Ellen returned with her breakfast, and Julia thanked her, taking the bag and cup while Nick paid. He added a nice tip, then angled to the side to allow Julia to leave the store in front of him.
Out on the sidewalk, a cold gust of wind hit them, and he shuddered. “Man, I hate winter.”
“Really? I love it.” To prove her point, she took in a deep breath of crisp, cool Maine air. “It smells clean and fresh, like anything’s possible.”
“It smells cold,” he muttered, glaring at the lazily falling snow as if he could will it to stop. “I’m headed back to Richmond today.”
“What a fabulous city, with all that history,” she commented, hoping to draw him into a more pleasant conversation. “How long have you been living there?”
He shrugged. “A year, I guess.”
“Virginia is a long way from here. What made you choose it?”
“No special reason. I just kept moving south ’til I found a spot where I can stand all the seasons.”
He didn’t sound all that thrilled with where he’d landed, and she wondered if he was still searching for a permanent place to live. Then again, maybe he didn’t even want to settle down. Having moved from one diplomatic post to another with her parents, the gypsy lifestyle no longer appealed to her. Still, she could understand how the excitement of it might be attractive to someone else.
Since Nick was clearly happy to be on his way out of town, there was no point in probing any further. Unfortunately, that meant she’d drained her usual well of small talk, and she was relieved when they reached her shop.
They paused outside the antique door, and Nick held their food while she dug out her keys. When she looked up, she noticed his eyes were fixed on the simple white church across the square. “Pretty, isn’t it?” she asked.
“My father’s church,” he replied in a clipped tone. “But if you asked him, I doubt he’d claim me. I’m the black sheep of the clan.”
Delivered in a near monotone, she couldn’t decide if the confession pained him or angered him. The flash of anger in his eyes answered that question better than any words. “I attend services there, and I enjoy his sermons very much,” Julia said.
“I can’t say the same.” Nick’s face twisted into something between a smirk and a scowl. “I guess they’re easier to take when they’re not aimed at you.”
Attempting to redirect the conversation, she said, “It’s a lovely church, with all that leaded glass and hand-carved woodwork. I’ve always been curious about who built it.”
His nasty expression faded, and he met her eyes calmly. “You’ve been here long enough to know the Landrys built it in 1817, a year after they got here.”
“On Christmas Day,” she added. “Which is how the town got its name.”
“You’re just trying to distract me with this little history lesson.”
For some reason, he was trying to start a fight with her. Rather than join in, she laughed. “Is it working?”
That got her a slow easy smile, completely at odds with the intensity she’d assumed was part of his personality. A pleasant surprise, it brightened his gloomy expression. “Let’s just say I could think of worse ways to kill a few hours before my flight than spending it with such a beautiful woman.”
His rapidly shifting moods set off alarm bells in her head, making her wonder what else he was hiding beneath that cool, detached exterior. Shaking off the thought, she cautioned herself that he was too arrogant to interest her.
She’d spent most of her twenty-eight years traveling the world, and she’d run across more than her share of alpha males along the way. The last one—a dashing Italian banker—all but destroyed her life before vanishing into thin air. Thanks to him, she’d given up on men a long time ago. Especially men like Nick, who clearly had no intention of sticking around.
*
Although he’d grown up here, Nick felt more claustrophobic than ever.
Perched on the rocky Atlantic coast, the village had been built around a town square with a white gazebo currently draped with fresh pine boughs. Up and down Main Street, shops and businesses were decorated with multi-colored garlands and twinkling lights. The snow drifting from the sky added to the effect, bringing to mind one of those Currier and Ives cards people loved to send him this time of year.
Holiday shopping wouldn’t be exactly like it was in other places, with crazed customers and twenty-four-hour sales, but for the handful of retail stores it would make or break their winter.
A cherry picker stopped at the far end of the short business district, and a guy wearing a hard hat climbed into the bucket with an armful of lighted garlands. They’d be looped in several spots across the width of Main Street, the way they’d been every year since Nick could remember.
That was the biggest problem with this town. Nothing ever changed.
Almost nothing, he amended as Julia unlocked the door and he followed her inside. He’d seen a lot since leaving for college at NYU, and not much surprised him anymore. Finding Julia Stanton here definitely fell into that category. Mostly because he couldn’t begin to comprehend why she’d chosen to settle down here of all places. Wealthy and connected beyond belief, she could have her pick of any glamorous city on the planet.
Why Holiday Harbor?
The reporter in him loved contradiction because they always led him in unexpected directions. These days, he spent more time editing articles, courting advertisers and designing copy layouts than writing, but the newshound in him smelled a story.
Standing in the entryway, he paused to take in the two giant Christmas trees framed in the display windows on either side of the glass-front door. A vintage train circled beneath one, snaking through festively wrapped gifts that reflected the bright lights and decorations. Under the other tree was a miniature version of Holiday Harbor, complete with ersatz snow, a skating pond and a white chapel lit from inside. Light glowed in the opaque windows, giving them the appearance of candlelight.
His father’s church, he noted grimly. As if seeing the real thing hadn’t been jarring enough. When he leaned closer, he saw that the gold lettering on the tiny sign read, “Safe Harbor Church. All are welcome.”
All but him. In an instant, his mind flashed back to childhood days spent in that church. Sitting in the front pew where Dad could keep a stern eye on him, make sure he didn’t daydream through endless sermons about saints and sinners, and how God knew what was in your heart. Week after week, year after year, he’d endured it because he hadn’t had a choice. His father never struck him, never raised his voice in anger, but he beat Nick down with God’s word, an inch at a time.
His own son, Nick recalled with a flare of anger, but not his favorite son. Not even close.
Feeling ambushed by the replica, he cooled his spiking temper with a deep breath. It was a lifetime ago, he reminded himself. He was twenty-eight now, and those oppressive memories were in the past. He’d worked hard to put them behind him, and they couldn’t hurt him anymore unless he allowed them to.
“Nick?” Hearing Julia’s voice, he dragged his eyes from the seemingly idyllic scene. “Are you okay?”
“Sure. Just admiring your handiwork. Very pretty.”
She gave him the kind of long, mistrustful look he’d gotten from more women than he cared to recall. Normally, he shrugged them off and moved on, but for some reason, coming from her it bothered him. He couldn’t imagine why he cared what she thought of him, but he did, just the same.
“Really?” she asked. “I thought you hated all this.”
“I kind of said that, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did, right after you called yourself a Scrooge.”
He didn’t often regret anything, but as she frowned at him now, he wished he could take back the offhand remark. “Well, it’s not usually my thing, but the way you do it isn’t so bad.”
She gave him a quick once-over that made him want to squirm. “You’re trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”
Busted
, he thought, hoping to turn things around with a smile. “Maybe a little.”
Shaking her head, she returned the smile, and he congratulated himself on smoothing over a potentially awkward situation. She’d been nice to him, and he found himself wanting to follow her example. Far from his usual keep-your-distance policy, it felt strange, but he could put up with it for the short time he’d be here.
As he glanced around, he noticed that the vaulted ceilings in the turn-of-the-century building allowed enough height to have a narrow walkway above. Dozens of tiny colored lights were draped along the railing, and between the posts she’d posed a stuffed version of every animal he’d ever seen. And even some he hadn’t.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at a scruffy-looking critter dangling from the top rail.
“A tree sloth. The one underneath is a ground sloth, crawling over to say hello to his friends the gorilla and the toucan. They’re discussing what to get Tarzan for Christmas.”
Without her ivory wool coat and hat, she was a dead ringer for Grace Kelly, his all-time favorite actress. More than beautiful, she always played classy characters with a surprising backbone underneath all that polish. Nick seldom considered it necessary to look beyond a woman’s appearance, but he couldn’t help wondering if Julia shared Grace’s steely quality.
With her blond hair pulled back in a gold barrette, she was dressed in gray trousers and a simple ivory sweater that made her eyes look even bluer than they had earlier. Nick didn’t know if it was the lady herself or all the lights, but in here, those eyes twinkled with a childlike enthusiasm.
It contradicted every impression he’d formed of her from press releases over the years. She was more than the cool, privileged ambassador’s daughter the media portrayed her as, which only made her more fascinating to him. “You really thought this over, didn’t you?”
“Kids have such great imaginations,” she replied, gliding past him to adjust the flame in the cheery gas fireplace. “I want them to have fun here, so I make up stories about the toys. They seem to like it.”
He didn’t normally give children much thought, but he heard himself ask, “Who wouldn’t? It’s like a winter wonderland in here.”
“That’s the idea.”
She rewarded him with a warm, approving look that made him want another one. Searching his mind, he came up with a surefire strategy. “Seeing as I’m a Scrooge who’s never even set foot in a toy store, what would you recommend for me to put under the gifting tree?”
“The children fill out a tag for something that would make their Christmas morning special.” She pointed to yet another tree set up near the fireplace. Decorated in a more casual style, it sported at least a dozen sparkly snowflakes with writing on them. “The only rule is, nothing practical. No socks or school supplies. It has to be something they really, truly want just because it would make them happy. With the economy the way it is, lots of parents have a tough time buying anything beyond the necessities.”
“So you’re filling in the gap.”
“I’m trying to.”
What a nice thing to do. Most of the women he met were either obsessed with their own careers or determined to snag a man who could support them with his. Finding one who seemed to fall in neither of those columns intrigued him, to say the least. Nick strolled over to the tree, figuring it shouldn’t be too hard to hold up his end of the bargain. He’d pick one, buy the gift and then get to work. But as he surveyed the tags, his plans quickly got derailed.
“A stuffed puppy,” one read, “because Mommy says we can’t buy food for a real one.”
“A collar with a name tag for my kitten,” another said, “because she’s my best friend, and I don’t want her to get lost.”
One in particular caught his eye because he recognized his niece Hannah’s writing from the artwork plastering the front of his sister’s fridge. Taking it from the branch, he read the misspelled request. “Ples brng uncl nik hom to liv. Momy and grama mis him.”
Not Grampa, though. Even four-year-old Hannah had picked up on the rift in the family, Nick thought as he showed the tag to Julia. “Did you see this one?”
“Yes. Lainie and Todd brought the kids in Wednesday morning to wish me a Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Hannah just met me,” he protested. “Why would she wish for me to come home?”
Julia tilted her head at him with a sympathetic expression. “She’s a sweet little girl, and she wants to make her family happy.”
“Well, I’m not staying.” Crushing the cut-out snowflake in his fist, he jammed it into the pocket of his coat. Although he couldn’t fulfill his niece’s request, he didn’t want her to be disappointed on Christmas Day. “You should have her make another tag so she gets something else.”
“You could compromise by staying a few more days,” Julia suggested while she wired holly berries into one of the display wreaths. “Let her get to know you and vice versa. You might even enjoy yourself.”
She didn’t seem to be listening to him, so Nick was fairly certain he’d never be able to make this kind woman see his point of view. Out of long-standing habit, he went with bravado. “That’s not gonna happen. I have a business to get back to.”
She pressed her perfectly curved lips into a disapproving line but didn’t say anything more on the subject. Ending the argument had been Nick’s intent, but he had to admit her quick surrender was a letdown. Not that it mattered, of course. He’d just been hoping she’d give him more of a challenge.
“You can set yourself up in my office.” She pointed to a burgundy velvet curtain held aside by gold tassels. “It’s back through there.”
“Thanks, but I need to buy a toy first.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Flicking her hand, she set a gold charm bracelet jingling like a set of sleigh bells. “I know you’re anxious to get out of town, so I won’t hold you up.”
He wasn’t crazy about choosing a gift for some rug rat he didn’t even know, so Nick was thrilled to be let off the hook so easily. He hurried toward the back of the store before she could change her mind. As he pulled his laptop from its case, Nick was disturbed to find he was still rattled by Hannah’s Christmas wish. She was so young, he was sure his sister hadn’t filled her in on the darker side of the McHenry family history. It was hard for grown-ups to handle, and he wouldn’t wish it on a child.
He was objective and logical by nature. Ideal for a reporter, those qualities also served him well in his personal relationships. He kept people—including his family—at arm’s length because he’d learned that was the best way to get through life unscathed. Since they’d just met, Julia didn’t know that, and even if he managed to find a way to explain, she wouldn’t understand. Open and gracious, she was his polar opposite, like sunshine bringing light to a cloudy day.
Completely out of character for him, the poetic image didn’t do much for his mood, and he grumbled as he settled in at Julia’s desk and powered up his computer. Hopefully, focusing on work would get his mind off the clash of emotions Hannah’s innocent request had unleashed inside him.
His quick trip to the toy store had turned into more than he’d planned on, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Chapter Two
Julia was hanging stockings on the mantel when she felt a tug on the hem of her sweater. She didn’t recognize the little boy, but he had a shy look about him, so she hunkered down to his level. “May I help you, sir?”
“My friend told me you’re doing ging-a-bread houses,” he answered so quietly she had to strain to hear him.
“Yes, we are.” Noticing his mother hovering nearby, she smiled at the young woman, then at her son. “Every Saturday from two to five, starting next week. Did you want to make one? I can add you to our list.”
His hazel eyes big as saucers, he nodded solemnly. “My name is Colby.”
As he stared at her, Julia got the feeling he wanted to say something else, but she didn’t want to rush him. A timid soul herself, sh
e resented it when people hurried her through a conversation or—worse yet—presumed they knew what she was thinking. So she took her time writing his name on the schedule.
A few seconds later, he rewarded her patience. “Do you have any more of those trucks?”
He pointed to an antique model from Berlin. Part of Julia’s private collection, it was one-of-a-kind and not for sale. Judging by his mother’s panicky look, she’d already guessed that.
Julia eased her mind with a wink, then spoke to her son. “Actually, that’s the last one. I found it at a store in Germany, and I’ve been saving it for someone special. Do you think maybe that’s you?”
“Yes,” he replied, quickly this time. “It’s just like the one my granddad used to drive when he helped build the road out to Schooner Point. He showed me pictures…”
Delighted that he’d opened up to her, Julia listened while Colby relayed some of what his grandfather had told him about working on the road crew. When he was finished, she took a blank snowflake from the basket on the counter. “To get the truck, you need to fill this out for me and hang it on the Gifting Tree. In return, bring in a small gift for someone else to make their Christmas better. Okay?”
He checked with his mom, who looked a little shocked but nodded. While he was occupied filling out his tag, she moved closer to Julia. “How did you do that?” she asked in a hushed tone. “He never talks to anyone outside the family.”
Laughing, Julia patted her arm. “Boys and trucks. Or lizards or snakes, or something like that.”
“How many children do you have?”
The innocent question plucked a painful nerve, but Julia covered it with a smile. “None. I just like kids.”
Glancing around, the young mother leaned in closer. “I have to say, I’ve heard some not very nice things about you since you moved here in the spring. But that truck must’ve been expensive, and you’re very generous to give it to a little boy you don’t even know. I’m glad to find out those folks were wrong.”
Love Inspired December 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: Cozy ChristmasHer Holiday HeroJingle Bell Romance Page 42
