Sugar And Spice (13 page)

Christmas Eve morning, Sam and Tillie arrived with what Gus called sappy expressions on their faces. All Amy could do was giggle. She’d never seen her mother so happy. Gus said the same thing about his father. All morning, as they worked side by side, they kept poking each other and pointing to their parents.

“I don’t know why I say this, but I think the two of them are up to something,” Gus said as he picked up a twelve-foot tree to shove into the barrel. Amy pulled it out from the other side and tied the bailing plastic in a knot. Two of Gus’s crew plopped it on top of an SUV, its engine still running. They both waved as the car drove out of the compound, the kids inside bellowing “Jingle Bells” at the top of their lungs.

“One more hour and it’s all over. Then all we have to do is deal with the media and the drawing, and the rest of the day is ours. Did I mention lunch? Addy said Dad’s freezers are about empty, so lunch and dinner will be a surprise.”

“I wonder who’s going to win the contents of the stocking,” Amy said. “I hope it’s someone who can use a face-lift.”

“The snowblower is what everyone is talking about. Whoever wins is going to need an eighteen-wheeler to cart it all away.” He grew serious when he turned to Amy. “This was…an experience I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. If you hadn’t showed up that night in your purple hat and scarf, I don’t know which direction I would have gone in. I feel so damn good right now. All thanks to you, Amy Baran.” Amy blushed as she squeezed Gus’s arm.

“I wouldn’t trade it either, but you did all the hard work. All my wreaths and blankets sold. We have two trees left. I think that says it all. Look, here comes the media, and it’s starting to snow again. I guess we better get ready.”

“What does that mean, get ready?”

“That means we comb our hair and get ready to smile. I’ll do that while you close the gates. Business is officially over.”

Gus loped off. As he struggled through the snow with the huge, slatted, iron gate, he looked up at the sign he’d repainted when he first arrived. He blinked, then rubbed the snow from his eyelashes. It was a different sign. This one said, MOSS & SON CHRISTMAS TREE FARM. A lump the size of a lemon settled in his throat.

The snow was too deep; the damn gate wasn’t going to close. Suddenly, it started to move. “Need some help, son?”

Maybe he should have answered, but he couldn’t get his tongue to work. Suddenly, he was eight years old, running to his dad because he couldn’t close the gate by himself. His father’s words were crystal clear in his memory. “You need some help, son?”

Gus threw himself at his father, and together they toppled into a snowdrift. “Yeah, Dad, I need some help.”

“Then let’s put our shoulders to the wheel and close this gate. The media people will have to open and close it on the way out. We’re done here.”

How easy it all was when you worked together. Gus wished he could think of something profound to say but he couldn’t come up with the words. Then again, maybe actions and not words were all that was necessary.

His father’s arm around his shoulder, Gus walked with his father back to the compound.

The Victrola was still playing, the Seniors were bundled up in their winter gear, and Amy and her mother were standing between the giant Christmas Stocking and the mile-long scroll that Amy was starting to unroll. Cameramen snapped and snapped their pictures, close-ups of the awesome scroll and the giant stocking. Amy pointed to the glittering letter on the stocking. An obliging cameraman focused his camera and took his shot.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ONE AND ALL!

In smaller letters, each Senior’s, each worker’s, each volunteer’s name was listed. At the bottom, it said, THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT. The names Sam, Tillie, Amy, and Gus ran across the toe of the stocking.

“I think this is the most exciting moment of my life,” Tillie whispered to Sam.

“I know it’s the second most exciting moment of my life,” Sam whispered back. “The first was the day Gus was born.”

Gus smiled. If he had been a bird, he would have ruffled his feathers and taken wing. Since he was a mere mortal, he punched his father lightly on the arm as he moved forward to stand by Amy, who was getting ready to pick the winner from the bulging stocking.

A microphone was shoved in Amy’s face as she stood on top of a ladder and dug deep into the stocking for one of the entries. “And the winners are…Janet and Ed Olivetti!”

The Seniors buzzed. Gus caught phrases as they chirped and chittered among themselves. They sure can use it…Ed was laid off the whole summer…Two kids in college…two more getting ready to go…and the littlest one with major health problems…

After the media pack up and left, Gus turned to Amy and said, “Now.”

“Okay.” Amy turned to the assembled Seniors and proclaimed, “Listen up, people. There was an unannounced gift not listed on the Christmas Stocking scroll. Let me tell you about it.”

She took a piece of paper out of her pocket and read, “In honor of all the effort put in by the Senior Citizens, a prizewinning architectural firm has donated its services to supervise the building of an additional wing.”

Before anyone could react, Gus turned to his father and said, “Please, Dad, can we turn off your Victrola?”

“I can do better than that.” Within minutes, Sam had the old contraption and the scratchy records in his hands. With a wild flourish, he dumped the machine and the records in the trash. “As a very wise person said to me just recently, it’s time to move on. I could use a little Bing Crosby or Nat King Cole. Now, let’s have some lunch.”

Gus reached up to help Amy down from the ladder.

“Merry Christmas, Amy.”

“Merry Christmas, Gus.”

“Do you realize in seven days I’ll be calling you Mrs. Moss?”

“Yep,” Amy said linking her arm with her soon-to-be-husband’s. “Until then, you won’t mind if I sleep the days away.”

“Not as long as I’m sleeping alongside you.”

Gus opened the door to the kitchen. Everyone shouted, “Merry Christmas!”

“To one and all!” Amy and Gus called out in return.

Epilogue

Amy Baran slipped into her mother’s wedding gown, which fit her to perfection. “I didn’t know you saved your gown. You never said…”

“I never said a lot of things, Amy. I was happy the day I wore that gown. What came after…well, it no longer matters. A wedding gown is something you save for your daughter. You look beautiful. Do you have something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue?”

“I do. The Seniors were more than helpful. Mom, I am so happy. I wish there was a way for me to thank you for asking me to come home. I did what you said, I went for the gusto. I hope Gus doesn’t think I’m pushy.”

“He doesn’t think any such thing. He loves you. Sam told me he talks about you in his sleep. He’s a fine young man, Amy. Sam…Sam can be stubborn, but he finally came around. We’ve had such long talks.

He’s become a good friend. A really good friend.”

“Is that your way of asking me if I approve?”

“I guess. This room we’re standing in was Sara and Sam’s room. I feel like she’s still here. Sometimes I have these…doubts. My situation was different from Sam’s. He dearly loved his wife. I’m not…”

“Mom, Sam knows his own heart. He’s moved on. He found you. You don’t have to live here in this house if you don’t want to. You have your own house but you need to ask yourself if Sam feels the same way about our house. Dad’s room is the same. You didn’t change a thing. Sam cleared all of Sara’s things out of here. Hey, you could move down the hall to another room.”

“I guess. It’s time to go downstairs. Where’s your veil? Amy, do you think I’ll make a good grandmother?”

“The best. Mom, I know about Dad. I want to thank you for never telling me. I think if you had, I would have run amuck. Now, we’re never going to talk about that again.”

Tillie nodded. “Did something happen to the veil?”

“I’m not wearing it. I’m wearing this”—Amy said, plopping her purple hat on top of her curly head—“and this scarf,” she said twirling the purple scarf around her neck. “Whatcha think, Mom?”

Tillie laughed so hard she cried. “I think you’re going to give those California gals a run for their money. I hear the music. Sam’s waiting outside the door to walk you down the steps and give you away to his son.”

“Then let’s do it.”

She saw him standing next to the minister. She paused, waiting for him to see her. He turned, his eyes popping wide as both his fists shot in the air. Amy started to laugh as all the Seniors clapped their hands.

She sashayed forward, twirling the end of the purple scarf this way and that. Gus howled with happiness as wedding protocol flew out the window.

This, he decided, just like the last two months, was a memory he’d keep with him for the rest of his days.

Ten minutes later, the minister said, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

The Seniors clapped and hollered, whistled and stomped their feet.

“I promise to love you forever,” Gus whispered in Amy’s ear.

“And I promise to love you even more.”

Dear Reader,

December is one of my favorite months and Christmas is my favorite holiday, so I found it a real treat to write a romantic novella set during this special time of year. Here in the southern part of the United States, we don’t get a great deal of snow during the winter and seldom in December—except in the mountains. I chose the Great Smoky Mountains, specifically the Gatlinburg, Tennessee, area, as the setting for my story about two lonely people in need of their own Christmas miracle. When Kate Hadley wrecks her late husband’s Mustang in the mountains during a snowstorm, she never dreams how drastically her life will change when former Army Ranger Mack MacKinnon rescues her. Haunted by memories of her former husband, Kate is greatly disturbed by her instant attraction to the tall, dark and handsome stranger, a man she thinks of as her white knight. Trapped together in Mack’s cabin, the sexual tension between them heightens as they become better acquainted. But is what they feel only lust or is it true love? Can it become the forever-after kind of relationship that Kate needs?

I hope you enjoy reading Kate and Mack’s love story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’m a believer in second chances and in love being triumphant over all obstacles, even the ghost of Christmas past, as in Kate’s situation.

Those of you who have read my novels for Zebra know that I write romantic suspense, so I want to tell you just a little about two upcoming books. In February 2007, look for a very special Valentine’s Day present from Lisa Jackson, Wendy Corsi Staub and me. We have joined forces to write an exciting romantic thriller about love, revenge and deadly secrets that three women hold to a brutal murder. You will not want to miss MOST LIKELY TO DIE.

In April 2007, look for my next romantic suspense novel, THE DYING GAME, with a twisted, psychotic villain to whom murder is simply an amusing game. But for his victims—all former beauty queens—the game is a terrifying end to their lives. When Judd Walker (a secondary character from my July ’05 novel, KILLING HER SOFTLY) loses his wife to the killer, he turns vigilante, using his wealth and power to conduct an independent search for his wife’s murderer. Former Chattanooga police officer Lindsay McAllister, who fell hard and fast for Judd when she worked as a detective on his wife’s murder case nearly four years ago, is now employed by the private P.I. firm Judd hired. With the dying game accelerating and the body count rising, Lindsay must put her own life on the line to catch a maniac and save the soul of the man she loves.

I enjoy hearing from readers. You may write to me in care of Kensington Publishing Corp. or through my website at
_ www.beverlybarton.com. _

Warmest regards,

Beverly Barton

Katie Hadley gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled pressure, doing her level best to keep the car from skidding on the layer of ice that coated the winding mountain road. Why hadn’t she checked the weather forecast before heading out on this last-minute trip?

Because you weren’t thinking straight. You’re running away, remember? All you thought about was escaping while you could.

Suddenly, the white Mustang veered right, spun halfway around, then slid off the side of the road.

Trying everything she could think of to stop the car’s sideways descent down the steep slope, Katie uttered a succinct prayer for help. Instead of stopping, the car picked up speed in its downward plunge.

Bam! Crash! Shatter!

The Mustang’s passenger side slammed into a towering pine tree, crushing in the door and breaking the window. The driver’s air bag exploded, temporarily trapping Katie. Stunned and slightly winded, she sat there immobile, her mind rioting with a jumble of thoughts. Was she injured? Could she get out of the car? Could she get help if she needed it? How bad was the damage to her car?

Darrell’s car.

He’d been so proud of their new Mustang, like a kid who had received the Christmas present of his dreams. Please God, let the car be repairable. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Darrell’s car. It was something tangible of his, like his clothes and wristwatch and collection of CDs, that kept him alive for her.

Her husband had been gone four years, two months, and seven days. And not one day passed that she didn’t miss him. If only…

Katie realized that she couldn’t just stay here, inside the wrecked car, alone in a rocky ravine in the Smoky Mountains. But if she got out of the car, what could she do and where would she go?

Cell phone, Katie thought.

Slipping her hand between her seat and the door, she found the mechanism that released her seat, allowing her to shove it backward as far as it would go. There, that was better. Then she unsnapped her safety belt and reached over in the other seat to search for her purse. Her leather shoulder bag wasn’t there. Squeezing her body away from the air bag, she managed to move halfway into the passenger seat; then she reached down to the floorboard and felt around for her purse. When she found it, she unzipped the top flap with trembling fingers and grappled about inside until she found her cell phone.