A Heartwarming Christmas: A Boxed Set of Twelve Sweet Holiday Romances

by Melinda Curtis

  “Why?” Chris grabbed Joel’s coat from the floor where her son had dropped it. “He’s coming with us.”

  “He won’t be able to sit through a mediation session.”

  “He won’t have to.” Chris grinned. Joel’s coat swung from his fingers. “He can hang with me.”

  “Are you going to lock Joel in a cell?”

  He ran his hand over his chin as if the idea had a certain appeal. “Only if he asks politely.”

  Hope bit her cheek to stall her smile. “Beth can…”

  “Locate your orders so you can come back and wrap,” he said. “Or help the afternoon customers. You don’t really want to add a four year-old to her to-do list, do you?”

  She didn’t want to add Chris to her to-do list. Her inner elf shook that Santa hat like a pom-pom. Her inner lawyer dropped the gavel. Stick to the plan. She lowered her voice. “Aren’t you worried about being seen with Joel? Surely your staff is going to ask who Joel is? Are you ready to admit you’re his father?”

  “I am.” There was a confident quality to his words. “But I won’t because we haven’t told him.”

  “I was waiting for the right time.”

  “You always over-think things.” He tucked Joel’s jacket under his arm, stepped around the counter and pulled her scarf from her grip. He wrapped the fleece around her neck then buttoned her jacket over the fringed ends just like she’d done since she was a teenager. She’d never liked loose ends. Loose ends got tangled in things: handle bars, car doors and hearts. “I suppose it makes you a good lawyer.”

  She nodded. They should tell Joel now. It was just . . . Chris was so close and she couldn’t breathe.

  He adjusted the fleece around her face, then tipped her chin up with his knuckles. “I’m ready whenever you decide it’s the right time. Are you?”

  Her inner elf nodded her head as she embroidered their names on the stockings for the fireplace. Hope erased the image and grabbed Joel’s jacket from him. “What exactly do you expect me to do for the Stones? I’m not a mediator or a divorce lawyer.”

  “Neither one has signed their divorce papers yet,” he said. “It’s been almost six months.”

  She helped Joel into his coat. “Then you want me to hand them a pen?”

  “It’s the holidays. A time for magic and wishes and second chances.” He held the door open for her and Joel, looking at her with longing in his eyes. “Maybe if they’re faced with a lawyer, they’ll do something. This inertia is killing their kids.”

  “Don’t forget the Tanner’s poodle piddles.” A little levity was called for, because Hope knew how much parents who argued worried at Chris.

  Joel stepped between them, grabbing onto her hand then Chris’. They looked like a normal family. Like the ones hurrying along the sidewalk, wandering into the shops, in search of the perfect gift. But they were only an illusion. Hope had her life in the city. Chris had his here.

  “Maybe if they sign the divorce papers, they’ll find peace apart,” she said. “Sometimes people just don’t work. Sometimes couples just don’t belong.”

  “Maybe,” Chris allowed. “But if they looked, really looked at what they have, they might decide they want to fight for it.”

  Was he talking about them? “What do the Stones have?”

  “Two innocent children who never asked for any of this. Who sit in their rooms every night, hold hands and pray for a different life. For different parents.” Chris swung Joel up into his arms so the pair could peer in the window of Lisa’s Pudding and Pie Shop.

  “You can’t save every bad marriage.” Hope stuffed her empty hands inside her coat pockets. “Or even every child from one.”

  “I know that, better than most.” He glanced at her over Joel’s head. “But I still have to try. You feel it sometimes, don’t you? The need to make things right.”

  Chris and Joel debated apple or pumpkin pie. Ice cream or whipped cream. Hope debated heartbreak. How much was too much? He’d devastated her five years ago.

  She took Joel from Chris. “We need to move on or I’ll have less than thirty minutes with the Stones. I have to start delivering those orders soon.”

  Joel wiggled down until his boots hit the sidewalk. He grabbed Chris’ hand and hers.

  “But it’s pies,” Chris said. “You used to love banana cream pie with extra whipped cream.”

  She used to love Chris too. Secretly. Then openly during the wonderful, magical, disastrous weekend in Vegas. “My mom left a bakery for us at her house. We have enough cookies to feed an army.”

  “Suit yourself, but Joel and I picked out the pie we want.” Chris’ words sent Joel’s pleading gaze Hope’s way.

  “He has to have dinner first,” Hope said.

  “Then pie.” Joel used their hands for leverage and jumped over a snowy slush puddle outside the Sheriff’s department entrance.

  “We’ll see.” Hope followed Chris and Joel inside.

  Ten minutes later, Hope sat across from Lisa and Frank Stone at a conference table. The couple sat beside each other, but Frank leaned on his elbow as if he wanted to put more space between him and his wife. Lisa crossed her legs and shifted so her body faced the door, not her husband.

  Chris had introduced Hope as a lawyer from the city then disappeared with Joel, closing the door behind him. He was going to listen remotely via headphones.

  “Nice to meet you,” Hope said. “I was brought in to find out why you two haven’t signed your divorce papers. Have you changed your minds?”

  “Aren’t you a Sullivan from the Comfort and Joy Sullivan’s?” Lisa inserted in the uncomfortable silence.

  Was Chris right? Did they love each other? Hope nodded. “My parents own Comfort and Joy. My sister Faith has been running it the last few years.”

  “Frank bought me a snow globe from there on our first wedding anniversary,” Lisa said. “There was this horse drawn carriage with a couple inside and a Christmas tree painted to look like it was all lit with gold lights.”

  “Sounds like a lovely memento.” Hope almost thought she remembered it. “I bet you accumulated many good memories over the years.”

  Frank knocked his knuckles against the table. “She broke it three days after Christmas.”

  “It was an accident.” Lisa’s foot kicked back and forth.

  “You dropped it when you were dusting the shelf,” Frank said, his voice laced with hurt.

  “My foot slid off the chair. I tried to catch myself.” Lisa shrugged. “It was an accident.”

  “No one can be that clumsy,” Frank said.

  Hope rubbed the back of her neck. “I am.”

  Frank hesitated.

  Lisa smiled, thin and small. “Your mother was never able to find a replacement snow globe, Hope. I was sorry for that. There was something wistful and carefree about that couple that fit so perfectly inside that globe.”

  “Are you saying we never fit perfectly?” Frank asked.

  “I never expected perfection.” Lisa lost her smile. “But then I also never expected this.”

  “This is our life,” Frank said. “I work hard to provide for you and what do I get? Divorce papers.”

  Lisa twisted and set her hand on the table between them, a plea for reconciliation.

  Frank never moved.

  “This is your life, Frank.” Lisa stared at her hand. “Not ours. You stopped reaching for me years ago. You refuse to reach now.”

  “What? You want me to take your hand and then what?” he asked. “You stop wanting a job outside the house? You stop wanting to travel and you start wanting me again?”

  “I never stopped wanting you.” Lisa tucked her hand back in her lap. “You just want your business more.”

  “We’ve got a mortgage to pay and children to feed and clothe, not to mention hockey gear and gymnastics fees.” Frank ground out, a man dying under the weight of financial responsibility and pride.

  “I’ve got this piece of paper that says I’m qualified to do m
ore than housework,” Lisa said. “It’s called a diploma. I could work and help with the finances. Then we could travel.”

  “You promised you’d raise the kids.” Frank’s words rang with wounded pride. “My mother never worked outside the home. My father was a good provider.”

  “Lisa wants to contribute,” Hope said gently. “She should be allowed to contribute more.”

  “She is,” Frank said. “With the kids. She’s raising my kids.”

  “I can work part-time and take care of our children,” Lisa said. “I’ve already spoken to some of the moms about carpooling.”

  “You have it all planned.” Frank scrubbed his face. “Why ask me?”

  “We’re supposed to be a team.” Lisa sounded weary. “At least we were before. When I married you, I expected you to support more than the roof over my head. I expected you to support my dreams.” Lisa pushed her chair back and picked up her purse. “I can leave right?”

  Hope nodded. “I don’t see why not.” She couldn’t see why Lisa had stayed so long with Frank the Neanderthal.

  “What are you doing, Lisa?” Frank demanded.

  Lisa drew a stack of papers out of her purse and a pen. She signed the last page and tossed the paperwork in front of Frank. “Your turn.”

  Frank stared at the papers, looking devastated.

  Hope walked into the office with Lisa at her side. She ached for Chris, who had wanted this couple to work things out.

  She picked up Joel from the chair beside Chris and tucked her son’s head on her shoulder. “Lisa is leaving.”

  Chris rocked back in his chair, stacked his hands behind his head and eyed her.

  Hope smoothed Joel’s hair away from his cheek as Chris watched her. She wanted to hug Chris close too, but what would that solve?

  “That’s it?” he asked. His voice lowered as if that snow from Lisa’s broken globe had settled around his words.

  “You wanted a resolution and you got it.” She met his gaze. “Was there something more you needed?”

  “I…” He shook his head.

  She felt his plea. Not for the Stones, but for them.

  Chapter 7

  Chris watched Hope walk away with his son, feeling emptier with each step she took.

  With each passing minute, Chris was realizing what he’d missed out on when he’d let Hope drive away from him in Vegas.

  While she’d talked to the Stones, Joel had watched a cartoon movie on Chris’ tablet. He’d been a dramatic audience. He’d laughed, pointed, kicked his legs, clutched his stomach, jumped off the chair to do some sort of hip shake then climbed back on the chair and giggled some more.

  For the first time, Chris had noted Hope in Joel’s lopsided grin, in the tilt of his chin when he’d wanted the chair in a very specific place and had moved it himself, in how he’d arranged his space to suit his needs, not once asking for Chris’ assistance.

  When she was a kid, Hope had never asked for Chris’ help either. But he’d still given it to her. Every chance he’d gotten, he’d helped Hope Sullivan. She needed him now. She needed an extra pair of eyes raising Joel. She needed help running the store. She needed a strong shoulder to lean on. She just didn’t know it.

  But he couldn’t follow her. Not yet. He walked to the back where Frank sat at the conference table. “You’re scared.” He’d listened to their conversation via wireless headset.

  “Heck yes, I am,” Frank said. “My kids deserve better, I know that. But I should be the one to bring home a paycheck, while their mother…”

  “Lives in this century. Women have the right to vote now.” Chris straddled the chair across from Frank. “Just because Lisa wants to be more than a housewife doesn’t mean she doesn’t love or respect you.”

  “I can’t be a good dad,” he said sorrowfully. “Not without her.”

  “What about all the coaching you’ve done?” Chris kept his voice carefully neutral. “All the time you’ve spent on the ice with Joe and driving Mary-Kate across the state for a meet?”

  “That’s nothing,” Frank said. “What else was I supposed to do? That isn’t the stuff that counts.”

  “Every minute with your child counts.” Chris was starting to understand that more and more. Two weeks with Joel wouldn’t be enough. Because the minutes Chris spent with Joel, made him better. He hadn’t been this patient with Frank in a long time. “Lisa said you were a team once. You walk away now and you’ll have nothing but your pride this Christmas.” Chris leaned forward. “Or you could swallow those fears and support Lisa.”

  “It’s not that simple.” Frank stared at his work boots.

  “It’s as simple as apologizing and compromising.” Chris rapped his knuckles on the table, drawing Frank’s attention to him. “Listen up. You’ve been a crappy husband lately, but you’re a good dad. That won’t change if you get a divorce. Every day you run your own business, you teach your kids loyalty to the family name. Hard work. Every day you show up at practice, you show them they matter. Maybe you can’t vacuum or cook a meal, but you sure as heck can teach them about life and what it means to be a good, decent person in a world filled with ugly.” Chris pushed the divorce paperwork closer to Frank. “But you can also teach your kids what love looks like every time you kiss Lisa’s cheek on her way out the door to her new job. What it means to encourage someone else’s dreams. What it means to help another person want to be better. Even if it scares you.” Trying to make a relationship work with Hope scared Chris, but what kind of man would be he if he didn’t follow his own advice?

  “You’re a bachelor, living in the country without even a dog to look after.” Frank’s words were thick with emotion. “What do you know?”

  “You’re right.” Chris rose and shoved his chair into the table. “I know what I wished for as a kid. And it looked a lot like what you had with Lisa.” Chris threw a pen on the table. “Get your belongings. Buy Lisa some flowers and apologize.”

  Twenty minutes later, Chris walked through the parking lot toward the loading zone for Comfort and Joy. Everything he’d said to Frank had been true. He’d always wanted his parents to be different. Always wanted a real family. He couldn’t change his past. But the future belonged to him. He was a father now. He had a choice: stay as distant and detached as his own dad or become the father he’d always wanted.

  The back door of Comfort and Joy opened. Hope used her shoulder to push the door open wider as she adjusted a large box in her arms. In the fading sunlight, he could see she had on her concentration face, like she was running through an internal to-do list and checking off boxes. He’d bet he still wasn’t on her list. That was going to change.

  “How’s Mr. Stone?” Hope slid a box into the back of her SUV. “Quiet and satisfied now, I’m sure.”

  “He’s on his way home.”

  “Signed the papers then.”

  “Can’t say.” The uncertainty nipped at Chris along with the cold air.

  Her eyes widened. “He wanted the divorce.”

  “Lisa wanting to work makes him feel like less of a man,” he said. “There’s a difference. He still loves her.”

  “Interesting way to show that.” She closed the hatch.

  “Fear has a way of castrating men sometimes.” He moved closer. “I want to tell Joel I’m his father.” I want to talk to you about the future.

  Hope opened the back passenger door and called for Joel.

  He rushed out from the store and ran to Chris. Chris scooped him up, tossed him over his shoulder and held him by his ankles. Joel laughed and chanted, “Again.”

  Hope arched a brow at Chris.

  “What?” He set Joel in his car seat. “Not the whole stomach thing again. Hayes men don’t get motion sick.” Chris buckled Joel’s car seat, shut his door and opened the front passenger door.

  “What are you doing?” Hope asked.

  “Helping you with your deliveries.” He climbed into the passenger seat of her car.

  “Get out, Chris.
I don’t need your help.”

  She’d inserted a punch into her voice as if he was a stubborn mark she couldn’t erase. He said, “Watch out for that ice behind your right foot.”

  Her foot paused mid-air and adjusted. She returned to the shop, checking that the back door was locked then made it into the SUV without a slip.

  Chris knew. He’d watched her, ready to help out if she stumbled. Because it was in his DNA to care for her. He just hoped she’d let him do more than deliveries.

  Chapter 8

  Hope’s inner elf held her clasped hands under her chin and smiled at Chris and Joel’s shared laughter. But this wasn’t a family outing. They weren’t a family. This was work. Customer Deliveries. Customer satisfaction. She’d finish her deliveries and drop Chris at the station where he belonged, where he wouldn’t make her long to adjust her plans.

  Hope wasted a perfectly good glare on the steering wheel and resolved to concentrate on her to do list. Then she pumped the heat to high, aimed the vents at herself, hoping she’d blast her inner Elf out into the snow.

  “Smelly belly is a good deer name,” Joel offered.

  Chris snapped and pointed at him. “I like vomit instead of Comet.”

  Joel laughed and sang, “Basher. Blizzard. Vomit.”

  Hope pulled out of the parking lot. She bit into her cheek. She wasn’t going to participate. She was a serious lawyer. Focused. Theirs was an absurd conversation of no interest to her. She had deliveries. Then dinner. Then bath time. Then a Sullivan Christmas to plan. Important things to focus on. Silliness was not part of the evening’s agenda. She made a mental note to check on tinsel in her parent’s attic.

  Chris tapped his hand against his leg and sang, “You know basher, vomit and cupid.”

  Joel clapped, his giggles bubbling over into a high shriek. “And Dizzy.”

  Chris never missed a beat, added blizzard and dizzy.

  Hope’s inner Elf tapped her boot to the beat. Chris lost his last note in a rumble of laughter when Joel joined in, his voice a high squeal.