Tidings of Love

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  “I can’t come there this weekend, Mother. I told you I have to teach a class and judge a competition at a quilt festival in Vermont.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Can’t you stop here on the way?”

  Holy mother of a gargoyle! Her mother wasn’t dumb, though Noel was sympathetic to people who thought so. She was more like a debutante who got lost on the way to her ball and ended up at a barn dance. That’s what happened to people with lofty expectations and more pride than money.

  “Mother,” she said patiently, “I’m flying to Vermont. I don’t think I can get the pilot to stop off there.”

  “I don’t know what good it is to own your own business if you can’t go home when you want to.”

  You are the one who wants me to come. Did you miss that?

  “What do you need from me, Mama?”

  “What makes you think I need something? Maybe I just want to see you.”

  “I’m sure you do. And I’d like to see you, too. But I can tell when you need something.”

  “Well, one of Paige’s sisters is getting married—”

  Noel couldn’t resist. “Last time I checked I was Paige’s only sister, and I can assure you there’s no matrimony on the horizon.”

  “Her sorority sister—mine too, when you get right down to it, and your grandmother’s.”

  Ah, yes. Phi Mus for three generations. How could she forget? After finding her craft, college had become unimportant to Noel, and she had never aspired to a ticket on the Phi Mu train. But it was still hurtful that she’d not been given the same opportunity as her older, prettier sister. “Of course,” Noel said sweetly. “I’m sorry. So there’s a wedding?”

  “Yes, and Paige needs a bridesmaid dress. And you’ll never guess! Constance is going to be the flower girl!”

  “Fabulous!” Noel said. “That should secure her place as a future Phi Mu!”

  “Exactly! And, Noel, these days you cannot be too sure. So anyway, we need to get their dresses ordered so they can be altered in time.”

  “I’m not sure what this has to do with me.”

  “They have to be ordered on the Internet. And you know we’re hopeless at that.”

  That was the truth. Noel could excuse her grandmother and, to a degree, her mother, but Paige was a different matter. She hadn’t finished college, but she’d gone to Belmont for two years before landing Webb. One could assume she’d had to be somewhat computer literate, but Paige insisted things had “changed so much” that she was incapable of even shopping online.

  “Ask Webb for help.”

  “Oh, Noel. We don’t want to bother him. He’s working on a big case.”

  No doubt. Noel had some sympathy for her brother-in-law. When, after a lavish wedding that had taken the last of Noel’s father’s life insurance, both families had learned that nobody had any extra blue-chip stocks lying around, Webb had moved right into what Noel secretly called the Debutante Den and worked like a fiend so that the Verden women could continue to pretend life was as they wished it were. And if he let Deborah Verden have ancient silk wallpaper restored while rusty water ran from the pipes, that was between him and his manhood.

  “So if, just this once,” Deborah went on, “you could cancel your little quilt thing and come home, I would be forever grateful.”

  “I’ll set aside some time to come there and alter the dresses once you get them, but I can’t come this weekend.” So that would be another weekend she’d have to be away from the shop in high tourist season. Ora Evans, who worked at Piece by Piece part time, was a competent quilter and more than capable of helping customers. But, though Noel still found it hard to believe, she was somewhat famous in her circle, and serious quilters tended to be disappointed when they made the trip to Beauford to find Noel absent from her shop. Oh, well. She’d just have to put on the website that she’d be gone. “Canceling on this festival is impossible.”

  “What if I died? Would you cancel then?”

  “Of course. But you aren’t dead. The need for dresses does not equate with death. Ask Webb to do it. It won’t take five minutes. He won’t mind.” That much was true. Webb loved Paige and worshipped Constance.

  “Well … ” Deborah said.

  “What?” Noel demanded. “What now?” Noel seldom lost patience but, like always, there was more to this.

  “Don’t speak to me like that, Noel.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother. Why can’t Paige ask Webb for help?”

  “These dresses are … shall we say … pricey? And this might not be the best time to let Webb know that.”

  “And why is that?”

  “You see,”—oh, the wheedling tone! The one Deborah used when she knew she was delivering information that was not going to foster sympathy—“this isn’t Margaret Rose’s first wedding, and Webb wasn’t happy with the prices of the dresses she chose last year. So, you see—”

  “Wait, wait, wait!” Noel waved her hand around like she was trying to keep the last fire at the North Pole burning. “You mean to tell me Paige and Constance have already been in one wedding for this woman? And it was last year? And she has already divorced, found a new man, and is doing it all over again? And my sister and niece are going to participate again?”

  “Now, Noel. It isn’t quite like that. She didn’t find a new man, as you say. She’s remarrying the first one. And it’s entirely understandable that Margaret Rose would want to celebrate with her family and friends after she and Powell cleared up their differences. It’s not as if she’s wearing white again. And the attendants’ dresses will be short. Everything will be in good taste for a second wedding.”

  “In good taste, but expensive?”

  “Don’t the two usually go hand in hand? Noel, you don’t understand what an honor it is to be asked to be in a wedding.”

  That was the truth; she’d only been in one wedding, and being part of the cast of thousands in the Paige-Webb extravaganza had felt more like a lot of work than an honor.

  “Margaret Rose has chosen fall colors. I hope the dresses will be warm enough for October in New Hampshire.”

  “New Hampshire, huh?” Noel simply could not go on with this conversation; the end result was going to be the same anyway. “Tell me what you want me to do, Mother—apart from coming to Louisville this weekend.”

  “Well … we were hoping you might order the dresses and let Paige pay you back—you know, at a time when Webb might be more amenable?”

  Noel didn’t relish helping to deceive her long-suffering brother-in-law, but she’d given up trying to make her family see reason long ago. Besides, Webb was the one who’d decided to suffer; she could relate.

  “Fine. Yes. Email me the link.”

  “Oh, Noel! You know we can’t do that! It’s in an email from Margaret Rose, but the last time I tried to email you something, it disappeared into thin air.”

  Why had she even tried to school them on basic computer skills?

  “Okay. Go next door and tell Quincy if he’ll come over and do it, I’ll give him five dollars when I come to alter the dresses.”

  Quincy was nine years old.

  “Oh, thank you, Noel! Won’t things be so much easier when you make enough money to come home and open a shop here?”

  Easier for who? Her family would never understand how prestigious it had been to be courted by the Beauford Arts Council to open a shop in such a respected artisan community. She’d have to make the wedding party of a Phi Mu for them to be impressed.

  A little guilt went through her like it did every time she let her family think she was still on track with the original plan—for her to move back into that crumbling showplace with them and open a shop in Louisville.

  But Noel didn’t have time for guilt right now—or coming clean, had she been inclined to do so, which she was not. Through the front window, she caught sight of Nickolai coming across the street. He was alone.

  “Mother, I have to go. I have a customer.”


  “But, Noel, I—”

  “I’ll call you back, Mother. Get Quincy to send that email.” And she hung up as Nickolai entered the shop. “All ready,” she said cheerfully and handed him the box. “I hope she enjoys it.”

  “Thank you. I hope she will, too.” But he didn’t sound too sure. He paused at the door and looked back over his shoulder, first at Lazy Morning and then at Noel. “I hope it finds a happy home.”

  “Me, too.”

  • • •

  The next time Noel saw Nickolai Glazov, he put a Calgary Flames right wing out of the game. Then he made his third goal of the night—and that hat trick brought a victory for the Nashville Sound.

  And though she never expected it to happen again, the next time she saw him face to face was six months later on Christmas Eve at Beauford Bend Plantation.

  Chapter Two

  Six months later

  It was bitter cold when Noel pulled in front of Beauford Bend Plantation. After dropping off the quilt that Emory had commissioned for Jackson’s Christmas gift, she was headed for Louisville, and her little Toyota crossover was packed to the to the max with luggage, gifts, baked goods, and her current project. With any luck, she’d be there by nine o’clock—in time to kiss her niece goodnight and help fill stockings.

  She hadn’t been wrong that day last summer when Emory and Jackson had come into Piece by Piece and she’d suspected that romance might be blooming. Things between them had been up and down for a little while, but they were engaged now, and Noel would be a bridesmaid in their upcoming April wedding. Since Jackson was one of the biggest country music superstars in the world, even Noel’s mother was impressed—not as impressed as she would have been if Emory had been a Phi Mu, but you couldn’t have everything.

  Before Noel had the chance to ring the bell, Emory threw open the front door of the plantation house. She was pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, though her white blond curls were in disarray. Noel loved seeing her so happy.

  “Shh!!” Emory said in a loud breathy voice. “Jackson’s around here somewhere, and I don’t want him to see that box!”

  “You do know you’re not whispering, don’t you?” Noel stopped for her friend’s hug. “You’re just talking with a lot of air.”

  Emory let her mouth droop in a pretend frown. “Oh, right. Come on. Let’s go back to my office.”

  The public rooms of Beauford Bend also served as the venue for Emory’s party events business, Around the Bend, and there wasn’t an inch left unadorned with greenery, glitter, and sparkling ornaments.

  “This is gorgeous, Emory,” Noel said.

  “Do you really think so?” Emory’s pink cheeks went pinker. “You don’t think I overdid it? All of Jackson’s brothers will be here for Christmas, and I want it to be perfect.”

  “It’s very elegant and not overdone at all.”

  “I did the family wing a little more understated in country primitive with a lot of cedar, pine, and berries.”

  “They’re very lucky that you’ve made them such a wonderful Christmas. Is everyone here already?”

  “Gabe and Rafe are.” Emory named Jackson’s twin brothers. “Beau will be here by lunchtime tomorrow. We’re just going to pretend Christmas doesn’t start until he gets here. Now!” Emory closed the office door behind them and took the box from Noel and set it on her desk. “I can’t wait to see it.”

  “I hope it’s everything you wanted,” Noel said.

  Emory lifted the lid and spread the quilt out.

  “Oh, Noel.” She ran her hands over the appliquéd and embroidered guitars that were likenesses of the ones in Jackson’s collection. “And you’ve embroidered a musical score around the edge!” Other than asking for a guitar theme, Emory had told Noel to use her judgment for the design. “Is this a real song?”

  Noel nodded happily. “It’s ‘A Promise Kind of Smile.’” Not only was that Jackson’s latest hit, he’d written it for Emory and, in an effort to win her back, had gone to New York and sung it to her in public.

  “Oh!” Emory wiped her eyes and then closed in for a hug. “It’s wonderful. I know you put other projects on hold to do this for me. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

  “You just did.”

  Emory pulled away and looked around. “I need to pay you … ”

  “Let’s worry about that when I get back from Louisville.”

  Emory shook her head as if she was summoning her senses back. “Of course. You need to get on the road. And here I stand blabbering away. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She moved toward the door.

  “Christmas and being in love?” Noel refolded the quilt and put the top back on the box. “Let’s hide this in the closet.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Noel said to Emory just as she stepped out the front door—where she ran right into Dirk Thornton, head of security for the plantation.

  “Noel.” Dirk took her arm and ushered her back inside. “I saw your car, and I was just about to come find you. You can’t go to Louisville. An ice storm has hit up there.”

  “An ice storm?” she said. “Are you sure?”

  Dirk nodded. “I-65 is closed from about fifty miles north of Bowling Green all the way up. And the storm’s moving this way. It’ll be here by morning.”

  How did I not know this? But she knew the answer. She’d stayed up late last night finishing the guitar quilt and baking. Today the shop had been busy, though after a frantic call from her sister, Noel had left Ora alone long enough to go to the Toy Box to buy the last Holiday Barbie collector’s edition they had in stock. There had been no time to check the weather. And though she’d talked to various members of her family several times, they wouldn’t have mentioned the storm because, as usual, they ignored reality if they thought it was going to interfere with what they wanted.

  “What about the back roads?” Noel asked.

  Dirk shook his head. “Forget it, Noel.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Emory said. “You’ll stay right here and have Christmas with us.”

  There was no way she was going to horn in on the Beauford family’s Christmas. From where Noel stood in the wide foyer, she could see that the formal dining room table had already been decorated and set for Christmas dinner—set for nine, including a highchair, which meant that Dirk, Gwen, and their two children would be joining Emory and the Beauford brothers. The Thorntons weren’t blood kin, but they might as well be. Besides, Gwen, a chef and the catering manager for Around the Bend, would certainly be making the feast—something else Noel’s family was depending on her to do. They could cobble together a simple meal, but roasting a turkey and baking a ham was way beyond their skills.

  “In fact, you’re going to spend the night with us,” Emory said determinedly.

  No, she was not.

  “Thank you, Emory. That’s sweet.” She pulled her gloves from her pocket and put them on. “I’m just going to go home. I need to call my family and, honestly, having some downtime will be nice.”

  “No!” Emory wailed. “I can’t let you spend Christmas alone.”

  “Emory,” Noel said firmly. “How long has it been since Beau has been home?”

  “A while,” Emory admitted. Beau was a Special Forces soldier and the baby of the family.

  “He needs time with his brothers and Dirk and Gwen—not to mention getting to know you better. This is no time for an outsider.”

  “You’re not an outsider.” But Noel could tell Emory saw the sense of it.

  “Besides, I’m just going to pretend this isn’t Christmas. I’ll have Christmas when I see my family—probably this weekend. You know the ice never lasts long.”

  Emory gave a halfhearted nod. “At least stay and have Christmas Eve dinner with us. As I said, Beau won’t be here until tomorrow. It’s going to be casual tonight. Gwen’s making chicken and dumplings, and we’re going to eat in the family wing dining room, and Gabe has a friend here from Nashville. He’s going home after we go to church at mi
dnight, and if you’re sure you won’t stay, you can do that, too.”

  Noel hesitated. That would be nice, since she wouldn’t be the only guest.

  “We won’t have any trouble getting to town for church, Noel,” Dirk said. “The storm won’t be here until about daybreak.”

  “All right,” Noel said. “I hope Beau will be able to get here from the airport.”

  Dirk nodded. “I’ve alerted Jackson. He’s already got a helicopter at the airport on standby.”

  A helicopter. If her mother thought of that, she’d try to make Noel charter one. This was not a phone call she was looking forward to.

  “All right.” Noel put her gloves back in her coat pocket and undid the buttons. “What can I do to help?”

  Just then, a stampede of feet moving toward them and a roar of male voices filled the space. You could practically taste the testosterone in the air.

  At the sound of Jackson’s voice, Emory laughed with delight and swung her head around. Noel followed suit just in time to see Jackson Beauford enter the room with a set of big, blond twins that Noel couldn’t tell apart. That would be Gabe, the pro football player, and Rafe, the professional bull rider.

  And bringing up the rear was Gabe’s “friend from Nashville”—Nickolai Glazov. No way he would remember her.

  And no way she could tear her eyes from his perfect face with its strong jaw and eyes the color of Superman’s tights. She tried and failed.

  But he parted the twins like he was Moses and they were the Red Sea and smiled as he came toward her.

  “Noel!” He took her hands, and she began to tremble. “What a pleasure to see you again!” And he kissed first one palm, and then the other.

  She thought she would pass out.

  Chapter Three

  She was prettier than Nickolai remembered—not that he remembered her as ugly. It’s just that when Noel crossed his mind—usually when he was crawling in bed under that quilt with the stars—he thought more about the homey warm feeling she and her shop evoked than how she looked.

  But standing there in that red wool coat with the hood thrown back and her caramel and butterscotch hair framing her sweet little elfin face, Noel was one of the most appealing sights Nickolai had seen in a long time.