A Merrily Matched Christmas

by Virginia Nelson

  “Well, it’s about time you got here, Sarah Jayne.” Wrapped in a neon house coat that actually hurt to look at, her Aunt Jo stood in the doorway of the old Victorian house Sarah and her sisters had spent their summer vacations in.

  “I’m sorry Aunt Jo. The drive took longer than I thought it would.” Especially since she had driven alone.

  “I thought your young doctor was coming with you?”

  “I thought so, too,” Sarah said. “Until I met his other fiancés.”

  “His what?” Aunt Jo’s voice rose an octave with her indignation.

  “Yeah, that was my reaction too,” Sarah said as she looked up at her aunt who was shaking her head like a pendulum. “Let me just grab my overnight case for tonight. I’ll get the rest in the morning.” Sarah hauled the second-hand Louis Vuitton she’d lovingly restored along with the matching purse out of the back seat of her rental car and hip bumped the door closed. “Then maybe we can have a nightcap and I’ll explain.”

  “Of course. Where’s my head?” Sarah’s aunt flapped her hands in a come in and sit a spell wave. “Let’s get you inside and settled.” Aunt Jo’s voice was still the graveled, no nonsense tenor she remembered well. “Then we can have that night cap, and you can get some sleep.”

  “That would be great, Aunt Jo.” Sarah heard the bone weary in her own voice but a night cap was an arrival tradition for the Jayne girls and Aunt Jo. It usually consisted of hot chocolate, made of warm milk and two tablespoons of cocoa powder, topped with marshmallows. Sarah wondered if she could slip a shot of something extra past Aunt Jo and into her own night cap cup.

  After trudging up the stairs and across the porch, she followed her aunt inside. Sarah set down her bags and hung her coat on one of the hall tree hooks just inside the doorway. Her blouse was crumpled and wrinkle lined, her trousers less than crisp after her travels. And she just couldn’t muster up a give-a-damn. Not tonight anyway. Sarah fell into her aunt’s arms and inhaled deeply. The smell of sugar cookies and Chanel No. 5 clung to her.

  She’d missed this.

  After a quick coddle, Aunt Jo gave her a last squeeze then said, “I’ll start heating the milk.”

  Sarah nodded and turned to haul her bags up the stairs. The worn-in dip on the first step cupped her toes like a comfortable old shoe. The fifth step creaked a bit when she stepped on it, and the top one spilled onto a hallway that ran the length of the house.

  “Take your old room, dear,” Aunt Jo shouted up the stairs. But Sarah was already headed there.

  She walked into the last room on the right and left her suitcase at the door, walking over to the full-size bed. She sank not so gracefully into the mattress and flopped backwards, letting the feather topper and the feeling of coming home envelope her.

  The quilt was different, newer than the faded cabbage rose print one she’d wrapped herself up in as a child. But, the room still smelled like the lavender sachets her aunt made, the lemon oil polish she used on all the wood work, and that Chanel No. 5 Aunt Jo favored. Of all the places she and her sisters had been, this house smelled most like home.

  Her parents moved around so much, Sarah never felt like she had a permanent home base to come back to as a child. Heck, one summer she and her sisters left the suburbs of Chicago for their summer time vacation with Aunt Jo and returned two weeks before the new school year to a moving crew complete with a truck bundling their household into boxes for a cross country trek to Tampa.

  Once they’d arrived, it had taken Sarah weeks to find all her things in the mountain of moving boxes. Although that move had prompted her interest in revitalizing clothes. She’d thought she lost most of her wardrobe in the move until it was uncovered in the garage. Unfortunately for her, oil and other assorted goop had soaked the cardboard bottoms and damaged much of the boxes contents by the time her father located it. The Salvation Army and a sewing machine had saved the day, as Sarah remade herself a new wardrobe. Classic with a twist her sisters had called it.

  She felt far removed from that first foray into fashion. And tired. Weary to the bone. Sarah kicked off her shoes, heard them hit the carpet with a soft plop, and contemplated rolling over and just going to sleep for a week or two. Then she could skip Christmas and move right into the new year. Reboot her life, and put this year behind her.

  “Sarah.” Aunt Jo’s voice startled her.

  She pushed up onto her elbows, feet still dangling off the edge of the bed.

  “I thought you might be tired so I brought the night cap to you.” Aunt Jo balanced a tray with a pot hot cocoa, cups, and a bowl of marshmallows on it. She set it on the bed and sat down.

  Sarah pushed herself upright and sat opposite. The smell of warmed chocolate and sugar wafted lightly in the air. “This is perfect, Aunt Jo.” She poured a cup for herself and one for her aunt.

  “Don’t forget the marshmallows,” Aunt Jo said.

  “Because sugar makes everything better.” Sarah finished the funny little adage her aunt had always used to justify stuffing her nieces with sweets all summer long. The girls used to joke that they needed new clothes when they went home because they always gained weight when they visited. Any excuse for a new wardrobe.

  “So…” Aunt Jo blew gently on her melting marshmallows and hot chocolate. “Tell me about your Dr. Dick Head.”

  Sarah choked on her hot chocolate and was pretty sure she almost snorted up a melting marshmallow as she tried to contain her giggles. “Headley. Richard,” she choked out. Dr. Richard Headley was one of New York’s top “rejuvenation doctors.” He got starlets ready for their close-ups then kept them looking their best with some strategic nips, tucks, and the creams he specially formulated. And he had been Sarah’s fiancée until a week ago.

  “Whatever,” Aunt Jo said. “Are you two on one of those breaks ya’ll talk about taking? Or is this a more permanent parting of the ways?”

  “Let’s just say, Richard is no longer my Dr. Dick Head,” Sarah said. “I broke the engagement when I found out there were at least four of us he was engaged to. By my count that is three fiancés too many.”

  “What on earth?” Aunt Jo said, eyebrows disappearing under her shaggy bangs.

  Sarah took a sip of her cocoa and crossed her legs, scooching into a more comfortable position. “According to fiancée number two, the good doctor was hedging his bets until he decided who he really wanted to marry. According to Richard, he was questioning whether I was the best “fit” for his image.” Sarah took another sip then lowered her cup. “And, he wanted me to consider a little nip and tuck myself.”

  “I hope you told him no.”

  “I did. But, who knew twenty-nine was the new over the hill?” At twenty-nine, Sarah didn’t see the need to change the few lines she saw on her face. She’d earned those lines through her laughter and her tears. They were the exclamation points of her life. She didn’t want to erase that. It was too much like erasing herself. And she’d done enough of that over the last ten years—whether she’d meant to or not.

  “You are not over the hill,” Aunt Jo said. “Heck, I’ve got several decades on you and I’m still chugging up the hill. I haven’t even reached the top yet.”

  “Then here’s to reaching the top,” Sarah said.

  Aunt Jo lifted her mug in a toast and added, “And here’s to the ex-Dr. Dick Head. May he get just what he deserves.”

  Sarah clinked cups gently and drank to that sentiment.

  Chapter 4

  “Pie for breakfast?” Sarah asked as Aunt Jo sliced a piece of apple pie and topped it with a huge dollop of her homemade whipped cream. Sarah would bet money that most if not all the ingredients came from somewhere in the city of Love.

  Aunt Jo slid the slathered piece of pie over then cut one for herself. “Pie is for anytime of the day.”

  Sarah groaned as she looked at her daily caloric intake on a single fine china plate. “If I eat this. And I’ll never fit into my clothes.”

  “Then you can make new ones. The
bedroom across from yours is still set up as a sewing room.”

  “Oh, well in that case…” Sarah smiled and dug into the pie. She had to admit it was delicious. Still warm from the oven, it melted the whipped cream a bit and tasted like a little slice of heaven. Or a little slice of love. Love, both the city and the sentiment, was a reliable constant in Sarah’s life with her aunt. The port in the stormy sea. And Aunt Jo’s was at the heart of it all.

  Her old Victorian never really changed except for the seasonal décor. Right now, the house was dressed to the nines with twinkling lights, a skirted mantle, and bough wrapped banisters. Sarah would bet the outside of the house looked just as amazing. She’d caught a glimpse of the handmade wreath on the door last night. But she hadn’t seen much else in the dark.

  “What are the rest of the Jaynes up to this Christmas?” Aunt Jo asked.

  “Cami is putting on some kind of bash for her in-laws since Dan is still deployed,” Sarah said.

  Aunt Jo nodded. “And she will probably have a houseful of other spouses-left-behind too, I’m sure.”

  “I expect nothing less,” Sarah said.

  “And Mary?”

  “I think Mary is spending the holidays skiing. She mentioned something about her boss having scheduled some sort of meeting with a reclusive writer or some such thing this week. Mary was flying out to the wilds of Montana maybe? She was going to head to Vail to make a vacation of her trip after she closed the deal.” And Sarah had no doubt her sister would close that deal.

  “Your mom sent me a postcard from Alaska. She said they were taking a month-long cruise up there.” Aunt Jo stood and collected their now empty plates. She placed them in the sink and started the water running. “I’m not sure I could enjoy that kind of nomad life but your folks seemed to be having a ball traveling all over creation.”

  The word nomad had Cody’s face popping into Sarah’s mind. The memory of his eyes, his clear open gaze inviting her to…Nope. Sarah was not going down that road again. Her whole childhood was that nomadic road. And ten years ago, Cody had made it very clear he was a nomad at heart who wasn’t interested in strings. He’d actually envied Sarah and her sisters getting to live in so many places. And Sarah would have loved to set down permanent roots somewhere, anywhere like Love. She’d tried that in New York City. But if she was honest with herself, the roots never really took hold there.

  “Well, I guess that means I get you all to myself until you have to go back home to New York.” Aunt Jo smiled. With no children of her own, she seemed to relish doting on her nieces. “Unless you have other plans?”

  “No other plans,” Sarah said. Marriage, children, a family of her own had been the plan, the next step she would take. With Richard. But Richard wasn’t who Sarah thought he was, and truthfully, she wasn’t really that upset about breaking things off with him. In fact, she was more relieved than heartbroken. “I’ll stay at least until the new year rolls around. It might be nice to be somewhere other than Times Square when the ball drops on this year.” But she still had some decisions to make.

  “Excellent,” Aunt Jo said. “We’ll have a wonderful holiday together. “Why, I think I’ll even put a real tree up this year.”

  “How about if we do that tomorrow?” Sarah stood and rolled up her sleeves. “This morning, I’ll wash the dishes for you Aunt Jo.”

  “And I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee. I think I have some sort of Columbian roast stuff your parents sent me this summer. Your mother said it had a rich, bold flavor.”

  “Maybe it will bring me a rich, bold life,” Sarah muttered.

  “Honey, have you ever considered that maybe New York isn’t the place for your rich, bold life?” Aunt Jo’s voice was gentle, soft.

  Sarah shrugged and dipped her head, hiding her eyes from her sometimes too perceptive aunt. The big city was feeling more like a temporary stop while learned how to hone her design skills, rather than a permanent home.

  “Are things not going well with the store? I don’t really count your breakup with Dr. Dick Head as a problem, because I think you got lucky with that. There are plenty of other men in the world. A few of them might even be worthy of you.” Aunt Jo smiled when she said that last bit.

  “Speaking of worthy men. Guess who I saw at the airport last night?” Sarah tried to force a bit of breezy nonchalance into her tone when she added. “Cody.”

  “The Hayes boy? Now there’s a nomad if ever I saw one. I seem to remember him being the no strings attached type.” Aunt Jo was right about that. Except, Cody had said he wasn’t quite so opposed to strings.

  “He seems to be warming to the strings. He has a son now.”

  “I had no idea he’d married,” Aunt Jo said. “Ellen never said anything. I would have expected her to be shouting that from the rooftops.”

  “Cody’s not married,” Sarah said.” His son’s name is Davie and he’s eight.”

  “An eight-year-old definitely comes with strings,” Aunt Jo said. “And they tie your heart up with a bow.”

  “But, I’m not sure those strings will lead to roots.” Sarah wasn’t even sure Cody wanted roots. “Maybe the strings between him and Davie are enough.”

  “Maybe that’s worth exploring while you’re here. Since you don’t have other plans.”

  “Maybe.” Exasperated with her inability to make a firm decision about anything right now, Sarah said, “Maybe I should just wrap myself up in a Christmas bow and offer him a no strings affair.”

  Aunt Jo leaned in, patted Sarah’s knee and said, “Maybe you should.” Then she stood and added, “Right now, maybe you should be neighborly and say hello. I’m sure I need to borrow a cup of sugar from Ellen.” Then Aunt Jo waggled her brows, turned, and bustled off to the kitchen.

  Chapter 5

  Cody stood on the back deck of his parent’s home and hunched his shoulders down into his duster. The end of December brought a winter chill into the air. But, he missed the wide-open Texas sky. Today it was saturated in shades of blue, from robin’s egg to the deep blue of Sarah Jayne’s eyes. He shook his head, clearing the memory of those eyes from his mind—sort of—and focused on the view. He missed this, the rolling pastures, the rows of evergreens swaying gently in the distance. He took a deep breath. The smell of clean, crisp air tinged with pine filled him.

  Home. Except this wasn’t home. At least not his home. Maybe it was time to make his own home. For his son’s sake. L.A. might make a good home base for him. Although the thought of living there made him feel a bit claustrophobic.

  He inhaled deeply again, savoring the clean wash of air before he exhaled. Behind him, the patio door slid open. He turned and watched his mother step out onto the deck. She walked forward and linked her arm through his. Something he’d often seen her do with his father over the years. “Are you sure you want to sell this place, Mom?”

  His mother was slow to answer. He looked down at her and watched her face as she gazed out over the land he’d grown up on. A smile filled with nostalgia and sorrow tilted her lips. “It’s time,” she said.

  “But won’t you miss this view? And the smell of pine in the air? Even the braying of the cattle first thing in the morning?”

  “Most of the cattle belong to Jeb Turner. He’s been leasing the low pasture the last few years now for his heifers. And I think maybe, for a while, I’ll miss it here. But this place is just too much for your father and I to deal with anymore. The stroke has taken more out of your dad than is good for either of us. And I’d rather have more years with him than not.” The love ringing in his mother’s voice was strong and steady.

  “I’ll miss it here,” Cody said. He might miss it more than he’d ever thought possible. “Maybe I still have some roots planted after all.”

  “You’ve always had roots, Cody. You just carried them with you for a while. But you are a man of the land, a cowboy at heart. In fact, your first jaunts away from home were to work on cattle ranches in Australia if I remember correctly.”


  Of course, his mother remembered correctly. He’d worked his way across half the world by hiring on as a ranch hand. But he hadn’t stayed any one place too long. Unlike his parents who had spent their entire married life here on this land. “What will you do then?”

  “The Turner’s are interested in the whole place. They offered a fair price. More than fair. And they will let us stay on for as long as we like. They really want the grazing land more than anything.”

  Cody absently rubbed the area over his heart. It hurt a bit to think about his parents not running the homestead. This was the last place he’d truly called home. And he’d always thought that one day, when the wanderlust wore itself out, he could come home and settle in to ranch life here.

  “What will you and dad do with so much free time on your hands? I can’t see either of you doing nothing all day,” Cody said.

  “I have my book club and the Knitting Nanas.” She smiled as she said that last bit. “And I’ll spend time with your dad. Maybe have my grandson down here for summer breaks like the Jayne girls did with Jo.”

  “And speaking of your grandson… What is Davie up to now?”

  Cody’s mother chuckled. “Davie is still in his pajamas. But I fed him breakfast and gave him and your dad cups of hot cocoa. Your father is teaching him how to roast marshmallows over the fire. I think that’s the only thing keeping him inside right now.”

  “Nope. It’s the pajamas. If you asked Davie, he would tell you they are only for inside. He’s got very specific rules about what is proper and what isn’t,” Cody said. “I’m not sure how that happened because from what I remember, his mother and I were both more apt to roll out of bed and face the day regardless of what we were wearing.”

  “Well if you coax him out of his pajamas, you could both go for a walk later today. I could pack you a picnic lunch. It should be warmer around noon time but I’m sure I have one of your old coats that would fit Davie tucked away in a closet if it’s still chilly.”