A Mistletoe Christmas: Santa's Mistletoe MistakeA Merry Little WeddingMistletoe Magic

by Carla Cassidy

  Cooper closed his eyes, expecting Denise’s face to materialize in his mind; instead it was Finley’s blond hair, pretty brown eyes and petite frame.

  Finley. What kind of a name was that for a woman? The little entrepreneur looked like a fairy—a sprite with white-gold hair and translucent skin. If he’d ventured into town more often, maybe they’d have met under different circumstances. And maybe he’d have asked her out on a date.

  Who was he kidding? No sense thinking about his love life until he no longer had the responsibility of caring for his father. When that time finally came, he’d be an old man himself.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “HEY, MISTER.”

  Cooper paused before the front steps of the green Victorian on Main Street and glanced to his right, then to his left. He swore he’d heard someone speak.

  “You’re the reindeer man.” Identical twin boys moved from behind the bushes and stared at him. They wore matching coats, scarves, mittens and hats. The temperature hovered near fifty degrees—hardly cold enough to be bundled up. Mistletoe didn’t get a lot of snow in the winter, but weather forecasters were warning of a possible storm hitting the area by Christmas.

  “I raise Texas whitetail deer,” he said, trying to recall if he’d ever had a conversation about his livelihood with kids before.

  “We saw ’em in your barn.” The boy climbed onto the first step. “They look like Santa’s reindeer.” He glanced behind him. “Don’t they, Flint?”

  “Tuff thinks you’re Santa’s helper,” the boy named Flint said.

  He’d never heard of names like Flint and Tuff. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t work for Santa, and the animals in the barn can’t fly.”

  “That’s not what Burt says.” Tuff spoke again.

  “How do you know Burt?”

  “When he visits my mom’s store, he lets me push the buttons on his scooter.”

  Jeez, how long had his father been pestering Finley and her sons? “Burt likes to tell stories. They’re not real reindeer.” Cooper climbed the remaining steps. “Is your mother here?”

  “She’s always working.” The barely audible comment had come from the quieter boy, Flint.

  “Aren’t you two supposed to be in school?” It was early in the afternoon on a Friday.

  The brothers frowned. Then Tuff spoke. “It’s Christmas break.”

  Cooper glanced up the street. He hadn’t made a trip to town since before Thanksgiving and he’d barely noticed the holiday decorations. Lights blinked in store windows and plastic candy canes lined the sidewalks. Fake reindeer and sleighs sat on several rooftops and wreaths hung on all the doors, including Mistletoe Magic’s entrance. Two blocks away, Santa’s Village occupied the town square, surrounded by fake evergreen trees decorated with red bows. And last but not least, hanging from every lamppost along Main Street was a giant Texas star made from mistletoe. “I guess I forgot.”

  The boys’ mouths dropped open. “You forgot about Christmas?”

  Feeling chastised, Cooper asked, “How old are you guys?”

  “Five,” Tuff said.

  “I’m thirty-five, and it’s easy to forget about Santa when you’re as old as I am.” He reached for the door just as it opened and Finley stepped outside. Cooper removed his cowboy hat. As much as it stuck in his craw, he intended to beg the pretty shopkeeper for forgiveness.

  “You weren’t bothering Mr. Hollis, were you?” Finley looked at Cooper for confirmation.

  “Not at all.” He cleared his throat. “May I speak with you in private?”

  “Of course.”

  He motioned for Finley to precede him. Inside the store, muted Christmas music echoed through the rooms and the smell of cinnamon and apples wafted in the air.

  “I’ll be with you in a moment.” Finley walked off to help a customer.

  Her words barely registered as he took in her outfit—a long black skirt and a red velvet blouse, which hugged her small frame. A body he had no business ogling.

  While Finley was occupied, Cooper studied his surroundings. Twinkling white lights decorated miniature Christmas trees, which sat on tables covered in red fabric and fake snow. As he checked out the merchandise, he spotted several of the items his father had shoplifted.

  “Thank you and merry Christmas.” Finley locked the cash register, then walked in his direction. She wore an assortment of sparkly bangles on each wrist, and the delicate chain of silver bells hugging her hips chimed when she moved. The melodious sound should have annoyed him—instead it soothed the anxious knot in his stomach.

  “What can I help you with, Mr. Hollis?”

  The bright light from the crystal chandelier above their heads made Finley’s blond hair appear almost white—a startling contrast to her brown eyes and dark lashes. “Um, what?”

  “You wanted to speak to me about something.”

  “Right.” Embarrassed that he’d been caught gawking, he emptied his coat pockets onto a table. “I came to return these.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “I owe you an apology. My father took these from your store.” Cooper waited for an “I told you so” but none came.

  “Thank you.” One by one she put the items in their proper places.

  “I’d also like to apologize for my rudeness when you stopped by the ranch.”

  “No worries. We all have our bad days.”

  Maybe, but Cooper had been having a bad day ever since Denise had left him. “Burt’s an old fool and he meant no harm. Is there anything I can do to keep you from pressing charges against him?”

  “You must not think very highly of me, Mr. Hollis, if—”

  “Cooper.”

  “Cooper...if you believe I’ll report your father to the police.”

  The hurt that sparked in her eyes socked him in the gut. “You’d have every right to.”

  “I’m not going to, but...” She dropped her gaze to the stand marked Mistletoe Charms and played with one of the trinkets.

  “But what?”

  She jutted her chin. “I have to wonder if Burt’s behavior is a cry for attention.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Maybe your father feels as if he’s being ignored at home.”

  Whoa. “You don’t know a thing about our lives.” Cooper couldn’t help it if he had to leave the house for hours at a time to take care of the deer and the ranch. He set his hat on his head and nodded. “You can expect an official apology from my father tomorrow.” He left the store, skipping down the steps and past the twins riding their bikes in the driveway.

  Who was she to accuse him of neglecting his father? He’d given up his own happiness for Burt. As much as her words had angered Cooper, he couldn’t get the image of Finley and her halo of blond hair out of his mind.

  * * *

  “HOW COME YOU always gotta work?” Tuff asked early Saturday morning as Finley cleared the cereal bowls off the kitchen table.

  Yesterday had been the first day of Christmas break and already the boys complained of boredom. At times like this she really missed her grandmother. The twins had minded Great Granny and enjoyed her company. It had been a shock when the eighty-year-old had passed away peacefully in her sleep.

  “You guys know I work in the store on Saturdays.” Saturday was the busiest day of the week. She couldn’t afford to close the shop and miss out on any sales. “Why don’t you play on the swing set in the backyard?”

  “I hate swinging,” Tuff said.

  “I made your lunches.” Ignoring their grumbling, Finley opened the fridge and pointed to the brown bags and juice boxes.

  “I don’t want a peanut-butter sandwich.” Tuff crossed his arms over his chest. “I want macaroni ’n’ cheese.”

  Guilt pricked Finley.
Her sons deserved a hot lunch after eating cold sandwiches all week, but she didn’t have time to cook for them. She checked the clock—eight forty-five. The store opened at nine. “I have to go.” She pressed a kiss to the tops of their heads and breathed in the scent of bubble bath. “Tell you what. If you stay out of trouble today, I’ll take you to Santa’s Village tonight.”

  “I’ll be good,” Flint said.

  “What about you, Tuff?” Finley eyed her son.

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll be good, too.”

  Holding their promises close to her heart, she went downstairs and filled a large kettle with apple cider, then placed it on the stove to simmer. Next she opened a package of cookies and arranged them on a plate before setting out napkins and cups. In the front room she put the money drawer in the cash register, then turned on the radio station that played nonstop Christmas carols. Satisfied all was in order, Finley flipped the sign in the front window and froze. Burt Hollis’s van sat parked at the curb. When he saw her, he waved.

  The day was not starting out well at all. She reached for her shawl on the hook behind the counter, then stepped outside, intending to send Burt on his way sooner rather than later.

  He saw her coming, but instead of waiting for her to reach the van, he opened the side door and moved his chair onto the lift.

  “There’s no need to get out, Burt,” she said. “Cooper mentioned that you might stop by.”

  “Came to apologize.”

  A group of ladies exited Molly’s Antiques farther up the block and began walking toward the Victorian. “Apology accepted. I imagine you have things to do today.”

  “Not really.” He rode the lift down to the sidewalk. “Cooper said I have to make amends for my poor judgment.”

  “Good morning, ladies.” Finely spoke to the group. “There’s cider warming on the stove in the kitchen. I’ll be right in.” When the women moved out of earshot, Finley said, “I’m awfully busy right now.”

  “If I go home and tell Cooper I didn’t do anything for you, I’ll have to listen to him bellyache at me.”

  This was ridiculous—standing in the cold arguing with Burt. “Fine. You can entertain the twins outside.” The temperature was supposed to climb into the upper fifties—typical Texas winter, warm one day, freezing the next.

  “Sure, I’ll play with the tykes.”

  She hurried into the house while Burt locked the van. “Boys,” she called up to the apartment. “Grab your coats. Burt’s outside waiting for you.”

  Tuff and Flint raced into the kitchen, coats in hand. “Stay out of trouble, you hear?” she said as they ran out the door. The morning passed quickly, and Finley was pleased with the number of sales she rang up. At eleven-thirty she peeked out the kitchen window and discovered the twins sitting at the picnic table, sharing their lunches with Burt.

  Her sons were doing all the talking—obviously they loved having Burt’s undivided attention. When Great Granny died, the twins had taken her death in stride, probably because they hadn’t understood all that was happening—the visitation, the church service and then the trip to the cemetery. Finley had chalked up their stoic demeanor to their young age, but as she watched them interact with Burt, she suspected they missed Granny more than they led on. Maybe she should put up with Burt’s visits if he helped fill the void in the boys’ lives.

  The bells on the front door jingled and Finley hurried into the main room, where she discovered the town mayor, Debbie Monahan, standing inside the front door. “What brings you by, Debbie?”

  “I’m reminding all the merchants about the children’s parade next Saturday. You’ll need to have your float parked in the church lot next door by three in the afternoon.”

  Drat. Finley had forgotten she’d volunteered to provide a float for the parade. “Okay, sure.”

  Debbie laughed. “You haven’t even started on it, have you?”

  “No.” Finley blushed. “But don’t worry—I’ll think of something.”

  “If you need help, Jim down at the hardware store offered his services.”

  Ugh. “Thanks for the warning.” Jim Jenkins was several years older than Finley and had inherited his father’s business after his parents retired to Florida. He’d set his sights on her after Granny died, and Finley had already turned down his invitation to several holiday activities. He wasn’t her type, and she didn’t care for the way he ignored the boys whenever they were present.

  “The twins are having a good time with Burt Hollis over at the church.”

  The church? What were they doing at the church?

  “See you next Saturday,” Debbie said, then left.

  Finley went into the dining room and peeked out the window just in time to see Burt set the twins on his lap, then steer the scooter down the handicapped ramp. Her sons laughed and pumped their fists in the air. Then suddenly the scooter drove off the side of the ramp and all three spilled onto the ground.

  Finley gasped and sprinted outside but put the brakes on when she saw Viola Keller exit the church. Finley couldn’t make out what the older woman yelled, but it was obvious Burt was getting a scolding.

  Finley hurried across the property. “What in the world are you three up to?”

  “No good, that’s what,” Viola said. “Burt’s acting like an old fool.”

  Finley set the heavy power scooter upright. “I hope the battery isn’t damaged.”

  Viola wagged her finger at Burt. “It would serve you right if you had to push yourself everywhere you went.”

  Together Finley and Viola lifted Burt off the ground and helped him back into his chair. Before Viola moved aside, Burt grabbed her wrist and tugged her onto his lap. “You’re sure full of sass ’n’ vinegar, Mrs. Keller.”

  Viola popped off his lap. “Someone needs to keep you in line, Burt.”

  “You up for the challenge, Viola?”

  “You couldn’t handle me.”

  “Is that so?”

  Fearing the conversation was heading in the wrong direction, Finley asked, “Is anyone hurt?”

  “No,” the three males answered.

  “That was awesome, Burt!” Tuff said.

  “Yeah, that was cool.” Flint high-fived Burt.

  “Someone could have been seriously injured.” Finley grasped Burt’s shoulder and peered into his face. “Are you in any pain?”

  “If I was, I wouldn’t feel it.”

  Viola snorted. “You get along better than most men your age.”

  Burt narrowed his eyes. “How would you like to go for a ride in my van, Viola?”

  “We’ll go with you, Burt,” Tuff said.

  “There will be no rides in the van or on Burt’s scooter.” Finley stared pointedly at the boys. “Or I send Burt home.”

  “Okay,” the twins answered.

  Viola disappeared inside the church, probably embarrassed by Burt’s flirting. “C’mon back to the house and let me take care of those scratches.” Finley nodded to Burt’s scraped knuckles.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Hey, Mom,” Flint said. “Can Burt come with us when we go to Santa’s Village?”

  Tuff set his hand on Burt’s arm. “Did you tell Santa what you want for Christmas?”

  Burt rubbed his mustache. “Don’t think I did.”

  “Burt’s gotta tell Santa what he wants, Mom,” Tuff said.

  She studied the trio of pleading faces. “Be ready to leave in two hours.” She walked alongside the boys as Burt maneuvered his scooter across the yard. She’d suggest that Burt play video games with the twins but she had no way of helping him up the stairs. “Burt, would you like some warm cider?” The boys gaped at her as if she were trying to steal their playmate.

  “No, thank you.”

  “You’re not cold, are you?” sh
e asked him.

  “If I get cold, we’ll sit in the van and warm up.”

  “Can we see your van, Burt?” Tuff asked.

  “If your mom says it’s okay.” He winked. “I won’t drive off with them.”

  She didn’t have time to argue. Who knew how many customers had entered the store then left without buying anything because she’d been absent. “Fine. But you boys better mind Burt and do as he says. Understood?” The last thing she needed was one of her sons releasing the emergency brake and sending the van careening down Main Street, taking out Christmas decorations.

  CHAPTER THREE

  TIRED, GRUMPY AND SORE after a day of clearing brush, Cooper headed to the house for a hot meal, a beer and a shower—not necessarily in that order. When he pulled into the ranch yard, he noticed Burt’s van was missing. What was the old man up to now?

  He removed his cell phone from his pocket and pressed the number two. No answer. He was dang tired of keeping tabs on his father. Now that Burt had transportation, he gallivanted all over the county without informing Cooper of his whereabouts. He shouldn’t worry, but the thought of the van stuck in a ditch on the side of the road was enough to send Cooper searching for him.

  He drove into town half hoping his father was making a nuisance of himself at Finley’s shop. He’d thought twice about insisting his father apologize, but she deserved the consideration after agreeing not to press charges against Burt. When Cooper reached town, he turned onto Main Street and spotted the van in front of the green Victorian. He pulled into the driveway and parked behind Finley’s station wagon.

  Ignoring the closed sign, he climbed the porch steps, then rang the bell. After a minute he peered through the glass pane. He didn’t see anyone inside, so he meandered along the candy cane–lined sidewalks in search of his father. A week ago Cooper had believed Christmas was overrated. People stuck gaudy decorations in their yards and spent too much money on presents that ended up at the bottoms of closets or regifted. But after meeting Finley, the holiday chaos didn’t seem so crazy at all.