Once Upon a Christmas (PTA Moms Book 2)

by Holly Jacobs

  Daniel drank in the details and thought of Brandon's early years. Never knowing where home was. Following Tara's wanderlust. He didn't think that could have been easy on a young boy.

  Brandon was throwing the ball for Chloe again, but as Daniel and Michelle reached the shop, both the boy and the dog came running.

  Daniel flipped on the light switch as they entered.

  "Daniel, this isn't what I thought a workshop would look like," Michelle said as she studied the space.

  "What did you think?"

  "Messy, tools everywhere. Sawdust and such. This is wonderful."

  He'd taken the entire ground floor of the barn, about twice the space of his entire cottage, and transformed it. Tools hung from the walls, and whatever couldn't hang was neatly arranged on shelves. His big power tools sat in a cluster, and while they were necessary, it was the antique tools that he was most proud of. He had an electric heater, and also a woodstove for heat in the winter.

  "See this?" He ran his hand lovingly over his newest piece. "It's a fully functional 1876 Schrofter Brothers jig."

  Michelle smiled. "Brandon used to get just that look in his eyes when he got a new video game."

  "You think we look the same, Aunt Shell?" he asked excitedly.

  "I think you both definitely get that geeky glee sort of look in your eyes," she admitted.

  Not for the first time, Daniel searched the boy's features for some sense of the familiar. Maybe Brandon had Grandpa's nose? And there was the tiniest bit of a dimple in his right cheek when he smiled, just like Daniel's grandmother used to have. Daniel wondered if what he thought he saw he really saw, or was it just wishful thinking?

  Was he wishing Brandon was his? He wasn't sure. He hadn't given any thought to having kids until Brandon showed up on his doorstep and asked if he could be his son.

  "It's all so cool." Brandon was standing by an antique secretary.

  Daniel had bought the piece at a garage sale he happened to be driving by. It had only been ten dollars, which was a fair price given that pieces of glass were broken, and some of the ornate carving above the mirror had been broken off. "I've been working on it. When I'm done, you won't know it was ever damaged. See." He pointed at a piece of the molding. "I already fixed the center of this." It was seamlessly repaired.

  "Where did you learn to do this?" Brandon took the piece and studied it.

  "My grandfather dabbled in carpentry. He taught me."

  Michelle was on the other side of the barn, looking at one of his scrapbooks with pictures of projects he'd either built or restored.

  "You were lucky to have a grandpa. Do I have one?" Brandon asked, then hastily added, "If I'm your son, I mean. Mom and Aunt Shell's dad died, and their mom, my grandmother, lives in Texas, so I never see her."

  Daniel wished he could lie to the boy, that he could tell him some fairy-tale story about the wonderful grandfather he'd get if Daniel was his father. "My dad left right after I was born, and though he was around for a while when I was really little, I don't remember him. My mom left when I was a bit bigger. She left me with my grandma and grandpa, and they're the ones who raised me."

  "Oh, like me and Aunt Shell."

  Daniel nodded. "Just like that. I always knew my grandparents loved me and would always be there for me, just like you know that about your aunt."

  Brandon nodded. "Yeah. I knew she'd be mad I came and found you, but I knew she'd love me anyway."

  "That's a gift," Daniel assured him. "Finding people who love you and are there for you, who you can count on, no matter what."

  "Guess we were both lucky, huh?"

  "Yeah, I guess we were." When Daniel was young he hadn't thought of living with his grandparents instead of his parents as being particularly lucky, but as he grew older, he learned to appreciate how fortunate he'd been. "And I've always promised myself that if I ever had kids, I'd be there for them. I'd be the kind of parent my grandparents were, not like my own mom and dad. Does that make sense?"

  "Yeah."

  "I just want you to know that you're lucky to have your aunt and know you can count on her. If I'm your dad, I hope you come to realize you can count on me that way, too." Brandon was smiling, and Daniel looked up to find Michelle had come back over and was studying him. "I'll try to never hurt either of you," he added for her benefit.

  She seemed to understand what he was saying, and nodded. "The piece is beautiful," she said, studying the secretary.

  "Daniel got it for only ten bucks at a garage sale. Can you believe it? He's fixing the broken glass and the broken pieces, and it's gonna be cool when he's all done with it. You'll never even know it had been broken."

  "You're having a good time," she said.

  "Oh, sure."

  She didn't look happy or upset that Brandon was enjoying himself. She looked as if she were steeling herself for something. "Mr. McLean—Daniel—I know you and Brandon want to spend time together. And I had a thought."

  "Yes?" he asked. He'd been worried that today was it. That she was going to make him wait for the results of the test before he spent more time with Brandon.

  "Erie Elementary—"

  "My school," Brandon interrupted.

  "Yes, Brandon's school. It's having a Christmas Fair the Monday before Christmas."

  "It's our last day of school before Christmas break," Brandon practically crowed with excitement. He paused and added, "Two weeks from Monday."

  "What's a Christmas Fair, exactly?" Daniel asked.

  "The school has kindergarten through eighth grade. The PTA provides gifts that the kids can buy for their family—"

  "Last year I got Aunt Shell a necklace."

  "Little things they can buy inexpensively," she continued. "Crafts people have made, small things the PTA has bought. The kids shop for their family's presents—"

  Brandon interrupted again. "And there are games we can play and win prizes for ourselves."

  "We have a small luncheon for all our PTA workers. And what money the fair makes goes into a fund to buy the items for next year," she finished.

  "Okay, I get it. A place for the kids to shop and have a bit of fun while they're at it."

  "Yes. Besides the games, there's a Chinese auction where the kids can win prizes and use them as gifts, as well—"

  "Or we can keep 'em. Last year, I won a Mercyhurst Prep sweatshirt, and I tried to give it to Aunt Shell, but it didn't fit her, so I've got it."

  Daniel laughed.

  Michelle smiled and shot Brandon a look that radiated her love for the boy.

  She didn't seem to realize how much of herself she'd shown him today, as she continued, "I'm in charge of the Christmas Fair this year, and I'd thought I'd have the other two school-mothers on the committee help me get ready, but they both have other things going on right now. Important, all-consuming sorts of things. So, I thought that maybe you could help me out, and I could let them off the hook. Brandon and I will be working on the fair every day between now and the twenty-second. It would mean fixing a few games, helping make a few crafts—"

  "It doesn't matter what it means," Daniel assured her. He'd get to see them—Brandon, he corrected himself—he'd get to see Brandon every day. "I'm in. When do we start?"

  "Monday after school? I don't know when you get off work, but I've arranged my schedule so that I can be there around three each day for the next two weeks. I'd rather do an hour or two each day getting everything ready than a few killer days at the end."

  "Aunt Shell likes being prepared. And the earlier she's ready, the better," Brandon told him, laughing in such a way that Daniel knew this was an inside joke between the two of them.

  "I can juggle my schedule and be there at three for as long as you need me. That's the advantage of working for yourself."

  "Fine. Then we'll see you Monday at three. But right now, we'd better be going. We need to stop at the grocery store on the way home."

  "Aunt Shell—" Brandon started, then stopped when he saw her e
xpression.

  It wasn't mean or scary. She just lifted one eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest and waited, watching him.

  "Sure. You're right, we need to get other things done," Brandon agreed.

  "And we really should let Mr. McLean—Daniel—get back to his own Saturday routine."

  He'd tried the same kind of expression as she slipped and called him Mr. McLean. He was pleased to see that it worked as well for him because she'd immediately corrected herself and called him Daniel.

  He'd like to argue that there was nothing he needed to do today. Nothing that was more important than spending time with them. He wanted to know more about Brandon, more about Michelle. But he didn't push. He sensed she was trying her best, and he appreciated it. So, he walked them out to the car.

  "Do you know where Erie Elementary is?" she asked before she got into the car. He'd have thought Michelle would have some sedate-looking yuppie SUV. Black. Maybe gray. Instead she was driving a sporty orange sedan. It shouldn't have suited her, but it did.

  "Daniel?"

  "Oh, yes, I know where it is. I'll meet you there at three."

  "Fine. We'll see you then. Thank you for lunch."

  Brandon hadn't gotten into the car yet. Instead, he thrust out his hand. "Thank you for taking the afternoon off to spend with me, Daniel."

  "You're welcome, Brandon. It was truly my pleasure."

  Michelle backed her vehicle out of his driveway. Daniel patted Chloe and watched the car drive up the road and eventually out of sight.

  He'd had fun. Something as simple as sharing a meal with Brandon and Michelle constituted the best time he'd had in recent memory.

  "Come on, Clo." They started back into the house, but as he entered, it didn't give him the warm rush it usually did. Instead it felt cold and empty, because Brandon and Michelle had left.

  Daniel didn't dwell on it as he sauntered through the house and out the back door toward his workshop.

  He'd go to work on the secretary. He had an idea now what he'd do with it.

  Chapter Five

  Daniel had never been in Erie Elementary. He pulled up in front and parallel parked, then trudged through the slush-covered sidewalk into the entry hall, not quite sure where to go.

  He'd spent yesterday supposedly working on the secretary in the workshop. He'd made so little progress that he was pretty sure it hardly qualified as working. His thoughts kept drifting to Brandon. Wondering if the boy was his son.

  He tried to see his family—himself—in the boy, but all he managed to see was Brandon. There was no hint of the McLeans, no features that belonged to Tara, or even her sister, Michelle, at least not that he could see. In his eyes, Brandon Hamilton was wholly himself.

  And that was saying a lot. For a thirteen-year-old boy, Brandon had a certain poise hidden beneath the gangly teen body. And a sense of purpose that Daniel admired.

  Once Daniel had finished trying to categorize Brandon's features, to no avail, he started formulating questions. Things a father—or potential father—should know about his son.

  What sports did he like?

  What childhood illnesses had he suffered?

  Broken bones?

  What books did he read? Or did he even read for enjoyment?

  What were his dreams?

  What did he want to be when he grew up?

  On the heels of that question, Daniel realized that Brandon was in seventh grade.

  That meant five years from now he'd be off to college. Which meant if Brandon was his son he only had a few years to make up for an entire lost childhood.

  With that, he got angry at Tara all over again. How could she have denied him his son?

  The same thoughts that had chased each other round and round yesterday, bringing his work to a standstill, left him standing still in the entryway as he replayed them.

  "Can I help you?" asked a brunette with a ready smile.

  "Sorry. I'm a bit lost." Which was a true statement if ever there was one. "I'm looking for Michelle Hamilton. I'm here to help with the Christmas Fair."

  The woman gave him an assessing look. She grinned, as if whatever she'd seen she was pleased with. "You must be Daniel McLean."

  He nodded. "Yes, I am."

  Her smile grew even larger. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Daniel. I'm Samantha Williams. A good friend of Michelle's."

  "Nice to meet you, too," he said.

  "It's nice that you're willing to pitch in on the Christmas Fair." She chuckled. "That was a lot of nices. I'm not always so redundant."

  He wasn't sure what to say next, so he played it safe and just smiled.

  "Michelle says you know something about carpentry?"

  "I own McLean Renovations, so it's what I do. Mainly detailed carpentry work. I just stripped and repaired a hundred-and-fifty-year-old mantel from one of the mansions down by the courthouse. It was—" He stopped himself. He could go on and on about what he did, but he knew most people weren't interested.

  "I'm afraid we won't have anything that challenging for you to do here."

  "I don't know. A school full of kids?" As if on cue, two boys whizzed past them, running down the stairs.

  "Walk," Samantha called out.

  They slowed to a walk until they'd gone out the front door, then the two started racing over the slushy sidewalk, slipping and sliding all the way.

  "Like I said." Daniel nodded toward the two boys who were rapidly disappearing from sight. "I'd say that working in a school is a bit more challenging than working in a quiet workshop with just the dog for company."

  "Yes, learning to work with kids underfoot is a skill. Is it one you're hoping to acquire?" She was still smiling pleasantly, but her eyes narrowed as she studied him, waiting for his answer.

  This good friend of Michelle's must know what was going on. This wasn't just a brief welcome to the school, it was an interrogation. At first it had been a subtle one, but with the last question, it had turned blatant.

  "It appears there's a chance I'll need to," he answered, not exactly hedging, but if her frown was any indication, not being quite as forthright as she'd have preferred.

  "Not my question. I asked if you were hoping to?" she pressed.

  Daniel acknowledged that this woman had all the skills of a police interrogator. Seemingly, without effort, she'd found out what he did for a living, and now had somehow shifted to grilling him about whether he wanted Brandon to be his son.

  He could tell her to back off, that it was none of her business, but he could see the concern in her face. Samantha Williams truly cared about Michelle and Brandon. How could he get annoyed about that?

  "Listen, Ms. Williams, I'll be honest. This was as big a surprise for me as it was for Michelle. I haven't even begun to sort out my feelings. But I can assure you that if I need to acquire that particular skill, I will. I'm not the kind of man who'd walk away from my responsibilities."

  She studied him a moment longer, then said, "I think you and I will get along well, Mr. McLean."

  "Daniel," he told her, extending a hand.

  "Daniel. And I'm Samantha." She shook his hand.

  "Hey, Sami," a male voice called out from the top of the stairway. "What's taking so long?"

  She smiled up at the man who was wearing a very loud Santa Claus tie. "And the bellowing man at the top of the stairs is Harry Remington, Erie Elementary's new principal."

  "I'm not that new," the man complained affably as he walked down the stairs and joined them. "I've been here since September."

  "Ah, but you were only the interim principal until recently, so I didn't count those first few months," Samantha assured him in a teasing tone.

  Harry wrapped an arm around Samantha in such a way that Daniel realized they were a couple.

  "Harry, this is Michelle's. . .uh, helper. Daniel McLean. Daniel, Harry."

  "Oh, Daniel. I heard all about—" The man stopped short as Samantha gave him a slight jab of her elbow. "Oh, yes, well, I heard that you migh
t be coming to help out with the Christmas Fair. Nice of you to spend some time with us." It was a good attempt at covering the fact that Harry knew about what was going on, as well. "We're always looking for volunteers."

  "I'd like to get started. I'll need those directions to Michelle."

  "She's in the basement storeroom," Samantha told him. "I was just heading downstairs and would be happy to show you."

  "Thanks." Daniel turned to the principal. "Nice to meet you."

  "Same here. Sami, hurry back up when you're done," Harry said, and turned to go back up the stairs.

  Samantha started down the other flight and Daniel followed.

  "So, Daniel," Samantha began to say as they reached the basement. "On behalf of everyone who knows and cares about Michelle and Brandon, I'd like to simply say, tread lightly. We don't want to see either of them hurt."

  Daniel noted that although Samantha had all the finesse of a Mafia henchman, she had a loyalty that was admirable. "This isn't something I set out to do to your friend. I only want to do what's right for everyone."

  "I guess that has to be enough. So, now, let's put you to work." She led him down a long hallway. "The basement has our kindergarten and preschool in it, as well as a few big storage rooms. One of them has all the PTA things."

  The door was opened to the room she'd indicated. Daniel looked in the huge space that was lined with rows of stacked boxes and pieces of wood. There was a giant garbage can full of small rubber balls, garbage bags, sticks. The room seemed to be a jumble that made no discernible sense as he stood there taking it all in.

  The one thing that was missing was any sign of Michelle.

  "Hey, Michelle," Samantha hollered.

  "I'm back here," she said, from way behind the mountain of boxes and bags.

  "Don't come out," Samantha called. "I just wanted to be sure you were in here. I've brought Daniel down to assist you."