Coming Home for Christmas

by Fern Michaels

  They hurried inside the main offices because even though the sun was out, the temperatures were still in the teens.

  “We’re having lunch in Patrick’s office. I told him to order in from The Lodge,” Melanie explained.

  “I don’t know why I agreed to this, but remind me when we leave to wring your neck.”

  Melanie tapped on Patrick’s door, then opened it before he had a chance to tell them to come inside.

  Just as she had commanded, there was a table set for two, an exquisite crystal vase with one single yellow rose, and a bottle of Cristal chilling in a bucket of ice.

  Stephanie glanced at Patrick, then back at her friend turned harridan. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

  “It isn’t,” Melanie said. “Enjoy lunch.”

  She hurried out of the office before Stephanie even had a chance to ask what was going on. She saw the table, the rose, and the champagne.

  “Please, come in and have a seat.” Patrick motioned to the chairs, which Stephanie recognized from The Lodge.

  “Just so you know, I’m not here because I want to be. Melanie seems to think this is . . . I don’t know what she thinks, but let’s just get this over with.”

  “You sound like you’re headed for the guillotine.”

  “It’s probably not as bad,” she responded, then sat down in the chair Patrick pulled out for her. Surprise, surprise. She didn’t know he had manners.

  “You can tell me that when I’m finished with what I have to say. I took the liberty of telling Jack to wait on our food. You might not want to be in the same room with me when I say what I need to say, something I should’ve said a long time ago, and I would have if I’d had the guts to admit it to myself. But better late than never, so here it is.”

  “Look, if it’s about my job, I probably shouldn’t have walked out the way I did. I was just so worried about Amanda and Ashley, then you made that comment about . . . well, you know what you said. I was embarrassed and just wanted to leave. So if you’re going to apologize, then fine. I accept.”

  “Actually, this isn’t about your job at all. As a matter of fact, it has nothing to do with this place.” He took a deep breath, raked his hand through his dark locks, then took another deep breath. “I come from a very large Irish family. I have three younger sisters and four older brothers, and my sisters have three sons and two, uh, one daughter. My brothers have a number of children also, but this is about my sisters and their children and me. About how it’s my job to protect them.”

  “Okayyy,” Stephanie said, still unsure what this was all about.

  “This is hard, okay?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Two years ago, my sister and her husband lost their daughter, Shannon.”

  “I’m so sorry, Patrick, I had no idea.” Stephanie still didn’t know where this was leading, but she was calmer, knowing it had something to do with his family. Family she could handle.

  “She was seventeen.... She had this rare blood thing called TTP. She died the day she was supposed to graduate from high school. Our family hasn’t been the same since. I haven’t been the same since. It’s been a nightmare for my sister, and their younger daughter, Abby. It took about a year before the shock wore off. I . . . This isn’t coming out the way I want it to.”

  Patrick reached for her hand, and her first thought was to pull hers away, but when she saw the look in his blue eyes, she stopped herself. Sadness blanketed his face.

  “I swore that I would never allow myself to get in a situation that would make me suffer a loss as great as Shannon’s death. I saw what my sister went through, what she’ll go through for the rest of her life, what I couldn’t protect her and my oldest niece, my parents’ oldest grandchild from, and I decided that wasn’t the life for me. If I didn’t get too close to anyone, I wouldn’t get hurt. Typical cliché, but true. Then you and your girls came along. I tried not to like you, I tried not to like your daughters, but that’s impossible. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you this without putting my foot in my mouth, or ticking you off, and as luck would have it, Melanie called and told me what I knew but wouldn’t admit to.”

  “When did Melanie become such an authority on everyone?”

  “She’s observant, and she’s smart. A little mouthier than usual, but I’m glad she chose me to use as an example. What I’m trying to say is I have very, very strong feelings for you, and your girls. Do you think it would be possible to give me another chance to do things the right way?”

  This was the last conversation she’d ever expected to have that day. And with Patrick, of all people. So there was a heart beating inside that massive chest after all. Stephanie grinned.

  “I suppose I could, but there would have to be conditions.”

  “Anything you say,” Patrick agreed, then squeezed her hand.

  “Anything?” Stephanie asked.

  “Whatever it takes,” he said, his eyes boring into her as though it were the first time he’d actually looked at her.

  “Let’s hit the double black diamonds, first,” Stephanie said, feeling more lighthearted than she had in years. She actually felt like having fun for a change. She didn’t worry about the girls because she did trust Melanie even though she had told her she shouldn’t. That day Stephanie was simply going to enjoy being in the company of a man she thought was the sexiest boss alive.

  Patrick stood up, pulled out her chair, then took her in his arms. “I haven’t even kissed you.”

  “Then let’s not waste another minute,” Stephanie said just before his lips met hers.

  Epilogue

  Christmas Eve

  The knock at the door sent both girls racing to answer it. Melanie was stopping by to bring them their gifts. They’d been acting like two Mexican jumping beans ever since she told them.

  “Girls, let’s remember our manners,” Stephanie said.

  Both girls slowed down and opened the door.

  “You’re not Melanie,” Amanda said.

  “Amanda, that’s rude!” Ashley said, stepping aside to allow Patrick to come in out of the cold. “We’re trying to teach her manners, but I think it’s going to take a long time.”

  “I’m still learning myself. It just takes some people longer than others,” Patrick replied.

  “Patrick, I thought you were Melanie,” Stephanie said, though she wasn’t unhappy that it was him. They’d been out four times in less than two weeks. He wasn’t the man she’d thought; he was more. Loving, funny, and kind. He had the patience of a saint where the girls were concerned. She’d never been happier.

  “Yeah, speaking of Melanie, she called me and told me she couldn’t make it until later, something about her car. Said she wanted me to give you this.” Patrick reached inside his leather jacket and pulled out a thick manila envelope.

  “Oh, that must be the gift she wanted to give to the girls.”

  “I’m sure of it. Why don’t you open it?” Patrick asked as he invited himself to sit at the small table in the tiny kitchen.

  “Well, it’s not for me,” Stephanie said. She was surprised that Melanie hadn’t wrapped the girls’ gifts since she knew how much they loved shiny paper and fancy ribbons. But maybe she hadn’t had time.

  “Actually, Melanie said it was for you and the girls, so I think it’s okay to go ahead and open it.”

  By that time both girls were hanging all over Patrick. He lifted Amanda onto his right knee and Ashley onto his left. “Go on, Mommy, open it!” Amanda said.

  “Oh, all right, but I wish she hadn’t . . . Well, okay, I’ll just open it.” Stephanie had knitted a sweater and matching scarf for Melanie and a hat and gloves for Patrick. She had been hesitant to dip into the deposit money, which had been returned to her after the purchase of the house fell through, so gifts from her this Christmas were handmade.

  She used a fingernail to open the top of the envelope. She pulled out several official-looking papers. She skimmed through them, looked ove
r at Patrick, who had her girls sitting on his lap as though they’d been doing that their entire life.

  She looked at the papers again. And again. Then it finally hit her.

  Melanie’s gift to her. Tears filled her eyes and coursed down her cheeks like a waterfall. She could hardly speak. She thought she must be dreaming. But it was what it was. She didn’t know how it was possible, but somehow, some way, Melanie’s gift to her and the girls was the deed to an unencumbered piece of property, the little house in Placerville.

  “This is the best present we’ve ever gotten, right, Patrick?” Amanda asked.

  They all laughed as the girls told their mother about Melanie’s surprise and how it was possible. And how Melanie had said that, for the first time in her life, she knew the true joy of Christmas giving.

  And a surprise it was, a complete and utter surprise.

  For the first time in her life, Stephanie and the girls would truly have a home of their own, thanks to the incredible generosity of a loving friend.

  Fern Michaels Talks About Christmas

  Recently, Fern Michaels took time out of her busy day to chat with her editor at Kensington and share her thoughts with you about Christmas—why she loves writing stories set during the holiday season, and some of her own memories and cherished traditions from Christmases over the years. We hope you enjoy getting to know a little bit more about one of America’s most beloved storytellers, Fern Michaels.

  Fern, you have written at least a dozen Christmas novels and novellas over the years. Is there something about this particular holiday that especially inspires you?

  I’ve always thought Christmas was the happiest time of the year, not just the one day but the entire Christmas season. Everything is so festive, so colorful, and people just seem to treat each other nicer. And of course the kids—that’s what makes Christmas Christmas . . . the joy in their eyes, the excitement. I remember when I was little I would get so excited I’d make myself sick. My mother used to block off the days on the calendar so I wouldn’t know exactly which day it was. And of course there is the spiritual side to Christmas that I truly enjoy. Personally, I couldn’t ask for anything more perfect.

  Do you have a favorite Christmas story?

  No, sorry to say I don’t have one single favorite. However, I do love the poem “Twas the Night Before Christmas,” by Clement Clarke Moore. I used to know the words by heart. Somewhere in my attic I have my first coloring book set to the words of “Twas the Night Before Christmas.” It was a sorry mess because I wasn’t old enough to color inside the lines. Does that count?

  Ha! It sure does. Does it help to write holiday fiction around Christmastime, or can you write it anytime of year?

  No, I can write it anytime. I usually burn a balsam candle and if I’m writing it in the summer I play Christmas music. Sometimes it helps and sometimes it doesn’t. But you know, when the publisher wants the manuscript, I have to make it happen!

  That’s true, and we sure do appreciate it! How is writing a shorter story or novella different from writing a longer, full-length novel?

  Ohhhh, I find it much harder to write short stories. I’m a wordy person and it’s hard to condense everything I want to say into shorter paragraphs and still get it all out. I’m not good at it and it takes me twice as long to do a novella than it does an actual novel, believe it or not.

  At least two of your holiday novellas involve skiing. Are you a skier, or does skiing just make for a good wintertime story element?

  I love to ski. But that was back in the day. I have arthritis now and no longer do it. My kids all go to Utah and other places to ski, so I live vicariously through them with their tales. I do miss it, though, more so now that I live in a warmer climate with no snow.

  Your holiday novel Christmas at Timberwoods takes on the darker side of Christmas, with a disgruntled mall Santa and his plans to wreak havoc at a busy shopping center. Was there a specific incident or news story that sparked this idea?

  There was, but for the life of me I can’t remember what it was at this moment. I might remember around this time next year. I seem to recall plucking something from the headlines at that time. But it only takes the smallest hint of an idea to send my imagination off and running—so the story I end up with doesn’t bear any resemblance to whatever the story was that inspired it.

  There’s often a romance or romantic element in your holiday fiction. Why does Christmas tend to bring couples together?

  That’s true, but I don’t have the answer. I think people are more giving of themselves during the holidays, thinking about others, thinking about family. There’s something magical about Christmas—hopes, dreams, sugarplums, mistletoe, that kind of thing. Maybe the word I’m searching for here is it’s a time of expectation. And if you’re single, the expectation may be to find someone to love.

  What do you remember most about your own childhood Christmases?

  Snow up to my knees, sled riding, a Christmas tree so fragrant you could smell it all the way upstairs, trying to find where Mom hid the gifts. The excitement of trying to guess what would be under the tree. Oh, so many memories . . .

  Did you often receive books for Christmas as a child? If so, do you remember any favorite titles?

  Yes! I got so many books. Nancy Drew and the Bobbsey Twins, along with the Hardy Boys and Cherry Ames. I saved them all, and then at some point my mother gave them all away. . . . Then one day I got an e-mail from some lady who said she was the one my mother gave the books to. She asked me if I wanted them back. I would have driven night and day to get them back, but she was kind enough to send them to me. I wish you could see my signature inside. Made me laugh for days.

  Are there traditions from those Christmases that you still keep today?

  No, not really. We made up our own as we went along. We do Christmas Eve as opposed to Christmas Day. We all go to midnight mass, have the big dinner, the gift opening, check out everyone’s special ornament on the tree, go down memory lane with all the macaroni ornaments that are basically just glue holding them together. I wouldn’t part with any of them for the finest blown-glass ornaments. We laugh a lot and sing “Jingle Bells,” all off-key, of course, and the dogs go running to hide.

  Are there things from your childhood Christmases that you deliberately changed for your own children?

  No, not deliberately. I sort of let them find the way each year, and our own traditions developed gradually with all the kids’ different personalities. With five kids it was really interesting.

  Can you tell us about how you and your family celebrate Christmas today?

  Oh, dear, that’s a tough one. Actually, we now go away. My youngest daughter died the day after Christmas unexpectedly several years ago and none of us could bear to be home with all the memories. We’ve been talking about maybe trying to do it at home this coming year. As the time grows closer, we will decide.

  Do you often give books as Christmas presents?

  Absolutely. I am the booksellers’ best customer. People get them whether they like it or not.

  The holidays are oftentimes stressful for people. How do you balance writing, holiday preparations, shopping, and family celebrations at this busy time of year?

  It used to all just somehow fall into place. These days I don’t do that much, to my own sorrow. Perhaps this year. I just don’t know. . . .

  We understand you are an excellent cook. Do you have any favorite holiday recipes you’d like to share with your readers?

  I like to think I’m a good cook. I took a gourmet cooking class years ago and tried everything out on my kids. The end result: This is okay, but don’t make it again. We have pretty plain palates. Okay, rum balls are my specialty, and no, I am not going to give out this recipe!

  Ooh, we’re going to keep after you for that one! Thanks so much for sharing your time and thoughts about Christmas. We wish you and your family a wonderful holiday season, and please keep writing the stories we love to read!

&nbs
p; If you love Fern Michaels’s Christmas stories as well as her other bestselling books, you won’t want to miss her brand-new novel, set on the Eve of Christmas but taking a slightly darker look at the season and what might happen when not everyone is feeling merry and bright.... Turn the page for a special preview of:

  Christmas at Timberwoods

  A Zebra paperback on sale now!

  Chapter One

  Timberwoods Mall was ablaze with Christmas cheer. Busy shoppers fought their way from store to store with good-natured directness; garlands of evergreens hung from on high, artificially scented to add to the delicious atmosphere of the holidays. The glittering displays, the noisy fun of the puppet shows and animated seasonal displays, the Christmas train that carried its young passengers in a wide circle around the promenade level, and the general feeling of goodwill and peace on earth were all enhanced by the piped-in Christmas carols.

  Heather Andrews, head security manager, turned away, feeling a little overwhelmed. She left the high balcony where she’d been keeping an eye on the crowds and retreated to the relative calm of her office to make herself some coffee. The ritual of making it was soothing, even though the caffeine jolt she was after would be the exact opposite.