A Family for Christmas (Contemporary Romance Novella)

by Helen Scott Taylor

  "Suppose you didn't." Mrs. Undy grinned again. "However you came by Combe Farm, it's nice to see a woman here. Mr. Millington needs a woman in his life."

  Eve's eyebrows shot up. "Gracious, there's nothing between Tom and me. I've only just met him."

  "We'll see about that," Mrs. Undy said, tapping the side of her nose. "We'll see."

  If Mrs. Undy was trying to play matchmaker, she was barking up the wrong tree. Eve pulled her phone from her bag and checked her e-mails, immediately feeling more comfortable with her phone in her hand. She busied herself answering a couple of business queries. For a few moments, she forgot where she was and lost herself in work like she usually did.

  The demands of her job had kept her sane. Without work, she wasn't sure she would have coped with losing her parents so suddenly and unexpectedly. She just had to survive one night at Combe Farm, then tomorrow she could get back to civilization and life would return to normal.

  Chapter Two

  Tom stood at his daughter's half-open bedroom door and watched her sitting cross-legged on her bed, combing her Barbie doll's hair. Love swelled inside him and he smiled.

  The first time he set eyes on her small squashed face after she was born, Polly stole the heart right out of his chest. She meant everything to him. He would never let her down again like he had in the past.

  She glanced up and grinned. "Daddy, did you find Pickle?"

  "I certainly did, pumpkin." Tom went into her room. When he neared the bed, she stood and launched herself at him. He caught her and pulled her into a bear hug, spinning her around so she squealed.

  "I want to go and feed him." Polly wriggled to get down, but Tom hung on to her.

  "In a minute. We need to have a chat first."

  She pouted as he set her on the bed and sat beside her. "I told you not to let Pickle outside, didn't I?"

  "I know, but I wanted him to see the snow." She blinked her pretty blue eyes and, darn, but it was hard to be strict with her when she did that. She could wind him around her little finger.

  "When I tell you to do something, there's always a good reason, pumpkin." Tom tweaked her nose and she giggled. "Pickle isn't like Noodle. He doesn't come when you call his name. I've spent a long time outside searching for him."

  "Sorry, Daddy." Polly looked down and fiddled with her Barbie's clothes.

  Tom put a finger under her chin and tipped her head up so he could see her face. "I just don't want anything to happen to your lamb, sweetheart. If he gets lost in the snow again, he'll get sick."

  "I don't want him to get sick." She scrambled to her feet and wrapped her arms around Tom's neck, pressing her face into his chest. He closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair.

  "I know you don't, pumpkin. That's why we have to keep him inside with us."

  "Why didn't his mummy want him?"

  Tom's heart clenched at the thread of pain in his daughter's voice. He'd hoped she would forget that his ex-wife had walked out on her, but for a six-year-old, she understood far more than he wanted her to. "Sometimes mummies aren't very good at looking after their babies, and someone else gets to love them instead. Just like you and I love Pickle. And you know I love you enough for two people, don't you, sweetheart?"

  "I know, Daddy."

  The shadow of guilt that was always in the back of his mind swept a chill through him like the bad weather. If he hadn't been so damned absorbed in his work he might have noticed his wife's rejection of Polly, and her lack of interest in him. But back then his priorities had been screwed up. He'd lost nearly everything before he understood what was important in life.

  Polly stroked her doll's hair thoughtfully. "Barbie's my mummy now." She held the doll out. "Touch her hair, Daddy. It's lovely and soft, isn't it?"

  Tom dutifully ran his fingers over Barbie's long blonde hair, and memories raced back of the early days of his marriage to Karen, of the plans they'd had for the future. When Polly came along, he'd thought their dreams were coming true, but Karen had thought differently—she'd thought her dreams were over.

  He had better make the most of stroking Barbie's hair, as the chances were slim there'd be another woman in his life. He and Polly were happy here, just the two of them. He had no intention of complicating matters again.

  "Time to feed Pickle, I think," he said briskly.

  Polly jumped up with a girlish squeal of joy and headed for the door.

  "Oh, I nearly forgot, we have a visitor, a lady whose car got stuck in the snow. She's the one who really found Pickle, so you'd better say thank you to her."

  Polly turned her inquisitive gaze on Tom. "A lady like Mrs. Undy?"

  "She's a bit younger than Mrs. Undy."

  "Does she have pretty hair?"

  "I don't know," Tom said, frowning. "It's dark, up in a bun or something. I suppose you'd call it pretty."

  "Do you think she'll let me comb her hair?"

  "Well, I don't know about that." Eve appeared to be a businesswoman through and through, the sort of career-focused woman Tom used to work with in London. She probably didn't have time for children. Although his ex had never worked a day in her life. She should have had all the time in the world for Polly and hadn't. So perhaps he shouldn't make assumptions.

  "I'm going to ask her." Polly skipped back to the bed, picked up her doll and comb, and dashed out the door.

  ***

  Eve looked up from her phone at the sound of a child's footsteps on the tile floor. A small girl of about five or six stopped in the doorway, clutching a doll to her chest. She was certainly a pretty little thing with wavy blonde hair and her daddy's blue eyes.

  "Hello," Eve said and smiled to try to put the child at ease. It must be unsettling to find a stranger in your kitchen. "My name's Eve. What's your name?"

  The girl smiled back shyly. "Polly." She held up her doll. "This is Barbie."

  "Oh, I know Barbie. She and I are old friends."

  "Really?" Polly skipped towards Eve and held out the doll. "You can brush her hair if you like."

  Eve dropped her phone in her bag and accepted the doll and a glittery pink comb. "Thank you. I haven't done this in years."

  "Daddy said you found Pickle." Polly crouched and stroked the lamb's damp, woolly coat.

  "I think Pickle found me. I'd still be lost in the snow if it wasn't for your lamb." And the dashing Tom Millington on his tractor. She glanced up as Tom appeared in the doorway and their eyes met in a silent moment of accord—the truth about Pickle's brush with death on the road should stay a secret. Eve's heart gave a strange little bump as she turned her attention back to Polly.

  "Pickle's a very sweet lamb. Is he your pet?"

  "Yes. I'm Pickle's mummy and Daddy is his daddy." Polly jumped up and bounced on the toes of her fuzzy pink slippers. "Can I feed him now, Daddy?"

  "Just let me walk Mrs. Undy across the yard to her place, and I'll help you." Tom motioned to the older woman, who untied her apron and hung it on a hook with the oven mitts.

  "Eve can help me." Polly grabbed Eve's hand and tugged.

  Tom turned a questioning gaze on her and she nodded. "I'd love to help. I've never fed a lamb before."

  "No. You can't feed him," Polly blurted. "You just help me fill the bottle."

  "Oh, I see." That put her in her place. She gave Tom a humorous wince, and he stifled a laugh.

  "You behave yourself, young lady." He dropped a kiss on top of Polly's head. "I'll only be a few minutes."

  Eve followed Polly through to the mudroom. Her stockinged feet chilled on the tile floor after the warmth of the stove. Tom donned his coat and boots, offered Mrs. Undy his arm, and led her out into the yard.

  "This is Pickle's bottle," Polly said, standing on tiptoes to reach the plastic container down from the counter. She pulled up a stool, climbed on it, and patted the top of a can that obviously contained the lamb equivalent of baby formula. "We mix one scoop in boiled water, but Daddy won't let me do it on my own 'cause I might burn myself
."

  With a wry smile, Eve boiled a kettle and mixed up the milk as directed on the can, nodding as Polly continued to give her instructions. Tom's daughter was certainly a bright little spark who knew her own mind. She was going to run rings around her father in a few years, if she didn't already.

  When the bottle was filled with milk of the right temperature, Polly claimed it and scampered off to the kitchen. Eve tidied the counter in the mudroom.

  The back door opened and Tom stepped in on a gust of snowflakes. He took off his coat and shook it before hanging it over a radiator. "Still snowing, I'm afraid. And it's windy, so the snow's starting to drift."

  "Do you think you'll be able to tow my car out tomorrow?"

  Tom shrugged. "Have to wait and see."

  Eve's breath rushed out on a sigh of resignation. She might be trapped here all weekend and she wasn't comfortable imposing on Tom like this. She'd keep her fingers crossed it would stop snowing and warm up.

  "I'm a terrible host. I haven't even offered you a cup of tea." Tom indicated she should go first and they returned to the kitchen.

  Polly was kneeling on the floor in front of the stove as the lamb suckled eagerly on its bottle, which was already half empty. "Look, Eve, look. Pickle loves his milk." The little girl grinned up at her as Eve took a seat nearby.

  "So he does. He's a very lucky lamb to have such a good mummy as you."

  Tom brought Eve a cup of tea, then slathered butter on slices of crusty bread, and set the table. She offered to help but he turned her down. "We'll have some of Mrs. Undy's casserole, then I'll show you to the guest room."

  "Thanks. I feel like I should be doing something to earn my keep." While Tom served the food, Eve quickly texted the hotel to cancel her reservation for that night.

  Pickle reached the bottom of the bottle and kept sucking, making a funny squeaking noise that sent Polly into fits of laughter. She ran around the table waving her Barbie and squealing with excitement, then flopped across Eve's lap, giggling.

  "Someone's showing off, I think," Tom said, but there was nothing but affection in his tone as he smiled down at his daughter.

  Eve stroked the girl's silky blonde hair, a twinge of longing in her chest. She hadn't realized how much she missed her two nieces now that her brother Ed had relocated to Germany with his job. Of course, Connor's wife would have her baby in three months, but Lilly was unlikely to suddenly want to be friends. Eve wouldn't get the chance to be much of an aunt to the new baby.

  "Are you all right?" Tom asked softly, a hint of concern on his face.

  For a second, she was tempted to tell him the truth. It would be so good to have someone to talk to, someone she could be honest with about how she really felt. Then the moment passed and she pasted on a smile. "Yes, of course. That casserole smells good."

  Tom's house was nothing like her parents' home, but the atmosphere was the same, warm and loving. It reminded her of all she had lost since they died. Tears pricked Eve's eyes and she blinked them away. Now was not the time to fall apart. Not here in front of strangers. She must push the feelings down and regain her composure. Once they had finished dinner, she would lose herself in some work so she didn't have to think. That always worked.

  ***

  "I want Eve to read me a story." Polly pouted as Tom sat on the bed beside her with a book of fairy tales on his lap.

  "No, pumpkin, Eve's in her room working. I don't want to disturb her." And it worried Tom how friendly his daughter seemed to be with Eve already. He'd made a decision not to date as he couldn't bear the thought of Polly getting attached to a woman who might then walk out of their life like his ex-wife had. This emotional bond Polly had formed with Eve in a matter of hours confirmed he was right. His daughter was only going to be hurt when she left.

  "You know Eve's only staying with us because her car got stuck in the snow, don't you? She's not going to be here long."

  "I know, Daddy," she said with a little huff of frustration. "That's why I want her to read to me now."

  He had to admit, there was a twisted sort of logic to her argument. But he wasn't about to give in. He couldn't stop Polly getting to know Eve, but he wasn't going to encourage it.

  "Either I read to you or you don't have a story tonight." Tom raised his eyebrows. "Which is it to be?"

  Polly flopped back against her pillow with a long-suffering sigh. "Okay, Daddy. Can I have Rapunzel?"

  Tom flipped over the pages to her favorite story and started reading. Polly's eyelids fluttered and she hugged her pink teddy bear. When he finished, he tucked her in and kissed her forehead. "Night-night, sweetheart. Sleep tight."

  "Are we going to put up the Christmas tree tomorrow, Daddy? You promised."

  "I've got to pull Eve's car out of the snow first."

  Polly's eyes flew open. He immediately realized his mistake in reminding her of their visitor.

  "I want Eve to say good night to me."

  Tom braced himself to refuse.

  "Please, Daddy. Pretty please."

  Oh, heck. How could he refuse without sounding like a spoilsport? "Okay, pumpkin. I'll ask her."

  Tom went down the hall and knocked on Eve's door.

  "Come in," she shouted.

  He entered to find her cross-legged on her bed with a laptop across her knees. She was wearing a silky pink-striped thing like a long T-shirt with her hair loose, a fall of gleaming ebony waves down her back. He stared, his mind going blank.

  She gave him a questioning look. "Did you want something, Tom?"

  "Yes." To touch her hair. No! Lord, get it together, man. "Polly wants you to say good night to her."

  "Oh, of course. I'd love to." She smiled, a genuine smile of pleasure with no artifice or hidden agenda behind the expression. She seemed to be a truly nice person. Perhaps Karen had made him too cynical about women. Maybe there were some good ones out there after all.

  Eve stood and quickly zipped a sweatshirt on over her nightgown to make herself decent. His daughter smiled as Eve entered her bedroom.

  "You look snug as a bug in a rug." Eve leaned over Polly and kissed her forehead. The silky nightdress draped tantalizingly across her bottom as she bent forward. Tom halted in the doorway, staring. A pulse of awareness shot through him. Perhaps there was a flaw in his decision to cut women out of his life. He'd been so focused on doing what was best for Polly, he hadn't properly thought through this "no women" plan.

  "Daddy said you have pretty hair," Polly said, stroking her fingers through Eve's draping locks.

  The little monkey was putting words in his mouth. Tom bit back a denial, realizing in the nick of time that although Polly was embarrassing him, denying he'd said it would be even worse.

  Eve turned and lifted her eyebrows. Tom simply shrugged sheepishly.

  "Can I comb your hair tomorrow?" Polly said, thankfully distracting Eve.

  "Of course you can. I'll give you and Barbie French plaits. My mum used to do my hair that way when I was your age."

  "Can we do it now?" Polly started to sit up and reach for her Barbie.

  "No! Time to go to sleep." Tom strode into the room and headed for the bedside light.

  Eve straightened and smoothed back her hair. The long silky nightdress draped over her softly curved hips and Tom tried not to notice.

  "Good night, Polly," she said heading for the door. "I'll see you in the morning." Then she was gone.

  Tom switched off the light and gave his daughter one last kiss, then headed downstairs to tidy up. He halted in the kitchen doorway at the sight of Eve's delicate heeled shoes in front of the stove drying. He pictured them on her feet at the end of long, nylon-clad legs, and realized his heart was thumping so hard he could hear the drumming in his ears.

  Whatever the weather in the morning, he would move heaven and earth to tow Eve's car out and send her on her way. Having her here was disturbing both him and Polly. They were happy together, just the way they were. He didn't want any complications.

&nb
sp; Chapter Three

  Eve scrambled out of bed and threw the curtains open. The sun gleamed off a pristine white wonderland under a perfect blue sky. What a relief that the snow had stopped falling. She dressed in the sweatpants and top she always packed for jogging, and donned a pair of socks and her running shoes before heading down to the kitchen.

  The smell of toast and coffee greeted her as she entered the room. Polly was seated at the table, trying to feed her Barbie tiny pieces of toast while Tom fried bacon. He turned to greet her and her breath caught. Faded jeans hung low on his hips. Forearms corded with muscles were visible below the upturned cuffs of his checked shirt, and his dark hair curled against his neck, still damp from a shower.

  She pressed a hand over her heart. What was a man like Tom doing stuck out here in the middle of nowhere without a wife? It was a crime against womankind. There must have been a woman in his life once or he wouldn't have Polly, so where was she now?

  "Good morning," he said, with a grin. He pointed his spatula at the window. "Looks promising out there. The snow has drifted a bit, but it's nothing the tractor can't cope with. I should be able to tow your car to the main road."

  "Wonderful!" Oddly, Eve couldn't summon the enthusiasm she expected. Leaving Tom and Polly's homey farmhouse to stay in a hotel didn't appeal quite as much as it had last night. Although she had no right to be here. It was simply an accident of fate that Tom had rescued her yesterday. No doubt he would be pleased to have his privacy back when she left.

  After breakfast, Eve put a French plait in Barbie's hair while Polly stood at her side, watching closely. "I want to try." Polly dashed away and returned a few minutes later with two other dolls with different colored hair. "These are Barbie's sisters." Setting them on the table, she carefully practiced putting in the braids.

  "Twenty minutes and we're off, you two," Tom said, striding in from the mudroom, already wearing his coat.