Trouble With Christmas (9781455544066)

by Mason, Debbie

  No, her problem was with Nell, and her failure to disclose the names of the two women who were helping Madison with the pageant—Hailey and Holly. Hailey acted like a four-star general putting her troops through their paces. While Holly seemed to think they were taking the show on the road—next stop Broadway—and spent at least an hour going over the motivations for each part, from baby Jesus to the cow.

  Madison parked just down from the Sugar Plum Bakery on Main Street and trudged through the heavy, wet snow that was falling fast and furious from the low-gray sky. Ducking beneath the bakery’s purple-and-white-striped awning, she hid behind the wreath to peek in the front window, checking out who manned the counter. If it was Jill, Madison would have to survive the confrontation with Nell without the benefit of caffeine and sugar.

  After a somewhat tension-filled first meeting, thanks to Jill, Gage’s deputy, who blamed her for dashing their hopes of increased business from the resort, Madison struck up a friendship with Grace.

  Behind the counter, the willowy blonde waved her in. Madison sighed. The cloak-and-dagger routine was obviously not her forte. Since coming to town, Madison had discovered there was quite a bit she wasn’t good at, and the confidence she’d spent years developing had plummeted. One more reason for her to quickly convince the citizens of Christmas that she was one of the good guys, and they’d survive without a Hartwell resort.

  She opened the door to a warm gush of cupcake-scented air and holiday music. Oddly enough, the carols no longer set her teeth on edge like they used to. She supposed being surrounded by people who loved the holiday, like Nell and Lily, made it hard not to get caught up in the hoopla of the season. Like a bad cold, it was contagious.

  Or maybe the new memories were easing the pain of the old ones. The memory of that long-ago Christmas Eve where she’d sat on the church steps waiting for her mother—while carols were being sung behind the closed doors—no longer evoked the same stomach-churning emotion it once did.

  She stepped inside the shop, where groups of teens congregated around the tables, chattering four decibels above normal while inhaling cupcakes and coffee.

  “You’re safe.” Grace grinned as she slid a tray of Santa cupcakes onto the glass shelf. “Jill’s working at the station today.”

  “I wasn’t—” Madison started to protest, but gave up the pretense at Grace’s you-don’t-fool-me look. She shrugged. “Jill doesn’t like me very much.”

  Grace grimaced. “I didn’t think you noticed.”

  “It’s a little hard not to. I think she spat in my coffee yesterday.”

  “She did not.” Grace laughed, shaking her head.

  Madison smiled. It was good to see Grace laugh, to see the tension lines around her mouth and eyes erased, if only for a few minutes. Unwittingly, she’d added to Grace’s stress by cancelling the negotiations with Christmas. And even though she knew she’d made the right decision, Madison couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. She glanced at the teenagers taking up eight of the ten tables. “Looks like you’re busy despite the snow.”

  “Weather doesn’t bother them. They’ve been coming in every day after school since I opened. Good thing they do.” She tried to cover the worry Madison heard in her voice with a smile. “Do you want your usual?”

  “Grace, are you okay?” Stupid question, of course she wasn’t. Her husband had been MIA for almost a year, his Black Hawk shot down over the mountains of Afghanistan, and she was running a business while caring for her young son—a business that appeared to depend on the teenage population of Christmas.

  “Tired, that’s all. I’ve been putting off doing the books and decided to tackle them last night. Jack used to…” She lowered her eyes, but not before Madison saw the shimmer of tears.

  Worried the woman she’d come to admire was close to the breaking point, she intervened, “Why don’t you let me do your books for you?”

  “I can’t afford to—”

  Madison stopped her with a wave of her hand. “You’d be doing me a favor.”

  Grace gave her a disbelieving look. “You can’t be serious.”

  Madison waggled her brows. “Oh, but I am. What can I say—I’m weird that way.” It was true. She looked forward to doing the books. At least it was something she did well.

  “Well, if you’re positive you don’t mind…” Grace said, as she dug beneath the cash register. She plunked a ledger, checkbook, and manila envelope stuffed full of receipts onto the counter. “Sorry, I know I should’ve converted to a computerized accounting system a long time ago, but I’m not much of a techie.”

  Madison was surprised, too, but covered her reaction. “No problem.”

  “Um, are you ordering?” a freckle-faced teenager asked from behind her.

  “Go ahead.” Madison moved aside so the girl and her giggly friend could place their orders. While they did, she perused the trays of baked goods in the glass case. One of the cakes on the bottom shelf caught her eye. She bent down to get a better look. Madison knew from firsthand experience that Grace’s cupcakes and cookies were to die for, but this cake was a work of art. A small, pink Victorian house, complete with stained-glass windows and decorated for the holidays with realistic-looking colored lights, sat on a cake iced to look like snow.

  When the two girls walked away with their Santa cupcakes and cinnamon-scented coffee, Madison tapped a finger on the glass. “Grace, this cake is incredible. It’s not edible, is it?”

  Grace leaned over the counter. “Of course you can eat it. It’s my sugar plum cake. I love making them, but they’re labor intensive, and I haven’t had a lot of time lately.” She smiled wistfully at the cake. “That one’s a special order for Mrs. Rich. I tuck a note in a chocolate sugar plum with an appropriate wish for the occasion and hide it in the cake. Autumn makes the sugar plums for me. They’re pretty popular for engagements, but I’ve had to cut back.”

  Madison looked from Grace to the cake, and instead of visions of sugar plums dancing in her head, she saw dollar signs. She dug her BlackBerry from her purse and handed it to Grace. “I want a list of all the ingredients as well as the amount of time it takes you to make your cake.”

  Grace wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry, Maddie. I can’t. It’s a secret family recipe passed on from Jack’s grandmother. I’m not allowed to—”

  “No,” Madison interrupted her. “I don’t want the recipe. In fact, I want you to promise not to share it with anyone. If this cake tastes even half as good as it looks, I think it might be the answer to your cash flow problems.”

  “Really?” Grace said, looking like she’d had the rug pulled out from under her so many times she was afraid to hold out hope.

  “Let me do a cost analysis and some market research first, but yes—” The ringing of the phone cut Madison off.

  “Hold that thought.” Grace held up a finger and answered the call. The excited flush that pinked her cheeks only seconds ago drained away as she listened to whoever was on the other end. “I’ll be right there.” She fumbled the receiver.

  “What’s wrong?” Madison rounded the counter and took the phone from Grace’s hand, replacing it in the cradle.

  “Jack… it’s Jack Junior.” She turned in a circle as if she didn’t know what to do. “He fell out of his crib and hit his head.”

  “It’s going to be all right.” Madison put a hand on Grace’s shoulder. “Who can I call?”

  “I don’t… If something happens to my baby, Maddie, I—”

  “You listen to me, Grace Flaherty, Jack Junior will be fine. Kids have hard heads. They fall out of their cribs all the time. I used to babysit for a little boy, and I swear he fell out of his bed every night. I just heard the other day he’s going to be a brain surgeon.” It was an out-and-out lie, but Madison would say anything to wipe the fear from Grace’s eyes.

  Grace gave a jerky nod and swallowed hard. “You’re right.” She hurried through the doors to the kitchen, returning seconds later with her coat. She glanced from t
he clock to the teenagers as Madison helped her put it on. “I hate to ask, Maddie, but can you stay until Jill gets here?”

  “Of course. Hey, guys, would one of you be able to drive Mrs. Flaherty home?” Madison handed Grace her purse and shushed her objection. “You’re too upset to drive.”

  Two boys stood up. “Sure.”

  Madison took a twenty from her wallet and offered it to them.

  With an offended look, they shook their heads. “No, thanks. Come on, Mrs. Flaherty, we’ll get you home to little Jack.”

  “I hope Jack Junior’s going to be okay. I babysit for Mrs. Flaherty when she gets stuck,” the freckle-faced teenager from earlier said, her expression worried as she stood with Madison at the window watching the boys settle Grace in their car.

  Madison gave her arm a reassuring pat. “I’m sure he’ll be just fine.” Nice kids, she thought. It was obvious they cared about Grace and Jack Junior. Madison supposed that was one benefit to living in a small town: everyone looked out for one another. At least in Christmas they did.

  She walked to the back, replacing her coat with an apron, then pulled her hair into a ponytail. Madison wasn’t worried about holding down the fort. She had plenty of experience. After her father had been fired for drinking on the job, Mavis, her mother’s old boss at the local diner, had taken pity on Madison. Even though she was underage, Mavis had given her a job, paying her under the table. Madison had started out as a dishwasher, slowly working her way up to assistant manager. It’d been years since she’d thought about the cigar-smoking Mavis Wilson. She found herself smiling at the memory. Her old boss and Nell were a lot alike.

  After filling several orders, Madison realized two things. One, Grace needed to increase her prices, and two, Madison didn’t have a clue how to use the computerized cash register. If she had to guess, she’d bet it was the dangerously handsome man in the photo tacked to the wall, a yellow ribbon pinned to the frame, who’d ordered the high-tech model. Madison found the key in a drawer beneath the register and jotted down each item sold while handing back change.

  Once the customers were taken care of, she turned her attention to Grace’s books. Caught up in organizing the receipts, she didn’t realize there was someone at the counter until she heard the impatient tapping of a foot. She glanced up with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. What can I get for you?”

  An older woman with a cap of steel-wool hair looked down her narrow nose at Madison. Without returning her smile, she said, “I’m here to pick up my order.” She pointed a finger weighed down by a huge diamond at the sugar plum cake. The ring probably cost as much as Grace made in a year, maybe two.

  Finally, she thought, she’d be ringing in a decent sale. Withdrawing the cake from the shelf, Madison looked for the price.

  She didn’t find a sticker and set the cake on the counter. “I’m sorry. Grace had an emergency at home. I’m not sure how much to charge you. I’ll just—”

  “Charge me?” the woman said in a snippy tone of voice. “There’s no charge. Grace never—”

  Grace, Grace, Grace, what am I going to do with you?

  The woman was too kind for her own good. But Madison wasn’t, and she had no intention of letting the old bat take advantage of Grace. She cut her off. “I’m sure you misunderstood.”

  “I most certainly did not.” She reached for the cake, but Madison was quicker. She picked it up and stepped back from the counter. In a performance that even Holly would be impressed with, Madison widened her eyes and gave her a dumb-blonde look. “Silly me, there’s the sticker.” She added a girlish giggle.

  Madison had never been a giggly teenager, so she was impressed with how much she sounded like the girls Grace had served earlier. Actually, she’d never had a chance to be a teenager at all. “That’ll be sixty-five dollars. Please.” She gave the older woman a simpering smile—genius.

  “What?!”

  Heads swiveled in their direction.

  “I know, can you believe it? In New York, this cake would cost, like wow, I don’t know, at least triple that. I’ll box it up for you.” Madison grabbed the white cardboard from the shelf, turned her back on the woman, and hummed along with the carol playing on the radio as she made up the box.

  “This is an outrage. Grace never charges me. I’m not—”

  Madison ignored her. “A real steal, I tell you, with the amount of time it takes Grace to make one of these cakes. Will that be cash or charge?” She turned with the boxed cake in hand. But instead of facing down the woman’s outraged glare, she looked into the cool, winter-green gaze of Gage McBride.

  And cool, she thought, described their interactions of late. He’d barely said more than five words to her when he picked up Annie and Lily at Nell’s. It was as though he couldn’t bear to be in the same room with her. Today he hadn’t even bothered to pick up the girls from pageant practice. He’d sent his father, Paul McBride, instead.

  Maybe Gage wished that mind-blowing kiss they’d shared had never happened. Madison wished she felt the same way, but she didn’t. She’d been kissed before—she was a workaholic, not dead—but never had a kiss left her weak-kneed and wanting so much more.

  The corner of his perfect lips twitched. Madison’s eyes jerked from the mouth she’d been staring at to his amused gaze. Her cheeks heated at the realization she’d been salivating over him and he knew it.

  “Sheriff, I’m so glad you’re here,” Mrs. Rich said. “This… this woman is holding my cake hostage. She’s trying to make me pay for it.”

  Madison got rid of the simper and snapped, “Maybe they do things differently around here, but where I come from, when a person provides a service or product, you pay for it.” She was partly furious at the woman for trying to rip off Grace and partly embarrassed because she’d acted like a love-struck teenager in front of Gage.

  “Well, I never—”

  “I’m sure Ms. Lane—” Gage went to intercede.

  Madison cut him off. “You never what… pay?”

  From behind the furious old bat, Gage drew a finger across the lips Madison had spent way too much time fantasizing about and stepped up to the counter. The smell of freshly laundered clothes wafted past her nose as he did. He reached for the box, his cold fingers brushing hers. A drop of water fell from the damp hair slicked back from his face, splashing onto the cardboard. She kept her gaze glued to the spot, afraid that if she looked into his eyes he’d see the spark of desire his touch ignited.

  He ignored her muttered protest when he tugged the box from her hands, turning to give it to Mrs. Rich.

  “Thank you, Sheriff.” She pinned Madison with a just-you-wait look. “Grace will hear about this.” Then, like the queen of all she sees, she swept from the bakery.

  “I hope she chokes on the sugar plum,” Madison muttered, as she bent down to retrieve four twenties from her purse. She stuffed them in the cash register drawer.

  Gage rubbed his beard-shadowed jaw, his gaze flicking from the door to the teenagers crowded around the tables, then back to Madison. “That was one of Grace’s sugar plum cakes?”

  “Yes. You should’ve arrested that woman instead of handing it over.” Dear Lord, why did he have to be so damn gorgeous? It was difficult to think with him standing so close, looking all manly and… wet. And judging by his father, Gage would be just as handsome when he was in his sixties.

  “Mrs. Rich heads up one of the women’s committees in town. Grace probably donated the cake for a Christmas raffle.”

  “She can’t afford to donate a cake, especially one that takes her so much time to make, and she knows it. But she’s a people pleaser, just like Joe, and can’t say no,” Madison grumbled.

  “And you’re not… a people pleaser?”

  “I can’t believe you even asked me that.” She snorted a laugh. “No, more like a people pisser-offer, don’t you think?”

  His gaze roamed her face. “No, not always you’re not.”

  Flustered by the warmth in his eyes and
the way his gaze drifted to her mouth, she said, “I-I should call Grace. Jack Junior…”

  “That’s why I’m here. Grace wanted me to check on you and to let you know that Jack, other than the egg sprouting from his forehead, is fine.”

  Madison blinked to get rid of the moisture welling in her eyes. It wasn’t like her to be so emotional, but the thought of Grace and everything she was dealing with got to her. “Good, that’s good to hear. Thanks for letting me know. Grace… Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You don’t fool me.” He smiled, leaning closer. “You, Madison Lane, are a marshmallow.”

  “I am not.” She was tough. In her world, it didn’t pay to be a pushover. She took pride in the fact she was known as a ballbuster and pit bull. She’d worked hard to cultivate the image. So to be compared to a marshmallow, well, that was just insulting. Jenny Mae Lane, Madison’s mother, had been sweet and gullible, a real people pleaser. And look what that got her.

  * * *

  From her offended tone of voice, Gage figured it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Too bad, it was true. He had her number now. For all her uptight, don’t-mess-with-me attitude, underneath there was a big-hearted woman who cared more than she let on. He might not always agree with how she showed it, like the way she stood up for Grace with Mrs. Rich just now or how she went about protecting Annie, but damned if it didn’t turn him on.

  If he had only himself to think about, Gage wouldn’t have hesitated to act on his attraction. But he was responsible for two impressionable young girls. And as much as his youngest believed Madison was perfect girlfriend material, he knew better. As soon as she got the green light from her boss, she’d be out of there.

  When her beautiful blue eyes met his, he thought how staying away from her was easier said than done. Especially when he remembered their kiss, and how that small taste of her, the feel of her in his arms, left him wanting a hell of a lot more.

  Yeah, it was time to leave. But before he could make his escape, a meaty hand landed on his shoulder. “Hey, Sheriff.”