Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Rancher for ChristmasHer Montana ChristmasAn Amish Christmas JourneyYuletide Baby

by Brenda Minton

  “Naw.” Frustration marred Charlie’s normal smile. “The treatments are catching up with me. When Max showed up at the house yesterday and said he was here to run the store for as long as we need him, well, I’ll tell you.” Charlie slapped a hand on his youngest son’s back. “It was a gift from God. I’d just told Jenny we needed someone here to help you and Earl, with the holidays coming up and all. And while I hate that your pretty little restaurant burned—”

  The anxious look in the older man’s eyes made Tina recognize a timeline she was loathe to see.

  “Having you here, and now Max, well…” Charlie breathed deep. “It’s easier for me to focus on getting well, knowing the store is in good hands. I know you’re not planning to stay in Kirkwood, Tina, but I thank God every night that we’ve got you here now. I hate having your mother—” he moved his gaze to Max while Tina fought a new lump of throat-tightening emotion “—worrying over me all the time. But you know her, there’s no keeping her from it. And while I’m not one to be fussed over, it’s good to have her on my side right now.”

  Old guilt and his new reality gut-stabbed Max.

  Time had gone by. Mistakes had been made. No matter how many battles he fought, no matter how many medals the army pinned on his chest, a part of him couldn’t move beyond the teenage boy who’d made a grievous error in judgment years ago.

  He swallowed hard but kept his face even. “I should have come back sooner, Dad. I know that. But I’m here now, and I’ll do everything I can to make things easier for you and Mom. That’s if I can keep my mind on hardware with such pretty help.” He slanted a glance of pretended innocence Tina’s way.

  His ruse of humor worked.

  Charlie’s laugh lightened the moment. Tina looked like she wanted to mop the floor with him, making jokes at a moment of truth, but Max knew his father. Charlie Campbell would be the first to say that getting crazy emotional over must-have treatments and their outcomes wasn’t in anyone’s best interests.

  You could have come back. You chose not to. That one’s all on you, soldier.

  Max’s heart weighed heavy as Charlie picked up his car keys. Ten years of staying away, grabbing for a future because he couldn’t face the past. He’d lost time with his mother, his father, his siblings. Time that could never be regained.

  Now he was home, determined to make amends and begin again. Charlie and Jenny Campbell had taken in a five-year-old boy, dumped by his mother the week before Christmas, and brought him to their sprawling lakeside home. They’d changed his life that day, given him a second chance not all children get.

  He loved them for it. Now? Time to give back. And if reconnecting with his hometown meant facing old wrongs? Then it was about time he manned up and did just that because staying away hadn’t fixed anything. Over the years he’d faced enemies on three separate continents. He could handle Kirkwood Lake.

  Once his father left the store, Max turned toward Tina.

  “Don’t you dare break their hearts again, Max Campbell.”

  He’d come home expecting emotional shrapnel.

  Tina’s flat-out decree was more like a direct hit at close range. He started to speak, but Tina moved a half step forward, invading his space. “What were you thinking disappearing like that? All those years gone. What were you doing all that time?”

  “My job?” He let his inflection say the answer was obvious, but he knew Tina was right. He could have come back. Should have come back. He’d missed weddings, baptisms, anniversaries and holidays. And he’d done it on purpose, because it was easier to face current danger than past lapses in judgment. He got careless and stupid, but he didn’t need this drop-dead gorgeous gray-eyed beauty to ream him out over it.

  Although he preferred her sass to the tears she’d been fighting minutes before. Tears went hand in hand with high drama. If there was something Max steered clear of, it was high-drama women.

  “Your job wasn’t 24/7/365.” She folded her hands across her chest, leveled him a look and didn’t seem at all fazed that he had her by a good seven inches and sixty pounds. Or that he was a munitions expert. Her bravado made him smile inside, but he held back, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate his amusement.

  “I should have come back. Phone calls weren’t enough. I know that now.” He’d known it then, too, but it had been easier to stay away. Still, this was his personal business, not hers. Fortunately his straightforward admission helped take the wind out of her sails.

  Good. He had no intention of being yelled at all day. With the high-volume sales of winter and holiday items upon them, he knew Campbell’s Hardware would be cranking. His job was to learn the new aspects of an old business ASAP, shouldering the work his parents did so naturally. “For the moment, if you can take a break from yelling at me, I need to learn as much as I can as quickly as I can to help out. Now we either do this together—” he mimicked her stance and saw her wince as if recognizing her stubbornness “—or we work as separate entities. But, Tina?” He held her gaze, waiting until she blinked in concession to continue.

  Only she didn’t.

  He shrugged that off mentally and stood his ground. “We’ve got to take care of this for Dad’s sake. And Mom’s. No matter how you might feel about me. Which means we might have to declare a truce, at least during working hours. Agreed?”

  Her expression softened. She stared over his shoulder, sighed, then brought her eyes back to his. “Agreed.”

  He refused to acknowledge her reluctance. Ten years in the service taught him to pick his battles. He’d seen her face when they’d talked of her business burning. He understood that working side by side with the Campbell prodigal probably hadn’t made her short list, and life had done a number on her.

  But when she took a deep breath and stuck out her hand again, he realized that Tina Martinelli was made of pretty strong stuff. “Do-over,” she instructed.

  He smiled, nodded and accepted her hand in his.

  “Max, you might not remember me. I’m Tina Martinelli and I’m here to help your parents.”

  He should resist. He knew it, knew it the minute her eyes locked with his. Held.

  But he couldn’t and so he gave her hand a light squeeze and smiled. “Well, Tina, I do remember you, but what I remember is a pesky tomboy who whistled louder, ran faster and jumped higher than most of the guys around.”

  The blush heightened again. Was it because he remembered or because he’d brought up her penchant for sports and winning? Max wasn’t sure, but he leaned closer, just enough to punctuate his meaning. “This Tina?” He shook his head, dropped her hand and stepped back. He didn’t give her a once-over because he didn’t have to. Her face said she understood. “This Tina is a surprise and I can’t say I’m sorry to be working with her. Reason enough to clean up and hurry into work each morning.”

  “Which means we need to set ground rules.” She glossed over his compliment as if it hadn’t affected her. Max allotted her extra points for that and played along. “Employees are not allowed to fraternize outside of work.”

  Max frowned. “My parents own this place and I’m going to guarantee they fraternize outside of work. That’s how they got to be parents.”

  She bristled, looking really cute as she did. But he couldn’t think of that. There was work to be done so he held up a hand. “You’re right. I know you and Earl have been picking up a lot of slack, so my goal is to help you any way I can. If we can keep Mom and Dad from worrying about the store, Dad can focus on getting through his treatments. Getting well.”

  “Then we share the same objective. Perfect.” She gave him a crisp nod as she moved to a stack of holiday-themed boxes. “As long as we keep our focus on that, we shouldn’t have any problems.”

  Saucy and determined, the grown-up Tina wasn’t much different than she’d been years ago. He knew he should stop. Let her have the last word. But when she slanted a “keep your distance” look over her shoulder, he couldn’t resist. “Working for the government taught me to g
et around problems efficiently, Tina Martinelli. I expect that might come in handy now and then.”

  Come in handy?

  Not with her, it wouldn’t.

  Oh, she saw the charm and self-assuredness that had drawn girls to Max back in their youth. Refined now, the charisma was more dangerous, almost volatile. But Tina hadn’t spent the last decade pining for her childhood crush. She’d managed to have her heart broken twice since, so Max could flirt and tempt all he wanted. It would do him no good.

  Tina was immune.

  You want to be immune, but face it, darling. Damp palms say something else entirely.

  She shushed the internal warning, but when she leaned in to show Max how to engage cash register functions, the scent of him made her long to draw closer.

  She didn’t. She ignored the fact that he smelled of sandalwood and soap and total guy, and that the flash of his smile brightened a room.

  She didn’t need any rooms brightened, thank you. A few LED lightbulbs took care of that in a cost-effective way.

  Over the years, she’d shrugged off her teenage attraction to Max as silly adolescent stuff. But today, seeing the straightforward warmth of the hardened but humorous man he’d become?

  That might be tough to resist.

  Fortunately Tina wasn’t in the market for anything in Kirkwood Lake these days. Least of all another broken heart. Been there, done that. Overrated.

  She showed him through the layout of the store. His parents had done a complete remodel four years previous, making Max’s memories obsolete, and the first thing he noted out loud were the rotational seasonal displays set at four separate locations. “I expect this was my mother’s idea.”

  Tina nodded as she unlocked the front door and officially opened the story for business. “She likes to go to regional conferences that teach how to build sales while keeping overhead in check.”

  “Always a trick in retail.” Max nodded to the first customer in the door, a woman, carrying an older-model chain saw that had seen better days.

  “Is Earl here yet?” The look she gave Tina and Max said she didn’t put much trust in their abilities.

  “No, ma’am,” Max told her. “Not ’til noon. But maybe I can help?”

  She looked at him, really looked, then formed her mouth into a grim line. “Maxwell Campbell, I do believe you still owe me for some flowers that went missing from my garden about twelve years back. Give or take a summer or two.”

  Max’s grimace said his memory clicked to a younger version of the woman before him. “You’re absolutely correct, Mrs. Hyatt. Those would be red roses and I believe they found their way over to Sophie Benedict’s house. I’ll be happy to make that up to you now with my apologies for the delay. And ask your forgiveness, of course.”

  The look she settled on him said maybe that was okay, and maybe it wasn’t. “How long have you served our country, young man?”

  “Over a decade.”

  Her mouth softened. Her shoulders relaxed. “I’d say we’re more than even.” She clapped a hand to his shoulder, hometown pride showing in her eyes, her smile. “Welcome home, Max. I expect your parents are most pleased to have you here, and just in time to share the holidays together.”

  “Yes, ma’am. My mom goes a little bit crazy over Thanksgiving and Christmas, that’s for sure. And about that saw?” He dropped his gaze to the chain saw in her arms.

  Her face said she was inclined to wait until Earl’s arrival nearly three hours later.

  “If you bring it to Dad’s tool bench, I’d be glad to have a look.”

  “If you think you can.” She didn’t try to mask the dubious note in her voice. “It’s been a long time since you’ve worked with your dad.”

  “True.” He led the way to Charlie’s well-lit bench and table at the back corner, a popular gathering place for small-town talk and broken tools. “But I remember a thing or two. And working for Uncle Sam taught me a few new tricks. Let’s see what’s going on.” He examined the pieces, then nodded. “We’ve got a bad clutch. Tina, does Dad carry parts for all models in the back or just current ones?”

  His quiet confidence in his abilities lightened Tina’s angst. Working for the Campbells helped them and her, but with Charlie out of commission and Earl on limited hours, she’d been fielding a lot of questions with few answers the past two weeks. Maybe having Max around wouldn’t be so bad, not if he could actually make sense out of the more difficult hardware inquiries. “I’ll check and see. If we have to order it, we won’t get it until next Tuesday, Mrs. Hyatt. Is that all right?”

  “Tuesday’s fine with me. Then would you be able to fix it right away?” she wondered. She hesitated, looking a little uncomfortable, then explained, “I hate to push, knowing what’s going on with your dad and all, but I promised my husband I’d get this fixed before wood-cutting season. Once the cold hits, he’ll take to the woods for next year’s heating supply, but he can’t cut without his saw. And with the Festival of Lights coming up, I’m going to have my hands full. I expect you’re taking that over for your father, as well?”

  Max sent a blank look from her to Tina and back. “Festival of Lights? I’m not following you.”

  “The annual Christmas lighting event we’ve been doing for years,” Mrs. Hyatt replied. “This year it’s the final big event of our bicentennial celebration,” she continued. “Your dad heads up the committee, we use the funds raised from the park drive-through to support the women’s shelter in Clearwater, and Tina and I handle the food venues with a bunch of volunteers. That money helps stock food pantries all year long. Joe Burns is helping.” She ticked off her fingers, listing familiar names. “The Radcliffes, Sawyers and Morgans are all on board, as well. We’ve got everything planned out, of course, because it starts soon, but no one knows how to do lighting grids as well as Charlie Campbell.”

  One phrase stood out.

  The Sawyers. Pete’s family, Tina’s neighbors on Upper Lake Road. Pete used to love ditching both his little sister, Sherrie, and Tina. He and Max would take their small boat out and go fishing or girl-watching. When they were young, fishing took precedence. By the time they finished high school?

  Partying had replaced fishing for Pete.

  Regret speared Max. He shelved it purposely. He’d come back to help and make amends. Right now, helping took precedence, even if it meant coming face-to-face with Pete’s family sooner rather than later.

  Business owners were taking advantage of today’s nice weather to hang festive garland. Town crews had manned a cherry-picker truck to string lights through Main Street trees, and decorated wreaths marked each old-fashioned light pole. Like it or not they were two weeks shy of Thanksgiving and the town was knee-deep in a project that depended on Charlie’s calm help and expertise.

  “I’ll talk to my dad and see what I can do to help. We’ll cover it, Mrs. Hyatt. No worries.”

  Her sigh of relief said he’d answered correctly. “And you’re okay with me coming by next Wednesday to pick up the saw?”

  “I’ll put the part in as soon as it arrives,” Max promised. “If there’s any delay, we’ll give you a call.”

  “That would be wonderful.” She watched as he filled out a tag with her name, gave him her phone number, then smiled, more relaxed than when she came into the store. “I expect you’ll both be at the final committee meeting Wednesday night?”

  Special ops had prepared Max to tack with the prevailing wind, no matter what the mission. “Absolutely. When and where?”

  “We used to have them at my café.” The resignation in Tina’s tone said her loss rubbed raw. “But Carmen Bianchi said we could meet in her apartment behind Vintage Place instead. Seven o’clock.”

  “I’ll be there,” Max promised. “And we’ll be ready to implement Dad’s action plan, Mrs. Hyatt.”

  “Good!” Her smile said his confidence appeased her concerns. Which meant he hadn’t lost his touch, but if he was coming face-to-face with the Sawyers in a few days, and
expected to run this light show thing, he needed to get his mental ducks in a row. Fast.

  Max watched Mrs. Hyatt walk out the door, then took the broken saw to the second bench. “I know Dad always puts them in back in the order they come in, but I don’t want to forget my promise to her.”

  “Seeing it is a good reminder,” Tina replied. “And the back room is kind of crowded right now anyway.” She greeted someone, then waved another pair of customers upstairs to the “country store” shop, another one of his mother’s ideas. Fifteen years ago, folks had kind of ridiculed the idea of a home shop in a hardware store, but no one scoffed now. Campbell’s “Country Cove” on the second floor did enough winter business to pay the bills and record a profit, a huge plus in northern towns.

  When Tina came back to the front, Max indicated the door and Mrs. Hyatt’s retreating back with a quick glance. “What have you been doing the past few weeks when customers like that came in? Did you send them elsewhere?”

  “Come with me.” Tina led him into the back room, threaded a path through the overstock and the glass—

  cutting corner, then waved toward Charlie’s equipment fix-it zone for larger repairs. “This is what Earl’s been working on this past week when he was healthy enough to be here.”

  Max counted eighteen separate tools in various stages of repair. “Are these due to be picked up soon?”

  “Tomorrow. That’s our regular tool pickup day now.”

  Tomorrow. Of course Earl was scheduled to work a one-to-five shift today, but that was a lot of fixing to do before they opened tomorrow morning. “Are the necessary parts available? Have they been delivered?”

  “With the exception of Herb Langdon’s snowblower, yes. And I called and told him the part was on back order. Earl was out sick this week so all this stuff is here, waiting. Tomorrow morning we’ll have a bunch of people coming in to pick up tools that most likely won’t be ready.”