More Than a Tiara: A Christian Romance (Christmas in Montana Romance Book 1)

by Comer,Valerie

  The two little girls now pelted the bigger boys with handfuls of snow. This could not end well.

  Jase slipped his arm around Marisa and gave her a little squeeze. “You look awesome.”

  She leaned on his shoulder for a second. “Thanks.” She pulled away with an apologetic grin. Better get things going before the little girls found themselves the targets of expertly formed snowballs. At the moment the bigger kids were in the process of heaving the third ball up to form the snowman’s head.

  “Here.” Bob held out a sack to Davy. “Here’s some stuff to finish it off, if you want.”

  Davy dumped the bag into the snow and sorted through it. “Yeah!” he yelled as he jabbed a carrot into the snowball. It wobbled. “Now he just needs a hat and scarf.” He pulled his stocking cap off.

  “Davy, no!” Bren called. “You need it to keep warm yourself.”

  The boy tried to get it on the snowman’s head, but it slid off, too small. With a shrug he slammed it back on his own head, then unwound the scarf from around his neck and draped it around the snowman.

  Marisa laughed at the expression on Bren’s face. “He’ll be fine. I can get him another scarf if he gets cold.”

  “Kids,” Bren muttered.

  “Come on everyone,” Marisa called. “It’s time to head up the hill. Do you have your sleds and toboggans?”

  A cheer went up, and Baxter woofed in excitement.

  ~*~

  Liam squealed the whole way down the hill, nearly deafening Jase as the tube spun in circles. They slid to a stop mere feet away from the snowman. Oops. He’d need to make sure to steer it farther left next time. As though those doughnuts could be steered.

  “Did you like that, buddy?”

  “Yes!” shouted Liam, struggling to his feet. The poor kid was nearly as wide as he was tall in that padded snowsuit, only his bright red nose and sparkling eyes visible.

  Sheltered from the hill and straying sleds, Wendy and Bob sat in lawn chairs beside a bonfire, a camp stove set up on a nearby table.

  “Want to warm up, buddy?”

  Liam shook his head and grabbed the towrope.

  Jase waved at Marisa’s mom and turned to help his nephew pull the inner tube back up the hill. Once at the top, the boy coaxed his daddy onboard and headed down again. Jase scanned the area. Where was Marisa?

  She went flying past him down the hill, two little kids between her knees on a long plastic sled.

  Jase grinned and commandeered a nearby saucer. She was a hard one to catch. Always busy. Always making sure everyone was having a good time. The perfect hostess.

  The perfect girlfriend.

  Mr. Penhaven was right in one thing. Jase was, in fact, thirty. Definitely time he found the right woman, married her, and started a family. Two months ago it had been the farthest thing from his mind, but in the past two weeks, it was all he could think about.

  He’d enjoyed every minute he’d been able to spend with Marisa since the night her mother had given him the chance to speak his mind. But she’d been busy, and so had he. They hadn’t had a lot of time to talk. Had she really forgiven him? Because it seemed a little like she still held him at arm’s length.

  He grinned as trees and clumps of snow whizzed past. Not completely at arm’s length. Close enough to believe they might have a future together, but how? Where? She was a Montana girl. She’d created a life for herself here while he found himself longing to go back to New York. Maybe not the city itself, but the opportunities there.

  He was a good photographer. He knew it. The modeling agencies knew it, too. The people of Helena didn’t want to pay the prices he could command back East. But it wasn’t all about the money. Since that day in front of the luggage carousel in JFK airport, he’d thought a lot about charity. He’d gone back to Kenya. Returned to hunt down Tammy and Greg and see what they were really doing with the street kids. He’d been sending money to Hope’s Promise every month since, never daring to ask if they had Marisa’s contact information. He didn’t want it to seem as though he’d been doing a good deed to regain her affection. No, he’d discovered need he’d never noticed before, and God had given him compassion.

  Compassion. Marisa seemed to come by it naturally. Look what she’d built here in Helena, by noticing the needs around her. What a difference she made for these single moms and their kids, not by giving them a handout, but by teaching them. Mentoring them. Befriending them.

  He’d been such an idiot in Africa.

  His saucer whooshed toward the snowman and the car that was turning into the driveway beyond. This thing had better speed than anything he’d ridden, but the ability to steer? Not so much.

  The car. In that split second he recognized Avalon’s Saab. He rolled off the saucer an instant before he would have hit the snowman. The disk shot toward the car. Avalon slammed her brakes as plastic crunched under her tires.

  Jase winced. Not only from the pain in his shoulder from hitting the ground so hard, but also from the pain of seeing some unknown child's sled get totaled. The car, horn blaring, slid sideways before coming to a complete stop inches from the greenhouse.

  He heaved himself upright using the snowman for support then ran to make sure she was okay. He only made two steps before hitting the hard-packed driveway. His boots shot out from underneath him and he sprawled for the second time.

  Oh, the indignity. He lay still for a moment, stunned, then rolled over to his knees. First steps first.

  Baxter licked his face. Ew.

  “You okay, Jase?” Concern laced Marisa’s words as she came alongside him.

  He pulled himself upright with a strong grip on her hand then leaned on her for support, rubbing his hip with his sore arm. “Yeah, I’m going to live. Pretty sure, anyway.”

  The driver’s door swung open and Avalon emerged, clad in a long sable coat and her favorite Sergio Rossi boots. Those high-heeled things had been made for dressing up, not walking on ice. She clutched the side of her car as she edged toward him and Marisa.

  Under his arm, Marisa stiffened. Apparently she hadn’t recognized the vehicle as it pulled in. Jase leaned closer and whispered, “I didn’t know she was coming. Honest.”

  “How did she even know you were here?” Marisa’s eyes shot daggers.

  Uh.

  Marisa pulled away from his hold, and he grabbed at the snowman for support. She had no such worries as she strode toward Avalon’s car. Whatever soles her boots had, he needed some of those.

  “Hi, Avalon. Wow, that was a close call. Can I help you with something?” Her tone was pleasant enough on the surface, but chilly enough to drop the air’s temperature to single digits.

  Oh man. Just what he needed.

  Kristen, Charlotte, and Lila bailed off their tube a few feet away.

  Avalon’s eyes gleamed in satisfaction. “Well, this looks like a lovely little party. Thanks for letting me know, Jase.”

  He what? He hadn't told her.

  Avalon minced over to Jase, somehow remaining upright. “Sorry I'm late, Jase darling. I spoke with Daddy and assured him we’d just had a temporary misunderstanding. He’ll reconsider on the other little issue he spoke with you about.”

  Jase stared at her, tightening his grip on the snowman’s head. He slid from lack of support, the snowball rolling off and smashing at his feet. The body fell and broke into several pieces as he struggled to stay upright, his hip still painful from his first fall.

  Avalon slid under his flailing arm and he clutched at her. “There, Jase. It’s all right.”

  Marisa stood with hands on both hips. Glaring at him? “You wrecked the kids’ snowman.”

  “I didn’t mean to.” He removed his arm from Avalon, who snickered but kept hers in place.

  “You’d think I’d be a quicker learner.” Marisa’s gaze pierced his a moment longer then she turned and held out her hands to the two little girls who stood frozen nearby. “Come. Let’s get some hot cocoa.”

  Baxter whined and tro
tted off.

  “Are there gingerbread man cookies?” Charlotte tugged Marisa toward the house.

  “Even better,” said Lila. “Gingerbread angels. They're yummy.”

  “Sure.” Marisa kicked the carrot out of her way and glanced at him over her shoulder. “Let’s get some.”

  He barely caught the next words, mumbled under her breath. “While Avalon and Jase see themselves out.”

  His heart joined his shoulder and hip in throbbing pain.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Are you trying to tell me if I eat like you…” The woman scowled at the sash across Marisa’s chest proclaiming her Miss Tomah CSA. “I’ll be beautiful like you? I don’t think so.”

  The camera-ready smile froze on Marisa’s face. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.” Why did some people hate what they didn’t have? This frazzled woman would likely find a measure of tranquility watching a garden grow, and the bored young ones in tow might find it fascinating as well. Anyone would be more attractive if she were contented and at peace.

  “That organic label is some made-up thing so food will cost more. There’s nothing to it. What ordinary people can afford stuff like that?”

  Marisa thought of her young mom friends. For many of them, gardening was the best first step toward serving the healthiest food possible. She softened her gaze at the woman in front of her. “There are ways nearly every family can afford real food. Most things are cheaper if you do them yourself, so a good step for many people is to grow a garden. And the other way is to choose basic foods from the outside edges of your supermarket — meat, dairy, and produce — and avoid the convenience packages in the middle. Paying someone else to prepare food for us adds to the cost.”

  “Who’s got time for all that? Not in this day and age.”

  One of the kids tugged at her arm. “Mama, I want a burger and fries. You said we could get some after that boring place.” He dragged out the word boring as though the magnificent State Capitol with its gold inlays, stained-glass windows, and domed ceilings was a drafty shack.

  Marisa reached out to the woman but pulled back before touching her. “Like that. A pound of beef and the rest of the fixings cost so much less at the grocery store than even the cheapest fast food place, and you control what else goes in.” She wasn’t even going to start with the anti-GMO talk or the horrors of feedlots.

  The woman rolled her eyes. “You’re crazy. You haven’t done a day’s work in your life.”

  She shouldn’t allow herself to be pulled into this discussion with the other contestants arrayed around her, to say nothing of Jase. They’d just arrived for a tour of the Capitol, with photo opportunities set up with various state and local politicians.

  Marisa played with the flared hem of her fitted coral top over its matching pencil skirt. She’d freeze to death in the biting December wind if they didn’t get inside quickly. But she couldn’t resist. “We have programs out at Hiller Farm for families interested in learning about food. Look us up online, and be in touch. I’d love to discuss it more with you another time.”

  The woman shook her head. “You make it sound like you’re a farmer yourself. As though you’d ever get dirt under your fingernails.”

  Marisa happened to know her nails were perfect today, but that they always looked this way was laughable. She opened her mouth to respond, but the woman turned to a contestant behind Marisa.

  “You’re raising money for breast cancer research? Bless you. My mother died of that horrible disease.”

  As Avalon reached forward to shake the woman’s hand, her elbow caught Marisa’s arm. No way was that an accident. “Thank you. It’s time we found a cure.”

  No argument from Marisa. But food was important, too. In fact, evidence mounted that real food helped prevent cancer of all kinds.

  “At least you’re talking about something useful.” The woman cast a cutting glare at Marisa before turning back to Avalon. “I hope you win.”

  “I hope so, too. I appreciate your kind words.” A smirk played around Avalon’s mouth as she focused on the woman.

  “Mama, you promised!”

  “Yes, yes, I’m coming.” She turned from the contestants to swoop her brood past Thomas Meagher’s horse statue and down the sidewalk.

  “So how did that feel?” Avalon murmured for Marisa’s ears alone. “I thought it felt pretty good, myself.”

  Marisa didn’t deign to reply or even let Avalon know she’d heard. She stepped forward, rubbing her exposed arms as though she could smooth the goose bumps.

  Kristen bustled up from the back of the group. “Let’s carry on, then. Move ahead, everyone.” She led the way to the steps of the Capitol as she jabbered about the agenda for the afternoon’s excursion. “Let’s get a few quick shots on the steps before we head inside.”

  A grin cracked Marisa’s face. Jase hated those words. To him, there was no such thing as a few quick shots. Not when every person needed to be carefully placed, the lighting checked, the background analyzed. For all she knew, he tested the angle of the wind like a pilot.

  But no argument from her. When they’d shot beachwear on location, she’d often thought she’d melt into a puddle of goo in the tropical sun. Her job wasn’t to think about the weather, but to pose as requested and do her best.

  Still, by the time they’d finally entered the relative warmth of the Capitol, she could all but see the frostbite creeping across her skin. Her toes had frozen inside her coral pumps, and her silk stockings hadn’t done much to protect her legs.

  “I thought we were going to freeze to death out there,” Diana Riley murmured to Marisa.

  “I’m sorry about engaging the woman,” Marisa whispered back. The exchange hadn’t taken long, but still.

  “Don’t worry about it. There’s always someone around who shuns pageantry because they don’t understand it.” Diana nudged Marisa’s arm. “But that was a new tactic, even so.”

  It was hard to be amused. Instead, Marisa turned to survey the magnificent structure. She hadn’t been here since high school. Had it been her government class that had done a tour? She couldn’t even remember.

  Looking up into the dome several stories up, she caught her breath. The deep coral on the massive corner walls supporting the stained glass rotunda was an intense version of her outfit. And oh, the gold inlaid everywhere on the arches, the walls, the ceilings. Everywhere she looked, magnificence.

  “Amazing,” Jase breathed at her elbow.

  Startled, she shifted away from him. “It is, isn’t it? I’d forgotten the treasure we have right here.”

  “It rivals anyplace on the East coast.” He swiveled slowly, eyes trained upward. “Maybe not the European cathedrals.”

  Was that a glimmer of longing she heard in his voice? A lilt that spoke of dreaming about travel? A dream they’d once shared. She’d thought hers satisfied as she’d made a home on the farm, but the pageant — and Jase — had brought it all back like a tsunami.

  Or like an avalanche of snow. Remembering the doomed tobogganing party, she took another step away.

  He didn’t seem to notice but grinned at her, a shadow lingering in the back of his eyes. “But who needs them, right? When there’s something this grand right here in our own backyard?”

  He meant to stay in Helena, then. Back when she’d dreamed of life with Jase, it hadn’t included more than random visits home to Montana. But those dreams were in the past. She’d been younger then. More impressionable. How could she entertain thoughts of him now, when her own restlessness grew again? She couldn’t. There was Avalon to consider, too. For all Jase’s sweet words to Marisa, Avalon had some appeal to him as well.

  She stepped to the other side of Diana, who commented on the wide marble steps leading up to a gigantic half-circle stained glass window.

  An older man garbed in the green golf shirt of the Montana Historical Society approached the group. He rubbed his hands together as he surveyed them. “Hi. I’m Joe, your guide today.�
�� He started into his spiel as they ascended the staircase.

  A man in a three-piece suit rounded the corner above them and began his descent. It took Marisa an instant to place him as her stockbroker, Mr. Penhaven.

  Her breath caught. Mr. Penhaven? She glanced at Avalon, a few steps behind and over by the marble balustrade. He couldn’t be. No. Not the man who—?

  “Daddy? How good to see you.”

  He could. The man with whom she’d entrusted her savings for Bren’s kids was Avalon’s father.

  ~*~

  Jase stifled a groan. No matter where he went, Avalon’s father seemed to be there. It wasn’t his place to keep Avalon focused on the event at hand. If anyone needed to intervene, it would be Kristen, not him. He feigned fascination with the painting at the head of the stairs, not hard to do. The Last Spike? For a fleeting moment he tried to imagine the huge boon the railway had been to the West in 1883.

  But it was not to be.

  “Jase, my boy.” Mr. Penhaven’s jovial voice broke through Jase’s studious examination of the stained-glass canopy above the grand staircase.

  In that instant Jase saw not only Avalon’s smug expression, but Marisa’s one of horror. But why? How could she know Avalon’s father? She couldn’t think he had romantic feelings left for Avalon. Not after what he’d said to her in the cathedral.

  But at the sledding party, when Marisa had all but accused him of breaking the kids’ snowman on purpose, she’d been reacting to Avalon more than him, right? But she still hadn’t accepted his phone calls of apology. Wait. What had Avalon said there?

  Something about Daddy.

  Who stood here in front of Jase at the moment, expression narrowing by the second as Jase failed to respond. He pulled a smile to his face, hoping it reflected in his eyes, doubting that it did. “Hi, Mr. Penhaven.”

  What was the man doing in the Capitol? His investment offices were in the building he owned in Last Chance Gulch, right upstairs from Jase’s.