Trading Christmas

by Debbie Macomber

  His mother was pretty pleased with herself, too. Faith and Emily had both come to love Bernice Brewster. She’d waited nearly seventy years for daughters, and she lavished her daughters-in-law with gifts and occasional bits of motherly wisdom and advice. Well, perhaps more than occasional, but Faith had no objection and she doubted Emily did, either.

  “When will Heather get here?” Faith asked, looking forward to seeing her.

  “Tomorrow afternoon. She’s taking the train down.”

  “How is she?”

  Emily rearranged her shopping bags. “Heather’s doing really well.”

  “Did you ever find out what happened with Elijah and the ill-fated Florida trip? I know she didn’t want to talk about it for a while….”

  Emily frowned. “Apparently he drank too much and he didn’t like to eat in real restaurants. His idea of fine dining was a hot dog at a roadside stand. In addition to all that, he apparently had a roving eye, which Heather didn’t approve of.”

  “That girl always was high maintenance,” Faith teased. “What about her and Ben?”

  “Who knows?” Emily said with a shrug. “She claims they’re just friends but they seem to spend a lot of time together. Ben’s going on to law school after graduation.”

  “Good for him.”

  “He might come down and spend Christmas with us, too.”

  “You’ll have a houseful, with Heather and maybe Ben.” Despite the invitation to spend Christmas in New York at their apartment, Charles and Faith had booked a room at the Warwick Hotel. Bernice was due to arrive, as well. She, of course, would be staying at the Plaza.

  Faith doubted there was anyplace more romantic than New York at Christmastime.

  She and Emily walked into the Warwick and down the steps to the small lobby. Ray and Charles stood when they came into the room. Even now, after all these months, Faith’s heart fluttered at the sight of her husband. His eyes brightened when he saw her. The unexpected happiness she’d discovered last Christmas had never left. Instead, it had blossomed and grown. She was loved beyond measure by a man who was worthy of her devotion.

  “Looks like you bought out Saks Fifth Avenue,” Charles said as he took the packages from her hands.

  “Just the baby department, but Charles, I couldn’t help myself. Everything was so cute.”

  “Buying anything is a big mistake,” Ray told them, helping Emily with her shopping bags. “Mother’s waited all these years to spoil her first grandchild. My guess is she has stock in Toys ‘R’ Us by now.”

  “Don’t forget a certain aunt and uncle, too,” Emily murmured.

  Faith wrapped her arm around Charles’s and laid her head against his shoulder.

  Emily read her perfectly. “Listen, why don’t you two go to your room and rest for a little while? Faith needs to put her feet up and relax. Ray and I will have a drink and catch up. Then, when you’re ready, we’ll go out for dinner.”

  Faith nodded, grateful for her friend’s sympathy and intuition.

  Charles led the way to the elevator. He didn’t speak until they were inside. “You overdid it, didn’t you?”

  “Only a bit. I’ll be fine as soon as I sit down with a cup of herbal tea.”

  Her husband tucked his arm protectively around her and waited until they were back in the room to kiss her.

  Then he ordered tea.

  “Did you two have a chance to visit?” Ray asked as Emily removed her coat and slung it over the back of her chair. They’d entered the bar, securing a table near the window. “Or was shopping at the top of your priority list?”

  “Actually, we did some of both. It’s just so good to see Faith this happy.”

  The waitress came by, and Ray ordered a hot buttered rum for each of them.

  “I can’t believe the changes in her,” Emily said. “She’s so much more confident.”

  “I was going to say the same thing about Charles,” her husband said with a bemused grin. “I hardly recognize my own brother. Until he met Faith, all he cared about was history—in fact, I think he would’ve preferred to live in the eighteenth century. I feel like I finally have a brother again.”

  The waitress brought their drinks and set them on the table, along with a bowl of salted nuts.

  “Do you suppose they’re talking about us in the same way?” Emily asked. “Are we different people now than we were a year ago?”

  “I know I am,” Ray said.

  “I think I am, too.”

  Emily reached for a pecan, her favorite nut, and then for no discernible reason started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Us. Have you forgotten the day we met?”

  Ray grinned. “Not likely.”

  “I was so miserable and upset, and then you happened along. I glommed on to you so fast, I can only imagine what you must’ve thought.”

  “You glommed on to me?” he repeated. “That’s not the way I remember it.” Ray grabbed a handful of nuts. “As I recall, I found out that my brother had traded homes with this incredibly lovely woman. The explanation was reasonable. All I had to do was reassure my mother everything was fine and catch the train back to New York.”

  Emily lowered her eyes and smiled. “I’m so glad you ended up staying.”

  “You think I missed the last train by accident?”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Not by a long shot. As my mother would say, I was smitten. I still am.”

  “That’s comforting to hear.”

  “Christmas with you last year was the best of my life.”

  “Except for the Christmas you got the red racer.”

  “Well, that was my second-best Christmas.”

  “And this year?”

  “When Christmas comes, I’ll let you know.”

  “You do that,” Emily whispered, raising her glass in a toast to the most wonderful Christmas gift of her life.

  THE FORGETFUL BRIDE

  For Karen Young and Rachel Hauck,

  plotting partners and treasured friends.

  PROLOGUE

  “Not unless we’re married.”

  Ten-year-old Martin Marshall slapped his hands against his thighs in disgust. “I told you she was going to be unreasonable about this.”

  Caitlin watched as her brother’s best friend withdrew a second baseball card from his shirt pocket. If Joseph Rockwell wanted to kiss her, then he was going to have to do it the right way. She might be only eight, but Caitlin knew about these things. Glancing down at the doll held tightly in her arms, she realized instinctively that Barbie wouldn’t approve of kissing a boy unless he married you first.

  Martin approached her again. “Joe says he’ll throw in his Don Drysdale baseball card.”

  “Not unless we’re married,” she repeated, smoothing the front of her sundress with a haughty air.

  “All right, all right, I’ll marry her,” Joe muttered as he stalked across the backyard.

  “How you gonna do that?” Martin demanded.

  “Get your Bible.”

  For someone who wanted to kiss her so badly, Joseph didn’t look very pleased. Caitlin decided to press her luck. “In the fort.”

  “The fort?” Joe exploded. “No girls are allowed in there!”

  “I refuse to marry a boy who won’t even let me into his fort.”

  “Call it off,” Martin demanded. “She’s asking too much.”

  “You don’t have to give me the second baseball card,” she said. The idea of being the first girl ever to view their precious fort had a certain appeal. And it meant she’d probably get invited to Betsy McDonald’s birthday party.

  The boys exchanged glances and started whispering to each other, but Caitlin heard only snatches of their conversation. Martin clearly wasn’t thrilled with Joseph’s concessions, and he kept shaking his head as though he couldn’t believe his friend might actually go through with this. For her part, Caitlin didn’t know whether to trust Joseph. He liked playing practical jokes and
everyone in the neighborhood knew it.

  “It’s time to feed my baby,” she announced, preparing to leave.

  “All right, all right,” Joseph said with obvious reluctance. “I’ll marry you in the fort. Martin’ll say the words, only you can’t tell anyone about going inside, understand?”

  “If you do,” Martin threatened, glaring at his sister, “you’ll be sorry.”

  “I won’t tell,” Caitlin promised. It would have to be a secret, but that was fine because she liked keeping secrets.

  “You ready?” Joseph demanded. Now that the terms were set, he seemed to be in a rush, which rather annoyed Caitlin. The frown on his face didn’t please her, either. A bridegroom should at least look happy. She was about to say so, but decided not to.

  “You’ll have to change clothes, of course. Maybe the suit you wore on Easter Sunday…”

  “What?” Joseph shrieked. “I’m not wearing any suit. Listen, Caitlin, you’ve gone about as far as you can with this. I get married exactly the way I am or we call it off.”

  She sighed, rolling her eyes expressively. “Oh, all right, but I’ll need to get a few things first.”

  “Just hurry up, would you?”

  Martin followed her into the house, letting the screen door slam behind him. He took his Bible off the hallway table and rushed back outside.

  Caitlin hurried up to her room, where she grabbed a brush to run through her hair and straightened the two pink ribbons tied around her pigtails. She always wore pink ribbons because pink was a color for girls. Boys were supposed to wear blue and brown and boring colors like that. Boys were okay sometimes, but mostly they did disgusting things.

  Her four dolls accompanied her across the backyard and into the wooded acre behind. She hated getting her Mary Janes dusty, but that couldn’t be avoided.

  With a good deal of ceremony, she opened the rickety door and then slowly, the way she’d seen it done at her older cousin’s wedding, Caitlin marched into the boys’ packing-crate-and-cardboard fort.

  Pausing inside the narrow entry, she glanced around. It wasn’t anything to brag about. Martin had made it sound like a palace with marble floors and crystal chandeliers. She couldn’t help feeling disillusioned. If she hadn’t been so eager to see the fort, she would’ve insisted they do this properly, in church.

  Her brother stood tall and proud on an upturned apple crate, the Bible clutched to his chest. His face was dutifully somber. Caitlin smiled approvingly. He, at least, was taking this seriously.

  “You can’t bring those dolls in here,” Joseph said loudly.

  “I most certainly can. Barbie and Ken and Paula and Jane are our children.”

  “Our children?”

  “Naturally they haven’t been born yet, so they’re really just a glint in your eye.” She’d heard her father say that once and it sounded special. “They’re angels for now, but I thought they should be here so you could meet them.” She was busily arranging her dolls in a tidy row behind Martin on another apple crate.

  Joseph covered his face with his hands and it looked for a moment like he might change his mind.

  “Are we going to get married or not?” she asked.

  “All right, all right.” Joseph sighed heavily and pulled her forward, a little more roughly than necessary, in Caitlin’s opinion.

  The two of them stood in front of Martin, who randomly opened his Bible. He gazed down at the leather-bound book and then at Caitlin and his best friend. “Do you Joseph James Rockwell take Caitlin Rose Marshall for your wife?”

  “Lawfully wedded,” Caitlin corrected. She remembered this part from a television show.

  “Lawfully wedded wife,” Martin amended grudgingly.

  “I do.” Caitlin noticed that he didn’t say it with any real enthusiasm. “I think there’s supposed to be something about richer or poorer and sickness and health,” Joseph said, smirking at Caitlin as if to say she wasn’t the only one who knew the proper words.

  Martin nodded and continued. “Do you, Caitlin Rose Marshall, hereby take Joseph James Rockwell in sickness and health and in riches and in poorness?”

  “I’m only going to marry a man who’s healthy and rich.”

  “You can’t go putting conditions on this now,” Joseph argued. “We already agreed.”

  “Just say ‘I do,’” Martin urged, his voice tight with annoyance. Caitlin suspected that only the seriousness of the occasion prevented him from adding, “You pest.”

  She wasn’t sure if she should go through with this or not. She was old enough to know that she liked pretty things and when she married, her husband would build her a castle at the edge of the forest. He would love her so much, he’d bring home silk ribbons for her hair, and bottles and bottles of expensive perfume. So many that there wouldn’t be room for all of them on her makeup table.

  “Caitlin,” Martin said through clenched teeth.

  “I do,” she finally answered.

  “I hereby pronounce you married,” Martin proclaimed, closing the Bible with a resounding thud. “You may kiss the bride.”

  Joseph turned to face Caitlin. He was several inches taller than she was. His eyes were a pretty shade of blue that reminded her of the way the sky looked the morning after a bad rainstorm. She liked Joseph’s eyes.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  She nodded, closed her eyes and pressed her lips tightly together as she angled her head to the left. If the truth be known, she wasn’t all that opposed to having Joseph kiss her, but she’d never let him know that because…well, because kissing wasn’t something ladies talked about.

  A long time passed before she felt his mouth touch hers. Actually his lips sort of bounced against hers. Gee, she thought. What a big fuss over nothing.

  “Well?” Martin demanded of his friend.

  Caitlin opened her eyes to discover Joseph frowning down at her. “It wasn’t anything like Pete said it would be,” he grumbled.

  “Caitlin might be doing it wrong,” Martin offered, frowning accusingly at his sister.

  “If anyone did anything wrong, it’s Joseph.” They were making it sound like she’d purposely cheated them. If anyone was being cheated, it was Caitlin, because she couldn’t tell Betsy McDonald about going inside their precious fort.

  Joseph didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he slowly withdrew his prized baseball cards from his shirt pocket. He gazed at them lovingly before he reluctantly held them out to her. “Here,” he said, “these are yours now.”

  “You aren’t going to give ’em to her, are you? Not when she messed up!” Martin cried. “Kissing a girl wasn’t like Pete said, and that’s got to be Caitlin’s fault. I told you she’s not really a girl, anyway. She’s a pest.”

  “A deal’s a deal,” Joseph said sadly.

  “You can keep your silly old baseball cards.” Head held high, Caitlin gathered up her dolls in a huff, prepared to make a dignified exit.

  “You won’t tell anyone about us letting you into the fort, will you?” Martin shouted after her.

  “No.” She’d keep that promise.

  But neither of them had said a word about telling everyone in school that she and Joseph Rockwell had gotten married.

  ONE

  For the third time that afternoon, Cait indignantly wiped sawdust from the top of her desk. If this remodeling mess got much worse, the particles were going to get into her computer, destroying her vital link with the New York Stock Exchange.

  “We’ll have to move her out,” a gruff male voice said from behind her.

  “I beg your pardon,” Cait demanded, rising abruptly and whirling toward the doorway. She clapped the dust from her hands, preparing to do battle. So much for this being the season of peace and goodwill. All these men in hard hats strolling through the office, moving things around, was inconvenient enough. But at least she’d been able to close her door to reduce the noise. Now, it seemed, even that would be impossible.

  “We’re going to have to p
ull some electrical wires through there,” the same brusque voice explained. She couldn’t see the man’s face, since he stood just outside her doorway, but she had an impression of broad-shouldered height. “We’ll have everything back to normal within a week.”

  “A week!” She wouldn’t be able to service her customers, let alone function, without her desk and phone. And exactly where did they intend to put her? Certainly not in a hallway! She wouldn’t stand for it.

  The mess this simple remodeling project had created was one thing, but transplanting her entire office as if she were nothing more than a…a tulip bulb was something else again.

  “I’m sorry about this, Cait,” Paul Jamison said, slipping past the crew foreman to her side.

  The wind went out of her argument at the merest hint of his devastating smile. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, the picture of meekness and tolerance. “Things like this happen when a company grows as quickly as ours.”

  She glanced across the hallway to her best friend’s office, shrugging as if to ask, Is Paul ever going to notice me? Lindy shot her a crooked grin and a quick nod that suggested Cait stop being so negative. Her friend’s confidence didn’t help. Paul was a wonderful district manager and she was fortunate to have the opportunity to work with him. He was both talented and resourceful. The brokerage firm of Webster, Rodale and Missen was an affiliate of the fastest-growing firm in the country. This branch had been open for less than two years and already they were breaking national sales records. Due mainly, Cait believed, to Paul’s administrative skills.

  Paul was slender, dark-haired and handsome in an urbane, sophisticated way—every woman’s dream man. Certainly Cait’s. But as far as she could determine, he didn’t see her in a similar romantic light. He thought of her as an important team member. One of the staff. At most, a friend.