Wedding Bells in Christmas

by Debbie Mason

  “Ah, no.” Skye booked it inside with her cooing stepmama following behind.

  “Skye, what—”

  “No, of course not,” Grace interrupted Vivi, as she lifted her son into her arms and climbed the stairs. “But I’m sure you’re wrong and the kids love you. Right, little Jack, can you say hi to Vivi?”

  “No way,” he said, burying his face in his mother’s neck.

  Vivi sighed, following them to the living room. “Told you. Now, would someone like to tell me what’s going on?”

  Nell stuck her head out of the kitchen. “Get dressed. Appointment with the bank manager is at eleven. We don’t have a lot of time. Coffeemaker’s on the fritz. Who wants tea?”

  “Wait… why would I want to see the—”

  Skye, sitting on a chair while moving the stroller back and forth, cast Vivi an anxious glance. “You haven’t had a coffee yet?”

  “No, and I’m beginning to feel like I’m going to need one. Would someone—” She bowed her head at the knock on the door.

  Skye, Maddie, and Grace shared a silent exchange. “I’ll get it, and I’ll grab you a cup of coffee from the bakery, Vivi.” Grace stood, went to hand her son to Vivi, then handed him to Betty Jean instead.

  “Make sure you double up on the chocolate sprinkles,” Skye suggested.

  “And the sugar,” Maddie added, as Grace headed for the door.

  Fingers pressed to her temples, Vivi looked at Mrs. Tate. “Evelyn, do you want to tell me what this is all about?”

  “Get dressed,” Nell yelled from the kitchen.

  “Nell has a plan, dear. It’s a very good one.”

  Nell’s plans were never good. They always ended in disaster. At least for Vivi they did. She couldn’t believe her best friends were going along with a Nell plan. Chance’s words on the plane came back to her. He was right. Maddie and Skye had gone to the dark side. She could tell by the looks in their eyes. “No. Whatever it is. No.”

  “Hey,” Hailey said, coming up beside Vivi and slapping her on the back. “Welcome to the Christmas Business Association. Good to have you on board. Me and Holly thought we could do a weekly beauty column. Maybe something like Hot Looks from Christmas’s Resident Hotties. What do you think? Catchy, right?”

  Vivi stared at her with her mouth open.

  “Yeah, I know, great idea, isn’t it?” Hailey said, clearly misconstruing the whole mouth-hanging-open thing.

  Vivi closed her mouth, then opened it again when she realized what was going on. “You should be talking to Skye. She knows more about blogs than I do. Skye.” She angled her head at Hailey.

  Maddie sighed. “Vivi, if you just hear us out—”

  “A blog? No, I’m talking about a column in your newspaper.”

  “Sorry, but I think the Spectator is full-up in the columns department.”

  “Spectator? It’s the Christmas Chronicle. And how can it be full-up, you just took over today.”

  “She won’t be taking over if you keep yapping. She’s not even dressed,” Nell said, coming into the living room with a teapot. Stella Wright followed with a tray loaded down with cups, a pitcher of cream, and a bowl of sugar.

  Vivi drew her incredulous gaze to her best friends. “I don’t have the money to buy a paper.”

  “It’s a steal of a deal,” Nell said. “The bank foreclosed last week. There’s some guy looking to buy the building. He wants to open a tittie bar.”

  Betty Jean covered little Jack’s ears. “What’s his mama going to think when he starts saying that word, Nell? And don’t you worry about the financing, sugar. I’ve got more money than God.” She looked up at the ceiling to say “Thank you, Jesus,” then returned her blue-shadowed eyes to Vivi. “My little honey bun wants you here in Christmas, and what my little honey bun wants, she gets.” She patted Skye’s foot.

  With the way Betty Jean spoiled Skye, it was amazing she hadn’t turned into a demanding diva. But this was one wish Skye’s stepmama wouldn’t be able to fulfill. While the idea of owning a newspaper set off a tiny thrill inside her, the fact the newspaper was in a small town currently lacking in skyscrapers, Bagel Bagel, and Roasters Coffee and overflowing with wild animals, a dog named Princess, and interfering older women extinguished the buzz of excitement within seconds of it flaring to life. “Thanks, Betty Jean, but I can’t take your money.”

  Maddie looked up from digging in Connor’s stroller. She popped the pacifier into his mouth. “You can take mine and Skye’s. We’ll be your silent partners.”

  Vivi leaned against the white-plaster pillar. “Come on, Maddie. I know you guys want me to move here, but small-town newspapers are a dying breed. I’ll never turn a profit.” And Maddie, the Queen of Finance, didn’t invest in anything that didn’t make money.

  “Yes, you will. I crunched the numbers last night.” She grabbed her purse from under Connor’s stroller and pulled out a file. “Here it is in black and white. Content’s still king, but advertising is key. And you have several people in this room ready to sign on.”

  Betty Jean nodded. “Envirochicks will buy a weekly two-page spread and so will Au Naturel.” Betty Jean and Skye’s Envirochicks clothing line was set to give Lululemon a run for their activewear dollar. And Betty Jean’s organic makeup line was number one on the Home Shopping Network. Any newspaper, big or small, would kill for their advertising dollars.

  Tiny sparks of excitement buzzed through Vivi. “You know I love you guys, but I love New York, too. I have a gr… good life there. I don’t know—”

  “Last I heard, Chance McBride didn’t live in New York. And you two were looking pretty cozy at the diner yesterday.” Hailey smirked.

  Skye and Maddie stared at Vivi. “You were at the diner with Chance?”

  “It was nothing. He was trying to make up for throwing me in jail.” She gave Hailey a thanks-a-lot look. “And last I heard, Chance didn’t live in Christmas, either.” She realized what she’d said and quickly amended. “Not that it would make any difference to me if he did.”

  “It does to his family,” Stella said. “That boy belongs in Christmas.”

  Vivi narrowed her eyes at Nell, who waggled her eyebrows at her. “Get dressed, girlie. We have a newspaper to save.”

  “Sorry.” Grace ran into the room with the coffee, handing the cup to Vivi. “What did I miss?”

  “Tittie bar.” Little Jack grinned.

  * * *

  Chance stood behind Lauren with his hands on her shoulders. “Dad?”

  His father moved the penlight from side to side in front of Ray’s open right eye, then his left. He straightened. “He’s tracking the light. It’s a good sign, Lauren,” Paul said with a smile.

  She relaxed in the chair by the bed, her hand holding Ray’s through the bars. “But why doesn’t he just wake up?”

  “It’s not like in the movies, honey. It will take some time. His vitals are stable. We’re going to move him from the ICU.” His father walked around the bed and patted Lauren’s arm. “Why don’t you go down and grab a bite to eat?”

  “I’m good. Chance brought me dinner.”

  “Okay, but you have to take care of yourself, Lauren. Ray’s going to need you healthy when he wakes up.”

  Chance rubbed her shoulder. “I’ll come by after I finish my shift.”

  “How long before he comes out of it?” he asked his father once they were in the hall.

  “Your guess is as good as mine. Tomorrow, a couple days, a week.”

  “I hope it’s sooner than later.” For both Lauren and Ray’s sake. And, admittedly, Chance was frustrated with the lack of progress on the case.

  “He may not be able to tell you anything when he wakes up, son.”

  Chance nodded. He knew that. As they walked to the elevators, he cast his father a sidelong glance. Normally clean-shaven, he sported at least three days of growth on his face. “You look like shit. You might want to take your own advice and take care of yourself.”

  His father
rubbed his jaw. “Long day, that’s all.”

  “Go home and take it easy. Watch the game.”

  “Not the same without Liz.” He stabbed the down button. “In two days we would have been married. Now she’s got Stevens living in her house. He asked her to marry him, you know. A few months ago.”

  “Yeah, I heard—”

  His father stepped into the elevator, talking over Chance. “And she has the nerve to accuse me of sneaking around with Karen behind her back.”

  “Dad, in her defense, you did have lipstick…”

  Chance leaned against the elevator wall, crossing his booted feet at the ankles when his father continued talking as if he hadn’t said anything. “Two minutes, all I asked for was two minutes to explain to her that it was my ninety-year-old patient who left the lipstick on me and not Karen. But oh, no, I’m not even entitled to that. She stormed off. Probably ran to Stevens and told him all about it.”

  “So, do the same.”

  “Run to Stevens and tell him what?”

  “Jesus, Dad, where’s your game? No, take Karen out for a drink.” Karen was young and beautiful, and more importantly, his dad didn’t want to marry her. It was the perfect solution. “And for God’s sake, clean yourself up. You don’t want Liz to think you’re pining after her, do you?”

  His father brightened a bit. “You think it would work?”

  “Yeah,” Chance said as the elevator came to a stop.

  “Okay, son, I’ll give Karen a call. Maybe we’ll stop by the Penalty Box. Too bad you’re on duty. You could join the party.”

  Sometimes he forgot how old his father was. Chance and his brothers should have helped him brush up on his dating skills before letting him back out there. “I wouldn’t call you and Karen on a date a party, Dad.”

  His father snorted, following him out of the elevator. “I’m talking about the party for Vivi.”

  He stopped midstride and turned, ignoring the heavy weight in his gut at the thought she was leaving. After last night, there was a part of him that didn’t want her to go. But it was for the best. “If I get a chance, I’ll stop by and say good-bye.”

  “Good-bye? She’s not going anywhere. She just bought the Chronicle.” His father cast him a hopeful glance. “She’s moving to Christmas for good.”

  * * *

  While Chance checked out possible sightings of a ’76 black Mustang over the last few hours, he’d tried to reach his aunt and Vivi. He’d struck out on all counts. At least his aunt and Vivi’s noncommunication was easy enough to check on. He stopped in at the station before heading to the Penalty Box. As soon as he walked into the bar, he understood the reason for their lack of response. It was doubtful they’d hear the ping of the message above the noise. The party was in full swing.

  He nodded to Sawyer as he passed the bar and headed to where Vivi, wearing a jean jacket and white V-neck T-shirt, sat alone at a table, nursing a drink. Looked like her entire party had abandoned her to hit the dance floor. His aunt and her pals were leading at least thirty people in an exuberant rendition of the Village People’s “YMCA.” His brother and Ethan glared at him through their upraised arms as they danced along with their wives. He couldn’t figure out the attitude until he spotted his father and Karen near the jukebox. Chance shrugged. His dad looked a hell of a lot happier than he had a few hours ago.

  “Hey, Slick.” He pulled out the chair beside her. “How come you’re not out there celebrating with your friends?”

  She lowered the frothy white drink from her mouth. “You heard.”

  He grinned, wiping the milk mustache from her upper lip with his finger. “Yeah, I heard.” He tasted the drink off his finger and made a face. “You should stick to beer. Drink too much of these, and you’ll be hungover for a week.”

  “That’s the plan. A few more Lois Lanes, and I’ll wake up to discover this is all a bad dream.”

  “Lois Lanes?”

  “Yeah.” She lifted the drink and scowled at the frosted glass. “Sawyer named it after me. He should’ve called it The Idiot.” She leaned into Chance, resting her head on his shoulder. “What the hell was I thinking?”

  He tipped her chin to look into her eyes. “You’re already drunk, aren’t you?”

  “Possibly.” She closed one eye and then the other. “Probably. You’re supposed to be my friend. Why didn’t you stop me?”

  He held back a smile. She was a cute drunk. “I’ll stop you now, how’s that?” He moved the drink out of her reach, calling to Brandi, who was serving another table, to bring Vivi some water when she had a minute.

  “I didn’t mean stop me from drinking. I meant stopping me from buying the damn newspaper.” She groaned, burying her face in his neck.

  He smoothed his hand down her long, glossy hair, trying not to react to her warm breath on his skin. “You could have said no, honey.”

  Her head snapped up. Thanks to his quick reflexes, he’d moved his in time to avoid a broken jaw. “I did.” She held up both hands, wiggling her fingers. “Ten times. But none of them would take no for an answer. They talked right over me. Have you ever tried to win a war of words with Nell, or for that matter, Maddie and Skye? For every reason I gave them not to buy the paper, they gave me three why I should. And theirs sounded better than mine.” Her expression grew serious, her anxious violet eyes searching his face. “Do you think it’s a stupid idea? Do you think I can make it work?”

  For all her confidence and hard-ass attitude, Vivi Westfield had no idea how incredible she really was. He blamed her mother for that. Which is probably why, even though the last thing he wanted was her running the newspaper in Christmas while he investigated the Drugstore Bandits, he couldn’t use her fears against her. He lifted his hand, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I think it’s a great idea, Slick. If anyone can make a go of the paper, it’s you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Vivi finished her early-morning run with an all-out sprint alongside the boardwalk. Pushing herself to the edge of her endurance, her lungs burned. She slowed to a jog as she reached the path to the park and checked her watch—five miles in forty-five minutes. Not a personal best, but she’d take it. Running outdoors was definitely more punishing than the indoor track at the gym. There were perks though, like the sun shining on her face, the light breeze off the mountains cooling her skin, and the peaceful gurgle of the stream she ran beside. Yes, even a city girl like her could admit the scenery was spectacular. Since she hadn’t run into any bears or wolves, she might be convinced to start every day this way.

  She walked to the weeping willow on the edge of the path, placing her right palm on the tree. Bending her left knee, she wrapped her hand around her foot and pulled it toward her bottom.

  “You’re doing it wrong. Line up your knees and straighten your back,” a familiar deep male voice directed.

  She glanced to her right. And to think she’d congratulated herself on not coming across any wild animals this morning. The uniformed man stalking toward her reminded her of a lion—all predatory male. “Good morning to you, too.”

  “It would have been if I hadn’t read your first edition of the Chronicle.” Chance came to stand behind her, placing his big hand over hers. He moved her leg down and over an inch.

  She suppressed a shiver at the feel of him at her back, at his warm sandalwood scent wafting past her nose. His comment should have been enough to suppress the unwanted reaction. She was proud of her first edition. It’s why she’d gone for a run. It had been her way of celebrating the new direction her life had taken. The past week had been crazy busy, but a good busy. She felt more fulfilled and challenged than she had in years. She’d wanted to get the paper out as soon as possible. And she’d done it with help from her friends, and Nell and her friends.

  So she wasn’t exactly happy to hear Chance’s unflattering remark, but before she had the opportunity to ask him what his problem was, he said, “What were you thinking running the story about the Drugstore Bandits? I to
ld you about the computers off the record, Vivi.”

  She knew he did. She’d gone to the station two days ago to let him know she was running the story. He’d been working as hard as her and had finally caught a break. All the burglaries had one thing in common—a large delivery of prescription drugs the day of the break-in. Since the pharmacies were spread over three counties, the odds were against an inside job.

  Chance had worked the angle that they’d hacked into the pharmacy’s computer system the same way they’d hacked into the security systems and hit pay dirt. Whoever was behind the Drugstore Bandits had scary good computer skills. But so did Chance’s youngest brother Easton, who was now consulting on the case. If he could find an IP address, they’d be one step closer to putting the Drugstore Bandits behind bars.

  She twisted from the waist. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I… McBride,” she huffed when he turned her around.

  “Stretch. You alluded to it, Vivi. So if you were involved with the robberies and didn’t want to get caught, what would you do?”

  “All I said was new evidence had come to light and a break in the case was imminent.”

  He ignored her, moving closer, crowding her against the tree. “I’ll tell you what you’d do, what they’ll do. They’ll want to know what you know, Vivi, and they’ll figure out a way to find out. You put yourself on their radar.”

  She lowered her leg to face him. “In your overprotective, suspicious mind, I’m on everyone’s radar, McBride. I can handle myself. I’ll be careful.” If he got this bent out of shape over the Bandit story, which was nothing in her mind, it was a good thing she hadn’t told him Darwin Callahan had e-mailed her. Callahan Senior had let her know he’d discovered who she was. He wasn’t happy, but she wouldn’t exactly call the wording in his e-mail a threat. Besides, she didn’t want another lecture or I-told-you-so from Mr. Hypervigilant.