Keeping Christmas

by Rebecca Blevins

  Keeping Christmas

  by Rebecca Blevins

  This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Book design and layout copyright © 2015 by Jaclyn Weist

  Cover design copyright © 2015 by Rachelle Hearn

  Copyright© 2015 by Rebecca Blevins

  Dedication

  For my husband, James, the man who still makes my heart leap every time he walks into a room.

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Norwegian Family Name Guide

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to my alpha reader, James, for seeing past all the roughness to help me find the story.

  Thanks to my beta readers L.T. Elliot, Cherra Evans, Corey Olauson, Nicole Herre, and Jennifer Dinning for their insight and lightning-fast turnaround!

  Norwegian Family Name Guide

  oldeforeldre – great-grandparents

  bestefar – great-grandfather

  bestemodre –great-grandmother

  farfar – paternal grandfather

  farmor – paternal grandmother

  onkel – uncle

  pappa – father

  mamma – mother (which is also Italian for mother,

  and quite appropriate for this story!)

  Chapter One

  Friday, December 18th

  Christmas lights twinkled and sparkled on the greenery surrounding the Jacksons’ opulent dining hall. With the hustle and bustle of the luncheon finally over, Paige noticed how lovely the room was. Paying attention to the decorations was difficult when she was worried about the food staying at the correct temperature, or the satisfaction of the guests.

  She sighed as she scraped the last drying bits of warm caramel pumpkin pudding out of the chafing pan into the trash, the sound amplified in the tiled room. Normally, she didn't mind the slower pace of after-party cleanup—the clanking dishes and laughter of her fellow Rosemonde's Catering coworkers were usually therapeutic. But this afternoon, every minute felt like an hour.

  Gretchen set a disposable container on the table, then took the pan next to Paige and spooned the remaining pudding into it. "Richard will love me forever if I bring him some of this. Are you sure you should be driving home today? I heard there's a pretty heavy weather system heading our way. Maybe you should wait until tomorrow. Or Sunday. Christmas isn’t for another week yet—you have plenty of time."

  Paige smiled at her boss, shaking her head. "You sound like my mother. I'll be fine. As long as I leave in the next hour or so, I'll be ahead of the storm. Everything's already in my car, and I absolutely can't take the chance of missing more family Christmas traditions." She rapped the spoon on the edge of the trash can, banging off as much pudding as she could. "St. Lucia's Day passed without me. Missing anything else would be a shame."

  Gretchen motioned to the pan. "Oh, leave that in the kitchen and go now. We’ll be fine finishing up without you. I know how hard it is to be away from family at those special times." Her two children were both grown and living on opposite sides of the country.

  "Thank you, Gretchen. You are the best! If I leave early, my mother might only worry half as much!" Paige set down the chafing pan and gave Gretchen a squeeze. Then she headed to the kitchen, calling out, "Merry Christmas!" over her shoulder.

  Paige hurried down the immaculate stone steps and pulled her black coat tighter. The ends of her long blonde hair whipped around her face, startling her with their chill. The scent of the fiercely blowing wind promised snow. She just hoped the storm didn't bring ice. Snow, she could handle, but ice storms were unpredictable, and as much as she wanted to get home for Christmas, she didn't have a death wish.

  She reached her old blue Camry and opened the door. The scent of boller enveloped her and brought warm memories tinged with excitement. She'd taken the pans straight from the oven and tossed them into the car—on towels to protect the cushions—and left them to cool while she helped cater the party. The raisin-studded rolls were cold now, so she took them off the pans and put them in bags she'd stashed when she'd packed the car, then tucked them around the other treats she’d baked. She was glad she'd taken the time to make the traditional Norwegian sweet rolls. They'd turned out perfect. Farfar would be proud.

  After taking out a bolle for herself, she started the car, set the bolle in her lap, and rubbed her hands together, blowing on them for warmth. After pulling her phone out of her coat pocket and putting on her Bluetooth headset, she drove out of the swanky neighborhood, enjoying the tasteful holiday decorations as she ate her bolle and reveled in the scent of fresh bread and cardamom.

  Once she left the city behind, the tightness melted from her shoulders as miles of trees flew by. While Kansas City was exciting, her heart belonged to the country. She told Siri to call Mamma. The phone only rang once before her mother picked up. "Paige? I hope you're halfway here by now. I've been watching this storm, and it's moving faster than they thought."

  Paige rolled her eyes. "I'm fine. It's a little cold, but no precip yet. Don't worry. I'll be careful."

  "And stop somewhere if you get caught in anything, okay?"

  "Yes, Mamma."

  “We’d miss you at the White Christmas party tomorrow afternoon, but we’d rather have you alive. You can watch it later.”

  “I know. But I’ll be there. I don’t want to miss out.”

  "Did you pack a pair of long underwear in case you get stuck?"

  Paige decided a pair of leggings and a long-sleeved pajama shirt counted. "Yes, Mamma."

  "Do you have a first aid kit? Extra snacks? Kitty litter in case you get stuck? Flashlight? Emergency blankets? Water?"

  Paige clenched the wheel tighter, then took a deep breath and let it out. Her mother meant well. She meant well more than most other mothers combined. But that was also one of the reasons why Paige loved her. Warmth spread through her, and she softened her tone. "Yes, Mamma. I went through the list. I still keep all the stuff in my car you gave me. And yes, I rotated the snacks and checked the expiration date on the batteries. If there's a prize for Most-Prepared for a Storm While Driving award, I have it in the bag, thanks to you." She smiled as she realized she meant every word.

  "Good. I'm glad my advice sank in. You can never be too careful, especially being a woman alone. Do you have—?"

  "Pepper spray is in my purse."

  "Good. Drive safely. I love you."

  A lump grew in Paige's thro
at. "I love you too. I'll see you in about six hours."

  Paige pictured her mother's warm smile, and longing filled her. She hadn’t seen her mother in several months. Far too long. She blinked a few times and cleared her throat.

  "I'd better keep my focus on the road, Mamma. Love you!"

  "Check in when you stop so I know you're alive. Love you too!"

  Paige ended the call and dashed away a tear. "Now stop that," she muttered to herself. "You’ll be there soon." At least she’d see her mother. Her brother, Cort, was at a ski lodge with his friends over Christmas instead of spending it with them. And her grandparents on her mother’s side lived in Florida and wouldn’t be there either.

  Just then, her phone rang. She wondered what her mother forgot, but then she saw that the name on the display wasn't her mother's. She composed herself before answering, a mad flutter moving around her insides. "Hello, Michael." She hoped she sounded more grownup than when she was the flat-chested, dorky-looking high school girl who fancied herself completely in love with him. Now she was the small-chested, learned-to-wear-makeup employee of an up-and-coming catering company who tried to convince herself she didn’t still have a crush on him.

  "Hey, Paige." Goodness, her name had never sounded better than when it came from Michael's lips. "So, what's your ETA?"

  She twirled a lock of her hair around her finger, then stopped when she realized what she was doing. She so wasn't that girl anymore. "I barely left Kansas City. I won't get in until nearly nine."

  Paige hadn't seen Michael since he'd graduated. She thought he'd dropped off the face of the earth, but he'd gotten into international sales with some big company—pretty much the same thing. They'd only reconnected on Facebook a week ago, but their messages had quickly turned to phone conversations that went late into the night. He'd said he'd wanted to see her, to catch up—she told herself not to read anything into it, but as their conversations had turned from playful to more personal, her hope rose like the bolle dough had hours earlier. She kept punching the feeling down, but it grew despite her best efforts.

  "That's late. Hey, what are you doing tomorrow night?" She heard the smile in his voice and pictured his grin. That gorgeous grin.

  A mixture of hope and nerves swirled in her stomach. "Spending time with my family."

  "Sunday night?"

  She shook her head, even though Michael couldn't see her. "We have a family dinner planned. And Monday night, we're going to see It's a Wonderful Life in Rochester . . ."

  "You’ll have time to see me, won’t you? We really need to catch up." His voice lowered to a rough timbre that sent a tingle down to her toes. "Say 'yes,' Paige. I want to see you in person, especially after all the time we've spent talking."

  Paige steered the car around a curve, headlights catching a flurry here and there. Should she? Of course—why not? Her family would understand. "Well, I think I could arrange to get away for a bit tomorrow night. The rest of the week is pretty full up until Christmas." Well, Tuesday night was open, but she didn't want to seem too eager.

  He chuckled. "I remember your family's crazy Christmas traditions. Let's do tomorrow instead so we don't get in the way of that. How does eight sound?"

  "Eight works." A pang of annoyance hit her at his mention of her family's "crazy Christmas traditions," but he didn't know any better. Her heritage was really important to her, and with time, he'd understand. What she wouldn't tell him was that he could pick her up at three in the morning on the back of a camel and she'd still go out with him.

  They exchanged goodbyes, and Paige turned on the radio to blasting. Christmas music played on nearly every station, and she flipped through them, stopping to belt out lyrics with Mariah Carey. All Paige really did want for Christmas was a chance with Michael. Goodness knows she’d thought about it enough.

  Chapter Two

  Paige had been on the road for over an hour when her gas gauge neared empty. She should have stopped in Cameron, but she’d been so into singing along with her well-used Norwegian Christmas CD that she’d driven right past it. With miles between towns, she couldn’t afford to risk getting stuck on the side of the road.

  Up ahead, an exit sign pointed to Higgins, so she got off the interstate. Drat. The sign at the end of the off ramp would send her east four miles, but it would take longer than that to get to the next town if she’d stayed on I-35. She’d be better off traveling a little out of her way instead of running out of gas.

  Paige would never have admitted it to her mother, but the oncoming storm made her nervous. She turned on the radio and—surprise! There were weather alerts for all surrounding counties. Even though she was a law-abiding citizen, she decided that just this once—and only this once—she would drive a little faster. If she could outrun the storm by speeding slightly, the risk would be worth it.

  She wished she could call Carina and tell her about her date with Michael. Ever since they’d met in culinary school, Paige and Carina had been best friends. But Carina had been offered a high-paying chef position on a cruise ship over the holiday, and was out of cell phone reach most of the time. So instead, Paige daydreamed about Michael.

  After what felt like seconds, she came up on the small town of Higgins. The sign proudly proclaimed, "Higgins, Heart of the Midwest, pop. 891."

  Just past the sign, the speed limit dropped to forty-five miles an hour. Paige tapped her brakes a few times, trying to slow down. She’d been going much faster than she’d realized. Before she could get down to forty-five, she flew past the next sign that dropped the speed to thirty-five—and a county sheriff’s patrol car. She braked harder, but not before flashing lights appeared on the road behind her.

  Oh, this was great. Just great.

  Paige pulled over, lowered her window, and kept her hands where the sheriff could see them.

  He strode up to her car. "License and registration, please. Do you know why I stopped you?" He was of medium height and build, wearing a thick coat. His hat with ear flaps reminded her of the one her grandfather wore.

  She opened the glove compartment and handed him her documents. "I'm so sorry. I'm in a hurry to beat the storm and get home to Iowa. I was going a little too fast and didn't see the sign soon enough to slow down." She hoped telling the truth would show the cop she wasn't trying to get out of a ticket.

  "Whereabouts in Iowa? Got some cousins living up in Monroe."

  "Decorah.”

  He leaned forward a little, sniffed appreciatively, then inhaled deeply. At first, she wondered what was wrong with the man. Did he make a habit of sniffing women he pulled over? "Well," he said, "something smells mighty good. You have a bakery hidden back there?"

  A wave of embarrassment washed over Paige. How could she have forgotten about the boller? After sitting in the car with them so long, she'd gotten used to the smell. "No." She smiled. "But I did bake them. I'm bringing them home to my family. I just left a party I helped cater in KC, so that’s why I couldn’t leave sooner. You can have one if you like." She smiled at him again, trying to be pleasant.

  He paused, thinking. "You know, I caught you doing sixteen over."

  "Yes, I know. And I'm so, so sorry." She crossed her fingers and silently willed him to be merciful.

  "Did you say you were a caterer?"

  That was an odd question. "Yes, I am."

  He straightened and thought for a minute, then said, “Hang on a sec and don't move." She raised an eyebrow at his cryptic comment, but the sheriff had already turned away and pulled out his phone. For half a second, she considered making a run for it, but decided to take slow, deep breaths, trying to calm herself. That's what she'd always done when her heart raced like it wanted to leave her chest and make a go of things on its own.

  After what felt like a million years, he got off his phone and addressed her. "Well, not only were you going way too fast, but you’ve got a brake light out.”

  She’d just had her car inspected and the oil changed. What rotten luck. “I promise I’
ll get it fixed as soon as I can.”

  “That’s not all. You also tried to bribe an officer of the law.” He scribbled some more. “That’s serious business, ma’am.”

  What was he talking about? “Bribery, sir? I’m sorry, what? I don’t—”

  “No matter how tasty your rolls are, ma’am, you shouldn’t have tried to bribe me. You need to come with me into town. We'll sort all this out at the courthouse."

  Her heart sank. She tried to keep her tone respectful. "Sheriff . . ." He moved his coat and pointed to his nametag. "Carlston. Is there any way you can just give me the ticket here? I promise I'm good for it."

  Sheriff Carlston laughed. "No, I'm sorry, ma'am. You need to come with me."

  Paige sagged in defeat as she fought rising panic. She hadn’t tried to bribe him! She kept quiet—arguing with law enforcement wasn’t the best idea. "May I drive my car and follow you there?"

  He nodded. “I think we can do that as long as you stay right with me.”

  “I promise.”

  "Well, that's settled. Put on your hazard lights and follow me into town, please. And don't you even think about running." He looked at her sternly.

  "I . . . I won't. Promise." This was one of the oddest situations she'd ever been in. With any luck, they’d get it cleared up fast, and she’d be back on the road soon. They'd want to wrap things up quickly this late—at least, she hoped they would.

  Paige let out a huff of frustration and slowly followed Sheriff Carlston down the winding road and through the quiet town to an old brick courthouse.

  She parked, turned off her car, and got out. The sheriff said, "Do you think you could spare a few of those baked goods back there? Might soften the judge up a bit."

  Paige wasn't sure what to make of that. "Won't he think of them as bribery? I don't want to be in any more trouble, though I promise I never intended to bribe anyone in the first place."