Whitney made a pouting face at him. “What a description. Don’t tell me your parents never took you along when they shopped for one.”
“They might have, if they’d decorated their house for the holidays themselves. My father always hired a professional decorator who put up a fake, white tree and accented it with plain, red ornaments. As far as my dad was concerned, pine needles scattered all over the carpet were unacceptable.”
“Your mother went along with that?”
“You had to know my dad,” Josh said, sobering. “He was pretty authoritarian.”
“I’m beginning to think that’s an understatement. You must have had a really odd childhood.”
“I never thought so.” He shrugged. “Like I’ve said before, you can’t miss what you’ve never had.”
“I suppose not.” They had passed the door to the church and were headed for the parking area when Whitney remarked, “You said you wanted to talk to me about something?”
“Later.” The importance of their planned conversation weighed on his conscience. “Let’s go get that tree before they’re all gone and then pick up a pizza at The Everything.”
“Okay,” Whitney said, climbing into the passenger side of the van while he held the door. “But I should warn you. I don’t have a lot of patience. I’m liable to get really testy if you keep me waiting too long.”
“I’ll take my chances,” he said with a slight smile as he closed the door.
Circling the van he clenched his jaw and his fists. He would tell her, he vowed. Tonight. He would take her aside and confess his role in the funding of the Save Our Streets project.
But he wouldn’t say anything until after they’d spent one more blissful evening together. It might be his last chance to feel as if he were a part of a loving family. As if he and Whitney truly belonged together.
*
If she had ever had more fun decorating a Christmas tree, Whitney couldn’t remember when. Not only were her parents surprised and thrilled to have a tree, even this close to Christmas, they were behaving as if they accepted Josh completely. It was wonderful to share her blessings with someone like him. Someone who had missed out on this kind of cheerful gathering his whole life.
On one of her forays into the kitchen for soda refills, Whitney had had a chance to tell Betty a little about his background.
“No real holiday celebrations at all? That’s unbelievable,” her mother had said.
“I know. Isn’t it sad? I mean for his mom, too. I didn’t have a chance to ask him much about her but I gather she’s not poor. Not if she can afford a cruise.”
“They aren’t that expensive,” Betty countered. “If friends of hers are also going, maybe they got a reduced rate. I’m just glad to hear she’s not sitting home alone.”
“Yeah, me, too. And that Josh will feel free to come here that day.”
“You really like him, don’t you, honey?”
“Uh-huh.”
Betty sighed. “Well, that’s not surprising. You were always hauling home injured birds and lost puppies. Come to think of it, I’m surprised you didn’t get interested in that man who runs the pet store.”
“Chase Rollins? Not my type. Besides, he has a fiancée. He and Vivian Duncan are planning to get married. You remember her from the bookstore, don’t you?”
“And before that. I think she was a year or so ahead of you in school, wasn’t she? A pretty little thing. Red-haired, if I recall.”
“It’s dark, like auburn,” Whitney said, rolling her eyes. “She’s gorgeous.”
“So are you, dear.”
“Spoken like my mother.” She gave a sharp laugh and pushed her glasses up her nose out of habit. “Honestly, do you think these frames are ugly?”
“Of course not. They make you look—studious.”
“That’s fine if I want to impress Ed at the Gazette. How about anybody else? Are they too heavy? Do they make me look frumpy?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Betty said kindly. “They can seem a bit overwhelming sometimes, especially if I’m trying to see your pretty green eyes.”
Whitney removed the glasses and laid them aside on the kitchen counter. “Josh’s eyes are green, too. Sort of, anyway. I guess you’d say they’re more hazel than green. It kind of depends on his mood and the lighting.”
“Uh-huh.” Betty handed her two of the four refilled glasses. “Here you go. The one with the snowman picture is Josh’s. Yours is the angel.”
“Of course it is.” Whitney brightened and began to grin. “You should have seen the church pageant tonight. There wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd.”
“Because it was so moving?”
Whitney giggled. “Nope. Just the opposite. Come on. Let’s go back to the guys and Josh can tell you all about it.”
Color rose to redden her cheeks as she added, “And later, when we can be alone, he wants to have a serious talk with me.” The warmth of her cheeks made her feel as if she were glowing.
“Oh, my…”
“My thoughts exactly,” Whitney said. “I can hardly wait.”
Chapter Fourteen
As far as Josh was concerned, the evening was marching along at the speed of a snail. A tired snail. He managed to hold up his end of most of the conversations except where the others referenced townspeople whom he had not met, such as those from the past. It was his fondest wish that no one would bring up his mother. Since she had left Bygones as a teen and made the city of St. Louis her permanent home, he figured he was pretty safe.
Mrs. Leigh had put out paper plates for the pizza and since there were no cooking pans, either, she was through straightening up the kitchen in no time and had returned to watch the tree trimming.
“Unfortunately,” Josh muttered to himself as he nested the empty ornament boxes for storage until they were needed again. He needed to talk to Whitney alone.
Whitney was busy draping tinsel over the ornaments and lights on the Christmas tree they’d selected. It had one excellent side and one not so good, so they had placed it in a corner of the cozy living room where it would stand out without being in the way and also not be in contact with curtains that might be flammable. Now that he’d seen what it was like to bring such an awkward item into the house and bedeck it with so much color and sparkle, he could definitely see why his late father had not encouraged the family to take up the custom themselves. Practically speaking, it was a waste of time and money.
And yet, Whitney seemed enchanted by it. Her joy was almost palpable as she continued to adjust the drape of the garlands and add a shiny ornament here and there. In that respect his father had been wrong, he decided, surprising himself. Carpets could always be vacuumed. Anything that brought happiness into a home should never be banned, not even if it caused a terrible mess.
That thought was still lingering when Whitney asked such an unexpected question he wondered for an instant if she had sensed that he was reminiscing.
“What gift did you ask for when you were little that you never got?” She giggled. “I never got my pony.”
“And I never got a dog,” he replied wistfully. “My mother was okay with it but my dad insisted it would get the house dirty.”
“I didn’t have the option of bringing a pony into the house,” she said, laughing as if she hadn’t noticed how serious he’d become. “Both my parents kept telling me we didn’t have room for horses in the yard.”
“Did you live in this same house while you were growing up?”
Whitney nodded. “Uh-huh. We’ve never lived anywhere else. It’s comfortable, and when Dad was able he kept up the repairs so it never seemed old.” She sighed. “It is, I suppose. I just never thought of it that way until now.”
“I was kind of surprised to learn you still lived at home.”
She shrugged. “Where else would I want to go? I pay a little rent, of course, to help out, but I see no reason to move into an apartment when I’m perfectly comfortable here. Besides, Mom needs help som
etimes, so it works out for all of us, particularly since Dad’s surgery.”
“Don’t they have visiting nurse services around here?”
“Not that I know of. They probably do up in Manhattan but I doubt a nurse would come this far, particularly on a regular basis. In case you haven’t noticed, Bygones is kind of in the boonies.”
“I noticed.” He finished stacking the empty ornament boxes on a chair and glanced at her parents. Betty was engrossed in a paperback and J.T. was snoring in his recliner, feet elevated. “Can we go somewhere private to talk?”
Whitney froze, her arm raised and holding a handful of crinkly plastic tinsel. It only took her an instant to fling the whole silvery mass at the tree where it landed halfway up like a distorted, miniature octopus with sparkling tentacles.
Josh had to laugh. “What kind of system is that?”
“Mine.” She grabbed his hand. “Let’s go into the kitchen. I’d normally suggest the porch swing but we’d freeze out there this time of year.”
Betty looked up as they passed, hand in hand. “There’s more pizza in the fridge if you’re still hungry. And you left your eyeglasses on the counter if you’re looking for them, honey.”
He squeezed Whitney’s fingers. “I noticed you weren’t wearing them tonight. I thought you couldn’t see without your glasses.”
“I see well enough to decorate a tree. I could practically do that in my sleep.”
“You can see my face clearly, can’t you?” They had entered the compact kitchen and Whitney had paused with her back to him, so he took her shoulders and turned her around.
She looked up. “I see you perfectly.”
“Good, because I want you to be able to judge how I feel and understand that I’m telling you the absolute truth.”
“Why would I doubt you?”
This was it. The moment he had been dreading. “Because I’m about to confess something. It’s important. Promise you’ll hear me out?”
“What…?”
“Promise. First. Or I’ll stop right now.”
Her eyes widened. “All right. I promise. Please don’t tell me you’re an escaped convict. Or worse, that you’re married.”
“Neither.”
“Whew! That’s a relief.”
With her gazing up at him, so beautiful, so trusting, the urge to hold and kiss her was strong. However, he knew better than to let anything sidetrack him.
“First, you have to stop looking at me that way,” he warned.
“What way?” Her voice was pitched low, her lips slightly parted, palms resting gently on his chest.
“Good enough to kiss,” he grumbled. “I’m trying to be serious here and you keep distracting me.”
“I can hardly help that,” she whispered, lowering her lashes. “I keep getting mixed signals.”
“There’s a reason,” Josh told her. “I need to explain some things before I let myself get any more involved with you than I already am.”
She dropped her hands and stepped back. “Sounds ominous.”
“Not necessarily. It’s about my income. I don’t think it’s fair to date you until we’ve talked that over.”
“Is that all? Don’t be silly!” A wide grin split her face. “I told you before that I don’t care if you’re struggling to make ends meet. I understand. You don’t have to take me out on expensive dates to impress me. I’m a down-to-earth, country girl.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant.” He reached for her hands and grasped them both while returning her grin.
“You don’t have to make excuses, either,” she insisted. “You can see how I was raised. Both my parents worked. I know how hard it can be. I’m sure your mother has to watch her expenses, too, especially now that she’s a widow.”
“She does okay. I’m able to help her out when she needs it.”
“Good. If you and I start seeing each other, that won’t have to change. My job isn’t anything to sneeze at. We can even go Dutch if that will make it easier on you.”
Before Josh could reassure her further, Whitney added, “I told you I feel sorry for rich people. They always seem so unhappy and unfulfilled. I’d never want to live like that. Not in a million years.”
“You have no desire to win the lottery?”
“Nope. Besides, I’d have to gamble to win and I never do, so I guess that’s out.”
“I guess so.” He tried once more. “You could do a lot of good if you had plenty of money, you know. It’s only bad if you give it the wrong importance in your life.”
“I know. The Bible says it’s the love of money that’s the root of all evil, not money, itself. Still, I’m perfectly happy living here in Bygones and doing what I do. I’m so glad you feel the same.”
He felt her squeeze his fingers as she mentioned his belonging. In another minute or two, when she’d heard all he had to say, would she be half as accepting?
Gripping her hands firmly so she couldn’t pull away, he cleared his throat. “Whitney, listen carefully. My name is not Smith. It’s Barton. Josh Barton. I founded Barton Technologies, the computer software company.”
He waited.
She stared. Trembled.
Still, he kept hold of her, silently praying she would forgive his charade.
Her mouth had dropped open. Now she closed it. He could see the fire in her eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw. Since she seemed struck speechless, he supplied the answers to her unspoken questions.
“Yes,” Josh said softly, “I’m the one you’ve been calling Mr. Moneybags. The one who put Bygones back on its feet. Surely, you can’t fault me for that.”
“You—you lied to me. To all of us.”
“If I had it to do over again, I’d tell the truth from the beginning,” he insisted. “Remember, I wasn’t a Christian when all this started. I thought I was doing the right thing then. Except for deceiving you, I still do.”
She wrested her hands from his grasp and staggered backward until she bumped into the edge of the kitchen counter. “Everything has been one big lie.”
“I honestly thought I was doing the right thing when I came here incognito. It was only later that I realized I’d made a mistake.”
He began slowly shaking his head as he watched changing emotions flash across her face. Apparently, she was having trouble deciding if she hated him or wanted to thank him for bailing out her hometown.
Ultimately, he saw her make a decision.
She squared her shoulders, donned her discarded glasses and nodded. “All right. Let me go find my recorder and we can get started.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Now that I know who Mr. Moneybags is, it’s my duty to the Gazette to get the truth in print.”
“You can’t. Not yet.”
“Why not? Do you think I owe you my silence when you’ve been playing me and this whole town for fools? Was it fun to laugh at us behind our backs, Josh?”
“It wasn’t like that.” He raised a hand as if taking an oath. “I swear it wasn’t.”
Whitney’s eyes were sparking behind her glasses when she demanded, “Why should I believe you this time?”
“Because I’m telling you the truth.”
“Hah! I doubt you know the meaning of the word.”
His mind was scrambling for a way to diffuse her righteous anger. “Okay. Suppose I promise to announce everything, maybe at the theater, when I have lots of people all in one place? Will you wait that long?”
“No way. I have ethics, even if you don’t. This is hot news and I’m going to write the story, one way or the other.”
“You’re mad at me.”
Judging by the way she rolled her eyes and the face she made, she was a lot more than mad. She was rip-snorting infuriated. Reasoning with her when she was so upset was futile. What he needed to do was back off and give her time to think, to calm down and be reasonable.
Otherwise, he might as well abandon all his plans and leave Bygones immediately, because onc
e it became common knowledge that he’d provided the finances for one project, he knew he’d be deluged with proposals for many others.
“All right,” Josh said, forcing himself to act businesslike when what he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and kiss away her disappointment. “I’ll give you a full interview. Tell you everything. All the details.”
“Fine.”
“After Christmas.”
“Unacceptable.”
“Then when? Where?” He studied her carefully. “You’re way too wound up to do this tonight. We need to get together in some neutral place, perhaps with a disinterested third party to referee.”
“And to chaperone,” Whitney said, grimacing at him. “I cannot believe you took me in the way you did. Here I was, worried about you spending a lonely Christmas, and you could have thrown a party in any posh hotel in…where are you from?”
“St. Louis. I’m sure you’ll do a computer search as soon as I leave and find out that much. Just remember, without the inside details that only I can provide, you won’t have the scoop you need to win your Pulitzer.”
The moment the gibe was out of his mouth he knew he’d made another terrible mistake. The expression of scorn Whitney sent his way was harsh enough to make his stomach churn.
Clearly, she was not the only one whose emotions were running high and out of control. In truth, he could see her actually winning such a coveted award some day, but bringing it up the way he had had made it sound as if he was taunting her.
“I’d better go,” Josh said. “I’ll let myself out.”
Passing through the living room he bid her mother a polite goodnight, grabbed his jacket and was out the door before anyone could react.
*
The way Whitney’s thoughts were whirling, she likened them to the contents of the blender on the kitchen counter. Set on puree. It was embarrassing to have to admit she had been so thoroughly taken in, so completely fooled.
She was a fool, she reasoned. A fool for love. How could she have let herself fall for a guy whose past was unknown? The least she could have done was pursue her quest for answers more avidly.
“Only I didn’t want to learn anything that might keep me from loving Josh,” she muttered as tears slipped over her lashes and streamed down her cheeks.
Love Inspired December 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: Cozy ChristmasHer Holiday HeroJingle Bell Romance Page 13
