by Rebecca York
“Santa?” Butch whispered.
But O’Reilly was cautious. He stood up, gun drawn, and followed the footfalls toward the chimney.
“Hey, Vinny,” a voice called. “It got quiet down there all of the sud…”
Crash!
Thunk! Thunk!
A three-foot section of the roof caved in. One, then two men in dark suits fell through the opening, the larger of the two on the bottom. The one on top scrambled for his gun, then realized there were three guns drawn on him.
“Merry Christmas?” he said weakly and rolled off the man beneath him.
The one remaining on the floor lifted up his upper body, looking like a very fat cobra, and said, “Yeah. Ho, ho, ho,” then fell forward, his bandaged hand pointed skyward.
“Vinny the Axe and Hugo,” Quinn said, shaking his head. “Idiots.”
“I got this,” O’Reilly said, nodding to Quinn and Pete who both had their weapons drawn. “Van, do you want to do the honors since it was probably you they were after?”
“Oh, yeah. Give me the zip ties.”
“I’ll take the one on the bottom,” Junior said. “I can’t let you have all the fun, especially since they were after me before they knew you were hanging around, too.”
“Grandpa!” Missy Lou squealed, clutching her newly acknowledged grandfather’s nose.
Van and Junior momentarily looked her way, and Vinny reached for his gun again.
“Oh, just give me a reason to decorate the halls with bits of you,” Quinn said, then looked to make sure that O’Reilly had a bead drawn on him, too. “And believe me, I will not shoot to kill. I can’t wait to hear they’ve sent you to prison. You think you have enemies on the outside, the guys on the inside are going to have so much fun with you.”
“Eh, eh, eh,” Van chastised. “Junior and I will bind them up, then the sheriff can put them in the back of his rig until dinner’s done.”
“And Mama still has to read us the story of Peter Elph. I know it’s your first Christmas with us, big brother, but one thing you’re going to love about being in this family is tradition. You’ve been around for so few of them. We still have lots more to share with you.”
“Can we stay?” Charles asked, Missy Lou’s clutch now released, her head laying comfortably on his shoulder.
“Plenty of food for everyone…except for maybe the riff-raff,” Pete said. Loretta nudged him in the ribs again. “Even the riff-raff. It’ll probably be the last real food they’ll see for twenty to life, anyhow.”
Chapter 7: The Wagner Legacy
After Christmas Eve dinner
“Are you sure we should head back tonight?” Butch asked, looking out the window. “We got the roof tarped and it’s nice and dry inside. The snow’s really coming down hard now. I don’t want to get stuck in it.”
“You’re all welcome to stay, ‘ceptin maybe the riff-raff,” Pete said, then glared at the two men who had shared the last piece of pecan pie, robbing him of his second one.
“I guess they can stay in the back of the rig,” O’Reilly said, frowning in indecision.
“Are you sure you want to put them out there?” Junior asked. “You’d have to leave the heater and engine running all night or they’d freeze to death.”
Hugo gasped in sudden fear. Vinny shoved his shoulder into his, letting him know to be silent.
“That’d suck up a lot of gas,” Pete said to the sheriff. “Would you have enough for the return trip if you did? Maybe it’d be best if you didn’t run the heater.” He paused, then added with a wink, “I’m just messin’ with you.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” O’Reilly said, enjoying the panic the scared contract killers were showing.
“Hey, I got an idea,” Pete said. “Why don’t you put a rope around their necks or something so they’ll choke if they try to run? And maybe see if you can figure out how to secure them to the washing machine or something else that’s too heavy to run away with.”
“Where would they go?” O’Reilly said. “They’d freeze to death before they reached the main road.”
Another gasp from Hugo and shove from Vinny made Quinn chuckle. “I’m pretty good at tying knots. I was an Eagle Scout. Got any rope around here? I can make sure we’re all doubly safe.”
“I’m on it,” Pete said. He grabbed his coat from the series of hooks on the wall by the door, slipped on his boots, and headed to the barn.
“Yeah, stay the night,” O’Reilly said, his head bobbing in conviction as he thought more about it. “Looks like it’s a good thing there’s plenty of blankets. It’s gonna be toeses to noses, though.”
“Everyone ready for storytime?” Cecelia asked, trying to break up the criminal-tainted atmosphere with some Christmas spirit.
“Nope,” Loretta said. “You’re not starting without my Pete.”
“Oh, so it’s ‘my Pete’ now?” she asked.
“Yup. I let him claim me last night,” Loretta said, her face aglow.
“Mom!” Cindy, Van, and Junior exclaimed.
“Well, it’s about time!” Cecelia said. She leaned over to her sister and asked, “Well, did you like it?”
“Oh, yeah. Worth waiting fifty years for.”
Junior and Van shuffled chairs and footstools around while Quinn used a borrowed blanket to make sure Charles’s legs and feet were covered.
Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!
Pete walked in the front door, brandishing the coil of rope like it was a twenty-pound catfish. “Look what I got? A peaceful night’s sleep.” He toe-to-heel removed his boots, then hung up his coat. “Will this work?” he asked Quinn, bringing it over to him.
Quinn unwound one end, set the round into the crook of his elbow, and tugged on a one-foot length. “Yup, good braided nylon rope. I can make a slip knot that’ll remind them not to turn over or even scratch their balls in their sleep.” He looked over at the hand-covered grins on Lucy and Cindy. “Sorry about that, ladies,” he said. “That was crude. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”
“No, don’t worry about us, right?” Cindy looked at her two mothers and Lucy.
“All men’s got ‘em,” Cecelia said, “and they’re bound to itch at some time or another.”
“Hey, Grandpa,” Butch said to O’Reilly. He nodded at Cecelia. “Can we keep her? She’s funny. I like her. A lot.”
Cecelia stepped over and gave the high school senior a big hug. “I think he’d have to work real hard to get rid of me.”
O’Reilly put an arm around each of them and pulled them close. “I’m not letting either of you go. At least, for a year.”
“Huh?” Butch asked, but Cecelia only smiled.
“You graduate this summer,” Cecelia said. “I think he figures you’re going to college or trade school or maybe get an internship…”
“Nope. If anything, I’m getting a local job or maybe going to community college. I want to have a mother for a while. It’s been too long without one.”
Sniff. Sniff.
All heads turned toward the sound of barely contained weeping. “Are you all right?” Quinn asked, then realized he was with family and added, “Dear.”
“I can’t believe how much I messed up with Van. God, I’m so glad you,” he said, looking at Cecelia, “and Loretta — that’s your name, right? — adopted him. Having a mother… Scratch that. Having a loving mother and father, or grandfather…”
“Parent?” Quinn suggested.
“Yes. Being a loving parent and spending time with your child is worth more than traveling to Singapore to seal a merger or having the classiest yacht in the Sydney Regatta. What was I thinking?”
“Charles, your father was rich and powerful, right?” Quinn asked, his hand gentle on his shoulder.
Charles sniffed and nodded. “So, you think that’s why I was the same way?”
“Children, dogs, critters — two and four-legged — all learn from their parents or elders or whoever is in charge,” Pete said. “Looks like Van’s a smart one. He
broke the cycle on his own.”
“More or less,” Van said and shrugged. “A lot got broken on the way, not just the cycle,” and rolled his eyes in exasperation. He pulled off a length of paper towels and handed it to his father. “You’ll get there, too. Baby steps, Dad. At least for this part of your life, you have a good helper. Or partner or whatever.”
Charles reached up and patted Quinn’s hand on his. “Partner and more.”
“Okay, everyone,” Cecelia said. “Enough of this sappy stuff. Now it’s time for a scoop of history served in a bowl of tradition.”
“Yum,” Hugo said, then, “Oof,” as Vinny thumped him with his head. “Sorry,” he said softly. “I can’t help that I like food.”
“What’s your name?” Cecelia asked, although she knew he had already been read his rights and didn’t have to answer.
“Hugo Cotella,” he said, then gasped and ducked sideways, averting another angry nudge from the man tied to him.
“Idiot!” Vinny screeched.
“Do. Not. Call. Me. That!” Hugo enunciated. He waited, knowing that Vinny would make another comment. As soon as Vinny turned to him with mouth open — probably to apologize for saying that trigger word — Hugo flipped his head back and let him have it.
Thunk!
“Ah, shit, Hugo. I think you broke my dose again,” Vinny said, blood flowing down his chin.
“Good. Hey, Sheriff. Can you make sure we don’t get put in the same cell when we get wherever we’re going? I don’t never want to see this goon again.”
“I’ll do my best,” O’Reilly said, chewing back the chuckle. He pulled out another length of paper towels, looked at it, then grabbed another couple feet and stuffed it under Vinny’s chin. “Now, it’s time for what my dear Cecelia tells me is part of the Wagner family tradition. The story of Peter Elph has been handed down orally through the generations. Last year, she put it together in a book so others, as in non-Wagner friends or family, can enjoy the story of the little boy reunited with his father.”
Sniff! Sniff!
“Don’t worry,” Quinn said, hugging Charles’s head to his shoulder. “We got this.”
Cecelia read the story, her inflections and tones rising and lowering to capture the voices of the different characters: young Peter Elph, the evil banker out to steal and destroy, and all the others in 1886 Tombstone.
“Were they real?” Hugo asked.
“Yes, they were,” Loretta said, her hand holding Pete’s. “At least, that’s what our parents told us, and their parents told them, and so on; all the way back to the silver mining days of old Arizona.”
“And,” Cecelia said, drawing out the suspense. She set a one-foot-square box on her lap and pulled off the lid. “And here’s the little wooden horse that Peter carved for his son. See,” she turned it upside down and showed off the carved initials, “P.W. 1886. Peter Wagner.”
Charles straightened up in the chair and cleared his throat. “That’s a very interesting story, Ms. Wagner, but all’s well now. Van can go back to being a Van der Cleft.”
“No offense,” Van said, forgoing the title dad or father that he had used when he was younger, depending on whether he was asking for something or was angry. “But I think I’ll stick with the name Wagner. Pretty cool legacy: Tombstone gambler and Arabian horses, eh, Mama, Mom?”
Charles’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know whether to be happy or sad. I’m glad you made a wise decision, choosing grace and kindness over money, but I’m also sad. I’m losing a son.”
“Nah. I’ll stick around, just in case you need a kidney or something. But since there are still some assassins out there looking for me and/or my brother, can we keep this just between us? That is, you and Quinn,” he added with a wink, “and the rest of my family.”
Quinn walked up and put his hand on Van’s shoulder. “You grew up to be a man. Scratch that, a true gentleman, despite the hardships of entitlement.” He paused, a frown twitching on his handsome face. “That sounds odd. Wrong. The hardships of entitlement…”
“Yeah, well, it’s true,” Van said. “Look how everyone turned out. I had two parents, but I’m a wreck.”
“Were a wreck,” Lucy interjected, then said, “Sorry. Go ahead.”
“I was a wreck with the ‘perfect’ parents, home, plenty of money, the best education money could buy. At least, it would have been if I had paid attention. But Lucy was reared by a single parent and she’s an absolute angel.”
Lucy leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, then sat back, more radiant than ever.
“And Junior didn’t even have a father figure. Both he and Cindy were brought up by two mothers. Both turned out to be very classy people in my book.”
Cindy nodded to Quinn and Charles. “And just for the record, my mothers were lesbians. Gender identification has absolutely nothing to do with anything. I just wish you had come to your senses earlier. Looks to me like it’s time to claim Quinn as your own and kick that wannabe child assassin out of the nest.”
“Can I help?” Hugo said, sitting up straight. “If I let the judge know she’s the one that hired us to kill Van, do you think they’ll let me off easy?”
The sheriff looked at Quinn and Charles, then at Vinny, then back at Hugo. “You’d do that? You know, I did read you your rights. You don’t have a lawyer here, so anything you say probably won’t be admissible in court.”
“I can be his lawyer,” Lucy said, waving her hand in the air. “I’m not a lawyer yet, but I can be his advocate without a degree. Hugo, I’m asking you before everyone in this room, do you want me to be your advocate? That’s like your lawyer, but I won’t charge you a whole bunch.”
“Yeah. Sounds good to me.”
“Okay. Before witnesses you have your lawyer. Now, that’s enough business for a Christmas Eve celebration. Anyone else have any surprises?”
Van raised his hand and grinned.
“Only good news allowed in my house tonight,” Pete said.
Van looked over at Quinn and his father, a happy family unit, snuggled around Missy Lou, napping on her grandpa’s chest. “You’re going to have to start working out, Dad,” he said with a wink.
“Oh, we’re already on the health kick,” Quinn said. “He’s getting better every day, and it’s only been four days.”
“Why do you say that, son?” Charles asked.
“Because you’re going to need a broader chest and stronger arms. I don’t know if you noticed, but little Missy Lou’s mother is going to have another baby soon.”
Charles looked over at Cindy. She turned sideways and showed off her baby bump with a smile. “I thought she just was a big girl. Two grandchildren? Marvelous!” he said, tears of joy trickling out the side of his eyes.
“And then…” Van said, waiting for the little chatter of remarks to die down.
Charles sniffed back the tears. “Yes, son. And then…” he prompted.
“Lucy and I will give you a grandchild.”
“Or two,” Lucy said, nodding to Cecelia.
“Yup,” Cecelia confirmed. “I have a bit of experience with delivering twins, so we’re all set.”
Thunk!
“Van!” Lucy screeched, then started laughing when she saw him wink. “You imp!”
“Actually,” he admitted, “I did lose my legs for a second but controlled the fall. See, Dad,” he said, looking to Charles, “there’s no way I’d leave my real family.”
“Yes, your ‘real’ family is priceless.”
“Your lost and found family,” Quinn said, the strength of conviction in his simple declaration. “Sometimes it takes a while to find who you’re truly supposed to be with.” He patted Charles on the shoulder. “Once you find them, never give up, never let go.”
***The End***
Afterword
Thank you so much for reading Lost and Found Family, part of Unforgettable Christmas Dreams.
If it feels like there’s more to this story, there is. Part One
of the series That Twin Thing (not yet released as a complete set) is The Midwife’s Son, part of Sweet and Sassy Prince Charming.
Part Two of the series is Phoenix I’m Not, part of Unforgettable Intrigue. Both of these sets are available now. Release date of the single titles and That Twin Thing box set has not yet been determined.
Peter Elph will be coming soon! Read the tale of the lad who started the Wagner legacy in Christmas Shorts, another great Authors Billboard and Chill Out! Books box set.
Follow me at Dani Haviland Street Team to get the latest release dates and early previews of covers and stories.
Oh, and pretty please… Would you take a moment to leave a review for this story and/or the box set on Amazon or Goodreads? Your insights help other readers decide if a book is a good fit for them. It’s also the invigorating serum that gives authors the feedback they thrive on. Thanks!
Other Books by Dani Haviland
ARLIE UNDERCOVER SERIES (romantic suspense based in Alaska and Arizona)
A Stingray Christmas: (First book) Anchorage detective on medical leave travels from Alaska to Arizona to see for the first time the son he’d fathered as an anonymous sperm donor. Great and rotten surprises await the cop with the smartest smartphone around.
The Biggest Heart Ever: (Book two) When would Arlie learn that trying to do everything by himself could be deadly—and make Charlene a widow before they were married?
Always a Bigger Fish: (Book three) Back in Alaska, Arlie finds out he’s a target. Will vacationing detective Billy Burke (from THE FAIRIES SAGA) have information to help nab the scalper?
How to Fix a Broken Life: (Book four) When Arlie’s very pregnant wife is kidnapped by pseudo terrorists, will he be the one to rescue her or will a surprise hero come in to save the day?
THE FAIRIES SAGA SERIES (historical fiction/time travel, listed in order with novellas):
Kibbles and Bits: FREE: Sample the first stories in the series before you buy. The Fairies Saga stories. Find out how the first five books got their crazy names, too.
