Rekindled: A Holiday Romance

by Victoria J. Best

  Rekindled: A Holiday Romance

  Copyright © 2019 by Victoria J. Best

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published: Victoria J. Best 2019

  Victoria@victoriajbest.com

  Cover design: Tiffany Black at T.E. Black Designs

  Editing by: Monique Fisher

  Contents

  1. Bianca

  2. Garrett

  3. Bianca

  4. Garrett

  5. Bianca

  6. Bianca

  7. Garrett

  8. Bianca

  9. Garrett

  10. Bianca

  11. Garrett

  12. Bianca

  13. Garrett

  14. Bianca

  15. Bianca

  16. Garrett

  17. Bianca

  18. Bianca

  19. Garrett

  Epilogue

  Stay Tuned for a Sneak Peak of One Night

  One Night-Prologue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books by Victoria J. Best

  1

  Bianca

  It was fricken freezing.

  Somehow, I’d forgotten what winter felt like in Gandy’s Ridge, Pennsylvania. I forgot because I’d spent the last ten years in sunny Tampa, Florida and never had any intention of coming back . . . until my sister called and told me my mom was sick. Breast cancer. It would have been selfish of me to refuse to come, even though I’m not sure anyone would have come for me.

  Rubbing my hands together, I made a mental note to find a Target to buy gloves and a hat, and then crossed the street while the lone traffic light in town was red. My eyes took in the storefronts and shops I hadn’t seen since I was eighteen years old. They were decked out for the holidays: trees in the windows decorated in reds and greens, wreaths on the doors, and twinkle lights as far as the eye could see. I felt like the Grinch and Ebenezer Scrooge combined because I felt nothing but irritation with everything I laid eyes on.

  By the time I reached the diner, all my extremities were numb. I pushed through the door, unwrapping my warmest sweater, which wasn’t even close to warm enough for Gandy’s Ridge, and looked around for my sister, adding a winter coat to my mental list. The patrons in the diner turned to see the newcomer. I cringed inwardly, hoping I wouldn’t see recognition on the faces looking my way. Shay waved to me from a booth in the back-left corner and I practically ran to meet her, sliding in across from her with a tight smile on my lips.

  “Don’t look so happy to see me,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes.

  “Shut up, you visited last month. It’s not like I haven’t seen you in years.” I swiped a fry from her plate and shoved it into my mouth.

  “Get your own!” Shay made a big production of pulling her plate away and tucking it under her arm.

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.” I reached across her arm and stole another fry, moaning as I chewed it slowly with my eyes closed.

  Swallowing, I looked my sister in the eye and got serious. “Have you talked to Mom or Dad today?”

  Did I mention my parents weren’t speaking to me?

  “Yeah. Dad called me this morning. He said Mom was feeling pretty wiped out from chemo today, but otherwise she’s doing well.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. My parents hadn’t called to tell me about my mom’s cancer, Shay had, and when she finally did tell me, my mother had already undergone surgery and one round of chemo. They told Shay not to call me. Since she was the “good daughter,” she listened—until they told her the first round didn’t get all the cancer.

  “Should I call him?” I asked her the same question I’d asked every day for the last week since she called me and told me about the cancer.

  Shay shook her head so quickly I thought she would choke on her burger. “No, no. Wait until they see you.”

  Until they see me?

  “Shay, you did tell them I was in town, right?” I had a sneaking suspicion she hadn’t.

  “Well . . .” her voice trailed off as she shoved another large bite of burger into her mouth, pointing to it to indicate that she couldn’t answer me.

  “Dammit, Shay!” I whisper-yelled at her, glancing around the diner to be sure I wasn’t causing a scene. I didn’t need my parents to find out I was here because some busybody in the diner told them they’d heard me shouting in the middle of the restaurant.

  Shay had the nerve to shrug as if she’d forgotten to tell them to return a library book instead of telling them their estranged daughter was coming back to town.

  “I figured you could tell them when you got here.”

  I opened my mouth to say something else but the waitress chose that moment to show up at the head of the table. Snapping my mouth closed, I turned toward her.

  “What can I get ya?” she asked, pen poised over her notepad.

  I met her eyes, suddenly starving. “I’ll have the same.” I pointed at my sister’s plate.

  The waitress nodded. “Anything else?” A look of recognition and confusion flashed in her eyes. “Bianca Townsend?”

  I shrank a little in my seat. “Guilty,” I said, raising a hand like she was taking roll.

  “I can’t believe it.” The waitress looked at me as if I were an apparition that might disappear before her very eyes.

  I took a minute to try to place her. Something about her seemed vaguely familiar, but her name wouldn’t come. She was in her fifties, her long salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a low bun. I searched her face, focusing on her bright blue eyes that reminded me of someone from a long time ago.

  “Mrs. Harrison?” I said it as a question and the woman nodded her head rapidly.

  I stood up to embrace her and she pulled me into a tight hug. She was the mother of my childhood best friend Macy. They had the exact same eyes.

  “How long have you been back in town, dear?” she asked as she let go of me.

  I plopped back into the cushiony seat of the booth. “Since last night.”

  Mrs. Harrison leaned in and lowered her voice. “I assume you heard about your mother?”

  Shay and I exchanged a furtive look. “I did.”

  Mrs. Harrison shook her head. “It’s terrible. Terrible . . .” her voice trailed off as she looked away from us and out the window to my right.

  Shay looked at me again, her discomfort clear. I could only imagine how much “sympathy” she had been dealing with since my mother’s diagnosis.

  “Will you tell Macy I said hi?” I said to divert the older woman’s attention away from the topic of my mother’s cancer.

  “Oh! Of course, honey. And I’ll get that burger and fries for you right away. You must be starving—it’s nearly twelve-thirty.” She gave a backward wave as she hustled away towards the kitchen.

  Shay visibly relaxed against the seat at Mrs. Harrison’s retreating back, a feeling I mirrored in my own posture.

  “She means well,” I defended the woman who was one of my mother’s oldest friends, which made her daughter and me obvious friends since we were born only two months apart.

  Shay nodded. “She real
ly does. Mrs. Harrison has been visiting Mom twice a week since she started chemo. Some days she even kept her company during the chemo session.”

  Deborah Harrison was a good woman—one of the better ones in town—maybe an even better woman than my own mother. At least she forgave my past transgressions, which was more than I could say for my mom. I wouldn’t fault Mrs. Harrison for caring about us.

  “I’m not surprised. When Macy and I were kids, Mrs. Harrison always treated me like I was a second daughter to her.”

  Shay nodded again. “She’s been a tremendous help since Mom got sick.”

  Our conversation lulled, both of us lost in thought for a moment. I thought about my mother and our relationship. Or rather, our lack of a relationship. We hadn’t spoken in ten years. Would she turn me away when I went to see her? Although I was sorry for the missed time and the way that we fell out, I wasn’t sorry for what I did.

  “They have to talk to you, B. They have to,” Shay said as if she could read my mind.

  “We’ll see. I’ve only heard from them twice since I moved to Florida. Both times were because of you.”

  “I made them call you about my graduation. They both said I should be hurt you didn’t come, but I knew better. And I was glad they let me start visiting you after that. Those five years without seeing you were so hard.”

  Shay’s voice caught on the last word, and a lump formed in my throat. When I left this town and my parents behind, I left my little sister behind, too. What had happened between my parents and I wasn’t her fault, yet she was caught in the crossfire. I’d been trying to make it up to her for the last five years.

  My lunch arrived and I dug in, having not eaten breakfast that morning. I got in late the night before, checked into the bed-and-breakfast down the street and crashed until ten a.m. because the drive from Tampa was over fifteen hours. The Ridge Diner had the best burgers I had ever tasted, and it tasted even better now than ten years ago.

  “What did you decide?” Shay asked me as we waved goodbye to Mrs. Harrison and stepped out into the frigid winter air.

  I gathered my useless sweater around me, shivering so hard my teeth chattered as we made our way down the sidewalk back to the B and B.

  “I think I’ll stop by the house this afternoon,” I said with a noncommittal shrug. Deep in my gut, the burger I’d just wolfed down threatened to make a reappearance. My stomach churned with anxiety

  Shay jumped up and clapped her hands. “I’m so glad, B. We can drive out there together right now.”

  I shook my head swiftly, stalling. “I have to get myself some winter gear first.”

  Shay looked at my sweater, a frown creasing the skin between her eyebrows. “That sweater will not do.”

  “Obviously. Where’s the closest Target?”

  She paused on the sidewalk, her brow furrowing further. “Just outside of Pittsburgh, I think. That’s about forty minutes away. You’d be better off going to the Walmart near Erie.”

  I shrugged. “As long as I can get a winter coat, I’ll make do with whatever store I can find.”

  “Why don’t you just go to the boutique down the street? The Donahue family still owns it. They might give you a discount since you’re family.”

  The Donahues were cousins of my mother’s family. I did not want to go to their boutique.

  “I need some other stuff, too, so I’ll make the trek to Walmart. Want to come with me?”

  A strange look passed over my sister’s face. It was the same face my mother always made, and I was surprised by how much Shay looked like my mother, despite the fact that she wasn’t related to her by blood.

  “I can’t, I told Mom I would be over later with some soup. Gran is making some and told me to stop by after lunch to grab it.” She looked like she was going to apologize but I waved it off.

  “It’s okay, Shay. I’ll see you later when I stop by. Will you still be there or do you have to work tonight?”

  “I’ll be there.” She leaned in and wrapped me in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re home, B. I really am. I’ve missed you so much.”

  I cleared my throat to get rid of the lump that had formed there again.

  “Me too, Shay. I’ll see you later. Be careful driving out to Gran’s.”

  Shay nodded and bounced away, perky as ever. She seemed so much younger than her twenty-three years, and I often wondered if it was because of the sheltered life she lived in this small town. But that wasn’t true for everyone who grew up in small towns. I sometimes felt like I’d lived fifty years already with the weight of supporting myself from the age of eighteen weighing on my shoulders. I was thankful Shay didn’t have that burden on her shoulders. I was thankful she could still be as carefree as a teenager.

  With a sigh and an involuntary shiver, I walked at a fast clip back to the bed-and-breakfast to retrieve my car. I couldn’t do anything until I bought myself a damn coat.

  2

  Garrett

  “Where should I put this one, Ma?” I called across the small space of the church hall to where my mother was crouched in front of an eight-foot artificial Christmas tree.

  She turned to me, her short brown bob swishing around her chin as she blew out an irritated breath. “Take some initiative, Gare. Put it where it looks like it should go.”

  She waved a dismissive hand at me before turning back to her tree. I chuckled and she whipped around, a glare on her face. She pointed a finger at me but didn’t say a word. The laugh died on my lips. I had pushed her too far and now she was tired of my jokes. That was the look she used to give me when I was a kid and my brother and I took our practical joking a little too far.

  “Garrett John, don’t you push me,” she finally said.

  I held up my hands in surrender before she turned back around, hiding the smirk on my face behind my hand. It was too easy to push her buttons. My brother and I knew exactly what to say or do to irk our mother. Pretending to be helpless was one of the things she couldn’t stand. She’d raised us to be self-starters; leaders who could take care of ourselves. After our dad died when we were in middle school, she had to take her own advice and do exactly as she taught us. Her perseverance was one of the things I admired most about her.

  But I still liked to push her buttons.

  “You better knock it off, Gare, or Mom won’t save you any cookies again.” My brother, Bryce, came up behind me, and clapped a hand on my shoulder.

  I gripped my chest in mock pain. “I forgot about the cookie incident. That was a particularly bad year.”

  “Well, if you want a repeat of that year, I’d keep poking at her. But if you don’t want me to get all the cookies, I think you should shut your mouth.” Bryce patted my back again as he set the large box of ornaments down in front of my mom.

  She stood on her tiptoes, petite where my brother and I were towering, and gave Bryce a kiss on the cheek.

  “Listen to Bryce, Garrett. He’s very wise.” Mom pointed her finger at me again in warning.

  “Noted,” I said before turning to the large box of Christmas décor.

  Though I wouldn’t say it out loud, especially since I wanted the promised batch of Christmas cookies, I had no idea where to put any of the Christmas decorations. In previous years, I was delegated to carrying heavy things and setting up tables for the church Christmas party. But this year, due to Mrs. Townsend’s cancer diagnosis and a few of the older church ladies being out of commission with other illnesses, I was tasked with the feat of decorating the hall. I was completely out of my element.

  I stared at the box for another five seconds before I unpacked each item and laid them out on the folding table so I could see what I was working with. My mom’s cell phone rang and I heard her answer, her high-pitched melodic voice reminding me of when she used to sing us Christmas carols as we took a bath when we were kids. Bryce and I exchanged a glance that let me know he was thinking about the same thing. Beyond being my brother, Bryce was my best friend, and though it sounded che
esy, we did everything together. We were born just eighteen months apart. Memories could be shared with one glance—that was how well we knew each other.

  “Garrett,” my mom called from across the room as she stepped out of the kitchen, pocketing her phone. “That was Mrs. Harrison. She can’t get off her shift to deliver the lasagna she made for the Townsends. Can you stop by the diner and pick it up to drop off for her?”

  I breathed a sigh of relief, nodding emphatically. I would rather run an errand than try to figure out what the hell to do with these decorations.

  “Need anything else while I’m out?” I asked as I shrugged into my coat.

  “I think we need two more strings of lights,” Bryce said as he peeked into a box on the floor.

  “Done. I’ll see ya later,” I called behind me as I exited the hall into the cold December evening.

  My breath came out in a puff as I walked to my truck and pulled out the knit hat I kept in my pocket, tugging it down over my ears. It was only four-thirty, but it was already getting dark, the sky an orange haze on the horizon in front of me. The temperature felt like it had dropped by at least ten degrees since earlier in the day, and the air smelled like snow.

  Once in the pickup, I cranked the heat, rubbing my hands together. The drive to the diner was all of two minutes since the church was just around the corner, and my truck had little time to heat up before I had arrived. I cringed at the thought of having to go back out into the frigid air, but I pulled my gloves back on and hopped out, not even bothering to shut the truck off or lock it.