Love Inspired December 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: Cozy ChristmasHer Holiday HeroJingle Bell Romance

by Valerie Hansen

  “Hey, don’t look so depressed,” Whitney joked, sounding slightly nervous. “My boss wants me to write about the successes of the new businesses and how being in Bygones has affected their owners. I’m not going to ask you anything I haven’t already asked all the other grant recipients.”

  “Okay. Fire away.”

  “You once told me you had never run a coffee specialty store before. What made you decide to learn?”

  Josh shrugged, hoping he looked nonchalant. “I don’t really know. I was kind of a computer buff and I thought the two would go together pretty well. By the time I heard about this opportunity, the bookstore people had decided not to serve coffee there, so I thought I’d try it with my computers. I like espresso and I figured the local kids would take to the games.”

  “Was it hard to learn how to make the different drinks?”

  “Not really. I got a book and watched a tutorial on the internet. After that it was mostly a matter of practicing.” He grinned. “I did drink a lot of my own coffee those first few weeks while I experimented.”

  Whitney glanced at the chocolaty concoction he’d served her. “Well, you certainly have a knack for it. This is delicious.”

  “Thanks. As long as I stick to a set formula I do fine. The only customers who throw me are the ones who like to invent their own recipes, then expect me to remember and repeat them months later.”

  “You have plenty of computers here. You could use one to make a special file for each person.”

  Smart, Josh thought. Too smart. “Good idea,” he drawled. “I’ll have to give that some thought.”

  “So, tell me more about the other part of your store. When did you get interested in computers?”

  “In college,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t pursue the subject further. “It’s just a hobby.”

  Whitney’s brows arched. “A hobby? I heard you had repaired laptops for friends, plus you keep all the stations in this place working perfectly. That’s a little more than a hobby.”

  “Not necessarily. All it takes is a logical mind.”

  “Which you obviously have. You mentioned college. Where did you go to school?”

  This was getting a bit too personal to suit Josh. “Let’s just say I didn’t graduate and leave it at that, shall we?”

  “Really? That surprises me since you seem so capable. What was your major?”

  Standing abruptly, Josh picked up the taller drink and paused next to the table. “Sorry. I have to get back to work,” he said, forcing a smile, “and make sure the kids don’t download something that’s too advanced or adult for them. Enjoy your coffee.”

  “What do I owe you?” Whitney called, lifting her cup for emphasis.

  “No charge. It’s on the house.”

  He could have told her that she owed him a lot more than she knew, but he held back. If things went as planned, he’d never have to reveal his part in the rescue of the struggling little town that was such a nostalgic part of his mother, Susanna’s, memories. At least not before he left there for good—and, hopefully, not even then.

  He had not launched this recovery project for the accolades it might bring him. He had done it for unselfish reasons, to surprise and please his mother. However, considering the scope of his investment in the captivating Kansas town, he doubted he’d ever tell anyone how much of his personal fortune he had spent on the Save Our Streets project.

  Josh huffed. So, Whitney wanted to know how being in Bygones for six months had affected him, did she? The honest answer was, adversely. He was actually starting to question the wisdom of his firm, sensible plans to sell out soon and move back to St. Louis.

  Spending money to benefit others was not his problem. He simply hoped he had not inadvertently invested too big a part of himself.

  *

  Whitney took her time getting into her coat, wrapping the scarf around her neck and pulling on her gloves. Of all the merchants whom she had interviewed, this man was the hardest to understand. To begin with he had seemed a lot like the others, but as she’d gotten to know everyone else she had realized that Josh Smith was different.

  Of course, any guy who lived and breathed computers the way he did had to be a little odd. And very intelligent. Perhaps that was why she was having such a hard time drawing him into a revealing conversation.

  Watching him bending over one of the work stations in which the teens were engrossed, she shook her head. Truth to tell, she got more usable responses from Pepper, the talking parrot in Chase Rollins’s Fluff & Stuff pet shop, than she did from Josh.

  Looking up the name Smith on college rolls was an option that was likely to take her forever. And, since he had dropped out, she’d have even less chance of learning anything about his past that way.

  For the first time since she’d met him it occurred to her to wonder if Smith was his real name.

  Shaking herself, she banished that thought. The SOS—Save Our Streets—committee had vetted each applicant. Coraline Connolly had headed up the process and nobody was going to put anything over on the savvy school principal.

  Plus, Miss Coraline was Josh’s mentor for the project. There was no way he’d have been able to fool her. Absolutely not.

  Waving to him as she deliberately passed close by, she said, “Thanks for the coffee.”

  He barely glanced at her. “You’re welcome. Have a great day.”

  “Oh, I plan to,” Whitney said, hesitating to make sure he was paying attention. “Since you’re not able to continue our interview, I think I’ll stop over at the school and see if Miss Coraline is too busy to chat.”

  Josh’s head snapped around so quickly she wondered why the action didn’t give him whiplash. “Coraline? Why?”

  “Because she’s the one who got the original letter that started all this new commerce,” Whitney said. “Besides, she’s the SOS committee member who was paired with you right from the start. I can get her take on the project from the beginning and see how positive she feels about the great progress everyone has made. It’ll be perfect background for my article. Bye now.”

  If Whitney hadn’t been so determined to remain professional she might have giggled at his widening gaze and uneasy expression. Clearly, she had touched a nerve. Maybe she’d been going about this investigative reporting job all wrong. Maybe, instead of simply interviewing the newbies, she needed to go farther back. Dig deeper into the origins of the renewal plan. Ask to see the original paperwork instead of merely the copies that Coraline had circulated when she’d called the first town meeting and formed the oversight committee.

  Although Josh had turned away from her as she walked to the door, she could still sense his awareness, still feel an inner vibration of the energy that had arisen from their proximity.

  That shouldn’t surprise me, she admitted ruefully. When that man was around she could not ignore him. Not even a little.

  Whitney smiled slightly as she walked back to her car. It was gratifying to see that Josh Smith was becoming as responsive to her presence as she was to his. Which was one more reason—perhaps the best reason of all—why she needed to know what he was hiding and why he refused to talk about his past.

  Chapter Two

  The spirit of Christmas was everywhere in Bygones. When Whitney turned onto Bronson Avenue on her way to the school she saw more sparkling decorations festooned with uncountable twinkling lights. Where the snow had melted from passing traffic, the red bricks of the street reflected the flickering above and lent a feeling of warmth to the otherwise wintry scene.

  It was late enough in the afternoon for classes to have been dismissed. Coraline Connolly’s aging blue sedan, however, was still in the faculty parking lot. From the look of it, it had sat there all day because it was frosted with fluffy snow like a cake dusted with powdered sugar.

  Whitney parked her Mustang next to Coraline’s car and entered the brick, two-story building. Inside, the halls were decorated with posters announcing a school Christmas program as well as the
community caroling and tree-lighting ceremony at the park.

  Nostalgia washed over Whitney, carrying her back to the thousands of times she had been in that building as a student. A deep breath brought the familiar odors of the place; a base of wet sneakers, glue, plastic and stale sack lunches overlaid with a hint of cleaning solution. She would have known where she was if she’d arrived there blindfolded.

  The heels of her boots ticked a cadence on the polished hallway and echoed off the walls as she hurried toward the principal’s office. No matter how many times she came here, she always experienced a surge of memories that made her feel more like a teen than an adult.

  Whitney was smiling when she paused at the open door to Coraline’s office and rapped on the jamb. “Good afternoon. Have you got a minute?”

  “Of course, dear.” Circling her desk, the gray-haired principal opened her arms to her visitor and gave her a motherly hug. “I was meaning to phone you anyway, just hadn’t gotten around to it.” Her already pleasant smile widened and her blue eyes sparkled. “I need another volunteer to bake three dozen cookies for the tree-lighting ceremony this coming Saturday.”

  Whitney returned the hug, then stepped back. “Only if you give me permission to buy them from Melissa at the bakery. I don’t do a lot of cooking.”

  “Then how are you ever going to snag yourself a decent husband? Don’t you know the way to a man’s heart…”

  “Is through his stomach,” Whitney supplied with a soft laugh. “So I’ve heard.”

  “Well then?”

  She shook her head so hard she dislodged one end of the scarf loop that circled her neck. “Well, nothing. If I never hear about another supposedly amazing romance, I’ll be happy. If you’ve been reading the Gazette, you know my boss has had me covering a bunch of lovey-dovey stuff lately. I’ve decided it must be some kind of epidemic.”

  “That is a rather negative spin to put on it,” the principal observed.

  “Now you sound like Josh.”

  The older woman stared. “You’ve been talking to Josh Smith?”

  “I’ve been trying to.” Whitney plopped into a side chair and sighed. “That man is harder to interview than anybody I’ve ever met.”

  “Probably just the kind of mind he has. You know what I mean. Some people are talkers, like you and I, while others are deep thinkers, like Josh.”

  “You’re probably right. Which is partly why I’m here,” Whitney explained. “I thought it might help if I could take a peek at the legalese that came with the business grants.”

  “I supplied everyone with copies,” Coraline said.

  “I know. I have those. I was just wondering if there might be some clue in the originals that wasn’t in the packets you handed out.”

  “A clue to what?”

  “The origin of the grants. You know the saying, follow the money.”

  “Sorry. There’s nothing in those papers you haven’t already seen.” She returned to the chair behind her desk and made herself comfortable. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “Outside of telling me the name of Mr. Moneybags, I guess not.”

  “Mister? Why do you believe it’s a man?” Coraline asked. “I think women are far more likely to be philanthropic, don’t you? It’s our tendency to nurture.”

  “I suppose you’re right. When I first started looking into this for the Gazette, I thought of the benefactor as either male or female. Lately, though, I’m starting to see him as a man.”

  “Whatever you say, Whitney.” The principal picked up a pen and sorted through a pile of papers on the desk until she found the one she wanted and brought it forward. “So, can I put you down for three dozen?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Excellent. If you’re coming to the ceremony you can just drop the cookies off that night. I’ll have a table set up next to the hot chocolate the Cozy Cup is providing.”

  “Josh is bringing enough for the whole town?”

  Coraline busied herself making notes on the list. “We all pitch in every year. You know that. I’m sure others will donate, too.”

  “Right. I’d better stop by Sweet Dreams and get those cookies ordered before Melissa’s swamped. She says she won’t know for sure until she’s been in business for the whole year, but she predicts this is going to be her best season.”

  “I suspect so,” Coraline said sweetly. “I’m looking forward to having my children home for the holidays. How are your parents doing?”

  “Fine, thanks. I wasn’t sure Mom would survive Dad’s knee surgery but he’s back on his feet and she’s stopped doting on him so much.”

  “You’re very fortunate to have such a satisfying life.” Her smile faded. “Not all of my former students have been so blessed.”

  “Maybe that would be a good hook for another series of articles,” Whitney ventured, picturing a headline and framing it in the air with her hands. “Teen leaves small town looking for happiness and discovers that he or she had it all the time, right here in Bygones.”

  Once again, Coraline seemed unduly bothered. Whitney stood and approached the desk. Reverting to her student attitude she asked, “Are you all right, Mrs. Connolly?”

  “I’m fine, dear. Just terribly busy. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Perhaps we can chat more at the tree lighting. A few of our students are going to be wearing elf hats and helping to pass out the goodies. I’ll be there to keep an eye on them.”

  “What about the church? Are they going to bring the crèche down to the park, too?”

  “Not this year. They’re doing a live drama program called Bethlehem, with a real donkey and a few sheep.” She smiled. “I suspect it would be best to keep the livestock confined to the churchyard where the rest of the stable is set up.”

  “You’re probably right.” Whitney started for the door. “Thanks for your time. Sorry to have bugged you.”

  “Think nothing of it, dear.”

  As Whitney left the office she happened to glance back over her shoulder. Coraline was watching. And there was a definite frown wrinkling her brow.

  Since the older woman had lived and worked in Bygones all her life, Whitney supposed she did take special events very seriously; she just hated to see the principal looking so unduly burdened.

  *

  The small, sparsely furnished apartment over the coffee shop was not up to Josh’s usual standards. He had two reasons for occupying it. One, it was foolish to waste money setting up a real home in Bygones when he wasn’t planning to stay. And two, he didn’t want to give the impression that he could afford better. It had been difficult enough to honestly answer questions about his efforts to spruce up the empty movie theater located next to his shop. Everybody knew it wasn’t included in the grants so he’d had to play down his personal investment.

  It was the industry-wide shift from 35mm film to digital presentation that had drawn his interest—and had caused the theater’s former owner to sell to his dummy corporation so cheaply. The cost of conversion was going to be expensive and might never pay off.

  Josh, however, was delighted for a chance to tinker with a computer-driven system. If all went well, he hoped to surprise Bygones by opening with a free showing of a Christmas movie within the month.

  Personally, he didn’t see why practically everybody got so sentimental at this time of year. As his father had often said while entertaining business associates in their palatial home, emotional attachments to tradition were nothing but useful tools.

  The late Bruce Barton had paid professionals to decorate his home and office for the lavish holiday parties he’d hosted, relegating Josh’s mother, Susanna, to the task of playing glamorous hostess. Every time Susanna had tried to add homey touches to the austere but elegant decorations, Bruce had made fun of her efforts and insisted she remove them. By the time Josh was a young teen, she had stopped trying and had meekly complied with whatever made her husband happy.

/>   Josh suddenly felt compelled to phone his mother. It was because of her that he’d begun the Bygones rescue project, although she didn’t know it. She was the one with nostalgic memories of the town, not him.

  She answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Mom. I tried to connect with you by computer a couple of times. You must have the instant messaging feature turned off.”

  “Josh! It’s wonderful to hear your voice.” She sniffled, making him wonder if she was catching cold. “You know computers hate me. The whole system shut down about a week ago and refuses to work. I suppose I’ll have to call one of your techie friends to have a look at it—unless you’re planning on coming home soon.”

  “I’ve been pretty busy,” he said, wishing he could tell her the whole truth about his absence right now, instead of waiting.

  “Well, just so you won’t have to worry about me during the holidays, I’m going on a Caribbean cruise with two other widows. We’re leaving next week.”

  That made sense. After all, she was alone now and must be knocking around in that big house his father had insisted upon. Why she didn’t sell it and truly move on was beyond him.

  “That’s a good first step,” Josh told her. “If there’s Wi-Fi on the ship you can keep me posted about all the fun you’re having.”

  “I suppose so,” Susanna replied softly. “I miss you, honey.”

  “I miss you, too. We’ll get together and catch up on everything after you come home all tanned and relaxed.”

  “I’m surprised it’s taking you so long to set up that new branch of Barton Technologies.”

  Josh had almost forgotten his necessary cover story. “I should be done by the first of the year.”

  That much was true. Actually, he could have left Bygones months ago and been assured that his money was being well spent. So what had kept him?