Marrying Miss Kringle: Frost

by McConnell, Lucy

  “Thank you, dear. Help Frost with the potatoes, will you?”

  He turned to find Frost scooping the fluffiest mashed potatoes he’d ever seen into a serving dish. Once again, she’d accomplished a task much faster than anticipated. He grinned at her. “You’re like an elf the way you get things done.”

  She nudged him with her elbow. “Why, thank you very much. That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  He sobered. She was right. Despite her high performance on the job, he hadn’t complimented her once. “Frost, I’m sorry for the way I treated you—at the office.”

  She blinked. Her voice dropped down to private-conversation level. “You said it was a bad day. We’re all entitled to one every now and again.”

  Tannon’s chest warmed.

  “Oh, good, you got them done.” Mom took the bowl from Frost. “Okay, let’s take everything into the dining room. Follow me.” She bumped the door open with her backside and disappeared.

  Tannon smiled down at Frost. She was so different from … well, from everyone. Yes, her beauty was beyond compare, but there was more to her than that. She had a happy innocence, like Brody. Or maybe it was a sense of wonder and the ability to just run with life they shared. In his son, the quality was endearing. In Frost, it drew him in and made it easy to be around her. Most of the time, he could scowl away someone’s smile. But not Frost. She was happy in spite of his bad moods and mistrust.

  “What’s your secret?” he asked.

  A small line appeared between her brows. “M-my secret?”

  “Yeah, how do you stay so upbeat? I mean, here you are, alone on Thanksgiving, and you’re smiling and dishing up mashed potatoes like you aren’t bothered at all.”

  She twisted her sweet-looking lips. “I am bothered by it.”

  “It doesn’t show.”

  “Then I must be good at hiding it.”

  He leaned closer, his eyes tracing the small indent on her cheek, her jaw. He picked up a strand of her hair and found it slid between his fingers like silk. “Your hair is stunning.” The air grew warm and heavy, pushing them together. For a moment, Tannon forgot all about himself. He didn’t feel his prosthetic rubbing against his skin. He didn’t feel the draft on his head, and he didn’t feel the pressure of running a paper mill. Instead, he was light, floaty, big and strong, capable and … enough.

  “It’s white,” Frost whispered.

  “Stunningly white,” he gently corrected her. He inched closer, threading his fingers into her hair at the base of her skull and then combing down.

  Frost sighed and her lips parted slightly as if they were inviting him to taste them. He wanted to. Wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her against him while he let himself get lost in a kiss.

  Suddenly, he was aware of himself again: of the dull ache in his leg, the bareness of his scalp, and the responsibilities he had to the company, but more importantly to Brody. Frost wanted him to keep the mill going, and he had to remember that. She may not be the enemy, but she certainly wasn’t on his side in his fool plan to un-employ hundreds of people right before Christmas.

  He jerked tall, his heart thudding against his ribs so loudly his mom could probably hear it through the closed door. “I’ll take the rolls out to the dining room.”

  “Yeah. Um …” She glanced around quickly, looking for an escape. “I’ll get the stuffing out of the turkey.”

  Tannon grabbed a basket of rolls off the counter and followed his mom out the door. Their conversation, the shared moment, left him feeling like he was on the heavy end of a teeter-totter.

  The dining room, with its high-back chairs, crystal chandeliers, polished floors, and drafty windows, was a cold contrast to the warm kitchen. Or maybe he was just chilled without Frost around.

  “She’s pretty.” Mom grinned at him from where she folded napkins.

  “She’s an employee.” He needed some kind of boundaries. Frost was much too fun, too lighthearted, too … jolly for him. And she was a temptation he couldn’t afford right now. He needed to stay focused on Brody and selling the company. He needed to be a dad, wanted to be a dad.

  “A pretty employee.” Mom smiled smugly just before Frost came in balancing a casserole dish filled with yams and a large bowl of stuffing in her tiny hands.

  Tannon hurriedly took the yams from her.

  “Thanks.” She grinned up at him, and he felt a piece of his heart click into place. Ms. Frost Cratchit was doing something to him—and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  Chapter 13

  Thanksgiving dinner with the Cebu family centered around Brody. His grandparents clearly adored him, and Tannon doted on the child. If she were home, Frost would have made sure everyone was appropriately dressed and the table decorated elaborately. The more glitter, the better, and Thanksgiving was the only time of year she got to pull out the brown glitter.

  Frost listened quietly as Brody finished recounting the whale-watching excursion.

  “Sounds like an adventure,” said Donald. He turned and must have caught something wistful on Frost’s face, because he said, “I’m sure your family misses you.”

  Frost smiled without showing her teeth, her lips pressed together with all she couldn’t say. “I know they are.” She sighed heavily. “I’m the life of the party.”

  Everyone laughed easily as if she’d made a joke, but she hadn’t been joking. “I’m serious.” She smiled. “I’m the detail person in the family. No one else has wicked calligraphy skills for the place cards, the sewing skills to make place mats, table runners, and chair swags. And if it weren’t for me, there would be no overall theme—my sisters would run amuck.”

  Donald and Mary exchanged glances. Mary patted the corner of her lips with her napkin. “That all sounds lovely.” Her gaze roamed over the bare table filled with platters and plates. The centerpiece was a lovely bunch of dried leaves, acorns, and twigs. They’d shoved it to one end of the table so they could all see each other.

  Frost bit her tongue. She shouldn’t have said so much.

  “Sounds like a lot of work,” muttered Donald.

  “It is,” Frost agreed quickly. “But for us, Thanksgiving dinner is the holiday dinner.”

  “Mom goes all out for Christmas.” Tannon tipped his glass her direction.

  Frost remembered begging Tannon for details about his Christmas celebrations. Children all over the world celebrated differently. Filipinos put up decorations in September and have the longest celebration on Earth. In Australia, they serve their plum pudding with ice cream because of the heat. In France, holiday revelers stay up all night on Christmas Eve and have a long, lazy meal with friends and family that includes oysters. But within each of the countries’ customs, families also create their own traditions. That’s what she’d begged out of Tannon all those years ago, so it was no surprise that everyone around her bobbed their head.

  “Will you have a piñata this year?” Frost asked.

  Tannon set down his glass. “How did you know we do a piñata?”

  Frost’s stomach plummeted to the floor. “Doesn’t …” She searched for an excuse for her blunder. “Doesn’t everyone have a piñata at Christmas?” They didn’t. They so didn’t.

  Mary laughed lightly. “They should.”

  Tannon relaxed and Donald chuckled.

  Brody smiled wide at all of them. He was happy to eat for a bit and shoveled another forkful of stuffing into his mouth.

  Frost let out the breath she’d been holding. She needed to get out of the spotlight. “What other traditions do you have?”

  Donald leaned back in his seat and rubbed his belly. “We do our gift exchange that night.”

  “And we read the Christmas story from the Bible,” added Mary.

  “And Mom makes a feast.”

  “Do you make Who Pudding and carve a roast beast?” Frost winked at Brody, thinking the boy would get the mention of the Grinch.

  “What’s a roast beast?” he asked, his nos
e wrinkled more than a dress shirt left in the dryer too long.

  “You know, from the Dr. Seuss book.”

  He shook his head.

  Frost glanced around the table in disbelief. “You’ve never read him How the Grinch Stole Christmas?”

  They all consulted one another before shaking their heads.

  Frost placed her hand over her chest. “I’m appalled!” Her tone was teasing, so no one took her all that seriously, but inside she was aghast. “I have a copy in my purse. I’ll read it with you later if you’d like.”

  Brody perked up. “You’ll read with me?”

  “Of course.”

  He started shoveling his food, eating faster than a reindeer coming home from delivering gifts.

  “Slow done there.” Tannon put his hand out. “She’s not running away right after dinner.”

  “I might.” Frost cupped one hand around her mouth and whispered loudly, “I don’t like doing dishes.”

  Brody’s mouth fell open. “Grandma makes me.”

  Mary reached over and lifted his jaw. “It’s good for your character.”

  He chewed for a moment before saying, “I don’t have a character.”

  Mary leaned over and touched her forehead to his. “You certainly do.”

  He continued to chew on his food while he chewed on the thought.

  “Well.” Tannon rubbed his belly, just like his dad had done only moments before. “I don’t like doing dishes either, but someone has to.”

  Donald got to his feet, picking up his plate as he went. “If we all chip in, it’ll go much faster.”

  “And we’ll get to the pie quicker,” Tannon added.

  Frost laughed. “How can you think about pie after all this food we just ate?”

  Mary giggled. “Tannon could eat pumpkin pie anytime. It’s his favorite.”

  Frost had to bite her lower lip to keep from saying, I know. “It’s one of mine too.” She rose, gathering her utensils and plate and following Mary into the kitchen. Donald and Brody went back and forth between the table and the kitchen counters, bringing in the food it seemed that they’d just taken out. Mary opened the dishwasher and began scraping plates. Tannon found the plastic wrap and tin foil and began storing leftovers in the giant refrigerator.

  “One of your favorite pies?” Tannon asked. Dishes clanked together and silverware clattered. The kitchen smelled of stuffing spices and butter. Donald teased Brody about a girl in class who Brody insisted was not going to beat him at the spelling bee.

  Frost could easily see herself belonging here, with these people. Her gaze traveled over Tannon’s broad shoulders, and she could see herself belonging with him, too. “White chocolate cream with peppermint is the best.”

  “That sounds good,” said Mary. She turned on the disposal and no one said anything over the grinding.

  “It’s my mom’s specialty,” Frost explained when it was quiet again.

  Tannon stared at her. “Why does that sound familiar?”

  Frost turned her back to him under the pretense of covering the salad with plastic wrap and cringed. “I don’t know,” she managed to squeeze out past her lie-o-meter. She knew exactly why. December 17th, six years ago, she’d bragged about the pie to him in a letter. She’d even sent him the recipe. She really needed to keep her mouth shut or she was going to give away everything.

  He shrugged. “It’ll come to me.”

  She hoped not. She really, really hoped he wouldn’t put her and Miss Kringle together. Returning home, saving her family, and Christmas depended on it.

  Chapter 14

  Tannon headed for the stairs. The snow had accumulated to almost two feet. Frost was going to have to stay the night. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, and he was on his way to find out how she felt about crashing with the Cebus for a night—or possibly more if the storm didn’t let up.

  “Son?” Dad called from his office. “Can you come in here?”

  Tannon glanced longingly up the stairs. Brody was up there, all ready for bed. Frost had made good on her promise and produced a copy of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It was strange that she carried that book around with her in her purse, and yet it didn’t surprise him. She was a delightfully … confusing woman. He patted the banister with his palm, made a turn on his good leg, and headed into the office.

  His mom sat on the small leather sofa, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. His dad stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. They were both stiff. On the table in front of them was a stack of papers.

  He stopped just inside the door. “What’s going on?”

  “We have something we’d like to discuss.” Dad motioned for him to sit in the matching chair to the left of the couch.

  He moved, falling stiffly into the cushions, his prosthetic kicking out. His father hated it when he did that, said it was Tannon just being lazy. Tannon didn’t care. Sometimes, he didn’t want to have to think about how he looked to everyone else—he just wanted to sit.

  Dad sniffed. “Your mother and I have been talking …”

  Tannon nodded for him to continue.

  “We think it would be in Brody’s best interest—in your best interest—if we adopted him.”

  Even though he’d had warning from the conversation he’d overheard a week ago, Tannon still wasn’t prepared for the blow. He pushed back into the chair as if the words had struck him.

  Mom put out her hand. “We’re here for him twenty-four hours a day and you work so hard. He needs us.”

  Tannon’s hands began to shake and his stomach trembled. “He needs his father.”

  “I can step in there.” Dad’s eyes had that drilling thing going for them. They bored into Tannon as if trying to force his will into Tannon’s forehead.

  Tannon slowly got to his feet. “The only reason you’re around is because you forced me to take over at the plant.”

  Dad’s drilling gaze turned to blades and shot right into Tannon’s chest. “You wanted to run the plant.”

  “I wanted to please you.” Tannon struggled to keep his voice under control. “I don’t give a fig about the plant. I hate it there.”

  “What?” Dad thundered.

  This was the father Tannon knew. The man who came home after dark and demanded respect and perfection from a son who knew he’d never measure up. Well, Tannon wasn’t a little boy anymore. “I’m selling it as soon as possible. If you want it to stay in the family, you’ll have to buy it back. Otherwise, the loggers will be happy to take it off my hands.”

  “Your grandfather built that mill from nothing, and you thumb your nose at it like you’re the prince of the world.”

  “You thumb your nose at me when you act like taking my child is an act of mercy. I’m a good father.” Tannon pounded his chest with his fist. “And I’m going to be the one to raise my son.” He turned to his mom. “Mom, you’re right. Brody does need you two. But he needs you to be grandma and grandpa—not his mother and father. If you still want that role, let me know.”

  Mom’s eyes filled with tears. “Please, Tannon. We love him so much.”

  Dad’s bluster blew out and his shoulders fell forward. “He’s got a real chance to play soccer in high school, maybe even college. How are you …”

  “How am I going to get him there on only one leg?” Tannon spit the words

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “It is what you mean, but it’s not what you want to hear out loud, so you don’t say it.” Tannon filled his lungs almost to bursting. “Dad, if Brody wants to play soccer, I’ll make sure he has every opportunity and coach. But—and note that this is coming from the boy you raised—you’re not the best dad for him. I am.” Even as he said the words, a feeling of golden light filled his body. It didn’t matter if he only had one leg. It didn’t matter what he had been through. What mattered was his commitment to being the best dad be could be—God’s grace would take care of the rest.

  Dad set his jaw. “You’re right about on
e thing. If you think you can be what Brody needs, then I set the bar pretty low.”

  Mom gasped. “Donald!” She looked back and forth between the two of them. “This has all gotten out of hand. We’re a family.”

  “Dad’s got a vision of his perfect family in his head, Mom, and I’m not a part of it.” He ran his hand over his scalp. “I’ll never be able to play the part. Everything I’ve done, college, the mill, all of it was to please him, but none of it could bring my leg back.”

  “Tannon,” Mom chided.

  Tannon lifted his chin to his father. “I honestly don’t know who misses it more, me or you.”

  Dad’s nostrils flared. “Cancer cheated us all out of a lot of things.”

  “Yeah, but just because I was the one who had the disease doesn’t mean you get to take my kid. I’m not signing over my rights.” Tannon headed toward the door. He paused. “Brody and I will stay through Christmas, but after that, we’re finding our own place.”

  “Who’s going to watch him while you work?”

  “I told you, I’m selling the mill. For what the loggers are offering, I’ll never have to work again.” He left before he could see the truth settle over them.

  Taking the stairs as quickly as he could, he raced to his son. He needed to see him, hold him close, and make sure he was still there. The feeling of someone snatching him away was strong and propelled him forward, but he came up short when he heard Frost’s voice reading softly.

  “… in Whoville they say that the Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day!” She emphasized three to show how much growth that was for a Grinch.

  Tannon leaned in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt the story but wanting to see how Brody liked the rhyme. He and Frost sat against the headboard. Brody was under the covers, wearing his Captain America pajamas, and he had his arm tucked through Frost’s elbow. His face was shiny and he bet that even his teeth were brushed. Frost had a way of charming people into doing what she wanted. She’d make a wonderful mother for his son.