Perfect Bride for Christmas, A

by Dyann Love Barr

  ****

  Amelia King’s eyes widened in surprise. “Zoe Hillman. I can’t believe it. I didn’t recognize you at first.” Shock and pleasure followed on her face. “I thought you were in St. Louis.” It felt strange to see Amelia again after all this time. She’d met her several times while working for Alex, but it felt odd that this elegant, petite woman had been her mother-in-law for all of thirty-six hours before her marriage to Alex had been annulled. Did she know about that awful time in Vegas?

  “It’s Zoe Bennett now. I moved to St. Louis after I left the law firm. That’s where I met my husband.”

  Amelia gave her a sweet smile, but her blue eyes were sharp and probing. Probably where Alex got his killer style in the courtroom.

  “Oh, yes. I’d heard you remarried.” She gave Zoe a direct look. “This is very akward. I mean with everything that happened with Alex. Will working for me be a problem?” Amelia shook her head. “What am I saying? Of course it’s out of the question.”

  “What would be out of the question?”

  “I’m hosting a wedding reception at my home this Christmas Eve.” Amelia shook her head. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

  “There’s no hard feelings, no unresolved issues.”

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  Zoe kept an even expression on her face. “It’s a catering job, Mrs. King. Which one of the boys is getting married, or is it for you and Frank? Renewed vows?”

  Amelia’s pretty face turned gray. “Oh no, Frank passed away in July. I’m on my own now.” She gave Zoe a sad, sweet smile. “I’m dealing with it day by day, but this is important to Alex—the whole family.

  Everyone will be there. I didn’t ask them to come for Thanksgiving, I didn’t feel ready, but I’m not accepting excuses for Christmas. We need to start celebrating life again.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Zoe wondered if the shoe she had firmly wedged in her mouth accounted for the bad taste on her tongue. Blunders like this didn’t garner new customers, and Amelia King could lead a lot of business her way.

  “Don’t worry.” Amelia might have an old fashion name, but her casual elegance said otherwise. She wore her white hair in a modern, short cut. Her black slacks, tan fitted sweater, and red blazer made her look a good ten to fifteen years younger than her sixty years. “Alex is the one getting married again.”

  “Oh.” All the old memories, good and bad, rushed back in mental collage that must have left her frown on her face.

  “Are you sure you’re okay working on the reception?”

  “Oh.” Zoe blinked back her surprise. “No.” She shook her head. “It won’t be a problem, Mrs. King.”

  “Wonderful.” Amelia’s shoulders relaxed with relief. “Maggie Callen said you were brilliant.

  Everyone raved about the appetizers at her function last week. I would understand if you felt uncomfortable.”

  “Business is business, Mrs. King.”

  “Now, Zoe, we’ve known each other way too long for that. It’s Amelia.” She gathered her purse and 22

  A Perfect Bride for Christmas got to her feet. “This has been so nice seeing you again. I hope you didn’t think I was being rude when I didn’t recognize you.” Amelia smiled and pointed.

  “The eyes finally gave you away though. No one has those, what did Alex call them—kaleidoscope eyes.

  An unexpected thrill shot through Zoe. She’d gotten over Alex a long time ago, but it felt good to know he’d noticed something good about her. “All right.” Zoe held out her hand to say goodbye. “I will get back with you on the menu, once you have the numbers nailed down.”

  “Thank you again.”

  Amelia turned to leave the shop, when three tornados by the names of Michaela, Mia, and Macy blew through the door. They raced as one and ended up with a tangle of small arms wrapping around Zoe’s legs.

  “Mommy,” they yelled up at her in unison.

  “We saw horses,” Michaela said, her long black hair bedraggled and out of the ponytail Zoe had put it in earlier.

  Mia, still neat as a pin, piped up, “And turkeys, and a lot of apples.”

  “They let us drink cider and eat donuts.” Macy frowned. Her blue eyes flickered with thought. “They weren’t as good as yours.”

  “You ate three.” Michaela unwound her scarf.

  “You’ll get fat if you eat like a pig.”

  “Now, Michaela, that’s not a nice thing to say.”

  Zoe gave her a stern frown.

  “It’s true.”

  How did she explain to a four-year-old that the word fat could be offensive? She patted Michaela’s shoulder. “It might be true, but there are better ways to tell Macy she needs to curb her appetite.”

  “Oh my!” Cherri Jones, her live-in nanny raced inside, panting as she tried to catch her breath. A large bag filled her arms. “I’m sorry. The bag with 23

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  all the spoils of war fell out of my hand, and the next thing I knew, they were through the door.” She placed the plastic sack containing apples, art projects, and a half-gallon jug of organic apple cider, on the counter.

  Amelia stood in the middle of the shop with a funny look on her face.

  Zoe frowned. It was obvious Alex had told his mother about their quickie marriage and annulment? The girls looked so much like Alex it would be impossible to keep them under wraps for long. “Ladies, is that the way to behave when Cherri needs help? You should’ve waited and helped her pick up your things.”

  All of them glanced over at Cherri with looks of contrition on their identical faces. “We’re sorry, Cherri.” Michaela went over to Cherri. She placed her check against Cherri’s hand. As the ringleader and spokesman of the terrible trio, she stood straight. “We’ll pick up our toys. You won’t have to tell us.” Zoe’s little warrior dared her sisters to complain.

  The other two nodded in agreement.

  “And no dessert tonight,” Macy added.

  “That’s ‘cause you already had three donuts,”

  Mia groused.

  “No one gets dessert.” Zoe shook her head and gave Amelia an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” She slid her arms into the sleeves of her coat. “I remember those days very well. My boys were so close together they might as well have been triplets.” She inclined her head toward the girls.

  “They are triplets aren’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “How old?”

  “They’re a little over four years.” Zoe resisted the urge to shoo Amelia out of the door. The woman 24

  A Perfect Bride for Christmas was a sharp cookie, and Zoe couldn’t afford for her to connect the dots—at least not yet. “I didn’t realize you had children.”

  “Is that relevant to my employment?” She hadn’t meant to sound aloof, but the less Amelia had to do with the children, the better—at least until the girl’s paternity became important. After all, in every way, they were James Bennett’s children. Even in his last days, he held them close, made videos for them to have as they grew older. His heart condition might have sapped his strength, but it didn’t stop his love.

  “No, no, of course not. They’re delightful. I hadn’t realized you’d married so soon after…well, after.” Amelia fished around for information without bringing up Alex’s name.

  Zoe didn’t intend to nibble. “I went to work for James immediately after I resigned. I already had the job lined up. We had a whirlwind romance and all that.” She placed her hand on Amelia’s arm and walked her to the door. “It has been wonderful seeing you again.”

  “And you. I’ll call you as soon as I have more information about the number of guests and so on.”

  “Great, I look forward to it.”

  Amelia took one last look at the triplets. “Goodbye, for now.”

  The bell on the door signaled Amelia’s departure, and Zoe leaned against the barrier, feeling the afternoon chill through
the wood and glass. Heat raced through her cheeks. She ought to do the prudent thing—nix the deal and direct Amelia to another caterer. But she could do this.

  Alex be damned. Amelia King held a lot of sway, and if Zoe did well on the reception, it could kick her business into high gear.

  James left them very well off, but Zoe liked to work. If she didn’t keep busy, she’d be tempted to compensate with food. That wouldn’t happen again, 25

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  not ever.

  “Come on, girls. Let Cherri catch her breath for about an hour. I’m sure you ran her feet off.” She flipped over the closed sign on the door and ushered her children into the commercial kitchen area of her business.

  She’d lucked out when she found the location.

  Originally, it had been a bed and breakfast until someone decided to turn it into a restaurant/antique store. That business failed, but now Zoe used the kitchen for her catering and the rest of the building became her home.

  “We’ll make supper tonight. Why don’t we make something for Cherri? What do you think she’ll want after your romp at the farm?”

  “Mac ‘n cheese,” Mia shouted out.

  “Hamburgers.”

  “Hot dogs.”

  “How about a casserole with all three?” Zoe already knew the answer. Just like Alex, they didn’t like casseroles. It made her wonder if odd quirks or likes and dislikes were inherited. Then again, it could just be four-year-olds’ palette at work.

  “Yuck.” That came from all three, as expected.

  “Okay, how about oven roasted chicken fingers, a salad, and macaroni and cheese?”

  Soon, she had all three girls busy dipping chicken tenderloins into an egg wash and panko crumbs. If they weren’t perfect, it was fine. They’d be gobbled up without a complaint, regardless of the presentation.

  A myriad of thoughts about Alex getting married again tumbled through Zoe’s head while she watched the children eat. She hoped he’d finally found love, that he hadn’t ended up with an icicle or bitch like Bianca. Appearances might be important to him but she really wished him joy.

  She took a sip of coffee and watched her children 26

  A Perfect Bride for Christmas eat and chatter. Cherri reached over to wipe a bit of milk that Macy splashed on the table. At least she had the best of everything. If nothing else, Alex gave her three beautiful children. For that, she could forgive him almost anything.

  Almost.

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  Chapter Four

  Alex put down his cup of coffee. It made the sourness in his stomach even worse and did a little acid dance with the back of his throat. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  Clint snarled over the phone. “She’s lying.”

  The three-way conference call sucked. Alex ran his hand through his hair and pulled in a calming breath. It was like saying the Titanic had a picked up a little dent from its encounter with the iceberg.

  Even though his brothers were hundreds of miles apart, Heath in Oklahoma City, and Clint in Kentucky, he could still feel them breathing down his neck.

  “We didn’t pay for you to go to law school just to give us a lame ass answer like I don’t know what to tell you. ” Heath didn’t respond any better to the news than Clint.

  Older brothers. They were bigger and meaner than Alex could ever be. It didn’t matter if he loved them, he’d learned to run faster and be a lot sneakier to survive wedgies and head noogies, as well as assorted bloodlettings. Not to mention learning to fast-talk his way out of paternal retribution. It came in handy in his profession, but this one time he wished he hadn’t opted for a partnership in a swanky law firm. Right about now, their father’s life as a used car salesman looked pretty good.

  “I had Tommy go over the information Mom sent. She thought someone was demanding payment 28

  A Perfect Bride for Christmas from the estate for the funeral. I felt like I needed a second opinion. Probate law isn’t my specialty. He knows the ins and outs of it better than I do. Give me a murder trial any day.”

  “So, Dunne thinks this woman is the real deal?”

  Heath sounded the most suspicious of the two. Years of being a cop and running his own security business added a hard edge to Alex’s brother. “I plan to run her, find out everything about her. This has to be some scam she’s cooked up—she’s probably surfed the obituaries and found Dad’s.”

  Dad’s death still felt fresh and raw. It had been hard, unexpected, and left their usually strong mother an emotional wreck. If the news rocked Heath’s world this much, Mom’s would be devastated.

  This was the last thing she needed.

  “Dad’s name is on her birth certificate. Franklin Keeley King. Her name is Keeley, Keeley Jacobs.”

  “Shit.” Clint always had a way with words. “This woman is running a scam like Heath said. I’m not buying any of this until we know more. Look, I don’t mean to sound harsh or like I don’t care. I’ve got stuff going on here that makes it impossible for me to get away, but keep me posted, okay?”

  “All right, but I hate being the one to tell Mom about this woman.”

  “Hey, the youngest gets to be the scapegoat.

  That’s the way it works,” Clint snarked. “Besides, you’re closest, and this isn’t something to tell her by phone or with an email. We’ve got your back.”

  With that, Clint disconnected to do whatever he did at his Thoroughbred racing facility.

  “Look, it’s almost noon,” Heath said. “And I have a lunch with a prospective client. Let me do some investigating. I’ll get back to you. If this woman so much as has a hang nail, I’ll know about it.”

  “Noon.” Alex looked at the time on the new 29

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  Rolex Sydney gave him last night. “Sydney and I are going to Mom’s to talk about the reception. Let me break the news about this woman, but I’ll tell her you’re checking it out. Anything you dig up on her will be useful.”

  “Will do, little brother. Like Clint said, keep us posted. I’ll check my email.” Heath’s voice sounded strained. “Give my love to Mom. I’m sure Clint would’ve said the same thing. He’s got his mind so worked up about this pregnant horse, he’s not thinking straight.”

  “I’ll let you know how it goes. Bye.” Alex put the receiver down and flipped open the file. A picture of a woman, about five years older than him stared up at him with sandy blonde hair, cut chin length with big green eyes. She had same cleft in her chin, and from the looks of it, Dad’s nose.

  Oh, man, how could he begin to tell Mom about this woman’s claims? Worse, it appeared they might be true. He didn’t want to believe this—he wished his father were here so he could hammer away at him and make him tell the truth.

  He brushed his hand over his face and tried to figure the best approach. Several scenarios played out in his head, but none of them added up to a happy ending. Mom was strong, one of the strongest women he knew, but this could throw her back into the depression she’d just managed to shake. The preparations for the wedding reception gave her a reason to get out of bed and take her focus off losing their father. Now this.

  He envied his brothers. He wished he lived far enough away to have an excuse to get out of talking to Mom. To avoid giving her the news that her devoted husband of almost forty years had strayed early in their marriage. Their perfect marriage had been an illusion. His father lived a lie all those years ago.

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  A Perfect Bride for Christmas The Christmas Eve wedding tradition now seemed nothing more than a superstition that didn’t work. Alex heaved a sigh. Look what happened at his first two Christmas attempts at marriage — his other trips to the altar ended in disaster. Regardless, he and Sydney’s would be perfect, tradition or no tradition. The third time had to be the charm.

  The door to his office opened, and Sydney Stanford, his fiancée, burst through in a flurry of motion. She’d dressed for a trip to the country, but her i
nterpretation of bucolic living made him smile and kicked his libido into high gear.

  Skintight denim covered her very fine, aristocratic ass. The jeans probably cost more than the daily budget of a small third world country.

  Sydney’s Irish, hand knit, cream-colored sweater, along with the embroidered, suede leather jacket, were straight from the show room. He knew because she’d tricked him into a shopping trip in the guise of an afternoon tryst. Instead of smoking cigarettes after sex, Sydney liked to shop.

  He had to learn to love shopping if he expected to get laid very often.

  “Virginia said you were busy, but I told her you expected me. We have an appointment to go out to Hollyfield to meet your mother about the wedding plans, or did you forget?” Sydney plopped down on his lap in a cloud of perfume. She gave her butt a little shimmy.

  “I didn’t forget. But you’re making it hard to get out of this chair.”

  His body had the natural response to her closeness. The wicked smile on her face gave her away. She knew exactly what she was doing as she wriggled against his erection. Alex looked over at the leather couch with longing. The woman would kill him if this kept up much longer. He could feel a stop at Dolce & Gabbana coming on.

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  “Huh-unh. None of that.” Her tongue dipped just beyond the rim of his lips, tasting him, teasing him.

  She leaned back and tapped the end of his nose with her finger. “We have plans, wedding plans, mister, and I want to see your mother again. There has to be some way I can convince her to have the reception at the country club.”

  “An irresistible force meets an immovable object, and I’m smack in the middle. No thanks. The reception is at the house. It’s big enough, unless you sent out another batch of invitations.”

  A guilty look flickered in Sydney’s blue eyes for the space of a heartbeat. She plastered a smile on her face, one she used to get things to go her way.