The Most Wonderful Time

by Fern Michaels

  That surprised her.

  A lot of things had been surprising her lately.

  After four years of the same old thing, the same routine, the same complaints and rudeness and hatred and unhappiness rolling off her father’s tongue, Emma had thought she’d known what she wanted from life and what she could expect from it.

  She’d been wrong.

  Because there she was, standing in the local feed store, a kitten in her oversized purse. A kitten she should absolutely not be thinking about keeping.

  So why was she there looking for food and cat litter?

  “You’re out and about early,” Libby Mansfield called from behind the counter. “Can I help you find something, hun?”

  “I need kitty litter. Some cat food.”

  “You have a kitten?” Libby hurried over. They’d gone to school together, but they hadn’t reconnected these past few years. Libby was busy running her father’s feed store and raising four kids while her husband, Craig, worked at the post office. Emma had been busy trying to keep her sanity.

  “Sort of. I found him in my barn.” She opened her purse and pulled the kitten out. Of course, he began purring immediately. The crazy little thing had spent the night in her bed, curled up on the pillow near her head, purring into her ear.

  “Oh. My. Gosh. He’s adorable. My little Alison has been begging for a kitten, and Craig just agreed to let her get one. If you’re interested in finding this little guy a new home, I’d be happy to take him.”

  “Great. Go ahead and take him,” is what she should have said.

  The words were right there, for God’s sake, just sitting on the tip of her tongue.

  Only the kitten was sitting in her palm, warm and purring and sweet, and she shook her head instead. “Thanks. I think . . . I’ll give keeping him a try.”

  “That’s cool.” Libby pulled a bag of cat litter from a shelf. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” She set the litter on the front counter, grabbed a bag of kibble, and set it on top. “I hear you’re having a huge Christmas Eve party at the house this year.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Are you inviting friends?” She smiled a little sheepishly. “Because, I’m not going to lie, I could sure use a reason to get dressed up. The last time I went to anything fancy was so long ago I can’t remember it.”

  “Of course you’re invited,” she said.

  “You’re a peach, Em. Now, tell me . . . it is going to be fancy, right?”

  “It’s going to be—”

  The little bell above the door rang, and cold air rushed in, and she knew without even turning that Jack was there.

  She could feel him the way she felt winter cold and summer heat, could sense him the way she’d sensed her mother in the barn last night. A breath of knowledge, a whisper of old memories, and the soul-deep feeling that she wasn’t alone.

  She turned, and sure enough, he was there. Tall and dark and masculine, his eyes that beautiful dark green.

  “Jack,” she said, and she heard a world of longing in her voice, felt her cheeks heat and her heart pound. Everything in her that was saying that they could never work together shut up and let her think about what would happen, how wonderful it would be if they could.

  “You left without saying good-bye,” he responded.

  “You were on the phone. I figured you were busy.”

  “I’ll never be too busy for you,” he said, and she smiled, because what else could she do?

  “You need to stop saying such sweet things. I might get used to it.”

  “That’s my plan.” He grabbed the kitty litter and food.

  “Are you working today?” he asked, and she nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

  Everything she’d lost when she’d come back to take care of her father—her school plans, her career plans, her friends, her job—none of it was nearly as important as the man looking into her eyes.

  She’d been a fool to let him go.

  She wasn’t going to be one again.

  “Then I guess you can’t help me,” he continued, and she swallowed down the tightness in her throat and managed to speak.

  “What do you need help with?”

  “I’ve been thinking we should get that sleigh out of the barn, hire a team of horses, and offer rides to people at the party.”

  Libby squealed. “Oh. My. Gosh. That sounds perfect. All you need are some of those old fur rugs and some mulled wine, and it will be just like a Victorian Christmas.”

  “That’s the plan,” Jack said, and Libby sighed.

  “Wow. Just . . . wow,” she said. “I’m going to have to buy a dress for this. Something stunning and high-brow and fashionable. Who else is invited, Em? I don’t want to brag to friends unless they’re invited, too.”

  “Everyone,” she said, and she saw Jack flinch, knew he was calculating in his head how many people that might be.

  “Holy cow! That’s fantastic. I’ve seen the pictures at the town hall—the parties the Bailys used to give. But I never thought there’d be another one. Or that I’d be invited to it. Excuse me. I’ve got to call my husband and tell him to pull out his tux. It’s a tux kind of party, right?” she said, and Emma just nodded, because she really didn’t know, but . . .

  Why not everyone?

  Why not tuxes?

  Why not the biggest party Apple Valley had seen since Tessa and Cade Cunningham’s wedding reception three years ago?

  “Everyone is a whole hell of a lot of people,” Jack said as Libby hurried into a back room.

  “They won’t all come.”

  “The house can’t accommodate more than seventy-five. How many people live in town? Three hundred? Four?”

  “We can open the barn, and . . .” She almost didn’t say it, almost couldn’t make herself, but there were some things in life that were more important than sticking to old ideas and old plans. There were some things that were worth taking chances on. “We could rent a couple of those big tents.”

  “That’s still a lot of people to accommodate. Plus, we’ll have folks coming from out of town. I’m sending out the invitations later today.” They walked out into the gray morning. Thick clouds hid the rising sun and added a deeper chill to the winter air. There’d be snow before evening, and for the first time in longer than she could remember, Emma was happy about it.

  If Jack could find a team of horses, they’d want lots of snow for the sleigh rides.

  He dropped the kitty litter and food into her trunk. “If it’s too crowded, the people we’re trying to attract may be put off. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Em. It’s your place, but a more intimate Christmas party may get you more buyer interest than a bigger one.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” she said, opening her purse and setting the kitten back inside. He purred his happiness, curling up into a fuzzy ball on the bed of towels she’d made him.

  “About what?”

  “Getting people’s interest in the property.”

  “What about it?”

  “I’m not sure I want to.”

  She thought he’d ask questions, try to convince her to do what she’d planned, but he just smiled.

  “I was wondering how long it would take you to get there, Em,” he said.

  “Get where?”

  “To the place where you realized what you had and what it could become.”

  He kissed her temple, her cheek, her lips.

  “I’ve got to track down a team of horses. I’ll see you at the house later.”

  Before she could respond, he was in his SUV, waving as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road that led into town.

  She watched him drive away, the sound of his SUV fading into early-morning silence.

  Then, she got in her car, set the purse on the passenger seat, and headed back toward home.

  Chapter Ten

  Everyone in town came to the party. Most of them driving straight from Christmas Eve service
to Emma’s place. Old friends. New ones. Acquaintances. Every member of Apple Valley Community Church. They were all there, milling around the house, the barn, and the two tents that had been rented and filled with long tables set with Victorian china and lush bouquets of winter flowers.

  The first Christmas party at the Baily farm in nearly a hundred years, and no one wanted to miss out on it.

  Emma couldn’t blame them.

  It was spectacular. Everything beautiful and simple and elegant. Every detail absolutely perfect. The food delicious. The sleigh and the horses and the driver all gussied up and looking Victorian.

  Jack had arranged it all, and then he’d left.

  Some business he needed to take care of in New Hampshire.

  That’s what he’d told Emma before he’d gotten on the plane two days ago. She’d had no reason to doubt him. Except that he’d promised to be back in time for the party, and he hadn’t shown. She’d gotten no text, no phone call. Nothing. When she’d tried to call him, she’d gotten no answer.

  So, while everyone else ran around playing Victorian games or dancing in the barn or taking sleigh rides through the crisp white snow, Emma was wandering around feeling lost, a little lonely, and a lot pissed.

  Because he’d promised, and because she’d believed him.

  She grabbed a cup of cider from the sideboard, smiling as several friends walked by. She’d been putting on a show for so many years, it was second nature to do it now. Even when her heart was breaking.

  The way she saw things, if Jack hadn’t come, he wasn’t planning on it. Which meant that he’d gone back to his life and his job and his home.

  She couldn’t blame him.

  She knew how much it meant to him, how hard he’d worked to get into a position that would allow him to take over the family business. She would never have wanted him to give that up, never have expected him to.

  But, God, she wished he’d told her face-to-face.

  She wished that he’d come to the party and maybe given her the choice like he had so many years ago, because this time, she’d have gone with him. Wherever he planned to be.

  The fact was, she loved him.

  She’d never stopped loving him.

  She wasn’t sure why it had taken her so many years to realize it.

  She walked into the kitchen, relieved to find it empty. The rest of the downstairs was bustling with life, but this room had been abandoned. She jogged up the servant stairs, the floorboards creaking under her feet. No one would miss her if she hid away for a few minutes.

  She walked into her room, smiling as she saw Hemingway lying on her pillow. The kitten was smart enough to keep out of the way of the horde of children that were running around the front yard, eating chocolate and cake and playing tag.

  “Hey, buddy,” she cooed, scratching him under the chin.

  He purred. Of course.

  He, at least, was uncomplicated, his happiness secure as long as he had food and a warm place to sleep. Even Leigh liked him. She’d started buying him cat toys and special treats. She’d even offered to watch him if Emma ever needed to go away for, say, a honeymoon trip.

  Emma would have laughed if it hadn’t been so sad.

  She crossed the room, pulling back the curtains and looking out into the yard. A bonfire had been built, and several volunteer firefighters were manning it, warning children away and keeping the beautiful glow of the flames high and bright.

  She could see Tessa standing near it, wearing a gorgeous Victorian gown, her hair in some classy updo, woven through with pearls and rhinestones. She had a baby on her shoulder and a smile on her face. When Cade walked up behind her and whispered something in her ear, she laughed.

  Emma couldn’t hear the sound, but she could see the joy, and for the first time in her life, she wanted that for herself. The husband. The kid. The secret words and shared laughter.

  What she didn’t want was to spend her entire life alone in the house her father had left her. She couldn’t sell it. She knew that now, but she didn’t want to walk the empty halls, measure the passing of years by the creaking and groaning of the settling house.

  She wanted to fill the place with laughter and joy and contentment. Just like Annabelle and Micah had.

  Someone knocked on the door. She opened it, wasn’t surprised to see Leigh standing there. She’d dressed in a long, black skirt and a purple waistcoat, a long strand of pearls hanging around her neck.

  “I saw you heading up the back stairs. What’s wrong, hun?” she asked.

  “Nothing that anyone can help me with.”

  “You won’t know that for sure unless you let someone try. That someone,” she said, walking into the room, “being me.”

  “I’m okay, Leigh.”

  “Are you worried that Jack isn’t going to come through for you?”

  “The party started two hours ago. He’s still not here.”

  “In other words, he’s already failed you?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you’re thinking it. Along with a bunch of other things that probably aren’t true.” Leigh set her hands on Emma’s shoulders, looked her straight in the eyes. “Don’t call the game until the last play is made. My mother used to say that to me. It’s still good advice.”

  “It would be. If this were a game.”

  “Maybe I should have put it another way. Maybe what I should have said was do you really think that the man who planned this stunning Christmas party, the man who convinced you that this is the place where you belong, would break his promise without a good reason?”

  “I’ve called and texted him. He hasn’t responded.”

  “He could be sitting in the middle of a runway somewhere, waiting for the plane to take off. He could be driving from the airport and hasn’t checked his phone. There are all kinds of things that might have happened, so I’m wondering why you’re jumping to the worst conclusions about the man you love.”

  It was a good question, and Emma might have tried to answer it, but her aunt was already walking back into the hall and shutting the door. Firmly. Because she knew that she was right and that Emma was wrong.

  The funny thing? Emma knew it too.

  She had no reason to doubt Jack.

  None at all.

  “So, I’m not going to doubt him,” she told Hemingway. The kitten meowed a response, then jumped down and scurried under the bed.

  Emma fished her cell phone out of the pocket of the long velvet skirt she wore. Gray and soft as butter, it floated around her ankles and feet as she moved across the room, peered outside again.

  She dialed Jack’s number. One last time. Waited until voice mail picked up.

  “Hey, Jack,” she said just like she had a half dozen times before. “It’s Em. I’m worried sick about you. I hope you’re okay. Wherever you are, I’ll be there if you need me. Just call. I love you.”

  The last part? That was different.

  That was the real Emma.

  The deepest part of herself.

  Jack deserved that more than anyone else ever could. She shoved the phone in her pocket, took a deep breath, and was absolutely sure she heard the sleigh bells jingling from somewhere inside the house.

  She frowned.

  They couldn’t be inside. She was probably hearing the sleigh, making another pass across the snowy back field.

  Instead of pacing the house, she’d take a ride, enjoy the cold air and the quiet hush of the winter night, sip some mulled wine, and wait a little longer for the man she loved to come home to her.

  * * *

  The Christmas lights were still on. Jack could see them even before he turned into the driveway. He could see the bonfire, too, shooting sparks into the dark sky.

  The party was well under way.

  Not surprising since he was two hours late.

  Actually, two hours and sixteen minutes.

  He’d been counting every damn second of the time, because the only place he’d wanted
to be was with Emma. He’d had some loose ends to tie up in New Hampshire, some papers to sign. One last auction to oversee. Everything else Ace could handle. They’d talked it all out, decided the best way to handle Jack’s move.

  And he was moving.

  He loved his old hometown, but he loved Emma more.

  His family?

  He loved them, too, and they loved him enough to be happy with the decision he’d made. Besides, it wasn’t as if he’d cut ties with the family business. He could do a lot of his work remotely. When he couldn’t, he’d fly back to New Hampshire. Eventually, he’d open an auction house outside of Apple Valley, an extension of his family business and one he could pass down to his children when the time came.

  He parked his SUV and stepped out into noise and laughter. People were everywhere, dressed in their holiday finest. Some wore old Victorian clothes. Others had opted for modern dress. All of them smiled and waved as Jack made his way toward the house. He hadn’t had time to change, was still wearing the jeans and T-shirt he’d put on before he’d left for the airport that morning.

  Two delayed flights and a hellish ride from the airport, and he’d finally arrived.

  Thank God.

  Now if he could just find Emma all would be right with the world.

  “Jack!” Tessa hurried toward him, a baby on her shoulder, a smile on her face. “You finally made it! The party is flawless. The entire town is gushing. Except for Zimmerman Beck, but he can always be counted on to find fault.”

  “Should I ask what he’s finding fault with?”

  “What you should do,” she responded, “is go find Emma.”

  “That’s an even better idea. Have you seen her?”

  “Ten minutes ago, she was climbing in the sleigh with two other people. They should be back soon.”

  “Thanks.”

  He headed around to the back of the house and walked across the field, a few flakes of snow drifting from the black sky. Somewhere in the distance, sleigh bells rang, the sound mixing with the crackle of the bonfire and the music drifting from the barn. He’d hired a harpist and a violinist, had rented a piano from a Spokane company, and a young teen named Alex was playing that. “Silent Night.” He could hear the beautiful strains of the old carol.