A Fool's Gold Christmas

by Susan Mallery

  “No. She didn’t mention it.”

  Gideon was tall and moved like someone who knew his way around a fight. Dante recognized the subtle signs from his own early years. The scar by Gideon’s eyebrow and the tattoo visible under his rolled-up shirtsleeves were also a clue.

  “I had some suggestions to make the transitions smoother,” Gideon said. “The premise of the story is interesting. I like the message.”

  “There’s a message?”

  “Sure. Every child is special. Unique.” He gave a quick smile. “Like a snowflake.”

  A snowflake? Dante did his best to reconcile the dark, dangerous man in front of him with a guy who talked about children being special snowflakes.

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “I’ll, ah, tell her you’re looking for her.”

  Just then they were joined by a well-dressed, white-haired woman in a suit. It took Dante a moment to put the name with the face.

  “Mayor Marsha,” he said. “Nice to see you again.”

  “You, too.” The older woman smiled at both of them. “I’m happy to see you’re settling in. And you’ve met Gideon.” She turned to the other man. “I’m delighted by the Christmas music. Very eclectic choices. Some traditional songs, of course, but I’m very much enjoying the international selections.”

  “I like to mix it up,” Gideon told her, winking as he spoke. “Keep folks guessing.”

  The mayor glanced at Dante. “Gideon has recently purchased the two radio stations in town. One AM, one FM. The FM station is playing all Christmas music.”

  “I’ll have to tune in,” Dante said politely.

  “I’m getting lots of good feedback,” Gideon said. “A few local rockers have been by, requesting something else.”

  “There are local rockers in Fool’s Gold?” Dante tried to imagine them being happy in the quiet, family friendly town and couldn’t.

  “Young rockers,” Gideon said, then nodded at the cart. “I need to get these out to the truck. Good to see you, Mayor Marsha.”

  “You, too.”

  Dante expected the old lady to move on, but she waited until Gideon had left, then turned to him.

  “You’re settling in well.”

  He stared at her, not sure if she was asking a question or making a statement.

  “This town is very special,” she continued. “A lot is expected of our citizens, but then people get so much in return. Do you know very much about Gideon?”

  “No. We’ve only met a couple of times.”

  “A very interesting man with a violent history. Then he met a couple of men who changed his life forever. Ford and an angel.” She smiled. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

  “I don’t get the joke.”

  “Ford and Angel are men’s names. Two men who—” She shook her head. “It’s not important. Suffice it to say Ford is the son of one of our founding families. He’s coming back, as soon as he figures out how to embrace his past. As for Angel, he’ll be home soon, too.”

  She motioned to the rapidly emptying room. “This is exactly what you need, Mr. Jefferson. You’ve been on your own for too long. I understand why you’ve been reluctant to truly settle and admit you’re ready to make a home. But here in Fool’s Gold we take care of our own. You will always be safe, always welcome.”

  He stared at the old woman, telling himself there was no way she could know about his past. That no one but Evie knew about his mother and he was convinced she wouldn’t have said a word. The mayor was talking in generalities. He was reading too much into her words. Or maybe she was really fishing for information.

  He ignored the compassion and certainty in her blue eyes and gave her a practiced smile. “I like Fool’s Gold well enough, but I still have my place in San Francisco.”

  “You’ll sell it soon. You belong here, Mr. Jefferson. Fool’s Gold has everything you’ve been looking for. We can’t undo the past, but we can heal from it. Oh, and would you please tell May that Priscilla would be more than welcome at the Live Nativity.”

  The change of subject had him scrambling to catch up. “Excuse me?”

  “The Live Nativity. May will worry about Priscilla being left home alone on Christmas Eve Day. She’s welcome. Along with her pony.”

  “You do realize Priscilla is an elephant?”

  “Of course.”

  “In a nativity?”

  “God loves all His creatures.”

  “Won’t that look strange?”

  “It will look welcoming. No one should be alone for Christmas, Mr. Jefferson. Not even an elephant.”

  “How is May supposed to get her here?”

  “She can walk. It’s not that far. Just make sure Heidi doesn’t offer to ride her. I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  He honestly didn’t know what to say. He’d seen the stage where the Live Nativity would be on Christmas Eve Day. There was room for Priscilla on either side, along with her pet pony. But still.

  Dante drew in a breath. He might never have lost in court, but he recognized a moment when he should simply accept defeat.

  “I’ll pass along the message.”

  “Thank you.” She touched his arm. “I’m so glad you’re here, and we’re very lucky to have you as a part of our Fool’s Gold family.”

  She smiled, released him and left. Dante was left standing in the center of the empty room, feeling as if he’d been run over by a freight train. What had just happened? And why did he suddenly want to hug everyone?

  Grumbling to himself that the old lady was crazy, he stalked out of the ballroom and headed back to the office. He needed some quality time with a legal brief. That would set his world to rights. Then he could forget all this Christmas crap and get back to being himself.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Evie wrote down another idea for a cheer, then pushed away the paper. She had to focus on her production, and time was ticking. There were less than three weeks until The Dance of the Winter King, and she was starting to panic. While helping the cheerleaders was fun, she had to remember her responsibility to her students and the town. Of course, when she thought of it in those terms, she got a little sick to her stomach.

  A distraction appeared in the form of footsteps on the stairs. It was several hours until her first lesson, but she’d received an email from Dominique Guérin, her boss. Dominique was flying in for the holidays and had said she would like to stop by the studio that morning.

  Another thing to be nervous about, Evie thought, automatically standing, her back straight, her feet in first position. Miss Monica, who had sold the dance studio to Dominique over the summer, had been running the school for years. Evie had only been teaching for a couple of months and had never run anything. For all she knew, Dominique was going to fire her.

  “Cheerful, upbeat attitude,” she murmured, telling herself not to go looking for trouble. After all, it seemed to have no problem finding her. Besides, she’d met Dominique before, and the woman had been very friendly. Of course, back then, Evie hadn’t been in charge.

  The door opened and Dominique swept inside. Evie resisted the urge to curtsy in the presence of greatness, instead offering a smile and a handshake.

  “Dominique,” she said. “It’s lovely to see you.”

  Dominique Guérin had to be close to sixty, but she looked as if she were in her forties. Petite, beautiful, with short gold-blond hair and large eyes, she moved with a dancer’s sureness and elegance. She’d been more than a great artist, she’d been a star. She’d graced every famous stage in every country, had danced for presidents and kings and been awarded nearly every honor possible. There were rumors of a title, bestowed by Queen Elizabeth, but Evie couldn’t get confirmation on that.

  “Evie!” Dominique moved close and hugged her. “You look wonderful. So young. I’m jealous. How are you doing? I read all your emails about Monica. Running off with a man, at her age. I don’t know if I should be impressed or worried about her hip.”

  Dominique smiled.
“But if he’s her great love, she shouldn’t ever look back. Everyone deserves a great love. Of course, she’s left us in a bit of a pickle.”

  “That’s one way to describe it,” Evie murmured, offering Dominique a chair.

  She’d already made tea and now poured them each a mug, then settled across from her boss and sent out a quick request to the universe that the meeting go well.

  Dominique shrugged out of her faux-fur coat and draped it over the back of her chair. Evie eyed the other woman’s fitted turtleneck and slim jeans. She doubted Dominique had put on a pound since her dancing days.

  Dominique picked up her mug of tea. “Fool’s Gold is so pretty. I’ve been in New York, and while it’s beautiful there during the holidays, I do love the small town feel here. And there’s plenty going on.”

  Evie gave a strangled laugh. “Sure. The pet adoption, the book drive, hayrides out at the ranch, the day of giving and, hey, The Dance of the Winter King. It’s busy.”

  Dominique smiled at her. “You sound overwhelmed.”

  “Just some days. I’m supposed to help out with the hayrides. I’ve been told I’m elf material. And I’m also working on the pet adoption. That’s on the fifteenth. It’s a lot to get through.”

  “It is. I wonder if Charlie and Clay would like a pet.” Dominique leaned toward her. “Clay and I have been talking. He wants a big wedding. Something the town can be involved in. Charlie wants to elope. She says she’s not bride material.”

  “She would be a beautiful bride,” Evie said, thinking her future sister-in-law wasn’t traditionally feminine but was still her favorite of the three. Although Heidi and Annabelle had certainly been nice enough.

  “We’ll see who wins the argument,” Dominique said. “I’m betting Clay surprises us all, and Charlie gives in. Either way, a dog might be nice for them. Practice before they give me a grandchild.”

  Dominique sighed. “I can’t believe I’m happy about that, but I am. Charlie has told me to stop asking if she’s pregnant. She says they’re going to wait at least a year. I’ve tried to remind her that my wants are more important than hers, but she’s not listening. It’s very wonderful to have family. You must be pleased to be so close to yours.”

  “You have no idea,” Evie murmured, hoping Dominique didn’t press for details. “Are you staying in town through the holidays?”

  “Yes. I’m very much looking forward to the production.”

  Evie pressed her hand against the sudden knot in her stomach. “Great. I’ve made a few changes from what’s been done in the past.”

  She detailed her thoughts on the transitions and how she wanted to make the story tighter. “The voice-over is being modified, as well. A local businessman is helping with that. He owns the radio stations in town.”

  “Excellent. I adore community involvement. Charlie mentioned the sets had been refurbished.”

  “They were. We had a work day.” Evie told her about that.

  “You do have a challenge on your hands,” her boss told her. “I would imagine not every student is gifted.”

  “Some have to work harder than others,” Evie admitted. “I’m working with a few girls privately so they can be in the show. It’s not that they aren’t willing to work hard,” she said, not sure how to delicately share the truth.

  “But they have no ability or rhythm,” Dominique said drily. “I can imagine. Dance is a gift and given to so few. Normally I would be against lowering the standards. After all, this studio has my name on it. But in this case, the production is for the town. Accommodations must be made—in the spirit of the season.”

  “Exactly,” Evie said.

  “You’re doing an excellent job. I’m very pleased. You stepped in and took control when you could have simply thrown up your hands and said it wasn’t your responsibility.”

  “I didn’t want the students to be disappointed.” Evie drew in a breath. “I’m very much enjoying teaching.”

  “Then you’re right where you need to be, aren’t you?” Dominique glanced around. “This is a grim little studio, isn’t it? Old and drafty. After the holidays, I want you and I to talk, Evie. I’m considering buying a building and putting the studio in it. We would have it redone to our exact specifications. Expand, even. Hire a few more teachers. I’d like you to be thinking about any suggestions you have and if you’d like to be in charge.”

  Evie stared at her. “But I’ve only been working for you a couple of months.”

  “I know, but I like what I see. Believe me, I’m used to sizing people up quickly. I had to know if I could trust my partner not to step all over me, figuratively or literally. I would like us to work together. As partners.” Dominique sipped her tea, then nodded. “Interesting. Yes, I think we could be partners. After all, we’re practically family, and we will be when Charlie marries Clay.”

  Evie honestly didn’t know what to say. The offer thrilled her. She had dozens of ideas for a new studio and just as many suggestions for different classes.

  “Thank you,” she stammered. “That’s so nice of you.”

  “Nice?” Dominique raised her eyebrows. “How delicious. I’ve become a nice person. It’s strange, but oddly satisfying.”

  She rose. “I must go and find Charlie. I wouldn’t tell her when I was arriving, so it would be a surprise. She’ll be both pleased to see me and slightly annoyed that I kept her guessing.” Dominique laughed. “A perfect combination.”

  She reached for her coat, then paused. “Oh, Evie, please get this sad little studio some Christmas decorations. Use the company credit card. Go wild. I want my girls to be excited when they walk in here.”

  Dominique smiled again, tossed her coat over her shoulder and swept out of the room. Evie was left in the chair, slightly breathless, as if she’d just survived a small tornado.

  Her mind hopped from topic to topic, unable to settle. There was too much to consider.

  The Christmas decorations were easy enough. She would ask Dante to help her get a tree. Buying ornaments would be fun. As for the rest of what Dominique had said, Evie wasn’t sure. The new studio would be wonderful. As for being a partner, the offer was tempting. Despite her slightly odd ways, Dominique was brilliant and easy to work for. But accepting meant staying, and Evie had always planned to leave Fool’s Gold.

  Staying would mean being around her family, which was both good and bad. Staying meant being a part of the town, of craziness every Christmas. Staying meant complications with Dante. She’d gone into their relationship with the idea she was leaving. If she didn’t, how would things end?

  Staying meant belonging.

  Evie stood and carried both mugs into the small bathroom. She washed them in the sink and dried them before putting them back into the cupboard. Staying meant reconciling with her mother and accepting that, while May had made mistakes, she was genuinely sorry and wanted to make amends. It meant letting go of the anger she’d carried with her like a talisman.

  Perhaps the healthiest decision, Evie realized. But without the hurt and anger, she wasn’t sure who she would be.

  * * *

  “I GUESS I DIDN’T think this part through,” Evie admitted, trying not to laugh.

  Dante obviously didn’t find anything about the situation amusing. Probably because he was tired and hungry and wasn’t the kind of guy to enjoy shopping for a Christmas tree.

  Or maybe it wasn’t the shopping itself, but the fact that she’d asked him to carry a seven-foot-tall tree three blocks in the cold and then drag it up a flight of stairs to the studio.

  Narrow stairs, where the too-large tree was now stuck.

  “I’m sorry,” Evie said, staring up through the branches at the scowling man. “Seriously.”

  “Uh-huh. You’re not sorry. You’re having fun.”

  She bit the inside of her lip in an attempt to keep from smiling. “No, I’m not.”

  “Right.” He grabbed the thick trunk with both hands. “I’m going to give this thing one more try.
If I can’t get it to move, I’ll resign myself to slowly starving to death up here.”

  He kind of had a point, she thought, realizing the tree blocked the only way up or down.

  “On three,” she said, taking hold of the top of the tree and planning to push.

  “Don’t help,” Dante told her.

  “I’m helping.”

  “You’ll get hurt. I can do this.”

  As he spoke, he began to pull. Despite his instructions, she pushed from the top. Nothing happened. She pushed harder and felt a little bit of give.

  “One more time,” she yelled.

  “Stop help—”

  But it was too late. She shoved, he pulled and the tree suddenly moved free, zipping up the stairs, hitting Dante in the center of his chest. They both went sprawling.

  Evie found herself flying forward. She braced herself on her hands and landed somewhat gently on the stairs, facedown.

  “You okay?” she asked, almost afraid to stand up and look.

  “Fine.” Dante’s voice was slightly strangled.

  “I’m going to order a pizza. Pepperoni all right with you?”

  “Sure.”

  She rolled onto her back and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, then called the local pizza place and put in their order. After she’d hung up, she stood and brushed off the needles decorating the front of her coat. Finally, she risked looking upstairs.

  Dante still lay on his back, the tree on top of him, the base of its trunk maybe three inches from his chin.

  “Want to talk about it?” she asked.

  “Not really.”

  She went upstairs and helped roll the tree off of him. He rose and glanced down at the tree on the floor and the layer of needles everywhere.

  “Whose idea was this?” he asked.

  “My boss’s.”

  “I admire her willingness to delegate.”

  An hour later the tree was in the stand and the lights were strung. When the pizza guy arrived, Dante disappeared downstairs to pay him and returned with a pizza box, a bottle of wine and two wineglasses.

  “I didn’t order wine,” she said. “Do they deliver wine?”