Claiming His Christmas Inheritance

by C. J. Carroll

  Zed moved toward her, his eyes silently apologizing. He lifted her chin with his finger. Her breath hitched at the surprise of the soft, full warmness of his lips. His kiss was tender, yet tentative, and she felt dizzy. To steady herself, she reached for him, clutching his suit sleeves.

  He drew her closer for a second before his mouth disengaged. And an involuntary whimper escaped her at their abrupt separation.

  His lips slid to her ear. “Thank you, Tasha,” he whispered.

  When he stepped back, she could see that his eyes glistened. He quickly swiped his eyes.

  Lois broke the awkwardness of the moment. “Awww, I love it when the groom cries. Gets me every time. He obviously really loves you.” She swatted at her heart with her hand.

  Tasha rallied her emotions. Lois’s sincere words only made her feel more like a fraud. What had she done? She gazed at the man across from her, who was now her husband, signed, sealed and delivered.

  When they exited the building, Helen Jennings, Vista Peak’s senior librarian, and Anita Lane, from Nita’s Trinkets downtown gift shop, were walking by. They noticed Tasha’s bouquet.

  “My word, Zed Evans, is that you?” Anita cried.

  Helen peered up at the sky. “Has the sky turned purple, Nita? Are aliens on the way? That’s tantamount to Zed Evans taking a bride!”

  The women burst out laughing.

  Zed smiled. “I guess I deserve that.”

  The women congratulated them. The conspiratory glance they gave each other as they walked away alerted Tasha that news of her marriage to infamous confirmed bachelor Zed Evans would travel through town faster than the internet. Nevertheless, she sensed their genuine happiness. That was one thing that Tasha loved about small towns—most people were genuinely overjoyed for others’ happiness.

  At the bottom of the courthouse stairs, she and Zed peered at the emerald green esplanade across the street. Multiple food trucks were splayed across the lawn. Clumps of people were gathered around the mobile food units. A jazz band was stationed in the pristine white gazebo in the middle, and music filled the air.

  Zed turned to her. “Well, my temporary wife, would you like to go somewhere to eat to celebrate?”

  Although she knew he was joking, it still hit her. She was somebody’s wife.

  She viewed the food trucks. “I’d give my right arm right now for a fully loaded hot dog—onions, relish, mustard, a dollop of ketchup.” Her love of junk food was something she rarely admitted. When she had done so in the past, many of her ex-boyfriends had berated her. Their criticism had been everything from being critical of her ingesting white flour and carbs from the buns, to one ex who called hot dogs “chemicals wrapped in skin.” Secretly, she’d once longed for a guy who could be silly and sometimes eat junk food and love it.

  Zed’s eyes sparkled. “You forgot green peppers and a dollop of hot sauce. Then, and only then, can it be truly classified as fully loaded.”

  Tasha scrunched her nose in delight. “You don’t mind?”

  “Mind? Seriously? I’d race you there if I didn’t have on these ridiculously fancy-pants shoes.”

  Her half snort, half chortle escaped her lips like an errant prisoner. Embarrassed, she observed Zed. His expression was not critical, like those of others who had heard her unusual cackle.

  They strolled over to the esplanade and each ordered loaded hot dogs from one of the booths. A cool breeze rippled through the naked winter branches as they walked and ate their hot dogs.

  Tasha couldn’t remember when she’d last had so much fun. She liked how Zed could be serious and carry an intelligent conversation, as well as just chill. They finished their meal in record time, then listened to the band for a while.

  “Think we should go check on Milo?” Zed finally asked.

  She thought of her four-legged baby, tucked away in his carrier in the oversize Victorian. He was probably confused and frightened. “You’re probably right. Thank you for thinking of my baby.”

  They walked a few blocks to where his truck was parked. Zed gently blocked her from harm, while he watched for traffic on the busy one-way street. Once it was clear, he opened the truck door for her. She gently placed her bouquet in the back seat as Zed jaunted around to the driver’s side and entered the vehicle.

  They buckled up, and she helped him make sure the way was clear before they pulled out onto the historic brick road. They navigated the roundabout and its focal point—a historic statue of a white settler, a Native American man and an African American man, their left arms all lifted in the air, their hands joined. The monument honored the unique history of the town, which had deep influences from the heritage of all three men represented.

  Tasha snuck a look at her new husband, his silhouette highlighted by the backdrop of the town, decorated for Christmas. She felt she was living in some holiday romance movie. But this was all too real. And there wouldn’t be a happily-ever-after.

  * * *

  When Zed’s vehicle pulled up to the Victorian, he heard Tasha’s breath swoosh out. He kind of got her reaction. The house was easily one of the most beautiful in the neighborhood, especially with its holiday decorations.

  He parked in front of the place, rather than in the two-car garage in the back. Before Tasha could get out, he leaped out and came around to get her door.

  “My missus,” he said. He grinned and extended a hand to her.

  She grabbed the skirt of her dress for an apparent tasteful demure exit. “Thank you, my mister,” she replied, taking his hand as she climbed out of the vehicle.

  He took her coat from the back of the seat and draped it around her shoulders. “Ready?”

  Tasha sucked in a huge burst of air. “Yes.” He knew how momentous this was for her, living in the place she’d dreamed of since childhood. She followed him through the black iron gate, down the historic red stone pathway. The white wooden steps creaked under their weight as they climbed them.

  At the top of the steps, Zed opened the intricate lattice-trimmed screen door, then twisted the key in the ornately carved wood door with a beveled glass face. He paused and turned to her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Are we going to keep with tradition? This is the threshold, after all.”

  “Seriously, Zed? Nobody’s watching us now. We don’t have to front.”

  “Yeah, I know. But we both will never do this again, right? Would it hurt to do a little of the tradition for fun?”

  Her expression turned quizzical. “You put marriage and fun in the same sentence. Have you fallen ill?”

  “Humor me.” He held out his muscular arms.

  Tasha gazed at him. “Awww. Is this from the playa-play ego handbook? Even though this is all make-believe, are you mentally beating your manly man chest, even if it is in mock conquest?”

  Her comment caught him off guard.

  “But then again, what would it hurt to be carried over the threshold like a real, adored bride? I’ll never do this again. Thankfully.”

  He swooped her up in his arms.

  A car motor sounded on the street behind them. Turning with Tasha in his arms, he spotted an elderly couple in a pristine vintage gold Cadillac. The pair observed them.

  “Oh, Merle, to be young and in love,” the woman said breathlessly, her voice high-pitched and winsome, carried by the winter breeze.

  Zed guessed Tasha heard the comment, too.

  Reality gut-kicked him. This wasn’t real. The boat-size Cadillac slowly glided away.

  The fun of the moment escaped him, like liquid through a funnel.

  Tasha peered at him. “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m fine. Sorry. I shouldn’t have been playing around.” He put her down on the plush, thick Persian rug in the foyer. He saw her eyes roll over the hallway’s rich wainscoting and Anaglypta wallpaper.

 
“Wow. Just wow,” she declared. “I never get tired of admiring your house’s amazing details.”

  “What are some of your favorite things?” Zed asked.

  “Oh—that’s hard. There’s so much. I love the grand Z-shaped staircase, the foyer fireplace with the green marble tiles and the stained-glass window halfway up the stairwell. I also absolutely love and adore the pocket doors leading to the dining room.”

  Hearing a high-pitched meow, Zed went into the adjoining dining room and through a swinging door to the butler’s pantry, then returned with Milo in his carrier. The cat’s irises were large black orbs, which covered his naturally hazel eyes.

  Tasha hurried toward the carrier. “Hi, baby,” she said, greeting the cat.

  Zed unlatched the carrier, and Milo shot out and ran straight for Tasha. She lifted her furry baby so he could nuzzle his orange-and-white face against her.

  Zed could hear Milo’s purr, like a low generator rumbling from his chest.

  “Thanks for letting me bring Milo.”

  “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

  She stared at him. “Is it really about Milo, or more about the fact you’d do anything to save your place?”

  He clutched his hands to his heart in mock angst. “I’m not heartless, Tasha. Although I care about my home, I care about you and what makes you happy, too.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just been my history with men that they’d do or say anything to get what they wanted. In my experience, altruism has not been a common trait among the opposite sex.”

  “We’re not all like that, Tasha.”

  She looked like she wanted to press his point but decided against it.

  “Let me show you your and Milo’s room,” he said.

  She followed him upstairs, and he led her into a sitting area that contained a rose-colored sofa and a high-back chair with matching accent colors. A door with filmy lace curtains covering its glass led to the home’s turret.

  “This is your room.” He pointed to the first bedroom off the sitting room, which had the best light from its western position. Rather than vintage furniture, it had a modern bed, small love seat and twin chest of drawers. “This was my room, growing up,” he said. “It’s my favorite place in the house.”

  She shook her head in protest. “I don’t want to take your favorite spot.”

  “No worries. The place has plenty of good spaces. I’m staying in what used to be my dad’s office.” Sadness pinged his heart at the statement. His dad hadn’t been home much to use his office. He’d spent countless hours in the room, daydreaming his dad was there and they were doing various father-son activities. “Back in the day, it was a smoking room for men to chew the fat and talk about the news of the day. It’s farthest away from your bedroom.”

  “May I ask where your parents’ room was?”

  He kept his expression neutral. “They had separate rooms. My mom was a light sleeper and dealt with headaches and depression. When he was here, he usually slept in one of the spare rooms. My mom was in the room next to yours.” He stared into the room, loneliness socking him in the gut. He missed her terribly.

  “I can tell you were close to your mom,” she said. “I miss my mom, too. I wore her favorite pearl necklace today. As a way to have part of her with me.” She pulled the delicate strand of pearls from under the neckline of her wedding dress to show him.

  Zed studied the necklace. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s kind of plain,” she said. “But my favorite part is what she said about it—that a pearl’s beauty comes from constant friction and agitation. Even though we have hard times, if we let Him, the Lord could make something beautiful out of it.”

  “It’s a nice saying,” he replied.

  She observed him. “But you don’t believe it.”

  “I’m just thinking of the sand that goes through all the agitation and friction. I’m sure the sand’s not thinking of beauty in the midst of the pain.” He loosened his tie, remembering his mother and her long suffering over his dad’s treatment. “It’s been a long day,” he said. Fatigue caused his voice to sag. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a shower and chill.”

  “Are we doing anything special for Christmas Eve tomorrow?”

  Although the conversation about his mother brought a wave of sadness that made him want to isolate himself, he didn’t want to make her holiday a bad one. It was her first Christmas without her mom. She didn’t deserve him being morose and depressed. She’d also agreed to this odd scheme to save his house.

  “Let me sleep on it,” he said. He tried to give her a reassuring smile but knew it fell flat.

  After he helped her bring in some of her things, Zed retired to his makeshift bedroom. He tried to get some work done on the building task force charge, but after a while the text on the computer screen started to swim. That was when he knew it was time to give up on catching up on work and just go to bed.

  He had a feeling he wouldn’t sleep well. The topic of his parents had brought on the familiar sadness and bewilderment over their relationship, feelings most acute during the holidays. While anyone looking in from the outside would have thought this was a happy home, that wasn’t the case.

  He’d heard his mother’s bitter sobs more nights than he cared to remember. And to be honest, he’d hated how she’d given his father so much power over her. It was like a line he remembered from an old movie. The heroine had woefully proclaimed that “she couldn’t live” without the love of her life. While it sounded impossibly romantic, he disliked the remark. He didn’t think anyone should have that much power over someone. He was even more disappointed with his pops for choosing his career over his family, especially his wife.

  Despite his history of mostly woeful Christmas holiday experiences, he did enjoy celebrating the day set aside to honor Jesus, God’s greatest gift to the world.

  He gazed out the window at the darkened sky, sprinkled with glassy stars. Milo lay in a furry clump at his left foot. For some reason the cat had become enamored of him. He could only pray that Milo’s owner wouldn’t do the same.

  Chapter Six

  Tasha awakened and was startled. She blinked hard at her unfamiliar surroundings. Then memories flooded her. She was married and living in the purple Victorian she and her mother had loved.

  She stretched luxuriously and drew the warm covers around her. The high, narrow windows let in beams of morning light. Admiring the stained glass that topped the trim of each window, Tasha resisted the urge to pinch herself.

  Gentle snowfall made the scene outside look like a giant snow globe. The smell of bacon and coffee wafted into the room, along with festive music.

  Tasha climbed out of bed and put on her fluffy pink robe and matching house shoes, then headed to the bathroom across from her room to wash her face and brush her teeth. After rebraiding her hair, which had come loose during her night’s sleep, she considered putting on lip gloss but decided against it. Sooner or later, Zed was going to see her without makeup. He might as well get over the shock now. Tasha chuckled at the thought.

  Milo’s carrier door was open and the cat was nowhere to be found. She’d noticed Milo appeared to have fallen instantly in love with Zed, so her pet was probably with him. Even though she was the one who had rescued him from the animal shelter, fed and provided a home for him and loved him. Traitor. She refused to agree with the animal’s assessment of Zed’s charms.

  When she finally headed downstairs, Tasha followed the aroma of coffee and bacon to the kitchen.

  Zed was in an Ole Miss T-shirt and striped gray sweats. His massive arms nearly popped out of the sleeves. She saw what looked like the beginning of a tattoo peeking just below the sleeve over his left arm. He was barefoot and stood by the vintage stove, stirring something in a skillet.

  With surprise, Tasha noted a stack of perfect gold pancakes
on a plate on the kitchen table. Flowers in a crystal vase added a pop of color against the white lace tablecloth.

  “Mornin’,” Zed said.

  She tightened her robe belt, although underneath she wore full pajamas. “Morning.”

  “Did you sleep well?” Zed asked. He sprinkled some sort of seasoning in whatever he was cooking.

  “Pretty good. Although, I was kind of confused when I first woke up.”

  “Ah, new environment. I get it. That happens to me a lot, especially when I stay in a hotel.”

  The heat registers softly whistled. Tasha saw her traitor feline, formerly known as Milo, at Zed’s feet. Milo was cleaning his paws in between staring adoringly at Zed as if he were the sun, moon and stars.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” Zed said.

  She laugh-snorted. “Is that a trick question?”

  He smiled, awakening his dimples. Removing the skillet he was working on from the burner, he turned off the fire. “Before we go further, I’d like to apologize if I was a little moody last night. Holidays are a mixed bag for me. Even so, it wasn’t fair to dump my emotional baggage on you.”

  She nodded. “Thanks for saying that. I get the holiday thing, too.”

  Tasha saw the question in his eyes at her statement. She debated whether to be more specific. The kindness in his expression and his humble apology made her decision for her.

  “I have the dubious honor of having been broken up with on three holidays.”

  Zed looked surprised.

  “I know,” she continued. “It’s some kind of weird record. First, I was dumped on Valentine’s Day and left to pay the check at a five-star restaurant. Then there was the time I was unfriended on Thanksgiving, as well as uninvited to my boyfriend’s house for the occasion. The last holiday breakup was by Christmas card. Sort of like a kiss and a slap. Merry Christmas, loser.” She paused, her throat tight. “It’s kind of ironic that on days meant for celebration and feeling loved and special, I was made to feel anything but that. Sometimes I used to wonder, was it me? Was something wrong with me?” She was embarrassed to hear the quiver in her voice.