by Beth Andrews
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www.Harlequin.com
The whole town’s in on this Christmas secret!
Maeve Buchanan isn’t the jealous type. But with another Valley Ridge wedding approaching, she’s feeling a twinge of envy. Everyone seems to be finding “it”—except her. Not that romance is high on her priority list! Inspired by the arrival of a homeless family one snowy night, Maeve—Valley Ridge’s own George Bailey—is determined to give them a permanent home by Christmas.
To make this surprise happen, fiercely independent Maeve is going to need a lot of help. Particularly from the irritating newcomer Aaron Holder, who thinks Maeve is just too good to be true and suspects her motives. Working together won’t be easy. But it’ll be worth it…in so many ways!
He spotted Maeve Buchanan crossing the street.
Aaron didn’t know what to make of the fiery redhead who volunteered her time to a library and took in stray homeless families.
She had to have an angle. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he’d learned the hard way that everyone had an angle. Everyone was out for something. Just because he couldn’t see what Maeve was after, didn’t mean she didn’t have an agenda.
To listen to his uncle and the customers at the Feed Store, she was too good to be true. And Aaron realized that if something seemed too good to be true, it generally was.
Maeve was a puzzle.
Dear Reader,
My love of Christmas has nothing to do with my holidayish name. Many people think my birthday must be sometime during the festive season. It’s not. It’s in August. Mom liked the name Holly because she didn’t see any potential nicknames in it. This is why I spent most of my life as Hall. To the point that I turned in papers in school as Hall. Move over Madonna and Cher.
So, the fact I’ve written seven Christmas books over the years doesn’t have anything to do with a birthday, or my name. I just love the season. It’s a special time. There’s a spirit of giving and kindness that I’d love to see last throughout the year.
My heroine Maeve Buchanan carries that spirit with her year-round. As opposed to Aaron Holder, who’s troubled by his past and future. Ultimately, he finds his place in the present next to Maeve—a place he never thought he’d find.
It was so much fun to return to Valley Ridge and meet up with the other couples from the first three books. It’s at one of their weddings that Maeve and Aaron share a very special dance.
Thank you for sharing your holiday with me and Maeve and Aaron! I hope you enjoy A Valley Ridge Christmas.
Holly Jacobs
A VALLEY RIDGE CHRISTMAS
Holly Jacobs
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
In 2000, Holly Jacobs sold her first book to Harlequin Books. She’s since sold more than twenty-five novels to the publisher. Her romances have won numerous awards and made the Waldenbooks bestseller list. In 2005, Holly won a prestigious Career Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews. In her nonwriting life, Holly is married to a police captain, and together they have four children. Visit Holly at www.hollyjacobs.com, or you can snail-mail her at P.O. Box 11102, Erie, PA 16514-1102.
Books by Holly Jacobs
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
1511—SAME TIME NEXT SUMMER
1601—UNEXPECTED GIFTS
1615—A ONE-OF-A-KIND FAMILY
1677—HOMECOMING DAY
1733—A FATHER’S NAME
1846—YOU ARE INVITED…*
1852—APRIL SHOWERS*
1858—A WALK DOWN THE AISLE*
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
1232—ONCE UPON A THANKSGIVING
1238—ONCE UPON A CHRISTMAS
1247—ONCE UPON A VALENTINE’S
HARLEQUIN EVERLASTING
THE HOUSE ON BRIAR HILL ROAD
*A Valley Ridge Wedding
Other titles by this author available in ebook format.
For Jack
And for librarians, who have made such a difference in so many people’s lives…including mine. Special thanks to Miss Kitty here in Erie.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Excerpt
PROLOGUE
BOYD MYERS WANTED more than anything to glance over at his wife, Josie, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the road. Not that he could see much of the road beneath the white wall of snow.
“We need to pull off the interstate.” His voice seemed very loud after listening to the wind buffet the RV for so long.
He white-knuckled the steering wheel and hunched forward, as if moving closer to the windshield would help him see some landmark. A guardrail. A sign. Another car. He hadn’t seen headlights in what felt like forever. That didn’t mean there was no one else on the road, only that the snow hid them—and that possibility scared him.
“There,” Josie said, pointing to the right.
Boyd jumped and tightened his grip, thinking she’d spotted some other vehicle, but Josie simply said, “A town. Valley Ridge.”
A small sign bearing the words, Valley Ridge, lit up for a split second under his headlights. There must have been other signs farther back that they’d missed because the turnoff was almost immediate. If he’d been going sixty-five miles an hour, he’d have shot right by the exit ramp. But because he was only going ten, maybe fifteen miles an hour, it was possible for him to ease the RV off the highway.
“Now I know how the shepherds felt,” Josie murmured.
“Shepherds?” he asked.
“They had a star that lit the way to Bethlehem—all they had to do was follow it.”
Despite the weather and his anxiety, he chuckled. “If there were stars tonight, we’d never see them through the snow. We’ll have to be thankful for the street signs.” The off-ramp ended and he brought the RV to a halt. “Which way?”
“All we have to do is follow the signs,” she said, pointing.
There was another sign proclaiming Valley Ridge to the right.
Some of his anxiety eased—Josie always knew what to say. He put her through so much, but her optimistic attitude never wavered.
Boyd had never heard of Valley Ridge. He wasn’t sure if they were in New York still or if they had crossed over into Pennsylvania—not that it mattered. Just as it didn’t matter how small a town this Valley Ridge was. It would have some parking lot he could pull the RV into. And if not, pulling over to the side of the road there had to be a great deal safer than pulling over to the side of the interstate. Frankly, he hadn’t been sure he could tell where the side of the interstate was.
He eased the RV onto the two-lane road and followed the sign that pointed to the right. It felt as if it took hours to enter the town proper, but he finally spotted a sign that read Valley Ridge Library. He couldn’t see the building, but there were reflectors that marked what he assumed to be the driveway. He pulled the RV between them and parked. It was probably the middle of the unlit parking lot, but for tonight, that would suffice.
He turned off the engine and finally looked at his wife. “I wasn’t sure we were going to make it.”
“I never doubted you for a minute.” Josie’s arms were resting on her enormous stomach. “Carl slept through the whole thing.”
He glanced a
t his two-year-old son, safely strapped into his car seat in the back.
“I’ve never driven in such a bad storm.” And he never wanted to be out in weather like this again.
His fault. This was all his fault.
If the plastics plant he’d worked for hadn’t closed. If he hadn’t lost his job, they wouldn’t have lost their tiny bungalow in Plattsburgh, Vermont. If they hadn’t lost the house, he wouldn’t have sold everything to buy a twenty-year-old RV that had seen better days and packed up his family, then headed off to North Dakota and the promise of work there.
As if she knew what he was thinking, Josie leaned over and kissed his unshaven cheek. “It will all come out in the wash, Boyd.”
He smiled to hear her using her grandmother’s saying. Her grandmother had been a crusty old woman who’d scared the heck out of him at first, but eventually became a grandmother to him, as well. When their families objected to them marrying at such a young age, she’d stood up for him and Josie.
“We’re all here together, safe and warm,” Josie said. “The storm can blow the rest of the night. It won’t bother us.”
“I should...” he started, trying to prioritize what needed to be done.
“You should go to sleep.”
He nodded, knowing she’d worry if he didn’t go to bed with her. “After I turn on the propane so we have heat.” He pulled on his parka and opened the driver’s side door. The snow was almost up to his knees and blowing so hard that he couldn’t see the library or any other houses. He shut the door and felt small and alone, standing in the midst of the snowstorm. Then he looked back through the window and saw Josie kneeling by Carl. He took a deep breath. Josie didn’t deserve the situation they were in. And somehow he’d find a way out of it.
For a moment, the wind stopped howling and rather than being pelted by flakes, the snow fell gently around him. He glanced up and caught the merest hint of light in the sky. A star. One small beacon in the sky, shining like a promise of better things.
He heard the thought and laughed at himself. Josie the eternal optimist, forever talking about signs, had turned his brain to mush. He was thankful he was alone and hadn’t said the words out loud.
As if on cue, the wind picked up again and the small star disappeared behind the whirling snow.
Boyd turned on the propane and went back into the aging RV.
Josie had Carl unbuckled, and as Boyd picked him up, his son stayed asleep. “I’m sorry,” he said softly as they walked toward the bed in the back of the RV.
“Boyd Myers, you’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”
He gave voice to his thoughts this time. “If I hadn’t lost my job, then we wouldn’t have lost the house, and we wouldn’t be out here in the middle of...”
“Snowmageddon,” she supplied with a grin. “We could play ‘what-if’ all night, but that’s not going to get us anywhere.”
“We’re going to spend the holidays in a RV. We’re driving away from everything we know. We’re driving across country, not knowing if there will really be a job waiting for me.”
“We’re going to spend the holidays with each other. With Carl. With the new baby.” She patted her stomach. “We have a roof over our head, and we have each other. For Thanksgiving next week, I have a whole list of things I’m thankful for. You’re at the top of it. You’ll find a job,” she finished with utter conviction and certainty. “Everything happens for a reason. Plattsburgh wasn’t our real home. We’re on our way to finding the town we belong to, but no matter what, we’re already home as long as we have each other.”
“My little optimist,” he said as he shucked his jeans and sweatshirt and crawled under the covers.
Josie tucked the sleeping, pajama-clad Carl into the middle, then climbed into the bed on her own side.
“We’re lucky, Boyd. We might not have much money...”
He snorted at the understatement.
Josie continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “And you could make a long list of what we once had and were forced to sell, but we’ve got the RV. We’ve got Carl and soon we’ll have this new baby. We have each other. Everything else will work out.”
“You really believe that?” He reached over and stroked her fine, soft hair that lay spread on the pillow next to his.
“I really believe that. Life is funny. One moment, you think you’ve lost everything, the next you discover that you’ve found something even better.”
The image of that lone star shining in the midst of the blizzard flitted through his head. He leaned across their sleeping son and kissed Josie’s forehead.
She was right. He’d lost his job, but so had many other people in recent years.
He’d also lost the house because he couldn’t afford the payments, but again, so had many others.
Even though he was in the same boat as all those other folks, he had one advantage. He had Josie. He’d loved her ever since meeting her on their first day of kindergarten.
She always denied that and insisted he’d never even noticed her until high school, but she was wrong. He’d noticed her all right. It had taken him the nine years between kindergarten and high school to work up the courage to approach her as anything more than a friend. But he’d known as a five-year-old that Josie Bentley was someone rare and special, just as he’d known she deserved someone so much better than him. But to his utter amazement, she loved him. She’d picked him.
They may have lost everything, but somehow, he’d find a way to get it all back—if for no other reason than because Josie believed in him. And that thought, like one lone star in the midst of a blizzard, burned bright as he closed his eyes. Somehow, he’d get it all back for Josie.
No matter what it took.
CHAPTER ONE
MAEVE BUCHANAN WOKE up at precisely 5:00 a.m. She didn’t need to look at a clock to know it was five. Maeve had an internal alarm that went off on its own every morning. Some people might find that annoying, but she liked mornings, so she didn’t mind. She enjoyed being able to catch a breath before jumping into her day—her normally very busy day.
As she snuggled under the covers she realized how cold her exposed face was. It was colder than a typical November morning in Valley Ridge, New York. She glanced out the window and rather than being greeted by the big oak tree, all she saw was snow. The blizzard that the weatherman forecasted had obviously arrived.
She eased down the cover and realized that it wasn’t simply cold...it was freezing.
She glanced at the alarm clock she never set, but no bright numbers lit up the room.
Darn. That meant the power was out. And no power meant the furnace wasn’t working, so she not only had no light, she had no heat.
Like ripping off a bandage, some things were easier if you did them fast, so Maeve pushed back the covers and yipped as the frigid air assaulted her. She quickly put on her robe and slippers and when that didn’t seem like enough, she pulled the throw from the bottom of the bed over her shoulders. She hurried down the narrow, steep steps into the kitchen and checked the window. Her view was reduced to almost nothing.
She kicked off her slippers and put on her UGGs, her barn coat and a hat. She looked down and couldn’t help but smile. Her red-and-black checkered pajama pants looked absurd sandwiched between her burgundy barn coat, the edge of her robe and her tan boots, but there was no one around to notice as she nipped out the side door and marched along the house to the small shed at the end of the driveway where she stored her wood.
She piled as many logs as she could manage into her arms and hurried back inside. God bless Mrs. Anderson’s sense of thriftiness and nostalgia. The former town librarian had done so much for her, and taught her a lot, as well. The woodstove still sat in the corner of the kitchen. Maeve dumped her load of wood in the wood box and opened the stove’s door. She didn�
��t use it often, but given the fact that she lost power at least once a winter, she’d had enough practice to make short work of starting a small fire inside it. She left a few of the logs for backup and took the rest to the basement where another wood burning stove was hooked up to the house’s heating system. Her house was small enough that between the two stoves she’d stay warm.
It took two tries to get the basement stove’s fire going, but she finally managed it. She went back upstairs and put the old percolator on the top of the stove in the kitchen, then went back outside to bring in more wood.
She’d made two more trips when the wind died down enough to allow her a bit of a view. Normally she looked out at some old oak trees that marked the edge of her property and, beyond them, a small stone wall, then the library parking lot and the library itself. Today, a ratty-looking RV blocked her view of the library.
The parking lot was a smart place to pull over. She listened and couldn’t hear anything. She wondered if someone had abandoned the RV, or if the occupants were still inside. If they were inside, they might not have heat. She wasn’t sure how the heating system on an RV worked. Even if they did have heat, how insulated could an ancient RV be? She’d barely asked herself the question before she made her decision.
She put her load of wood in the house, then went back outside and trudged across the parking lot.
She knew that Dylan, who was a friend—or at least friendly—and a cop, would give her a stern lecture about knocking on a stranger’s door, but there was no way she was going to let someone freeze to death steps away from her house. The snow was even higher in the parking lot. It fell into her boots as she broke a path. Later, she’d clear the lot and her driveway, but for now, she continued on.
She knocked on the RV’s door and a small boy dressed in a snowsuit toddled into view. A tall man with blond, thinning hair, wearing a coat came after him. He eyed her a moment, and then opened the door.
