The Christmas House

by Victoria James

  Pulling back, she smiled into her grandmother’s blue eyes. “I thought I’d surprise you.”

  Her grandmother grasped her hand. “I’m glad. Wyatt. This is my granddaughter, Charlotte. Charlotte, this is our brave deputy sheriff, Wyatt Holt. He also happens to be a good friend and neighbor.”

  Deputy. Law enforcement. I’m going to be a cop when I grow up. Charlotte tried to push the memory aside. How did she remember so much about him? She was happy for him, that he’d achieved his goal, despite the immediate wariness that profession brought out in her. It was a juvenile reaction. His job, his career, should mean nothing to her. After all, they’d known each other for barely a year before he and his family had moved away. Her infatuation had been just that and nothing more. She forced a smile and turned to her grandmother. “Yes, we know each other … knew each other. It was a long time ago.”

  “Well, isn’t that just providential,” Grandma Ruby said, a little too enthusiastically, as Wyatt coughed and looked away. “Oh, and how rude of me, this is his dear Aunt Mary, and my good friend as well.”

  Mary’s brown eyes shone with warmth, and she smiled. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Charlotte. I had no idea my nephew was so secretive about who his friends are.”

  Wyatt took the tray from her as Charlotte extended her hand, but the older woman swept her up in a hug. “I wasn’t being secretive, Aunt Mary. It really has been a lifetime since we’ve seen each other,” he said. A lifetime indeed. She wondered what had happened to him in all those years.

  Charlotte smiled at his aunt and played along, not wanting to look like the only one shaken up by this random coincidence. “Wyatt’s right. This was very unexpected. But I’m so glad Grandma Ruby has such caring friends looking out for her. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.”

  “We just adore Ruby. Now, come and take your things off and get settled in. You’re just in time for coffee, so come and join all of us. Wyatt, set the tray down on the coffee table,” Mary said, wagging her finger in the direction of the parlor room, while Charlotte pulled off her boots and hung her coat and scarf on the coat rack beside the front door.

  A few minutes later, they were settled in the large sitting room and Charlotte was seated on one of the dark-green, velvet couches, while her grandmother filled the holly-patterned china cups with coffee. She already knew tea wouldn’t be coming out of the teapot because her grandmother was an infamous coffee lover. Adding a splash of cream to her coffee once her grandmother handed her the cup, she settled into the deep, overstuffed cushions. The two parlor rooms off the front entrance had always been her favorite rooms. When the house was built, one of the rooms had been for ladies, while the other had been for men. Now one room was used as the main sitting room while the other was a library. The high ceilings and ornate tin molding never ceased to inspire awe. The ten-foot Christmas tree sat in the large bay window, just as it always did. Vintage ornaments twinkled under the multicolored lights. When they were children, Charlotte and Olivia would spend so much time in front of that tree, looking at the various ornaments, some of them given to their grandmother by guests of The Christmas House.

  “Thank you, Ruby,” Wyatt said, smiling at her grandmother as she handed him a cup of coffee. He sat across from them in one of the matching armchairs, looking perfectly at home here. She didn’t know if it was his looks or his size, but he seemed to dominate the room. His face was hard, lean, and every inch the capable law enforcement officer.

  For years after her father left, whenever she saw a man in uniform she would break out in a sweat and her heart would race at the possibility that it might be her dad. She’d scour the sidewalks, the malls, wherever they happened to be, in case he was there. Somewhere in her early teens she stopped, with the gutting realization that, even if she could find him, she didn’t want to anymore. Nothing he could say would ever justify his leaving.

  “Your grandmother talks about you and Olivia all the time. It’s so wonderful to finally get to meet you. I hear you’ve started a successful business too,” Mary said with a wide smile.

  Charlotte already liked Mary—she seemed just as outgoing as her grandmother. She rested her coffee cup on her lap and nodded, trying to appear relaxed even though she felt almost jittery, and it had nothing to do with the dark roast coffee she was sipping. “I have. Business is going very well so far. There’s a growing need for professional organizers as people are getting busier and busier and just don’t have someone at home with time to devote to that.”

  “Yes, it’s so true. What an invaluable service. There are so many people who are overworked and deserve to come home to a nicely organized space. Don’t you agree, Wyatt?” she asked, with a pointed glance at her nephew.

  He shifted in his chair. “Sure, Aunt Mary.”

  Mary gave him a satisfied smile before turning back to Charlotte. “Do you have gift certificates available? I have a person very near and dear to me who could really use some help. I’m thinking it would make a wonderful Christmas gift,” Mary said, her smile growing even wider, her eyes sparkling.

  Charlotte cleared her throat, stealing a glance at Wyatt. He was staring dispassionately at his aunt, not looking at all surprised. The last thing she wanted to do was go over to Wyatt’s house and clean out his pantry at his aunt’s insistence. This whole situation wasn’t something she was even remotely prepared for. He looked at her as though he barely knew her. The warmth he’d showed her when she first walked in had disappeared and she felt silly for being so impacted by him. She wasn’t about to make a fool of herself around him. Wyatt was the last person she needed to be spending time with. “I do have gift certificates, but I usually suggest that the person doing the gifting confirm that the receiver is open to having their space organized first.”

  Wyatt opened his mouth, but his aunt beat him to it. “Oh, but some people don’t know what they need until it hits them over the head like a cast iron frying pan.”

  “Yes, that’s true, Mary. Sometimes you have to insist,” Charlotte’s grandmother said, nodding.

  “I’m sure Charlotte is here to relax and spend time with Ruby for a few weeks and doesn’t need to be organizing pantries,” Wyatt said, his gaze fixed on his aunt.

  “Well, why don’t we let Charlotte decide?” his aunt said, and everyone turned their heads to stare at her.

  Charlotte clutched the cup of coffee and forced a smile. How was she going to get out of this one? “Maybe I’ll take a day or two to think about it? How are you doing, Grandma? Anything new at The Christmas House?” She held her breath, hoping that her dodge would be accepted and the topic of conversation would shift.

  A few odd looks were exchanged. “Well, I suppose. But not in a good way,” her grandmother said.

  Wyatt leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs and holding his coffee cup in both hands. “There’s been a rash of break-ins in the neighborhood. Nothing too serious. Mostly looking for cash, purses, or anything valuable at the front door. I just wanted to let Ruby know and remind her to keep things locked, even during the day.”

  Charlotte’s stomach dropped. She tore her eyes away from Wyatt’s intense gaze to gauge her grandmother’s reaction.

  Grandma Ruby stirred her coffee and gave them all a forced smile, her gaze darting between Charlotte and Wyatt. “Oh, now, don’t give me that look, Charlotte. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  Charlotte’s muscles tightened at the obvious downplaying. “If there wasn’t anything to worry about then Wyatt wouldn’t have stopped by.”

  Her grandmother’s sweet, weathered face was suddenly showing its years, and Charlotte leaned across the couch to clasp her grandmother’s hand. She shouldn’t be in this big old house by herself any longer. Just the idea that someone could burst in here was horrible.

  Her grandmother put down her cup and saucer, the cup precariously tipping to the side before settling. “Please don’t make this a big deal, dear. I just want to enjoy our time together.”


  Charlotte’s heart squeezed. “You’re right. Let’s drop it. I’m here now, so you’re not by yourself,” she said softly.

  “And I’m right next door, so if you see anything suspicious, just reach out. There’s only one Ruby Harris, and I’ll never let anything happen to her,” Wyatt said, the affection in his voice mingling with a clear protectiveness that Charlotte found endearing.

  “I will second that!” Mary said.

  Her grandmother’s face actually turned pink. It seemed Wyatt’s charisma was not lost on her. “Oh, Wyatt, you are a charmer.”

  Wyatt gave a low chuckle as he unfolded his large frame and stood, placing his empty cup back on the tray. “It’s the only way I can get you to agree with me. All right then, Ruby, we’ll just stay alert.”

  Charlotte stood as well, not completely satisfied with the resolution but not wanting to upset her grandma any further. “I’ll walk you out,” she said.

  “That’s okay, I can see myself out,” he said, looking even more at home there than she did. She tried to brush off the hurt of his dismissal. Maybe she was the only one who’d thought they’d had some kind of bond as kids.

  “It’s no bother,” Charlotte said, glancing at her grandmother. She wanted to know more about how serious the burglaries were.

  Ruby nodded. “Yes, yes, see him out, dear.”

  “All right, well, I know there’s no arguing with Ruby. Thanks for the coffee and the muffin,” he said, shooting her grandma a smile. “Aunt Mary, I’ll see you later.”

  It was one of those casual, warm smiles that shouldn’t have been anything special … but on Wyatt Holt it was pretty spectacular. It took an otherwise hard, purely masculine face and made him seem almost boyish for a second. It made her forget to breathe, it made her forget she wasn’t twelve anymore. He gestured for Charlotte to pass, and as she walked to the front door, she mentally rehearsed what she was going to tell him.

  She stepped out onto the porch, Wyatt following behind. It was cold and dark, and snow fell in swirling patterns, aglow against the twinkling Christmas lights.

  “I know you must be concerned about your grandmother—trust me, I am too. She’s very dear to me. I’ll always look out for her.”

  Charlotte shivered against the cold wind, feeling exhaustion and worry start to set in. Of course, she was worried about her grandmother, but she also couldn’t help feeling slightly hurt by his seeming indifference toward her. She wanted to jump into a conversation of a thousand questions and catch up like old friends would. She shrugged off her irrational disappointment and followed his lead of impersonal conversation. “Are these break-ins really as innocuous as you said in front of my grandma?”

  He glanced away for a moment, and she couldn’t tell if he was irritated by her questions. “Not really. But I also don’t think Ruby is in any danger. This place is lit up like Vegas, and she has deadbolts on all her doors, and her main floor windows are all secure.”

  Charlotte shivered and rubbed her hands together, feeling slightly appeased by his statement. His gaze followed her motion and she remembered that last morning, when he’d offered her his gloves. His jaw clenched and she wondered if he was remembering it too. She needed to break the silence before nostalgia took hold. “Lately I’ve been worried about my grandmother running this place by herself.”

  He gave her a nod. “I can understand that. Silver Springs is a safe community, but you never know. I’m glad you’re here spending the holidays with her,” he said, taking a step toward the stairs, away from the past they’d shared.

  She forced a smile and glanced away from his handsome face. Her heart raced and her hands turned clammy, knowing she couldn’t just let him walk away without more. “Thank you. I’m happy to have this time with her.”

  He gave her a nod. “It was good seeing you. I need to run. I’ve got to get my daughter to ballet.”

  Her heart squeezed. He had a daughter.

  Apparently she was the only one who’d been hiding from life. She barely knew him now. After all these years, she didn’t even know if she liked him, but here she was, disappointed that the man might be attached. “Nice to see you too.”

  He smiled back at her, a half-smile that caused her breath to lodge somewhere in her chest. For a second something flickered across his eyes, but it was gone before she could tell if she’d imagined it. “Have a good night, Charlotte.”

  He turned and walked down the long porch, his boots leaving large prints in the snow.

  “Wait! Wyatt?” she called out, approaching him as he paused on the last porch step. She couldn’t let him leave again. Not just yet.

  “Yeah?”

  “Just, um, thanks for looking out for my grandmother,” she said, feeling silly to have called out only to tell him that. But it was true, despite her own feelings being hurt, he was looking out for her grandmother.

  “I owe her,” he said before giving a slight nod and walking away.

  He owed her? What did that mean? She stared at his retreating figure longer than necessary, not quite ready to let go of him again. She wanted to run after him and ask him what had happened, why he’d left without saying goodbye. But that would be silly. They were adults now. With lives. People loved and people left. People didn’t come back to Charlotte, and she was foolish for thinking Wyatt was any different.

  CHAPTER TWO

  DECEMBER 24, 1968

  TORONTO

  Ruby Harris clutched the doorframe of her bedroom and craned her neck carefully to hear but not be heard. Her hands were so clammy that she worried she might slip and fall into the hallway. So far, this wasn’t the way tonight was supposed to go. Richard and his parents were supposed to be at the door, not on the telephone. She tiptoed into the hallway because her parents’ voices were so hushed it was impossible to understand what they were saying.

  Dread knotted her stomach as she caught the words “tragic” and “devastating” and “prayer.”

  “Ruby, come downstairs please,” her father called out. His voice sounded heavy, worried. Alarm coursed through her body at the thought that he could somehow know. That would be impossible. She and Richard were going to tell both of their families together. Well, Richard had promised that he would do the talking, which was fine by her because she didn’t have the courage. Richard did. She could put her faith in him. He was the brave one.

  She straightened her red sweater and then clutched her hands, composing herself as best she could. “Yes, Father,” she said, already walking down the stairs.

  Her parents met her at the bottom of the stairs, both their faces white and drawn. “What’s wrong?” she whispered, saying a quick prayer that they didn’t know the truth already, hoping that someone up there actually still listened to prayers from her, despite what she’d done.

  “Dear, we’ve received some horrible news about Richard,” her mother said.

  Panic flooded Ruby’s body and she stood stock still.

  Her father walked forward, placing his hand on her arm. “His parents found him this morning, in his room. It appears … he took his own life.”

  Ruby floated to the ground, or that’s what it felt like, when her legs stopped working, when her skirt billowed out around her like a parachute. She stared up at her parents’ faces, and it felt as though she was looking at them behind a window, where their words came out muffled and they remained out of reach. Her mother’s gold cross dangled in front of her, and Ruby tried to focus on it, to focus on the promise of what it symbolized. As she tried to stay alert, the realization that the man who’d promised to marry her, to explain to their parents that she was pregnant, but that he would do the right thing, slowly strangled her, making it impossible to breathe. If she had known … if she had known Richard was going to do this she would have begged him not to.

  She would have begged him to stay. She would have tried harder to be the woman he needed.

  * * *

  “Why don’t you go on over and give that gift certificate to
Wyatt while I put the finishing touches on dinner?”

  Charlotte tried not to let her discomfort show at the mention of Wyatt or that gift certificate she’d gotten roped into. After Wyatt had left yesterday, Mary had insisted on buying him one. Charlotte had gone out to the car to bring in her work bag, where she always kept a supply of her most important items.

  Grandma Ruby glanced over at her from where was standing in front of the stove, stirring a large pot of her famous Italian minestrone soup, which she adamantly refused to ever hand out the secret recipe for. Her grandmother had made so many friends over the years, gathering their recipes and life stories along the way.

  Charlotte forced herself to continue setting the table and pretend she wasn’t bothered that her grandmother and her grandmother’s friend were trying to set her up with Wyatt. She had barely slept last night. She had tossed and turned, finally falling into sleep only to find herself dreaming about her childhood, her father, Wyatt, Olivia, her mother. All these people who were so important to her had, at one time or another, all left her. As much as it hurt to think about it, somewhere along the way she’d come to the conclusion it was her. There was something in her, something that wasn’t good enough. She wasn’t enough.

  Seeing Wyatt had sent the avalanche of insecurities tumbling through her dreams. But they weren’t kids anymore, and he had probably never even thought of her until yesterday. He had been desperate to leave the porch, and she would never beg to be close to someone again.

  “Judging by the look of horror on Wyatt’s face when Mary suggested I organize his house, I don’t think it would be a good idea.”