A Bramble House Christmas (Carrigans of the Circle C Book 6)

by CJ Carmichael

As she climbed the front steps to the B&B Willa felt as if her feet were encased in cement blocks. She was so tired! The late night, followed by hours of skating—Scout loved it so much he actually cried when she finally made him stop—had just about depleted her. Even a long lunch at the deli, followed by a mug of Sage’s hot chocolate—so much better than the stuff they served at Miracle Lake—hadn’t been enough to revive her.

  What made her feel even more tired was the fact that Scout still didn’t want to go inside.

  “But it’s sunny and the snow is perfect for making snowballs,” he argued, following about ten feet behind her with Finn.

  Finn. The brightest spot of her day, and also the cause of her exhaustion, since she’d been on such a high after their kisses that she hadn’t been able to fall asleep for hours.

  He’d been awesome with Scout today. And learning to skate while being held in his arms hadn’t been too bad, either.

  “You’re still getting over your cold,” Willa paused to point out. “It wouldn’t hurt you to spend a few quiet hours indoors, maybe even having a nap.”

  “I’m not a baby. I want to stay outside and make a snow fort!”

  Willa sighed. She hadn’t counted on her son loving the winter climate quite this much. But before she could mount another argument against his plan, Finn jogged up next to her, placing a hand on her arm, and making her feel warm and happy all over again.

  “How about I take Scout to the park for another hour or so. While you go inside and get some rest.”

  She searched his gray eyes for signs of fatigue. “You must be tired as well.”

  “A little.” He squeezed her arm. “But last night was totally worth it.”

  To Scout’s great delight, she acquiesced without any stipulations, just a simple, “Okay, you guys. Have fun. I’ll be inside when you’re ready to slow down for a while.”

  “Like that’s going to happen,” Scout said, giving Finn a high five.

  Willa shook her head. Sometimes her son really was something else. She almost wished she had the energy to turn around and join them.

  But. An hour of peace all to herself was just too blissful to turn down.

  First thing she did was go up to her room to have a bath in the old-fashioned claw-foot tub. It was just as comfortable as it looked. Then she put on comfy leggings, layered with a T-shirt and a sweater, and a thick pair of wool socks.

  Since the guys still hadn’t returned, she took her novel downstairs, planning to wait for them in the sitting room.

  But just as she hit the main floor landing, the doorbell sounded and Eliza came flying down the stairs behind her, dressed in another of her spectacularly tacky Christmas sweaters, this one with an applique Christmas tree, including bells that really jingled.

  “Excuse me, Willa. This should be my Carrigan cousins.” Eliza swept around her, dashed to the door and pulled it open.

  Willa would have quietly excused herself and gone to the other room, but when she spotted Sage she paused to say hello. Sage was wearing a butterscotch-colored wool coat over a dress in a darker hue along with tall brown boots. The palette was awesome with her beautiful red hair and slightly freckled complexion.

  “Hey, Willa, I was hoping I would see you here. How’s Scout?”

  “He’s made a miraculous recovery. We were skating this morning and now he’s building a snow fort with Finn Knightly.”

  Sage’s eyebrows went up slightly as she recognized the name, but all she said was, “Great. I’m so glad he’s better. Savannah will be happy too. Maybe they can get together later this week.”

  “Sounds like a wonderful idea.” Willa was curious to see Sage’s sister, who had come in behind her. She was small, fine-boned with exquisite features, dark hair and captivating blue eyes.

  “You’ve already met Sage,” Eliza said, “but I don’t think you’ve met her sister Callan. Callan and her husband Court McAlister live on the Circle C Ranch farther down in the valley.”

  Callan was wearing jeans and a plain gray sweater, clothing that fit her perfectly and emphasized her petite figure.

  A girl as pretty as Callan, Willa figured, didn’t need much in the way of adornment to look good.

  “Hey, Willa.”

  Callan stuck out her hand and when Willa shook it, she was amazed at the strength of her grip and the hardness of her calluses.

  “Aunt Mable’s waiting for us in the library,” Eliza said. “Please excuse us, Willa.”

  “Why doesn’t Willa join us?” Sage suggested. Quietly she added, “Not that tea with Aunt Mable is such a treat for you. But the rest of us would love your company.”

  Willa had been looking forward to her book...and maybe a catnap. But Eliza pounced on the idea. “Yes, please join us, Willa.”

  “Well... I was planning to read for a bit.”

  Callan shook her. “You’re coming Willa. Even if we have to drag you in there.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The stage was perfectly set for an English afternoon tea in the library. Aunt Mable sat in the best chair by the window, dressed in a high-necked lace blouse, a string of pearls and a flowing gray skirt.

  She accepted kisses from her great nieces with perfect politeness. “Good afternoon, Sage.” Then, with slightly less approval in her tone. “Callan, dear, so good of you to come.”

  “We’ve invited Willa to join us,” Eliza said. “Isn’t that fun?”

  Aunt Mable’s eyebrows rose at the word “fun,” but she offered no comment, other than, “Interesting footwear. Your socks look very...comfortable.”

  “Don’t mind her,” mouthed Sage from a vantage point behind her aunt.

  Aunt Mable assigned them chairs around a linen-covered, circular table that had been set with exquisite china for four.

  Eliza excused herself and came back with a tray containing an extra place setting for Willa, as well as a silver teapot, creamer, sugar bowl and lemon slices.

  A three tiered plate stand containing tiny, crustless sandwiches on the bottom layer, miniatures quiches on the second, and lemon-flecked pound cake slices on the top, had already been placed at the center of the table.

  It was all quite grand, like tea at the Ritz, Willa thought, as Mable did the pouring with an arm that was impressively steady for a woman in her eighties. At least, Willa assumed Mable was in her eighties. She certainly wasn’t about to ask. Now or ever.

  In grande dame fashion, Mable controlled the conversation, asking about the welfare of her nieces’ husbands, then about Sage’s children. Once those questions had been perfunctorily answered, she turned to Callan.

  “And the ranch, dear. Are you still spending your days outside like a common cowhand? Or has that sensible husband of yours convinced you your duties lie elsewhere?”

  “Court values his life too much to ever suggest I belong anywhere but where I want to be. Which is generally either riding a horse, or looking after one.”

  Mable shook her head, sadly. “Your dear mother would be so appalled. You’re nothing like her.”

  “Actually Callan—and Dani—look a lot like our mother,” Sage said, injecting a note of cheerfulness into the conversation. “But Aunt Mable’s right about one thing. Mom intensely disliked living on a ranch.”

  Sage had told Willa a little about her parents, so she knew Beverly Bramble had been killed in a ranching accident when Sage was a young teenager, and that their father, Hawksley, had died just last year.

  “Please everyone, help yourself to the food,” Eliza encouraged, looking like she couldn’t wait for this occasion to be over.

  As Willa reached for one of the quiches, Callan let out a quiet gasp.

  “Oh, my gosh. Where did you get that ring?”

  Callan was talking about the sapphire. Of course. Willa wondered why she hadn’t put the darn thing in the bottom of her suitcase. She was so tired of all the attention it was attracting.

  Before she could explain about the ring and all she and Finn had learned from the local j
eweler, Aunt Mable said, “I’m surprised you noticed, Callan. It’s just like the one my great grandmother—May Bell, for whom I’m named—is wearing in the portrait Eliza has hanging on our tree.”

  “Is it? It’s also exactly like a ring of Mom’s Dad gave me after she died.”

  “Really?” Eliza’s eyes sharpened. “But when I was doing my family history research, I asked about heirlooms. You and your sisters told me there were none.”

  “I didn’t know the ring was an heirloom. Honestly, I’ve never worn it. I’m not much for jewelry.” Callan held out her hands which were adorned with only one simple gold wedding band. “Court tried to buy me a rock when we got engaged. I told him I’d rather have a new saddle.”

  “Well, that explains where two of the rings are,” Willa noted.

  “Two?” Aunt Mable asked. “You mean there are more?”

  Willa glanced at Eliza, waiting for her nod, before she explained about taking her ring to be appraised by local jeweler, J. P. Pendleton. “He’s almost certain this ring was made by his grandfather for Henry Bramble. Apparently there were four rings made. Plus a necklace.”

  Willa removed her ring and showed them the faint inscription. “This one says May Bell if you hold it under a good light.”

  “And—how did you come to own this ring?” Callan asked.

  Willa sighed, but before she could recount the story, Eliza stepped in on her behalf, telling them about her patient and his odd, but generous gift.

  “At the time I didn’t realize how valuable this ring was. Or that it was a family heirloom.”

  Callan shrugged. “Maybe the ring was pawned at some point.”

  “That’s probably what happened,” Sage agreed. “We certainly don’t want to give you the impression that we resent you owning that ring, Willa.” She turned to her sister. “Is there an inscription on your ring?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never looked.”

  “Well, would you?” Eliza said. “This is precisely the sort of stuff that should have been in my family history.”

  “I’m afraid you published your book too soon dear.” Mable set her tea cup precisely on its saucer. “It seems there are still a few secrets hiding in this family tree of ours.”

  Finn got a kick out of spending time with Scout. The kid really was something else. Besides being naturally athletic, with boundless energy, he also had a sensitive, mature side that surfaced regularly and never failed to impress the hell out of Finn when it did.

  Like when Scout came to him asking for his help in making a Christmas present for his mom. When Scout told him his idea, Finn knew Willa would love it.

  For about a week he and Scout made a pretense of going outside for snowball fights every afternoon. In actual fact they would walk out the front door, only to slip in the back, where Eliza had permitted Finn to set up his art supplies on the breakfast table.

  When he wasn’t helping Scout with his project, he was looking for ways to spend time with his mother. Finn had a good idea what was happening to him. He was falling in love.

  Maybe it was his fear of turning into his father, or maybe he’d just never met the right girl before, but this was a first for him. And the rush of endorphins was doing crazy things to his head.

  It certainly impaired his good judgment when it came to telling Willa about his father. It seemed every time he found the perfect opening they were either interrupted, or Willa changed the subject before he could find the right words.

  After a while, the urge to come clean, like any unwelcome task, became easier and easier to push aside.

  It almost seemed like it no longer mattered. His feelings for Willa were becoming so all-encompassing that all he cared about was spending time with her and her son. In fact, he was so distracted that when the call came from UPS about a letter he needed to pick up, he put the task off for over a week, even though he knew this had to be the results of his and Eliza’s DNA testing.

  Even when he did finally pick it up, he didn’t bother to open it. He told himself it was because he no longer cared whether he was related to the Brambles anymore. Even the prospect of secret treasure no longer seemed tantalizing.

  The real reason he was afraid to open the letter, however, was out of fear that real life might be on a collision course with his newfound love. If it came to facing the truth about his father, the Brambles and himself, or spending time with Willa, well, he chose the latter.

  The last ten days leading up to Christmas were filled with fun family activities with Willa and Scout. They went skating almost every day, occasionally joined by Sage’s daughter Savannah and some of her friends. Scout’s skill developed with exponential speed. It was exhilarating to watch him master skating backward after only a week on blades.

  After chaotic, action packed days, Finn looked forward to a quiet hour or two alone with Willa after Scout fell asleep. They often began with a ritual Scrabble game, followed by quiet conversation and passionate, if frustrated, kisses.

  He longed to make proper love with Willa, but finding the right moment and place was tricky. He’d checked the lock on his door, just in case, and had discovered it did work.

  What he needed next was the right opportunity.

  Five days before Christmas, Sage’s mother-in-law, Patricia Anderson, an uber-groomed woman with big hair, fake nails and painted-on eyebrows, checked into the second suite on the third floor of the B&B along with a man about a decade younger than her, whom she introduced as Mike, her fiancé.

  Via Willa, Finn learned that Patricia had been married about six times and had dragged Dawson all over the country when he was growing up. Relations between mother and son had gone through a fair amount of ups and downs, but she had come to spend Christmas with him and his family, hoping especially to bond with her brand new grandson.

  Judging by the mountain of packages she had Mike carry up to their room, some of that bonding would take place by way of numerous Christmas gifts.

  “Neither Sage nor Dawson are thrilled she showed up,” Willa confided. “But what can they do? It’s Christmas.”

  Hearing her say that, Finn was reminded of his own family and the fact that he hadn’t heard from them for a few weeks. He’d sent a message to his mom and sisters explaining about Scout’s cancer and Willa’s medical bills. He’d told them that the matter was closed. As far as he was concerned, Willa had more than deserved everything their father gave them.

  He hoped they agreed.

  But they’d been suspiciously quiet since then. He’d only received one text and that had been from Keelin, quietly informing him she was thinking of quitting her job.

  Immediately he’d tried phoning her back, but she hadn’t answered then, or any of the other times he tried.

  He wasn’t opposed to her quitting, if that was what she wanted. He just hoped she wasn’t still carrying a load of guilt about the patient who had committed suicide.

  As for his work, it seemed every time he opened his laptop or his sketchbook, something happened to distract him.

  Usually, it involved Willa.

  He was desperate to spend time with her, but suddenly there were people coming and going at all hours. The addition of Patricia and Mike changed the dynamics at the breakfast table, and also in the sitting room in the evening. Usually Patricia and Mike would have dinner with Sage and Dawson, ending up back at the B&B around nine—the time he and Willa had become accustomed to spending alone.

  “I wish I could whisk you and Scout to my chalet in Boulder,” Finn told Willa one night, when they were saying goodnight in front of their respective doors.

  For a moment, she almost looked tempted.

  “But we’re prepaid at the B&B. And Scout is so happy here.”

  It was true, Scout was no longer the pale, quiet boy he’d been those first few days in Marietta. His color was better, he seemed stronger and even looked taller. All the fresh air and activity was bringing him back to life.

  “Besides,” Willa continued, “di
dn’t you come here to work? I’m afraid we’ve been a distraction for you.”

  Finn held out his arms. “Distract me some more, why don’t you?”

  “Remember when I took you to visit Santa Claus?” Willa couldn’t believe it was the night before Christmas Eve already. This holiday was flying by much too quickly.

  “You mean at that big, fancy hotel?” Scout had just finished his shower, and was now standing patiently, wrapped in a towel, while she used a second one to dry his hair.

  “Yes.” So much had happened since that day. Most of it wonderful. Not only was Scout reveling in his newfound health and all the outdoor activities in Marietta, but she was beginning to believe she’d found true love with Finn.

  After a rough beginning, when she hadn’t been sure if he really liked her, or just wanted to use her son for his illustrations, they were progressing into a love affair that felt like something from the movies. Not only did she adore being with Finn, but she admired him as an artist and as a man. So far their lovemaking had only extended to kisses, but she had no doubt that when they did come together, it would be fabulous.

  But when would that be? Finn had let out some broad hints that he wanted her and Scout to visit him in Boulder for New Year’s Eve. Willa was tempted to take him up on that.

  But first she wanted to make sure Scout’s Christmas was wonderful. Plans for tomorrow and Christmas Day were shaping up perfectly. Her only worry was whether Scout would be disappointed if Santa didn’t deliver on the vague promise he’d made on that day at the Graff Hotel.

  “I remember.” Scout wriggled out from under the towel to pull on his pajama bottoms.

  “What was it Santa said to you, again? Something about adventures?” She passed him the top to his PJs, helping at the part where his head always got stuck.

  “He said was I a boy who liked adventures, and I said yes.”

  “Anything else?”

  “He said was I a boy who liked helping people.”

  “And you said yes to that, too?”

  Scout nodded. “And then he said he was going to make sure this is a Christmas I’ll never forget.”