Some of Burt’s hot air deflated. “That’ll have to be gotten around, of course.” He puffed back up again, salesman-grinning. “But I’m sure we can figure things out with the contract. They seem very anxious to buy. I mentioned the attic wasn’t done, and they say they don’t care. In fact, they even offered to finish the inventory job themselves if you want.”
Well, Jay didn’t want to inventory another box of junk for as long as he lived, but it didn’t seem right to give family items to strangers all of a sudden. What if there were another diary up there? Or more of Mom’s past? Maybe Uncle Jingo’s stipulation had been wise after all.
Besides, this wasn’t going to work anyway. There was no clear view through the legal haze. Or the Cookie House haze. He turned to ask Leela what she thought, but all that remained of her was a click of the door to the attic, and the hollow tread of footsteps across its wood floors above.
Leela
Ooh, that Una Mae! And her good-for-nothing son Felix!
How could they swoop in like that and buy the house right out from under the Cookie House event? No way would they allow it to be used if they owned it. Make that no way would they allow Leela to succeed.
What was all the point of this vindictive behavior? Leela had never once done anything to encourage Felix, make him think she was interested. Sure, she’d always been cordial when Una Mae brought him to events, but she’d never flirted. Heavens, no. They couldn’t have any complaints on those grounds.
Besides, what they were doing now amounted to persecution!
Leela scraped her fingernails across the plaster of the attic’s wall.
Those anti-cookie control freaks! Whatever made Una Mae tick? And why had she chosen Leela as her Christmas terrorism project this year?
The upshot was this: Cookie House at Layton Mansion was doomed. As was Leela’s shot at being Mom’s heir in the community service world. That dream dried up and shattered, like last month’s leaf crunched underfoot on a busy sidewalk.
And what about Burt for being so obtuse? How could he declare right in front of Jay that Leela was in love? Didn’t he know anything about a tender plant and not to shine too much sun on it or it might burn up?
The dingbat. Obtuse happily married person who’d forgotten how fragile a work it was to foster a new relationship.
Now Jay would be all awkward around her. She’d seen the look on his face during Burt’s big announcement of Leela’s love. He’d looked more stunned than pleased.
Scattered contents of boxes and futility and broken hope spilled everywhere around her.
The whole world was pretty much chucking her over. From Blaine, to losing Mom, to watching the one guy she’d ever really connected with more or less sell her out.
Why, Universe? Why let her come this close to having something like keeping the Cookie House alive in Mom’s honor—and then swat it away? Why let her start to think she had a boyfriend, only to send him off to the one city she refused to live in ever again? Not that she could leave Massey Falls even if she wanted to, considering her family responsibilities.
Jay would be out of here before the ink dried on the contract.
Jay Wilson was leaving.
Just like everyone else.
Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, scorching trails through the dust on her skin.
When he left, it was over for her and Jay. Leela wasn’t naïve. Long distance relationships struggled for oxygen. No way could she move to Reedsville, not with Dad’s state. He needed to be in a familiar place. And Jay couldn’t commute two hours each way every day. Not if he wanted to fully invest in his career. Nor if he wanted to fully invest in a relationship.
Leela wouldn’t ask him to give up what he’d worked and borrowed and studied for his whole life.
Frustration sent her toward another box. She tipped it to see inside. Fragile was written on the side of the box in a spidery hand. Plink-plink. She lifted it carefully from the top of the stack, and moved it under the light bulb.
Inside lay wads of tissue paper, but … plinking? Leela carefully unwrapped one wad.
Good honk! What was this? A frosted glass ball of the most delicate structure rested in her hand. Gold glass, yes, but silver glitter ran in ridges from pole to pole.
A paper was tucked up against the side of the box. Leela set down the gem and picked up the folded sheet.
My great-grandmother’s Christmas tree never lacked for beauty. These are a sample of her best items, which she purchased during a trip to London in the late 1880s. All the other decorating for her home here in Massey Falls is tucked away in the loft of the shed out back.
My regret is never using them to restore Layton Mansion to its Christmas glory. And now I’m too feeble to do so. –Hildy Layton Charles
Leela had no idea who Hildy Layton Charles was, but the contents of this box hinted at a treasure trove of Victorian Christmas decorations not in this attic but in the loft of the shed.
If only the Cookie House were still being held here in the Layton Mansion, it wouldn’t even need any of stingy Una Mae’s Rudolph decorations. In fact, everything Leela needed might all be sourced right here—authentic and beautiful and cherished.
If only I could have used them, I would have been fulfilling a wish for Hildy Layton Charles. A woman Leela had never met, but whom she could still serve and honor. If the Cookie House plan weren’t defunct.
How perfectly sad the timing!
Because Jay was busy selling this gorgeous house and everything in it to stingy Una Mae and the King of the Island of Misfit Toys.
What vendetta was she pursuing? It couldn’t all be tied to Leela’s rejection of Felix. No, this revenge mentality had to stem from deeper roots. Did it stretch back to Mom? No, not a chance. Mom had been an angel to everyone. Of course, devils hated angels …
Somehow Leela had to get to the bottom of it.
And the Cookie House was still going to happen this year.
A strength coiled up from the bottom of Leela’s toes and rose through her legs, torso, and neck. She stood tall, her spine straight, and her fists clenching and unclenching as she descended the stairs.
Whatever was with Una Mae and her vendetta, it ended now.
Jay
A stack of hundred-dollar bills gleamed at Jay from the granite countertop. A breeze from the ceiling fan fluttered the edges of the top two notes, begging him, Take me. I’m yours.
“As soon as Burt here irons out the contractual wrinkle about the attic clean-out, all this money is yours, and the sooner the better.” Mrs. Coldicott lived up to the first syllable in her last name. Brrr. The son sniveled beside her.
Finally, Jay got it about Leela’s word icky. This Felix dude embodied it. Jay kept a safe distance from the aura of pure ickiness rolling off the guy.
Something felt off, definitely. Why is she so anxious to buy the place?
Rumblings of understanding sounded in the distance of Jay’s gut, but he couldn’t decipher them yet.
“You said you wanted to find a buyer as quickly as possible.” Burt sounded almost apologetic. “I always try to serve my clients’ stated wishes.”
But not always their best interests. That was the silent part of Burt’s meaning.
Burt left to go type up the sales contract at his office. He’d be back. “Burt—” Jay called. Too late.
“Meeting your stated wishes is our wish as well.” Una Mae Coldicott gave a trilling laugh, like a winter bird. The kind with cold blood. “Isn’t it wonderful that your wish and ours dovetail so nicely? We can finish all the paperwork and record the title transfer today. Before tea time, even!”
What time was tea time? Or did she mean a golf reference? “The golf course is under three feet of snow.”
“Yes, the quicker the better.” She acted like he hadn’t spoken. “You have things to do and veterinary practices to buy, I hear.”
Where would she have heard that? Burt, probably. He was one of those loose cannons rolling around the
deck of the warship. Of course, that hadn’t been all bad. At least he’d made that off-hand mention of what his daughter had leaked about Leela’s feelings for Jay.
Leela loves me? Did a teenager’s gossip count? Could just be speculation. If she does, then …
“I’m considering buying into a partnership in Reedsville, yes. But I am keeping all my options open.” Not very open, considering the price Harrison was asking for the opportunity to stay in Massey Falls and work with him in the large animal practice. But he hadn’t totally let the door slam shut. There were business loans, weren’t there? He could finance it.
Maybe.
“Oh, but Dr. Wilson.” Una Mae’s laugh began to grate. A cheese-grater for his soul. “That pronouncement smacks of cold feet. I’d be much more interested in an immediate sale and possession. It’s very important to strike while the iron’s hot.” She opened one eye much wider than the other. It had a sinister quality. “While the cash is still on the table, so to speak.”
She lightly touched the pile of hundred-dollar bills.
Felix plucked a hair out of a mole on his chest and put it in his mouth.
Yeah, Leela should not date that guy.
Jay wasn’t ready to pick up the money.
Where was Leela? He could text her discretely. He needed her opinion, although he probably could guess it with very little effort. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled to her photo. The girl with the rose leaves in her hair. And the heart big enough for everyone. Does she care whether I stay or go?
What if Burt’s daughter Emily wasn’t exaggerating Leela’s feelings for him, and Leela had fallen for him enough to admit it? That could change Jay’s trajectory.
Where was she?
Una Mae tapped the pile of bills again. “Time is of the essence, Dr. Wilson.”
Felix clicked his tongue in rhythm. Tick-tock.
“The will seemed pretty iron-clad about the attic, if I remember right.” Jay could delay things, maybe put the negotiations on hold for a few minutes. Not that the Coldicotts seemed amenable to any postponement in the deal. Burt would be back with printed contracts shortly—and no guarantee the Cookie House delay contingency would even be included.
“I thought you were anxious to sell. Basingstoke led me to believe you were a motivated, discrete seller. If you’re not, I’m shocked by your misleading statements to the most respected real estate broker in town.” Her brow arched. “You’re not a liar, are you?”
No, he wasn’t a liar. But he did recognize a bad gut feeling when he got one.
“We have to consider the legalities of the contract.”
“Those will be gotten around.” Mrs. Coldicott decreed this as if she were the law itself. “In a timely fashion.”
“Time is another consideration, Mrs. Coldicott. I’ve been discussing with Mr. Basingstoke the need to write in a contingency for the sale.”
“Contingency?” A dragon awoke in her voice. “I’m not interested in contingencies.”
“This is a small concession I would have to ask.”
“I don’t consider the words small and concession to belong in the same sentence.”
I’m sure you don’t. But he wouldn’t leave Leela high and dry. “Whoever purchases the house would need to wait to take possession after next Tuesday. I have promised the Ladies’ Auxiliary here in town the use of the Layton Mansion for their annual fundraiser. The Christmas Cookie House? I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”
“There will be no contingencies, Dr. Wilson.” Mrs. Coldicott commenced a stare-down with Jay.
Jay refused to blink. “But I’ve made commitments. Don’t you care about the Cookie House fundraiser? It’s vital to the community, you know.”
Una Mae was not to be diverted from her barreling course. “This morning, Basingstoke described in detail your commitment to the vet clinic in Reedsville. Thinking of your plight, I leapt immediately to your aid, knowing I was one of the few in town who could help you on such short notice. I’m rescuing your plans, Dr. Wilson. You are legitimately trying to enter a career path, are you not?”
The stare-down resumed—until Felix’s nasally whine interjected.
“I wish old Basingstoke would get a move on,” Felix Coldicott grumbled. He had to be forty, but he slouched like a spoiled teenager. “We heard there’s a rotten old egg somewhere in that attic. She don’t want anyone else cleaning it out but her. And me.”
“Shush, Felix.” Una Mae turned a sickly sweet smile toward Jay. “Rotten eggs, really! As if a temporary hint of sulfur could change our mind about buying the house.”
Something was definitely fishy.
“Felix?” Jay started to ask.
Una Mae cut him off faster than a vet cuts the umbilical cord of a baby calf. “It’s just a local legend my son likes to repeat. Lots of legends about the Laytons. Of course, you’ve heard them all. They even had that one daughter who”—Una Mae lowered her voice—“had Mayor Allsbury’s baby.”
Jay bristled. “Mrs. Coldicott, you do not know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, please. Everyone knew about Ceri Layton and her affair with Mayor Allsbury. It’s not gossip if it’s true.”
That was just it—the gossip wasn’t true. Not for a red-hot second. “That rumor was nothing but a dirty lie created by that lecher to cover up his bad behavior, and I’ll bet you and the rest of the town know it—if you’ll examine it without giving his word false clout based on his holding elected office.”
“He was a respected man.”
“Please! When the populace believed him instead of the innocent girl, her life was ruined. There’s a reason she never returned to this town, and it’s people like you.”
And people like Uncle Jingo who’d refused to come to Mom’s defense when the rumors spread like a cancer over her life.
Both Leela’s mom and mine have suffered cancer. Just in different forms.
“Oh, grow up, Jay Wilson. I know she’s your mother, and you would think that. Have you ever had your DNA tested? Are you sure you’re not Mayor Allsbury’s son?”
Jay swallowed hard so as not to let the bile up his throat. “You don’t deserve an explanation.” Jay had been born three years after Mom left Massey Falls, never to return. “What ever happened to your precious mayor, eh?”
“He was Daddy’s friend. And we don’t share negative talk about those we’re loyal to.” Una Mae looked at her fingernails. Clearly, she knew about the harassment charges for which her precious mayor had been convicted. Not that she cared about them. “You should learn about loyalty to the right people, Jay Wilson. So should your girlfriend, and her father—not to mention her mother, the interloper.”
Una Mae had something against Leela’s mom? Layers were peeling back now, but not enough that Jay could decipher the heart of the poisonous fruit.
“What does the Miller family have to do with anything?” Jay wasn’t really asking. He was busy digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands so as not to throw a punch.
“If Freesia Youngblood hadn’t been so diehard, so mistakenly steadfast”—Una Mae’s eyes rolled far enough she could probably see her frontal lobe—“to Ceri Layton when Ceri was obviously in the wrong, I wouldn’t be a Coldicott today. I’d be a Miller.”
What the—?
“For some unknown reason, Frank Miller found Freesia Youngblood’s so-called noble dedication to a fallen woman to be appealing. He married her instead of me, and she ruined him. Forced him into that lowly profession climbing trees, like some primate. Think of it! The practical demigod Frank Miller, confined to his bed! If he’d married me, he would never be in the state he’s in now. Widowed, injured, alone.”
Holy smokes, there was animosity decades-deep at play here—in a stack of hundred-dollar bills six inches deep, too.
“Frank Miller is not alone. He has a great daughter.” And from what Jay could tell, Frank had had a very happy marriage.
“Freesia was wrong for him! She believed your mother
’s lies and—”
Footfalls sounded on the stairs. A second later, Leela pushed her way through the kitchen door, her eyes ablaze. “Felix Coldicott. You and your mother had better leave. Now.”
Leela
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, young lady. You’re no part of this discussion. It’s a property sale, and you’re neither owner nor buyer. So you’re the one who had better leave.” Una Mae rose to her full height, towering over both her son and Leela.
If looks could wound, Leela would be maiming every Coldicott in this room. “Una Mae Coldicott, you know exactly what you are doing, coming in here and buying the Cookie House before the fundraiser can occur here.” Leela would pry out of Una Mae the cause of her persecution, or—
“Hey, guys.” Burt banged through the front door, his voice entering the kitchen before he did. “Contract complete! Round of applause, please.”
“Why, Jay! The contracts are here.” Una Mae turned to Jay just as Burt came in through the front door with paperwork in hand. “I assume you’re ready to sign.” Una Mae grinned like she’d caught all the insects in Massey Falls in her spidery web. “We’ll just pretend our little disagreement of a moment ago never happened. I’m willing to forgive it. Felix would like to move in this evening.”
Leela’s gut tumbled. This evening! But what about the attic stipulation, and getting the decorations out of the loft of the shed, and all the preparation for the Cookie House?
She shot a desperate glance at Jay. “You’re signing?”
One look at his pleading face and Leela melted. Of course Jay was signing the sale contract. His whole future hung in the balance, all his work and dreams. Leela couldn’t stand in his way.
“Leela, I need to talk to—”
“You have to sign. Your whole future depends on it.”
And in that version of the future, Felix Coldicott would be the sole inhabitant of this enormous house, and no darling child of Leela’s would slide down the beautifully polished banister on Christmas morning. Ever.
The Christmas Cookie House: A Sweet Holiday Romance (Christmas House Romances) Page 10