Harlequin Heartwarming December 2020 Box Set

by Cari Lynn Webb, Linda Warren, Mary Anne Wilson

  “Sure.” He swapped the broken door for the jewelry box. “We can take it back to Dorothy’s. The light is better there. Are you planning to take it home with you?”

  “What?” She shook her head. “I couldn’t.”

  “Dorothy told you anything you found in here was yours to keep.” The jewelry box, even broken and dirty, had charm and history.

  “I have no place to put it.”

  “Doesn’t match your decor?” He figured her for modern lines and a clean, sleek style. No unnecessary stuff and only the essentials. He brushed the dust off the top of the box. Dirt and clutter would only clash. The same way he and she did.

  “I don’t have decor.” She took the jewelry box back as if worried he’d drop it. “I have an apartment that barely qualifies for a one bedroom. Everything I own has been packed into five boxes.”

  “For London.” Where she was moving to start a new life. One that would not include him. The reminder should have weakened his interest.

  “I don’t know how I’d get the jewelry box to London without damaging it,” she said.

  He could deliver it. If he lived in another world and this was another life. “It still works perfect for the lock-and-key item.” Zach tapped the round table as he tapped his impossible thoughts back into the impractical category. “Set it down. Let’s take a closer look. Who do you think owned it?”

  “I’m not sure.” She stared at the broken door. “I don’t know much about the Blackwell family tree.”

  “Then make something up,” he teased. He wanted the wonder and affection back in her smile. Back in her tone. He wanted her to forget London, if only for right now.

  “Okay.” She set the broken door on the table and touched the key. “It probably belonged to Dorothy’s mother.”

  Zach shook his head. “It’s on Big E’s side.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Dorothy and Big E recently remarried,” he said. “Dorothy’s things are in the front of the barn. You got that from the very back.”

  “Were you following me?” One corner of her mouth tipped up. Almost the smile he wanted. She added, “Making sure I didn’t break anything?”

  “I didn’t need to. You were loud enough I could’ve tracked you from outside.” He brushed the dust off her cheek, captured her full attention and her exasperation.

  “I wasn’t that loud.” Her voice lowered. Her warm gaze locked on his.

  He trailed his fingers down her neck. “Want to try again?”

  “Try what?” Her voice faded.

  Try to test the boundaries of fake. Try to discover what’s real between us. He pulled his hand away. Real was Georgie moving to London. Real was Zach heading out for the rodeo tour. He dragged his palm over his rough beard. He needed a shave and to realign his priorities. “Who else might have owned the jewelry box?”

  She was slow to pull her gaze away from him, as if she’d been focused on something else, too. Her hand fluttered over the jewelry box. “It probably belonged to one of Big E’s sisters.”

  “That’s all you’ve got?” He shook his head disapprovingly.

  She straightened. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Everything.” Everything was wrong with the way he liked watching that spark of defiance flicker across her face. Everything was wrong with the way he liked everything about her. “Where’s your creativity? Where’s your story?”

  “You think you can do better?” Her hands gripped her waist. One eyebrow arched. Challenge issued.

  “I can definitely do better.” And he could definitely get used to accepting her challenges. Not important. He opened and closed several of the drawers inside the jewelry box. “This belonged to Big E’s mother.”

  Her fingers drummed against her hips. She opened her mouth.

  He lifted his hand, stopping her response. “There’s more. It was a favorite piece. The metal on the handles is worn away from someone using the drawers a lot.” He pinched one of the small round handles to show her. “There are still impressions in the velvet padding from rings being set into the slots in the drawer.”

  “You saw all that?” She moved next to him and peered more closely at the jewelry box. Her shoulder bumped into his.

  “When I was a kid, I studied every piece my dad brought home. If I couldn’t find the story on the furniture itself, I made it up.”

  She turned to face him and set her hip against the table edge, curiosity and interest in her steady gaze and face.

  “I’d tell the stories to my brother.” Why was he telling her such a silly thing now? What did it prove, other than that he and his brother had always imagined a different home than the one they were stuck in? He paced away. “Then Cody would add his own details. Before we knew it, we had a piece of furniture with a history and a vision for its future.”

  “You were two historians in the making.” She tipped her head toward the furniture. “Now you’ll keep the tradition for the headboard and footboard, and reimagine its future.”

  “No. That’s Dorothy’s vision.” And not his tradition. The stories had been an escape for two young boys. Nothing more. “Dorothy and I talked about her wanting a bench for her entryway this morning while you were changing.” He wanted to move closer to Georgie. Bad idea. He stepped around her and walked deeper into the Once Was collection. “I did find something earlier you might like.”

  She trailed behind him, close enough that, if he turned, she’d run right into him. He kept moving forward and stopped in front of an armoire wide enough to fit a sizable flat-screen TV. He opened the doors and took out a plastic crate. “Found these when I was looking around.”

  Georgie reached into the crate and took out a rose-colored bottle. “It’s a perfume bottle.”

  “I think they all are.” Zach adjusted his grip on the box. “There are a lot in here.”

  She replaced the rose bottle and removed two squat frosted bottles. “These are a pair and the glass stoppers are still in both.”

  “You said your Christmas presents were in your vacationing suitcase.” Zach paused. What had he been thinking? Vintage perfume bottles. He held the crate, Georgie next to him, and his idea sounded foolish, like the stories he’d told his little brother to scare away the monsters under the bed.

  Her gaze lifted to his, locked on and searched.

  “I thought you could use these as gifts for your sisters.” Zach cleared his throat. “Or not. They’re old glass jars. Probably chipped and cracked. Need to be cleaned.”

  She reached up, placed her hand on his cheek.

  Her warm, soft touch stalled his rambling and his heart.

  “They’re perfect.” She set her other palm against his cheek, framing his face. “Thank you for thinking about me.”

  He shifted the crate. She moved closer. His heart kick-started into a race. He leaned forward. She leaned in. One more inch. One more…

  “Georgie! Zach!” Her sister’s voice echoed up into the rafters. “Where are you guys?”

  Zach jerked away. The glass perfume bottles clinked against each other.

  Georgie jumped back. “Lily. We’re over here.”

  “Where?” Lily hollered.

  “Wait there,” Georgie shouted. She grabbed several dish towels from the armoire and covered the perfume bottles. “We’ll come to you.”

  And Zach would come to his senses. He’d almost kissed Georgie again, his pretend girlfriend. And all he knew was there would have been nothing pretend about their kiss.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “WHAT WERE YOU and Zach doing, exactly, in the back of the barn?” Lily started the truck and glanced at Georgie in the passenger seat.

  They weren’t exactly doing anything. She’d been about to kiss her cowboy. Then Lily and Fee had arrived. Yet now Georgie wasn’t certain if she welcomed or regretted her sisters�
�� interruption. “Zach found something he thought I would like.”

  “Well, tell us what he found.” Fee leaned between the front seats.

  “I can’t.” Georgie adjusted her scarf around her chin, wanting to hide the blush she knew still lingered. The same as her urge to kiss Zach stuck to her, too. “They might be gifts for you guys.”

  “You found gifts for us in an old, dusty barn,” Lily said.

  “Zach found them.” For her. Georgie caught her sigh. Her sisters sighed, not her. “He knows my Christmas gifts are in my missing suitcase.”

  “You mean our gift cards are in your missing suitcase,” Fee clarified.

  “There’s nothing wrong with those.” Meanwhile, there was everything wrong with kissing Zach. She was moving to London. Wanted to move overseas for her career and continue to honor her mom in the only way she knew how. Zach would become a memory. She didn’t need to add color and depth to those memories with hand holding and stolen kisses.

  “We appreciate those gift cards every year. We really do.” Lily set her hand on Georgie’s arm. Sincerity bolstered her words. “You could’ve easily replaced the gift cards.”

  “It’s just surprising you’d opt for gifts found in the Once Was Barn. Things in there are essentially family heirlooms.” Fee touched Georgie’s shoulder. “You’re not the most sentimental Harrison sister.”

  But she could be thoughtful, give a gift with intention, couldn’t she? Give a gift for the meaning rather than its practical purpose. Georgie tugged on her seat belt and squirmed in the captain’s chair. Zach had found the perfume bottles, not her. She should return to her typical gift cards. Keep the expectations the same as they’d always been. “You’re right. It was a silly idea.”

  “But,” Fee said.

  “Let’s talk about this afternoon.” Georgie interrupted her sister. “Where are we going? You only told me it was a wedding outing.”

  “Jem Salon.” Fee squeezed Georgie’s shoulder. Her excitement shimmied around the truck cab. “For our practice session.”

  Lily joined in, sprinkling her own delight. “We’re getting our hair styled, nails and toes done. And full makeup.”

  Georgie visited a salon once every twelve weeks to get the split ends on her long hair trimmed. Her appointment lasted thirty minutes and she always brought work with her to make the most of her time in the chair. “How long are we going to be there?”

  “Anxious to get back to Zach and the barn.” Fee laughed.

  “This is our sister bonding time.” Lily parked the truck on the street beside a barber pole. “It doesn’t matter how long we’re here.”

  Except Georgie had never joined her sisters for their impromptu nail sessions in their bedroom as kids. She’d never sat still long enough for Fee to braid her hair. She’d never borrowed Amanda’s clay mask and joined her to read teen gossip magazines. Instead, she’d retreated to the library or opened a medical journal. Georgie followed her sisters inside the Jem Salon.

  A deep brown couch and coordinating chairs surrounded a table filled with an assortment of hair magazines. Georgie took a step toward the empty waiting area.

  Fee grabbed her arm, stalling her retreat. “We have appointments.”

  “Lily, welcome.” A woman, her long, straight black hair swept back in a neat low ponytail, stepped around the antique display case turned reception desk. “Are you ready for an afternoon of pampering?”

  “Emma.” Lily acknowledged the stylist. “More than ready.”

  “Who’s going where first?” Emma glanced at them.

  Georgie’s eyes skimmed over the black-and-silver styling chairs facing large mirrors attached to an exposed brick wall. A woman, wearing a suede vest with an eye-catching wide fur collar, reclined in a pedicure chair. Her black slacks had been rolled to her knees, her bare feet were immersed in the water bath and cucumber slices rested on her closed eyes. Across from her, a petite older woman sat in the dryer chair. The dryer had been angled high above her head.

  “Nails.” Georgie pointed to the empty manicure station. “I’ll start with nails.” That would surely ease her into the all-day pampering.

  “That leaves two chairs open for hair styling.” Emma swept her hand toward the available seats. “Ladies, take your pick. We’re enjoying a quieter Sunday before the rush this week to be picture-ready for Christmas.”

  There were at least a dozen customers in the salon. Stylists wove around chairs. Georgie wondered what a busy afternoon looked like.

  Lily stepped up to the nail polish display and picked up two colors. “These are the ones Fee and I decided work best with the dresses. You choose.”

  One bottle sparkled silver. The other shimmered a deep crimson. And both looked as if they belonged on her sisters, not Georgie.

  The petite woman under the dryer set a magazine on her lap. Ocean-blue eye shadow and perfectly sculpted eyebrows added depth to her pale eyes. “You’re the new doctor in town.”

  “I’m Lily, the bride-to-be.” Lily tugged Georgie into her side. “My sister Georgie is the doctor.”

  The woman in the pedicure chair lifted both cucumber slices away from her dark eyes to peer at them. “Elias’s granddaughters?”

  “Yes, we are.” Fiona dropped into the nearest salon chair and smiled.

  “Ladies, please meet Iris Lane and Estelle York, two of our favorite and most loyal customers.” Emma retied the black apron around her waist. “Estelle has been perfecting her pedicure experience. Today we added a scented oil to the water.”

  “Elias wasn’t exaggerating.” Iris dabbed a clear shimmery lip gloss onto her bottom lip. “You’re all quite lovely.”

  “Thank you.” Georgie took a seat at the manicure table.

  Iris looked closer to seventy than sixty, wore stylish leggings and wedge fur boots with pom-pom tassels. Her gray pixie-cut hair looked to have layers dyed purple. The woman’s entire look was chic and fashionable. Georgie borrowed a pinch of the older woman’s boldness and took the silver nail polish from Lily.

  “You’re the doctor who sent Hilda an aloe plant.” Estelle pressed a button and lifted the pedicure chair out of the deep reclining position.

  Surprise caught Georgie. She’d ordered the plant yesterday and it had already arrived in Falcon Creek. Surely Georgie’s suitcase could’ve arrived by now, too. “Hilda has quite the green thumb. I thought she might like her own natural treatment for burns, bug bites and blisters.” And more specifically for the nicks and scratches that marred Hilda’s hands and wrists. One conversation with the kind woman and Georgie had realized Hilda would appreciate a natural ointment to anything store-bought.

  “And Georgie cured Rachel, the poor dear.” Iris’s head swayed from side to side in slower motion than the dryer above her head.

  Emma turned from Fee’s chair and grinned at Georgie. “Rachel was in here earlier, praising you and your magic tonic.”

  Estelle set her cucumber slices on the glass dish on the table beside her. She wore several silver necklaces of different lengths that elevated her look into evening wear. “Would you happen to have a tonic to improve digestion?”

  “Great-Aunt Pru always claimed dandelion root tea was the secret.” Georgie placed her fingers in the soaking bowl the nail technician set on the table. “One and a half cups every afternoon.”

  “Granddaddy used to make dandelion wine.” Iris’s thin shoulders lifted toward her ears as if she suppressed a full-bodied laugh. “He’d let me sip from the bottle as a child. One of my favorite memories.”

  “Must have been before everyone had to be twenty-one years old to imbibe.” Estelle chuckled.

  Iris brushed her hand through the air. “There’s a birth date printed on my driver’s license, but I don’t pay it any mind.”

  “Don’t forget, dears.” Estelle’s snowy-gray precision-cut bob angled past her jawline, a
dding polish to the already graceful woman and challenging anyone to guess her age. “We were born before computers and cell phones. There’s no telling how many birth dates were recorded incorrectly in pencil back then.”

  “Very true,” Iris added. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve written down the wrong date on things. Mistakes happen.”

  Like kissing Zach. Or not kissing him. Georgie wasn’t sure which one she’d regret more. Perhaps the mistake was that she still thought about kissing Zach. The mistake was letting Zach intrude on her sisterly bonding time. She lowered her shoulders and relaxed her fingers in the warm solution.

  “Iris and I were born at home, too,” Estelle added. “I’m the youngest of twelve. My mama forgot her kids’ names daily. Surely she mixed up a date here and there.”

  Twelve home deliveries. Georgie praised the mother’s strength and the people who’d assisted in those home births. Estelle’s siblings would have probably been involved.

  “All that to tell you not to pay your birth date any mind.” Iris tipped her chin at Georgie. “You’ve got to live life according to your heart.”

  Estelle hummed her agreement. “Your heart doesn’t collect years. It collects people and experiences.”

  Georgie lived life according to her goals. Once she achieved one, she set another and challenged herself again. Her heart experienced the joy of accomplishment. Her gaze jumped from Estelle to Iris. Both women wore intricate wedding rings. The two lovely women would most likely disapprove of her point of view.

  “Is that the secret to staying young?” Emma twisted away from Lily, a curling wand clutched in her hand. “Surround yourself with younger people?”

  “Surround yourself with good people,” Iris corrected. “That’s what I tell my grandchildren. The good ones make every minute worthwhile.”

  Zach was a good one. He’d made the last few days on the ranch bearable. More than bearable. And the Blackwells, they were good, too, welcoming herself and Zach, their arms and hearts open.