Love In Store Books 1-3: Collection of three sweet and clean Christian romances with a London setting: The Wedding List, Believe in Me, & A Model Bride

by Autumn Macarthur

  No-one seemed to guess that he walked around with a massive hole in his chest where his heart had been. Only he knew the juiciest story of all, one the reporters would never guess - that he loved Cara, and she’d turned him down.

  He pulled his phone from his coat pocket and stood staring at it. He wanted to ring her, check she was okay, but he wasn’t sure he could take another kick-in-the-teeth rebuff. Sending a text would have to do.

  The biggest job of his life, and he’d blown it. He’d so much wanted to help Cara find her way back to God and happiness again.

  The failure gnawed at him.

  He sat on the couch and stared at the white walls of his sterile rented apartment. When he left in a week’s time, there’d be nothing to show he’d been here at all. No mark left behind except a bunch of newspapers in the recycle bin.

  It seemed his life was like that too. That was the trouble with floating on the surface the way he had. He left no marks anywhere. But with someone like Cara, a pretty surface didn’t cut it.

  God, please help. Help her. Help me.

  He didn’t know what else to pray. All he knew was that he needed to feel the Lord’s healing touch in a way he’d never needed to feel it before.

  He wanted that healing touch for Cara, too.

  She’d shown just how deep her grief was as she’d spoken of her mother this morning. Then she’d bottled it all back up again and hidden behind her defences, where he couldn’t reach her, couldn’t touch her, couldn’t help her, no matter how much he longed to.

  He could pray for her though, and trust that God could reach her, even though he couldn’t. God was bigger than he was, bigger than Cara’s pain.

  Sliding to his knees, he buried his face in his hands. Hollow inside, no words seemed to come. He had to trust that Spirit prayed for him, even though he didn’t know what to say.

  The buzz of the doorbell interrupted his silent struggle.

  He looked up. Annoyance bit him hard, tensing his body.

  Okay, he got it. The reporters needed a story. They also needed to know when to give up. Surely it was obvious they weren’t going to get any more from him. He went to the intercom, ready to say some unusually sharp words.

  But it wasn’t a pushy press-man at the front entrance.

  It was Dad.

  Here.

  Not in Paris.

  Sudden lightness filled him, releasing the tightness in his muscles. He buzzed Dad in, then rubbed unexpected tears from his eyes. He didn’t want Dad to see him like this, weak and broken. Dad had always been so much the steadfast man of God, with a faith that nothing shook.

  Not a reed blown in the wind like him.

  But maybe Dad was the only one that could help him through this.

  His father breezed in, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Your Mom and the girls are coming back tomorrow, but I figured I’d come back tonight instead.”

  His expression changed, as his eyes narrowed in a look that seemed to see clear though to Nick’s heart and soul. “I wanted to know you were okay, after that phone call this morning. I got the idea that maybe you needed some support.”

  “Dad .…”

  Nick’s voice broke and he got no further as strong arms came around him in a hug, offering comfort that never wavered.

  No wonder he found it easy to believe in God the Father, with his own Dad being so solid and supportive.

  He pulled back so he could see his father’s face. “I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’m worried about how all the publicity is going to affect you.”

  Dad gave his slow true smile and echoed the words right back at him. “And I’m worried about how all the publicity will affect you, son. Not your career, but you.”

  Nick didn’t want to think too much about that. “Do you want coffee?”

  Of course, Dad would recognise the diversionary tactic straight away.

  He did. “No thanks, I had some on the train. What I want is for us to sit and talk.”

  Nick scrubbed his fingers through his hair, and joined his father on the couch.

  “Where to start? First, the gossip isn’t true. Cara and I haven’t done a thing I wouldn’t be happy doing in front of the whole congregation.” He thought of that kiss, and smiled, though it felt lopsided on his face. “Okay, one thing maybe you’d normally only see at the end of the marriage ceremony.”

  His father smiled. “You may now kiss the bride? Always my favourite part. Is that how you feel about her?”

  A long breath escaped Nick’s lungs as his head dropped to his chest. “I’ve never felt what I feel for her for anyone else. I love her. I know it hasn’t been long, but yes, I want to marry her.” He rubbed his face with his hands again. “I told her I loved her. She told me to leave.”

  He lifted his head, fearing he’d see condemnation, confirmation he was the failure he felt himself to be. None of that showed on Dad’s face. All he saw was a steady compassionate gaze, focused on him.

  Encouraged, Nick went on. “She’s been through so much. She’s gone through things no-one should have to endure.” He fell silent, thinking of how she’d blamed herself for so much. “Did you read the whole article?”

  Dad nodded.

  “Not all of it was a lie. Her father did steal, and her mother did kill herself. But her salary goes to paying back the people her father robbed. She works at the suicide helpline in her spare time. She’s got a hundred times more courage than I’ll ever have. She even has me visiting a homeless shelter. And enjoying it.” He grinned. “I better let you know, I volunteered us all for Christmas Day.”

  Dad raised an eyebrow. “Busman’s holiday for me, then. I’m wondering what Tiff will make of that one.”

  Nick rolled his eyes. “Me too. I haven’t told her yet. But it’s only a few hours, I’m sure she’ll survive. Cara’s different. So serious. I feel such a lightweight compared to her, as if I’ve never done anything important and I never will.”

  His father laughed, soft and gentle, and shook his head. “That’s the way it always is when you love a woman. I feel that way every day about your mother. Inadequate. Like I’ll never be man enough to be worthy of her. Like God blessed me way beyond what I deserved when He put her in my life.”

  Nick felt like he’d been hit with a brick, and could only stare. “You feel like that?” He shook his head. “There’s no hope for me then. I’m nothing compared to you, not half the man you are. What have I ever achieved? You’re there for the congregation every day. I run around in board shorts in never-ending California sunshine, repeating lines someone else wrote for me to say, whether I agree with them or not.”

  It was his father’s turn to look shocked. His eyes widened, then narrowed intently. He reached out a hand, and took Nick’s in a firm grip.

  It gave just as much comfort now as it had when he was ten.

  “I’ve never thought that. We’re each given our own gifts and our own ministries, asked to serve God in our own unique way.” His firm grip on Nick’s hand tightened. “Right from your first acting role, everything you’ve done in Hollywood has been a witness. Even with your dating life being gossip fodder, your morals were never in question. Think of the message in that Christmas movie of yours. God enters people’s lives in different ways. I preach sermons. But some people are so closed off that God’s light only enters through a movie.”

  Nick nodded, slowly. Maybe that was true.

  “I’ve always been proud of you, son.” Dad smiled. “I don’t believe that’s going to change over this.”

  Warmth radiated through Nick as a grin took over his face.

  “You really mean that, don’t you?”

  His Dad frowned. “Of course I do. I can’t believe you doubted it for a moment. You’re not only my son, you’re God’s son. I trust that He’d put you where He wanted you.”

  Nick squeezed Dad’s hand then let go. He jumped up and walked to the window, looking out on the busy street below for a moment, seeking guidanc
e.

  The confusion that had fogged his brain when he’d thought about going back to the soap left him. He lifted his head and turned to answer. “I’m not convinced I am where He wants me. It’s like Cara is God’s wake up call. He’s been calling me for a while now and I’ve refused the call. Not any more. It’s going to mean some big changes. I need to do something more with my life.”

  Dad reached out his hand. “God will show you His will. Let’s pray.”

  As they prayed together, Nick’s sense of certainty and of being guided increased.

  At last, he knew what God wanted him to do.

  Chapter 20

  Cara wasn’t sure her plan to get into Pettett and Mayfield’s on Christmas Eve could work, but she prayed it would.

  She had to try. It was her last chance to see Nick alone. And she’d promised William she’d be there to show him around.

  Maddy, the night housekeeper at the inn, made an excellent conspirator, lending her exactly what she needed. She even drove Cara to the train station in the morning.

  Everything went without a hitch.

  People on the train smiled at her Christmassy outfit, but no-one recognised her. She wasn’t that famous yet.

  Arriving at Pettett and Mayfield’s just as it opened, she got a customer’s view of the store. Maggie’s window displays looked wonderful.

  Someone she suspected was a paparazzi hung around the staff entrance, but she slipped amongst the crowd waiting near the front doors.

  It was easy to mingle and go in with a group when the doors opened.

  The store bustled with people and activity. Everything she’d arranged worked perfectly, from the choir replacing the piped commercial music with real Christmas carols, to the extra staff dressed as Santa or Mrs Claus handing out mulled apple juice and mince pies.

  Her heart sang. Christmas at Pettett and Mayfield’s was a success.

  She fitted right in, with her red velvet dress trimmed with white fur, black boots and belt. A wig of bobbing white curls topped with a Santa hat hid all her own hair, apple red blush changed the contours of her face, and gold rimmed glasses completed the disguise.

  Thankfully the outfit was modest, designed for waitresses working in the hotel’s family restaurant. Turned out finding a costume wasn’t as big a challenge as she worried it might be when she asked room service.

  The only catch was she couldn’t change into work clothes, her Santa sack wasn’t big enough to carry much more than Nick’s present.

  Staying dressed as Mrs Claus wasn’t a bad idea anyway. Hopefully most of the press would have moved on to someone or something more newsworthy by now, but she couldn’t be sure.

  She hurried up the escalators to the top floor, noting as she went that the cash registers were almost playing Jingle Bells, as Nick had said they’d need to. A satisfied grin stretched her lips. The dare had worked.

  That felt good. Really good. Nick had made all the difference.

  Warmth blossomed in her chest just thinking of him. All she could hope was that he’d agree to see her, that he hadn’t made other plans or washed his hands of her after her foolish rejection yesterday. Even a man as patient as Nick had limits.

  But he’d told her he loved her, and she didn’t think Nick was the type to say that lightly.

  The office staff didn’t recognise her when she walked in, until she spoke, Then, they laughed and hugged her, seeming genuinely happy to see her.

  She complimented them on their work, went into her office, and closed the door.

  Her hand shook a little as she turned on her computer. She’d sent Nick an email from her laptop, before leaving the inn. Short and sweet.

  Nick, please meet me in Santa's Grotto after the store closes. I have your Christmas present. C x

  Whispering a little prayer, she braced herself before opening his reply.

  Just one word.

  Yes.

  Her heart did a happy dance. That one word was enough. Okay, he hadn’t signed it with an x, but there was hope. He wouldn’t meet her there unless he meant what he’d said in the hotel room.

  She longed to call him, ask him to meet her sooner. But he had to collect his family.

  She’d stick to her plan to show him just how completely he’d won the dare. And she wanted to be alone with him when she met him again, and gave him her gift.

  Though they wouldn’t be quite alone. God would be there with them, too.

  Even if Nick didn’t want to see her again after today, he’d given her the best gift anyone could, the courage to question her burdens and renew her faith. Just thinking of God’s redeeming love filled her with warm joy.

  She’d arranged to meet William inside the store entrance at noon. Right on time, he arrived, neatly suited, immaculately groomed, back ramrod straight. No-one seeing him would guess he’d been sitting outside, filthy and hungry, only three weeks earlier.

  “William, welcome to Pettett and Mayfield’s,” she said.

  He peered at her. “Cara, is that you?” He laughed. “Very festive, my dear.”

  He waved away the offer of mulled cider, though she reassured him it was non-alcoholic. She started the tour. As she led him through the departments reciting the store’s history, something told Cara he’d heard it all before.

  “William, did you work here?” she asked.

  He smiled enigmatically. “Not at all, dear girl. The problem was, I didn’t work here.”

  That made no sense at all.

  But before she could ask him, she spotted Mrs Pettett, marching towards them.

  Her employer’s expression made Cara want to run and hide. Was she really going to be sacked on Christmas Eve?

  She took a deep breath, resisted the urge to curl herself into a ball and lifted her chin as the imperious little lady approached. Her knees still shook, but Mrs Pettett wouldn’t notice that.

  “Cara, your staff told me I’d find you traipsing around the store in a ridiculous outfit. I want to talk to you about these latest newspaper articles. I asked you to get the store publicity, but not that sort of publicity. Most improper for a family store. I’m not sure I want you working for us any more. I ̶”

  Frowning, she stopped her tirade and turned to William. “I’m sure I know you. You look familiar. Who are you?”

  William’s weathered cheeks flushed. “Hello, Alice. It’s been a long time.”

  Mrs Pettett’s expression softened as surprise and delight mingled on her face.

  “Willie? Is it really you?”

  He ducked his head. “I’m not the man I was. I’m sorry, dearest. Like the prodigal son, I was somewhat delayed on the way. Gambled away my inheritance. Drank too much. Fell ill. I was a mess,” he said, apology in his voice.

  Mrs’s P’s face crumpled, looking more human than Cara had ever seen her. “I don’t care. You’ve come home at last.” Her voice broke and a tear ran down her powdered cheek.

  William stared, as if her words were a miracle. He patted Cara’s arm. “This dear girl helped me, I was ashamed to let you or anybody I knew in my old life see me in the sorry state I was in.”

  Cara looked from one to the other, with no idea what was going on. “William?”

  He smiled. “You were right, Cara, I do know the store. You never asked my full name. I’m Charles William Pettett.”

  Her jaw dropped, and she knew she must be goggling at him. “The Lost Heir?”

  He nodded.

  She struggled to believe it, but it explained a lot. The younger Pettett son, who’d taken a share of his inheritance and left for Europe, disappearing completely when Alice Mayfield married his older brother.

  Now, gazing at him, Mrs Pettett, Alice Mayfield that was, looked almost humble. “William, would you… would you please spend Christmas Day with your nephew Edgar and I?”

  “I’d be honoured.” William’s flush deepened. “If you think I’m fit to eat with you. I haven’t lived a normal life, you know, Alice.”

  Her wrinkled, blu
e shadowed eyes widened in surprise. “Of course you’re fit. We’ve all done things we may not be proud of.” Her emphatic words didn’t leave much room for doubt.

  Smiling, Cara prayed William could truly believe it. She’d taken long enough to believe she could be forgiven. Watching them made her realise, she didn’t just need forgiveness, she needed to forgive, too. Maybe, if he was still alive, her father would come back one day, just like William had.

  Mrs Pettett’s usual autocratic ways asserted themselves. “You’ll have lunch with me, of course, Willie.” Before he had a chance to answer, she took hold of William’s arm.

  “Cara, make sure you do things properly with Nicholas. No more of those scandalous stories, thank you very much. Oh, and happy Christmas,” she added, too obviously an afterthought, as she led William away.

  “Merry Christmas, Cara. Thank you for giving me the courage to come home,” he called, over his shoulder.

  Cara hoped he knew what he was letting himself in for. He wasn’t the only one who’d changed in the years he’d been away.

  She was still smiling as she went to her office, and sent her staff home early. The door closed behind the giggling group at last, and the floor quieted as one by one the offices emptied. No-one would stay a minute later than needed on Christmas Eve.

  Cara tried to work, but gave up in the end. She couldn’t focus.

  All she could think of was Nick, and seeing him once the store closed.

  Finally, it was time for Cara to go to Santa’s Grotto to meet Nick.

  More butterflies than in the entire Amazon rainforest flapped their wings in her tummy. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could barely breathe.

  She hesitated at the door to the fourth floor.

  Her mouth felt desert dry, and her legs wobbled. Nick might not want to see her at all.

  Maybe he’d thought better of what he’d said. Maybe he was just being nice. Maybe she was reading too much into his one word reply.

  Maybe she needed to calm down.

  She touched trembling fingers to her lips, remembering his kiss. That kiss had been far more than nice. And he wouldn’t have said he loved her just to be nice.