Trouble With Christmas (9781455544066)

by Mason, Debbie

  “I’m grateful to have you here in my arms. And just so you know, I don’t plan on letting you go.” He tipped her face up and kissed her.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Gage struggled to keep his emotions in check as he joined the citizens of Christmas in a standing ovation. He figured he’d eventually become accustomed to hearing Annie’s incredible voice, and it wouldn’t affect him as deeply as it did tonight.

  “Bravo, bravo,” Madison’s friend Skye cheered beside him.

  Gage held back a grin at the shell-shocked expression on his best friend’s face. Ethan, who stood on the other side of her, mouthed, She’s nuts.

  But hot? Gage mouthed back. He’d seen the look on Ethan’s face when she’d taken off her coat, revealing a pink knit dress that hugged her lithe, well-toned form—exactly the type of body that turned his best friend’s crank.

  Just like Madison’s turned Gage’s. He was counting down the minutes until he had her to himself. Up until a few hours ago, at his father’s insistence, Gage had been in the hospital. With the citizens of Christmas sneaking in to check on him every five minutes and Madison’s long to-do list, they’d barely had any time alone. Then his father had thrown a curve ball into his plans for the night, inviting friends and family to spend Christmas Eve at his place. Since Santa had a delivery to make and would require the services of his little helper—hopefully in costume—Gage and Madison would have at least a couple of hours of one-on-one time.

  Before Gage got an answer to his question, Skye turned to Ethan as they took their seats. “You have the wonkiest aura I’ve ever seen. You’re way too uptight. It’s not healthy, you know. But I can help with that.” She put her hand on Ethan’s stomach. “Now just—”

  “Hey, cut it out. We’re in a church.”

  “She’s right, honey. You are a little uptight,” Liz said.

  Skye put a hand on Ethan’s thigh, leaning across him to talk to his mother. Ethan tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “Oh.” She beamed at Liz and Gage’s father. “You’re perfect for each other. You’ve got matching auras.”

  “That’s, um,” Liz stammered, “oh, look, the children are coming back in to sing.”

  Gage’s father was doing a good job at playing statue, eyes focused front and center.

  “Maybe you should listen to her, Mom.” Ethan grinned.

  Skye smiled up at him, and his jaw dropped. He gave his head a slight shake. “Okay, you just sit there”—he removed her hand from his leg and put it in her lap—“and be quiet.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re a Republican, aren’t you?”

  “What the hell has that got to do with anything?”

  Nell and the boys, along with the rest of the seniors in the row in front of them, turned to glare at Ethan. “Sorry. Heck,” he said and glared at Skye.

  She tossed her long, curly hair and moved closer to Gage.

  “And I bet you’re a bleeding-heart liberal,” Ethan muttered.

  Madison’s friend Vivi slid in the pew beside Gage, a stack of papers bundled in her arms. “Did I miss anything?” she asked.

  “The pageant, but they’re going to finish up with a few carols,” he said, as he watched Madison, wearing the red dress she’d worn at the Penalty Box, leading the kids back in.

  Vivi looked at him and frowned. “Do you have a brother?”

  He grinned as Madison threw up her hands when Hailey reorganized the kids in line, then reluctantly turned to answer Vivi. “Yeah, I have two of them—my older brother, Chance, and my younger brother, Easton.”

  “Do you have a picture of them?”

  The expression on her face worried him. Not only did the bad guys shoot at his brothers, so did the women they’d left behind. They lived by a “love ’em and leave ’em” credo. He got his dad’s attention. “You have a picture of Chance and Easton on you?” His father nodded and reached in his back pocket for his wallet.

  “Whoa, and I thought you were hot,” Skye said, looking at the photo Ethan passed to her. Ignoring Ethan’s muttered “They’re not that hot,” she handed it to Vivi.

  His aunt looked over her shoulder to check out what was going on. Her gaze went from the photo to Vivi. Nell winced, a guilty expression on her face.

  Gage leaned forward to whisper in his aunt’s ear. “What did you do now?”

  “Nothing.” She whipped her head around.

  He sat back and turned to Vivi. “You okay?”

  Tight-lipped, she nodded and shoved the photo into his hand.

  He wondered which one of his brothers had screwed her over, and how his aunt was involved—because no matter what she said, Nell was involved.

  He’d have to solve the mystery later, because right then the choir began to sing. They sang all the old favorites, and just as he thought they were going to take a bow, the kids waved Madison onto the dais. She took her place between Lily and Annie, her face lighting up with her incredible smile when she opened her mouth to sing “Silent Night.” None of the kids joined in. They watched her with goofy grins on their faces as she sang her heart out.

  Vivi and Skye groaned, sinking down in the pew. Ted put his hand to his ear, turning off his hearing aid. “I wish I was deaf,” Fred muttered.

  The two men turned to look at Gage. “You’re never going to have to worry about a talent scout stealing that one away from you.”

  Maybe not, but she was the one woman he’d follow anywhere.

  As she hit the last discordant note, Gage stood, put two fingers between his lips, and whistled. Up and down the rows, people looked at him like he’d lost it. He didn’t care and started to clap.

  “I guess he really does love her,” Skye said.

  “Yeah, but I thought love was supposed to be blind, not deaf, too,” Vivi said, as they stood up and clapped.

  The choir held hands and started to sing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” encouraging the audience to join in. As they were wrapping up, a phone rang, loudly. “Sorry… sorry.” Madison waved, her face flushed. She slunk off to grab her purse from the floor beside the piano.

  Not long after she answered her cell, whispers worked their way through the congregation. “It’s Joe Hartwell. Probably trying to steal her away from us.” A couple of people shushed them, the better to hear the conversation. It was one Gage wanted to hear, too.

  He excused himself, discreetly making his way up the side aisle. So much for being discreet; he was like the Pied Piper with everyone following behind him.

  “Yes, it was a shock.” Madison nodded, looking to where Gage now stood below her. “I’ll tell him. Really, that’s a very generous offer, Joe. I appreciate your confidence in me.” Her gaze swept over the people crowding in behind him, then back to Gage.

  “We’ll make it work,” he said, pretty sure the offer was for her to take over Hartwell. “Accept if you want to.”

  “What the Sam Hill are you thinking?” his aunt snapped from behind him.

  That he’d do whatever he had to to make Madison happy.

  She smiled. “Joe, you gave me a piece of advice not too long ago, and I’m going to give the same to you. Now’s the time for you to enjoy life, enjoy your time with Martha. Sell out to Ben at Triwest.” She nodded. “Sure, I’ll be happy to help you with the offer after the holidays. No, I appreciate it, but I’ve had a pretty good offer for a job here in Christmas.” She glanced at Ethan. He nodded.

  Gage frowned. “What’s going on?”

  “Merry Christmas, buddy.” Ethan smiled.

  “You remember the mayor, Ethan O’Connor? Well, he’s been asked to throw his hat in the Senate race, and the town council has asked me to step in as interim mayor.” She glanced at Gage and mouthed, Good surprise?

  “Best ever,” he said.

  “Ethan, honey,” Liz cried and hugged her son.

  “What party would you be running for?” Skye asked, her voice saccharine sweet.

  “Why, the Republican Party, of course,” one of the old tim
ers informed her, as he joined the crowd gathering around Ethan.

  She snorted and walked away. Ethan’s gaze followed her as he shook hands with his supporters.

  No way, buddy, Gage thought, seeing a look he was familiar with in his best friend’s eyes, not in a million years.

  He tuned back in to Madison’s conversation. “Merry Christmas, Joe, to both you and Martha. Yes, it seems to be the year for Christmas miracles. I’m so glad you got yours. Yes, I did, I got my Christmas miracle, too.” Her gaze held Gage’s.

  “Back ’atcha.” He smiled, then held out his hand to help her down when she disconnected. He drew her into his arms. “That was a pretty big secret to keep.”

  “It was, but I didn’t have to keep it for very long. Ethan asked me this afternoon.”

  Half the town descended on them, wanting to congratulate Madison and give her advice. Gage gave up and decided to wait for her and his daughters by the entrance doors.

  As he walked to the back of the church, Grace stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Merry Christmas, Gage.” She smiled up at him. “I’m so glad Madison’s moving here.”

  “Me too.” He kissed her cheek. “Merry Christmas.” He glanced at the tall blond man standing behind her with a sleepy Jack Junior in his arms. And for some reason, that bugged the hell out of Gage. Jack should be here with his wife and son, not Sawyer Anderson. The two men had been best friends growing up, and Gage knew Sawyer missed Jack as much as he did. But lately, he’d had the uncomfortable feeling that Sawyer wanted more than friendship from Grace.

  Sawyer stuck out his hand. “Merry Christmas, Gage.”

  Aw hell, what was he thinking? It was Sawyer. He was a good guy. “Merry Christmas,” Gage said, feeling like an idiot. Just because he was in love didn’t mean everyone else was. They chatted for a couple of minutes as they headed to the entrance, then said good-bye. Gage ruffled Jack Junior’s hair. “Hope Santa’s good to you, buddy.” The best gift the little boy could receive was his father, and Gage prayed Jack came home to him soon.

  He walked to where Vivi and Skye were handing out copies of the Chronicle and snagged one of the papers from Skye. He’d heard Vivi had commandeered the paper for the day and now he knew why. On the front page, the headline read: The Grinch Who Saved Christmas, with a picture of Madison surrounded by a crowd of people, a megaphone at her lips.

  Madison came up beside him, shrugging into her coat. “What’s that?”

  He grinned and handed her the paper.

  “Aw, you guys,” she said when she saw the headline, then groaned. “Couldn’t you have found a better picture of me?”

  Skye shrugged. “There weren’t any. Face it, you’re not very photogenic.”

  “I think you’re beautiful,” Gage said.

  She kissed his cheek. “I think you’re beautiful, too.”

  “Gross,” Annie said, taking Madison’s hand. “Come on, we gotta go. Grandpa said we can open a present tonight.”

  Lily smiled up at Gage, slipping her hand into his. “It’s going to be the best Christmas ever.”

  “It already is,” he said, taking Madison’s other hand.

  The four of them headed out into the lightly falling snow to the sound of church bells ringing and everyone wishing one another a Merry Christmas.

  “I love Christmas,” Madison said, her face lit up with a smile.

  Looking down at the woman he loved, Gage decided that this time next year, he’d propose to her right here on the church steps.

  If he could wait that long.

  About the Author

  My dream of becoming a published author took a backseat to raising my three children and running several businesses with my husband. In 2007, we sold the businesses and our youngest graduated from high school, giving me time to focus on my writing.

  Fortunately, dreams don’t have an expiration date, and two romance groups, six manuscripts, and an agent later, my debut book, Lord of the Isles, written under the name Debbie Mazzuca, was published in 2010.

  A new chapter has begun with this contemporary romance series set in the fun-filled, fictional town of Christmas, Colorado. My characters make me laugh and cry, and, like me, they get their happy-ever-after. After thirty-two years of marriage, my husband is still the man of my dreams. The arrival of our first grandbaby has made our lives complete. But I wouldn’t say no to a dozen more—babies or books.

  You can learn more at:

  AuthorDebbieMason.com

  Twitter @AuthorDebMason

  Facebook.com

  When an MIA soldier returns from war, being home for the holiday takes on a whole new meaning…

  Don’t miss the next book in this heartwarming series.

  Please turn this page for a preview of

  Christmas in July

  Chapter One

  Till death do us part.

  Grace Flaherty, owner of the Sugar Plum Bakery, tried to drown out the wedding vows she couldn’t get out of her head by humming a song. Her breath hitched when she recognized the melody—“Amazed,” her and Jack’s song. It was as if he knew what she was going to do and tried to stop her. A warm, spring-scented breeze wafted through the screen door, and she closed her eyes, letting its soft caress soothe her aching heart.

  Today was her husband’s thirty-fifth birthday, and the day Grace said good-bye to him.

  “I’m sorry, Jack. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep pretending you’re coming home,” she whispered, as she put the finishing touches on the cake, tying a yellow ribbon on the tiny, white picket fence that circled the pink-fondant house.

  Since the day Jack’s Black Hawk went down in Afghanistan and he’d been listed as MIA, she’d clung to the hope he’d come home to her and their two-year-old son. But where hope had once sustained her, now, seventeen months later, the spiderlike threads held her in limbo. The not knowing was making her crazy. She had to move on with her life and somehow heal her broken heart. The only way she knew how to do that was to let Jack go.

  Kneeling on the stool beside her, her son Jack Junior dumped a bottle of blue sprinkles onto the stainless steel island instead of the cupcake she’d given him to decorate.

  “Oh, Jack,” she sighed, prying the bottle from his hand.

  “Me do.” Under a tumble of curly dark hair, a frown puckered the brow of his sweet face. “Mommy sad.”

  So sad that it hurt. “No, Mommy’s happy.” She gave him a reassuring hug, touching the tips of her fingers to her cheek to ensure there were no tears. For someone who’d been schooled at an early age to hide her feelings, it amazed Grace how easily her son picked up on her emotions. Then again, she could never hide her feelings from his father, either.

  Forcing a smile, she handed him a miniature American flag. “Put it on your cupcake,” she said, as she attached one to the Victorian’s front porch. His hand darted in front of her. “No…” She swallowed a frustrated groan when he smashed the flag in the wildflower garden, taking out two poppies and a sunflower.

  If she didn’t hurry up, he’d destroy the cake. She darted to the refrigerator, retrieving the chocolate sugar plum she’d prepared earlier. Typically, the sugar plum contained an engagement ring or a wish. This one held Jack’s wedding band, a good-bye note, and a wish for her future. A man’s man, her husband didn’t wear jewelry and had worn the ring only on their wedding day. Their life had been filled with such promise then, promises and dreams, like the house on her cake. But while her dreams with Jack might be over, she was determined to create new ones for herself and her son. Different dreams, but just as bright.

  Instead of hiding the sugar plum in the cake like she always did, she placed it beneath the house. She couldn’t risk someone else finding it, but she needed the sugar plum to be there. It wouldn’t be her signature cake without it. And lately she’d been receiving letters from people whose sugar plum wishes had come true. Something her silent business partner and friend—not that Madison McBride knew what the word silent meant—had been
happily exploiting. Grace didn’t believe there was anything magical about her cakes, but if there was a chance…

  The stool wobbled as Jack Junior tried to get down. “Me go to party,” he said, referring to the gathering Jack’s friends had organized to celebrate his birthday at the Penalty Box tonight.

  After putting in twelve hours before picking up her son at the sitter—two of her employees had called in sick that morning—the last thing Grace wanted to do was spend an emotional evening with the citizens of the small town of Christmas, Colorado, who believed with all their hearts that their hometown hero would one day come home. It wasn’t as if she could plead a headache or heartache and drop her cake off and leave. They expected her there, as upbeat and as naïvely positive as they were.

  At the thought, Grace wearily scooped her son into her arms. “As soon as Mommy’s cleaned up the kitchen, we’ll go.”

  “No. Go now.” Wriggling in her arms, he tried to break free.

  She couldn’t handle his Flaherty temper right now, but she couldn’t leave the bakery in a mess, either. With a firm grip on his hand, she put him down and reached for the broom. “Here.” She handed him the dustbin. “Let’s play catch the sprinkles.”

  After a frustrating five minutes, even though the black-and-white tiles were clear of sprinkles, Grace reached for the mop, then stopped herself. She was being ridiculous. Searching for something to occupy her precocious son while she cleaned off the island, she latched on to the cupcake liners he’d dumped on the counter. Handing him the container and liners, she sat him on the floor at her feet. “Can you put these back in the tube for Mommy?”

  He nodded and picked up the container. She ruffled his baby-soft hair then turned to clean up the mess. The crushed flowers called to her. She needed the last cake she made for Jack to be perfect. When a quick, over-the-shoulder glance revealed her son to be engrossed in his task, she reached for the pastry bag and rose nail.

  Ten minutes later, she replaced the last of the three flowers in the garden and turned to her son. “Jack…” He was gone. Panic threatened to overwhelm her as the memory of another child who’d gone missing on her watch came back to haunt her. She pushed the thought from her mind, her gaze darting to the narrow spaces between the industrial ovens and refrigerator.