My Christmas Darling

by Vivien Mayfair

  Lucy pulled out the smoking roast. “Could you get that first?”

  Heather’s mom, trim and lithe like her daughter, went for the door. Lucy hardly noticed the commotion as she used tongs to plate the roast on a platter next to maple roasted carrots and parsnips.

  The apartment went silent.

  “Who is it?”

  When nobody replied, she wiped her hands and rounded the corner, dropping the tongs with a clatter when she saw William in a black overcoat clasping a gold package with curly ribbon.

  “It’s for you,” boasted Heather with a giggle. “Some handsome holiday delivery.”

  Mary Carpenter used her cane to get to the center of the room. “A lovely surprise.”

  Yep, there he was.

  Tall and handsome and cozied deep inside a green cable-knit scarf she’d never seen before, was William. Her cheeks flushed hot from the embarrassing display of their cereal-box-sized apartment in shambles from their morning.

  “Merry Christmas,” he keened in a sultry voice. “Smells incredible.”

  Lucy’s mouth sagged, but nothing came out.

  “Welcome to our home,” Mary offered.

  Heather stepped forward with a mischievous smile. “We haven’t met. I’m Heather.”

  William’s brow arched with amusement. “Haven’t met, huh?”

  “Figured we should start over from scratch,” she added. “Like when you make a batch of cookies, and the first batch all goes to garbage because you forgot to add eggs, then you pretend it never happened.”

  He shook her hand, cordially. “Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Lucy’s best friend.”

  Mary explained, “She lives next door.”

  When the introductions were made, he shifted his gaze to Lucy, who presently thought of all the ways to explain how terrible she looked wearing a baggy Disney World sweatshirt from the holiday millennium celebration. The jeans and flip-flops didn’t do much for impressing him either.

  “I hope it’s okay that I came,” he stammered more than normal.

  “Just fine, young man.”

  Lucy gathered her wits. “How did you find me?”

  “Employee records.”

  He ran his eyes over the dining room table where Heather’s mom set down silverware. Two tall pillars had been lit and now emanated sweet French vanilla that didn’t mix well with the roasted beef.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” he apologized. “I just had to see you.”

  Her mouth went crisp and dead.

  Mary took hold of his arm. “You’re welcome to join us.”

  “Thank you, but I just came to deliver a gift to Lucy.”

  Her mom shifted a blank gaze in her direction. “Let’s see what it is.”

  Lucy took the shimmery package. “You came all this way for my gift?”

  “I believe the occasion is fitting.”

  “But I didn’t get you anything. Things happened so fast.”

  “You opening this will be the only gift I need.”

  Everybody watched her peel back the paper. Lucy stopped halfway and looked up into his eyes. Never was there a better gift than his ringing her doorbell. Maybe it meant his forgiveness and a fresh start.

  “Go on,” he coaxed, more excitedly than she felt. “Rip it off.”

  From the shape and feel, she knew it was a book. How fitting.

  “Carefully,” he warned.

  Underneath the paper was a hard mass in tissue. She unfolded each layer slowly until an enormous yelp sprung from her lips; like a puppy bolting from an overnight crate.

  “Holy gingersnap,” she squealed. “Oh my…what…”

  “Like I said, Merry Christmas.”

  “But, how did you…”

  Heather clapped, jumping up and down. “It’s totally like some kind of fate.”

  In her hands rested her father’s first edition of A Christmas Carol book. She took great care opening the cover and sure enough – the inscription was there. Tears filled the back of her eyes.

  Mary stated as if she knew, “It’s your book.”

  “When the bookstore called me,” explained William as he removed his gloves, “I had to snatch it up. I’d been looking for a copy for years. Then Lucy told me she sold hers to pay bills, and I knew.”

  “But, how could you?”

  “Droopy drawers. Lucy and the Passport episode, that was her nickname.”

  “Her father’s favorite episode,” said Mary.

  Lucy could hardly believe that her lost treasure now sat snugly in her hands. “I never thought I’d see this again.” Finding it again made up for every last pain of the holiday season. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I just want you to be happy, Lucy.”

  Their gazes held for an extended moment. Was this the time to beg his forgiveness for the hideous actions over the book hoax? The rest of her Christmas Eve had been spent making amends with her mom.

  Together they made peace with the fact that there would be no surgery. She’d take the job at Harcourt Maxwell & Co as a managing editor and save up her money the right and proper way.

  “May I speak with you alone?” he asked.

  Heather pushed them both toward Lucy’s room. “You two lovebirds have at it.”

  She closed the door on them.

  William chuckled from inside. “She seems eager.”

  “She has it in her head that we’re meant to be. I suppose the book proves it.”

  “Do you feel we’re meant to be?”

  She set the book down on her bed and opened an arm. “This is it, my room.” Then pointed to her desk in a far corner overlooking the alley. “Where Snowdrop Valley was born.”

  He gave it a once-over. “It’s charming.”

  “It’s nothing like your place.”

  “And, my place is nothing with nobody to share it with. Ah, Lucy, I was a jerk.”

  “You had every right to be upset.”

  “I should have supported you instead of reacting so badly.”

  “And, I was the jerk. Or, like a double-triple jerk.”

  “You came into my life like a falling star, only I was the one who was falling. You caught me, Lucy, and showed me what was missing in my life. Because of you, I’m a better person now.”

  At her dresser, she turned down The Muppets Christmas playing from her Snoopy radio. Surely, he’d think her an overgrown child for having so many whimsical treasures.

  “I wish I could say the same,” she whispered.

  “You can say the same.” Turning her by the shoulders, he wedged her hips firmly against the dresser. “You confessed in front of a large crowd to stop Heather from becoming Bibi Roquette.”

  “Yet, she’s the one you wanted.”

  “You are the one I want. The woman with a generous heart who writes the most beautiful books and emails and letters and everything else in between. It’s always been you.”

  Tears swarmed her eyes. “I’m humiliated by what I did.”

  “No need to be.” He pulled another package from the inside of his jacket. This one was small and wrapped in crisp red paper with white stripes. “Please, take it, trust me on this.”

  “You’ve already given me the gift of a lifetime.”

  He tapped the edge. “This is the gift of a lifetime.”

  With childlike curiosity, she ripped off the paper. Another book; a hardback. She flipped it over and turned it right side up. My Christmas Darling. She noticed her name in bold white letters across the bottom.

  A Snowdrop Valley Prequel by Lucy Carpenter.

  She read the back tagline. “This is my book.”

  “It is.”

  “My very own book.”

  “The one you wrote.”

  “With my name and title.”

  “Which you’ve earned, Lucy.”

  It was different from the vague glance she had of the proof from the party. This one had a cover in various shades of blue and white that showed a small
New England village with a snow-topped church and a winding town street lined with evergreen trees.

  “Who did this, though?” she asked, tingling all over.

  “My father’s company is publishing it if you’ll let them.”

  Her hands shook wildly as she cracked open the spine. “He wants to publish my book?”

  “As you, Lucy Carpenter.”

  “Even after what I did?”

  “Yep, and no strings attached. The contract is for one book.”

  “But, Will, you already paid me a hundred thou—”

  He held up a hand. “Keep it for your mom. It’s been written into the contract.”

  “I’m going to be working there once the acquisition happens. Isn’t it against the rules?”

  There was a pause where she had a chance to flip through the pages. Her toes tickled when she turned to the copyright page and saw her own name instead of Bibi Roquette.

  Joy swelled in her chest. “I’m an author.”

  “Yes, you are. I’m proud of you.”

  “This is really happening. It’s my dream, Will.”

  He took the book and set it on her bed. Smiling wide, he directed her into the desk chair and squatted in front of her. “I’m leaving Big Apple Books before the acquisition. I want you to come work with me.”

  “You don’t want me to take that job?”

  “It could take months,” he said in the most soothing voice. “It may even take years, but we’re going to build that town, Lucy. You and I are going to start Snowdrop Valley and make it real.”

  “But, I thought you said your dad—”

  “This has nothing to do with the book. I want to start my own publishing house, the first in Snowdrop Valley after we build it, and I want you as my partner.”

  Her heart soared. “Your partner?”

  “Your book town, Lucy, the real town. We’ll start the first publishing house ever to specialize in Christmas books. It’s my dream, and I can’t think of a better person to share it with.”

  “You want to start a holiday book publishing house?”

  “The first business in Snowdrop Valley. Both it and our little colonial house we’ll build will be the first new buildings there, since what came with the land are abandoned turn-of-the-century hovels. We can name the street anything we want. A world of books, a life together.”

  “Just you and me.”

  “And your mom, of course. She’s a photographer, right?”

  “Somebody will need to photograph the town as it goes up. Still, we don’t know how her surgery will turn out.”

  “It will be our town. Your town, Lucy.”

  “I can write and publish all of my own future work.”

  “True partners in love and life and books.”

  “We’ll start the first book town in America.”

  He nodded, holding her elbows. “It will be our life’s work.”

  When she kissed him, he locked his arms around her waist, lifting her to her feet. She smoothed her hands over the strong features of his face. The one she’d look into for the rest of her life.

  “I love you, Lucy, more than you could know. I don’t want this dream without you.”

  “Just you and me,” she whispered.

  His mouth spread into the devilish grin she adored. “And, the first Snowdrop Valley wedding.”

  After a long, stunned, swooning pause, she uttered, “You want to marry me?”

  “I want to do more than marry you. I want to share a life with you.”

  “If you can handle loving an anxiety-ridden writer.”

  “If you can handle sleeping with an ice-fish.”

  “I have lots of curves to warm you up.”

  “And, I have just the loving touch to calm you down.”

  They kissed one last time; a special holiday kiss rich with future promises of warm nights under a sheepskin blanket next to a roaring winter fire. She reveled in the richness of his taste.

  Syrup and butter and hickory.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “Merry Christmas, Lucy.”

  “But, I didn’t get you a present.”

  “Oh yes, you did. The best present of all.”

  “I’ve given you nothing.”

  His lips spoke into hers. “It’s you, my Christmas darling.”

  A SPECIAL GIFT

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  LITERARY WORKS REFERENCED IN THIS NOVEL

  How the Grinch Stole Christmas

  The Hoobub and the Grinch

  The Gift of the Magi

  Dashing Through the Snow

  The Polar Express

  Gone With the Wind

  The Christmas Box

  A Series of Unfortunate Events

  The Night Before Christmas

  A Midsummer Night’s Dream

  Out of Africa

  Fahrenheit 451

  Feel the fear and do it anyway

  Beauty and the Beast

  The Outlander series

  Mary Poppins

  The Jungle Book

  Harry Potter

  Cedar Cove

  Utopia

  The Fir Tree

  Ender’s Game

  Skipping Christmas

  The Snow Queen

  The Christmas Train

  A Christmas Memory

  Letters from Father Tolkein

  Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

  Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus

  AUTHORS MENTIONED IN THIS NOVEL

  Debbie Macomber

  Dr. Seuss

  Jane Austen

  Charles Dickens

  Nora Roberts

  John Grisham

  J.R.R. Tolkien

  James Baldacci

  J.K. Rowling

  Lemony Snicket

  Richard Paul Evans

  Clement C. Moore

  Ray Bradbury

  Truman Capote

  Stephen King

  Margaret Atwood

  Hans Christian Andersen

  Sir Thomas More

  Take a look at acclaimed romance author Vivien Mayfair’s first official book that takes place in Snowdrop Valley, five years after the creation of Lucy’s book

  * * *

  A SLEEPY HOLLOW KISS

  * * *

  A sweet and mystical Halloween tale about embracing fears, limitations, and spooky books, while avoiding obvious true love in all the wrong places

  Turn the page for a sneak peek

  Sleepy Hollow Preview

  “A scary book is better than no book at all, especially with fairies in it.”

  With Love, Vivien

  * * *

  “We come bearing gifts!”

  Benny charged through the front entrance of Broomstick Books. Instead of bells overhead, the creepy sound of hooling ghosts from a CD soundtrack greeted them. He balanced a large stack of paperbacks.

  “Slow down, Jelly Bean,” she warned.

  The kid looked adorable in a Colonial shirtwaist and knee-length breeches found at an antique store. He smacked right into a center table with a miniature cemetery grate guarded by two Grim Reaper statues. One held a small bowl emitting a mist that smelled like mulled cider.

  “I need new books, Khaleesi. This is of grave importance.”

  Lane spotted her best friend on the phone behind the counter. As the owner of Snowdrop Valley’s only horror bookstore, Zeph made it a point to dress the part. He wore a black hoodie bearing a cryptic skull.

  “Watch where you’re going,” warned Lane.

  She wasn’t surprised to spot cu
stomers on a Saturday. Bibliophiles came in from all over New England to get their lit fix. Some booked weekend getaways from even further.

  A whistle sounded like steam through a grate.

  Zeph’s new addition of a coffee bar, now the popular spot. Two people brewed their own grounds that trickled into gothy mugs of various design. Tourists, evident by the cameras at their necks.

  No matter.

  Snowdrop Valley, as the first U.S book town, was still new on the map. It had a long way to go and there was money to be made. More population meant higher enrollment at the literary college.

  Zeph gave a wink.

  They were an unlikely match for best friends. Zeph Davis had been the first student to enroll in the gothic literature MA program at the college during Lane’s first term. They hit it off instantly.

  “Don’t touch that!” she warned Benny.

  “But, they’re new.”

  “For display only, not grubby hands.”

  He stopped poking a new set of gargoyles and marched up to the counter. Plunked his pile of borrowed books dead center before shooting toward a little room under a sign that flashed “Casper’s Corner.”

  Lane set the box of cider donuts on the counter. “Speed it up,” she mouthed.

  After a thumbs-up and round of promises, Zeph hung up the phone. “Gee whiz!”

  “Another special request?”

  “You’ve no idea.”

  “Impossible?”

  “Nope.” He held up his iPad. “Already found one on eBay.”

  “You’d think these people would go right to the source.”

  “Most of my customers are either too young or too old to figure out eBay.”

  She stretched her arms across the counter and glanced around the shop, noticing a new Buffy the Vampire Slayer poster on the wall. The store radiated crude and unappetizing to her in every way; a true horror-lover’s dream with non-book extras such as apothecary black candy jars and spider web necklaces.

  True dark delights.