Cinderella Christmas

by Shelley Galloway

  "My cousin. Caroline is always coming up with weird party ideas. Last month we had to dress up and take part in some murder mystery. Barb and I always go together. I mean, who else would we subject Caroline to?"

  Brooke Anne felt like sinking into a very large black hole. "I thought your sister was really nice," she said, more for herself than for him. Oh, why had she even brought this up?

  "She is nice. She's a peach! But she's silly as all get-out." He shook his head. "I can't believe you were there at the same time. You don't know how hard I'd been trying to talk to you."

  "I'm sorry. I guess I should've woken you up that night I stopped by."

  "I wish you had, too, but it's sweet that you didn't." He treated her to a devastating grin. "It was nice to wake up with the knowledge that someone actually cared about me while I was sleeping."

  Brooke Anne felt heat traipse up her neck as she recalled the nurturing instinct that had overcome her that night. How she'd tenderly traced the planes of his face. The slope of his shoulders. Fought the urge to caress more of him.

  "You want to know a secret?" Morgan said. "I even tried to find you through the place you bought your shoes."

  "What?"

  "I put your shoes in a bag and visited as many nice shoe stores as I could, looking for the one you shopped at. I think I went to twelve."

  She was intrigued and a little puzzled. It sounded as if he really had been as affected by their evening as she had. Perhaps she'd just imagined that he'd only been thinking about obligations and money owed. "Well...did you get any information?"

  "Not even a little. Nobody wanted to give me any info."

  "Nobody?"

  "Well, I did get lucky and found Warren, the owner of that WJB shoe store down the road."

  Brooke Anne smiled. "And what did he say?"

  "He said that the shoes did indeed come from his store, but that he wasn't talking. That's pretty much what he told me, anyway. I ended up leaving a note for you there."

  "Oh my gosh. I don't think anyone's ever tracked me down before."

  "There's a first time for everyone, I guess."

  They laughed, and once again Brooke Anne found herself being drawn in by Morgan's charming personality. He was interesting, somewhat self-deprecating...utterly darling. She wanted to know everything about him.

  By the time their broccoli cheese soup and club sandwiches came, Brooke Anne was wondering why she'd ever had any doubts about their compatibility. Their conversation flowed easily, and the silences, when they were eating, didn't seem strained or tense. And she'd caught more than one brief glance from him that was anything but businesslike. Happiness filled her.

  She was already looking forward to seeing him again. Maybe he'd want to accompany her to Tomasina's choir recital or to the hospital Christmas party. He seemed like the kind of guy who might appreciate grown women dressing in green-and-red elf suits.

  Afterward, they could go down to Fountain Square...maybe even ice skate. Admire the trees and browse through the pretty designer shops.

  Then they could go to one of the trendy restaurants nearby and have some dinner. They could laugh about the antics of the kids at neighboring tables and sympathize with the kids' parents. It would be fun.

  "Brooke, there's something I've been meaning to ask you," Morgan said, interrupting her thoughts. "Two things, actually."

  "Okay."

  "Why were you taken off my business's account?"

  "What?"

  "Well, Tomasina seems to be the regular cleaning girl now," he explained, rubbing his teaspoon with his thumb. "Did something happen? Is that why you moved?"

  Belatedly, Brooke Anne realized that she'd led him to believe that she wasn't the owner of Jovial Janitors, but one of the employees. "Morgan, I was just filling in for Tomasina that night. Jovial Janitors is my company." She handed him a business card from her purse as proof.

  Surprise, then admiration, showed in his eyes as he read her card. "I had no idea."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to be a secret."

  "How long have you been running your company?"

  "About two years. Before that I was working for a cleaning service that was going out of business. It seemed natural that I take over the accounts. But...it's been hard."

  "How so?"

  Since he seemed genuinely interested, she elaborated. "Oh, there are just so many things that small business owners have to deal with. Hiring and firing workers, getting used to being the person on whom all the responsibility lies. Liability insurance, worker's comp, picky customers. Money."

  "Money?"

  She laughed. "Learning how to not have any! All my profits have been going into building the business. That's why I jumped at your offer. It's been two years since I've indulged in frivolous dresses or shoes. Everything I buy now has to serve multiple purposes."

  "So you didn't say yes to get to know me, or because going to the party sounded like fun?" Morgan asked in a bemused tone.

  What did he mean?

  "No. I said yes because my employees needed their Christmas bonus and I wanted those shoes." Of course, within the first hour of their date, she'd wanted to know him better.

  Morgan looked deflated. Brooke Anne wondered if perhaps she'd been a little too honest with him. "It was fun, though, until..."

  "Until I abandoned you? Glad to hear it."

  They ate their food in awkward silence.

  Brooke Anne wished she knew of a way to tell him that she'd found him attractive - that she still did - without embarrassing them both. Then she remembered that Morgan had said he'd had two questions for her. "What was your second question?"

  "What? Oh, it's nothing. I was just wondering why you weren't in the phone book. I tried to call you."

  Confused, she set her fork down. "Morgan, I am listed."

  "No. there're only two 'Annes' in the phone book, and neither is you."

  She laughed. "'Anne' isn't my last name, it's part of my first! My last name is Kressler. I'm Brooke Anne Kressler."

  "I can't believe this," Morgan said. "I didn't even know your last name, and I thought you were just a cleaning lady."

  "What do you mean, just a cleaning lady?"

  He glanced at her, his expression unguarded. "Nothing. There's a big difference between working for a business and owning one, that's all."

  "How? Like in the social scheme of things?"

  The sharpness in her voice must have set him on edge. He suddenly seemed wary and spoke slowly, as if he was testing each word to see how it would fly. "I didn't mean to offend you. Obviously, once again, I'm having a tough time saying what's on my mind. I only meant that I can't believe I was going crazy looking for you when I didn't even know some basic information."

  "I'm sorry," she said, contrite. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

  "It's okay. I know what I said came out completely different than I intended." He flashed her a sad smile. "Guess I should stick to notes, huh?"

  His words defused her anger, but not her bruised feelings. Maybe if she hadn't already been so gun-shy because of Russell, she'd have no problem shaking it off. Maybe if her business and her shoestring budget weren't such a source of constant worry, then she'd be able to laugh at his misconceptions.

  Maybe if she hadn't seen with her own eyes what he did in his spare time, she would have thought their differences were surmountable.

  But they weren't, were they?

  In her world, owning a janitorial service was an accomplishment.

  In his...it was a consolation prize for not being able to do anything better.

  Morgan reached for her hand. "Are you okay? Have you been listening to what I've been trying to say... very badly? I'm just sorry that I didn't know more about you before." Rubbing his thumb over the veins in her hand, he added, "It's good that we're together now though, right?"

  She pulled her hand away with a sinking feeling. He was right about the two of them not knowing much about the other. Why had she
thought she could trust Morgan with her heart, when Russell - a guy who'd known her forever - had broken it without a second thought? She needed to grow up and get her head out of the clouds. Some men were just not for her, and the sooner she realized that, the better off she'd be.

  "I'm glad we found each other again, too," Brooke Anne said quietly. "And thanks for the dinner and my money and for bringing me my shoes. But - I think I'm going to go on home now."

  He appeared completely stunned. "Wait a minute..."

  "Merry Christmas, Morgan," she said, then pulled on her coat.

  "Don't you think you're being kind of childish?"

  "Childish?"

  Morgan's fingers whitened as he tightened his grip on his mug. "I didn't mean that. Why don't you stay and we'll talk some more."

  Talk some more? Throwing him one last glance, Brooke knew in her heart that it would be better for her - for both of them - if she ended things before they ever really began. They didn't belong together. "I'm sorry, but no," she said, then strode out of the diner.

  As she walked back to the office building along the well-lit street, Brooke Anne tried to put things in perspective. She had her shoes back, and she could pay her employees without dipping into her savings.

  Things were better, right?

  At that moment, she knew they couldn't be more wrong.

  *****

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  "We're really going to miss you, sweetie," Brooke Anne's mother said over the phone. "Are you sure you won't change your mind?"

  Oh, she wanted to. She wanted to feel more confident and happier with herself. It would feel really good to go home to Nebraska with her head held high. But Brooke Anne knew that making the trip now would be just one more thing to stress about. "I'm sorry, Mom. Not this year."

  "So are you going to spend Christmas with that Morgan fellow?"

  "Probably," Brooke Anne said, well aware she could be nominated for an Oscar, considering how perky she succeeded in making her voice sound.

  "I'm glad you've found someone else. Oh...did you hear about Russell?"

  "No." Did she want to?

  "He and Suzanne were having trouble and are seeing a marriage counselor. I guess things aren't all peachy-keen between those two."

  Only her mother could say "peachy-keen" with a straight face. As she was thinking that, Brooke Anne also realized that it didn't hurt as much anymore when she thought about Russell.

  Maybe she really was getting over him - Finally. "That's too bad." she said.

  "I still get fired up when I think of the way that snake treated you."

  Brooke Anne smiled in spite of herself. "I used to, too. But now...I don't know. I guess what happened with us is history."

  Her mom paused, then continued in a new vein. "You know what? You're exactly right. Russell is part of your past now. The past! Just like mud pies and green nail polish."

  "Mom, do we have to bring up the nail polish again? That was in eighth grade."

  "It's hard to forget when I see your hands in your junior high school graduation portrait hanging right in front of me."

  One day she was going to pick up that portrait and carry it right out of her parents' home. "Mom -"

  "Anyway, sweetie, I'm so glad we talked. You've always had such a good heart. It's a real gift, you know - the way you're able to forgive people, make them feel better about themselves. You're the most giving person I know. I'm so glad you're my daughter."

  Her mother's words made her want to puff out her chest and go hide in a corner, all at the same time. She appreciated the compliment, but she was also well aware of what everyone back home would have thought about her relationship with Morgan.

  They would tell her that she had no business dreaming about men like him.

  That even if they did get along, she would be like a fish out of water in his crowd.

  Remember who you are, Brooke! her mother would say. You're a small-town girl who likes simple things.

  Brooke Anne's shoulders slumped. Was she really just like them? Was it possible to have a perfect match with someone so different?

  "I'd better go, Mom," she said hurriedly. She couldn't pretend to be happy a second longer. "I'll call you soon."

  "All right, honey. Stay warm."

  She always said that. "I will. You, too, Mom."

  She hung up, and at that exact moment, the doorbell rang.

  Glancing at her watch, Brooke Anne wondered what in the world Tomi would be doing, coming over so early.

  "Tomi, I'm not even dressed yet," she called out as she quickly checked the peep hole, just in case....

  She froze in place when she saw who was on the other side of her door.

  "Hey, Brooke Anne Kressler," Morgan said. "I found you."

  She opened the door a crack. "What are you doing here'?"

  He dared to grin. "Visiting?"

  "It's early Saturday morning. Shouldn't you be...sleeping?"

  "It's 10:00 a.m. Even I don't sleep in that late." He took in what she was wearing. "May I come in?"

  "I'm in my robe and nightgown."

  "I don't mind if you don't." He held up a hand. "I'll stay five minutes, tops."

  What could she say? Grudgingly, she opened the door the rest of the way - and watched Morgan step into her tiny apartment as though he hung out in places like hers all the time.

  It took everything she had not to apologize for the dishes in the sink and the state of her hair. Had she even brushed it?

  "I like your puzzle," he said.

  "Can I offer you some coffee?"

  "I'd love some."

  Morgan took a seat at the card table and started fussing with the puzzle pieces. "How long has this taken you?" he asked. "It looks like you're halfway done."

  She poured his cup of coffee, and because she remembered, she added some milk and sugar, too. "A few weeks."

  With a smile of thanks, Morgan took the cup and sipped gratefully.

  She couldn't take it anymore. "Why, exactly, are you here?"

  "I felt bad about the other night."

  "Because..."

  "Because I started talking without thinking," he replied, his voice earnest. "I didn't want you to spend the whole weekend thinking I'm a jerk. Besides, looking for you has kind of become my main hobby."

  Don't melt, she chastised herself. Don't forget that he's not the man for you. "Well, you found me."

  "I did." He moved two jigsaw pieces around some more and finally popped one in place. "So, would you like to go out again?"

  The question caught her off guard. "With you?"

  "With me."

  "Why? Because you feel guilty?"

  "Because I like you."

  Brooke Anne swallowed hard. "Morgan, I don't know how to say this, but I don't think that's a good idea."

  "Because..."

  "Because you're rich and I'm.. .not." Her stomach churned. Leave it to her to point out the obvious.

  "For some reason that seems to be a huge problem for you. And I'm not that rich, Brooke Anne. Not like my sister, Caroline." He toyed with another puzzle piece. "I did grow up with money, but I also grew up pretty lonely. Having money doesn't make a person happy."

  "I know that."

  "Well, then, why are you holding that against me?"

  "You should know right now that I'm always going to be a Jovial Janitor."

  Morgan burst out laughing. "Okay."

  Mentally. Brooke Anne winced. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

  "I hope not. Listen. I'm not saying let's go get married. I'm just saying, let's go out on a date. Now that we know the true colors."

  Remembering her earlier conversation with her mom, when they'd talked about forgiveness, Brooke Anne knew it was time to follow her heart.

  "Tomasina has a choir concert next Saturday night. Would you like to go with me?"

  "Sure. Pick you up at five-thirty? We could grab something to eat before the concert."

  "I'll be her
e."

  She stood up, feeling almost naked in her nightgown and robe. "Well, maybe you should go now."

  "All right."

  He started to leave, then turned again to face her. Standing so close that his jacket brushed her robe, as his scent wafted toward her, he murmured, "So...will you ever forgive me for being a jerk?"

  She already had. Not that she was going to tell him that right away. "Maybe."

  He leaned closer, clasped her shoulders. "See you in a week," he whispered.

  Before she even knew what was happening, Morgan kissed her on the lips - and then he was gone.

  "Breva, has Aaron ever sent you roses?" Morgan asked as casually as possible on their way to a meeting Monday morning.

  "A couple of times. Once when we were dating. Another time after we got in a fight," Breva answered. "Hmm. Then there was this time after a particularly lovely evening." She smiled to herself. "Why? Are you interested in sending me some roses, too? I like pink ones, just to let you know."

  "I'll keep that in mind for Secretary's Day," he joked. Turning serious, he asked, "What about candy? Do you like chocolate?"

  Breva slowed her pace and studied his worried expression. "What have you done? I thought things went well when you saw your Cinderella. Didn't you say she came by and got her check and shoes?"

  "She did. We went to Skip's Diner, too."

  "That's good. Everyone likes that place." She looked at him more closely. "And..."

  "And after we visited for a while and things were going fine, I decided it was time to gather some pertinent details about her life."

  "Such as?" Breva asked, a small crease appearing between her brows.

  "Such as her last name, her exact occupation -"

  "'Anne' and custodian, right?"

  "Wrong. It's 'Kressler' and she's the owner of Jovial Janitors."

  Breva brightened. "Oh, well, that's even better... I mean for her, right?"

  "Wrong," he replied, still feeling guilty. "I guess I sounded really happy that she owned her own company, instead of just being a cleaning lady. She took that as a sign that I cared about such things." He paused. "And then there was the whole Caroline thing."