Love for the Holidays (five book Christmas bundle)

by Noelle Adams

  “I was going to Clarksburg too. My dad usually stays there over the holidays.”

  “Where does he normally live?”

  “In D.C.”

  “Do you always come see your dad at Christmas?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about your kids?”

  Cyrus frowned. “What kids?”

  “Don’t you have kids?”

  “No, I don’t have kids.”

  He seemed a little annoyed, so Helen felt bad for the question. Maybe it was a sore spot. “Does your wife want kids?”

  “I’m not married.”

  “Oh. Why not? Don’t you want a family?”

  “Maybe. Later on. How old do you think I am?”

  “You’re not old?”

  “I’m not even eighteen!”

  “Oh.” Helen stared at him in surprise. “I thought you were a lot older.” All the men she knew who had beards and dressed up like him were old.

  His lips pressed together tightly. “Evidently.”

  She peered at him for a minute, but decided he wasn’t really mad at her. “Why are you dressed up if you’re not old?” Teachers always tried to tell her that questions like that were rude, but she just had never cared. If she had a question, she asked it.

  He shrugged again. “My dad likes people to dress appropriately for Christmas dinner.”

  “Oh. Why are you named Cyrus?”

  “My dad likes ancient history. Cyrus conquered an empire a few thousand years ago.”

  “Does he want you to conquer an empire?”

  He made another huff that sounded almost like laughter, but not quite. “A business empire. Maybe.”

  She didn’t really understand that, so she just ignored it. “Where do you live?”

  “D.C. I go to college there.”

  Helen was about to say something, but a shiver caught her by surprise and she made a silly chattering noise with her teeth.

  Cyrus pulled off his long black coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was nice and warm. He had a gray dress shirt and a soft black blazer on, so she hoped he wouldn’t be too cold without his coat.

  “I’m ten,” she told him, thinking it was only fair since he’d told her how old he was.

  “Are you? You look a lot younger. I thought maybe you were just six or seven.”

  She made a face at him, horribly offended by this slight to her age and dignity. Then she saw his mouth turn up a little, and she realized he was teasing her. She stuck out her tongue.

  She wasn’t sure what he would have said in response, since she just then heard the long-expected sirens.

  The ambulance had finally arrived.

  ***

  Helen’s new guardian lived in a big stone house that was almost like a castle. She loved it right away.

  She’d gone in the ambulance to the hospital and had her head bandaged. A doctor had told her she would be fine. Niko was all right too, although he was still in the hospital getting his leg fixed. All of her stuff was stuck in the car, which was going to get towed away.

  The only thing she cared about was her father’s sweatshirt. She really hoped it was all right.

  At the hospital, she had explained to the police who she was and where she was going. A little while later one of them drove her out to the big house, and a friendly housekeeper had shown her to her room. It was a very nice room with a pretty bed and a big window, but whoever had fixed it up had thought she liked frilly dolls and stuffed animals. There weren’t even very many books.

  She shrugged it off, though. Mr. Mac had fixed up a girly room like this for her at first too, and she’d gradually gotten rid of all the stuff she didn’t want and filled it with stuff she did.

  She’d met Mr. Owen when she’d first come into the house. He was tall with gray hair, and he’d peered down at her like she was a curiosity as he’d said hello. She wasn’t sure what she thought about him yet.

  She stared out her window and liked the look of the woods beyond the wide lawn. She would explore it as soon as she could, when it stopped snowing. She also wanted to look around the house, and she decided she didn’t need to wait for that.

  She looked into dozens of rooms, but all of them were boring. Then she finally got to a huge library with a big fireplace and stained glass windows and cool-looking stairs that led up to more books and an absolutely enormous Christmas tree.

  She peered around for a while, deciding this was her favorite, and finally pulled herself away to go downstairs.

  She didn’t see anyone, and she wondered if Mr. Owen had left to go somewhere. She found the housekeeper in the kitchen, and the nice lady said Mr. Owen was talking to his son in the front parlor.

  “I didn’t know he had a boy,” Helen said, perking up a little.

  “Cyrus, his son, is in college.”

  “Cyrus is Mr. Owen’s son?”

  When this was confirmed, Helen hurried in the direction the housekeeper had indicated. She reached a closed door and was about to open it, but then she heard voices and stopped to listen.

  “Damn it, Dad, this is ridiculous! Why the hell did you agree to be this girl’s guardian?” That voice sounded like Cyrus.

  “Mackenzie was a friend of mine. He was a distant relative of her father, and he took on her guardianship when her parents’ died four years ago. Mackenzie specifically requested that I take on his responsibilities when he died. Why should I refuse?”

  “Because you’ll be utterly incompetent at it. She’s just a little girl. You have no idea how to take care of a girl.”

  “She has a nanny who takes care of her. I guess the nanny has some vacation days at Christmas, but she’ll be coming out next week. I believe little Miss Coleman is an independent child who is used to being left to her own devices. I’m certainly as capable as Mackenzie of being her guardian.”

  “Just because she’s used to it doesn’t mean it’s in her best interests. What are you going to do with her?”

  “She’ll be in school, and her nanny can pick up the rest of the slack. Would you prefer I let her take her chances with the foster system? She’s already ten. It’s not an age where children are likely to be adopted into loving families.”

  Mr. Owen’s voice was cool and distant. He sounded very smart. Helen could hear it in his voice.

  Cyrus, on the other hand, sounded very mad. “Why the hell would Mackenzie think you’d be a good guardian? Didn’t he know a woman to leave her with, someone who might have a few maternal feelings for the poor kid?”

  “It’s a unique situation. Miss Coleman is an heiress now. Mackenzie bequeathed to her his entire fortune. It will be held in trust for her until she’s twenty-one. He was very concerned about her being taken advantage of by a guardian who would misuse her inheritance.”

  “So why did he assume you wouldn’t want her fortune?”

  “Her fortune is substantial to most people, but it’s a pittance compared to mine. I have no use for her money. Mackenzie knew that.”

  “You have no use for her at all. Are you planning to just go about your business as usual and ignore her existence?”

  “I’ll ensure she’s taken care of and that her inheritance is preserved for when she’s old enough to claim it. That’s the extent of my responsibility. She has a nanny to coddle her, if she needs it.”

  “This is absolutely insane,” Cyrus muttered. After a pause, he added, “It’s Christmas Eve. Did you plan anything special for her?”

  “I bought a gift for her. It’s over there.”

  There was the sound of footsteps and then some rustling she couldn’t identify.

  Then Cyrus burst out angrily, “A Renaissance dagger? You got a ten-year-old girl a Renaissance dagger?”

  “It’s a woman’s dagger. Made to be hidden in a dress. It’s exquisite.”

  “She’s ten! She won’t even be able to play with it. It’s too dangerous.”

  “She’ll appreciate it when she gets older.”

  “Damn it, D
ad. I really think you’ve lost your mind, and that poor kid is going to suffer for it.”

  His voice seemed to get closer, and Helen realized he was about to leave the room. She scurried across the hall and ducked into an open room so he wouldn’t see she’d been listening.

  She heard him stomp down the hall and then heard the main door of the house slam as he left. She went to the window and watched as he got into his fancy silver car and drove away.

  She felt flustered and upset from overhearing the conversation, but she wasn’t quite sure why.

  She’d liked Mr. Mac well enough, but he’d never tried to be a father to her. It sounded like Mr. Owen would be the same way. That was fine with her. She liked Sally, her nanny. Otherwise she was used to taking care of herself. She didn’t want someone to try to boss her around anyway.

  She didn’t know why Cyrus was getting so mad about it.

  She wished he hadn’t left without saying goodbye. She’d liked him. He’d seemed nice.

  But it was no big deal. People either left or died. She was used to it.

  She did some more exploring—finding a basement packed full of fascinating knick-knacks that would take her weeks to investigate. Then she ended up in the TV room, where she found a huge collection of movies.

  It was Christmas Eve, so she started to look for one movie in particular.

  She searched the collection for about ten minutes, kneeling on the floor sticking her head into the cabinet so she could scan the back rows.

  “Hey, kid,” a voice came from behind her.

  She was so startled by the unexpected voice that she jerked in surprise and hit her head on the shelf of the cabinet.

  “Don’t scare me like that,” she said grumpily, rubbing her head as she turned around to see Cyrus standing in the doorway.

  “Sorry,” he said, with that look in his eyes that meant he was secretly laughing. “What are you looking for?”

  “A movie,” she said sharply, since that should have been obvious. “I thought you were gone.”

  “Not for good.”

  “You were mad,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. She was glad to see him, but he was holding something behind his back, and she didn’t know what it was or why he was here again.

  “Not at you. Besides, I came all the way here. I wasn’t about to turn around and head back on Christmas Eve.”

  “Oh.” She thought about this for a minute. Then nodded, deciding it made sense. “What do you have behind your back?”

  He pulled a worn gray sweatshirt out from behind his back. “I stopped by the car place and managed to salvage this for you.”

  Helen clasped her hands at the sight of her father’s sweatshirt.

  Then she scrambled to her feet and ran over to snatch it out of Cyrus’s hand, hugging it to her chest. It smelled like a garage, but she didn’t care. She could wash it.

  “Thank you!” she gasped, looking up at Cyrus after she’d greeted the sweatshirt appropriately. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “It wasn’t any trouble. What movie were you looking for? If we don’t have it already, I’m sure we could get it for you.”

  Helen looked down at the floor, feeling kind of embarrassed for some reason. “On Christmas Eve,” she explained, “Mr. Mac always watched White Christmas, so I watched it with him. I was just seeing if you had it.”

  “The old Bing Crosby musical? We should have that somewhere. You like that movie?”

  She nodded. “It’s okay. We always watched it and had hot cider and sugar cookies. Mr. Mac would spike his cider for extra fortification.”

  She added the last bit of information since she thought it sounded impressive.

  Cyrus’s mouth turned up again, but his voice was serious when he said, “Well, you can watch that movie tonight too.”

  Helen just nodded. It wouldn’t be as fun watching it by herself. It would be nice if Cyrus would watch it with her. She’d learned not to ask for things like that, though, since so often they wouldn’t happen.

  “I can watch it with you, if you don’t mind company. I won’t have anything else to do.”

  Beaming up at him, Helen said, “I don’t mind. You can watch with me. But won’t you do something with your dad?”

  He shook his head. “We never do anything after dinner. Sometimes I even drive back to the city in the evening.”

  “What do you do if you drive back?”

  He looked a little uncomfortable, but Helen didn’t know why that might be. “Just hang out with friends. But I’m not going to drive back this evening, so I can watch the movie with you.”

  “I guess you probably don’t have hot cider and cookies.”

  “We might be able to dig something up along those lines.”

  Helen grinned at him again. “Will you spike yours?”

  “After dinner with my father, it’s entirely possible I’ll need some extra fortification.”

  For some reason, his tone of voice made her want to giggle. So she did.

  ***

  Dinner wasn’t too bad.

  Both Cyrus and Mr. Owen were dressed nice, so Helen was glad that her luggage arrived before dinner. She changed out of her dirty jeans and red sweater and put on a green turtleneck dress with snowflake tights. The food was okay. She liked the rolls and the beef and the fizzy grape juice, but the vegetables had a weird taste, and there wasn’t enough dressing on her salad. The soup was cold. Evidently, it was supposed to be cold, but she didn’t like it.

  Mr. Owen asked her a lot of questions—not like he was trying to get to know her but like he was just curious about her. She wasn’t afraid of him. He seemed like he would probably work all the time like Mr. Mac, and that was just fine with her. At least, he wouldn’t try to boss her around.

  But she was glad when dinner was over. It took a long time to get through all the different courses, and she was getting bored and tired by the end of it.

  As they were leaving the dining room, a couple of men came in the main door, carrying a lot of boxes. All the boxes were wrapped in beautiful Christmas paper and bows.

  “You can take them into the library and put them near the tree,” Cyrus told one of the men.

  Mr. Owen raised one of his eyebrows and gave Cyrus a funny look, but he didn’t say anything. Just walked away.

  “Are all those presents for your dad?” Helen asked, her eyes widening at how many there were and how pretty they were wrapped. Mr. Mac would always just give her one present.

  Cyrus laughed softly. “My dad would have a heart attack if I gave him so many presents. They’re for you.”

  “For me!” She stared at the men carrying the beautiful presents down the hall.

  “Of course. It would be a pretty bad Christmas morning if you didn’t have anything to unwrap.”

  “I have a Renaissance dagger from your dad.”

  “Did he give it to you already?”

  “No,” Helen said without thinking. “But he said—“ She broke off when she realized she wasn’t supposed to know that.

  “Done a little eavesdropping, have you?”

  She thought for a minute Cyrus might get mad, but he just shook his head and continued, “Can’t really blame you—stuck in this big house by yourself. I know how it feels.”

  She didn’t really know what he was talking about, and he seemed to almost be talking to himself. She thought it was okay if she didn’t answer.

  “Can we go watch the movie now?”

  “Yeah. Sounds like a plan. I’ll go tell someone to bring us cider and sugar cookies.”

  Helen ran to the TV room, found the movie out on a cabinet and played with the machine until she’d figured out how to turn it on. Then she grabbed a soft blanket and curled up with it in a big chair.

  She waited a few minutes but, when Cyrus didn’t appear, she got up and went to find him.

  She heard him talking before she saw him, so she paused in the hallway. It sounded like he was just around a corner.

&n
bsp; He was saying, “I know I said I might be back, but I’m not going to make it after all.”

  There was a pause, which meant he must be talking on the phone. Then he continued, “I’m sorry if you’re upset. But she’s just a kid, and she’s all alone. I feel bad for her. She’s got no one else.”

  Helen froze as she realized who he was talking about. Her.

  “I never claimed to be good with kids,” he said after another pause, now sounding a little annoyed. “But she seems to like me all right, and it’s not a flimsy excuse. We’ll go out when I get back—tomorrow or the next day. You can give me the present then.”

  Helen understood what the conversation was about. He must have a girlfriend, and she was upset because he was staying here instead of going back to the city.

  And he was feeling sorry for her.

  She was more upset than the situation warranted, and she ran back to the TV room and curled up under the blanket again. She felt kind of like she might cry, but she wasn’t going to do it.

  She never cried if she could help it.

  Cyrus didn’t have to stay with her. She’d always been fine on her own. She didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for her.

  He came into the room a few minutes later and looked at her for a minute in silence. She just stared at the blank TV.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she lied. “I decided I want to watch the movie by myself.”

  “What?” He sounded really surprised, and it upset Helen even more. “What are you talking about?”

  “I can watch the movie by myself,” she said, breathing a little heavily to keep from crying. “You can go back.”

  “I don’t want to go back. I wanted to watch the movie with you. The cider and cookies are coming. What’s wrong? What happened?”

  “Nothing happened,” Helen said, wishing he would just shut up. “I do fine on my own. I’ve always done fine on my own.”

  She wasn’t looking at him, but she felt something change in his expression. He walked over and sat down on the couch near her chair and leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “I can tell you do fine on your own, Helen, but can you put up with me for one evening?”

  A tear slipped out of her eye and streamed down her cheek. She brushed it away impatiently. “You don’t have to feel sorry for me, is all I mean.”