Once Upon a Christmas (PTA Moms Book 2)

by Holly Jacobs

  "And not just him. No, I saw Dean and his secretary. I mean, having an affair with a secretary. How cliché."

  "Things wouldn't become a cliché if they didn't happen often in real life," Samantha said softly.

  "Well, with the mediator we worked out the whole settlement except for that couch. I spent months shopping for the perfect one, and I deserved to keep it. I'll confess, I might have been a bit obsessed. But I fought for that couch, even though Dean wanted it." Carly took a deep, cleansing breath. "Long story short, I won. He brought that stupid couch over the day after Thanksgiving when he brought the kids home. Getting that couch, well, it was like a milestone, really marking the end of our marriage. And I wanted nothing more than to be finished with it. I wanted to be more like Samantha when she went through her divorce and let all the anger and recriminations go. I needed to put the past behind me and move on to the next chapter of my life."

  "I don't think I follow how that led to you spending time in jail," Samantha said slowly.

  Michelle was grateful Samantha said it, because she didn't understand, either.

  "You see, I had Sean and his dad carry it into the backyard. They set it next to the shed. And I went into the shed, grabbed the gas can and, while Dean watched, I doused the couch and lit it on fire."

  "You burned the couch, after fighting so hard for it?" Michelle asked.

  "Come on. Really. Would you ever have been able to sit on it? Or even look at it and not remember what you'd seen happening on it? I'm not just talking about him having sex with another woman. When I saw the two of them, I saw my whole life—years of what I thought was a happy marriage—go up in smoke. I wanted to purge myself of that memory. I want to move on to a happier, better future."

  "So you burned it," Michelle added.

  Carly nodded, looking chagrined. "So I burned it. Fire's supposed to be cleansing."

  "And that's illegal?" Samantha asked.

  "Well, probably. But I don't think I would have got in too much trouble for simply burning a couch. . .if the shed hadn't caught on fire, too."

  "Oh, no," Samantha and Michelle both said.

  "To make matters worse, the neighbor's shed, which is right next to mine, caught, as well."

  "Oh" was all Michelle could think of to say.

  "And finally, the kicker was when the fire department came, and the police right along with them."

  "And you spent a night in jail?" Samantha asked.

  "No. This very annoying lieutenant was the first to arrive. He said he didn't go on many calls, but he was close so he stopped in to check on things. We didn't quite see eye-to-eye, Lieutenant Jefferson and I. He'd have probably kept me overnight, if it had been up to him. But then this cute patrolman showed up and took over. I had to go down to the station and answer some questions. Officer Kent charged me with a criminal mischief misdemeanor, then I got to go home."

  "So what happens now?"

  "I have a hearing, but Henry Rizzo is representing me. He talked to the ADA and they worked out a deal. The hearing is just a formality. I'll have to pay restitution to my neighbor, which I've already done, and as long as I don't burn down anything else in the neighborhood for a year, my record will be expunged." She sighed. "It was stupid, but it's over. Maybe we should talk about the Christmas Fair now."

  Michelle could sense that Carly had needed to unburden as much as she had, but there was only so much unburdening a person could take all at once, so she pulled the file from her bag. "Well, I know what they did last year, and the PTA has given me some money to shop with. So I think we're on track. The eighth-graders need community service hours and a few teachers are having them make a number of the crafts. There was a note from the previous coordinator that some of the games need fixing, and. . ." She shrugged.

  Normally, knowing she was in charge of an event like this would have had her fretting, checking and rechecking her lists. Frankly, she couldn't muster that kind of concern today. "It's all good."

  "What do you need us to do?" Samantha asked.

  "I need you to concentrate on your new boyfriend, and Carly, I need you to concentrate on this hearing. I've got this under control."

  "What about Brandon's possible father?"

  "Brandon and I are having lunch with him on Saturday."

  "Why don't you ask him to help with the Christmas Fair? He's a guy. He could help with the lifting and whatever other manly things need doing."

  "He is some kind of carpenter. I suppose he'd be able to repair the games that need it. And I'd be there the whole time." She looked at Samantha. "Is that what you'd do? I mean, you've managed to let Phillip back into the kids' lives so gracefully. What do you think?"

  "I think if Brandon wants to spend time with this man, it would be better if he did it with you there, if he felt you were on his side. You have to believe it will all work out for the best. Look at Harry and me. Despite our hurdles, I've never been so happy."

  "Yeah, I just have to believe." Michelle wished she could be as optimistic as Samantha, but she couldn't seem to believe in the idea that this would work out. "So maybe I'll ask him."

  They wrapped up the meeting and all three walked out together. "Listen, don't wait until the next meeting. If you need us, call," Samantha said.

  "Yeah. If this guy gives you any trouble, I'll take care of him. I've already got a record, what more can they do to me?" Carly was joking, and she laughed as she said the words, but Michelle could see that their friend was really worried about the hearing.

  She reached out and took Carly's hand. "The same goes to you, too. You call if you need us. Do you need character witnesses at this hearing?"

  Carly shook her head. "No. Henry says it's open and shut."

  "Well, both of you just call me if you need me," Samantha said again as she hurried down the hall to where the principal's office light was still burning.

  Michelle and Carly left together. "See you in two weeks," she said.

  "See you then."

  Michelle got in her car and drove home. She felt better than she had in days. She'd try to be as gracious as Samantha when dealing with Daniel, but she'd guard her nephew with Carly's ferocity. And in the end, she knew if she needed them, she had friends who would be there for her.

  There was comfort in that.

  Chapter Four

  On Saturday, Michelle tried to stick to her routine, because Brandon needed some sense of stability, in her opinion.

  Unfortunately, in his opinion, he needed it to be eleven o'clock so they could head to Daniel's house.

  "Can we leave a little early?" was his refrain, as they dusted, vacuumed and Michelle worked on the laundry. She had always used Saturday mornings for home maintenance, and had kept the tradition alive even after Brandon came to live with her. "No. We have chores to do before we leave, and Mr. McLean isn't expecting us until a little after eleven."

  Somehow they made it to the designated time. Brandon had heard the grandmother clock chime and had grabbed the car keys along with his coat. "Come on, Aunt Shell."

  Michelle moved a little slower. She slipped on her coat and caught herself checking her reflection in the mirror. "This isn't a date," she scolded herself sternly, then realized how stupid she must have sounded. She was thankful no one had been around to hear her. She took her purse off the hook and locked the door behind her as she went out to the car.

  Brandon didn't seem happy that she wasn't sprinting to the car, so he leaned over and beeped the horn.

  She gave him the look. It was a mother's look, even though she was only an aunt. A look that said that's enough, I mean it. She didn't have to use that look often with Brandon, but it was probably better to let him know where they stood now, rather than wait until they were at Daniel's house.

  She should have invited Daniel to lunch at her house. That way she'd have given herself the home-field advantage. But it was too late to try to switch today's location. Anyway, this wasn't a war. She didn't need an upper hand. What she needed was en
ough wisdom to keep Brandon from being hurt.

  Brandon was quiet until they reached the street, off Wattsburg Road, that led to Daniel's house. "There, Aunt Shell. Turn left there."

  She obliged. They drove maybe a mile down the road, before she spotted the first house. It sat back from the street, nestled in amongst the trees, looking for all intents and purposes as if it had grown there.

  It was a small, one-story building—a cottage more than a house. There was a door in the center of the building, and two windows closely spaced on either side. But what really drew her to the house was the huge front porch that spanned the entire width of it. There were four wooden rocking chairs on it, two on either side of the door. Each pair had a wooden table between them.

  The porch's railings were woven with evergreen boughs and there was a huge evergreen wreath, tied with a red bow, on the front door.

  "That's it," Brandon shouted, just in case Michelle hadn't realized it.

  She pulled into the driveway, and caught a glimpse of a barn back behind the house. Brandon reached for the door handle.

  "Hold on one minute. I need to remind you that, no matter what, I love you. I need you to listen to me, and trust that anything I tell you is for your own good. Can you remember that?" She wanted him to understand that she was in control.

  "Sure," he said. "Can I go in now?"

  Michelle sighed. "Yes. Be polite and remember what I said."

  "I will. You're the boss and I'm polite." And with that, he bolted from the car and ran to the front door, which flew open before he even had a chance to knock.

  Michelle walked at a much more sedate pace than Brandon. Daniel stepped out onto the porch. He was wearing a soft-looking blue-and-green flannel shirt over a plain navy T-shirt, and a pair of well-worn jeans. There was a huge golden retriever next to him. "Hi."

  "Hi," Michelle echoed, not sure what else to say.

  Brandon stepped into the house, the dog following him. He knelt on the floor, petting her, while she licked his face as if greeting an old friend. Michelle entered, as well.

  "I'm glad you came." Daniel shut the door behind them. "That's Chloe," Daniel told her.

  Chloe, hearing her name, pricked up her ears and, after giving Brandon another huge lick, came over to Michelle and sat, with an almost audible plop, down in front of her.

  "She's waiting for you to say hi," Daniel explained.

  "Just pat her head and tell her she's pretty," Brandon added. He looked at Daniel. "She's not real good with animals."

  Michelle had never had a dog. She'd had friends with dogs, but she was uncomfortable around them. Brandon was watching her expectantly, though, so putting her discomfort aside, she leaned over and awkwardly patted the big dog's head. "Nice girl."

  Brandon just shook his head, and Michelle knew she'd flunked the greeting-dogs test in her nephew's eyes.

  Daniel, however, smiled. "Come on in. Would you like a tour before lunch?"

  Before Michelle could politely tell him that wasn't necessary, Brandon jumped to his feet and yelled, "Yeah. I didn't get to see inside last time." His noise sent Chloe trotting back over to him for a more satisfying pat. Brandon enthusiastically obliged and petted the dog.

  Michelle was about to warn him that maybe he was being too rough when Daniel said, "Oh, she likes that. You're going to have a friend for life, Brandon." He turned to Michelle. "Okay, the tour. This is the living room, not to state the obvious or anything. I've done all the renovating myself. I pulled up a lovely orange shag carpet and found the hardwood floor. I refinished it, and then moved on to. . ." He paused. "I'll spare you the details, but suffice to say, this house looks nothing like when I bought it."

  He was proud. Deservedly so, Michelle admitted as he took them through the small cottage, room to room. The house was beautiful. And bigger than she'd thought it would be from the outside. There were three generous bedrooms, only one of which, Daniel's, was habitable. "I'll get to the other two after I've finished the public sections of the house," he told her.

  He wrapped up the tour in the kitchen, which was the subject of his current project. He was hand carving a beautiful mantelpiece for the fireplace. He'd set up a makeshift workstation in one corner. But the room was sufficiently finished for Michelle to see what it would be.

  "It's going to be beautiful," she assured him.

  "Have a seat. I just made soup and have to get the sandwich stuff out." Chloe left Brandon's side, walked to the back door and sat down. "Oh, Clo wants out."

  "Can I take her outside?" Brandon asked.

  "Sure," Daniel started, then glanced at Michelle. "If your aunt doesn't mind."

  "Sure," she agreed, wishing she could think of a reason to say no. Things felt stilted between her and Daniel, even with Brandon in the room. She didn't want to think about how bad it would be between them without her nephew running interference. "You need a coat on, though."

  Brandon didn't spare a second for complaints about how he didn't need a coat. He just grabbed it and was out the back door with Chloe before he even had it zipped.

  DANIEL WATCHED Brandon bolt out the door with Chloe. He could see the two of them running around out in the backyard. "I wish I had that kind of energy," he jokingly said to Michelle, hoping to break the ice.

  "Yes, I've often thought the same thing." That was it. She didn't offer up anything else.

  Daniel didn't know what to say. Actually, he had so much he wanted to say he didn't know where to start. "Thanks for coming today. Really, I mean it."

  "I know we don't know each other well, Mr. McLean, but when I say I'm going to do something, I make every effort to do it."

  "Daniel, please."

  She sighed and nodded. "It's easier to keep you at arm's length if you're Mr. McLean, but Daniel it is. You may call me Michelle."

  He knew she didn't intend to sound cute, but her regal-like permission, so grudgingly given, was in fact cute. He didn't share the insight because he doubted she'd enjoy it. "I don't expect us to be best friends, Michelle, but I'd like to think we can be friendly. I'm not trying to hurt you or Brandon. I just want to get to know him."

  "And I don't know you well enough to know if I can trust you with him. Part of me wants to be selfish, just this once. I want to tell you no. Back off. Leave us alone. The two of us have worked hard to get over Tara's death and my mother's indifference. We've built our own little family. And it works."

  "Michelle, I get that. I do. But if he's my son? If Tara never told me, and Brandon's mine? I can't wait for the test results. Your doctor said the lab can take forever, especially this time of year."

  "Yeah, holiday paternity testing. Who knew it was this year's hot Christmas item?" She shook her head. "Sorry, lame jokes are my forte when I'm nervous or upset."

  "Which are you now?"

  "Both," she admitted. "I didn't ask for this."

  "Neither did I," he assured her.

  "And yet, here we are, stuck with it. You know, all my life I've been the good girl. I watched Tara run amok, causing my parents so much pain. It got worse after my father died. Mom couldn't control her and eventually she stopped trying. And Tara never worried about anyone but herself. So, I worked hard not to rock the boat. I never broke curfew, did well at school, went to college. I tried to make up for Tara by being the perfect daughter. She used to call me the good sister. It wasn't a term of endearment, it was mocking. But I never had a chance to be anything but that."

  He was surprised Michelle had shared that so readily. She didn't strike him as someone quite so open with her thoughts and feelings. "It must have been hard."

  Michelle's words continued to spill over one another in their haste to break free. "It was. Maybe I wanted to sneak out to a party when I was younger. Maybe I wanted to do something wild and crazy. And maybe, just this once, I don't want to try to see the other side. I don't want to know you, Daniel McLean. I don't want to hear about your pain, learning that you had a son so long after the fact. I don't want to liste
n, or be understanding. Maybe, just this once, I want to think about me. Not what's best for you or for Brandon. I just want you to go away and things to get back to normal." Michelle looked slightly horrified at her outburst.

  "Feel better?" he asked.

  She nodded. "I'm so sorry. That's not like me."

  "I'm glad you said it all. Listen, Michelle, I'm sorry—truly sorry—that Tara put you, put us both, in this situation. You don't like it. I get that. But there it is. We're both going to have to figure out where to go from here. I know you'd like me to go away, but I can't."

  Brandon and the dog burst into the kitchen. "Hey, Chloe catches balls real good—" He stopped and stared at Daniel. "I don't know what to call you. We don't know if you're my dad till we get the DNA test back."

  "Why don't you just call me Daniel."

  Brandon nodded. "That will do."

  "Come on and sit down now. Daniel made us lunch," Michelle said.

  Daniel hurried and got everything out. He wished Brandon had stayed out a bit longer. Maybe he could have explained things better to Michelle. But she did seem a bit more at ease despite—or maybe because of—her outburst. His soup was nothing special, but it was hearty and the three of them made short work of it and the sandwiches. He thought the chocolate–peanut butter dessert was festive, albeit just as simple. "Would you like to finish the grand McLean tour by walking out to my workshop?"

  "Is it out in the barn?" Brandon asked, already pulling on his coat and heading for the back door with Chloe.

  "He doesn't do anything by halves, does he?" Daniel asked Michelle as they retrieved their own coats.

  "No, he doesn't."

  He thought she was going to stop at that short sentence, but as they reached the back door, she said, "When Tara and Brandon showed up on my doorstep, he was already an old soul. He was only eight, but he got them both settled. And as much as I tried to shield him from the inevitability of her cancer, he knew. He took care of her, as much as an eight-year-old could. It wasn't until after she died that he asked, 'What's going to happen to me now?' There was such a sense of resignation in his voice. He'd spent his whole life moving whenever Tara took it in her head. I told him then and there that he'd always have a home with me. He's grown a bit younger since then, if that makes sense. But he's still got an old-soul quality to him. When he makes up his mind, he just steamrollers his way to his goal."