Christmas Is for Lovers: 6 Hot Holiday Romances Page 2

  Greg raised a single brow in question. “Tom Sawyer? You didn’t really do that to him, did you?”

  “Do what to me, Mommy?” Tommy looked at me with saucer-sized eyes.

  “I named you after a famous character from a book.” I gave Greg a little push and a shut-the-hell-up look.

  He rose to a towering height and whispered in my ear. “You better teach him to fight.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Never. He’ll be fine. It’s character-building.”

  “Whatever you say.” Amusement glinted in his eyes. “Where’s his dad?” Greg scanned the tree lot as if looking for someone in particular.

  “My dad is famous and very busy,” Tommy piped in.

  “Is that right?” Greg raised his hand for a high-five. “Right on.” He turned to me with an inquisitive tilt to his head.

  “No, it’s not who you think. It’s a long story that’s better left for coffee, a pastry, and a warmer environment. What about tomorrow at the Sweet Shop? I’m filling in for Mom over the holidays.” It felt funny to think I’d be running the Sweet Shop but oddly comforting as well. Maybe Mom was right; maybe coming home for a while would be good for me.

  “I’ll be there around four, and I want every sordid detail.”

  We hugged once more and parted. Despite my misgivings about coming home, the comfort of old friends was encouraging.

  After we hefted the tree to the roof of my Jeep, we were on our way. Thankfully, I kept the old heap of junk. It was covered and waiting in the garage for me when I got back into town. After sitting for nearly a decade, it turned over on the first try, proving that not everything from the past would fail me.

  Once home, I muscled the tree through the front door. A gimpy mother and a little boy weren’t much help, but they tried, and I appreciated their efforts. The tree fit perfectly in front of the window, and while I fluffed out the branches, Mom and Tommy sifted through what he called “big CD’s.” Moments later, the sound of Bing Crosby was crackling and popping on the record player. No digital for Mom. She was old school.

  They went into the kitchen to make cocoa while I pulled the old boxes of Christmas decorations up from the basement. Decorating the tree would be a walk down memory lane. Mom never got rid of anything. Whereas she was married to the past, I’d hurled myself into the future, leaving everything behind.

  “Are you two ready?” I called from the living room once the lights had been hung from the tree.

  “On our way,” Mom sang from the kitchen. There was a bit of banging and a lot of giggling coming from their direction, then two elves appeared wearing green and red striped hats and pointed foam ears. The littlest elf carried a plate of gingerbread cookies while the older, supposedly more mature elf brought hot cocoa. A smile lifted my lips. It had been a long time since I’d seen my mom participate in anything joyful. “You two are the cutest in the world.” I wiggled Tommy’s little nose and told him he got to choose the first ornament for the tree.

  He went straight for the homemade decorations. A bejeweled pinecone swung from his little fingers. He held it up and asked who made it. If every ornament needed an explanation, it would be a long night.

  “That one was made by your mom with her best friend, Beau. They sat right here in this living room and glued glitter to pinecones. On small pieces of paper, they wrote their secret wishes and tucked them between the scales where they stayed until Christmas morning.” Mom was like Dickens; she held the power to mesmerize an audience with the way she weaved a story. Tommy was not immune and his eyes grew wide with curiosity.

  “What was your secret wish?” he asked as he hung the glittered pinecone from a center bow. It shimmered under the twinkling lights.

  “I can’t remember,” I fibbed. I remembered exactly what I wished for. I was ten and Beau was eleven. In my best cursive, I wrote that I wanted to grow up and marry Beau Tinsel.

  “Of course you remember. How could you forget? That’s the one that said you wanted to—”

  “Mom!” I stopped her mid-sentence. I didn’t want to rehash that memory, and I didn’t want to explain Beau to Tommy. What was the point in introducing him to my past—a past that had no influence on Tommy or our future? No, Beau Tinsel was a faint memory, at best.

  “What? I was going to say that you and Beau had made the sweetest wishes.”

  “Did your wish come true?” Tommy pulled a gingerbread man from the plate and licked the red buttons from the vest.

  “No, Tommy, my wish didn’t come true.” My shoulders slumped forward with the knowledge that someday, I’d have to tell him that wishes rarely came true, and life could be hard. At his age, everything was still possible.

  Mom picked up the next ornament and hung it toward the top. “The beauty about wishes is, they sit out there and wait for the perfect time to come true, Tommy.” She gave me a let-him-dream look and I nodded my head in agreement. There was time enough for the cruelties of the world to rain disappointment on him. For now, let him live in his happy child’s world.

  “Can we do that, Grandma? Can we decorate pinecones and hide wishes?” Tommy pulled a package of tinsel from the box and stared at his Grandma with expectant eyes. “I have a bunch of wishes.”

  “As soon as we finish this tree, you and I are going pinecone hunting, we’ll let them dry overnight and decorate them tomorrow.” Mom’s grandma skills stood in direct contrast with her mom skills. With Tommy, she was patient, and playful. With me, adding an “S” before “mothering” nailed it on the head.

  Tommy threw tinsel into the air in celebration. It’s sparkly strands showered down on everyone. Even a bit hit the tree. Tommy was having fun and hearing his laughter warmed my heart.

  I walked around the tree to the window and wiped the condensation from the pane with my sleeve. The old Victorian across the street stood regal. Its decorative trim and garland-wrapped windows screamed “happy holidays.” The icicle lights sparkled like the tinsel on our tree. Through the fogged glass, I reflected on a different time—different Tinsel.

  Beau Tinsel had been the love of my life. Remember me, he’d said that last night. The next day, he drove away with his guitar in the back seat of his SUV. He headed west and never looked back. That was years ago and my heart still ached.

  Mom and Tommy were laughing at the silver strands that decorated the room. The trouble with tinsel was, it was hard to control. It stuck to you or was repelled by you. There was no in-between. It attached to you until something more interesting or electrifying came by. Tinsel was fickle. Tinsel was unpredictable. Tinsel broke my heart.

  Mom gathered up the cups from the coffee table when she let it slip. “He’s coming back home, you know?”

  “Who?” I played stupid. It had been ten years since he’d left, and I hadn’t seen him since. The truth was, I’d stalked him on social media, bought every one of his new releases, and even went to a concert when he was performing in New York City.

  “Your Beau is coming home. It’s time for him, too.”

  “He’s not my Beau, Mom.” With my arms crossed over my chest, I asked, “What are you up to?”

  “Me?” Her voice swooped low and ended high. She was feigning innocence, but I knew Mom was up to something and if that were the case, Sarah Tinsel was an accomplice. “Did Sarah break her wrist, too?” Beau hadn’t come home once since he’d left town. The only thing that would bring him back would be an emergency. I looked heavenward, silently begging her to come clean.

  “Oh, heavens no. She twisted her ankle.” Mom exited the room laughing.

  Hot on her heels, I marched into the kitchen. “Your meddling isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

  “Oh, Mandy, must you act so dramatic. Maybe you missed your calling.” She dumped the cups in the sink and proceeded to fill it with hot water and bubbles.

  “Mom, you and I both know Beau isn’t coming home. He never comes back to Bell Mountain.”

  “Neither did you, but I got you home.” She waved her wounded
hand in the air. As usual, not really listening to me. She had already moved on to the next thing. “Tommy, let’s go pinecone hunting, and then, you’re off to bed, young man. YourYour mother volunteered to clean the kitchen while we search.”

  They wrapped themselves in winter gear and disappeared out the back door, leaving me alone with unwelcome thoughts of Beau. If all it took was a twisted ankle to get him back, I should have faked an injury long ago. Sadly, too much time had passed, and our lives had irrevocably changed. He was a star, and I was a single mother. And whatever we might have had between us died a long time ago. I had moved on, moved away from Beau. Still, there were days when the loss weighed heavy on me.

  I twisted a piece of tinsel around my finger until the tip turned purple and throbbed. I remembered that feeling well, although last time, I felt it in my heart. Losing Beau was like slowly being suffocated.

  For a moment, I stood by the window and watched the house across the street. Where have you been, Beau Tinsel? Are you really coming home?

  I turned away from the window and curled up in the overstuffed chair next to the over-decorated tree and sipped my orange, spiced tea. Too many days had been spent in this chair waiting for Beau to return. Too many days wishing for something that would never happen.

  Today, I sat and hoped he’d stay away.

  Chapter 2

  Beau

  It was well after midnight when I pulled in front of my childhood home. Everything looked the same and yet, it wasn’t. Ten years was a long time, but the memories of loving and leaving Mandy were too painful to face, so I stayed away—far away.

  Mom had outdone herself this year, or maybe this was how it was every year. I couldn’t be sure. Icicle lights hung from the rooftop, illuminating the intricate details of the house. Garland wrapped the windows and framed the red door while a wreath welcomed me back. Over a hundred years old, the home had weathered its ups and downs much better than I had.

  As soon as Mom had called and told me she’d fallen down the stairs, I hopped on the first plane out of Los Angeles and headed home. Home…It was an odd feeling to be back in the place where I gained and lost so much.

  Once out of the SUV, my eyes gravitated to one place—Mandy’s house. She used to sit in that window and wait for me. It was as dark and vacant as my heart. I heard she was happy, living in New York with her family. It crushed me to think of her with anyone else, but her happiness was all I ever wanted.

  “Beau, come on in honey. I’ve been waiting for you.” Mom stood on the front porch wrapped in her blue bathrobe. She was crutch free, cast free, and cane free, which meant she wasn’t guilt free. I had a mind to trip her just to make an honest woman out of her. “I’ll make cocoa.” She spun on her perfectly stable feet and hurried inside the house.

  One last look in Mandy’s direction was all I’d allow myself for now. With my suitcase in one hand and my guitar in the other, I walked toward the door. Even though ten years had passed, the thought of her gripped my chest.

  Walking in the house was like being sucked through a wormhole and flung back into the past. Except, it went way back to a time when my father was alive and my stepfather never existed. The family portraits, once removed, were back in their place of honor, laid out like a game of solitaire on the entry wall. I’d always thought of them as personal greeters—kind of like visiting Wal-Mart and getting a friendly hello upon entering.

  It was almost unfathomable that Bell Mountain came to exist because my great-great grandfather and his friend, John Grady, walked up an unclaimed mountain shaped like a bell. They had nothing but a pick-ax and a hundred bucks between them when they began to dig. T & G Mine has pulled gold from the backside of Bell Mountain ever since.

  After I dumped my stuff in my bedroom, I went in search of Mom. She was singing, “Oh Holy Night,” which happened to be my favorite Christmas carol. This was no accident. Mom knew I could never stay angry with her. Her sweet voice had always softened my rough edges and eased me through the tough times. Music was a salve to my wounded soul. It had been, and would always be, my escape.

  “You lied to me.” I reached over her, kissing her cheek and pulling two mugs from the cupboard, thankful I remembered where they were kept.

  “I wanted my son home for the holidays. Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that.”

  “Did you even fall at all?” I stood to her side and watched her eye twitch while she tapped her foot on the tile floor.

  She poured cocoa powder into the steaming milk and stirred. “Well, I stubbed my toe last month. That should count for something.”

  “Why didn’t you just ask me to come home?” I thought of all the times she’d pleaded with me to do just that, but I was never ready to face the truth of everything I’d given up. No, I avoided the past like it was a contagion.

  “I’ve been begging you to come home for years, Beau. The only time I get to see you is when I come to you.” She ladled the hot chocolate into the mugs and brought them to the dining room where we took a seat at the antique mahogany table. A large chandelier sparkled overhead and cast prisms of light across the beige and gold fabric that covered the walls. Mandy always loved this room. She said the dining room was the heart of every home. It was where people shared their lives, their hopes, and their dreams.

  “I’m sorry, you know how busy I am.” I was busy, but I’d hit a level in my career where I controlled everything. Gone were the days when my manager called, and I hopped to do his bidding. After fifteen top-ten hits and two albums that went platinum, I didn’t answer to anyone but myself.

  “That’s bull and you know it,” she said, her voice showing signs of agitation that hadn’t caught up to her eyes, which were still soft with love.

  “It looks like we’re both caught in a lie. They say the apple rarely falls far from the tree.” I sipped at my hot cocoa and savored the hot liquid as it warmed my insides. Mom never made instant cocoa. She had created her own proprietary blend that was perfect in every way.

  Her hand covered mine. “I’m so happy to have you home, Beau.” Mom’s smile was like looking into the soul of goodness. She’d always done what was best for me, except marrying my stepfather. That was a selfish moment she deserved after years of seeing to my needs.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to come home.” I slouched back in the chair and exhaled. “In all honesty, it’s hard to come home and be reminded of what I gave up. Then there was your douchebag of a husband.”

  “Do you have to use that word?” Mom didn’t tolerate cussing unless, of course, she was the one blurting out an expletive, and that only happened once to my recollection. The day my father died, the sheriff brought his fishing pole to the door and Mom yelled at him. “Bring me my husband, not his fucking fishing pole.” That day changed a lot of lives.

  My dad and Mandy’s dad were best friends, our mothers were best friends, and it went without saying Mandy and I were best friends. Ice fishing was a winter must. It was late January and the ice was frozen solid. At least, that’s what everyone thought until they fell through. Dad fell in and drowned. Mandy’s dad tried to save him and died from hypothermia. That’s what friends did for friends. They sacrificed themselves for the benefit of the other. I did that for Mandy, but she didn’t have a clue as to how much of a sacrifice it was for me.

  “Mom, he was an awful man. Why you stayed with him for so long is beyond me.” She married him the year before my graduation. He didn’t like anything that diverted my mom’s attention away from him, including me.

  “He was kind of a douchebag.” She smiled over her cup while I choked.

  “You did not just say that.”

  “Say what?” She smiled with feigned innocence. “As for marrying Ted, I was lonely.”

  “I was here.”

  “You were always going to leave to chase your dream, and you didn’t warm my bed.”

  “That’s just gross, Mom. I don’t want to think about you and Ted doing the dirty.” Ugh
, tremors ran down my body. Knowing she was married to the bastard was bad enough, but imagining they had sex was over the top. I refused to go there.

  “Ted married me for my money. I married him so the house wouldn’t be so quiet when you left. The pickings are slim in a small town.”

  “You could have adopted a dog.”

  She shrugged. “When they come up with a breed that cleans up its poop, I will.”

  I was on a European tour when Ted passed away last year. I offered to cancel it and come home, but Mom insisted I finish what I started. “When you told me he’d died, I thought maybe you’d come to your senses and pushed him down the stairs. I know I wanted to on several occasions.” The man was that awful. He moved in and took over like he owned the place. This house, the mines, and all the other businesses my father and his ancestors had sweat and bled for were not Ted’s. They belonged to the Tinsels, and I’d lost all respect for the man when he stopped working after knowing he landed a cash cow by marrying my mother. The only benefit to my mom was people no longer looked at her with sadness in their eyes. The widow Tinsel had found love again. What a bunch of crap.

  “He wasn’t so bad, just selfish, and his greedy little heart was weak. At least he died doing what he loved. He was at the bank counting his withdrawal when his heart exploded.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever find the kind of love you had with Dad?”

  “Oh, I think burying two husbands is enough for a one woman. I’m what you’d call a black widow,” she replied with a hint of sass in her voice. “What about you? Are you ever going to patch things up with Mandy?”

  When I’d called and told her I wasn’t coming home, she broke apart. Her cries still haunted my memories. “She’d never forgive me.”

  “I almost didn’t forgive you. Although misguided, at least your actions were honorable. You need to tell her the truth.”

  “What’s the point? There are too many years between us. I’m not that boy anymore, and she’s not the same girl. Didn’t you tell me she was married, with a child, and living in New York?”