure you’re okay with helping to pick out the tree? I should have asked first.” “It’s fine. They’ve never been able to do that before.” She stopped at the door and opened it, letting Mary in before looking up at him. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome. Like I said, you’re helping me too.” He set Patrick down, then pulled out the mugs and poured the water while Lily took the snowy clothes off Patrick and Mary. Lily took the jar down from the cupboard and scooped powder into the mugs, then added spoons. She handed one to David and then set the others in front of Mary and Patrick. “Where are we going to get the tree?” Patrick asked, wiping hot chocolate off his face. “Well, I used to go out into the woods to pick the perfect one, but since you’ve all been sick, I figure we can try the Christmas tree farm just outside of town.” “What’s a Christmas tree farm?” Mary asked. “It's a big farm filled with trees where you can pick out your favorite one to take home. Why don’t you two hurry and get your warmest clothes on, and we’ll go.” Lily ruffled Patrick’s hair and picked up the mugs to put into the sink. She put water into each of the cups to soak and turned to see David watching her. “Are you sure you’re okay with going outside? I don’t want you to get even sicker.” Lily sat down across from David and put her hand on his. “If I get tired, I’ll sit in the car. This means
the world to my kids, and I wouldn’t miss it.” David left his hand under hers for a moment before pulling away, looking uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “That sounds good.” “I’ll go make sure they’re ready.” Lily stood just as Patrick and Mary came bounding into the kitchen. “Ready!” Mary announced. She held out Lily’s old coat and a worn pair of gloves. “Here. I brought these for you.” “Thanks, sweetie.” Lily kissed Mary’s forehead and slid the coat on. Patrick held out her stocking cap. “I think that's it.” David opened the door. “We’ll have to squish inside my truck. I’d take my other car, but it doesn’t have four-wheel drive.” “This is perfect.” Lily grabbed her blanket and locked her door before climbing in next to Mary. David closed the door and ran around to the other side. Lily rubbed her hands together, wishing she’d brought another blanket with her. The cold seemed to go right through her jacket. They drove through town and stopped at a new, rather large house. David hesitated before turning to Lily. “I’ll be right back. I need to grab something.” “Okay.” Lily watched him run inside. She’d walked past these newer homes many times, but had never been this close. “Whoa. This is his house?” Patrick asked, his eyes wide. “He must be rich!” Lily laughed. “He is. Very rich. He owns a huge company in New York City.” “Whoa,” Patrick whispered. David came out with a black fur coat and climbed in the truck. His eyes were slightly red and swollen when he handed the coat over, but he smiled. “You can borrow this for today, if you want. It’ll keep you warm.” Lily took the coat from him, amazed at the softness of the fur. She could feel the warmth as she laid it on her lap. She wanted to hand it back, but she had to admit, she was freezing. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” David swallowed hard and pulled out of his driveway. “Okay, who’s ready to go get a tree?” The kids cheered as they left the small town behind them. The storm had lightened up enough that they were able to enjoy the drive. Plows had been through, but there was still packed snow on the ground. Mary and Patrick talked nonstop about school, what they wanted for Christmas, and how cool it would be to sled down the hills. It allowed Lily to stare out the window at the scenery around them. She hadn’t been out of the city for so long because it cost too much money to license her car—let alone paying for the gas to run it—and it felt good to get out. They pulled up to a farm and parked next to the entrance. Lily climbed out and slipped the coat on. It was heavier than anything she’d worn before. The sleeves fit perfectly, and the coat hung down to her knees. David pulled the hood up onto her head. “Thank you. Wow, I think I could survive Antarctica in this thing.” Lily made sure everyone else was wearing their gloves before they walked into the farm. The lot was packed full of several different varieties of pine trees. She watched Mary and Patrick dart from tree to tree, trying to find the perfect one. “So, were you a fake tree or real tree person growing up?” David asked. He stood close to Lily, and it was hard for her to concentrate on anything, including breathing. “Fake. An old pink one that had tinsel hanging off of it. It's been passed down ever since artificial trees were invented, I’m pretty sure. My mom didn’t have the heart to get rid of it, so we just kept on using it.” David laughed. “So where is it now?” “In the attic. Where it belongs. The kids and I used it a few times, but it’s falling apart.” Lily
searched for Patrick and found him next to a large fir tree. “I think Patrick found one he loves.” “Looks like it.” David followed Lily over to the tree. “Wow, this is a beauty.” “I want you to get this one. It’s so big.” Patrick’s grin melted Lily’s heart. Lily looked at the price tag. There was no way she'd let David spend that much on a tree. “Sweetie, this one is too much, I think.” Patrick’s face fell. “Okay.” “It’s okay, Lily. It would look perfect in the family room.” David walked around it. “I might have to get more ornaments, though.” “It's fine if you want to pick a smaller one.” Lily avoided the disappointment on Patrick’s face and searched for another one. Mary was looking at a small tree that was just a little taller than her. Lily walked over and put her hand on Mary’s shoulder. “How pretty.” Mary nodded. “Can we have this one?” “What do you think, David?” She turned to find him missing. “Where’d he go?” “I don’t know. Look, though. The price is good, and the note says that they don’t drop needles as much as some of the others.” Mary held out the note for Lily to read. Lily read the note, impressed at the work Mary had put into finding one. “We can ask David when we find him. Speaking of which, do you know where Patrick is?” Mary nodded over to the far corner, where Patrick sat in the snow with his head buried in his arms. Lily walked over to him and knelt down. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “I just wanted that tree. It was the best one they had, and I thought it would look good in David’s ginormous house.” Patrick sniffled. Lily patted his shoulder. “I know, sweetie. I’m sorry. It’s just … wait. Look what David’s doing.” Patrick looked up, and his eyes grew wide. “We’re getting it?” “It looks like it. Let’s go help get it in the truck, okay?” Lily stood and watched as Patrick ran toward David, but she took her time. The energy she’d had that morning had worn off, and she was feeling weaker than she cared to admit. Mary took her hand, and they walked out to the truck. Lily helped the kids into the truck and watched as the farmers brought not one, but both of the trees and secured them into the bed of the truck. David really needed to stop spoiling her kids. It would get their hopes up, and then he’d leave. They always did. She wanted him to be different, but there was just no knowing. After thanking the farmers, Lily and David climbed in and headed toward his house. The cab was louder than it had been on the way to the farm, and that was saying something. Lily was surprised at David’s patience with the giggles and yelling. It would have set other guys on edge. They pulled into the local department store, and David turned off the truck. “I need to grab some more decorations, along with a few other things.” “Okay.” Lily headed into the store. “Let’s split this up. What else did you need?” David studied Lily for a moment. “I’m sorry. I should have realized you’d be worn out. I can take you back to the house, if you’d like.” Lily shook her head. “I’m fine. I’ll just need to sit down soon. Want me to grab the decorations or something else?” “Why don’t you and the kids pick some good ornaments, and I’ll grab some stuff for dinner. I’ll meet you by the decorations when I’m done.” "Do you have any specific theme or colors in mind?" David shook his head. "No, I'm good with whatever you choose. Oh, and can you grab a star? My other one broke.” “We can do that.” Lily walked over to the Christmas decorations and stared at the vast number of
ornaments they had to choose from. “Whoa. Where do we even start?” Patrick pointed at the lights. “We need lots of those. Let’s do blue.” “Then we need some of these.” Mary pulled down a box of ornaments. “I like the red and gold. What do you think?” Lily checked the price before she set the ornaments in her cart and walked along the aisle. Even if it was David's money, she still had a hard time paying a lot for the decorations. “That would be good for the big tree. What if we did fun ornaments on the small tree?” “Like these?” Mary found some rubber duck ornaments. “Or these.” She held up some glittery bows and reindeer. “Hmmm. What do you think, Patrick?” Lily asked. “We need some footballs. Like these.” He held up a package. Lily laughed. “Okay, fine. Oh, we need a star.” Mary walked farther down the aisle and stopped in front of the stars. “This one will look good with the small tree.” The star had colored lights, and it was a little on the tacky side, but Patrick seemed to like it too, so she let them get it. She searched for the perfect star for the big one. The variety was pretty big, but there weren’t many gold stars. She found a larger one that was shiny enough that it showed her reflection. She pulled it off the shelf to examine it. The price was reasonable, and it matched the other decorations. “Pretty. Let’s get that one.” Mary took it from Lily and put it in the cart. “Lily?” a voice asked from behind. She turned to find Ann standing there. “Oh, hey, Ann. How are you doing?” she asked, fully aware of the ornaments filling the cart behind her. Ann glanced between it and Lily’s kids standing next to her. “I’m glad to see you out and about. You really had everyone worried.” “I’m glad to be up. We’re just here helping pick out some stuff to decorate a tree.” Lily could feel her face burning. “I see that. You must have quite the tree.” She stopped, and her eyes grew wide when David walked up beside them. “Oh.” David set the items he’d picked out in the cart. “Oh, hey. You work at the diner, right?” Ann nodded and held out her hand. “I should actually be there now, but it’s pretty slow, and we needed a couple of things. Hailey has it under control for the moment. I’m Ann.” “I’m—” “You’re David. I know. I mean, we all know. Um, I’m going to go now.” Ann backed up. “Lily, can you call me? I need to go over tomorrow’s menu with you.” “Sure. I’ll call later tonight.” Lily tried not to laugh out loud. She was pretty sure Ann didn’t want to talk menu items, and she couldn’t help the giddiness she felt inside. It had been a while since she'd had a man in her life. Ann walked away, and David turned to Lily. “What was that all about?” “Nothing. She just saw me filling the cart and wanted to know how I was.” She gestured toward the ornaments. “What do you think? We might have gone a bit overboard.” David lifted up a few of the boxes and smiled. “These are perfect. They’ll accent the ones I already have really well.” "Great. I was hoping they wouldn't clash.” Lily pushed the cart toward the front of the store. She could have let David do it, but she was exhausted, and the cart was holding her up. They paid for the items and headed out to the truck. David stuck everything behind the seat before having them climb in. He had to drive slowly because the roads were getting icy from the cold, but they finally got back to his house. The kids took the groceries and decorations in while David pulled the tree
out of the truck and tried taking it in by himself. "I can help, you know." Lily grabbed on to the bottom of the tree, careful not to get any sap on the fur coat. "I didn't want you to wear yourself out. I feel bad enough already." He walked up the steps into the house. Lily had branches surrounding her while she carried the tree, but from what she could see, the house was beautiful. It was definitely decorated by a man, but it was well done. She still wondered what had happened with his wife, but didn’t want to ask. “Okay, let’s put it here.” He waited for Lily to set her side down and then did the same. “I have the stand somewhere in the attic. I’ll be right back—you guys make yourself at home.” “Thank you.” Lily pulled off her coat and sat down on the couch. Patrick and Mary sat close to her and looked around the room with big eyes. When Lily was rested, she stood to look at the pictures on the mantel. His wife was beautiful. She had long blonde hair, and her smile lit up her face. Awards for his company lined the walls, and pictures of different magazine ads were framed alongside the awards. Some of the businesses, she recognized. She knew he was super rich, but she hadn’t heard what he actually did for work. “Found it.” David came back in the room and knelt next to the tree. “It was buried.” “Oh, good. We would have been in trouble without it.” Lily knelt next to him and helped secure the tree in the stand, then they stood it up. David stood back to inspect it. “I like it right here in the center of the room. Makes it easy to notice, right?” “It looks good.” Lily sat down to rest. “What’s next?” “I’m thinking you’re going to take a nap on the couch while Mary and Patrick help me with dinner.” He glanced over at them. “How does that sound?” “Yeah!” Patrick shouted. Mary nodded, and they both followed him into the kitchen. Lily took one of the pillows from the couch and lay down on it, then slipped off her shoes and curled up in a ball. She used the coat she’d borrowed as a blanket and closed her eyes. The room was quiet, but she could hear laughter and the banging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen, and it helped lull her to sleep.
Chapter 5
David finished up the pasta and turned around to find Mary and Patrick watching him from the counter. “All done with the salad?” He set the pot on the table. Mary nodded. “Yep.” “Oh, good. Why don’t you go wake your mom, and I’ll finish setting the table.” He smiled as they ran out of the room. They had been fun to teach. It had been so long since he’d cooked for anyone but himself, he had wanted to make something special. Sarah had loved his food, but he’d become so caught up in making his agency succeed that he’d stopped cooking for her. A couple of minutes later, Mary and Patrick came back in the room with Lily following behind. She yawned as she sat at the table. Her eyes lit up when she saw the pasta. “Wow, this looks and smells amazing.” She smiled up at him. “Thanks again. I’m sorry I wasn’t much help.” “Don’t worry about it. Besides, I had two great helpers.” David sat and served the food while Mary handed the plates to each person, then he said the blessing before they began eating. The taste was almost perfect, but he was missing a little rosemary. He’d have to remember to use more of it next time. He set down his fork to butter a piece of bread, then realized the others were staring at him. “What?” he asked. “You were lost in thought.” Lily laughed. “I was saying, this is fantastic. Where did you learn to cook?” David wiped his mouth a napkin. “My mom was a gourmet chef, and she taught me when I was young. It’s what I would have done if I hadn’t followed my dad’s footsteps into advertising.” “Well, she should be proud.” Lily took another bite and nodded toward Mary. “She’s eaten more tonight than I’ve seen her eat in months.” Mary blushed. “I’m glad you like it.” David finished what was on his plate and dished up seconds for the kids before standing to take the pot to the sink. Lily joined him and put her hand on his arm. “Let me do it. You made dinner.” David wanted to argue, but he recognized the stubbornness in her eyes. He nodded. “Okay. I’ll get the decorations, and we can start when you’re done. Sound good?” “Perfect.” She turned to the dishes, and David climbed up into the attic. He brushed past the old trunks that held Sarah’s clothes and moved a few boxes to find the decorations. The tree stand had been easy to find, but he’d hidden everything else when he moved. He hadn’t planned on celebrating this year. Sarah had several boxes of decorations, so it would take a few trips, but it gave David time to think. What in the world was he doing? She’d only been gone for a few months, and now he had another woman here with her two beautiful children. Even more than that, it had been him planning the whole thing, and Lily had just kind of gone along with it. A picture of Sarah caught his eye as he walked past, and he wondered if that smile was approving or if she was angry. David shook his head. It was just a picture. “Oh, there you are. We thought you got lost.” Patrick scratched his head and looked up at the box in David’s hands. “What is that?” “Ornaments. There are a few more boxes. Want to help?” David set down the box and wiped his hands.
“Where are they?” Patrick asked hesitantly. David gestured for him to follow and Patrick came, followed by Mary. “They’re in the attic.” “Are there ghosts up there? Or spiders?” Mary whispered. “Nope, just boxes.” He pulled down the steps again. “They’re all the way to the back, so I’ll grab them and then hand them down.” Patrick nodded, eyeing the ladder suspiciously. “It’s safe?” “Of course.” David climbed up and grabbed a few boxes to give Mary and Patrick. He found others while they dropped them off and came back for more. David picked up the last box, hesitant to let anyone else touch it. Inside was a nativity that had been passed down through his family. He’d talked of getting a new one several times, but that one nativity was always the center of attention. He climbed down the stairs and folded them back up. “I’ll take this one. Let’s go see if your mom is ready to decorate.” Patrick turned and ran down the hallway, calling for his mom. David and Mary entered the room to find Lily sitting on the floor, sorting through the decorations. David wanted to brush the loose strand of hair from her face. She looked up from what she was doing. “Sorry, I was just looking through to find decorations my kids could help with. I should have asked.” She put the star she was holding back in the box. “It’s fine.” He set the nativity down on the table and pulled out a box. “Let’s start with the garland and go from there.” He handed Mary the end. Once the garland and the lights were strung on the tree, they started on the ornaments. It was good that they had bought more because David’s only made it through part of one side of the tree. They filled out the rest and stood back to admire their work. “We forgot the star.” Mary picked it up and handed it to David. “Right.” He picked Patrick up and held him as high as he could. Patrick set the star on top and plugged it into the rest of the lights. “Okay, let’s see how it works.” Lily turned off the lights in the room, and David plugged in the tree. The lights glowed brightly in the darkness and reflected off the ornaments surrounding them. David moved to put his arm around Lily, but felt her stiffen, so he dropped his arm to his side, cursing himself. A moment later, Lily took his hand and squeezed it before turning the lights back on. David felt the touch of her hand long after as they moved around the house, decorating it with more garland, lights, stockings, and finally, the nativity. He had a nook near the entryway that was lit, and he knew it was the perfect place for it. The room was quiet as he arranged the pieces as he had so many times before. “This is beautiful,” Lily said quietly. “Thank you. I have about five others, but this is my favorite.” David stood back and admired it, visions from past Christmases when he’d put this together as a child. “Okay, who’s up for some eggnog?” The kids cheered and ran for the kitchen, and David turned to Lily. “Thank you. I wouldn’t have pulled this stuff out without you.” Lily smiled. “It’s hard to move on, isn’t it?” David cleared his throat, blinking back the sudden tears. “Harder than anything I’ve ever done.” “When did it happen? If you don’t mind me asking.” Lily folded her arms, almost hugging herself. “March. Coming home from a work party. I didn’t see the … ice. Excuse me.” David walked into his bathroom and locked the door, overcome with emotion. Talking about it with Reverend Smith was one thing. Talking about Sarah with this beautiful woman felt like he was betraying the love of his life. He stared at himself in the mirror, then washed his face with cold water. He needed to collect himself and get back out there. Lily hadn’t meant anything by asking, and he’d caught the look of regret as
he’d turned away. Lily was in the kitchen when he came back out, making the eggnog. She silently handed him a cup and took a drink of hers. “Sorry about that. It’s still sensitive.” He took a drink and stopped, surprised at the taste. “Is that ice cream in there?” “Family secret.” She smiled over her mug. Patrick held out his cup. “Can I have more?”
* * * The night was freezing when they left the warmth of the mansion and ran for the truck. Lily stopped suddenly. “We forgot the other tree.” She laughed and began unstrapping it. David put his hand on hers. “This one isn’t for here.” She looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “What does that mean?” “Climb in.” David walked around to the other side of the truck. “I couldn’t really have two trees, right?” Lily looked over at him in surprise. "What do you mean?" David grinned. "You'll see.” They pulled out onto the snowy street and slowly made their way back to Lily’s house. David watched the road closely, looking for any possible ice. As they passed by the church, he looked up at the bell tower. He was amazed at the changes that had taken place since he’d started ringing it just days before. Lily’s driveway was covered in snow when they pulled in. David climbed out and untied the tree before following them inside. He stomped his feet to clear off the snow, then headed for their living room. “Okay, where do you want it?” David set the tree down and waited for Lily to choose. Lily’s eyes filled with tears as she pointed to a corner. “You shouldn’t have done this. We have no way to pay you for it.” David studied her for a moment before moving the tree where she wanted it. He spent a few minutes attaching the stand he’d bought at the store earlier, and then stood it up. “I didn’t have to, but I could see how much Mary liked it, and I knew it needed to be here.” He smiled and went back outside to get the ornaments they’d picked out for this tree. They hung up the decorations, and David sat on the couch while the kids sat on the floor in front of the tree. The smile on Mary’s face was priceless as she stared up at the lights. Lily sat next to David, but stayed silent. David could tell she was angry by the set of her shoulders, but she didn’t say anything. When it stayed silent for a few more minutes, he stood and ruffled the children’s hair before leaving the house. He knew he’d probably gone overboard, but he couldn’t help it. He drove home, consumed with sadness. He’d tried to make Lily happy, but had overstepped his bounds. Again. He stopped in front of the church and stared at the stained glass for several minutes, wondering what he’d been thinking when he let someone else in his life. It had been a mistake. As he pulled into his garage and went inside, he decided that maybe it was time to back off. He still hadn’t asked her to the party, and there was still time to find a different date by that weekend. Except that as he closed his eyes that night, it wasn’t Sarah who greeted him. It was Lily. Her smile was enough to make him relax, and he drifted off.
Chapter 6
Lily thumped the coffee pot down on the counter and grumbled under her breath. The diner had one patron, and they’d only ordered coffee. She set the pot on the coffee maker and went back to the kitchen to compose herself. “Bad date last night?” Ann asked, eyebrow raised. Lily shook her head. “It was perfect until I ruined it. The guy bought me a Christmas tree.” “The nerve of him. I’m not sure you can handle it.” Ann rolled her eyes. “Lily, he’s David Fleschmann, for crying out loud. Every woman in the country would die to go on a date with him.” Lily sighed and grabbed a rag to wash what few dishes there were in the sink. “I know. I just hate having him give me everything. I was doing just fine without him.” Ann took Lily by the arm and turned her around. She held on to both shoulders and stared into Lily’s eyes. “You weren’t okay. You’re not okay right now. He literally saved your life. Don’t you think he deserves more of a chance?” Lily bit her lip before finally nodding. “I just don’t want to mess it up.” “I think you already did. Now, when he comes in for his next cup of hot chocolate and toast— because you know he will—you will tell him thank you, and you will let him into your life. Got it?” Ann’s eyes searched hers. “Got it.” Lily turned away and scrubbed a pan. “So, what are your plans for the night?” “Martin’s coming to pick me up, and we’re going ice skating with his family. You?” Ann dried the pan and set it on the shelf. “I’ll probably hang out with the kids. They were going to make each other gifts this year, so I need to help out.” Ann nodded toward the front door. “Maybe you should make better plans.” Lily followed her gaze to see that David had just come in. He wiped the snow out of his hair and stomped on the rug before taking his place at the bar. She turned to Ann. “You go serve him.” “No, he needs to talk to you.” Ann grabbed Lily’s arm. “Hey, I’m your boss. You have to listen to me.” Lily tried to hand her the paper and pen, but Ann pushed her toward the front. “I’m your best friend, and I’m preventing you from doing something stupid. Go.” She shoved Lily out of the kitchen. Lily straightened her apron and glared at Ann before walking over to David. She knew her best friend was right, but it didn’t make things any easier. She’d really messed things up the night before. “Good morning. Would you like the usual?” Lily smiled at him nervously. “Sounds perfect.” David handed her the menu. “I’ll have it to go. I need to get to the office.” Lily nodded and turned away. She poured a mug of hot chocolate and topped it off with a large helping of whipping cream, then took the plate of toast from Ann. “Thank you.” “Welcome.” Ann grinned and headed out to take an order from an older couple who had just come in. Lily packed the toast into a bag and took the food out to David. “Sorry, I was going to put your hot chocolate in a cup, but then I couldn’t add all the whipped cream.” David chuckled. “Fair enough. Thank you.” “Here you go. You can pay as soon as you’re done.” Lily set the check down, her face red as she turned to leave. She wanted so much just to give him the food after everything he’d done, but knew she couldn’t afford it. “And I’m sorry about last night. I’m thankful for the tree.” “It’s fine. Really. I should have asked instead of assuming.” David shook his head. Sighing, Lily put her hand on David’s. “It meant a lot. That’s all the kids talked about this morning
when we woke up.” “Lily, wait.” David paused. “I was wondering if you’d like to go to my work Christmas party. I need a date, and I’d love for you to come.” Lily stared at him with her mouth slightly open. What should she say? How could she say anything? His company was huge, and she was nowhere near glamorous enough for something like that. She shook her head to clear it. “I … wow. I want to, but I don’t have anything to wear.” David nodded. “I understand. But I’m working with a clothing company right now, and I think they’d love to have you show up in one of their dresses. It’s good business for them. Please.” “I …” Lily glanced over at Ann, who smiled and nodded. “Sure. When is it?” “Saturday. Will that work?” David finished off his drink and stood. Lily bit her lip. “I need to find a babysitter, but I think I can make it work.” David’s eyes lit up when he grinned. “Great. I’ll pick you up earlier in the day so we can find you something to wear. For now, I’d better take off. Meetings and all that.” Lily watched David go in stunned silence. She was about to go to a party with a guy who probably made more money in a week than she’d made in a lifetime. She went back to the kitchen to collect her thoughts, and was soon joined by a shrieking Ann. “I can’t believe you’re going to his party. I’ve heard all kinds of stories about this party from my friend who works at the reception center he reserved. It’s supposed to have caterers and acrobats, and they’re giving out gifts to everyone. And you’re going as his date.” Ann squealed again. “Yes, and I have no clue what to do with my kids.” Lily felt lightheaded and leaned against the counter. What had she just done? Ann waved off her concern. “You know they can hang out at my house. You’re doing this. It’s time to get out of your shell and go.” Lily knew she was right, but the thought of it made her want to curl up in a ball. She hadn’t been on a date for years. Well, not counting the times she’d been with David over the last few days. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I’m not going to enjoy it.” “Yeah, right.” Ann laughed and took the coffee pot out to a couple who had just come into the diner. Lily was grateful for the few people who trickled in during lunch. She treated them to a piece of the cake she’d baked when no one had come in during the morning hours. It probably wasn’t wise when she was already hurting financially, but it was Christmas, and she needed something to do. The bell over the door rang, and she heard Mary and Patrick’s voices. They ran around the corner and wrapped her in a hug. The cold that had clung to their coats soaked into her. “Hey, how was the activity?” The church had put on a Christmas party for the children in the congregation after school that day. Ann had gone to run errands and offered to pick them up on the way back. “It was fun. Reverend Smith had a few of us act out the nativity. I got to be Mary.” Mary’s eyes were bright as she looked up at her mom. Lily hugged her tightly. “That’s wonderful. What about you, Patrick?” “I was a shepherd. I got to hold one of the hooks.” Patrick opened the fridge and pulled out some milk. “Reverend Smith asked how you were doing today.” “What did you tell him?” She was supposed to meet with him the night before, but had forgotten in the excitement of getting the tree. Patrick carefully poured a cup of milk and took a drink before turning back to her. “I told him that you were good because David’s taking care of us.” Lily’s eyes widened. “You told him that?” He shrugged. “Well, he is.” “Yes, but you don’t have to tell the world that. People will think we’re dating or something.” Lily
turned to the sink and washed Patrick’s cup. “You’re not?” Mary asked. “Hannah told me that her sister has gone out with a boy four times, and now they’re boyfriend and girlfriend. That’s what you’ve done with David.” “Um, right. Well, you two have been with us, so we’ll just call them outings.” Mary rolled her eyes. “They’re still dates. Oh! Hannah’s mom wants us to go over for ice cream on Saturday night.” Lily grimaced as she pulled out the ingredients for another cake. With no customers at the moment, she’d have time to bake for that night’s crowd. “I’ll be gone, and you’ll be with Ann. Maybe she can take you over for a bit.” “Where are you going?” Mary asked, surprised. “To a party. With David.” She turned away and measured some sugar to dump into the bowl. Mary squealed. “See? I knew you two were dating. What kind of party?” “A work party. And don’t squeal. You just scared the whole diner.” She tried to glare, but her smile crept through. Knowing Mary was okay with it made the party that much more exciting. “There’s no one here.” Patrick helped dump in the flour while Mary measured out the vanilla. “Can I go to Seth’s house?” “Of course. As long as his mom is okay with it.” Lily turned on the mixer and watched the ingredients blend together. Patrick pulled his coat back on. “I’ll come back for dinner. Are you coming, Mary?” Mary blushed, but nodded and followed him. She’d had a crush on Seth’s brother for years. Lily chuckled as she dumped the batter into the cake pan and wiped the edges of the bowl. She set the pan in the oven and set the timer. Next, she started on some cupcakes. Ann came in the kitchen and stopped short before joining in. She grabbed some tins and put the little papers in each muffin spot. “You’ve been baking all day. Is there a party tonight I don’t know about?” Ann asked. “No, just hoping to entice people into coming.” Lily stopped stirring and turned to Ann. “I don’t know how much longer we can do this.” Ann didn’t say anything for a moment. “I know. I’ve been praying something would happen, but so far, there are no miracles popping out of the woodwork.” Lily grimaced. She’d hoped to keep up the act for at least a little longer. “We’ve survived for generations, and now I’m the one who let it fail.” “That’s not true, and you know it. I’ve seen you go hungry just so you could buy a few more supplies. It’s these people who aren’t coming. Not that I can blame them. Business has been hard on all of us.” Ann set the pan by Lily and moved on to the next one. “You’re right. As always. But I just want this icon to stick around.” Lily dumped the batter into the tins and wiped her hands. The bell on the door dinged, and Ann left to take the order. She returned a couple of minutes later with a frown. “You’re needed out there.” Lily gave her a questioning look and walked out to find two men standing there in long coats and holding an envelope. “Miss Johnson?” one of the men asked. “Yes?” Lily’s heart was pounding as she moved closer. She had been afraid it would get to this point. The man handed her the letter. “We have come to inform that unless you can pay by the end of next week, we’ll have to close down your diner. We know that you asked for the end of the month, but our employers have moved up the date. I’m sorry.” Lily took the letter and nodded. “I understand. Thank you.”
The man tipped his hat, and they left. Lily dropped into a chair, and laid her head on her arms. Sobs racked her body, and she was glad her kids had gone to play when they did. When she was finally able to calm herself, she stood and wiped her eyes, then took the letter into her office. One thing her parents had taught her was never to give up, and she wasn’t going quietly. She tapped her pen on the desk as she tried to come up with a few ideas to make this diner irresistible to the people walking by. Most were old friends who had been coming for years, but like Ann had said, business was slow for everyone. Thoughts of asking David for help with advertising were quickly smothered. He probably cost a fortune, and there was no way she would ask for a favor after how she'd treated him. The menu had changed a little over the years. Maybe if she brought back some of the classics and added a few new dishes, it could help. At that point, it was her only choice. “Ann? Could you come here?” Lily wrote out a list of items. “I want you to grab these things. We’re going to try to earn at least enough to pay off what debts we have. That way, when I sell this place, I can use the profits to help my kids until I find something else.” “This is the Lily I know and love. You’re good until I get back?” Ann put on her coat and stuffed the list in her pocket. Lily laughed. “Yeah, I think I’ll be just fine.” Ann left, and Lily pulled out her paint. She wrote out the specials on the front windows, and decorated the other windows in Christmas scenes. Her arms ached by the time she was done, but she hoped it would do the trick. After washing her hands, she pulled out the roasts she’d been saving and set them on the counter to defrost. She sent a quick text to a friend who worked for the radio station nearby, and another to her friends at the local paper, hoping they’d do her a favor. The door opened, and Lily could hear people talking, so she left the kitchen. A few groups of people stood in the entry. “Welcome. Table for two?” she asked, then led them to a table. She sat another small family and a group of high school kids. Lily made sure the Christmas music was playing in the background and went to grab more menus. She took the orders and hurried to the kitchen to fill them. Of course she would have to send Ann off just before the dinner rush. It was good she’d only written the menu items she already had made. She threw some noodles into the boiling water on the stove and poured sauce over the chicken just before putting it into the warming oven. Mary and Patrick came bounding around the corner a few minutes later. “Hi, Mom. There are lots of people … do you need you help?” Mary grabbed one of the orders from the counter and started dishing out in between telling Patrick what to do next. Lily could have hugged her right then—if her arms weren’t loaded with plates. Lily took the first of the dishes out to the waiting tables and hurried back into the kitchen to grab drinks. “Here, Patrick, take those out to table four. That’s the one in the corner by the Christmas tree.” Mary took out two orders while Lily plated the pasta. She set it on the table of a young family just as Ann walked through the door while her arms full of bags. Her eyes widened, and she bustled past everyone and tied on an apron. “You couldn’t just wait until I got back to write the specials?” Ann asked in passing. Lily laughed. “You’d think I would have learned a long time ago.” She handed off two more orders and went back to the kitchen to check the chicken. She pulled out the items that Ann had picked up and stuck them in the fridge. The buzz of conversation coming from the dining room warmed her heart as she chopped up lettuce for salads. Mary added the other toppings to the salad, then helped Lily plate the dishes. Ann took one out
to each of the patrons. When the chicken was ready, Lily scooped noodles onto a plate and added the chicken and sauce on top. By the time the initial rush of customers was served, she was exhausted. Her kids sat in a corner resting, and Ann chatted with one of the groups. Lily’s phone buzzed. It was her newspaper friend, telling her they’d love to do a piece and would be over in the morning. She smiled at the message and started on another batch of chicken. She’d have to answer back when she had a spare moment. It was another hour of craziness before she finally said good-bye to the last customer. She sent Ann home once the dishes were done, then turned off most of the lights. She pulled out the poster board and markers Ann had bought and made posters to hang up around the store. With a week and a half left in the diner, she figured throwing one more party on the last night would be the best way to say thank you to the community that had kept it going for generations. Once those were done, she got the roasts ready to go for the next morning. She wrapped them in foil and set them in the oven to slow cook. She cleaned up the rest of the kitchen, then leaned down to wake her kids, who had fallen asleep on the floor of her office. “Hey, let’s go. I’m done.” She helped them up and got their coats on before locking up. “I came to see if you needed any help,” David said from behind her. Lily jumped and turned. “I was just finishing a few things up. Thank you for offering.” “Why don’t I at least give you a ride home?” David walked over to Lily. “I wanted to come by tonight, but we had last-minute things to clear up for Saturday night. How was your day?” Lily shrugged. “It was slow until tonight. Then it was a madhouse, but I survived.” “Ever the survivor.” His crooked smile sent a thrill through her. Thoughts of the letter and wanting to give up ran through her mind, but she pushed them away. “I only survive because I have no other choice.” David reached up and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Even more amazing.” Lily’s breath caught as he leaned forward and brushed her lips with his. The cold was forgotten as his closeness warmed her. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him. They stood there in the headlights of his truck for a few more moments before they pulled away. He touched her nose with his before stepping back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Lily could feel her face burning as she tried to catch her breath. “It’s okay. I mean, if it was okay with you. I just—let’s get in the truck.” Lily climbed in and ignored the giggles from her kids as David pulled away in silence. Neither of them said anything until the kids were in their rooms getting ready for bed. Lily put a pot of hot water on the stove and turned to find David staring at her. “Are you okay?” he asked. “I’m fine. Just exhausted. I sent Ann to get some stuff, and there was a rush of customers. It was rather chaotic for a while there.” Lily dumped some hot chocolate powder into four mugs and poured the hot water over it, then handed one to David. David laughed. “That would have been an adventure. I wish I could have been there to help you.” “That would have been great, actually.” She paused while Patrick and Mary sat at the table. She handed each of them a mug. “These two were very good helpers. They helped me get through all of it until Ann showed up.” “I’ve seen them at work. They’re pretty amazing.” David winked. He set his mug in the sink and rinsed it out. “I’d better get going.” “Thanks for stopping by. I wasn’t looking forward to the walk home.” Lily handed him his scarf. David leaned down and kissed her softly. “You’re welcome.” “Bye, David!” Mary called, and Patrick followed suit.
“You two get to bed so your mom can sleep.” He waved and left the house. Lily watched him drive away and turned to find Mary giggling. “What?” “You kissed him. I didn’t think it would ever happen.” Mary stood and put her mug in the sink. “I’m glad you did. ‘Night, Mom.” Lily kissed her on the cheek. “I am too. Goodnight, sweetie. Brush your teeth and go straight to bed. No reading under the covers.” Patrick dropped his mug in the sink and wrapped his arms around Lily’s neck. “David would be a good daddy.” “You think so?” Lily’s heart melted. “He makes you happy. I like seeing you happy. Plus, he throws the best snowballs.” He kissed Lily on the cheek and ran out of the kitchen. Lily stood in the kitchen, still feeling David's kiss on her lips. It had been unexpected, but had given her something she hadn’t felt in a long time—faith that everything would be okay.
* * *
The next morning, Lily sent Mary and Patrick off to school with a group of their friends with a promise that they’d go right there. She made her way to the diner and smiled at the decorations she’d put all over the windows. It looked better than she’d remembered. Ann came in not long after and set her coat in the corner of the office. “It smells great in here. I may eat all the roast myself.” “If you want a paycheck, I suggest you allow the meat to get to the tables.” Lily laughed and tied on her apron. “Fair enough.” Ann turned on the coffee pots and grabbed jam from the storage room while Lily mixed up batter for pancakes. When the first customers showed up, everything was ready to go. Ann and Lily took turns between the kitchen and taking orders. David stopped long enough to grab a piece of toast and some hot chocolate before he left with a wink. Lily smiled and went back to sweeping the floor. She ignored the questioning looking from Ann. They could gossip later when the diner wasn’t so full. It wasn’t until just before lunch that they finally had a break to rest for a moment. They’d had to call in two of their former employees to help out. It made no sense that just doing the paint on the windows would bring in this much traffic. Maybe her article had showed up in the newspaper already. But no, she hadn’t sent anything in yet. Lily took out one of the roasts and sliced it into thin slices for the lunch crowd. After making a few sandwiches, she wrapped up the rest and put it back in the oven. “Hey, Lily? We have someone who wants to pay their compliments to the chef.” Ann stood at the doorway. “Really? Okay.” Lily wiped her hands and moved past Ann, who gestured toward the bar where David usually sat. The man had a camera sitting next to him, and he played with the last of the eggs on his plate. “You wanted to speak to me?” Lily asked. She took the plate he handed to her and slid it through to Ann. “It’s no wonder Mr. Fleschmann comes in here every morning. Although, I’m thinking the company probably helps as well.” The glint in his eyes sent a shiver down Lily’s spine. Lily tried her hardest not to glare. “This is the only place in town that serves hot chocolate as early in the morning as he needs it.”
The man nodded and stood, throwing some money on the counter. “Fair enough. You don’t happen to know where he lives, do you?” “Why would I know that?” Lily wanted nothing more than to push him out the door. “I’ve heard things.” He handed off a business card. “Beautiful place you have here.” “Thank you.” Lily took the card and walked into the kitchen. What did that man want with David? He was obviously a reporter. She would have known even without his card. Ann looked up from the noodles. “I’m so sorry. If I’d known he was a slimeball, I wouldn’t have had you go out there.” “It’s not your fault.” Lily shoved his card in her back pocket and took out another order. She set the food down in front of the customers. “Here you go. I hope you enjoy.” “Thank you.” The woman smiled up at her. “You’ve done a beautiful job in here. What’s the occasion?” Lily sighed. She’d hoped to announce it later. “Thank you. Sadly, we’re having to close. I just wanted it to look nice for the holidays.” “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry to hear that. I wanted to come and see the diner for myself. I’ve heard so much about it.” She took her napkin and laid it on her lap. “You … have?” Lily looked around the diner, wondering how many other people were here because of things they’d heard. “From who?” The woman looked at Lily strangely. “It’s in the news. David Fleschmann is done mourning, and it’s all thanks to a beautiful mystery woman in his hometown diner. I can only assume they mean you.” Lily gripped the chair in front of her so she wouldn’t fall over. “What? How?” “Don’t question. Just go with it.” The woman took a bite and closed her eyes in pleasure. “This is heavenly.” “Thank you.” Lily walked back into the kitchen in a daze. What had just happened? She sent a quick text to David to see what was going on, and went back to work. She couldn’t dwell too much on the drama while the diner was so full of people. No matter where they came from. A few minutes later, Lily heard a clicking sound blending in with the buzz of customers. She peeked around the corner to find reporters taking pictures of the diner. Lily burst into the dining room. “Whoa. Hey, what are you guys doing?” “Are you Lilly Johnson? You own this place, right?” A reporter shoved a microphone in her face. “Yes, I do, but what are you doing here?” She held up a hand to get the spotlight out of her eyes. The other cameramen suddenly turned toward Lily as well. Ann pushed her way through the crowd and grabbed Lily by the elbow, guiding her back into the kitchen. “You may want to see this.” Ann held up her phone to show her an article on the front page of a tabloid. It was a picture of Lily and David kissing in front of the diner the night before. Lily stared at the phone, trying to digest what she was seeing. “How did they get this?” “I’m guessing they followed David here. Stay back in the kitchen, and I’ll take care of everything up front. I think the majority of your customers are reporters anyway. You don’t need that right now.” “Thank you.” Lily smiled at her and turned to the stove. She could get angry and storm out, demanding they leave, or she could make the best dinner they’d ever tasted and drum up some business. She felt guilty using David to make money, but only a little, since he was the reason they were here in the first place. She pulled out her phone. “Hey, Mike. What meats do you have available right now? … Okay, perfect. I want it all … Thanks.” She made sure the pasta was ready to go and plated, then went to her computer to type out a new menu. Along with the burgers and milkshakes she normally served, she added steak, salmon, and filet mignon. She’d also need to order some asparagus and more rice as well. After hitting print, she went back to filling orders.
Mike showed up at the back door and set all of the meat in the fridge. “That’s quite the crowd out there. What’s with the video cameras?” Lily’s face burned. “Word got out that David Fleschmann eats here.” “Wait—the David Fleschmann?” he asked. Lily sighed and glanced over to catch his grin. “I take it you already heard everything?” “Yep. On the way over here. I have to admit, I was a little jealous when I found out you were his girlfriend.” He winked and picked up his cooler. “Uh … Sorry? Seriously, though, thank you for bringing the delivery. If this goes well, I should be able to pay you back tomorrow. Does that work?” Lily felt another pang of guilt that she was using the publicity, but the way it had just fallen into her lap … “Perfect. See you tomorrow.” Mike left the way he’d come, and Lily turned back to the oven to pull out the chicken pot pie Ann had started earlier. Ann came around the corner just as Lily started plating the dishes. “Eric and Susan are here. I put them in charge of orders, but we may have to switch out soon. It’s a madhouse.” “Thank you. Have you seen my kids?” Lily slid the plate to Eric and turned back to grab the next dish. “Yes, they’re hiding in the office.” Ann nodded toward the office and dished up some pasta. “We’re going to need more sauce.” “Okay. I’ll get it started. One minute.” Lily peeked her head into the office. “Hey, you two. Can you stuff the menus for me? The papers are here, and the menu folders are under the desk.” Mary nodded and glanced toward the dining room. “What’s going on?” “Other people found out that David kissed me. Just stay back here and you’ll be fine. I’ll get you some food in a sec.” Lily shut the door and grabbed some garlic and onions for her marinara sauce. She chopped the onions first and scooped them into the large pot before moving on to the garlic. She let them sauté for a moment while she grabbed tomatoes. There was a slight knock at the backdoor before it opened. Lily tensed, hoping it wasn’t one of the reporters, but it was David. She wanted to punch him and hug him at the same time. He put his finger to his lips and didn’t speak until he was right next to Lily. “Hey, I heard this was a madhouse, and I came to help. Where do you need me?” “First, you need this.” Ann stuck a face mask on him, then followed it with a hairnet. “Don’t talk, and don’t you dare let people know you’re here.” David raised his eyebrows at Lily, but listened to Ann. Lily told David to marinate some of the steak while she added the tomatoes to the sauce and put on another pot to boil more noodles. They worked in silence as the crowds continued to pour in and out of the restaurant. Lily was almost out of her usual dishes by the time the diner closed for the night. She’d have to get more meat and vegetables for the next day. “Will you go make sure everyone has left the diner?” Lily asked. She dropped another pot into the dishwater. Once everyone had left, Mary and Patrick crept out of the office, and Lily handed them each a plate of spaghetti. David washed the dishes while Lily dried. Eric and Susan swept the floors and washed down all the tables before moving on to the bathrooms and kitchen. When they were done with that, Lily had them take over the dishes and started on the prep work for the next day. “So, this will end soon, right?” Lily asked. She rubbed the roast with spices and flipped it over. “It depends on how much gossip they can get out of their few minutes of seeing you. Look, I am so sorry. I didn’t know anyone had followed me here. This is why I moved out of New York.” David leaned against the counter. Lily set the roast in a pan and added the potatoes, carrots, and other veggies before wrapping it up.
“I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.” Lily set the roast in the oven and shut the door before meeting his eyes. “I might have taken advantage of the press by trying to make money off them.” David laughed and pulled her into a hug. “Most people would kick them out and tell them to go away. Trust you to feed them good food before sending them off.” Lily joined in, and it helped drain away her fatigue. She stepped back and wiped the tears running down her face from laughing so hard. “Man, I needed that. Thank you. Go grab some food and join Mary and Patrick if you want. I’m almost done.” “I can help. I don’t trust the press yet. If I go out there, it could be bad.” He scooped the chopped onions into the next pan and scattered them around the roast. “So, this is your life?” Lily chopped some carrots next. David stopped crushing the garlic for a second before starting again. “Yes. Well, it was. That’s why I drive the old truck. They don’t expect me to drive something so beat up. Or, at least that’s what I thought. I guess I slipped and forgot to watch for people when I headed out of work one day or something.” “Must be a pain.” Lily walked over to the sink and washed her hands. “It is.” David’s good mood seemed to have dissolved, and he was quieter than she’d seem him before. “I’m going to sneak out the back again and take the long way home. I’d give you a ride—” “I’ll take her. You go.” Ann smiled at him and pulled on her coat. David nodded and left the back way. Lily had the kids switch out the menus while she counted money and Ann did the recount. They had enough to pay Mike back the next day, along with the other deliveries they’d need. Lily set some aside to pay for the utilities as well and put the rest in the safe. Ann took Mary’s hand, and Patrick took Lily’s as they locked and dead-bolted the door. They ran for the car and climbed in. Ann pulled out of the diner and drove around town a couple of times before taking Lily home. “Let’s hope that worked. See you all in the morning.” Ann laid her head against the seat as Lily climbed out. “Thank you. I’ll be there early tomorrow. Sleep in. You’ll need your rest.” Lily smiled and shut the door before hurrying inside. She shut and locked the door before leaning against it. “That was insane. Okay, you two have already eaten, so brush your teeth, and we’ll have prayers.” Mary left the room and Patrick followed, grumbling. Bedtime was not his favorite time of day. Lily walked into her room and dropped on her bed. She didn’t want to move, but she rolled over and made a few calls for deliveries before her kids came in for prayers. She listened to Mary’s sweet pleas to get help for her family, then Lily kissed their cheeks and told them goodnight. It had been a long day, and there was so much to be grateful for. That night, the tears in her eyes were of gratitude—something that had been a long time coming.
Chapter 7
David sat at the church for several minutes before going in. He’d been asked to ring the bells at night as well, and that night, he was grateful for the opportunity. He couldn’t believe that Lily had been dragged into the media mess. All the steps he’d taken to be left alone hadn’t worked. The cold wasn’t quite as sharp when he climbed out of the truck. He walked into the bright cheeriness of the church. He waved at the pastor and waited for him to come down from the pulpit, where he'd been preparing for the service that evening. “There you are. I’m so thankful that you are willing to do this for me. I thought it would be good for people to go to sleep at night with the tune in their heads. That, or they’ll come and yell at me, but either way, I’m getting to them.” Reverend Smith laughed and led the way to the bell tower. “I guess that’s a good way to look at it.” David climbed the stairs and looked through the list of melodies he could play. He found a Christmas song and decided it would fit that night well. As he rang the bells to play Silent Night, he teared up. He could almost hear Sarah humming along. When it was over, the sounds still haunted his thoughts. He looked out and watched as Ann left the diner to take Lily home. David went downstairs to find a few people sitting in the pews. He nodded to them and walked to the back of the church. He sat down and listened as the pastor spoke of service. “Remember that service is not just for the holiday season, but something that’s important year round. Find those around you who might need help, and assist them in the best way you know how.” David slipped out before the song was over and climbed into his truck. He drove home and made some popcorn so he could watch a movie. The Christmas tree distracted him, and he thought back to the night Lily had been there. It was the first time this place had felt like home, and he ached for it again.
* * *
David made it into the city early the next morning and did his best to be as visible as possible. He wanted to do anything he could to pull the attention away from Lily while making sure she still had plenty of business. Not that he had to try too hard for that—he’d learned that he was a walking advertisement for any place he walked into. It wasn’t so bad most of the time. He got a lot of free meals, and everyone went out of their way to make sure he had the best of whatever they served. He just made sure to tip heavily as he left. After shopping for several hours to finish off the details for the party the next night, David dropped the supplies off at the reception hall where they’d be holding the party. Workers were busy hanging decorations, and the tables glittered from the silver and the goblets set at each place. He couldn’t wait to see how his employees would react to everything. “Is everything to your liking, sir?” the owner, Steve, asked. “You’ve surpassed my liking. Seriously. This is why I chose you to put on the party.” David gestured to the bags he’d brought with him. “Here are the gifts I want to hand out. Do you have a spot for them yet?” “Of course. They’ll go up near your seat.” Steve whistled for help, and two men came by to grab the bags and followed them to the front. “You and your date will sit here, as will your assistant and the others you recommended.” “Perfect. I have everything wrapped and ready to go. However you decide to display them, I want these three to be last.” David pointed to three smaller packages. Steve wrote it down in his notebook. “Wonderful. Is there anything else you need? Otherwise, I need to go make sure the food is prepared correctly.”
“I’m leaving it all in your hands. Thank you.” David nodded at him and left the hall, smiling at the employees as he walked past. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Lily’s face when she saw it. And speaking of Lily, he still needed to arrange her dress fitting. He climbed in a cab and directed the driver to a building near Times Square. He climbed out and smiled at the few photographers who were waiting outside—he’d let slip that he’d be here later that day—and climbed upstairs. “Hello. I need to speak to Mr. Walker,” he said to the receptionist. Her eyes were wide as she called her boss to let him know David was there. It was only a minute or so before David was called back. He sat down on the plush chair in front of the desk and waited for Mr. Walker to speak. “It’s a nice surprise to see you here. I trust you have good news about our campaign?” Mr. Walker folded his hands on the desk. “Oh, it’s ready to go. My secretary will be calling you Monday to set up a meeting so you can see it. I’m here to talk about something else, actually.” He cleared his throat. “My date needs a dress for the party tomorrow night, and I want to make sure it’s perfect. I was hoping to bring her by tomorrow afternoon to be pampered and dressed for the evening. Are your employees up for it?” Mr. Walker stared at David for a moment before smiling. “This must be some special woman.” “You have no idea.” “I’ll agree, but only if you let us create your tuxedo as well.” David laughed. “It’s a deal. I was thinking around three o’clock. Will that give you enough time to have things ready?” “We’ll be ready.” He stood and shook David’s hand. “Thank you for allowing us this opportunity.” “You’re welcome. We’ll see you tomorrow.” David left with a big smile on his face. He couldn’t wait to see what they designed for her. He left and headed to work to pick up his truck. He wanted to help Lily at the diner, but he needed to make a couple of stops first. The drive through the city was slow because of rush-hour traffic. He should have left an hour before. He stopped at a florist just outside the city and bought some red roses, then drove to a small cemetery. A frozen white blanket covered the ground, but he could have made it to the headstone with his eyes closed. The flowers stood out brightly against the white surrounding them. David brushed the snow away from Sarah’s headstone and knelt down. “I can’t believe another month has gone by since you left me. I hope you’re proud of the changes I’ve made in my life. I’ve made them for you, and you’re right. I’m so much happier when I serve.” David wiped his eyes. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that I met someone. I think you’d like her. She’s beautiful, smart, and has a wonderful laugh. And two of the most amazing kids. I just … I don’t know what to do.” He sat in silence for another few minutes before standing and touching the headstone. No answers had come, but he hadn’t really expected one. He knew she would be happy for him. That’s all she’d ever wanted. The question was, could he allow himself to let go and move on? It was another hour before he finally got back home. The diner’s parking lot was packed with cars again, and he saw flashes going off in several places. He drove past and parked in his garage before walking around the long way to go in the back door. Lily was trying to do several things at once, so David stepped in to help out. He kept the mask and hairnet on and made sure to stay away from the window into the dining room. “I see things haven’t calmed down much,” he whispered as he took a plate from Lily. “I think it’s worse today.” She threw some more noodles into a pot and handed the spoon to David to stir, then took another two dishes to the window. David went to the pantry to look through the spices. He pulled out the ones he needed and set them on the counter, and then pulled out another pan. He sautéed the garlic and added onions and a few other spices to the mix.
“What are you doing?” Lily stared at the pan in front of him. “Making my pasta dish. I know it’s not on the menu, but it makes a lot, and it’s fast.” He set the pan aside and grabbed a pot for the noodles he’d need. Lily nodded. “Right. We’ll just add that to the specials list.” “So you don’t have anyone else to help?” David asked. “It’s kind of insane in here.” “I have two friends who should be here any minute. If you have suggestions on how to calm this down, I’d love to hear it. Not that I don’t love the business. We’re just almost out of ingredients.” Lily pulled some chicken out of the oven and set it on the counter to dish up. David poured the noodles into the pot and turned the heat down. “I have an idea, if you’re willing to do it.” “What’s that?” Lily asked. “Come to a movie with me. We’ll go out the back, but accidentally be seen so they’ll follow us. But that’s only if you want the diner to empty out. You sure you want to lose the business? And more importantly, are you okay with them following us to the movie?” Lily glanced at the window to the chaos in the dining room and sighed. “As much as I love the business, I need to restock before we can make anything else. Are you okay with that, Ann? I could just announce that we're out of food, but then what would the reporters say?” “A break from the insanity? That’s a big yes. You two go, and I'll deal with it.” Ann grabbed a few plates and left the kitchen. David helped Lily put on her coat, and they had Mary and Patrick follow them outside. David walked around the corner and waited until the crowd noticed him. He put his arm around Lily and took Patrick’s hand while Lily held Mary’s hand. They walked to the theater slowly to make sure they had reporters following them. “Where are we going?” Mary asked. “To a movie,” Lily said. David was relieved to find that there was a children’s movie playing as they walked up to buy tickets. The familiar flashes of cameras made him smile. It had worked. They walked into the movie, and David paid for popcorn, candy, and drinks for the kids, and one big tub of popcorn for him to share with Lily. They found their seats in an almost empty theater and sat down to wait for the movie to start. Lily helped her kids open their candy and settled back into her seat. David hadn’t seen her so excited. “When was the last time you saw a movie in the theater?” he whispered. “Years.” She thought for a moment. “I think Mary was two. She wouldn’t sit still for more than a few seconds at a time.” David chuckled. “Well, it’s about time you came back. And this time, Mary might sit still.” Mary looked up from her candy. “What?” “Never mind.” Lily looked behind them and tensed up. “They all followed us here.” David glanced over his shoulder to see the seats filled with reporters, then turned back around. “Just relax and pretend they’re not here. This way, your employees can have a small break, and we get to watch a movie together. Win-win situation.” “You’re right. Thank you. My kids have begged me for months to see this.” Lily took a small handful of popcorn. “You’re welcome. Although, I have to admit I was just doing it so I could take you on a date.” He winked and turned back to the previews. The movie started, and David laughed right along with the kids. Sometime during the movie, Lily laid her head on David’s shoulder. He kissed her forehead and enjoyed the closeness. When the movie
ended, they stood and found that the theater had emptied out. “Where’d they all go?” Lily helped Patrick get his coat on. “They’re most likely outside, waiting for the perfect shot of us leaving the theater.” David took her hand, and they walked out into the cold. “See what I mean?” Flashes of light blinded them as reporters shoved their microphones into David's face. Reporter after reporter fired questions at them, so David held up his hand to quiet them. “Thank you for your attention. We would ask that you leave us alone so we can protect the privacy of those around us. If you could please wait until tomorrow’s party to look for news, I’d appreciate it.” He led the family toward the church, and didn’t say anything else until they were inside. Mary and Patrick walked to the front to talk to the pastor, and David watched the door to make sure no one would come and bother Lily's family. “Let’s hope that will appease them, but I think we’ll just stick around here for a while. Some might try to come into the church, but I doubt Reverend Smith would let that happen. Now, want to help me out?” David took her hand in his and walked to the front. “Help with what?” Lily asked. David smiled at the pastor and kept walking toward the stairs. “I assume you’ve heard the bells lately?” “Yeah?” David stopped to take off his coat and put it around Lily’s shoulders. “Well, that’s me.” “That’s amazing.” She walked up the stairs, and David followed behind her. “Here’s the best view in the town.” David held his hands out when they stood in the tower. “The best place to see the sunrise and sunset.” “Wow.” She shivered and turned to look up at the bells. “So you just pull on the ropes?” “Yes, but there are different melodies we can play. Right here.” He held up the book and turned the pages. Lily read over his shoulder and stopped at a page. “Can we play this one?” David froze, but nodded. She’d chosen Amazing Grace, Sarah’s favorite. He set the book down. “Okay, here we go. You pull these and I’ll take care of these two. Ready?” Lily took hold of the rope and nodded. “Ready.” They rang the bells, and while the tempo was just slightly off, it brought tears to David’s eyes. When he looked down at Lily, he noticed that she was also choked up. He put his arm around her, and they walked down the stairs together. Mary and Patrick were sitting near the back of the chapel when David and Lily walked in. They sat down next to the children and listened to the sermon. There weren’t many people in attendance, but the message was moving. Reverend Smith allowed them to stay after the sermon to make sure the reporters had left. It was late before they were able to leave. David ran with them back to his house and drove them home in his truck. Lily kissed him good-bye and hurried inside with the kids. David pulled out of the driveway, and his stomach filled with dread when a small car drove away with its headlights off. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Lily's number. "Hey, make sure you lock your doors. I just saw a car drive away, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't one of your neighbors." He could hear her sigh on the other end of the line. "Thank you for the heads up." She paused. "And thank you for a wonderful night." "Any time. Goodnight." "Night." He pulled into his garage checked all the doors to his house, then set the alarm system. He made some hot chocolate and climbed into bed to watch TV.
He avoided the news and turned on an old Christmas movie. The day had been perfect, and he fell asleep hoping Lily felt the same way.
* * *
David finished his run and started the kettle before hopping in the shower. He hadn’t slept for more than a couple of hours the night before, and he could feel the fatigue hanging on. Nightmares had plagued him, but this time it was Lily who had been in the accident with him. The familiar thunk of the newspaper hitting the door brought David out of his thoughts, and he went to get it. He opened the paper and set it on the table, then grabbed his hot chocolate and toast. He took a drink and promptly spit it out when he saw Lily’s face plastered across the front of the paper. True, he'd pretty much orchestrated the whole thing, but what they'd reported was hurtful toward Lily. Along with the terrible headlines, there were smaller pictures of her and David at the theater. Thankfully, the kids had been cropped out. Who is the Mystery Woman? The article went on to say that Lily had swept in to try to steal David’s heart, and that she had no sympathy for the woman he had lost just months before. It brought up the grisly details of the accident before moving on to Lily and the little information they had about her. There were speculations about her husband and where the children came from, but no one knew. David rubbed his hand over his face in frustration. Had Lily seen this? He stood and went to get dressed. He didn’t need to put on a suit like he’d planned, since Mr. Walker would be providing a tux as well, but he put on a dress shirt and nice pants so he could look good for Lily. He added a touch of cologne, then brushed his hair. He hoped she didn’t see any of the newspapers. Not until after tonight, at least. Thoughts of Lily’s past ran through David’s mind, but he pushed them away. He’d find out more when she was willing to talk. It’s not like he’d said much to her about Sarah. He grabbed his coat and left the house, looking back to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. The silence was almost overpowering as he shut the door. He needed to have Lily and her kids back over to his house again sometime so he could fill it with laughter. On the way to the diner, David called Peter. “Hey, I need you to make a call to any press organizations you can find and get them to stop writing articles about Lily. Feed them stories about our latest ads or something else if you need to.” “So you saw the papers, I take it?” Peter sighed. “There are others already. Some claiming that Lily killed her husband in his sleep, others that she ditched him in a forest somewhere and the police never found the body. You do know what you’re getting into, right?” “Yes, I do. Sounds like we also need to put a no-press barrier within a hundred feet of the party as well.” David cringed. He knew they wouldn’t like that much. Especially after specifically inviting them. There was silence for a second. “You can’t protect her forever.” David clenched his jaw. “I know. But I’m going to do my best. Thank you. I’ll see you later.” The diner parking lot was empty when David pulled up. He walked inside to find Ann washing tables while Lily sat at a booth with papers in front of her. “Wow, it’s rather quiet today.” He sat across from Lily. “Where are Mary and Patrick?” “They’re sledding with friends.” Lily brushed her fingers through her hair. “You weren’t kidding when you said the movie would help things die down here.” David laughed. “I didn’t think it would die this fast. Sorry about that.” Lily shrugged. “We had a few show up, but we turned them away. We couldn’t get any deliveries for today, so we wouldn’t have been able to serve them. Besides, the last two days helped us pay several of
our bills, so I can’t complain.” “I have to admit, I’m a little relieved. I was planning to take you into the city after lunch, and that would have been difficult if it was busy here.” David tapped his fingers to the Christmas carol playing over the speakers. “That should be fine.” Lily set down her pen. “Are you sure this is okay? Having someone else provide my dress just feels … wrong.” David leaned forward and put his hand on hers. “My client is thrilled to be able to help you out. And he’s providing me with a tux as well, if that makes you feel any better.” “Yes, it does. Okay, I’ll do it. But …” Lily glanced over at Ann. “You won’t care that I’m just a ‘mystery woman’?” “You saw the paper?” David’s confidence deflated. Of course she’d get the paper. The diner provided them for the customers to buy. He should have come and grabbed them before she showed up at work. Lily nodded, but avoided his eyes. “I’m sorry about your wife. I had no idea.” David cleared his throat. “They got some of it wrong.” “What do you mean?” Lily asked. “There was ice, yes.” He paused before continuing. “But I’d been driving fast to get away from some reporters who were following us, and I didn’t stop in time. It’s not a coincidence that all those photos exist. They were right there to take pictures before the police ever arrived. That’s why I left the city. I couldn’t live with the guilt of what had happened, but I also needed to get away from the press. I had to hide where they couldn’t find me, and that worked up until a few days ago.” Lily stood and moved around the table to hug David as he tried to regain control over his emotions. “Hey, it’s okay. Her death wasn’t your fault. You were trying to protect her.” David wrapped his arms around Lily and pulled her tight. “I know you’re right, but it’s hard to tell myself that every time I have nightmares of what happened.” Lily brushed his tears away and cupped his face in her hands. “Look, you can’t be responsible for what others have done. Sarah wouldn’t want you blaming yourself for what happened, and you know it, right?” “You’re right.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “I’m going to clean up. I’m sorry. This is the last thing I wanted to do this morning.” Lily brushed away his concern. “You needed to get it out, and I’m glad you did.” David kissed her again before walking into the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face, then dried it off with a paper towel. After a few more calming breaths, he left the bathroom and went to find Lily. The door to the office was slightly open, and he noticed that she was on the phone. He started to walk away, but caught a few words of the conversation. “No, it’s not for sale yet. You gave me until the end of next week. No, Monday is not okay. Look, I’ll have payment to you as soon—yes, I understand.” David walked away and grabbed a broom that sat next to the counter. The floor was clean, but he swept anyway. What had Lily been talking about? The diner had been slow, so maybe it was that. The thought of her losing her house was worrying, but they wouldn’t have called her at work for something like that. Ann grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from the office. “If you so much as say one word to Lily about what you just heard, I’ll make you regret it. She’s been too excited about this party to have it blow up just hours before. Got it?” David glanced between her and the office. “Got it. I didn’t realize it was that bad.” “It’s that bad.” Ann moved away as Lily came into the dining room. Lily stopped, staring at Ann. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just making sure he behaves himself tonight.” Ann checked the clock. “Why don’t you two take off? I can handle it here.” “You sure?” Lily asked. “Yes. Go.” Ann shot a stern look at David before heading back to the kitchen. Lily followed her into the kitchen and came back a few minutes later. “If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think Ann wants to get rid of us. Is it going to mess things up if we get there a little earlier?” David shook his head. “It’s probably better this way. Traffic could be pretty bad with Christmas so close.” Lily pulled on her jacket and the coat David had let her borrow, then followed him out to the car. “Can we stop by to say good-bye to the kids?” “Sure. What’s the address?” David opened the door to the Mercedes and let her in before going to the other side. Lily gave the directions and ran inside for a few minutes before coming back to the car. Mary and Patrick waved as they pulled away. This was the first actual date Lily and David had been on, and David couldn’t help the nerves that were piling up. He wasn’t supposed to have to go through this all over again. “Having second thoughts?” Lily asked. David took her hand and squeezed. “Never.”
Chapter 8
Lily’s thoughts and emotions were so out of control, it was making her sick to her stomach. She was thrilled to be going out with him, but this was a really big event with hundreds of people she didn’t know. David turned on some Christmas music, and it helped calm Lily’s nerves. Something familiar was exactly what she needed right then. She watched out the window as the scenery flew by. As they got closer to the city, the traffic picked up. “So where is this party?” Lily asked. “A reception hall near Broadway. It was . . . my favorite.” His obvious pause was followed by a clench of his jaw. Lily felt a pang of guilt. “It was your wife’s favorite, right?” David sighed. “Yes. She loved attending events there, even when we weren’t necessarily invited.” “Is that one of the joys of being famous? You get to crash events without getting in trouble?” Lily asked, laughing. David chuckled. “You could say that, but having us show up just meant more publicity for whoever was holding the event.” That had to be nice. Lily couldn’t imagine having that much power. But then, she’d seen it in action with the press. He’d seemed so calm as he helped lead them away from the diner. “We’re going to get there a little early, so we have time to go to lunch first if you’d like.” David changed lanes and turned down a side street. “I’d like that. I forgot to eat breakfast this morning.” She’d been planning to eat when she got to the diner, but then the newspaper article had driven all thoughts of food out of her mind. David pulled into a parking garage and found an empty spot. “It’ll be easier to walk from here. Besides, we’re not too far from where we’re going.” “Sounds great.” Lily climbed out of the car and took David’s hand. They walked down to the street and into a building to take an elevator to the top. The doors opened to a restaurant with breathtaking views of the city. The décor was more modern than her diner. Paintings with bright splashes of color lined the walls, and the booths were high-backed with plush red cushions. Waiters and waitresses bustled about, taking orders and bring in food. “I can see what you’re doing,” David whispered close to Lily’s ear. “No comparing your diner to this place. It’s beautiful, but the food doesn’t compare to yours.” “I can’t help it. The diner is all I’ve known for years, and I can see how much updating it needs. But that’s sweet of you to say.” Not that the updating would ever happen. She’d be closing on Monday, after the threats she’d received over the phone that morning. She shoved it out of her mind. No need to dwell on it. A waitress pulled out two menus. “Right this way, Mr. Fleschmann.” David winked at Lily as they walked toward a table in the back. “I might have come here a few times before.” Lily shook her head and laughed. She sat at the table and looked down at the menu in front of her. Everything was over twenty dollars, including the appetizers. Several of the dishes were ones she’d toyed with at her diner, but they never caught on. People in town were perfectly happy with burgers, pancakes, and chicken Parmesan, so that’s what she’d always go back to making. “Order whatever you’d like, but I recommend the salmon or the prosciutto-stuffed chicken. Both are amazing.” David took a drink of his water. “Just how many times have you been to this place?” Lily set her menu aside and folded her hands in front of her.
David grinned. “Too many to count. It’s my favorite place to bring clients.” The waiter came over, and David ordered the salmon while Lily decided to try the chicken. She’d already been eyeing it before David had recommended it. “So your office is nearby, then?” Lily asked. David gestured toward the window. “See that building over there, standing above the others?” “Yeah. That one’s yours?” Lily’s eyes widened. It had to be over eighty stories high. “No, it’s the one next to it. My dad had tried to buy the other one years ago, but they weren’t willing to sell. I’m glad they didn’t, though. I have a top-floor office, and it makes me dizzy to look out.” If it was anything like the view Lily could see from her table, she could understand that. She took a drink of her water and set her napkin on her lap. “Hey, look at me.” David waited for Lily to meet his eyes. “You’ll be fine. There’s no need to be nervous. Just watch what I’m doing and follow.” “I can’t help it. Sorry.” Lily spread her hands out on the table, trying to calm down. David put his hand over hers, and his warmth helped her relax. Tingles ran up her arm, and she concentrated on his deep brown eyes. “Better?” “Yes. Thank you.” She leaned back when the waiter brought a tray of bread to the table. She took a slice and buttered it. The bread almost melted in her mouth when she took a bite of it. “Oh, my.” “I have to admit, this is my favorite part of the meal. I’ve been known to sneak it out of the restaurant before.” He took a bite of his bread. “I’m sure they loved that.” Lily took another bite, then wiped her mouth. “I’m going to run to the restroom. Please excuse me.” The bathroom was just as fancy as the rest of the restaurant, and actually had someone sitting there with towels. As she walked back to the table, she caught a few whispers and glares from other patrons. She checked her shirt and hair, wondering what they were so upset about. It wasn’t until she caught a snatch of “David” and “that woman” that she realized what was going on. Her face was burning by the time she sat down, and she stared at the salad in front of her. “Hey, what’s going on? What happened? Your face is bright red.” The concern in David’s eyes only made things worse. “People were talking about us. I’m not used to that.” Lily stabbed her lettuce and took a bite, but didn’t really taste anything as she choked it down. David’s eyes narrowed. “Who was it?” Lily shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I just wasn’t expecting it. Has everyone in the world heard you’re dating me?” “Probably. Those reporters were pretty relentless.” He sat back while they set down his salmon. The chicken was set in front of Lily, and even though she’d lost her appetite before, the food looked amazing. She took a bite, and the flavors burst in her mouth. This was a dish she would have to play with and make for herself. The prosciutto gave the chicken a richer flavor, and the asparagus and other steamed vegetables accented it perfectly. “Good?” David asked. “Amazing.” She took a bite of David’s salmon and shared a piece of her chicken. “Wow, the salmon is cooked to perfection.” “Definitely. This is why I bring my clients. We get the account more often than not when we come here.”
* * *
Once lunch was over, David and Lily walked over to Times Square. Lily stared in the windows as
they walked past different shops. She stopped at a newsstand to pick out a postcard for Ann, but David pulled her away before she could choose one. He glanced back nervously, but wouldn’t say anything when she asked him what was going on. They walked into a building, and David pushed the elevator button. He was tense and quiet, and totally unlike the David she knew. When they stepped into the elevator, Lily moved closer to him. “How do you stand these things? It feels like my stomach is going to drop through my shoes.” David wrapped his arms around her. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it. I’m just used to it by now.” The elevator stopped, and David gave her a quick kiss. “Prepare to be pampered.” Lily’s eyes widened as they walked into a large office building. Mannequins dotted the office, wearing different styles for the winter season. A man in a sharp suit came forward and shook David’s hand, then Lily’s. “Lily, this is Mr. Walker. He owns this company.” “Nice to meet you.” Lily’s heart was beating rapidly, and she had to shove her hands into her pockets to stop them from shaking. She didn’t know much about fashion, but she’d heard of this place. Suddenly, she felt completely underdressed. “Ah, Lily. Such a beautiful name for a beautiful lady. We’ll take good care of you. Follow Nikki and Ella through those doors, and they'll make sure you're breathtaking for tonight. David, you come with me.” Lily opened her mouth to protest, but Nikki and Ella had hold of her arms and guided her away. They had her take her coat off and stand on a small pedestal while they circled around her, muttering to each other. Nikki finally turned to her. “Go into that dressing room, and we’ll hand you gowns to try on. Come out here, and we’ll see which one works for you.” Lily did as she was asked, and waited for the gowns. The first was a deep-blue dress with black embroidered roses along the skirt and bodice. She tried it on, but it was too big. She opened the door for them to see, but they immediately made her shut it and change. This went on for several more gowns before she finally tried on a dark red dress that fit her form perfectly. She left the dressing room, and the girls squealed in delight. They pulled her over to the pedestal and again circled her. “It’s perfect. I didn’t think the mermaid style would work for you, but I was totally wrong.” Ella helped Lily down. “Now, go change, and we’ll work on your hair.” Lily walked back into the dressing room and changed into her jeans and button-up shirt. They were her nicest clothes, but they seemed so drab next to the dress she’d been wearing. She hung up the gown and left the dressing room. “Okay, sit here.” Nikki guided her to a chair and pulled the ponytail holder out of Lily’s hair. “Oh, dear. You haven’t had a trim in years, have you? No worries. We’ll take good care of you. First, a wash.” Lily wanted to point out that she’d washed her hair that morning, but figured it wouldn’t do any good to argue. She only hoped she recognized herself by the time they were done with her.
* * *
When they had first started the makeover, Lily couldn’t imagine it taking five hours to get her ready, but what she hadn’t counted on was the amount of poking and prodding she’d have to endure. They plucked her eyebrows, gave her a manicure, chopped off a couple inches of hair, then added highlights, and ended with a pedicure. As they neared the time for the party, Lily slipped into her dress and walked back out to have her makeup done. They helped her slip on heels and handed her a jeweled purse before declaring her ready for the event. It wasn’t until then that they finally allowed her to look in the mirror.
She’d known this woman once, a long time ago. The makeup and hairstyle had taken years off, and she remembered what it felt like to be beautiful. She forced herself not to cry. She didn’t want to mess up the makeup they’d worked so hard on. “Thank you. I don’t know how to repay you.” Lily hugged Nikki and Ella and wiped her eyes. Nikki smiled. “It was our pleasure. The beauty was there—we just had to uncover it. Now go. Your date is waiting for you. Oh, wait. We almost forgot.” She handed Lily a thick wrap to wear over her dress. “There we go.” Lily took a deep breath and opened the doors to the main office. David stood there, stunning in his black tailored tuxedo. His expression when he saw her told her everything she needed to know. “You look stunning.” He hugged her tightly before turning to Mr. Walker. “You have outdone yourselves. Thank you for your help.” Mr. Walker shook David’s hand. “It’s our pleasure.” David put his arm around Lily and guided her toward the elevator. As soon as the door shut and they started going down, David pulled Lily closer. “Did you have fun?” “I felt a little like a pincushion here and there, but yes, I enjoyed it. Thanks again. I’d forgotten what it was like to do more than throw a ponytail or bun in my hair.” Outside, a sleek black limo sat in front of the building. David opened the door and gestured for Lily to climb in. “You got a limo? You didn’t need to do that—we could have walked.” She settled in, and David sat next to her. “It’s a bit of a drive, and I didn’t want us to freeze before we got there. Besides, this way I can do this.” He leaned forward and kissed her softly at first, and then with more passion. Lily’s heart thudded in her chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. By the time they reached the reception hall and David pulled away, Lily was breathless. She kissed him lightly one more time before adjusting her wrap and checking her hair to make sure nothing had escaped the French knot. David wiped his mouth, and Lily reapplied the lipstick Ella had put into her purse. The drive opened the door for them, and David climbed out first so he could help Lily. He laced his arm through hers and nodded to the driver before they walked into the hall. Other couples were arriving at the same time, and Lily stuck close to David so she wouldn’t panic. The reception hall was massive, and had large chandeliers hanging down every thirty feet. They’d gone all out to decorate for Christmas. People mingled in groups, while others sat at their tables. Each place had a name card, and she couldn’t help looking around for hers. “We’re up at the front,” David whispered. “We can head up there soon, but we need to make the rounds. Are you okay with that?” Lily swallowed hard and nodded. As long as he did all the talking, she might survive this. She shook hands and exchanged polite hellos, but otherwise, she didn’t say much. When they finally got to their table, Lily sank into her chair and breathed a sigh of relief. “Believe me, I know how you feel,” a woman said. She sat down next to Lily and held out her hand. “I’m Debra. This is Erin and her fiancé, Jake.” “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Lily.” She felt at ease around the three of them, but it wasn’t until David sat next to her that she finally relaxed a little. She could almost ignore the fact that they were facing everyone. The guests looked up toward the table expectantly. The music stopped, and David stood, clearing his throat. “Welcome to our Silver Script Ad Agency Christmas party. It’s been a long time in coming, but I hope to make this an annual thing. As you know, I’ve had quite a rough year. Sarah was dear to many of you, and it was devastating when her life was
taken.” Lily looked down at her plate as many of the people in the crowd glanced over at her. Most of the expressions were curious, but she sensed a few glares among them. Debra reached over and squeezed her hand, and Lily squeezed it back. David continued. “It was Sarah’s wish that I give back to the company, and as soon as I was able to pull myself out of my dark abyss, I wanted to make good on that wish. In doing so, I found another light. I won’t make her stand, but I want to thank Lily for bringing me a happiness I never thought would be possible again.” Lily smiled up at him, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she was enough to make up for the loss of Sarah. From the reactions she was getting from the others, she wasn’t the only one. It took everything she had not to get up and run out of the room. “I know you’re all waiting to eat the wonderful meal provided by the staff here, so I’ll save the presents until the end. Thank you.” David sat next to Lily and put his napkin on his lap. As soon as he gave the signal, the waiters brought out the food. “You were great up there. I bet your employees adore you.” Lily thanked the waiter who brought her a salad, then turned back to David. David shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m just trying to make up for lost time.” Lily took a bite of salad and shook off the questions that were running through her head. David had his own story, and he would tell her when he was ready. She was still full from lunch, so she didn’t eat much of the steak they set in front of her. Debra and David kept her engaged in conversation, and she was fascinated by their talk of advertising methods. She took mental notes of things she could use—until she remembered that she’d be closing the diner soon anyway. After dinner was finished, David stood again and asked Lily to stand with him. She'd hand him a gift, and then he’d give it to the person as their name was called. It took a while to get through the hundreds of employees, but the crowd stayed quiet until everyone had a gift at their place. As one, David had them open them. The cries of excitement brought a grin to David’s face. Lily wondered if she was the only one who caught the tear that rolled down his cheek as he looked out at his employees. When the noise had died down, David spoke again. “One more thing, and then we’ll start the dance. If you’d all stand so they can move your tables, that would be great. There are a few people up here on the stage who have made a significant difference in the business this year, and I want to honor them.” David pulled up each person at the table and announced their promotions. Lily had expected to see jealousy or anger as the names were called, but the cheers only got louder with each announcement. When David announced that his assistant was to be made a partner, the crowd went wild. Then David asked them to dim the lights, and music started. He turned and offered a hand to Lily. They walked to the dance floor and David put his arms around her, pulling her close. Others followed suit, and the dance began. Lily enjoyed David’s closeness for several songs. She laid her head against his chest as they moved around the floor. She’d wanted to sit during the faster songs, but David pulled her back. When her legs threatened to collapse, she finally broke away and weaved through other couples to get to the ladies’ room. She checked her makeup and walked toward the door just as a group of women came in, laughing loudly. “Oh, it’s you,” one lady sneered. “I heard about you.” Lily jerked back. “What do you mean?” “Please. Anyone can see you're after David's money. Although, I must admit that you clean up
nicely.” She laughed and walked past Lily. “David has been through more than most people should ever have to deal with. He needs someone who will appreciate him, not use him for her own gain.” another girl said, glaring at Lily. "Go back home and let us take care of him." Lily felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. She rushed out of the bathroom, cringing at the malicious laughter coming from behind her. She'd never had to deal with such ... catty people before in her life. Brushing away a stray tear, she pushed through the crowd, trying to find David. He stood near the center of the room, surrounded by a few women, joking and laughing with them. Lily stopped short. So this is what he did as soon as she left? Was she just another woman to him? She turned and ran out into the hallway, ignoring David’s calls to her. She dropped into a chair and buried her face into her hands. “Hey, what’s going on? Why are you out here?” David’s voice echoed in the empty hallway. He put his hand on her back, but she jerked away. “I just want to go home. If you need to stay, that’s fine. I just have to go.” Lily stood and walked toward the door. David caught up and pulled her back. “What’s going on? You were fine just a minute ago.” “Two women in the restroom said I was after your money. I knew it was a mistake to come. This isn’t me.” She tried to block out the women’s words, but they kept playing over and over in her head. She pushed her way outside and realized she’d left the wrap at her table. . “Please let me get your things. I’ll go with you.” David kissed her cheek and ran into the building. Lily waited for David, hoping no one else would come out. Shame had set in, and she couldn’t believe how she’d acted. Maybe they were right. Maybe she wasn’t good for him. David left the building just as the limo pulled up. He put the wrap around her shoulders and opened the door for her. She slipped inside and stared out the window as they drove to the parking garage where they’d left the truck that morning. They climbed out and thanked the driver, then climbed into David’s truck. He blasted the heater to warm them up. “Now can you tell me what happened?” David asked. He pulled onto the road and headed for home. Lily explained what happened, and by the time she was done, David’s knuckles were white as they held on to the steering wheel. “You don’t know who they were?” he asked. “Did you recognize them at all?” “I don’t think so. It was all a blur.” Lily rubbed her temples to try to get rid of the headache that was coming on. David took her hand. “Please don’t listen to them. They’re just listening to poison that’s being passed around, and I’m doing what I can to fix it.” Lily stared at David, stunned. “You knew about those stories?” “Only a little. Peter warned me about them. I don’t know where the press is getting anything, and believe me, I’m going to find out.” “Don’t bother. There’s some truth to what they say.” Lily stared out the window. “Not about why I’m with you—I don’t care about the money. I mean about my ex-husband.” David turned onto the highway toward their town. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Lily took a deep breath. “Just after Patrick was born, my ex-husband took up drinking. He wasn’t an angry drunk, but I didn’t want it in my house. I put up with it for a year or two, but one time he came home and started screaming at us. He tried to hit Mary, and I got in the way. I pushed him out of the house, and he fell and hit his head on the cement step. He was fine, but he spent a few days in the hospital. I don’t think he remembers anything about that night except falling. He told anyone who would listen that I tried to kill him. The local sheriff questioned me, but knew us both well enough that he dropped it. My ex was jailed later for some other crime, and died in prison of an overdose from drugs that had been slipped in to
him by an old friend.” When David didn’t say anything, Lily continued. She should have stopped, but the words just kept spilling out. “Mary and Patrick don’t remember him at all and haven’t ever asked about him. When you came into the picture, they started telling me how much they wanted a daddy.” Lily shivered. She was glad to have the story out in the open at last. “So, I don’t know who told the reporters what happened, but they only have part of the story.” “They’ll dig up just about anything. I’m so sorry—they should never have gone after you. This is my fault,” David grumbled. “I’ll fix this.” Lily’s anger flared, surprising her. “You don’t have to fix anything. It’s my problem. Don’t take the blame for something that wasn’t you. It happened years ago.” David sighed. “I wish you would just let me help sometimes without fighting back.” “I appreciate the help you’ve given me, but I can take care of things myself.” Lily looked out the window and clamped her mouth shut. She should never have said anything. It wasn’t his business anyway, right? She was thankful when they pulled onto her street, and took deep breaths to calm down. He’d put himself out there big time to get her to the party that night, and she needed to show him some appreciation. Then she could just ignore him after that. She had a diner to close and Christmas to worry about. David pulled into the drive and moved to open the door for Lily, but by the time he’d gotten around the car, she was out. She smoothed her dress and climbed the steps, then waited for him. “Thank you for today. It was wonderful.” Lily could tell her voice was stiff and tried to relax. She leaned forward, kissed his cheek, and walked into the house before he had a chance to say anything. It wasn’t until then that she realized the clothes she’d worn that morning were still in his car, but she wasn’t about to face him again. The anger she felt was just as much for herself as it was for him. How had she managed to mess up so completely? Ann stood up from the rocking chair and made Lily jump. “So? How was it?” “It was the most amazingly wonderful party until two people attacked me in the bathroom. It went downhill from there.” "Wait—they attacked you?" Ann backed up. Lily sighed and dropped onto the couch. "It was nothing. They just said mean things that you'd expect in high school." Ann shook her head. "Some people never grow up." “Thanks again for watching Patrick and Mary. I hope they were good for you.” “They were great. They even helped make dinner tonight. I didn't know what time you'd be back, so I decided to bring them home to bed. Save you the trip to my house.” Ann picked up her purse. “I’d ask for more details, but I have a feeling it’s complicated. See you Monday.” “I appreciate it. See you then. Bring any boxes you have, please. I’ll need to pack things up to sell them. Which reminds me that I need to get the ad in the paper.” Lily rubbed her eyes. “I’ll do it tomorrow. Tonight, I’m taking a long bath and going to bed.” Ann opened the door. “Good idea. Night, Lily.” Lily changed into pajamas and hung up her dress in the closet. She’d have to figure out how to return it. It wasn’t something she planned to wear again, and she just wanted to say good-bye to it all at once.
Chapter 9
David lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. He needed to be at the church in a few minutes, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up. It was too much work. He had spent Sunday trying to find ways to make Lily feel better, but it only seemed to annoy her more. Ann had told him to give Lily some space after church, but it had been hard when he saw her walking home in the snow with her kids. He’d taken a step forward to offer a ride, but she’d hurried away. When the alarm yelled at him yet again, David stood and headed for the shower. He dressed and grabbed his briefcase. The gifts David had picked out for Lily and her children mocked him from under the tree. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and he’d find a way to deliver the gifts, even if she threw them back in his face. The church was barely visible in the fog that had settled over the valley. David pulled in and ran inside. He waved at Reverend Smith as he walked back to go up and ring the bells. He chose Oh Come All Ye Faithful, and the bells echoed in the thick fog, giving the song an eerie tone. A few people had trickled to listen to the sermon, but David left without looking back. He wanted to grab some hot chocolate before heading into work. Even if she wanted to him to stay away, he wanted to support her diner, and had pulled out extra cash so he could give a big tip. His heart dropped when he saw the closed sign on the front of the diner. He stopped and climbed out, knowing he was going against what he’d told Ann. Inside was chaotic as Lily and Ann pulled decorations off the wall and boxed up the food. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice echoing through the diner. The women stopped and turned. Lily climbed off the chair and came over to talk. Ann glared from where she stood. “We didn’t have any choice. We had to sell everything in order to pay the creditors.” Lily wiped her hands on a towel. “Why didn’t you just let me help? You know I would have paid everything off for you.” David noticed the anger on Lily’s face, but he didn’t care. “You can’t just keep pushing people away like this. Especially when they’re trying to help you.” Hurt and anger marred Lily’s beautiful features. “It's the only thing I can do to protect my family. I can’t risk them getting hurt.” David took the last few steps toward Lily and pulled her into an embrace. He kissed her hard, trying to put all of his feelings behind it. The thought of losing her was like a knife to his heart. “You’re about to push away the man who has fallen so desperately in love you that he’d give up everything just to have you. You and your kids mean the world to me. Don’t you realize that?” He stormed out of the diner and almost stopped when he heard the sobs from behind him. The need to help and protect her was strong, but he ignored it and climbed into his truck. He had one day left at work before Christmas, and he wanted to get ready for next season. The fog was still thick as he drove, so he had to be careful of other cars. It didn’t lift until he was almost to the city, and he could make out the large buildings in front of him. He pulled into his parking space and waved at the paparazzi as they took pictures. The police would have to be notified once he got inside. The press wasn’t supposed to come anywhere near the building, and that included the parking lot. Employees smiled and some waved as David walked by, but he just kept walking. He opened the door to his office and shut it behind him, wanting privacy. A few minutes later, Peter knocked and opened the door. “Word is not to mess with you today. What happened?” Peter sat in the chair on the other side of the desk.
“Lily.” David turned on his computer and typed in his password. Peter shook his head. “Figures. I thought she’d be perfect for you, man.” David ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “She is. She’s just too stubborn to realize it.” “She does know you’re worth over a billion dollars, right?” Peter asked, surprised. “I think that’s the problem, actually. Did you need something? I want to get these numbers sent to my accountant and look through the ad campaigns coming up after Christmas.” Peter set down the newspaper he’d been holding and walked to the door. “Your party was a hit. Your stock flew through the roof, and we’ve had several submissions for advertising roll in since this morning. Oh, and Mr. Walker has called about five times this morning, so I suggest you call him back.” “Thanks. When’s your flight?” David grabbed the paper and opened it. “I’ll leave shortly after lunch. Thanks again for the tickets. My wife has done nothing but rave about you since Saturday. I’m almost jealous.” He winked and left the office. David laughed. Peter’s wife, Rebekah, and Sarah had been best friends. David had been afraid of her reaction when he started dating Lily, but she’d been thrilled to meet her at the party. The article was full of pictures from the party—submitted by David’s own photographer—and snippets about the gifts that were given out. David smiled at the joy on the faces of his employees. Peter’s reaction had been priceless when he learned he’d be a partner. The photograph captured his stunned expression perfectly. David put the newspaper in his briefcase to take home and got to work. The accountant would only be in for another hour because of the holiday. Peter and a few other members of his team had already gone through everything, so David just had to glance at the numbers and send it on. The submissions that came through his email dealt mostly with the Super Bowl, so he sent several on to the agents who worked with sports commercials. He could have let Erin and Debra take them, but he needed them for the more complicated ads. Smithson Jewelers would only work with Erin, and they wanted to get started on Valentine’s Day ads. When all the upcoming contracts were sent on, he checked on the commercials that would be playing over the next week. New Year’s Eve was also huge, and he was happy with the ads they’d come up with. He shut down his computer and left his office. Most of the building was empty by that time, and he made sure to wave at those who were left as he headed out to his truck. Reporters sat outside the parking garage, and their flashes started going off as soon as they recognized his truck. As much as he loved it, David knew he’d be getting himself a new one for Christmas. As far as he knew, they hadn’t found his house yet, and he’d like to keep it that way. After meandering through the streets of New York, he made his way home, checking now and then for anyone following him. The Christmas music on the radio was upbeat and happy, contrasting the mood he was in. It had been easy to push away his feelings while he went through numbers, but the loss of Lily’s smile and the hugs from her children came crashing down. He’d finally started looking forward to Christmas morning, and now it was worse than before he’d met her. It was nearly dark when David finally made it back to town. He drove past the diner and saw that the lights were still on, and people were working inside. As much as he wanted to stop by and help, he continued to the church. There was nothing waiting for him at home, so he wanted to avoid it as much as possible. The church organ welcomed him when he opened the large doors to go inside. There wouldn’t be another sermon for a few hours, so David had time to sit and think for a while. He pulled out the Bible and went through some of his favorite verses, but nothing seemed to pull him out of his mood. “You seem down.” Reverend Smith sat in the pew in front of David. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Surely it’s the time to celebrate.” David leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “No, not this year. I had Sarah taken from
me, and just when I thought I could move on, Lily walked away as well.” “Ah. I’m sorry. I could see how much you cared for her. And how much she cared for you.” Reverend Smith stared off into the distance. “I assume you saw that she’s closed the diner?” “Yes. I offered to help her keep it open, and that just made things worse.” David sighed. “Maybe I’m cursed.” Reverend Smith chuckled. “Not cursed. You’re just trying to find your way. Sometimes we feel like everything will work out, but that doesn't necessarily mean it will. We have to remember that others have their free will too.” David nodded. “I’ve noticed that.” “You’ve done a lot of good in these past few months. I saw the newspaper—your wife would be very happy with you. Don’t look at the bad when these things happen. Trust that things will get better. Right now, Lily is dealing with a lot of trials. Give her some time, and maybe she’ll realize what she’s lost.” David rubbed his eyes. “I hope so. Thank you, Reverend.” The pastor nodded and stood. “Excuse me. I have a few things to go over before tonight’s sermon. Feel free to stay as long as you’d like.” “Thanks.” David stood and walked around the church, looking at the different scenes depicted in the stained glass. Different events played out in the windows. The Creation, Christ’s birth, His ministry, and so on. A peace settled on him as he walked to the last window. When it was time to ring the bells, David went up and played Far, Far Away on Judea’s Plains. He left shortly after, and drove through the silent streets. He walked from his garage straight to the kitchen, avoiding the living room with the tree. Dinner consisted of a peanut butter sandwich and grape juice. He curled up in bed, and wrote out the goals he had for the next year. His computer sat next to him, and he stared at it for a moment before picking it up. The real estate pages for his town were short, and he was able to find the diner. The price was fairly low, which didn’t surprise him. He sent an inquiry to look through the property, then closed the laptop and turned off the lamp.
* * * David stared at his phone for several minutes before he finally picked it up and dialed a number he hadn’t called for months. “Hello?” The familiar voice on the other line almost made David hang up. “Hi, Mom.” David could hear his mother gasp. He hadn’t called since Sarah had passed away, and he'd avoided taking any of her calls as well. “I was wondering if you were still planning dinner for tonight.” His mom’s voice shook as she spoke. “You know we never miss. You’re coming?” David closed his eyes before answering. “Yes. But I can’t stay long. I have a job at the church, so I need to be back.” “You’re working at the church?” There was a pause. “This is David, right?” “Yes, Mom. I’ll be there around four.” David hung up and climbed out of bed. He’d need to leave soon so he could grab gifts on his way to his parents’ house. He dressed and ate some breakfast, then headed out. Just before he got inside New York City, he stopped at a dealer and traded in his old beat-up truck for a newer version. It hurt to drive away from the truck, but he wanted something no one would recognize. Once he pulled into the parking lot of his favorite shopping center, David made sure his hat was
down low and his scarf covered his mouth. The air was biting, so he fit right in with every other New Yorker on the street. Shopping on Christmas Eve was a nightmare, but David had decided sometime during the night that he needed to visit his family, and he didn’t want to go empty-handed. It was fun picking out gifts for them, but the lines were long, and the customers were cranky. If he’d taken off his hat, he could have been served pretty quickly, but he didn't feel like calling attention to himself. As David passed a window, he stopped to see a sculpture that sat in a glass case. It was a woman with her arms around two children. It brought tears to his eyes. He walked inside and had it wrapped up in layers of paper. By the time he got back to his truck, David’s arms were full of gifts for family and for a few people in town as well. He loaded up the backseat and climbed in, headed for Sands Point. It took longer than normal because of the traffic, and he pulled in behind the other cars. It looked like David’s dad had gone all out with Christmas lights again this year. Every tree and bush was cover in lights, and a large star sat on top of the house. David sifted through the gifts and pulled out the ones for his family. The door opened before he got to the step, and his mom squealed. “You did come! Oh, David. I’m so happy. We have the whole family together again.” She hugged David and led him inside. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.” “Sounds great. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.” David slipped off his shoes and took the gifts to the tree. When David turned, he found his mom standing there with tears in her eyes. She held out her arms, and David walked into them. “I’m just glad you’re here. It’s been too long, sweetie.” “I know. I'm sorry.” And he was. He shouldn't have blocked them out of his life. David pulled away and looked around. “You’ve repainted. It looks great.” “Your dad gets so bored now that he’s retired. He’s always changing something. Speaking of which, you should go find him. He’s in the study.” His mom headed into the kitchen, and David went to find his dad. He knocked on the door to the study and poked his head in. “Hey, Dad.” “David. When Mom said you were coming, I didn't want to get my hopes up.” He stood and hugged David tightly. “It’s good to see you, son.” “I’m glad to be here.” His dad lifted up the newspaper on his desk. “I’ve been keeping up with you through the press. Well done with the party.” “Thanks.” The pride in his dad’s voice felt good. He’d worked hard to keep up with the success his dad had as the president of the company. “Who is this girl? She’s beautiful, David.” His dad motioned toward the picture of Lily. David cleared his throat. “She owns a diner near my house. Beautiful, sweet, and very protective of her family.” His dad sat back down in his chair. “I take it things aren’t going well?” “No, she’s uncomfortable with getting help, and apparently, I overstepped my bounds.” David picked up the paperweight on the desk. “Some people love money. Others are scared by it. Be patient. She’ll come back.” His dad winked. “Let’s go see if dinner’s ready.” David sighed as he followed his dad to the dining room. If he was told to be patient one more time … He pasted a smile on his face as they sat down. David’s sister, Elayna, and her husband were already seated with their son between them. David’s other sister, Julie, walked in with a pot of potatoes, followed by his mom with the turkey. Three other kids came running and sat down next to Julie. After his dad said grace over the food, the
volume rose as everyone dished potatoes and turkey onto their plates. David stayed quiet as he listened to those around him. Julie tried to bring up Lily, but thankfully, David’s dad stepped in and changed the subject. Julie narrowed her eyes, and David knew she’d mention it again later. He only hoped it was when it was just the two of them. Once dinner was over, they sat down in the living room to open gifts. David watched as the nieces and nephew ripped through their presents and took them into a corner to play. He was glad he’d chosen trains for them. His mom loved the scarf he’d picked out, and his dad received a ship in a bottle to go on the shelf in his study. His sisters got tickets to three Broadway shows they’d been dying to see. “I’m sorry you don’t have any gifts here, David. We had them all mailed to you.” His mom wrapped her scarf around her neck. “It’s all right. I got them yesterday. I should’ve brought them with me.” He didn’t mention that he’d put them with Lily’s gifts and couldn’t bring himself to walk into that room. He stood. “I’d better take off. I need to be back at the church soon.” His mom stood and followed him out to his truck. “Please come visit again soon, sweetie. Don’t stay away so long.” David leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I won’t. I promise.” “Merry Christmas. If you’d like to come back for pie tomorrow night, we’d love to have you.” She smiled as he opened his door. “I’ll do my best. Love you, Mom.” He started the truck and drove away. He shouldn’t have stayed away so long. The traffic was still bumper to bumper as he drove through New York, and even with taking whatever shortcut he could, he only barely made it before the service started. He walked up to the tower and played O Holy Night, then watched as people gathered for the sermon. It was a beautiful night as the snow fell lightly, and the Christmas lights glowed from all the houses. David made his way downstairs and slipped into a pew in front of the chapel. Reverend Smith delivered a beautiful sermon on the nativity, then the choir sang several Christmas hymns. They invited the congregation to join in before the meeting was over and people began to leave. David waited until most of the people were gone before he stood and headed for the backdoor. He stopped short when Lily walked in. “Hi. Merry Christmas.” He smiled and moved to the side so she could get by. She walked past, and Patrick looked back to smile at him. David waved and walked away. His heart beat rapidly as he left the church and drove home. Seeing Lily had thrown his peace into turmoil. Maybe going back to have dinner with his family on Christmas was a good idea. No chance of his heart breaking any more than it already was.
Chapter 10
Christmas Eve wasn’t quite as relaxing as Lily had hoped. She’d been able to sell the appliances to a few restaurants in the next town over, and heard she already had an offer on the diner, although she hadn’t heard much since then. Ann had helped Lily get a few house cleaning jobs that she’d be starting after Christmas. With one last look at the diner that had been part of her life since she was a small girl, she locked the door and stepped away. Ann put her arm around Lily as they walked to the car. “You okay?” Ann asked. Lily shook her head. “I don’t know what hurts more. Losing the diner, or losing the one guy who was willing to fight for me.” “I don’t think you lost him. Unless you absolutely want to. He’s a good guy, Lily. You really should give him a chance.” Ann pulled into the house. “Want to do Christmas Eve with us tonight?” “No, but thank you for the invitation. I promised the kids we’d make popcorn and watch a movie on TV. As long as the local channels come in. Then I think we’ll go to the sermon tonight. Not super exciting, but it works.” Lily opened the car door and climbed out. “Thanks again for all your help. I’ll see you tomorrow sometime.” “See ya. Merry Christmas!” Ann pulled out of the driveway and around the corner. Lily walked in to find Mary and Patrick coloring snowflakes cutouts. “When did you two get home? I thought you were playing at Seth’s.” “They had to go to a party. We got here about an hour ago.” Mary held up her cutout. “We’re going to hang these up on our windows.” “It’s perfect. I’ll go find the tape.” Lily took the snowflakes and hung them up in the front room. Patrick brought his and added it below Mary's. “Okay, ready for dinner? I bought some cheese so we can make fondue.” The kids cheered and went to find the old fondue set that had been her mom’s. They put it together and poured in the cheese, then cut up pieces of meat and steamed some vegetables. Once everything was ready, they turned off all the lights and lit a few candles. It had been a Christmas tradition for as long as Lily could remember. “Do you think Santa will come, Mom?” Patrick asked. “That depends. Do you think you were a good boy this year?” Lily had dreaded their questions about Santa. After all the expenses had been paid, there was only enough for a little food for the next two days. After that, she had no idea how she was going to survive until she could find more than just the cleaning jobs. “I was a good boy. And Mary was a good girl. So he should come, right?” Patrick dipped his meat into the cheese and swirled it around. Mary rolled her eyes. “You were good most of the time. But you also threw that snowball at Mrs. Blakely when she wasn’t looking.” “Did not! I was aiming at her son and missed.” Patrick glared. Lily rubbed her forehead. “Even if it was an accident, you need to be more careful where you throw snowballs.” Patrick sniffled and whispered, “I am careful.” Lily checked the pot of fondue, looking for a distraction. “Oh, we’re out. Time for the chocolate.” She stood and cleaned the pot, letting her tears fall as the water poured into the sink. When the pot was clean, she wiped her eyes and dried the dish. Mary pulled out the chocolate that a neighbor had brought while Patrick grabbed the candies from
other neighbors. They melted the chocolate and ate until they were too full to move. Lily soaked the bowl, and they went into the living room to watch a movie. Lily jerked awake when the movie ended. She looked up at the clock, surprised that she’d missed the sermon. She shook Patrick and Mary awake. “Hey, we need to go. I promised the pastor we’d come by tonight.” She hurried to find their coats, and bundled them up. Patrick rubbed his eyes. “Do we have to walk?” Lily bit her lip. “We have no choice. Let’s hurry. The exercise will warm us up.” They walked to the church, enjoying the light snow that fell. It made the town she loved so much more picturesque. The congregation was thinning out as they reached the church, and Lily hoped it wasn’t too late to talk to the pastor. Seeing David made her heart jump into her throat, and she didn’t know what to say as she passed by him. His smile was hopeful, but she just moved on, as much as she wanted to stop and say hi. She missed spending time with him. Reverend Smith stood at the front and led them to his office. “I didn’t see you during my sermon.” “I’m sorry. We fell asleep. I’m sure it was wonderful.” Lily smiled. “Thank you. I’d like to think so.” The pastor motioned toward some papers. “I read through your request for assistance. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do to help you with your home. We just don’t have enough coming in from tithes.” It was incredibly disappointing, but Lily shouldn’t have expected much. She’d seen the small crowds that came in every week. “It’s okay. I’ll find a way to pay. I always do.” She stood, and ushered the kids out of the office. She wanted to get outside before the tears came. It looked as though they’d have to find a different place to live. She just hoped the kids didn’t understand anything that had just happened. Maybe it was better this way. They could make a fresh start somewhere else. They walked out into the snow. “Race you two,” Lily called. She figured if they were running, they wouldn’t be able to ask questions. Patrick giggled as he took off, and Mary ran to catch up. Lily watched from behind and laughed. She reached the house and filled the pot with water to make hot chocolate. The kids came from the other room, already wearing pajamas. “Wow, you two were fast. Okay, drink up so you can find your stockings.” Lily knew it sounded halfhearted, but the kids didn’t seem to notice. “We found them already. They’re by the fireplace.” Mary took a sip of her hot chocolate. “We couldn’t find the pins, so I just used tape.” “Perfect.” Lily kissed their foreheads. “Let’s say our prayers, and then you can head to bed.” Patrick said the prayer and asked for Santa to come that night and to make his mom happy again. He ended the prayer and gave Lily a hug before running to his bed. Mary kissed Lily’s cheek and walked behind Patrick. Lily sat on the couch and watched the fire until the flame had died down. She went to her room and pulled out some of the candies she’d set aside from Ann and put them in each of the stockings. It wasn’t much, but at least they had something. Lily went to bed and prayed that she'd find a way to make things work out for her little family. She would do her best to make Christmas as cheerful for her little ones as she could, and then deal with the rest after that.
* * *
“Mommy, wake up! He came! Santa came.” Patrick jumped on Lily’s bed, waking her up. His cheeks were red, and Lily noticed a chill to the air. She’d forgotten to stoke the fire the night before. “I’ll be right there. I’m going to grab some firewood.” “We used it.” Patrick shivered. “What do you mean, you used it? I thought we had a few logs left.” Lily ran out to the porch, but he was right. The logs were gone. There were only a few scraps of bark left. She took them to the fireplace and got the fire going. “Bring me any paper or wood you can find.” Patrick and Mary scrambled for paper, pencils, and paper towels to burn. Patrick dumped a few of his wood blocks into the fire, but Lily held him back from dumping the rest. “No more. Just enough to make it until we leave for the church. They’ll have a heater there.” Never mind that Lily had no idea what she’d do after that. She could no longer use the space heaters because she couldn't afford the electricity, and she wasn't about to ask David for help. She changed into her warmest clothes and thought longingly of the coat David had let her borrow. When she went out into the living room, she found Patrick and Mary unwrapping gifts. “Where did you get those?” Mary held up a book she’d gotten from school a few months before and beamed. “We’re just pretending to open presents.” “Yep, look at what I got.” Patrick held up some blocks and an old truck that was missing a wheel. Lily smiled, but she knew she was losing the fight to her tears. “That’s beautiful. Can you two play for a bit? I’m going to see if we can get some firewood from a neighbor.” Mary jumped up. “We can come with you.” “No, you just stay here next to the fire, okay? I’ll be right back.” Lily left the house and finally allowed herself to cry. She walked down the sidewalk, wiping away the tears. It wasn’t fair that her children had no Christmas. She’d prayed so hard for a way to help them, for a way to keep her diner going, and for so many other things. But nothing had happened. Debts still had to be paid, and this morning, they had to burn toys just to have a fire in the fireplace. Lily stopped when she heard a melody she’d heard so many times before. It was the church bells. She hadn’t expected them for another hour. Ave Maria was followed by Amazing Grace, and as she walked closer, a new melody started. A promise for a new beginning. When the church tower was in view, Lily stared up at the bells as they played I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day. David pulled down on the ropes and made each of the bells play the correct tune. When the song was done, he looked down and caught her eye. He waved and grinned. And it struck Lily. That one man had answered every prayer she’d said. She had been so blinded by her pride, she’d missed it. She pushed her way into the church and ran through the chapel, throwing an apology at Reverend Smith as she kept going. She ran up the stairs and into David’s arms. He held her tightly, not asking what was wrong, but just being there for her. When she finally pulled away, he wiped her tears. “Merry Christmas to you too.” David laughed. “What are you doing up here? And where are the kids?” “Oh, the kids. I left them … I’ll be back.” Lily tried to clear her head as she ran through the church. “Lily, wait up,” David called. Lily didn’t stop running until she was nearly home and needed to stop to catch her breath. She couldn’t believe she’d left her kids for that long. She burst through the door and found Mary and Patrick still by the fire, playing with the toys they’d unwrapped. “There you are. Get your coats and come with me.” Lily bent over, still gasping for air. “Where are we going?” Mary asked. She grabbed her coat off the couch and put it on. Lily shook her head and held up a finger. “One sec.”
A knock came at the door, and Lily answered it. David stood there, holding a few gifts in his hands. She let him in, and couldn’t stop grinning. “I tried to catch you so you wouldn’t have to run all the way home, but you were too fast. I had these in my car, but I didn’t know if you’d let me deliver them. When you came to the church, I thought maybe …” He looked between the kids and then at the fire. “Why is it so cold in here?” Lily blushed. “No firewood. We were hoping to head to the church to get some warmth, but then I got sidetracked.” “Well, then, you can all just head over to my house instead. How does that sound?” He looked up at Lily. “If that’s okay with you?” “Of course.” Lily grabbed her canister of hot chocolate and followed David outside. “What happened to your other truck?” David opened the door for her. “It was too conspicuous.” Lily shook her head and climbed in, thankful for the turn of events. She smiled at the church as they drove past, thinking of the realization she’d had that morning. Patrick and Mary ran inside David’s house, ahead of Lily and David. They stood in front of the Christmas tree and stared in awe at the gifts beneath it. David started a fire in the fireplace while Lily got hot chocolate and toast ready for breakfast. Once they had eaten, the kids took turns opening gifts. “Oh, man, just what I always wanted.” Patrick held up a football. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome. We’ll have to go out and practice once we’re done with gifts.” David handed Mary hers. Mary opened the present to find a doll and a few sets of clothes for it. She touched the hair in awe. “It looks just like me.” “That’s what I thought, too.” David handed Lily a gift. “I might have gone a little overboard on yours.” Lily opened the box to find a thick coat with a fur lining. There were gloves and a scarf to go with it. “Thank you.” “Wait, there’s one more.” He handed her another box, his eyes dancing. Lily opened it and pulled out a delicate sculpture. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at David. “It’s beautiful.” “It’s called A Mother’s Love, and when I saw it, I knew it needed to be yours. I’ve never seen someone protect their children so fiercely.” “Thank you.” Lily leaned forward and kissed David, making her kids squeal in delight. She pulled away and gathered up all the wrapping. “What about you?” Patrick asked. “Where’s your present?” David laughed. “I already opened presents from my family. I got socks and a sweater. Perfect for the winter. And I got you guys. There’s not much more I could want. Although . . ." He paused. “There might be one more thing.” Lily watched as David got up and left the room. She finished cleaning up the wrapping paper just as he walked back in with an envelope. “I debated showing you this, but here’s a Christmas gift to all of us. Who wants to open it?” David held it up in the air. He laughed when both Mary and Patrick raised their hands and bounced up and down. “Hmmm, no one else does, so I guess I will.” David slowly opened up the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. He pretended to read it before handing it off to Lily. She scanned the letter, her eyes growing bigger as she got to the bottom. The person who had put an offer on the diner was David—and his offer was over double what she’d asked. “I can’t let you lose the diner, but this way, we can do it together. That is, if you’ll allow me to be a
part of your life.” His eyes held a spark of hope as he studied her face. Lily threw her arms around his neck, her heart nearly bursting with joy. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
If you enjoyed this Christmas romance, be sure to look for the others in the Countdown to Christmas series. Find them HERE.
About the Author
Jaclyn is an Idaho farm girl who grew up loving to read. She developed a love for writing as a senior in high school, when her dad jokingly said she was the next Dr. Seuss (not even close, but very sweet). She met her husband, Steve, at BYU, and they have six happy, crazy children who encourage her to keep writing. After owning a bookstore and running away to have adventures in Australia, they settled back down in their home in Utah. Jaclyn now spends her days herding her kids to various activities and trying to remember what she was supposed to do next. She has published six books in a year, and her mind is still reeling from the awesomeness. Her books include Endless: A Modern Cinderella Tale; The Princess and the Prom Queen; Magicians of the Deep; and the Luck series—Stolen Luck, Twist of Luck, Best of Luck, and Just My Luck, a novella. You can learn more about her at www.jaclynweist.com.
Sheltered by Carma Haley Shoemaker Trifecta Books
Book design and layout copyright © 2015 by Trifecta Books Cover design copyright © 2015 by Jenni James
This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Copyright© 2015 Carma Haley Shoemaker
Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty One Chapter Twenty Two Chapter Twenty Three Chapter Twenty Four About the Author
Acknowledgements
Most people will simply skip the acknowledgements page, as they know their name won't be mentioned. But why not take a chance and read this one, just in case? This has been a long journey, but I never would've even found the right path to take without the help of great friends. The Momwriters have supported me since I took my first steps toward believing that I'm a real writer. There's one Momwriter I must specifically mention. Without her, this book—and all those to follow—may never have happened. Thank you for believing in me, Jenni. NaNoWriMo gave me the confidence to realize I can accomplish anything I put my mind to—no matter how crazy it may seem to others. The North Central Ohio Writers (NCOW) have been encouraging me as far back as I can remember. The writing community that has been created over the past few years has been as asset to me and my craft. When I didn't believe in myself, they believed enough for the both of us. Their “gentle” nudging kept me moving forward and from giving up. And finally, to my boys, Alec, Cody, and Robbie, and my husband, Chris—thank you for your patience, and for never giving up on me. I love you all very much.
Sheltered by Carma Haley Shoemaker
CHAPTER 1
Lizbeth reached up and wiped away the tear before it rolled down her cheek. It took all she had to keep her composure and not allow the emotion to take over. The Song “Mean” by Taylor Swift began playing on her phone. She didn’t need to look to know who was calling. The ringtone did that for her. “Not this time, Daddy,” she said out loud. The phone continued to serenade her. Lizbeth let the lyrics continue. She kept her eyes on the road until the song stopped. Her father’s call had been forwarded to her voice mail, and he wouldn’t be happy about it. “You always take my calls,” he would tell her. “You don’t send me to voice mail.” Then Taylor Swift sang again. Lizbeth grabbed the phone out of the console and pushed the side button, attempting to silence her father. It didn’t work. His picture was on the screen, and the vibration of the device in her hand left her feeling defeated. “Just stop!” Lizbeth shouted. The phone bounced as she tossed it onto the passenger seat. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Why are you doing this?” Her tone was sharp, and her words loud. She would never dare talk to her father in such a way face-to-face, but yelling at him when he wasn’t around had become a regular occurrence. “It’s my life, not yours, Daddy.” Her gaze shifted between the phone on the passenger seat and the road ahead. “I’ll live my life the way I want. I’ll be what I want. And I’ll become who I want to be. You can’t decide that for me.” As the song “Mean” played for the third time, Lizbeth snatched the phone from the seat. “What, Daddy?” She was angry and frustrated, and she couldn’t hide it any longer. “What is it?” “Lizbeth!” Her father’s voice was deep and stern. “This is ridiculous. You need to come, now, before I get angry.” “You? Angry?” Lizbeth replied, almost laughing. “If anyone should be angry, Daddy, it’s me!” “I’m keeping you from making a huge mistake you’ll regret the rest of your life.” Lizbeth could hear her father’s staff talking to him. Their words came through the phone as clear as her father’s. First, a woman. “Sir, you have ten minutes.” Then, a man. “Mr. Vincent, the client is in the conference room.” “Thank you,” her father replied to them. “I’ll be right there. Lizbeth, we can finish this discussion tonight at dinner.” “Oh, are you talking to me now?” “Lizbeth, stop it. You know I’m a busy man. We’ll continue this discussion later.” “Are you listening to me, Daddy? I don’t want to discuss it. It’s my mistake to make. Not yours.” “You’re young. You don’t know what you want. You have stars in your eyes, thinking you can save the world. Honey, the world can’t be saved. If your mother were here, she would tell you the same thing. She tried. And she failed.” “It’s what I want, Daddy. This isn’t like buying a new dress or getting a dog. It’s what I want to do for the rest of my life.” “Lizbeth,” he bellowed, “you do not want to be a social worker. And I will not pay for you to throw away your college education to do so.” “Dad, please.”
“No. No more. It’s no longer up for discussion.” “You can’t stop me from changing my major, Daddy. I don’t need your permission to change my classes.” “You’re right,” Jonathan answered. “You don’t need my permission. But you need my money.” “You wouldn’t.” Lizbeth drove through a stop sign. She glanced at the car to her left when it honked. “I would. If you think you can find a way to pay for college, your car, your insurance, your apartment, and your credit cards, feel free to do whatever you want. Until then, you do need my permission.” “This has nothing to do with my finances, Dad,” Lizbeth said loudly. “This isn’t about money. I don’t want to be a businesswoman. It’s not who I am. Please be reasonable.” “You’re meant to join me at my company. That’s always been the plan, Lizbeth. Now, I’m already late for a meeting. I’ll see you at home.” Her vision blurred with tears as her thoughts drifted to her mother. She’d always wanted to be like her. They worked together doing whatever they could to make the world a better place—from saving an injured bird to organizing a food drive for the holidays. Now that her mother was gone, Lizbeth wanted to honor her memory by following in her footsteps and becoming a social worker. “This is what I want to do,” Lizbeth said as she continued to cry. “I’m not like you, Dad. I want to pick up where Mom left off. It’s important to me.” The tears continued. She wiped them away, first one eye, and then the other. Her mascara streaked on her fingertips. She looked down to wipe her fingers on her jeans. Bringing her attention back to the road, she gasped as a large animal ran out of the bushes into the path of her car. “Daddy!” Liz screamed. “Lizbeth!” The phone bounced off her leg and onto the floor of the car. She locked her arms and gripped the steering wheel tight. Swerving wildly to the left, then back to the right, the car shot down an embankment. Shards of white-painted wood appeared to explode as the car plowed through a fence. It slammed into the corner of a blue one-story house before finally coming to rest. The impact was hard enough to create a large opening in the wall of the home. A board from the house fell onto the hood of the car. Lizbeth opened her eyes, sat up slightly, and touched her head. Bright red blood covered her fingers. Her thoughts raced, and she remembered the animal. Putting her hand on the steering wheel, she pushed herself back in the seat and looked toward the road. Through the window, she watched a large white dog run into the woods. She smiled. “Thank goodness,” she said softly. “I didn’t hit him. He’s okay.” “Lizbeth!” Her father’s voice echoed through the car. Confused, Lizbeth looked around the wreckage. “Daddy?” “Lizbeth! Please answer me!” “Dad …” she whispered. She rested her head gently on the steering wheel and closed her eyes.
CHAPTER 2
Alan ran his hand through his dark, wavy hair before switching the cell phone from his right ear to his left. “Sir,” he said, trying to interrupt. “Sir, if I could just …” Michael, one of the regular kitchen staff, walked into the office holding a clipboard. “Hey, Alan, got a minute?” Alan shook his head and held out his hand to stop Michael from continuing. “Not now,” he whispered. “Sir, I understand that, and I have all the paperwork. I only need a few minutes.” Alan continued to negotiate with the man on the phone. Alan looked up and saw Michael still standing in the doorway. Michael smiled at him, and he attempted to smile back as he ran his fingers across his forehead. That was Alan’s tell for his stress level. He often had situations when he was overstressed—when deliveries were late, when supplies ran low, when the people in need outnumbered the available beds. But Alan always found a way. He would handle it calmly and never let anyone see or know how truly bad a situation was. He never seemed to let the stress get to him. Alan had hung several motivational posters around the office and in the staff locker room. One of his favorites that he quoted to the staff and clients alike read, “Worry does not empty tomorrow of its trouble. It just empties today of its strength.” Michael could probably tell that whoever was on the other end of the phone was doing a great job of taking away Alan’s strength. “You okay?” Michael whispered. Alan nodded. “Just give me five,” he whispered back. Michael gave a little wave and walked out of the office. “Sir, my mother and my aunt started this organization. It was their dream. With both of them gone, it’s up to me to keep it alive. I can’t just sit back—” “Mr. Wheeler, you must understand the bank’s position.” The voice on the phone was detached and emotionless. “With an outstanding balance such as yours, and with your building in such a prime city location, companies are going to want to take advantage of the situation. An interested party has already submitted a substantial offer and put the wheels in motion. There’s nothing I can do.” “But how can they just buy it out from under me like that? I’m not a corner store. This is a community organization, a nonprofit.” “That’s not what they’re buying, sir. It’s the location they want. You’re free to move to a new location wherever you choose. The organization itself will remain yours.” “But the location is the organization. It’s about the community. This community. It’s about the people having a place close to what they need, to where they are. That’s how my mother wanted it—that’s how my family started it.” “I’m sorry, Mr. Wheeler, but I’m sure there are other neighborhoods in need. Why don’t you just move to one of those and help them out instead?” Alan looked at the frame sitting on his desk. It held a picture of him when he was eight, with his mother. She had her arms wrapped around him. He remembered the day the picture had been taken. “Alan,” she had yelled. “Come find me.” “Mom!” Alan replied. “Where are you?” “Come find me!” Alan ran through the big, open building. His giggles echoed, which only made him laugh harder. He
could hear his mother, and he followed the sound of her sweet voice. “Find me!” she called to him. He ran into one room and looked around. “Not here,” he said. He ran to another room and looked around. “Mom?” After the third room, he started to get scared. “Mom! I can’t find you!” “I’m right here, baby!” Alan turned and ran down the hall into yet another room. This one was huge—the biggest he had ever seen. And standing in the middle of the room, wearing her favorite green sweater and blue jeans, was his mother. Her dark brown hair framed her face and flowed down her shoulders. Alan smiled and ran to her, hugging her tightly around her neck as she picked him up. “I found you!” he said. “Yes, you did! You found me. Now,” she said, putting Alan back on his feet, “you stand right here for a minute.” She moved, almost dancing, to the side of the room. Her purse sat against the gray brick wall. Reaching in, she pulled out a camera, put it on the windowsill and pushed a button. She ran back to Alan and turned him to the camera, wrapping her arms around him. “Smile, baby!” She kissed him on the cheek. “This is the first day of our new adventure.” “What adventure?” “An adventure where we get to help lots of people—and maybe change a few lives.” With a flash and a click, the camera captured the moment forever. “Mr. Wheeler?” The man on the phone tried to get Alan’s attention. “Mr. Wheeler, are you there? Did you hear me?” “Yes. I mean, no. Can you please repeat that?” “Of course. Unless you pay the balance of the loan before the terms of the contact have been drawn, finalized, and served, there really is nothing you can do, other than take the company to court, which in itself can become very costly.” “Take them to court?” Alan sat forward in his chair and listened closely. “Yes, Mr. Wheeler. You can take them to court. You can file an injunction to stop the purchase of the property. There are several bases on which to file, but Mr. Wheeler, in order to do so, you must meet certain guidelines, or you won’t be able to file. And as I said, it can become quite costly with fees and such.” “What guidelines? Tell me about them.” “Mr. Wheeler, are you sure you want to take on such a futile project? It’s complicated, time consuming, and there’s no guarantee. It’s a real-life David and Goliath.” “Well,” Alan said, feeling a small sense of hope. He picked up the picture from his desk and smiled. “We both know how that story ended.”
CHAPTER 3
Walking through the restaurant’s revolving glass door, Lizbeth caught the reflection of the bandage on her head. It itched, and the tape pulled her hair. She wanted to rip it off, but she was sure that whatever was underneath looked much worse than any tape or gauze. This fact did little to stop the itching. “Lizbeth,” Cassidy snapped, “leave it alone. The more you touch it, the more attention you draw to it.” “It itches, Cass.” Lizbeth replied. “It’s driving me crazy.” “I’m sorry. Just stop touching it.” Cassidy looked like she was trying not to smile at her sister’s discomfort. She held Lizbeth’s hand and looked around the room. “There they are,” she said as she waved. The girls made their way through the crowd waiting for an available table. Cassidy stood in front of the hostess podium. “Frye party, please,” she said. Lizbeth sighed and rolled her eyes. “Stop it,” Cassidy said. “At least pretend like you’re having a good time. These are our friends.” “These are your friends,” Lizbeth replied. She stood on her tiptoes and looked over Cassidy’s shoulder. At a large round table in the middle of the room sat three beautiful young women, well dressed with pristine hair and nails. Lizbeth thought they looked like something from a bad magazine advertisement. “Yep. Those are definitely your friends.” Cassidy shook her head slightly and laughed. She played with Lizbeth’s hair to try to camouflage the bandage on her forehead. “What am I going to do with you? I love you, but you’re impossible,” she said. She kissed her sister on the cheek. Lizbeth grabbed Cassidy’s hand, and the two made their way to the table. “Hello,” Cassidy said. “Sorry we’re late.” She motioned to the waiter, and he approached the table. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he began. “My name is Simon, and I’ll be your waiter for the afternoon. What would you like to start with today?” He smiled and looked around the table, pausing. “Lizbeth?” “Simon? Oh, my gosh!” Lizbeth stood and hugged him. “How are you? How long has it been?” “Too long,” Simon answered. He motioned to her head. “What happened?” “Oh, nothing.” Lizbeth gently touched the bandage. “Not watching the road while I was driving. I’m fine, though.” “Leave it alone, Liz.” Cassidy gently grabbed Lizbeth’s wrist. “And if it’s okay with the two of you, we’d like to order now.” “Oh, yes. Please, I’m sorry. Forgive me.” Simon reached into his black apron pocket and pulled out a tablet. “Chef salad, dressing on the side, cheddar cheese only, extra tomatoes, and let’s add some toasted flax. Oh, and a martini, dirty.” “Broiled salmon, no butter, house salad, no croutons, light Italian dressing on the side, vodka rocks.” Lizbeth folded her menu and placed it on the table. She knew what she wanted—the same as always. She looked around the room at the other customers. She tried to guess which people were actual couples. Man with his mistress. Man with his mistress. Third wife … well, probably third, maybe fourth. Ooh, a first date! “Lizbeth?” Cassidy tried to get her attention. “Um, yeah?” Lizbeth smiled. “What?” “What would you like to eat?”
Lizbeth looked up at Simon, who patiently waited for her order. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” She chuckled. “I’ll make this easy for you. Grilled salmon, baked sweet potato with all the extras, green beans, and a whiskey sour.” “Um, wait a minute,” Cassidy interrupted. “No alcohol with your pain medication. Remember?” “Fine,” Lizbeth said with a sigh. She stared at Cassidy. “I’ll have a root beer.” “Thank you, ladies,” Simon said. He closed his tablet and placed it back in his apron. “I’ll get those in for you right away. Lizbeth, it was great to see you. Let’s talk again soon.” “Absolutely,” Lizbeth replied. She watched as Simon walked away, then turned her attention back to the table. Everyone was staring at her. “What?” She reached to the middle of the table for a breadstick. “I know him from school.” “You know our waiter?” Workout Barbie said. That wasn’t her real name. Her name was Brenda. But as ninety-nine percent of Brenda’s posts, pictures, tweets, and discussion topics revolved around exercising or running, “Workout Barbie” is what Lizbeth called her. “You’re kidding me, right?” Cassidy’s other two friends simply rolled their eyes and started to text. “Wow.” Lizbeth leaned in and whispered to her sister, “My scandal may just be tweet-worthy!” “Lizbeth,” Cassidy said, standing from her chair, “let’s go fix that bandage before our food comes.” Lizbeth took a deep breath and followed her sister. This had nothing to do with her bandage. Her sister walked very fast. She entered the bathroom, and the door closed behind her. Lizbeth pushed the door open and watched her sister pace back and forth a few times before saying anything. “What’s the matter now, Cass?” “Why do you do this?” Cassidy continued to pace. “What?” Lizbeth walked to the sink and looked at her forehead in the mirror. She pushed her hair out of the way and rubbed the bandage to try to stop the itching. It didn’t work. “What did I do that was so wrong?” “You’re talking to the waiter in front of our friends—who you know are shallow and judgmental. What did you expect to happen?” “So, because your friends are idiots, I can’t talk to my friends?” “You know what I mean.” “No, I don’t know what you mean. I know what you’re telling me. And it’s stupid.” “Stupid?” Cassidy looked at her sister in the mirror as she walked by. “What do you get out of talking to the waiter while you’re out to lunch with our friends?” “Are there special dates and times when speaking to certain people is allowed? Waiters on Wednesdays. Milkmen on Mondays. Therapists on Thursdays. Get me a list, okay?” Lizbeth smiled to ensure Cassidy caught her level of sarcasm. “Seriously! Do you have to be so much like Mom?” Cassidy stopped pacing. She closed her eyes and lowered her head. Lizbeth turned and stared at her. The girls stood silent for a moment. “You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Lizbeth said softly. “I didn’t mean …” Cassidy’s voice quavered. “I love the fact that I’m so much like Mom.” Lizbeth smiled. “I love that she cared so much. I loved that she helped people. If I could be half the person she was, I would consider myself pretty great.” “Lizbeth, I’m sorry.” Cassidy walked toward her sister. “I know you are, Cass. I know. Just don’t…” Lizbeth took a deep breath. “You need to remember Mom for who and what she was—before she got sick. Remember how caring she was, how generous, and giving. She wanted to use our money to help people. That’s why she and Dad fought so much at the end.” Cassidy moved to her sister and wrapped her arms around her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it—not like that. I’m so sorry.” Lizbeth hugged her sister back. “It’s okay. I know.”
“I love you just the way you are. Mom would be proud.” “Thank you, Cass. I love you too.” The bathroom door opened, and a young woman walked in. “Oh, excuse me,” she said. Embarrassed, she began to leave. Lizbeth turned around. “No, it’s okay. We’re leaving.” The girls smiled and returned to the table. “So, Barbie … um, so, Brenda. What’s new with you?” Lizbeth paused and bit her lip to hide her laugh. Soon, everyone had forgotten about the waiter, about Lizbeth, and was focused on Brenda and her upcoming marathon.
CHAPTER 4
The metal handle clanked as Lizbeth opened the big wooden door to the courtroom. Jonathan stood in front of the door to keep it from closing as she walked through. People were scattered along the bench seats, sitting in pairs or small groups. Lizbeth found a space for her and her father near the front. “I’m going to have to reschedule that one, David,” Jonathan said into one phone while scrolling on another. “I’m not going to be back into the office until later this afternoon.” “Dad, I already told you,” Lizbeth whispered to her father. “You really don’t need to be here.” She looked around the room. People were staring at them. Some looked at her, and then whispered to the others sitting nearby. She sighed. “Lizbeth, please.” Jonathan held up his hand and turned away from her. “Just sit down.” She leaned back on the wooden bench. The thick red cushion didn’t add comfort, but it looked nice. She continued to survey the courtroom. It was beautiful. There were two big wooden doors, each with their own large uniformed bailiff—one blond, and one with jet-black hair. Lizbeth noticed that men in suits carrying briefcases or files outnumbered everyone else in the room. “David,” Jonathan yelled. Even more people looked at her father. “I don’t care what you have to do —make it happen. I need that property by the first of the year or the deal doesn’t happen. Get it done.” “Dad.” Lizbeth pulled at her father. “Keep it down. People are staring.” Jonathan scanned the room. “David, I gotta go. Just get it done.” He pushed a button on the side of the phone. He placed both phones in his pocket and took a seat next to his daughter. “Sorry, Lizbeth.” “Seriously, I can handle this. You don’t need to be here.” “No, I’m staying. Don’t worry about a thing. You’re going to be just fine.” “Dad …” “Just relax.” “All rise.” The blond bailiff stepped away from his door and spoke loudly. “Judge Linda Green presiding.” Lizbeth watched as a woman dressed in a long black robe walked through the door. She was very pretty. Lizbeth had expected someone resembling Judge Judy. Instead, the woman sitting on the bench looked more like Marg Helgenberger, and Lizbeth tried not to smile. “Be seated.” Judge Green wasted no time. “If everyone pays attention and listens to what I say and to what their counsel advises, we’ll get through this day as quickly and painlessly as possible. Stay seated until your case number is called.” Jonathan’s cell phone rang. He quickly reached into his pocket. “I will say this one time and one time only.” Judge Green spoke to the entire courtroom, but looked directly at Jonathan. “Turn them off. Not down. Not on vibrate. Off!” Jonathan held up his hand in acknowledgment and turned off both phones. “Nice, Dad,” Lizbeth whispered. She picked the skin around her nails. She’d tried to break herself of this habit, as she hated the way her nails looked after, but it never failed—whenever she was nervous, anxious, or impatient, she picked at her nails. Jonathan shifted in his seat as case after case went before the judge. “Stop.” Lizbeth placed her hand on her father’s arm. “Sit still.” “This is taking forever.” The bailiff with jet-black hair was handed a folder by a woman in glasses who sat to the left of
Judge Green. He opened the folder and addressed the courtroom. ““Case number MV-D4901.” Lizbeth liked his deep voice. “The State of Virginia versus Lizbeth Vincent. Moving violation of the second degree. Reckless endangerment. Personal property damage exceeding $25,000.” Lizbeth took a deep breath and stood up. She attempted to move past her father and take her place at the podium, as those called before her had done, but Jonathan grabbed her arm. “Wait a minute,” he said. “I’ll handle this.” “Dad, please.” Jonathan stood in front of Lizbeth and addressed the judge. “Miss Vincent.” Judge Green kept her eyes down and paid no attention to Jonathan. “Is this your attorney?” Lizbeth pushed her way around her father and stood beside him. She looked up and gave him a fake smile. “No, Your Honor,” she answered. “This is my father.” Judge Green took off her glasses and placed them in front of her. “Miss Vincent, are you injured? Do you need to sit down during the proceedings?” Lizbeth reached up and touched the bandage on her head. She had almost forgotten it was there. “No, ma’am,” she replied. “I’m fine. Thank you.” “Your Honor,” Jonathan interrupted. “Father,” the judge said, “unless you have a law degree, I suggest you take a seat and allow me to move on with your daughter’s case.” “Of course, Your Honor.” Jonathan’s boisterous voice echoed in the courtroom. “But if you allow me, I think we can settle this quickly and move on with our day. I’m Jonathan Vincent.” “And?” Judge Green didn’t seem impressed. “And … being that I’m Jonathon Vincent, you can rest assured that my daughter will be under the best supervision possible. Nothing like this will ever happen again.” “Well, Mr. Jonathan Vincent.” Judge Green put on her glasses and picked up a piece of paper. She glanced at Lizbeth several times as she reviewed the information. “It appears this isn’t the first time something like this has happened—trespassing, criminal trespassing, property damage, theft of government property.” Her glasses thumped as she gently tossed them onto the desk. “Miss Vincent, did you steal a dog from a laboratory last spring?” Lizbeth took a deep breath and began picking at the skin around her nails. “Yes, ma’am.” “Your Honor, my daughter is young and impressionable.” “Well, Mr. Vincent, we all were once.” Judge Green leaned back in her large black leather chair. “But we don’t all steal dogs from government labs, now do we?” “Your Honor …” “I’m inclined to believe that this latest incident will not be the last.” “If I may…” “Mr. Vincent, I would advise you not to interrupt me again.” Jonathan placed his other hand on the podium. “My apologies.” “It appears that your daughter got off easy on many of these charges.” Judge Green glanced at the paper again. “Correction—all of these prior charges. So again, Mr. Vincent, I’m inclined to feel that your daughter may need a bit more incentive than her daddy looking over her shoulder.” “Your Honor, I assure you that I will have her under strict supervision.” “I appreciate that, Mr. Vincent, but I’ll handle this one.” Lizbeth did her best not to laugh. She had seen her father interact with many people. None of them had made him so uncomfortable, or challenged his authority with such accuracy and precision. She reached up and pretended to wipe her eye, hoping to hide the smile. She noticed that the judge seemed to
be forcing back a little grin of her own. Judge Green put on her glasses, picked up a pen, and began writing. “I believe that some community service hours will do Lizbeth good.” “Your Honor,” Jonathan snapped, his grip tightening around the podium, “my daughter has attempted to volunteer at community facilities before, but she is a delicate girl. Perhaps I can make a sizable donation to the organization in her stead.” I’m not delicate, Lizbeth thought. My mother died. Any girl who loses her mother cries and gets depressed. But that doesn’t make me delicate. “Dad, stop, please.” Lizbeth grabbed her father’s arm again. “Just let me do it.” “Enough.” Jonathan pulled his arm from her grip. “You’re not going to do community service.” Judge Green crossed her arms and watched the interaction between the father and daughter for a moment. When Jonathan began to raise his voice, she spoke up. “Mr. Vincent,” Judge Green snapped to get his attention. Jonathan turned to look at her. “I’m not sure how things work in the world of business, but in my courtroom, you can’t make a problem go away by throwing money at it. Your daughter is a young woman now, and she needs to learn to take responsibility for her actions.” “Your Honor, if you knew my daughter …” “And I’ll warn you, Mr. Vincent. Should you attempt in any way to interfere with your daughter’s community service hours, I will hold you in contempt—not to mention, you’ll tick me off.” Lizbeth turned to look at her father and stood as tall as possible with her five-foot-five-inch frame. “Dad, please. Let me take care of it myself this time.” Jonathon glared at Judge Green. “Please, Dad. Let it go.” Jonathan stood silently for a moment. “Okay, Lizbeth,” he replied. “I will. For now.” “I’m ordering four hundred and fifty hours of community service, a five-hundred-dollar fine plus court costs, restitution to the property owners in the amount of $26,500, and a three-month suspension of your license. But I will allow work privileges. And Lizbeth?” “Yes, Your Honor?” Lizbeth folded her hands in front of her. She hadn’t heard much after the words “community service.” She didn’t want to be disrespectful to the others in the courtroom by showing her excitement, but she was finally going to be able to do what she loved—helping people—no matter what her father said. “I think we understand each other. Don’t we?” Lizbeth smiled slightly. “Yes, Your Honor. We do.” “Don’t let me down.” “No, Your Honor. I won’t. Thank you.” Jonathan looked at Lizbeth, confused. “What does she mean?” Lizbeth knew Judge Green could tell how much she wanted the community service hours, but she didn’t want to confess this to her father. “It’s a woman thing, Dad.” Jonathan shook his head. Judge Green handed a paper to the bailiff, who then handed it to Lizbeth. “Thank you,” Lizbeth said as she took it. She looked up at Judge Green and discreetly mouthed the words, “Thank you.” Judge Green nodded slightly and smiled back. “Next case.”
CHAPTER 5
Lizbeth watched as her father walked down the long marble hallway. His wingtip shoes clicking on the floor echoed through the courthouse. She had given him an excuse to stay behind. She couldn’t tolerate listening to him tell her all the reasons why she shouldn’t do community service, and the steps he was going to take to get her out of it. Even if she did go with him, he wouldn't notice her presence—not really. He was too preoccupied. “Coffee,” she said to herself. “I need coffee.” Lizbeth turned around to see a lovely woman in a blue suit walking by. “Excuse me. Where can I get some coffee?” “There’s a café on the ground floor next to the cafeteria,” the woman replied as she walked by. “Great lattes.” “Thanks,” Lizbeth replied. Getting off the elevator on the ground floor, Lizbeth spotted the sign for the café. She walked down the hall with purpose, humming a tune she heard from someone’s cell phone ringtone. As she turned the corner to the café, she collided with a person coming from the other direction. Lizbeth fell backwards and landed on the floor, her purse sliding to the center of the hallway. Startled and sitting on the cold tile, Lizbeth glanced up to see a very handsome young man looking down at her. She didn’t say anything—just looked at him. “What the … are you okay? Are you hurt?” He bent down beside Lizbeth, kneeling on a blanket of papers. “Yes. No. I mean, yes, I’m okay. No, I’m not hurt—at least, I don’t think so.” Lizbeth laughed, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. That was totally my fault—I wasn’t paying attention. I had my mind set on coffee.” “It’s okay.” He gathered the papers and handed Lizbeth her purse. “Just another in a series of events in this awful day.” “Well, now I really feel bad.” As she leaned forward to take her purse from his hand, she realized she was staring at him and quickly averted her eyes. “No. Don’t feel bad. It’s okay, really.” “Too late. How about I make it up to you? Can I buy you a coffee, tea—maybe a latte? It’s the least I can do. Please.” He took Lizbeth’s hand and gently helped her up. “Uh, sure. How can I refuse such an offer—and a free coffee?” “You can’t.” Lizbeth laughed, shaking his hand. “I’m Lizbeth, by the way.” “Hello, Lizbeth. I’m Alan. Nice to meet you.” The two entered the café and walked to the counter to place their order. As they made their way to a table, Lizbeth turned to Alan and smiled. “I have a great idea,” she said. “You seem to be having a bad day and could really use someone to talk to. So why not me?” She placed her purse on the table and took a seat. “Because I don’t know you.” Alan took a sip of his coffee and sat down in the chair beside Lizbeth. “Do you often talk to strange men in coffee shops?” Leaning back in his chair, he smirked just a little. “No.” She grinned. “I don’t. But who better to talk to than someone who isn’t invested in, well, in whatever it is?” Alan laughed. “You don’t want to hear my problems. You obviously don’t have any, so why take on mine?”
Lizbeth shot him a confused look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Oh, nothing bad.” Alan stumbled with his words, trying to recover. “I mean, you’re beautiful and seem to be so put together, and obviously don’t have any major issues or anything.” “Um, excuse me.” Lizbeth laughed as she gestured to where they were sitting. “I’m in a courthouse. I’m not here for the coffee.” Alan paused for a moment, and he laughed too. “Okay, fair enough.” “How about this?” Lizbeth placed her elbows on the table and leaned toward Alan. “What if we share stories? You tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine. But no details, no last names, no places. Just general facts. That way, we can keep our objectivity.” Alan picked up his coffee and looked off into the distance. “Hmmm. Interesting.” He took a drink from his cup and placed it on the table. “All right. Let’s do it.” Lizbeth laughed again. “Okay. You want to start, or do you want me to?” “Ladies first. Plus, this was your idea.” “Well, mine is an old story. My family wants me to be one thing, and I want to be something else— something they don’t approve of. It’s my passion. It’s what I want to do. I do have, or I had, the support of one family member, and she always encouraged me and told me to be myself and do what makes me happy. But what if the thing that makes me happy makes my family miserable, and tears us apart?” “That is an old story,” Alan said. “And just as the fairy tales always taught us, I’m going to tell you to follow your heart. It’s your future. It’s your life. If your family really loves you—and I’m sure they do —they will accept you no matter what you do or who you become. Be true to yourself, and don’t change for anyone. Do you really think they would stop loving you just because they don’t agree with what you do or the decisions you make? They will love you for who you are, period.” “But you don’t know my family.” “Maybe not. But they are your family. And that counts for a lot in the end.” Lizbeth sat quietly for a moment. She caressed the edge of her cup with her thumb as she thought about what Alan had said. “I guess you’re right. Thanks. You’re pretty good at this.” “Thank you. I take cash or credit.” Alan laughed. Alan and Lizbeth exchanged glances as they continued drinking their coffee. She looked up from her cup and caught him staring at her. She smiled and blushed, but didn’t say anything. She liked that he was looking at her. “Okay, your turn,” she said. “Let's hear it.” “Well, like you, my story is one that has been told a thousand times,” Alan said. “I’m a little guy in a corporate world. There’s a big company trying to buy my building and tear down what my family has built. I’m fighting as hard as I can, but I don’t have the time or the resources to outlast them. If I fail, I don’t just fail me—I’ll be letting a lot of people down.” “Is that all?” Lizbeth asked. “Excuse me?” Alan sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “What do you mean, ‘Is that all’’?’ It’s a big deal to me.” “Oh, no. That’s not what I meant.” Lizbeth moved to the edge of her chair, reached over, and put her hand on Alan’s arm. Lizbeth felt Alan shiver under her touch. She tried not to smile as she watched him take a deep breath to calm down. “Then what?” he said. “I meant, that’s an easy problem to tackle,” Lizbeth replied. “If you’re going against big business, you need to think outside the box. You can go at them head-on, but you’ll never win that way, and that’s what they want you to do—to come at them. Instead, get help, talk to people, and get others to join your
fight. Get exposure, media, social media, and yell from the rooftop if you need to. The more exposure you have, the more negative exposure they get. Just don’t quit. Fight until the very last second.” Alan stared at Lizbeth. The smile on his face grew with each passing moment. “I’ve never been happy to have literally run into someone—until now.” He leaned in close to her. “Thank you.” “See?” she said. “Aren’t you glad you talked to a stranger?” Alan chuckled. “Yeah, I am,” he replied. His phone rang. “I’m sorry. Excuse me.” Of course. Lizbeth picked up her coffee and looked around the café as Alan stood up and walked a few steps away from the table to talk on the phone. After a moment, he returned and grabbed his files. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go. I can’t thank you enough.” “No,” Lizbeth said. She did her best not to sound sad that their together time was over. She put on her best fake smile and continued. “It’s okay. Go. Thank you for listening. Good luck.” Alan ran out the café door and disappeared. Lizbeth smiled. “Be true to you.”
CHAPTER 6
Lizbeth admired the size and the architecture of the building as her father drove the car into the shelter’s parking lot. She did her best to remain calm. She continued to look out the side window so her father couldn’t see her smile. She knew he didn’t want her to be there. Jonathan pulled into a parking space, but before he could turn off the ignition, Lizbeth was already outside the vehicle. He had to jog to catch up to her. “Slow down,” he shouted. Lizbeth laughed as she replied, “Sorry, Dad. I’m just excited.” “Excited? Why? This isn’t supposed to be fun.” “I know, but I figure I can look at the positive side of things—maybe add this to my résumé later.” Jonathan sighed and put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pull some strings?” Lizbeth looked her father in the eye. “I'm sure. But thank you.” She gently pushed her father's hand away and started moving toward the door. “Besides, remember what the judge said.” “I remember.” Jonathan’s cell phone rang. Removing the phone from his pocket, he looked at the screen. “Honey, I have to take this. I’ll meet you inside.” He turned his attention back to his phone call. “David, what do we know?” Lizbeth opened the door and looked around the big room. She smiled. “Wow,” she whispered. “This is great.” She pulled a piece of paper from her coat pocket and unfolded it. It read Alan Wheeler, Monday, 9:00 a.m. She looked at her watch. It was 8:57. Lizbeth slowly made her way farther inside. Rows of tables resembling a high school cafeteria filled the room to her right. Sitting at the tables were lots of adults and children. Most were eating, some adults were drinking from coffee cups, and others were holding menus—menus which allowed the clients to order their food and be served instead of walking through a meal line. A young man wearing an apron around his waist carried a large tray with several plates on it. He gently placed them on the table in front of an elderly couple, who smiled and thanked him. A few small children were chasing each other around and between the tables. Lizbeth smiled. A little girl waved at her, and she waved back. An older woman quickly picked up the child and took her back to a table, glaring as Lizbeth as she did. She attempted to offer a smile to the woman, but felt as if she were imposing in some way. Lizbeth moved to a seating area to her left and sat in a chair positioned against the wall. She looked at her watch again. 8:58. Maybe Dad’s right. I shouldn’t be here. People are looking at me like I have three heads. What if I can’t do this? What if I’m not like Mom? Lizbeth again looked down at the paper she was holding. Her hands trembled. What if I fail? “Are you Beth?” a male voice asked. Great. She put the paper back into her coat pocket. He can’t even get my name right. Lizbeth looked up. Standing in front of her was someone familiar. Her doubt and fear seemed to float away like ashes on the wind. She smiled and stood. “Are you kidding me? It’s you!” “Yes, it’s me. And it’s you! Wow. Hi there.” Alan smiled. “Hi. And it’s Lizbeth.” “Oh, yes. I know. I mean, I remember, from before. I know your name.”
Lizbeth could tell Alan was a little tongue-tied, and it made her smile. “Okay, well, I guess it’s okay that we exchange full names now.” He held out his hand. “Hello, Lizbeth. I’m Alan Wheeler.” Her smile grew. “Hi, Alan. I’m Lizbeth Vincent.” “I’m not going to lie.” He continued to hold Lizbeth’s hand. “I was hoping to see you again. I remembered something, and I really wanted to talk to you about it. I went back to the café, hoping to see you again.” “I was hoping to see you again too,” she replied. “Lizbeth!” Jonathan’s voice bellowed as he approached the pair, still holding hands. “What are you doing?” “Dad, this is …” “I know who this is.” Jonathan stood beside Lizbeth and put his arm around her shoulders. Alan released Lizbeth’s hand and took a step back. “Mr. Vincent. What can I do for you? I asked you not to come here when we’re open. It’s hard on the clients.” “I’m not here for me, Mr. Wheeler. I’m here for my daughter.” “Your daughter?” Alan looked at Lizbeth. His smile quickly faded. “She’s your daughter?” “Yes. Lizbeth was ordered to do community service at your facility.” “I know. But I didn’t know she was your daughter.” “Can someone please tell me what’s going on here?” Lizbeth moved away from her father. She refused to be ammunition for him to use against Alan. She also didn’t want to appear to be on her father’s side when she had no idea what the sides were. “Obviously, you two have some history—can you clue me in?” “It’s a business thing, honey.” Jonathan said in a soothing tone. “It has nothing to do with you.” “Yeah, right,” Alan scoffed. “I guess closing charity organizations and tearing down communities to build new condos and office buildings would be ‘just business’ to a guy like you.” Lizbeth was confused. “Closing? What’s he talking about?” “Mr. Wheeler, the terms of the purchase agreement are confidential, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t violate that condition, especially in front of my daughter.” “Certainly, Mr. Vincent,” Alan replied. “We wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation, now would we?” Both men shifted their weight and pointed at each other as they continued their verbal exchange. Lizbeth looked around the room. People were moving away and covering their children’s ears. She needed to end this. “Well, Dad,” she said, gently pushing her father away. “I’d like to ask Alan some questions about my community service now.” Jonathan took a deep breath. “Yes, of course.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you this evening.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and moved toward the door. “Mr. Wheeler.” “Mr. Vincent.” Alan didn’t look at Jonathan as he walked away. He folded his arms across his chest. As the shelter's front door closed behind Jonathan, Alan grabbed Lizbeth by the arm and pulled her through the hallway to his office. He slammed the door behind them. “Are you kidding me?” “What? What did I do?” Lizbeth felt her pulse quicken. Her mind raced through her words and actions since she arrived at the shelter, searching for what she could have done or said that would have upset Alan so much. She’d just found him again. She didn’t want to risk losing him already. “I told you all about what was going on when we talked about the courthouse. I told you about the company trying to buy my building. I told you how it was in my family. I told you … I told you everything.” Alan paced back and forth as he ranted. “I’m sorry, Alan. I must be missing something. What’s wrong?” Alan stopped, looked at her, and sighed. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that you’re the daughter of
the man who’s trying to take my building. You’re the daughter of the man who owns the company trying to tear down the place my mother built. You’re his daughter!” “Yes, I am his daughter, but I’m not him. I had no idea what he was doing—I never do. You think he tells me anything? I don’t know half of what goes on in our family, and even less of what happens with his business, even though he wants me to work with him someday. He’s upset because I’m excited to be here. He tried to get me out of it, but I wanted to come. And now that I know you’re here, I’m even more excited about being here.” Lizbeth blushed as she realized what had just slipped out. She watched as Alan’s demeanor changed. He stood still, and his gaze went to the floor. Lizbeth remembered their conversation from the courthouse, how his body shivered when she touched his arm. She remembered how genuine he was when talking about how she should be her own person—not what her family wanted her to be. “I’m sorry.” Alan took one of the big black chairs. “Please sit down.” Lizbeth took off her coat, placed it on the back of the other chair, and sat. “It’s okay. I get it. I’d be mad too. But I promise you …” “No, you don’t need to say anything else. It’s okay. You’re right. You’re not your father.” Lizbeth gently caressed Alan’s hand. His body shivered again, just as it had at the courthouse. He closed his eyes for a moment. “You okay?” she asked. “Yes, I’m okay. I’ll figure it out.” They sat quietly for a moment, no talking, no gestures—just the touch of her hand on his. Alan swallowed hard and sat back in his chair. “And speaking of figuring it out . . .” Lizbeth sat back too. “Yeah, you said you remembered something and tried to find me. What was it?” “We’ve met before.” Alan smiled at her. “Yes, I know. At the courthouse.” “No.” Alan laughed. “Even before that.” “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that. You’re not someone I’d easily forget.” She looked at Alan, almost studying him. His eyes were dark brown, and he had long eyelashes that framed them perfectly. His hair was wavy, and fell gently against his forehead. Lizbeth loved Alan’s smile and couldn’t help but smile back. After taking a long, hard look at him, Lizbeth was very sure that she would remember meeting him before. “Thank you.” Alan chuckled. “But think back. It was at a holiday party about five years ago. You were standing under the mistletoe. A guy walked up to you and told you it was bad luck if you stood under the mistletoe and didn’t get a kiss. Then someone walked by and said, ‘He’s right.’” “I do remember that. It was my sister who walked by, but that wasn’t you. That guy had a beard and long, curly hair.” Alan reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed Lizbeth a picture. “See? That’s me and my best friend. I’m the one with the beard and the hair.” “Are you kidding me?” Lizbeth’s eyes widened as she stared at the picture. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. She recognized the man in the picture as the man from the party, but would have never thought he was Alan. Lizbeth looked up at Alan and shook her head slightly. The eyes. Those were the same eyes. “Yes, that was me. I’m the one who kissed you under the mistletoe. Afterwards—and it was a great kiss, by the way—a woman stood up at the mike, and you said you had to go.” Alan took the picture from Lizbeth’s hand, glanced at it, smiled, and replaced it in his wallet. “Yeah, I did. That woman was my mom. It was her fund-raising party for … wait!” Lizbeth quickly stood up from her seat. “Wait, wait, wait. You mean …?”
Alan smiled at Lizbeth. “What?” “How is this possible?” Lizbeth took a step toward Alan. “Did you know about this? No, of course you didn’t.” She began to pace along the same path Alan had when they first entered the office. “We didn’t know each other’s last names, and you didn’t know she was my mother or that he was my father. There was no way you could put all of that together. I’m just now starting to realize …” Lizbeth let out a long sigh. “How? This is crazy.” “You’re making me dizzy. Please sit down.” Lizbeth returned to her seat. She looked at Alan and smiled. “Do you know what this means?” “No.” He laughed. “I don’t know. Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?” Lizbeth looked into Alan's beautiful brown eyes. “It means the organization my father is trying to close down is the very same one my mother tried to keep open.”
CHAPTER 7
Standing outside the shelter’s back door, Lizbeth watched Alan lock up. “You didn’t have to walk with me,” she said. “I know the way.” “I’m sure you do.” Alan twisted the key to latch the shutters over the windows, and then the gate in front of the door. “Maybe I don’t know the way.” He smiled. “You think you’re smooth, don’t you.” Lizbeth buttoned her emerald-green coat and put on her gray leather gloves. She looked down at the concrete as they walked along the sidewalk. The streetlights were beginning to flicker on, and she liked the way they lit her path. “No.” Alan bumped Lizbeth lightly with his shoulder. “I think I’m cute.” Lizbeth laughed. She loved that Alan could make her laugh. “You wanna stop for a coffee on the way?” Alan pulled his dark blue coat tight around him to ward off the chill and put a blue stocking hat. Waves of his dark hair stuck out the back and sides. “It's a little late for coffee, isn't it? But thank you for the offer.” “Okay. No coffee. How about splitting a piece of cheesecake?” Lizbeth knew Alan was trying to find a reason for them to keep talking. She didn’t want their time together to end either, so she allowed him to continue with his offer, knowing she was already going to accept. “My treat. I know where they sell the best cheesecake around. Interested?” “I do like cheesecake. Sure. Why not?” As they walked along the street, Lizbeth realized she was staring at Alan. How can I not remember kissing him? Was it the beard? The hair? “What?” Alan caught Lizbeth staring. “I have something on my face?” He wiped his face with his gloved hand. “Did I get it?” “No. You didn't. That’s not … there’s nothing there.” Lizbeth took a deep breath and blew into the air, watching her breath turn to fog. “Can I ask you a question? It’s kind of personal.” “Sure,” Alan said. He pointed across the street to a small diner. “Ask away.” Crossing the street, Lizbeth looked at the ground in front of her. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” Alan pulled off his gloves, put them in his pocket, and held the door of the café open for Lizbeth. “Um, well … You don’t mess around, do you?” Lizbeth smiled at Alan as she walked through the door. “You know what? Never mind. I’m sorry I asked. You don’t have to talk about it.” “Seriously? All that production about asking me a personal question, and now you don’t want to know?” “I want to know, but not if it's hard to talk about. And no one wants to talk about a relationship that ended badly.” “Who said it ended badly?” “Guys never want to talk about their exes when it ends badly. So, just forget it and let's enjoy our date.” “So, this is a date?” Alan grinned. “Interesting.” “No. I didn't mean that. It doesn't matter what I say now, does it?” Alan laughed and pulled out Lizbeth's chair. “Nope. Not really. Do you mind if I sit beside you?” “That’s fine,” Lizbeth replied. Alan turned his attention to the waitress standing next to the table. “Hello there. We would like the
biggest piece of New York-style cheesecake you have.” “Just one piece?” the waitress asked. “Yes, one piece. But two forks.” Alan looked at Lizbeth and winked. Lizbeth smiled and blushed slightly. “Would you like any toppings? We have chocolate, caramel, cherry, or strawberry.” The waitress’s pen seemed to stop working. She shook it hard and scribbled, then frowned. Alan reached into his coat pocket and handed her a new one. “Here you go. Try this one.” “Thank you.” The waitress sighed in relief. “What do you think, Lizzy? Cherry topping?” Lizbeth nodded in agreement and smiled at the waitress. “Okay, cherry it is. And two waters, please.” The waitress wrote down the order and reached to give the pen back to Alan. “No, keep it,” he said. “I have lots more, and you seem to need it.” “Thanks again.” The waitress smiled. “I’ll get your order in right away.” The waitress walked away, tucking her new pen in her apron. She picked up a few glasses and a plate on her way past an empty table. “So, Alan said as he turned to Lizbeth. “Where were we?” “We were about to change the subject,” Lizbeth joked. “What are your plans for Christmas? Do you go visit family? Friends? Dinner? Holiday party?” “I’m at the shelter, like most days.” “You’re at the shelter on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day?” “Yeah. Where else would I go? These people are like my family. I’ve known a lot of them since I was little. Some have been in and out of the facility for years. Whenever things get hard.” “I didn’t even know the shelter was open on Christmas.” “Of course. That’s one of the most important days to be open. For many, it’s just another day they’re trying to survive. What matters is if they have a hot meal and a warm place to sleep. And that’s why we’re open on Christmas.” Lizbeth leaned back in her chair as the waitress brought the cheesecake and water and placed them on the table. “What you do is amazing. Those people are so lucky to have someone like you looking out for them.” “Thank you,” Alan said to the waitress. Lizbeth looked up to thank the waitress as well and saw that she was smiling—a very beautiful smile—at Alan. . His face began to turn red, and he handed Lizbeth a fork. “Eat your cheesecake.” Lizbeth took it from Alan and ate a bite. “That is great cheesecake.” “Told ya!” Alan said with a smug smile. The two of them sat quietly and enjoyed their dessert. After a few bites, Lizbeth placed her fork on the table and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “What happens to everyone after the shelter closes?” “I don’t know.” Alan’s voice was more somber now. “I’ve been trying to figure that out for a while. The nearest shelter is twenty miles away, and they don’t have near the capacity for clients. And then there's not another one for forty miles.” “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. Anything I can do?” “You’re sweet.” Alan smiled at Lizbeth and took another bite of cheesecake. “But I don’t think so. I’ve tried taking them to court. I have an appointment with a private lender, but I’m not too hopeful. The bank told me that unless I pay off the mortgage and the back taxes, the company that put in the bid has every legal means to purchase the property.” Alan took a bite of cheesecake and swallowed. “The
building has been in the neighborhood for decades.” “Does the community know? Maybe going public would stir up some interest and keep them from being able to tear it down.” “It’s possible, but I wouldn’t know where to start.” Alan took another bite. “It’s like with the cheesecake,” Lizbeth teased. “You take it one bite at a time. I think we should at least try.” “You’re serious about this?” “Of course. I want to help.” Lizbeth leaned over until her shoulder was touching Alan’s. “Besides, my mother loved your shelter. She supported it. I’m sure she’d want me to do the same.” “Now who's amazing?” Alan cut a piece of cheesecake and held it up for Lizbeth. She took the bite from Alan’s fork, and the two talked into the night.
CHAPTER 8
Alan pulled on his tie and shifted in his seat. He looked handsome, but he was never fond of wearing a suit. He owned two—a blue one he wore to weddings and important meetings, and a black one he wore to funerals. He especially hated the black one. He opened the folder and flipped through the papers for the third time. He needed everything to be perfect. He glanced at his watch, but didn’t actually pay attention to the time. “Mom,” he whispered. “Mom, I need you. I need your help to keep your dream alive. I can do it, but I need you to guide me. Please.” “Mr. Wheeler?” called out a brunette in a red dress who was holding a clipboard. Her heels made her look tall, much taller than she really was. “Yes. I’m here.” Alan stood up and took a deep breath. “Mr. Brooks will see you now. Please follow me.” “Thank you.” Alan followed the woman as she walked down the hall. Her high heels clicked as they made contact with the tile. He raised his eyebrows and grinned a bit when he realized he was walking in unison with her clicking. “Go right in,” she said. She gestured to a pair of large wooden doors at the end of the hallway. “He’s expecting you.” “Thank you again.” Alan approached the doors, paused, and adjusted his tie and jacket. He took another deep breath and pushed one of the doors. It was heavy. As it swung open, he felt his pulse quicken. “Hello?” Alan’s voice echoed slightly. The room was large with high ceilings. There was a jukebox in the corner, and the head of a deer hanging on the far wall. “Mr. Brooks?” “Yes?” A large, nearly bald man wearing a gray suit stood and greeted Alan with a firm handshake. “Mr. Wheeler.” Alan shook his hand and smiled. “Call me Alan, please.” “All righty. And you call me Bill.” Bill patted Alan on the back hard enough to make him stumble slightly. “It’s been a long while since I last saw you. You were knee-high to donkey and still kicking around a soccer ball.” Alan remembered very little of Bill from that time. One thing he could never forget was Bill's thick Southern accent, which reminded Alan of the male leads from his mother's favorite old movies. “That was a long time ago, sir,” Alan replied. “Sit, please. Can I get ya somethin’? Water? Coffee?” “I’d love some coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.” “Nope, not at all.” Bill pushed the red button on the old-fashioned black phone on his desk. “Theresa dear, can you rustle us up some coffee?” “Yes, sir,” a familiar female voice replied. “Right away.” Bill sat in a big black leather chair and leaned back. “I wanted to tell ya how sorry I was to hear to about yer mama, son. She was a good woman. She did a lot of good for a lot of people. We’ll all miss her.” “Thank you, Bill. I appreciate that.” The big wooden door opened. The brunette who had escorted Alan now carried in a big silver tray. “Excuse me gentlemen,” she said. She placed the tray on the end of the desk and poured two cups of coffee. She handed a cup to each of the men and provided them with cream and sugar. “Is there anything
else?” “No, dearie. That’ll be all for now. Thank ya kindly.” Both men tasted their coffee before continuing. Alan’s hand shook, causing the cup to rattle on the saucer. He pretended not to notice. “Now, tell me, Alan.” Bill folded his hands and rested them on his large belly. “What can I do for ya?” “Well, Bill, I’m sure you know about my mom’s shelter.” “Of course! Wonderful place. Helps lots of folks.” “Yes, it does, and I’d like it to continue to do so. However, there’s a company trying to buy my building. They want to tear it down and build some kind of office complex. Like there’s not enough of those around already.” “I did hear somethin’ ’bout somethin’ related to that. I was hopin’ it was a rumor.” “It’s not, sir. They’ve started the process. I’ll be forced to vacate, and I don’t have the means to relocate my organization to another facility. And even if I did, it’s not what my mother created or wanted, or what she dreamed of. Bill, I need your help to save what my mother built.” “Can I see that file, son?” Bill pointed to the folder still on Alan’s lap. “Yes, of course.” Alan handed it to Bill. “These are the records to show—” “I know what they are, son.” Bill smiled and winked at Alan. “This ain’t my first rodeo. Just let me take a look.” Alan took a sip of his coffee and tried not to stare while Bill looked over the papers. He glanced at the bookshelves on the right, the statue on the left, and even tried to admire the deer head hanging on the wall. “Son . . .” Bill finally finished looking over the papers and addressed Alan. “As much as I’d love to help ya out, I don’t think there’s too awful much I can do. Ya have a mortgage, and the taxes are a tad behind. You’ve been doin’ a fine job keepin’ it going so far. To be honest, I'm not totally sure how ya been doin’ that. But ya did, and ya should be darn proud of that fact. But now, ya should prepare yourself for what’s to come.” Alan hung his head and looked into his coffee cup. He was beginning to feel defeated and hopeless. “Bill, please. Isn’t there anything you can do?” “Son, I’m sorry.” “You knew my mother. You know me. There has to be something.” “Yessir, I did know your mother. She was a fine woman. And if she were sittin’ here, I’d tell her the same thang. I’m sorry, but there’s nothin’ I can do. I wish there was. I really do.” Bill took a drink of his coffee. Alan looked at the floor and kept his head down for a moment. Reaching out, he placed the coffee cup on the tray and stood up. “Well,” he said, holding his hand out to Bill, “thank you for your time, sir. I know you’re a busy man, and I appreciate you seeing me.” Bill handed Alan his folder. “Of course, son. And I’ll tell ya what. If I do think of anythin’, I’ll let ya know. Sometimes thangs just come to me, and I don’t know where from. Hopefully, that’ll be the case here, too.” “Thank you, Bill.” Alan shook Bill’s hand and strode out of the office. Standing in the middle of the hallway, he looked left and then right. He felt defeated and lost. An older gentleman talking on his cell phone passed by. “Excuse me, sir,” Alan gestured to the man. “Can you tell me where the men’s room is?” “Sure,” the man answered. Keeping his phone to his ear, he motioned with his elbow. “Down the hall, to the right.” “Thank you.” The nausea come on fast, and Alan started walking before the man had finished speaking and forcefully pushed open the bathroom door. He paused for just a moment to see who else was
in the room. He was alone. Alan ran to the stall and bent over the toilet, where his body took control. For the next few moments, he threw up repeatedly. Wiping his mouth with a wad of toilet tissue, Alan flushed the toilet and sat on the cold floor. He put his head in his hands and fell back against the metal door of the stall. He hadn’t felt this much sadness or uncertainty since the day his mother died. Alan leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said softly. “I'm so sorry.”
CHAPTER 9
Cassidy stood in the main room of the shelter and held the picnic basket with both hands. She stood out in her brightly colored coat and red high heels. Some people were staring. She took a couple steps to the left, but quickly turned around and walked back, confused. “You’re looking for Lizzy, aren’t you?” A little girl with curly auburn hair smiled up at Cassidy. Her emerald-green shirt matched her eyes. She had a pink juice mustache that made her smile seem even bigger. “How did you know that?” Cassidy asked, smiling back. “You look like her.” “Well, actually . . .” Cassidy allowed the basket to rest on the floor and bent down to speak to the girl. “I’m her older sister. So she looks like me.” The little girl shook her head. Her dark red curls bounced back and forth around her shoulders. “Nope,” she said. “I met Lizzy first. So you look like her.” “Okay.” Cassidy chuckled. “I can accept that. Do you know where she is?” “Yep.” The little girl continued to smile, but didn't say anything more. “Will you tell me?” “Nope. But I’ll show you.” “That’s even better. Thank you.” Cassidy stood, pick up the basket, and followed the little girl as she skipped past two rows of tables. Cassidy had to walk quickly to keep up. The little girl stopped near the end of the room and turned to Cassidy. “She’s over there,” she said, pointing to the corner near an open door. “Thank you,” Cassidy replied. “You’ve been very helpful.” “You’re welcome.” Cassidy watched as the girl skipped her way back between the tables. She smiled and shook her head, then turned and looked at her sister sitting alone at the table. Lizbeth was reading and twirling her hair. “Hey, Liz!” The basket leaned to the side as she tried to hold it with one hand and wave to her sister. “Cass!” Surprised, Liz stood to give her a hug. “What are you doing here?” “I brought you lunch.” Cassidy held up the basket and wiggled it a little. “Thanks, but I have lunch,” Lizbeth replied. She picked up a potato chip and crunched it in her mouth. Cassidy looked down at the hot dog and potato chips sitting on the plate in front of Lizbeth. “You can’t eat that!” She opened the basket. Removing the items one at a time, she placed them on the table—a large blue Tupperware bowl, a small covered tray, a small thermos, a plastic box with silverware, and a container shaped like a piece of pie. “Well, I can’t eat that—not here!” Lizbeth replied, looking around the room like she hoped no one had seen. “Seriously, Cassidy. It's just so …” Cassidy slowly opened the big blue bowl. “The word you’re looking for is ‘delicious.’” She moved the container closer to Lizbeth, allowing the smell of the fresh wood-grilled salmon to envelop her. “Smell that?” “I do,” Lizbeth said, smiling. “Now close it up and put it away.”
“Really?” Cassidy was disappointed. “Are you sure?” “Really. I appreciate it, but yes, I’m sure.” “Fine.” Cassidy took a bite of the pasta with her fingers before she resealed the container and put it back in the basket. As Cassidy picked up the thermos, she saw Lizbeth smile. “What?” “What’s in there?” Lizbeth asked, pointing. “Chai tea. Want some?” Cassidy didn’t wait for Lizbeth to answer before she started opening the thermos. Lizbeth sighed. “I shouldn't, but yes.” Cassidy removed two cups from the basket and poured chai into both. She sat down and handed a cup to her sister. “Okay,” she said after taking a sip. “Dad’s pretty mad.” “Yes, I know.” Lizbeth took a drink from her cup too. “Thanks for reminding me.” “So, what happened?” Lizbeth shrugged. “I picked a side, but it wasn't his.” “He’s a businessman. What he does isn't personal.” “Shutting down this place is personal to them.” Lizbeth gestured to the people in the room. “Do you see you that girl with her nose in the books?” Cassidy turned and looked. Sitting four tables away, a teen girl with her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail sat reading a large, thick book. She ate grapes one at a time out of a foam bowl, never taking her eyes off the pages. “She’s a high school senior trying to get a scholarship to college,” Lizbeth explained. “And the man in the red baseball hat? He lost his wife and everything they owned in a house fire.” “I'm sorry, Lizzy. I didn’t realize.” “Look over there, Cass.” Lizbeth nodded to her left. “See the woman with the two girls?” Cassidy slowly turned around. She let out a long breath as she saw the woman Lizbeth pointed out. “The woman in the green sweater. The one who looks a lot like Mom, right?” Cassidy tried not to stare. She was an attractive young woman sitting at a table with two little girls. She spoke softly and smiled as she cut up an apple and placed slices in front of each of them. The girls giggled as they took a bite of their apple slices at the same time. “Oh, my gosh, Liz. She really does look like Mom.” “Yeah,” Lizbeth replied. She tilted her head slightly and grinned as she continued to watch the young mother and her two daughters. “I noticed it too.” “So what happened to her?” Cassidy turned back around in her seat so she could talk to her sister, drink her tea, but still see the trio. “How did she end up here?” “She was in a really bad relationship, but I guess she finally left him, and they came here.” Cassidy watched the mother with her children. Even though they were smiling and laughing, she felt sad. Cassidy and Lizbeth sat quietly for a few minutes. They each drank their tea as they observed some of the other people in the shelter’s main room. “Liz,” Cassidy said, “what will happen to them if this place closes? Where will they go?” “Excuse me.” Alan approached, looking cautious. “I hate to interrupt, but ...” Cassidy turned and looked at Alan. “Oh, hi,” she said sweetly. “No need to apologize. My sister was doing all the talking anyway, so interrupt all you’d like.” Lizbeth rolled her eyes and stood up from the table. “Alan, this is my sister.” “Her older, smarter, much more attractive sister.” Cassidy stood up and offered her hand to Alan like a queen expecting a kiss. “My older sister, Cassidy.” Lizbeth interrupted, pushing her sister's hand away and raising her
eyebrows. Cassidy shrugged her shoulders. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Hi, Cassidy.” Alan spoke and broke the tension. “It’s nice to meet you.” “You too, Alan.” Alan grinned at her. “Do you mind if I borrow Lizzy for a moment?” “Lizzy?” Cassidy looked at her sister. “He’s the second person here to call you Lizzy. I thought only Daddy and I were allowed to use that name.” She smirked at her sister. “Because that’s what you called me when I was a little girl. I thought I had to let it go when I got older. Now I know I don’t.” Lizbeth shook her head. “Stay here, Cass. Don’t talk to anyone. And please finish putting that stuff away. I’ll be right back.” “Fine!” Cassidy joked and put her hands up in surrender. “I’ll stay right here.” Lizbeth followed Alan around the corner through the open doorway. Cassidy could see her through the crack between the door and the wall. She attempted to listen to their conversation, but only heard a few words. She did hear her sister laugh—not a giggle or a chuckle. A real laugh. It made Cassidy happy. Lizbeth soon returned to the table, smiling. “Soooo, what did he want?” Cassidy teased. “Nothing,” Lizbeth replied, taking her seat. “Uh, oh.” “What?” “You like him. Like, really like him.” “Cassidy. Stop it. I'm working for him.” “Not sure that matters, Lizzy. You like him. And I can see why. He’s adorable.” “Yes. He’s cute, but I don’t like him. I mean, he’s nice, so yes, I like him. But I don’t like him, like him.” Lizbeth let out a big sigh and covered her eyes with her hand. Cassidy tried not to laugh as her sister began to blush. “You need to stop talking. It's not helping.” The sisters laughed, and Lizbeth put her forehead on the table. “So you do like him?” “Maybe. Yes. No! I don’t know, Cassidy. I don’t want to like him, but he’s a great guy. He doesn’t look at me as a Vincent, like everyone else does. He just sees me as …” “As Lizzy.” Cassidy giggled. “Yes. As Lizzy.” Cassidy patted her sister's hand. “But do you really want to date someone who works in a homeless shelter? He's cute, but is this the life you want?” Lizbeth pulled her hand away and sat back. She looked at her sister. Cassidy could tell she had hurt Lizbeth’s feeling with her words. “Wow. You are your father’s daughter.” “That’s not what I meant, Liz.” Cassidy's smile disappeared. “This place. These people. They would become your whole life. Are you ready to invest yourself that deeply? In all this sadness and hurt? Is that what you want?” “Yes, being with Alan would mean that I’d spend a lot of time here. And no, I don’t really want that.” “See?” Cassidy smiled, beaming with pride. Suddenly, the sound of plates as they crashed to the floor echoed through the room from the kitchen. Both Lizbeth and Cassidy jumped. There were high-pitched squeals from the children in the room, as they were startled as well. Alan and a very tall teenage boy walked into the main room. Alan held up his hands and spoke loudly as the teen walked to a supply closet on the far wall.
“Sorry about that,” Alan said. “Just a little accident. Nothing to be worried about.” He turned around and walked back into the kitchen. “Alan!” Lizbeth called out to him. He didn’t respond or look in her direction. “Alan?” “Don't worry,” Cassidy said. “He's just trying to handle a crisis.” “I know,” Lizbeth replied. She still had a worried look on her face. “What was I was going to say before was that yes, I don’t want to spend a lot of time here. But not because of the sadness and hurt—as you put it. But because I plan on becoming a social worker. A lot of my time will be spent out in the community, not just in here.” “Are you trying to kill Dad? ’Cause if you are, there are easier ways to do it,” Cassidy said with a thick level of sarcasm. “Killing him is not in my plans, but I’m also not going to change my mind because he doesn’t like my choices.” Alan walked through the main room again. This time, he looked at Lizbeth. She smiled and waved at him, but he didn’t smile back. He just quickened his pace and walked out the front door. “What was that about?” Cassidy asked. Lizbeth sat for a moment. “I honestly have no idea.”
CHAPTER 10
Lizbeth watched the children playing in the corner of the main room of the shelter. She went from table to table, picking up the salt and pepper shakers that needed to be refilled. “Hi, Lizzy!” A young woman in her mid-twenties smiled brightly and addressed Lizbeth. There was a time when Lizbeth would have corrected people when they called her “Lizzy.” The only people she allowed to call her by that name were her father and her sister. But now she kind of liked it. “Hi!” she replied, offering a smile in return. “How are you doing this morning? You look nice. Are you ready?” The young woman looked down at herself and straightened her skirt. “I never thought I’d be interviewing for a receptionist position at the water department.” “Why not? You’re perfect for the job.” Lizbeth adjusted the young woman's jacket a bit and put her hands on the woman's shoulders, then looked her in the eye. “Just be yourself. They’ll love you.” The young woman leaned forward and gave Lizbeth a little hug. “Thanks for helping me get ready. I'm still so nervous, but not nearly as nervous as I was.” “You’re welcome.” Lizbeth hugged her in return and then picked up a tray of salt and pepper shakers off one of the tables “You can take me out for coffee when you get your first paycheck.” “Deal!” The young woman laughed. Alan walked past the ladies and into the kitchen. He didn't acknowledge them or say a word. Lizbeth and the young woman looked at each other, puzzled. “I don’t know.” Lizbeth shrugged. “He’s been like that all morning.” She walked toward the kitchen, carrying the tray. The woman headed out the front door, and Lizbeth went into the kitchen. Alan was nowhere in sight. After placing the tray on the counter, she walked down the hall to Alan's office. “Alan?” she said as she opened the door. “Are you in here?” “What is it, Lizbeth?” Alan’s tone was short and bitter. And he called her by her full name. He was scurrying around the office, from the desk to the filing cabinet, to the printer and back. “I'm kind of busy.” “Oh, sorry. I'll come back.” Lizbeth stepped back into the hall and closed the door behind her. She returned to the counter and sat down in front of her tray of shakers. Lost in her thoughts and the repetition of filling little glass containers with salt and pepper, Lizbeth was oblivious to Alan's presence. She was startled when he yelled at a member of the kitchen staff. “You know better, Michael.” Alan sounded angry. Lizbeth had never heard him speak to anyone like that. “Why would you do something so stupid?” “Alan!” Lizbeth moved toward him. “I think you need to take a break.” Lizbeth stood between Alan and Michael. Neither said a word. They exchanged glances, and then Michael stared at the floor. Lizbeth could tell by the look on Alan’s face that he felt bad for yelling at Michael. “Michael, I’m sorry.” Alan reached out his hand as a gesture of sincerity. “I didn’t mean it. I’m … I’m just . . . I don’t know what I am.” “You're stressed,” Michael said. “I get it.” He shook Alan’s hand. “I've been there. Don't worry about it.” Alan gave Michael a friendly slap on the shoulder. The men joked and laughed as if the last two minutes never even happened.
“Alan,” Lizbeth interrupted. “Can I talk to you?” Alan looked at Lizbeth, but didn't answer. He turned back to Michael. “I gotta go. We'll talk more later.” Alan walked past Michael and headed toward his office. “Alan!” “Lizzy, I’d rather not do this right now.” “Do what? Talk?” “Yes. Talk.” Lizbeth continued to follow Alan down the hall. She had to take more steps to cover the same distance, and as Alan was walking so fast, she almost felt like she was jogging. “Then just tell me what's wrong. What did I do? Please talk to me.” Alan stopped in front of his office door, his hand on the door knob. He didn't turn around to look at her. “Why?” His voice was quiet and sad. Lizbeth stepped closer to Alan. She stood at his side and looked at him, hoping he would turn and look at her as well. He didn't. “Until I know what’s broken, I have no idea how to fix it.” “Fine.” Alan turned the knob and pushed the door open. “Come in.” Lizbeth follow Alan into his office and closed the door behind her. She watched as he put papers into the filing cabinet and looked through pink message slips before finally sitting in his desk chair. “What the matter?” She took a few slow steps toward the desk. “What do you mean?” “Why are you upset with me? What did I do?” “Who says I'm upset with you?” “No one. Your body language and how you're acting are getting the message across loud and clear. You're not talking to me. You won't look at me—even now.” Lizbeth continued to move toward Alan until she was standing directly in front of him. She placed her fingertips on the edge of the desk. Alan sighed and sat back in his chair. The leather creaked as he slumped down. He remained quiet as he ran his hand through his hair. “Alan …” “I heard you,” he snapped. He looked tired. Lizbeth saw the hurt in his eyes. “What did you hear?” “You and your sister—I heard the two of you talking. About me.” “Oh, Alan.” Lizbeth covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m so sorry.” “No, I get it. At least I know.” “Know what?” “That I’m not good enough for you.” “I never said that.” “We're too different, Lizzy. I’d be a catch if I wasn’t poor, remember?” “Alan, stop this. I didn’t say any of that—my sister did. She's a good person, just very shallow and superficial. She loves everything about being a ‘Vincent.’ I'm sorry if what she said hurt you.” “What about what you said?” Alan stood and walked around to the front of his desk. “I heard that, too.” “What did I say?” “About how being with me would mean spending all your time here, and you didn't want that.” Lizbeth tried to hold in a laugh. She pursed her lips, covered her mouth, but nothing worked. She couldn't hold it in and began laughing.
“How is that funny?” Alan asked. Lizbeth tried to stop, but the more she tried, the harder she laughed. “I'm sorry,” she said through her laughter. “I'm sorry. Yeah, okay. It's a little funny.” “What?” Alan said, sounding frustrated. “Well, you didn't hear the rest of the conversation. The reason I don't want to spend all my time here has nothing to do with you. I want to be a social worker. I want to help them out there.” Lizbeth pointed out the office window. “I want to help people either before they get here or after they leave.” Alan folded his arms across his chest. His gaze went to the floor, and he sat on the edge of the desk. “I didn't mean to laugh,” Lizbeth said. She sat on the edge of the desk next to Alan. “I really didn't.” “No, it's okay. I'm an idiot. I should've just talked to you.” “No argument here.” Alan chuckled and unfolded his arms. As he placed his hands on the desk next to his thighs, his fingers brushed against Lizbeth’s. Neither of them pulled away. Alan moved his little finger just slightly, rubbing against hers. He looked up at her and smiled. Lizbeth blushed. Alan slowly and gently laced his fingers between hers. He held her hand for a moment as they looked into each other’s eyes. “Hey, boss.” Michael opened the door and walked in the office. “Could you sign this?” Startled, Lizbeth pulled her hand away from Alan’s and pushed off the desk. Alan let out a big sigh. “Oh, wow,” Michael said. “I'm sorry. Was I interrupting?” “No,” Lizbeth quickly responded. “Yes.” “I can go.” Michael began to back out of the office. “No, come in. Let me see it.” Alan grabbed a pen off the desk. Michael held the clipboard for Alan as he scribbled his name at the bottom of the paper. “Thank you,” Alan added. He elbowed Michael as he left the office. Alan leaned against the door as he closed it behind Michael. He shrugged his shoulders and flashed Lizbeth a cheesy smile. “I can go if you really are busy,” Lizbeth said. “No. It's fine. Besides, you were about to tell me how I can make all this up to you.” “I was?” He smiled and winked as he walked past Lizbeth. Lizbeth looked away, trying not to be embarrassed. “Okay, so I was.” “And what did you come up with?” “You’re going to take me dinner.” “Um, Lizzy . . .” Alan returned to his seat on the edge of the desk. He picked up a rubber band and twirled it around his fingers. “I can't take you to . . . uh … I can't afford—” “I want to go to your favorite place,” Lizbeth interrupted. She already knew what he was going to say, what he was worried about. “Hopefully, it's a place with great burgers. I'm really craving a good burger.” Alan held his hand out to her. “Deal,” he said. “I know just the place.” Lizbeth looked at Alan’s hand and then back into his eyes. She suddenly got butterflies in her stomach. She hadn't had that feeling in a very long time. She shook his hand. It was warm, with small rough patches at the base of his fingers. Lizbeth and Alan stood quietly, holding hands. Lizbeth slightly bit her lower lip, and her pulse quickened. Alan took a deep breath, and Lizbeth watched as his shirt became tight across his chest. “Well, I guess I should …”
“Yeah, I really need to …” Alan added. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” “Absolutely.” Alan smiled and pulled his hand away. “I’ll see you in the morning.” “Okay.” “And then burgers tomorrow night?” “Okay.” Lizbeth took a few steps back before she reached for the door. She missed the doorknob twice, but looked down and was able to grab it on her third try. Alan watched her and laughed softly. Lizbeth’s cheeks began to blush. She nodded and waved at Alan as she left the office, then smiled all the way to her car.
CHAPTER 11
Lizbeth had to use both hands to pick up her ultimate bacon deluxe burger and hold it tight as she took a big bite. “That thing is bigger than your face.” Alan watched Lizbeth wrestle with her sandwich as he finished off his own burger and then sipped his water. Alan had brought Lizbeth to his favorite restaurant—Ruby's Family Diner—for their date. “I don't care,” Lizbeth replied. She tried to wipe her mouth and hands, but her one small napkin wasn't doing a very good job. Alan laughed. He handed Lizbeth his napkin and motioned to the waitress. “Is everything okay?” the waitress asked as she approached their table. “Oh, yes. Fine.” Alan looked at her name badge. “Thank you, Karen. We just need some more napkins, and maybe refills on the water.” Still chewing, and with ketchup on her cheek, Lizbeth smiled and nodded in agreement. The waitress smiled back and turned for the counter. Lizbeth took another bite and watched the waitress as she greeted people, waved at others, and weaved in and out of the tables as if she were dancing. “You’re going to be eating that for the next three days.” Alan dipped a trio of fries into the pond of ketchup on his plate and stuffed them into his mouth. “Next time, we’ll just share one.” His eyes widened, and his cheeks started to turn a light red. “Or maybe you should try the sliders.” Lizbeth smiled. She liked the idea that there would be a “next time.” “Maybe you’re right.” She was still chewing a little, so she shielded her mouth with her hand when she spoke. She picked up her glass of water and took several sips of water to wash it all down. “It’s really good. You want some?” “Nope,” Alan said, sitting back in his chair. “I’m good. But thank you.” The waitress returned with a stack of napkins and a pitcher of water. “Everything okay?” she asked as she refilled their glasses. “Very good. Thank you,” Lizbeth answered her cheerfully. Alan nodded at the waitress as she scurried to another table. “I’m going back in. You may need to send backup.” Alan and Lizbeth both laughed as she picked up the burger again. “Lizbeth?” A man’s voice came from a few tables away. “Lizbeth, is that you?” Lizbeth slowly returned the burger to the plate and grabbed several napkins from the stack. Alan turned his head and watched a man in a gray suit approach the table and walk behind Lizbeth’s chair. Lizbeth was no longer smiling or laughing. She began to feel worried. Things were going so well with her and Alan during dinner—she didn’t want it to be interrupted, or worse. “It is you!” Greg placed his hand on the back of Lizbeth’s head, bent over her shoulder, and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ve missed you, babe. How have you been?” Greg was an attractive man, and he knew it. His blue eyes, sandy brown hair, and beautiful smile often allowed him to go places he shouldn't be, do things he shouldn't do, and say whatever was on his mind. He had a gift for winning people over with his charm. Unfortunately, Lizbeth’s father was one of those people. Jonathon had made it clear that he had plans for his daughter to marry Greg. Greg stepped around the table and stood behind an empty chair. “Greg,” Lizbeth replied. Her voice was low and monotone. “I’m fine. But please, I’ve asked you before. Don’t call me babe.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry.” Greg took a small step back from the table. “And you have a dinner companion. I didn't mean to interrupt. Who’s your friend?” “This is Alan, from the shelter where I’m doing my community service.” Greg turned to Alan and extended his hand. Alan stood up and offered Greg a firm grip. “Hello, Greg. Would you care to join us?” “Yes. Thank you, Alan. And it’s nice to meet you. ” The men closely observed each other as they settled into their seats at the table. After a small period of awkward silence, Alan picked up his water and began to look around the room. Lizbeth wrung her hands under the table. “I don’t want to put you on the spot,” Greg said, “but may I ask—once the shelter is closed, where will you go? Is there another shelter in the city where you can stay?” Alan looked at Greg with surprise. “Excuse me?” “There are other places for your people to stay, aren't there?” Alan directed his glare at Lizbeth as he placed his glass back on the table. “Greg ...” Lizbeth spoke through clenched teeth and tried to keep her voice down. “What? I don't mean to be rude, but I’ve never actually met a homeless person.” “He’s not homeless, Greg.” Lizbeth’s voice was almost a growl. “He runs the shelter. His family founded it.” “Oh. Well. My mistake. So sorry.” Greg pushed himself back from the table and held up his hands. “I thought you were one of the clients. I mean. Your hair. Your clothes...” Greg looked at Alan from his belt to his head. Then he turned to Lizbeth and hid his mouth behind his hand. “He’s not exactly the type of guy you usually have dinner with.” “How did you know about the sale of the shelter, Greg?” Lizbeth asked. Her stomach began to hurt even before she finished asking her question. She felt she already knew the answer. “I work for your father. Remember?” Alan ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted his shirt. He quietly sat back in his chair, picking up his glass and taking another drink. Greg turned in his chair to face Alan more directly. “I truly didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry.” “No offense taken,” Alan said calmly. “Some of the best people I know stay at my shelter. To be mistaken for one of them isn’t offensive—it’s a compliment.” Greg didn’t reply. He just stared at Alan. Alan furrowed his brow. Lizbeth could tell by his expression that he was getting frustrated. “Greg,” she interrupted, “what can I do for you? We’d like to get back to our dinner.” “I was meeting a couple friends for a quick dinner after a late business meeting.” Greg pointed to a table at the other side of the room, where three men in suits were doing whiskey shots. “I was getting ready to leave when I saw you and your . . . um . . . friend. And as you haven't been returning my calls, I thought I’d come over and confirm what time I'll be picking you up next Saturday.” Lizbeth gave Greg a confused look. “Picking me up?” “Your dad’s holiday party.” “Greg, I don’t …” Lizbeth looked across the table at Alan. His elbows rested on the arms of the chair with his hands now folded under his chin. She watched his jaw as it clenched, and his fingers flexed. “I’ll have the limo come for you. But I do need you to call me so we can finalize the details—you know, colors and such.” “Greg, stop talking.” “But we need to discuss this.” “No, Greg. We don’t.”
The sound of an old-fashioned telephone ringing came from Alan’s pocket. “Sorry,” he said as he looked at the screen. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, standing from his chair. “I have to take this call.” “Of course.” Lizbeth watched Alan as he walked to the far end of the bar and sat on an empty stool. She then reached around the table and shoved Greg’s shoulder. “What?” Greg said, chuckling. He picked up two fries from Alan’s plate and put them in his mouth. “Greg,” she said softly. “We’re not dating anymore. I’m not trying to hurt you. But I'm not going to the party with you.” Greg picked up two more fries and dipped them in ketchup this time. “Your father isn’t going to be happy about this.” “My father isn’t happy about anything I do these days.” Lizbeth sat back in her chair. She turned her head slowly. She didn’t want it to be obvious that she was looking at Alan. Alan touched the screen on his phone and put it back in his pocket. He raised his eyebrows and smiled at Lizbeth as he made his way back to the table. He placed his hands on the back of his chair and stood behind it. “Lizzy, do you care if we call it a night?” he asked. “No, of course not.” Lizbeth stood from the table. She pulled her coat off the chair and put it on. “Everything okay?” “Oh, yeah,” Alan replied. “Just an early morning that I forgot about.” He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his black leather wallet. “No. Please, allow me,” Greg said as he stood up. “It’s the least I can do to apologize.” He motioned to the waitress and pulled a bundle of bills held together with a gold money clip from his front pants pocket. Alan looked at Lizbeth and shook his head. “No. Thanks anyway, Greg,” he said. He handed four twenty-dollar bills to the waitress. “Thank you, Karen.” “Thank you, sir,” the waitress replied cheerfully. She smiled and waved at the trio before walking away. Alan put his wallet back in his pocket and then turned to Lizbeth. She watched as Alan and Greg exchanged nods and shrugs. “Why don’t I meet you outside?” Lizzy suggested. “Sure,” Alan replied. He held out his hand to Greg. “It was nice to meet you.” “You too,” Greg said as he shook his hand and then sat down. Alan kissed Lizbeth on the cheek and walked toward the exit, the door then closing behind him. “So I’ll call you,” Greg said. “No, Greg, you won’t.” Lizbeth grabbed her purse and tossed it over her shoulder. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. “Good-bye Greg.” She turned and walked toward the door. “Lizbeth …” Greg walked after her. She spun around so quickly, her hair flipped from one shoulder to the other. “Greg, no!” She did her best not to shout. “I'm not doing this. We’re not dating. We’re not a couple anymore. I don’t care what my dad says. Please just stop.” Greg took a slow step toward Lizbeth as he looked around the room. People were staring. He lowered his head slightly and held out his hand. “You forgot your cell phone.” Lizbeth looked down. In Greg’s outstretched hand was her green cell phone. She took it from his palm and slipped it into her coat pocket. “Thank you. Good-bye, Greg.”
CHAPTER 12
Lizbeth walked out of the restaurant to see Alan standing alone on the sidewalk. He turned to look at her, and she noticed his cheeks were all red. “Are you cold?” she asked him jokingly. “No,” he replied. Lizbeth knew he was being sarcastic. He shrugged his shoulders and teased her some more. “Not at all. I was thinking about going for a swim. Wanna come?” Lizbeth laughed hard as she gave him a big hug. “I’m sorry it took so long. He’s . . . well, can we not talk him anymore? He’s done enough damage to our evening.” “Works for me. But then you have to do me a favor.” Lizbeth leaned back in Alan’s arms and looked at him. “That sounds slightly suspicious, but okay. What is it?” “Walk with me.” “What do you mean?” “Go for a walk with me.” “Now?” Lizbeth took a step back and looked around. It was cold and getting dark. The streetlights in the distance flickered as they turned on. Few people were out on the street. Most were either in one of the restaurants or around the cars in the parking lots. “It’s really cold. Are you sure? And what about your early morning?” “Yes, it’s cold, and I’ll be fine.” Alan put his arm around Lizbeth’s shoulders and coaxed her a few steps down the street. “I changed my mind. I’m not ready to call it a night yet.” Lizbeth placed her arm around Alan’s back and leaned into his shoulder. She was glad he couldn’t see her face because she knew she was blushing. “Just a short one, I promise. And if you get cold, we’ll come right back.” “Okay. You convinced me.” “Good.” Alan hugged Lizbeth a little tighter. “Do you have a destination in mind, or are we just walking?” “Let’s just start by walking and see what happens.” Lizbeth held Alan’s hand as they raced across the street to beat the one car driving down the road. They took turns pointing out Christmas decorations in the store windows. They traded stories about their best holidays—and their worst. “The first Christmas without my mom.” Alan looked away from Lizbeth as he talked. “I was never really close with my dad, and it just got worse after Mom died. I think that’s why keeping the shelter alive is so important to me. It’s all I have left of her.” “I’m sorry.” Lizbeth touched Alan’s hand that rested on her shoulder. “What about you?” “It was the same for me. My mother died, and my dad became even more of a workaholic. My sister and I only had each other. She started hanging out with her friends, and I ended up—never mind. Can we change the subject?” “That’s when you started dating Greg.” “We don’t have to talk about this.” Lizbeth moved Alan’s arm off her shoulders and held on to it so she could look at him while they talked. “It’s okay. He was there for you. I get it. You guys were close.” Lizbeth pulled Alan’s jacket to stop him from walking and stood in front of him. “No, it’s not like
that. We just went out. We were dating, but not dating.” “What’s the difference?” “How I felt about him, for one. He’s a jerk—” “Yes, he is. You’ll get no argument from about that.” Alan cupped his hands together and blew into his palms. “Why do you still talk to him?” he asked as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “He works at my dad’s company—has since high school. My dad really likes him, and when he set us up, Greg and I ended up dating for a while. But that was a long time ago.” “He obviously still likes you.” “But I don’t like him. Not sure I ever really did—at least, not romantically. My dad keeps hoping I’ll end up with him. He has ‘plans’ for me and Greg to take over the company, to run it together. My dad doesn't get it. Greg’s a jerk.” “You said that already.” Alan looked down at the sidewalk and kicked a small stone into the street. It bounced a few times, and then he looked back at Lizbeth. “Greg only said those things to try to embarrass me and to make you angry.” “Well … it worked.” Alan pulled his hands out of his pockets. Lizbeth placed her hands on Alan’s wrists. “You have to know that I’m sorry. I should have said something. I should made him leave. I am sorry.” “I know you are, Lizzy. It’s not your fault. You didn’t invite him.” “And I don’t like him.” Lizbeth looked into Alan’s eyes, hoping that he would see her sincerity. Alan rotated his wrists and grabbed Lizbeth’s hands, holding them to his lips and trying to warm them with his breath. Lizbeth closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of Alan’s touch. “Why me, Lizzy? Why do you want me?” Lizbeth opened her eyes. Alan was looking at her. “Is that a serious question?” “Yes. It is.” He kept his gaze on her. She could tell by looking at Alan that he needed an answer. “Alan.” Lizbeth took a step closer to him. She kept her hands inside his grasp. “I want you because …” Her hands trembled. “Do you know?” He gripped her hands a little tighter. “I want you because you like me the way I am.” “Everyone likes you.” “No. I mean, you like me for me. You don’t want anything from me.” “Of course I don’t.” “You’re not trying to change me. You accept me. I’m not used to that. Alan pulled Lizbeth closer to him and placed her hands on his chest. “You’re right, Lizzy. I do like you the just the way you are.” Lizzy put her head down slightly, feeling a little bashful. She didn’t like talking about herself. “People hear my name and they expect certain things, want me act a certain way, to be perfect. Even my father. I have to be perfect in order my father to … never mind.” Alan moved closer to her and ran his hand up her arm. She shivered, but not from the cold. “No, tell me. To what?” he asked. “To love me.” Her words grew softer, and her voice quivered slightly. “I don’t believe that.” “It’s the truth.” “Well,” Alan said, smiling, “I’m not like that. I don’t expect you to be perfect. I just want you to be you.” “I know,” Lizbeth replied, shyly smiling back at him.
Alan caressed Lizbeth’s face with the back of his fingers. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, feeling her heart begin to race and her breathing quicken. Alan brushed Lizbeth’s hair back from her face and behind her ear. He slowly slid his hand around her neck and pulled her close to him. She had thought about kissing him many times. Her heart pounded so hard, she was sure Alan could hear it. “You’re so beautiful,” Alan whispered. His hands shook as he brushed his thumb over her cheek. His gaze went from Lizbeth’s eyes to her lips and back again. She held her breath and hoped he was going to take a chance. Alan leaned in and placed his lips on hers. His lips were soft, and the heat from his breath sent chills down Lizbeth’s spine. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she allowed herself to be enveloped in his embrace. She no longer cared about the cold. Her mind was only on him—on Alan—and how good it felt to be in his arms. Lizbeth and Alan both jumped as they were startled by the loud crashing of metal trash cans coming the alley behind them. There was a second sound—the sound of glass shattering. “What was that?” “I don’t know.” Alan moved his body between Lizbeth and the alley. “Someone there?” he yelled toward the darkness of the alley. Shadows danced against the walls of the buildings, but no one answered. “Show yourself.” The street was quiet. There were no cars driving by—there were no people walking around. Only Lizbeth and Alan were there, alone, standing on the sidewalk. “Hello? Who’s back there?” Alan took a step toward the alley. Still, no one answered. Lizbeth held on to the back of Alan’s jacket and surveyed the street in the other direction, looking up and back several times. “Maybe we should go.” She moved to one side of Alan and grabbed his hand. “Let’s just go.” She looked toward the alley and saw a shadow of something—or someone—move. “Did you see that?” she asked in a whisper. “Yeah, I saw it,” Alan replied quietly. The loud screeching and beeping of a car alarm caused them to jump again. “Okay,” Alan agreed. “Let’s get out of here.” He put his arm around Lizbeth, and they walked back toward the restaurant. The sound of more glass being shattered came from the alley. “Just keep walking,” Alan said. Lizbeth and Alan held hands and walked quickly as they made their way back to the restaurant. Neither spoke more than a word or two until they reached their destination. “Where’d you park?” Alan asked as they crossed the street. “I’m over there,” Lizbeth pointed. “Behind the deck.” Alan kissed the back of Lizbeth’s hand as they approached her car. He opened the door for her, waited for her to get settled, then leaned in and gave her a slow, sweet kiss. “Text me when you get home so I know you got there okay.” Alan stood there with the car door still open. “I will. And thank you.” “For what?” “For everything—for listening, talking to me, for protecting me from whatever was in that alley.” Alan leaned into the car and gave Lizbeth another quick kiss on the lips. “You’re welcome.” He shut the car door as Lizbeth started the car. Lizbeth watched Alan as she pulled away. She waved to him and made a right turn onto the main road.
CHAPTER 13
Standing at the back of the elevator, Lizbeth tapped her fingers nervously on the gold rail. Her father had called and asked her to come to his office. He only did that when it was something serious. She ran through the events of the past few days in her mind, trying to figure out what he could possibly want. The elevator doors opened. Several people waited for the passengers to exit before getting in. Lizbeth didn’t move. “You going back down?” one of the men said to her as he entered the elevator. “Oh, no.” Lizbeth stepped through the doors. “Lost in my thoughts. Thank you.” The doors closed behind her. She made her way to her father’s office and took a few steps inside the room, then suddenly stopped in her tracks and gasped. “Greg? What are you doing here? Lizbeth looked at Greg, and then at her father. “Dad, what’s going on?” “Hi, honey,” Jonathan said. He and Greg exchanged glances. “Please sit.” Lizbeth began to feel uneasy. She felt like she was being ambushed. “No, that’s okay. I’ll stand. Can you tell me what’s going on, please? Why he’s here?” “Greg is just looking out for you, honey. Don’t be upset. He has your best interests at heart.” “I don’t need Greg to look out for me, Dad.” “Apparently you do,” Greg said. “Your judgment seems to be lacking these days.” “Excuse me?” Lizbeth raised her eyebrows. “Greg, let me talk to my daughter, and we’ll continue our discussion this afternoon.” “Thank you, sir.” Greg shook Jonathan’s hand. “Lizbeth, it was great to see you—as always.” “Yeah,” Lizbeth replied. “A real pleasure.” She walked to the opposite side of her father’s desk and looked out the window as she waited for Greg to leave the office. She had always loved the view. She loved the way the city looked from above. Jonathan walked over and stood at the window beside his daughter. “Greg still cares for you very much. I think once the two of you spend some time catching up, you’ll see how good you are together.” Lizbeth continued to stare out the window. “We’ve talked about this. I don’t like Greg—not like that. I’m not going to be spending time with him.” “But you’ll spend time with this Alan boy?” Lizbeth slowly exhaled and lowered her head. “Is that what this is about?” “What do you mean?” Jonathan turned to face Lizbeth. “I’m sure you’ve heard all about the incident at the restaurant the other night.” Jonathan slowly walked to the bar that sat against the wall. He reached into a small hidden refrigerator underneath the antique-looking wooden structure and retrieve two bottles of water. “I know the two of you had dinner, and you left with him.” Jonathan handed her a bottle of water. He twisted the cap on the other and took a long drink. After walking to the front of his desk, he sat in one of two emeraldgreen armchairs, crossed his legs, and took another drink. “That’s not how it happened, Dad.” Lizbeth opened her water and made her way to the armchair beside her father. “Greg was rude and obnoxious.” Lizbeth cocked her head and stared at Jonathan. “What?” “Do you have him spying on me?” “No, I don’t. But Greg did tell me that Alan kissed you.” Lizbeth let out a disheartened groan. “You’ve got to be kidding me! The only way he could know that
is if he followed me.” “I promise—I didn’t ask him to. He was concerned. He wanted to make sure you got home safely. He told me he was simply keeping an eye on you.” “Dad, we walked around.” Lizbeth leaned back in the green chair and slumped down. “What do you mean, you walked around?” “Alan and I went for a walk after we left. In order for Greg to keep an eye on me, he would have had to follow us. That’s not being concerned—that’s stalking.” “You don’t know that he was actually there. Someone may have seen you and told him.” “We were alone, Dad. No one was anywhere near us except …” “Except what, honey?” “We heard someone in the alley. There was a noise, and glass breaking, and a car alarm, so we left and went back to the restaurant.” Jonathan finished off his bottle of water in one final gulp. He replaced the cap, walked back to the bar, and tossed the bottle into a big blue recycling container. “So what if Greg was following you?” He leaned against the bar. “He was concerned for your safety. You know nothing about this Alan fellow. After all, Lizbeth, he works at a shelter.” “I know more about Alan than I do Greg. And he doesn’t work at the shelter, Dad. The shelter was founded by his family. You know that.” “Well, it doesn’t matter who founded the shelter, or who works there. In a couple of weeks, it will be closed and scheduled for demolition.” “So, let me get this straight. Not only are you closing the shelter, but you’re literally tearing down the building? A building that’s been a part of the community for decades?” “A building that old needs to be torn down to make way for something modern and current. It barely meets building codes. Take this building you're standing in right now.” Jonathan held up his arms up and gestured to the ceiling. “There were several businesses here that had been around since the fifties. We bought them out, tore down the buildings, and voila! A great gift to the city and its people.” He took a seat in his large office chair. “Those businesses were probably more important to the neighborhood and the people of the community than your offices.” Lizbeth stood up in front of the desk. “What does this building do for people? Nothing! It’s for you, not them. Just like tearing down the shelter is for you, not the community. If you wanted to help the community, fix it, expand it, or upgrade his building. Tearing it down does nothing.” Jonathan sat quietly for a moment and stared at Lizbeth. He shook his head and picked up his pen. “You’re just like your mother.” “I hear that all the time,” Lizbeth said, smiling. “And I also hear what a great woman she was. So I’ll take that as a compliment.” “She was a good woman, Lizbeth. But her bleeding heart and generosity got in her in trouble many, many times.” “How?” “I don’t want to discuss it, Lizbeth,” “I just want to know what trouble you’re talking about.” Jonathan threw his pen on the desk. It bounced before coming to rest next to his computer keyboard. He stood up, turned to look out the window, and put his hands in his pant pockets. He took a deep breath and lowered his head. “She was mugged,” he said, “threatened. And she spent lots of money trying to help people who would only disappoint her.” Jonathan turned to face his daughter. “She was injured more than once. I feared for her safety at times.” “But what about all the good she did, Dad? What about all the people who changed their lives and
then went on to help other people change their lives? What about the companies she invested in that are successful now? What about …” Jonathan put up his hand. “I know what she did, Lizbeth.” “I want to do what she did, Dad. I want to help. Did you know Mom actually had a fundraiser for Alan’s shelter?” “Lizbeth, please.” Jonathan snickered and shook his head. “Look it up. Alan’s mother was running it then. Mom did a lot of work there. I think they may have even been friends.” “I seriously doubt …” “It’s true. You’re going to close down and demolish a place my mother believed in. You’re going to tear down a place Mom helped build.” “Stop!” Jonathan held up one finger to Lizbeth to demand her silence. “Just stop!” He flopped back in his chair and rested his elbows on the arms, interlocking his fingers. The room became eerily quiet. The only noises were that of the ticking of the large clock on the wall and the muttered voices from outside the office door. “Dad?” Lizbeth asked softly. “Daddy, do you…?” “Enough!” Jonathan interrupted. “That’s enough, Lizbeth. I’m done talking about this.” He stood from the chair and walked to his daughter. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a meeting in an hour, and I need to prepare for it. I’ll see you at home tonight. ” Jonathan kissed her on the cheek and returned to his desk. He didn’t look at her or say another word. Lizbeth didn’t speak. She turned and left the office. What did I say? Was it what I said about Mom? Lizbeth felt dazed and confused, not sure what just happened. She paid no attention to the other people as she stepped into the crowded elevator. “Uh … Main floor, please,” she requested without looking at the control board. He can’t be that upset about me kissing Alan, can he? Lizbeth exited the elevator when it came to a stop. “Miss?” An older woman who had been riding with her spoke up. She put her hand on the elevator door to keep it from closing. “Miss, didn’t you say you wanted the main floor? This is two.” Lizbeth looked back at her. “Excuse me?” “You wanted to get off on the main floor, didn’t you?” “Yes,” Lizbeth responded. “This is the second floor. You still have two floors to go.” “Oh.” Lizbeth looked up. Over the elevator was a bright red number 2. “It is, isn’t it?” Her face warmed, and she quickly returned to the elevator. “So sorry.” “It happens to the best of us,” the woman said sweetly. The elevator arrived at the main floor. The woman smiled at Lizbeth. “Here we are,” she said. “After you,” Lizbeth insisted. Lizbeth and the other passengers exited the elevator. She walked outside and down the concrete stairs, then looked back at her father’s office building. It was an enormous tower of steel and glass, stretching into the sky, nearly blocking out the sun. Lizbeth thought about the businesses her father had bought out in order to create his building. She didn’t know what the businesses were or who owned them, but she was sure that someone missed them and noticed they were gone. It made her sad. The sun shone down on Lizbeth’s face. It was a nice contrast to the chill in the air. She turned and sat on one of the steps, feeling the cold of the concrete on the back of her legs. She looked up at the sky and sighed as the rays warmed her face. “Mom,” she whispered, “help me. Tell me what to do.” A tear slowly rolled down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away. She closed her eyes and continued
to enjoy the warmth of the sun.
CHAPTER 14
Bill walked toward Lizbeth, his arm outstretched and hand open. “Well, hello there, Miss Vincent. It sure is a pleasure to meet ya.” “Hello, Mr. Brooks.” Lizbeth shook Bill’s hand and smiled. “Oh, no, no, now. Call me Bill.” Lizbeth chuckled. “Okay, Bill. And you can call me Liz.” “Well, that sure is a pretty name. Pretty name fer a pretty lady.” Bill winked at Lizbeth and smiled even bigger. “Come sit. Let’s chat. Can I get ya somethin’? I got coffee, tea—I can rustle ya up some juice if ya like.” “Maybe just some water?” “No problem. Got that right here.” Bill walked to a small fridge behind his oversized desk. Do all businessmen keep tiny refrigerators in their office? “How’s that suit ya?” Bill asked as he handed the water to Lizbeth. “That’s just fine. Thank you, Mr. … I mean, Bill.” Lizbeth sat in a leather chair and placed the bottle of water on a small glass table to the side. “Now, what can I do ya for, Miss Vincent? Oh, sorry ’bout that. Liz.” Bill let out a hearty snort as he walked around his desk. His belly actually moved when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. He’d make a great Santa Claus. She grinned and tried not to laugh out loud herself. Lizbeth cleared her throat and tried to focus. “Well, Bill,” she said. “I believe we have a mutual friend—Alan Wheeler?” “Why, yes’m. We sure do. Alan is a fine boy. I knew his momma. She was a wonderful woman.” Bill sat in his big black chair. The leather squeaked as he leaned back. He interlocked his fingers and placed his hands across his stomach. “Yes, he is a good man. I know Alan through the Lily Frost shelter—which was founded by Alan’s mother.” “Yes. Of course,” Bill replied. “Since his mother passed, Alan has really done a wonderful job with the place.” “Yes’m. So I’ve heard. But what’s this got to do with me?” “That’s why I’m here today, Bill. I want to help keep Alan’s shelter open and in its current location.” “Ah.” Bill leaned forward and slowly nodded his head. “So ya know ’bout the deal ta buy his buildin’?” “Yes, I do.” Lizbeth’s mouth became dry as her anxiety level grew. She reached for the bottle of water, opened it, and took a drink. After replacing the cap, she set it down harder than she had intended, and the bottle made the glass in the small table rattle. She looked up to see a surprised look on Bill’s face. “I’m so sorry,” she said, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to do that. I promise.” “That’s okay.” Bill chuckled. “Guess ya just got a bit more gumption than ya thought.” Lizbeth shook her head and giggled. “No, nothing like that. Um, how about I just tell you my proposal.” “Okay, then.” Bill leaned his arms on his desk and listened intently. “Let’s have it.” “I’m a Vincent.” Lizbeth hated saying that. It felt wrong the second it left her lips. She never wanted the attention or used the Vincent family name to gain anything. But this wasn’t for her. This was for Alan—and for the shelter.
“You know my family. You know our reputation. You know what we’re worth.” “Yes, miss, I surely do.” “Then you also know that you can trust me when I tell you that any loan you give to Alan will be paid in full. I will guarantee his loan. The Vincent family trust will be the co-signer to ensure payment for whatever funding Alan needs to ensure that the shelter can remain in their current location, as well as pay any fines, fees, taxes, or overdue expenses.” “That’s mighty nice of ya, Miss Liz. May I ask why ya wanna help Alan like this? It’s a lot of money, and your family name will be tied to that shelter for a long, long time.” “Well, Bill, not trying to sway your decision, but my mother was very fond of his shelter. She often had charity dinners to raise funds to help with their expenses.” “I didn’t know that. Your mama sounds like a fine woman too.” “She was a very good woman.” “I am so sorry for yer loss.” “Thank you. I truly appreciate that.” “Well, Liz.” Bill pulled himself and his big leather chair closer to his desk. “Let’s get to the nitty gritty and do this deal so Mr. Wheeler will have all he needs to keep them folks right where they are.” Lizbeth didn’t move. She sat with her hands in her lap. She wanted to talk, but she was speechless. “Miss Liz, ya all right?” “Yes, I’m fine. I’m good actually, thanks to you. I can’t thank you enough. You won’t regret this decision. I promise you.” Lizbeth moved her chair toward Bill, and he began to show her various papers and explain to her what they were going to need and what the next steps would be. “I don’t think we’re gonna have one iota of issue here,” Bill said as he shuffled the papers around. “That’s great!” Lizbeth couldn’t stop smiling. “Mr. Brooks.” His secretary opened the door and stepped inside. “Not now,” Bill said, using his hand to shoo her away. “I’m in the middle of an important meetin’.” “Mr. Brooks, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have a very important call on line two.” “Theresa.” Bill shook a finger at her. “Don’t make no difference who it is. You’ll just have to take a message and let ’em know I’ll get with ’em as soon as I can.” “Mr. Brooks.” She stepped further inside the office. “You really want to take this call, sir.” Bill leaned to the side and glared at his secretary. Lizbeth turned and looked over her shoulder at Theresa, who seemed afraid. “Liz, I’m so sorry.” Bill stood from his chair. “Will you please ’scuse me for a tick so I can find out what the problem is?” “Of course.” Lizbeth picked up her water, being careful not to rattle the glass again. “Take your time. I’ve cleared my afternoon.” Bill walked toward a smaller desk positioned against the wall and picked up the receiver. One light on the phone base was flashing. Bill smiled at Lizbeth as he pushed the flashing button. “This is Bill Brooks.” His voice was loud and booming. Then his expression changed from a smile to one that resembled his secretary’s, and he turned his back to Lizbeth. He spoke more quietly, but Lizbeth did hear him apologize several times. Maybe it’s his wife, she thought. I wonder what he did. Or didn’t do. Hope he didn’t forget their anniversary or something. Bill quickly but quietly returned to his chair. The smile and cheerfulness he’d had just a few moments before had vanished. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief, wiped his forehead, and pushed the cloth back into his pocket. “Bill?” Lizbeth asked, concerned. “Are you okay? Something wrong?”
“Miss Vincent.” Bill addressed her very professionally. “Somethin’ has come to my attention makin’ it impossible for me to help Mr. Wheeler at this point and time. It wouldn’t be in the best interest of my lendin’ institution. So I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have ta decline yer request.” “I don’t understand.” Lizbeth moved to the edge of her chair. “We were just doing the paperwork. You were excited about helping me. You agreed that keeping the shelter was the best thing.” She could hear her heartbeat in her ears and felt her pulse in her thumbs as she wrung her hands repeatedly. “Please, Mr. Brooks. Bill.” “As I said, Miss Vincent.” Bill wiped his brow again. “Some new information has been brought ta my attention.” “You sound like my father.” Lizbeth’s voice quavered as she spoke. She was getting too emotional. Then, as she looked at Bill, she realized what had happened. “Was that my father on the phone?” “I’m afraid I can’t discuss with ya the matters of this lendin’ facility. The clients and information are confidential.” Lizbeth stood. “When I first walked in here, I thought you were different. I thought you were one of the good guys. I’ve dealt with men who have bowed and bent to my father’s every whim my whole life. But let me give you a small piece of advice. It never works out well for them.” “Miss Vincent, please understand.” He stood and walked around his desk toward her. “It’s okay. I do understand.” Lizbeth bent down, picked up her purse, and put the strap on her shoulder. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Brooks.” She didn’t say another word. She turned and walked out of Bill’s office, closing the doors behind her. Theresa sat behind a desk to the left. When she saw Lizbeth walk out, she began to shuffle papers around, put things into a drawer, and do other busy work. Lizbeth calmly walked to the front of Theresa’s desk and stood to face her. She didn’t speak to her. She continue to stare, waiting for Theresa to acknowledge her. After a few moments, Theresa could no longer ignore her. “Can I help you, Miss Vincent?” Theresa snapped. “Well, we’ve established that you know who I am.” “Of course I do. What can I do for you?” “May I ask why you called my father while I was meeting with Mr. Brooks?” Theresa fidgeted in her chair. “Well, uh, Miss Vincent, you see, your father is a member of our board of directors.” “Of course. Why wouldn’t he be?” “I’m not sure I understand that question,” Theresa said. “It was rhetorical. But even so, my father’s position on the board doesn’t give you the right to call him when I’m in a meeting with Mr. Brooks. This had nothing to do with my father.” “He’s on our board, Miss Vincent. He instructed me to contact him should anything out of the ordinary occur. You coming here to speak with Mr. Brooks is definitely out of the ordinary.” “Well, Theresa.” Lizbeth leaned on the desk. “I hope whatever my father is paying you is worth it. You just helped take away the last chance of keeping the shelter open. All those people have nowhere to go because you’re my father's puppet.” As she walked away, Lizbeth pushed the papers on the desk, causing them to fall on the floor at Theresa’s feet. “Have a good day.”
CHAPTER 15
“Wow.” Alan paused and looked at Lizbeth. The emerald-green dress she wore for Brenda’s Christmas party brought out her eyes and highlighted her hourglass figure. “I mean, you just look …. I can’t … wow. Just wow.” “Thank you.” Lizbeth’s voice rang with pride. She smiled and spun in a circle to show off her dress. “I’m glad you like it.” “I do. I really like it. You look beautiful.” Lizbeth took a few steps toward Alan. Her perfectly matching emerald-green shoes clicked on the hardwood of her apartment entryway. She played with the knot on Alan’s black silk tie and examined the gold tie clip embellished with a calligraphy W. “What a beautiful clip,” she said. “And you look very handsome.” Alan bowed in her direction. “Why, thank ya, miss,” he said in a heavy Southern accent that reminded Lizbeth of Mr. Brooks. “May I have the honor?” He held out his elbow for her to take. “Oh, my.” Lizbeth playfully fanned herself and laughed lightly. “Aren’t you a gentleman? How sweet.” She took his arm, and he escorted her to the car. Alan reached for the door handle. “Alan?” Lizbeth put her hand on the door to stop him from opening it. “Are you excited? For the party? I mean, to go the party with me?” Alan let go of the handle, gave Lizbeth a crooked little smile, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Of course I am,” he said. “I’m very excited to be going this party with you. But we need to go or we’ll be late.” Lizbeth stepped back and allowed Alan to open the door. She settled into her seat, and pulled the long back of her dress in and tucked it on her lap. Alan shut her door and walked around the front of the car. Lizbeth couldn’t take her eyes off him. Alan looked very handsome. She had never seen him in anything but T-shirts and jeans—which was fine. She didn’t mind that at all. But there was something about the way he wore the tuxedo. She didn’t know if it was the fit, or the color—or maybe his mood and attitude were projecting how wearing it made him feel. “He looks so good,” she whispered. Alan opened the driver’s door, unbuttoned his jacket, and slid into his seat. “You ready?” “Mmhmm.” She didn’t take her eyes off him. Lizbeth began to feel slightly anxious. She looked out the passenger window and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. “You’re quiet,” Alan said after a few minutes of driving. “Everything okay?” “Oh, yeah,” Lizbeth responded. “I’m fine.” “You seem nervous. Are you excited that I’m going?” “Yes, of course.” Lizbeth shifted in her seat and turned toward Alan. “Of course I am. I’m … I’m just a little worried is all.” “Why?” Alan kept his eyes on the road, but glanced occasionally at Lizbeth as she talked. He drove with one hand on the wheel, and the other rested on his lap. “These people. You know? My sister’s friends are very snobby.” “Are you worried I won’t like them?” Lizbeth didn’t answer. She simply took Alan’s hand in hers and held on to it.
Alan licked his lips and swallowed hard. “You’re worried they won’t like me.” “It doesn’t matter what they think,” Lizbeth replied, squeezing his hand slightly. “I like you. But these people can be very rude. Remember Greg?” “Yes.” Alan rolled his eyes. “I remember Greg.” “Well, these people are like Greg—most of them, anyway. There are a few exceptions. I just don’t want them to scare you off or make you think differently about me because this is where I come from.” “Won’t happen.” Alan squeezed Lizbeth’s hand before he lifted it to his lips and kissed her fingers lightly. “Couldn’t happen. So, let’s not go borrowing trouble, okay?” Lizbeth laughed and put her head back against the seat. “What did I say?” Alan gave Lizbeth his best fake smile. “My mom used to say that to me all the time.” Lizbeth pulled Alan’s hand to her lap and stroked the back with her thumbs. Alan watched the road in front of them and shook his head. “My mom used to say the same thing. That’s where I got it.” He brought the car to a stop as they approached a red light at a four-way intersection. He slowly leaned toward Lizbeth. As she moved closer, Lizbeth noticed flecks of gold in Alan’s left eye. For a fleeting moment, she wondering if it was simply a reflection of the streetlight. She could smell the woodsy hints of his cologne. She heard breathing—quick, excited. Lizbeth wasn’t sure if it was her, or Alan, or maybe the mixture of the both of them. As their lips met, Alan brushed Lizbeth’s hair back from her cheek. His lips were soft and warm, and his kiss sent chills down her spine. Lizbeth closed her eyes and kissed him back. They heard a horn as the car behind them let them know the light was now green. “Okay,” Alan said with a slightly embarrassed chuckle. Lizbeth covered her mouth with her hand to try to hide her smile. The horn sounded again, twice this time. “We’re going.” Alan quickly kissed Lizbeth on the forehead, leaned back in his seat, and drove through the intersection. As the pulled away, Lizbeth looked out the back window. A red sports car was behind them. The headlights were on, so she couldn’t see who was driving. Lizbeth held Alan’s hand and listened to the radio for the rest of the car ride to the party. Alan turned into the driveway and followed the other cars as they formed a line for the valet parking. “This is Brenda’s house?” Alan learned toward the steering wheel and peered through the windshield to get a better look. It was a mansion, complete with stone walls in the distance. The front resembled a home out of Gone with the Wind—the pillars, the balcony. It was beautiful. “Actually, it’s her parents’. She lives in an apartment. They let her host her parties here. More room.” “Do we have use the valet?” He looked at Lizbeth. “I don’t like other people driving my car. I can park it, really.” Lizbeth rubbed Alan’s arm. “It’s okay.” She tried to sound reassuring. “All large parties like this have valet parking. It has to do with insurance issues and having so many cars on the property. It’s just a part of it. It’ll be fine. I promise.” Alan shifted in his seat, pushed himself up slightly, and looked into the backseat. “What are you doing?” She looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I’m just looking to see what’s back there. I practically live in this car sometimes, you know?” Lizbeth glanced over the seat, wondering what could be back there. If it was something that might embarrass him, she wanted to see. “Stop it.” Alan playfully turned her head to face forward.
Alan watched the flow of traffic and slowly pulled forward, stopping the car in approximately the same location as all the others before him had done. “Good evening, sir.” A blond young man wearing a short red jacket opened Alan’s door from the outside. “How are you this evening?” “I’m good. Thank you,” Alan replied smiling. He exited the vehicle, and the valet handed him a ticket. “I’ll take good care of her, sir,” he said. “Enjoy the party.” “Thank you.” Alan took the ticket without looking at the valet and glanced over the roof of the car to see Lizbeth standing on the sidewalk. Alan walked over and offered his arm to her, just as he had done earlier. Lizbeth smiled at him and wrapped her arms around his. Together, they followed the other couples up the stairs to the brightly lit entryway. “That’s a lot of lights,” Alan whispered. “Wait till you see the inside.” Lizbeth winked at him. Alan looked around the room as they walked into the main hall of the house. “This is amazing,” he said. “I can’t believe it.” “Isn’t it beautiful?” Lizbeth was very fond of Christmas lights. “It’s as if we borrowed the stars for the evening.” “May I take your coats?” A tall woman approached the couple with a small tablet. “Oh, uh, yes, please.” Alan clumsily took off his coat and handed it her. He held Lizbeth’s coat and lowered it down her back and arms. Lizbeth maneuvered her hand into her coat pocket to retrieve her cell phone and then took a step back. Alan watched Lizbeth adoringly as she opened her little shiny silver purse. She placed her cell phone inside, and then pulled out a small gold compact and a black lipstick tube. Lizbeth reapplied her lipstick in the small round mirror before tossing everything back in. She tucked the purse under her arm and began to admire the twinkling Christmas lights again. “Sir?” The tall woman attempted to get Alan’s attention. “Sir? May I take the coat now?” “Alan?” Lizbeth heard the woman talking and turned to catch Alan staring at her. She couldn’t help but grin a bit. “Are you okay?” “Yes,” he answered. His face was slightly flushed. “I’m good.” He handed Lizbeth’s coat to the woman. “Thank you.” “I think he’s enjoying the view.” The woman nudged Lizbeth with her arm as she handed her a slip of paper. “Here’s your claim ticket, sweetie.” Lizbeth felt her face get warm, and began to worry about sweating through her dress. She reached for her purse and fumbled with the latch a few times, but finally managed to open it and place the ticket inside. I’m glad he likes what he sees. Alan put his arm on Lizbeth’s waist. “Shall we?” Music and a choir of conversation came from the distance. Lizbeth felt her pulse quicken. She also felt Alan’s hand shaking as he kept his it around her waist. “Now I’m nervous,” he said. Lizbeth reached behind her and offered a gentle touch. “You’re going to do just fine. Just be yourself, and everyone will love you.” She gave Alan a little kiss on the cheek, and then used her thumb to wipe away the fresh lipstick. “How could they not?” Lizbeth and Alan entered the main hall, where all the other guests were gathering and mingling. She and Cassidy spotted each other almost immediately and raised their hands in acknowledgment. Cassidy made her way through the crowd, squeezing through a few places, and gently pushing her way through others. Lizbeth tapped Alan on the arm and pointed at Cassidy.
“Hi!” she said cheerfully, finally reaching Lizbeth. “Wow. Don’t you look beautiful, Lizzy?” Cassidy hugged her sister and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. She then turned to Alan. “And you! Look at you, sir! So handsome.” Alan tugged on his jacket and straightened his tie. “Why, thank you. You look very beautiful, Cassidy.” “Oh, please.” Cassidy waved her hand at Alan. “I’m glad you’re here—both of you. Now, come with me. I want to introduce you to someone.” She grabbed Alan’s hand. “Brad is a wonderful guy. He’s a plastic surgeon, but he’s part owner of a semi-pro football team. You guys will really hit it off.” Alan looked at Lizbeth and tilted his head to the side, giving a playful glare. “Great,” he said. “Can’t wait.” “Oh, Lizbeth.” Cassidy swung around Alan and pointed at her sister. “There are lots of people waiting to talk to you. You should mingle.” She shooed Lizbeth away with her hand. “Go on,” she added. “I’ll take good care of him. I promise.” “Uh, okay?” Lizbeth answered reluctantly. As Cassidy pulled Alan through the crowd, Lizbeth offered a little wave. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed. He smiled and waved back before disappearing into a sea of black tuxedos and multi-colored lace and satin dresses. Lizbeth gave the room the once-over and then made her way to the bar. She stood next to several others waiting for drinks until it was finally her turn. Once she ordered her drink, it was only a minute or two until the bartender handed her a tall glass with a beautiful green glass stir stick. She attempted to leave the bar, but someone behind bumped her arm and nearly spilled her drink. “Oh, no,” the woman said. “I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay,” Lizbeth answered instinctively. She held the glass out and away from her dress to allow the drips to fall onto the floor. The bartender had seen the incident and handed Lizeth a stack of napkins, placing more on the bar behind her. “Lizbeth?” The woman’s voice was familiar. “Oh, my goodness. Lizbeth! How are you?” Lizbeth glanced up to see Brenda. “Hi, Brenda.” Lizbeth continued trying to wipe the glass and avoiding ruining her dress. “I’m good. How are you?” “I’m great. I was hoping to see you.” “Really?” Lizbeth placed the used napkins on the bar, and took a few fresh ones. “Why’s that?” “Because. You’re a trending topic tonight, my dear.” Brenda rested one hand on her hip. “Excuse me?” “You and your beau. You’re a hot topic.” Brenda looked around the bar and up and down the side of the room. “So, where is he? Who is he?” “Seriously? Is that what people are talking about?” Lizbeth shook her head as she placed the glass on the bar and wiped her hands with the last of the napkins. “His name is Alan Wheeler, and he runs the Lily Frost shelter.” “Well, that’s nice, sweetie, but I already knew that. I want to know who he is. Is he from the Atlanta Wheeler family? Is he related to Dr. Wheeler?” “Brenda,” Lizbeth interrupted her before she really got going. “I don’t know where his family is from, and I didn’t ask him if he was related to Dr. Wheeler. I know him.” “Huh.” Brenda let out a huff. “Well, I see I’m not going to get anything from you. Do you at least know if he’s from new money?” “Are you serious?” Lizbeth began to get frustrated. “Does it matter?” Brenda ran her fingers through her hair and then looked Lizbeth up and down. “Yes,” she said. “Of course it matters.” Lizbeth locked eyes with Brenda. She took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, then let it out
slowly. “Will you please excuse me?” Not waiting for an answer, she headed to the ladies’ room to try to clean up a little better than she could with simply napkins. “I can’t believe a Vincent daughter is dating a regular guy,” Brenda said to someone standing nearby. “Can you believe he’s a nobody?” Lizbeth overheard Brenda’s comment as she walked away. She had a feeling that Brenda said it loud enough for her to hear on purpose. She resisted the urge to turn around and tell Brenda how much of a “somebody” Alan truly was. In the upstairs bathroom, Lizbeth washed her hands, dabbed a cool wet paper towel on the back of her neck, and collected herself. She put on a smile and walked out into the hall. She wasn’t going to let a comment from Brenda ruin her night. A group of women stared at her as she passed them on the staircase. Lizbeth gave them her best smile. “Hello,” she said. “How are you ladies this evening? Enjoying the party?” No one replied. Lizbeth kept walking. As she reached the last few stairs before the bottom, Lizbeth saw Brenda talking to several couples at the far end of the bar. They all glanced in her direction as she re-entered the main hall. “Hello,” Lizbeth said. “Great party, isn’t it?” She greeted people as she walked by them, not waiting for a response, or wanting one. “Beautiful dress. Love that color.” Lizbeth scanned the room for Alan or Cassidy. She spotted them together on the other side of the room near a large fireplace. Lizbeth slalomed through the tables and chairs as well as small groups of people scattered throughout. She finally reached her destination and stood in a vacant space between Alan and Cassidy. “What did you say to her?” Cassidy asked Lizbeth as she pulled her close. “Brenda is on a rampage.” “I know,” Lizbeth replied. “I didn’t say anything—that’s the problem. She’s your friend, Cass. Please talk to her.” “You know how she is.” Cassidy folded her arms and pushed her hip out. “It won’t do any good.” Alan looked back and forth between Lizbeth and Cassidy like he was watching a tennis match. “Do what you can, Cassidy,” Alan said, catching a slight lull in their conversation. “But for now, I’m going to steal your sister.” He took Lizbeth’s hand and turned toward the dance floor. “No,” Lizbeth said. She pulled back, resisting him. “Not a chance. I already have enough people staring at me.” “Don’t pay attention to them. Just look at me.” Alan moved close to her and put his lips next to her ear. “We don’t care what they think, remember? I’m here for you, and you’re here for me. I want to dance with you. Please dance with me.” Lizbeth looked deeply into Alan’s eyes. She spotted the gold flecks again and realized they were a part of him, not a reflection. There was so much more to him than she knew. She was just beginning to learn the little details and secrets. She stopped resisting and followed Alan to the dance floor. Alan took Lizbeth’s hand in his. They fit together perfectly, as if they were pieces of a puzzle. He placed his right hand on the small of Lizbeth’s back, pulling her in just enough to press her body perfectly against his. Lizbeth rested her head on his shoulder, her face under his chin. She smelled his cologne again, and it somehow calmed her a bit. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest and hear his breathing, in and out. Alan swayed her back and forth to the music, a beautiful symphony rendition of “White Christmas.” Alan engaged Lizbeth in conversation about the food, the band, her favorite music—everything but Brenda. Lizbeth loved that he was trying to get her mind off the gossip, and it was working. The more they talked, the less she thought about it, or even cared. They danced several more songs, and soon, they were
laughing as if they didn’t have a concern in the world. “You want to go get a burger at that place you love?” Lizbeth asked as the danced to “Do They Know It’s Christmas.” “You want to leave all the lights and fancy food and go get a burger?” “Um . . .” Lizbeth paused. “Is this a trick question? Because I really do. You don’t?” “No, I do. I want to,” Alan replied, pulling her in a little tighter. “But can we wait until after this song? Please? I love this song.” “Sure.” Lizbeth didn’t mind waiting a little longer. It only meant she would be spending a few more minutes in his arms. Lizbeth put her head back on Alan’s shoulder and held on to him. He started humming, and then he began to sing softly. Lizbeth didn’t say anything or bring it to his attention. He sang a little louder. He has a nice singing voice. As the song ended, Lizbeth smiled. She felt she had a little secret all to herself. “Okay, let’s go,” Alan took her hand and began moving through the crowd, creating a path for her. She didn’t have to move, bump, or say “excuse me” to anyone. Alan stopped at the end of the long buffet table near a beautiful white archway. “Stay here,” he instructed. “I’ll get the coats.” Lizbeth reached into her purse, pulled out the coat check ticket, and handed it to Alan. “Just enjoy the lights and the music. I’ll be right back.” Alan kissed her on the cheek and walked out into the hallway. Lizbeth looked around. Small white lights hung from the ceiling and cascaded down the walls. They flicked on and off, twinkling. It truly was beautiful. As she watched the lights, she listened to the music and let everything else—the noise of the dishes clattering, the people talking and laughing—all fade into the background. Alan lightly touched Lizbeth’s shoulder to avoid startling her. She turned to see Alan with a coat on each arm. She held her coat while Alan put his on. Then he helped Lizbeth. As he pulled it over her shoulders, he grabbed her arms and tenderly turned her to face him. “It’s bad luck to stand under the mistletoe without getting a kiss,” he said. “What?” Alan pointed up. Hanging from the top of the archway over Lizbeth’s head was a large sprig of mistletoe adorned with white-and-red ribbon. “Did you see that before or after you told me to wait here?” “Does it matter?” Alan pulled her a little closer. “No,” she replied, putting her hands on his chest. “It doesn’t.” “You don’t want bad luck, do you?” “No.” Lizbeth starting playing with one of the buttons on his coat. Alan lifted Lizbeth’s chin with his knuckle, and she looked into his beautiful brown eyes. The gold flecks seemed to hypnotize her. Lizbeth caressed his chin and lightly kissed his lips—he tasted like champagne. Alan wove his fingers into her hair. “Ahem.” The loud sound of a man clearing his throat interrupted the moment. Alan chuckled and glanced to his left. “Hi,” he said to the man standing there. “Can I help you?” “Trying to get back to my seat, Romeo.” Lizbeth and Alan both laughed quietly. “Sorry,” Alan said. “We were just leaving.” Alan put his arm around Lizbeth and they walked down the hall, out the door, and down the stairs toward the valet, still laughing to themselves.
CHAPTER 16
The heavy metal door of the shelter’s front entrance clanged as Jonathan pushed instead of pulled. “Come on!” he yelled. He dropped his phone, and it fell to the ground. After picking up the phone, Jonathan checked for signs of damage as he stood in the doorway. “Excuse me.” Jonathan heard a voice behind him and turned around. An older gentleman with a cane looked at him, waiting for him to move. “May I pass? “Oh, yes,” Jonathan replied, realizing he was still in the doorway. “Sorry about that.” He pulled the door open and held it while the man made his way inside. Jonathon followed him. The room was crowded and noisy. There were people sitting at tables, some standing against the walls, while others stood in little groups around the room. Children played on the floor at the end of rows of tables. There was a smell of strong coffee in the air. Boxes of clothes were lined up against the wall at the other end of the room, and people were going through them, holding them up, putting them up to their chests to see if a piece would fit, or handing things to other people. Jonathan looked down at his suit and then back at the people. He pulled his coat closed and buttoned it to ensure it stayed. Jonathan watched the children playing, looked around the room one last time, and then made his way closer to the doorway with the office sign over it. He stood in the main room, hoping someone would eventually come out to talk to him. He looked down at his phone and pretended to be busy. “You look lost, sir.” Jonathan looked up from the screen. A teenage girl with glasses and her hair in a ponytail glasses stood in front of him. She put her hands on her hips and grinned. Her grin was extra bright from her braces. “You’re lost, right?” “Is it that obvious?” Jonathan said, smiling back. “Um, yeah. Kinda.” the girl giggled. “Honestly, I’m looking for someone.” “Who are you lookin’ for?” “Mr. Wheeler. Do you know him?” “Mr. Alan? Of course.” “Do you know where he is? “Of course.” The girl’s voice raised an octave as she replied and crossed her arms over her chest. “And next you’ll ask me if I’ll go get him for you, right?” “You’re a smart girl.” “That is true. Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Jonathan watched as the girl walked through the open doorway and disappeared into a cloud of steam from the kitchen. Shortly after, she returned, alone. “Mr. Alan says to show you to his office. So, if you would please follow me . . .” “Of course.” Jonathan followed the girl as instructed. “So, how old are you?” “I’m fourteen.” “You’re in high school?” “Yes, sir. But I’m actually a senior. I’ll be graduating in the spring and starting classes at Cornell in September.” “And you’re fourteen?” “Yes.” The girl stopped and turned to Jonathan. “Why?” “That must mean you’re very smart.”
“Yes, I am.” The girl looked proud. “I got a full academic scholarship. My mom is going to come with me and try to get a job so we can stay close together.” “That’s wonderful. What will you be studying in college?” “I’ll be doing gen eds for the first two years while I decide on a major. But I’ve narrowed it down to either physics or forensic biology with a minor in nursing. I haven’t decided yet.” The girl spun herself back around and returned to escorting Jonathan to Alan’s office. “That’s very impressive.” “Thank you. And here you are.” The girl held out her hand and motioned to a door. “Thank you very much. And good luck to you.” The girl smiled at Jonathan, but didn’t reply. As she walked away, Jonathon knocked on the office door. “Come in,” Alan said. “It’s open.” Jonathan walked in and closed the door behind him. “Give me just a minute,” Alan said softly, covering the phone. “Please, have a seat.” Jonathan nodded to Alan in acknowledgment. He slowly walked around the room, waiting for Alan to finish his call. He tilted his head to read a few spines of the books on the shelves, and shrugged. He saw the certificate of merit that was awarded to Alan by the mayor, then the numerous pictures hanging on the wall. None of them were of interest to him until he noticed one particular picture near the middle of the collection. It showed three women, all approximately in their twenties. The women were dressed casually, smiling, sitting on a picnic table in a park. They appeared to be friends. Jonathan was interested in this particular photo because the woman on the right was his wife—Lizbeth’s mother. He began to look more closely at the other pictures and noticed that his wife was actually in several of them. Jonathan cautiously reached up and touched the first picture. Alan stood from his desk, and Jonathon quickly took a step back. Alan walked around his desk and stood beside Jonathan in front of the wall of photos. He pointed to the very picture of the three women Jonathan had been admiring. “That’s my mom, Lily, in the middle,” Alan said, radiating pride. “Those are her two best friends. From what they told me—all the time—they knew each other since they were in diapers. I guess their families were close or something.” They stood quietly, still looking at the same picture. “They’re all gone now. All three of them. I miss them all the time. Especially my mom.” Alan took a deep breath, turned to face Jonathan, and put out his hand. “Hello, Mr. Vincent. What can I do for you?” “Hello, Mr. Wheeler.” Jonathan shook Alan’s hand. “I think we need to talk.” “I’m sorry, Mr. Vincent. You wasted a trip coming down here. We’re not allowed to talk about anything related to the property deal.” “Yes,” Jonathan replied. “That is correct. But this isn’t about the property deal.” He gestured to a chair positioned against the wall. “May I?” “Yes. Of course.” Alan nodded at Jonathan and then walked around his desk to return to his seat. “So if not the property deal, what is it we need to discuss?” Jonathan stood in front of the chair and unbuttoned his overcoat. “My daughter,” he said. “We need to discuss my daughter.” Jonathan popped open the large gold button on his suit jacket and sat down. Alan furrowed his brow and paused before sitting down himself. “What about your daughter?” “I want you to stop seeing her.” Jonathan’s words were very direct and apathetic. He spoke as if he were negotiating yet another business deal. “It’s in the best interest for both of you to sever your relationship now, before it gets too serious and becomes a real issue.” “An issue? Our relationship would be an issue?” “You don’t see it that way?” Jonathan’s words and expression remained emotionless.
“You do realize we’re talking about your daughter, right?” “Yes. I understand that completely. And that’s why this is such an important matter.” “Matter. Issue. Best interest.” Alan placed his elbows on the arms of his chair. “You’re talking about her like she’s an asset or some type of commodity to be traded.” “Mr. Wheeler, my daughter is young and impressionable.” Jonathan crossed his legs and brushed his slacks with his hand. “She doesn’t know what’s best for her. She doesn’t think about how her current actions affect her future.” Alan rocked back and forth slightly in his chair. “I’m not sure what you want from me here, Mr. Vincent, but I care for your daughter very much. And I’m sorry, but I’m not going to stop seeing her. If she tells me she doesn’t want to see me anymore, fine. But until then, I don’t think there’s anything left to discuss.” “I assumed as much.” Jonathan stood from the chair and reached in his innermost jacket pocket. “With the situation at hand, I feel this will help a great deal in getting you back on your feet and relocating your organization. Wouldn't you agree?” Jonathan held out a check. “Go ahead. Take it.” He shook the paper slightly. Alan slowly reached out and took the check from Jonathan’s hand. He held it with both hands, looked down at the small document, and his eyes widened. “Twenty-five thousand dollars?” He rubbed his right temple with his fingertips, then looked back at Jonathan. “You want to give me twenty-five thousand dollars? I’m sure you’re not doing this out of the kindness of your heart. So … what do you want?” “It’s simple.” Jonathan began to walk back and forth in front of Alan’s desk. “You take the money. You relocate your organization away from here—away from daughter. I don’t care what, when, or how you tell her. I would, however, ask that you keep this conversation between us.” “Sir …” Alan attempted to interject, but Jonathan didn’t even look his direction. “Mr. Wheeler, let me ask you a question.” Jonathan stopped pacing and looked at Alan with a commanding glare. “What are you getting out of the property deal? Anything?” “You know I’m not. Why?” Alan lightly tossed the check onto the desk. It landed a few inches in front of him, the words and numbers still easy to read. “You accept my offer, you leave with your business, and money to start a new shelter in a new location. You can continue what you started here. Isn’t that better than walking away with nothing?” Alan looked down at the check. He used his fingers to move it slightly closer. “Wow,” he whispered under his breath. “And,” Jonathan emphasized, “if I may reiterate, I suggest we keep this conversation between us. My daughter will be hurt enough. It benefits her in no way if she’s also angry with me. Wouldn’t you agree?” Alan continued to study the check. “I can see your point, Mr. Vincent.” “Oh, and one last thing,” Jonathan took a step toward the desk and put his hands on the edge. Alan glanced up at Jonathan, but didn’t speak. “My daughter will not be contacting any more lending agencies, banks, or doing any fundraising to save your shelter. In case you’re unaware, I have contacts everywhere. I’ve made assurances that any action she takes will fail.” Alan ran his fingers through the back of his hair and shook his head. “I don’t understand.” Jonathan grinned and took a step back from the desk. He buttoned his suit jacket, straightened his tie, and fastened his overcoat. “You hang on to that,” he said as he pointed to the check. “Take your time to decide, but not too much time. And, as always, it’s been a pleasure, Mr. Wheeler.” As Jonathan excited Alan’s office, he looked back through the wide open door. Alan was standing motionless, looking down at the surface of his desk. Jonathon put his hands in his coat pockets and walked toward the main room. “Crisis averted.”
CHAPTER 17
The windshield wipers swayed back and forth so perfectly, they created a beat that was almost musical. Alan alternated his glance between the road and Lizbeth. She was talking animatedly, using her hands as she spoke about various topics—music, movies, and their previous date. She apologized for rambling, but her words continued to flow. Alan remained quiet, preoccupied. He didn’t answer when Lizbeth asked him a question. “Alan?” Lizbeth twisted her head and looked at Alan more directly, then tapped him on the arm. “Are you okay? Did you hear me?” Alan blinked several times and shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry” he said, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. “I was just thinking.” “About what?” “Lizbeth, we need to talk.” Alan looked over his right shoulder to check for traffic. He changed lanes and pulled into a fast-food restaurant. Continuing to the back of the parking lot, he parked the car and turned off the engine. “What’s going on? You’re scaring me.” Alan stared straight ahead and kept his hands on the steering wheel. “And I’m scared to tell you.” Lizbeth took a deep breath and exhaled very slowly. She took off her seatbelt and turned sideways in her seat to face Alan. “Just tell me.” She began to pick at her nails. “The sooner you tell me, the sooner it will be over. Is it me? Did I do something?” Alan’s head whipped to the right. “No,” he said. “It’s nothing like that.” “What else would you be too scared to tell me? Are you secretly married? Have kids you didn’t tell me about? Are you joining the circus?” “Now you’re just being silly.” “Then please just tell me because until you do, my imagination is going to run wild.” “Okay, okay,” Alan gripped the steering wheel even tighter and locked his elbows, pushing himself back into his seat. He put his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. “Your dad came to see me a few days ago.” Lizbeth covered her face with her hands, but didn’t say anything. “He gave me some speech about how we’re a bad idea, telling me that I needed to leave you—and then he gave me a check.” Lizbeth’s hands fell suddenly into her lap. “A check for twenty-five thousand dollars,” he added. “What? Say that again. I’m not sure I heard you correctly.” “Your father gave me a check for twenty-five thousand dollars.” “Why?” “He said I should take the money, relocate, start a new shelter, or whatever I want with it.” “Again, why?” Lizbeth’s frustration became obvious. She was tapping her foot on the floorboard, and her jaw clenched whenever she wasn’t talking. “Why would he do that? My father doesn’t do charity.” “He did say there was a condition if I accepted the money.” Alan took his hands off the wheel and wiped them repeatedly on his legs of his jeans. Lizbeth buried her hand in the back of her hair, rubbing her neck. “I knew it,” she said. Her voice trembled, but Alan could tell it wasn’t fear or sadness. It was anger. “He had to interfere. He has to have
his hands in everything, and make it so everyone owes him something.” She cleared her throat. “So what does he want? Do you have to work for him now? If you do, you’ll be obligated to him forever. It’s a debt you’ll never be able to pay off.” “Lizbeth,” Alan said lovingly, “you’re rambling again.” “I am? I am. I’m sorry. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.” “I know.” Alan chuckled. Lizbeth leaned over and put her head on Alan’s shoulder. Alan leaned his head to the side and rested it on hers, then lightly touched her cheek. Lizbeth held on to his hand and pressed it against her skin. The warmth of his touch gave seemed to give her a sense of comfort. “No, he doesn’t want me to work for him.” “Then what’s the stipulation?” Lizbeth’s words were muffled as she spoke into Alan’s shoulder. “You,” Alan said softly, turning and kissing Lizbeth on the head. “You’re the stipulation. I could never see you again.” Alan’s words came out in a whisper and hung in the air like a dense fog. She looked at Alan as if she was memorizing his face. She gently brushed the hair from his forehead, and then her finger traced his strong jawline. “He’s paying you never to see me again?” “Yes,” Alan replied. “He is. He didn’t want me to tell you. He insisted I keep the conversation private, and I tried. I swear. I didn’t want to hurt you. But I couldn’t do it.” Lizbeth knelt on the console between the seats. She placed one hand on each side of Alan’s face and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. “I’m sorry he did that to you. I’m sorry he put all this on you.” She kissed him again. Alan wrapped his fingers around Lizbeth’s wrists and pulled her hands away from his face. “That’s not what I was scared to tell you.” She slowly pulled her hands away. “There’s more?” she asked, raising her brow. “What else? How much worse can this get?” Alan closed his eyes again and let his head fall backwards against the headrest. “I don’t want to hurt you, Lizbeth. I really don’t. I care about you. You have to know that.” “Don’t. I can’t take it. Just tell me.” Alan turned in his seat and held Lizbeth’s hand between his, and her eyes welled up with tears. “Please don’t cry,” Alan begged. “I hate it when you cry.” “Then please just tell me.” Tears fell down Lizbeth’s face. Alan reached up and gently wiped them away with the back of his finger. “What I’m so afraid to tell you is that I seriously considered taking the money.” His voice was full of remorse. “I didn’t give any thought to you, or me, or us. I just want to continue my Mom’s dream. If not here, somewhere. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to think that I don’t care about you or I don’t want to be with you, because I do.” Lizbeth covered her face with her hands. She began to let out noises that were a mixture of crying and laughing. “Are you okay?” Alan asked. Alan felt heartbroken as he realized he was responsible for the hurt Lizbeth was feeling. “Alan.” Lizbeth smiled and laughed as she wiped the tears away as they fell. “Of course you considered taking the money. Who wouldn’t?” “I just assumed that you’d be upset.” “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. But I’ve lived my whole life seeing my father bribing people, buying them off, and somehow getting them to do his bidding with the simple wave of his checkbook. You’re not the first to consider an offer from Jonathan Vincent—and you won’t be the last.” “You’re not upset with me? At all?” Alan asked, almost disappointed. “I don’t get it.”
“No. I’m very upset. Just not at you.” Alan leaned over and kissed Lizbeth on the cheek. “I'm sorry for scaring you. It was all for nothing.” Lizbeth caressed his face as he pulled back. “It’s okay.” “You’re amazing, you know that?” Alan settled into the driver’s seat and put on his seatbelt. Lizbeth checked her makeup in the vanity mirror and ran her finger under her eye to wipe away the smudged eyeliner. “So what did my father say when you gave him back the check?” Alan turned the key in the ignition and checked the mirrors. “I didn’t,” he replied, muttering. He was worried that she wouldn’t be as understanding, knowing he still had Jonathan’s check. “He left it and told me to think about it.” Lizbeth paused, freezing like a statue while wiping under her left eye with her pinky finger. “You are going to give it back, right?” she asked calmly, still looking into the mirror. “Of course, Lizzy.” Alan turned to Lizbeth and smiled. “It’s a lot of money,” he added, putting the car in drive. “But even your father doesn’t have enough money to make me think of leaving you.” Alan stroked the back of Lizbeth’s hair with his right hand as he steered the car with his left. Driving slowly through the restaurant parking lot, he applied the brakes to allow a couple walking hand in hand to cross in front of them. He watched them as they passed by, returning a friendly wave to the man. Alan grabbed Lizbeth’s hand and pulled it to his lips. He placed a long kiss on the back of her hand and then held it to his chest. “That’s how we look to other people.” Lizbeth leaned over and kissed on Alan on the cheek before she settled into her seat and fastened her seatbelt. “I know.”
CHAPTER 18
“What have you done?” Lizbeth walked into her father’s office and slammed the door behind her. Jonathan stood up from behind his desk. “Lizbeth! Please. I’m in a meeting.” Four men in expensive suits sat in the chairs in front of Jonathan’s desk and turned and looked at Lizbeth. “I’m sorry, Dad. Am I interrupting? Coming into the middle of something that’s none of my business?” “Lizbeth, this is neither the time nor the place.” “Why don’t we tell your new clients all the details of your last deal?” Jonathon closed the folder on his desk and tossed to the side. “Gentlemen, there appears to be an important family matter demanding my immediate attention. Please see Theresa on your way out, and she will reschedule our meeting—and validate your parking, of course.” The four men in suits all stood from their chairs, shook hands, and made their way to their door. Lizbeth walked past them, offering a well-rehearsed fake smile. Jonathan moved to his daughter. His jaw was clenched, his eyes wide, and sweat had begun to form above his brow. “Lizbeth, that was extremely inappropriate. Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again. Those men were very important clients.” Jonathan pivoted on the balls of his feet and moved to the bar, jerking open the door on the small refrigerator and removing several bottles of water. He set them on the marble bar top, then immediately opened one and began drinking. Lizbeth followed her father to the bar. “What about the stunt you pulled, Dad? Can we talk about that?” Jonathan tossed his empty bottle into the recycling container and picked up the two others. He took a deep breath and walked back to his chair. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Don’t do that.” Lizbeth pointed at her father, continuing to follow his movements. “At least give me the respect of acknowledging your actions.” “Fine.” Jonathan sat down with the attitude of a king sitting on his throne. His hands rested on the armrests, fingers curling over the ends. “Tell me what actions you’re talking about, and I’ll acknowledge them.” “Seriously?” Lizbeth snickered. “I’m talking about Alan. Your offer. The twenty-five thousand dollars.” She waved her hands. “You were going to give him money to break up with me, Dad. How could you do that?” Jonathan spoke calmly. “Because I know what’s best for you, Lizbeth. And it’s not him.” “You don’t get to decide that.” She saw her father’s face respond to her voice, and she could see her harsh words were hurting him. That wasn’t what she wanted. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. “As my father, you have a say in many parts of my life. This is not one of them, Dad. I’m the only one who can decide which man is best for me.” “Actually,” Jonathan said, pulling his chair to his desk and leaning forward, “I was trying to help him —trying to make the best of a bad situation. My offer would help him and the shelter. I thought you’d be happy.” “Happy? How would never seeing Alan again make me happy?” “Do you know anything about what’s going on?” “I know you’re buying Alan’s building. I know you’re making him shut down the shelter. And I know that all the people who depend on Alan won’t have anywhere to go.”
“Sweetie, let me enlighten you. Sit down.” Jonathan held out one of the bottles of water. Lizbeth took it and sat in a chair to face her father. “The way the deal is written, the shelter will close, and Alan has to vacate the premises. He leaves with nothing but the equipment and the name of the organization. I was offering him a way to start over. He can take the money and find a new location and start a new shelter.” “For him, it’s not about the money. His mother built that shelter. He’s keeping it alive. He’s helping people in her memory. He’s a kind, loving, wonderful man, Dad.” Jonathan stood from his chair and walked back to the bar. He tossed away the second empty bottle and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Let’s say you’re right, Lizbeth.” Jonathan took a sip of his coffee and then added a cube of sugar. “I am, Dad.” “Okay, let’s say you are.” Jonathan calmly stirred his coffee. The spoon made a dinging sound against the sides of the cup. “The things that you love most about him—his kindness, caring, selflessness —these are all the things you’re asking him to give up for you. You don’t want him to take the money because you don’t want to lose him—isn’t that a bit selfish? But if he doesn’t take the money, he gives up helping all those other people.” Lizbeth sat quietly for a moment. Her heart sank. She didn’t know if Jonathan was just trying to put doubt in her mind, or if what he was saying had truth to it. Jonathan took several more sips of his coffee as she began to pick at her nails. Jonathan placed his now-empty mug on the bar and poured two cups of coffee. He added sugar to one, and cream and brown sugar to the other and handed it to Lizbeth. She held the cup between her hands. The warmth felt good on her chilled fingers. It reminded her of the days her mother would give her and her sister hot chocolate after playing in the snow. Lizbeth avoided making eye contact with her father and scanned the items that sat on his desk instead. To the left of his computer monitor was a picture. She picked it up and turned it around. In the dark brown wooden frame was her mother’s favorite picture of their family. She held the frame to her chest and closed her eyes for a moment before she gently placed it on her lap. She touched the glass as her thoughts drifted to the feel of her mother’s soft skin, the smell of her lotion, the Eskimo kisses that Lizbeth said she hated, but missed so much. “You remember that day?” her father asked. “Yes. I do,” Lizbeth replied, taking a drink of her coffee. “It was a great day. An almost perfect day, I think. We were so happy then.” “It was a great day.” Jonathan stood behind his daughter and looked over her shoulder at the picture. “Your mother was so beautiful. She was a good woman, Lizbeth. You remind me of her more and more all the time. You have her spirit.” Lizbeth continued to stare at the picture. “I miss her, Daddy.” “I do too, sweetheart.” Jonathan placed his empty mug on the corner of his desk and began shuffling around papers. He put his hands on his desk, pondered for moment, and then addressed her. “What do you think your mother would say about all this?” he asked. “Do you think she’d tell him to stay? I think she’d tell him to take my offer.” Lizbeth shook her head and placed the picture back where she found it. She took a drink of her coffee, but continued to avoid eye contact with her father. “I’m sorry, but I have meeting I have to get to.” Jonathan picked up a file folder and stepped in front of a large mirror handing on the wall. He straightened his tie and brushed his jacket. “Just consider what I’ve said. I think once you think about it, you’ll see that I’m right.” Jonathan walked around his large desk and touched his daughter on the shoulder. He bent over and kissed her tenderly on the head. “Love you, honey. I’ll see you at home.” Lizbeth didn’t speak or turn to see her father leave. She held her coffee mug tightly between her hands, most of the warmth now gone. Her father’s words still echoed in her ears.
The things that you love most about him … are all the things you’re asking him to give up—for you. Lizbeth didn’t want to ask Alan to give up anything for her—especially the traits that made him the great man he was. You don’t want him to take the money because you don’t want to lose him—isn’t that a bit selfish? Lizbeth didn’t want to lose Alan. But she also didn’t want to be the reason he gave up on keeping his mother’s dream alive. The shelter was important to his family—and now, to him. She could never forgive herself if she was the reason he abandoned it. And she was afraid Alan would never forgive her, either. “Am I being selfish?” Lizbeth asked out loud. She looked at the family picture again. She hated the possibility that her father could have been right all along.
CHAPTER 19
Alan whistled as he walked into his office. Lizbeth was sitting in the chair against the wall. She recognized the tune he was whistling as a Christmas song, but couldn’t tell which one. Alan jumped, nearly dropping the papers he was holding when he realized she was there. “Well, hello there.” Alan bent over and kissed Lizbeth on the cheek. “Hi,” she replied. She could smell his cologne as he leaned into her. She had come to associate that specific scent with him. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think I’d see you until tonight. Miss me already?” Lizbeth chuckled. “Yes, I missed you.” She lowered her head slightly and began to pick at her nails. “But that’s not why I’m here. I need to talk to you.” “Sure. What’s up?” Alan placed his backpack on the floor and set the papers on the desk. He pulled off his coat and hung it on the coatrack in the corner. “Everything okay?” He picked up a file and started flipping through the pages. Lizbeth took a deep breath and moved to stand in the center of the room, clasping her hands in front of her. “I think you should take the money.” Alan dropped the papers in his hand, looking shocked. “What are you talking about?” “I think you should take my father’s offer. Take the money, and just go.” Alan let out a long breath. “Is this a joke?” He pointed at Lizbeth. “This is a joke, right? I don’t get it.” “It’s not a joke.” “Then what are you saying?” “The organization—the shelter—still belongs to you. So take my father’s money and go reopen it somewhere else. Somewhere new. Make it even better.” “Is your dad making you say this? What did he say? Did he threaten you?” “No.” Lizbeth responded quickly. “He has nothing to do with this. No one told me to do anything, and no one threatened me.” Lizbeth knew Alan wouldn’t understand if she told him the truth about the conversation with her father. “This is my idea, Alan. I’ve thought about it. This is the only thing that makes sense.” “Why are you saying this? You want me to leave?” Alan fell back into his office chair. “I thought we really had something.” “We do.” She took a step toward the desk. “We did. It has nothing to do with how I feel, or us. It’s not like that. It’s what’s right. It’s what you need to do.” “I don’t understand where this is coming from. I thought we talked it out, and that would be the end of it. Now I’m sorry I told you. I’m sorry I considered taking his deal. Is that it? Is this because I had considered taking the money?” “No, it’s not.” “What did I do? What’s the problem?” Lizbeth started to go to Alan. She wanted to hold him, to assure him that he did nothing wrong. She hated to see him hurting, but it was worse knowing she was the cause of his pain. But she knew that if she went to him now, she would change her mind. She moved back even farther from the desk. “It’s not you, Alan. I promise. I’m the problem.” Alan jumped out of his chair and darted toward Lizbeth. She attempted to move away from him, but he grabbed her hands and held them tight. “How are you a problem? You’re the solution to all my
problems. I need you.” Lizbeth knew she should pull away, but his touch enchanted her. His hands were warm and fit perfectly around hers. She remembered the first time their hands touched, the first time he touched her face, their first kiss. She needed him, too. But then her father’s words reminded her why she was there. The things that you love most about him … are all the things you’re asking him to give up—for you. Lizbeth grudgingly separated her hands from Alan’s and stood at the front of Alan’s desk, her fingertips touching the edge, and hung her head. Help me get through this, she prayed. “We’re too different,” she said, but she didn’t believe her own words. The only thing that mattered was if Alan believed them. “You’re happy here, in this place, with these people. I need more.” “So let me give that to you.” Alan stood close behind Lizbeth, but didn’t touch her. Lizbeth could feel his breath on the back of her neck. Her body felt weak, and she wanted Alan’s arms around her. All she had to do was turn. “We can get away from here, do whatever we want, go wherever we want—together.” Lizbeth swallowed hard several times to hold back the tears. “Do you remember when we first met at the courthouse?” she asked softly. “Of course.” With a delicate touch, Alan ran his fingers up Lizbeth’s arm, resting his hand on her shoulder. “How could I forget?” “That day, you told me I should never let anyone change me. You said never to let anyone keep me from what I love, from my passion, from what’s in my heart.” Alan’s fingers retraced their path down the length of her arm. Lizbeth sighed. His touch was making it difficult for her to continue. She felt a quiver in her stomach, and her legs become unsteady. She held on to the desk for fear of falling. “I remember,” he whispered, his mouth beside her ear. His breath blew several stands of her hair out of place, giving her a chill on the back of her neck. Lizbeth held on to the desk a little tighter. “Being with me would change you.” Lizbeth paused and fought back the tears again. It was getting more difficult. “It would keep you from what you love. It would force you to become part of a world you hate—my father’s world.” “But we weren’t talking about me.” “I am.” Alan grabbed Lizbeth’s arm firmly and turned her around to face him. “Lizbeth …” “Being with me would change you. This.” Lizbeth pointed at the wall of photos. “This is your passion, your dream. This is what’s important to you.” Alan placed Lizzy’s hand over his heart. “But you’re more important to me. This is just a building. There are thousands just like out there. But there’s only one of you.” Lizbeth smiled as much as she could. A sweet smile, but only to hide the hurt and sadness. She put her hand free hand on Alan’s cheek. He leaned his face into her palm, closed his eyes, and kissed her fingers. A tear rolled down Lizbeth’s cheek. “And that’s exactly why I have to leave,” she said. “I can’t be the reason you walk away from all of this. I can’t be the one to take you away from these people. They love you too. You would just end up resenting me. And one day, maybe years from now, you’d look at me, and instead of seeing someone you love, you’d see everything you gave up.” “Lizzy, please.” Tears began to well in Alan’s eyes. Lizbeth knew she had to leave—now. She pushed herself away from the desk and moved back to the chair where she had been sitting when Alan entered the office. She retrieved her coat off the back of the chair, put it on, and reached into the pocket. “Here.” She held out an envelope. “This is for you. Read it after I leave.”
“What is it?” Alan looked at the envelope in her hand. “I don’t want that.” Lizbeth walked over to Alan and looked into his eyes, then kissed him on the cheek. As she gazed in his eyes again, she realized this would be the last time he would ever look at her that way. Impulsively, she put her hand on the back of his head, entwining her fingers in his thick hair, and pulled him in for another kiss. Alan wrapped his arms around Lizbeth, his hands on her back holding her close. His body was warm against hers. Lizbeth relished every moment. His lips were soft, and he tasted like mint. It mixed perfectly with the woodsy smell of his cologne. Alan ran his hands up her back and pushed her hair out of her face, kissing her deeper. Lizbeth felt so alive at this moment. She had never felt this way about anyone. I love you, Alan, she thought, still kissing his full lips. At the thought, Lizbeth panicked. She forcefully pulled away from Alan. She turned as tears began to steam down her face, not wanting Alan to see her crying. “Lizbeth?” Alan stood where she left him, sounding confused. “I’m sorry,” she said, not looking back. She tossed the envelope on the chair and hurried out the room. She didn’t stop to talk to anyone or even wave as she scurried through the shelter’s main room, ran across the parking lot, and jerked open the car door. “How’d it go?” Cassidy asked from the driver’s seat. Lizbeth reached for the sunglasses on the dashboard and put them on. “Just drive,” she said.
Chapter 20
Alan stood in his office, holding the envelope Lizbeth had left behind. “I don’t understand,” he muttered. “I don’t get it.” Michael walked into the office. “Boss? You okay?” “Uh …” Alan paused. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Michael slowly approached Alan. “What can I do?” Alan didn’t respond. He stood motionless, staring at nothing. “So what’s that?” Michael pointed at the envelope still in Alan’s hand. “I don’t know yet. She left it.” “So …” Michael hesitated. “Maybe you should open it.” “Yeah. Maybe.” Alan finally made eye contact with Michael. “Thanks.” He walked to his office chair and sat down. The envelope remained in his hand. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” “Uh, yeah. Sure. Thanks, Mike.” Alan nodded to Michael and turned his attention the envelope. On the front was his name written beautifully in cursive. He admired it for a moment before turning it over and ripping it open. He removed a bright white piece of paper folded in thirds. He unfolded the letter, and something fell onto his lap. He picked it up. It was a check similar to the one Lizbeth’s father had given him. However, Lizbeth’s name was at the top of this one, and her signature was at the bottom. The other difference was that this check was in the amount of fifty thousand dollars. “What?” Alan placed the check on the desk. “What is with her family?” The paper was a handwritten letter from Lizbeth. He didn’t know how to feel about that—he was afraid to read it. But he knew that in order to get an explanation for the check, he would have to read the letter. Dear Alan, I’m sorry. I know those two words are used so much these days that they often lose their power to heal or repair. And while there are so many other things I wanted to say to you, to share with you, stories I want to tell you, right now, these are the most important words I can offer. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry if any of this causes you to doubt my feelings for you. I’m sorry I’m not going to be there for you. I’m sorry that I won’t be the one to help you rebuild your dream. I’m sorry that you were in the position to have to make such a hard choice. But I’m not sorry for making that choice for you. It was the right thing to do. In time, you will realize this. You’ll be happy that I was strong enough for the both of us to make this difficult decision, no matter how much pain it caused. You’re one of the best men I’ve ever known. Without you, I’d still be doubting myself. I’d still be allowing myself to be stifled and silenced. You gave me the courage to believe in my dreams. You allowed me the opportunity to help change people’s lives. It was the most rewarding and fulfilling time of my life. Now, it’s your turn. This money has no strings attached. There are no stipulations, and no deals will be made. It’s yours. Keep your mother’s dream alive. Find a new home for the shelter and continue all the wonderful work that you do for so many.
I hope that someday, when you think back to the time we shared, it makes you smile. I love you, Alan. Forever yours, Lizbeth Alan slumped down in his chair. The note fell from his hand and floated to the floor. “I love you too.”
CHAPTER 21
Jonathan watched his daughter sit quietly and stare out the car window. Her personality was normally bubbly. She was talkative and friendly, always the first to say hello when meeting someone new. She’d been said to have a certain sparkle about her. But not that day. Lizbeth was sullen, quiet, her sparkle diminished. “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Jonathan said. “Thank you, Daddy,” Lizbeth replied. She continued to stare out the window. “I want you to try to have a good time today.” Jonathan patted his daughter’s hand. “Just try, please?” Lizbeth slowly transferred her gaze from the window to her father. “Okay. I promise I’ll try.” Her voice was soft and listless. As they entered the charity luncheon, Lizbeth did what she promised her father. She tried. She walked with him and socialized, smiled, acted interested, and even forced a laugh a few times. Nothing Jonathan did seemed to help her. “Let’s go say hello to James.” Jonathan urged his daughter across the room. Lizbeth followed her father to a group of men gathered near the center. One of them looked familiar, but she wasn’t sure how she knew him. “James. How are you, my friend?” Jonathan held out his hand and approached the man. “Jonathan!” James replied, matching Jonathan’s level of enthusiasm. He took Jonathan’s hand in a hearty handshake. “Where have you been hiding? How long has it been?” “Too long.” Jonathan laughed. “You remember my daughter, Lizbeth?” “Of course!” James looked at Lizbeth and held out his hand. “Hello. I haven’t seen you since you were a little girl.” “Hello,” Lizbeth replied. She offered her best smile. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you.” “That’s all right. My goodness. You look so much like your mother, it’s uncanny.” “Thank you.” Lizbeth glanced at her father. He could tell she was trying to be courteous and sociable even with James’s stare. “My mother was a beautiful, wonderful woman, so I’ll take that as a great compliment.” “And she has her mother’s spirit, too,” Jonathan said, putting his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Uh-oh, Jonathan.” James laughed. “You’re in trouble.” “You don’t need to tell me. She already keeps me on my toes.” “I have someone I’d love for the two of you to meet. Can you give me a moment and let me find him?” James stretched his neck, searching over the crowd. “Lizbeth?” Jonathan looked at his daughter. “Sure. Absolutely. Why not?” Lizbeth didn’t resist. “I’d like to get a drink and maybe some cheesecake. Is it possible to meet you at a table?” “Of course.” James scanned the room again. “I believe that table would work for all of us.” He pointed to the far side of the room. “I’ll find him, and we’ll meet you there.” Even before the men stopped speaking, Lizbeth made her way to the buffet table. Jonathan followed behind her and watched as she grabbed a plate and went straight for the cheesecake. Jonathan picked up two glasses of punch, and they headed toward the table. “You wasted no time,” Jonathan said. He placed the glasses on the table. “Is that all you want?” “For now.” Lizbeth sat down at the table. Jonathan watched his daughter slowly eat her cheesecake. Lizbeth didn’t interact with anyone. She
stared at her phone, observed the people at the next table, and tapped on the outside of her glass to play with the bubbles in her punch. “What’s wrong, Lizbeth?” Jonathan finally asked. “What do you mean?” Lizbeth took a drink of her punch. “You’re not yourself, sweetheart. You’re so subdued, quiet, withdrawn. That’s not you. What is it?” “Really, Daddy? You don’t know?” “Sweetie, I wouldn’t ask if I knew.” Lizbeth placed her phone on the table and put her hands on her lap. “You were right, Dad.” She began to pick at her nails. “He’s better off without me. He can continue doing what he’s doing, you have your new building, and I stay here and do whatever it is you want me to do. Everyone’s happy.” Jonathan watched as Lizbeth dabbed tears from her eyes with a napkin. He leaned over to his daughter and placed his hand on hers. “Everyone except you. You’re not happy.” “It’s a broken heart, Dad. It’s not like when I wrecked my car. You can’t just buy me a new one.” “Sweetheart, I understand …” “No, I don’t think you do. You had a lot of great years with Mom. I found a man who liked me for me. I fell in love, and now I’ll never see him again.” “Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” Jonathan rose from the table. James and his friend approached. “Jonathan, I’d like to introduce you to …” “Alan Wheeler,” Jonathan interjected. “It’s nice to see you again.” Lizbeth jumped up from her chair so quickly, she knocked it backwards, and it fell to the floor with a loud bang. People turned to see what happened. Jonathan picked up the chair and righted it. “It’s okay. As you were.” “Whoa!” James said. “Are you okay, Lizbeth?” “Of course. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” Lizbeth’s face began to turn red, and her words flew like bullets. “I mean, of course I’m fine. I didn’t mean to knock the chair down, but I didn’t hurt myself or anything, if that’s what you were talking about. And I’m sure the chair’s okay. It seems like a sturdy chair.” Jonathan shook his head and smiled, taking a drink of his punch. Lizbeth seemed to have come to life in a matter of mere seconds. Her sparkle had returned. “Lizbeth.” Jonathan lightly touched his daughter’s arm. “You’re rambling.” “So, I take it you’re all acquainted?” James stood back and gestured between the three. Alan put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Yes, James. You could say that we all know each other.” He turned slightly toward Lizbeth. James and Jonathan stood silently. The men shrugged and raised their brows at each other as Lizbeth and Alan exchanged smiles and awkward conversation. “Oh, wait a minute.” James said. He held his hand close to his chest and pointed at Lizbeth. “Alan. Is this her?” Alan laughed from embarrassment. “Thanks for being so subtle, James.” Jonathan let out a loud, deep sigh. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go . . . well, um, over there somewhere. Lizbeth, would you like to come with me?” “Um, I think…” Lizbeth looked at Jonathan, at James, and finally at Alan. “I think I’d like to stay here, Dad.” Jonathan didn’t reply. He looked up at Alan and back at his daughter. He ran his hand down his daughter’s silken hair, and kissed her forehead. “Okay, sweetheart. “But I’ll be right over there if you need me.” He nodded to an empty table just a short distance away. Lizbeth pushed herself up on her toes and kissed her father’s cheek. “Thank you, Dad.” Jonathan returned to the buffet table for a piece of cheesecake and a second glass of punch. He took a seat at a table a short distance from Lizbeth and Alan. He wanted to be out of the way, but to keep a clear
view of his daughter. Lizbeth and Alan talked, laughed, and shared Lizbeth’s punch. Jonathan saw his daughter—his real daughter—come back to life in front of him. Lizbeth looked up and locked eyes with Jonathan. He smiled and gave her a little wave, and she turned her attention back to Alan. Jonathan laughed to himself because in that moment, he realized that Alan was what made her happy. He didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, or next week. But he knew right now, she was herself again.
CHAPTER 22
Alan turned the knob and opened the door to his office. Mr. Vincent sat there waiting. “I don’t know why I have a private office when people just come in anytime they want.” Alan smirked. “What can I do for you, Mr. Vincent?” Alan walked across the room in front of Jonathan, but he wanted to hide behind his desk. “If it’s about the other night, I promise you, I had no idea you and James know each other.” Alan began to stack papers and toss things in his top drawer. “Lizzy and I are just going to …” “Alan, please,” Jonathan interrupted. “I think you’ve caught Lizbeth’s nervous rambling habit.” He stood up and buttoned his jacket. “I’m here to apologize.” Alan cocked his head to the side and peered at Jonathan through squinted eyes. “Excuse me? I’m sorry, but it sounded like you said you’re here to apologize. And we both know you don’t do that.” “Okay, I deserve that.” Jonathan put his hands in his pants pockets. “Anything else? Go ahead. Give me your best shot.” “Honestly? I’d love to say something about how you buy people off or try to make the world the way you want it with a wave of your checkbook. And I’d like to say that you’re blind to think your daughter’s happy in that life. But I won’t. I don’t want to risk a defamation lawsuit, Mr. Vincent. You already have my building. I don’t have anything left for you to take.” “Alan, if you would just …” “Mr. Vincent, I’m extremely busy,” Alan said with frustration. “I have to get ready for the holiday crowd, there’s a million things we have to do to vacate the building, and I really don’t have time for this.” “Alan, stop!” Jonathan slammed his hands on Alan’s desk. “You need to listen to me.” Alan’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened in shock. “I’m sorry,” Jonathan said, stepping back from the desk. “But please, listen to what I have to say. It’s important.” Alan tossed everything in his hands onto the desk. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Okay, Mr. Vincent,” he said calmly. “You have five minutes. Make ’em count.” Jonathan took a deep breath and put his hands back in his pants pockets. “When I was here before, I saw this picture.” He walked over to the wall and pointed to the picture of the three women. “You told me the story, how they were a part of your life. The way you talked about them—you loved them.” “Yes. I did. I do.” “That woman, the one with the gorgeous red hair and the sparkling green eyes.” Jonathan gazed adoringly at the photo. “That’s my wife. That’s Lizbeth’s mother.” Alan stood up from his chair and stood beside Jonathan. “Yes, I know.” “You knew her?” “I grew up with her around, but it wasn’t until I met Lizzy that I figured out Cee Cee was your wife.” Jonathan covered his mouth with his hand. He continued to fixate on the photo. “Cee Cee,” he said lovingly. “Her sister couldn’t say ‘Gracie’ when she was little. So they called her ‘Cee Cee.’ I didn’t know she still used that name.” Jonathan removed his wallet from his back pocket and removed a single photo. He handed it to Alan. “I knew she did charity fund raisers. It wasn’t until Lizbeth told me she held one for your shelter that I put the pieces together.” “They were friends,” Alan said softly. “My mom and your wife. They were best friends.” Alan handed Jonathan his picture, and he returned it to his wallet. Jonathan touched the picture hanging on the wall with his finger. “We didn’t agree on much. Didn’t
see eye to eye on most things. Lizbeth is so much like her mother.” “Mr. Vincent.” Alan’s tone was more respectful. “I still don’t understand why you’re here.” Jonathan finally turned away from the photo. “I would give anything to have Gracie here with me. I found the one person in the world who made me a better person. The other night, when you walked up to the table, I watched my daughter light up simply because you were there. Who am I to take that away from her? Or you, for that matter?” “I love her, Mr. Vincent.” Alan stood tall. “I love her more than anything. I was willing to give all this up for her. She wouldn’t let me.” “I know,” Jonathan replied. “We were both willing to sacrifice other people’s happiness for our own. But she was willing to sacrifice her own happiness for both of us.” The men stood silent. They looked at the picture on the wall again, and then at each other. “I’m here to make things right.” Jonathan’s words echoed through the office and broke the silence. “When I’m wrong, I admit that I’m wrong. And I have never been so wrong in my life.” He reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a thick envelope. Alan backed away from Jonathan and put his hands up. “Sir, if that’s another check, I don’t …” “No, no check this time. I promise.” Jonathan handed Alan the envelope. “This belongs to you.” Alan cautiously took the envelope from Jonathan and opened it. He scanned the pages one by one. “What is this?” Jonathan smiled proudly. “What you’re holding in your hands is the contract for the sale of this property.” “Does this mean you're not buying my building?” “No. The sale has been completed.” “I don’t want to do this, Mr. Vincent.” Alan tossed the envelope on the desk. Jonathan chuckled. “You don’t understand, son. I bought the building for you. The deed is in there. It’s yours. Paid in full.” Alan’s mouth dropped open. He snatched up the envelope again. “The deed’s in here?” “Yes.” “To this building?” “Yes.” “And it’s paid in full?” “Yes.” “What about the taxes?” “Paid. Both the past due, and the next three years.” Alan stood, just looking at Jonathan. He shook his head, tried to speak, but nothing came out. “I don’t know what to say. May I ask why?” “My daughter told me that instead of tearing down your building, I’d do better to help you improve it. So, I’m taking my daughter’s advice. I’m investing in the Lily Frost shelter. If both my wife and my daughter found their way here and fell in love with this place, there must be a reason. Right?” Alan grabbed Jonathan’s hand and shook it vigorously. “I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.” “Just take care of my daughter,” Jonathan said, putting his hand on Alan’s shoulder. “That’s all I ask.” “Absolutely, sir. That’s always been my plan.” “One more thing.” Jonathan smiled, and his eyes lit up. “Um, okay.” “What plans do you have for the shelter for Christmas?” “Just the usual. We stay open for those who need it. Offer a meal and do the best we can with the donations we get.”
“As I’m an investor now, may I offer a few suggestions?” Jonathan smiled. Alan returned the smile. “What did you have in mind?”
CHAPTER 23
“Lizbeth?” Brenda tapped on the table, attempting to get Lizbeth’s attention. “Lizbeth, are you listening?” The restaurant was bustling, and the wait staff was coming and going from the kitchen like bees in a hive. “Oh, yes.” Lizbeth wiped her eyes and rejoined the conversation. She was thinking of Alan and missed him. “I’m sorry. I zoned out. What were you saying?” “I said you’re right about Jason. He’s bad news. We broke up—for good this time.” “I’m sorry, Brenda,” Lizbeth said. “Well, I’m not sorry you broke up, but I'm sorry you’re hurting. I’m sure you’ll find the right guy.” “Thank you. You’re sweet.” Brenda picked up her cell phone and took a picture of the table setting in front of her, and then snapped a selfie. She concentrated on the little screen, and then her thumbs moved like lightning. Lizbeth glared at her sister, who was quietly having a conversation on her cell phone. “What?” Cassidy whispered. “You made me come here. Get off that phone.” Lizbeth looked at her sister with wide eyes. “Don’t leave me alone in the land of the Barbies!” Cassidy covered the phone and laughed. “Stop it! Give me two minutes.” “What do you think, Lizbeth?” Nicole said. Nicole was Cassidy’s best friend from high school. They all lived on the same street and had grown up together. “About what?” Lizbeth pretended to be interested. “Royal blue or mixed pastel?” “What are we talking about?” “My wedding, silly! For the bridesmaid’s dresses. You are a bridesmaid, you know.” “Oh, yes.” Lizbeth smiled. Seriously? Whatever I say, she’ll choose the other. “I would probably go with the mixed pastel.” She actually wanted the royal blue. “Hmm.” Nicole touched her cheek with her perfectly manicure fingernail. “I was definitely thinking more the royal blue. Donnie looks great in blue. I think mixed pastels are too springy.” “Oh, really?” Lizbeth tried to sound disappointed. “Well, it’s your day. Do what makes you happy.” “I’m sorry to break up the party, girls,” Cassidy said. She pulled her purse and coat off the back of her chair. “Lizbeth and I are going to have to cut out early.” Lizbeth wasted no time in gathering her things. Cassidy pulled out money and handed it to the waiter. “This should cover our bills, yes?” “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “More than. I’ll get your change for you.” “No, no. No need. You keep it.” Cassidy hurried Lizbeth along. “Good-bye, ladies. We’ll see you on Friday.” Cassidy continued to rush Lizbeth all the way through the revolving door. “While I appreciate the rescue, you can ease up on the urgency now that we’re out of range of falling drama.” Cassidy put her arm around her sister and hugged her lightly. “You’re welcome, but we really do need to go.” “Okay.” Lizbeth submitted to her sister’s hyperactivity and fixed her makeup in the vanity mirror to distract herself from Cassidy’s aggressive navigation of holiday traffic. “So,” Lizbeth said through pursed lips as she put on a fresh coat of lipstick. She smacked her lips together and looked at her sister. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“That’s a good color on you,” Cassidy said. “Is it new?” “The light’s green, Cass. And stop trying to change the subject.” “It’s not a secret or anything. I’m just in a hurry and didn’t have time to explain. So I figured I’d just hurry up and drive us there, and once we arrived, we’d talk about it. I’m not trying to keep anything from you. It’s not like I’m lying to you. I’m just not telling you right now because I don’t have time.” “Is that what I sound like when I ramble?” Lizbeth raised her eyebrows at her sister. “I need to stop it.” Cassidy giggled. She sounded like a nervous little girl. “Cassidy.” Lizbeth leaned against the headrest. “Yes?” Cassidy replied. Her voice was sweet and innocent, childlike. “In the time it took you to explain why you didn’t tell me where we’re going, you could have told me where we’re going.” Cassidy giggled again. “You know what? I think you’re right.” “So tell me!” Lizbeth started to get frustrated. “I don’t need to. We’re already here.” Lizbeth looked out the window. She held her breath as her heart began to pound in her chest. “Cass,” Lizbeth pleaded. “Please don’t do this.” Cassidy parked the car, unbuckled her seatbelt, and shifted in her seat to face her sister. “Liz, there are people in there who are important to you. And you’re important to them. You can’t just leave without saying good-bye to them. With everything else they have to deal with, don’t make them feel like you really didn’t care about them.” Lizbeth put her hands over her face. “But what if he talks to me?” “If he does, just say hello and then excuse yourself and go somewhere else. Or don’t talk to him at all. It’s a big room, sweetie. He’s not going to chase you around.” “You’ll stay with me?” “Of course.” Cassidy leaned over, and the girls hugged each other. “I’ll always stay with you.” Lizbeth and Cassidy held hands as they walked through the front doors of the shelter. They were greeted by soft Christmas music and the smells of pine and fresh-baked cookies. Lizbeth’s gaze darted from one thing to another, trying to take it all in. In the far corner stood a Christmas tree. It was full at the bottom and seemed almost to reach the ceiling. The tree was covered with colored lights, twinkling on and off, and ornaments in every color of the rainbow. There were strung popcorn and cranberries hanging on the branches. Barely any green was visible. Under and around the tree was a mountain of gifts wrapped in silver, gold, and patterns of paper almost too beautiful to tear. Each gift was topped with a ribbon or bow. The rows of tables all had beautiful silver place settings, with electric candles in the middle. There was a table of pies—just pies— against the wall. If this is all pies, how much food is in the kitchen? A real live Santa Claus in a red suit walked among the crowd of people, shaking hands, giving hugs, patting heads, and handing out candy canes. Cassidy turned and looked at her sister, and began to clap and bounce up and down. “Are you surprised?” “Yes, Cass. I’m very surprised.” Lizbeth walked to one of the tables and touched the tablecloth. It was soft under her fingers. She heard a little girl’s laugh, and as she search for the source of the laughter, Lizbeth saw Jonathon. “No,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m dead, right?” Cassidy laughed and nudged Lizbeth in the back. “No, silly. You’re not dead. And no, it’s not a dream, either.”
Lizbeth stood in awe, looking around. She was both amazed and overwhelmed. Cassidy pulled Lizbeth’s coat off her shoulders. “Are you just going to stand there?” Cassidy nudged her sister again. “Go. Talk. Mingle.” Santa Claus stepped in front of the girls. “Well, hello ladies,” he said with a certain Southern accent. “Are ya havin’ a good time?” “Mr. Brooks?” Lizbeth squinted and tried to look through the tiny glasses that sat on his nose. “Is that you?” “Miss Liz. Nice to see ya again. I reckon, what better way to put this here belly to use than to be the big man himself? After all, I do ‘ho, ho, ho’ pretty well, wouldn’t ya say?” “You’re a great Santa, Bill. It looks like everyone loves you.” Lizbeth hugged Mr. Brooks and watched as he walked away. I knew he’d make a good Santa. Lizbeth’s smile quickly disappeared as she watched Alan walking toward her father. “Cassidy,” she gasped. “You have to do something!” Lizbeth nudged her sister in the direction of the pair. “Do something before they start yelling and ruin this.” “What can I do?” Cassidy attempted to push her sister’s hands away. “I don’t know. But do something!” “Fine.” Cassidy smiled. “I’ll do something.” She grabbed Lizbeth’s hand and walked toward her father. Lizbeth stumbled. “Wait. What? No. This isn’t what I meant.” “You said do something. I’m doing something.” Lizbeth resisted. “Cassidy. Stop it.” “Okay, fine. We won’t do anything.” Cassidy and Lizbeth watched as Alan approached Jonathan from behind. Alan tapped Jonathan on the shoulder. “Oh, Cassidy.” Lizbeth hid behind her sister and peeked over her shoulder. “Why’d you bring me here?”
CHAPTER 24
Jonathan turned to see Alan standing behind him. He smiled and shook Alan’s hand, placing his other hand on Alan’s shoulder. The men stood and talked as Lizbeth and Cassidy watched. The girls couldn’t help but laugh when Jonathan gave Alan a high five. “Now I know I’m dead. Or in a coma. Or maybe someone traveled back in time and altered my reality—like in Star Trek.” Cassidy wrapped her arms around her sister, but Lizbeth kept her arms at her side. “I told you. You’re not dead, or in a coma. You’re perfectly fine and healthy. And no one altered your reality, you geek.” Lizbeth grabbed her sister’s arm and pushed her away. “You knew about this? You knew and you didn’t … this is why you didn’t tell me where we were going! You …” “Dad made me promise.” Lizbeth let out a long, loud sigh. She covered her face and screamed very lightly into her hands. “I’m so confused.” “Girls!” Jonathan’s voice bellowed over the crowd. “There are my girls!” He strode toward Lizbeth and Cassidy. Alan followed closely behind. Lizbeth began to panic. She grabbed Cassidy’s hand and held on tight. “I’m right here,” Cassidy whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.” Lizbeth tried her best to look calm. “Breathe.” Cassidy chuckled. “You have to breathe.” She didn’t realize she was holding her breath. “There’s my girls.” Jonathan wrapped his arms around both girls at once and hugged them. He kissed Cassidy’s cheek, then Lizbeth’s, and hugged them again. “Dad,” Cassidy said with a huff. “We can’t breathe.” Jonathan laughed and released his embrace. “Sorry. I just got a little carried away.” “I guess so,” Lizbeth said, looking around the room. “Want to clue me in?” Jonathan smiled big. He stepped toward his daughter and kissed her forehead. “You’re a great woman, like your mother.” He lifted her chin with his knuckle, looking her in the eyes. “I was wrong, sweetheart,” he said warmly. “And when I’m wrong, I admit it. I’m sorry.” Lizbeth got a lump in her throat. She had never heard her father apologize with such sincerity. “About what, Dad? What’s going on?” Lizbeth held on to her father’s hand. “You were right. Your mother loved this place. She and Alan’s mother worked very hard to keep it going. Until you said something that day in my office, I had no idea.” “So, what does this mean?” “Jonathan,” Alan interrupted. He placed his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “May I?” Jonathan moved to the side and slapped Alan affectionately on the arm. “Absolutely,” he replied. “Cassidy, let’s get sample the punch.” “Actually, Dad,” Cassidy replied, taking her father’s arm, “I was considering stalking that pumpkin pie over there.” “Then allow me to escort you to the dessert table, my dear.” Jonathan glanced over his shoulder at Lizbeth and Alan and gave a little wink. Lizbeth moved to an empty chair against the wall. She sat down and started rubbing her temples. Alan sat next to her and lightly touched her back.
Lizbeth got goosebumps when she felt Alan’s hand. It had been too long since they had sat together. She missed him. “You okay?” He chuckled slightly. “Need something to drink?” “No,” she said, slightly annoyed. She shifted in her seat. “I need to know what’s going on. You and my father are friends. And he’s here, at the shelter. What happened?” She motioned to the tree and food. “And what’s all this?” “Your dad,” Alan replied. “All of this is because of your dad.” “Okay.” Lizbeth felt defeated. “I can’t take any more of this.” Alan laughed and hugged her. “How about I just explain everything.” “Please!” Lizbeth slumped into Alan’s arms. “That’s all I want.” Alan and Lizbeth sat for a while as he explained to her the events of recent days. She found herself doubting what he was telling her, but then she looked around. She saw her father laughing and having fun. She watched as he helped a little boy open a gift and then sat on the floor and played with him. Lizbeth watched her sister flirting with Michael in the kitchen. Soon, Lizbeth’s frustration and confusion turned to excitement and happiness. Alan took her hand, and as he had often done before, he held it to lips and kissed the back of it. Lizbeth was once again able to get lost in his eyes and enjoy his touch. “After talking with your dad, I realized that what you did—telling me to take the money and leaving —was your way of trying to protect me and the shelter. You did it because you love me.” “Yes, I did.” Lizbeth looked at Alan and felt a sense of relief. “And yes, I do. I’m sorry I hurt you. I would never—” “I know.” Alan stroked Lizbeth’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “And I love you too.” Lizbeth’s face lit up and she wrapped her arms around Alan’s neck. She had wanted to hear him say those words for a long time. Alan looked up as Jonathan walked toward them. “Here’s your dad,” he said. Lizbeth sprang from her chair, ran to her father, and threw her arms around his neck. “Whoa,” Jonathan said. He wrapped his arms around Lizbeth and hugged her tight. “What’s that for?” he asked. “Just for you, Dad.” Lizbeth kissed Jonathan’s cheek and hugged him again. “I know what it took for you to do all this. I know it wasn’t easy for you. You’ve no idea what it means to me. Thank you. I love you, Dad.” “I love you too, sweetheart. I’m sorry it took me so long to see things clearly. Thank you for helping me.” “We helped each other.” “Excuse me,” Cassidy said. “I hate to interrupt, but someone’s asking to talk to Lizbeth. She says it’s important.” She pointed to a young girl near the front entrance. The girl smiled and waved. “Yes.” Lizbeth waved back. “Excuse me for a moment.” She hurried off. Lizbeth dashed over to the front entrance, where a young girl with a big smile was waiting for her. Lizbeth gave the young girl a little squeeze. “How are you?” she asked. “I’m great now. I got in!” The young girl’s eyes lit up as she shared her news. “You did?” Lizbeth grabbed her hands and held them tightly. “Full scholarship?” “Everything! They’re going to pay tuition, room, board—and even give me a meal allowance. I did it, Lizzy!” “I knew you could. I’m so proud of you.” “Okay, well. I gotta go. Just wanted to tell you.” The young girl hugged Lizzy tight. “You go! We’ll talk more later.” Lizzy watched as the young girl went to tell her news to someone else and receive more praise.
Alan took the girl’s place with Lizbeth near the entrance. “So what was that all about?” he asked. “She got her acceptance letter to Cornell—a full scholarship. She did it.” “Wow. That’s great!” “She worked really hard. She deserves it.” Lizbeth sighed, looked around the room, and leaned against the doorjamb. “This is amazing.” “You’re amazing.” Alan grabbed her arms and pulled her close. “And did you know that it’s bad luck to stand under the mistletoe without getting kissed?” “What?” Alan pointed up. Lizbeth laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Well, you’d better kiss me and save me from all that bad luck.” “Lucky me.” "Lucky me." At least we’ll never forget our first date.
About the Author:
With hundreds of articles to her name in various online and print publications, Carma Haley Shoemaker has officially made the transition to fiction. Carma writes in multiple genres, including romance, fantasy, and paranormal. While working as a nurse, she relocated to several states over a ten-year period before moving her family back home to Ohio. Carma, who considers herself a “writer by nature and a nurse by trade,” is a fifteen-year veteran of NaNoWriMo, serving as the municipal liaison for the North Central Ohio region. Now an empty-nester, Carma writes full time while also rekindling her love for some of her other interests—such as remodeling her Diva Den and building the perfect fantasy football team.
Adding Christmas Countdown to Christmas
by Rebecca Talley Trifecta Books
Book design and layout copyright © 2015 by Trifecta Books Cover design copyright © 2015 by Jenni James
This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Copyright© 2015 Rebecca Talley
Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six About the Author
Adding Christmas by Rebecca Talley
Chapter One
Mitch wasn’t sure why his father had insisted he come to dinner tonight. Family dinners were always on Sundays. Must be something important. He parked his Lexus in the circular driveway next to the three-tiered fountain. He lingered inside the warm car and put on his fur-lined leather gloves before exiting into the frigid Chicago air. He hurried to his childhood home while an icy wind whipped through his hair. The house seemed too large now that only his parents lived there, but when the whole family was together, including his lively and energetic nieces, it almost felt too small. He stepped inside the marbled entryway and shrugged off his gray winter coat, leaving it on the stairway banister. “Mom? Dad?” No one answered, so he walked down the long hall to the kitchen, glancing around the study, the living room, and the formal dining room along the way. A fire crackled and burned in the stone fireplace in the great room. No one seemed to be inside the house, though, which was odd. The kitchen was empty as well. Did his dad forget? Mitch opened the refrigerator and snatched a plate with leftover pie. He took a bite of the perfect combination of pumpkin with ginger and nutmeg. His mom was an expert baker, and Mitch loved the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas when the house was filled with treats and goodies, most of which were earmarked for neighbors and friends of the family. “Jonathan Michael Mitchell Powell.” His mom stood there, hands on her hips, in her sleek black pants with her dark hair framing chocolate-brown eyes. “Mom,” he answered, his mouth stuffed with spicy goodness. “Please don’t speak with your mouth full. Especially when it’s full of pie, and we’re about to have dinner.” She shook her head. “I think I’ve been telling you not to eat before dinner since you were a little boy.” She gave him a half-smile. “I had no choice. I opened the refrigerator and I heard something.” He lowered his voice. “‘Eat me, eat me. I’m too lonely in this fridge.’” He lifted his shoulder. “What else could I do but comply?” He slipped another bite into his mouth. “Sometimes I’m sure you’re twelve instead of thirty-one.” Mitch grinned. Teasing his mom was one of his favorite pastimes. “Where were you?” “In the garage. Your dad bought a new car.” “Again?” “He sold the other three he bought.” She grabbed a glass from the cupboard. “He wants to downsize. Change some things.” “Why?” Mitch put the plate in the sink, trying to process what his mother had said. “He wants to cut back at work and spend more time at home and with the family.” Mitch was almost afraid to ask. “Is he okay?” “Yes.” She turned and looked at him. “He wants to retire.” “Really?” His dad had led the family business for as long as Mitch could remember. “Is that why he wanted me to come over tonight? To tell me?” She nodded. “But act surprised. If you tell him I told you, I’ll deny it all. And I won’t make any more pies.” She smiled and gave him a hug. As the only son in the family, he suspected the day would come when his father would want to turn the business over to him, but he’d hoped he’d be in a different place in his life. Mitch wasn’t ready to settle down. Not after what happened. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready again. “Mitch,” his father said as he walked into the kitchen, his brown eyes looking tired. “Hi, Dad. Mom says you bought a new car.” He gave a nod. “Trying to find one I like.”
“Too bad they don’t make them like the toy ones we sell.” His dad laughed, exposing wrinkle lines around his eyes. During dinner, they talked about current events and the upcoming holiday. “I’ve ordered the most adorable matching outfits for all the grandkids. I also found handmade stockings with their names embroidered on them. Oh, and you should see the beautiful dresses I found for Patrice and Alisha, with matching necklaces and earrings. Your sisters will love them.” His mom beamed with obvious pride. “Mom, I think you’re the original Santa. You love Christmas more than anyone I know.” “I do. I can’t imagine anyone not loving Christmas. Baking cookies, decorating the tree, sipping hot chocolate with candy canes, singing carols, and shopping. I love it all.” She reached over and placed her hand on Mitch’s. “Will you be bringing anyone to the party? Maybe the Campana’s daughter, Isabella?” The room’s temperature rose ten degrees, and Mitch pulled at his shirt collar. “Uh, no. We aren’t seeing each other anymore.” His mom’s expression fell. “What happened?” “Wasn’t feeling it, I guess.” He shrugged. “We only went out a few times anyway.” “Well, don’t give up. You’ll find a good woman.” “I already did.” Mitch paused. “Once.” “You’re right.” His mother’s eyes filled with compassion. “But it’s been—” “I know how long it’s been. What can I say? No one else makes me feel the way she did.” He’d learned his lesson, and he wasn’t about to let anyone stomp on his heart again. Ever. I’m going to be a permanent bachelor. After a few moments of silence, his father said, “I’d like to talk to you about something.” “Are you finally going to retire?” He winked at his mom, who looked away quickly. “Yes, actually. I’d like to spend less time at work and more time with the woman I love. We want to do some traveling. Ski the Alps, climb the Eiffel Tower, and tour the Pyramids. We aren’t getting any younger.” His mom clucked her tongue. “Speak for yourself, Michael.” “I mean, I’m not getting any younger.” He smoothed his graying hair. “Your mom is ageless.” “That’s much better. Thank you.” She sat taller in her chair. “I think that sounds great, Dad. You guys should travel and enjoy the world together.” That’s what Mitch had planned to do with Heather. He hoped his parents would have the chance he never got because it was ripped out from under him. “Which means you’ll need to head up the company.” “Take over World of Toys?” “Yes.” His father peered at him. “Become CEO.” Mitch let out a breath. “I’m not sure I’m the man for that job. What about Giovanni?” “He isn’t my son.” “But he is your son-in-law. And he has a business degree from Harvard. And a talent for making good business decisions. Sounds like the perfect match.” “But I want you in that position.” His father leaned back in his chair. “You need to find direction in your life again. Buckle down and move forward.” Mitch scratched the day-old stubble on his cheek. “But I like my life the way it is.” “Do you?” his mother asked. “Yeah.” He did. It had taken some time, but he liked the carefree bachelor life with no commitments. If he accepted the position of CEO, that’d mean he’d have to be at the office every day. Be responsible. No more spontaneous traveling to ski in Colorado or bungee jump in Switzerland or cliff dive in Mexico. No more extravagant business trips that included a few extra days for extreme fun. He’d actually have to earn the money his father paid him.
“Come on, son. It’s time.” His dad’s face took on the “you’d-better-listen-to-me” expression Mitch remembered so well from his teenage years. “My father handed this business over to me when I was about your age, and I’ve always planned to have you run it.” “I know, but—” “I’ll stay on and guide you until you’re ready to run it by yourself.” His father looked at him expectantly. “You’ve been working at the office on and off for the last two years, but I want you to run it now.” What could he do? Mitch knew deep down that he couldn’t keep living his aimless life forever, even if it had helped him forget. He had to get serious sooner or later. He had just hoped it would be later. “I don’t think I’m ready.” “There’s no time like the present to get ready.” His father gave a confident nod. “It’s time.” Mitch took a swig of his ice water. He couldn’t keep running away. “I know you were deeply hurt by what happened, and you’ve taken some time to recover, but we need you to settle down and move forward with your life now,” his mom said. “You have a good head for business. You can do this.” Mitch considered their words. His parents were probably right—he did need some direction, some stability. “I have noticed a few things.” His mom perked up. “Like what?” Mitch had been thinking more about the business over the last few months. He looked at his dad. “I think a few changes would help.” His father knitted his brows. “Changes?” “I think the company might need to be updated. Modernized.” “It’s a toy company.” His father waved his hand. “Kids don’t care about that kind of stuff.” Recalling what he’d learned while studying marketing, one of the many degree programs he’d started, Mitch said, “But the parents are really our target market—they’re the ones with the money. We need to appeal to kids and to their parents.” Mitch found himself almost feeling excited about the opportunity. Maybe this was what he needed—something solid to focus on. “What do you suggest?” “I don’t know, exactly.” He hadn’t worked out any details. “Maybe a new advertising campaign?” “These superstores are trying to swallow us up. I don’t want that to happen,” his father said with a sober expression. “All the more reason to update our image. Show potential customers that buying from us is a better experience than buying at Walmart because we specialize in toys. Take back our market share.” His dad drummed his fingers on the table. “Let’s get this rolling, then. I’d like to see the new ideas, if that’s all right.” “Of course,” Mitch said. “I want your input.” “But you will be in charge,” his father said. “I will.” Mitch said good-bye to his parents and drove back to his place in Lincoln Park. He pulled his car into his assigned space and sat there, staring out the windshield for a moment. Though he’d been resistant at first, maybe being more involved with World of Toys was what he needed after all. He’d been in limbo for so long, he couldn’t remember what it felt like to have a plan, a direction. And he’d wallowed in self-pity long enough. It was time to take control of his life and do something constructive with it.
Chapter Two
Chloe Henderson massaged her temples, hoping to avoid the migraine that threatened to explode in her head. “I don’t know what else I can do for this campaign. I keep going over it again and again, but something is wrong. What am I missing?” She let out a long breath of frustration. LeAnne, her assistant, said, “I think we’ve covered everything.” She played with her large silver hoop earring. “Mr. Wagner expects it to be perfect. If the client doesn’t like it, there goes any hope of a promotion. Ever.” Chloe sat back in the leather office chair, making it creak. “I think we need a break.” “Maybe you’re right.” LeAnne stretched, then ran her fingers through her flat red hair. “We’ve been working on this for,” she glanced at her watch, “nine hours straight. I’m hungry. No, make that starving.” “I’m sorry.” Chloe tossed her large dark-rimmed glasses on the desk. “I didn’t mean to work through lunch.” “Let’s go get something to eat.” LeAnne pleaded with her. Chloe twisted her long hair into a messy bun and secured it with a rubber band. “No. I have to get this done for the meeting tomorrow.” “Fine.” LeAnne let out a long, defeated breath. “I’ll order in some Chinese. We need to eat if we’re going to be here all night.” Chloe waved her hand and sat back. “You’re right. We’ve been working so long on this I can’t even make sense of it anymore. Let’s call it a night.” “You won’t.” “Yes, I will.” “No, you’ll pretend you’re going home, but then you’ll stay. I don’t even know why you have an apartment. You live here.” “No, I don’t. I have a life.” She did. She had a full and interesting life outside of work. Really. LeAnne gave her a disbelieving look. “I do. I’ve just been crazy busy. I want that promotion.” What did LeAnne know, anyway? The door opened, and Mr. Wagner poked his bald head in. “Are you ready for the presentation tomorrow?” “Yes, sir, Mr. Wagner. We’re all set.” Chloe knew better, but she wasn’t about to let her boss know that. “After the pitch with Forever Kids, we have a new client coming in. I’d like to make you the account exec in charge of his account.” “Sure. I can do that.” Every account Chloe managed successfully brought her one step closer to the coveted promotion. One more rung on the ladder of success. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.” Chloe nodded. Mr. Wagner shut the door. “I’ll order in the Chinese,” LeAnne said. “Thanks.” After they finished eating the chow mein and sweet and sour pork, Chloe and LeAnne worked on the display ads for the children’s clothing line. “What are you going to do for Christmas this year?” LeAnne asked. “I don’t do holidays, especially Christmas, remember?” Chloe penciled in the placement of the text on the ad. “I know, but maybe it’s time for a change. You can’t work all the time.”
“I need to focus my efforts here, so I can move up in the agency.” Chloe thumbed through some of her sketches. “There’s more to life than money and position.” “Is there?” Obviously, LeAnne didn’t understand how important it was for Chloe to be successful so she could provide a decent living for herself and for Henry. “You’re more than welcome at my house for Christmas.” “You’re sweet to invite me every year.” Chloe meant it. LeAnne was like the sister she’d never had. “Let’s make this year the year you actually come. My whole family will be there, and my mom and I will make some amazing pies. And you could meet my cousin Karl.” “The last thing I need is a man. No time and no interest. But the pies sound tempting.” LeAnne cocked her head. “You know that isn’t going to make me stop asking you to come.” “I totally appreciate you inviting me. Really. It’s just . . .” “Okay. I know it’s hard for you this time of year.” LeAnne went back to editing the copy for one of the other display ads. “As long as you know you’re invited.” “I do. Thanks.” LeAnne was so generous to keep asking, but Chloe simply wanted to skip Christmas —like she did every year.
Chapter Three
Mitch opened the door to Colin’s office. “You want to get a bite?” Colin turned off his computer. “As a matter of fact, yeah. Rita called off our date at the last minute, so I’m free.” They walked into the Indian restaurant across the street from the World of Toys office building. A strong scent of curry, mixed with garlic, wafted through the air, making Mitch’s stomach rumble. “I worked through lunch, so I’m hungry,” Colin said, his thick waistline indicating his love of food. “How’s the new software?” “Needs some tweaking, but inventory should now be easier to track for the stores.” A woman with a long black braid seated them, then brought ice water. Mitch leaned back, resting his hands on the table. “I need to make sure we’re hitting our target sales. This is our busiest season.” “Lots of parents stocking up for Christmas.” He chuckled. “Get it? Stocking up?” “Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’re a punny guy. Let’s just hope many more do the same.” Mitch took a few swallows of his drink. “My dad wants me to take over the business. He told me the other night that he’s going to retire.” “That’s big news. When?” Colin’s eyes widened. “Soon, but keep this between you and me.” Colin nodded. “I’m planning to start a new advertising campaign. Try to compete with all the superstores selling toys now.” A short man with a receding hairline and a thick accent took their orders. “Do you know anything about advertising?” Colin asked. “I studied marketing in college.” “I think advertising is pretty cool,” Colin said as he checked his phone. “You know, all that subliminal message stuff.” Mitch waved his fingers. “Buy toys, lots of toys. Go to World of Toys and spend all your money.” They laughed. “I told my dad that I wanted to hire a new ad agency and, surprisingly, he agreed. I have a meeting tomorrow. I’m sure it’ll be another old guy who’s stuck in the eighties, but maybe he’ll have some different ideas. Seems like we’ve had the same boring ad going for years.” The waiter brought out their meals. Mitch took a bite of his curry chicken. This was one of his favorite restaurants because it reminded him of the time he was in India with Heather—before everything changed. “So you and Rita?” “I don’t know. She’s smart and we have fun together. And, yeah, she’s beautiful. But I don’t think she has it.” “It?” “Yeah, you know. That indescribable thing that when you find it, you know it.” Mitch nodded. He knew because he’d once had it. “We have a poker game later tonight. You wanna come play?” “Thanks, but not tonight. I’m tired, and I have to deal with this advertising thing tomorrow.” They finished their dinner while they chatted about current events and the local sports anchor, who Colin said didn’t know the first thing about basketball. Or the Bulls. After dinner, Mitch made his way back to his condo. Inside, he took off his tie and flung it over the back of one of the dining room chairs. He kicked off his shoes and plopped on the sofa. He surfed some channels, then turned off the TV and went to his room. He grabbed a book off the nightstand and began
reading Finding Your Life Again for the ninth, or was it the tenth time? He’d lost count. It had been a gift from his mother, but he’d shelved it for almost a year. It had taken that long to have the courage to open it. But since then, he’d read it cover to cover, and it had become his Bible. Maybe this time through, he’d finally understand how to move forward and forget what happened.
Chapter Four
Chloe shoved her key into the deadbolt on the door of her small, one-bedroom apartment. After twisting the key, she used all of her body weight to push against the door to make it open. I need to call the super to fix this again. She reached for the light and flicked it on. Stepping out of her platform shoes, she dropped her keys on the imitation wood table with a clank. “Henry, where are you?” she called out as she walked across the linoleum floor. He’s probably mad that I’m so late. I promised him I wouldn’t keep missing dinner. I hope he understands. “Hey, sweetie,” she called out. “I’m sorry I’m late. Again. Today was a killer. I told you about this potential client. A children’s clothing line. It’s been tough to come up with something. I’m not familiar with kids or what appeals to moms or families. But I have to make this work so I can still be in the running for that promotion. Mr. Wagner is so nitpicky and hard to please, but he’s nothing compared to this client.” She grabbed some milk from the ancient white fridge. “I have the big presentation tomorrow. I hope it goes well after all this work.” She opened the cap and took a whiff. “Ew. This is disgusting. How did this milk go bad?” She looked at the date stamped on it. “Oh. Has it been that long since I shopped?” Going to the grocery store wasn’t high on her to-do list, obviously. “Henry, where are you?” Chloe went to the bedroom. “Are you in here? I don’t want to be talking to myself, you know.” Henry wasn’t in the bedroom where she expected him. The door to the bathroom moved, and Henry emerged. “There you are. I’ve missed you.” Chloe bent down and picked him up, snuggling him into her arms. She kissed him on the head, and he purred. “I’m sorry I’m so late, but I have some tuna. Your favorite.” She carried him into the kitchen. “Here you go.” Henry sniffed at the tuna and took a few bites, then walked away. “Don’t you want any more than that?” The orange tabby lay on the floor in the cramped living room. “I said I was sorry. Come and eat,” she coaxed him. Henry didn’t move, so Chloe picked him and took him to the kitchen, but he wasn’t interested in the food. “I promise I’ll stop working so much. And I mean it this time. Have some more?” The cat refused. Chloe took him to the couch and put him on her lap, combing his fur with her fingers. Even though he was obviously mad at her, being with Henry calmed her down and helped her feel close to the one person she missed most in her life—her mom. “I need to go to bed. I have a big day tomorrow.” She gathered Henry up and took him to the bedroom.
* * *
Chloe was at work earlier than usual, preparing last minute for the pitch on the clothing line campaign. She wanted everything in place for the client, Ms. Deveraux., who was definitely the most critical she’d ever had. While Chloe loved the creativity of advertising, the presentation aspect was nerve-racking, and most of the time left her feeling nauseated. This time was no different. After feeling like she’d been interrogated by a homicide detective, Chloe collapsed into her chair in her office, ready to go home and soak in a jetted tub filled with relaxing bath salts and bubbles. Of course, her apartment only had a shower stall, but it didn’t hurt to fantasize. Someday, I’ll live in a luxurious penthouse with a large window next to my bathtub that overlooks the city.
About fifteen minutes later, while Chloe was doing some follow-up on a pitch from the week before, her boss walked in and shut the door. Her stomach clenched in response. Mr. Wagner adjusted his gold paisley tie, then folded his arms across his bulky chest. His body language wasn’t at all encouraging. “You put a lot of work into this proposal.” That was an understatement. He had no idea how much time she’d spent on this, and she hoped it would be worth it. She balled her fists while she waited for him to speak. “Well.” He uncrossed his arms. “It worked. She loved it. All of it. Radio spots, display ads, website. And she went on and on about the new logo.” “Really?” Chloe wanted to leap up in the air, but stayed in her chair instead. “Yes. Well done, Chloe. I’m impressed.” “Thank you.” She almost wanted to hug him. But . . . ew. He was her boss. “Now the real work begins, putting the final ads and copy together for Forever Kids.” Chloe nodded. Pitching her ideas was only the first step in the process, but the fact that the client had liked what she proposed and wanted to go with the agency was going to work in her favor. Mr. Wagner walked over to the door, then turned to look at her. “I have a new client I’d like you to meet.” “The one you talked about yesterday?” “Yes. He’s one of my son’s buddies from college.” “What kind of business?” She hoped it would be a simple project. After all the work she’d put into Forever Kids, she needed something that required less effort. “World of Toys.” “Oh.” Not what she wanted. At all. He nodded. “You’ve heard of them?” “Yes. But I don’t have kids. Or toys.” She’d never really had toys. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem. Not for you. And if you nail this one, you’ll definitely get that promotion we talked about.” “I’d be happy to,” she lied. The last client she wanted was one who sold toys, especially at Christmastime. What a terrible combination. How would she skip out on Christmas if she had to create a campaign that depended so heavily on the holiday? She’d be immersed in Christmas ad nauseam. Just when I thought luck was in my favor, I get assigned an account like this. “He’ll be here in about an hour. Mitch Powell is his name.” “I’ll let LeAnne know to show him in when he gets here.” She gave Mr. Wagner a wide smile. As long as she didn’t psych herself out, she could pull this off. After all, she’d created ads and campaigns for other things she didn’t like—why would it be any different now? Except she had to hit it out of the ballpark so she’d get that promotion and finally make enough money to move out of her dilapidated apartment and make her life so good that nothing bad could happen to her. Or Henry. An hour or so later, she was in her office when a knock sounded. LeAnne stuck her head in and made big eyes as she said, “Mitch Powell is here.” Chloe didn’t understand her assistant’s facial expression and chalked it up to LeAnne’s penchant for drama. When LeAnne stepped aside, a man with thick dark hair and brown eyes walked in. He extended his hand and said, “Hi, I’m Mitch.” Trying to stop staring at a face she was sure was flawless, Chloe said, “I’m . . .” “Chloe Henderson?” he said with a smile that exposed his straight, bright-white teeth. “Uh, yeah.” A nervous laugh escaped. Trying to recover, she said, “I apologize. I’ve been working long hours on a presentation, and I haven’t slept much.” “I understand.” “Please, sit down.” This man looks like he walked off a magazine cover. His suit must be Italian.
And his hair. How does he get it to stay so perfectly in place? He took a seat across from her desk. As she sat back down, her hand caught an open water bottle, and she spilled it all over her lap. Mitch jumped to his feet. “Can I get you a towel?” “Oh, no. It’s fine. A little water never hurt anyone, right?” She wiped at her navy blue pencil skirt. “I’m here to talk about doing some ads for my father’s company, World of Toys.” “Okay. Can you tell me about the company?” She grabbed a pad of paper and her favorite pen. “What is the vision for the company? What makes World of Toys different from other stores that sell toys?” What color are this man’s eyes? Chestnut? Maybe more like topaz. No, definitely chestnut. With amber flecks. I’ve never seen eyes this color, or this . . . Stop checking him out. Be professional. Mitch laced his fingers together. “Hmm. I guess that would be my vision.” Chloe gazed at him, not understanding what he meant, but taking full advantage of the opportunity to look at him. “My great-grandfather started the company right after the Depression. It’s been in the family since then, and my dad now wants to retire and hand it over to me.” “You aren’t happy about it?” Discreetly, she inhaled through her nose. What is that scent? Musky, with a hint of spice. What cologne is he wearing? “It isn’t what I planned on right now.” He shrugged. “I thought I’d have a few more years.” “To do your own thing?” Must be nice to be wealthy and never have to worry about money. Mitch peered at her, and she realized maybe she’d crossed the line. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” she started. “No worries.” He said it in a good-natured way. “Let’s get back to your vision.” This guy was really throwing her for a loop. She usually had to focus on the client, but in this case, that seemed to be a bad idea. What was wrong with her? She willed herself to concentrate on the job before her, not the man. “I’d like to modernize the company. You know, take it into the twenty-first century. We have to compete with all these superstores that can undercut our prices. We still have eighteen stores across the country, but we keep losing our market share to the big corps. We need to compete with them.” “The right advertising campaign is vital to regaining your place in the market.” There, she was back in control. “Are you up for the challenge?” His eyes locked on hers, and it made her heart race. Stop it. This is a client. “Yes. I am. At Wagner, McFarland, and Gamble, we pride ourselves on our ability to serve the smallest businesses to the largest corporations and every business in between that needs advertising help.” She sounded professional. Polished. Mitch nodded. “Sounds good, then. When can we get started?” Chloe looked through her calendar. “In a couple of weeks?” “That long?” He seemed disappointed. “I’m afraid so.” Mitch stood and stuck out his hand. Chloe took it, noticing the strong, warm grip that felt a little too enticing. “Thanks for your time.” “Does that mean you aren’t interested?” “I need to get started right away. My dad is pressuring me to get things rolling. I’m sure I can find another agency.” Mr. Wagner’s promise to give her the promotion flashed across her mind. “Actually, maybe I can work you in sooner.” “Okay.” “I’ll need to meet with your advertising manager. Who is that?”
“You’re looking at him.” “You’re the advertising manager and the soon-to-be CEO?” She’d have to ignore the attraction she felt to him, but she could do that, especially if it meant she’d be another step closer to her goal. “My dad believes in wearing a few different hats. My brother-in-law, my younger sister, and some of my cousins all work for the company.” “A real family business.” What would it be like to have a connection like that? “My mom and dad are big into families. In fact, we have a family dinner every Sunday night.” “Sounds nice.” Chloe hoped she didn’t sound too envious. “We’re having a Christmas party next week. Maybe you’d like to come and get a feel for the family?” “I wouldn’t want to intrude—” “You mean with all the other employees, the neighbors, and half the city?” He laughed. “Huh?” “It’s a big party my family puts on each year, but it isn’t limited to family, believe me. It’s a big event.” “Well, I . . .” How could she tell him that she despised everything about Christmas? That all it did was dredge up painful memories and leave her with a burning ache she could never satisfy? Because that sounded depressing. Even if it was her life. “It’s next Saturday.” “I don’t know.” “Think about it.” He smiled, and it grabbed at her stomach. “When do you want to begin the campaign?” “As soon as possible.” “We’ll need to discuss ideas so I can prepare the best proposal for you.” “Dinner Friday night?” He said it so naturally. “Oh.” He wasn’t asking her on a date. Was he? As if sensing her confusion, Mitch said, “As a work meeting. I like to eat when I’m thinking.” “Okay.” Now that everything was clear, how could she argue with that? It’d probably be the only real meal she’d get this week, with her work schedule. “I’ll be here at six o’clock.” “Thank you, Mr. Powell,” she said, deliberately keeping it formal between them. “Mitch, please.” He smiled and left her office. As soon as he was gone, LeAnne immediately came in and shut the door. She let out a long breath and fanned herself. “Wow, he’s hot.” “Is he?” She didn’t want LeAnne to think she’d noticed. Not only would it be completely inappropriate to gush about a client, even if he was the best-looking guy she’d seen in a long time, but if LeAnne thought Chloe was remotely interested, she’d never hear the end of it. LeAnne was a good friend who believed everyone needed to be in love. Something Chloe didn’t believe in at all. “You can’t tell me you didn’t notice those eyes. And his shirt hugged him in all the right places. He must work out.” Chloe clucked her tongue. “What would Bill say if he knew you were checking out a client?” “Hey, I can notice an attractive man who would be perfect for my boss.” “Here we go.” “Come on. He’s handsome and—” “He’s a client.” How could she explain this to LeAnne without delving into her own insecurities? “I’m not at all interested in mixing business with pleasure.” LeAnne arched an eyebrow. “The truth is, you aren’t interested in mixing pleasure with anything. All you do is work, and working all day makes you a boring girl.”
Chloe laughed at the way her assistant murdered the idiom. “That isn’t the saying at all.” “But you get the gist.” “This conversation is ridiculous.” “And he was obviously attracted to you.” Chloe waved her hand. “No, he wasn’t. You project the idea that everyone is either in love or wants to be. That just isn’t true. Some of us are perfectly happy being single.” Maybe she wasn’t perfectly happy, but she was fine. And she wasn’t about to complicate a business relationship and risk her job. “Lies. All lies.” “It doesn’t matter. This is business only, and that’s all it will ever be.” Besides, even if this wasn’t strictly business, which it was, and even if Chloe had had a visceral reaction to his good looks, the truth was, men like Mitch Powell were not interested in women like Chloe. He was Saks Fifth Avenue, and she was JCPenney. He was cut crystal, and she was plastic cups. He was a Mercedes, and she was a Toyota Corolla. Someday, maybe not too far in the future if everything went as planned, she might be a few inches closer to his social standing, but not now. And certainly not in her childhood and youth, when all her things came from thrift stores and garage sales. She was sure Mitch had never had to go without anything. Ever. He had an ideal, easy life. Yes, Chloe and Mitch were worlds apart in everything, except this advertising campaign.
Chapter Five
That night, Mitch stretched out on his oversized sofa and surfed through some channels, hoping to find out about the Bulls’ game. His mind wandered back to the meeting at the advertising firm. He hadn’t expected a woman to handle the account. And a beautiful woman at that. With her long, dark hair and large blue eyes, it was hard for him to concentrate on anything but her. And that made him feel something he didn’t anticipate. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Mitch shifted his weight. He smiled as he thought about the red flush that colored her cheeks when she spilled the water bottle. He’d held his laughter because she was so flustered. But it was funny. His phone vibrated. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?” “Can’t I call you simply to say hi?” “Sure. Hi.” “Hi.” There was a long pause. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor,” his mom asked, and he smiled to himself. She never called to say hi—there was always another reason. “Depends.” “Mitchell.” She only used his full name when she was getting frustrated. How could she already be frustrated? They’d only been on the phone for less than a minute. “You remember Julie, my roommate from college?” “Yes.” “She’s going to be in town tomorrow for a quick trip.” “Okay.” “She’s bringing her daughter, Lauren.” Here it is. I already know what she’s going to say. My mother is so transparent. “And you want me to entertain her.” His mom gave an audible gasp. “I hadn’t even thought of that.” “Really, Mom.” “So, could you? She’s a sweet girl, and would love to see some of the city.” “Unfortunately, I have a business dinner.” “I’ll talk to your father, and he can change it.” “Mom.” “I think you’d adore her. She’s beautiful, fun, talented. Oh, and funny, too. You name it, she’s got it.” Sounded like his mom was trying to sell him a used car. “You could take her out for dinner and show her a good time. And who knows? Maybe—” “I already have a dinner meeting set up, and I can’t cancel it.” His mom let out a sigh. “I just thought . . .” “I know. I love you, Mom.” “What is your meeting about?” “Advertising.” “You’re meeting with Frank? Please tell him to say hello to Doris for me.” Mitch didn’t want to upset his mom, but he didn’t want to withhold information from her, either. “Actually, I’m meeting with someone else.” “Why?” “I want to hire a new agency.” “Really? Frank has always done an excellent job.” “I agree, but I want to explore other options. Maybe get some fresh ideas.”
“Oh.” His mom sounded dismayed. “I’m sorry.” “No need to apologize. This is your chance to take the company in the direction you want. I have complete confidence in your ability to lead World of Toys and make it even more successful,” she said with conviction. “Thanks, Mom.” “And this new ad agency has a good reputation?” “Do you remember my friend Hunter from college?” “I think so.” “His dad owns an advertising agency. I’ve already met the account executive.” An image of Ms. Henderson flashed through his mind, and he smiled. “What do you think of him?” “It’s a her.” “I see. An older woman with experience?” She was fishing for information. He hesitated. “Not exactly.” “A young woman?” “Yes.” “Married?” He could hear the eagerness in her voice. “I have no idea. And it doesn’t matter. This is a business relationship. She’s very professional.” “I hope it’s a successful relationship.” Mitch knew she meant something completely different because his mom had tunnel vision. “Goodnight, Mom.” “See you on Sunday for dinner?” “Of course.” He ended the call and dropped his phone on the carpeted floor next to the couch. His mom had pure intentions. She wanted him to find a good woman, get married, and have a family. He didn’t blame her, but he needed more time. Didn’t he? His thoughts shifted back to Chloe. For some reason, he felt drawn to her, which seemed ridiculous since they’d just met. But there was something about her. And that bothered him. And yet, it didn’t.
Chapter Six
The next day, Chloe sat at her desk, trying to come up with some ideas to pitch to her new potential client, but nothing, not even a single thought, came to her. The reason was obvious—she didn’t know much about toys. Her gaze settled on the photo that sat on her desk. She picked it up. “Not many toys, right, Mom? No money for things like that. No money for anything.” She set the frame down, refusing to give in to the selfpity that sometimes floated around the edges. She was an adult now, and in charge of her life. And she would have enough money. Always. Chloe tapped a pen to her lips. “Why do kids like toys?” She began writing on a pad of paper. Imagination, fun, tie-in to movies, substitute for friends or dads. She scratched the last one out. How could she come up with a campaign about something that reminded her of what she didn’t have as a kid? She tossed the pen on the desk, then cradled her head in her hands. This was going to be much harder than she anticipated, but she’d have to set aside her personal issues and create such a strong campaign that her boss would have to give her the promotion to agency account manager. “Are you busy?” LeAnne’s voice startled her, and she jumped. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” “I like the new you,” Chloe said. LeAnne changed hair colors every few weeks. “I was feeling like a blonde.” She laughed. “What are you working on?” “I’m trying to come up with something for this World of Toys campaign.” “Oh, yeah?” “And I’ve got nothing. Absolutely nothing.” She raked her fingers through her hair. “Uh-oh.” Chloe jerked her head back. “What?” “He’s here.” “Who?” “Hot Toy Man.” Chloe gave LeAnne a sharp look. “Mr. Powell?” LeAnne nodded. “Why is he here?” She absently smoothed her hair and swiped at her face. “It’s not Friday, is it?” A sudden sense of panic enveloped her. “Been Thursday all day,” LeAnne said. Feeling a small sense of relief, Chloe said, “At least I didn’t forget a meeting, but he probably wants to know if I’ve come up with anything yet.” A stress headache exploded. “What should I tell him?” “I guess you can bring him to my office.” Why had he shown up unexpectedly? If only she had something to show him. Mitch walked into her office, and she had to remind herself not to notice how his thick hair framed his face or how the stubble on his chin made him look manly, like he’d been out chopping wood. “Hi.” His voice was smooth. “Hello, Mr. Powell.” “Mitch, remember?” “Yes. How are you today?” She kept it friendly, but detached. “I thought we could go out for lunch and talk some more about the ads.” “Oh.” She had no plans for lunch. In fact, she hadn’t even thought about it, since she would probably work all day without a break. That was her usual lunch plan, anyway. “Is this a bad time?” Only if you consider that I haven’t come up with a single idea for your campaign. Not even one.
Maybe if she spent time with him, he would say something that would spark some ideas. “I thought we were going to work on this at dinner tomorrow night.” “We can do that too. I was in the area, and wanted to see if you’ve come up with anything yet.” “Lunch sounds good.” What am I going to do? If I don’t give him something, he may ask for someone else, and then my promotion will be out the window. As they walked north from her office building, her mind worked feverishly to come up with an idea —any idea—so she didn’t look completely incapable. “I hope you like Italian food,” he said as he opened the restaurant door for her, and a mixture of oregano, basil, and olive oil scents washed over her. “My favorite, actually.” They sat at a booth next to a painting of Florence, Italy. “Tell me about yourself, Chloe Henderson. How did you end up in advertising?” He gazed at her with his captivating eyes, and she had to look away. “It’s a long and boring story.” She sipped her water. “I like long. And boring.” It almost sounded like he was flirting with her. She had to keep this professional. ”Maybe another time. Why don’t you tell me about the business?” “Are you always so focused on work?” “No.” She smiled. “Yes.” “A workaholic, huh?” “What can I say? I love my job.” It was true. She loved what she did. She loved to use her creativity to make an ad campaign all come together for a client. “You said your great-grandfather started the company?” Mitch nodded. A waitress with black hair pulled into a tight bun took their orders. “My great-grandfather lost everything in the Depression. He saw so much suffering and unhappiness, and he watched everyone around him lose everything. He wanted to do something to bring the joy back to the kids. So he started making toys and leaving them on doorsteps. They were simple things. A carved horse, a spinning top, a rag doll made from fabric scraps. Nothing fancy, but when he saw the happiness on the kids’ faces, he knew what he wanted to do.” “Wow. He sounds like an amazing man.” “He was. He really loved people, especially kids. He hated seeing children go without.” Chloe wished she’d had a man like that in her life. Not wanting to dwell on what she’d missed, she asked, “How did he get the business started?” “He started small, selling toys out of his apartment. At first, it was slow going because people didn’t have much money, so it was a side business for a few years. But it picked up, and he opened a store. Then another store. When my grandfather took it over, there were fifteen stores. When my dad took it over, there were twenty-four. But then the big superstores became popular and undercut our prices.” “Which, of course, had a negative effect on your business.” “Yeah.” Mitch nodded, his eyes sad. “We had to close a few stores, which was hard for my dad because he didn’t want the employees to lose their jobs. But he couldn’t keep the less profitable stores open and threaten the rest.” “So this really is a family business trying to survive against corporate America?” This might be the perfect angle for the campaign. “I guess you could say that, but we try not to see it that way.” He paused as if looking for the right words. “We see our company offering something different.” “Have you always wanted to take it over?” Chloe found this story fascinating—on a strictly professional level, of course. “When I was in college, I did.”
“But not now?” He sat back, his demeanor timid. “Things change. But my dad wants to retire and hand the reins over to me.” “And you don’t want to?” The waitress brought them their lunches and a basket of French bread. The fragrant garlic scent made Chloe’s stomach growl. “Sounds like you’re hungry,” Mitch said with a smile. “That’s embarrassing.” She patted her stomach. They both reached for a piece of bread at the same time, and their hands collided. Awkwardly, Chloe pulled hers back. “I’m sorry.” “No, please, go ahead.” Chloe took a piece of still-warm bread and set it on her plate. “Italian food is good here, but there’s nothing like the real thing,” Mitch said. “I’ve never been to Italy.” She’d never had the money to travel. Someday, that would change, and she’d see the world. “It’s beautiful.” Mitch took a bite of his linguini. “Especially Florence.” “Do you travel a lot?” “I spent about a year traveling around the world.” Must be nice. “Sounds like a great way to spend your time.” “I guess,” he said softly. Not the reaction she expected. “You didn’t enjoy traveling?” “Let’s just say it was my fallback plan.” What does that mean? She wanted to ask, but he began to shovel more of his linguini in his mouth. Chloe took a bite of her Eggplant Parmigiana, the tangy taste of tomatoes sliding across her tongue. She’d never been to this restaurant, but she’d definitely return. “My sister Patti brought me here a few months ago, and I enjoyed it.” “How many siblings do you have?” “Two. Patrice is the oldest, and is almost four years older than I am. She’s married with three kids. Her husband, Joe, works for the company as a sales VP. My younger sister, Alisha, isn’t married yet, but she has a serious boyfriend my mom hopes she marries. She works in accounting. She used to smoke me in math all the time.” He smiled. “She’s only a year younger.” “Oh.” Must’ve been nice to grow up with sisters. “My parents call us their Irish twins because we’re so close in age. I think they were pretty surprised.” He laughed, his eyes lighting up. “Ali and I have always been a little competitive. You should see us when we play board games. It can be terrifying. We once played Monopoly five times in a row because she refused defeat.” “What a long day.” Chloe envied the relationship Mitch seemed to have with his sister. “Too long. We didn’t eat or do anything else but play that game.” “What did your mom say?” A smile spread across his face, and Chloe watched as he seemed to recall a good memory. “That day went down into infamy. My mom banned us from ever playing Monopoly again, which made me the champ because I’d won three of the five games. And Ali hated it. She wanted another chance to beat me.” He sat back, wearing an expression of satisfaction. “She still asks for a rematch. I remind her what Mom said and that I will always be the reigning champ. Makes her so mad.” Chloe couldn’t help but smile, but she also felt a pit of regret in her stomach. Why couldn’t her life have been like that? She focused back on Mitch. “Your parents must enjoy having grandkids.” “They love it. Patti’s kids are the lights of my parents’ lives. Especially at Christmas.”
Chloe shifted her weight. She didn’t want to talk about Christmas with its broken promises and empty words. Mitch studied her. “Did I say something wrong?” “Uh, no. Nothing.” The last thing she wanted was to get too personal with a client. “Let’s talk about the ads you’ve used over the last six months.” “We’ve had a brother and sister as spokesmen.” He looked at Chloe. “Spokespeople?” He shrugged. “I don’t know what you’d call them, but they appeared in all of our commercials and print ads for the last couple of years. I think it’s been somewhat successful, but most of the ads we’ve used have been pretty similar—cute kids trying to sell toys.” “And you want something different?” He nodded. “We need something that appeals to the kids, but also to the parents, since they’re the ones who pay for the toys. I’m not sure exactly. Do you have any ideas?” “Truthfully, I don’t. I know I should, but I don’t yet.” She hoped he wouldn’t hold that against her. “I see.” She needed to convince him to trust her with his account. “But I will. This is what I do.” He peered at her, and it made her heart react against her wishes. “I believe you, Chloe Henderson.”
Chapter Seven
Chloe worked several hours after her lunch meeting with Mitch before calling it a day. She came home to find Henry waiting for her at the door. “I’m sorry. Seriously, I’m going to stop working so late. I mean it this time.” Henry barely acknowledged her. He must be really mad at me. She went directly to the cupboard and found a can of food for him, opened it, and set it in front of him, but he only took a few bites. “Do you not like this brand anymore? I’ll buy you something different next time I go to the store.” Yep, he’s mad. Chloe rummaged through the fridge, looking for something to eat for herself. Not much to choose from. Her aversion to grocery shopping was evident. She decided to call her favorite pizza place and dialed the number. “Hey, Chloe.” She shut her eyes. “It’s pathetic that you know my number.” “And your voice.” A laugh echoed in her ears. “Do I really order here that much?” “Two or three times a week. But who’s counting?” She could hear the teasing in his voice. “That is so pitiful.” “Your regular?” he asked. “Yeah. And some anchovies for Henry.” Maybe he’d perk up and forgive her for being late again. “You got it. Delivery will be in less than twenty minutes.” “I’m timing you.” She laughed and ended the call. One of these days, in the not-too-distant future, she wouldn’t order pizza all the time. She’d live in a luxurious condo and go to expensive restaurants. Maybe she’d even cook real food—once in a while. Chloe sat on the couch next to Henry and gathered him up in her arms. “You know, I’m really not as pathetic as all that. I do have a great job. I have friends. And I have you. What else do I need?” Fifteen minutes later, a knock sounded. She jumped up and grabbed her wallet. “You are good,” she said as she opened the door. “Why, yes, I am,” Jimmy said, leaning against the doorjamb in his skinny jeans and tight T-shirt. “Oh.” “Not expecting me?” “No, no, I wasn’t.” How could she get rid of him? “This is your lucky night, then.” He gave her a smirk. “Is it?” “I’m free.” He looked around her apartment. “You’re free.” “And?” She knew exactly where this was leading, and she needed a reason, any reason, to make him go away. “We could spend the evening together. The two of us. You could fix me some dinner, and we could watch a Fast and Furious marathon.” “Oh, gosh. That’s sounds . . . awesome and so fun. But I’ve already eaten.” Seemed to be the perfect way to get out of a night with her neighbor, even if it was a little lie. Jimmy would never know. “I’m pretty hungry.” “I’m so sorry.” As the sentence left her mouth, the pizza delivery guy walked around the corner and toward her door. What could she do? Jimmy looked between her and the pizza dude. “I thought you said you already ate.” “I meant that . . . well, uh.” Feeling like she had no other choice, she did the unthinkable. “Would you
like to have pizza with me?” How bad could it be, after all? Jimmy wasn’t the worst person on earth, and surely they could make it through some pizza together. Right? Jimmy looked her up and down. “Yeah, okay.” She paid for the pizza. Jimmy didn’t even offer, which shouldn’t have surprised her. Jimmy sat on the couch and leaned back. “I hope that’s a meat lover’s pizza.” “Sorry, it’s green pepper and mushrooms, with black olives on half.” She hoped maybe that would deter him, and he’d decide not to stay. “That’s my second favorite.” He smiled, and it didn’t turn her stomach. She gave him a plate with a couple of pieces on it. Henry jumped up on Jimmy’s lap. “You have the worst manners,” Chloe said. Jimmy looked at her, confused. “Not you.” She said quickly then pointed at her cat. “Henry.” Jimmy scratched Henry behind his ears, and the cat purred. “Oh, he’s fine. Aren’t you, buddy?” “Looks like you made a friend.” She smiled. “I had a cat when I was a kid. Looked a lot like Henry.” Jimmy gently petted Henry, and it made Chloe soften a bit toward her neighbor. “Henry is pretty fussy.” She reached out and patted the cat on his head. “You must be an okay guy.” “I’d like to think so.” Jimmy took a big bite of his pizza. “Are you from Chicago?” Jimmy swallowed, then said, “No, I grew up all over the U.S. My dad was a salesman.” “Sounds interesting.” “I guess. I always wanted to stay in one place long enough to make friends. I think that’s why I liked my cat so much.” “What was his name?” Chloe bit into her pizza. “Oliver.” “The Disney movie?” Jimmy nodded. “I loved that one.” “Yeah? Wasn’t that popular. We had a video tape, and I pretty much wore it out.” Jimmy gave Henry a squeeze. They continued to chat and eat pizza, and it wasn’t as terrible as she’d thought it would be. Much less painful than a root canal. Almost kind of nice. “So, how about that marathon?” Jimmy said with an eager expression. “I really can’t. I have a lot of work I need to do. I’m sure I’ll be up most of the night.” “Oh.” Jimmy raised his eyebrows. “What does that mean?” “A workaholic.” “No. I’m not.” Chloe wished people would stop calling her that. Jimmy looked at her. “I do work a lot. And right now I have to come up with a whole campaign for a potential client.” She let out a breath. “For toys.” “That’d be easy. I used to love toys. Sometimes, I wish I was still a kid because there are so many cool toys. And don’t tell anyone, but once in a while, I go into that one store—I think it’s called World of Toys—and pretend I have a kid so I can look at all the new stuff.” Jimmy did seem to be like a boy wearing a man’s body. In a way, she envied his young-at-heart enthusiasm. “So no chance of a movie tonight?”
Chloe grabbed the last piece of pizza and handed it to Jimmy. “No, I don’t think so.” “Well, thanks for the pizza. Next time, it’s my treat.” “Okay.” She didn’t think there would be a next time. Jimmy gave Henry another pat. “See ya.” After Jimmy left, Chloe sat on the couch. She’d totally misjudged him. She thought he was a total jerk based on a few quick interactions with him. Turned out, he seemed like a decent guy. She wasn’t necessarily drawn to him, but she didn’t have to take the long way around the parking lot to avoid him. Chloe stayed up late trying to balance working on the account for Forever Kids and the pitch for World of Toys. After several hours, all she could think about was Barbie wearing a jumper made from soft red velvet with a matching cap and boots. Toys and kids’ clothes swirled together in her mind and swallowed her into a fitful sleep.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, Chloe flipped on the light in the bathroom, the sudden brightness stinging her eyes. She’d slept little as she tossed and turned the few hours she’d been in bed, and she’d overslept. Exactly what I need right now. She tried to keep her panic at bay as she rushed to get ready. She was still no closer to an idea for World of Toys. Maybe the best thing to do was to ask Mr. Wagner if she could focus only on the Forever Kids campaign and let someone else in the office take on World of Toys. That seemed to make the most sense, especially in light of her attraction to Mitch. She made her way to work and hoped no one would notice her late arrival. As she stepped inside the front door to the office, LeAnne met her. “Where have you been? You’re over an hour late.” “I know, I know. I got so little sleep worrying about these accounts that when I finally did fall asleep, I didn’t hear my alarm.” “Mr. Wagner is mad. Like stay-out-of-his-way mad.” Chloe’s heart crashed to her stomach. “Why?” “We lost the Forever Kids account.” The news hit Chloe like a two-ton truck. “We did? When? What happened?” “First thing this morning, Ms. Deveraux called and said they’d decided to go with another agency.” “But why? That doesn’t make any sense. Mr. Wagner said they loved my proposal.” LeAnne shrugged, then whispered, “No details. I overheard Mr. Wagner yelling about it in his office. And he was looking for you.” “Oh, no. What if it was my fault? I was the lead exec on the account.” For sure, she’d lose her promotion. Now she hoped she wouldn’t lose her job as well. “Maybe I should go home and wait until he’s not so mad.” “I don’t know.” “Chloe?” came her boss’s stern baritone voice. Chloe stepped around LeAnne and faced Mr. Wagner. “Yes?” She fought to keep her knees from knocking together. “My office.” Chloe drew in a deep breath and followed him down the hall, her heart thudding against her ribs. She stepped inside. The morning sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows would’ve been a welcome sight if she hadn’t thought she was about to get the ax. She let her trembling hands hang down at her side. He’s going to fire me. “Have a seat.” His tone was cool and calm. Bracing herself for the worst, she sat on the hard, uncomfortable chair. I hope he does it like a Band-Aid—quick, before I can feel the pain. Mr. Wagner adjusted his glasses, his dark eyes fixed on her. “Forever Kids pulled their account this morning.” She nodded. “I am at a loss as to why.” He leaned back, and the springs in the chair moaned. Does he want me to offer a reason? Like, maybe my ideas were terrible. Or my presentation wasn’t convincing. Or the concept was all wrong. Does he want me to say I sweat blood over this account and thought we had it? Chloe bit her lip, not sure how to respond. “They loved your presentation, so that wasn’t it.” He shook his head. “I suspect they were having another agency compete with us for their account, but didn’t bother to tell us that.” Chloe tried to keep an emotionless expression on her face. Maybe if she stayed neutral, he’d have some compassion on her. “Maybe the overall concept was off.”
Here it comes. This is where I take the fall. I’m sure I can find another job. At McDonald’s. Or somewhere like that. “But I don’t think so. This business can be pretty rough sometimes.” He looked at her. “But I think you can take it. I think you’re talented.” He’s complimenting me? After we lost a big account? “I want you to focus all your effort on World of Toys. We need this account, and I need you to hit it out of the ballpark.” “I can do that, Mr. Wagner.” She’d have to. “I agree.” He rifled through some papers. “And if you do, the promotion is definitely yours.” “Thank you.” “But if not, I will have to let you go.” Suddenly, her throat felt thick, and her heartbeat echoed in her ears. “Do we have an understanding?” “Yes, sir. We do.” “That will be all.” Chloe left Mr. Wagner’s office, not sure how she felt. She still had her job, but it all seemed to rest on whether or not she could come up with a winning campaign for World of Toys. Now she was going to have to focus on kids and toys and Christmas. Three things she didn’t love. Or even like.
Chapter Nine
After a long afternoon of brainstorming and coming up with little, Chloe glanced at the clock. It was almost six o’clock. Mitch would be there any minute for their dinner meeting. She grabbed her purse and took out a compact mirror so she could make sure she didn’t have anything in her teeth. She smoothed her hair and wiped some errant mascara from under her eyes. The blue of her eyes looked especially bright, probably because the whites were red from lack of sleep. Where are my eye drops? She rummaged through her purse, then her top drawer. She usually kept a bottle on hand because this seemed to be a persistent problem. “What are you doing?” LeAnne asked as she walked into the office. “Nothing.” How could she explain she wanted to look decent for a man she wasn’t interested in? It’d make LeAnne suspicious and send the wrong message. “Whoa, your eyes are bloodshot.” “Not a lot of sleep last night.” “And Mr. Big-Brown-Eyes-with-a-Killer-Smile will be here in a few minutes.” “He will?” She feigned surprise. LeAnne wrinkled her nose. “You should do something with your hair.” “My hair is fine. This isn’t a date, you know.” “Did I say it was a date? I mean, it is planned, it will be only the two of you, and I’m quite certain he’ll be paying for it. Doesn’t sound like a date to me. At all.” “I wish you would stop. You’re making way too much out of this. It’s a working dinner, and I plan to pay my own way.” “Seriously?” “Yes.” LeAnne rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what to do with you.” “This is a business dinner. And if I don’t get this account, I can kiss my job good-bye.” “Is that what old Wagner said?” “Yes. Exactly what he said.” Chloe adjusted her gray blouse. “No pressure there.” “I know. Like, my head is going to explode. First, Forever Kids dumped me—” “Not just you.” “I was the lead account exec. So basically, yeah, they dumped me. Now my only hope is World of Toys. And I hate toys. I hate Christmas. I hate everything about this account.” She cradled her head in her hands. “You can do this. You’re amazing when it comes to advertising. Remember, top in your class. You got a job here right out of college. You’ve worked your way up and done campaigns that blew people away. That’s why Wagner is counting on you.” “You really think I can pull this off?” “No doubt at all.” Chloe stood and walked around the desk to give LeAnne a hug. “Thanks. I needed that pep talk.” A knock sounded on the door. “Who is it?” Chloe asked. “Mitch.” For some unknown reason, her stomach quivered, and her fingers went absently to her hair, trying to tame any flyaways. LeAnne gave her a smirk. “Oh, stop it.” Chloe shook her head. LeAnne opened the door. “Hi, Mr. Powell. Ms. Henderson is ready.” She glanced at Chloe over her
shoulder and left. Mitch walked in the office, his musky cologne trailing him. He was dressed in khaki slacks and a deep-blue fitted shirt. Remember, he’s a client. Nothing else. “Hi,” Chloe said. “Ready to get some work done?” She didn’t want him to think she thought it was a date. Because it definitely wasn’t. No matter what LeAnne said. Her assistant didn’t know anything anyway. “I do have a few ideas I’d like to discuss with you. I think if we collaborate, we’ll come up with the right campaign.” Chloe nodded. “Sounds like a great idea.”
* * *
In the car on the drive over, they chatted. Mitch couldn’t help but notice the way Chloe twirled her long hair as she spoke. He wondered if she even noticed the habit. He found himself drawn to this woman, even though they didn’t seem to have much in common, and worse, they were business associates. Actually, she was working for him, so any kind of relationship would be inappropriate anyway. And stop noticing the floral scent she’s wearing. Besides, what was he thinking? He wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship with anyone. He wasn’t sure he’d ever want another relationship after the betrayal he felt. Women couldn’t be trusted. “I think you just missed the turn,” Chloe said, breaking into his thoughts. “I did?” He glanced at the GPS in his dashboard. “Yeah, I did.” “You seemed to be preoccupied.” He nodded. She was a perceptive woman. “I need to get this ad stuff under control so I can focus on some other things.” “Work related?” “I guess you could say that.” He looked over at her, her pale blue eyes focused on him. “I’m in charge of this year’s Christmas party.” “The one that’s next week?” “Yes. I’d still like you to attend.” “You mentioned that.” She moved in her seat and gazed out the window, seeming to be uncomfortable. Maybe she thought he was asking her on a date to the party. He quickly added, “To get a feel for the family. Family is very important to the business, and that needs to be reflected in our ad campaign, I think. We can discuss more ideas then, if you’d like.” She nodded, but didn’t say anything. Maybe she found him so unattractive, she didn’t want to spend any extra time with him. He knew he was no Ryan Reynolds, but women generally found him attractive. Maybe there was something wrong with this girl. Or maybe she was married. “Unless your husband or boyfriend has plans for you that night.” She gave a half-smile. “That’s not a problem.” She didn’t really give him an answer. They arrived at the restaurant, and he parked the car. He wanted to open her door for her and be a gentleman, but he didn’t want to send the wrong message or have her get mad at him for being chivalrous, even if his mom had always taught him to be considerate. Before he could think any more about it, she had already opened her door and was standing outside the car. As they walked over to the restaurant, Mitch had to laugh at himself for second-guessing everything, even a business dinner. What was it about this woman? They stepped inside the restaurant, a strong scent of frying oil mixed with onion hitting his nose. “I hope Mexican is okay.”
“Great. I grew up on Taco Bell.” He gave her a look. “Really?” “That’s where we went when we could splurge a little.” Was she kidding? Taco Bell was where they went to splurge? The short, balding waiter seated them in a booth, then brought them some chips and salsa. “I love the authenticity of this place,” Mitch said, trying to keep the conversation light. “Because you’ve traveled to Mexico?” She said it with an edge to her voice. “Uh, yeah. Have you been to Mexico?” He was hopeful they could find some commonality. “No.” “Have you traveled much?” “Only to a few states in the U.S.” She seemed a bit uncomfortable, but he wasn’t sure why. “Oh.” What else could he say? “Where did you grow up?” “Tennessee.” “Nashville? I’ve been there a few times.” “No.” She played with her napkin. “A small town. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.” “I’ve always been fascinated by small towns and the small-town life.” He’d always lived in the city, but he’d enjoyed watching reruns of The Andy Griffith Show and Leave It to Beaver when he was a kid. “Back to the campaign. What are your thoughts about which toy line you’d like to start promoting?” Chloe took a pad of paper and a pen out of her purse. “I think I’d like to start with this new line of dolls.” The waiter brought them their dinners as they continued to talk about which toys Mitch wanted to highlight and how to target boys and girls. Chloe had some good ideas, but they hadn’t hit on the main idea to drive the entire campaign. After they left the restaurant, Mitch said, “Would you like to go out for some dessert?” “No, thanks. I’d better get home and start putting things together. I hope to have some mock-ups to show you soon.” “All right. Has this been a successful dinner, then?” “I think so. Talking to you has helped me zero in on some specific ideas.” They drove back to her office building. “Thank you for the dinner,” Chloe said. She seemed to want to say more, but didn’t. “I hope to see you soon with those ideas.” “I’ll be in touch.” He watched her walk to the doors and wondered what it might be like to spend some time with her not related to business, but then reminded himself that wouldn’t be wise, for many reasons. Remember Heather? That was enough to cure him of wanting anything but a business relationship with Ms. Henderson. Or any woman.
* * *
Chloe burst through the door of her apartment and fell onto the couch. Tonight was harder than she’d anticipated. She had absolutely no ideas for World of Toys. She’d never been this stumped before. She rubbed her forehead. All through dinner, she’d been distracted by Mr. Powell. She needed to remember to call him Mr. Powell so she’d keep him in the right place in her head. He was a client. But it was hard to ignore the way his deep brown eyes made her stomach quiver each time he looked at her. Henry jumped up on her lap, and her fingers combed through his soft orange fur. “Did I ever tell you about the year we actually had a Christmas?” Henry purred his response. “Mom had gone to the thrift store and found this beautiful tea set. She brought it home and wrapped it
in red paper. On Christmas morning, she handed it to me. I tore it open and instantly loved it. My very own tea set. I played with it for years, because the next several years, we got behind in rent and were lucky to have enough food.” The memories poured in, and her throat grew thick. “But my favorite gift ever was you.” She scratched behind Henry’s right ear and he closed his eyes, looking as though he was in heaven. Chloe pushed out a breath. “I have to come up with a plan for this ad or I’m going to lose my job. And the client? He’s so handsome, I can barely look at him without forgetting my thoughts. And he’s so nice, too. I actually enjoyed dinner tonight, which, of course, is a bad thing. I can’t enjoy spending time with him. I can’t.” Henry gazed up at her as if interested in the one-sided conversation. “I know. You don’t have to remind me that letting a man distract me would be disastrous. Nothing is going to get in my way. I’m going to work hard and get us a big beautiful place overlooking the city. And we won’t be poor. We’ll be happy. You and me.”
Chapter Ten
After the family dinner on Sunday evening, Mitch took some time to play with his nieces. “You can’t catch me, Uncle Mitch,” six-year-old Raquel squealed as she ran into the other room, her dark hair bouncing with each step. “I bet I can.” Mitch jumped to his feet and chased after the giggly girl. When he caught her, he tossed her onto the floral sofa and tickled her. “Stop,” she cried. “Mommy!” “She isn’t going to save you. Not from the tickle monster.” She let out a fit of giggles. “I save you,” said Sierra with her black curls and brown eyes. “No, no. That my sister. I wuv her.” Mitch turned on the almost three-year-old and grabbed her. “I guess you need a little tickling too, don’t you?” “No, no,” she said through bursts of giggling. Nothing was better than hearing two little girls’ laughter filling the room. Mitch couldn’t get enough of it. “You know, you need to terrorize your own children,” Patti said as she entered the family room. “I don’t have any.” “That’s why you need to get married and have your own. And leave my poor babies alone.” “They love it.” He turned to the girls, a hand on each one, and began tickling them again. “Don’t you, girls?” With legs flailing in the air and desperately trying to escape, the girls both laughed too much to answer. Mitch finally relented and let them sit up. Sierra wiped her forehead, then said, “Whew.” “I never thought you’d stop, Uncle Mitch,” Raquel said, her large brown eyes full of glee. “Girls,” came his mom’s voice. “Do you want some ice cream?” Raquel and Sierra jumped to their feet. “Yes, Grandma. Lots of ice cream,” Raquel said. She rushed from the room with Sierra trailing behind her. Patti flopped onto the couch, her short black hair messy. “They are adorable, but they can be exhausting. Some days, I feel like all I do is follow behind them and clean up their messes.” “Where’s Joey?” “Joe has him. He needed a new diaper, and I’m woman enough to let Joe change it.” She laughed. “Lucky guy.” “Hey, I met someone.” “Uh-oh. Does Joe know?” “Very funny.” Patti reached over and slugged Mitch in the arm. “For you.” “Oh. I see.” He knew his sister meant well, but he wished she’d mind her own business and stop trying to find him a girlfriend. “But for real. Her name is Kim. I met her at the gym, and we’ve become friends. I think you’d like her.” “I don’t think—” “She’s a trial attorney. She’s smart and funny, and the sweetest girl.” Mitch nodded, hoping his sister would stop talking. “And she’s beautiful. Big smile, hazel eyes, blonde hair. Naturally pretty. Not a lot of makeup.” Mitch leaned his head back. He didn’t want to be rude, but he didn’t want or need his sister to play matchmaker. “It’s been almost two years.”
“I know.” He remembered exactly how long it had been. “It’s time to move on.” He wished his family would stop saying that. “I know you were hurt, but don’t you think it’s been long enough?” “Because there’s some kind of time limit on a broken heart?” He sounded pitiful. “No, but—” “I’ve been on dates.” He hadn’t counted them, but he was sure he’d been on dozens of dates—at least, it felt that way. “But you don’t like any of them. You need to find a good woman.” Patti swung her arm around his shoulders. “Is there such a thing?” “There you go, being all bitter again. Just come to my house for dinner on Tuesday. I’ll invite Kim, and you can see for yourself if you want to get to know her. I think you will. She’s awesome.” Patti’s brown eyes danced with enthusiasm. A part of Mitch wanted to move forward, wanted to let go of the past and all the hurt, but the other part of him didn’t want to take that risk again. “Please?” Patti stuck out her lower lip, just like she used to do when they were kids. “I’ll make your favorite.” “You don’t even know what my favorite is.” “Yes, I do. It’s Grandma Becchio’s secret lasagna recipe.” Mitch shook his head. “Wrong. That isn’t my favorite anymore.” Patti gave him a disbelieving look. Knowing he was fighting a losing battle, and recognizing his sister was trying to do something nice, he relented. “Fine. I’ll be there. But only if you add extra cheese.” “Done.” “Extra cheese for what?” his mom said as she walked into the room. “Mitch is coming to my house for dinner on Tuesday.” “He is?” “It’s a blind date,” Mitch said, knowing he’d regret it, but at least getting his favorite meal out of it. “I’m making the Becchio lasagna,” Patti said with a smile. “Sounds like a fun time.” She patted Mitch on the shoulder. “It’ll be good for you to get out and meet new people.” “You mean, meet a new woman,” Mitch said. “Well, yes.” “What’s a guy to do when his mom and sister gang up on him?” “Give in, of course,” his mom said. They all started laughing. That night as Mitch lay in bed, he thought about the upcoming dinner at Patti’s. He hated blind dates more than anything. He knew Patti wanted him to find someone and be in love again, but it wasn’t that easy. His whole heart had belonged to Heather. He’d given it to her freely and happily. He’d planned on a life with her. Kids. A house. With a yard to mow on the weekends. A family like he’d grown up with. It wasn’t easy to start over again. He didn’t want to give his heart to anyone else. At least, not yet. He glanced over at his nightstand to see what time it was, but his Apple watch caught his eye. “That’s where I put it.” He’d looked for it earlier in the bathroom where he always set it. For some reason, when he’d come home after dinner with Ms. Henderson, he’d put it on the nightstand. He laced his fingers behind his head. Something about Chloe Henderson intrigued him. He turned to his side. Why was she so against personal conversation? He had to admit that he also had subjects that were off limits, but she seemed to be completely closed off to anything other than advertising.
I wonder what it would be like to break through her walls and really get to know her.
Chapter Eleven
Most of Monday passed without too many disasters while Chloe worked on the World of Toys proposal. Late Monday afternoon, Mr. Wagner called her into his office. “Good luck,” LeAnne said in a compassionate tone. “I’ll need it. Mr. Wagner will want to know what I have, and I’ll have to say a big fat zero.” “I have faith in you. You’ll come up with something amazing.” “As amazing as Forever Kids?” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Because that turned out so well.” LeAnne waved her hand. “Forget about that account.” “I have to, because it’s gone, gone, gone.” “World of Toys will be the account that gets you the promotion. I know it.” LeAnne flashed a confident grin. “From your lips.” Chloe looked upward. “Just don’t forget about little ol’ me when you make it all big.” LeAnne raised her penciled-in eyebrows. “No worries. I’ll let you get me lunch and make my mani-pedi appointments.” “Only if I can go with you.” “Obviously.” They laughed. LeAnne inclined her head toward the hall. “You’d better get to Mr. Wagner’s office before he has a meltdown.” “His meltdowns are really not pretty. Especially when they’re directed at me. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen again.” Chloe walked toward his office, her heart beating faster with each step. She’d have to come up with something tangible soon. She couldn’t keep putting her boss off simply because she had writer’s block. Please, let me come up with an incredible idea. “Chloe, come in and sit down.” Mr. Wagner wore a pleasant expression. “Thank you.” “The Forever Kids account is back.” A shock ran through her. “What?” “They changed their minds.” He shrugged. “Again.” Trying to alleviate her confusion, Chloe said, “Okay. I thought they signed with another firm.” “I guess they weren’t happy there and want to have us go ahead with the campaign you pitched to Ms. Deveraux.” “Wow. This was unexpected.” Chloe was thrilled that all of her work wasn’t going to waste. “So I’ll be working on that?” “Actually, no.” “Oh? Why not?” This was her account. She’d spent so much time coming up with the perfect campaign and pitch, and she deserved to see it through. “I’d like to keep you on World of Toys. I think it has great potential.” She wanted to argue and demand she have Forever Kids, but she didn’t dare go against Mr. Wagner. Not if she wanted to move up in the company. “What are your ideas so far?” A wave of nausea hit her. She had no clue what she was going to do with this account, but she absolutely could not let Mr. Wagner know. Chloe had to play it cool. “I’ve met with Mr. Powell. We’ve talked about his vision and what he’d like to see.” “And your ideas?” “I’m still working on them.” Chloe hoped her answer would satisfy her boss.
“So you have some?’ “Uh-huh.” She cleared her throat. “Yes.” She didn’t want to lie to Mr. Wagner, but she couldn’t let him think she had nothing. Nada. Zip. Even if the Forever Kids account was back, this one mattered most right now. She had to nail it. Now that her confidence had a boost from Forever Kids, maybe she’d be unblocked and ready to dive into this account. “When are you meeting the client again?’ “Tomorrow.” At least she hoped it would be tomorrow when she called him and asked to meet. “I’d like to see the prelims by Friday.” “Friday?” She hoped her tentative tone didn’t betray her. “Is that a problem?’ She needed to deflect her boss’s push for a Friday deadline and show him she was on top of this account. “No, sir. But Friday evening is their annual Christmas party, and I’ve been invited to attend. It might give me a good feel for the company.” “Okay. Monday morning, then? “Yes.” She was grateful that every once in a while, Mr. Wagner was reasonable. But she wasn’t grateful that now she’d have to go to a Christmas party and pretend she liked it. There was no way for her to avoid it now. She’d have to suck it up, paste a smile on her face, and join in all the celebrating. It could be worse. Right? “I look forward to seeing what you put together.” Me too. “I won’t disappoint you.” She couldn’t afford to. Chloe left Mr. Wagner’s office with a new determination to make Mr. Powell love every single one of her ideas. Chloe found Mitch’s phone number under the stack of papers on her desk and punched it into her phone without even thinking it through. She needed to meet with him and this time actually get some solid ideas down on paper. “Hi, is this Mr. Powell?” “I thought we got past that.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, Mitch. How are you?” “Good. You?” She switched her phone to her other ear. “I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.” “No. What’s on your mind?” “I’d like to get together and brainstorm again.” She drummed her pen on her desk. “Can you meet tomorrow?” “I have meetings most of the day.” “Tomorrow night?” “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m going to my sister’s for dinner.” He sounded as if he were being forced to go. “Wednesday, then?” She needed to get this campaign moving. “After work?” “Sure. At my office?” she asked. “That works for me,” he said. “I’ll see you then.” She ended the call and added the appointment to her calendar. Between now and then, she was sure she’d have something. Maybe a new idea for a spokesman. Or a redesign of the logo. Something. It’s a family-run business. A large business, but still run by the Powells. And it’s been that way for years. She needed to capitalize on that somehow. As much as she dreaded this upcoming party, it would give her some good material to work with, and she would stomach all the merry-making for an evening. Chloe collected her things and made her way home.
Chapter Twelve Late Tuesday afternoon, Mitch shut down his computer. He’d looked at enough reports to know the company wasn’t doing as well as he’d hoped. Competing with the big superstores was taking a toll on the bottom line, leaving them with much less profit. The last thing he wanted to do was lay off employees, but it was hard to keep all the workers when prices were being undercut. He needed to make customers want to purchase toys at his stores instead of at their local grocer or Walmart. As a kid, he’d loved to roam the aisles while his father managed the World of Toys downtown. He could try out the newest toys and play all day long. It was like heaven. But it wasn’t like that anymore. The magic of a toy store seemed to have disappeared, and with it, the personalization—that neighborhood toy store feeling. His phone rang. He already knew it was Patti making sure he hadn’t forgotten about dinner. “Yes, I am on my way.” “You didn’t even say hello.” “Because I knew it was you and I knew exactly why you were calling. You’ve already called me six times.” “I didn’t want you to forget.” “I think I can handle remembering a dinner date,” he said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Date? I like that you said date.” Mitch shook his head. His sister was so exasperating at times. “Patti, don’t get your hopes up.” “I’m not. But once you meet, Kim, you’ll see what I mean. I’m sure of it. And the kids are excited to see you.” “Especially Joey, right? Did he babble all about how much he loves to see me?” “Of course.” She laughed. “He babbles about you all the time.” “I’ll be there soon.” “And wear your fitted blue shirt.” “What?” “It looks good on you.” “Are you my mother or my sister?” Sometimes it was hard to tell. “Both, when it comes to a dinner at my house where there will be a beautiful woman who is anxious to meet you.” “Anxious?” That implied a lot of pressure. “I’ve told her all about you.” Patti sounded way too excited about this. “Great.” Can I back out now? “All good things, I promise.” “See you soon.” He hung up and shook his head. Patti wanted him to be happy and have a family just like she did, but sometimes she was too intense and way too involved in his life. He hoped this Kim woman wouldn’t become a problem between him and Patti. After all, blind dates have terrible reputations for a reason. And Patti might be his older sister, but that didn’t mean she knew what he wanted in a woman. Because right now—and as far into the future as he could see—he didn’t want to hand over his heart to any woman to slice it and dice it into a million pieces.
* * *
Mitch rang the doorbell. The brightly painted red door flew open, and Raquel launched herself into his arms. “I get to sit by you.”
Sierra wrapped her arms around his legs. “I sit by you.” “No.” Raquel pointed to herself. “I said dibs, and that means I get to.” “I have two sides,” Mitch said as he set Raquel down and gave Sierra a hug. “Mommy says her friend gets to sit on one side, and that me and Sierra better be nice or else.” Rachel put her hands on her hips, imitating her mother almost perfectly. “Or else, huh?” Mitch tousled her hair. “Yeah. We have to go to our rooms if we aren’t nice and polite. Like we have to say please and thank you. And no burping.” “That sounds like a good plan.” “And no tooting.” Raquel wagged her finger. “Except Joey’s a baby, and sometimes he does that. But it’s an accident.” Both Raquel and Sierra laughed. Mitch smoothed his gray shirt, reminding himself that he was more than capable of picking out his own clothing and he didn’t need his sister to tell him how to dress. “Should we go find your mom?’ “Yeah, yeah,” Sierra said, jumping up and down. Mitch took each girl by the hand and walked into the great room. Patti came over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Good to see you.” She turned to the woman standing next to her and said, “This is Kim.” “Hi,” Kim said. Her curly blonde hair fell below her bare shoulders, and her bright smile exposed perfect teeth. “Hi. Nice to meet you.” Mitch tipped his head. “Your sister has been singing your praises.” “That’s what I pay her for.” Kim laughed. “Dinner is ready, if we want to move into the dining room,” Patti said, not hiding her “you-canthank-me-later” smile. Patti set Joey in a baby seat near the table while the girls found their places. “You are supposed to sit by Uncle Mitch so you can love each other,” Raquel said innocently to Kim. “Honey, where did you get that idea?’ Patti asked, her cheeks pink. “You said it to Daddy,” Raquel said. “Why don’t you sit down?” Patti guided her daughter to a chair. Mitch glanced at Kim, who wore a wide smile. “Kids say the funniest things,” she said. “No filters on my nieces. An inherited trait from their mom.” “That is not true,” Patti protested. “I’m starving. Sorry I’m late.” Joe walked into the dining room. He stepped over to Patti and gave her a kiss. “Smells delicious.” “I’m glad you made it,” Patti said. The girls both rushed their dad and hugged him. “You must be Kim,” Joe said. “Welcome to our home.” “Thank you.” Mitch liked that Kim seemed so comfortable with his family, especially with the girls. During dinner, they had an easy conversation. They talked about working out, movies they’d seen, and Kim’s job. “Must be fascinating to be an attorney, Kim. Don’t you agree, Mitch?” Patti said. “Yes,” Mitch answered. “Have you had any big cases lately?” Joe asked as he wiped at his graying goatee. “Yes. Plenty of big cases to go around. One thing we have a lot of here in Chicago is crime, so we’re
busy all the time.” “Kim is very successful,” Patti said. “And Mitch practically runs our family business.” “Why don’t you give them a chance to get to know each other?” Joe said with a smile. “My wife is a major matchmaker, in case you hadn’t noticed, Kim. Mitch is well aware.” “Yes, yes, I am,” Mitch said. They all laughed while Patti pretended to be offended. “When is dessert, Mommy?’ Raquel asked. “Right now,” Patti said as she stood. “I want it.” Sierra still wore the homemade tomato sauce from the lasagna. “Dinner was delicious. Thank you,” Kim said. “I enjoyed it.” “You aren’t leaving, are you?” “Unfortunately, I have to take a call for a case. I apologize.” “No dessert?” Patti said, not hiding her disappointment. Mitch was sure his sister had decided that he and Kim would fall in love on the spot and elope. While Patti was a hopeless romantic, Mitch knew better than that. “Can I take a raincheck?” Kim asked with a genuine smile. “Sure.” Patti inclined her head at Mitch and made eyes. “Can I walk you out to your car?” Mitch asked. He may have been out of practice, but he didn’t need his sister to tell him how to date or how to talk to a woman. He could handle it without her. Mitch helped Kim put on her coat, then they walked outside. Mitch’s breath puffed out of his mouth in the cold air. “Thank you for coming to dinner. Or maybe it would be more appropriate to say, thank you for not thinking my sister is insane when she strong-armed you into coming over.” “She didn’t strong-arm me.” “But blind dates are the worst.” Mitch had been on his fair share of horrendous dates over the years. “Oh.” Kim smiled. “She showed me your photo and assured me you were a great guy.” She touched him on the arm. “And she was right.” This woman didn’t beat around the bush. “I was actually dreading it, but I’m glad I came.” “We should do this again sometime.” Mitch raised his eyebrows. “With the whole family?” “I’m game. I have two sisters and four brothers, and I enjoy getting together with everyone.” “I’ll call you.” Sounded kind of lame, but what else could he say? “Thanks again.” Kim got into her car, started it up, and drove away. Mitch watched her white Mercedes disappear down the street. No doubt Kim was beautiful, successful, and smart—all qualities that he wanted in a woman. But something was missing, though he couldn’t quite pin it down. Maybe it was because it was their first date. He couldn’t expect too much, right? He walked inside, and Patti was on him faster than a dog on a dropped hamburger. “So, what did you think? I told you she was amazing. And gorgeous. How about her being a lawyer? That’s pretty cool, right? And—” Mitch held up his hand. “Are you her friend or her agent?” Patti rolled her eyes. “Are you going out again?” She sat on the brown leather couch next to her husband. “I don’t know.” Mitch sat on the loveseat. Patti puffed a wayward hair from in front of her eyes. “Didn’t you ask her out for a second date?” “Not yet.” “Well, why not?” She gave him big eyes, as if a second date was a no-brainer. “Will you give the poor guy a break?” Joe said, smoothing his receding hair.
“Thank you,” Mitch said. “Sometimes she gets a little crazy.” Joe looked at Patti. “I love it, but . . .” “Oh.” Mitch leaned back. “I remember it well.” “Hey, I’m right here. In the room.” Patti gave each of them a dirty look. “Sue me because I want my brother to be happy.” Joe wrapped his arms around her. “No hard feelings, baby. Only let Mitch take it from here. That’s all.” “Okay, fine. But I think she’s awesome, and you’d be an idiot not to call her right now for a second date.” She pointed at Mitch. “Thanks. And I know you love me and want me to be happy.” “I do. I can’t stand watching you be sad. It’s been long enough.” “You’re probably right.” This was the first time Mitch had admitted to anyone that maybe it was time to really get back into the dating game, not just go through the motions. “So you’ll ask her out?” Patti’s eyes lit up. “I told her I’d call her.” “But will you?” “Yes, but I have to get this ad campaign going, and I need to focus on that this week.” He checked his watch. “I need to get back to my place anyway.” “What about dessert?” “I’m stuffed.” “The girls will be disappointed you aren’t staying longer.” As if they’d heard their mother, both girls came running into the room, which startled baby Joey out of his sleep and he started crying. Patti picked him up out of his swing. “I’ll see you at the party on Friday.” With that, Mitch said good-bye to his nieces, grabbed his coat, and headed out into the brisk night. On his drive back, he thought about Kim. She was obviously interested in him. He’d be a fool not to pursue something with her. Wouldn’t he?
Chapter Thirteen
Chloe prepared to meet with Mitch on Wednesday afternoon. They’d decided to work in one of the conference rooms so they could brainstorm without distractions. LeAnne brought Mitch to Chloe’s office and mouthed behind him, “Wow.” Chloe ignored her obsessed assistant and said, “Hi.” “How are you today?” Even Chloe couldn’t ignore that this man knew how to wear clothes. He looked good in his fitted blue dress shirt. “I’m doing well. Are you ready to work on this?” “I am.” Chloe stood, and they walked together down the hallway. When they arrived at the conference room, it was occupied. Chloe poked her head in. “What’s going on in here?” “A meeting with a new client,” Sarah, the social media coordinator, said. “But I reserved this room.” Sarah shrugged. “Sorry. Mr. Wagner said we were meeting in here.” Chloe stepped back from the door, irritation rising up her neck. “Problem?” Mitch asked. “I thought we’d have this room, but it seems we’ve been displaced.” Why bother with reserving rooms if it didn’t matter? Chloe was annoyed, but she couldn’t let that divert her attention. “There aren’t any other suitable rooms we can use here.” “We could go to a restaurant,” Mitch said. “Too many distractions. We need to focus on this without all the interruptions of a public place.” “I’d offer my condo, but I have some plumbers there working on a leak.” Mitch shrugged. Chloe groaned inwardly. She didn’t want to take him back to her apartment, but she didn’t know where else to go on such short notice. “We can go to my place.” “We won’t be distracted by anyone?” Was that his way of prying into her personal life? “Henry will be there, but he’s usually pretty wellbehaved.” “Okay.” The expression on his face was priceless. Chloe loved that he was confused and decided not to clear it up quite yet. “I’ll ask him to wait in the kitchen while we work.” “He won’t have a problem with that?” “The kitchen is his favorite room. He practically lives in there.” She kept a straight face. Mitch looked even more confused, and Chloe laughed silently. They stopped by LeAnne’s desk. “We’re leaving,” Chloe said matter-of-factly. “You are?” LeAnne raised her eyebrows. “Someone took our conference room, so we have to find somewhere else to work,” Chloe explained. “Where are you going?” Chloe wished LeAnne hadn’t asked, but had to answer her question. “My apartment.” She didn’t want her over-imaginative assistant to make some big deal out of this. “I see,” LeAnne said with a smirk. Chloe gave her a “stop-being-ridiculous-right-this-moment” look. “Please let Mr. Wagner know, in case he needs to reach me.” “I will.” “Thank you. I won’t be back in today. See you tomorrow.” Chloe kept her tone calm and collected. LeAnne winked at her. “Sounds good.” Chloe hoped Mitch was oblivious to LeAnne’s conspicuous insinuations. When she returned to work
tomorrow, she’d give LeAnne a piece of her mind. Chloe and Mitch drove their own cars over to Chloe’s apartment building, then met outside the front door. “It’s on the fifth floor,” Chloe said. “So will Henry be okay with me coming over to your apartment?” Mitch seemed uncomfortable. “Sure. He doesn’t mind.” Chloe smiled to herself. She shouldn’t be enjoying giving her client the wrong impression, but she was. “That’s very understanding.” “He’s always been supportive of my work.” “How long have you been together?” “About eight years. It’ll be nine at the end of the year.” Mitch’s eyes grew wide. “That’s an enduring relationship.” “Ours is a pretty perfect one, I’d have to say.” This is more fun than I’ve had in a while. They got to the door, and Chloe opened it. “Henry, I’m home.” Mitch seemed to be hesitant as he walked inside, his hands gently tapping his legs. “Henry can be a little persnickety, so just be on your best behavior and everything will be fine.” Chloe locked her laughter inside. Within a moment, Henry cruised out of the back bedroom. He made his way toward Mitch, who immediately picked him up and started petting him. “Hi there.” Henry snuggled up against Mitch’s chest. Chloe was impressed by Mitch’s reaction to Henry. She figured he’d be too fussy about his clothes to pick up a cat that would leave hair on his expensive coat. Mitch scratched behind Henry’s right ear, and Henry reacted with a loud purr. “You’ve made a friend for life.” “I think you’re right.” Mitch smiled as he put Henry down. “Can I take your coat?” Mitch shrugged off his coat and handed it to Chloe. She’d like to put it in the formal coat closet, but since she didn’t have one, the back of the couch would have to do. She took off her coat and laid it next to his. Chloe walked over to the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?” “What do you have?” “Hmmm.” She looked in the refrigerator and then through the cupboards. She’d remembered buying some soda. When was that? “Looks like I can offer you some good old Chicago tap water.” She leaned against the wall. “As appetizing as that sounds . . .” “Yeah, sorry about that.” Chloe made her way back to the couch. Henry was cuddled up on Mitch’s lap. She hadn’t pegged him for a guy who liked cats. He seemed too—well, she wasn’t sure what, but too something. “You know, I’d planned to make a much better impression. At the office, we keep the fridge stocked with all sorts of drinks, and we have snacks.” “Don’t worry about the impression.” “That bad already? I haven’t even shown you my ideas.” She gave a small laugh, feeling more at ease. “Quite the contrary.” He cleared his throat as if he didn’t mean to say that. He turned to Henry. “What’s your name?” A giggle escaped Chloe’s lips. “What?” Mitch looked confused. “Henry.” Mitch glanced between Chloe and the cat on his lap. “Henry is your cat?” Chloe nodded. “Uh- huh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to, you know, mislead you, but I couldn’t resist.” She
waited for his reaction, hoping she wouldn’t regret it. Mitch let out a loud laugh. “I guess I asked for that.” Chloe smiled. “Henry has been my most faithful friend.” She reached over and patted him on the head. “He was a gift from my mom.” As soon as that left her mouth, she wanted to call it back. She didn’t want to cross the line and act as if they were anything but business associates. “Now that I’ve been properly introduced to Henry, we need to do something else.” “The campaign.” She was ready to get to work. “Before that.” Puzzled, Chloe said, “What do you mean?” He surveyed the apartment with a disappointed expression. “Is there something wrong?” Chloe asked. “You need a Christmas tree.” He gestured to a corner of the living room. “And some decorations.” “Oh, I don’t celebrate Christmas.” “What?” He blinked, seeming stunned. “I don’t have time.” That was true. And it was the safest answer. “Who doesn’t have time to celebrate Christmas? It’s the best part of the year.” Mitch almost looked like a little boy with his jubilant expression. “I’d be happy to help you decorate. Make your apartment more festive.” “Thanks, but I . . .” Mitch peered at her. “I don’t have any decorations.” Again, this was true. She’d never bought any. And she’d given away the few she’d had with her mom after her mom’s death because they were too painful to keep. “You’re kidding, right?” He studied her. “I think we need to get to work.” Mitch nodded, but he still looked dumbfounded, as if everyone should love Christmas as much as he did. Obviously, he had no negative experiences connected to that time of year. Chloe got up and grabbed her laptop and artist pad. “I’ve been trying to come up with a new idea for your logo.” “You think we need that much of an overhaul?” “Yeah, I do. A total redo.” She glanced at him. “No offense.” “None taken.” “If you look at some of the toy store chains, they have very recognizable logos. They know their brand and their platform. For example, Toys4All focuses on bargain prices. You know you can go in and get a good price, even if the service isn’t fantastic. That’s a certain target market—people who want to save money over having a good service experience. And when they see that logo, they know exactly what they’re going to get.” She took out her pad. “What is your platform? Your draw?” Mitch took a few moments, and Chloe noticed how pensive and thoughtful his deep brown eyes were. And how his thick lashes framed them perfectly. “I’m not sure about our platform, but I used to love the magic of the toy store when I was a kid,” he said. “The atmosphere, the way it felt to be there.” “It was a magical experience?” “Yeah. I want kids to feel the magic of a real toy store.” “I can work with that.” A few ideas floated around. “But I also want to emphasize the family.” “Hmm. I can try to work that in.” Maybe a family of magical creatures? Could that work? She wasn’t sure. “When you come to the party, that may help even more,” Mitch offered. She still wasn’t excited to go to an ostentatious party. She was pretty sure that if someone came in and removed all the gifts, Christmas would lose its splendor.
“You’re probably dreading it, right?” Could he read her mind? Or was it so noticeable on her face? “I’m not dreading it.” “But not excited about it.” He glanced around her apartment again. “It’s apparent that you don’t like Christmas.” “It’s like any other day to me.” She hoped to keep it at that. “Is it?” He peered at her. “I suspect there’s more to it.” She shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. “It’s not my thing—that’s all.” “Was it your thing when you were a kid?” Mitch seemed to be genuinely interested, but was she ready to share why she felt the way she did? “I’m sorry—I don’t mean to get too personal. It’s just that Christmas has always been such a wonderful time, filled with lots of love and family fun. I can’t imagine not enjoying every part of it.” Chloe drew in a breath. Maybe if she explained it to him, he’d be satisfied, and they could proceed with working on the campaign. “Christmas was a luxury we couldn’t afford. My mom worked hard, but she could barely pay the rent. So, no, Christmas wasn’t my thing as a kid either.” No need to go into detail about how all the bad things that happened in her life happened around Christmas—that was far too personal. Mitch reached out and touched her hand, sending a river of warmth up her arm. ”I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. If you’d rather not attend the party—” “No. I agree with you. It’ll give me some insight into your family and help me shape the campaign.” A knock sounded at the door. Chloe stood. “I’m not expecting anyone.” I sure hope it isn’t Jimmy. She opened the door to her neighbor. “Hey, Chloe, have plans tonight? I thought we could go bowling.” “Oh, well, I’m sorry, but I’m busy.” Jimmy looked over her shoulder. “Do I have competition?” he whispered. “No, Jimmy, he’s a client. I’m doing an ad campaign for him.” “So I don’t have any competition, then?” He gave a slight nod. “That wasn’t what I meant.” Great. Now Jimmy thinks I want to date him. “I’m busy.” “All right, so I’ll call you,” Jimmy said in a loud voice. “See you later.” She shut the door. “Wannabe boyfriend?” Mitch said as he sat back. “I guess. He’s a neighbor. He’s harmless.” “I can leave if you want to—” “No, I’m good. I’d like to keep brainstorming, if you don’t mind.” For the next two hours or so, they both threw out ideas. Some were terrible, and some were even worse than terrible. There were a few that might work. Mitch stretched his arms. “I’m hungry. Are you?” “We can order in pizza.” “I haven’t done that since college.” “Oh, well, yeah.” Little did he know she was such a regular at the local delivery place, they knew her voice. “Chinese?” “How about we take a break and go get something?” Mitch stood. “We really should keep working on this. I think we’re making some good progress.” “I can’t think when I have an empty stomach.” “Okay. You win.” Chloe rose. “Maybe some fresh air will help us come up with more ideas.” She grabbed her coat and put it on.
“You know, I had a very different idea of how this whole ad thing would go. Is this how you usually work with clients?” He also put on his coat. Chloe walked past him and picked up her purse. “If you’re asking if I invite them over to my apartment to get cozy with my cat, the answer is no.” “So I’m getting special treatment?” Was he flirting with her? It sure seemed like it, but that would be inappropriate. Right? “I guess if you call getting smothered by an old cat special treatment, then yeah, it is. You might even get a hairball from all the cat hair Henry left you.” “Can’t get any better than that.” He smiled, and a flutter crossed Chloe’s stomach. That wasn’t good. Being attracted to him was dangerous. Getting involved with him was a definite career killer. She couldn’t afford to take any chances. It would be much better to head it off before it could ever be a problem. “You know, maybe we should call it a night,” Chloe said. “Why?” How could she explain that she was feeling attracted to him? That she wondered what it would be like to actually go on a date with him and forget about the ad campaign? That she hadn’t felt like this in years? She couldn’t, so she did the next best thing—she lied. “I’m really not that hungry. Besides, I need to work on another ad.” “Oh.” He was visibly confused, but she didn’t need to explain herself to him. She only needed to deliver a successful campaign. A campaign without any complications. “And I need to feed Henry,” she said. Mitch picked him up and took him into the kitchen for her. “He hasn’t had much of an appetite lately,” she said as she followed him. “I think he’s getting fussy in his old age.” “He feels a little thin,” Mitch said. “Does he?” Had she been so busy that she hadn’t noticed? “I’m not a cat expert, but I can feel his ribs.” “Hmm. Maybe I should take him in for a check-up.” Mitch put Henry on the floor next to his food dish, then attempted to dislodge the cat hair left on his coat. “Sorry about that.” Chloe reached over and wiped at his coat. She was close enough to smell his musky cologne. She looked at him and his eyes locked on hers, zapping her stomach with a current of electricity. This is not good. Not good at all. Chloe quickly removed her hand from his chest and stepped away from him. “So you’ll still be at the party on Friday?” “Yes.” She didn’t look at him. “We can show my dad some of the ideas and get his opinion.” “That’s a great idea.” Chloe walked over to the door and opened it. “Thanks for being willing to come to my apartment instead of the office. And thanks for the brainstorming session.” “Thank you.” Chloe shut the door behind him, then slowly collapsed on the floor. What was happening? Why wouldn’t her thoughts obey her? This man was her client. That’s all he could ever be.
Chapter Fourteen
The following day, Mitch sat at his desk trying to concentrate on the sales report for the store in Ohio, but the numbers all seemed to pool together. His mind kept wandering back to the night before with Chloe. She was a hard woman to figure out. She’d open up a bit here and there, but then just as quickly, close back up. She definitely had a soft spot for Henry. Mitch laughed at how he thought Henry was her husband or boyfriend, and it turned out he was her cat. A cat her mom had given her. Chloe seemed to have a strong connection to her pet. Mitch had once had that with his dog, Butch, but that was a long time ago—at least, it felt like a long time ago. He didn’t know what happened to Butch, where he was or who had adopted him. Butch didn’t deserve to be homeless, but Mitch couldn’t keep him after what happened. He’d been their dog, his and Heather’s, and it was too painful to keep him. He hoped Butch had forgiven him. “Hey.” Patti’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Hi.” He went around his desk and gave his sister a hug. “How’s everything going?” “Good.” Mitch studied her. “What are you doing here?” “Can’t I come see my brother?” Patti put on an innocent face as she sat on the small black couch. “Sure. But you rarely come down to the corporate office.” Mitch sat next to her. “I was in the neighborhood.” Something was up. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” Patti crossed her legs and sat back. “I wanted to talk about the party tomorrow night.” “It’s all set. I’ve double-checked everything. You don’t need to worry about it.” “Good. I told Joe you could handle it this year.” She patted him on the arm. “I know it’ll be a great party.” “Thanks for the support.” He was sure Patti hadn’t come all the way downtown to tell him that. “You are most welcome.” She smiled. “Okay. So what’s really up?” Patti tapped her fingers on her thigh. “I was at the gym yesterday and saw Kim.” “Oh?” “She enjoyed dinner.” “I did too.” “You did?” Her eyes lit up. “I’m glad to hear that. Kim and I were talking, and I invited her to come to the party.” Patti smiled as if she’d done him a great favor. “You did?” Mitch shook his head. His sister, always the matchmaker. Or was it busybody? “The two of you seemed to hit it off, and this party is so much fun every year. And it’s so romantic when we do the tree lighting.” “I think Joe needs to buy you some more romance novels.” A lot more. “I can’t help it. I want to see you happy again. I want you to fall in love again.” He let out a long breath. “I don’t know if that will happen.” He paused. “Honestly, Heather broke me.” Patti put her arm around him. “I know, but you have to move forward. Allow another woman into your heart. Trust me.” She gave him a squeeze. “Kim is a great match for you. Give it a try.” “Maybe.” Did he mean that, or did he simply want to appease his sister? Patti stood. “Wear your gray suit. It looks good on you.” She waved. “See you tomorrow night.” Patti left the office, and Mitch ran his fingers through his hair. Kim was a beautiful, smart, and attractive woman. He probably would’ve asked her out again. On his own. Without interference from his
big sister. A sudden thought shot through his mind. Chloe would also be at the party. Of course, that wasn’t a date or anything personal, but he had invited her to come. Almost insisted on it. He’d need to spend time with her, but now Kim was coming. This could be awkward.
Chapter Fifteen
“Have you picked out what you’re wearing to the party tonight?” LeAnne asked while she and Chloe had a quick lunch at Subway. “I’ll probably wear my brown business suit.” LeAnne crinkled her nose. “Ew.” “It’s a very nice suit.” “Very boring, you mean. You need something sparkly that shows off your assets, if you know what I mean.” “Seriously?” Chloe rolled her eyes. “My suit is appropriate for a business meeting. This isn’t a date.” She felt like she had to repeat herself over and over again, and she was growing tired of it. “I know it isn’t a date.” “Do you? Because you make it sound like I’m trying to catch a man instead of a client.” “Why not both? Chloe threw her hands up in the air. “You are incorrigible.” LeAnne nodded. “I know you aren’t interested in anything but business. All you want to do is get your promotion and move up in the company. You want to be able to move out of your apartment and into a big, new condo. You want to have a nice car and—” “You act like there’s something wrong with that.” LeAnne shrugged. “Nothing wrong with wanting to be successful.” “So why give me such a hard time about it?” “I’m sure you’ll reach all of your goals.” LeAnne sipped her lemonade. “But won’t it be lonely?” “I don’t need a man.” “Honey, none of us needs a man. But don’t you want one? Someone you can share your life with?” Chloe let out a laugh. “What did that get my mom?” “You aren’t your mom.” “You’re right about that. I never want to be in the position she was in. Single mom with no money.” “Just because your dad walked out doesn’t mean all men are like that.” “Even if that’s true, I don’t have time for one.” Chloe took a bite of her turkey sandwich. “I know that. But you need to make time for one.” “LeAnne, I know you’re in love. You love everything about being in love. But that’s not me. I’m perfectly happy on my own. I have a great career. I love living in Chicago. With my promotion, I’ll have everything I’ve ever wanted.” “But wouldn’t you like to have someone to sit by the fire with? Take walks on cool autumn days? Snuggle with on these cold winter nights? Talk to about your day?” “I have Henry.” “And he’s a great conversationalist, right?” “He doesn’t ever argue with me.” Chloe pointed at LeAnne. “And he won’t abandon me, either.” LeAnne shook her head. “I give up.” “Can we finish our lunch, please?” Chloe was done talking about this. She didn’t need to justify her life choices to LeAnne or anyone else. “But you are going to the party still, right?” Chloe nodded. “Yes. I’m going to meet his dad and talk to him about the campaign. We came up with a few workable ideas the other night.” “Sounds good.”
* * *
After work, Chloe rummaged through her closet. Maybe her brown suit wasn’t quite the right look, but she wasn’t sure what to wear. She never attended parties like this, so she really had nothing appropriate. And she certainly had nothing that looked like a Christmas outfit. Chloe had left the office early so she could prepare to meet Mitch’s father and give him a short presentation. She needed to wow him, and nothing in her closet said wow. Not even close. She grabbed her bag and headed out to a boutique not far from her apartment building. In the eclectic store Celestial Closet, a woman with spiky platinum blond hair and bright pink lipstick said, “Can I help you find something?” “I know you’re about to close, but I have a business thing tonight, and I need something to wear.” “What do you have in mind?” The woman eyed her up and down. “Maybe a nice dress?” She hated that she was giving in to LeAnne’s suggestion to find something more feminine than her brown suit. The woman walked over to a display and pulled out a sleek red dress. “This is perfect for this time of year, and I think it’s your size.” Red? Way too Christmassy for her. She needed something else. “I don’t know. Do you have something in black?” That color seemed to match her feelings. “Let me see.” The woman went to another rack and grabbed a plain sleeveless black dress. “This style is always popular.” “Perfect. I’ll try it on.” “Maybe you’d like to try on the red one, just to compare?” The saleswoman held up the other dress. It wasn’t sparkly, but it seemed to shimmer. “Sure.” Chloe took both dresses into a small changing room. She tried on the black one. It fit well. She turned and looked at her backside in the mirror. This dress would work. “Can I see the dress on you?’ the lady asked. Chloe stepped outside the changing room and stood next to a mirror. “That looks nice on you.” The woman stepped over to a jewelry rack. “We could dress it up with one of these necklaces.” Chloe nodded. “But try on the other dress to see which one you like better.” This saleswoman was a little too bossy. Chloe knew she wouldn’t like the red one. “I think I like this.” “All right. It’s a good choice.” Back in the dressing room, Chloe studied herself in the mirror. The dress did look nice, but she wanted more than that. She examined the red dress and decided to try it on. As soon as the soft, silky fabric hugged her body, her mouth dropped open. Was that really her? This dress made her look amazing. It fit her perfectly, as if it were made for her. She stepped outside the room. The saleswoman gasped. “Wow. That dress is gorgeous on you. It makes you look like a supermodel.” “Does it?” Chloe couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face and reached all the way up to her eyes. She hadn’t felt this pretty in a long time. “You will definitely turn heads.” Chloe bit her lip. She wasn’t really interested in turning heads, but she did want to feel confident as she spoke with Mr. Powell. And she hadn’t bought a dress like this. Ever. True, it was red and screamed Christmas, but she didn’t care. “I’ll take it.” “I knew it was meant for you the moment you walked in the door.”
Chloe looked at the woman and had to agree. With the dress in hand, Chloe rushed back to her apartment to get ready. She needed to be confident and poised as she talked to the CEO of World of Toys. This account would be the ticket to all of her dreams.
Chapter Sixteen
Chloe decided to take a taxi to the Powells’ house so she wouldn’t have to deal with traffic or parking once she got there. Mitch had offered to pick her up, but she declined. She wanted to make a quick, easy break after her pitch. The house was magnificent—like ones she’d seen in magazines. It was an expansive two-story English Tudor with lights that illuminated all sides of the house. A circular driveway wound around a large, three-tiered fountain. The taxi driver dropped her off behind a line of cars. A small Christmas tree stood on either side of the front entrance. Each was decorated in mini white twinkling lights and shiny red glass balls. It was almost magical. As she entered the house, she saw a twenty-foot-tall evergreen tree to the left that was adorned with a theme of red, gold, and green, every branch weighed down with a decoration. To her right was a long table with a large display of a winter village, complete with realistic-looking white snowflakes. A string quartet played Winter Wonderland, while scents of cinnamon and apples floated through the air. I’ve stepped into a Christmas snow globe. Although Chloe would never be able to afford the kind of luxury that surrounded her, a promotion would certainly help her avoid becoming destitute like she and her mom had been. The key to happiness was to insulate herself from ever being poor. A petite woman dressed in black held a silver tray of hors d'oeuvres and offered her a crab cake. “No, thank you.” Chloe didn’t want to risk spilling anything on her new dress. She spotted Mitch talking to a beautiful blonde woman. For some reason, Chloe’s heart began beating more quickly. When the way cleared and offered her a full view, Chloe stared at the woman. No way. She can’t be. Oh, no. She is. The woman was wearing the exact same red dress. Chloe’s shoulders slumped as her confidence took a nose dive. She wanted to disappear, but she couldn’t, not without speaking to Mr. Powell. Maybe Chloe could find him and make a quick exit before anyone else noticed she and the blonde were wearing twinner dresses. I’m so embarrassed. Why didn’t I go with the black one? Chloe stepped back behind a doorway, but left enough room to watch Mitch. The woman laughed and touched Mitch on his shoulder. Obviously, by her toned arms and trim waist, she worked out. She and Mitch seemed comfortable together. Must be his girlfriend. For a moment, Chloe wondered what it would be like to have someone, but it only lasted a second. Find Mr. Powell, give him the presentation, and get out of here. A man with a tray of drinks approached her. “Excuse me. Could you direct me to Mr. Powell?” she asked. “Not the son. The father.” The man pointed toward a room on the other side of the entryway. “You’ll find him in there, I believe.” “Thank you.” Before she could make it across the entryway, Chloe felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Mitch, whose eyes almost imperceptibly widened as he gazed at her. “There you are. I’m glad you came.” He smiled, and it made Chloe’s stomach quiver. He looked so good in his black tuxedo, she almost forgot he was her client. “This is quite the party.” He leaned in, a fresh soap scent wafting up to her nose, and said, “We do it every year as a way to thank the community for their support.” “So many people are here.” The crowd made the mansion feel small. “Would you like to meet the mayor?” “Actually, I’d really like to meet your dad.” The faster she could get this over with, the better. She
hoped Mitch hadn’t noticed she was wearing an identical dress to his girlfriend. “I told him you’d be here and that we had some ideas. He doesn’t like to mix business with pleasure, though.” Trying to mask her disappointment and irritation, Chloe said, “Oh. I thought we’d be able to meet with him and talk a bit.” That’s the only reason I came to the party. “Not formally. At least, not tonight. But you can meet him and the rest of my family. Would you like something to eat?” “No, thanks.” She was too nervous to be hungry. What if his father didn’t think she could create a successful campaign? What if he disliked her for some reason? What if she lost the account? “Can I give you a tour of the house?” He seemed eager to show her around. Maybe that would give her some additional ideas as well as calm her nerves. But what about your girlfriend? she wanted to say, but instead said, “Sure. Unless that’d be a problem.” Mitch shrugged. “No problem.” They ascended the circular staircase, her shoes tapping each dark oak step. The walls were lined with family portraits. “My mom insisted we take pictures every year. We all hated it.” Chloe pointed at one where a much younger Mitch wore a scowl. “Looks like you hated it the most in this one.” “Yeah.” He laughed. “Taking photos wasn’t my favorite. That year, my sister Alisha got to wear what she wanted, but my mom made me wear that ugly bowtie and a dress shirt. I was mad the whole day.” “So unfair.” She said it with a dramatic flair. “Exactly. My sisters always got their way.” “As it should be. Everyone knows girls are always right.” She was beginning to relax a bit. Mitch shook his head. “Yeah, I heard that almost every day of my life growing up. I always got in trouble, and they never did.” “And I bet you didn’t deserve it, right?” She smiled. She liked seeing this side of him. “Well, I might have possibly deserved it a few times.” He held up his hand. “But that’s all.” Mitch took her to a bedroom lined with trophies and photos of him playing different sports. “Your mom hasn’t changed your room since you were in high school?” “I know. Sorta weird. But she says it’s so filled with memories, she can’t bear to redecorate. I think she misses having kids at home.” It was the kind of room that yelled out this man had been loved as a kid. “Sounds like she enjoys being a mom.” Chloe felt a flicker of jealousy. This was what she’d wanted so desperately. To feel loved. And wanted. To be showered with attention and be part of a family. “She does. And she loves being a grandma.” Chloe handled one of the basketball trophies. “MVP, huh?” “That was a long time ago.” He reached for the trophy, and his hand brushed against Chloe’s, sending a jolt of energy up her arm. Chloe walked to the bookcase and pulled out Pride and Prejudice. “A Jane Austen fan?” That blew her mind. “Uh, no. Actually.” He took the book, and a photo fell out. Chloe bent down and retrieved it. It was of Mitch and a woman with short brown hair on a beach. Chloe looked at Mitch, whose eyes flickered with sorrow. He gingerly took the photo and placed it back in the book, returning it to the shelf. “Let’s continue our tour.” Chloe followed him out of the room, bewildered by his reaction, but not wanting to pry. Obviously, that photo meant something to him. Maybe a past girlfriend. Or wife. “This is the upstairs family room. It’s more casual, and where we always came to hang out with our friends,” he said with an upbeat tone as if trying to ignore the photo falling out of the book.
Family pictures from Disneyland, Paris, and mountain landscapes filled the wall on one side. Photos of kids swimming, graduating from elementary school, and fishing covered another wall. Chloe was fascinated by so many photos. It was clear that family meant everything to these people. “My mom is big into making memories, as you can tell. We took a picture of everything we did as kids so she could freeze it in time. At least, that’s what she always said.” “You really are the all-American family living the dream, aren’t you?” Chloe had never met anyone like Mitch or experienced anything like this. A real family. A group of people who seemed to not only like each other, but love each other. The photos screamed fun and happiness and stability. “You are very lucky.” “I know.” She looked at him. He wasn’t being flippant. His face was full of sincerity. “I’ve been blessed with a loving family. Not everyone grows up that way.” Chloe spotted another photo of that same woman who’d been with Mitch in the photo in the book. She wanted to ask who it was, but knew it was none of her business. “That’s Heather,” he said, as if reading her mind. Chloe jerked her head back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.” Her cheeks warmed. “I’m sure you noticed it’s the same woman from the other picture.” “Oh.” Should she say something? Her mouth was paralyzed. Mitch sat on the arm of the couch and gazed out the large window. “We were engaged.” Chloe nodded, not knowing what to say. “The night of the rehearsal dinner, she didn’t show up.” He glanced down. “I went to her place, but it was empty. Except for a note that said she was really sorry, but she didn’t actually want to marry me. She’d left earlier that day for Europe. Wanted to find herself. I followed her over there, but she told me to go home.” He cleared his throat. “How could I? My home was with her. But she didn’t want that. So I spent months wandering around Europe, trying to figure out what to do.” “I’m so sorry.” The heartbreak was clearly etched on his face. “Me too.” He stood. “That was two years ago, almost exactly. We were supposed to get married December twentieth.” “You must hate Christmas then.” He had every reason to, just like Chloe did. He shook his head. “Christmas has been a time for healing. A time to feel the love of my family. I don’t know where Heather is now, but I hope she’s happy.” Chloe had a sudden urge to throw her arms around his neck and hold him close, but she resisted because that’d be totally inappropriate. Mitch pushed out a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go all heavy on you.” “I think it’s helping me get to know the man who will run World of Toys.” “Let’s go downstairs and see if we can find my dad. I’ve told him about you and the ideas we’ve talked about.” Her nerves started to fire. What if she couldn’t deliver? But she had to. She had to make this deal and sell it to the family. She followed Mitch down the stairs. “Hey, little brother,” said a woman dressed in an emerald-green dress. She made big eyes at Mitch. “Patti, I want you to meet Chloe Henderson. She’s handling our new ad campaign.” “Oh. Nice to meet you.” Patti extended her hand. “Thank you. Your brother invited me here to meet all of you so I could get a feel for the family business and come up with the right kind of campaign for you.” “I see.” Patti smiled. She had dark hair and brown eyes like her brother, but her face was much rounder. “Ali, our baby sister, won’t make it back in time for the party. She’s been on a trip to Rome with her boyfriend and his family, and their flight was cancelled. You know how airlines can be.”
Chloe had hoped to meet the entire family. “But I’d love to introduce you to my husband and kids,” Patti said. “I’d like that.” “Mitch, can you mingle?” Patti inclined her head toward the sitting room. Chloe glanced in that direction and saw the blonde woman. It became crystal clear. Mitch’s sister wanted him to spend time with that woman instead of her. Patti led Chloe into the kitchen. “I’m sure my kids won’t be far from the food preparation. They love to sneak in and do plenty of taste testing.” Patti looked around. “I wonder where they are.” “How many kids do you have?” “Three. Two girls and a baby boy.” “Mama, mama.” A darling girl with dark hair ran into the room. “Save me.” She lifted her arms to her mom. An older girl with large brown eyes ran into the room “She’s it, and she won’t play right. She’s a big cheater.” “No, I’m not,” the younger one protested. “Yes, you are. Cheater, cheater, cheater.” “You a meanie.” “Girls, no calling names,” Patti said as she stood between them. “But it’s true.” The older one stamped her foot. “You need to find a nice game to play. A quiet game.” “Why, Mama?” the younger one asked, peeking under long lashes. “Because Papa has this big party, and we don’t want to be rude to all the guests.” “Oh. I be good.” She buried her face in her mom’s dress. “When everyone leaves, can we open presents?” the older one asked. “Raquel, you know we can’t open presents before Christmas. That’s against all the rules.” “But I can’t stand it,” she said dramatically. “I know. It’s hard.” Patti tousled Raquel’s hair. “Can you be the best big sister and play nicely with Sierra?” Raquel shrugged. “I bet Santa’s elves are watching.” Patti raised her eyebrows. Raquel scanned the room. “Are they here right now?” “I don’t know.” Patti leaned down. “But if you play nicely with your sister, I bet they’ll tell Santa what a good girl you are.” Raquel extended her hand. “Come on, Sierra. Let’s go play Frozen. You can be Elsa this time.” The two little girls skipped out of the room, holding hands. “They’re both adorable,” Chloe said. “Thank you. They can be a handful, but most days, they’re pretty great.” “And you said you have a baby, too?” “Joey.” Patti snatched a sugar cookie. “He’s almost a year old. He’s pretty spoiled.” She laughed. “You love being a mom, don’t you?” What was it with these women? They seemed to take to mothering so easily. “I do.” She bit into the cookie. “Would you like one?” “Sure. I love sugar cookies.” “Don’t tell my mom. She used to get after us for stealing cookies. Mitch was the worst one. He stashed them up in his room. The minute they were out of the oven, he’d take them.” “Ah, a cookie thief, huh?” Patti nodded. Chloe bit into the soft, sweet treat.
“Being a mom is so much harder than working for my dad, but it’s also so much better. My husband, Joe, works for the company now, and I stay home to be a mommy.” Patti took another bite. “What about you? You work for an advertising agency?” “Yes. I love the ad business.” Patti opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher. “These are much better with a glass of milk. Would you like one?” “Yes.” Chloe hadn’t had cookies and milk in forever. Actually, had she ever? Patti handed her a glass. “Are you from Chicago?” “No. Tennessee. I landed a great job as an assistant at this agency right out of college. I’ve worked my way up to account executive.” “And you’re in charge of our account?” “Yes.” The pressure mounted. “I hope I don’t disappoint.” “Oh, you have to try these truffles.” Patti handed her a piece of dark chocolate. “My dad orders them in every year for this party. They’re divine.” Chloe set it on her tongue, the bittersweet goodness enveloping her mouth. “Mmm, this is delicious.” “I could live on chocolate.” Patti handed her another one, and Chloe savored it. “Isn’t that all we need?” Chloe said. “Chocolate and sugar cookies?” They both laughed. “What’s going on in here?” Mitch said. Chloe whirled around. “Nothing.” “Are you eating truffles without me? You know they’re my favorite.” Mitch cocked his head. Chloe looked at Patti. “Us? We aren’t doing anything but talking. No sugar cookies and definitely no chocolate, right?” Chloe said. Mitch stepped close to Chloe, and her heartbeat quickened. “I think you’re fibbing.” “What makes you say that?” Mitch studied her face, then reached out and swiped at the corner of her mouth, leaving a hot spot. “Proof positive you are eating chocolate in here.” “You found us out.” Patti handed him a candy. “Now get back to the guests.” Patti wasn’t very subtle. She obviously wants her brother to be with that woman, which is fine. It doesn’t matter to me. At all. “Actually, Chloe is my guest. I invited her myself.” “But . . . what about our other guests?” Patti said it with a big smile. “You mean like half the city?” Mitch popped another truffle into his mouth. Patti gave him a look. “My dad said he’d like to meet you now, but we probably won’t be able to talk much business.” “That’s fine.” Chloe turned to Patti. “Thanks for talking to me.” She followed Mitch through the sitting room. Mitch stepped to the side, but before she could move out of the way, one of the waiters bumped into her and spilled a tray of drinks down the front of her dress, making her jump as the cold liquid slid down her chest. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry, miss,” the waiter said, his wrinkled face full of fear. Mitch turned around. “Chloe.” He tried not to smile, but the corners of his mouth were turned up. Chloe wiped at her dress and let out a frustrated breath. It was no one’s fault, but here she was, dripping wet. She couldn’t meet Mitch’s father like this. What am I going to do? Mitch grabbed her hand. “Let me help you.” He quickly took her up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms. “I’ll find you something to change into.” Chloe rubbed her temples. How could this have happened? No way could she do what she came to
do—her confidence had been drowned. Literally. Mitch returned with a deep-blue dress and handed it to her. “Where did you get this?” “My mom has a huge closet filled with all sorts of dresses.” He looked proud of himself. “You two are about the same size.” Chloe handed the dress back to him. “I can’t wear one of your mother’s dresses.” What an outrageous idea. That had to be some kind of invasion of privacy. If his mom found out, Chloe would be fired from the account for sure. “Yes, you can. She’ll never even remember it’s hers. I promise. There’s no way she can keep track of all of them. My mom collects dresses.” He sounded convincing. “But . . .” He handed the dress to her again, his face sympathetic. “You can’t wear yours. I’ll pay for it to be cleaned, but you can wear this one tonight.” “Really, I can’t wear your mom’s.” Chloe would be completely uncomfortable in Mrs. Powell’s dress. “Why not?” He wore a perplexed expression. “Your dress is wet. I found one you can wear. Problem solved.” He didn’t get it, but he was right. She couldn’t wear a wet dress, so she gave in. He knew his mom, and if he said she wouldn’t remember, what did she have to lose? Chloe took the dress into the bathroom. She stepped out of her wet one and put on Mrs. Powell’s. When she looked in the mirror, it seemed impossible, but it hugged her curves in all the right places, and fit her even better than the one she’d worn. It was as if this dress had been made for her, and the color drew out the blue of her eyes. This night was beginning to make her feel things she’d never felt before. Almost like she belonged here. But that was inconceivable. Unthinkable. Wasn’t it? “Are you almost done?” “Yes.” She opened the bathroom door and walked out into the bedroom. Mitch’s eyes widened, and he stood taller as he took an obvious breath. “Does it look okay?” she asked innocently. “Yes.” “Just okay?” “Better than okay.” Mitch moved closer to her. “Much better.” The room shrank around them as Mitch’s gaze locked on hers. For a moment, she wanted to forget he was her client. Forget her past. Forget everything and melt into his arms, lose herself in his embrace, and feel his lips on hers. But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t. Even if she was attracted to him—uncontrollably attracted—she barely knew him. And mixing business with pleasure would definitely risk her job. She cleared her throat, hoping to clear her senses at the same time. “Shouldn’t we go see your dad?’ Mitch stepped back as if dazed. “Uh, yeah.” As they walked down the stairs, Chloe felt off balance. She’d bought a special dress for this event, only to have a waiter spill drinks all over her. Now she was wearing a dress that belonged to her client’s mother. And worse, she was attracted to her client. This party had been one big mistake. Hopefully, though, she could rectify that by meeting with Mitch’s father and focusing back on the account. “I think he’s in here.” Mitch stepped behind her, then placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her into the room. “Ah, Mitch, there you are,” said a tall man dressed in a tuxedo. “Dad, this is Chloe Henderson. She’s the one who’s been working on our new ads.” “Very nice to meet you.” He took Chloe’s hand in his and gave it a firm, but gentle squeeze.
“Welcome to our home. I hope you’ll enjoy this evening.” He studied her, and she suddenly felt vulnerable. Did he know she was wearing his wife’s dress? She couldn’t afford to make a bad impression. “It’s a lovely party.” “I hope Mitch has been a good host.” Mr. Powell had deeper smile lines and wisps of white in his dark hair, but other than that, he was almost a carbon copy of his son. Or was it the other way around? “He has.” Too good of a host, actually. “I don’t like to talk business at a party, but how is the campaign coming along?” “We have some solid ideas, and I’ll be ready for a presentation within the week.” Chloe hoped she sounded confident and capable. “I don’t know if Mitch has told you, but I’ve had the same agency for years. I’ve been happy with that agency.” Mr. Powell didn’t mince words. Chloe nodded, not sure what to say. “But now that I’m going to retire, I’m turning the day-to-day operations over to Mitch, including the advertising. He seems to think we need to update our image.” He glanced at Mitch. “Maybe he’s right.” An older, but beautiful woman with sleek dark hair and high cheekbones entered the room. “Sweetheart, I want you to meet the new advertising executive Mitch hired.” Mitch’s mom looked at Chloe. “Nice to meet you. I hope you’re enjoying our little party.” Hoping that her knees weren’t shaking, Chloe said, “It’s very nice. Thank you for allowing me to attend.” Please don’t let her notice the dress. “We’re glad you’re here.” His mom’s voice was warm, inviting. “Have you been in advertising long?” “Since I graduated from college.” His mother’s chocolate-brown eyes focused on Chloe. “It must be fascinating.” “Sometimes.” A nervous laughed fell out. “I was studying art history when I met Michael. He swept me off my feet, and I never finished college.” Mr. Powell reached his arm around his wife. “Regrets?” “Not one. You gave me these wonderful children. And as much as I loved being a mother, I love being a grandmother even more.” “A beautiful grandmother at that.” Mr. Powell kissed her on the cheek. Chloe couldn’t help but be envious of their relationship. Mitch was a lucky man to have such parents. Mrs. Powell studied Chloe. “You know, I have a dress very similar to that one.” “You do?” Chloe said, her voice high pitched and her heart beating erratically. “Yes. I’ll have to look for it.” Chloe nodded, wishing she could slither away unnoticed. “But you look much better in it than I did.” She smiled with kindness in her eyes. For lack of anything else to say, Chloe answered with a quiet, “Thank you.” “I thought her dress looked familiar, Mom,” Mitch piped up. Chloe gave Mitch a distressed look, but he simply winked at her. “Mitch, make sure you invite Ms. Henderson to our charity event on Christmas Eve.” She turned to Chloe. “We have a charity that gives gifts to children who otherwise would have to go without. It’s a marvelous evening,” A man in a black suit entered the room. “Mr. Powell, the mayor would like to speak with you.” “Very well.” Mr. Powell said “Please excuse me.” “I need to check on the food,” Mrs. Powell said. She followed her husband out of the room. “I thought the dress looked familiar, Mom,” Chloe said, mimicking Mitch. He laughed.
“This isn’t funny. What if she discovers I’m wearing her dress? Oh, no. What if she is really going up to her closet to see if her dress is still there?” Panic set in. Mitch took her by the shoulders. “You’re stressing out about nothing. My mom doesn’t think you stole her dress.” Chloe stepped back. “I didn’t steal it. You lent it to me.” “Do you really think my mom will believe that I lent you her dress?” Mitch said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Wait. What?” Mitch started laughing. “You’re quite entertaining when you’re flustered.” “I am not entertaining. And I am not flustered.” Chloe wanted to slug him. Mitch grinned. He was obviously enjoying her predicament—a predicament he put her in. Chloe wanted to scream, but instead, she smoothed her hair. He was right. She wasn’t acting very professionally. “I apologize for my behavior,” she said with control. “So formal now?” “Mr. Powell, I should probably return home now that I’ve met your family. I believe I have enough information to put together my presentation.” Mitch watched her. “Do you have a question?” “How about you enjoy the rest of the party? You can work on the campaign later.” “I appreciate the offer, but I need to work on this so it’s ready. My boss—” “Won’t care if you stay at this party.” He was so insistent, but she couldn’t stay. Not with the way she was feeling toward him. “I think it’d be best if I left.” “At least come see the main Christmas tree. It’s filled with ornaments we’ve collected over the years. Maybe it will give you some more ideas, and you can stay for the traditional tree lighting.” “Okay. But then I’ll need to leave.” They walked into the large room where the string quartet was situated in the corner. Another tall evergreen with its boughs loaded with decorations was in the other corner. How many Christmas trees are in this house? Couples danced near the tree. Chloe had zero desire to dance, especially with Mitch. The last thing she needed was to feel his arms around her. Had she known the Christmas tree was in the ballroom, she wouldn’t have agreed to come in here. Mitch pointed to an ornament. “My mother made this when I was born.” It was a simple round wooden piece that she’d painted blue and red with the name “Jonathan Michael Mitchell” written on it, and a small baby photo. “That’s so sweet.” “My mom has always been into this kind of thing. There are ornaments for both my sisters, too. And this is one that was handed down by my dad’s grandmother.” It was blown glass with a red tinge to it. “A man in her hometown made it for her when she was a little girl.” “Wow.” “Here are a few I made as a kid.” Chloe could see some pipe cleaners put together into a reindeer with googly eyes and a big red pom-pom for a nose. Another ornament was a green tree with glitter on it. In fact, most of the decorations were homemade. Some were even a little hideous. “This is not the kind of tree I expected,” she said as she handled a few of the decorations. “What did you expect?” “A professionally decorated one.” “Are you saying I’m not a pro at making ornaments?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Oh. No. I mean, I thought, well, I expected, you know . . .” He’d done it to her again. Made her all flustered. He gave her a smug smile as if he was enjoying making her feel uncomfortable. “It’s a lovely tree filled with many memories,” she said, trying to recover. Mitch stepped closer to her. “You switch to that formal tone when you’re nervous.” “I am not nervous,” she lied. Being this close to him made everything all jumbled up inside her. Mitch nodded. The orchestra began playing “The Christmas Song.” Mitch looked at her. “Would you care to dance?” “Oh, no. I don’t dance,” she said, backing away from him. “I’ll teach you.” “I know how to dance. It’s not my thing. That’s all.” “One dance.” He looked at her expectantly. “Then you can go home.” She let out a breath. “It will give you a full experience here at the party.” Chloe didn’t want to irritate him or make him think she didn’t like him. If he wanted one dance, she could accommodate him. Right? She could do this. She walked out to the middle of the floor with him. He reached out, and the moment she placed her hand in his, a shot of tingles rushed up her arm. Think of something else. Anything else. They began to sway to the music. She didn’t want to be so near to him. Smell his musky cologne. Feel the warmth of his body next to hers. “You dance well,” he said. Her skin prickled at his breath on her neck. “Thank you. So do you.” They traveled effortlessly along the dance floor under a canopy of twinkling lights. His strong arms held her tight. The longer they danced, the harder it was for her to breathe. This is business only, her brain shouted at her. Mitch pushed her out from him and made her twirl, then snapped her back to him. His face was only inches from hers, and she lost herself in the depths of his eyes. Time stopped. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair and pull his lips to hers. She’d never wanted to kiss a man so desperately. So completely. This can’t happen. It really can’t. Stop right now before it’s too late. Chloe stepped back, breaking the spell. “Thank you for the dance. And for inviting me to the party. It has been helpful.” Mitch gave her a half-smile. “What?” “That formal tone again.” “Mr. Powell, I don’t know what you mean.” How else could she separate her disobedient personal feelings from the proper way to treat a client? Patti walked up to them with the blonde woman. “Hey, Mitch, Kim would love to dance.” She looked at Chloe. “You don’t mind, do you?” “No.” Chloe cleared her throat. “Not at all.” “I don’t want to interrupt any business.” The woman seemed sincere. “We’re done.” Chloe reached out her hand to Mitch. “Thank you, Mr. Powell. I appreciate you inviting me. I’ll have the presentation ready next week.” With that, she quickly walked out of the room, putting as much space between her and Mitch as possible. She found her coat and pulled out her phone. She needed to exit immediately. “What about the tree lighting? It’s tradition,” Mitch said behind her, startling her. Chloe whirled around, clutching at her chest. “You scared me. I thought you were dancing.”
“Can’t you stay?” “No. I’m calling a taxi—” “No need to do that. I’d be happy to take you home.” “That’s a kind offer, but I couldn’t ask you to do that.” “I’d like to,” he insisted. This is a bad idea, her inner voice screamed. “But it’s so far out of your way.” “I love to drive.” He seemed determined to take her home. “Okay,” she heard herself say. What are you doing? Chloe knew she should listen to her own warnings, but instead, she ignored them. What would a drive home in a nice car hurt? It would be far better than a taxi, she reasoned. Perhaps she was being too dramatic and too worried about something that was only in her head.
* * *
Chloe followed Mitch to his car. The December air licked at her cheeks, making them tingle in the cold. The sky was free of clouds, but the lights from the city made it impossible to see many stars. Mitch opened the car door for her, and she slid into the leather seat. He revved up his BMW and they drove off. “What about Kim? Won’t she wonder what happened to you?” Chloe regretted it as soon as it left her lips because it made her sound like a jealous date. Which she wasn’t. “I don’t think so.” Mitch kept his gaze on the road. She’d delved into his personal life—something that was none of her business. “I didn’t mean to—” “You’d have to be deaf and blind not to notice my sister in action. She loves to play matchmaker, and I’ve been her victim too many times.” “I’m sure she wants you to be happy,” Chloe said, trying to sound supportive. “I know she means well.” “But you aren’t interested in dating right now. Because of what happened with Heather.” There she went again, getting too personal. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? Or at least keep the conversation superficial—ask about the weather or some sports game. Even politics would be better than asking about his broken engagement. Way too personal. “I’m sorry. I keep asking you questions that have nothing to do with the campaign.” “I don’t mind.” He glanced at her. “In fact, I like it.” Her heart skittered at his response, but she wasn’t sure what he meant. “Can I ask you a question?” he said. What if he asked her something she didn’t want to answer? “Sure,” she said with caution. Would she regret this? “Why do you work so hard? And so much?” “I guess I have a strong work ethic.” She wanted to leave it at that because it was mostly the truth. “Seems like it’s more than that. Like you’re driven by something.” Chloe gazed out the window. Was she that transparent? “I guess I need to apologize now,” he said. “No, you don’t.” Chloe argued with herself. He’d told her about Heather, something that was close to him. Should she tell him about her childhood? Wouldn’t that really cross the line? And once crossed, where would that lead? Wouldn’t it threaten her job? “I’d like to know you, Chloe. It would make our working relationship better, don’t you think?” That made sense. They needed a good working relationship. Besides, it might feel nice to share her feelings. “I work hard because I don’t want to end up like my mom. I want to have control over my life.”
“And working hard gives you control?” “Yes.” She glanced down at her hands in her lap. “My dad walked out on us when I was a little girl. The week before Christmas, actually.” “Wow. That’s rough.” She nodded. “Christmas pretty much lost its magic that year. My mom tried to take care of us, but she didn’t have many skills. She worked minimum-wage jobs, but we were always struggling. And she seemed to be gone all the time.” “So as long as you work hard to make enough money, you won’t have to struggle.” He was perceptive. “Exactly. If I can be successful, I can make enough money never to have to live like that again.” “Where is your mom now?” Chloe adjusted her weight in the seat. “She passed away.” “Oh. I’m sorry.” “It was the day before Christmas. Eight years ago. When I was eighteen.” Some days, it felt like only yesterday. He looked over at her with a somber expression. “I feel terrible.” “Why?” “I’ve been going on and on about my family and Christmas. That must’ve made you feel sad.” His sincerity touched her. She shrugged. “I’m used to it.” “I can understand now why you don’t love Christmas.” Chloe tucked her hair behind her ears. “Yeah, the worst things in my life have happened at Christmas.” They pulled up to her apartment building. Should she invite him to come up to her apartment? Would that be wise? “I’d like to walk you to your door, if that’s all right.” Chloe nodded, not letting herself think it through. Once they got to her door, she said, “You can come in for a minute if you’d like.” She didn’t want the evening to end yet. Mitch walked in behind her. “Thank you again for inviting me to the party tonight. I enjoyed it,” Chloe said. “I’m glad.” His eyes lit up. “It was nice being with your family. I don’t get that much.” “Maybe we can do it again some time.” Was he proposing a date? “As long as you don’t make me wear your mom’s dress again.” “Maybe if you don’t spill drinks all down the front of your dress, you won’t need to steal one.” “So not true.” She gently slapped him on the chest, and he grabbed her hand, pulling her gaze into his. His other arm drew her close. Close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her mouth. Suddenly, the air grew thick, making it hard to breathe. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, and her cheeks throbbed as the anticipation grew. All she could think about was his lips on hers and tasting his peppermint kiss, no matter the consequences. “Meooowwwww.” Chloe jumped back in response to Henry’s strange cry. “Are you okay?” Henry made another unsettling sound, then lay on the floor. “He seems sick or something,” Mitch said. “He hasn’t been eating very well lately. I think he’s getting old.” Chloe picked Henry up, and Mitch
stroked the cat on the head. “I think I need to take him to the vet.” “That’s probably a good idea.” Mitch glanced at his watch. “I should get going. Thanks again for coming to the party.” A dense cloud of awkwardness hung between them. “I’m glad I went. It’ll help, you know, with the campaign.” Mitch gave a nod. “We have that charity event my mother mentioned. Would you like to come?” “Maybe.” He smiled then turned around and left. Chloe collapsed on the couch. She’d almost kissed Mitch. She’d come this close to kissing a client. What was she thinking? It was simple. She wasn’t thinking. As soon as he had her in his arms, every rational thought fell out of her brain. Thank goodness Henry had interrupted them before they’d made a mistake. But if Henry hadn’t . . . This was not good. Not good at all. Chloe simply had to rein in her attraction and remember her place as a hired ad executive. This was about her career. Nothing else. She must gather up her delinquent feelings, tie a big, tight knot around them, and put them away. In a locked box.
* * *
Mitch stepped on the gas, his mind splintering in a dozen different directions. When he’d had Chloe in his arms, his only instinct was to kiss her long and hard. To forget all the hurt and betrayal from his past and lose himself in the softness of her hair, closeness of her body, and the fullness of her lips. He hadn’t felt this physically attracted to anyone in a long time. Maybe it was because there was more to it. The vulnerability in her voice had drawn him to her as she spoke about her mother, and the strength that she had exhibited in making something out of nothing. He’d been given all he ever needed or wanted, but here was a woman who’d had nothing. She had to fight for everything, and despite things being stacked against her, she’d made a life for herself. On her own. She wasn’t some pampered daddy’s girl— she was a woman of substance. A woman he could respect. He laughed to himself as he thought about her in his mom’s dress. She certainly wore it well, much better than his mom. He’d had too much fun teasing Chloe and watching her become so flustered that her cheeks turned a deep red. And the way she loves Henry—anyone who loves an animal that deeply has to be a good person. Chloe had hooked him—that was for sure—but was there more to it? Could she be the one who would make his heart forget it was ever broken?
Chapter Seventeen
Chloe left work early on Monday afternoon to take Henry to the vet. After a wrestle to get Henry into his carrier, she drove the five miles to Big Lake Veterinary Clinic while Henry loudly proclaimed his displeasure. She spent twenty minutes waiting in a large blue room with a howling gray cat and a yippy poodle mix. Finally it was her turn to take a quiet, but still unhappy, Henry back to an exam room. “He hasn’t been himself lately,” she told Dr. James, an older man wearing silver-rimmed glasses that matched his moustache. “Has he been eating the same?” Dr. James peered at Chloe with his kind eyes. “No. He feels like he’s lost some weight.” Chloe opened the carrier, and after some coaxing, took her resistant pet out. “Come on, honey. It’s okay.” She tried to reassure the frightened animal as she placed him on the exam table. “The doctor will make you feel better.” Dr. James looked in Henry’s eyes and in his ears. “What about his sleeping habits?” “Seems like he’s been sleeping more than usual. But he is getting older.” The doctor nodded, then pulled out a thermometer and took Henry’s temperature. “He has a fever.” “He does?” Chloe wanted to kick herself for not noticing. “It’s one hundred and four degrees.” “What does that mean?” “It could mean a number of things, but with his change in eating and sleeping patterns, I think it’d be wise to run a SNAP test for feline immunodeficiency virus, feline leukemia, and heartworm disease. We can test for all of them with one blood draw, and the results will be ready in ten minutes.” “Okay.” Testing Henry sounded scary and made Chloe’s throat swell with emotion. She reached out and stroked her cat, who was more than a pet to her. He was her family. “Don’t you worry. We’ll get you some medicine, and you’ll be feeling much better soon.” Chloe sat with Henry on her lap in the exam room while they waited for the test results. Every minute was more like an hour, and Chloe’s nerves roiled inside her stomach. Henry has to be okay. He has to be. “I wish you could tell me what’s wrong.” After what seemed like a week, Dr. James entered the small, suffocating room with a somber expression. Chloe felt like a car was parked on her chest as she waited for him to speak. “I’m sorry, but the test came back positive for feline leukemia.” For a moment, she couldn’t find her voice. The back of her neck was cold. Clammy. Henry has leukemia? No. This can’t be right. Finally, she asked, “What does that mean? What medicine does he need?’ “We can give him some antibiotics and see if that helps.” “And he’ll get better?” “Considering Henry’s symptoms, I suspect he is in the later stages, and feline leukemia can cause lymphoma.” Chloe’s eyes burned. “And if he has cancer, then what?” “He can have treatment. Surgery and chemotherapy are the most common.” The doctor leaned against the wall. “But it’s expensive, and the rate of remission is between fifty and seventy-five percent. Various factors will determine if he goes into remission.” Chloe couldn’t let Henry suffer or die, but she also didn’t have any money for treatment. “We can test him to see if he has cancer, if you’d like.” Chloe wasn’t sure what to do. The practical side of her said that even if he had cancer, she couldn’t afford to treat it. But the emotional side of her said to do whatever it took to save him. Even if it was only a one-percent chance, she had to try. “I want to do the tests.”
“I’ll withdraw some more blood, but that may not be conclusive.” “What else do we need to know for sure?” “A bone marrow test.” Chloe let out a long breath. “Can we do it today?” “Yes,” Dr. James said, his eyes filled with sympathy. When Dr. James concluded the tests, he said, “I’ll call you as soon as the results are in.” “Thank you.” Chloe left the office, each leg feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds and her heart about to burst. When she got Henry home, Chloe cuddled him on her lap while she sat on the couch, feeling numb and in disbelief. Her Henry was sick, and she had no control over it. He’d been such a comfort to her for so many years. He’d been her anchor, especially after her mom died, and he was her last connection. The thought of losing him made her feel like she was losing her mom all over again. Her stomach twisted in knots, and tears built behind her eyes. What will I do without him? I can’t think about that. I can’t. I’ll simply have to raise enough money somehow to pay for his treatment if he needs it. I’m not prepared to let him go. A knock sounded at the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone and hoped it wasn’t Jimmy. Chloe couldn’t deal with him right now. Looking through the peephole, she saw that it was Mitch. What’s he doing here? She wiped at her face, then opened the door slightly. “Hi.” “I stopped by your office, but LeAnne said you’d left early. I wanted to check and make sure everything’s okay.” Chloe opened the door wider. “Come in.” “You don’t strike me as someone who leaves work early for no reason.” Chloe nodded, trying to hold in her tears. “I appreciate you stopping by.” Mitch walked to the couch and bent down to scratch Henry behind his ears. “Hey, boy. How are you feeling today?” He turned to Chloe, “Did you take him to the vet?” That was it. The dam broke, and warm tears slid down her cheeks. Mitch straightened and stepped over to her. “What’s wrong?” Chloe shook her head. She couldn’t get the words out. “Did something happen?” Chloe rubbed her forehead. Maybe if she told Mitch, she’d feel better. Or not. She shouldn’t burden him with her problems. Mitch moved closer to her and reached out to cup her chin. “You’re obviously very upset. Can I help?” “Henry has feline leukemia.” “Oh.” “We don’t know yet if it’s caused cancer, but . . .” Her lips quivered too much for her to finish. In one movement, Mitch’s arms were around her, and he pulled her close to him. “I’m so sorry.” Despite wanting to be strong on her own, she reveled in his embrace and let her emotions free. His strong arms made her feel better. Safer. A port in her storm. They stood together for more than a minute while Chloe let the tears fall. Mitch stepped back and brushed away the stray hairs from her face. He wiped at Chloe’s cheeks with his fingers. Every place that his finger touched sent a ray of warmth through her and made her skin prickle. Her breathing increased as his penetrating gaze locked on her. “I’m sorry about Henry,” he said. “Thank you.” He traced the edge of her jawline with his thumb, making goose bumps erupt along her neck. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Being here helps.” He was too close. Too close for her to think straight. All she wanted to do was feel his lips on hers, even at this emotional moment. In slow motion, his mouth hovered over hers. The anticipation sent her heartbeat into a frenzy. Once his lips made contact, every nerve in her body sizzled, from her scalp to the soles of her feet. The gentle kiss momentarily made her forget everything else until her brain engaged and she pulled away. What had just happened? Mitch looked at her, concern his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” Trying to calm her ragged breathing, she said, “I’m sorry too.” “I should go,” Mitch said, his face slightly flushed. Chloe nodded, unable to think of anything to say. He let himself out of her apartment. She flopped down on the couch next to Henry and wiped her eyes. “I just made a huge mistake.”
* * *
Mitch sat in his car and hit the steering wheel. I’m a colossal idiot. He’d come to see her because he was genuinely worried about her. But then, as he held her in his arms, all he could think about was the way her hair smelled like flowers and how her body fit so snugly against his. He gave in to his attraction and kissed her, as if he had no control. But who does that? Who comes over and takes advantage of a woman who’s upset about her pet? What a jerk. He wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to see him again. What he’d done was inexcusable. And besides that, he’d hired her as an ad exec. Kissing her, no matter how much he’d wanted it, was inappropriate on so many levels. The truth was, he’d dated a few women, but no one had ignited the flame inside him like Chloe. A flame he thought died the day Heather left. Everything had been so clear before he met Chloe. Now it was murky. And it was his fault. He’d made the mistake of kissing her. Now he couldn’t get the memory out of his mind. What was he going to do now?
Chapter Eighteen
Chloe walked into the office Tuesday morning and tried to avoid LeAnne, who had this annoying habit of asking questions Chloe didn’t want to answer. If she could avoid LeAnne, Chloe could get some work done, go back home to Henry, and ignore that impulsive kiss. She absently reached up and touched her lips. Before Chloe could even fire up her computer, LeAnne poked her head in the doorway. “Good morning. I have a . . .” She didn’t finish her sentence. “What?” Chloe said without making eye contact. LeAnne shut the door behind her and sat in the chair across from Chloe. “Something’s up.” “I don’t know what you mean.” LeAnne had this ridiculous radar that somehow zeroed in on Chloe any time something happened with a man, which certainly wasn’t often. LeAnne gasped. Focusing on her computer, Chloe said, “Why are you being so dramatic this morning? I need to work.” Maybe if she paid no attention to her, LeAnne would go away and leave her alone. “He went to your apartment, didn’t he?” LeAnne asked in an excited and high-pitched voice. “Who?” Chloe still didn’t look at her. “Don’t try to play dumb.” Drawing in a deep breath, Chloe said, “I have too much to do today, I don’t have time for games.” LeAnne leaned in. “He came over, and something big happened.” “Nothing happened. Your imagination is working overtime. You should put that to good use and help me with some ideas.” “You’re lying.” LeAnne wagged her finger at Chloe. “Did he ask you out?” “No. We’re business associates. I keep telling you that.” No matter what, LeAnne could not know that Chloe crossed the line and kissed a client. It would be catastrophic. “Did you go on a real date last night?” “No.” Chloe looked at her. “Will you stop?” “Ohhhh.” A wide grin splayed across LeAnne’s face. “LeAnn, please.” “He kissed you.” Chloe stood. “Why would you ask something like that? That would be completely unprofessional. Am I unprofessional?” “No. Of course not.” “Then don’t say another word.” “It’s true.” LeAnne raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t it?” Chloe collapsed back in her chair. LeAnne nodded. “I knew he was interested. Didn’t I say that?” Chloe pushed out a frustrated breath. She had done something wrong. Something unacceptable. I wish LeAnne would leave this alone. “Did you kiss him back?” Chloe said nothing. “You did.” LeAnne’s eyes bulged out. “Can’t you see how terrible this is?” Chloe rubbed her forehead. “No.” “He’s my client. I could lose my job over this.” She couldn’t have that happen, especially not now, with Henry’s health on the line.
“What happened?” LeAnne crossed her legs and sat back in the chair as if she were getting ready to watch a movie. “I don’t want to talk about it.” It was bad enough she’d kissed Mitch—she couldn’t revel in it with her co-worker. That would be pouring gas on the flame. LeAnne kept gazing intently at her. Realizing LeAnne wasn’t going to leave her alone, she said, “It was a moment of weakness. That’s all. Nothing more. For either one of us. And you can’t breathe a word of this to anyone. I mean it.” “Of course. That goes without saying.” LeAnne studied her. “But why do you say it was a moment of weakness?” “Henry is sick.” Chloe’s heart throbbed thinking about it. “Oh, no.” LeAnne drew her brows together. “What’s wrong?” “He has feline leukemia. That’s why I left early yesterday—to take him to the vet.” “What does that mean?” “I don’t know. He may have cancer. If he does, it’ll be very expensive to treat him. I don’t have the money, but I can’t let him go, either.” Tears pricked at her eyes. LeAnne reached over and placed her hand on Chloe’s. “I’m so sorry. I know how much you love Henry and how much he means to you.” “After I got back from the vet’s, Mitch came over. I tried to keep it all in, but I had a breakdown. He gave me a hug.” She held up her hand. “Just for comfort. But then,” she paused, “it turned into something else.” “And?” “And now it’s a disaster. He left abruptly. I couldn’t sleep all night. I’m worried about Henry, and now I’m worried about my job. I can’t work on the account now.” “Why not?” “Because not only will it be awkward, but I crossed the line.” Chloe licked her dry lips. “If Mr. Wagner gets wind of this, I’m through.” “He won’t find out.” LeAnne seemed so sure. “Maybe I need to take the offensive and resign from the account. Tell him I need some personal time or something?” “He won’t like that one bit. You know how he is. The accounts come first. Always.” “I know. I’m at a loss for what to do.” Chloe laid her head on the desk. “I know one thing for sure,” LeAnne said. Chloe glanced up. “What’s that?” “Don’t let Mitch go.” “LeAnne, I don’t have him. I don’t even want him.” That wasn’t exactly true. Under other circumstances, she would date him. And kiss him. Over and over again. “You are not telling the truth. I can see it in your eyes.” “It doesn’t matter.” Chloe looked at the ceiling, her eyes burning. “I want and need my job. Now more than ever to take care of Henry.” A loud knock sounded at the door. Chloe jumped, then wiped at her face. She hoped her puffy eyes wouldn’t betray her. “Come in.” Mr. Wagner opened the door. “I’ll get right on that,” LeAnne said, popping out of her chair. She left the office. “I’d like to see your presentation for World of Toys.” “I haven’t finished it.” She hadn’t even really started it. “I want it on my desk by the end of the day today,” Mr. Wagner said with authority. “Yes, sir.”
After he left, Chloe’s stomach turned upside down. How was she going to pull this off? Her worry over Henry gnawed at her, and her fear that Mr. Wagner would discover that she kissed a client sent her nerves into a tailspin. And then there was that kiss. Even the memory of it made tingles run down her back. Chloe had no other alternative—she simply had to put her emotions on hold while she created an amazing and unforgettable proposal.
Chapter Nineteen
Mitch paced his office. He couldn’t get Chloe out of his mind. No matter what he did, his thoughts went right back to her. The door swung open, and Patti walked in. “Hey, Mitch.” “Another visit downtown, huh?” Why was she here this time? Another blind date? She nodded, her large gold earrings swaying. “How are you?” “Busy.” It was the truth. “Then I won’t take up too much time.” Patti perched on a seat near his desk and crossed her legs. “What can I do for you?” He was trying to be polite, but the last thing he wanted was his sister prying into his affairs. “I want to invite you to a party.” “I’m sorry. I can’t.” He sat in his desk chair facing Patti. Patti rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know when it is.” “Oh, well, I’m really busy right now. Year-end reports, inventory, a big ad campaign.” Just like that, his mind latched onto the memory of holding Chloe in his arms. “What is with you today?” Patti snapped her fingers to get his attention. Looking directly at his sister, Mitch said, “What do you mean?’ “You’re all distracted.” “I told you. Year-end stuff.” He shrugged. “No, it’s something else.” “No, it isn’t.” Patti was such a busybody. She had to be in everyone’s business. All. The. Time. “Ohhh.” Her eyes grew wide. “Have you been seeing Kim and not telling me? Because that’d be awesome. She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” “Yes, she is beautiful.” He agreed with his sister. Kim was beautiful. But it wasn’t Kim who had captured his attention. “I knew you’d be a great match.” Patti wore a satisfied smile. “Did you go out last night?” “No.” Patti believed he was distracted about Kim, which was better than the truth, given the fact that Chloe was a business associate. “But you seem—” “I appreciate you coming over and thinking of me. I really do.” He leaned over his desk. “But this is a bad time.” “Out with it,” she said with a hand on her hip. “What?” He could only hope she’d think he had nothing to hide and go home. “You used to confide in me. We used to talk about everything.” Mitch nodded. “I know.” “Then Heather ran off, and you stopped. You became someone else. You took off to Europe. Distanced yourself emotionally from the family. From me.” “You’re right.” What could he say? Being dumped two days before the wedding had broken him. He’d needed time to heal and move on with his life. Now, maybe, he was ready. “It wasn’t your fault, you know. This was Heather’s problem. Why are you still beating yourself up about it?” “That’s not it.” He was no longer mourning the relationship he’d lost with Heather. “Then what is?” Patti peered at him, waiting for an answer. “I’m working through some things. That’s all.” He didn’t want to say any more than that because he didn’t know any more than that. “I wish you’d talk to me.”
He reached across the desk and squeezed his sister’s hand. “I will. When I’m ready.” And when I’ve figure it out myself. Patti left, and Mitch sat back in his chair, rubbing his chin. Chloe was the first woman he’d met who made him want to forget Heather. Clearly, kissing her wasn’t the right thing to do, not under the circumstances, but he couldn’t deny that Chloe made him feel like living again. He closed his eyes. Why did it have to be complicated?
Chapter Twenty
Chloe bit her lip while Mr. Wagner looked over her crude proposal in the conference room. She’d clean it up before presenting it to the client, of course. The client. Her mind immediately shot back to Mitch. Her lips hung on to the memory of his. “Well?” Mr. Wagner said. Obviously, he’d said something while she was thinking about Mitch. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat what you said?” “Where is your focus, Chloe?” He stared at her with his beady eyes. “Right here.” She pointed to her presentation. “On this account.” “No, I don’t think so.” He folded his arms in front of his chest. “You are far away from here.” “No, Mr. Wagner, sir, I am completely zeroed in on World of Toys. I’m taking it in a new direction with a mascot instead of using spokespeople like they’ve had in the past. I have most of it worked out.” How could she convince him? “What’s going on, Chloe?” His gaze bore into her. “Nothing, sir.” What was she going to say? Hey, while I was working on this account, I decided to lock lips with the client. “You know, I have two daughters.” Chloe nodded at his sudden shift, unsure where he was headed, but hoping it would take the spotlight off her. “I could always tell when they were troubled.” He almost sounded compassionate—kind, even—but Chloe wasn’t about to divulge anything that had happened at her apartment. That would be job suicide for sure. She had to prove to him that there was nothing wrong. “I’m fine, really.” A knock sounded. “Come in,” Mr. Wagner said as he turned toward the door. LeAnne stepped inside. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but Dr. James is on the phone for you, Chloe.” “Oh.” Her heart crashed to her stomach. “Chloe, are you ill?” Mr. Wagner asked. “Actually, it’s for Henry.” “Henry?” “My cat.” Chloe could use this to deflect her boss. “You’re right, Mr. Wagner. I have had something on my mind. Henry has been sick, and I took him to the vet for testing.” Mr. Wagner stepped back. “You must be very worried. Please, talk to the vet. We can finish work on this presentation later.” “Thank you.” Chloe was grateful for Mr. Wagner’s sympathy, especially since it was such a rarity. Chloe rushed out of the conference, relief washing over her. Now her boss would never think something had happened with Mitch, and her job was safe. At least, she hoped so. But she still had to face the results from the vet. “Hi,” she said into the phone, trying to keep her voice even. “I tried calling you on your cell, but you didn’t pick up. I hope it’s okay to call you at work,” Dr. James said. “It’s fine. Do you have the results? How is Henry?” Her heartbeat thundered in her ears while she waited. Please let Henry be okay. Please don’t let him have cancer. “I’m sorry, Chloe, but Henry tested positive for lymphoma.” Chloe sat hard on her chair, her breath knocked out of her. Trying to keep the tears from spilling
down her cheeks, she asked, “What are my options?” “You can begin treatment, but as I said in the office, it can be expensive. Henry is nine years old, and he may not respond well to the treatment.” “I can’t let him die.” She’d do whatever she needed to. She wasn’t about to sit by and watch him waste away, like she had with her mother. “Why don’t you take some time to think about it?” Dr. James said in a calm voice. “You can call me with any questions.” “Thank you.” She hung up the phone and sat, staring at the desk. “Bad news?” LeAnne asked timidly. Chloe couldn’t speak. Her throat felt like it was on fire, and the words were too ugly to repeat. “What can I do to help?” Chloe shook her head, feeling numb and helpless. Deana, a coworker, poked her head in the door. “Hey, we’re exchanging names for our Christmas party next week. Do you two want to participate?” “Not right now,” LeAnne said. She shut the door. “Christmas is the worst. I hate everything about it.” Chloe rested her head in her hands. “You don’t really mean that.” “Christmas is supposed to be a time when everyone is happy. But only bad stuff happens. My dad left, my mom died, and now Henry.” Anger and sadness perched on her shoulder, reminding her that life wasn’t fair. Ever. Someone knocked at the door. “I said, not right now,” LeAnne yelled out. “Excuse me?” Mr. Wagner opened the door. “Oh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I thought . . . I am so sorry, Mr. Wagner.” LeAnne stumbled out of the office. “How is your cat?” he asked, his voice filled with unexpected concern. Chloe sucked in a breath and wiped at her eyes. “Not good. He has cancer.” The words were bitter on her tongue. “I’m so sorry. I’ve always had a soft spot for my pets. They’re more like my kids. And they never talk back,” he said in a light tone. Chloe wasn’t in the mood for light. She was distraught, but she had to remain professional, even at a time like this. She didn’t want to appear to be incapable or weak. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “About the presentation—” “I’ve been thinking. Maybe someone else would be better suited for this account. You’re upset about your cat, which is understandable, but I need someone completely focused on World of Toys.” “I will be. I am.” “I don’t know.” “I’ve spent time with the family. I’ve talked to Mr. Powell. You saw my ideas. I have a whole campaign almost ready to go.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. I can do this.” She’d have to put her emotions about Henry aside. “Very well.” He turned to leave her office. “And I truly am sorry about your cat. I lost a dog— Champ was his name—last year. He was very dear to me. Pets have a special place in our hearts.” After he left, Chloe vowed that no matter how awkward it was between her and Mitch, she had to get the campaign done and amaze Mr. Wagner. And Mitch. Then she’d have her promotion and a way to pay for Henry’s care. As for the kiss—she had to put that out of her mind and never think of it again. Nothing could get in
her way.
* * *
After work, Chloe rushed home to be with Henry. Lying on her bed, with him in her arms, she snuggled him close and let the pent-up emotions free. She laid her head on him and recalled all the times through the years that he’d cuddled up to her when she felt alone and afraid. All the times he’d “listened” to her problems. And the times he’d made her smile with his antics. “For all these years, you’ve been by my side, giving me love and making my life better. You comforted me when Mom died. You kept me company when I had no one else. And you made me feel better just by being with me. Now, I want to help you feel better. I promise I’ll do whatever I can.” Henry purred quietly while Chloe worked on sketches for a new mascot.
Chapter Twenty-One
The next day at work, Chloe summoned up her nerve and called Mitch. “Hi.” “Hi.” “How are you?” she said, wishing she were talking to anyone but him. “Good. You?” His voice sounded strained. He probably regretted the kiss and didn’t want anything to do with her, professionally or otherwise. But until he fired her, she planned to work up a campaign that would sell refrigerators to Eskimos. “I wondered if you could come to my office today. I have a couple of ideas I’d like to run past you.” She had to act as nonchalant as possible, as if what happened at her apartment had no effect on her. “I think I have some time later this afternoon.” “I’ll see you then. Thank you.” Chloe had stayed up working on the sketches and ad copy for a new mascot for World of Toys that she hoped would meet Mitch’s approval. Later that day, LeAnne came into her office. “Have you heard from Mitch?” “Yes, as a matter of fact.” She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. “He should be here shortly.” “Oooo.” LeAnne moved her eyebrows up and down. Ignoring LeAnne’s obvious implication, Chloe said, “Come look at this copy and tell me what you think.” LeAnne studied the unicorn with a flowing white mane and long tail. “Hmm.” “What does that mean?” “Why a unicorn?” “Because they’re magical creatures, and I wanted to create a mystical aura about World of Toys. You know, back when we were kids, toy stores were magical. I want kids to think of World of Toys as this really cool, wonderful place where wishes come true.” “That might work.” Chloe adjusted her weight. “You don’t like unicorns?” “I’m not sure it’s the right feel.” She shrugged. “I think it will work beautifully with Mitch’s vision for the company.” “Do you want me to proof the copy?” “Sure. I need to finish up a couple of display ads before he gets here. I have the copy for radio spots and TV ads, a storyboard, and a redesign of his website. All featuring Shimmer.” LeAnne arched an eyebrow. “The unicorn?” “Yes. The name’s perfect, don’t you think?” LeAnne nodded, but it was hesitant. “What’s wrong with this campaign?” “I don’t know.” LeAnne tapped her hand on the desk. “I can’t put my finger on it.” Chloe sat with a whoosh in her chair. “Why do you hate it?” “I don’t hate it.” LeAnne gave a slight grimace. “I just don’t love it.” “Why?” Chloe couldn’t understand why LeAnne was so resistant. This campaign was solid. “It feels removed.” “What does that mean?” Chloe leaned forward in the chair, her elbows on the desk. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it.” “That’s a big help.” Why had she even asked for LeAnne’s approval? She was the boss, not LeAnne. It didn’t matter what her assistant thought. “Sorry,” LeAnne said as she left. Chloe studied the sketches and the PowerPoint. How did it feel removed? And what did that even
mean? She began reading over the copy for the radio spots, and then Mitch walked in holding her red dress. She didn’t notice how his turquoise dress shirt complimented his deep brown eyes. And she certainly didn’t notice how his cologne slightly scented her office and reminded her of the kiss in her apartment. Nope, she didn’t notice any of that. “Hi. Thanks for coming.” He handed her the dress. “Fresh from the cleaners. They were able to remove all the stains, so your dress is like brand new.” “Thanks.” She took it from him. “I still need to give you back your mom’s dress.” “No rush.” Chloe laid the garment bag over the back of a chair next to her desk. “I hope you like the proposal.” “I’m sure I will.” “Let’s go to the conference room so I can show you all of it.” They walked down the hall. Chloe set down her laptop with the PowerPoint and laid the papers on the long table so Mitch could see the entire campaign and how it all worked together to form one cohesive whole. He gazed at it and nodded here and there as he moved along the table. Chloe chewed on the inside of her cheek, waiting for his response. While it didn’t matter what LeAnne thought, everything hinged on what he thought. Her job. Henry’s life. Mitch had to like it. No, he had to love it. Finally, he looked at her, and it made her heart skip a beat, but she refused to acknowledge it. ”What do you think?” “I’m not quite sure. I don’t know that a unicorn is quite right.” She wanted to scream at him. Why didn’t he get it? “Oh. Let me explain the concept.” “Okay.” “I was going for the magical, mystical feeling we get when we’re in your toy stores. The big superstores with a toy department don’t feel special. But your toy stores are different. A kid comes in there, and suddenly, all his wishes can come true. It’s magic . . . you know, magical.” How could she explain it any more clearly? He stepped over next to her and studied some of the copy. His arm brushed against hers, and she resisted the urge to move even closer to him. What was wrong with her? There was nothing but a spontaneous, meaningless kiss between them. Nothing more. Right? She forced herself to move away from him. “I’m not sure I like it enough to use it for an entire campaign.” Chloe drew in a deep, cleansing breath. “Remember how we talked about creating a mystical kind of experience? You said that’s what you wanted. You wanted to differentiate your stores from the Walmarts and the Targets.” “You’re right.” He nodded. “And that’s what this is.” Couldn’t he see that? “Maybe we need to work on this a bit more.” That was a bad idea for lots of reasons. The number one reason being that her boss wanted her to be done so they could get paid. Number two, she desperately needed to get her promotion to start paying for Henry’s treatments. A delay meant both of these things were at risk. And it wasn’t an acceptable risk. Was he simply being obstinate? “Well, you are the client.” Even if you are making this more difficult than it needs to be. I created exactly what you asked for. Why are you being so picky? “Yes, I am.” His voice had an edge to it. Almost like he was mad at her. Was he? Had her rough presentation offended him somehow? Or was it more personal? “I’m happy to work up some more copy and even find another mascot.” It’ll only take a lot more
time and energy, when this unicorn is perfectly acceptable. More than that. It’s a winning campaign. He studied her for a moment, and it made her breath catch in her throat. “I have an idea.” “What is it?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it. “I’d like to take the campaign in a different direction.” Seriously. He was changing his mind? “Not magical?” ”No.” His eyes brightened, and it tugged at her. “Something much more meaningful.” “I’m listening.” “Actually, I’d like to present it to you. In a very rough format, of course. Because you’re the advertising expert. Not me.” “Okay.” She had no clue where this was going. “How is Henry?” The sudden shift to a personal question jarred her, and the mention of Henry’s name made her heart hurt. “Not great.” She really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. “Did you hear from the vet?” He sat on the edge of the table. “Yes.” “What did he say?” She wished he’d stop asking questions, but she couldn’t be rude and ignore him. “He tested positive for lymphoma.” She hated that word. “His treatment will be expensive and . . .” Her voice was too heavy to continue. Mitch stood. He reached out and touched her on the shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know how much you love him.” She blinked back her tears. “He needs to begin treatments right away.” A tear slipped down her cheek, and Mitch reached over to wipe it with the back of his finger. Without warning, he pulled her into an embrace. I can’t do this, she wanted to say, but remained silent and sank deep into his arms, yearning for the comfort they offered. After a few moments, he loosened his grip slightly, then kissed her on her forehead. The door opened while they were still in each other’s arms, and Mr. Wagner stood in the doorway. “Ms. Henderson?” Chloe stumbled back, her face flushed. “Mr. Wagner.” “In my office.” His voice was stern. Severe. “Sir, this isn’t what it looks like,” Mitch said. “It is exactly what it looks like. This is inappropriate and unprofessional behavior.” “Mr. Wagner—” Mitch started. “I will replace Ms. Henderson on this account at once.” Mr. Wagner did not hide his anger. “Please—” “We have strict rules, and Ms. Henderson has breached the most important one. This is a conflict of interest.” Chloe left the room, blood rushing through her veins. How could this have happened? Not only would she lose this account, but she’d probably be fired. She hurried to Mr. Wagner’s office. Mr. Wagner closed the door behind him. “How long has this been going on?” “Nothing’s going on, sir.” “That’s not what it looked like.” His face was hard. “I apologize for how it appears, but it’s really nothing.” Mr. Wagner tapped his foot. “I can’t have even the appearance of impropriety.” “I understand.” “I must remove you from the account, and you must have no more contact with Mr. Powell. Do you understand?” His eyes narrowed as he stared at her.
Chloe’s face heated as she nodded her compliance. She didn’t doubt that Mr. Wagner would follow through with his threat and fire her. “I’ll let Mr. Powell know who will take over the account.” Mr. Wagner took a firm stance. “Again, I apologize.” She had no hope of the promotion now. How would she pay for Henry’s treatments? Chloe chastised herself for once again succumbing to her emotions around Mitch. What was it about him that made her lose all common sense and all rational thought? “I will note this in your employee record, and you’ll be on probation.” Chloe wanted to argue with him. To tell him he was wrong. But he wasn’t. Maybe nothing inappropriate happened in the conference room, but she had kissed a client, and that definitely was grounds for dismissal. The best thing she could do was accept her punishment from Mr. Wagner and stay away from Mitch. “I understand.” “I expect you to apprise me of your progress thus far so there will be a smooth transition to the new exec. Are we clear?” Mr. Wagner said. “The sooner, the better.” “Yes, sir.” Chloe said it with as much conviction as possible. Maybe if she laid low enough, this would blow over, and she could be considered for another promotion down the road. One thing was for sure, though, she’d have to figure out something because she wasn’t going to let Henry suffer. Or die. Chloe shuffled back to her office, where LeAnne was waiting. “What happened?” “Mr. Wagner removed me from the account, and I’m on probation. I’m not allowed to have any contact with Mitch.” “Were you kissing him again?” LeAnne seemed shocked. “Of course not.” “Did you tell Mr. Wagner that?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because it doesn’t matter. Even if I proved nothing happened in the conference room, something did happen in my apartment. Better to lay low and stay out of the line of fire.” She glanced around. “What happened to Mitch?” “He was upset and took off.” Chloe leaned her head back. She was definitely paying the price for letting herself become too involved. She knew better. LeAnne sidled up to her. “What about you and Mitch?” “Really? There is no me and Mitch. I don’t know how to make that any clearer.” If LeAnne didn’t stop talking about this imagined relationship, she was going to scream. “Either you’re dead or you’re lying, because I could feel the electricity between the two of you today. I’m sure Mr. Wagner felt it, too.” “There is no electricity. No us. Nothing. Can we please drop it?” “But—” “And by that, I mean never speak of it again. He is someone else’s client now, and I can’t worry about it. I need to focus on my job and stay far away from Mitch.” “Whatever you say, boss,” LeAnne said coolly. “Thank you.” LeAnne left the office. Chloe felt bad for being so abrupt, but she couldn’t dwell on what had happened. Henry didn’t have that luxury. She knew Mr. Wagner had a meeting with a client across town, so as soon as he left, she did too. She needed time to recharge.
Chapter Twenty-Two
At her apartment that evening, Chloe took care of Henry. He didn’t like his antibiotic, but she finally got him to gag it down. Right when she sat on the couch with a bowl of Cocoa Krispies, someone knocked on her door. Maybe if I stay very quiet, whoever it is will go away. When the knocking didn’t stop, she went to the door and looked through the peephole. Jimmy stood there in a tight-fitting green T-shirt and jeans with some Chinese takeout. At least it isn’t Mitch. Reluctantly, she opened the door. “I saw you come home and thought we could have dinner together,” he said. “Oh. That’s nice of you.” She couldn’t really tell him to go home. Honestly, she was a little hungry, and some company might be nice. Jimmy walked past her into the apartment. “I got chow mein and sweet and sour pork.” “Looks delicious.” The tangy scent of sweet and sour pork tickled her nose, reminding her why it was her favorite dish. “I haven’t seen you around much lately.” Jimmy looked at her. “I’ve been busy with work and stuff.” She didn’t want to delve into Henry’s health issues—the last person she shared that with ended up kissing her. Jimmy grabbed a couple of plates out of the cabinet and dished up the food. He seemed to be quite comfortable in her kitchen. “Your cat doesn’t look very good.” Chloe rushed into the kitchen. “Henry?” He was lying on the floor in an awkward position, so she bent down to pick him up. “Is he okay?” “He will be,” she said, cradling him. Chloe kept Henry on her lap while she ate the Chinese food. She and Jimmy chatted about nothing in particular. It was nice to have a simple conversation with no anxiety attached to it. After they were done, Jimmy said, “How about a movie?” “You know, I’m pretty tired. I think I need to call it a night.” Jimmy looked disappointed. “All right.” “But this was so nice of you.” Jimmy was thoughtful to bring her dinner. “We can do it again. Soon.” “Sure.” Maybe they could. Someday. “I hope Henry feels better.” Jimmy stroked Henry on the head. “Thanks.” After Jimmy left, Chloe plopped on the couch next to Henry. She didn’t feel an urgency to date Jimmy, but maybe, given some time, they could explore the idea. Because there wasn’t anyone else she was going to date. Or kiss. That was for sure. A knock sounded. Chloe got up and said as she opened the door, “Did you forget . . .?” She didn’t finish her sentence. “I hope you don’t mind,” Mitch said. “I wanted to see you.” Her heart thumped against her ribs as Mr. Wagner’s words echoed in her ears. Mitch can’t be here. “I’m so sorry about what happened.” “I appreciate that.” Chloe didn’t open the door any wider. She cleared her throat and said, “I’m no longer on the account.” “This is my fault.” He clenched his jaw. Chloe couldn’t risk Mr. Wagner finding out somehow that she was talking to Mitch. “I think it’s best if you leave.” A disappointed expression crossed his face. “I understand.” Mitch turned and walked away.
Chloe shut the door, feeling deflated. This hadn’t turned out at all as she’d hoped.
* * *
Near Chloe’s apartment building, Mitch sat in his car and stared out the windshield. What was he supposed to do now? He was the reason that Chloe had lost the account. If only he hadn’t been so eager to pull her into his arms. If he’d kept their relationship professional, none of this would have happened. Somehow he needed to make this up to her. She obviously didn’t want to see him, but he had to convince her so he could make amends. What can I do? He tossed ideas over in his mind. What if he demanded that Chloe be reinstated on the account? That would probably make things worse for her, and that was the last thing he wanted. What if he went in and gushed over the unicorn campaign and told Mr. Wagner that Chloe was a genius? He shook his head. That wouldn’t work because he hated the unicorn. Maybe he needed to find another ad agency and forget all about this. Move forward like he’d never met Chloe. Yeah, that won’t work either. Mitch got out and took a walk in the brisk air, trying to free his problem-solving skills. What if he and Chloe worked together to create a campaign that he wanted to use and made Mr. Wagner recognize her talent? Maybe that would smooth things over. That would be a win-win for both of them. He passed an older couple walking their dog, and an idea sparked. Without thinking, he rushed back to Chloe’s building and went directly to her apartment.
* * *
Someone pounded on Chloe’s door. She looked through the peephole and saw that it was Mitch. Again. “Chloe, I know you’re in there. Let me in,” he said through the door. Against her better judgment, she opened it slightly. “Please?” he said. “I can’t.” “This is business related. I have an idea for the campaign.” “I’m no longer on the account, remember?” “Can I come in, please?” His eyes pleaded with her. “Only for a minute,” she said as she opened the door and looked down the hall. She couldn’t have Mr. Wagner finding out that Mitch was in her apartment. “Thank you.” She motioned for him to sit down. Then she sat. On the chair. Not close to him. “I want to apologize again. I shouldn’t have hugged you. You know, I don’t usually do that kind of thing.” “Mr. Wagner will assign you another exec.” Even though she was upset about what happened, it wouldn’t do any good to take it out on Mitch when she was just as at fault. “I don’t want another one.” He peered at her. “I want you.” Chloe swallowed hard. Of course he meant he wanted her to be the exec on the account. He didn’t mean anything else. “That’s no longer an option.” He leaned forward, excitement in his eyes. “I want to create a campaign with you.” “Mr. Wagner wants the new ad exec to work with you. He was very clear about that.” He nodded, the corners of his mouth lifted. “I have an idea for the campaign.” “I don’t think you understand—”
“I understand that because of me, you were pulled off the account. I want to remedy this and it can be beneficial for both of us.” “How so?” “We can create a proposal I like. You can give it to your boss, who will see the brilliance of it. You may not be on the account, but he’ll have to recognize your talent and keep you as part of his team. And I’ll have a campaign I like. See, win-win.” “I don’t know.” “At least listen to my idea?” Her curiosity piqued, she said, “Okay. What is it?” “I wasn’t really loving the unicorn thing. Sorry, but it didn’t speak to me.” “Yeah, I remember.” She still thought it was a great concept that communicated the magical feeling of being in a toy store. But he was the client—maybe not technically hers at the moment, but still a client of her agency—so she decided to hear him out. If the idea was feasible, she’d give it to Mr. Wagner. Maybe this could put her back on her boss’s good side. “I want something comfy. Something that makes our stores feel like home. Where kids want to come to play and shop. Where they can find the toys that make them happy and feel good. Feel loved. Like a family.” “And that is?” She couldn’t imagine where this was going. He pointed at Henry. “Huh?” What did her cat have to do with this? Mitch smiled, as if he was about to deliver something important. “I want to use Henry as the mascot.” Chloe blinked. “My Henry?” “Yeah. What’s more homey than a cat? Everyone loves cats. We design the logo and the whole campaign around him.” Mitch wanted to use Henry—something deep inside of her fell in love with that idea immediately. “Are you sure you aren’t the ad exec?” Mitch shrugged. “I kind of like the creative outlet.” He looked at her. “Are you game to do this? You can give it to your boss first thing tomorrow morning.” “He is expecting to see what I’ve done so far.” “I think this will work.” He glanced over at Henry, who was lying on the couch. “How is he feeling?” “Not great.” Mitch walked over and took Henry in his arms. “We’re going to get you better. I need to have you healthy.” Chloe’s eyes misted as she watched Mitch hold Henry so tenderly. “I sure hope so,” she said. “I’ll be paying him. Actually, I’ll be paying you to allow me to use him.” “What?” He was going to pay to use Henry? “Absolutely. I paid for those kids to be the spokespeople for the last campaign.” “But this is different.” Sounded more like he was looking for an excuse to give her money to help Henry. “No, it’s not.” His tone was firm. “And I’m not suggesting any kind of charity, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Chloe knew very well what it was—a sweet and thoughtful gesture. “I don’t know what to say. I can’t—” “Yes, you can. This is purely business. And I pay quite well. Henry will make enough money to pay for any medical bills.”
She wanted to throw her arms around Mitch and shower him with her gratitude, but she resisted. No one had ever been so kind to her. “Are you ready to get to work?” For the next couple of hours, they tossed around ideas. Chloe wrote copy and drew some sketches. Mitch sat back against the couch. “I think we have a great campaign. And I’m the client. If I’m happy, everyone is happy, right?” He smiled, and it made her stomach tremble. “That’s usually how it goes.” “You’re very talented.” “Thank you.” She appreciated that he’d noticed, even if it made the tips of her ears warm. “I can tell you love what you do. You didn’t deserve what happened.” She nodded. “Mr. Wagner had told me that if I aced your campaign, I’d get a promotion—” “That is what you deserve.” Mitch placed his hand on hers, leaving a warm sensation. “You’re exceptional at what you do.” Sitting there with Mitch, she believed him. She believed in herself. “I don’t think a promotion is possible right now, but I’ll settle for keeping my job.” “Your boss would be a fool not to keep you.” Mitch peered at her with conviction in his eyes. “Look at this great campaign you created.” “We created,” she said. “The truth is, you did all the work.” “We both know that isn’t true.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear, making her skin erupt in goose bumps. “Call me your muse, then.” “Muse?” “Something like that.” It took every ounce of strength she had not to fling her arms around his neck. She stood to put some space between them. “Thank you for coming over here. For hiring Henry. That really means a lot to me.” “Purely selfish,” he said as he rose, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction. “Oh, yeah?” “My dad is on my back about taking over this business. I need a better marketing strategy and a new campaign. Nothing at all to do with you.” He gave her a slight smile. “This campaign will make our toy stores a household name, right?” “That’s the plan.” He glanced at his watch. “We’d better get some sleep.” “And you were never here.” “I was never here,” he repeated. Mitch left, and Chloe leaned against the door. Maybe she’d eventually be back in Mr. Wagner’s good graces, which might lead to a promotion one day. But all of that lost some of its magnitude when she thought about Mitch. He’d encouraged her to come up with this new campaign and recognized her talent, making her feel like she could conquer the world. And he’d given her a way to take care of Henry’s needs without making her feel like a charity case. He claimed it was for selfish reasons, but he’d done it for her. To help her. The last place she’d expected to find a man like Mitch was in her office. But as hard as it was, Chloe had stay focused on her career, not on Mitch.
Chapter Twenty-Three
After a few hours of sleep and a shower, Chloe rushed to her office, anticipation gnawing at her stomach. She’d meet with Mr. Wagner and pass on the new campaign she’d created with Mitch, hoping that her boss would never discover she’d defied him. I hope this works and Mr. Wagner recognizes my efforts, even if I’m no longer on the account. The uncertainty of the situation played tug-of-war with her nerves As she passed LeAnne’s desk, she said, “Can you ask Mr. Wagner to meet me in the conference room?” Chloe went inside her office and sat for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. She wanted to be calm and cool when she presented the proposed campaign. LeAnne opened the door. “Mr. Wagner said he can see you now.” “Thank you.” “Good luck.” LeAnne gave her a hopeful expression. Chloe drew in a deep breath and made her way to the conference room. Her heart beat wildly, as if it were trying to escape her chest, and every nerve burned. “Chloe,” Mr. Wagner said gruffly as he walked into the conference room. Refusing to allow her fear to gain the advantage, Chloe said, “I have what I’ve worked on for World of Toys. I think you’ll like it.” With shaking hands, she opened the portfolio. “Not a unicorn anymore?” “No.” She swallowed. “It’s a new campaign with a cat. Actually, my cat, Henry.” He studied the sketches and rubbed his chin. “Hmm. I don’t know.” “I think this campaign is one of the best I’ve done.” She said it with as much confidence as possible. After a few agonizing moments, Mr. Wagner said, “I agree.” “You do?” She wanted to jump up and down. “Yes. I’ll hand this over to Jason, and he can make an appointment with Mr. Powell,” he said evenly. “Thank you.” “I’m assigning you to a new account, Vitality Health Foods. Here is the contact information.” Mr. Wagner handed her a folder with some papers. “I’ll get right on it.” “Remember, you’re still on probation. I’ll be watching.” “I understand.” Chloe returned to her office. She answered a few emails and made an appointment with a woman from Vitality Foods. The busier she could keep herself, the easier it would be to forget about World of Toys and Mitch, which is exactly what she planned to do.
* * *
About an hour later, LeAnne opened the door. “Mitch just went into Mr. Wagner’s office.” “Oh.” Her nerves ignited. What was Mitch up to? “What’s going on?” LeAnne studied Chloe. “I don’t know.” Even though LeAnne was her closest friend, she couldn’t risk telling her that Mitch had come to her apartment last night, not with her job on the line. “I wonder what’s happening in there. I feel like my stomach might explode.” “You should go find out,” LeAnne said. Chloe definitely couldn’t see Mitch or interact with him at the office, not with Mr. Wagner there. “Actually, I need to go meet with a potential client. I’ll see you next week.”
“Please come over for Christmas dinner,” LeAnne pleaded. “It’ll be fun.” “I’ll be working on the pitch for Vitality Foods. I want to present it to Ms. Davis as soon as I can.” LeAnne shook her head. “You can’t work through Christmas.” “Yes, I can. Especially if I want to make up for what happened and show Mr. Wagner he can count on me.” “I still hope you’ll come over.” LeAnne gave her a hug. “Thanks. I appreciate it. Really.” With that, Chloe left quickly to avoid Mitch.
* * *
“Thank you for seeing me,” Mitch said. “I wondered if you had anything to show me.” “The new account executive, Jason Chilton, hasn’t had time to create anything yet,” Mr. Wagner said. “But Ms. Henderson has given me a new campaign she worked up.” “Can I see that?” Mitch asked. He knew Mr. Wagner was angry and had penalized Chloe for what happened, but he also knew that World of Toys was a large account and Mr. Wagner wanted it. “Certainly, but it isn’t finalized.” Mr. Wagner pulled out the sketches and showed them to Mitch. “I like these. They’ve captured my vision for my stores.” “Here are some radio spots and TV ads.” Mitch nodded. If he had any chance of convincing Mr. Wagner to put Chloe back on the account, he had to act as if he’d never seen the proposal before. “Let’s use it. TV, radio, display ads. All of it.” “This is only the beginning. Jason can fine-tune it for you.” “I don’t think it needs anything else. I like it exactly the way it is.” He peered at Mr. Wagner. “I’m hiring this agency.” “Very good.” Mr. Wagner beamed with satisfaction. “And I’d like Ms. Henderson to handle my account.” “I’m not sure that would be proper, given the circumstances.” “There were no circumstances. Ms. Henderson has been completely professional, in my opinion. She has great ideas, dedication, and enthusiasm. Not to mention a work ethic that’s hard to find. She’s exactly what I need, and want, for my account.” That should convince him. Mr. Wagner adjusted his glasses. “I’m sorry, but that’s out of the question.” “I see.” Obviously, Mr. Wagner was not going to budge, and if Mitch pushed him, it would only hurt Chloe. “We look forward to working with you,” Mr. Wagner said. Mitch left Mr. Wagner’s office. He failed to have Chloe reinstated on the account, which made him feel like he’d failed her. He wanted to give her some kind of recognition, even if it was in a small way. He had to do something.
Chapter Twenty-Four
That night, Chloe sat cross-legged on her couch, eating a bowl of chicken noodle soup and absently surfing through channels while Henry snoozed on the other end. Her meeting at Vitality Foods had gone well. She should probably be working on a pitch for Ms. Davis, but her motivation was severely lacking. It still stung that she’d been removed from the World of Toys account. And the irony that it was right before Christmas wasn’t lost on her. Nothing good happened this time of year. At least she had the next few days off. She planned to lounge in her sweats, watch TV, and hang out with Henry while the rest of the world celebrated. A part of her was relieved she no longer needed to attend the Powells’ big charity event. But if she was being totally honest, another part—a tiny, miniscule part—was disappointed. She’d looked forward to spending the evening with Mitch. A sudden realization hit her. She still had the dress that belonged to Mitch’s mom. How would she return it? She chewed on her lip. This had all become so complicated. How had a simple toy account become so mired in difficulties? And she still wondered what had happened between Mitch and Mr. Wagner at their meeting today. I have to put that out of my mind. I have to put everything about Mitch out of my mind. Someone knocked at her door. She expected it to be Jimmy, but when she saw Mitch through the peephole, her heart crashed to her stomach. “Chloe?” he said. She knew she shouldn’t open the door, but before the sensible part of her brain could engage, the door was open. “Hi.” “Hi.” Mitch walked in. He looked good. And he smelled good. Better than good. She motioned for him to sit on the couch. Mitch peered at her. “How is my spokescat doing?” “As well as can be expected, I think.” “When can he start treatments?” “I’ll be taking him to a specialist right after the holidays,” she said, trying not to dwell on it. “Good. I hope his salary will be sufficient. If not—” “You’ve already been generous enough. Thank you.” He opened his mouth to say something, but Chloe held up her hand. “Please, don’t say that it’s for selfish reasons, because I know it isn’t.” “You give me way too much credit.” “I think you deserve it.” He leaned toward her. “You do?” The close proximity wreaked havoc with her heartbeat. The memory of their last kiss shot through her mind, and all she could think about was repeating it. Again and again. Tasting his peppermint lips, experiencing the electric impulses racing through her, running her fingers through his thick, dark hair, and melting into his embrace. But she couldn’t. “You’ve been very kind to me. And to Henry. We both appreciate it.” She jumped up. “I had your mom’s dress cleaned, and since you’re here . . .” She handed it to him. “I’m sure she still hasn’t missed it.” He laughed as he set it on the back of the couch. “By the way, I went to see Mr. Wagner today.” She nodded. “And?” “I tried to get you back on the account.”
“But my boss refused.” “Yeah. He shouldn’t have taken you off the account. He overreacted.” “Thank you for trying. I appreciate it.” After a few awkward moments, Mitch said, “I came over because I’d still like you to come to the charity event tomorrow night and show my dad the campaign.” “Why? I won’t be working on it.” “But you created it, and I want you to present it to him.” “I’m sorry, but I’m busy,” she lied. She couldn’t go to a public event with Mitch. “I understand.” Stifling silence filled the small room for almost a minute. “I guess I should be going.” Chloe opened the door for him. She didn’t want him to leave, but that’s what needed to happen. “I hope you reconsider and come tomorrow night.” Mitch left, and Chloe fell into her chair. There was no denying the attraction between the two of them. It was palpable, but what did that matter?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mitch tossed and turned through the night. He felt responsible for having Chloe removed from the account and couldn’t convince her stubborn, thick-headed boss to put her back on. She’d been gracious about it, but he knew how driven she was, and how upset it must have made her, even if she didn’t show it. She had to blame him. That’s why she doesn’t want to come to the charity event. He sat up in bed. Tonight was Christmas Eve, and the gift he wanted most was a chance with Chloe. But he’d blown it, and there was no way she’d come that night, no matter how much he wanted her to. He lay back down, staring at the window while the early morning light streamed through. He’d finally found a woman who made him feel again, a woman that he thought about nonstop, and she’d slipped through his fingers. Rising from the bed, he picked up the long velvet box that rested on his nightstand—a thank you gift for Chloe that he’d hoped to give her that night. But he couldn’t persuade her to come. And he didn’t blame her. Still, he hoped maybe there was a chance she’d show up, so he determined to bring the box. If Chloe felt anything for him, she’d be there.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chloe slept in then spent most of the day watching episodes of The Walking Dead. “Even if my life is pathetic right now, at least I’m not a zombie trying to eat people’s brains.” She laughed. “That’s funny. Don’t you think, Henry?” She ran her fingers through her tangled hair. “I need a shower.” Chloe stood and took a few steps when something by the couch caught her eye, so she went over to investigate. The dress. It must have slipped down behind the couch and neither one of them had noticed it. She picked it up and held it in her hands, recalling the night she wore it. A night Chloe had tried to forget with a man who was unforgettable. “What should I do with this?” she asked Henry. He gave her a look. “No, I can’t take it to Mitch at the charity event. Suggesting that is out of the question.” She patted him on the head. “Yes, I know he invited me—twice—but I can’t go. Sure, I guess I might like to go. I mean, there would probably be better food than we have here, but it could mean the end of my job if my boss found out.” She laid the dress across the chair then sat on the couch. “You’re right. How would Mr. Wagner know?” She paused. “Oh, he’d find out somehow.” Henry pawed her. “Really. I can’t go. I can’t risk my job. I wish you’d quit trying to convince me.” Henry curled up and went to sleep. “Are you pooping out on me already? We have another season to watch.” She stroked Henry. “Okay, I admit it. Under different circumstances, I’d like to spend more time with Mitch. Get to know him. Maybe see where things might go. But I can’t. Right?” She was right, wasn’t she? The more she thought about it, the less sure she was. Before she met Mitch, her life plan was clear. She knew what she wanted and how to get there. But now it was muddy, lines had blurred, and she found herself yearning to be with him. Was it worth the risk? Chloe tossed it over and over in her mind until she came to a decision. Mitch had invited her, and she wanted to go. She wanted to be part of something. And she wanted it enough that she was willing to take the chance. “I don’t know if I’ll regret going,” she said to Henry, “but I think I’ll regret not going even more.” Chloe went to her closet. She wanted to look elegant, but not overstated, so she picked out a simple navy dress. She’d worn this one for other events and figured it would fit in nicely. She grabbed Mrs. Powell’s dress and her laptop, then drove to the Rockman Event Center before she could change her mind. Chloe made her way across the parking lot, the chilly night air making her shiver. As soon as she entered, a wave of nausea hit her. Everything shouted Christmas so loud, it made her ears hurt. From the trees that lined the entryway to the decorations all over the walls and tables. Christmas. Was. Everywhere. As Chloe entered the large main room, she stopped. Kids were dressed in their pajamas and were running around laughing and smiling. She spotted Mitch to her left. He was dressed in red flannel pajamas as well, looking relaxed, as if he was in his own living room waiting for the festivities to begin. Completely overdressed, Chloe turned to rush out the door. “Chloe,” Mitch said across the room. “Come on in.” He hurried over to her. “Uh, hi,” she choked out, wishing she could disappear. This was a bad idea. “You look beautiful.” His smile reached all the way to his eyes. “I don’t think I’m dressed appropriately.” Why hadn’t he told her what to wear? “I’m so sorry. I must’ve forgotten to tell you this is a big pajama party.” She nodded, feeling like a fish flailing next to its bowl. “We want the kids to feel like this is one big family, and we’re all together to celebrate Christmas.”
That made sense, but she still felt wrapped in a blanket of awkward. “Come with me.” He held out his hand, and against her better judgment, she took it. A warm, sizzling sensation traveled up her arm. Mitch took her to a smaller room, then handed her a package. “What’s this?” “Open it.” Feeling uneasy, she opened the box. Inside was a set of pajamas that matched Mitch’s. “Uhh . . .” “We always have extra pajamas so everyone can join the party and feel comfortable.” “So you want me to wear them?” “Only if you want to.” Mitch nodded. “It is Christmas Eve.” Chloe was already so far out of her comfort zone, she figured she might as well. She went into the bathroom and changed, leaving her clothes neatly folded on the vanity. She came out wearing the soft flannel pajamas, still a little off-kilter. With a cheerful expression, Mitch said, “Now you look like you’re ready for a Christmas party.” Chloe followed Mitch into a large room with more kids than she’d ever seen in one place. There were kids of all ages, and several Christmas trees. The scent of roasted turkey, fresh-baked bread, and pumpkin pie floated through the air, making her stomach rumble. Everyone seemed relaxed and at ease. Mitch led her to the front of the room, where she saw his dad. “Hello, Chloe,” his father said in a jovial tone. “Merry Christmas.” “Merry Christmas,” she said, almost feeling like she meant it. “Mitch tells me you created the perfect ad campaign, which is a tall order.” She gave an awkward smile. I hope Mitch explained that I’m not on the account anymore. “My son thinks our ads are old-fashioned and it’s time for a change.” He patted Mitch on the shoulder. “Since he’ll be the man in charge, I guess I’m going to have to trust him on that one.” Summoning up her courage and her confidence, Chloe said, “I think you will be pleasantly surprised.” It was a good campaign, and she’d worked hard on it. “I brought the PowerPoint, if you’re interested.” “I am. After dinner? We always have the traditional dinner before our special guest arrives.” Mr. Powell smiled, and Chloe could see how much Mitch resembled his father. “Sure.” “Oh, hello,” Mrs. Powell said. She was dressed in pink pajamas. “Welcome to our party. This is the best part of Christmas. Look at all these beautiful children.” She fanned her arm out. Chloe glanced around the room. As she looked at the kids, she noticed the pure joy on their faces. How could that be? They were all there because they had nothing. They were charity cases. And yet, they seemed happy. How could having nothing make anyone happy? “Let’s go sit over here,” Mitch said, guiding Chloe to a table lined with kids and adults. Mitch pulled out a chair for Chloe, and she sat. He said, “My sister Ali just arrived. I’ll be back in a minute.” “I’ll be here, I guess.” “What’s your name?” asked a thin girl with large blue eyes and straight blonde hair. “It’s Chloe. What’s yours?” “Amelia,” she said, exposing her crooked teeth. “Nice to meet you.” “You’re beautiful,” Amelia whispered. “Thank you.” “Is she bothering you? My daughter can be a pest,” a woman sitting on the other side of Amelia asked. “Oh, no. She’s fine,” Chloe answered.
The woman turned and attended to a little girl with brown pigtails Chloe assumed was Amelia’s younger sister. Amelia tapped Chloe on the arm. “Are you Mr. Mitch’s wife?” Chloe coughed. “Uh, no.” A grin grew on Amelia’s lips. “Girlfriend?” “No.” Chloe shook her head. She wished this little girl would stop asking questions. “We are business associates.” Amelia scrunched up her face. “That’s not what it looks like.” How could she explain their relationship to Amelia when Chloe wasn’t even sure what it was? They were business associates, but were they more than that? Friends? Or even more? Being here at the party distorted the once-clear boundary. “I can’t wait for Santa to come.” “That will be fun.” Poor little girl and her delusions. As if Santa could make everything all right for her. “I hope he brings me a Barbie. A real pretty one.” “Is that your favorite?” “No.” Puzzled by Amelia’s answer, Chloe asked, “Why do you want one, then?” “Because my friend, Lila, loves Barbies, and I want to give it to her.” “What?” Chloe was stunned. She must’ve heard the girl wrong. “Lila is sad. Her daddy died, and I want to make her feel better.” Chloe studied Amelia—a child who had nothing, but was hoping for a gift to give away to someone else. It didn’t make sense. “Besides, the funnest part of Christmas is giving stuff to other people.” “It is?” “I made a special box at school for my mom. I painted it and put stickers on it for her. And for my little sister, I made a book with lots of pictures. I think she’ll like it. But I want to give Lila something extra special because she’s so sad.” “Well, that sounds wonderful.” Chloe was taken aback, stunned. In all her years as a kid, she’d been focused on what she didn’t get at Christmas. And since then, all she’d done was remember the bad things that had happened to her. It had been about her. No one else. “Can I make you a present?” Amelia’s eyes widened. “Oh, I don’t know—” Chloe started. “I see you’ve met Amelia,” Mitch said, interrupting. Chloe turned to him. “Yes. We’ve been chatting.” “Mr. Mitch?” “Yes?” Amelia cupped her hand and whispered loudly, “I like her. I think she should be your girlfriend.” Chloe’s face instantly heated. “I see.” Mitch took his seat. “I’ll take that under consideration, Amelia.” A dozen butterflies fluttered in Chloe’s stomach. Mitch’s father stood at the front of the room and spoke into a microphone. “Welcome, everyone. We hope you are all excited for tonight’s party.” He broke into a wide grin, then said, “Alisha, can you come up here? And bring Ben.” Chloe turned toward the other side of the room, where she watched a woman with long, wavy brown hair make her way to the front. A man with blond hair and a closely-cropped beard followed her. When the couple got to the front, Chloe recognized the family resemblance at once. Alisha strongly
favored her mother. She stood close to Ben, who wrapped his arm tightly around her. They both smiled. Mr. Powell raised his hand. “I have some exciting news. My daughter is engaged to be married next summer. What better Christmas gift than to have our family grow?” Applause erupted. Mitch leaned in and said, “My mother is thrilled. She’s been planning Ali’s wedding for over a year.” “Congratulations,” Chloe said. “That’s great news.” She imagined the wedding would be a huge family gathering with plenty of love and warmth to spread around. Mr. Powell continued, “We have a delicious dinner ready, and then we might have a visitor come from a cold, cold place up north.” The kids at Chloe’s table wore big grins and clapped. The tangible excitement in the room made her heart soften. “This is really something,” she said. “Have you always done it?” “As long as I can remember. My parents taught us that we should care about others around us, especially those who struggle. This is our way of trying to make Christmas special for the kids. Make them feel like they’re important. That they matter.” Mitch’s words were laced with kindness, which melted Chloe’s heart a little bit more. After Amelia finished dinner, she popped up and disappeared. “Everything was delicious, but I really loved the mashed potatoes,” Chloe said. “My mom’s secret recipe.” He raised his eyebrows. “Wait until you try the pumpkin pie.” “I don’t have any more room. In fact, I think I might pass out from a food overdose.” “You don’t want to miss seeing all the kids when Santa gets here. That’s the best part—watching their faces light up.” Chloe was fascinated by Mitch’s affection for the holiday. The Christmas Spirit was starting to smooth her rough edges. Chloe felt a tap on her shoulder. When she turned around, Amelia stood there. “What do you have in your hand?” Chloe asked. Amelia held something over Mitch and Chloe. Mistletoe. With a grin, she said, “You know what this means, right?” Chloe wanted to sink under the table. She couldn’t kiss Mitch. Not in front of everyone. But she couldn’t disappoint Amelia. Mitch looked at Chloe and said, “It’s mistletoe.” “Yes, it is,” Chloe said. “And if you are under mistletoe—” Mitch started. “You hafta kiss,” Amelia said as more kids gathered to watch. Chloe didn’t know what to do. She was on the spot. “We can’t disappoint them,” Mitch said as he leaned in. Chloe gave him a quick peck, but it was enough to make the memory of the other kiss come crashing in. His gaze captured hers and sent her heart into spasms while everything else melted away. Bells started ringing, and a loud “Ho, ho, ho” echoed in the room, breaking the spell. Amelia dropped the mistletoe and rushed toward the front. A man in a red suit with an ample belly entered the room, and the kids went wild. Chloe couldn’t help but get caught up in the fervor. As the kids encircled Santa, Mr. Powell motioned for Mitch to come up front. He, in turn, grabbed Chloe’s hand. “Would you mind helping us hand out the goodie bags?” he asked. She nodded, feeling a thrill of excitement at the opportunity. They walked up to the front, where the kids made a line to see Santa. Chloe and Mitch handed each child a bag filled with candy, small gifts, and an orange. Chloe’s heart seemed to grow with each bag as
the kids’ faces radiated gratitude. These children weren’t bitter and mad. They were grateful and happy. Being a part of this made Chloe grateful too. After all the kids had received their goodie bags from Santa, Mitch took Chloe into another glassenclosed room that overlooked a garden area where tiny white lights adorned the trees, casting a magical glow. He handed Chloe a box. “What is this?” “Something to show you my appreciation for all your hard work. And to make up a little for what happened.” “You don’t need to give me a gift.” “I know, but I saw this, and it made me think of you. You can open it.” He watched her with childlike excitement. Carefully, she opened a long velvet box, exposing a silver chain with a charm on it. The charm was in the shape of a cat, and Henry was engraved across it. Chloe handled it gently as the tears welled up. “This is so you can always keep Henry close to your heart, even when you’re away at work.” “I don’t know what to say.” Words were poor substitutes for the feelings of appreciation and belonging that grew inside her. “You don’t need to say anything.” He reached for the necklace, then stepped behind her and put it around her neck. She closed her eyes, trying to beckon every ounce of strength she had to keep her emotions securely intact, even if everything inside her screamed to let them loose. Chloe opened her eyes as Mitch moved around in front of her. “How does it look?” she asked as calmly as possible while her pulse raged through her. “Perfect.” “This was thoughtful. Thank you.” Mitch trailed his finger along her jaw, and she struggled to catch her breath. “Please, don’t,” she whispered. He moved closer to her. “Tell me you can’t feel this between us.” “I can’t.” “I don’t believe you.” “You don’t understand.” “I think I do.” His lips hovered over hers. “I really can’t.” She could feel the heat from his mouth. The proximity of his lips was torturing her, but she had to remain strong and keep this relationship in perspective. Didn’t she? Mitch moved back, putting more space between them. “Why?” Why? At the moment, she had no reasonable explanation. All she wanted to do was melt into his arms and succumb to his kisses. Mitch cupped her chin in his hand. “Ever since I met you, I can’t get you out of my head. I think about you and wonder if there’s a chance we could be together. I didn’t want to take the risk, not after what happened. But you’ve made me forget about all of that. I don’t want to dwell on the past anymore. I want to go forward. With you.” “We can’t.” She yearned for him to say no. For him to hold her and tell her they had a future. “You keep saying that.” “Because it’s too complicated.” “Not complicated at all.” With that, Mitch moved his hands to her neck, bringing her face to his. Every inch of her body reacted at once as he laid his warm, full lips on hers. The kiss was hesitant at first, as if asking permission for more. When she responded affirmatively, the kiss became more confident, more passionate. His hands moved to her back, and she ran her fingers through his thick hair, their bodies
melding together as all resistance and fear faded. She didn’t want to be anywhere but here, in his arms, kissing him like there was no tomorrow. Her hands caressed his back, feeling his muscles beneath the soft fabric. Every inch of her felt energized and renewed. His lips grazed her ear, then set off a nerve explosion when they landed on her neck. She gulped for air as she pulled him even closer to her. A giggle erupted, interrupting their kiss. Chloe stepped back, dazed, and saw Amelia standing there, watching. Chloe’s cheeks immediately burned. How long had she been there? “Amelia, what are you doing here?” Mitch asked casually like nothing had happened. “I guess you don’t need the mistletoe after all.” Amelia laughed again, then covered her mouth. “I think you’re right.” Mitch winked. “They’re looking for you,” Amelia said. “Who?” “Your whole family. But I knew where you were because I saw you come in here,” Amelia said with pride. Chloe wiped at her face. “I need to get the presentation ready.” She hurried out of the room and found her laptop. No matter what had just happened with Mitch or what that meant, she still needed to act professionally. She scanned the room and her gaze settled on Mr. Powell. Mitch walked to him then they both looked in Chloe’s direction. Mr. Powell waved her over. “I’d like to see the campaign now,” he said. “Yes, sir.” She went into a room with him and Mitch, and proceeded to show Mr. Powell the PowerPoint presentation of the ads. He tapped his chin while he studied all of it. Even though Mitch was going to take over the business, she suspected he wanted his father’s approval on the direction he was taking the ads. “Very different from our current campaign,” Mr. Powell said. “Yes. Mitch indicated he wanted something new.” She couldn’t quite tell what Mr. Powell thought. “And a cat?” She nodded. “Hmm.” He squinted at the screen. “We had a cat when I was a kid. Kitty Cleo was her name. Rescued her from a shelter.” “The mascot was inspired by Chloe’s cat, Henry,” Mitch said. “This brings back memories. Makes me think of home and feeling happy. The magic of being a kid.” Chloe smiled. “That’s the reaction we were hoping for.” “We want our stores to feel like home. That we care about our customers. Like family,” Mitch said. “I like it. All of it. I like the new direction.” Mr. Powell extended his hand to Chloe. “Well done.” “I did have some help,” Chloe said as she shook his hand. Mr. Powell swung his arm around Mitch’s shoulders. “World of Toys is safe in your hands. I expect great things to happen.” “Me too.” Mitch said as he gazed at Chloe. “Me too.”
* * *
Mitch was in the kitchen doing some cleanup. Chloe threw away some trash then lingered at the doorway while his sister, Patti, walked up behind him. “Great news about Ali, huh?” “It’s about time.” “I think Mom would have flipped if they didn’t get engaged soon.” Patti laughed. “Where are they now? I wanted to introduce Ali to Chloe.” “Dad said they rushed off to see his grandparents and tell them the news. And speaking of Chloe—
there’s a rumor floating around.” “Oh, yeah?” Mitch said casually. “Seems that some people were caught kissing.” Chloe felt like her face must be crimson red. She stepped back, but stayed within earshot. “You mean the engaged couple?” “No, no. I mean you.” “Oh, under the mistletoe. Isn’t that what it’s for?” Mitch said in a teasing tone. “Apparently, these people didn’t need any mistletoe. And from what I hear, it was quite a kiss.” “You don’t say?” Chloe could hear Patti slap Mitch on the shoulder. “That’s why you weren’t interested in Kim. You had your eye on the ad girl.” “Chloe.” “And you know what?” “What?” “I like her,” Patti said, making Chloe feel almost giddy. “That’s good to know.” “I guess you didn’t need me to find you a woman after all.” “Nope.” Chloe felt too guilty eavesdropping anymore, so she made some noise as she walked into the kitchen. A smile exploded across Mitch’s face. “Can I help with anything in here?” she asked. “I’m sure you can help Mitch . . . with something,” Patti said with a smirk. “I need to go find my little munchkins.” She looked at Chloe. “I’m sure I’ll see you later.” Chloe took one of the dishtowels and started drying a big bowl. “This was a great party.” “Even though it was all about Christmas?” “Maybe I’ve changed my mind about some things.” “Go on.” Mitch’s attention was fully on her. Chloe leaned against the counter. “I’ve been so selfish for so long, I couldn’t see that the real meaning of Christmas is about what we can give to others. And while I’ve focused so much on the bad things that have happened in my life, I’ve forgotten to be grateful for the good things.” Mitch nodded, his eyes full of anticipation. “Anything else?” She moved closer to him. “I don’t know what will happen with my job if you and I . . .” He reached out for her hand. “If we what?” “Mr. Wagner will fire me.” “Then work for me. I need someone to head up my advertising department.” “You mean I’d hire Mr. Wagner, and he’d work for me?” A devilish grin crossed her lips while she thought of Mr. Wagner groveling to her. “Only if he delivered a winning campaign.” “Tempting.” She’d love to be Mr. Wagner’s boss, but she wanted to earn it the old-fashioned way— through hard work and dedication, not because she was romantically involved with a business owner. “But I need to do this on my own.” “What if he fires you?” “I’ll find something else.” A better job with another agency. And maybe something else, even more valuable to her than a job. “Are you sure?” He played with a piece of her hair. “It’s worth the risk.” “I agree.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, then rested his forehead against hers. “After all these years, for once, Christmas doesn’t mean the end of something.”
“What does it mean?” “It feels more like the beginning of something—something unexpected, but with unlimited possibilities.” “Merry Christmas, Chloe Henderson.” “Merry Christmas,” she said, her eyes glistening and her heart full. He leaned in and kissed her deeply, leaving no doubt that this was where she belonged.
About the Author
Rebecca grew up next to the ocean in Santa Barbara, CA. She spent her youth at the beach collecting sea shells and building sandcastles. She graduated from high school and left for college, where she met and married her sweetheart, Del. Del and Rebecca are the sometimes frazzled, but always grateful, parents of ten wildly-creative and multi-talented children and the grandparents of the most adorable little girl in the universe. After spending nineteen years in rural CO with horses, cows, sheep, goats, rabbits, and donkeys, Rebecca and her family moved to a suburb of Houston, TX, where she spends most of her time in the pool trying to avoid the heat and humidity. When she isn't in the pool, she loves to date her husband, play with her kids, swim in the ocean, redecorate her house, and dance to disco music while she cleans the house. Rebecca has always loved to write and has authored novels, stories for print and online magazines, and children's books. She now focuses on writing romance because she believes everyone deserves their happily-ever-after. You can learn more about her at www.rebeccatalley.com
Jane and Bailey: Austen in Love #2 Countdown to Christmas
by Jenni James Trifecta Books
Book design and layout copyright © 2015 by Trifecta Books Cover design copyright © 2015 by Jenni James
This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Copyright© 2015 by Tristi Pinkston
Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen About the Author
JANE & BINGLEY — Austen in Love #2 Countdown to Christmas by Jenni James
Other books in the Austen in Love series: My Pride, His Prejudice
This book is dedicated . . .
To all the fans who emailed and begged for this closure—here it is, the story of Jane and Charles. I hope you love it as much as I have. Thank you for letting me repent and experience this with you. It was so much fun! And you were right—it was needed. To Chloe—my heart bled for you as I wrote this, but it gave me the strength to believe in happiness again. I love you, sweetie.
CHAPTER ONE On the First Day of Christmas
It was the Christmas wedding of the year—December 23rd. Simply everyone who was anyone was there. Jane glanced around the room for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. She swirled the rum-free eggnog in her pretty fluted wineglass and sighed. Her silver holiday dress—the one she spent a fortune on at Macy’s—sparkled under the white fairy lights draped above her. There was laughter and joyous celebration all around. Everyone had come to her sister, Eliza’s, wedding to Will Darcy. It was the most-anticipated and talked-about party this season, full of hope and happiness. Except she wasn’t hopeful, and she wasn’t happy. Well—for herself. For Eliza, she couldn’t be happier. No two people were more in love, or more ready for marriage than they were. And up until this moment—this exact past hour—it had been such a whirlwind of months and months of planning. Of contacting caterers and auditioning dresses, for that’s really what trying on wedding dresses is— auditioning the very best one for the big day. Consulting hair, floral, photographers, caterers… the list went on and on. For what seemed like forever, this had been their biggest concern, and all that was talked about in the Bennet household. Now it was over. Or almost over. Jane rose her glass with the several others who applauded and sipped another toast to the couple. She wasn’t paying much attention. Her toast was finished long ago, and with it was shed many tears of delight for her sister. But now... now there was nothing. Her last big part of the evening was over, and all that was left was a perfectly coiffed hairstyle, a glittering gown, and an empty seat next to her. Her heart dropped as she finally glanced over to the calligraphy-written name card at her right. Charles Bingley. He hadn’t come. After all his promises and those silly texts and emails assuring her they had much to talk about and to make up for lost time—all of that—it was over. He made it clear that not only did he not have time for his friend’s wedding, but for the sister of the bride, either. Jane’s hand shook slightly, and she set the wineglass down. During the next applause, she stood up and carefully made her way through throngs of tables to the hallway of the elaborate rented building. If it wasn’t for her dang heels, she would’ve taken the steps a bit quicker. She was almost to the restroom when she passed by a large darkened ballroom—one of its ornate French doors had been left open. It obviously had not been rented that evening. The empty room was too tempting to pass up. She needed a few minutes of peace and quiet to pull herself together, and what better place than an abandoned ballroom? She slipped inside and allowed her eyes to adjust to the dark as she trailed the paneled wall with her fingertips. It was a little over a year ago that she and Charles had actually met. A year since she was immediately blown head over heels. He was perfect—they were perfect—or so she thought. Everything came crashing down a few months later when he was assigned to open new offices in New York. It was then that Charles took her to lunch and told her it just wasn’t going to work out. That being so far apart would put a strain on their relationship, and they needed to take a break. That was eight months ago. Eight long, ridiculous months. She knew she was being impractical to even fall for someone she hardly knew, but then to still miss him eight months later was absurd! Honestly, what was wrong with her? She should’ve known that the first chance he had, he’d break her hope again. Yes, it was hope—not heart. She refused to acknowledge that her heart had been broken or would be broken by him again. The stillness of the dark room seemed to envelop her as she walked farther into it. This was exactly what she craved—alone time. Being away from the bustling excitement. She had to process and take a few
moments for herself before she came back. So he had said months ago that they shouldn’t date anymore. Lately, he’d been messaging, saying he’d missed her and was wrong and would like to start again. But with her hectic schedule—work and last-minute errands for the wedding, and his frantic New York schedule, they had yet to actually meet up. It was supposed to be tonight. As in, a few hours ago. Which is why she’d splurged and purchased the silly dress and went all out on her makeup and hair and had butterflies in her stomach all day. Knowing he’d be watching her in front of everyone, during the ceremony, and really seeing her for the first time in months. It was nerve-racking and irrational all at the same time. She couldn’t find him in the massive crowd of people who had come, but she figured he would approach her. When he didn’t, she rationalized the fact that Eliza had made sure he was sitting right next to her. If all else failed, she would definitely see him at dinner. But it failed. He wasn’t there. Her chest tightened, and she straightened her back before she let the panic of her stupidity overwhelm her. So what? So what if Charles didn’t show up? What did it matter to her? Nothing. He was nothing. And he would continue to be nothing. She had no patience for players, anyway. Besides, there was probably a very good reason why he didn’t make the wedding. Like, twenty of them, but why he did or didn’t come shouldn’t matter to her one bit. She took a deep breath and attempted not to overreact. The fact she was actually away from the crowd and hiding in an empty room proved she was being dramatic. There was no drama here. None. It was time to head back to the reception and smile and laugh and help where she could. Heaven knew, her mother was probably a nervous wreck, looking for her. Jane took a deep breath, turned toward the open door, and then froze. There he was. Standing in the room. His face was in shadow, but she would recognize his frame anywhere. “Sorry. Forgive me. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Charles took a step toward her and then stopped. “I saw you leave and followed you in here.” “You—you did?” Her voice nearly cracked. “Yes. You were so deep in thought, I didn’t want to disturb you. Should I come back another time? We can definitely catch up later.” Jane’s breathing was so erratic, she was positive he could see her heart pounding through her dress. He came. He actually came. And he’d followed her in here to talk to her. “When did you get to the wedding?” “Just before the ceremony. I was running late and then got caught up with friends and family and was forced to sit with them during dinner. I know we were supposed to sit together, but . . . um… How are you? Are you okay?” He took another step forward. For the first time, Jane Bennet actually had the urge to snap. He had been here the whole time? Since the ceremony over two hours ago, and he hadn’t even come up and said hello? He was “caught” with family? And yet, he knew she was alone and waiting for him? Even if they were viable excuses, something about them seemed pretty lame. If this was supposed to be their chance to start over, a whole lot needed to change. And it would have to be her who implemented it. She slowly walked toward him until they were nearly face-to-face in her heels. Then she slipped a hand under his tie and pulled him toward her. Gently, her lips met his for the first time in months. His faint cologne surrounded her. She smiled as she felt him gasp and then released her hold. “Welcome back, Charles. I hope your flight went well.” Their eyes met in the darkened room, and she let one eyebrow rise slightly. “I guess I’ll see you around.” Then she turned—before she lost her nerve—and walked out into the brightly lit hallway. “Wait.” He caught up with her as she headed back to the reception.
“Yes?” It was as if he didn’t know what to do. “Are you mad at me?” “Nope.” Her pace quickened as she smiled. “I’m happy to see you.” “And the kiss?” She paused and glanced up at him. “Just a welcome home.” She fiddled with the diamond watch at her wrist. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ve got to get back and help my family with everything. It was great seeing you.” Charles’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding? I thought we’d get to talk or something. You know, discuss us?” Jane shrugged as she began to walk again. “Pity. So did I.” She was clearly not his top priority—the fact that she had made him hers was enough. If he really wanted to put things right and get back together, he needed to step up his game. She might still be the nicest girl he’d ever known, but she wasn’t willing to be tossed aside again. He needed to realize her worth, or this relationship was over before it began. This time, Jane Bennet would be courted, acknowledged, seen, and cared about. She wanted a real man. And she had every intention of getting him.
CHAPTER TWO My True Love Gave to Me
Charles stomped his snow-covered shoes on the mat as he came into the house later that night. What a waste of a good evening! He shivered as he flipped on the lights and crossed the hall to the thermostat. After setting his suitcases down, he fiddled with the little contraption until the heater clicked on. How long had it been since he was home? A month? Two? The place smelled stale and unused. And cold. Yeesh, it was frigid. He rubbed his hands together as he walked into the small kitchen, searching for something to warm himself with until the walls decided to thaw out. In a bottom cupboard, he found an old kettle, filled it up, and placed it on the stove to whistle at him when it was done. Then after a few vain attempts of looking in empty cupboards, he finally found the tin of hot cocoa that had been stashed above the oven for safekeeping last year. Even it was cold as he attempted to remove the tight lid. Once it was open, he put some spoonfuls into a mug. Then he waited. And waited. Why did it take so long for water to boil? He pushed off from the counter and instead went to unpack his luggage. He had told the New York team that he was taking a month off, and anything urgent could be sent via email. Revolutionary Innovations was soaring in the Big Apple, even bigger than he or Will Darcy could’ve predicted eight short months ago. Will’s designs were incredible and definitely needed in today’s ever-changing market. With a New York address, the company was able to get noticed worldwide as a leader in technology and advancements. He knew that office needed him, but sometimes enough was enough. After Will and Eliza’s honeymoon was over, the couple had promised to head out to New York and stay there, covering anything necessary and enjoying the bright lights while Charles took a much-needed break back home. He rubbed the back of his neck and hauled the first suitcase into his bedroom as he flicked on the light. It felt good to be able to say he’d be here longer than a weekend. To get to spend the holidays with family and Jane … His brain sort of stopped right there. He couldn’t think of anything else but her. Why had she acted so weird that night? Was it just him, or did she not seem that eager to see him? Had Eliza and Will broken their promise not to tell her anything until he could explain? He sat down on the bed and stared at nothing in particular for a moment. He had no one to blame but himself. Sure, he’d wanted to punch Will the second the man confessed he’d been wrong all along and Jane actually liked him—and she wasn’t just after his money. But in all honesty, he was the one who fell for it. He knew Jane better, knew she was the exact girl he’d always wanted by his side. He was the one who panicked at the first rumor and jumped ship, not Will. He didn’t have to listen to Will’s opinions. That choice was all on Charles. Why had he panicked? Why ruin a sure thing? Those questions had been haunting him for days now, and the only thing he could think of was that perhaps things were moving too fast and he just wasn’t ready for her. So he was looking for an excuse—anything to stop the scariness of actually finding the one and settling down. Settling down. He took a deep breath and lay back on his pillow. Was he willing to rethink and restart his life? He shook his head and closed his eyes, imagining the loss he’d felt the last several months without Jane. They just clicked. He’d finally found that best friend he wanted to kiss. Man, he missed those lips. Soft, feminine … and so delightful. He frowned as the kettle began to whistle. But what did he do wrong at the wedding? And where was he to go from here? What if Jane moved on? He headed toward the kitchen. Wait a minute. Was she
dating someone new? Was that why she’d acted differently? His heart dropped before he remembered. No, they had been developing a killer online relationship. There was nothing wrong there. She’d been more than eager to start something new with him. Shaking his head, he poured the water into the cocoa and stirred. Why were women so difficult, anyway? So lost in his thoughts, he burned his mouth as he sipped, then spilled a bit on the floor as he jerked the mug away. Ugh. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. “Just a second!” Charles grumbled to himself as he wet a cloth and scooped up the mess. By the time he’d cleaned it up, his grandma was coming in through the door. He could barely make out her face over the large basket in her arms. “Well, are you going to answer the door or not?” she asked. He set his mug down, rushed forward, and collected the load from her. “What are you doing here? And what have you brought? You didn’t carry this all the way from your car, did you?” She rolled her eyes and bustled her way into his dining room. “Of course I did. Why do you young people always think we old folks can’t do a dang thing for ourselves? It’s ridiculous. When my dad was my age, he was still doing construction work!” Great-grandpa had quit construction work at forty, but Charles didn’t dare disagree. “Bring it in here. It’s your welcome present from your grammy.” “You didn’t have to.” Already, the smells coming from inside were making his mouth water. He couldn’t resist a peek under the kitchen towel she had across the top. “No way. You made lemon bars too?” Grammy grinned and winked. “Only if you’re good.” Then she made a fuss of clearing off his nearly pristine table. “Just set it down so you can open it.” There was no doubt she was just as excited as he was. “But it’s not Christmas yet!” Charles chuckled at the frown on her face as he set it down where she directed. “Stop teasing. And hurry up. Some of those things won’t last two days before Christmas. Besides, I figured you wouldn’t have a lick to eat, so I was sure to bring all your favorites.” He took off the towel and then grinned like a fool. She didn’t even waste time letting him decide what to pull out. “Okay. So I’ve got you your favorite chili, and I made you some stew.” She set them on the table. “And I’ve got your lemon bars, some muffins, and my rolls that you like so much. Grandpa gotcha some meat and cheese in here somewhere for those rolls. And I’ve got some gravy mixed up in this here Tupperware, and some biscuit mix for you to make your own biscuits one of these mornings. You’re gonna need to put some of this in the fridge. I’ve got some grape juice and tomato juice that I’ve canned. And some of your favorite whole wheat bread with the honey butter. Oh! And Grandpa made you a whole bag of candy popcorn balls!” “Wow!” It really was the best gift she could’ve ever given him. And there was no way he could properly repay this adorable burst of energy in his kitchen. So he leaned down and gave her a big hug and kissed those rosy cheeks. “Thank you, Grammy. You’re the best!” She chuckled and pushed him away, but that smile did wonders for his soul. “I’m just happy you’re back for a while.” Waggling her brows, she leaned in closer. “So, is it true? You gonna finally win over the other Bennet girl?” There were no secrets ever in his family. Ever. Charles buried a sigh. “Can I get you some herbal tea or hot chocolate?” “Will you tell me your plans?” Her eyes were twinkling. All at once, he wondered if his mother and sisters had set Grammy up to pry information out of him.
He was about to say no, but then again, maybe she could help. “Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about that.” “Really?” He could’ve sworn he heard a muffled giggle come out of her. “I’ll take whatever herbal tea you’ve got. Let’s sit in the living room, and you can tell me all about it.” Charles shook his head at her giddiness and pulled out the old tea box his mom had given him years ago. He never drank tea, but he always felt guilty for wanting to throw it away, so there it sat in his cupboard, waiting for gossipy old women to come along. “Raspberry?” “Perfect. I’ll wait in the other room.” He smiled wryly as he poured some hot water into the other mug and then joined her on the couch with his still-warm cocoa. They chatted for a bit about this and that, and then she nailed him. “So, Chazz, tell me what’s up. What would you like to know?” Chazz. He grinned. No one had called him that for a long time. He took a deep breath and then sipped his cocoa without scalding himself this time. “Jane seemed off tonight. After I left you guys, I went to talk to her and say hi.” She nodded and took a sip of her drink, but didn’t say anything. “And . . . I don’t know . . . Jane seemed different. Well, at first she seemed excited to see me—she even kissed me! But then that changed, and she got all stiff and just walked away. Right when I’d been hoping to really talk and apologize, she just left—said she was busy or something. It was weird.” Grammy looked at him and then asked, “Did she say anything? Ask how you were, you know, anything like that? Or did she just walk up and kiss you?” He shrugged. “She asked normal things, like how long had I been there. And I explained why I hadn’t sat next to her during dinner.” She fidgeted and nearly spilled her tea. “You were her dinner partner?” “Um, yeah. Why are you looking at me like that?” “You left her alone the whole time, and didn’t say hi until during the toasts? She didn’t know you had arrived yet?” “Well, no. Is that a big deal or something?” “Charles Fredrick Bingley! You are as absolutely clueless as your grandfather!” “So her attitude is my fault? What did I do wrong?” Grammy placed her mug on the coffee table in front of them and then put her hands dramatically on her face. “You need some help. You need some real help. Thank the good Lord I came today because this relationship would’ve been over before it had a chance.” He was way out of his depth here. “What?” She leaned over and patted his knee. “What have you gotten her for Christmas?” “Uh, a New York snow globe and warm blanket. Why? Is that bad too?” She shook her head in a disbelieving manner. “Toss them both out. We’re starting from scratch.” From scratch? “What do you have in mind?” “Christmas. All twelve days of them.” “Twelve days?” What in the world was she talking about? “Yes! And this time you’re going to do things right!”
CHAPTER THREE A Partridge in a Pear Tree
Jane got up from the couch and then sat down upon the matching striped gray chair in her apartment’s living room. She sighed and crossed her legs. A few moments later, she unfolded them and stood up again. Christmas Day. It had been two days since the wedding. Two. And she still hadn’t heard from Charles. Her heart was too agitated to focus on anything. She was antsy. She was bored. She was nervous and frustrated and anxiety-ridden. She should probably go shopping or something, but it was Christmas, and everything was closed. Pacing on her small white-and-turquoise rug, she debated what to do. She’d already been to her parents’ house for Christmas gifts. She was supposed to stay longer, but honestly couldn’t bear the happy chatter another moment, so she feigned a headache and went home. Now would’ve been the perfect time to call Eliza and moan, but no way was she going to interrupt her sister on her honeymoon. In fact, she doubted she’d ever be able to really interrupt her again. Jane walked into the bedroom and picked up a book before setting it back down again. No. There was no way she could concentrate well enough to read, either. She saw her coat flung on the bed. A walk. Maybe that would work. She tossed it over her shoulders and grabbed a bright red-and-white striped scarf. She had to do something. Anything to take her mind off the fact that Charles was in town and they were supposed to spend the holidays together, and now it looked like she might have blown it. Not that she should care. No girl deserves that kind of anxiety. But really, was he going to stop by or not? Why hadn’t he texted or anything since she left him standing there? She took a deep breath, wrapped the scarf around her neck, and headed out the door. She almost slipped on the ice, she was moving so fast, but her hand caught the railing just as her boots started to skid. Taking it a bit slower, she headed down the steps of the two-story building to the parking lot and then turned toward the park. The complex was only a couple of years old, and in a nice part of town. Jane waved to a few neighbors as they were making their way into the complex. She would have jogged slightly to avoid having to make small talk, but the ground was icy. Instead, she kept her head lowered and walked the two hundred yards or so to the snow-filled park. There was a path that still hadn’t been shoveled because of the holiday, with only a few smatterings of footprints and paw prints. She trudged through the soft fluff. After about thirty minutes of breathing in clean, quiet air, she felt her mind might be settled enough to head back in. That, and her toes were beginning to go numb. As she stomped her way back up the apartment stairs—attempting to get as much snow off as possible—she failed to notice the lone figure waiting at her door until she almost ran into him. “Hi.” Charles grinned and took a step toward her. One word, and her heart calmed and her breathing went back to normal. He came. “Merry Christmas.” Why did she feel like crying all of a sudden? She had no idea how much she’d missed that smile until she worried she’d never see it again. “Merry Christmas to you too.” He pointed down. “I brought you something.” There by his feet stood a miniature tree. “A plant?” He bent down and picked it up. “Not just any plant. It’s a pear tree. And it’s also the reason I’m late. Apparently not many greenhouses around here carry pear trees this far into the season.” Charles went looking specifically for a pear tree? “Aren’t the greenhouses all closed this time of year?” He nodded. “Pretty much.”
She didn’t know quite what to say. “Well, thank you. It’s . . . it’s fun.” Who wouldn’t want their own miniature pear tree in December? The important thing was that he was here and trying. And sort of totally adorable. His grin grew. “Do you really like it? I had to go to Vegas to get it, and I wasn’t sure what your reaction would be. Because, you know, it’s a fruit tree for Christmas. Well, for part of your Christmas. You’re going to get a few more things from me.” “I am?” She chuckled. “Well, come on in, and you can tell me all about it. Though, I don’t have a ton of stuff for you.” She held the door open for him as he scooped up another wrapped parcel and then followed her in. “Ahh, it’s so warm in here!” “I would hope so.” Jane chuckled as she gathered up a few holiday cards on a small table near the window. “You can set the tree here.” After he put it down, she caught a glimpse of his red nose. “Oh, no. How long were you out there waiting for me? You look frozen.” “Um, not too long. Maybe twenty minutes or so.” After she turned up the gas fireplace, took his coat, and started cocoa on the stove, they sat down together on the couch, and he placed the second gift on her lap. “There. Open it now, or the pear tree will never make sense.” She gave him a funny look, but was too curious to protest. “Okay, but after I do, you have to open yours.” Tugging at the taped edges of the gold wrapping paper, she pulled out the small blue box and gently took off the top. There, nestled amongst soft white tissue paper, was the prettiest silver bird ornament. “It’s so beautiful.” But she had no clue how the two gifts correlated at all. She held the delicate ornament up and watched as the bird gracefully spun from its cord wrapped around her finger. In her confusion, she glanced over at Charles. “What does it mean?” One eyebrow rose, and his handsome grin peeked out. “It’s a partridge.” As if that was helpf—“Oh! Like the song.” He nodded. “On the first day of Christmas…” She chimed in, her heart beginning to skip, “My true love gave to me…” “A partridge in a pear tree.” He took the ornament from her, leaned over to the tree, and slipped the cord onto a branch. “There. The first day of Christmas.” Jane rolled her eyes. “But it’s not the first day of Christmas—it’s the last.” “You’re wrong. In the olden days, this is how England celebrated Christmas.” She gave him a funny look and glanced back at the tree. “Are you serious? The twelve days of Christmas actually started on Christmas Day?” “Yep.” He looked mighty smug, and then moved a bit closer. “The first day of Christmas was actually the twenty-fifth or twenty-sixth, depending on your family traditions. Then on Boxing Day, they would box up or wrap up all of the gifts to take around to their neighbors and family beginning the second day of Christmas. Some homes had a gift or celebration for every day of Christmas running all the way until January fifth—or sixth—and on Twelfth Night, they’d have a big feast.” “I had no idea. But I don’t understand. Why would you go to all the trouble?” “Because I should. Because you’re worth it. To make up for all the days I’ve missed.” He clasped his hands together and took a deep breath, then glanced up at her. “The thing is, I realized I screwed up the other day—actually, long before that. I sort of ruined us before we really had a chance to begin. And I know how much you love Jane Austen and that simpler lifestyle, and I don’t know—I thought I’d be the first man to give you a real traditional Christmas.” My true love? The words of the carol rang through her mind, but she didn’t have the guts to say them out loud. “So, are you saying you’re going to give me gifts each day until January, or something?”
“Not just any gift!” He sat up straighter. “But the words of the song. I’ve decided that if you’re ever going to believe me and see that I’m serious about us, I’d better do things right. Besides, who wouldn’t want to spread this amazing holiday out just a little bit longer?” “But I only have one present for you.” “Then save it until Twelfth Night.” He smiled as if that would make everything all right.
CHAPTER FOUR Two Turtle Doves
Charles whistled the whole drive home that night. Jane had successfully—after many failed attempts —gotten it out of him that all of this was Grammy’s idea, but he didn’t care. The stunned look on her face was worth every second of the surprise. Every. Darn. Freezing. Second it took waiting for her to come home. He took a deep breath as he pulled into his driveway. Man, he loved that woman. Everything about her warmed him. She fit so well, he couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to go this long without mending their relationship. Now to get her to trust him and forgive him for breaking her heart … and hopefully, just hopefully, they’d have perfection again.
* * *
He had arranged to meet up with Jane at eleven the next morning. Since she was off work until the fourth of January—thank goodness for school holiday breaks!—it gave him a complete advantage. They could make their plans at any time during the day, and he basically had her all to himself. This time, as he walked into her door, he carried a large Christmas bag with tissue paper and a bow on it. “What’s that?” Jane chuckled. “Please don’t tell me you have two poor doves in that bag. Please.” Charles walked all the way into her kitchen and set the gift down on her table. “And who wouldn’t love two turtle doves?” “Uh, me.” She grinned and accepted the hug he gave her. “How are you doing today?” “Well, I was good until you completely broke my heart. I can’t believe you’ve already rejected my gift before you’ve even opened it.” He unzipped his coat and hung it on the chair nearest him. “I never said I rejected it. Just that I didn’t want two turtle doves.” She turned and pulled some sandwiches and potato salad from the fridge. “Hungry?” His mouth began to water. “Starving. How can I help?” Before she could answer, he walked over to the cupboard and pulled out two small plates, and then went in search of some silverware. “How is it that I remembered where your plates are, but can’t remember which of these drawers holds the forks?” She set the food down on the table—its bright red tablecloth contrasted nicely with the deliciouslooking lunch. “Left one, next to the sink.” “Ah! Got it.” He grinned and walked over to her with the silverware. “Next you’re going to be complaining that you don’t want French hens or laying geese, aren’t you?” Jane scooted past him and grabbed a couple of white napkins from a basket on the counter, and then collected a spatula. “Don’t forget about eight maids a-milking. What in the world would I do with them? This place isn’t big enough—or for all that milk, either!” He put his hands in the air as he sat down. “See? You’ve completely thrown off my whole groove now. How am I supposed to re-create this amazingly thoughtful Christmas for you if you keep seeing it in such a negative light?” Jane’s eyes sparkled as she attempted not to laugh. “I’m sure you’ll try to convince me that the twelve drummers drumming were meant to be a good idea as well.” “You know me. I think we should invite them to the wedding. They could perform an awesome drumline. Think of it—all lined up in kilts.” “Kilts?” She sat down and began to pass out the sandwiches. “What kilts? And more importantly, what wedding again?” He pulled his chair next to hers and held up his plate as she placed an extra-large sandwich on it.
“Ours, of course.” There—he had to say it just to watch her reaction. Jane didn’t disappoint. She nearly dropped the sandwich she was holding. She might have thought he didn’t notice, but he did. “Ours?” She laughed a little too forcefully. “I don’t remember ever agreeing to marry you. Don’t we have to backtrack a little?’ “Nah.” He smiled as he took a bite of bliss. Tuna salad. Man, it was good. After he swallowed, he added, “I figured after all the gifts and crazy amount of people I’d have to coerce into performing them for you, you’d have to marry me.” He took another bite and moaned. “This is so good. Thank you.” “I’m glad you like it.” She put a scoop of potato salad on his plate too. After he dug into the potato salad, his mouth was in heaven. “I’m glad you like to cook.” He took two more bites and then pushed the gift toward her. “In fact, that reminds me.” “The doves?” She set her fork down. “You want me to open the doves now?” “Of course.” “But can’t I at least finish lunch before they flit about everywhere?” “Where’s the fun in that? Who doesn’t love flitting turtle doves?” She chuckled. “I have no idea.” “Are you going to open it or not?” “Yes.” She gave him a playful look. “Are you always this impatient?” Was she serious? “Only when I’m desperate to please the most amazing woman on earth. Yes, okay. I’m impatient. I’m excited for you to see what I got. Now put me out of my misery and open the darn thing.” She bit her lip and leaned back in her chair. Her lashes kissed her cheeks for a brief moment before startling blues eyes met his. How could he think for one moment that this woman wasn’t perfect for him? He was more than head over heels… he was borderline smitten. Jane had such a calming way about her. Those tumultuous eyes were the only sign that her brain was going a million miles a minute. Her demeanor was so poised and collected—elegant. The word he was looking for was elegant. The woman had more class in her sweet grin than most women could ever hope to possess in their whole lives. That serene poise was what first drew him to her during the holiday office party. She was so mysterious and quietly mature, she put all the overly bright, gossipy women to shame. As much as he was impatient when he was excited—so he liked to complete his goals. Sue him—he was also very much an old soul. His fast-paced work life craved peace. Someone to quiet his mind and settle his harried thoughts and bring harmony. He longed for someone to laugh with—not to mock others, but to find joy in the simple things of life. Someone to read with, to ponder life’s mysteries, and someone to enjoy a debate, without clashing, but to appreciate the differences between them. Jane was that woman—and so much more. She was quick, but never quick to judge or speak. She took her time to explore a thought, and rarely jumped to rash conclusions. Everything came in stride. In many ways, those few short months with her proved to be some of the most memorable teaching moments he’d ever known. She’d quietly bring his own fears down and talk sense into him, showing him that the world had more than one reality. There was always another way, another hope, another light to be lit. Slowly, Jane pulled the gift toward her and then revealed why she had put off opening it. “I really don’t understand why you feel the need to buy me so many gifts. I didn’t get you much—which you still haven’t opened—” She pointed to the room where he’d left the parcel the night before. “And now I feel bad opening yet another present from you.” He shook his head. “Please don’t. We agreed to wait until the last day of Christmas, remember?” “You agreed. I didn’t say anything.” Was this really going to be a problem? “Would you like me to open it now?” She winced. “No. Yes. I don’t know. I just wish we could celebrate this together, and without you
opening gifts too, I don’t think it’s fair.” Was that all? He laughed and gestured toward the bag. “Open it. You’ll see.” Finally, her curiosity won out, and she removed the tissue paper and peeked inside. “What?” He grinned as she pulled out first one bag of Dove chocolates, and then another. Soon, a bag of caramels and a bag of pecans joined them. “What is this?” “Two turtle doves, of course.” It took her a moment, puzzling over the four bags before her face lit up. “We’re making chocolate turtles out of Dove chocolate.” “Yep.” “Together. As in, this was what you had planned for today?” Her grin was contagious. “Unless you can think of something else…” “No! I love it. This is perfect. And we can share.” She stood up and got two aprons, tossing one to him. “Put this on and start unwrapping those caramels! We need some dessert to go with that lunch.” “Bossy.” What was it about confident women that caused his heart to flip?
They spent the next thirty minutes or so making a much bigger mess in the kitchen than either wanted to admit. “That chocolate on the cupboard doors has to be from you. My bowl is still perfect, see?” Jane laughed and flung a chunk of chocolate from her bowl to his. “There. Now it’s messy too.” Charles gasped and then saved the random chunk by eating it. They were going to create two huge chocolate turtles, but after several attempts, decided that a bunch of smaller ones would be much better. They were. The whole day was as perfect as it could be. After they ate way too much chocolate, and then cleaned up their mess, Charles and Jane sat down in the small living room and talked and laughed and slowly began to dream again. His heart nearly tripled as she stood up on tiptoe and kissed him as he left. “What time tomorrow?” she asked, her voice a bit deeper than usual. “What’s tomorrow? The third day? Oh! That’s a fun one. You do have an evening gown, right?” Her eyebrows rose. “An evening gown? Are you kidding? For what?” “To get your French hens, of course.”
CHAPTER FIVE Three French Hens
Jane shook her head as she closed the door on that exasperatingly smug grin. Charles was enjoying this all too much. As she walked into the kitchen, she found herself thinking about his easy-going manner that day. Eight months, and it was as if he’d never left—or even better than that. It was as if they’d been together all that time and had only grown stronger. Her heart skipped a bit when she saw his adorable attempt at making chocolate turtles. Ten points for trying. The man certainly was no Julia Child or Martha Stewart, but what he lacked in skill, he certainly made up for with his willingness and fun attitude. She chuckled and then paused a moment. Just as soon as she had laughed, she began to cry. Without reason, those silly stupid tears began to fall. Turning off the lights, she made her way to her bedroom, curled up on her pretty white four-poster bed, and sobbed into her blue lace pillow. She’d believed she’d never have this type of crazy fun again, but here he was. Her own foolish Christmas wish come true—the man she’d given up on was actually making an effort to see her again. This was real. And she had ten more marvelous days to enjoy it. A part of her wondered if she’d wake up and find herself still on Christmas Day, anxiety-ridden and asleep on the couch, dreaming up this whole magical thing. She wiped at her eyes and rolled over, staring at her ceiling. What if at the end of this, things fell apart again? Could she bear the separation, the rejection? What if this really was all just a fun, fleeting moment? What if he suddenly decided he didn’t want her again? Jane took a moment and allowed that thought to wrap itself around her, its cold, sad vibe paralyzing her limbs. What if she really wasn’t worth all the effort? This was silly. She had to stay strong. Or learn to let go, and just accept that things will happen as they will. No one could control what would happen over the next week or so, but was she willing to push away the possibility of happiness because she was afraid of rejection again? No. Jane took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her whole life consisted of thinking of others first, of hoping for the best. She refused to follow the latest gossip, or engage in petty arguments. People said she wore rose-colored glasses, and maybe she did. But why was it so hard to imagine that Charles could possibly be sincere? Why could she so easily believe that he would leave her again, when everything he was doing now should prove that he wanted her and wanted a future with her? What if she wasn’t worth it? What if she was never meant to hold her own against a rising star in the business world? What was she, after all, but an elementary school librarian? Nothing of importance. Just a girl who gave up her dreams to help her Aunt Phyllis. Not that she regretted it—of course not. To see the children’s eyes flash once she got them hooked on reading was worth every lost opportunity with her chosen profession.
When she woke up the next morning, Jane rummaged through her closet and couldn’t come up with anything remotely resembling an evening gown. The closest thing she could find was the dress she wore for Eliza’s wedding, but it wasn’t long enough. It only came to her knees. Besides, she wanted something splashy. Something pretty and elegant, but flattering, too. After a few hurried texts where she confirmed Charles wouldn’t be showing up until six that night, she grabbed her purse and her sister’s extra key and headed over to Eliza’s house. She was supposed to be watering the plants and bringing in the mail anyway. She’d bet a hundred dollars her sister had the perfect dress hanging unused in her closet. Eliza really had to ramp up her wardrobe when she began working with Will. The two sisters had
spent countless hours at the mall and online ordering outfits that could travel easily and still be stunning enough to go to cocktail parties and fancy dinners and upscale business meetings. After Eliza had chewed Will out over his lacking wardrobe, the two sisters knew she’d never hear the end of it if she didn’t absolutely rock everything she wore. As Jane pushed open the front door, there was only a slight feeling of unease. Just that little knowledge that you’re all alone in a place. She set the mail on top of a pink notebook on the table nearest the couch and then quickly headed into the bedroom. There were a few boxes around, but no serious packing had been done yet. Eliza still had two months left on the lease, so she had planned to move into Will’s holy-amazing mansion slowly. Jane sifted through several dresses. It looked like Eliza had taken all of the really pretty ones for her honeymoon, which was totally understandable. Jane was about to go ahead and wear her silver one from the wedding after all, when she caught a faint glitter from the back. Hidden behind some jackets was a plastic-wrapped gown. It was a chic black color, and attached to the plastic was a note that read, “For Jane. Merry Christmas.” “What?” Jane blinked. “Are you kidding me?” Didn’t they already exchange gifts? She thought of the pearl earrings and matching bracelet she’d given Eliza right before the wedding, but she couldn’t recall what Eliza had given her. In all the frazzled preparations, did she forget? Jane whisked the plastic off the dress and found a beautifully laced and beaded mermaid gown. It was floor length and gorgeous. Two pretty capped sleeves accented the top, though it was the gold, maroon, and white floral brooch that was pinned at the waist that really set off the gown. It was almost bridal in design, except in sophisticated black. Had Eliza known she would need this exact dress? There was no way. Even Charles didn’t realize he was planning the twelve days of Christmas until now. After holding the dress up and twirling around in front of the mirror, she headed home to try it on and get ready. All day, she primped and pampered herself until she literally glowed when Charles knocked on the door. “Wow! You look beautiful.” His wide eyes and smile was all the compliment she needed. “Wow yourself. A tux? You didn’t even wear a tux to the wedding.” What was it about a man in a well-tailored tux that could take your breath away? “Don’t you like it?” “Definitely,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too eager. Clearing her throat, she finished lamely, “It works on you.” He winked. “Glad to know you approve. So, are you ready to go?” “Yes, but I still have no idea how French hens and dressing posh correlate.” “Oh, ye of little faith. You must trust me. Now where’s your coat?”
It wasn’t until he pulled onto the grounds of La Caille, one of the ritziest French restaurants in Utah, that she realized they might possibly be eating the French hens. She had never personally eaten there, but had heard how incredible the food was. She grinned as he opened her car door, knowing he couldn’t deny it now. “So you’re taking me out for French chicken?” “Only if you don’t like my actual plan. But knowing your love of seafood, I’m going to assume that chicken will be the last thing you order.” What in the world was he on about? “Seafood?” “Aha! The librarian doesn’t know everything!” He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and walked her toward the beautifully decorated restaurant. It looked like something straight from Europe. The grounds were elegant, and Jane jumped when a
large, colorful bird flew in front of her up into one of the nearest trees. Its wings were bright blue, and feathers a distinct green against the white of the snow around them. “Was that a peacock?” “Yes. Pretty, isn’t it?” “Peacocks live in Utah?” “La Caille has had peafowl for years. I believe it may be the largest community of the birds in the state.” She glanced around the formal gardens and took in the big lake, ornamental bridges, cobblestone paths, and glowing fairy lights. “I bet this place looks breathtaking in the summer.” “Fantastic venue for a wedding.” Wedding. She caught her breath as she glanced into his dark eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a man say something like that.” He blushed slightly and looked down, and then those eyes met hers again. “What? Can’t a man think of planning weddings like you women do?” She shrugged and began to walk toward the building, trying as best she could to keep calm—though her heart was definitely betraying her. “Never really thought about it before.” By the time they were seated in the elegant, lavishly decorated dining room, her heart had almost returned to normal. She glanced around the room and took note of the large chandeliers and Christmas greenery boughs. Their decorator deserved whatever praise they received. It was like stepping back in time to a magical place. “Can I order for us both?” Charles was searching through the menu. “Of course, but I’m not certain I should trust you.” He chuckled and glanced up at her. “I always knew you were an intelligent woman.” “So, what do you have in mind?” “Three French hens, remember?” She tried not to roll her eyes as she shook her head. “Yes, and you said we weren’t eating chicken.” Just then, the waitress came over with their drinks. “Are you ready to order?” One final glance at Jane before he ordered. “Yes. We’d like to start with an artisanal cheese board, and then lobster bisque, and halibut a la Basquaise. Oh, and please add a lobster tail to each dinner course as well.” Jane nearly choked. “Charles, that’s a ton of food. How in the world will I ever eat it?” He winked again. “If there are leftovers—which I doubt—you’ll enjoy them too.” He took a sip of his water. “Besides, I haven’t even ordered the dessert. I thought you’d like to do that afterward.” “Thank you, sir. Any drinks?” His eyes roamed over Jane, as if he wished they were alone. She wasn’t even sure he heard. “Not yet. We’ll let you know if we need something,” she replied. He still hadn’t stopped staring at her. Once the waitress left, she asked, “What?” His eyes softened, and he shook his head slightly. Everything in the room seemed to freeze at once. Even her breathing became much more pronounced. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “It just hit me, I’m actually here at La Caille with the most beautiful woman in the world—and I began to wonder how such a thoughtless person could be as lucky as I am.” She looked down as she felt her neck and cheeks redden, having no idea how to respond to him. Where to start? “You’re not thoughtless, and I certainly wouldn’t say I was the most be—” “Beautiful person in the world? You only say that because you can’t see how you sparkle compared to everyone else. You honestly can’t see yourself.” If he didn’t stop, she’d turn as red as the lobster tails he’d ordered. “And you’re wrong.” He leaned forward. “I am thoughtless. I’m completely stupid. And I ask myself constantly how you could forgive me as well as you have.”
Here it was. That confession she knew he’d give. She dreaded hearing why everything stopped, his real reason for leaving—reminding her that at any time, he could decide she wasn’t enough again. Her heart clenched, and one hand braced against the linen tablecloth. Her mouth dropped open slightly, but she couldn’t say anything. She had no words. It didn’t matter. Charles wasn’t done by a long shot. “I need to apologize for ending this—us—and taking off to New York, and basically leaving you hanging with the lamest excuse of not wanting to try a long-distance relationship.” “Charles—” He shook his head. “No, I need to get this out there. Just a minute and then we can talk, but first, please let me genuinely apologize for my mistake. I could blame several different things, but honestly, I was scared. The error is mine, and I own it. If I’d listened to my heart, this never would’ve happened. Had I been man enough to accept how I really feel, I’m certain you and I would be having a very different conversation over this dinner.” He reached over and tenderly held her hand. “Jane, I love you. I know that now. I wasn’t sure before, but without you, I’m completely miserable. I can see in your eyes that you doubt me, but I will prove it to you. And if one day down the road, you’re able to see past my faults and still find that spark we once had, then I’ll celebrate.” He took a deep breath. “However, no pressure. If all we ever become is friends, I’ll be forever grateful for whatever time I get to spend with you.” Her mind was whirling with a thousand questions—what did he mean, if he had listened to his heart? Was there something more to the story? But her questions were drowned out by the frantic beating of her heart. “And Jane, forgive me for the way I acted at your sister’s wedding. Honestly, I was frightened. I knew I didn’t deserve you. And when I first saw you, leaning over whispering something to Eliza and then laughing, I started to shake. I’m not kidding—my knees actually began to tremble. I had no idea the effect you had on me until that moment, and I needed time to compose myself. What I didn’t realize was that I’d taken too much time and had hurt you again before I’d even had a chance to make up for the past. “I’m stumbling over my words. I don’t think men in general were meant to actually communicate with women.” He grinned. “No, I’m serious. I think we mess up so much that God probably intended for us to be mute just so we wouldn’t be so impolite. Except Eve probably begged for Adam to have a voice, thinking she honestly wanted his opinion, and ruined it completely for the rest of you.” She raised an eyebrow. “So, are you implying Eve is to blame for the ridiculous things men say?” He leaned back and put his hands up in front of him. “See what I mean? We aren’t supposed to talk.” Jane chuckled as the waitress walked over with their bread and cheese. “You certainly do keep things exciting. And what girl doesn’t love a little drama?”
After the dinner course was over and she’d eaten all she could, and they were making their way back home, Jane couldn’t help but ask, “So, where are the French hens?” Charles pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “Google the word ‘hen.’” Jane didn’t even have to Google. She looked up, shocked she hadn’t thought of it before. “Female lobsters are hens!” He grinned. “La Caille lobster bisque, lobster tails—I’m sure we’ve had our fair share of French hens today.” “You got me on that one. I can’t believe I didn’t think of how to correlate the two.” He glanced over and waggled his brows in the darkness of the car. “Just wait until tomorrow.” “Four calling birds, right?” She leaned back in her seat and sighed happily. Who would have thought this Christmas would be so fun? “And how would you like me to dress?”
“Warm. There’s snow on the ground, and we’re going to be taking a stroll.” “So, warm as in, jacket and gloves? Or should I put on my snow boots and coat?” “Definitely the snow boots. I’ll be here at noon,” he said as he pulled up into her complex. Then he leaned over and kissed her, his soft lips mingling perfectly with hers.
CHAPTER SIX Four Calling Birds
Charles approached Jane’s house and took the steps two at a time. When he almost slipped on the last one, he decided to slow things down a bit as he approached her door. Gotta love looking like a dork as you get ready to take a hot girl out on a date. There were some days he felt like he was eighteen again, all sweaty palms and bumbling feet. When she opened the door with that sweet smile, his world collapsed around him. “Hello,” he said, not sure if he was capable of saying another word. “Hi.” She looked charming in a blue-and-white coat, white pants and snow boots, and a matching blue scarf and hat. Part of him wanted to call the whole thing off and stay indoors, sipping hot cocoa and staring into those pretty eyes of hers. Who was he kidding? He was dying to taste those lips again too. But slowly. He had to work slow and casually, or he’d never convince her he was sincere. Isn’t that what Grammy was always saying? “Treat a girl like she’s worth the wait, and you’ll keep her forever.” Jane Bennet was so worth the wait. “Have you eaten yet?” he asked her. “Um, yes, a little.” She bit her lip. “I wasn’t sure what we were doing.” “We’re going back to La Caille, so I hope you’ve got some room left.” He loved the confused look on her face. Honestly, why were they going anywhere? Why wasn’t he proposing this second and sweeping her off to Vegas and then on a romantic honeymoon? “Why La Caille again? I mean, don’t get me wrong—it was so wonderful—but you told me to dress like this, and I . . .” He grinned and pulled her out of the doorway. “It’s fine. We’re not going in the restaurant this time. Now, lock up and let’s go before I change my mind and decide to snuggle with you on the couch instead.” “But . . .” She pouted as she slipped the key in place, locking the door. “What if I want to snuggle all day on the couch?” His heart skipped a beat and then jolted to a stop. There was nothing, nothing he’d like to do more. “But you wouldn’t get your present for the day.” “Fine. Then let’s hurry this time because I’d love to be held by you and just talk tonight.” He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his rising heart rate. “You win. First, on to four calling birds.” Ryan, the groundskeeper, greeted them as they pulled onto the restaurant grounds. Charles had arranged for him to give them a tour. Jane might have thought the restaurant itself was beautiful, but he couldn’t wait to show her the whole property. La Caille had something like twenty-four acres spread out to call home. And this time, he was taking her to see all of the peacocks. No one knew the birds better than Ryan did, and Charles couldn’t wait to surprise her with how cool La Caille really was. As they toured the property, even Charles was impressed with all they had going on. Ryan showed them the delightful hidden-away cottages for rent and the winding paths, perfect for romantic rendezvous or for photos. Apart from the large lake on the property, there was also a vineyard, garden, gazebo, and of course elegant bridges, streams, and ponds. But it was the peacocks that really fascinated Jane—just like he knew they would. One particularly large Indian Blue peacock followed them for some time. His cheerful call was exactly what Charles hoped it would be. Jane caught on immediately. “Oh, so you’re my calling bird!” She grinned and reached out to pet him —they were on the cobblestone path leading back from one of the cottages. He called again, but didn’t
move. Tilting his head, he blinked at Jane and waited. “He wants you to feed him,” Ryan said as he fished something out of his pocket. “Here. Take these dried peaches.” “Thank you.” Jane was all smiles as she approached the bird with her offering. “Here you go, sir.” She glanced back at us. “What’s his name? Does he have one?” Ryan nodded. “Not all of the birds do, but this is Taj Mahal. He’s about three or four years old, but he’s been this friendly since he was a baby. One of our frequent guests named him, and it sort of stuck.” “I love it. It’s the perfect name.” The bird called again, and then leaned in and quickly snatched a piece of dried peach from Jane’s hand. Soon, other peafowl were swooping in and landing around them. White, green, blue—so many beautiful colors! Charles didn’t think he’d ever seen Jane so enchanted before. “Oh wow! This is amazing!” she gasped as she glanced around at the fifteen or so birds. They called and chirped at her, and she broke apart the peaches to make sure everyone got one.
There was something so graceful about them. “They’re rather tame. Is it because they’ve always lived here?” Charles asked. Ryan nodded. “That, and peafowl are very peaceful birds. They believe in harmony, more than, say, a rooster or turkey—they don’t battle that much. Instead, they prance around, showing off their feathers.” He pointed to Taj Mahal. “What you see now is nothing. By this summer, his tail will be in long and full again. Every fall, they lose their tail feathers, but come mating season, they grow back.” “I believe they might be the most beautiful birds I’ve ever seen.” Jane crouched down as a smaller bird cooed its way over to her legs, begging for more treats. She was able to pet his soft feathers before he scattered back a few feet. “I would love to have some of my own.” “They make incredible pets. Most of these birds will live thirty years easily, if they’re well fed and cared for.” “Really?” She giggled as a larger green peacock pushed his way through the others to coo right up at her. “I’ve never seen such friendly birds before, and I would’ve never guessed they’d still be out and about in all the snow.” Charles’s heart warmed as he watched the way her whole face lit up around the birds. Her wonder made him wish he’d known her when she was a child. Ryan shrugged. “They love the snow, and will still roost in the trees at night as long as it’s clear out. During storms, you’ll find them huddled together in some of the shelters we have around here, but mostly, they do just fine in these temperatures.” “My, aren’t you greedy?” She laughed as the larger male continued to nudge her hand with his head, his top feathers waving frantically as he did so. Jane looked up with her joyful grin, her eyes connecting with Charles’s. “Aren’t they amazing? I think I’m in love.” Right then, Charles knew he had to surprise her with her own birds. He didn’t know how yet, or when, but he vowed that Jane Bennet would have peafowl of her own one day.
CHAPTER SEVEN Five Golden Rings
The next morning, Charles rang Jane’s doorbell. It was still dark outside. Perfect. He’d always wondered what she looked like first thing in the morning. “Who is it?” she asked through the door. Her groggy voice made him smile. Someone was definitely enjoying her holiday without having to get up early for school. “Me.” “Ugh. Are you serious?” She groaned as she opened the door. “When you said you’d be here in the morning, I actually thought you’d wait until the sun rose first.” Yawning, she clutched her robe and stepped back into the apartment. “Are you saying you don’t like surprises?” he asked as he stepped over the threshold. He was careful not to tilt the package he held. She flipped on a light and then squinted adorably at him. Her hair was every which way, which only caused him to smile more. “I’ve never known a woman to be so grumpy about getting gifts.” “Yeah, well, this is a little excessive.” She pushed her hair off her face and attempted a sad chuckle. “Admit it. You just wanted to come here so early to laugh at me.” He was about to answer, but her eyes must’ve cleared enough to see him because she groaned again. “Are you kidding me? Who looks as good as you do this early in the morning? It should be outlawed.” “Well, my dear, very few women have ever seen me this early in the morning. Consider it an incredible compliment.” He pointed to the table. “Now, sit down so I can give you your five golden rings.” “What?” She walked over and sat. “This couldn’t wait until later?” “Ungrateful wretch.” She pouted. “I so am. But seriously, what did you expect?” “Exactly this.” He leaned over and kissed her pout and then pulled out the box he’d been carrying in his bag. “Donuts?” she asked as he set it on the table. “Yep. Golden, deliciously glazed donuts. See, they’re rings.” He smiled. “Holy cow, they smell amazing.” “Nah, that’s the hot cocoa.” He pulled two large travel mugs from the bag too. She dug into the box and melted as she took her first bite of donut. “You’re a saint. A woke-me-uptoo-early saint, but a saint nonetheless.” “Sure you don’t mean monster? I mean, I wouldn’t want this all to go to my head here.” “I would laugh, but this is too good. I could seriously eat this whole box. I suggest you don’t watch.” “Hey! I think not.” He reached over and snatched a donut for himself. “Remind me next time to go for an even dozen.” “I thought this was my gift.” “Touché.” He nodded as he took a bite of his. “Remind me never to argue with you.” She took a sip of her cocoa. “Mmm… Yeah, it’s pretty fruitless to attempt to argue with a woman.” Setting her elbows on the table, she leaned forward. “Besides, it was probably your grammy and mom, anyway.” What in the . . . ? How could women flip conversations so easily? “What was?” “The other women who’ve seen you this early in the morning.” She grinned and took another bite. To his great mortification, he could feel his cheeks going warm. “I refuse to answer that question.”
She giggled. “You don’t have to. I can see it on your face.” He was about to protest when she added, “And I love it!” Charles knew when he’d been beaten, and he’d also learned a long time ago—from his grandpa, actually—when it was best to keep his mouth shut. This was definitely one of those times. Instead, he leaned over too and watched those mischievous eyes of hers dance about before he smirked and took a swig of his own cocoa. Nothing was better than silence and cocoa. Nothing. Except maybe being in the presence of a pretty girl at the same time. The rest of the day was spent exploring and laughing and learning about each other, something that had been a long time coming. They discussed everything from books to television shows to favorite cars and dream holiday destinations. “I’ve always dreamed of traveling to London!” she gasped. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been twice?” She scrambled and knelt on the couch, where they’d been sitting for nearly an hour. All at once, she was as giddy as a thirteen-year-old. “What was your favorite place? Did you do a lot of touring? What were you there for?” Jane tugged on his shirtsleeve. “Come on, I’m dying to know everything.” Fascinated by this new side of her, he was a bit stunned. He liked her this way—there was something so real, so unexpectedly free and sweet. “I was there for business meetings both times, so I didn’t have a lot of time to explore. However, I did take one of those double-decker buses and did a quick tour around London that way.” “Was the city as beautiful as everyone says it is?” He shook his head. “It’s even more amazing than anything you’ve heard—more beautiful than anything you could possibly imagine. I think it’s one of the most gorgeous cities in the world. Very well kept, not a lot of garbage, and stunning architecture everywhere. Some of the most incredible examples of the time periods around. The British certainly take care of their history.” “Oh, stop! I’m so jealous right now!” She leaned against the back of the couch and grinned. “Tell me more. I want to imagine every bit of it.” “I’ll answer any questions you have. But first, haven’t you wanted to explore other places too?” Jane bit her lip and glanced around the room, and then leaned in and whispered. “You. Have. No. Idea.” “Why are we whispering?” he whispered back while stifling another chuckle. “Because no one knows this about me. And I mean no one. Not even Eliza knows how badly I want to travel.” She sighed. “And I will one day. I mean it. I’ll see everywhere—Russia and China and Japan and Australia—Oh! And New Zealand too! And Ireland and Scotland, and of course England, but Turkey, Austria, Iceland, Spain, Italy…” The first thing he would do once they were married was get her a passport. Every break they had, he’d whisk her away on a new adventure. He’d never felt such a need to do so much for someone else, but he’d be hung if he didn’t give her this dream of hers. And he couldn’t wait to see the joy on her face as she saw the world for the first time, as they traveled it together. As he pulled into his driveway, the reality that his world would never be the same after that day hit home strong and hard. Honestly, if he didn’t manage to win her hand after all this, he didn’t know what he’d do.
CHAPTER EIGHT Six Geese-a-Laying
Jane grinned in her bed as she closed her eyes, reliving the day she’d just had. Was this really happening? He was just wonderfully chill and fun and easygoing. And perfect. Dang it. Why did he have to be so perfect?
When she woke up, that deliciously warm feeling that stretched from her head to her toes was still there. Lightness. Giddiness. Everything. It was all there. And she couldn’t wait to see what that day would bring. She’d promised to take care of Eliza’s place and water the plants—something she’d completely forgotten about when she was there a few days ago—so they agreed to meet up in the afternoon. Though to be honest, she easily could have had him over sooner. Like, right now. Why did she wave him off when he offered to run errands with her? But how was she to know she’d spend the whole night dreaming about him and then the whole morning missing him? Sure, he said he was in love with her, but she’d been there before, so her heart wasn’t as willing and trusting as it could have been. And it’s better to be cautious, right? She missed him. And the more they were together and talked, the more she could see this crazy future with him. He was making her dream of a life with him again, but this time, it was better somehow. This time, they were uncovering even more about each other than before. She wished she could call Eliza up and tell her everything. Jane needed some girl time, but she wouldn’t call. No matter how exhilarating her life was becoming, she wasn’t willing to interrupt the newlyweds. As she grabbed her purse and drove out of the complex, her cell phone rang. Her heart began to beat excitedly. Was it Eliza? Or better yet, Charles? It took a couple of tries to answer the phone, but it was her mom. “Hey, what’s up?” she asked as she pushed the disappointment away. Her mom laughed. “You sound like you’re happy. Do you have any news?” Jane grinned and ruefully shook her head. Her mother could fish out the most hidden secrets from anyone. And the woman was completely good at reading a situation and knowing when something fabulous was going on. It was a gift Jane certainly didn’t have. “What do you mean?” The last thing she needed was her mom to find out about Charles. She’d never hear the end of it. “What do I mean? I mean, you sound happy. Now stop being silly and tell me.” “I’m just enjoying my break from school.” “Mm-hmm … Your break from school that you’re spending with Charles Bingley, right?” Jane almost swerved the car. “How do you do it?” “Do what, dear? Know when my daughters are about to get married?” She laughed. “Call it mother’s intuition. And also, it helps that Marianne down the street came over to tell me she saw you and Charles at La Caille the other night, and wants to know if you’re back on again.” “And how does Marianne even know Charles and I were dating in the first place? As a matter of fact, how does she even know what Charles looks like?” What in the world? “Hush. She doesn’t. She just described him to me, and since I saw you two sneak off one after the other at the wedding, I sort of put things together.” “Are you kidding me? That doesn’t even make sense.” Her mother was also the master of half-truths and exaggerations. This conversation was not going well.
“No, I’m not kidding. Now, I’ve been recovering from all the wedding drama before Christmas, and I’ve been completely neglecting my motherly duties. So, I’m back. Thanks to Marianne. And anyway, Dad and I would like you guys to come over tomorrow for dinner. We’re anxious to get to know Charles again.” Jane could’ve died. “Mom, no. What you mean is, you’re anxious to start grilling Charles, and I’m not going to let that happen.” “Why not? He’s a big boy. Besides, if you two are going to get married—and trust me, if the man is taking you to La Caille, things are getting serious—anyway, if he becomes a member of the family, then he needs to spend time with us and get to know us. You know, so he’s comfortable.” “I don’t know, Mom. I think this may be a little too soon.” “What? You want to keep him, don’t you? This isn’t too soon at all. You’re forgetting how awesome we are, or you wouldn’t be saying this. We throw fun dinner parties, remember?” Jane took a deep breath. “I remember.” She also remembered how many guys she’d dated who didn’t have that much fun meeting her family. There were days when she wished she could actually say no, but then, she’d hurt her mom’s feelings, so she didn’t … but there were days. And Mom was in full guilt-trip force. “I’ll make lasagna. Your favorite.” The last thing Jane wanted was for the family to sit around eating lasagna while asking Charles thousands of questions, but she also knew her mother. If she didn’t agree to something like this, before she knew it, Mom would start stalking them again. And heaven knew, a controlled environment was much better than surprise visits from Mom everywhere. “Fine. I’ll talk to him and see what he says.” “Perfect!” She giggled. “I’ll see you at five tomorrow.” “Five?” How long was this dinner party, anyway? “Five’s a little early.” “No it’s not! It’s fine. Besides, your dad likes to go to bed a bit earlier lately.” “Sure. Blame Dad when we both know this is about you getting to know Charles. But wait until I talk to him! He might already have plans. I’ll call you and confirm tonight.” After she hung up the phone, Jane could feel a ball of tension form in her chest.
Strike one. By the time she’d made it to Eliza’s, her cheery morning warmth had all but faded. Instead sat one big lump of stress—it was right there. In the middle of her chest. If she breathed too hard, it clenched her airways until it felt like she couldn’t breathe at all. Even her hands were shaking as she attempted to put the key in Eliza’s front door. What if her parents did or said something to scare him off? Suddenly, she had flashbacks of all those horrid first dates during her teen years. There never was a second date. Her parents were just too odd. Her mom would bring out the baby photos and her dad sat silently, cleaning his gun. The total cliché dating ritual. It was her life. She lived it. She shook her head as she walked into her sister’s house. How did Eliza survive Mom’s matchmaking? Obviously, she and Will managed just fine, even though Mom had been front and center through most of it. In fact, they returned from that trip with Mom down to Vegas, and their relationship blossomed. They actually came back engaged—or almost engaged. She couldn’t remember. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe her mother had settled down a bit. She could hope. Jane pushed all those thoughts away as she watered the plants and tidied up the nearly pristine place. She was putting a drink coaster in the coffee table drawer when she noticed one of Eliza’s many notebooks she had stashed away. She pulled it out and found a pen in her purse. Maybe if she made a few lists—like for errands, and groceries, and bills, and reasons why she and Charles would work out—then she’d be less stressed. Jane was visual, and it helped to get her thoughts down coherently. It calmed her to focus on the good and not so much on the bad. Yes, she definitely needed to make a list. She sat down and opened the notebook, positive Eliza wouldn’t miss a page or two from it.
Strike two. This day was not getting better. On the first page of the notebook, clear as day, was a note written to someone about Jane. She hadn’t meant to read it, but she caught her name several times, so she was curious. It didn’t take long to see that this wasn’t a happy letter. Jane wasn’t even sure it who it was addressed to, and she couldn’t tell if Eliza was angrier at Will or Charles. It must’ve been one of those therapeutic-type notes meant to release pent-up feelings. One of those notes that should’ve been burned after they were written. It revealed a much deeper—no, shallower—secret than anyone had ever told her before. Jane’s heart dropped, and she could feel a deep shadow overwhelm the knot of tension in her chest. Eliza was defending her, it seemed. It was written months ago in response to a conversation she’d had, or something… It was backwards to get only half the story, but the half she read was awful. Seriously? Will Darcy thought Jane was only after Charles’s money? And all her feelings were an act, because she didn’t love him at all? Was Will kidding? Was this some sort of twisted joke? That was the real reason Charles bailed on her—not because they’d gotten too close, but because his friend warned him about her. And Charles—the coward—bolted without asking her, clarifying—nothing. Just suddenly gone. Jane ripped the letter out of the notebook and crumpled it up. All at once, his departure made so much more sense. Mortification overwhelmed her, and she felt like she was going to be sick. So it wasn’t until her sister found out from Will, and then she came to Jane’s defense, that either man realized they might’ve been wrong? It was completely insulting. She felt like she’d been slapped in the face, even though now things were fine. Now they knew she wasn’t after his money, so Charles finally deemed her worthy again. Anger replaced the sickness, and suddenly, she didn’t want to be anywhere near Charles Bingley anymore. She stormed out of the house and into her car. She was all the way to the I-15 and heading south before she realized what she was doing. She should’ve turned around and headed back, but she just didn’t care. Instead, she drove blindly for some time as she thought about how ridiculous this was. Charles knew her! Charles should’ve known better! And Will? The whole time he was falling for Eliza, he was concerned about Jane? What kind of nonsense was that? How could he find fault with one sister for growing up with less money, but not the other? The gall of him! She didn’t know who irritated her more, Charles or Will—but one thing was certain. She was going to need some serious time to process this. All at once, she felt so, so cheap or—or used—or something. She didn’t know. She felt unwanted and cared about and … small and insignificant again. The helplessness, the fury, the pain … it was all back, except the pain was sharper this time, much more noticeable. This time, she finally had the answer that clicked everything into place. This time, she knew the truth. The man she was falling head over heels for was clearly only here because her sister convinced him Jane was okay to date. Seriously? Didn’t her own merits mean anything to anyone? Jane wanted to shout in frustration. Why couldn’t people see the real her? Why couldn’t even the man she loved be loyal enough not to not fall for every rumor or observation someone else made? And who would think she was shallow enough only to love a man for his money? Did Charles never think that maybe she enjoyed his company too? His humor, his personality, his likes, his dislikes…? After all her years of not finding the right guy, did he honestly believe she’d only seen him as an object? Even if things were different, could she trust that they had changed? What if he became paranoid again every time she mentioned money? Who could live like that? Urgh! She banged her fist against the steering wheel and was shocked when she felt something wet hit the
top of her hand. It was then that she realized she was crying. She’d been so angry, she’d hadn’t noticed. Wiping at her tears, she drove on. It had to have been at least an hour or two before the phone began to ring. Jane pulled over into a little town called Nephi and coasted into a gas station. She looked down at the phone—speak of the devil. Charles must be at her house. There was no way she could talk rationally right now. He’d have to pay her to answer—since she needed his money so much! Once the phone stopped ringing, she turned it off. Taking in her surroundings, she decided to fuel up and stay away for a while. It was time for a real break, anyway. She had a lot to sort out. Without any clear direction, Jane headed east and came to an even smaller town than Nephi. She didn’t catch the name of it, but decided to drive around. It was gorgeous in its snowy all-white state—old Edwardian and Victorian homes with cozy fireplaces added to the ambiance of peace. They had even more snow than Salt Lake. She found a large park and stopped the car as she watched a few children sledding on the nearest hill. Their giggles brought her to the reality that she was very far away from home, but in the next moment, she realized that it didn’t matter. This was so much better than home anyway. This was peace. She cried then. Great big frustrated tears joined each other down her cheeks. So this was why he wanted to end everything, and this was why he was so willing to do anything he could to “win” her back. Charles felt guilty for thinking so low of her. But honestly—honestly—if Eliza hadn’t defended her, he’d still feel the same way. She rested her head on the steering wheel. He never would have seen her for who she was. Ever. And that broke her heart most of all. Why? Why did Charles matter so much, anyway? Why was she even trying to care for a man who only listened to what others thought? Despite his gifts and effort—what did it matter? Wouldn’t she rather have someone who stood up for her, someone who missed her, someone who wasn’t so willing to judge her? Was she that hard to love all on her own? Maybe she didn’t deserve to be happy and have true love and marriage and a family and all that. Maybe she just wasn’t the type of girl who … The last thing Jane remembered was that crying gave her a headache, and she really shouldn’t do it. By the time she’d woken up, it was dark and cold, and the children had gone home. In confusion, Jane popped her chair up—she must have laid it back when she was crying—and then screamed when she saw a light in her window. Then someone knocked, startling her again. “Ma’am, can you open your window, please?” It looked like a police officer. Jane started the car, cranked up the heater, and glided the window down. “Sorry.” “Are you all right?” he asked. “I’ve had some reports that you were out here in the cold. Do you need anything?” Her head was pounding and her neck was sore, and that light was really, really bright. “No. Sorry. I was thinking and must have dozed off.” “Are you here visiting anyone?” “Um, no. I just happened upon this town as I was driving from Nephi.” The officer looked concerned. “There are some nice hotels down in Ephraim, or even back in Nephi —if you’d prefer.” How humiliating. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “No. I’m fine. I’ll go ahead and get back on the road. It’s time I went home anyway. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare anyone, or worry anyone. But I’m fine now. I’ll . . . I’ll leave. Thank you for waking me.” “Well, definitely didn’t want you freezing out here in your car on a night like tonight.” Jane laughed nervously. “Yeah. Again, I’m sorry.” The town must have thought she was crazy.
“No worries. Just checking in on you.” He pointed toward the nearest road. “If you go right and follow that road, you’ll hit the main street. Then take a left, and you’ll be back on your way to Nephi.” “I . . . thank you.” She attempted a smile. “I’ll head back now.” “Be safe. And watch out for deer.” He gave her a small salute and then thumped her car. Jane took that as her cue to leave—quickly. By the time she made it home, it was nearly midnight. She pulled into her parking spot and then picked up the phone. Eight missed phone calls from Charles. And seven voicemails as well as several text messages. Nothing like completely scaring the guy. She scrolled through the worried texts and then quickly shot one off. “Went for a drive. I’m home safe. Please don’t call me or try to push anything. Will talk later.” Jane grabbed her coat and purse and headed up the stairs. There, hanging on her doorknob, was a grocery bag disguising a box with six beautiful Fabergé eggs. Six geese-a-laying. He’d done it. In another world, in another life—like yesterday—she would’ve gasped over the delicate gold filigree designs. But now . . . now her heart only dropped. How much had this cost him? And more importantly, what did he think of her when she got excited about such expensive gifts? She sighed as she pushed open her door. The joy was gone. Now there was only pain, guilt, sorrow, and shame.
CHAPTER NINE Seven Swans-a-Swimming
At ten the next morning, Jane found a beautiful silver envelope taped to her front door. Inside was a ticket to the Salt Lake City Ballet that night to see none other than Swan Lake. The performance started at seven thirty. Scrawled on a note inside of the envelope were the words— Jane, I don’t know what I’ve done to hurt you. Forgive me. Today is seven swans-a-swimming. Here is your ticket. If you’d rather go alone, I understand—please just text me and I’ll leave you alone for the time being. However, if I don’t hear from you I’ll be the handsome guy in a tux in the seat next to yours. Love, Charles. P.S. For whatever I’ve done, I’m so, so sorry.
Jane’s heart melted a bit, but then the large lump in her throat came back. There was no magic here anymore. She just couldn’t do it. Maybe she was being a little harsh and intense, but the pain was still too real. She needed time. Her hands shook as she taped the ticket onto the door and then locked it. As she crawled into bed to hide from the world, she typed up a quick text. Thank you for the lovely gift. Swan Lake has always been a favorite of mine. Please take someone else instead. I left the ticket on the door for you. A few minutes later, he texted back, When can we talk? Whatever it is, I’m so, so sorry. She replied, I promise we will discuss this. I promise. I just need time (a few days to process). Please respect my space. And I’m sorry too. He didn’t text again. Jane was relieved that he didn’t. But after an hour passed and he still hadn’t, she became worried, or agitated, or something. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she’d put some distance between them before she did something she would regret. Time heals all wounds. She knew that, and hopefully, after a few days, she’d be able to see his side of things. Maybe. Either way, it was time she let her mother know they wouldn’t be over for dinner that night.
CHAPTER TEN Eight Maids-a-Milking
Charles took the ticket and replaced it with a vase of yellow roses on Jane’s doorstep. Grammy loved the ballet, and then spent a good couple of hours afterward at her house giving him sound advice on how to handle women. “If she says give her space, you give her space!” She slapped the wide armrest of her recliner. “You men try to control everything and then you go and ruin it, but if you’d just listen, you’d know what to do. Now stop pacing like a caged lion and talk to me properly. You’re giving me a crick in my neck, looking up at you like that.” “Sorry. I just don’t know what’s happened, and I’m worried, and I can’t seem to sit still long enough to pretend not to be worried.” “Nobody said anything about anyone pretending anything. Now sit.” Charles chuckled and sat down at the end of the couch to her left. “There. Better?” “Much.” “But what if she’s one of those women who says one thing and means another?” Grammy shook her head. “Oh, good grief. There you go again.” “I mean it. What if this is a test to see if I’ll come banging on her door and hold her while she tells me everything and I’m failing miserably?” She ran a wrinkled hand through her short gray curls. “If you’ve gone and found yourself one of those girls who are all drama, be done with her now. However, from what I know of Jane, I’d say she isn’t anything at all like that. She’s frank. She’s sensible. She’s kind. If she’s asking for time, give it to her. The last thing you want to do right now is overwhelm her.” She pointed to his agitated knee bouncing in place. “Good grief, boy. Are you trying to pounce on something?” He grinned and took a deep breath, then straightened his legs and rested his head against the cushions behind him. “No. I’m just . . . I don’t want to lose her. And I feel like I am. I already lost her once, and honestly, I can’t—I won’t go through this again.” “You won’t go through what again?” “Losing her.” Grammy had the audacity to laugh. Hard. When she was through she actually had a real-live coughing fit. “That is the dang funniest thing you’ve ever said.” Once Charles saw that she was okay, he said, “You know, I’d come over and pound on your back for you, but I think you deserve to suffer a bit for that comment.” She found the remote and tossed it at his shoulder. “Hush, you. You’ll make me wake up Grandpa. Besides, it’s true, though. You don’t know it yet, but you’re so besotted that if Jane Bennet wanted to be lost to you, you’d darn well wait for her over and over again until you got her back. Don’t make rash blanket statements like saying you won’t go through this again. You will. You will lots of times.” She leaned over and waggled her finger. “And if you do things right, you’ll be real grateful you did, too.” There was no other person who treated him like Grammy did. He always felt like he was a ten-yearold boy being scolded all over again, but somehow, greatly loved, too. He could never deny the unbelievable love she had for him. He ignored the truth of her statements and instead decided to bring the conversation back to where it had been. “But what if she never wants to see me again? What if whatever happened is so awful that no matter how long I wait, she’ll never come back?” Grammy shrugged. “Then you move on.” Never. “What?” He sat up. “But I don’t want to move on.”
Her eyes met his, and she looked at him real hard for a moment. “Then you’d better pray she’s as forgiving as she seems to be.” “But I don’t deserve it. Not really. I’ve put her through the worst of the worst—I mean, I doubted her loyalty and dropped her and . . . and… I don’t deserve anything good from her.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “That’s what worries me most. She’ll realize just how awful I treated her and decide she’s worth so much more than that. Because she is, Grammy. She so is.” “Chazz, you’re a good man. You have a kind heart. And you’ve been jaded many times by women who weren’t what you thought they were. Yes, you made a mistake with this one, but any woman worth her weight in gold will see the real you. You two have gotten off to a rocky start, but you know what? I think you’ll be okay. Stop worrying about what you can’t control. Just remember, you really have no idea what’s going on with her, and it’s okay. Don’t jump to conclusions. Just be there. Be there and be willing to listen when she’s ready to talk, and she’ll appreciate you so much for it. I promise.” He took another deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. I’ll stop stressing and let things settle on their own.” He glanced up. “But what about the other gifts I have for her?” “Well, give them. Don’t stop that. Besides, it lets her see that you’re still there and thinking of her.” He nodded. “You’re right.” “Charles, someone close to her could’ve passed on. She might’ve lost her job at work. You never know what’s going on. Give her space. It’ll be fine. Let her mourn whatever she’s mourning and when she’s ready to speak, she said she will—so she will. You have no reason to believe anything else. Nothing has shown that she’s walking away from you. This is all crazy talk. Stop. And let it be.” Charles suddenly stood up and kissed her cheek. He needed to think. “Thank you, Grammy. You make everything better.” “Good. Now go get some sleep. I for one am exhausted, and I know you are too.” He chuckled wearily. “Yes, ma’am.” He collected his coat and waved his hand as she began to rise. “No, no, stay and watch your late-night shows. I know how much you love them. You don’t need to see me to the door. I love you. Thank you.” He kissed her cheek once more before letting himself out. “Stay out of trouble, you rascal!” she hollered after him as the door shut. Charles rehashed his grandma’s advice as he headed home. There was no reason to get worked up about never seeing Jane again, or to feel upset because she wouldn’t speak to him. This was Jane’s call, not his. He didn’t like the idea of waiting, but if that’s what Jane needed, then he’d buck up and do it.
The next morning, he collected his basket of eight different locally crafted artisan milk soaps and lotions and set them in a bag outside her door with a note. He wished he could knock and see her—he missed that pretty smile. He hesitated, but Grammy’s words began to ring through his head, and common sense prevailed. Charles was amazed at how lonely his heart could feel in the past two days without her. Why was it that it took him doing something stupid before he realized how much in love with Jane he actually was?
CHAPTER ELEVEN Nine Ladies Dancing
On the ninth day of Christmas, Jane opened her door for a brisk walk around the complex and found an invitation to a masquerade charity ball for that night. The beautiful silver calligraphy made her burst into tears all over again. A ball! Her whole life, she’d wanted to be invited to a ball, and now she was. And . . . and it was for that night. All at once she felt like Cinderella, not allowed to go, except the only one stopping her from going was herself. For the first time in a couple of days, her heart began to crack, and the tiniest sliver of warmth returned. She was the one who couldn’t forgive Charles for thinking she was only after his money and didn’t love him. She was the one who was making her own life miserable—and most likely his too. Clearly, he was still thinking of her—bringing her the gifts of Christmas even though she was being stubborn. But she was right, wasn’t she? She should stand her ground, right? Where was Eliza when she needed her most? Jane walked back into the apartment and shut the door, and as she placed the stunning invite into the envelope again, she noticed Charles’s hurried note on the back.
Jane, I’ll be there. Please come. It would mean the world to me. However, if you choose not to, I understand. And know that whatever is going on, I’m thinking of you… Love, Charles
Love. Could a man love her and still think she was a gold digger? No. He couldn’t, could he? She plopped down on the couch and then sat back up again. Wait a minute. Didn’t he already have a change of heart? He clearly didn’t think she was only after his money or he wouldn’t be here. The man was attempting to fix everything. But if she kept treating this as if they were stuck in the past, she’d never see what was really happening now. She was more caught up in her own embarrassed pride than anything else. This really was just about her own forgiveness toward a man who thought the worst of her, but had since changed. And then the reality hit once more and her heart grew just that bit warmer. Everything was hinging on Jane. It was all weighing on her attitude and forgiveness. The true question wasn’t whether or not she was willing to go to her first ball with him. The real question was, was she willing to forgive and overlook his stupidity? He saw her. He cared about her. And to keep being so stubborn, refusing to see him instead of allowing him to explain himself, was only hurting her more. Why not speak with him? Why not allow her heart to soften enough to ask him what he was thinking? But then a sharp pain pricked her heart as the memory of Eliza’s letter came back in full force. Jane tried to push the sadness back out, but it was pretty hopeless. The letter still stung. Okay. Maybe she wasn’t willing to talk about it yet. However, that didn’t mean she couldn’t talk about it tomorrow. If she had time to prepare herself. Jane walked into her closet and pulled out the dress Eliza had given her. It worked for the dinner, but it would be perfect for the ball too. Even though he’d already seen her in it, it really didn’t matter—what
mattered would be that she came. But would she? Did she dare? She glanced around the room and found the purple-and-black lace mask she’d bought herself for a decoration earlier that year, never believing she’d wear it. She picked it up, her fingers tracing the intricate beadwork and ribbons adorning it. It’d be absolutely perfect. Though it was just an optional masquerade, maybe she’d wear it. Nothing too dramatic. And then gauge his reaction that way. She attempted a smirk and put the mask on. Then she held the dress up in front of the floor-length mirror in her bedroom. It was totally dramatic. But fun. She bit her lip and twirled from side to side. It was a ball. An honest-to-goodness ball. And with incredible eye makeup and an amazing hairdo, she’d kill it. Maybe for tonight, she would be Cinderella and surprise her almost-prince at the ball. For the first time in days, she giggled. Yes, this is where she was meant to be. It felt right to go, and it was about time she listened to her heart over her brain anyway.
Charles waited in his car outside Jane’s apartment complex for thirty minutes—hoping she’d come out and he could offer her a ride—before driving over to the charity ball without her. His heart ached, and he wondered again for the eightieth time if he was doing the right thing. He wished he could take her dancing. He’d love to hold her close and be together. She didn’t have to talk—not one word—if she didn’t want to . . . he just missed her. The charity event would last several hours. Several very boring and lonely hours. Charles sighed as he walked in and presented his invitation. He was welcomed kindly and shown to his table. Curious, he walked around the empty table and read the place cards. He’d been seated by some pretty influential people, though it didn’t look like anyone else had arrived as of yet. So he walked over to look at the items listed for auction instead of sitting down. His $400 tickets had paid for a small hors d'oeuvres buffet table, and then there would be an exquisite five-course meal—that would be added to his tab if he accepted and handed in one of the place cards at the table. Each person had a few place cards to be used for the dinner, and other items available for purchase to help with the charity. These meals were usually a thousand dollars apiece, but Charles rarely bought a meal. After hosting some of his own events through work—and witnessing firsthand how much the hotel gouged them with their usual 70% per meal fee, he realized it was much better to simply write a check for the amount of the dinner than to pay for some expensive chef’s wages and only give three hundred or so to the actual charity. There were some nice items up for auction. Summer vacations in the Swiss Alps, Spain, France, Hawaii, and even one for three months on the beach in San Diego—that one was tempting. Oh, so tempting. There were also some cruises up for grabs, as well as fine jewelry, electronic gadgets, season tickets to the opera, theater, and even some sports teams. Choice seats at the upcoming Super Bowl and different hotel and ski resort packages. Fine restaurants and salon visits—it even looked like some plastic surgery too. Why were the people he associated with so desperate to change themselves? So much so that now, it was considered a nice prize to win something like plastic surgery at an auction? Sadly, even his own family had fallen for the cosmetic perfection trap too. Disgusted, he shook his head and turned away. This night was going to be awful. He knew it. As he made his way to the hors d’oeuvres, he overheard two women gushing over their gowns and jewelry. Their comments, though sweet, came out almost hostile, as if these women had spent years despising each other. He looked over the array of foods before him, and all at once, his world seemed so shallow, as though it was lost in a sea of impressing and never truly living, where one was always attempting to one
up the other. Maybe that was what he loved most about Jane. She seemed able to ground him, make him realize how nice it was to live in the moment. To enjoy the little things around you—like feeding peacocks and cooking in the kitchen, or even helping kids learn to love to read. As more and more people came in, he kept away from the table as it began to fill up. He wasn’t in the mood to exchange pleasantries or improve his business contacts. No. He really wanted to be anywhere else. After another hour or so, the dancing began. Couples drifted onto the dance floor, and they focused on the people they’d come with. Once the table was empty, Charles walked over to it and sat down. This really wasn’t the sort of place a man came to alone. Why was he here? He should write out his customary check, thank his hosts, and leave. He’d be much more comfortable without this blasted tux anyway. Just as he reached into his jacket pocket to pull out his checkbook, he got a glimpse of a beautiful girl in a mask, in a very familiar black dress. Did Jane come, or was he imagining things? Charles froze and waited until the crowd parted again, his heart beating rapidly. Yes, it was Jane. It had to be. There was only one woman who could attract such notice as she did. Several people turned and stared at her as she slowly made her way toward the tables. She was clearly looking for him through that incredibly tempting mask. Her neck craned this way and that, trying to spy him among the dancers. Did she really believe he’d be out there? Charles stood and made his way over to the buffet table again. He purposely hid behind a cluster of older men hashing out business of some sort. As Jane walked into the back section of the ballroom toward the tables, he saw her skimming each one. From his vantage point, he admired the way the dress swayed with her as she walked. Never noticing him, she passed right by the men—who’d stopped to stare—and then she made her way farther into the dining area. Charles fetched a drink from the table, stepped up behind her, and whispered, “Hello, fair lady. Fancy meeting you here tonight.” Jane shivered slightly and then turned toward him. Those incredible exotic eyes met his, and he was certain she’d never looked more striking than she did right then. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “How long did it take you to recognize me?” He chuckled and handed the drink to her. “Are you hiding? As soon as I saw you, I knew.” She glanced down and nodded, and then her eyes met his again. She was here. She was really here. And he knew they’d be okay. No matter what else the world threw at them, they’d make it. “Would you care to dance?” Her lips formed a delightful smile. “Of course. It’s why I came.” “I’ve missed you.” She glanced away and then met his gaze again. “I’ve missed you too.” Every single breath seemed to matter. “Let’s not talk yet. Let’s just enjoy ourselves. And when you’re ready, you can tell me everything. Does that work? Or would you rather go ahead and talk? We can find a quiet corner and—” Jane leaned over and stopped him with a long kiss on the cheek. His collar felt tighter and his breathing much more rapid as her faint perfume mingled with the warm breath on his jaw. Not one to miss an opportunity, Charles wrapped his arms around her, gently grasping her hand and then pulling her in so her sweet breath never stopped tickling his neck. Jane melted into him, her head resting perfectly on his shoulder—one feather from her mask tickling his brow—and ever so slowly, he began to rock with the music. This was heaven. This was where he was always meant to be. And now that she was here, there was no way he’d ever let her go.
* * *
Jane released a long, giddy breath as she said good-bye to Charles after the ball. It was perfect— even better than she could imagine—and he was the perfect gentleman. He gave her space, never once questioning her motives over the last couple of days, and kept things lighthearted and fun. It was as if he was gently reminding her of everything she’d been missing. If that was his ploy, it worked. Without the heavy discussions, there were plenty of moments to enjoy and be in the moment. Jane had forgotten how comfortable she was around him. How easily they slid into playful banter. Deep down, there was a strong friendship there. They could easily talk for hours about absolutely nothing. That night, they had—and danced and laughed and got outbid over and over again by some pretty high fliers. But none of it mattered—what mattered was that they were together, and she was allowing her heart to be sewn back together again stitch by stitch. As they approached her apartment and he walked her to the door, her spine tingled from the light touch of his hand on the hollow of her back under her coat. So warm, so protective. Charles tugged slightly and turned her toward him. “I have a gift to give you tomorrow. Will you be here?” She grinned and looked up at him coyly through her lashes—her mask had been removed hours before. “Maybe.” His eyes stared into hers for a little while, then roamed over her features—she loved seeing him smile. “I’ll take my chances.” “I bet you’ve got something fun planned up your sleeve for ten leaping lords.” “Of course I do. However, if you’ve rather have a night in and catch up, we could do that too. It’s up to you.” It was up to her. It was such a simple concept, it amazed her how profound it seemed. All of the joy or sadness depended on her. “When were you planning to come over?” He shrugged. “The gift is best opened during the evening, so I figured I’d start there. Well, I wasn’t sure if I would be seeing you tonight, so honestly, the plans I had were more like dropping the gift at your door again.” She tried not to feel ashamed, but she did. A little. It was time they actually cleared the air. “Would you like to come over for brunch and stay awhile?” “Are you sure you want me?” He looked so handsome in his tux, trying to appear nonchalant and not too eager for her answer. It was charming, really. “I think we should talk.” Charles straightened and cleared his throat. “Uh-oh, that sounds a bit ominous.” She tilted her head and swung the mask around her hand. “I don’t know if it’s ominous, but I think I’m finally ready to explain myself. So, does tomorrow work?” He nodded, his eyes going a bit serious. “Thank you.” Then he unexpectedly stepped forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips and then another. “Thank you for coming tonight. You stole the show— everyone was definitely looking at you.” Oh, good grief. She blushed and went to pull away, but he caught her elbow and tugged her in for another kiss. This one was a bit more wonderful than the last two. His free hand came up to her shoulder and then cradled her head. Jane was completely lost. Charles suddenly pulled back. “Are you okay? Did I…?” She trailed off, not sure what to say. He seemed to be having a hard time breathing. “No. I mean, yes, I’m okay. I’m more than okay. You . . . uh, you . . .” He cleared his throat. “I forgot how well you kissed.” Jane could feel herself going bright red, and she bit her lip before she said something stupid. “Don’t look at me like that.” He shook his head and then grinned. “I want to push open this door right
now and never leave.” It sounded like heaven to her. What would it be like to be married to him? “But we’ve still got some things to sort out, so I’ll see you tomorrow.” She didn’t move, and neither did he. “I mean it. I’m going to walk away right now.” Jane’s grin grew. “Those lips are incredibly tempting. Are you trying to kill my resolve here?” Yes. “No.” She blushed. “Go home, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Neither moved. Then all at once, he pulled her in. “Just one more for the road.”
CHAPTER TWELVE Ten Lords-a-Leaping
Charles showed up bright and early at eleven the next morning. Thank goodness it wasn’t any earlier. After being up so late the night before, Jane had only just woken up when he knocked on the door. She answered it with a yawn. “Hello there.” “Howdy!” He didn’t even hesitate, or ask, or anything. She was greeted with a friendly kiss as he brushed past, his arms loaded full of goodies. He was completely light and cheery. Jane wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d started to whistle. She followed him into the kitchen, where he dumped everything on the table. “What’s going to happen when we go back to normal and you stop spoiling me all the time?” He laughed. “Who says anything is going back to normal? I’m loving this way too much.” A tinge of guilt flashed through her. It really was odd to be given so much stuff. But he was happy, and a small part of her loved that doing this brought out the little boy in him. It was so fun to see him like this. “So, are you going to see what I brought?” He waved her over. “Come here and see.” Jane peeked into one bag and saw a ton of veggies and eggs. “Omelets?” she asked. “Or a quiche. You get to decide.” “Quiche? I don’t think I’ve ever had a bell pepper in a quiche before.” “Then you’ve never lived! A southwestern quiche is amazing. That’s it, we’re making one. Now hurry and look at the rest so I can start.” “So demanding.” She grinned and peeked into the second bag. Confused, she pulled out an envelope. “Ten lords-a-leaping!” He seemed so proud of himself. “But . . . ?” She opened it up and then laughed. There were two tickets to see a Utah Jazz basketball game. “Clever. There will definitely be men leaping all over the place.” He really was ingenious. “I never would have come up with this idea if I had years to think about it.” Charles wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Stick with me, kid, and maybe I’ll begin to rub off on you.” She touched her hair. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d want my head to grow as big as yours. I like my hats!” “Hey! Now, get out of my way. I’ve got a masterpiece to prepare.” “Fine. I’m going to get ready for the day. Tell me when it’s safe to come out again.” By the time Jane stepped out of the shower, the place smelled amazing. When she was dressed and came out of her room, the quiche was cooling on the stovetop. “It looks wonderful.” She lightly touched the top. It sprang back perfectly. “I have to say, I’m impressed. After the last time you used my kitchen, I wasn’t sure you’d be able to pull it off, but this is better than anything I’ve ever attempted before.” “Don’t get too excited. Wait till you try it first.” A few minutes later, she was exclaiming all over again. “It’s amazing! I could seriously get used to this. So, when did you learn how to cook?” For the next twenty minutes or so, they gabbed playfully. It was nice—cozy—good. As the afternoon wore on, they took their conversation into the comfortable living room. When the reality of why he had come over couldn’t be ignored anymore, Jane leaned back on her side of the couch and broke into the middle of a trivial thing they were discussing, blurting out, “So, about the last few days…”
Charles imitated her and leaned back on his side as well. “Yes? I was hoping you’d bring it up, but I didn’t want to pry.” She decided to test the waters first. “Do you have any idea why I sort of flipped?” “No. I’m worried that it has something to do with me, but I’m not sure, so until I know, I’ve promised myself I won’t freak out.” Jane took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair. “Well, it is about you. It’s something you did.” “Okay.” He shifted uneasily in his seat. “Now I’m sort of freaking. What happened? What did I do?” She looked down and fiddled with her hands a moment, attempting to stall while she regained her voice. “I found a note written by Eliza when I was at her house the other day.” He looked surprised. “A note for me?” She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell. Maybe you, maybe Will. It had been written a while ago. I’m thinking a few months, at least. And from what I could tell, it wasn’t really a note-note—more like a therapeutic letter defending me and telling you or Will off.” “Oh.” Charles leaned forward with his head down. “It was about what happened eight months ago, wasn’t it? I can explain.” She crossed one leg over the other. “Please do. I’ve wondered what I could have done to make you believe me instead of Will Darcy when he told you I was only after your money. And then the other half of me is stunned and very uncomfortable with the fact that you’re spending so much on me now—as if I’d somehow given you the impression this is the only way to my heart.” His jaw dropped. “Okay. I didn’t see that last part coming at all. You have to realize that yes—I was a fool. I did believe Will. Which is all my fault, not his. If I’d been the man you were expecting, I would’ve told Will off for even saying something like that, but instead, I took off. Why? That’s been the biggest question for me—why would I leave you? “The answer came to me a week or so ago, and I mentioned it before. I was scared stiff of where we were heading and how much I was falling for you. So I took the first opportunity to run.” His eyes met Jane’s. “Honestly, I’ve been miserable without you. It might seem like I’m this guy who’s had a ton of experience with women, but not with anyone real in my life. In fact, it’s all been from women who wanted my money—my lifestyle. I’m pretty much clueless on how to act around a woman—a real one I love.” “Love. Do you actually love me, Charles Bingley?” She didn’t know where that question had come from or where she’d got the gall to ask it, but suddenly, she wanted to take it back. Immediately. “Yes. Oh, I know I do. I’ve already told you—though I don’t think you believed me. I did eight months ago, too—before I left. “ She chuckled and tried to lighten the mood, hoping to hide that her heart was thumping wildly. “No pressure there.” “None at all.” He clasped his hands together and leaned his elbows on his knees. “I know I’ve messed up. I know I’ve got a slim chance here to get you back. And I know it’s all my fault.” He rubbed his eyes and glanced back at her. “When Will told me the truth and that he’d been wrong, I felt like such a jerk. I felt such relief too—but like the biggest loser as well. I couldn’t imagine you’d ever have anything to do with me again. I half expected you to have moved on already, and I knew it’d serve me right.” “It hurt, Charles. It hurt to believe you’d think that of me. And not just think it, but flee without a second thought.” “You’re wrong.” He scooted closer. “There wasn’t a day I didn’t think of you. And miss you. I’d nearly convinced myself to come back and marry you anyway—who cared if you wanted my money? At least we’d be together.” “But I didn’t want it! I don’t want it!” He held out his hands. “I know that. I know that for sure now. I know, I know…” He gestured to the
room. “And this—all of this Christmas stuff was a desperate plan from a desperate guy to win you back. Not once has the cost of it even entered my mind.” “Not once?” How rich was he, anyway? How could he not have some sort of budget planned for this? It was baffling to imagine. “And then, after Grammy spent a good couple of hours chewing me out over my actions at the wedding, I knew I had to do something more than usual—something a bit outrageous to show you I was serious. I’m sorry.” “I didn’t realize she told you off for two hours.” He nodded. “I did warn you I was clueless about how to treat women, didn’t I?” She shook her head and attempted a smile. “I’m sorry too. I think of all those wasted months when we could’ve been happier, and I just shake my head. I’m not sure why you’d risk all we had going for a rumor someone else spread. You never came to me—we never talked it out. You just broke up and left me shattered. I grieved way too long for you.” “No. Please, stop.” He scooted in even closer and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or even understand why I hurt you. I don’t. But I understand if you never will.” Jane snuggled against his broad chest and brought her fingers up to play with his collar. From this angle, she felt so small and so protected. Charles began to play with her hair, lifting the strands and smoothing them back out again, sending tingles up and down her spine. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. “I’ve never had a relationship like this. I’ve grown into what I should’ve been months ago, but how could you believe me? It’s too late.” “You’re not too late,” she whispered, wrapping one of her arms around his back. “I do forgive you. My only fear is that you’ll see something else you don’t like in me and run again.” “No.” “And so I’m hesitant to commit. I’m afraid of being rejected again.” She leaned up and kissed his jaw. “But I do want this. I want this to be real more than anything. You make me so happy. Even without the gifts, you, just you is all I’ve ever wanted.” “Jane?” “Mmm?” “Why are you so perfect?” Her fingers stopped fiddling with his collar, and a slightly evil streak went through her. She grinned and answered, “Well, someone had to balance your stupidity.” “What?” Then a great ruckus began. They played and laughed and teased and wrestled and proved once again how perfectly imperfect they both were, and how much they’d each needed such a silly release. It wasn’t until much later when Charles had lifted Jane over one shoulder and a neighbor came knocking asking for quiet that the two decided perhaps they should prepare for the basketball game instead. Composed, overheated, and attempting to giggle silently, they walked out of the apartment and down to his car—with a few stolen kisses in between. The last thing Jane remembered Charles asking before he closed her passenger door was, “That was a workout. I’m starving. How about you?” It was then as he winked and ran around to the driver’s side that her heart completely flip-flopped over his gorgeous smile, and she realized once and for all that she’d met her match. And if he were to ask her that moment to marry him, she’d neither hesitate nor wait—she’d insist they’d elope. All this time they could’ve already been together, why would she ever want him gone?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN Eleven Pipers Piping
Jane had to go back to work that morning. Charles tried not to miss her too much, but dang it, he did. He’d almost shown up at the school and become the librarian’s helper just so they could spend more time together, but he decided not to. Besides, he had a fun evening planned and didn’t want to spoil the surprise, so he drove over to his grandma’s house instead. “And how is everything going?” Grammy asked as she opened the door. “Better?” “So much better.” Charles tapped snow off his boots and then glanced around. “Where’s your shovel? Let me get this walk cleared for you. Looks like your place got even more snow than mine last night.” “Oh! Would you please?” She turned from the door. “It’s in the garage. Let me get my coat and I’ll come help.” He shook his head. The stubborn woman. “Grammy, the whole point of me shoveling is so you don’t have to.” She gasped and looked back at him. “But how else am I supposed to learn all the gossip?” Charles tried unsuccessfully to hide his laugh as he leaned over and kissed her wrinkled cheek. “I love you. Now get me a plate of some of those cookies I know you’ve got in your tin and some cocoa, and I’ll be in to answer whatever questions you may have.” Her eyes twinkled. “You promise?” “Cross my heart.” In a matter of minutes Charles was folding himself into her soft couch and balancing a very full plate full of cookies and sandwiches and any other leftovers she could foist upon him, as well as a large mug brimming full of the hot cocoa he’d asked for. “You didn’t have to give me all of this.” He sipped from the mug and set it down on a coaster on the small table nearest him. “After all these years, I know what you really mean when you say you want some cookies.” Grammy wagged her finger as she came into the room. “So don’t go on pretending you’re not starving to death. I know better.” His eyebrows rose, but he bit his tongue. Sometimes he thought Grammy got him confused with his fifteen-year-old self and never really saw that he’d grown up. Nevertheless, the food looked wonderful, and he was nearly starving, and so without any more complaints, he dug in. “Thank you.” “Good.” She clasped her hands together as she sat down on the chair. “Now tell me everything. What’s your gift for tonight? It’s the eleven pipers piping? “Yes,” he said around a mouthful of food. “So are you still planning on the symphony?” When he nodded while sipping some cocoa, she broke out in glee. “Oh, Jane will love that so much! Chazz, she has needed you—that girl is something just special. And I’m so glad you’re back to talking again.” Grammy shifted in her seat. “So how did you do it? What happened? You promised. Now spill!”
As they walked into the symphony and Charles watched several men eye his lovely Jane—wearing the silver dress from her sister’s wedding—his chest expanded another five or six inches. Yes, she’s mine. Yes, I’m that lucky. No, you can’t have her—I saw her first. It wasn’t just the dress that caught people’s attention. It was her joy at being at a symphony, that special something that literally drew people to her. He’d scored excellent seats in the third row. Once the symphony began, Charles couldn’t keep his
eyes off Jane. With each squeeze of her hand in his, he knew she’d unconsciously given herself away again. She loved every moment, and that joy resonated through her fingers in his. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I love you.” Their eyes met, and she searched his before answering, “I believe you.” But it wasn’t conceited, it wasn’t prideful or boastful—it was the exact response he’d been praying for this whole time. It was a calm, reassuring, solid conviction. She knew without a doubt that he loved her. She knew it. His breath caught in his throat as her gaze bore into him. “Thank you for loving me,” she said as the applause around them boomed. Then her lips moved in closer, her hand tightened in his, and his breathing stuttered to a stop. “My heart is yours. I’ve never loved anyone but you.”
Later that night as they cuddled together on her sofa, dreaming of their future, he was reminded again just how incredible she was. “So I’ve been thinking,” Jane said as she snuggled in next to his heart. “Yes?” “If we were ever to get married, where would we live?” “Oh, we’re getting married. There’s no ‘if’ about it.” His heart warmed as she giggled. The wisps of her hair tickled his lips and stuck to the slight stubble on his chin. “Okay. I like that answer, but are you planning on staying in New York?” Oh. He hadn’t thought that far in advance. “I’m contracted to work there for the next four months, and then I guess it’ll depend on where I’d like to go from there. Where would you like to live?” “School gets out in May, and then I guess I have no other obligations—though I do love working with the children. However, I’ll be happy anywhere.” “There are children everywhere.” “This is true.” “Jane,” he whispered against her brow. “You are the one who gets to choose. I left you once, and I’m not going to leave you again. If you would like to live in New York and see the sights, I believe we’d be happy. Traveling home isn’t an issue. We can head back whenever you’re homesick, or for family functions, or whatever.” “But to see New York, really see it, and not just visit. What an experience.” Her voice grew more excited as she spoke. “It’s definitely an iconic and unique place. And it’d be completely bearable if you were there with me to explore it.” She sat up and looked at him. “What if—I know this is crazy talk—but what if we renewed your contract for a year and just had an adventure? Away from family and friends and all of that. To really give us a good start. They say the first year of marriage is the hardest, so let’s make certain we have only each other to rely on. That way, we’re not caught up in anything but making our own way together.” “And what if we love New York and decide we’d like to stay there forever and have children there and—” “How many kids do you want? Do you really want children?” Her grin captivated him—and her eyes! They sparkled. If just the mention of children made her this happy, how could he ever dream of dampening that? “Of course I want kids. How else will my mother’s curse come into effect? She always warned me I’d have children just like me when I grew up.” “Oh, no!” Jane chuckled. “Maybe I should rethink this whole kid thing. I don’t think I could handle an adorable Charles mini-me running around.” “Think of the mischief,” he teased.
“Exactly.” “I love you.” “I really don’t care where we live, or how many children we have—as long as we have a few.” “A few?” He pretended to be shocked and push her away, but he instantly brought her back down to his chest again. “How many is a few again? Two? Three?” “Four, five.” She grinned and wrapped her arms around him. “Does it matter?” He pretended to cough, but then grew serious. “With you, I don’t think it would ever matter. You’re the one who carries them. I’ll be grateful for whatever you’d like to have. And think of how happy our parents will be.” She sighed and squeezed him. “Thank you.” And then for no apparent reason, she seemed to remember something. “Oh, dear. I forgot.” “What?” Jane sat up, looking worried. “Are you okay?” “Yes, but I’m not sure you will be.” “Why?” “Because I totally forgot—I texted her the other day and postponed it, but it’s pretty much inevitable. My mom wants you over for dinner.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN Twelve Drummers Drumming
Jane was relieved to see Charles laugh. “That’s awesome. I’d love to hang out with your parents, and eventually, I’ll have to introduce you to mine too.” A small shot of anxiety zipped through her. “Wow. This is really happening, isn’t it?” “I hope so,” he said. “Well, I guess if you can survive my family, I’ll love yours.” They continued to talk a little longer until Charles’s phone alarm went off. “It’s time. It’s midnight.” “Is something supposed to happen?” “Yep. It’s the twelfth day of Christmas. Come here and get your present.” He held his arms out, and she gladly snuggled back into him. “Mmm… I think this is my favorite gift so far.” He reached over and collected the blanket on the chair next to them, then gently placed it over her. Then he quietly said, “Do you hear that?” She nestled her head right on his chest. “The only thing I hear right now is your heart.” Its deep thud, thud calmed her. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Listen to it.” “Boom-boom. Boom-boom.” She lightly tapped two fingers against his chest in rhythm. “Boomboom. Boom-boom.” “I was going to get you tickets to see the Blue Man Group when they come in February. I figured that would be the most fun drumming performance we could see. I was even planning to fly back over from New York just for the date.” “Sounds fun.” “Well, we could still do it if you’d like. But for now, I’ve found another drum for you.” “Your heart?” “Exactly. Listen to those beats. They’re for you. Every single one. I love you, Jane Bennet, and I promise to care for you, and be there for you, and be your voice of reason—just like you’re mine. I promise to shelter you, laugh with you, play with you, and hold you when life gets rough. Will you marry me, Jane? Will you marry me and prove that forgiveness is the greatest gift man could receive?” Boom-boom. Boom-boom. This was what this felt like. This was security. No big lights or wild proposals in front of everyone. This was a man asking the woman he loved to marry him quietly and alone. Boom-boom. She slowly raised her head from the gentle reminder of his heart and met his gaze. “Yes.” He scooped her up and kissed her then. Long and tingly and perfectly. “This is definitely my most favorite gift yet.” Charles laughed. “I would hope so!”
Later that day after they went ring shopping at a few places—without any luck—Jane pulled out her present to Charles. “It’s pretty silly and meaningless after all of the last twelve days, but here it is anyway.” She watched a bit ruefully as he opened the forest green handmade scarf and hat that she’d worked hours on. Why hadn’t she given him something better? She’d had all those days to buy him a better gift— why hadn’t she? “Did you make this?”
“Yes.” A hundred things would have been a better choice. “Are you kidding me? This is so cool! I love it. Not only are you beautiful and smart, but you’re talented too.” He wrapped the scarf around his neck. “I haven’t had a nice thick scarf like this for years. Not since my grammy made them for me when I was a boy.” She flushed, still embarrassed. “Really?” He put on the hat and modeled it for her. “Aren’t I the most dashing man you’ve seen all day?” He did. He was so good-looking, her heart somersaulted. “Yes.” “How did you know green was my favorite color?” She didn’t remind him that she’d known for months now. Instead, she grinned at his profile and felt her heart lift and warm as she studied how good the gift looked on him. “It suits you better than I thought it would.” “Do you know why?” His eyes sparkled into hers. “Why?” “Because I’m so hot.” She rolled her eyes and pushed him away. “You’re probably really hot in that scarf.” “Come kiss me and see for yourself.”
* * *
“Hello, Mrs. Bennet.” Charles offered his hand and was crushed into a hug instead. “Welcome! My, isn’t this such a fun surprise?” The woman gasped and then squealed as she moved past him and hugged Jane. “Eeeh! I can’t believe it. Both of my girls, married! It’s just so exciting! And to such handsome, wonderful men!” Jane laughed and attempted to pull out of her mom’s strong embrace. “We’re not married yet.” Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands together. “I know! But soon. And think of how fun it’ll be to plan another wedding. I can’t wait to call all of the family!” Mr. Bennet leaned over and held his hand out for Charles. “Welcome to the family, son. It’s good to have you.” Jane walked toward the kitchen. “I thought you would’ve told all the family by now. I mean, I let you know three hours ago.” “Ha! I meant all of the rest of the family.” Charles and Jane’s dad followed them into the nice eat-in country-style kitchen. “But I need to warn you, Mom.” Jane put her hand on her mom’s shoulder. “I really don’t want a huge wedding. Charles and I have talked about inviting maybe fifty people or so. Nothing like Eliza and Will’s guest list of five hundred. It was ridiculous.” “You know what’s ridiculous? Believing we can actually pull off a wedding thinking we could only invite fifty people and not offend the rest. And then there’s Charles’s family too. He’ll want to invite people.” “Mom.” “What?” Charles sat down in the nearest chair he could find. “Mrs. Bennet, this smells amazing. Jane is lucky to have such a great cook for her mom.” Thankfully, Mr. Bennet took the hint and sat down too. “It does smell good, hon. Are you two going to keep arguing, or will we actually get something to eat before it gets cold?” The older woman waved her hands and shooed Jane to a seat. “Gah. You’ve got me all flustered. Now sit down. Let’s say grace and enjoy some of this grub. Your dad needs to eat or he’ll start getting grouchy.”
“This is true.” He leaned back and patted his stomach. “If I don’t get fed, ain’t no one happy.” Jane smiled weakly over at Charles as if to say, Sorry. This is my life. But he just shook his head and grinned. Honestly, she’d never met his family. He had at least seen hers from time to time at business events through Eliza. But poor Jane—she had no idea what she was in for. His family… now, his family was a bunch of—well, snobs, to put it nicely. Except Anne. His little sister Anne was amazing. But with Caroline and Olivia and his parents’ crazy attempts at cosmetic perfection, yeah, he was grateful to have at least this bit of normalcy in his life. When Charles thought about it, he knew they’d never approve of Jane, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t marrying the love of his life to please his family—he was doing it for himself. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t going to wait to hear what someone else had to say—he was going to do what he knew was best. And heaven help anyone who thought they knew him, or knew Jane better than he did. He’d already learned that lesson, and he wasn’t ever going to give her up again.
The End
If you’ve enjoyed Jane and Bingley, don’t miss out on the other novels in the Countdown to Christmas series.
The next Austen in Love, My Persuasion: Caroline and Olivia Bingley convinced their sister Anne to reject Rick Wentworth’s marriage proposal years ago, believing he wasn’t good enough for their family. But now that Anne’s older brother Charles is finally getting married to a girl his family doesn’t approve of, it gives Anne hope. Maybe she’ll have a chance at seeing Rick again—that is, if he could ever learn to forgive her.
About the Author:
Jenni James is the author of over twenty-five books. She lives in the tops of the mountains on a farm in a gorgeous cottage with her fairy-tale hubby and many rambunctious children. Life is good and full and everything wonderful, and those darn books just keep coming . . .