A Christmas Bride

by Hope Ramsay

  As usual, Dad was trying to tone down the rhetoric. But David didn’t want to tone it down. “Look, Dad, Uncle Charles, Dusty is my friend. He’s asked for my help.”

  “Did he retain you?”

  Not exactly. But he had asked for legal advice. “Yes,” David said.

  “You can’t be serious,” Uncle Charles said. “You need to recuse yourself from this, David. It’s political suicide.”

  “No, Uncle Charles, I won’t and I can’t.”

  Roxy tightened her grip, no doubt because she thought she could pull David back from the brink. But it was too late for that. He’d made up his mind. If it came to a choice between a new park for Jefferson County and his friendship with Dusty McNeil, he’d choose Dusty every time.

  “Son, what’s gotten into you?” Dad pulled him by the shoulder. “Your mother says you’ve been acting out recently. But this isn’t the place to draw lines in the sand. The family is even considering an endowment to the Historical Society that will ensure the land is preserved the way it should be.”

  Dad looked genuinely concerned, but that look in his father’s eyes didn’t move David an inch. “So basically you’re saying that this is Mother’s thing and I should just get with the program.”

  “Of course your mother is involved. She’s chair of the Historical Society.”

  Dad clearly missed the point, didn’t he? For him politics, not friendship, came first. It was just like Heather and Hale not understanding that Natalie was a higher priority than any stupid campaign pledge.

  Damnit. He didn’t want to be here. Not for one more minute. He didn’t want to endure an evening of Roxy hanging on his arm, or Mother disapproving of Natalie’s dress and behavior, or Dad giving him endless advice on election politics.

  He just wanted to eat his turkey and try to be thankful. But that wasn’t going to happen here, was it? Poppy was right; this was the place he’d come because it was expected. It wasn’t where he really wanted to be.

  He turned and spied Natalie giggling as Uncle Jamie did his corny missing-thumb trick. “Natalie,” he said sharply, “come on. We’re leaving.”

  “What?” Half a dozen heads turned in David’s direction. He did his best to ignore the astonishment on the faces of his cousins.

  “David, don’t be childish,” Dad said behind him.

  “Are we going to Jeff and Melissa’s?” Natalie asked, her face lit up from the inside. The joy he saw there opened up David’s heart a tiny crack, big enough for something warm and wonderful to come spilling into him. He wanted to see that joy on his daughter’s face more often.

  “Yes.” He said the word and a weight lifted from his shoulders.

  Natalie scrambled from Jamie’s lap, oblivious to the disappointment on her great-uncle’s face. She hurried across the room toward David. “Do you think Miss Willow will be there?” she asked in a voice everyone heard.

  David took his daughter’s hand. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. But Melissa and Arwen will be.” He headed for the front hall closet and their winter coats.

  “David, what on earth are you doing?” Mother asked, her voice shrill.

  He didn’t reply because he didn’t trust himself to speak aloud. He didn’t want to hurt Mother or Dad or anyone in the family. He loved them.

  But Poppy was right. And Willow had helped him to see the truth. For too long, everything associated with the family felt more like an obligation than a joy. And he was tired of being grumpy all the time.

  Mother tried to stop him from leaving. Dad too. Even Heather had a word or two to say. But he shut them out as he bundled Natalie up. He left them all standing in the front foyer.

  Before he fired up the Lexus’s engines, he looked down at his left hand. He’d loved Shelly. She’d been his friend for years before they married.

  And Willow was right, if she were alive right now, she would be four-square behind helping Dusty, behind supporting Melissa and Jeff. If she were alive, they would probably all be having Thanksgiving together at the inn, instead of Melissa’s tiny apartment above the bookshop.

  If she were alive. But she wasn’t here anymore, except in memory. And no amount of grieving her would ever bring her back.

  He tugged at the band. It took a little work to get it off over his knuckle. It finally came free, and he dropped it into the center console, where it got lost amid the random pocket change, a pack of tissues, a phone charging cord, and a roll of antacid tablets.

  * * *

  Snow was flurrying when Willow parked her ancient Honda on Liberty Avenue half a block from the bookstore. Dusk had fallen, and the warm glow of the wrought-iron streetlamps gave downtown Shenandoah Falls the sentimental look of a Thomas Kinkade painting. Every lamp on the street sported a pine wreath with a big red bow and lots of white twinkly lights.

  Willow sat in her car enjoying the snow and the view and a feeling of peace in her heart that had been missing for a long time.

  Tonight she would be spending Thanksgiving with friends—real friends who didn’t care about the stuff Restero spewed in its PR campaign against her. Friends like Mrs. M and Dusty, who were practically family. Friends like Jeff and Melissa and Courtney and Arwen, who made her feel as if she was a part of something extraordinary and important.

  Fixing up the inn. Planning Jeff and Melissa’s wedding.

  A year ago she would have looked down on these tasks. She would have thought, mistakenly, that her job at Restero was more important than what she was doing now.

  Jeff and Melissa’s wedding may have split the Lyndon family into two camps, but it had also brought a lot of people together. And when the big day finally arrived, she truly hoped that everyone would see that the wedding was special. Maybe not big or extravagant, but special.

  She couldn’t wait for that moment when Melissa walked down the aisle wearing the fabulous white velvet dress that Willow had finally found at a store in Houston. Melissa would look like a fairytale character in that dress.

  How could Willow not spend Thanksgiving with the people who had given her a chance to pull herself up from despair? She’d tried to get Mom and Juni to come too—the invitation had been for everyone in the Petersen household—but Mom insisted on a vegan dinner. And Juni, the sweet girl she had always been, sent Willow here and told her not to feel one iota of guilt.

  So she wouldn’t. She unbuckled her seat belt and was just getting out of the car when a big, black Lexus SUV pulled to the curb right in front of her.

  She knew this car because she’d been specifically avoiding it for days. A flash of heat traveled over every square inch of her skin before David opened the door and got out. The Prince of Shenandoah Falls had arrived in his pricey carriage, looking good enough to eat.

  And Willow was hungry.

  The thought brought her back to standing in the rain that day, telling him that what she felt for him was wrong.

  Was it wrong? It was so strong. So unexpected.

  And yet if she were counting blessings and friends, she’d have to number him among them, wouldn’t she?

  “Hey,” he said, his voice low as the snow caught in his hair like little sparkles.

  “Um, what are you doing here? Mrs. M said you were planning to have Thanksgiving with your family up on the hill.” She shut her car door but didn’t look away from him.

  His lips might have twitched into a smile. It was hard to tell in the semi-dark. “Poppy told me that you were celebrating with your family down in the valley.”

  She shrugged. “I might have said that, but I decided at the last minute to come here. I’m not a very good vegan.”

  He gave a short nod as he opened the back door and helped Natalie with her seat belt. The little girl scrambled out of the car and ran toward Willow with her arms out and her red hair flying.

  Here was another blessing—maybe the biggest one of all. Willow bent down to receive a hug that was large and warm and fed something inside her heart that she couldn’t even name. For a brief instan
t she buried her nose in Natalie’s scalp and drank in the scent of baby shampoo as if it were the most expensive perfume in the world.

  The girl pulled away and started talking a mile a minute. “Thank you so much for my magic dress. Everyone said it was pretty. Even Aunt Heather said so. But I’m not sure Grandmother is too happy because we didn’t stay for dinner and we sort of should have ’cause Lyndons always have Thanksgiving at Charlotte’s Grove. But I guess we’re not doing that this year. We’re having it with you and I’m really glad.”

  Willow looked up at David as Natalie continued to babble on about Uncle Jamie and Aunt Heather and cousin Andrew, who apparently had just been dumped by a girlfriend, and someone named Amy who was a spoiled brat.

  David’s mouth twitched again, and the lamplight caught fire in his dark eyes. When Natalie paused for breath, he said, “As you can see, we started out at Charlotte’s Grove, and there’s always a ton of family gossip whenever we all get together. But we’re here now, so I guess we qualify as holiday party hoppers.”

  That brought a smile to Willow’s lips. “What happened to ‘bah humbug’ and ‘I don’t want to be bothered with the holidays’?”

  “You did,” he said, his gaze hot enough to melt the snow before it reached the ground.

  * * *

  “I’m thankful for my new fairy godmother,” Natalie said with a gigantic smile on her face as she looked up at Willow, who was sitting right next to her at the collection of card tables that had been shoved together to handle the overflow crowd at Melissa’s small apartment above the bookstore.

  The candlelight from two dozen pumpkin-scented candles reflected in Natalie’s eyes, and it was all David could do to keep tears from forming in his eyes. Natalie was having the time of her life here, not because anyone had spoiled her, but quite the opposite. She’d been put to work, helping Poppy and Willow mash potatoes and setting the expanded table.

  Melissa and her friends had doted on her, but in a way that made it clear she was valued for her beautiful self, not some arbitrary behavior that was expected of her. And here she was, grinning up at Willow, who, he suddenly realized, had tears in her eyes.

  She gave Natalie a hug and wiped her eyes.

  “It’s your turn, Willow,” Jeff said. “No one eats until they share.”

  Willow looked around the table, her gaze stalling a little when it reached him. She was so beautiful with the candlelight glinting in her eyes. He reflexively touched the third finger of his left hand and found it naked.

  Right. He’d taken off his ring.

  “Ever since I lost my job at Restero and they started saying all this horrible stuff about me, I’ve felt, I don’t know, like I’m a big failure. Like I’m a beggar at the door.

  “But how can that be true, if I have friends like you guys? You’re the best, all of you. I really mean it. I’m so thankful for every person sitting at this table.” Her voice wavered and the tears overflowed and her mascara started to run. “Oh, God, look at me. I’m a mess. I’ve definitely had too much wine.”

  Dusty, who was sitting beside her, draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her into a big hug. “Well, honey,” he said, “I for one am thankful that you’re back in town.”

  “Oh, stop it,” Willow said, pushing away from him and using her napkin to wipe her tears.

  Dusty laughed. “Well, yeah, you’re right, I’m mostly thankful that David has agreed to help me fight Jefferson County.” Dusty hoisted his beer. “Thanks, man,” he said in a heartfelt voice.

  “You’re welcome,” David said out loud, even though what he really wanted to say was, “Take your hands off that woman; she’s mine.” He hadn’t realized just how possessive he felt about Willow until that moment.

  “Well,” Melissa said, since she was next, “I’m thankful for both Willow and David, because without them I’d be organizing a trip to Vegas right now. You guys have been great.” She hoisted her wineglass, and everyone drank again.

  “Your turn, cousin,” Jeff said.

  Damn this was hard, especially since he realized that he’d been walking around in a funk for a long, long time. “I’m thankful to be here,” he said aloud. But inside he was thinking, I’m glad I took off my wedding ring. He kept his gaze on Willow and let himself enjoy the view.

  “I am also glad not to be stuck up the hill,” Jeff said, raising his glass. “Here’s to not spending Thanksgiving with the family.”

  “Hear, hear,” Gracie Teague said. “I’m thankful for my adopted family—all y’all, but especially Melissa. Hon, I’m so proud of you and so thankful that you’ve decided to move back here permanently.” She dashed a tear from her eye too.

  “And I’m thankful that Gracie cooked this dinner, because if it had been left to Melissa and me, we might be eating mac and cheese from a box,” Jeff said. “Let’s eat.”

  They ate without Mother telling anyone to keep their elbows off the table. Without Dad dominating the conversation with political talk or Uncle Charles trying to talk shop about the various cases the firm was working on. Instead they talked about books and movies mostly, leaving David seriously out of the loop because he didn’t read fiction and he hadn’t been to a movie in ages. But that was fine, because he had never been a great dinner conversationalist. He contented himself with watching Willow eat.

  She knew he was watching, because every once in a while she would look his way and their gazes would connect. When that happened, the desire would sizzle along his synapses.

  “You guys,” Courtney said as she came into the dining room carrying pumpkin and pecan pies, “it’s snowing hard outside.”

  Jeff stood up and pulled the blind away from the window. “Wow, it’s accumulating, even on the road.”

  Willow stood up and had to touch the wall to stay steady. “Uh-oh,” she said. “Walter, you shouldn’t have kept filling my wineglass like that. How much is on the road?”

  Jeff shrugged. “Maybe two inches, but it’s still snowing hard. Were they calling for this much?”

  “I don’t think so,” Walter said. “And don’t worry, Willow. I’ll drive you home.”

  She sat down with a thump and put her elbow on the table in order to prop her head. “Thanks, Walter. I’m so looking forward to going home and getting a lecture about eating meat. I’m really sorry Mom boycotted your party, Melissa.”

  Dusty laughed. “Wouldn’t be the first time your mom boycotted something.”

  “And your mother…Shoot, I’m too tipsy to think of anything clever.”

  Poppy spoke up then. “Willow, why don’t you take one of the rooms upstairs at the inn until after the wedding? I mean, you’re at the inn every day, we have plenty of room, and we don’t do vegan at the inn.”

  “That’s a fantastic idea,” David said. Poppy had the temerity to give him a big smile. The woman was as bad as Mother when it came to playing matchmaker. Only in this case, he was definitely interested. And he was tired of Willow’s avoidance tactics.

  Willow turned toward him, cocking her head, her gaze zooming in on his left hand. “You’ve…” An attractive blush crept up her cheeks, and she didn’t finish the rest of her sentence. He lifted his eyebrow and swore her green eyes darkened.

  She must have read his intentions because she squared her shoulders in that way of hers and said, “That’s so generous of you guys. I’ve always wanted to spend the night at Eagle Hill Manor. I don’t suppose you’d let me stay in the Churchill Suite, would you?”

  Poppy, who he now realized had been manipulating him for some time, gave a large, theatrical shrug. “Why not?” she said, grinning in Walter’s direction. “No one else is sleeping in there right at the moment.”

  * * *

  The Churchill Suite was a corner room with windows on three sides that provided an expansive view of the snow-covered woods and, during daylight hours, the ruins of the old Laurel Chapel. The room’s walls had not been repainted during the paint party, and the red paint had faded over the years, a
s had the gold and red brocade curtains and bed hangings.

  But the period four-poster, mahogany bed was gorgeous.

  Willow had dreamed of sleeping in that bed since she was a child of six. It was, as far as she could imagine, the most romantic bed she’d ever seen. With its tall mattress and feather comforter, it seemed like a bed fit for a princess.

  Standing here in the room, all grown-up and slightly tipsy from too much wine, she was willing to concede that there had been moments when she’d gotten tired of playing the prince in Shelly’s endless princess games. Every girl, especially the ones from the wrong side of the tracks, indulged in a certain amount of Cinderella fantasy, bankrupt and anti-feminist as those fantasies might be.

  She was having one of those fantasies about Prince David when a knock came on the door that sent her hormones racing. David had said good night at the inn’s door as he and Natalie headed off to the caretaker’s cottage. She hadn’t expected him to come looking for her after he put Natalie to bed.

  “It’s me, dear,” Mrs. M said, sending Willow’s emotions tumbling in an entirely different direction.

  Willow opened the door, and Mrs. M brought in an armload of fluffy white towels, guest-size hand soap from Serenity Farm, shampoo, and toothpaste, along with a new toothbrush still in its packaging. “We still have a small store of guest amenities,” she said.

  She dropped the towels on the bed, turned, and gathered Willow up into her arms for a long, hard hug. When she pulled back, her eyes were wet. “I didn’t say it tonight but, dear girl, I am so thankful you’ve returned to us. I want to apologize for being a foolish old woman when you first talked to me about trying to bring this place back to life.” She cupped Willow’s cheek the way a mother might. “Thank you. For everything. For what you’ve done for the inn, and for Natalie, and most especially for what you’ve accomplished with David.”

  “Accomplished?” It seemed an odd word, as if David were some sort of project, like the inn itself.