Yuletide Hearts

by Ruth Logan Herne

  She did, thanks to a cheating husband and a lousy self-image, but that was none of his concern. “I trust you for a paycheck, Matt. Nothing more. Got it?”

  “Got it.” He released her then, but the twinkle in his eye said more. Way more. “And I forgot how quickly information travels around here, so the next time I meet an old friend, I’ll employ full disclosure up front, okay?”

  “No need.” She slapped the top on the paint can with more vigor than needed, droplets of paint spattering the subfloor. She growled, chagrined.

  He leaned down, close. Very close. “You’re awful cute when you’re mad. You know that?”

  Hank and Jake’s arrival warded off her reply, and she spent the next two hours wiping, polishing, vacuuming and sweeping. When Mary Kay pulled in with the prospective buyers, the crew slipped out the back door. They aimed for the Marek house to give the Realtor time to show the people around. Matt hung back to meet the buyers, but he managed to catch Callie’s arm as she left. She bit her lower lip, determined to say nothing. Silence seemed best at the moment.

  Matt gestured to the cleaned-up model, his gaze teasing. He leaned in, dropped her a wink and drawled, “Reenie couldn’t have done it better, Cal. Thank you.”

  “You’re not funny.”

  “Oh, I am.” He softened his grip on her arm and sent her mouth a wistful look. “But I’m sorry you misunderstood about Katie. I’ll explain it soon, okay?” He glanced around the work space and shrugged. “I keep meaning to but we’ve been busy.” He shifted his attention to the guys heading toward the Marek house. “And we’re never alone.”

  That was certainly true.

  “Soon. Promise.” He smiled at her, his eyes sending a message her heart longed to hear, but was it the longing or the message that ruled the moment? Callie couldn’t be sure, and until she was, she was safer maintaining distance.

  The chatter of voices redirected her attention. “I’ll head home. Make fresh coffee. Go schmooze these people with your charm and expertise.”

  “Expertise will get me further,” Matt replied.

  Not necessarily. He might be a first-class builder. She’d witnessed that. But his charm?

  Off the charts. And that’s what worried her most.

  She gave the house one last look as the voices grew louder, hoping they’d love it, praying they’d see merit in her changes and upgrades, while a part of her hated to see it go. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” Matt squeezed her arm and straightened his shoulders, heading back in. “I’ll be over shortly.”

  “Or call if this takes longer than you expected. I’ll fix you a cup and bring it over.”

  “Thanks, Callie.”

  She told herself she was just being nice, that she’d hope for anyone’s success the same way, but the Marek–Cavanaugh building connection had her personally invested. Good or bad, they’d put heart and soul into this venture, and today’s viewing could signal success or failure. She sent him a confident nod and turned toward home, wondering what they’d gotten themselves into. “Anytime, boss.”

  She doesn’t want to sell the model.

  The realization struck him as he closed the family room door.

  Callie’s personal investment in this house showed throughout, even though it wasn’t quite done, and her quick look of longing?

  That gripped his heart, but they’d built the model to sell, right? So why was this so hard?

  “Matt, you’re here.” Mary Kay’s warm greeting inspired his smile as she came through the garage entrance followed by a thirty-something couple. They looked nice. Normal. And as they stepped in, the woman grabbed her husband’s arm, delighted. “Look at these maple cabinets, Ben. Aren’t they gorgeous?”

  “Very nice.” He stuck out a hand to Matt. “Ben Wiseman. And this is my wife, Chloe, the woman who ignored my instructions about not showing how much you like the house because it drives the price up.”

  Matt laughed, shook his hand, and then Chloe’s. “I’ve wired the walls to record conversation, actually. That way I can access every exclamation and adjust the price upward accordingly.”

  “Clever technology.”

  Matt grinned. “We do what we can.”

  Mary Kay linked her arm through his. “Matt is a marine. He did multiple tours overseas and when he got home he worked night and day to build this business. And by buying Cobbled Creek from the Marek family…”

  The couple nodded, obviously up-to-date on the subdivision’s history.

  “Matt’s been working with the Mareks to stay true to the original design and specifications.”

  “Isn’t that tough?” Ben asked Matt. “Working with the family that lost this?”

  Matt shook his head. “I’d have thought so, too, but no. It’s been wonderful. And they live across the road, so they’ll be your neighbors if you decide to live here. And you couldn’t ask for better ones anywhere.”

  “Kids?” Chloe asked.

  “A boy. Eight years old. His name’s Jake.”

  “The same age as our Jordan.” Chloe surveyed the kitchen. “And I love the ratio of cupboard and pantry space to work space in this kitchen.”

  “That’s Callie Marek’s doing,” Matt told them. “She’s got a great eye.”

  “We loved the layout of the neighborhood,” Ben confessed. “And I probably shouldn’t tell you that, but the minute we saw it, it reminded us of the vacation spot Chloe’s parents had in the Catskills.”

  “The way you’ve nestled the homes into the hillside drew us,” added Chloe.

  Matt would have to thank Hank and Callie for their hard work. Sure, he’d come in at the last moment to pull things together, but money and timing couldn’t fix poor initial planning, and the welcoming look of Cobbled Creek attested to that.

  But now it was time to let Mary Kay do her job. Matt shook hands again and headed for the door, cell phone in hand. “If you need me, call, but I want to get out of your way so you feel free to examine things fully.”

  “Thanks, Matt.” Mary Kay’s nod said his timing was perfect, making him wish he could do that in all facets of his life.

  Hah.

  He headed toward the Marek house, his gaze drawn to the plywood Holy Family staked in the lawn. Simple. Austere. Poignant.

  Callie and Hank didn’t have much, but faith and love shined in everything they did. They took care of each other, the way a family should. Callie’d grown up with one parent. Jake was doing the same. Matt had been left virtually parentless at a young age, and for just a moment he wondered if the American dream of Mom, Dad and kids living together was an illusion. A shadow of reality, an old truth.

  It doesn’t have to be, son.

  Grandpa’s sage words washed over him.

  It’s all about choices. Good and bad. Every step of the way.

  Grandpa was right. Eyeing the Marek house, Matt recognized the growing feeling inside himself. The way his heart had stopped beating when Callie nearly fell. The way it ramped up pace when she smiled at him. How she managed to capture his heart by cupping his cheek.

  He wanted to be her helper, her protector. Her knight in shining armor.

  But that meant he had to set the record straight, and people would talk after seeing him with Katie last night. They’d reminisce and wonder out loud. Which meant he had to tell Callie first.

  “Did they like the house, Matt?” Jake spouted the question the moment Matt stepped through the door.

  Matt picked him up, tossed him into a fireman’s hold and noogied the boy’s head while Jake laughed in glee. “They seemed to, bud. But I had to get out of there and let Mary Kay do her job.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Schmooze ’em,” explained Hank.

  Jake frowned, confused.

  “Mary Kay’s job is to point out the good things about a house so people want to buy it.”

  “Although nothing about Cobbled Creek needs glossing over,” declared Don.

  “Absolutely not,” excl
aimed Buck, who must have joined the group after they’d walked to the Mareks’.

  “It’s beautiful just the way it is,” threw in Jim roundly, adding his support.

  “You sound like a bunch of pom-pom wavin’ cheerleaders,” Hank grumped, but his grin of appreciation showed his true feelings. “Matt, Buck brought bagels.” He waved a hand toward the counter.

  “Sounds good. Thanks, Buck.” He turned toward Callie. “Weren’t you and Jake going to start decorating?”

  She nodded. “I figured now is the perfect time so those people can wander at will with Mary Kay, then I can work on the model this afternoon while Jake’s at the birthday party.”

  “Good. I’ll grab a couple of these,” he took two bagels from the counter and wrapped them in a double paper towel, “and we can head back. Get some stuff done on number twenty-three.”

  Did he just glance wistfully at the stack of boxes? Like a little boy lost, gazing in a Christmas window?

  No.

  He headed toward the door, bagels in hand, almost hurrying, as if he couldn’t wait to leave. Or because he badly longed to stay.

  “Matt, can you help us?” Callie’s voice stretched high, nerves showing.

  “Really?” He turned, caught off guard, as if making sure he heard correctly.

  “Sure, Matt!”

  “I mean, if you’re too busy…” Callie went on, offering him a way out. If he wanted one, that is.

  “He’s not, are you, Matt?” Jake implored. “Because you can work this afternoon when I’m at the party, right?”

  “I can,” Matt told him, his voice deep and easy. “Happy to do that, bud.”

  “Matt loved helping with Christmas when he was little,” Don added.

  A shot of pain darkened Matt’s gaze, but Callie drew him forward, ready to fix old wrongs. Now was a time for hope. Happiness. Health. “Good, then you’re experienced.” She grinned at him and directed him to a spot on the couch. “You sit here and open these.” She slid a pile of boxes to his left as the guys grabbed hats and gloves.

  “The guys and I will start getting those plumbing lines laid in number twenty-three, Matt,” Hank said smoothly, “because we can’t finish those last two roofs until the weather clears. And then Don can head back to seaming the model once it’s clear of people.”

  “I love plumbing,” Buck announced. He headed for the door. “You sure it won’t bother the folks looking around?”

  Matt shook his head. “They know we have to work. And they’ve had more than a half hour already.”

  “And time’s money,” added Hank, but he winked Matt’s way, “although we wouldn’t mind nailing down that first contract.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Matt agreed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As the aging but earnest military crew trooped out, Matt turned, catching Callie’s look. “A little obvious?”

  Callie smiled. “Blatantly, but sweet.”

  Matt snorted as Jake dragged a box closer. “What soldier wants to be called sweet?” he asked, making a face.

  Too late he realized his mistake as he caught Callie’s look. “Present company excluded, of course.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So what’s first?” He surveyed the boxes and let Callie take the lead.

  “The manger scene goes on the painted chest alongside the fireplace.”

  “This box.” Jake pulled a smaller one front and center. “And this one,” he added, shifting another one forward.

  “Great. Let me just grab a—”

  “Gotcha covered, marine.” Callie slipped alongside Matt and handed off a cup of coffee, fragrant and steaming hot, her thoughtfulness curling around his heart, the scent of coffee, Callie and a hint of wood smoke feeling like he’d come home to a greeting card Christmas. He leaned forward and bumped foreheads with her, ever so gently. “Thank you.”

  Her smile said so much. Too much? He hoped not. Prayed not. “You’re welcome.”

  “So.” He sat on the floor, balanced his coffee on a side table and opened the first box. “I’ll unpack while you guys direct. Is that okay?”

  “It’s great, Matt!” Jake grinned in wide enthusiasm, his bright blue eyes different from his mother’s jade green, but his gentle joy at grasping life? That was Callie all the way.

  Matt reached into the first box and withdrew a rugged barnlike structure. “The stable.”

  “Which might have been a cave,” Jake explained solemnly. “People aren’t really sure, but we know they kept animals there.”

  “History lesson noted.” Matt smiled up at him and handed him an unwrapped camel.

  “These guys go over here,” Jake continued, intent on detail. He moved the camel off to the side. “The wise men didn’t get to see Jesus for a while, but we like to remember their visit at Christmas so we include them.”

  Matt angled a glance up to Callie. “Does he get his love of history from you?”

  She sent him a dubious look. “Dad’s been teaching him history since birth. And Jake eats it up. I’m lucky I remember breakfast.”

  “I get it.” He unwrapped more figures and smiled as Jake set them carefully around the rough, wooden stable, frequently stepping back to see if they were placed just right. “The fussiness he gets from you,” Matt observed, grinning, a few minutes later.

  “I prefer to call it attention to detail,” Callie shot back as she attempted to unravel a tangled set of twinkle lights. “Which is why that model kitchen might just sell a house for you.”

  “For us,” Matt corrected.

  She looked embarrassed but pleased to be included.

  “I mean it, Cal. I couldn’t have gotten this done without a great crew and having your family on hand. And the guys.” Matt winked at Jake as he handed off a statue of Joseph. “Made all the difference in the world.”

  “We could just all work together forever,” Jake announced, serious and cute. “That way we can build houses and everyone has a job.”

  “Jake.”

  “Great idea.” Matt handed Jake a slightly chipped gray donkey and sent a lazy smile Callie’s way. “We’ll have to see how things go, okay?”

  “Okay!” He grinned as Matt continued helping, the easy act of unwrapping history binding in its simplicity.

  Callie finished unraveling the lights, plugged them in, then groaned.

  Matt hid a chuckle behind a cough. “Might want to test ’em first the next time.”

  When she turned to scowl at him he tugged her down beside him, pointing to the second box. “Let’s do these together. Then the lights. Is there garland for the mantel?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lovely.”

  “And Mom always puts Christmas cards up there, and candles,” Jake explained. “It’s real pretty.”

  “Like your mom.”

  Jake turned, suspicious. “Are you guys getting mushy?”

  “No,” Callie said.

  “Well…” Matt grinned at her, tweaked her nose, then handed Jake the next figure. She blushed, and in that heightened color Matt read the possibility of a future he’d denied himself, the thought of working with the Mareks, coming home to this family, a gift like no other. He watched Callie hand up a lamb to Jake, then asked, “How about if you and I do some shopping tonight?”

  “Can I come?” Jake asked instantly.

  “May I,” Callie corrected. She shook her head, chin down, and continued to unwrap figures. “We probably shouldn’t.”

  “Sure we should.” Matt stretched across her and tugged the box of lights closer. “Jake can stay with Hank and you and I can get our Christmas shopping done.”

  “I’ll be good,” Jake wheedled.

  “You’ll be in bed,” Matt corrected him mildly. He gave a lock of Callie’s hair a tug. “What do you think? Good idea?”

  Instinct had told her to say no after seeing Matt and Katie canoodling at a cozy table in the acoustic café. Shopping with Matt might possibly be the worst idea she’d ever heard, s
o why did she say yes?

  Because you’re a sucker for the little boy you see behind the rugged marine.

  Either way, here they were at the mall later that night, the sweet glow of Christmas lights framing windows and doors, their bright presence climbing columns and archways. “This must look like fairyland to a kid like Jake,” Matt mused as they walked through the food court surrounded by mouth-watering smells. Soft notes of Christmas music floated from a keyboard player centered amid the tables.

  “You never came to the mall at Christmas when you were a kid?” Callie asked. One look at his face answered that. “Then I’m glad to be with you this time,” she told him and hugged his arm.

  “You think Jake’s mad at us because we wouldn’t let him come?”

  Honesty was the best policy. Most times. “I think Jake has a wicked case of hero worship and thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread.”

  “No argument there.” Matt grinned at her. “The boy’s smart. So what are we shopping for?”

  “Not much.” She paused and faced him, determined to be up front, although admitting her limits made them seem more constraining. “My budget is small. Think miniscule. So is Dad’s. Jake needs a new bike, so that’s it. And some new socks and art supplies for school. Crayons, markers, cool pencils, tablets, et cetera.”

  Matt accepted what she said easily. “So if I got him some miniature cars and trucks, would that be okay?”

  “He’d love that.”

  “And maybe his first power drill?”

  “Matt—”

  “And I could build him a workbench.”

  “Stop!” She put two fingers against his mouth to shush him, and tried unsuccessfully to ignore the feel of his face, his mouth against her skin. Right then she wished she had soft, feminine fingers, uncalloused, unworn, the silky-soft skin she saw advertised everywhere. And despite her attempts to heal the roughened skin with creams, her fingers showed the effects of working in cold, dry conditions on a steady basis.

  Matt caught her hand, kissed it, smiled and said, “Okay, I’m a little excited. I’ve never shopped for a kid before. Maybe I should do the tool thing for him instead of cars.”