Unforgettable Christmas - Gifts of Love (The Unforgettables Book 3)

by Mimi Barbour

  He probably needed a holiday and a change of scene to get his mojo back. That was all. He’d been working too hard, making a name for himself, outselling darn near every realtor in town. And spending most of his commissions on treatment for his brother, who jumped every time a car backfired, and heard voices in his head.

  His brother had left after their argument, and hadn’t returned in two days. Brad hoped like hell that Regan would be hungry enough to forget his stubbornness and pride and return home—willing to try sobriety again. With that in mind, he stopped at a nearby deli that served pre-made meals and picked up some lasagna and a salad, enough for two.

  He’d gone searching for him last night, and had spent hours walking around the streets. By now, he was familiar with certain areas where the homeless hung out. He’d shown people his brother’s picture but no one recalled seeing him, or denied it if they did.

  He drove through the neighborhood, his eyes peeled for any sudden movement, a lone figure who wanted to hide. After twenty minutes, Brad gave up and went home. He ate the lasagna alone.

  ***

  Cindy had a chicken pot pie warmed up in the oven, and a loaf of fresh bread. She’d just cut into the dish when her phone rang and she saw it was her sister, Brooke.

  “Hey, sis. I’m serving up dinner, can I call you back?”

  “Sure. I just wondered how the meeting with the realtor went today. I saw his picture on one of those real estate commercials, and I gotta say that sale or no sale, I’d use him too.”

  Cindy laughed. “You’re too shallow. What difference does it make if he’s drop dead gorgeous? A face is a face is a face.”

  “Ah, but it’s a face that you could grow to love.”

  “I’m not falling in love with a face, or a realtor, or anyone else for that matter. I have my own man of the house and he’s looking at me right now as if I’m crazy. Hey, Ty, come here and speak to your Auntie Brooke, while I get dinner served.”

  She handed the phone to Tyler, and listened to him chatter away. He was still animated by the unexpected visit from Santa’s helper. It made her smile just thinking about it.

  She dished the pot pie onto two plates, and added a big hunk of fresh bread oozing with butter. She put the plates on the table and grabbed the phone from Tyler.

  “Dinner’s on the table. I’ll call you back. But yes, I listed the house with him. And he’s the Santa guy I told you about.”

  “What the…?”

  “It’s true.” She giggled, glad to have the last word. “Later.”

  Tyler picked at his food but he couldn’t sit still. “Why are we selling our house? I thought you liked it here. And I’ve got all my toys and stuff. I don’t wanna move.”

  “I know, honey, but it’s a really big house for the two of us. It was different when we had Daddy, but now the upkeep is more than I can handle.”

  “What’s upkeep?”

  “Oh, the yard work, keeping the place up to snuff.”

  “What’s snuff?”

  “Keeping it clean and in working order. You know–like what happens if the roof leaks or the heater doesn’t work. Or a pipe bursts, or the toilet runs over. That’s snuff.”

  “Oh! Well, I can help you with that. I’ll pick up leaves outside.”

  “Oh, sweetheart. You’re momma’s little helper, and I’m so grateful to have you, but the house is old, and old houses have lots of problems—like all the time.”

  “Like old people, you mean? Like Pa has a sore knee, and Nana can’t see without her glasses. And they get headaches if the noise is too loud.”

  “Yeah. Like that.”

  “I get it. I think.”

  He took a big bite of the chicken pie, and swallowed it slowly—working through things, she was sure.

  “What did Daddy have again? Why’d he go to heaven?”

  “Because he had such a big heart, and was so good that God chose him to be one of his angels.”

  “Will he choose me?” Tyler asked.

  She reached for his hand. “He better not, or He’ll have to go through me. I’m not letting both of you go.”

  “Good, ‘cuz I like it right here. With you.”

  “Me too.” She decided not to pursue the conversation they’d started in the car—about not being chosen for the top kickball team—and deal with it another time. It had been an emotional day already.

  They finished their dinner, and when the dishes were put away, Cindy ran a bath for Tyler. He chose a few bath toys, stripped off his clothes and jumped into the bubbles, laughing and splashing and forgetting anything worrisome.

  Cindy wished it were that easy for her. “I’m going to call your aunt. I’ll grab the phone in the bedroom and be right back.”

  She had the door to the bathroom open and could hear him splashing and playing. She sat on a stool outside the door, keeping an eye on him. “Hey, Sis. I’m free to talk.”

  “Details, Cindy. Tell me more about this guy. If he’s so successful selling real estate, why would he be moonlighting as a shopping mall Santa?”

  “I have no idea, Brooke, but when I see him next, I’ll be sure to ask.”

  “Ask him if he’s single too.” Brooke chuckled.

  “You’re getting married,” Cindy shot back.

  “Not for me, honeybunch, but for you.”

  “Not looking, remember?”

  “Right.” She sighed. “But isn’t it time to put away the mourning cloak and go out and have some fun? Get laid. Seriously. It’s time.”

  “It’s not that simple.” Cindy glanced at Tyler but he was still playing in the bath, and talking to his toys. “Maybe I should get myself a battery operated toy. You know…”

  Brooke laughed. “Of course I do, but I think you can do better than that. You’re gorgeous, and if you’d only look around, I’m sure you’d meet someone in no time.”

  “I’m getting there. I really am.” She didn’t want to tell her sister about her physical reaction to Brad, but she couldn’t deny it to herself. It had happened. She’d thought about having sex with him. With this perfect stranger. Well, not having sex, but wanting sex, and didn’t that amount to pretty much the same thing?

  “Say the word, and I’m sure that Adam can introduce you to someone. Heck, he works with all those stock brokers. Hundreds of them. All who’d be lusting after you, romancing you. Just think! Wouldn’t it be fun?”

  “I think you’re nuts, that’s what I think.”

  “Love you too,” she answered. “So, did you buy a dress for the wedding yet?”

  “No, but I’m looking,” Cindy told her. Friday’s paycheck was earmarked for wedding clothes.

  “Well, keep looking,” Brooke said, “for a man who’d like to take that dress off.”

  She laughed. “Gotta go. Ty’s bath must be cold by now.”

  “Give him hugs and kisses from me.”

  “Will do. Let’s go shopping this weekend. You can help me find the perfect dress.”

  “Good idea. Pleasant dreams.”

  Cindy got Tyler dressed for bed, and read him a bedtime story. Feeling unsettled, she returned downstairs and opened some wine. She poured herself a large glass of red, and sat down in the family room to watch the snow falling lightly on her patio deck.

  She used to love winter. Big, fluffy snowflakes drifting from the sky. She had thought it was all so magical. So romantic. Now it made her heart yearn.

  Chapter Eight

  Cindy was rushing out the door when her cell phone rang. “Hello?”

  “This is Brad Williams. I have someone who’d like to see your house. Could I bring them around late this afternoon?”

  “Already?” Her feet faltered. “That’s fast.”

  “Not if you want to sell it in a week.”

  “I didn’t say I wanted to sell it in a week. You did.” Panic seized her, like her life was spinning out of control. “That seems too quick to me. I just listed it. I need to get used to the idea.”

  “Well, get
used to it by four this afternoon. I’ll see you then.”

  “Hey! Wait a minute.” She heard a click. He’d hung up.

  Of all the nerve! It was her house. He couldn’t just sell it from under her. Could he?

  “What’s wrong, Mommy?” Tyler had his backpack on and was standing next to the five-year-old Honda CRV she drove.

  “Nothing, Ty. It’s just about the house.” She unlocked the door. “Jump inside and do up your seatbelt.”

  “Was that the pretend Santa?”

  “Yes, honey. He’s going to bring someone around to see the house tonight.”

  “But I don’t want to sell.” His voice held a hint of a whine. “What about all my toys?”

  “I told you, Ty. Your toys will go where ever you go. So will your clothes, your furniture, and everything you hold dear. Including me.”

  “What about our Christmas tree?”

  “We aren’t moving before Christmas, honey. I promise you that.” She’d pull the listing from Brad if he thought he could tell her otherwise.

  “Good. ‘Cus Santa wouldn’t be able to find me.”

  “Trust me. He’ll always find you.” They drove the rest of the way in silence, both worried for different reasons.

  She joined the queue of cars lined up in front of the school. “Have a great day, honey. I’ll see you at three.”

  “I know, Mommy. I love you.”

  “Love you, more.” She watched him slide out of the back seat where a teacher met him and led him into the building. He turned to wave at the last minute, and she blew him a kiss.

  He was the most precious little boy in the world, and his happiness was all that mattered. If he really didn’t want to move, perhaps there would be a way they could stay. But how? Money was too tight, and there were no reserves. As she’d told Tyler yesterday, old homes constantly had problems and things needing to be replaced. Soon, the house would need a new roof. She’d already had it patched a couple of times.

  Well, there was nothing to be done but to find a good buyer and hope they could have at least sixty days before they moved out. That would give them until February, or possibly March. Spring would be an ideal time—the perfect time for new beginnings.

  Before she went into class, she decided to call Brad back.

  “Look, I had a talk with Ty this morning, and we’re both fine about selling and everything, but we can’t possibly move until spring. Not sure if you want to show the place yet, or wait until after the holidays. That might be best.”

  “Cindy. You seemed anxious enough yesterday. Don’t chicken out on me now.”

  “I’m not backing out of our agreement. I just want to slow it down. Until after the holidays. That seems reasonable.”

  “I will let the prospective buyers know that you’re not in a rush,” Brad spoke smoothly, calming her nerves. “I’m sure no one expects to move in until well into the new year. Sixty days is a normal closing time, and we need to find a buyer before we begin to worry about anything else.”

  “Right. Of course. I guess I was just panicking, that’s all.”

  “No need to panic. You’re in good hands.”

  Her heart began to race. “Am I?” She felt a little thrill run through her. Silly, she knew. “My sister wondered why you played Santa this weekend at the mall, and I was wondering too. Is business slow this time of the year?”

  He laughed. “You wish. No, it had nothing to do with that. I mentioned I was a last minute fill in? It was for my brother, just returned from the war. In some ways he got lucky, but it’s hard for him to appreciate that fact.” He paused. “After three tours, two in Iraq, and one in Afghanistan, he’s home in one piece. Kind of. He took a bullet in the back that damn near paralyzed him.”

  “You call that lucky?”

  “Lucky because he’s alive, and doesn’t have to fight anymore. He’s on heavy meds, but still has considerable pain. So, back to your question—I played Santa because Regan wasn’t at his best that morning. To keep him from getting fired, I jumped in the suit and you witnessed the rest.”

  “Will he be okay?” Living with chronic back pain didn’t sound like a pleasant option, but better than the alternative, she thought.

  “I hope so. He needs an attitude adjustment, but I suppose that’s going to take some time.” He gave a weary sigh. “Let’s drop this conversation. Okay?”

  “Sure thing. So,” her throat went dry, “I’ll see you later then.”

  “Yes, you will. I look forward to it.”

  Oh, why did he have to go and say that?

  “Make sure the buyers know that I don’t want to sell right away. They should take their time and look around. A lot.”

  He choked and coughed, and she was pretty sure he was laughing at her. “You really expect me to tell them that?”

  “Well, you must have more homes to show them. Mine can’t be the best of the lot. Right? You do have more, don’t you?”

  “Not to worry. I have quite a few listings.”

  “Well, good. Take them around to see some of those, too.”

  “Later. Have a good day.”

  “You too.” She put her phone away and marched into her class. The kids were sitting there, chatting amongst themselves. They grew silent as she stepped around her desk.

  “Good morning, children.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Harris,” they chorused in a sing-song manner.

  “Did everyone leave their homework on my desk? If not, raise your hand and I’ll come and collect the papers.” She walked up and down the aisle, making a big fuss over the work they presented.

  She loved her teaching job. Finding a new home close to both schools would be a must. No way did she want to commute far—especially when they had so many snow days.

  “For our English class, I’d like everyone to write a short Christmas story. It only needs to be one page. It can be about your plans for the holidays, or what you hope Santa will bring you this year, anything you want.”

  “There is no Santa,” one little boy cried out.

  “Well, if you believe that,” she said with a smile, “then I guess you’re too old for presents too.”

  The other kids laughed and pointed at him.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I might have been wrong.”

  “There we go. Another believer. Heck, I’m thirty and I know he’s real. I’ve even met him.” She smiled and hoped she didn’t look as dopey as she felt. But Brad was the sexiest Santa she’d ever run across, and he made her feel things that a single mom had no right to feel.

  “You did?” One little girl asked in awe. “Where?”

  She didn’t want to say the mall, after all Brad was only a self confessed “helper,” nor did she want to make up an untruth. Cindy pulled a story from her youth. “When I was a little girl I got up in the middle of the night and saw him putting presents under the tree. He spotted me, and said, “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas, and then he called me by my name. I dashed off and went back to bed in case he took his presents back.”

  The following morning she’d mentioned it at breakfast and Brooke had cried, saying why hadn’t she woken her up to see Santa Claus? Her father had answered, “It was a good thing she didn’t, because the magic of Christmas must never go away.” He put Brooke on his lap and whispered, “Santa comes only at night when children are sound asleep. Cindy probably had a dream so real that she believed it happened. Right, Cindy?”

  Her dad winked and from that minute forward they had shared a secret. Cindy never told anyone–but Santa sure looked an awful lot like her father.

  “He’s real,” she told the class. She laughed at the memory and pushed it back into the closet of her mind where other cherished memories dwelled.

  The day passed quickly, and before she knew it, it was time to pick up Tyler.

  He was all giggles and grins when he bounced into the car, and told her that the mean boy had picked him to play on his team for kickball.

  “And we won, Mom.”r />
  She was glad for him but saddened too. They’d have to work on building Tyler’s confidence so he was strong enough to believe in his own abilities, despite the mean kids of the world.

  They chatted all the way home, and it helped block the fact that she’d soon be seeing Brad. She didn’t want him triggering her emotions anymore than she wanted the kid at school to affect Tyler’s.

  Still, the moment she got inside, she turned TV on for her son and dashed upstairs to shower and change. She knew she shouldn’t go to any effort on his behalf, but she ended slathering lotion on her body to keep her skin supple, and freshening up her makeup, brushing her hair and her teeth. She slipped into skinny jeans and a lemon colored cashmere sweater, and squirted herself with a dash of perfume.

  Then she went downstairs to wait.

  Since Tyler was engrossed in Jake and the Pirates she took out a recipe book and started leafing through some of her tried and true Christmas cookie recipes. She wanted to bake some for her class, and of course, she and Tyler would have to sample some too.

  She marked off a few, wrote down the ingredients she’d need, and left the book open on the counter. Her heart thudded when the doorbell rang.

  “You want to get that, Tyler? It’ll be Brad.”

  “Sure.” He jumped up and she followed him out to the hall, trying to steady her breathing, and temper her emotions. She was acting like a teenager with her first high school crush. Nearly giddy with excitement, she thought with disgust.

  Tyler opened the door. “Hi. Mom’s waiting for you. She put on smelly perfume too.”

  “Oh, she did, did she?” He walked in like he owned the place and grinned when he saw her standing in the hall.

  “I did not,” she squeaked.

  He came up beside her and sniffed. “Smells good to me.”

  “So did you get rid of the buyers? Find something more suitable, I hope.”

  “No. Fat chance. They’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. I came early to tell you that it’s probably better if you and Tyler leave. It’s more comfortable for people to inspect your home and ask questions without you both being here.”