by Ginny Baird
The last thing Lucy saw was a tiny post-it note fluttering high into falling flakes and twirling away, as sleigh bells chimed.
****
Chapter Two
William cinched the tie on his robe and paused at the bend in the stairs. Carmella raced down the steps ahead of him, dashing to the large beige sofa facing the fireplace. Two stockings brimming with goodies hung from the mantel.
“Oh boy, oh boy!” she cried, springing on her heels in a happy dance. Justin appeared on the landing beside his dad.
“What is it, fuzz brain?” he asked with a yawn.
Carmella looked up at them, her cheeks aglow. William had never seen her so excited. “He did it! Santa really did it!”
William descended the stairs feeling pleased with himself. He did know a thing or two about fathering, after all. “Well? Is it what you wanted?”
“Boy, is it ever,” Carmella said with a happy gasp.
William strode around the sofa, feeling smug. Then, suddenly, he halted, nearly tumbling over the coffee table.
“Wow,” Justin said, gazing straight ahead of him.
William stared in shock at the lovely blonde on the sofa who was clutching Carmella’s teddy bear! She didn’t look much over thirty, and was very reasonably put together.
The woman opened her eyes with a start and tried to sit, before quickly lying back down. “Where am I?” she asked with a pitiful moan.
“Don’t you know?” Carmella asked, taking her hand. “Santa brought you home!”
She pushed herself upright, grasping the back of the sofa. “Home?”
“You’re our new mommy!”
William stared at the woman, who stared back in shock.
“Our new...? Oh no, no, no, no, no.” William suspiciously studied his son. “Justin William Kinkaid, did you have something to do with this?”
“No, Dad! I swear!”
“I bet it was Eddie,” William said, stroking his chin. “Eddie, from the bank. I gave that scoundrel our key to water the houseplants at Thanksgiving, and he never gave it back.”
Blue eyes flashed beneath long dark lashes, as the woman took all of them in. “Do I... know you people?”
William strode toward the sofa and spoke in a coarse whisper. “Listen, missy, I don’t know who you are, or what—”
“I don’t either,” she said, sounding alarmed. “How did I get here? Was I abducted?”
“Ab—what?”
“Why are you two whispering?” Carmella piped up. “I want to hear what she’s saying.”
“Ditto that,” Justin added. “Ought to be a doozy.”
William scowled at the woman, thinking this little practical joke had gone too far. “Would you mind having a word with me in the kitchen?”
She gripped the bear and scooted back on the sofa. “I don’t know. Maybe I would mind. You seem a little unstable to me.”
“Don’t be afraid,” Carmella said kindly. “Santa wouldn’t send you to a bad place.”
“Santa? But there’s no—” the woman began before William cut her off with a silencing look. “...way he could have told me what a pretty little girl you are,” she finished, picking up on the cue not to let the there’s no Santa cat out of the bag.
“If you don’t mind?” William said, motioning toward the kitchen door.
Lucy stood in the kitchen, her head still woozy. Her legs felt like spaghetti that had been way overcooked. She held on to the center island to steady herself as the man ranted on. He was impossibly irritated with her, and she hadn’t a clue why. In fact, she was having a hard time remembering much of anything.
“Okay, we’re away from the kids now,” he continued, “you can drop the act.” For someone so obviously agitated, he was terribly handsome. With that solid six-foot frame and those chiseled features offset by morning stubble, he almost looked like a star meant for television. But then, why was he wearing a robe? “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Listen, I don’t know what Eddie paid you—”
“Isn’t Eddie the one who hired the stripper for your birthday?” the boy asked from the threshold. He held a big bag full of packages and looked to be twelve or thirteen. From the smirk on his lips, he liked to think he was older.
The man’s naturally ruddy complexion took on a deeper flush. “A dancer, son. She was a dancer. I thought I explained all that. Just what have you got in your hands?”
The tween cast Lucy an appreciative eye. “Looks like your mystery date brought gifts. Loads of them.” He checked a tag and grinned. “By the way, her name is Bridget.”
Lucy and the man exchanged glances, but all she drew was a blank. Bridget didn’t sound quite right. Then again, it wasn’t completely unfamiliar.
“Fine, fine,” the man told the boy, “thanks for the update. Now could you please...” He motioned for his son to leave and the tween skedaddled. He turned his gaze back on Lucy and she noticed his honey brown eyes were dabbled with flecks of gold right around the irises. “All right, Bridget. Let’s get one thing straight. There will be no disrobing in this house. Do I make myself clear?”
She set her hand on her hip, affronted. She might not recall much at the moment, but she was certain she wasn’t a stripper! “Give a break,” she said. “Do I look like a stripper to you?”
He scrutinized her, apparently deciding.
“Look,” she said, “there’s obviously been a big misunderstanding. I don’t know someone called Eddie, and I certainly don’t know any of you.”
“Well then, there’s no other explanation. You broke in here.”
“Come on! I don’t know a lot, but I know that I’m no thief. Listen, I’m just as upset about this as you are. Maybe more. I wake up on some stranger’s sofa, whose kids think Santa brought me—”
“And we both know that’s not true,” he said, tilting his decidedly masculine chin.
“Oh!” Suddenly, all the commotion hit her and she felt incredibly light-headed.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, his face softening with concern. Maybe, just maybe, he believed her and trusted she wasn’t putting this whole thing on.
“My head. It’s...” She reached for the back of her head and instantly winced at the pain.
He gingerly lifted his hand toward her scalp. “May I?”
She nodded, increasingly dizzy.
“No wonder you feel faint,” he said. “You’ve got quite a bump back there.”
Lucy stumbled forward and he caught her in his sturdy arms. “Bridget?” he said, searching her eyes. He really is incredibly gorgeous, she thought in the split second before the lights went out. And then, Lucy felt herself falling into someplace totally dark and warm.
William stared down at the woman who’d collapsed against him, at a total loss. What on earth could he do? He clearly couldn’t leave her slumped over like this. As carefully as he could, he slipped one arm beneath the back of her legs and lifted her into his arms. Cradled against his chest, she looked almost like a princess from a fairy tale. Her hair was blond and fine, tucked back at the top with some pins, and falling in some sort of uneven arrangement around her chin. Her complexion was fair, although she looked even paler now that she’d fainted away completely. Ordinarily, he’d take her to the hospital, but he wasn’t sure of his odds of getting into town with the snowstorm upon them and the one-lane bridge closed. He’d call the doctor first, that’s what he’d do. And then start phoning around. The police, the missing persons bureau... She had to be on the level, and was clearly injured besides.
A moment later, William carted Bridget through the living room as Carmella sprang from her chair. “Where are you taking her?”
“Probably back to the loony bin where she belongs,” Justin said from nearby.
“Justin!” William corrected sternly.
Carmella raced to the front door and flung herself against it, arms outstretched. “Oh no you don’t!” she told her puzzled father. “Bridget was my Christmas gift, remember?
No exchanges, no returns!”
“I’m not taking Bridget anywhere,” he kindly told his daughter. “Except for up to bed.”
Justin lifted an eyebrow, but William just cleared his throat and headed for the stairs. “You know what I mean, son.”
“She’s good, I’ll give her that,” Justin said.
“She’s not playacting,” Carmella retorted soundly. “She’s just tired. Bet it was exhausting riding all the way around the world in that sleigh.”
“Yes, well,” William said, taking his leave. “I think I’ll just take her upstairs and let her get some rest.”
William carried Bridget to the master bedroom and tenderly set her down on the bed. As cautiously as he could, he removed one sneaker and then the next. Her instep dropped into his hand and he halted, looking up at her legs with a flush. She wore nylons and a short white dress marked with dark stains that appeared to be some kind of uniform. William hadn’t thought about women’s legs in a long time, and certainly hadn’t been this close to any. Definitely none this lovely. He quickly lifted a throw blanket to cover them, and the rest of Bridget’s womanly figure as well.
He caught a glimpse of Karen’s picture on the nightstand and felt his face redden, suddenly overtaken with guilt. He hadn’t looked at another woman since Karen died, and had honestly had no desire to. What with being a single dad and managing the bank, he scarcely had time for a female friend. He was nearly forty besides, and well out of practice with the ladies. With Karen, things had been easy. They’d been companionable college friends who’d become lovers, then later had married. He’d felt lucky to have been spared the trials and tribulations of playing the field that so many of his buddies purported to delight in, but secretly disdained. It really was a jungle out there, and William Kinkaid’s swinging days were done.
Something sparkled on Bridget’s left hand, and he realized with an odd sense of sadness that she wore an engagement ring. Well, of course she would, wouldn’t she? Pretty young woman like that was bound to be taken. Was sure to have a wonderful life—and fiancé—waiting for her somewhere out there. And wherever they were, William was going to help find them. It was the least he could do for a stranger, especially at Christmastime.
“She’s so beautiful,” Carmella’s soft voice rang out behind him. William turned in surprise to see his daughter had entered the room.
“Bet she escaped from prison,” Justin said, trailing behind her.
Carmella puffed out her cheeks. “Did not!”
William shooed them out of the way and quietly shut the door. “Now, come on, you two. I’m sure she didn’t escape from prison.”
“Yeah. The elves made her,” Carmella informed them.
“Elves don’t make people, fuzz brain.”
William shot Justin a look, and then stooped low to speak to Carmella. “Is that what you asked for, Carmella? A new mommy?”
“Oh, yes. And isn’t she perfect? A little younger than I asked for, but I guess that’s okay.”
A lump welled in William’s throat. “Sweetheart,” he said softly. “I know how much you miss your mother. We all do.” He pursed his lips a beat. “But I think that you should know—”
“There’s no such thing as Santa!” Justin proclaimed with mirth.
The child gasped, pain streaking her eyes. “Daddy, say he’s wrong!”
William huffed and glanced at Justin, agitated. “Downstairs. Now.”
Justin skulked away, saggy pants drooping, as Carmella clutched her teddy. “But he brought me Cubby! And a mommy! You said he was real. You wouldn’t lie, would you, Daddy?”
William set his jaw, feeling like a big fat fake. He couldn’t tell Carmella that Santa wasn’t real and break her little heart. She still had so much of childhood left, and her childhood had been hard on her already. Growing up without a mother had left her longing for things he couldn’t provide. William saw that now and felt awful about it.
“Of course there’s a Santa,” he said, drawing his daughter and her bear into a hug. “You bet there is.” He pulled back and thumbed her nose with a smile. “You got your Cubby, didn’t you?”
****
Chapter Three
One hour later, William lowered his voice and spouted into the mouthpiece, “What do you mean I have to wait forty-eight hours to report a missing person. I just told you, she’s already here!”
He set down the phone and massaged his temples just as the doorbell rang. Cheery voices and laughter rang out from the foyer as Carmella raced into room.
“Grammy and Poppy are here!”
William sighed, wondering how he was going to explain Bridget to his parents. They were overbearing enough when he led the life of the unencumbered single dad. Who knew how they’d take the news of a stranger landing on his sofa?
He walked toward the front door and helped his mother with her coat. She was neatly prim as always, in a crisply ironed skirt and buttoned-up blouse. His father was a mess, as usual, with none of his patterned items matching. “Mom! Dad!” William said, greeting them both with hugs. “How was the trip? Any trouble getting here?”
“Well, the walk was a little slippery,” his mom said.
“Other than that, it went just fine,” his dad finished for her.
William supposed it helped that they lived next door. Otherwise, with the storm pelting, they might not have made it.
Emma leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Carmella says Santa left something on your sofa...”
“Something life-size,” Grant chortled with a grin.
“Actually, it’s not like that at—”
“Sure it is, Daddy!” Carmella butted in. “You said so upstairs. Just after you took her to bed, remember?”
Emma fanned her face with her purse as William reddened. “I don’t really think this is appropriate,” she hissed under her breath. “Not with the children—”
“He’s a grown man, Emma,” Grant cut in. He leaned in toward William. “But your mother’s right, son. You should have asked her to leave before the kids got up.”
“No, he should have asked her to wait until after the wedding,” Emma said a little too loudly.
William croaked, “Wedding?”
“Oh boy!” Carmella crowed. “She’ll look just like my Bride Barbie! Wait until you see her!” she said, shooting her grandparents a sunny smile.
Justin guffawed and William cupped his mouth with a hand. His parents were nearly to the stairs, his mom led by Carmella.
“Mom! Dad! Before you go up there—”
“She is decent, son?” his dad asked.
“She’s just like Goldilocks,” Carmella said.
Grant studied his son with admiration. “A blonde, eh? Well, why not.”
Carmella tugged at her grandma. “Come on, but shhh... She’s sleeping.”
“Mom, wait!” But it was too late. They were already to the landing. William sighed and chased after them.
Justin gallantly rushed ahead, holding open the door for his grandparents.
“Very nice, Justin,” William said under his breath. “Ultra helpful.”
“Oh my yes,” Emma said. “Lovely, really lovely.”
“Of course, you can’t see much with that blanket in the way,” Grant quipped.
Emma turned to William. “Does she always sleep this late?”
“Not a drinker, is she?” Grant wanted to know.
“Please,” William said in hushed tones. “Let’s all go back downstairs. Mom and Dad, I’ve got some cocoa for you in the kitchen.”
Justin triumphantly shut the bedroom door. “Sounds good. I’ll come, too.”
“Adult cocoa, Justin. Not for you.”
Carmella looked hopeful.
“Or for you either, pumpkin.”
“Can we open some of our presents?” Justin asked slyly.
“You bet,” William said. “Just don’t touch any of the ones brought by you-know-who.”
Emma snatched the bourbon bottle from
her husband and poured another liberal dose into her cocoa mug. “Oh, dear. This won’t do at all.”
Grant drained his mug, then set it aside. “Aren’t you a little old to be picking up strays?”
“Look,” William said, “I don’t know what else to do! The police say no one has filed a missing persons report. I tried the hospital, too. But nobody’s called there looking for her, either.”
“Maybe you should take her to the hospital,” Emma said seriously. “Maybe she’s not right.”
“The fact that she can’t remember anything doesn’t make her a psycho, Mother. Besides, you saw what it’s like out there. Nobody’s going anywhere until the plows get through.”
“What about Dr. Mass?” Grant asked.
“I phoned him, too.” William checked some notes on the table. “He gave me some instructions about waking her up every hour. Checking her pupils with a flashlight.”
“So you’re just going to let her stay here?” Emma asked.
“Dr. Mass says that–unless she takes a turn for the worse–he’ll see us in his office in the morning, assuming the streets get cleared.”
His mom tapped the side of her mug with neatly trimmed fingernails. “I still don’t know if this is such a good idea. A damsel in distress... a lonely widower...”
“It’s almost two o’clock on Christmas Day,” William said. “I can’t just toss her out in the snow!”
“No, I probably wouldn’t toss her out of my bed, either,” Grant said thoughtfully.
Emma swatted his arm.
Grant leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper. “Say, what if she’s escaped from prison? That would give her plenty of reason to forget who she is!”
William huffed with exasperation. “She is not on the lam, okay?”
