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

by Melinda Curtis

  Brady sighed. “You’re not into drugs, or something. Are you?”

  Tommy looked at the floor. “It’s Christmas, dude,” he said. “I don’t have enough to even buy my mom a present.”

  “Baloney.”

  His chin jutted out. “Cara doesn’t pay me much. A few tips from the bigger spenders who buy trees don’t cut it either.”

  “Neither does showing up for work whenever you feel like it.”

  Tommy shifted his weight. “My mom lost her job—again—and my old man never makes his support payments. My grandfather says she’s never put her life in order so he’s done. He threw us out.”

  Brady frowned. “Things may be tough,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t mean you can steal from Cara. Or anyone else.”

  Tommy looked sullen. “Like you should talk. You think I don’t know what happened when you weren’t much older than me?”

  The words were no sooner out of his mouth when Brady heard sirens.

  “Looks like your ride’s here,” he told Tommy. And his own past flashed in front of his eyes.

  ~*~

  By the time Chris had pulled up at Beth’s Trees, the adrenaline that fueled Brady had ebbed away. Now, hours later, he felt drained. He also felt guilty. Tommy’s point was a good one. Brady had a checkered past himself. And if he’d told Cara to hold off on making that call, Tommy wouldn’t be in jail overnight.

  Bad enough that Cara’s helper for the season had turned out to be a punk, but then he heard more of the story—and it was even worse. For Brady, too.

  “You mean to tell me his grandfather is the former mayor?” Brady’s jaw dropped. “The one who owned that house on the hill?”

  “Yes,” Cara said over coffee at her house. Amazing that she’d let him in after Brady had seen her home, but her hands were still shaking and she had a hard time managing the cup. “His daughter hasn’t made the best choices in her life.”

  Brady said, “She was already in trouble when I knew her.”

  “She and Tommy were living with her dad, as he told you, but they were ‘asked to leave’ a few months ago.”

  “Where do they live now?”

  “I’m not sure. At first I heard she’d gotten an apartment over the Bell, Book and Candle, but when she lost that sales job, no more free lodging.”

  Brady shook his head. His coffee had gone untouched. “I couldn’t believe it when I ran into that trailer and saw Tommy with his hand in the cash register. I didn’t think he was a dedicated worker but I never saw that coming.”

  Worst of all, he was the grandson of a man Brady knew well. Or had. That alone would have killed his thirst for caffeine. Small towns, he thought.

  “Tommy’s uncle was a friend of mine,” he reminded her.

  “You mean Doug Merrick.”

  The name made his stomach tighten. They hadn’t seen each other, hadn’t spoken in years. Twelve, to be exact.

  “I hate it that Tommy’s on the wrong path. I didn’t recognize him at first when we met. He has a different last name too, not Merrick. But his mother—Doug’s older sister—was never really okay so maybe I shouldn’t blame him after all. I remember Tommy as a little kid, like my nephew, cute as could be.”

  “He’s still kind of cute,” Cara said. “I worry, though. It’s one reason I hired him—to keep him out of trouble.” She paused. “I hear things now and then from Jill. She says he’s been in detention a lot lately. He was almost suspended a few weeks ago for getting into a scuffle with some other boys. Nothing that serious until tonight.”

  Brady voiced his earlier concern. “I kind of wish we hadn’t called Chris.”

  “Me too.” She sipped her coffee, her hands a bit more steady now. “I wish I could help him before he gets too out of hand.”

  “Maybe we can put in a good word for him tomorrow.”

  “Maybe we should.”

  Brady smiled. She’d said I then he’d said we then Cara had finally included him. He gazed around her comfortable living room. Neat and tidy, as he’d expected, like Cara. But unlike his parents’ home, which was crammed to the rafters each year with decorations, there wasn’t a bowl of holiday cards on Cara’s coffee table, a wreath on the door when he’d come in, or…wait a minute.

  “Where’s Christmas here?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject. “For a woman who runs a tree lot, you don’t even have a tree.”

  Her gaze slid away. “I’m not into Christmas this season. Strange, I agree, for someone with a tree lot. But I didn’t feel like picking out a tree, even when that’s a perk of the business. Or getting out the decorations this year.”

  “Because of your sister.”

  Brady could relate to that. He’d come home to tell his family, somehow, what had really happened—because what if his father did have another stroke, as Hope had said, and went to his grave still disappointed in Brady?—but he hadn’t seen them and then Brady had left the house to give Hope and Chris some space, certain that he didn’t really belong. Not that he minded his room at the inn, which had plenty of decorations everywhere, but it wasn’t really…home. Maybe he was fated to spend his Christmas alone, like Cara.

  “You should get a tree,” he said as much for himself as for her. “Try to make the season happy.”

  She sent him a soft smile. “Is that all it takes?”

  Chapter 5

  Before meeting Cara for their trip to the sheriff’s office the next morning, Brady had an early breakfast at Posey’s diner, a local landmark. The familiarity should have soothed Brady, but he would have preferred to eat in his mother’s cozy kitchen, and he was feeling nostalgic again for happier times.

  In a back booth he ordered a cup of coffee and some pie. Not healthy stuff, but he wasn’t in the mood for eggs and bacon this morning. His mom made them best.

  He pulled out his cell phone and tried the house again, but no one answered and Brady didn’t leave a message. What he had to tell them was far too sensitive. Or were they screening his calls? This didn’t seem to be his day—his year—to straighten things out with anyone. Most of all, his family.

  And until he did, he couldn’t tell Cara the truth.

  When his thoughts landed on her and last night, Brady stopped even looking around for the diner’s stuffed Elmer the Elf, which appeared this time every year. If a customer discovered the little gnome’s hiding spot, which regularly shifted to keep things interesting, he earned a free cup of coffee. Brady didn’t need more caffeine.

  He left half his pie and a generous tip then walked back down Main Street. He was across from the lot when he spied Cara dragging a tree from her forest toward the storage area. Brady sprinted across the street.

  “Whoa. Give me that.”

  She struggled to breathe. “Thanks. I was taking your advice. This tree looks a bit brown here and there. Maybe I can trim it then put it on sale.”

  “Not a good idea. If people see there’s a bargain to be had, they’ll put off buying until you drop all the prices—including the tree they really want. Goodbye, profit.”

  She was right about this tree, though. If someone did buy it, they’d be back to complain before Christmas morning. Brady envisioned needles all over the place.

  After he hauled the sad-looking pine behind the shed, he said, “Let’s go. Before you open today, we need to see Chris Hayes about Tommy.”

  “I already saw him.”

  “You didn’t wait for me?”

  “In spite of last night’s near-burglary, and the risk it posed to my bottom line, at barely sixteen Tommy’s had a rough life. Talking to Chris was something I could do to change that.”

  Brady looked past her. “You decided not to press charges.”

  “Tommy didn’t get away with any money—”

  “He didn’t get away at all.”

  “And this morning I wanted to see Chris before Tommy got sent to a juvenile facility. I couldn’t wait for you. I may not have a happy Christmas but he can.”

  Is that all it
takes?

  “You should have waited,” Brady muttered.

  “Tommy has to work off his crime here. Without pay, the sheriff cautioned me. It’s Tommy’s community service. After that, we’ll see how it goes.”

  “Chris knows you have a soft heart. I have to admit, I feel for the kid too. He kind of reminds me of myself years ago.” Seeing Cara begin to move toward the trailer, he said, “And before you reach into your cash drawer, I’m not taking money just to pick up that tree. In my job that’s par for the day when I find a dead one across the road in Acadia.”

  She half smiled. “I can’t bear to think of not selling them all. By Christmas Eve, just before I close for the season—maybe for good—I’ll want to give them away. To a deserving home,” she said.

  Brady kept pace with her. “You won’t sell them all,” he said, “unless I help.” Then he paused. “Whatever made you decide to carry on your sister’s business here anyway?”

  Her wistful smile went right through him. “Beth looked forward to running this lot every Christmas season. She felt useful again, needed, and unlike me she loved the cold. At Christmastime, in the spirit, many people seemed to overlook what she’d…what they thought she’d done.”

  Brady crossed his arms. And tried not to think about Cara’s sister. But then, as always, the reason he’d come home was still there. Like Cara’s memories of Beth. Somehow, he needed to atone. And, right now, with Cara, he knew just how.

  “Maybe that could work for me too,” he said at last.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Let’s forget everything else,” he said, “but selling every last one of these trees.”

  ~*~

  At home that night Cara curled up by the fire with a cup of hot tea and some Christmas sugar cookies she’d bought on her lunch break—one concession to the season and to her sweet tooth. Cara liked the Santa-shaped ones best with red or green sprinkles. Outside, snow was coming down in big white flakes as if Christmas Town was determined to make the holiday, even for Cara.

  At least she was warm. Toward dusk, when the temperature fell, Brady had urged her inside to work the register while he and Tommy guided customers through her Christmas tree forest. But business hadn’t been as good today. It always tended to ebb and flow, and even Brady agreed that most sales occurred in the first two weeks after Thanksgiving.

  Just days before Christmas she couldn’t expect his help to make that big a difference but, not to her surprise, Brady was a good salesman. And his passion for the trees came across to her customers.

  Now she was working on Jill’s story again. One more session…

  A sharp rap on her front door made Cara almost drop her cup.

  Who could be here this time of night? Jill would be in bed by now. Tempted to ignore the knock, Cara finally answered.

  “Delivery,” Brady said in her doorway. “Got your tree for you. A rescue.” He shouldered his way inside with a gorgeous, bushy seven-foot scotch pine. Snow dusted a few branches and even his hair, making him look like an old man. She couldn’t resist a laugh. “You think that’s funny?” he said. “No sense letting this one end up in the dump.”

  “You’re funny. Do you know what time it is?”

  “Time to pretty up this baby. Go get those decorations. I’m an expert. I brought a stand with me too.”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re pushy?”

  “You need pushy.”

  Cara looked at her teacup, her abandoned story. He wasn’t taking no for an answer. She didn’t really want him to. Last night she’d welcomed his help with Tommy, his company later. Cara gave up. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “I have hot chocolate.” While she retrieved the boxes of ornaments from the attic, he went back to his truck for a large thermos. Before he stepped inside again, he stamped his snowy boots on her welcome mat. “You wait any longer,” he said, “Christmas will be over.”

  And Brady would be gone. She had to remember that as well as Beth.

  Yet Cara couldn’t deny they had fun while Brady set the tree in its stand then helped her hang ornaments—so many she’d loved in years past—and, finally, sprinkled the pine with old-fashioned tinsel. Brady had brought that with him as well.

  Before she knew it, he’d playfully tossed a few strands at her hair. His laughter warmed her heart and Cara couldn’t help but join in. As pay back, she returned the favor until they both looked as glittery as the tree. And were still laughing.

  “You actually like this,” she said, feeling breathless. “Some men don’t. My father never put the lights on our tree without having a meltdown.”

  “Christmas has always been my favorite time of year.” He grinned. “Snow, presents, wreaths and candles…family all around. What’s not to like?”

  Cara wondered why Brady was staying then at the Pine Tree Inn instead of his parents’ home, but she hesitated to ask and break the mood they’d shared. And Brady had stopped laughing. The moment hung between them like the silver star he’d fastened to the top of the tree. With a slightly shaky hand, he reached out to pull a piece of tinsel from her hair.

  “I like you all…sparkly,” he murmured, his voice husky. “I like you, Cara.”

  She didn’t know what to make of that. Or rather, she did. What was she thinking again? Letting Brady get this close? Cara plunged back into the last carton of ornaments.

  “I almost forgot,” she said, pulling out a smaller box with a hinged lid. Inside on red velvet lay a crystal star. Cara lifted it out, watched the glass sparkle in the light. She could almost forget what Brady had said. To hide her heated cheeks, she turned to hang it high on the tree in the same spot she used each year. “Beth gave this to me when I was still a little girl and she was, what, already in college then? It’s still my favorite.”

  “The final touch,” he said.

  With the tree done, they collapsed on the sofa, Cara at one end, Brady at the other to admire their handiwork. They sipped hot chocolate. Outside, more snow fell in silence and the night sky through the windows looked the milky color of pearls. On her hearth the fire burned low, red embers casting a warm glow over the room.

  “I was exhausted when I got home,” she said. “Now I feel…content.” Which surprised her. She ought to feel awkward but she didn’t anymore. She felt comfortable.

  “Then we’re getting somewhere. So do I,” he murmured. “Next stop is happy.”

  “I don’t know about happy,” she said.

  “You just have to let it happen.”

  Brady moved closer and Cara didn’t feel so comfortable after all. She edged a bit deeper into the corner of the sofa until she came up against the arm.

  The back of her neck burned with new tension. “I have to admit getting a tree was good, and thank you—”

  “You paid for it,” he pointed out.

  “—but it’s late. You’d better go now before—” I do something foolish.

  “Not yet.”

  His arms came around her and he bent his head. And Cara gave a little sigh. Of defeat? Or acceptance? She didn’t know. All she knew was that kissing Brady might be the best thing to happen in the past twelve years. If she didn’t miss her guess, he was as lonely as she was.

  I like you, he’d said. Despite everything, she also liked him. Too much.

  Then, at the last second, common sense prevailed. Cara jumped to her feet but lost her balance and knocked her story draft for Jill off the table onto the floor. Brady bent to pick it up. As he rose, he skimmed a page and seemed to forget that he’d almost kissed her a moment ago. He dropped back into his seat then read some more while Cara died a thousand deaths.

  “You wrote this?”

  “I’m trying to,” she said.

  “This is really good, Cara.”

  “It’s just a little gift. For Jill.”

  He tilted his head. “Your eyes light up when you say that.”

  She sat beside him again. “It’s my passion. Like your trees.”r />
  “She’s going to love it. Especially since it comes from you. From your heart,” he added, twining a strand of her hair around his finger. “What else do you write?”

  “A feature now and then for the local paper. A column. And for myself, longer stories.” She never told anyone that, except Jill. Why was she spilling this now to Brady? “I’ve been dabbling with a book. Maybe after Christmas—”

  “This is what you should be doing with your life.”

  Cara took the pages from him. She set them on the table again. He was getting too close, shaking the foundations of the simple world she’d made for herself. She wasn’t sure about her writing. About him.

  “And you?” she said. “What should you be doing?”

  Brady’s gaze focused on the fireplace. A log shattered, fell, and sparks flew. “I came home to tell my parents what really happened twelve years ago,” he said. “I would have surprised them, but they weren’t there. I should have called first to say I was coming, tested the waters to see if I was welcome. But maybe I shouldn’t have come back.” Abruptly, he got up and all but lurched toward the door, as if he couldn’t see where he was headed. “I’ve gotta go,” he said in a strangled tone.

  Brady rushed out into the cold night but Cara just stood there inside, warm yet hurting. If she were really a writer, she’d see them both as a metaphor. For twelve long years, he’d been as lost as she was in the possibly wrong version of what happened.

  ~*~

  The next few days passed in a blur. Business was marginally better at times, for which Cara was grateful. But she’d let Brady get too close the other night, let him almost kiss her. That wouldn’t happen again, even when she often felt his gaze tracking her around the lot with that look in his eyes as if he’d like to kiss her more than anything.

  Or tell her his deepest secret? Because, obviously now, there was one, which he hadn’t yet shared. And, really, why should he? It wasn’t as if they were a couple…