“How is Tewanda enjoying the quilt?” Noel asked.
Uh oh. Nickolai dropped her hands—which he was loath to do—and pushed his hair back.
“Tewanda no longer has the quilt.”
Noel’s eyes widened in surprise.
“She lost interest. Her attention span is short. She made a bed of it for her little dog.”
A sound of disbelief escaped Noel, and she covered her mouth with her hands. “Sorry.”
“No. Is all right. It pains me to tell you such a work of art was not appreciated. But it is now. I took it from her.”
“I see,” Noel said, but he doubted that she did.
“That is, I bought it from her. That was fair. It was her gift, therefore her property and not mine. But now I own it.”
“Oh … my. So you ended up paying … double?”
He nodded and tried to give her his best smile. “I subtracted the cost of the dry cleaning bill. That, too, was fair. Besides, how can you put a price on something beautiful that nourishes the spirit?”
She laughed then, and the pure crystal happiness that was the sound of her laughter went through Nickolai and settled in his soul.
“Did Tewanda buy herself a replacement birthday gift?” Noel asked around her musical laughter.
“I don’t know,” Nickolai said. “I no longer am Tewanda’s beau. Beau. That is a good Southern word? I learned English in Russia as a small child, but I did not know when I moved to Nashville that to make myself understood here, I’d have to learn a whole new language.”
“Beau is a wonderful Southern word.” Her laughter settled into a smile. It looked … saucy. Yes, that was a good description.
“But I’m sorry about you and Tewanda,” Noel said.
He shrugged. “Meh. It happens. She didn’t think I should have subtracted the $53.46 for the cleaning of the quilt.”
Gabe Beauford stepped up behind Noel and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Let me take your coat, Noel,” he said. “Emory tells me an ice storm has hit Kentucky and you’re going to join us tonight. Your family’s loss is our gain.”
She nodded as he removed her coat. “Yes. I need to call them.”
Nickolai didn’t like the frown that had crept over her face and decided to chase it away with a compliment—though he never gave compliments he didn’t mean. “I like your sweater.” It had picture of the American version of Ded Moroz—Father Frost. “Very festive.”
“Oh!” Noel said with alarm and crossed her arms over her chest. “I forgot I had on this Santa sweater. Nobody wears Christmas sweaters anymore unless it’s to an ugly Christmas sweater party. But my niece is four and I thought she’d like it.”
So she had a little niece and a family who would be unhappy she couldn’t come to them tonight. He briefly considered offering to drive her there. He was amazed at how these Southerners let a little ice and snow shut down their lives, even if it was never for very long. But Gabe had invited him here to spend Christmas Eve with his family, and it would be rude to leave. Besides, an appealing situation had just gotten more even more appealing now that Noel would be here, too.
Jackson moved in front of Noel and put a hand on her arm. What was it with all these Beauford men touching Noel?
“Sorry about your trip, Noel,” Jackson said “But we’re glad to have you.” Then he looked from Gabe to Nickolai. “Emory wants us to take that Yule log she ordered from England and start it burning in the den in the family wing.”
“What,” Gabe asked, “in the Sam Hill is a Yule log?”
Nickolai was glad Gabe asked because he wanted to know, too.
“No idea,” Jackson said. “I’m just taking orders.” He started to walk away, assuming that Nickolai and Gabe would follow him. “But I’ll tell you this: somebody has to stay with that thing while it burns.”
“That’s for sure,” Gabe agreed. “Coming, Glaz?”
“Sure.” He paused to smile at Noel. “I’ll see you at dinner?”
“I’ll look forward to it.” He hoped that was true and not just a polite answer.
• • •
Noel set the big round table with the handmade, country primitive dishes that Emory had commissioned at the Pottery Wheel in town. She let her fingers drift over the candy cane and pine bough design.
“These are beautiful, Emory. Valerie did a wonderful job.”
“Didn’t she?” Emory looked up from where she was fussing over the centerpiece of Mason jars filled with old-fashioned hard candy, nestled in cedar and pine on a galvanized tin tray. “Considering how many dishes there are in this house, it was probably silly to buy new. But I wanted a new Christmas tradition that I brought to the family. That might be selfish, but I also like to support the artisans in town.”
“I can assure you the artisans appreciate it,” Noel said. “And nobody could say you’re selfish.”
“Oh, I’m plenty selfish.” Emory scattered a few berries among the greenery. “There. What do you think? I had to use battery-operated candles. The wax ones aren’t totally tacky, are they? Jackson has a conniption fit if you even look like you want light a real candle in the house.”
“Everything’s beautiful.” Noel retrieved the basket of flax napkins that had already been fitted into red burlap napkin rings. “Do you want these to the side or on the plate?”
“To the side, I think. No. On the plate, but at an angle on the right edge. Perfect. How did the call go with your family?”
“Not very well.” And that was putting it mildly.
Emory looked up from where she was making place cards by writing names on gingerbread people ornaments. “Surely, they didn’t want you to risk your life on those icy roads.”
“Of course not. But that didn’t stop the handwringing and the histrionics. After all, the Verdens have had bourbon pecan cake for Christmas every year since they got off Noah’s boat, and I’m the only one who can make it. And let’s not forget I’ve got the Holiday Barbie. And the divinity and cheese straws.”
Noel chose not to mention that her mother had made her promise to get up at 5:00 a.m. to check to see if the roads were clear enough for her to come—never mind that it wasn’t supposed to get above freezing there at all tomorrow.
“Will your niece be very disappointed about the doll?”
“No. She doesn’t care a hill of beans about it. Paige always got one every year, and she wants Constance to have them, too.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m glad you’re with us tonight.”
Male laughter boomed from the den across the hall, and Noel could have sworn she could pick out Nickolai’s.
“I’m glad to be here, too,” Noel said.
“Now, for the place cards.” Emory sorted the gingerbread people and began to place them on the tiny easels at each place setting. “Hmm. I thought I’d put you between Rafe and Nickolai. Is that okay?”
“Fine.” Perfect.
Noel had enough sense to know that a man like Nickolai wouldn’t be interested in her, but he’d been flirtatious, and what was wrong with enjoying a little attention? After all, it was Christmas.
• • •
“Have you ever had chicken and dumplings, Nickolai?” Gwen asked as she ladled a portion into his bowl.
“Oh, yes.”
Everyone was gathered around the table. The food smelled wonderful and energy was high. Three-year-old Julie had climbed into Dirk’s lap and was babbling about the carrots she planned to leave for Rudolph. Noel felt a little guilty for enjoying herself so much. She’d had three calls from Louisville in the last hour and a half. They were doing their best to pull together the decorated sugar cookies for Constance to leave for Santa, but Noel wasn’t sure he wasn’t going to end up with peanut butter and crackers.
Nickolai summoned her back with a smile and a little wink. “Do you like chicken and dumplings, Noel? I’d never had them before coming to play for the Sound, but now I have them all the time at my favorite restaurant.”
; “I do,” Noel said, “and Gwen’s are the best. What’s your favorite restaurant?”
“Cracker Barrel.”
“Cracker Barrel!” Gabe dissolved into laughter, but it was happy laughter, more teasing that ridiculing. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’ve never noticed you turning your nose up at Cracker Barrel food,” Rafe said. “Or any food. And the more the better.”
“Well, sure. I can eat some Cracker Barrel. But it’s not my favorite restaurant.”
“You laugh, Gabe Beauford,” Nickolai said. “But when I go to eat with you, what do I get? Maybe a tiny bit of fish with some green stuff swirled onto the plate? Some vegetables stacked into a tower? And for this, I pay two hundred dollars? At Cracker Barrel I get such wonderful food at a reasonable price. Also, I can buy things I need there.”
“What kinds of things?” Gwen asked as she put the lid on the soup tureen and took her seat beside Carter’s highchair.
“Coffee mugs, jam, dishes. And they have the best candy. I love those Goo-Goo Clusters.”
“Me too!” Noel said. “The original—not the peanut butter or the pecan ones.”
”Da! I feel the same. The peanut butter is okay, but the plain peanut is best.” He smiled into her eyes. “If I had known, I would have brought some today when I stopped on my way here to buy a hostess gift for Emory. I got a cast iron muffin pan in the likeness of snowmen.”
“And I love it,” Emory said. “We’re going to make snowman muffins, aren’t we, Julie?”
“Yes! Booberry?”
“Sure. Your mama picked wonderful blueberries last summer and put some in the freezer.”
“I’m sure they’ll be beautiful, sweetheart.” Jackson laid a hand on Emory’s. “Eatable? That remains to be seen. But I wish you luck.”
Everyone laughed, and Emory pretended to look incensed, but before she could reply, a noise stopped them all short.
It was the sharp, staccato, unmistakable sound of ice hitting windowpanes.
“What?” Dirk stood abruptly, set Julie on her feet, and darted to the window.
“You said this wasn’t supposed to happen until daybreak!” Noel’s stomach bottomed out. Maybe if she left right now …
Dirk shook his head. “Looks like no church tonight. Noel, you’ve got a suitcase in your car, don’t you?”
Chapter Four
Noel woke—again. She reached for her phone. 2:14 a.m. and no missed calls from Louisville. That was a miracle. The most recent in a series of many had come an hour ago. She couldn’t even remember now if that had been the one about the turkey or ambrosia.
Her stomach growled. She’d barely eaten after the storm had hit. She’d tried to go home but had been railroaded into staying, as had Nickolai, though he hadn’t seemed to mind as much as she had. She could hardly stand the thought of tomorrow. There was nothing Noel hated worse than intruding where she didn’t belong. Emory would feel obligated to entertain everyone instead of relaxing and spending time with Jackson and the people who were soon going to be her family. Noel could see it now—extra places at the dining table and awkwardness during family gift-opening time. Emory would probably run around trying to scrape together extra gifts, even though the two of them, Gwen, and their other friends, Christian, Neyland, and Abby, had exchanged their small tokens of friendship before Abby had left town for the holidays.
Maybe Emory would let Nickolai and Noel eat in the kitchen and watch TV in another room while they had family time.
Not a chance—though the thought of spending time with Nickolai was appealing. And despite her anxiety at being where she didn’t belong, it had been a wonderful evening. They’d sat around the fireplace watching the Yule log burn, and Jackson had brought out his guitar and sung carols. Nickolai had sat beside her and continued to lavish her with attention that felt real even though she’d known it couldn’t be. After the children went to sleep, Julie on the floor under the tree and Carter in his father’s arms, they’d turned on the A Christmas Story marathon. Nickolai had never seen it, and Noel had loved watching him even more than the movie. It was hard to believe this was the same man who was a demon on ice and never thought twice about slamming an opponent into the boards.
And then she’d gotten yet another call—the one that broke the spell and reminded everyone that it was late. So as Noel exited the room to take the call, the party broke up. The last thing Noel heard was some arguing about putting out the Yule log.
There had been cookies on the coffee table down there—gingerbread men, shortbread, and frosted sugar shapes. She hadn’t eaten any, but she sure wished she had some now. Maybe they were still there.
Since she kept a robe in Louisville, she hadn’t packed one, but it wasn’t likely she’d run into anyone at this hour. Even if she did, she was covered neck to toe in green and red flannel. She activated the flashlight app on her phone and made her way downstairs. Oh good, there was light coming from the den, the location of the last cookie sighting.
At first, Noel’s eyes were drawn to the firelight and the white Christmas tree lights, but a split second later she caught sight of Nickolai lying on his side in front of the fire, looking at the tree. With his back to her and his head propped up on a bent elbow, he looked like a powerful warrior bathed in the light of an ancient campfire.
Holy mother of a gargoyle, he was beautiful.
He must have sensed her presence in the doorway because he looked around and broke into a smile.
“Noel. You came looking for me?” In a smooth athletic move, he swung around to a sitting position.
“No. I’m hungry. I came looking for cookies.”
He buried his face in his hands and gave out an exaggerated sigh. “You wound me. And on Christmas, too.”
Why not flirt back? He didn’t know that wasn’t the way of her. Here in the wee hours of Christmas morning, she could be anyone she wanted.
“I don’t mind that I found you.”
He stretched a long arm to retrieve the cookie platter from the coffee table. “You found the cookies, too. But I have them now, and you have to come here with me if you want any.”
She was suddenly self-conscious of her lack of bra—not that she had enough up top to merit much of one. “I’m in my nightclothes.”
“Me, too.” He gestured to his flannel pants and San Antonio Wranglers t-shirt. “Or rather, the nightclothes of Gabe Beauford. But I think we are not wearing nightclothes so much as cookie-eating clothes.”
He held out a hand to her. That hand might as well have been a magnet, and she might as well have been made of iron, because without actually making the decision, she found herself taking his hand and lowering herself to sit beside him on the floor.
“Ah, good.” He squeezed her hand before releasing it. “The floor was a lonely place. I like it better now. I like your cookie-eating gown with the trees and berries. It looks like Christmas.” He stroked the flannel of her gown. “Soft and warm. The lace here is pretty.” He touched the collar.
“I made it myself,” she said. “It’s a tradition. I make matching Christmas nightgowns for the women in my family every year.”
“They must be so thankful for you.”
As if. She took a star-shaped cookie from the platter he held out for her.
“Why are you sitting in here all alone at this hour?” she asked.
He shrugged and bit the head of off of a gingerbread man. “Emory has this … Yule log?”
Noel nodded.
“I guess is a Southern tradition?”
“No. I think it’s actually English. But Emory is very excited about Christmas this year and seems set on carrying out every tradition she’s ever heard of.”
“Oh. She said it had to burn until it went out on its own or there wouldn’t be good luck in the new year. But Jackson Beauford was very insistent that it be put out. Gabe and Rafe agreed.”
“Small wonder. When they were children, the Beauford brothers’ parents and baby sister died in a
fire, and the boys witnessed the whole thing.”
“That’s very sad. No wonder Emory wants good luck for them. Jackson said he would send for someone named Sammy to watch the fire, but Emory said no—that this Sammy was spending the night at his grandparents’ house for Christmas. So then Jackson said he would sit up with the log until it burned out, to make Emory happy. But that did not seem to make her happy. So Gabe, Rafe, and I volunteered to stay with it.”
“Where are they now?” Noel said.
“They stayed until the Ralphie movie began again. Rafe Beauford loves that movie. He laughed and laughed. But I told them to go. I knew twins in Russia. They like time together. I promised to watch the log.”
“That was very thoughtful of you,” Noel said.
“The least I could do after invading a family’s Christmas. Besides, I got the best Joyeux Noel—a visit from Noel. I am thinking that would not have happened for me had I been snug in the bed assigned to me?”
Noel laughed as the warmth of his sweet words washed over her. “That’s true—unless you had taken the cookies with you. I would have looked until I found them.” She plucked a piece of shortbread from the platter. “But I know how you feel about invading the family. I’d really love to be gone before Beau gets here.”
“Oh?” He raised one eyebrow. “I saw a picture of these Beauford men on the mantle. Beau is the most beautiful of them, no?”
“Beau is the most beautiful of them, yes.” But nowhere near as beautiful as you.
“You have history with this Beau? That’s why you want to be gone? You broke his heart and he still pines for you?”
“Hardly. I’ve never met him—though I’ve seen pictures. It’s just that they don’t see him very often, and they’re so excited that he’s coming. I don’t want to intrude on that. But, at the same time, if the roads are as bad as Dirk claims, I really shouldn’t be driving. I wish I had insisted on leaving as soon as the storm hit.”
“You want to go? I feel the same. I can drive on much worse than this. I am Russian. I lived in Canada. And I have a Jeep. This log will burn out soon. I’ll take you home, and then I’ll go back to Nashville.” He put his finger to his lips. “Shh. We will outwit these Beauford men. We will go before they get up.”
Nickolai's Noel Page 3