One Bright Christmas

by Katherine Spencer

  A small, niggling voice insisted that was what she should do: It’s not too late to turn around and play this by the book.

  But she’d already turned up the bumpy gravel drive and spotted Cole and Phoebe in the corral. Cole was near the barn saddling a horse. Phoebe was petting the donkey, his head sunk into a bucket of oats. She noticed the approaching car and ran over to the fence rail to see who was coming.

  Lauren’s heart felt a little ping of affection. Her worries about her decision to visit flew out of her head. She parked the car near the corral and grabbed her briefcase. The truth was, she had been looking for an excuse to come back. She had found a worn copy of Charlotte’s Web in her old bedroom and hoped there would be some opportunity to give it to Phoebe. Just a little thing. No big deal.

  But first she had the letter to deliver. The assignment was a high hurdle. No question.

  She took a breath, tossed her shoulders back, and stepped out, dressed a bit better for the visit today in gray pants, short black boots, and a white turtleneck under her wool peacoat.

  Phoebe stared at her a moment, then offered a brilliant smile. “Pig Lady! You look so different.” She climbed up on the fence rail so she could see Lauren better. “You look really pretty.”

  “Thanks, honey. I took a bath. I smell better, too. At least, I hope so.” Lauren loved her nickname and the compliment. “How’s Wilbur doing?”

  Phoebe’s expression turned serious. “Not so good. Tilly doesn’t like him. His feelings are hurt,” she added in a whisper. Lauren bet that was true. She felt bad about the news.

  Cole McGuire glanced over his shoulder but didn’t deign to greet her. He yanked on the saddle cinch, then walked to the other side of the horse.

  You could at least acknowledge my existence, for goodness’ sake, she silently scolded him.

  “Jessica showed us how to feed him with a bottle,” Phoebe continued. “We keep him in the house, and I get to take care of him like a baby, so that part is fun.”

  “I bet he loves that.”

  “He does,” Phoebe agreed in serious tone. “We made him a nice bed. He’s having a nap. Maybe you can see him later.”

  Lauren doubted her visiting would last that long once Phoebe’s father learned why she’d come. But she didn’t want to hurt Phoebe’s feelings. “I’d love to see him again. But don’t wake him up. Babies need their sleep.”

  Cole appeared behind his daughter. Hands on hips, he looked her up and down. Did he think she looked pretty, too? Did he at least think she smelled better?

  “Lauren Willoughby,” he announced in a formal tone. “Have you come for the cow? Jessica said she found a home and was sending someone to pick her up.”

  He knew very well that was not possibly the reason she was there, not in this outfit. She offered a polite smile. “I’d love to give the cow a lift. But I’m borrowing my mom’s car today, and she doesn’t even allow breath mints in it. Much less a passenger chewing cud.”

  His mouth—a very nice mouth, she noticed, and not for the first time—pulled to the side. She could see he was trying not to laugh. Score one for the visiting team.

  He yanked off his work gloves. “So, what brings you back to the animal annex?”

  During the drive from town, she’d practiced exactly what she wanted to say. But her brain screen went blank as he simply stared at her, waiting.

  He had definitely taken a bath. And shaved. Overall, he looked about ten times better than he had on her last two visits, dressed in a dark green barn coat with brown leather trim, newish-looking jeans that fit his lean build perfectly, and a neatly pressed denim shirt.

  She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. “I have another message from the country club. But I want to talk about it first.”

  “A thank-you note? That’s touching. But unnecessary, honestly.”

  She didn’t answer or even react. She wasn’t going to encourage his sarcastic digs, though she knew she was not blameless on that score.

  “I fixed the blasted fence last week,” he nearly shouted at her. “If they found more animals on their silly, sacred sod, don’t look at me. Don’t those people have better things to worry about than their stupid grass?”

  “I assured them the fence was repaired and you were totally cooperating.” She hoped a calm, even tone would remind him to rein in his reaction.

  He did stop to take a breath, muttering as he glanced away from her. His gaze caught Phoebe, who was hanging out with the donkey again. “It’s almost time, honey. Why don’t you go inside and get your gear?”

  “Okay, Daddy.” Phoebe ran to the gate, and Cole opened it for her, then stepped out behind her and latched it again.

  As he watched his daughter run to the house, he said, “So, what is this all about? In ten words or less.”

  She gave him a look. Was he suggesting attorneys were overly verbose? He was probably right, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of agreeing.

  As succinctly as she could, she explained that the club had tallied the cost of repairing the turf that was grazed and trampled and wanted him to pay for it. She paused and named the figure, then quickly added, “But here’s the thing—”

  “What? You’ve got to be kidding.” He stared at her for a moment, in shock. Before she could voice her conciliatory suggestion, his tone grew even louder and sharper. “Is this your idea? Trying to score a few points for your client?”

  “Absolutely not.” She hadn’t intended to raise her voice but could hear it getting louder. Why was this man such a dolt? Couldn’t he see she was trying to help him? “I tried to persuade the lead attorney at the firm not to go forward with this. But he didn’t agree and I have to convey the client’s wishes. I’m sure the request is a financial burden. I get that. If you’d calm down for a moment, we can figure out a counteroffer. You can pay in installments,” she added. “I also think Grateful Paw bears some responsibility. I know my aunt. She won’t want you to be stuck with this bill, no matter how slim their resources are.”

  Lauren stepped back, trying to gauge how her little speech had been received. Cole stared at her, his dark eyes wide with surprise. Was he shocked that she was willing to help him? To offer a plan to work out the problem?

  He suddenly smiled and shook his head, looking incredulous. “I can pay for the stupid sod, don’t worry. I could buy that whole club out from under that smug, self-satisfied lot.”

  Lauren sincerely doubted that but didn’t argue. Clearly the man’s pride was hurt by her mentioning an economic burden and installments. Did he even have a job, aside from helping Jack around the tree farm? It didn’t seem so.

  “The money is not the point,” he added.

  Lauren struggled to hide her reaction. People always said that, especially when the money was exactly the point.

  “This is the most petty, selfish thing I ever heard of. These are poor, dumb animals who were either abandoned or barely escaped the slaughterhouse. They nibbled a few stalks of grass. Play golf all you want, but get the bigger picture, for pity’s sake. Those people don’t realize how good they have it, racing around in golf carts, chasing a little white ball all day. Most people are working hard to keep a roof over their head and put food on the table for their family. Or wish that they even had a job,” he railed.

  The question had clearly hit a hot button for him. Was he working hard to provide those basic needs? Or wishing he had a job? Even so, Lauren did agree, though she wouldn’t have put it quite that way. The whole situation had been blown out of proportion.

  “I understand your point,” she said, trying to keep things on track and, perhaps, steer him back to the notion of some compromise.

  “Well, thank you very much, at least, for that, Ms. Willoughby.”

  So, they were back to surnames. She blinked but kept a straight face.

  “My answer is no. I could use .
. . more colorful language? But let’s leave it at that.”

  “That’s your answer—you won’t pay any damages?”

  “Not a penny.”

  “Okay, but there will be another letter, stating that the club will file suit and take this to court.”

  She doubted the case would get very far. But she couldn’t admit that. Even floating the compromise suggestion was cutting it close to the ethics line.

  “You probably need to hire an attorney,” she told him. “Though I’m sure this can all be worked out with a phone call. Or two,” she added, calculating in his dark scowl.

  “I get it. Thanks for your concern.”

  She wasn’t sure he did. He was certainly stubborn. But he did have solid principles and good values. She admired that.

  “Are we done here?” he asked.

  Lauren nodded. “I just need to give you the letter and you need to sign for it, please,” she noted. “It’s basically what we just discussed. Don’t let the chickens read it. You’ll be eating cereal for a week.”

  He spared a smile at her quip as she reached into her bag and pulled out a folder. It held the letter and a form for his signature of receipt.

  But something else flew out as well and landed at his feet. He bent down first and picked it up. She felt embarrassed as he inspected the cover of the little chapter book. “Charlotte’s Web? I’d take you for a fan of self-help . . . or romance novels?”

  Lauren didn’t like his guess, even though it was mostly on target. That irked her even more.

  “It’s for your daughter. She told me she didn’t know the story. About the baby pig?” He answered with a puzzled stare, and she wondered if he didn’t know the book either. He was probably the product of a deprived childhood. Maybe that explained his difficult personality? “I thought she might like it.”

  He nodded, holding the book at arm’s length. “Sure. I know it. Thanks . . . But I don’t think she’s ready for this one yet.”

  He reached out, intending to give it back, when Phoebe walked out of the cottage. Dressed for horseback riding, she cradled Wilbur in her arms. “He just woke up, Lauren. You said you wanted to see him.”

  “I’d love to see him. Be careful. No rush.” She glanced at Cole McGuire. He stuck the book in the big patch pocket of his jacket. The delay of her departure seemed to be annoying him. She was happy about that, at least.

  Phoebe came toward them with a stately step, her gaze fixed on Wilbur. When she reached Lauren, she held out the pig, who squirmed in his thin blanket. “Oh, wow. He looks like he grew an inch since Friday. You must be taking very good care of him.”

  Phoebe smiled. “We are. Me and Dad,” she noted. “Want to hold him? He’s cuddly but wiggles a lot.”

  “I’d love to hold him. For a minute,” she added, glancing up at Cole, who stood watching over them. His expression had softened, and it looked as if he wasn’t so angry anymore. Or in such a hurry to get rid of her. Was he suddenly able to separate Lauren from the job she had to do?

  Maybe that’s what bothered her the most. She didn’t want Cole judging and disliking her just for being the messenger of this news, though that sort of thing had never bothered her before, she realized.

  She crouched down to Phoebe’s level and held the little pig in her arms. He turned on his belly and started crawling up her shoulder, then found an earring and began nibbling on it.

  “Whoa there, fella. Those are good earrings. Not pig kibble.”

  Her reaction made Phoebe laugh. Cole laughed, too. He rested a hand on Lauren’s shoulder. “Here, let me take him. He’s stronger than you think.”

  Lauren stood up and handed Wilbur over. Their eyes met for a moment and he smiled. Really smiled. She felt her knees turn to water and hoped her reaction didn’t show.

  She heard a vehicle coming down the drive and turned toward it, wondering if it was Jack Sawyer. She would have liked to say hello to him. But she saw a woman in the driver’s seat of a long white truck. A very pretty woman, she noticed, who waved and smiled happily as she parked next to Lauren’s Volvo.

  “Hi, everybody. Ready for your lesson, Phoebe?” the woman called as she hopped down from the cab.

  Her long honey-blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which emphasized her fine features and large blue eyes. She wore a thin, quilted vest over a black turtleneck, with tan riding breeches and high boots. She had the ideal figure for spandex, Lauren noticed. Her own body put the elastic content of such garments to the test.

  “Hi, Phoebe.” The woman leaned over and gave the little girl a special smile.

  Phoebe seemed shy again and moved closer to her father. “Say hello to Jen, honey,” he coaxed.

  “Hi, Jen. Want to see our pig? Lauren gave him to us.”

  “We’re watching him for Grateful Paw,” Cole filled in. He glanced at Lauren, seeming amused by her being identified as the source of Wilbur. “I’ll put him in the house. Be right back.”

  “That’s fine, Cole. Phoebe and I will get started.” Jen turned back to Phoebe with another gentle smile. “Where’s your helmet, honey? You know we need that.”

  “Oh, right. It’s in the barn. I’ll find it. Daddy put the saddle on Buster.” Phoebe ran to the gate and Jen lifted the latch for her.

  Lauren was about to say goodbye to Phoebe. She felt out of place here, with a riding lesson about to start. But Phoebe turned once she was inside in the corral and called back to her.

  “Want to watch me ride Buster, Lauren? I can ride him with no one holding on.”

  Lauren sighed and smiled. The invitation was impossible to resist. “Really? That’s amazing. I want to see that, for sure.”

  Phoebe headed off to find her helmet, and Lauren found herself alone with Jen. She expected the other woman to follow Phoebe, but Jen turned to face her, offering a friendly smile. She had beautiful white teeth. Is she younger than me? Maybe a year or so.

  “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jen Bennet.”

  “Nice to meet you. Lauren Willoughby.” She left it at that, having no reason in the world to explain her connection to the McGuires. A silence fell between them. “Has Phoebe been riding for very long?”

  “A few months. Since she and Cole moved here. I’m actually a therapist, not just a riding instructor.”

  “Oh . . . interesting,” Lauren replied. She had heard of special therapy that involved animals, and horses in particular. Patients who’d experienced trauma of some kind were able to recover through contact with and caring for horses.

  She wondered why dear little Phoebe needed the sessions, but of course, she couldn’t ask. “Is it helping her?” she did ask, then wondered if that was too private a question as well.

  “Her progress has been encouraging.” Jen nodded, her expression thoughtful.

  Lauren wanted to dislike her. And dismiss her. She was so attractive and kind, and spoke in such a gentle, thoughtful way. Nothing like Lauren’s own harsh braying. And now it turned out she wasn’t some airheaded Barbie doll riding instructor. She was an actual therapist. Lauren couldn’t dislike her, for some odd reason. She seemed so . . . sincere.

  “That’s good to hear. Phoebe is such a sweetheart.”

  Jen answered with a wide smile. “That she is. She’s my favorite,” she whispered in a playful way. “Don’t tell my other clients.”

  “I found it.” Phoebe ran out of the barn waving a black riding helmet, then stuck it on her head and struggled to fasten the strap below her chin.

  “That’s my cue,” Jen said.

  “Sure. See you.”

  Cole came out of the house and headed straight to the corral. He leaned on the rail and waved at Phoebe as Jen helped her into the saddle.

  Lauren checked her watch, feeling uneasy standing there. But she needed to keep her promise to the little girl. She wasn’t going to run away just
because it suddenly seemed obvious that Jen’s visit was the reason Cole McGuire had cleaned up his act today and looked so well-groomed and well-dressed.

  She felt like a fool, thinking for one minute that he could have any interest in her.

  Phoebe sat atop the horse, with Jen holding a lead. Buster began a slow circle around the corral. “Good job, Phoebe. Don’t look down. Look ahead and sit up straight,” Jen reminded her.

  Phoebe nodded and corrected her posture. Then she met Lauren’s gaze and waved. “See me, Lauren?”

  Lauren waved back. “I see you, honey. You’re doing great.”

  Cole turned, as if he’d just remembered she was still there.

  “I have to go,” Lauren said. “Please tell Phoebe I said goodbye.”

  “I will.” He waved briefly, then turned to watch his daughter and Jen again. Lauren headed to her car.

  She drove off the property quickly, eager to put space between herself and Cole McGuire. It was too late to return to Joe’s office. That was some relief. Her head spun with a million different feelings, and she could hardly see straight.

  Stop the madness, Lauren. I can’t believe you’re getting yourself tied in a knot about this nutcase. How ridiculous is it to be attracted to him . . . and jealous of some horsey babe? Well, not a “babe,” exactly—a woman with an impressive degree. Who looks like a model in her jodhpurs and boots.

  You should be grateful for this dash of cold water. Cole McGuire definitely has some baggage. A therapist would be a perfect match.

  You are not now, and will not ever be, attracted to him.

  Case closed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  There you are. What took you so long?” Charlie was carrying a tray loaded with breakfast orders but stopped in his tracks as Lucy walked through the door.