Christmas Inn Love

by Collins, Kelly

  Jackson reached into his back pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen.

  “What are you doing?” Celia asked.

  “I’ve never had a father. I’m making a bucket list.” He turned to Rob. “Do you play ball? Camp? Skydive?”

  “No, but I’ve been practicing that video game.”

  Jackson hopped up and nearly climbed into Rob’s lap. “You’ll be the best dad ever.”

  Rob held both Celia’s and Jackson’s hands.

  “I don't know what being a good father or husband looks like, but I’ll do my best to be fair, to be honest, and to put you both first.”

  “Mom, where did you find him?”

  Celia giggled. “On our front porch.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rob - One Year Later

  A lot had happened that year. Nicole bought the Hummingbird Inn. She and Alex moved into the connecting apartment the day Celia, Jackson, and he moved into their new home. This was their first holiday together as a family.

  When Rob raced down the stairs on Christmas morning, what he saw in front of him was more than he had a right to ask for. His life had come full circle. The house that had brought him so much pain was now a place of joy.

  “Sweetheart, I told you I’d feed her.”

  Celia looked at their baby girl and smiled. “Why should you get all the fun?”

  Behind them, Jackson took the steps two at a time with Lucky hot on his heels. “Did Santa come?”

  He might have been seventeen, but at Christmas, he would always remain a child.

  Celia had a rule. If you didn’t believe in Santa, the tree would be empty on Christmas morning.

  “Looks like Santa was good to us this year.” Celia cradled their newborn in her arms.

  Jackson looked at his little sister who had been due Christmas Day but came two weeks early. “I wanted a brother.” Last year on the float, he’d made a list of things he wanted to do and have. At the top was a sibling.

  “You weren’t specific enough,” Rob teased.

  “I will be next Christmas.”

  “Next Christmas?” Celia asked. “You’re already putting in requests?”

  “Yes, I love my little sister, but I want a brother. I know nothing about girls.”

  Rob knuckled his head. “You’ve got a mom.”

  “Yeah, but she’s not really a girl.”

  Rob laughed. “Oh, son, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

  Celia handed baby Holly to him. He stared into his little girl’s eyes and fell in love all over again.

  They broke ground on the resort and got married on the first day of spring. That night they celebrated new beginnings. Little did they know baby Holly’s life had begun then too.

  “What did you put on your list?” Jackson asked.

  For a man who had once counted on three things for Christmas in his youth, he hadn’t asked for anything.

  “I refused to tempt fate by asking for more than I already have. This year I hit a trifecta. I got a wife. I got a son. I got a daughter. What more could I want?”

  Jackson stared at Rob. “What about a new Jaguar so I can have your old one?”

  Rob took a seat next to Celia.

  “Jackson my son, look around you. What do you see?” Rob looked around his childhood home. They’d brought it back to its full splendor. He saw more than the walls, the flooring, the trim. If there was one thing he could teach Jackson, it was the lesson he hadn’t learned until he met Celia.

  “I see a bunch of presents that need opening. A baby who needs to eat. A dog who’d rather be running in the snow than sitting in the house.”

  “At your age, I would have seen the same.” He took in his surroundings. “You know what I see?” It wasn’t the paint, or the refinished wood floors that made it different. It was his perspective. “Everything changes with love. I see hope, happiness. I see my family and my future.”

  “Guess what I see?” Celia asked.

  Jackson looked at the tree behind them. “A big January credit card bill?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I see a long-standing tradition forming. My husband, my children, our pets will surround the tree. There will be carols and cookies and candy canes, but more importantly, there will always be love.”

  Jackson handed out the gifts and as a tribute to his mother, Rob made sure everyone got the prerequisite socks and underwear. Lucky got a jumbo marrow bone.

  He was rich, very rich, but it wasn’t the millions in his bank account that made him so. It was the love of a woman who shared not only her son but her heart. Happiness wasn’t found in things, but in the people who brought richness to his life.

  A Sneak Peek at The Trouble With Tinsel

  Tommy lounged sleepy-eyed in front of the television as I whisper-yelled at my mother. “You lied to me.” Frustration blazed through me like dry kindling set afire. “You said you fell and broke your arm, and here you sit, decorating cookies?”

  Unrepentant, Mom gripped the icing bag in her left hand while her bandaged right wrist sat on the table. “I didn’t lie. I slipped on the ice. I thought I’d broken my hand.” She dropped the bag, tugged at the binding, and tightened the clip. “It was a serious sprain, Mandy.”

  I’d do anything for my mother, but I was tired of being manipulated—of people stealing my choices—and my mother was the queen of doing that. All my life, she’d cajoled and nudged, pushing me in the direction that benefited her most. Just when I thought she’d changed…

  “I dragged Tommy across the country for a sprain?” I stomped to the old percolator. It burped and spit on the counter while I poured a fresh cup. I needed caffeine, and Mom needed to move into the present. The past wasn’t a place I wanted to dwell upon or repeat.

  Cloves, and cinnamon, and hope filled the air. Mom sat at the table and dressed the gingerbread men in white icing pants and button down vests, with delicate, precise movements. When I was a little girl, those scents would dare me to dream that my mother would be like everyone else’s mom—that I would walk in the door and she’d want nothing more than to hug me and ask me how I was. But that wasn’t the game my mother played. Every smile, every cookie, was a bargaining chip—a way to get me to bend to her will. Yet, here I was, hoping all over again, like a kid who couldn’t give up on Santa.

  In all honesty, she couldn’t help herself. She’d clung to whatever control she could since Daddy died.

  “Mom.” The hours of travel had roughened my voice. “You called me in tears telling me to come home, the shop would perish without me.” I waved my hands through the air as I spoke. I didn’t usually act with such flair, but Mom had made it sound like her world would implode without me.

  “I can’t run the shop with this on my hand.” She pulled at the elastic bandage again and sighed. “Besides, it was time for you to come home. You hate New York.”

  A fact she’d been trying to convince me of since I moved there. “I don’t hate New York, Mom.” I didn’t hate the city; I was indifferent to it. It served its purpose—it was far away from Bell Mountain and it held my job.

  In retrospect, being here for two weeks would be a nice respite, but I’d never allow my mother to own that victory.

  Mom traded the white icing bag for the red and squeezed out perfect little buttons on the tiny vests. “Bell Mountain is the perfect place to raise my grandson,” she whispered, ignoring what I said. She lifted her gaze in Tommy’s direction and gave him a nod.

  The legs of the chair squeaked as I pulled it from the table and flopped onto the cracked, red vinyl cushion. Mom was stuck in the decade she was born with her diner décor, and black and white checkered flooring. Stuck was something I was familiar with. I hadn’t been living my dream. I’d been living in New York and working as a pastry chef for Henry Lefebvre, or as I like to call him, Ornery, and that was no dream. My dreams had died the day a certain man walked out of my life.

  Sipping my coffee, I glanced around the kitchen. Nailed to th
e walls were records by Buddy Holly, Chubby Checkers, and the king himself, Elvis Presley. The chipped jar I painted in fourth grade sat in the corner next to the stove overflowing with utensils. My elementary school pictures were still taped to the side of the refrigerator. No matter how far I strayed, how crazy she drove me, or how long I stayed away, this would always be home. “You’re right, Tommy will love it here, but this isn’t permanent. It’s just to get you through the holidays.” I grabbed the white icing bag from the plate and helped her with the cookies. It was time to let go of my annoyance, and embrace the holiday spirit. Tonight, we were going to decorate the Christmas tree together for the first time since Tommy was born.

  “You used to love Bell Mountain too, sweetheart. Everything you could ever want is here.” Mom cupped my cheek with her bandaged hand. Her eyes lit up with love.

  Not everything, Mom. Bell Mountain had broken me ten years ago when Beau Tinsel left town with his guitar and my heart.

  * * *

  Whoever said picking out a Christmas tree was fun, never did it in subzero weather. Cloudy puffs of steam escaped my mouth each time I breathed. “What about this one?” My teeth chattered while I yanked down Tommy’s hat to cover his reddened ears.

  Mom, Tommy, and I stood in front of the tree and analyzed it from all angles. “Can’t we have a flucked one, Mommy?” Tommy pointed at the tent where a man was glazing a perfect green tree in spongy white material. The fake snow glittered like diamonds under the fluorescent lights.

  “It’s called flocked, and no, we can’t. All white trees belong outside.” Surrounded by naturally snow-coated trees, it was overkill to bring a poser into the house. “If you want, we can decorate the pine tree in Grandma’s front yard, too. Then you can have a white and a green tree.”

  My little man jumped up and down with the energy only a child can possess and maintain. “This one’s super-duper then.”

  An uncontainable shiver raced from the tip of my head all the way to my boots. I looked toward my mother, praying she would give her seal of approval before any part of me froze and dropped off. “Okay with you, Mom?”

  Mom rounded the tree again. Tommy and I watched as she analyzed each full branch and prickly needle. Just when I thought she’d put a kibosh on it, she smiled and said, “super-duper with me, too. I’ll pay.” She turned and walked toward the man at the front of the lot.

  “Mandy Sawyer?”

  I recognized his voice right away. It was pure warmth. “Greg Anderson, how the heck are you?” I wrapped my arms around the boy who’d been my Godsend the last year of high school. We’d stayed in touch for a time, but eventually, I found it easier to sever as many ties with my past as I could. “You’re still here?”

  Stepping back, I looked at him. He was tall, handsome, and totally not into girls. In fact, Greg Anderson came out on prom night. He was my date, and we had arrived to the dance wearing matching pink gowns. It was a testament to our friendship and a show of solidarity. The fact he had looked better in the dress than I did should have pissed me off, but I could never get angry with Greg. He had been the best boy friend a girl could ever have. And, he was the perfect prom date. He paid for his own dinner, and didn’t expect to get lucky in the back seat of his car when the night ended.

  He opened his arms with a flourish and looked around him. “I couldn’t leave all this behind.” He knelt down in front of Tommy. “And who’s this handsome young man?”

  Pride radiated from my pores. “This is my son, Tommy.” Tommy stared up at Greg and smiled like he was looking into the face of an angel. Greg had that effect on everyone. Something wonderful and happy arrived each time he did. He was hot chocolate on a frigid day and fuzzy socks on a cold morning. He was one of those feel good people.

  “Tommy, this is my friend, Greg.”

  Tommy offered his hand, “I’m Tommy Sawyer, it’s nice to meet you.” For a six-year-old, he was already a charmer. I’d have to keep an eye on him. With his devilish good looks and charisma, he was bound to break the hearts of many.

  Greg raised a single brow in question. “Tom Sawyer? You didn’t really do that to him, did you?”

  “Do what to me, Mommy?” Tommy looked at me with saucer-sized eyes.

  “I named you after a famous character from a book.” I gave Greg a little push and a shut-the-hell-up look.

  He rose to a towering height and whispered in my ear. “You better teach him to fight.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Never. He’ll be fine. It’s character-building.”

  “Whatever you say.” Amusement glinted in his eyes. “Where’s his dad?” Greg scanned the tree lot as if looking for someone in particular.

  “My dad is famous and very busy,” Tommy piped in.

  “Is that right?” Greg raised his hand for a high-five. “Right on.” He turned to me with an inquisitive tilt to his head.

  “No, it’s not who you think. It’s a long story that’s better left for coffee, a pastry, and a warmer environment. What about tomorrow at the Sweet Shop? I’m filling in for Mom over the holidays.” It felt funny to think I’d be running the Sweet Shop but oddly comforting as well. Maybe Mom was right; maybe coming home for a while would be good for me.

  “I’ll be there around four, and I want every sordid detail.”

  We hugged once more and parted. Despite my misgivings about coming home, the comfort of old friends was encouraging.

  After we hefted the tree to the roof of my Jeep, we were on our way. Thankfully, I kept the old heap of junk. It was covered and waiting in the garage for me when I got back into town. After sitting for nearly a decade, it turned over on the first try, proving that not everything from the past would fail me.

  * * *

  Once home, I muscled the tree through the front door. A gimpy mother and a little boy weren’t much help, but they tried, and I appreciated their efforts. The tree fit perfectly in front of the window, and while I fluffed out the branches, Mom and Tommy sifted through what he called “big CD’s.” Moments later, the sound of Bing Crosby was crackling and popping on the record player. No digital for Mom. She was old school.

  They went into the kitchen to make cocoa while I pulled the old boxes of Christmas decorations up from the basement. Decorating the tree would be a walk down memory lane. Mom never got rid of anything. Whereas she was married to the past, I’d hurled myself into the future, leaving everything behind.

  “Are you two ready?” I called from the living room once the lights had been hung from the tree.

  “On our way,” Mom sang from the kitchen. There was a bit of banging and a lot of giggling coming from their direction, then two elves appeared wearing green and red striped hats and pointed foam ears. The littlest elf carried a plate of gingerbread cookies while the older, supposedly more mature elf brought hot cocoa. A smile lifted my lips. It had been a long time since I’d seen my mom participate in anything joyful. “You two are the cutest in the world.” I wiggled Tommy’s little nose and told him he got to choose the first ornament for the tree.

  He went straight for the homemade decorations. A bejeweled pine cone swung from his little fingers. He held it up and asked who made it. If every ornament needed an explanation, it would be a long night.

  “That one was made by your mom with her best friend, Beau. They sat right here in this living room and glued glitter to pine cones. On small pieces of paper, they wrote their secret wishes and tucked them between the scales where they stayed until Christmas morning.” Mom was like Dickens; she held the power to mesmerize an audience with the way she weaved a story. Tommy was not immune and his eyes grew wide with curiosity.

  “What was your secret wish?” he asked as he hung the glittered pine cone from a center bow. It shimmered under the twinkling lights.

  “I can’t remember,” I fibbed. I remembered exactly what I wished for. I was ten and Beau was eleven. In my best cursive, I wrote that I wanted to grow up and marry Beau Tinsel.

  “Of course you remember. How
could you forget? That’s the one that said you wanted to—”

  “Mom!” I stopped her mid-sentence. I didn’t want to rehash that memory, and I didn’t want to explain Beau to Tommy. What was the point in introducing him to my past—a past that had no influence on Tommy or our future? No, Beau Tinsel was a faint memory, at best.

  “What? I was going to say that you and Beau had made the sweetest wishes.”

  “Did your wish come true?” Tommy pulled a gingerbread man from the plate and licked the red buttons from the vest.

  “No, Tommy, my wish didn’t come true.” My shoulders slumped forward with the knowledge that someday, I’d have to tell him that wishes rarely came true, and life could be hard. At his age, everything was still possible.

  Mom picked up the next ornament and hung it toward the top. “The beauty about wishes is, they sit out there and wait for the perfect time to come true, Tommy.” She gave me a let-him-dream look and I nodded my head in agreement. There was time enough for the cruelties of the world to rain disappointment on him. For now, let him live in his happy child’s world.

  “Can we do that, Grandma? Can we decorate pine cones and hide wishes?” Tommy pulled a package of tinsel from the box and stared at his Grandma with expectant eyes. “I have a bunch of wishes.”

  “As soon as we finish this tree, you and I are going pine cone hunting, we’ll let them dry overnight and decorate them tomorrow.” Mom’s grandma skills stood in direct contrast with her mom skills. With Tommy, she was patient, and playful. With me, adding an “S” before “mothering” nailed it on the head.

  Tommy threw tinsel into the air in celebration. It’s sparkly strands showered down on everyone. Even a bit hit the tree. Tommy was having fun and hearing his laughter warmed my heart.

  I walked around the tree to the window and wiped the condensation from the pane with my sleeve. The old Victorian across the street stood regal. Its decorative trim and garland-wrapped windows screamed “happy holidays.” The icicle lights sparkled like the tinsel on our tree. Through the fogged glass, I reflected on a different time—different Tinsel.