The Christmas Stranger

by Beth Cornelison

  “Oh, hi, Jana,” Holly said, sending him an apologetic look and holding up a finger as she mouthed, “Just a minute.”

  He waved off her concern and strode over to the salad she’d been fixing to continue chopping vegetables.

  “Thanks, but I have plans tonight. I have company for dinner, then I need to make another quick trip to town. It was an impromptu thing…No, I don’t think you know him.” She flicked a self-conscious glance toward him and nibbled her lip. “It’s nothing like that. Don’t get any ideas. No…I—”

  The pink stain returned to her cheeks, and Matt acknowledged again how attractive Holly was. But as lovely as her face and physique were, what really caught Matt’s attention was the sparkle in her green eyes, the glow in her cheeks, the joie de vivre that radiated from her—in spite of her tragic loss.

  Her bright disposition was contagious. Being around her, Matt found it easier to be optimistic about his future, and he grew more determined to set his life back on an upward trajectory.

  Holly finished her call and pressed a hand to her still-flushed cheek. “That was my husband’s sister inviting me over for the evening.” She curled her lips in an embarrassed grin. “I think the idea that I’d made my own plans for Halloween night shocked her. Ryan’s family has been wonderful about looking out for me since his death, but they seem surprised whenever I make steps toward moving on with my life.”

  He acknowledged her with a smile, then dragged a hand along his jaw, hesitating. “Would it be rude of me to ask how your husband died?”

  “No, it’s a legitimate question.” She inhaled deeply as she met his eyes. “He was murdered.”

  Matt’s pulse tripped. He’d expected anything but that. Cancer. A car accident. Even suicide like Jill. But murder?

  “I’m so sorry. That had to have been such a shock.”

  She pressed her lips in a taut line, nodding as she turned toward the counter.

  “Have they caught the person responsible?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t pushing a touchy subject.

  Holly lifted the lid from the Crock-Pot to stir the chili, then paused and shook her head. “No.”

  Sympathy speared his chest along with pain, honed razor-sharp by his own losses. “I haven’t given up hope that his murderer will be caught one day, but I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that we may never know what really happened. The best the police can figure is he was killed by a mugger who stole his shoes, his wallet and his watch.”

  Matt’s gut tightened.

  Where did you get that watch?

  Flipping his wrist, he extended his arm. “A watch like this one, I take it.”

  She glanced up from stirring their dinner, and the color drained from her sculpted cheeks. “I—well, yes.”

  Without hesitation, he unfastened the clasp and turned the timepiece over, offering it to Holly. “My wife inscribed mine. You can look if you want.”

  She frowned and shook her head. “No, I…1 believe you. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

  He sighed and squeezed his wife’s gift in his fist. “I just wanted to alleviate any doubt you had.”

  Holly bit her bottom lip and, after a brief hesitation, took the watch from him. “To Matt with all my love, Jill,” she read aloud. She turned the watch over and stared at it with moisture puddling in her eyes. “It’s lovely. I know how much you must treasure it.”

  He nodded as she handed the timepiece back. “It’s very important to me.”

  Primarily as a reminder to him of how he’d failed Jill.

  How he’d neglected her because of his work. How he’d taken her for granted. How he’d let her slip into a deep depression without him noticing.

  Pushing down the drumbeat of guilt, he rebuckled the strap and inhaled the peppery tomato scent of their dinner. “Dinner smells delicious. What can I do?”

  She hitched her head toward the cabinets. “Spoons are in that drawer, by the refrigerator. Everything else is ready, I think. I’ll serve.”

  Matt let his gaze roam as he fetched spoons to the table. The airy yellow curtains and cheerful floral wallpaper matched his impressions of Holly. The Big Bird clock and Snoopy cookie jar added a touch of whimsy that left him curious to learn more about the active inner child Holly boasted about. The collection of drawings taped to the refrigerator touched a raw spot inside him, reminding him how much he missed his own children. Not having his children around as they grew up was the hardest thing to accept about his current situation.

  But he would change his circumstances, reclaim his children and get his life back on track. Or die trying.

  “So you’re a teacher.” Matt paused between bites of chili and salad and gave her an encouraging smile. “Tell me about your class.”

  Holly set her spoon down and pressed a hand to the jittery flutter in her stomach. Their get-to-know-each-other chitchat and her fascination with his ruggedly handsome face and brilliant blue eyes made this dinner feel more like a first date than just the good deed she’d intended.

  Sure, she could have packed his chili in a disposable container for him to take when she drove him back to town. And she admitted his good looks factored into her decision to serve dinner as a sit-down affair, but—

  Heat unrelated to her spicy chili crept up Holly’s neck when other connotations of the word affair waltzed through her mind. She imagined Matt’s startling blue eyes hazed with lust and his full lips drawing close to hers for a kiss….

  Holly erased the picture with a quick shake of her head. Clearing her throat, she focused on his question. “I love my class. They’re angels. All fifteen of them.” When he raised his eyebrows skeptically, she amended, “Well, most of them are angels. I do have a couple who are more of a handful. But seeing those eager faces every morning, being around all that childlike innocence and energy keeps me going on days when I’m dragging.” She smiled and took another bite of salad. “I wouldn’t trade my job for anything. Sometimes it feels like I’m getting paid to play all day. I mean, where else could I read stories and color pictures and sing songs and play games, all cleverly disguised to reinforce writing the alphabet and counting and learning to read?” She stabbed a tomato and aimed it at him. “Plus snacks and recess.”

  He chuckled, a low, rich sound that tripped pleasantly along her spine. “Sounds like heaven for that inner child of yours.”

  “And the mother hen. I can’t wait to have my own kids, but for now, I’ll settle for mothering the fifteen chickadees in my class.”

  “I remember my daughter’s first day of kindergarten.” The bittersweet wistfulness of Matt’s expression melted Holly’s heart. “She was so excited to be going to school. Of course, she’s smart as a whip and could already read and write.”

  “You have a daughter?” Holly thought of the children at the Community Aid Center. Frustration ballooned in her chest that she couldn’t fix the problems of every family the center served, that children slept in cars or went to bed without supper.

  Matt gave her a sad smile. “I have a daughter and a son, Palmer and Miles. Seven and five, respectively.”

  “Where…are they?”

  He wiped his mouth on a napkin and dropped it in his emptied bowl. “With Jill’s parents just up the road in Iona Falls. Because of my circumstances…they’re better off with their grandparents. For now.” He paused, clamped his lips in a tight scowl. “I haven’t seen my kids in two years.”

  A rock settled in her stomach. “Two years? That’s horrible! Won’t they allow you visitation at least?”

  “No. There were a lot of hard feelings after Jill died. But…honestly, I don’t want Palmer and Miles to see me like this.”

  “But, Matt, you’re their father! They need you in their life regardless of—” She caught herself, unsure how to finish the sentence.

  He lifted his eyes to hers, his steely gaze a testament to his determination. “I intend to get them back. As soon as I can. But…I need a better place to live than the run-down apartme
nt where I am now.” He grunted his dissatisfaction. “The Woodgate doesn’t even have working showers in the community bathroom. I can’t subject my kids to those conditions. And I need to find another job.”

  Holly seized the opening to do a bit of prying, looking for a way to help Matt. “What kind of job are you looking for?”

  He shrugged and gave her an awkward grin. “Anything that pays. I can’t afford to be as picky now as I might have been in my younger days. My kids are counting on me.”

  She nodded and rubbed her thumb along her spoon handle as she thought. “Do you have any particular skills or training?”

  He held her gaze for a moment, seemed ready to say something but finally sighed and glanced away. “I worked with a construction crew this spring and summer. But the contractor laid off several of us a couple weeks ago when his schedule slowed down.”

  Holly sat taller in her chair, her heart hammering. “You’ve done construction? Are you good with renovation work? Drywall, molding, plumbing, that sort of thing?”

  He flipped up his palm and blinked. “I suppose. I’m not an expert, but I hold my own.”

  Holly bit her bottom lip, calculating, weighing her options, sizing up the uncertainties. An excited flutter stirred in her belly.

  She could help Matt. He could help her. The plan was perfect.

  “Come work for me.”

  Matt’s eyebrows drew together in a skeptical frown. “You?”

  “I’m renovating the house, and the process has dragged on far too long already. I want to be done by the end of the year, but my brother-in-law—Jon, not Robert—is doing most of the work and, frankly, he’s been unreliable at best, only showing up half the time and working far too slowly. A pitfall of having a family member doing the job—hard to fire them. But…you could help him,” she said without taking a breath, her hands motioning as she talked. “What with teaching, I only have weekends to give to the project right now and…well, what do you think? I’m redoing the master bathroom at the moment and still need to take out a wall in the study and fix the molding and paint and…well, there’s no shortage of work. I’ll make the arrangements with Jon.”

  Matt stared at her, looking a bit pole-axed. “I, uh…I appreciate the offer but…are you sure you want me—?”

  “Why not you? You need work, and I need a reliable handyman to finish what’s been started. When my husband and I started these renovations, we had no idea how much work was really needed and how long it would all take.” She was chattering again, gushing without taking a breath, but she couldn’t seem to curb her nervous habit. “The work was fun at first. We spent weekends and vacations hammering and painting and papering, but after Ryan died—” She curled her fingers into her hands, waiting out the stab of pain that assailed her.

  “The project lost its meaning,” Matt finished for her. “The fun was gone, but the work was still unfinished.”

  Her breath caught, and she gaped at him. He’d nailed it. But how did he know how she felt, where her thoughts were headed?

  He lost his wife. He knows. He understands.

  Holly nodded. “Yes. Exactly. I just want to be done with it. It’s become more of a burden now than a hobby. Jon, Ryan’s brother, took the job on as a favor to me, but he has other responsibilities. He’s a firefighter for the county department down in Crenshaw, and he works one day out of three, has a girlfriend in Asheville.” Holly paused for a breath, gauging Matt’s expression. Mostly he looked shell-shocked.

  She had a way of doing that to people—overwhelming them with her chattering, her openness. Her blind trust in the goodness of people worried her family, but her gut instincts had never let her down. Even Ryan, Mr. Methodical Thinker, had learned to trust her sixth sense about people and impromptu plans.

  “Will you help me? I’ll pay you what I would pay a contractor. I’ll talk to Jon about it and make all the arrangements.”

  Matt opened and closed his mouth, speechless for the moment. “I…don’t have a car or any way to get out here every day.”

  “Oh.” She gnawed her lip some more as she thought. “Well, I’ll come get you on the weekends and drive you back to town when we’re done for the day. And I could pick you up around three o’clock when I leave the school, so you could get about four hours of work done in the evening. I’ll fix us dinner, then take you home.”

  He still looked dubious. “That’s a lot of driving back and forth over the mountain for you. Are you sure about this? Why would you do this when you don’t even know me?”

  Holly rocked back in her seat, rattled. “I thought it was a good solution to both our problems. I…I’ve already had Robert vet you. You don’t have a record. You could give me the name of the guy you worked for this summer for reference, and…I plan to check you out through the Community Aid Center records. But…” She smiled. “I’m guessing I won’t find anything worrisome. You seem like a good guy to me.”

  He returned a lopsided grin. “I try.” Lifting a shoulder and giving his head a befuddled shake, he offered her his hand. “All right. Pending your reference check and consult with Jon, I accept. With gratitude. I will finish your renovations for you.”

  “Great.” Holly’s grin rose from somewhere deep inside her and blossomed on her lips. This plan felt right. “You can start tomorrow.”

  After dinner, Holly gave Matt a quick tour of the house, showing him what she’d already accomplished and what needed to be done. Based on the state of the unfinished rooms, Holly and her late husband had been ambitious and visionary in tackling the old farmhouse. But the transformation was amazing. Holly had breathed new life into the old house and made it a warm home.

  Matt followed Holly up the curving staircase, admiring the polished wood railing and beautifully sculpted posts. He found himself caught up in Holly’s enthusiasm for the project and the allure of transforming the house, restoring it to its previous glory.

  The guest bathroom where he’d showered had new brass fixtures and white tile but no wallpaper, and the carpeting in the halls was threadbare and ratty. Clearly floor coverings were a final step, once the other work and painting were finished.

  “In here.” Holly flipped on the light in the master bedroom, and his attention gravitated to the king-size bed that monopolized most of the floor space. The covers were unmade and rumpled as if she’d just tumbled out after a restless night. A light floral aroma hung in the air and teased his senses. He could too easily imagine Holly’s lithe body tangled in those sheets, and his thoughts strayed to the hidden pulse points where she’d dabbed her flower-scented perfume.

  A hot throb of desire coalesced low in his belly, and his body tightened. Gritting his teeth, Matt diverted his gaze, fighting the surge of his libido. No matter how attractive he found Holly, no matter how long it had been since he’d been with a woman, he had to keep his physical interest in his new employer firmly under control. Holly had placed a mountain of trust in him by hiring him, and he wouldn’t do anything to betray that trust.

  He appraised the rest of the room in a glance. Judging from the plush blue carpet and ornate crown molding, the renovations of the bedroom was complete.

  “We did this room and the kitchen first, since we use them most,” Holly said, confirming his suspicion. “But plumbing intimidated Ryan, and we put off doing the master bathroom. And put it off. And put it off.” She turned on the bathroom light and stepped back for him to enter. “But its time has come. I’m ready to tackle the bathroom, whatever it takes.”

  Matt surveyed the stained linoleum floors and ancient fixtures. Outdated wallpaper peeled from the walls and hung limply over the cracked mirror. He had his work cut out for him. But he could do the job. His duties with the crew this summer had included plumbing work and basic tiling.

  No problem.

  But he’d get a how-to book from the library, just in case.

  “So that’s about it.” Holly jammed her hands in the back pockets of jeans that fit her like a second skin. “By my es
timates, we can be done by mid-December, Christmas at the latest, barring any snafus.”

  Matt winced and held up a finger. “Hey, don’t even mention snafus. You’ll jinx us.”

  Chuckling, Holly hit the light switch and backed through the bathroom door. “Don’t tell me you’re superstitious.”

  “Let’s just say I’ve had enough bad breaks to know better than to tempt fate.”

  “Touché,” she tossed over her shoulder as she glided toward the bedroom door.

  Matt fell in step behind her, then hesitated when a picture on her nightstand caught his eye. A wedding portrait.

  Pricked by curiosity, he eased closer to her bed and bent to get a closer look at Holly, wearing the same dress she’d donned as a costume for the party today. Her sculpted face had been captured skillfully by the photographer’s lens. Her hair and makeup perfect, she positively glowed. But what truly made Holly beautiful was the love in her eyes as she beamed at her husband.

  Matt gave the man a cursory glance.

  And froze.

  Recognition tickled his spine, and icy fingers of shock and dread squeezed his chest. Matt’s limbs felt leaden. His blood roared in his ears.

  If he could point to one person who had caused him the most trouble, the most anguish, the most loss in his life, he’d have to point to the man in Holly’s wedding picture.

  Had Holly told him her last name? Should he have figured it out before now?

  Matt shook his head, struggling for oxygen. Fighting back the bitter taste of bile that rose in his throat.

  He’d told Holly he’d help her with renovations. They’d shaken on it, and Matt wouldn’t go back on his word. He wouldn’t break the trust she’d placed in him.

  Even if Holly’s late husband had ruined Matt’s reputation and destroyed his life. Ryan Cole was the ruthless ADA who’d disputed Matt’s sworn statement that Jill’s death was suicide and prosecuted him for murder.

  Chapter 4

  “Jeepers, my arms are killing me!” That Saturday, Holly rolled her tired shoulders and shook the ache from her arms. After almost two hours of reaching above her head, scraping the stubborn old wallpaper off her bathroom walls, her muscles throbbed. She glanced across the small room, where Matt tackled the hard-to-reach parts of the wall behind the claw-foot tub. “This is taking way longer than it should. What did they use to glue this paper up, anyway? Some revolutionary super epoxy?”