“He sees you when you’re sleeping,” put in Noel.
Jo made a face. “Eeew. That is a serious ick factor.”
“I’m just glad things have worked out for all of us,” Riley said.
“You especially,” Noel told her. “You’re inspiring.”
Not really, but... “Aww, thanks.”
Jo batted her eyes at Riley. “You...complete me.”
“Ha, ha.”
Noel frowned at Jo. “I loved that movie.”
“I loved Tom Cruise.” Jo sobered. “Seriously, sis. We’re all proud of you. And it looks like you might have found someone who deserves you. Make sure, though,” she said. “Don’t be rushing into anything.”
“No rushing,” Riley assured her. Just because she and Jack had hung out every night since the party, that didn’t count as rushing. Right?
And it wasn’t rushing to bring him to Mom and Dad’s for Christmas Eve dinner three days later. Or to plan to spend Christmas Day with his grandma and parents, who had flown up for the holidays. She’d already met his sister via Skype and received her stamp of approval.
He seemed to be fitting in well with her family. The poor guy endured a grilling from Dad and Harold over seven-layer dip and chips and survived it. He took a turn holding little Mikey, although Jo didn’t let him keep the baby for long (germs were everywhere), and listened respectfully while Dad read the Christmas story from the family Bible before dinner. Once everyone sat down to eat he complimented Mom on the prime rib and her garlic mashed potatoes. Of course she insisted he have seconds of both.
After dinner he was a good sport when the family played their favorite game of stealing presents back and forth, and Harold stole the slingshot he’d lifted from Mike. He wound up with an egg separator shaped like a face that oozed egg white from the oversize nose and claimed it was the coolest present he ever got.
“You are full of it,” Grammy told him and he grinned.
After the gag gifts, it was time for the real thing.He’d come prepared, bringing Sweet Dreams Chocolates for all the women and six-packs of IPA beer for the men. Caitlyn got bubble bath. As for Riley, “You’ll get yours later,” he promised.
Jo received a sapphire necklace from Mike. “Groupon,” he joked as everyone oohed and aahed over it. “Open the card, babe.”
She did and read it, and her hand flew to her mouth. She stared at him, shocked. “What’s this?”
“I’m not re-upping.”
Silence fell over the living room and now they were all staring at Mike.
“Why?” Jo asked. “We talked about this.”
“I know, and then I thought about it some more. I think you’re right. I’ve served. I’m ready to let someone else step in.”
“But you love the navy.”
“I do. I love you more.”
“Oh,” sighed Mom and Grammy in unison.
“Whipped,” Harold teased.
Jo shook her head. “I can’t let you do this.”
“It’s a done deal, babe.”
“That’s what you’ve been so busy with.”
He nodded.
“Oh, Mike. Are you sure?”
He looked down at their son, whom he was holding, and smiled. “Oh, yeah. Anyway, the navy isn’t totally rid of me. They need volunteers to work with the Sea Cadets.”
“What’s that?” asked Grammy.
“It’s a program for kids, teaches them about seamanship and exposes them to public service,” Mike explained. “It’s a good program.”
“It’s a good compromise,” Mom said.
“But you said yourself that you’d never be able to find a job here,” Jo pointed out.
“Got that solved. Dad wants to retire early. I’m taking over the hardware store.”
Harold grinned. “All right. Do we finally get a family discount?”
Mike ignored him. He was too busy with his wife, who was hugging him ecstatically.
“Who needs to go to a Christmas movie?” Jack whispered to Riley. “This is the real deal.”
Yes, it was. Her whole family was the real deal.
So was Jack Logan, she thought as they sat side by side during the Christmas Eve candlelight service at church and he took her hand and held it.
Later, when it was just the two of them back at Riley’s apartment with the little fireplace cheerily pretending to give them a fire, he said, “I sure like your family.”
Hearing him say that warmed her even more than the hot chocolate she’d been drinking.
“And I sure like you,” he added. He picked up his sports jacket, which he’d discarded on the back of the couch, pulled out a small box tied with a red ribbon and handed it to her.
“And all I gave you was cookies,” she said, looking at the plate on the coffee table.
“I happen to like cookies,” he said, taking a second one. “Open your present.”
She did and found a red crystal heart pendant with a sterling silver chain. “Jack, it’s lovely.”
“So are you,” he said and kissed her. He tasted of chocolate and mint, and the way he was running his fingers through her hair felt like heaven. Jack Logan was the perfect Christmas present.
Much later, after he’d finally left, she sat on the couch enjoying her cozy living room and the sight of her cute little tree all lit up and hung with ornaments her mother and grandmother had given her over the years. She certainly hadn’t envisioned herself having such a happy moment only a few weeks ago. When Sean dumped her, it had felt like the end of the world. Instead he’d set her free to find a whole new world of joy and promise.
She and Jack had been so engrossed in each other he’d gone off without his cookies. She took one and vowed to replenish the supply in the morning. Then she snuggled under a blanket and relived the last few days and all the fun she’d been having with Jack. It was still early, of course, and anything could happen. Or not. Maybe what they had was a fast fire that would burn itself out.
No matter what, she now knew that even when bad things happened they could turn out to be a door to something better. “All things work together for good,” as Mom liked to say. Warmth and happiness lulled her into a doze before she could get up and go to bed, but she woke with a start when she heard the sound of sleigh bells. She sat up, blinking, in time to see the Santa from the mall bending over the cookie plate and helping himself to one.
“You!” she stammered, pointing a finger at him.
He jumped and dropped the cookie, then shook his head. “You’re supposed to be asleep, young lady.”
“You’re not supposed to be real,” she retorted.
“Who says?”
“Everyone over the age of twelve.”
“Cynics and doubters,” he said in disgust. “What do those people bring to the world? What do they contribute to others’ happiness? One of the joys of Christmas is the wonder that drives children to the tree every year to see what I’ve brought. There’s a reason parents tell their children about me.”
“Nobody’s going to believe me if I tell them about you.”
“Do you believe, Riley? Did you find your perfect man?”
“I think so.”
He nodded. “Good. I love seeing girls get what they truly desire—both little ones and big ones. You know, I hear people complain about how commercial this holiday has become, but presents aren’t a bad thing. They remind us of God’s greatest gift. Remember that when you have children of your own, and do your part to keep the happiness alive.”
Riley was only half listening. She was up now, looking for her phone so she could take a picture of her late-night visitor.
“You never did get your photo at the mall, did you?” he said as she grabbed her purse and dug into it. “But there’s always nex
t year.”
“Wait, let me take one now.”
He laughed and when she whirled around, phone camera aimed, he wasn’t there anymore. She put the phone back with a sigh and returned to the couch. Nope, no one was going to believe her. Noel maybe but not Jo, that was for sure. She pulled the blanket back over her and stared at the fire.
At four in the morning she woke again. The fake flames still danced in the fireplace, the tree was still lit and the leftover cookies were still on the plate. Of course, there was no sign of Santa. Had she dreamed him?
She shrugged and turned off the fire. Shut down the tree for the night. One thing she knew for sure, she hadn’t dreamed Jack. So maybe it didn’t matter whether she’d actually seen Santa or only dreamed him. Either way, she was a believer.
“Thanks, Santa,” she murmured as she headed off to bed.
She might have imagined it, but she thought she heard the distant echo of a “Ho, ho, ho.”
Epilogue
A Christmas wedding... Again
Riley did have the perfect wedding two years later. The reception wasn’t at the golf club, although she probably could have gotten a deal, considering who she was marrying. She didn’t have winter colors and she didn’t wear a long white gown or a faux fur stole.
Instead she wore a short, strapless lace tulle number, and her groom wore white pants and a navy linen shirt. Her bridesmaids all dressed in pretty summer dresses and the entire wedding party went barefoot. Perfect for getting married on the beach in Hawaii.
It was a smaller wedding than she’d originally planned on—immediate families and a few close friends. Jo was pregnant again but only three months and this time she was Riley’s matron of honor. Noel, who had just gotten married in August, stood up with her, too, and Jack’s sister made up a third. Noel’s new son, Timmy, acted as ring bearer. Margaret had died right after Riley and Jack became engaged, but Riley was carrying her lace handkerchief, along with a bouquet of tropical flowers. No silver bells were heard. Instead a conch blower celebrated the union of Riley Erickson and Jack Logan. And two doves winged their way skyward once the couple had been pronounced husband and wife.
Everyone agreed that the reception afterward was great fun, especially when one of the uncles arrived on the scene dressed as Santa after the bride had tossed her bouquet. (Grammy caught it.)
“You’re gonna miss Santa,” Jo teased as Riley and Jack started for the door.
“He already brought me everything I wanted,” Riley said, smiling at Jack.
Oh, yes. She was a believer.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from HOME ON APPLE BLOSSOM ROAD by Sheila Roberts.
Acknowledgments
I absolutely must thank some of the people who so generously helped me with this story. A huge thanks to Jacy Teele, Linda Morton, and Rose Patrick for answering my questions about the life of a Navy wife and giving me a glimpse into the workings of the Navy. A special thank-you to Randy Schroeder from the Silverdale Navy recruitment office for taking time to explain the ins and outs of reenlistment. All I can say after talking with him is “Go Navy!” And any facts I’ve gotten wrong are all on me. Also, thank you Elsa Watson for helping me with some of those details of birth that I have wiped from my memory. Things have sure changed since I had my babies (back when the pterodactyls flew). Love my critique group! Thanks Susan Wiggs, Kate Breslin, A.J. Banner and Elsa Watson for all your insights. I’m also grateful to my agent Paige Wheeler for her wise guidance, my editor Paula Eykelhof who works so hard on my behalf, the art department at Harlequin/MIRA Books for this lovely book cover and all the people at that wonderful publishing house who do so much for me.
“Sheila Roberts makes me laugh. I read her books and come away inspired, hopeful and happy.”
—Debbie Macomber, #1 New York Times bestselling author
Don’t miss a single moment in the beloved Life in Icicle Falls series from Sheila Roberts. Catch up on the complete series today for heartwarming tales of small-town romance:
Welcome to Icicle Falls (novella)
Sweet Dreams on Center Street
Romance on Mountain View Road
Merry Ex-Mas
The Cottage on Juniper Ridge
The Tea Shop on Lavender Lane
The Lodge on Holly Road
A Wedding on Primrose Street
Christmas on Candy Cane Lane
Home on Apple Blossom Road
Complete your collection!
Connect with us on www.Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
Home on Apple Blossom Road
by Sheila Roberts
April 3, 1960
Dear Mother,
We’ve done it! We bought the apple orchard that was for sale outside town. Mother, it’s perfect. The orchard is lovely, and Gerald’s already talking about planting some cherry and pear trees in addition to the apple trees. I can see myself in the house that comes with it. It has four bedrooms. Four! And a front porch for sitting on in the evening, just like folks do back home in Pittsburgh.
The owner wouldn’t come down very far on his price but, thanks to the GI Bill, we were able to swing it. I’m going to make yellow-checked curtains for the kitchen window, and I plan to bake my very first apple pie this fall. Of course, we’ll also have a vegetable garden, since the house itself sits on a quarter acre. Gerald and I are going to be very happy here.
I do hope you and Daddy and Emmaline will be able to come out for Thanksgiving or Christmas or maybe even the Fourth of July, so we can all be together.
Do write back and say you’ll all come out and see us in our new home.
Love,
Justine
Chapter One
At thirty-one, who wants to think about death? Colin Wright sure didn’t, and the last thing he wanted to do was go to a funeral, especially when that funeral was for his grandmother.
The Icicle Falls Baptist Church was packed with people who’d known Colin since he was born, all dressed in their Sunday best on a Thursday afternoon to honor Justine Wright. Justine only had two kids, Colin’s dad, Dylan, and his aunt Beth, but to hear people talk you would’ve thought she’d had a dozen. All the testimonials made her sound like Mother Teresa. In a way she was, with all the foster kids she and Gramps had taken in over the years. They’d never kept a penny of the money they received as foster parents, opting instead to put that money in savings for the child. Colin couldn’t begin to count the number of people who’d called her Mom. Or Grandma.
It wasn’t only former charges blowing noses and dabbing at eyes. Gram had inspired countless people in Icicle Falls—giving cooking lessons to young brides, volunteering for the town and at church, baking for the annual Raise the Roof fund-raiser that helped maintain historic buildings. She was one of the old-guard movers and shakers, and everyone loved her.
August had just begun, and a blazing afternoon sun was reaching in through the windows. That, combined with all the body heat, made the sanctuary hot enough to bake a pie in spite of the fact that the doors had been opened.
The heavyset, fortysomething guy two rows back who’d stood up to share his memories was sweating as if he’d been stuck under a broiler. “No one could make an apple pie like Mom,” he reminisced and mopped his eyes and his forehead. Colin had no idea who he was, but the tears and the use of the word Mom proclaimed him to be one of Gram’s many projects.
The sweaty pie eater had barely sat down when a woman called out, “I can. She taught me how.”
This produced a chuckle from the crow
d and momentarily lightened the misery.
Except for Colin. He tried not to look at the closed casket at the front of the sanctuary, loaded with lilies. Not looking couldn’t save him from remembering what a shit he’d been the last time he’d seen her. Not a major one, he tried to comfort himself, just a minor one.
Who was now having a major guilt attack. If only he’d known Gram was going to die so suddenly a month later, he would never have told her to mind her own business. Oh, man. Had he really said that to his grandma?
“But you are my business,” she’d said sweetly. “My favorite business.”
He’d shaken his head and said, “I love you, Gram, but I gotta go.” At least he’d kissed her goodbye.
Next to him Aunt Beth was sobbing quietly and blowing her nose. He took her hand and she squeezed it, cutting off his circulation and turning both their hands slick with sweat.
Gram was in heaven for sure. He, on the other hand, had to be in purgatory. He still couldn’t believe she was gone, and he had no idea how he was going to fill the gaping hole in his life.
And then there was Mia Blair, the woman who’d broken his heart, sitting on the other side of Aunt Beth. She was another reason Colin didn’t want to be in this overheated sanctuary smelling of battling perfumes and sweaty armpits, pulling on his shirt collar with his free hand. She’d moved away, made her choice years ago. Why hadn’t she stayed away? Who’d invited her here, anyhow?
She was still slender and delicate, with the same huge brown eyes and long dark hair, same full lips. Those lips used to drive him wild. Not to mention her other body parts. The light coming in through the stained glass cast her in subtle rainbow hues, making her look like an escaped fairy from one of those Lord of the Rings movies.
“Don’t wear black,” Aunt Beth had instructed everyone. Mia hadn’t, but if you asked Colin, she shouldn’t have come ready for a picnic, either, in that dress splattered with pink flowers, showing off so much leg. She leaned forward to dig another packet of tissues out of her purse and he could see cleavage. A woman shouldn’t be showing cleavage at a guy’s grandma’s funeral.
Three Christmas Wishes Page 28
