Christmas Comes to Dickens

by Nancy Fraser

“I might need to just talk for a while.”

  Ariana slowly nodded. “Okay, Matt.”

  He gave her a little smile. “First. Last night... I said some things, and I didn’t mean any of them, but at the time, I just didn’t know how to react, so I reverted to old behaviors.”

  Pausing, he watched her face.

  “I actually have grown to like your glitter and sparkles and Christmas-y attitude, Ariana. I never meant to say I didn’t. I was hurting and my words came out that way too, I’m sure.”

  Ariana moved one of her hands over his. “It’s okay, Matt. I understand.”

  “And I don’t want you to leave here thinking I don’t appreciate who you are, or what you do. I know your writing and photography are important to you. And you love sharing the joy of Christmas with others. I want you to know that I get that.”

  She scooted closer to him. “Matt. We all say things at times when we’re scared or hurt that we don’t mean. It’s okay. I understand. But Matt...?”

  “Yes?”

  Sighing, she grasped his hands tighter. “I am so sorry about the picture. It was wrong of me to assume it was okay to display it. Had I realized, I never would have placed it there.”

  “I know.”

  “My heart aches just thinking about the pain I caused.”

  “My heart aches thinking of you leaving here because of me. And of me not getting a chance to make things right.”

  Ariana felt his worry and hurt. She watched Matt’s eyes dart back and forth, then his gaze shifted, looking just off her shoulder.

  He motioned to the table. “I want to show you these.”

  “Pictures?”

  “Yes. A whole box full of them. Mom often stored things she didn’t have room for at the house at the hardware. Sometimes she’d come back here on slow days and work on putting them into photo albums or categorizing them. Dad was a camera buff,” he looked at her, “like you, I guess. He took a lot of pictures.”

  Ariana picked up a few and looked through them. “These are Christmas pictures.”

  “Yes. I went through them all last night.”

  Ariana lowered her hand with the pictures to her lap. “Matt. Will you tell me what happened?”

  She waited.

  “I was eleven,” he began. “Kat had just turned thirteen. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and I rushed home from my friend’s house to change my wish list for Santa. All I could do was rave about the new Razor Scooter my friend’s uncle had brought him for Christmas. I wouldn’t shut up about it.”

  Stopping for a moment, he searched her eyes.

  “So, of course, that was the day of the first lighting at the inn and everyone was busy. The picture you found? It was taken that day. Dad set up the tripod and the timer on the camera and took it. Years later, my grandmother found the camera and had the film developed and framed the picture. I pretty much had the same reaction when I saw it.

  “But, back then, it wasn’t really about the picture. It was about the damn scooter. Early on Christmas Eve, mom and dad left for the city. They told us they’d be back by early afternoon. When five o’clock came around and they weren’t home yet, Kat called our grandparents who lived a few miles away. They didn’t answer, but after a while they pulled into the drive. That’s when we learned both Mom and Dad had been killed in a car accident.”

  Leaning closer, Ariana gripped Matt’s hands tighter. “I’m so sorry Matt.”

  He lifted his chin. “Yeah, me too.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I’ve been told that many times, Ariana. But when I learned they had gone to get that damn scooter, all I could do was blame myself.”

  Ariana exhaled a breath she’d been holding for too long. “If that’s true—if that is why they were going, Matt—they did it because they loved you.”

  He dropped her hands and stood. “I know. But I sure as hell would have rather had them in my life the past fifteen years, than a scooter that would have lasted until the new wore off.”

  “That’s the adult you talking now, Matt. Not the kid you. Be easy on yourself.”

  He nodded. “Yes. You’re right.”

  “So, you’ve been avoiding Christmas ever since?”

  “I tolerated it as a kid and through my teens, but the guilt always ate at me. Our grandparents did what they could to make things better for Kat and me, but I could never really shake the feeling, especially during the holidays. As I became an adult, I just avoided it altogether and before I knew it, the guilt became a part of who I am.”

  “Did you go to live with them? Your grandparents.”

  “No, they moved into the inn. They wanted keep things normal for us. Kat inherited the house eventually, and the inn business. The hardware store came to me on my eighteenth birthday. Grandpa died a year or so before that. Grandma stayed on for a while, then she moved back to her place. We lost her a few years ago, and their small farm became mine.”

  He stopped talking and focused on her. “I’m sorry, Ariana. I’ve ruined your perfect Christmas.”

  “Oh, Matt. No.” Reaching for him, she put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. “Nothing is ruined. And nothing is ever perfect. We just have to believe everything is going to be better from here on out.”

  He pulled back, peering into her eyes. “Is that all it takes? To believe?”

  “I’m sure it also takes time—but believing in the magic of Christmas never hurt anyone. I do believe in that.” She paused. “And sometimes, it helps if you don’t have to do it alone.”

  He sucked in a breath. “I have time,” he said softly. “I want to believe.”

  She grinned. “Me, too.”

  “And to be perfectly honest,” he added, “not doing it alone sounds very nice.”

  Ariana smiled and whispered, “I like the sound of that.”

  Matt leaned closer. “Ariana, will you stay a few more days? I feel like there is so much more I want to share with you. I know I have no right to ask you to stay, but will you consider it?”

  Tilting her chin, she peered into his deep brown eyes, and tipped her face up to brush a soft kiss across his lips. “Yes, Matt. I want to stay.”

  One year later...

  “Okay, everyone. Hold those positions and say cheese!”

  Ariana looked one more time through the lens of the camera, made sure all members of her family were in the picture, and checked the timer. Eight seconds.

  Racing around the tripod, she took her place at the far end of the group, leaned in, and said, “Smile.”

  Everyone froze.

  The camera finally flashed.

  Then, the group broke into a cheer and Ariana rushed back to make sure no one would trip over the tripod. “That’s the last one for a while. I promise.”

  “It better be.” Matt leaned in, gazed into her eyes, and kissed her lips. “Here, can you take him? I’m going to help your dad get their gifts out of the car.”

  “Of course.” Ariana took Little Matt out of her husband’s arms. “Can you stash this tripod and camera somewhere safe on your way out?”

  “I can.”

  Little Matt tangled his fingers in her hair.

  “Hey, sweetie.” She rubbed noses with him.

  “Aunt Ariana? Can I hold him now?”

  She glanced down at Aimee, and then at the chaotic scene in the sunroom. Cookies were everywhere. Her mom, Doris, was sitting on the sofa chatting with Ariana’s sister, Claire. Her sister’s two kids were playing with a toy train under the tree. Dylan and Grant, Claire’s husband, were watching a football game on the television. Why they all wanted to gather in one room, she didn’t know.

  “How about you sit by Grandma Doris. I’ll hand him to you.”

  Little Matt was barely two months old, but he was still a chunk and a handful to carry around. Best Aimee was sitting when she held him.

  Doris looked up as Aimee plopped beside her. “I get to hold the baby,” Aimee told her.

  “And
Grandma Doris will be right here if Little Matt gets fussy. Okay?” She made eye contact with her mom. “I need to help Kat in the kitchen.”

  “We’re fine here, darling.” She waved her off. “Go get dinner on the table.”

  Standing, Ariana smiled, then headed for the kitchen. Before she left the sunroom, however, she turned back to take in the scene. Even with all the chaos, her heart was full and happy.

  Kat snuck up behind her and whispered in her ear. “See, I was right.”

  Ariana turned. “What?”

  She smiled and winked. “I told you the day you arrived that you’d be here for a long time.”

  Ariana stepped back and eyed her. “That you did. Who would have thought I would never leave?”

  Kat grinned. “I need to get back to the kitchen.”

  “I’m behind you.” Ariana turned to follow her and felt a small hand tuck inside of hers. She looked down. “Aimee? I thought you had the baby?”

  “Grandma Doris wanted him.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Aunt Aimee?”

  “Yes?”

  “I really did get my Christmas wish, didn’t I? It was just a year late.”

  Puzzled, Ariana crouched down and met Aimee’s gaze. “What’s that, sweetheart?”

  “I got you for my family. You told me to believe, and I did.”

  Not being able to contain her tears, she tugged Aimee close and hugged the child. “Oh, honey. I love you so much.”

  “We both just needed to believe, didn’t we, elf?”

  Ariana looked up into Matt’s eyes. Then standing, she put her arms around her husband’s neck and kissed his lips. “I love you too,” she whispered. “Believing can be contagious.”

  “You are contagious...” he said, nibbling at her lips. “I’m never going to stop believing in you, and us. Merry Christmas, Mrs. Matthews.”

  “Merry Christmas to you, Mr. Matthews.”

  The End

  About Maddie James

  MADDIE JAMES WRITES to silence the people in her head—if only they wouldn’t all talk at once.

  From flirty contemporary romance to darker erotic titles—often mixed with a dash of suspense or a hint of paranormal—James pens stories that frequently blend a variety of romantic sub-genres. The happily-ever-after, of course, is non-negotiable.

  Affaire de Coeur says, “James shows a special talent for traditional romance,” and RT Book Reviews claims, “James deftly combines romance and suspense.” Maddie is the award-winning author of over fifty titles of fiction—from short stories to novels—and a Top 100 Best Selling Author.

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  Holiday Hearts

  Caroline Clemmons

  Top 100 Best Selling Author

  Holiday Hearts

  LAURA JORDAN PLANS a quiet holiday at home except for the time she might spend serving dinner at the homeless shelter on Christmas Day. She loves her job at Callahan Group advertising agency and doesn’t want anything to jeopardize her position there. She’s aware of how quickly office gossip could ruin her reputation and career.

  Ward Callahan is a wunderkind who started earning money online trading when he was in high school. At thirty-two, he owns a successful ad agency and is gaining industry recognition. He hasn’t had time for a committed relationship. From the time he hired Laura, he can’t get her off his mind.

  When vicious remarks cause Laura to call a halt to their budding relationship, Ward is determined to set things right.

  Chapter 1

  LAURA JORDAN HAD WORKED here almost four months and still wasn’t certain she fit in—even though she loved her job and wanted to be a valued member of the team. No matter her opinion, she tried to keep under the radar until she’d had more experience with this company. Which was why, as usual, she sat in the morning meeting internalizing her mantra.

  Don’t ask me. Don’t ask me. Don’t ask me.

  Ward Callahan, the owner and CEO of Callahan Group advertising agency, looked at her as if he knew her reluctance. “Laura, you look less than impressed. What do you think of the campaign I’ve outlined?”

  The man was so perfect he intimidated her. He was gorgeous and smart and fair in the way he treated employees. But she was here to do a job and that required honesty—at least at times like this.

  She took a deep breath. “In my opinion, you’ve missed the mark.”

  Several gasps followed her answer.

  Ward’s eyebrows shot up, but he quickly adopted his perfect GQ mask. “Oh, then play devil’s advocate. Getting this contract will be a major boost to the company. How would you aim the campaign?”

  She tilted her head as she studied the presentation screen. “Not so dreary. How does it make a woman feel? Is it luxurious? Does it leave her skin soft and smooth as well as cleansed?”

  Just one eyebrow went up this time. “Dreary? You don’t care about the price or the ingredients?”

  “Of course I do. But women get tired of being practical and frugal. This is not a can of green beans or a container of laundry detergent. Once in a while a woman wants to be treated royally, especially in this area.”

  Looking thoughtful, Ward gestured to her. “Please explain.”

  “I’m concerned about how bubble bath or shower gel will treat my body. Some of them leave my skin silky and others leave a calcium-like film. Several brands cause me to break out in a rash.”

  John Macklin threw up his hands. “For Pete’s sake, you’ve worked here five minutes and suddenly you think you’re an expert. Ward’s outline is great.”

  Laura looked at the man she disliked and smiled. “Oh, dear.” She walked over to him and pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket. “John, you have something on your face. Wait... never mind, it’s just a bit of brown on the end of your nose.” She tossed the handkerchief on his laptop and returned to her place.

  Several people chuckled quietly.

  He stood and stabbed the air with his index finger. “Listen, you ditzy redheaded know-it-all—if that is even your real color—”

  Ward spread his hands and his powerful baritone interrupted, “Children, no infighting. We’re on the same team. Laura, did you have more to add?”

  She glared at John before smiling at her boss. “As I was saying, play up the sensual aspects. Make it romantic, make her feel glamorous, make her feel pampered.” Sliding her hand along her arms and then her stomach, she said, “Do her fingertips glide over her abdomen? Does her bare skin invite a man’s caress?”

  Under his breath, Vince said, “Whoa, it was good for me, was it good for you? I think I need a cigarette.”

  Sitting next to him, Frank Nelson chuckled and spoke quietly, “You forget you don’t smoke?” To those gathered around the conference table, he said, “Reminds me of that old song about enjoying being a girl. I say go with Laura’s idea.”

  Ward directed his gaze at Laura. “Is that what you had in mind?”

  “Yes, but more romantic and sexual than the song.”

  Celia Gervais, who Laura mentally called the piranha, gave her jet-black hair a toss over her shoulder. “The majority of women want economy as well as quality. Ward, your idea is perfect.”

  “Frank, John, Celia, Laura, thank you for your input. Does anyone else have a comment?”

  When no one spoke, Ward shut off the presentation screen. “Thank you. We’ll meet at the same time tomorrow for a review of my changes before we break for Thanksgiving. This has to be in perfect shape by Monday at ten when I present the ideas to Wakefield in Atlanta.”

  As Laura was gathering her laptop and notes, she overheard Celia speak to Ward.

  “You know, it would help to have a woman along when you present to Wakefield. I’d be happy to accompany you and give the feminine view point.”

  From under her lashes, Laura peeked at Ward, wondering what his reaction would be to Celia’s overtu
re.

  His mask was in place, no smile, but his voice was pleasant. “Thank you, Celia, but the trip is planned. Frank is going with me.”

  A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER, Laura sat with her three female coworkers at one of the more private booths of Marley’s Olde English Pub. The high backs surrounded them on three sides and provided privacy from other diners.

  Her friend Breanna Farris sent her a sympathetic glance. “I can’t believe you disagreed with Ward on the Wakefield campaign. That’s his baby right now.”

  Laura shrugged and reached for her iced tea. “He asked me for my opinion and I wasn’t going to lie. I thought the slant he’d used was wrong.”

  Celia, the piranha, gave a smug smile. “You’re the newest employee. Aren’t you afraid you’re going to be fired?”

  “Every. Single. Day.” She polished off the last bite of chicken salad.

  Breanna raised her eyebrows. “Then why do you challenge him? Sometimes you should just go along.”

  Aghast, Laura stared at Breanna. “I have no intention of ever challenging Ward Callahan on anything. He’s the boss and it’s his company. He has to take responsibility for our mistakes as well as his.”

  Celia glared at her. “What would you call what you did today if it wasn’t challenging him?”

  “Look, if Ward hadn’t asked my opinion, I probably would have kept my views to myself. Since he did ask, I had to be truthful. Isn’t that our job? Otherwise he and Vince could run the business without any of us.”

  Sherry Young patted Laura’s hand. “I’m sure Ward valued your input. I admire your honesty and I’ll bet he does, too.”

  Celia glared at Sherry. “That’s why you’re just an administrative assistant.”

  Sherry’s face crumpled, but she didn’t cry. She dipped her blond head and made a show of digging for something in her purse.

  Laura’s protective spirit ignited her anger. “Celia, why are you so mean-spirited? Don’t talk to Sherry that way. She’s our friend and has a respectable position she performs very well.”