Gabe continued reading. “‘Love, Your friend, Holly Berry.’ There’s a P.S. ‘In case you didn’t notice, being so busy with your toy factory and all, I’m living in California now.’”
“How on earth?” Her mind was spinning with possibilities. Dazzling, gilt-edge possibilities that were as wonderful as they were impossible.
“There’s more. I think you’d better read this for yourself.” Gabe handed her the letter.
Below the careful printing Holly remembered laboring over was a note, written in a big, bold, masculine scrawl. My Dearest Holly. Please forgive the delay in answering your letter. Some Christmas wishes just take a bit longer to fulfill. Merry Christmas back to you and, of course, your own special happy family, Gabriel and Emma. Love, Santa Claus.
Christmas Past
Mary Burton
Chapter One
Richmond, Virginia
Tuesday, December 23, 9:00 A.M.
Nat King Cole crooned on a bargain CD player as Nicole Piper set down her half-eaten peanut butter sandwich and picked up a Baby’s First Christmas snow angel. She moved to a small silver vintage Christmas tree perched on her dinette table. The tree’s aluminum bristles caught the light streaming in the window.
She’d found the Christmas tree at a fall yard sale. The tree’s twenty-dollar price tag had seemed high at the time, but the vendor had assured Nicole the tree was a steal. Still, she’d worried over the extravagance and had negotiated the price down to eighteen dollars. Two dollars was loose change to most, but not for her. Her budding photography business barely brought in enough to support Nicole and her infant daughter.
The tree might have been unnecessary, but she was glad now she’d bought it. Its sparkling branches were not only festive but its bold, quirky style suited her new life.
Nicole hung the angel front and center on the tree, taking a moment to adjust it so it was straight. It was the only ornament on the tree. “So what do you think, Beth?”
Her eleven-month-old daughter lay on a blanket in the small living room just feet from the dining area. Beth’s feet and hands curled around a half full bottle of baby formula. She tossed Nicole a sloppy grin and went back to her bottle.
The child was oblivious to everything but her chubby fingers, which methodically closed and opened around her bottle. Nicole smiled. This was how it should be. It was Nicole’s job to worry, not Beth’s.
Nicole finished off her sandwich and carried her plate to the kitchenette. The apartment was furnished with a blue hand-me-down sofa with a pullout bed, which Nicole used nightly, a few end tables, a TV that only picked up local stations, and a round café table with one chair and a high chair. Near the sofa was Beth’s white crib. Unlike the rest of the room, the crib was not used or hand-me down. It was a stunning piece of furniture that looked as if it had been plucked from a magazine. A gift from Nicole’s friends, the crib indulged the only child she’d ever be able to have because of birth complications.
The third floor walk-up apartment would have looked a bit sad if not for the large photographs on the walls. Nicole had taken the black and white portraits in the last year. The non-traditional images had odd, quirky perspectives that completely captured the likeness and character of her subjects. Nicole made her living taking commercial portraits, but these images were shot during the precious free moments she had. They were also going to be part of a modest January show at the 1864 Gallery.
Nicole picked up a lukewarm cup of tea and sipped it as she stared at the pictures. They represented a huge milestone because they symbolized her return to the art world after almost a three-year absence.
When she’d been married to her late husband she thought she’d never be an artist again. All her energy had gone to surviving her husband’s abuse. Now, the past was behind her and she was creating again. She’d forgotten how exciting and joyous it felt to see her photographs materialize in the developing tray.
To think she’d almost lost her art. To think she’d almost lost her life.
As if sensing her unease, Beth pulled her bottle from her mouth, craned her neck in search of Nicole. Seeing her mother, the baby gurgled.
Nicole grinned back and winked at her child. Satisfied, Beth returned to her bottle.
Beth’s father, Richard Braxton, had been a charming, clever, and violent man. He’d lured Nicole into his life almost five years ago. They’d met in San Francisco when he’d darted out of the rain and into her studio. He’d quickly won her heart and before she thought, she’d married him. Within a year, he’d turned her life into a living hell.
Finally, after three years of marriage, she’d summoned her courage and fled across the country to Virginia. Not realizing she was pregnant, she’d changed her name and gone into hiding, knowing that Richard would kill her for leaving.
Those weeks had been tense and terrifying but Nicole had been determined to rebuild her life, even after she’d discovered she was pregnant.
Braxton, furious when he’d discovered she’d left, had tracked her down to Richmond, ready to kill Nicole and Lindsay O’Neil, the woman who’d sheltered her.
Nicole and Lindsay had been saved, but just the memory of that hot July day had Nicole crossing the room and double-checking the three deadbolt locks on her door. She’d been checking locks a lot lately. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she’d felt that Richard had somehow risen from the dead and was watching her.
That was ridiculous, of course. “The man is dead,” she whispered. “Richard can’t hurt you anymore. The nightmare is over.” Logic did little to quell the sudden knot in her belly that always formed when she thought about Richard.
Turning from the door, she stared down at her daughter, who looked so much like her father. Her dark hair, brown eyes, and long lean hands ensured that there’d be no denying who’d sired the child. And yet despite the physical similarities, Beth was pure light. No darkness. She was the best part of Nicole.
The front doorbell rang, startling Nicole from her thoughts. The baby dropped her bottle and rolled on her stomach to watch her mother move toward the door.
Nicole smiled at Beth and kept her tone light when she said, “Who could it be?”
The baby gurgled.
Nicole peered through the peephole. She smiled when she saw Lindsay O’Neil’s blond hair tied in a trademark ponytail, which accentuated her sharp profile. Lindsay wore a baby front pack, which held her three-month-old son, Jack. She wore a lightweight jacket, red sweater, and jeans. In her hand, she held a brown shopping bag.
Sighing out her tension, Nicole unfastened the lock and opened the door. “Merry Christmas.” Nicole tossed in a big smile, determined to forget her worries about Richard.
Lindsay grinned, leaned forward, and kissed Nicole on the cheek. Jack grunted between them, unhappy about being gently squished, and the women laughed. Lindsay, patting her son on the bottom, came into the apartment.
Nicole closed the door behind her and clicked just one deadbolt into place.
“So what brings you downtown?” Nicole asked. “I thought you’d be helping your mother-in-law with the big party.” Lindsay’s in-laws owned a restaurant called Zola’s and each Christmas they closed their doors to the public and had a huge party for friends and family. Nicole and Beth planned to attend.
“I stopped by Audrey’s early this morning. She’s cooking like there’s no tomorrow. I tried to help but she shooed me out of the kitchen. However, she asked me to drop these few things off with you.” Lindsay set her bag down on the kitchen table by the tree and pulled five to-go tins from the bag. “Nice tree.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s vintage?”
“So I hear. I just liked the way it sparkled.”
Lindsay carried the food into the kitchen and stacked the tins on the counter. “Audrey thinks you’re too thin. There’s enough ziti and bread here to sink a battle ship.”
Nicole laughed. Lindsay’s in-laws, the Kiers, had taken her under their wing when she’d moved into this apar
tment. They’d given her furniture, rugs, and lamps. “That’s sweet of her.”
“This is your first Christmas with the baby. They worry about you.” Concern darkened her gaze a fraction. “I worry about you.”
Lindsay ran the women’s center and was passionate about stopping domestic abuse.
“We’re doing great.” And that was the truth. “We’re settling in nicely.”
Lindsay held her gaze an extra beat. “You’re sure? You have dark circles under your eyes.”
“That’s actually a good thing. I was up cropping pictures and framing them for the exhibit.” She held up her hands. “Have a look around at my latest.”
Lindsay’s gaze trailed to the images as she moved around the room studying each carefully. She stopped at a black and white portrait of Kendall Shaw, a local news anchorwoman. Kendall and Nicole—the diva and the artist as their friends liked to say—were an unlikely pair but had struck up a close friendship when Nicole was pregnant. “When did you take this?”
“A week ago.”
Moody shadows accentuated Kendall’s stunning cheekbones and powerful eyes and the use of sepia tones made Kendall’s skin look like silk. “Very powerful. Does she like it?”
“I haven’t shown her yet.” Nicole nibbled on her bottom lip. Like many artists she constantly questioned herself. “Do you think she’ll like it?”
“Most definitely. And I know her husband would love a print.”
“Good. Because that’s what I’m giving them for Christmas.” She also had a picture of Lindsay and Jack ready to give on Christmas Day.
Lindsay faced Nicole. “So you’re ready for the show?”
“Yes. And it’s exciting and terrifying.”
“You’ll knock ’em dead.”
“I’m no longer the sad, desperate woman I was when I showed up on your doorstep two years ago running from Richard. Really.”
Lindsay unbuttoned her jacket and Jack gurgled in his front pack. Beth’s fat hands and sock feet slapped the carpeted floor as she crawled toward Nicole and, gripping the fabric of her mother’s jeans, pulled herself up.
Nicole picked up Beth, unsure of why she’d just referenced Richard. She’d not spoken his name in more than a year. “So I hear that the Kiers’ party is a huge deal.” She’d been invited last year but late-term morning sickness and fatigue had kept her away.
“Oh, it is. It’s an extravaganza. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen the food.”
“Can’t wait.” Beth grabbed Nicole’s nose. Nicole captured the little girl’s hand in her own and kissed it.
“David Ayden is also going to be there.” Lindsay watched Nicole closely for a reaction.
Nicole’s stomach fluttered. Homicide Sergeant David Ayden was a widower with two teenage sons. He’d been a good friend to her after Beth was born. They’d had dinner several times with his boys and Beth. He and the boys had helped move furniture into her apartment. They’d laughed a lot and despite the dozen years between their ages, seemed to be on the same page about so many things.
At Beth’s christening, he’d pulled her aside and out of the blue had kissed her on the lips. The kiss had been sensual and so full of promise. An unexpected heat skyrocketed through her body. She’d kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck.
After the kiss, he’d said he’d wanted more than friendship. She’d been stunned, excited, and scared all in the same instant. Ayden’s lean body, rawboned features, and thick blond hair excited her and she liked him so much. It would have been so easy to love him.
Love. Just the idea of love terrified her. She’d loved Richard and had nearly lost herself. And the thought of loving and losing herself to anyone else had her pulling away.
“I can’t,” she’d whispered.
The desire and longing in his expression melted first to confusion and then to embarrassed hurt. Sloppily, she’d tried to explain, but she sounded like a confused child. He nodded, stoically accepting her wishes. She’d left the christening feeling awful. A few times she considered calling him, but never did. What could she say?
Nicole felt her cheeks warm when she remembered some of the sexual fantasies she’d had involving him. “He’s doing well, I hope.”
Lindsay arched an eyebrow. “The holidays are never great for him. His boys are going to stay with his late wife’s parents this Christmas so he’s covering the office. But he will be at the party.”
Nicole remembered how his scent had clung to her hours after the kiss. “I’m glad. I’d hate for him to be alone.”
Lindsay’s gaze didn’t waver from Nicole’s face. “I saw the kiss he planted on you at Beth’s christening.”
Color rose in Nicole’s face. “I didn’t think anyone saw.”
“I was the only one. What happened?”
“I just wasn’t ready.”
Lindsay studied her a beat. “That’s fair enough. You had a lot of healing to do this year.” A grin lifted the edge of Lindsay’s mouth. “Still, just the mention of his name makes you blush.”
Her face grew warmer. “I won’t lie. The idea of seeing him again excites and scares me.”
Lindsay lifted a brow. “I get the excites part, but why are you afraid? Ayden is not Richard.”
“I know. I know.”
“But…”
“But caring or loving someone is just too dangerous. The cost is too high if things go wrong.”
“You deserve to have a good man in your life, Nicole. Don’t let Richard steal your future.”
The thought that Richard could still be controlling her made her mad. “He’s not. This is my choice.”
“Okay.” Lindsay always had a sense of when to back off.
Nicole inhaled deeply to calm her rapid heartbeat. “So what else is in the bag?” She peered into the shopping sack and saw an envelope addressed to her. “What’s that?”
“Believe it or not, it’s a letter that was addressed to you. It was mailed to my old town house. I guess the sender knew you were living with me at the time. Anyway, it was delivered to the town house next door and the bonehead that lived there never took the time to drop it by my place. He just moved out and the rental company found it. They called me and I picked it up.”
Curious, Nicole picked up the padded envelope. Her name and address were typed neatly on the mailing address label of an Alexandria, Virginia, law firm, Wellington and James. The postmark was August 15, a year and a half ago. Richard had been dead nearly a month when the letter had been mailed.
“I was curious about Wellington and James so I looked the firm up on the Web. They have a site.”
Nicole laughed. “Ever the detective’s wife.”
“I’m a natural snoop.” There was no hint of apology in her voice.
“So what did you find out, Nancy Drew?”
“Not much. It’s a small firm owned by two women. Charlotte Wellington and Sienna James. Everything written about them was positive. They did mostly corporate work but have branched into criminal law.”
Beth gurgled and grabbed the edge of the envelope. She’d have put it in her mouth if Nicole hadn’t set her back down on her blanket and handed Beth her bottle. Nicole pulled the tab on the edge of the envelope and tore it open. Flecks of padding cascaded to the floor as she dug her hand inside. Her fingers brushed the hard edges of a DVD case. “What’s this? There’s no letter.”
“Pop it in the DVD player and let’s see.” Lindsay’s tone had grown serious.
“It bothers me that there’s no letter.” Hard lessons had taught Nicole that surprises never boded well. She put the disc in the machine and hit PLAY. Immediately, Richard’s face flashed on the screen. Dark slicked-back hair and olive skin accentuated sharp piercing eyes and even white teeth.
Nicole’s stomach immediately clenched and tears filled her eyes. Seeing him nearly made her sick. She had forgotten how intense and frightening his gaze could be. With a trembling hand, she shut the TV off. “Oh, my God.”
Li
ndsay pushed EXIT and pulled out the DVD. “God, I am so sorry. I had no idea. You don’t need to see this. Just smash it into a million pieces.”
Sweat beaded on the back of Nicole’s neck. “How could he have sent this? He died a month before it was mailed.”
Lindsay pursed her lips. “No doubt he set something up with the attorneys before he came to Richmond.”
“Richard was always good at looking at all the different angles.” Nicole’s hands trembled and a chill cut through her body. “I don’t understand.”
“I do. He figured if he failed to get you back, he’d have this tape sent to you. It’s just another way to terrorize you.” Lindsay shut the TV off.
Nicole pulled in a ragged breath. Richard’s plan was working. She’d gone from excited and happy to terrified in seconds. Beth gurgled on her blanket. Nicole glanced down at her daughter and reminded herself she had nothing to be afraid of. Richard was dead. She was free. “Turn the TV back on.”
“Nicole, let it go. You don’t have to watch this. Don’t give him the chance to upset you.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “No, Lindsay. I need to see his face, look him in the eye, and tell myself I am not afraid.”
Lindsay looked unconvinced. “You don’t need to prove anything.”
“I need to know I can do this.”
“It’s not necessary. I know you’re not afraid.”
Nicole pulled the remote from Lindsay’s long fingers. Her throat tight, she reloaded the DVD and pointed it at the TV. She hit PLAY.
Richard’s face reappeared. Her stomach clenched, but her gaze didn’t waver. He would not rule her life. She would have the last word.
Richard’s flashing white teeth reminded her of a hungry wolf. “If you’re watching this, Christina…”
Christina. That had been her given name—the name Richard knew her by. But when she’d fled Richard and moved east she’d changed her name. At first the name Nicole Piper had been a temporary name. But after Richard’s death, she’d discovered she had no desire to take back her old name. It had too much sadness attached to it. So she’d changed it legally.
Silver Bells Page 19
