The Christmas Cookie House: A Sweet Holiday Romance (Christmas House Romances)

by Jennifer Griffith

  “I’ve got dinner cooking in the crock pot at my house, if you’re interested,” she said as they descended the stairs together. “I don’t want to monopolize your time, though.”

  “But I want you to monopolize my time.” On the landing of the second floor, he took her in his arms. She got so dizzy from this kiss, she wasn’t sure if they were falling down the stairs or floating up to the ceiling. He unhinged her more with every show of affection.

  Which were getting more and more frequent. And the work in the attic getting less and less efficient as a result.

  Nothing had gone too far, but she would definitely need to fix her ponytail before she set foot outside the Layton Mansion into full view of Society Row.

  “The thing I’m worried about is monopolizing your time. How are you going to finish planning your fundraiser?”

  Oh, that. She really should be organizing what was left of her responsibilities. Una Mae would expect another report tomorrow, and she’d contacted Leela with a new demand: decorations for the Holiday Ball. They’re at the same venue. No sense decorating twice.

  So far, Jay must not have seen or heard the advertising. He hadn’t said anything. But Leela had seen it—all over town. There was even a banner draped between street lights on Main Street.

  This was getting critical. “I need to tell you something about the Cookie House.”

  “That it’s the same day as the Holiday Ball? I need to know the color of your dress, for sure. Is there some kind of matching wardrobe expectation for dates?”

  There was. “I’m probably going to be in dark green velvet.”

  He ran his hand over her waist to her hip. “That will be very, very nice.” He leaned in and kissed her, and she lost her nerve again for now. “What do you have left to prepare?”

  “Decorations.”

  “For the cookie fundraiser or the ball?”

  “Both.” The weight of it pressed down like a vise. She hadn’t even begun to amass the piles and piles of decorations she’d need to make this event happen. All she had found were some sad, ratty garlands in a box of Mom’s stuff.

  Instead, she’d been idling away her time in an attic and making nightly batches of cookie dough to share off spoons with Jay Wilson, raw-cookie-dough-eater extraordinaire.

  “What can I do to help you with the project?”

  What man ever asked that? Now was the perfect time to tell him about the location being, well, his house. “Unless you know where to get a thousand piles of vintage Christmas decorations, probably nothing.”

  If she told him that the event had been announced, he might react badly. He might not trust her—even though she didn’t deserve his trust at this point.

  She kicked the conversation down the road, like the yellow-bellied coward she was.

  “What do they usually use? Can’t you use those?”

  “In the past it’s been Una Mae Coldicott’s décor. The Coldicotts have an extravaganza of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer-themed decorations. It’s like being in the TV special when you walk into wherever the Cookie House is being held.”

  “Is everyone required to pretend they’re doing stop-motion animation as they go through?” He mimed the stilted, robotic movements as he came in for another kiss.

  Leela laughed through the mash of his lips on hers. “She’s holding them hostage this year. No Rudolph.”

  “What’s her problem with you, anyway?”

  Should she tell him this gem from her life? “It’s because I won’t date her lecherous son Felix.”

  “Felix? Coldicott? Big guy, small round glasses, slicked-back oily hair? Looks like that Ricky guy from the eighties movie with John Cusack?” That was the one. “I met him at the barber shop last month. Seems like he borders on feral, if his conversation that day was any indicator.”

  “Precisely. And Una Mae’s holding the use of her house and Rudolph and the sleigh and the whole island of misfit toys hostage until I agree to go with Felix to the Holiday Ball.”

  Uh-oh. The whole truth had nearly come out. Well, three-fourths had.

  Jay brushed some hair from Leela’s face. “Could you just tell everyone you have a boyfriend? It’s usually an iron-clad excuse.”

  “Felix Coldicott is not my boyfriend.”

  Now Jay laughed. “I meant me.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s all you’ve got to say? Is oh?”

  “No, I have this to say.” Leela should have said, I told them I was having the Cookie House here. Instead she kissed him and said, “I’d love to tell everyone you’re my boyfriend.”

  Jay

  A full week into their attic project, and the halfway mark still looked like it was a stone’s throw away. Speaking of throw away… Jay was ready to chuck every single box of Uncle Jingo’s collection again to get things moving on his life and toward his goals.

  But maybe not the goals he’d been thinking of for the past several months.

  If it hadn’t provided the perfect excuse for taking every second of Leela Miller’s days, he would have burned all of it, Uncle Jingo’s contingencies be blazed.

  Then, when he’d made his first doctor’s fee for operating on a rich person’s Persian cat’s failing liver, it would all be worth it.

  Cat livers.

  Cat livers were his future. Unless …

  Performing that horse surgery was amazing. It might not hurt to have a backup plan if Foster and Cody didn’t work out. Even if it the backup too was pie-in-the-sky dreaming.

  “I’m going downstairs to make a quick phone call.” Jay abandoned Leela in the attic and dialed Mr. Overson—Dr. Harrison’s business manager—who had been frustratingly elusive. A voice came through on the other side, and Jay sped down the stairs to the first floor to start the conversation.

  “Mr. Overson?”

  “I don’t recognize this number. Who’s calling?”

  Jay introduced himself.

  “Oh, yes. Dr. Wilson. I heard about you. Horse surgeon. Innovator. Well, I was out on the ranch until yesterday, incommunicado, so I didn’t get back to you. But yes, Dr. Harrison is interested in looking toward retirement. At that time he would plan to sell his practice, naturally. Are you interested?”

  That depended. “Can you give me a ballpark on the purchase price?”

  Overson named an exorbitant sum. Jay tried to keep his choke inaudible. It was multiple times the value of the Layton House. Much more than the partnership buy-in at Precious Companion.

  “Dr. Wilson? Are you still there?”

  “Uh, yeah.” But he was stunned into silence.

  “It’s a valuable practice, worth every cent. And a great life, especially if you want to set up shop in a town like Massey Falls.”

  “Thank you for your information.”

  “Thanks for the interest.”

  Vague, lookie-loo interest was the only thing Jay could give at that price. They hung up.

  Jay plodded back up the stairs to where Leela was still at work—getting ready to sell the house right out from under her event.

  With all the kissing distractions of late, Jay still hadn’t discussed with Burt a contingency clause for whomever might buy it. He should do that right now. He fired off a text. Burt, can we talk about building in a contingency clause to the sale so that the Cookie House can happen here at the mansion?

  Nothing came back immediately. Jay looked around, less enthusiastic to complete the task. Had they even touched the stacks? There looked to be twice as many as when they started.

  “What number are we on?” Leela held the sharpie marker perched above their just-completed box. “Two eighty-three?”

  “Three eighty-four.”

  “Is it that many already?”

  “Already? Seems like a thousand at this point. And we haven’t found much of value. Unless you count a few decorative items that could be worth something if I bother to get them appraised instead of hauling them to the thrift store.”

  “You’ve shown t
he partially complete inventory list to the lawyer to send to your relatives? Do any of them want anything?”

  “Nobody’s responded to anything on any list.” Not even Mom. In fact, she wouldn’t even look at the list when he sent her a photo of it. Not my circus, not my monkeys, she’d said.

  Circus was pretty accurate. This mess could have been created by hyperactive monkeys let out of their cages.

  Leela’s brightness hadn’t dimmed, though, despite Jay’s trip into the dumps.

  “At least get that egg-shaped thing and the little stand appraised. It looks valuable. I think I remember my mom showing me a photo of something like it in a magazine once. The filigree on it might at least be real gold.”

  Appraisals. Filigree. Hundreds more boxes to go. Nobody wanted any of this stuff. Not even Jay.

  Plus, he was never going to make his deadline.

  “Why do you want in to the Ladies’ Auxiliary so much?”

  “My mom was in it.” Leela stiffened. “And because they do a lot of good work.”

  “There are lots of ways to do good work.”

  “Not in this town. There’s only the Ladies’ Auxiliary.”

  Jay doubted that. “Not only the Ladies’ Auxiliary, surely.”

  “If you want to do the most—like helping every citizen from the infants to the elderly—you go with established channels. In Massey Falls, the Ladies’ Auxiliary is the established channel. They’re rife with potential, like a sleeping giant, ready to dig in and perform any great good. I hope they let me in.”

  What kind of idiots wouldn’t let Leela Miller into their club? “Why shouldn’t everyone be allowed to join, if it’s truly a service organization?”

  “It’s the way things are done. Which is why I volunteered to chair their biggest fundraiser of the year. I wanted to prove I’ve got potential.”

  Right. Right. “You’re keeping your mom’s legacy alive.”

  “Yeah. I hope so.” She clouded for a second, but then composed herself. “Look, I know I’ve said this too many times before, but the Layton Mansion really is key, not just to the event but to my getting into the organization. Everyone wants to see inside it, since it’s been shut up so long.”

  Maybe he should just let her use the mansion, whether or not the attic was finished. She needed it. “Leela, I—”

  “So I did something terrible, Jay.”

  “You did?”

  She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “I told the Ladies’ Auxiliary I was in negotiations to use the Layton Mansion.”

  “You did?” What was so wrong with that? “That’s true enough.”

  “I also …” She looked at the ceiling, and then she met his eyes. “I told them you said yes.”

  “Oh.”

  “At which point, they printed fliers. They bought ads for the radio. They announced it on social media as the venue for both the Cookie House and the Holiday Ball. It’s the only place in the whole town that could host both.”

  “They … announced it?” Jay’s voice cracked. This turn of events could potentially sink a sale, especially if it was widely known, which—apparently it was. “Do you have any backup venues?”

  She shook her head, fear in her eyes. “I had to, Jay. I—I’m sorry.” Her chin quivered and her eyes got glassy. “For advertising. It’s coming up so soon. The third Tuesday in December looms only days away now.”

  As if Jay didn’t know that fact. “We’re not done with the attic.”

  “It seemed so close. You did say we had a deal if …”

  Yeah, he had said there was a deal. She was right. And she’d spent every single day helping him prepare the attic for the house to sell. What kind of a jerk would it make him if he said no now? He exhaled, stirring dust up into the air in a swirl.

  The two big events that were hitting that fated day sparked with friction of flint and steel, threatening to burn each other down.

  And there was a bigger problem with saying yes to Leela: with no response yet from Burt, he hadn’t put in place any contingency for delay if a buyer came forward.

  The tension had been eating him alive, but he had managed until now to push the actual discussion into the future. Without completing the attic, the point had been moot. But now, time was crushing them both. Unless he sold, he could lose his shot at the Reedsville clinic. Clearly, he could never afford to buy Dr. Harrison’s practice. But if he sold, he’d pull the rug out from under Leela.

  She looked so forlorn, and he was no monster. Yeah, she should have told him sooner, but the damage was done. He could either flip out or roll with the situation.

  “It’s going to be okay.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “I think.”

  “Are you sure, Jay? I feel horrible. I’m so sorry. I knew we had a deal and that I hadn’t helped you finish. I don’t blame you if you’re upset.”

  Was he upset? Yeah, but not exactly about what Leela had done. More about what all the separate waves combining into one giant rogue wave were doing to his life.

  “You’re quiet. I get it. I can go. We can cancel it or book the library’s conference room. It won’t be nearly as cool, but I’ll fix it. I’m so sorry.”

  “Leela,” he said. She was melting before his eyes. Jay took her in his arms. “It’s probably going to be fine.”

  After all, the attic wasn’t done, per Uncle Jingo’s stipulation, nor was there a buyer on the hook. It would probably be fine.

  A loud knocking sounded downstairs. “Yo! Jay? I saw your car on the street. You in here?” The voice, though muffled, was intelligible. Burt Basingstoke.

  “Is that Emily’s dad?” Leela asked, looking up from a particularly cobweb-infested box. A patch of dust rested on her cheek. Jay wiped it off with his thumb.

  “I think so. I’ll go down.”

  “I’ll come, too. He’s my cousin-in-law, after all.”

  “You don’t have to.” Jay still hadn’t told her about that possible cash buyer or the lack of a built-in contingency for taking possession of the house.

  Burt’s bombastic voice thundered from the bottom of the attic stairs. “Jay, my boy! Come on down here. Excellent news! I have a buyer for you. Cash. They’re here now, ready as rain in a heavy thundercloud.”

  Jay

  “Ready?” What did Burt mean, ready? “We’re not done with the attic.”

  Jay and Leela descended the stairs and met Burt in the kitchen. It was colder down here.

  “Oh, hey there, Leela. Didn’t expect to run into you here. Of course, it makes sense now, what Emily said when she told me you were falling crazy-dog in love with someone. Might as well be with the heir of all this property. This smarty-pants young man is going to be rich, rich, rich in a few minutes, and he won’t even have to bear the burden of this old place, come nightfall.”

  In love! Jay shot a glance at Leela’s reddening face. She pressed a hand to her cheek for a second and bit her lower lip before turning to her cousin’s husband with a retort.

  “What are you talking about, Burt?” Leela asked. “Jay’s not selling yet.”

  “Yeah,” Jay said scuffing his toe across the wood floor. “Turns out the Layton Mansion is going to be this year’s Cookie House, and also host the Holiday Ball.”

  “Yeah, on Tuesday, a week from today,” Leela said.

  “Not if Jay is as smart as I think he is.” Burt winked at Leela. She recoiled and then looked at Jay, her eyes shouting questions at him.

  I could have so easily prevented this situation.

  “Did you get my message?” Jay stepped toward Burt, with Leela behind him, as if Jay could shield her from all this destruction. “About adding a stipulation allowing the Ladies’ Auxiliary to use the house?”

  It was as if Burt hadn’t heard. “The buyers are outside and will be coming in any second. They’re chomping at the bit!” Burt grinned, showing too many of his back teeth.

  “Burt, there are some complications.”

  Snowplowing on, Burt said, “S
peaking of Ladies’ Auxiliary—by wild coincidence, the buyers just happen to be the Coldicott family. Una Mae is one of your Ladies’ Auxiliary cohorts, isn’t she, Leela?”

  Leela gave a sharp intake of breath and grabbed Jay’s elbow.

  Everyone was talking at once.

  “Jay, she’s—”

  “Burt, there’s something you need to—”

  “I hear Mrs. Coldicott is the Ladies’ Auxiliary’s grand poobah, or whatever they call women. Poobette?” Burt let out a guffaw.

  “At least the first syllable of that nickname applies,” Leela muttered.

  “Please. Burt. Did you let the buyers know about the third Tuesday stipulation?” Jay had to get a word in. “I texted you requesting we write in a delay contingency for the Cookie House.”

  “Of course they’ll be amenable. She’s in the Ladies’ Auxiliary!”

  Leela and Jay exchanged glances. Jay stepped toward Burt again. “You’ve got it in writing, then?”

  “Not yet. Nothing’s in writing yet. Nothing’s signed. But I have no doubts. None at all. She came, cash in hand.” His eyes flashed dollar signs.

  Leela let out a little cry of despair.

  “She’s anxious to get the deal done. Buying it for the son.”

  Ew. Feral Felix would have his children sliding down the banister Jay had restored?

  Burt lowered his voice. “I’m guessing it’s so he’ll move out of their basement after all this time.” He curled his fingers and blew on his nails, then he rubbed them on his collar as if he’d won the Masters’ Tournament. “When I told them about all the remodeling work you’d done and that you were clearing out that attic, you should’ve seen the way old Mrs. Coldicott lit up. Like the Christmas tree ceremony on town square. Shazowie! It was like a race to the family treasure chest of gold buried in the back yard. They couldn’t hurry down here fast enough.”

  “Speaking of the attic.” Jay had to put the brakes on this until the Cookie House delay was in writing. Leela was shaking beside him. “But what about the clean-out stipulation in the will? It has to be completed, right? Legally?”