Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “It’s time to check our nice list,” he said, loud enough to be heard over the chatter.

  “Don’t look for Bob Tuller’s name on there, Santa. He’s always on the naughty list,” one man called from a table, sending the room into laughter.

  “Since you’re always with me, Ned Francis, he won’t need to look for yours, either!” a bald-headed man, Sylvie assumed was Bob, said from the same table. More laughter ensued.

  “Well, you might just be surprised what I have for you two then.” Cleetus held out his hand towards Sylvie. “This is my helper, Elf Sylvie.”

  She smiled at the loud applause and words of welcome.

  “Who’s first, Sylvie?” Cleetus asked.

  She pulled out a small box and read the name. “Rose McTavish.”

  A cheer of Rose and an oh, my came from a table to the right. Carol wheeled a tiny, white-haired woman up beside Cleetus.

  He stood and gave her a small kiss on the cheek. “I think you’ll like what’s in here this year, Rose.”

  Inside the box was a gold locket. Cleetus helped her open it. Pictures of her two grown granddaughters were inside.

  As they proceeded through the gift list, the variety of the gifts surprised Sylvie. Homemade items like a new quilt made by one of the local quilter guilds. Household items like the new garage door opener and a coupon for free installation by Joe over at the hardware store. And one lucky couple got airline tickets to go see their kids in Texas for the holidays, completely paid for by their kids.

  At one point, two couples—younger end of the age bracket and still quite spry—did swing dancing to jazz renditions of Snow Ride and Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree. All in all, everyone had a fun afternoon. Even the staff smiled and laughed as they cleaned up after the last of the guests left.

  “It’s always like this?” Sylvie asked, as she stacked the clean dishes in the center’s cabinets.

  “Not the first year.” Michelle Towers, one of the staff members, handed Sylvie another stack of dishes from the center’s washer. “About twenty years ago, the town council allocated money for the Senior Center to be built because so many residents in the town and the county were of retirement age. That first holiday party, they asked the local churches to donate food for the potluck party. According to Miss Rose, about twenty people showed up. There were no gifts given out, but they had a nice, quiet gathering.”

  “Followed by food poisoning that almost killed a few of the older guests, including my mother,” Libby said.

  “That’s when Lorna and Harriett stepped in,” Emma Preston, Doc Clint’s wife, said. She volunteered at the center two afternoons a week, since her mother attended the Alzheimer’s memory clinic at the center those days.

  “Cleetus told me about that and how Lorna took over the food service.” Sylvie took a platter from Michelle. “What about the gifts?”

  “That’s Harriett’s doing,” Michelle said.

  “Harriett?” Sylvie looked at the other three women who all nodded.

  “Somehow, she finds out just what each person needs or wants most,” Libby explained. “Then a well-placed phone call to a family member, business, craft guild, or the town council—”

  “—and I have a bag full of special gifts to give out,” Cleetus said, holding a loaded plate of the luncheon fare.

  “Where did you get that?” Sylvie asked, suddenly ravenous. They’d worked all through the luncheon, even while the staff members ate alongside their guests.

  “Ms. Lorna always saves me a plate of food for after I help carry out her equipment and leftovers to the van.” Cleetus grinned and pulled another plate from behind his back. “Got one for you, too.”

  Emma took the drying cloth from Sylvie’s hand. “You two go enjoy lunch, we can finish in here.”

  “I really should stay and help,” Sylvie started to protest, only to have Libby turn her by her shoulders and push her towards Cleetus and the kitchen door.

  “You’ve done enough. Go enjoy a meal with Santa.”

  As they sat at one of the tables in the cafeteria and ate their food, Sylvie couldn’t help looking around at the festive atmosphere and letting it fill her soul. “This is what I love about Westen.”

  “Yep, Christmas in Westen is pretty special,” Cleetus said between bites of roast beef and mashed potatoes.

  Sylvie smiled and shook her head. “No, not just the holiday season. I meant the caring for each other. The closeness. Neighbors and friends being there for each other. Not all small towns are like this.”

  He set his fork down and wiped his mouth, having removed his beard again before eating. “Don’t let the small-town feel fool you, Sylvie. I love Westen. Love living here. Have my whole life, but it’s not perfect. Even in a town that tries hard to take care of its folks like Westen does, there are secrets hidden way down deep. Heck, in the last year we’ve had all kinds of trouble no one would’ve seen coming a few years back.”

  “Oh, I know that. Seeing you in the hospital after that arsonist nearly blew us up let me know real quick that even bad things can happen in good places.” She blinked at the sudden burn in her eyes from the memory of waking up on top of his unconscious body, and the little house she’d been planning to rent going up in flames. For the first time in her life, she’d thought someone she loved had been killed. She took a deep breath. “How this town comes together and celebrates the holiday? That’s how I always imagined it should be.”

  “What were your Christmases like growing up?” Concern filled those big blue eyes of his.

  “Nothing special like this. Daddy didn’t like spending money or celebrating much of anything. Mama would get each of us kids one present to open, and then it was usually clothes.”

  “No toys?”

  She shook her head. “Daddy said he didn’t like supporting companies that made their toys in other countries. Besides, he said we didn’t have time for playing. Our job was to help with the farm.”

  “Did you at least get a Christmas tree to decorate?”

  Again, she shook her head. “He said we’d probably burn down the house.”

  “Well.” Cleetus reached across the table to take her hand in his. “We’ll just have to make this your best Christmas ever.”

  CLOSE TO SANTA’S HEART

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next morning, Cleetus sat at his desk in the sheriff’s office, staring at the computer screen.

  “Is there something the matter, Cleetus?” fellow deputy, Bobby Roberts, the sheriff’s fiancée, asked from her desk across the room.

  Cleetus pursed his lips together and got that faraway look he always got when he was pondering a question. Bobby knew better than to press him. She’d come to love him like a little brother since moving to Westen, nearly nine months ago. Cleetus was the kindest person she knew. He was a very good deputy, but sometimes it took him a few minutes to get his question just the way he wanted to ask it. His questions were always insightful as to what he might be thinking. Finally, he turned in his chair to look at her. “Bobby, have you ever known anyone who didn’t like Christmas?”

  Bobby saved the report she was filing and swiveled around to face her friend. “Personally? No. Can’t say that I do. But there are people who don’t celebrate it at all, or celebrate it differently than the way most Americans do.”

  “Like the Rothbergs and Kitzmillers are Jewish, and celebrate Hanukkah instead?”

  “Yes. Or like the Amish, who celebrate the religious part, but don’t have Santa, or some don’t even have Christmas trees or decorations.”

  “I knew about them, and I understand their reasons.” He pressed his lips into a thin line and drew his brows down, obviously thinking how he wanted to ask his next question. Again, Bobby waited.

  Finally, he tilted his head sideways. “What I don’t understand is why a father, without religious beliefs about the holiday, wouldn’t allow his kids to enjoy it. Not just Santa, but no presents, no tree, no special things. Nothing fun. A man
who thought his kids were there to work on his farm, not play and not to have happy memories.”

  Then it hit her.

  “Are we talking about Sylvie’s father and family?”

  He lowered his gaze and nodded. “She looked so sad when she was telling me about it. I don’t think she had a very good childhood. Certainly not any good Christmas memories.”

  Bobby smiled. Cleetus, the gentle giant, had a quest.

  “So, you’d like to give her some happy memories to replace them?”

  He looked up again, his face brightening. “Yes. But I’m not sure how to do it.”

  “There’s a line from The Sound of Music by Rogers and Hammerstein that I love so much. It’s the song where she’s teaching the kids to sing together.”

  “The Do-Re-Mi song?” he asked.

  “Yes. The character Maria says, You start at the very beginning,” Bobby said with a smile. “So let’s make a list of all your favorite parts of the holiday celebrations.”

  “I really like being Santa for the town.” He pulled out a pad of paper and wrote that down. “Not because I want everyone to notice me. I just like making people happy, especially the old folks and the kids.”

  “And I think they love how much you enjoy being Santa. Emma said all the senior citizens at the party yesterday had such fun getting presents and treats from Santa and his elf. You two make a great team.”

  “I think we do. Sylvie really seemed to have fun yesterday, too.”

  “So, that’s the first thing you’re sharing with her. The gift of giving joy to others. You know, when Gage first told me about Westen’s tree-lighting ceremony to kick off the holiday for the town, I was enchanted that Westen still does something so old-fashioned. So tree decorating is a big part of the holiday.”

  “I bet Sylvie doesn’t have any decorations for a tree.” He made another note on his pad.

  “Do you think she’d want a fake tree, or a real one?”

  “Who wants a fake tree?” Cleetus looked at her with such a look of disgust, Bobby almost cracked up laughing. Then inspiration must have hit him. “I’ll take her out to the Landons’ and let her pick one out. They have two acres of trees.”

  “They do?”

  “Yep. One of the best parts of the holidays is getting your own tree.”

  Now, Bobby wanted to go tree hunting. She’d never done it before. Gage was just going to have to find time to go with her. And wouldn’t that be romantic? She studied Cleetus. He might not think he was very romantic, but she suspected Sylvie was going to be swept off her feet this Christmas and love every minute of it.

  “What else is special to you about Christmas?” she asked.

  “The music. Not the kind that’s on the radio,” he clarified. “The old carols, especially the ones we sing in church on Sunday. The ones that talk about Jesus’ birth.”

  “You know, I love to sing the carols, too. I remember when I was a teenager we used to go caroling door-to-door. Then we’d end up back at my house and my mother would have hot chocolate, cookies and games for us. Of course, that was before my parents were killed.” She shook off the moment of sadness, trying to focus on the happy memory. An idea popped into her head. “Why don’t we plan a caroling party, Cleetus? We’ll invite some of the teens from the area. You, Sylvie, Gage and I can act as chaperones, and have a party back at the Peaches ’N Cream.”

  “Miss Lorna will love that.” Cleetus jotted the idea into his notebook.

  The idea of strolling in the cold with Gage and singing carols warming her on the inside, Bobby turned back to the report she’d been filing. “Is there anything else you’d like to share with Sylvie this Christmas?”

  “Well, there’s the food and family. I know my parents like having her come for dinner, and once I tell Mom about Sylvie’s past Christmases, she’ll invite her to our house on Christmas Eve. Then there’s presents.” He paused in his writing. “I mean, I like getting presents, but giving them is even more fun.”

  Bobby looked over her shoulder at him. “Cleetus, you just follow your heart and that list you’ve made, and I think Sylvie is going to have the best Christmas ever.”

  * * * * *

  Halfway through Sylvie’s shift on Wednesday at the Dye Right, the jingle bells on the door for the holidays jangled out someone’s entrance. As always, she looked up, this time from setting Mrs. Higgins, with all her hair pinned in perm rods, beneath the loud hood dryer, to greet the client, only to stop with her mouth half-open.

  There stood Cleetus, holding a huge, red-and-green, gift-wrapped box and wearing a grin.

  “Hi, Cleetus!” Most of the women in the salon called out to him.

  “Merry Christmas everyone,” he called out, searching the room until his eyes fell on her.

  Sylvie blushed, but continued setting her client up with her favorite gossip magazines and a glass of sweet tea. One thing she’d learned working at Twylla’s salon was that pampering your customers—providing their favorite drinks, snacks and reading material; listening to them talk about themselves and their interests; even carrying their favorite shades of nail polish—meant not just a good tip, but repeat business.

  Whatever was in that package Cleetus held, and she was pretty sure it was for her, could keep just a few minutes. Besides, Mrs. Higgins was the town’s biggest gossip. If she thought she was being slighted in the least, her gossip might turn mean, and Sylvie wouldn’t have Cleetus’ reputation in the town tarnished for anything.

  “Anything else I can get you Mrs. Higgins?” she asked, holding onto the hood before lowering it.

  “Oh, no, Sylvie. You’ve got me fixed up just perfect. Besides, I think our deputy has something special for you.” The older woman smiled and winked.

  Sylvie laughed a little and lowered the dryer hood in place, setting the heating and timer so as not to overcook her client’s hair or skin.

  “I’ll keep an eye on Mrs. Higgins for you, if you want to take a break,” Molly Dickson, one of the other stylists in the shop, offered. She leaned in closer. “You don’t want to open that gift in here, with all these women watching.”

  “You’re right. Thanks.” Sylvie gave the other girl a quick hug and hurried up to the front, where Cleetus was talking with the Miller Twins, two elderly ladies who still wore their hair styled exactly alike.

  “We were just telling Deputy Junkins just how sweet it was of him to bring you a gift at work. Weren’t we, Violet?” Nola Miller asked her sister, as Sylvie stepped up beside Cleetus.

  “Yes, Nola. We were just saying that.” Violet patted Cleetus on the shoulder. “And so appropriate, since you are the town’s Santa after all.”

  He blushed, but smiled at the twins. “What kind of Santa would I be if I didn’t bring gifts?”

  “Well, we’d best be on our way.”

  “We’re meeting our husbands at the Inn for dinner tonight.”

  The sisters hurried out into the blustery day.

  “So, is that for me?” Sylvie nodded at the box Cleetus held.

  “Something to start your holiday season with.” He smiled like a little boy.

  “Let’s take it to the break room, so I can open it.”

  He followed her through the maze of chairs and clients to the back of the salon, where Twylla had set aside a small kitchen for her stylists. It had a red, Formica-topped, chrome-edged table with matching chairs. A small electric stove, counter with a microwave, and a refrigerator took up the wall across from the only window. The salon had a coffee maker, but that was kept out where the customers could have a cup while waiting or sitting under a dryer.

  “Just set it on the table.” Sylvie pulled two pops out of the fridge, handing one to Cleetus before taking a seat. Always the gentleman, he waited for her to sit, then joined her. Given his size, she was surprised the chair didn’t give way. She smiled at him, laying her hand on his big one. “I hope you don’t mind coming back here, but I’d like to open your gift without everyone in town knowing about it
within the hour.”

  “Probably already do, since I was shopping at the Knobs & Knockers,” he said with a grin.

  Sylvie blinked. “You bought my present at the hardware store?” Visions of drills and hammers suddenly filled her mind.

  Cleetus laughed. “It’s not a tool belt, or anything. Just open it, and you’ll see.”

  Anticipation skittered up her spine and her curiosity had her fingers shaking as she pulled on the big, red bow. Carefully, she peeled back the seam where the wrapping paper overlapped.

  Cleetus leaned closer. “You can just rip the stuff off, you know.”

  “Hush,” she said, still working the paper loose. “I’ve never gotten a present this big before, and I want to enjoy opening it.”

  Holding his hands up like he was under arrest, he sat back in the small chair. “You just take your time, then.”

  And she did just that, removing the paper and carefully folding it up. Pulling on the edges of the cardboard box, she popped the two small pieces of tape holding them together and peered inside. Red, green, and gold balls decorated with glitter lay nestled in a tray of plastic and tissue paper.

  “Oh, Cleetus, they’re beautiful!” She jumped from her seat and threw her arms around his neck. Sitting down, he was finally at the right height for her to kiss him without being on her tiptoes. She surprised him, because it took a second for his arms to wrap around her, but he held her tight and kissed her back. After a moment, he eased his lips from hers. “There’s more.”

  She blinked, a little confused by the heat of his kiss. “More?”

  “Inside the box. You only saw the top layer.”

  “Oh! More ornaments inside?”

  He nodded. She leaned in and kissed him quickly, before going back to her seat to dig into her present.

  In all, there were three trays. The second was filled with delicate Inge blown-glass ornaments in shapes of bells, animals, and angels. The bottom were all beautiful snowflakes made of glass and glitter. Overcome with the beauty of his gift, tears filled her eyes and she sniffled hard.