Their Mistletoe Matchmakers

by Keli Gwyn

  “That we will, Mr. Hawthorn.”

  Once outside, Henry took charge. “I’ll carry you, Dot, since it’s slippery out.” He hefted her onto his left hip and offered Lavinia his right arm. “If you’ll hold on to me, we can be off.”

  She adjusted her scarf and wrapped her hands around his elbow. “Brr. That wind is brisk.”

  “Sure is.” Not that he minded. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman at his side, but Lavinia wasn’t just any woman. Bright, beautiful and a mite bull-headed at times, she kept life interesting and him on his toes, figuring out ways to show her that the children weren’t lacking, as she seemed to think they were, while granting her due respect at the same time. Not an easy task, but he relished a challenge.

  He left Main and headed west down Spanish Street toward the white clapboard schoolhouse. He shortened his stride to accommodate Lavinia’s. With the high-heeled emerald green boots she wore today, the trek would be challenging. “Are you doing all right?”

  “I’m fine. For the most part.”

  What was that supposed to mean? “Do we need to slow down?”

  “No. It’s not that. It’s the surprise I was just dealt at Mr. Staple’s shop. I didn’t want to believe what you told me, but I saw for myself what I’m up against. I’ll handle it, though.”

  He pitied Gladys. The older woman had finally found some happiness, but judging by the set of Lavinia’s lovely features, it appeared Gladys’s budding romance would be cut short.

  They made it to the schoolhouse without mishap, picked up Alex and Marcie and were back on Main Street a few minutes later. Lavinia led the way toward Benedict’s building.

  Marcie squeezed between him and Lavinia. “Where are we going, Aunt Livy?”

  “To see the hall where I’ll be hosting a party.”

  “A party?” Marcie peppered her aunt with questions. “When? Where? Do we get to come?”

  “Friday after next, that building with the bench out front, and of course, you may come. You, Alex and Dot are the reason for it.”

  “We are? Why?”

  Henry’s gut clenched. If Marcie was this excited about the party without even knowing what Lavinia had planned, how would the outgoing girl react when she learned more about the lavish event her aunt had in mind? Would she be tempted by the luxurious lifestyle Lavinia could provide and feel like she’d be missing out?

  “I thought you might like to see what Christmas was like when your mother was your age.” They’d reached the door to the building. Lavinia pulled the key out of her handbag and slipped it in the lock.

  Marcie stood at one of the windows, cupped her hands and peered into the vacant building. “Why will the party be here? This place hasn’t been open in ages.”

  “The meeting hall inside will hold all the guests I’ll be inviting. Wait until you see it. There are beautiful chandeliers, lovely brocade draperies and a floor that’s been polished until it gleams in the lamplight, which would make it good for dancing.”

  “Dancing?” Alex scoffed. “Who wants to do that? Not me.”

  Henry stifled a laugh. His prediction of Alex’s reaction had been on the mark. “Don’t worry, Buddy. Your aunt assured me there won’t be any dancing.”

  “Good. I don’t want to get that close to a girl.” He gave an exaggerated shudder.

  “Believe it or not, you won’t always feel that way.” Lavinia stepped into the lobby and held the door open. “Come along now.”

  Marcie and Alex clomped inside. Henry followed, ducking to make sure his top hat cleared the head jamb.

  “Follow me.” Lavinia crossed the lobby, passed through another door and traveled down a dusty corridor.

  Dot sneezed. “This place tickles my nose.”

  “I’m sorry about that. Here you go.” Lavinia handed Dot a lace-edged handkerchief and continued until she reached a door with a plaque bearing the words Meeting Hall. She opened it, revealing a large room cast in shadows. “It’s dark, so I’ll open the drapes. Wait here.”

  No sooner had Lavinia left than three pairs of eyes locked on Henry. Alex looked doubtful, Marcie curious and Dot irritated.

  Marcie peered up at Henry. “Aunt Livy said she’s having her party here to show us what Mama did when she was a girl, but Mama didn’t have parties in big ol’ places like this, did she?”

  He debated how much to say. He might as well be forthcoming since Lavinia would tell them herself. “She did, actually. Her father has a big house with a ballroom, and he holds a Christmas party in it every year.”

  Alex’s jaw dropped. “Mama’s house had a room this big?”

  “Yes.” From what Lavinia had said, it was twice as large, but he’d leave it to her to share that detail.

  Marcie’s mouth gaped. “That sounds like a palace. Was she a princess?”

  Henry smiled. “No, Muffin. Her father just has a big house.”

  “Don’t you remember, Marcie?” Alex chided. “Mama told us about him once. He owns lots of hotels, so he’s got piles of money.”

  “She didn’t say that!”

  “She did, too.” Alex scuffed a boot over the carpet runner. “Well, not the money part, but if he has all those hotels and a great big house, he must be rich.”

  Footfalls signaled Lavinia’s approach. “Who are you talking about?”

  Henry chose his words carefully. “They were asking about the parties you and your mother enjoyed as girls, and one thing led to another.”

  Marcie gazed at Lavinia. “Uncle Henry said you don’t live in a palace, but Alex said if your house has a room this big, your papa must be rich. Is he?”

  “My father has worked very hard and has done well for himself, but it wasn’t always that way. When he was a boy, he had to put newspaper in his shoes because he’d worn holes through the soles.”

  “He was poor?” Alex asked.

  Lavinia nodded. “That’s why he’s worked so hard.” She gazed into the room now filled with light. “He wanted your mama and me to have nice things.”

  “You do.” Marcie glanced at her aunt’s outfit and dropped her gaze to the floor, where the toes of Lavinia’s boots peeked out from beneath the hem of her gown. “I only have one pair of boots, but you have five.”

  Lavinia opened her mouth but closed it without speaking. She reached back to massage her neck.

  Dot shifted in Henry’s arms. “Are you mad, Aunt Livy?”

  “No, sweetie. I was just remembering a time when your mother and I took off our boots in the ballroom and went skating.”

  “Skating?” Alex asked. “What do you mean?”

  “In Philadelphia, the rivers and lakes freeze over in the winter. We wear skates with sharp blades on the bottoms and glide over the ice, like so.” She modeled the basic forward movement. Due to the recent waxing she’d requested when she first offered to rent the place and her smooth leather soles, she could move with relative ease.

  “When your mama and I were young, our friends invited us to join them. We wanted to go, but our mother thought ice skating would be too dangerous. We took off our boots and skated over the ballroom floor in our stocking feet instead. Your mama got going so fast that she took a tumble and did three somersaults before coming to a stop.”

  “Did she get hurt?” Leave it to cautious Alex to think of that.

  Lavinia shook her head. “I think she got a couple of bumps, but she didn’t care. She started laughing, and I joined in. We laughed so hard that we stopped making any noise.”

  “I’m going skating!” Marcie plopped down on the floor and removed a boot. She dropped it with a thud and started on the second.

  “I wanna skate, too. Put me down, Uncle Henry. Please.”

  He deposited Dot on the floor, knelt and helped her take off her shoes. He glanced over his
shoulder at Alex. “How about you, Buddy? We can’t let the girls have all the fun, can we?”

  A slow smile spread across his nephew’s face. “No, Uncle Henry, we can’t. Are you going to skate, too, Aunt Livy?”

  Henry paused. He wasn’t above applying some pressure if it would help Lavinia relax and enjoy herself. She might even release her musical laugh and favor him with another smile or two. “Yes, Lavinia. You need to join us. After all, this was your idea.”

  He’d issued the challenge. How would she respond?

  Chapter Six

  The meeting-room-turned-skating rink faded as images from the past swirled through Lavinia’s mind with dizzying speed. Pauline sprawled across the ballroom floor laughing until tears streamed down her cheeks. Sneaking into her sister’s bedroom in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm and listening to stories that Pauline dreamed up to chase away their fears. Waving to Pauline, a newly married woman, as Jack’s wagon lumbered down the road, leaving Philadelphia—and a grieving younger sister—behind.

  Oh, Pauline. I miss you so much.

  Marcie slid over to Lavinia, her skirts swishing as she skated. “You have to play, too, Aunt Livy. It’s fun. See?” Her niece raised her arms over her head and spun in a tight circle.

  With Marcie’s head thrown back and laughter bubbling out of her, she looked so much like Pauline that Lavinia couldn’t keep from smiling. “You’re definitely your mother’s daughter.”

  Marcie came to a stop and held out her hands to steady herself. “Of course I am. She liked to have fun, and so do I. Are you gonna have some, too?”

  “I’m having fun watching you.”

  “That’s not fun. That’s boring. I’m going to skate.” Marcie darted off toward her siblings.

  Henry’s sweeping strides brought him to Lavinia’s side quickly. “I’d imagine seeing Marcie like this brings back memories.”

  Lavinia nodded.

  “You’ve succeeded in your mission then.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Henry held out a hand toward the children. “You wanted them to see what their mother’s life was like, and they are.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I want them to see how we celebrated Christmas.”

  “And they will, but isn’t this just as important?”

  Before she could answer, Dot barreled toward her. Lavinia braced herself for the impact.

  “Why aren’t you skating, Aunt Livy?”

  “It’s not la—” She caught herself just in time. How many times had her mother kept her daughters from enjoying themselves by exerting pressure on them to behave in a ladylike manner? Too many. Pauline hadn’t let their mother’s gentle rebukes keep her from having fun. Her sister had embraced life with gusto as her children were doing now.

  “It’s not what?” Dot asked.

  “It’s not...something I’ve done in a long time.”

  Alex drew up alongside her. “If you’re scared of falling, you could hold on to Uncle Henry.”

  She glanced at Henry and had to fight to keep her composure. A challenge, along with something that looked a lot like attraction, dwelled in his clear blue eyes. The combination was irresistible—and disturbing. “I can manage on my own.”

  Alex smiled. “Then you’re going to do it?”

  Marcie rushed over, and the three children lifted expectant faces. “I will.”

  “Goody!” Dot clapped.

  Lavinia couldn’t bring herself to look at Henry. Instead, she headed for the nearest window and closed the gap between the lacy curtains that had been hidden beneath the brocade drapes. The thin fabric let in the light, but it would keep those outside from witnessing her breach of etiquette. She took a seat on a nearby bench, removed her boots and wiggled her toes. Such freedom. She hadn’t walked around in her stocking feet since she was a girl, and yet here she was prepared to slide across the meeting room floor.

  She stood and slid a foot forward slowly, tentatively. Nice and slippery. No wonder the children could zip about with such ease. She’d have to be careful or she could take a tumble just as Pauline had that December day so long ago. She removed her coat and hat, leaving them, her gloves and her reticule filled with the notes she’d taken at Mr. Price’s office on the bench, and set off across the floor with a gentle swaying motion.

  The years melted away, and she was back in the ballroom with Pauline. Lavinia could almost smell the invigorating scent of the fir tree that the servants had set up in anticipation of her father’s first Christmas party, although they had yet to do the decorating. It was ’42, the year she’d turned ten. When he’d heard about Queen Victoria and Prince Albert setting up a tree for their family the year before, her father had planned to embrace the new custom, which he’d done in his usual grand style, importing ornaments from Germany for the occasion.

  Lavinia and Pauline had slipped away from their governess, eager to see the tree. No sooner were they in the ballroom than Pauline peeled off her boots and began skating. At her sister’s urging, Lavinia had enjoyed a gleeful few minutes slipping and sliding and spinning over the floor.

  Shoving her memories aside, she turned, began sliding backward and prepared for a jump. She lifted off, arms flung wide and hit something solid. Henry. He managed to remain standing, but she ended up seated on the floor, her stocking feet clearly visible beneath her splayed skirts, a most unladylike pose.

  Henry was on his knees beside her in an instant. “Are you all right?”

  She was mortified but uninjured. “I’m fine.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He straightened, offered her a hand and helped her to her feet, sending a rush of warmth surging through her. “I didn’t expect you to fall all over yourself in your attempt to best me.”

  She stood there, staring up at him. When he smiled like that, with merriment dancing in his bright blue eyes, she had a hard time forming coherent thoughts. She pulled her hand free and said the first thing that came to her mind. “I didn’t expect you to be there.”

  The irritating man grinned. “I have a knack of showing up when you least expect it, don’t I?”

  Indeed. “I think I’ll focus on going forward.” And avoiding any more confusing collisions with Henry that caused her traitorous heart to race.

  Not that she was smitten. He was just being nice. There was nothing between them—and never could be.

  * * *

  Nine years had passed since Henry had bent over a forge and made his living as a blacksmith. Standing at Jack’s the following day with hammer in hand while awaiting another possible buyer sent a flood of memories rushing though Henry’s mind.

  He’d spent his first months in Sutter Creek working on the railings and fence for Jack and Pauline’s house, receiving room and board in exchange. Since Jack had used the forge by day, Henry had worked at night. He’d learned to sleep during the daylight hours, despite the many noises that came with having a baby in the house. Thankfully, Alex hadn’t cried as much as Marcie. She’d made her presence known from the start.

  How quickly the children had grown up. Dot would be heading off to school before he knew it. Until then, he could use the money from the sale of the smithy to cover the household expenses. The loss of Jack and Pauline had driven home the fact that life was fleeting. He intended to spend as much time as possible with the children. Once they were all in school, he could figure out what his next venture would be.

  As hard as it would be to part with the business Jack had poured ten years of his life into, the last thing Henry wanted was to take up the trade again. He was a good smith, but he’d spent more than enough time dealing with the stifling heat, sore muscles and deeply embedded grime. He set down the hammer, held out his hands and flipped them over. They were no longer stained, and he wanted to keep them that way.

  He�
��d offered a hand to help Lavinia get back on her feet after she’d taken that tumble during their skating adventure, and she hadn’t hesitated to take it. She’d kept hers in his for several seconds while she gazed at him with admiration. At least, that’s what he liked to think. It was more likely that she’d just been embarrassed or flustered.

  The possibility of Lavinia Crowne being attracted to him was laughable. He wasn’t in her social class. She’d probably end up choosing one of the suitable men her father picked out for her, like that Stuart Worthington fellow, and be content with a companionable marriage, but she deserved so much more. She deserved a man who saw her for the loving, caring, generous woman she was, not one who was eager to increase his bank account by becoming the heir to the Crowne hotel empire. A man who would respect her, cherish her and challenge her to be the woman God made her to be, free of constraints.

  For the first time in his life, Henry wished he had more to offer.

  Lord, help me be content with what I have and not pine after what is out of reach.

  He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. Five after nine. The potential buyer should have been there by now. What was keeping him?

  Ten more minutes passed before the door creaked open. Finally. He’d begun to wonder if Mr. Dealy had changed his mind.

  “I’m sorry I’m late, Mr. Hawthorn. Old Gus over at the barbershop was moving his jaw faster than his scissors.”

  Henry chuckled. “He does like to talk. Are you ready to look around?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Because of Dealy’s barrage of questions, the tour took the better part of an hour. The muscular young man, who was all of twenty years old, had a good grasp of the trade and all it entailed. Not having owned a shop of his own before, though, he was understandably curious about the business aspects, which Henry appreciated. He took his time explaining all that went into running a successful smithy.

  At length, Dealy seemed satisfied. He leaned back against the forge that hadn’t been fired up since Jack was alive and folded his arms. “I want the place.”