Project Scrooge

by A M Heath

  OTHER BOOKS by A.M. HEATH

  The Accident

  Ancient Words Series

  Where Can I Flee

  In the Shadow of Thy Wings

  Out of the Ashes

  *Series should be read in order

  A Season Passed

  If Only It Were Yesterday

  Yesterday’s Christmas

  Art of Love Novels

  Dance With Me

  *Series is 100% Standalone

  Christmas in Garland Collection

  Project Scrooge

  *Series is 100% Standalone

  Cover photo credit: svetikd; cover design: A.M. Heath; paperback design: Krista Noorman; garland graphic designed by: Liubov Vafolomeeva

  Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide.www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

  We Wish You A Merry Christmas written by unknown author

  Quotes taken from A Christmas Carol written by Charles Dickens

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental unless otherwise stated.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  ISBN13: 9781706146704

  Project Scrooge

  Copyright © 2019 A.M. Heath

  All rights reserved.

  To the God who doesn’t call me

  Marah but calls me forgiven.

  For to us a child is born,

  to us a son is given, and the

  government will be on his shoulders.

  And he will be called

  Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

  Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

  ~ Isaiah 9:6

  Stave One

  “Nephew!” returned the uncle sternly, “keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine.”

  “Keep it!” repeated Scrooge’s nephew. “But you don’t keep it.”

  “Let me leave it alone, then,” said Scrooge.

  Sanford:

  The Christmas season seemed to return quicker with each passing year.

  I inched across the parking lot, navigating my way through the maze of hurried cars. Finally finding a place to park, I stepped out and strode toward one of the many doors to the Chicory Creek Mall.

  I breezed through the double doors, weaving through shoppers and their bulging, colorful bags. There wasn’t anywhere to look where I wasn’t visually reminder of Christmas. The jewelry store with its romantic advertisement. The toy store with its fake Santa greeting shoppers and passing out coupons at the door. The clothing stores with their greenery, lights, and sales posters.

  I stuffed my hands into my pants pockets and locked my eyes onto the tiled path leading to the food court. Soon I’d be behind the counter of Burgers and Stuff. And if I had my way, my store manager duties would keep me occupied within the deeper recesses of the mall and away from its cheery mayhem.

  I hastened my step when I crossed into the food court and Burgers and Stuff’s counter came into view. I swung open the employee door just as someone jumped into my path. I stopped cold, my heart in my throat.

  “We wish you a Merry Christmas! We wish you a Merry Christmas! We WISH you a Merrrry Christmas … and a Happy New Yearrrr!”

  I glared at the bubbly teen, with her purple-streaked hair pulled back under her Santa hat. “Must you?”

  “What? Didn’t you like it?” Corine asked with a shrug of her shoulder.

  I only blinked. Hadn’t her parents taught her that a person needed coffee before dealing with nonsense?

  Behind me, the hum of chattering shoppers filled the air, as well as the tinny version of “All I Want for Christmas is You” over the mall’s speakers. Before me, the smell of fresh coffee wafted out, tempting the Black Friday shoppers to stop for a cup before continuing on their merry-little-way.

  I edged around Corine and let the door fall shut, making a beeline for the brew.

  “Was it that bad?” Corine said, trailing behind me.

  “You or the song?” I answered without turning to her.

  She snorted as R.J. poked his head up from behind the grill. “Are you badgering Sanford already?”

  “No. I was only singing to him. I thought it’d be a good way to start the day. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone sing to you when you arrived for work?”

  I massaged the bridge of my nose. There was more wrong with that statement than I had the patience for.

  Viola skirted around the corner, extending a cup to me with a telling smirk.

  “Don’t start,” I muttered. I accepted the cup and took a sip, unable to contain the satisfied groan rumbling out.

  Viola didn’t listen to me. Naturally. She was as much my equal as she was one of the managers beneath me. And she was old enough to have been my mother. “You’re new here, Corine, but the sooner you figure it out, the better. Sanford is a bit of a Scrooge.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not a Scrooge.”

  Laughter erupted from Viola and R.J.

  I took another swig, this time a much longer one. “Is that grill ready?”

  I eyed the giant, who had at least a decade on my twenty-eight years and almost a foot in height on my five feet, eight inches.

  He pointed at the grill with his thumb. “She’s fired up and ready to go.” R.J. gave another hearty chuckle. “But I’ll go see about slicing those tomatoes.”

  I hiked a brow in approval, then watched as the dark man ducked through the doorway of the cooler.

  I turned to Corine, but she only watched me with a vacant smile. Teenagers. I shifted my weight and waited.

  Viola cleared her throat. “Have you restocked the sauces?”

  Corine blinked to attention. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Viola gave her a warm smile. “Check the lids, napkins, and straws then.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she chirped before bouncing away, the fuzzy tip of her hat assaulting her with every step.

  Viola turned her soft, gray eyes on me.

  “Nope.” I took another bracing drink and strode to the back.

  “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

  “Sure I do. You ask it every year.”

  “That’s not true.” Her non-slip shoes pattered close behind me. Too close.

  I ignored her comment and snatched up the clipboard hanging just inside the office.

  “Sanford.”

  I stopped and turned to her. “Don’t you have a shift to run?”

  A slight smile creased her face despite my harsh words. “Sanford,” she said again, her patience stretching out the syllables in my name.

  “Are you prepared for the rush today?” I had a skeleton crew come in to sell muffins and drinks to the morning crowd, but our real business as a burger joint would start in a half an hour.

  She nodded, brushing past me and taking up the clipboard she had left sitting beside the computer. “Yes. I added a couple more teenagers for the weekend. Well, for every weekend and weeknight between now and Christmas. They should be here in a few minutes.”

  “Good. I’ll be in the back today, but let me know if you need me.”

  Viola slipped her clipboard u
nder her arm and thrust a pen into her loose bun. “You’re like this every year.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You can tell me, you know.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “I’m fine, and there’s nothing to tell.”

  I started to walk away, but Viola stopped me with a touch on my arm.

  “You’re hurting, Sanford.”

  “Wrong again. I was hurting, but I’m over it now. I have been for a long time.”

  “I’m not sure–”

  I lifted the cup of coffee. “Thank you for this, but I have inventory to count and a truck order to place today.”

  She let me go, but the frown on her face said that it wouldn’t be the last I heard about it from her. I shrugged off the notion. Some people and some memories were best left in the past. I wasn’t about to churn things up in order to cater to Viola’s curiosity.

  Besides, I was fine.

  Natalie:

  I bounced on my toes, shaking loose my sleepy calves. Reaching for my favorite Christmas travel mug, I inhaled the heavenly scent of pumpkin spice matcha before taking a long drink.

  “Oooo, I see you brought the donuts,” Linda, one of the other therapists, chirped as she breezed past me, snatching a donut from the box, then whipping out of the room just as fast.

  I grinned and watched her go. Eyeing the clock that told me I had four minutes before my first appointment, I slid out of my coat and draped it over my chair, revealing the army green polo shirt as part of the Green’s Physical Therapy uniform.

  I took another long drink and served two chocolate donuts onto two small plates, then set them aside.

  The bell above the front door jangled. I listened for Susan Green’s greeting. “Good morning, Mr. Larry.”

  “It’s morning, I’ll give you that, but I never said it was a good one.”

  I pinched my smile as I covered our donuts and made my way through the door of the office and into the gym. I nearly choked on the same ‘good morning’ greeting but dared not give it to the elderly man twice in a row.

  “What sort of day is it, Mr. Larry?” David Green asked, stopping just over the shoulder of his wife, who worked at the receptionist desk beside the front door.

  Mr. Larry scowled. “How should I know; it barely got started. No sooner than I manage to get out of bed, I’m due here.”

  I strode a little closer.

  “Would you like me to move your appointments to the afternoons?” Susan asked with cheer still in her voice.

  He batted her words away with a liver-spotted hand. “You know me, I hate to be a bother to anyone.”

  “Mr. Larry,” I said, taking a sizable step forward, “shall we get started?”

  He gave a ragged huff. “That’s why I’ve come, I suppose.”

  Linda shot me a smirk before disappearing into one of the private therapy rooms.

  I led him to the corner of the gym with the bike, which earned me the response I expected from Larry Matthews on a Friday morning.

  “Do we have to start with the bike?”

  With a hand on the handle, I turned to grin at him. “You complained even more when we ended with the bike.”

  He paused and studied me for a long moment. “Did I?”

  I nodded. When he edged closer, I leaned toward him and whispered, “I brought a surprise for you if you can finish the full three minutes.”

  At last, I earned the glimmer in his eyes, even though he kept his smile deeply hidden from sight. He shuffled one step closer to the bike but paused again. “Chocolate?”

  My answering nod was enough to coax him the rest of the way. Bit by bit, I persuaded Mr. Larry through his routine exercises until we were both standing against the wall enjoying our donuts.

  After watching Larry shuffle through the door, I felt my phone vibrate, so I peeked at the incoming text.

  Saw this and thought of you.

  I placed a hand to my heart and grinned down at the screen.

  “Boyfriend message you?” Linda said, sidling up to me.

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s Ms. Carol.” Flipping the screen to her, I showed her the picture of the candy-themed wreath she had sent.

  “Oooh! Pretty! It’d look perfect on your kitchen door.”

  I nodded as I texted back, asking her to get it for me.

  Already did, honey. ;)

  I tucked my phone away.

  “Mr. Larry looked like he was walking better when he left.”

  “I noticed that too. He’s making great progress.”

  Linda nudged me with her shoulder. “So are you.”

  I eyed her.

  “I think you could heal anyone with just a smile and the right exercise.” She chuckled. “I feel like I have to work a great deal harder with my patients than you do.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re a great physical therapist.”

  It was Linda’s turn to eye me. “How many of your patients walk away unhealed?”

  “Now you’re being ridiculous. Some people don’t need therapy; they need something else entirely. It happens all the time.”

  And it really did happened all the time. Some people walked in with hidden ailments that physical therapy couldn’t improve. But Linda was right about one thing. If I could, I’d make certain they were all healed. There was one person in my life who I most wanted to see completely healed with all that ailed him on the inside by using nothing more than a smile and the right exercise. But my broken friendship with Sanford was a great deal more complicated than torn ligaments or weak muscles.

  Sanford:

  The truck order and Christmas shoppers were behind me for the day as I walked into the old high school gym. Colorful posters hung on the walls between faded images of silver and blue bobcats, my alma mater’s mascot. The smell of a waxed floor awakened my senses like none other. I had fond memories of playing here as a child and even better ones of playing in the newer high school gym down the street.

  I strode along the sidelines through the near-empty gym and dropped my duffle bag about midway. Slipping the whistle over my neck, the transition from manager to coach was complete.

  A ball bounced across the open floor before rolling the rest of the way to my feet. I glanced up in the direction the ball came from, locking eyes on two nine-year-old boys.

  Tristin trotted to me.

  I picked up the ball, faked a pass to him, before throwing it over his head to Jasyn.

  Tristin gave me an opened-mouth pout before jogging back across the court.

  I chuckled, then I took a swig of my water. Behind me, people filed in and out of the building as one practice ended and ours was just beginning. The parents took their seats in the bleachers while the boys dashed off to warm up.

  I rifled through my papers, attaching several to a clipboard. I was to be both coach and secretary, I suppose. That was far from my favorite part, but the boys and the game made it worth it somehow.

  “Hey, Sanford,” came the cheery call.

  I turned to greet Megan, an old classmate.

  “Will said you were Tristin’s coach. I’m glad to know he’s in good hands.”

  “He’s a good kid.”

  “Thanks. It’s all basketball for him, so he’s excited to get the season going again.” I thought she would turn away, but, instead, she darted a look over her shoulder then leaned in. “I heard you have Lane on your team this year.”

  I mentally flipped through the seven names on my roster. “Yeah. Why?”

  Her eyes widened. “Don’t you know?”

  I looked past her to the boys scrambling under the net, attempting shot after shot. “Know what?”

  “That’s Lane West, Kelly’s new stepson.”

  Something in the pit of my stomach tightened. I clenched my teeth even as I shrugged. “I thought she was getting a divorce.”

  Megan nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, she did.” With a sly smile, she added, “But she remarried just as soon as the p
apers were signed.”

  I only shook my head. It was a shame to see the type of woman she had become. The Kelly I had dated would never have acted that way.

  Megan gave a quick glance over her shoulder toward the door again before leaning further into my space. “I ran into Josh West at the store a couple of weeks ago. He’s cousins with her new husband, Mike, and he said that the family thinks she’s pregnant already. We’re talking three or four months pregnant, and they’ve only been married for a month now.”

  My mouth dried. I much preferred to think of her as miserable and licking her wounds after her failed marriage than to know that she was celebrating a new marriage and looking forward to her own child.

  Megan lifted a shoulder. “To be honest, I don’t know whether to be happy for her or not. Rumor had it her first husband wouldn’t give her any kids, and that’s why she finally up and left him.”

  My heart squeezed in my chest, but Megan continued.

  “Being a mom, I get that sort of longing, and I can’t help but rejoice with her. But … I think she’s lost any class she ever had.” She laid a hand on my shoulder. “You sure dodged a bullet there.”

  A dodged bullet. Sure, that’s what I would have called a cheating fiancée and a broken engagement. I only lifted a brow, my jaw squeezed shut. I much preferred to put this conversation and Kelly behind me for good.

  Megan scurried off to find her seat, and I returned to my boys. Hopefully, Lane’s father would be the one dropping him off again today. Forgiven or not, I had no desire to see or speak to Kelly.

  If only the Lord had been on my side.

  Five minutes after practice began, and just when I was beginning to think there would be no sign of Lane or his parents, in walked Kelly.

  My heart dropped to my stomach, more from surprise than anything else. I flexed my jaw, my eyes skimming right over her before landing on the boy. He was why I was here tonight. Not Kelly or any other parent in those bleachers.