A Christmas Kiss

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  “Really? That’s kinda strange.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s trending. Didn’t you see it?”

  “See what? You know I don’t do the social network thing.”

  “Woman, get an account,” Jessie joked. “Anyway, it’s all over the news in hashtag format. It’s final. He sold his company for a crazy sum of money, plus stock options.”

  “And?”

  “And, it looks like the previous rumors that he was merging his company and relocating were wrong. He’s selling it, or rather he sold it.”

  “So, he doesn’t have his company anymore.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And he can stay here like he told me.”

  Jessie nodded.

  “He didn’t lie.”

  “No. But with the money he’s coming into, he can start a new company anywhere he wants, even here in Hayden.”

  Carmen shook her head. “Why didn’t’ he tell me?”

  “Because I couldn’t.” Carmen and Jessie turned. Dean stood behind them.

  “Merry Christmas and congratulations,” Jessie said to Dean, then turned to Carmen before walking away. “See you tonight at Christmas dinner. Good luck.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “The deal needed to go through before it was made public. There’s the problem with manipulations of stock. But since today is Christmas, the market is closed for the weekend, and the official announcement is Monday morning before the market opens, word leaked out prematurely. The deal is done. I signed off on it yesterday. My company has been officially sold.”

  “So you are staying in Hayden.”

  “Where else would I be? I’ve held my breath for years as a thousand random acts sent me all over this country, but it was love that brought me back here to you. How could I possibly leave here again? I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” she said.

  “So, looks like I’m out of a job. Know anybody hiring, maybe at the Stiles Bed and Breakfast?”

  She grinned. “Yeah, I think maybe we can find you something to do there.”

  “Good.”

  “Now here’s my fantasy,” she said. “Will you marry me?”

  He laughed. “Oh, sweetheart, definitely.” He grabbed her up and spun her around, then set her back down. “And I have a little something for you.” He pulled a small velvet box out of his pocket and opened it. There was a stunning single diamond stone set in the center of a double row of smaller diamonds.

  “Oh, Dean, it’s beautiful.”

  He took it out and placed it on her finger. “Merry Christmas. I love you forever.”

  “Merry Christmas. I love you forever, right back.”

  They kissed. “So what do you think about a wedding on the attic roof?” he asked.

  She laughed. “No.”

  “How about the honeymoon?”

  “No.” She laughed again.

  He pulled her into his embrace again. “I love to hear you laugh. How about anywhere you say as long as it’s here in Hayden?” She nodded. They kissed again, knowing that this was the beginning of their life together, forever.

  Mistletoe Lane

  REGINA HART

  Chapter 1

  “Picture this.” June Cale made her pitch for the Kwanzaa presentation from the threadbare seat in front of her boss’s desk at the Guiding Light Community Center. It was Monday morning, the second day of November. They were running out of time. “Saturday afternoon before Thanksgiving, our community room is set up like an auditorium. A makeshift stage is built in front of the room. Doctor Quincy Spates, professor of African American History at Trinity Falls University, stands on the stage. From a podium, he leads a free discussion on the seven values of Kwanzaa.”

  Benjamin Brooks, the center’s new director and her boss of two months, lowered his coffee mug. As usual, his handsome sienna features were hard to read, emotionless. The Iceman. “How does a free presentation raise money for the center?”

  “It’s not a fund-raiser.” June adjusted the project folder on her lap. “Doctor Spates’s discussion is a community-engagement event. The goal of this event is to help strengthen our relationship with the community, which will—hopefully—make it easier to persuade them to support the center.”

  June considered her boss’s conservative blue tie and the snow-white linen shirt that hugged his well-muscled shoulders. They both looked expensive—and out of place in the worn and faded office. Why had Benjamin Brooks really returned home to Trinity Falls?

  Like his youngest brother, Vaughn, who was a professor of music at Trinity Falls University, Benjamin Brooks was a dangerously attractive man. His dark brown hair was cut neat and close. His square jaw was clean shaven. Piercing ebony eyes beneath thick dark eyebrows dominated his chiseled features. June’s tripping pulse wasn’t all due to nerves.

  Yes, Ben Brooks is a good-looking man. But right now, I want to shake him silly.

  “Has Quincy agreed to do the Kwanzaa presentation?” Benjamin wrapped his coffee mug between his hands. Was he trying to warm them? His office was like an ice box.

  “I asked him to hold the date. But I need to confirm with him.” June’s nerves were tingling again. Benjamin was a lot less enthusiastic than she’d hoped.

  “You’re not giving him much time. Today’s November second.” Benjamin’s gaze settled somewhere behind June. She assumed he was consulting the twelve-month calendar his predecessor had posted to the wall. “The Saturday before Thanksgiving is November twenty-first, less than three weeks away.”

  “If you approve of the idea, I’ll invite him today.” June waited for him to say the words.

  June had approached Quincy when she’d started her position as deputy director and fund-raising manager in August. He’d agreed to hold the date. However, she hadn’t wanted to confirm the event until her new boss had settled in after his September start date. With one center crisis after another, time had slipped away and the November date had rushed up on her.

  “What else do you have?” Benjamin settled back on his gray cushioned chair. He seemed underwhelmed.

  June regrouped. “Picture this. The community room transformed into a winter wonderland. Traditional Christmas dishes and desserts served in a winding buffet line while Christmas carols and secular pop songs provide music for a dinner dance.” June saw it in her mind’s eye. The image made her smile.

  “Didn’t a special community fund-raising committee just host a party for the center?” Again, Benjamin appeared less than impressed.

  “That was in January. It was a twentieth anniversary party for the center.” June had heard around town that the event had been an incredible success.

  “We shouldn’t host a fund-raising party in January, then another in December. That’s overkill.” Tension seemed to hover around Benjamin like a cloud. Why?

  “Going forward, I think we should host a Christmas dinner dance. Then, the center’s anniversary in January could be our annual online day of giving.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Giving Tuesdays and The Big Give are national examples of days of giving. We’ll focus all our energies on one day, the center’s birthday, and ask people to either make a donation online or mail a check. I’m working on a process for the project.”

  “It sounds like a good idea.” Benjamin nodded as he sipped more coffee.

  “Great. Then I’ll move forward with the Christmas dinner dance.” The anxious butterflies in her stomach settled down.

  “I don’t want to do a Christmas celebration.” Benjamin waved a hand, dismissing June’s proposal. “Everyone’s doing that.”

  “Who else is doing a Christmas fund-raiser?” June searched her mind but couldn’t think of a single organization in Trinity Falls that was doing a similar event.

  “Books and Bakery.”

  “Megan hosts a Christmas-themed store event similar to her Halloween party and story time. But it’s not a fund-raiser.”
Megan McCloud was the owner of Books & Bakery. Her themed events were highly anticipated in the community.

  “Close enough.”

  June couldn’t disagree more. “Our event will be very different from Books and Bakery’s.”

  Benjamin was shaking his head even before June finished speaking. “We should avoid events that are even remotely similar to long-established traditions like Books and Bakery’s Christmas celebration.”

  June was almost speechless with disappointment. She tried a different approach. “One of the reasons I think a Christmas dance would be successful is that the January birthday party brought in a lot of money and increased attendance for our other events.”

  “Come up with something else, June.” Benjamin’s tone was flat with finality.

  June took a moment to moderate her tone. Her gaze circled his office. It was Benjamin’s ninth week on the job. Why was he making such slow progress toward moving all the way into his office? Shelf spaces and cabinet surfaces were bare. Faded patches on the walls revealed where his predecessor had hung framed photographs and plaques. When would Benjamin do the same? The only personal item in his office was a framed photograph of two young children. His son and daughter? They were beautiful.

  She turned back to her new boss. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  June was glad one of them thought so. “May I at least go forward with the Kwanzaa presentation? As you said, we need to give Dr. Spates time to prepare, provided he agrees to do the presentation.”

  Benjamin seemed to hesitate. “Sure, the presentation should be fine.”

  June stood to leave. Her gut burned with frustration. At the threshold of his modest office, she once again faced Benjamin. “We need a year-end event, something spectacular to engage the community. I spent a lot of time developing the proposal and budget for the Christmas dinner dance.”

  Benjamin leaned into his desk. “I appreciate your time and efforts. Perhaps some of your work could be applied to your new idea.”

  His message was loud and clear: her dinner dance was a nonstarter. Come up with something else. But did he have even one clue of what went into coming up with and executing these events?

  “I’ll see what I can do.” June walked out of Benjamin’s office.

  Her heart wouldn’t be engaged in any other idea, though. She’d wanted to raise money for the center but she also wanted to celebrate Christmas. Why was The Iceman being such a Scrooge?

  Benjamin’s cellular phone rang, interrupting his contemplation of the semi-empty refrigerator in his townhouse Monday evening. Welcoming the reprieve, he allowed the fridge’s door to swing shut and fished his phone from the front pocket of his gray slacks. He recognized his ex-wife’s telephone number on the identification screen. Perfect.

  He counseled himself to keep calm as he accepted her call. “Hello, Aliyah.”

  “Ben, how are you?” She sounded hesitant. It had been almost a year since their marriage had ended, Christmas Eve’s Eve. Still, in the seven months since their divorce had been finalized, neither of them had gotten used to the coldness of their new relationship.

  “What is it, Aliyah?” He didn’t want to chat or catch up. He wanted this call to be over, the sooner the better.

  “When last did you hear from the children?” Aliyah’s voice was tense.

  “It’s been a while.” Benjamin had spoken with their nineteen-year-old son, Terence, and eighteen-year-old daughter, Zora, perhaps two weeks ago. He’d last seen them about three months ago when he and Aliyah had helped them move into the residence halls at The Ohio State University at the beginning of the school year: “Why?”

  “They’ve stopped returning my calls.”

  “They aren’t returning mine, either.” When Benjamin did reach them, their conversations were frustratingly brief. He didn’t know which was worse, their silence or the one-sided conversations with their monosyllabic responses. “They’re upset about our divorce. They don’t understand why we won’t get back together.”

  “They know now,” Aliyah reassured him.

  “What do you mean?” Benjamin needed to sit down. He moved into the living room of his small, two-story townhouse.

  His black leather recliner was one of the most uncomfortable pieces of furniture ever created. He’d bought his furniture—the black television stand, coffee table, and entertainment system, and the matching black leather sofa—to fill the room. Comfort hadn’t been his first priority.

  “I told them I’d had an affair.” Aliyah’s words were low with shame. “I didn’t like what our breakup was doing to your relationship with them. It wasn’t fair that they blamed you for our divorce.”

  “How did it go?” Benjamin sank deeper into the stiff recliner.

  The discussion must have taken a lot of courage on Aliyah’s part. Benjamin couldn’t bring himself to express his gratitude for her confession, though. The wound her betrayal had caused was still too fresh. He couldn’t get past it or the fact that, if Aliyah hadn’t had an affair, they wouldn’t need to tell their children about it. He wouldn’t have had to leave his job. And he wouldn’t have returned to his small hometown of Trinity Falls in northeast Ohio to start over.

  “Telling them was difficult and ugly. And now they’re not speaking to me.” There were tears in Aliyah’s voice.

  “I’m sorry.” Surprisingly, it was the truth. He was sorry their children were giving her the silent treatment. She’d been a faithless wife, but there was no denying she was a loving mother.

  “So am I.” Aliyah paused. “Thanksgiving is less than four weeks away. I thought they’d come home for school break.”

  “What makes you think they won’t?” This would be the first Thanksgiving he’d spend without his family in nineteen years. Benjamin rubbed his chest to ease the weight crushing his heart.

  “Well, for one thing, they’re not returning my calls.” Aliyah’s words wobbled around a forced chuckle.

  “They’ll come around.” It was time to get off the phone. He couldn’t control his emotions much longer.

  “What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Ben?”

  Benjamin gritted his teeth. Why was she asking? What did she expect to hear? “I’ll probably spend it with my brothers.”

  “I’d forgotten that Zach had moved back to Trinity Falls as well. Now all of the Brooks brothers are back in town.”

  Benjamin didn’t find her observation amusing. He loved Trinity Falls, but he’d had a family and a life in Chicago—before the woman who’d promised to love and cherish him until “death do us part” had cheated on him. Repeatedly.

  “I hope you and the kids enjoy Thanksgiving. I’ll call.” Benjamin pushed himself up from the recliner.

  “Spend Thanksgiving with us.” Aliyah’s request rushed down the cell phone connection.

  Benjamin froze. “You want us to be like a family again?” She must be kidding.

  “I want the kids to spend Thanksgiving at home. I also want them to see us getting along.”

  Benjamin rubbed the back of his neck. “What about Larry?”

  Larry Cox had been Aliyah’s lover for almost two years. He’d also been Benjamin’s boss at Hughes & Coal Corp., the Chicago-based financial investment company for which he’d worked for almost twenty years.

  “Larry and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.” Aliyah’s admission was surprising.

  She’d waited until their divorce to break off her extramarital affair. What, if anything, should he read into that?

  “I’ll call you and the kids on Thanksgiving Day.” He started to end the call.

  “Ben, please. They’re not speaking to me.” Aliyah’s voice broke. “I’m not too proud to ask for your help.”

  “There’s nothing I can do for you. Terry and Zora need time.” Benjamin touched the screen to end the call.

  Hopefully, time was all he needed as well to banish the bitterness and anger in his heart. June’s
pitch for the center’s Christmas dinner dance came to his mind. Benjamin shook his head. How could he approve the event? He wasn’t exactly in the Christmas mood.

  June’s cellular phone rang just as she entered her home Monday evening. She fished the device from her purse as she locked her door. The caller identification listed her son’s name.

  “Wow, two phone calls in one week.” June kicked off her shoes, then crossed the entryway of her colonial home. “To what do I owe this bountiful pleasure?”

  “Real funny, Mom.” Noah’s words held suppressed laughter. “How’re you doing?”

  June hung her emerald winter coat in the closet before walking to her family room. She collapsed onto the welcoming cushions of her foam-green love seat, a match to her sofa and armchair.

  “About the same as I was when we spoke yesterday. How are you?” She turned up the volume on her Mom Hearing. She and Noah had always been close. But this evening, June sensed something more than that behind his attentiveness.

  “Are you settling in okay in Trinity Falls?”

  June’s brows knitted at the concern she heard in her child’s voice. Why is he still worrying about me? “Noah, I’ve told you I’m fine. This is your freshman year. You should be focusing on your classes.”

  Her heart swelled with pride that her son had earned a full academic scholarship to Columbia University in New York. She gazed at the photos lining her fireplace mantel and the ones mounted to the walls. With very little effort, she relived events from her son’s birth to young adulthood: first day of kindergarten, first communion, confirmation, pee wee football, high school graduation and moving onto Columbia’s campus. She blinked away tears. Has any son ever made a mother prouder?

  June swallowed the lump in her throat. “How are your classes?”

  “They’re all right.” There was an echo behind Noah’s voice and muted conversations in the distance. He must be using his cell phone in the hallway again. Is he getting along with his roommate?

  June arched a brow. “After ten weeks of classes, the best review you could give me is ‘all right’? Are you keeping up with your readings?”