Marry Me under the Mistletoe Page 2

  The sight caused Rick’s throat to swell. He was in luck. Only the first day of shopping to get an idea of what Tessa wanted and already he knew this would be the present Santa left under the tree. When he got home, he would ask his housekeeper to come in and buy it for him so it could be a surprise.

  “We have to leave now, Tessa. We’ve got more shopping to do before I take you to kindergarten. Thank the nice lady for letting you hold him.”

  Tessa stared at the saleswoman. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He helped her off the chair and set the gingerbread man inside it.

  Tessa’s lower lip trembled. “Can’t I have him, Daddy?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Please?”

  “Tessa—that’s enough.”

  “I’ll sell it to you at half price,” the woman said under her breath. He lifted his head and found himself gazing into the sapphire-blue eyes that had unexpectedly caught his attention through the display window.

  “Thank you, but no.”

  On cue his daughter broke into tears. The clerk bent over her. “Have you written to Santa Claus yet?”

  “Yes. My grandma helped me, b-but I didn’t ask for the gingerbread man.” Her voice wobbled.

  “I’m sure your father will help you write another letter and ask Santa to bring you a gingerbread man.” She flicked him a hopeful glance as she said it.

  “This one?” Tessa pointed to the chair.

  “Yes.”

  Rick blinked. Yes? The clerk’s no doubt well-meaning intervention irritated the hell out of him. Worse, she’d played right into his daughter’s hands.

  Tessa sniffed. “Do you think Santa will know that my gingerbread man is in this store?”

  An impish smile broke the corner of the clerk’s mouth, drawing his unwilling attention to its provocative shape. “Yes.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Come on, Tessa.” He picked up his daughter, who still wasn’t in control of her tears.

  “Have a merry Christmas!” The woman just kept it up.

  Rick flashed her a brief glance. “Merry Christmas. Thank you for indulging her.” With his daughter in one arm and his package in the other, he left the shop in a few long, swift strides.

  * * *

  Was that a little sarcasm Andrea had heard?

  She bristled, realizing that he hadn’t wanted his daughter indulged and didn’t appreciate in the least what Andrea had done.

  But maybe he couldn’t afford it because he was out of work. He had told his daughter it cost too much. If that was the case, then she felt bad for putting him on the spot, and she decided she would grant his little girl her wish by Christmas.

  Andrea knew exactly where to send the gingerbread man and the chair. The credit card listed him as Richard Jenner on Rose Drive in Elmhurst, a nice neighborhood. It was Christmas, a time for giving.

  This could be her own little sub-for-Santa project. Every year at the church they had a list of families who needed help, and everyone who could contribute did so. This was one time when Andrea knew her present would bring happiness.

  Picking up one of the big floppy elves, she took him over by the tree and put him in place of the gingerbread man and the rocker. Those items she took up the back stairs to the loft. Once she got everything gift wrapped and packed, then she’d send it to the Jenner residence. On the outside of the box she’d print “To Tessa from Santa.”

  With that accomplished she went back downstairs to face a steady stream of customers until her mother arrived so she could leave for Barrow’s Lake.

  During the late-afternoon drive her mind played over the incident in the store. What she’d give to have a child she could indulge. With those cherubic features, Tessa Jenner was absolutely adorable.

  When she reached the Gingerbread Inn, she saw the state it was in and realized that Casey’s email hadn’t exaggerated. Despite some cosmetic fix-ups by Emily and her husband, Cole Watson, it was obvious the Gingerbread Inn had fallen on hard times. Despite all the inn owner’s big dreams, Carol Parsons had lost her husband and couldn’t keep everything going anymore.

  In the kitchen, the heart of the once-fabulous two-story Georgian inn, Andrea looked around. Everything needed refurbishing. She longed to get rid of the dilapidated sunflower wallpaper and worn white vinyl flooring and make it all fresh again.

  But Andrea was grateful for one thing that hadn’t changed. She and Casey, her exotic-looking friend with the dark wild hair, were sitting at the very same long maple table where the girls had enjoyed many a meal day or night in past summers.

  “Do you two want another cup of cocoa?”

  Andrea jumped up from the chair and gave Carol another hug. The tiny gray-haired widow and sole owner was in her fifties and still looked great wearing a pale blue T-shirt and jeans. Best of all, she had a heart as big as the outdoors.

  To the amusement of all, Harper, the golden retriever of uncertain mix, ran around sniffing everyone, hoping for crumbs from Carol’s homemade coffee cake fresh from the oven.

  “Don’t you know you’ve done enough? It’s after midnight. You should be in bed. Casey and I will be headed there ourselves pretty soon.”

  “No, you won’t.” She laughed. “I know you girls. Once you get talking, there’s no stopping you. Since you have to get back to Providence tomorrow, I’m going to leave you two alone so you can catch up. In the morning I’ll make scones.”

  “Those are to die for,” the girls said in a collective voice.

  Carol laughed. “Come on, Harper.” The dog made a yapping sound and scrambled out the door after her.

  Andrea and Casey were finally alone, surrounded by six empty chairs. One of them would never see Melissa again. Once upon a time they’d been filled with people and laughter and great happiness. Andrea wondered if she’d ever know real happiness again. Her hurt went so deep she couldn’t fathom experiencing it again, let alone joy.

  Casey studied her for a minute through dark brown eyes. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  Andrea nodded. “Life has changed for all of us. Remember that horrid expression, ‘Life is what happens when you had other plans’?”

  “Oh, yeah. I could have written it.”

  “I think Eve probably coined the expression,” Andrea murmured.

  “Except I think things might be changing for Carol.”

  “Really?”

  She smiled. “Cole hired a handyman to help around here. His name is Martin Johnson. He’s been a widower for ten years and from what I can tell, he and Carol are getting along better than you’d believe. Having been a carpenter, he can fix anything.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Tall and blue-eyed with the greatest shock of white hair.”

  “Wouldn’t it be something if a romance blossomed around here?”

  Casey nodded as they stared at each other for a long serious moment. “It’s so good to see you and I’m so-o glad you came. I’m feeling alone and maybe more than a tad envious of Emily, who’s off on her second honeymoon with Cole.”

  “I feel the same way, so let’s get busy planning what we’re going to do with this place to turn it into a winter wonderland for their vow-renewal ceremony.”

  Once they’d worked it all out Andrea said, “Tell me what’s hanging so heavily on you right now.”

  “Oh, Andrea, I just feel like I don’t want to be filled with self-pity around you when you’ve experienced so much loss. I guess I hoped to recapture some of that girlish wonder we had for so many years. But we can’t turn back the clock. When I think about you and Gunter...I don’t know how you’re dealing with your life. It’s all so unfair.”

  Andrea had known this conversation w
ould leap to her own problems. “Let’s agree the word fair should be stricken from the language. Luckily his parents have three other children and four grandchildren to dote on, and I have my mom and the shop.”

  “I’m glad about that. I know how much work is saving your life right now. But forgive me for asking another question. How will you ever move on if everywhere you turn, you see him?”

  A weary sigh escaped her lips. “Mom has begged me to move back to the house with her for that very reason, but I’m not ready yet and don’t know if I ever will be. She belongs to a church group that meets every few weeks. There’s a widower I know she’s interested in, but he’s been on vacation. I’m hoping that when he gets back, he’ll sweep her off her feet. If I’m not living there, it’ll make his path easier.”

  “I love your mom. Any man would be lucky to find a woman like her. But I want to see you fall in love like that again.”

  “The chances against that happening are astronomical, Casey.”

  “Surely not. I predict some gorgeous guy is going to come along and you won’t know what hit you. Maybe this fantastic man will see you in the shop and find you absolutely irresistible the way Gunter did.”

  “Maybe.”

  Heat rushed into her cheeks as a vision of Tessa’s father filled her mind. He was fantastic looking, but if anything, she knew he’d felt like swatting her away from him rather than sweeping her off her feet. The encounter had disturbed her more than she wanted to admit.

  Mr. Jenner had a daughter, for heaven’s sake. Though he didn’t wear a wedding ring—Andrea blushed to realize she had noticed—he was probably in an intimate relationship with a woman, so there was no point in wasting energy discussing him. The last person he’d be interested in was a widow who couldn’t give a man more children.

  Though she was tempted to tell Casey about the incident, she held back, needing to concentrate on anything that didn’t have to do with the ache inside her. Andrea had her sister-in-law when she really needed to talk. With Marie she could open up. She’d been there right after the accident. They’d become close after Andrea had met Gunter, and they needed each other now that he was gone so they could mourn together.

  “It has to happen one day, Andrea. You’re too young and beautiful.”

  “And unable to conceive, don’t forget.”

  “There’s always adoption.”

  “That’s what Mom says, but it’s ludicrous to go there. I just don’t want to think about it.”

  “Understood.”

  Feeling at a complete loose end, Andrea got to her feet and did the dishes. Once the kitchen was cleaned up, she took a deep breath. “You know what? It’s late. Why don’t we go to bed, and tomorrow we’ll get up and drink hot chocolate, take a walk to the lake and think about Emily and Cole having a baby and how wonderful life can be. I’ve never been here in the snow.”

  “Nor I. If circumstances were different for you and me, this could be a very romantic winter getaway.”

  “If being the operative word,” Andrea added wryly to cover her troubled emotions.

  At least their plans for the wedding-renewal vows on Christmas Eve had been made. But much as she was thrilled to see Casey and leave the nutcrackers for everyone, their conversation had opened up her wounds and she was bleeding all over the place. This bleakness in her heart threatened to overwhelm her. She needed to get back to work where she wouldn’t think. “Casey—”

  “I know what you’re going to say,” Casey interrupted. They read each other’s minds quite easily. “You’re restless as a cat wanting out of a cage.”

  “The inn is hardly a cage.”

  “It is when you’re needing other things to occupy your mind. Go on back to Providence after breakfast. To be honest, I’m afraid I’m suffering from the same problem. I’ll probably head back when you do. I’ve got a project going for Emily’s baby on my quilting frame at home. I’m making her a special quilt with a picture of the Gingerbread Inn in the center.”

  “Oh, how darling!” Andrea cried. “You’ve just given me an idea for a gift that will look perfect in her nursery.” When more rocking chairs and gingerbread men arrived, she’d put a set away for Emily. On the way back to Providence, she’d put in a big order for both items.

  In her mind’s eye Andrea kept remembering Tessa rocking back and forth with her prize in her arms.... Oh, how she’d love to see that precious girl on Christmas morning when she ran to find out what Santa had brought her. To give birth to a daughter like Tessa Jenner would be joy beyond measure. But it wasn’t meant to be. The sooner she got that child off her mind, the better.

  She turned out the lights and they went up to bed. Clearly Casey was in so much turmoil herself, she didn’t press Andrea to stay longer. They’d said all there was to say for the time being. Now they both needed their own caves to lick their wounds while they struggled to survive.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “LADDER 1 RESPOND to art-gallery fire on Lemon Street and Sixth.”

  The dispatcher’s voice over the gong galvanized everyone into action. Hearing the address, Rick felt his adrenaline kick in. Lemon Street? After parking his car, he’d walked by that gallery earlier in the morning with Tessa. Only a florist shop separated it from the Hansel and Gretel shop.

  He didn’t plan to go there again and had planned to send his housekeeper to buy the gingerbread man for him. Not only did he have time constraints, he preferred to avoid a good-looking woman like the salesclerk who wore no ring. After losing his wife, he wanted to spare himself and Tessa that kind of pain ever again. Another romantic relationship was out of the question for him.

  Unfortunately if the fire spread, that shop’s inventory, including the gingerbread man, might go up in smoke before the night was over. The clock said 9:55 p.m. Hopefully the woman had long since gone home from work. He broke out in a cold sweat just thinking about her getting overcome by fumes or worse. Rick knew firsthand what that was like; as a child he’d almost died in a fire. That experience had changed the direction of his life.

  “Let’s go!” he called to his crew as he grabbed his turnout gear and headed for the engine. Arney drove them out of the truck bay to the downtown area. Rick got on the phone to the battalion chief discussing methods to proceed when he saw smoke pouring out of the third-story window of the art gallery. Engine 2 was first in, but the alarm had sounded for more help.

  “Mel? You work with Arney. Jose? You’re with me.” Out of the corner of his eye Rick saw another ladder truck pull up to the fire ground. Already a couple of men from the engine truck had gone into the building with the hoses.

  “Ready, Jose?”

  He gave the sign and together they placed the ladder in an alley that gave access to the building and set it against the wall. After putting on their masks, they ascended. Their job was to hunt for any injured or unconscious people trapped in there.

  The smoke continued to pour out the third-story window. Everything was black by the time he climbed inside the frame where the glass had blown out. Ladder 2 down the alley was having trouble opening up the side of the building to ventilate. The smoke was really heavy now. Rick’s intuition was that the hoses had extinguished most of the fire and what was left was smoke from the burned electrical insulation.

  He and Jose crawled in on their bellies, but after a few minutes of going from room to room, they were satisfied no one was inside except the fire crews. The smoke started to be drawn off, which meant the ventilation was finally working.

  Dozens of charred canvases lay in heaps in one of the rooms on the top floor. Something about the arrangement of them didn’t look right—strange even. He had a gut feeling the fire had been started there on purpose. After more probing he knew they had to have been placed in a pile like that.

  When he got back to the station he would tell Benton Ames, the head of
the arson squad and Rick’s best friend. After more inspection, he made his way down the watery, debris-filled stairway.

  Once outside, he pulled off his mask. Thank goodness the fire hadn’t spread. It had mostly been contained on the third floor. The Hansel and Gretel shop was still standing. With a sense of relief that both it and the florist shop had been spared, he helped Jose bring down the extension. Soon they’d done their cleanup, and they rode back to the station. His ten-hour shift was at an end and he could go home.

  The battalion chief got him on the phone. “When you report to the station tomorrow, take the truck to Lemon Street on your way to training exercises. I want you and your crew to talk to the businesses on either side and across from the art gallery. Get a report if they sustained any smoke damage of significance.”

  Another rush of adrenaline charged his body. That meant he might be seeing her again. Just the thought of it raised his blood pressure. Somehow her appeal had slipped past his defenses. He couldn’t figure it out.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Fifteen minutes later he pulled into the driveway of his house and let himself in the front door. Sharon Milne, his live-in housekeeper, would have put Tessa to bed at eight-thirty. His daughter had made him promise he’d help her write a letter to Santa in the morning.

  Rick went to the kitchen and drank from the tap until he’d quenched his thirst, then he headed for his bedroom. After a shower and shave, he put on a robe and walked down the hall to Tessa’s room.

  He tiptoed inside and sat on the side of the bed to look at her. In sleep her profile reminded him a lot of his deceased wife, Tina. She’d been gone a year. They’d lost her to leukemia a month before Christmas after a year’s fight against the disease. This was the hardest time for both of them.

  Tessa had been very upset with him when he’d dropped her off at kindergarten today. She’d wanted to know why they couldn’t go back and get the gingerbread man.

  There’d been several reasons. Once again Rick had given her another talk about being grateful for the things she had and not to expect to be appeased at every turn. After Tina’s death he’d done his share of giving their daughter things to comfort her in their grief, but it hadn’t taken long before he’d realized it was the wrong thing to do.