Secret Santa

by Fern Michaels

  “Jeb, if you give up now, you can walk away from this. You haven’t injured anyone yet. There is no need for you to keep the other hostages inside. Let them go, and you and I will talk.”

  Claire breathed a massive sigh of relief; and then she prayed, something she hadn’t done in a very long time. She tried to catch Patrick’s eye. She did and saw that he’d heard what she had. No one was injured at this point. Thank God. But who knew what this drugged-out crazy kid would do before all was said and done.

  “I want to talk to that son of a bitch Patrick O’Brien. This is between me and him! This is all his fault!”

  “Listen, son,” the negotiator said. “This isn’t anyone’s fault. From what I’ve been told, you’ve got a bad cocaine habit. I can get you some help, but in order for me to help you, you have to help me out. You can start helping both of us by letting all the hostages go.”

  Claire strained to hear, but nothing was being said.

  “How do I know you won’t try to shoot me?” Jeb Norris said. Claire knew this was a good sign. He was beginning to ask for help in his own sick way.

  “I am a man of my word. If I tell you I will see that you get help for your addiction, then that’s exactly what I will do. But you have to help me, too, remember? You can help us both right this very minute, Jeb. All you have to do is let all those innocent people leave. They’ve done nothing to you, right?”

  Claire and Patrick waited for him to respond.

  “I don’t trust you,” Jeb called out.

  “Jeb, listen to me. I am all you have right now. I’m the man that’s keeping you alive. As soon as I give up on you, they will, too. We have professionally trained sharpshooters. They can take you out right now if I give the order, but I’m not going to do that because I know you’ve got problems, and I know that you need help. Take it while I can still offer it, Jeb. I’m just doing my job, you understand? I don’t want to see anyone hurt. I don’t think you do, either. It’s Christmas. You know that there are kids inside that dining hall right now, don’t you? Kids who still believe in Santa Claus? Kids whose lives you’ll be responsible for ruining if you don’t let them go home to their mothers and fathers. Where’s your mother, Jeb? Think she’s watching this on TV right now? I bet she is, and I bet she’s crying her heart out. What do you think?”

  “My mom ain’t got nothing to do with this! You leave her out of this, you hear me?” Jeb’s voice was trembling now.

  “I’m running out of patience, Jeb. Seriously. My boss tells me I’ve got ten minutes, after that . . . well, remember what I said about those sharpshooters. They can take you out in a split second. And I think some of them want to. They’ve got kids, and they don’t like to see little children frightened or threatened in any way. You think about that, Jeb? Okay, I want you to think about it.”

  A loud crashing noise, then the sound of crying as Jeb Norris dropped to his knees. Before he had a chance to make the slightest move, he was handcuffed and lifted off the ground, then escorted to a cruiser.

  The next hour was pure pandemonium. Claire rushed to her parents’ side. They were unharmed, thank God. One by one, the police officers escorted the remaining hostages out of the dining hall. When Claire saw Quinn, she ran toward him and threw herself in his arms. “I was so afraid for you,” she said, as they walked arm in arm to the temporary tents the police had set up. There were twenty-three people who’d almost lost their lives. It was going to be a very long day for all of them.

  Chapter Ten

  The night before Christmas Eve . . .

  Claire lost count of the cookies after the twenty-third dozen. Her entire family was gathered at Hope House, a shelter for battered women where Max Jorgenson, his wife Grace, and their daughter Bella held their annual cookie bake-off.

  This was the first time Claire had attended, and she knew without a doubt that she would return next year. She was having so much fun, no wonder Tilly had chosen to be a chef over her career as a medical doctor. Donald Flynn, the old coot, was getting his way in spite of all the trouble he’d created last week when he demanded Claire come to Ireland where he supposedly lay on his deathbed. Though she wanted to stay angry at him, she couldn’t. He would be eighty years old in a matter of days. Claire and Quinn were waiting until then to tell him they were a couple now. With every passing minute, she knew she’d made the right decision when she let Quinn Connor into her life, and into her heart. Connor was his mother’s maiden name, she’d discovered. She hadn’t wanted Quinn to be burdened with the Flynn name and had chosen to use her maiden name instead. While “Flynn” was close to “Trump” in Ireland, here in the States, it was just another Irish name.

  “Can we call you Uncle Quinn yet?” Amanda asked.

  “I’d be delighted if you did,” he replied.

  “So you’re gonna marry Aunt Claire?” Ashley asked as she slopped gooey red icing on her Santa cookie.

  Quinn looked at Claire. “I plan to.”

  “But don’t you have to ask her first?” Ashley asked again.

  Stephanie chose that moment to enter the kitchen, carrying another tray of cookies to the table to be decorated. Something both girls were quite good at.

  “Are they being nosy?”

  “No, they’re just being girls,” Quinn said, and winked at Claire.

  There were cookies in every possible Christmas design. Angels, stars, Santa’s of all shapes and sizes, reindeer, Christmas trees and snowflakes set on cooling racks on the dining room table. This was the cooling station. Grace had them all set up in assembly-line fashion. The messiest job, the decorating, was done in the kitchen.

  Claire’s mother and dad helped to mix the batter. Once the dough was chilled, and they had lots of dough, the kids—Amanda, Ashley, and Bella, and Megan and Nathan’s boys—Joseph, Ryan, and Eric—helped to roll out the dough. Abigail, Mark and Colleen’s remaining daughter, supervised the young kids.

  Later that evening, they would take the cookies to local nursing homes and hospitals. Claire knew there was a big surprise coming up, but she kept it to herself. She and Patrick had decided she wouldn’t even hint that she knew what that surprise was.

  When the adults returned from delivering the cookies, they all gathered in the formal living room, where Grace served them cookies and hot toddies, and cocoa for those who didn’t wish to imbibe. Claire was definitely in the latter group. After the episode at JFK, it would be a very long time before she had another alcoholic beverage.

  When the adults were settled, and the younger children put to bed for the night, they watched Bryce, Grace’s brother, set up his new Apple computer. They made a big production of turning the computer on, then Bryce clicked the mouse a few times and a face appeared on the screen.

  “Claire, I think you should look at this,” Quinn said, seeing that she was engaged in a conversation with Melanie, Bryce’s wife.

  “Look at what?” she asked, then before Quinn had a chance to answer, Claire squealed with delight. “Kelly! Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it!”

  “Aye, these computers are quite amazing, huh? We can Skype now that Quinn gave me a computer. I can’t tell ya how excited I was when he tol’ me and mother we were gettin’ a new place to live! And Paddy loves his new boots.” Claire had just sent them three days ago, but she’d sent them overnight air, so she knew they’d receive them before Christmas.

  “I’m glad he likes them. Wait until next year, he’ll be walking in those boots. No, he’ll be too big. I’ll make sure to keep little Paddy supplied with boots, and his mom with shoes.”

  “Aye, the Kate Spades were ta die for! Thank ya so very much.”

  Claire knew Quinn had a few more surprises for Kelly. She couldn’t wait to see the expression on her face. “Kelly, Quinn wants to have a peep, is that okay with you?”

  She laughed. “Of course it is!”

  Quinn leaned close to the microphone so Kelly could hear him. “A little birdie told me you wanted to go to school to become a nurse.” />
  “Aye, it’s always been a dream o’ mine.”

  “Beginning in January, your tuition is paid in full at the university. And Paddy’s, too, though I know it will be a while before he heads off to college, but Claire and I just wanted to make sure he had that opportunity.”

  Tears rolled down Kelly’s face. “I don’t know what ta say, except thanks to ya both; my life, me mum’s life, and Paddy’s life are better for knowin’ ya, all of ya.”

  “Kelly, there is one more thing,” Quinn said, his voice full of happiness. He looked at Claire, and she raised her brows. She didn’t know what else he had up his sleeve, but whatever it was, she knew it would be life-changing.

  Quinn Connor was a giver, a doer, and a life changer, for all those who were lucky enough to have him as a friend.

  “I don’t know of anything else, I have everything I could possibly want.”

  “When I told you the house was yours to live in as long as you want, I meant it. The deed is now in your name, and the house is yours, free and clear.”

  Claire looked at Quinn, then back at the computer monitor, where she saw Kelly crying her eyes out. She blew her nose on one of Paddy’s diapers, then laughed when she looked into her camera. “There’s nothing ta say, Quinn, nothing left to say, except thank ya, you changed me life.”

  No one said a word. They were all lost in their own thoughts, their own reasons for being especially thankful on this blessed night. They’d all survived during the hostage takeover, each had their wounds, but all had a new appreciation for all that was good in their life.

  The computer monitor went black, and they all clapped and congratulated Quinn on his generosity.

  Patrick chose that moment to clap his hands. “Listen up, folks. I’ve got a bit of good news I’d like to share with you while we’re all together.”

  This was Stephanie’s clue to join her husband. “Amanda, Ashley, would you come here just for a minute. We have something we want to say, and since you’re both big girls now, and don’t have to go to bed for at least”—Patrick looked at his watch—“another fifteen minutes, your mom and I thought you should hear this.”

  Claire wanted to tell him to hurry up and share their good news, but this was special and deserving of those few extra words as it was a life-changing event for them all.

  Patrick rubbed the palms of his hands together, excitement brightening his handsome face. He looked at his wife, then wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Go on, Stephanie, tell them.”

  “Yeah, tell us.”

  “Come on, don’t keep us in suspense.”

  “Spit it out, bro, I need to . . .”

  “Okay, okay. Stephanie, the honor is yours.”

  She grinned, her big brown eyes shining like jewels. “Patrick and I recently learned we’re going to have a baby!”

  Shouts of joy, backslapping, hand clapping, and tears flowed like a fine wine. Joseph and Eileen were just as thrilled with this news as they were when Colleen had told them she was pregnant with Shannon. Though the eldest granddaughter wasn’t there in body, somehow the grandparents knew she was there in spirit.

  Max shook Patrick’s hand. “It’s about time, my friend. Grace and I were starting to worry about you.”

  “Bull,” Patrick said.

  “Watch your mouth, there are kids in this house,” Grace called out, and they all laughed.

  Everyone continued to offer Patrick their congratulations. Amanda and Ashley were so excited, the adults knew it would be quite some time before they settled down.

  “Is it a boy or a girl?” Amanda asked.

  “Yes, do you know yet, or is it too soon?” Claire asked.

  “No, we haven’t had the ultrasound yet. Don’t we have this scheduled for next week? I plan to make a full day of it. Taking the girls with us, too.”

  Stephanie cleared her throat loudly, hoping to focus the attention on herself. “I hate to be the one to bring up bad news, especially tonight when we’re all together as a family for the first time in a very long time, but I don’t think there’s going to be a more appropriate time, so please”—she paused—“hear me out.”

  When she saw she had everyone’s undivided attention she continued, her voice quiet but strong. “When Jeb Norris held us in the dining hall the other day, I prayed for all of us. I prayed for my girls and my husband, and I also prayed for my unborn child. But as some of you know, being a mother is so much more than a name or an act. It’s who I am, what I do best.” She smiled when both girls took a bow. “As you can see, I’ve raised two hams. However, as I was saying, a mother is the greatest joy in life, at least it has been in mine.” They all knew there was time in Stephanie’s life when she lived in fear for her daughters’ life and her own. But those days were in the past, and nothing more but a faded memory. “When we all escaped without injury, the mother in me couldn’t relax until I knew my unborn baby was safe. So, I pulled a fast one, and Patrick, please don’t be upset with me for going behind your back, but I had to. I had an ultrasound the day after, and I know the sex of our child. I hope you’re okay with this?” Stephanie’s eyes filled with fear, but only for a moment. She was safe with Patrick and knew he would never lash out at her in anger.

  “Sweetie, I could never be upset with you for wanting to protect our child.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “But I will give you a great big hickey in front of my entire family if you don’t tell me, tell us if we need to paint the nursery pink or blue.”

  Again, all eyes were focused on the couple, and their two girls. “Maybe striped. Because you see, there seems to be one of each. So to answer your question”—Stephanie beamed—“we’re having twins. A boy and a girl.”

  More whoops and hollers, and tears. Congratulations were said again and again.

  Claire watched her brother and her sister-in-law and prayed that she and Quinn would always be as happy as they were at this exact moment.

  When the excitement died down, and plans for baby showers, new baby furniture, and names dominated the conversation, Quinn grabbed Claire and whisked her outside.

  “It’s freezing out here! Have you lost your mind?” Claire asked, though she was teasing and thrilled to be alone with him even if it were only for a few minutes.

  “I have not lost my mind, at least not yet, but I have lost my heart. To you. Donald got his wish after all, and he really didn’t need to do a thing.”

  “Well, poor old soul, he loves his castle and his country. What more can a man want?”

  Quinn gathered her in his arms, tilting her chin up so she could look into his eyes. “You, Claire. I want you.”

  She smiled up at him. “I’m all yours.”

  “No, I mean for always and forever. I want to share the rest of my life with you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Claire had expected anything, but not a proposal, but then she remembered who she was dealing with. “I would be honored to spend my life with you, Mister Christmas.”

  Quinn kissed her with such passion, Claire’s rumba dancer’s went wild.

  “I love you, Claire O’Brien.”

  “And I love you, Quinn Connor.”

  “Let’s go inside and tell the rest of the family we’re all going to Ireland Christmas Day.”

  Claire’s heart swelled with love.

  Life was good. Very, very good.

  The Yellow Rose of Christmas

  MARIE BOSTWICK

  Chapter One

  Miss Velvet Tudmore, Executive Director of the Too Much Texas Historical Society lifted her chin proudly as she concluded her story.

  “And that, boys and girls, is how Too Much, Texas, got its start: on the conviction of a strong-willed woman and the indolence of a handsome but shiftless man.” She paused, sighed and shook her head regretfully. “Which . . .”

  “. . . pretty well describes the makeup of our population to this day!” the teenagers circled around her chorused before breaking into laughter.

 
Miss Velvet, not in the least annoyed by this interruption, smiled. “Oh, you’ve heard the tale of my illustrious ancestor before, have you?”

  Seventeen-year-old Noel LeFaver, president of the senior class of 1985 and one of the brightest girls in town, answered for them all. “Of course we have, Miss Velvet. Everybody has. You’ve told the story of how Flagadine Tudmore founded Too Much to every fifth grade class since . . . How long has it been, Miss Velvet?”

  “1944. That was the year I started working at the historical society. In that time, I’ve shared the history of our town not just with you but with your older and younger siblings, your aunts and uncles, mothers and fathers. And, because the residents of Too Much possess an ill-advised propensity to rush headlong into romance and reproduction, I’ve even told the story to some of your grandmothers and grandfathers.”

  She sighed again. Velvet could not understand why her fellow citizens should be so peculiarly subject to the more primitive impulses but accepted that there was nothing to be done about it. It was a flaw that ran through many of the families in Too Much, particularly her own, a Fatal Flaw. At some point in their lives, nearly all Tudmore women allowed lust and biology to overcome morality and reason and, as a result, ended up tied to some shiftless man for the rest of their lives. All because they lost their heads in a moment of passion. Such a shame.

  But Miss Velvet didn’t blame them for their weakness. It was something in the bloodline. The Tudmore women just couldn’t seem to help themselves. Of all her clan, she alone had escaped the curse and consequences of the Fatal Flaw and, on the whole, considered herself a happier woman for it.

  If she’d gone off and gotten married at a tender age, or even in middle age—not that anyone had asked, but if—would she be Executive Director of the Too Much Historical Society today? Would she have had the opportunity to acquire, document, and preserve the important relics of their town’s past now displayed in the society’s collection? Would the proud history of Too Much have been so faithfully recorded and passed on to future generations? Doubtful.