It's In His Christmas Wish (A Red River Valley Novel Book 7)

by Shelly Alexander

  “Good morning, dear.” Ms. Francine’s purse dangled from her arm.

  “I haven’t heard from you, and the town council is getting antsy.” Chairperson Clydelle said it as though it was an accusation.

  “I was given this assignment yesterday,” Kimberly deadpanned.

  “Time’s a wasting.” Chairperson Clydelle leaned on her cane. “It’s my responsibility, as the council chair, to see to it that you follow through.”

  The unspoken or else at the end of Ms. Clydelle’s sentence wasn’t lost on Kimberly.

  Fine. If these women wanted to play tough, they’d met their match. There was no one tougher than a kid who’d grown up bouncing around so many foster homes that she’d lost count by the time she was twelve.

  “The Wishing Tree is going up in the park as we speak. I’ve got charitable organizations compiling a list of kids and their wishes.” She boosted her clipboard. “I’ve just gotten commitments from more than enough volunteers to fulfill those wishes, and I’m about to slay several more items on my action plan instead of working on my outstanding legal cases.” Kimberly met Ms. Clydelle’s determined stare and refused to look away.

  A clock must’ve been nearby because Kimberly swore she heard it ticking as the staring contest continued. And continued.

  And continued!

  A bead of perspiration trickled down her spine.

  Still, Chairperson Clydelle didn’t look away. Didn’t offer a word of praise for what Kimberly and Ross had accomplished. Didn’t offer any encouragement for how much work was still to be done in such a short amount of time.

  “You look nice today, dear,” Ms. Francine cooed. “Who’s the lucky man?”

  Unable to stop herself, Kimberly looked away from Ms. Clydelle, glanced down at her clothes, then her gaze snapped to Ms. Francine, whose wrinkled lips had curved into a sly smile. The old woman blinked innocently behind her soda bottle lenses.

  Oh, these two old hens were good.

  “You don’t think a gal can dress up for herself?” Kimberly kicked into cross examination mode.

  Besides, anyone she thought enough of to dress up for wouldn’t be considered lucky in Kimberly’s opinion. She wasn’t exactly a prize. If the poor schmuck didn’t realize that going in, he’d figure it out soon enough. And if he didn’t, then he was likely even less of a prize than her.

  Every foster parent who had actually liked Kimberly ended up being unreliable at best.

  “Oh, when we see a change in a woman…” Ms. Francine tapped a boney finger against her chin, as though she were thinking, “…like a different wardrobe for instance, it’s always because they’re trying to catch the attention of a man.”

  Kimberly’s jaw hung open. “That’s an outdated mindset, don’t you think?”

  Chairperson Clydelle waved a hand in the air. “Contrary to popular belief, human nature doesn’t change. Whoever he is, don’t let him distract you from your goal. Red River is counting on you.” She shook her cane in Kimberly’s direction. “I’ll be expecting another update bright and early tomorrow morning.” Her cane thumped rhythmically as the two sisters strolled away.

  When Kimberly got to her office, Angelique was there.

  “Hey,” Kimberly said, sticking her head into Ang’s office.

  Angelique looked up and froze for a second. “Your clothes are different. Why?”

  Kimberly threw her hands in the air, gave an exaggerated eye roll, and flung herself onto the sofa. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

  Angelique lifted a shoulder. “Because it’s true?” She swiveled back to her keyboard. “I was about to say your mood was different today, too, but apparently it’s not.”

  “Different how?” Kimberly rested her head against the rich leather sofa.

  “Less dramatic. Less scary.” Angelique went back to typing. “I was wrong.”

  Kimberly ignored her. “What are you doing here on the weekend?”

  Angelique didn’t look up from her work. “Kids caught the stomach flu. No way could I concentrate on writing this brief at home, so I came here. If I’d stayed home to work on it, I would’ve likely ended up subconsciously referencing projectile vomit somehow in the text. It pays to have a doctor for a husband.” She used a fingertip to push her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose, then went back to typing like the wind. “Thanks for the outline, by the way. It saved my ass.”

  “Saved our asses. You’re the one pulling in most of the money.” Kimberly slouched down on the sofa.

  Angelique stopped typing and pulled off her glasses to stare at Kimberly. “Your pro bono work is just as important as the paying clients. Those charitable cases are the reason our phone is ringing off the hook from new clients all over the state who can pay our fees, so stop acting like you don’t contribute.”

  “Pffttt,” Kimberly scoffed. “Meanwhile, I’m up to my boobs in figuring out how to decorate a town with little to no money to work with. Like that’s really going to help fill our bank account with income.” She rolled her eyes.

  Angelique angled her head. “It might. Have you thought about contacting a few media channels in bigger cities? Tell them what you’re doing with the Wishing Tree and see if they bite. You never know. There might be some big companies out there who want to get involved, and you’d be right in their sights. Sounds like good, free advertising to me. For both the decorations you need and our firm.”

  Kimberly pinched the corners of her eyes with a forefinger and thumb. “I didn’t start any of this for free advertising, or for us to get more business out of it. I did it to help kids who grew up like me. Somehow, it’s turned into a whole lot more than that.” Besides, even if big companies were willing to buy decorations and donate them to the cause, the decorations would still cost money that could and should be used to help more kids. So that idea still undermined her original intent.

  Unless…

  She shot off the sofa. “Thanks, Ang. I knew I could count on you to help me with ideas.”

  Angelique frowned. “Um, sure?” Her expression said she had no idea what she’d done to help.

  “I might be gone for a few days. Call me if you need more help.” Kimberly went to her office and stuffed some papers and her laptop into a briefcase so she could still get legal work done while she was out of the office. Then she grabbed some craft supplies that she kept around for when her clients came in with their children.

  Before she left, she sent a text to Ross.

  Have business out of town. Might be gone a few days.

  Before she got to the door, her phone dinged. She put down her armful of stuff and read Ross’s response.

  We’ve got a town to decorate!!! You can’t leave NOW.

  She fired off another message.

  The trip is for the decorations. While I’m gone, ask around town and collect all the used Christmas lights that people can do without. We’ll recycle those to light up the tree.

  The dots jumped, and she waited for him to respond.

  Oh. OK.

  She smiled and typed.

  While I’m gone, I’ll be working on glittery snowflakes to hang on the tree. The wishes will be on each one. And FOR GOD’S SAKE, check in with Ms. Clydelle every morning while I’m gone!

  Ross’s response popped onto her screen within seconds.

  You’re pretty smart for a Grinch.

  Kimberly should be offended. She wasn’t, though. If Ross was teasing her, then he couldn’t be quite as pissed as he’d been during the ride back to Red River.

  She scooped up her things and headed out of the office, smiling so broad and so deep that she could feel it in her soul.

  Come to think of it, maybe what she felt inside was her heart growing a few sizes.

  Ross had no idea what Kimberly was up to leaving town when they had so much more to accomplish.

  He drew cold winter air into his lungs and hammered another cable into the frozen ground as several of his friends helped him erect the tree in the park.


  Was she really going on a road trip to help accomplish their mission? Or was she running from him again after the hot-as-hell kiss they’d shared? Or maybe she was running away because she’d finally opened up enough for him to get a small glimpse under the flamboyant armor she wore.

  He hadn’t known many people who’d grown up in foster care, but he assumed most had trust issues. How could they not?

  He finished securing the last of three cables to the ground where they’d cleared away the snow. The thick wires attached to the top of the tree helped keep it upright with tension. He stepped back and let the other guys take over, who were helping drive stakes through the base of the tree into the ground for extra support.

  No wonder Kimberly didn’t care much for the holidays. He doubted they’d been happy occasions for her.

  The question was, did he really want to know what she’d been through growing up, especially if she was going to keep shutting him out over and over again? After the way she’d shunned him during the ride back to town, he should forget about it.

  He pulled off his thick work gloves and stuffed them into his jacket pocket.

  Truth was, he did want to know what life had been like for her when she was a kid. Maybe it would help him figure her out. Maybe she wouldn’t be such a Grinch if she made new Christmas memories.

  Happier Christmas memories.

  One of his buddies, who was working on driving the stakes through the base of the tree, looked up, then glanced at Ross. “You’ve got company.” He notched up his chin toward the street.

  Ross looked over his shoulder, and his chest tightened.

  Damn.

  He hoped like hell that whatever Kimberly was off doing was worth it, because Red River’s more religious residents were gathering on the far side of the park with scowls on their faces. He hadn’t exactly won them to his side at the town council meeting, so dealing with them alone might not be the best strategy.

  One of them waved him over.

  Hell.

  He had no choice but to go it alone.

  “Thanks, guys,” he said to the crew of men who’d answered his call for help with the tree. “I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

  He turned to walk across the park, Comet trailing in his wake.

  No time like the present. He trudged over the snow-covered lawn in the direction of the church folks.

  Truth was, it really wouldn’t feel like Christmas without a Nativity scene. He just didn’t know where he was going to get the money for one big enough to be noticeable.

  “Morning, folks.” He strolled up to the half-dozen or so crowd. “How are you this fine Saturday morning?”

  To their credit, they all responded with a kind greeting, even if their expressions ranged from wary to perturbed.

  “I’m Deacon West from the church over on Copper Trail. Since Jesus is the real reason for the season, we’d like to know if He’s going to be represented in the new decorations?”

  “Funny, you should ask.” Ross scratched the scruff on his jaw. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to make that happen on the budget we’ve got. I’m assuming a big one made out of material that’ll last outdoors will be pretty pricey.”

  Comet bounded over to Deacon West.

  Oh, shit.

  “Comet, no!” Ross said a little too late.

  The dog shoved his long snout into the man’s crotch.

  Ross let his eyes slide shut and waited for a lightning bolt to hit. When it didn’t, he opened his eyes, took Comet by the collar, and said, “I’m so sorry. He’s a rescue and not well mannered all the time. I’m working on it.”

  Deacon West actually blushed, and Ross couldn’t blame him. Comet had just felt the poor guy up in front of several members of his congregation.

  “Ms. Perez and I—” Ross had no idea how to make things right, “—we were wondering how you’d feel if I made the Nativity scene out of extra sheet metal I’ve got at my shop?” Not bad so far, even though he was totally winging it.

  Deacon West’s expression said he was skeptical. “Would it be tastefully done?”

  Ross had no idea. He’d never made anything remotely close. “Sure.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Of course.”

  When every last one of their expressions brightened, Ross’s confidence grew. “Would all the churches in Red River pitch in and paint it?” If he could drum up that much free paint, it would be a great way to make the church folks happy.

  Deacon West and his followers all nodded. “I suppose so. What else can we do to help?”

  Well, since they asked…

  Deacon West was a leader in the community. Someone who could help heal the division in Red River that Ross and Kimberly had caused at the town council meeting. “Could you contact the other churches in town and try to get them on board with painting the Nativity scene?” Once Ross figured out how to make it. “And also with fulfilling some of the kids’ wishes?” He rubbed the back of his neck, again. “This is about more than just decorations.” At least it should’ve been, and Kimberly had been aware of that on a much deeper level than anyone else, himself included. “We want everyone in Red River to start working together. That’s what our community is all about.” He paused for effect. “That’s what your faith is all about, too.”

  Deacon West pursed his lips. “Give us a minute.” He turned to his group and they whispered. Then he turned back to Ross. “We’re in.” He hesitated. “We have a few requests, though.”

  The look on Deacon West’s face said it wasn’t really a request, but more like a command if Ross wanted their full support.

  “I’m listening,” Ross said.

  “The Nativity scene has to be in good taste. We’ve seen some that included Santa and elves, and frankly, that just won’t do. Especially since the rest of the town is usually decorating with the commercialized version of Christmas. Asking for this one thing to stay…” he seemed to be searching for the right words, “…traditional…” he then looked at his followers and they nodded, “…doesn’t seem too much to ask in our opinion.”

  Ross nodded. “Agreed. You have my word I’ll make the Nativity scene to your liking. What are your other requests?”

  “How are the wishes for the gifts from the Wishing Tree going to be delivered?” Deacon West asked.

  When they’d worked out their initial plan the night before at Kimberly’s office, she’d mentioned hand delivering the gifts to the kids. It was the only way to ensure the presents arrived before Christmas so the kids wouldn’t be disappointed. “I suppose we’ll have to drive the gifts to each destination.”

  “We’d like the kids to be brought to Red River for an official ceremony on Christmas Eve.” Deacon West beamed. “It’ll demonstrate the true spirit of the season, which is giving and not receiving.”

  His followers nodded.

  Ross had to agree on that point, but from what Kimberly had said, the kids getting the wishes weren’t just from Red River. She was collecting names from surrounding areas, too.

  His gaze landed on each of Deacon West’s group.

  Their expressions said they were pretty proud of their idea.

  Ross needed their support, so he blew out a sigh and gave them a nod. “Deal. Thank you for your help.”

  They said their goodbyes and waved as they left.

  Now all he had to do was make a pattern for a baby in a manger, three kings bearing gifts, a virgin, and an archangel, and then cut life-sized figures of each out of scrap metal. Then figure out how to transport all the kids who were getting wishes to Red River. At the same time. For a ceremony that hadn’t been scheduled yet, with Christmas just a few weeks away.

  Piece of cake.

  And snowballs wouldn’t melt in hell.

  Chapter Eight

  Kimberly pulled up in front of Ross’s Automotive to show him what she’d accomplished while she’d been on the road the past three days. It would’ve been nice to go home first to freshen up after dri
ving all day, but when she’d texted him to let him know she was on her way back to Red River, he’d insisted she stop by his shop first.

  She leaned forward to peer through the windshield at aaaaaall the lights. Holy cow, there were so many of them.

  His shop and the lodge next door were both brighter than the sun, and twinkled like a supernova on steroids. She hadn’t been to that end of Main Street since right after he’d put up his lights. He must’ve added more because both of his businesses were so lit they could probably be seen from Canada. Or outer space.

  Ross really was a sap when it came to Christmas. He obviously had a good reason, though. Same way she had a great reason not to care about the season beyond what she could give out to kids who needed love.

  Unable to maneuver the big moving truck into a parking spot, she shifted into first and parked perpendicular to the yellow lines, taking up several spaces. The gears made a grinding sound as she pressed the clutch and shifted again, barely able to reach the floorboard.

  Geez. Because she was so short, driving a big truck with a standard transmission had been a challenge. Even with the seat pulled all the way forward, her legs were still too short to properly work the clutch. Never mind that she had to sit on a pillow to see over the steering wheel.

  Ross would never let her live it down, so she killed the engine and hurried to climb out of the truck before anyone saw her. As she slammed the door, Ross strolled out of the reception area of Papa Bear’s Lodge, carrying two thermal coffee mugs and already smiling as if he’d won the lottery.

  Dang it.

  There’d be no living around him now that he’d obviously seen her behind the wheel.

  “I’m back.” She tried to sound exasperated with him because of his incessant text messages telling her to get her ass back to Red River.

  His nice fitting worn Levi’s and insulated flannel shirt-jacket gave him enough of a bad-boy look to make her insides sigh, though, and she couldn’t keep a stern look on her face. For a change, he wasn’t wearing either a winter knit beanie or a ball cap. Instead, his hair looked freshly cut, and barely curled over the cuff of both ears.