Christmas in Good Hope (A Good Hope Novel Book 1)

by Kirk, Cindy

  “Seriously, there’s something different.”

  Okay, three times saying the same thing demanded a response. Or else knocking Max out, and that wasn’t really an option.

  “I recently had my hair trimmed.”

  Max assessed the hair brushing the top of Beck’s collar. He shook his head.

  “It’s not your physical appearance,” Max said finally. “It’s . . . you. You seem happier.”

  “It’s Christmas. Ho-ho-ho.”

  Max grinned at Beck’s feeble attempt. “The incidence of depression soars at this time of year.”

  Beck didn’t need Max to remind him of that; he’d lived that statistic last year. His first Christmas without Lisette. His parents had tried to make the holidays nice, but seeing his brother kiss his wife and toss his giggling baby into the air had sliced like a knife to the heart.

  “Things are good,” Beck said simply. “Business is booming at the café.”

  “I hear you and Amaryllis Bloom have been seeing each other.” Max religiously read the Open Door e-newsletter and had his finger on the pulse of the community.

  For one moment of horror Beck wondered if he and Ami had been mentioned in the tabloid rag. He immediately dismissed the thought.

  “Ami is part of the Cherries. She’s been helping me get my home ready for the tour. She’s also cooking at the café on the weekends.”

  “She’s an attractive woman.”

  Beck turned to his friend. “Your point?”

  “No point.” Max’s expression remained bland. “I’m just happy to hear you’re becoming more involved . . . in the community.”

  Beck responded by grunting and jerking open the battered wooden door of the bar. As he’d predicted, the noise was deafening. While a few couples danced, the majority of patrons stood—or sat—with drinks in their hands, trying to be heard above the pulsating bass.

  The glossy mahogany bar took up an entire wall. A long mirror made the average-size bar appear huge. High tin ceilings, while aesthetically pleasing, had sound reverberating like a speaker on steroids.

  From young college students barely old enough to legally drink to weathered fishermen who’d seen a half century on a boat, the eclectic crowd had one thing in common tonight: red-and-white Santa hats.

  “Hey.” Max tapped a fisherman with a white beard on the shoulder. “Where’d you get the hat?”

  The man raised his voice and gestured with his head toward the back of the bar. “They’re selling them to raise money to help one of the teachers at the high school.”

  “Beck. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

  He turned and saw Hadley holding a tray of dirty glasses. She wore the bar’s standard uniform, a black T-shirt displaying the Flying Crane logo in eye-popping red with a black skirt showing miles of toned legs.

  “I didn’t know you worked here.”

  “You know what they say about idle hands.” The pretty blond laughed. “What can I get you to drink?”

  “I’ll have a beer; whatever you have on tap,” Beck said.

  Max stared at Hadley with blatant interest. “You work with Ami at the bakery.”

  “I do.” Her voice was pleasant but distant. “What can I get you?”

  “Same.” Max offered the woman an engaging smile, but she didn’t appear to notice.

  As Hadley moved to a nearby table to take another order, she called to Beck over her shoulder. “If you’re looking for Ami, she’s in the back.”

  “Does Blondie have a boyfriend?” Max frowned as he watched Hadley toss her long, curly hair and flirt with a man old enough to be her father.

  “I don’t know.” Beck spoke absently, wondering if he’d be able to convince Ami to come home with him tonight. Though he’d seen her this morning, that had been hours ago.

  “She doesn’t seem interested in me.” Max sounded surprised. “Not at all.”

  “You’re right about that.” As Beck pushed his way through the crowded bar, he noticed a pack of obviously intoxicated young men in ball caps standing near the bar.

  He shot a censuring glance at the bartenders. Didn’t they realize they were putting the entire community at risk by serving people who’d already had too much?

  Hadley rushed past him and he grabbed her arm.

  “Hey, don’t touch the—” She stopped when she saw it was him. “You want to change your order?”

  “Those guys over there need to be cut off,” he said without preamble. “Also make sure they’re not driving.”

  The blond followed his gaze. She studied the threesome for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Satisfied, Beck resumed weaving his way to the back of the bar. He lost Max when they ran into a pretty, dark-haired woman with startling gray eyes whom his friend introduced as Greer Chapin, Clay’s sister.

  While Max stayed behind to speak with the woman, Beck kept walking.

  He spotted Cory and Jackie in the corner, speaking with several other couples. The affable teacher raised his hand and smiled when his gaze landed on Beck.

  After returning the greeting, Beck settled his gaze on Ami. She stood behind a table with Katie Ruth, fellow Cherrie and editor of the tabloid rag, the Open Door.

  He couldn’t help but smile at their attire. The two were dressed as Santa’s elves in tight red shirts, green pants, and hats with a single jaunty feather. The rectangular table they stood behind held sprigs of mistletoe tied with red-and-white-striped ribbon, tins of cookies, and the popular Santa hats.

  As there was currently a line, Beck and Max stood back, sipping the beer Hadley had dropped off.

  “Good enough to eat,” Max murmured.

  Beck glanced at the selection of holiday treats displayed. “Ami makes the best cookies.”

  “I’m not talking cookies, Cross. I’m talking women.”

  Beck shot Max a dark glance, while privately acknowledging he found the way Ami’s stretchy shirt clung to her breasts arousing.

  The accountant grinned, apparently noticing the direction of Beck’s gaze. “Exactly.”

  He gave his friend a warning shove. Max could look at Katie Ruth all he wanted, but he best keep his eyes off Ami. At that moment, the line thinned and they stepped to the table.

  Beck slipped out his wallet.

  “What can I get you?” Katie Ruth asked with a cheery smile.

  “I’d like to make a donation.”

  The tabloid editor pointed to a large jar, and Beck stuffed a handful of twenties into the top.

  “Two hats.” Max handed Katie Ruth a large bill. “Keep the change.”

  “You better be buying that second one for someone other than me,” Beck told his friend, “because I’m not wearing one.”

  “That’s the Mr. Scrooge we all know and love.”

  “We also have cookie tins and mistletoe.” Ami, who’d finished with another customer, moved to Katie Ruth’s side and smiled at Beck.

  “Toss in a piece of that mistletoe, too,” Max requested.

  “I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” Ami said to Beck while Katie Ruth placed Max’s mistletoe in a small, clear bag.

  “I hoped our paths would cross.” Actually, that was one of the main reasons he’d agreed to come with Max. “I hated having to rush off this morning.”

  “You didn’t have much choice,” she said with an understanding smile.

  He and Ami had barely gotten out of the shower when Beck had been called to the café. Two boys had egged the front of several businesses, including Muddy Boots. The sheriff needed Beck to fill out a report. Thankfully, Ami’s bakery had been spared.

  “Max heard about the fundraiser. I wanted to support Cory and Jackie.” He glanced in the direction of the couple. “How are they doing?”

  Ami shot a glance at Katie Ruth. “Mind if I take a five-minute break?”

  Katie Ruth’s gaze skipped from Ami to Beck. She grinned. “Go for it.”

  Ami led Beck to the quietest corner she could fi
nd. She slanted a glance in Cory and Jackie’s direction and sighed. “They received some bad news today from the mortgage company. If they aren’t up to date on their payments by the end of the month, the company will start eviction proceedings.”

  Beck frowned. “That seems drastic.”

  Ami lifted her shoulders, let them drop. “The mortgage company has been accommodating, but a company’s patience only stretches so far.”

  “Is there any way Cory and Jackie can come up with the money?”

  Ami shook her head, her green eyes somber.

  Beck exhaled a harsh breath. “It’s Christmas.”

  “I know. It sucks.” Tears suddenly filled Ami’s eyes, but she quickly blinked them away and squared her shoulders. “Tonight is about celebrating Cory’s return to health and raising enough money to help them pay off the last of their medical bills.”

  “By selling Santa hats?”

  “They’re a hot item,” Ami protested. “Along with the mistletoe.”

  “My mistletoe wants to be put to use.” Max stepped close and twirled the dark green leaves and berries he’d purchased above Ami’s head. “You know what this means.”

  She glanced up.

  Before Ami could respond, Beck plucked the mistletoe from his friend’s hands and gave him a little shove. “It means it’s time for you to get lost.”

  The accountant seemed more amused than discouraged. His eyes danced merrily. “I’ll buy another bunch and peruse the inventory.”

  Max swaggered off.

  Ami’s brows pulled together in puzzlement. “‘Peruse the inventory’?”

  Beck hesitated. “Single women.”

  After a second, Ami chuckled. “I like Max.”

  “I like you.” Beck twirled the sprig between his fingers, back and forward. “I like mistletoe.”

  Ami cleared her throat. “It-it’s always fun to see who avoids it and who deliberately steps under it.”

  “Like this?” Beck raised the sprig and pulled Ami to him under it.

  “Beck, everyone thinks we’re just business associates,” she hissed, even as she let her body meld against his.

  “I’d say it’s about time they knew differently.” The words had barely left his mouth when his lips covered hers.

  “Beck kissing you under the mistletoe last night is all over town,” Hadley told Ami as they added sprinkles to the dozens of cookies that were headed to a Christmas party at the Good Hope Assisted Living Center. “Katie Ruth mentioned it briefly in this morning’s Open Door.”

  “Great,” Ami muttered. “Now I just need to wait for my father’s call.”

  Hadley lifted her gaze. “Will he be upset?”

  “He’s my dad and he’s old-fashioned. He’ll want to know if Beck and I are serious. He’ll probably ask me where I see our ‘relationship’ going. I’m not ready to answer those questions.” Her friend’s lips twitched as she carefully added more sprinkles. “At least he doesn’t know you slept with Beck instead of decorating his tree.”

  Ami inhaled sharply. “What makes you think I slept with him?”

  “Good old deductive reasoning.” Hadley tapped her temple with an index finger. “I ran into Eliza and Lindsay at the general store the night of the Christmas Stroll. Eliza mentioned you were helping Beck decorate the tree. When I saw that no more lights were being added to the single string of lights visible through the window, I realized something more than trimming the tree was going on.”

  “We could have been having tea and talking.”

  “Do I really look that gullible?”

  Ami rolled her eyes. Welcome to life in a small town. “I’m heading over there after we finish here. This time we’ll get the rest of the decorating done.”

  “Yeah, right.” Hadley drawled out the words. “The way he looks at you tells me decorating isn’t at the top of his list for his evening activities.”

  “It better move to the top. The Victorian home tour is Friday and his house isn’t near ready.”

  “You’ve got a lot on your plate right now.” Hadley suddenly turned serious. “Between the bakery and the café and the fundraisers for Cory. How did that come out, by the way?”

  “Two thousand dollars.”

  “That’s amazing. Especially this close to Christmas.”

  “It’s easy for people to identify with Cory and Jackie. Hardworking people who’ve tried to live a good life and through no fault of their own have experienced a series of setbacks.”

  “I heard about them possibly losing their home.” Hadley met Ami’s gaze. “Isn’t there anything we can do to help? What about the Giving Tree?”

  Ami shook her head. “It’s too much money.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that . . .” With a sigh, Hadley finished the last tray of cookies and straightened. “Speaking of the Giving Tree, Floyd Lawson stopped by looking for you. He’d tried to reach you on your cell but said it went to voice mail. He left you a note.”

  Floyd, the treasurer of the local rotary club, was a burly man with a booming voice who played Santa Claus every year.

  Ami slipped the phone from her pocket and realized with more than a little chagrin she’d turned it off at the bar last night and forgotten to switch it back on. Three recent calls and a message, all from Floyd. “I hope nothing is wrong.”

  “From the big grin on his face and the way he slapped me on my back and said, ‘Ho-ho-ho, merry Christmas,’ I seriously doubt it.”

  Ami snatched the note from the counter and read it quickly. She gasped, read it again to be sure. Sinking onto a nearby chair, she felt tears sting the backs of her eyes.

  “What’s wrong? Is it bad? It’s bad, isn’t it?” Hadley crossed the kitchen area in several strides and crouched beside her friend. “What is it? Tell me.”

  “It’s all good.” Ami lowered the paper to her lap and realized her hands were trembling. “An anonymous donor gave a large sum to the Giving Tree. The donor specifically designated the money go toward paying Cory and Jackie’s mortgage up to date, with whatever is left going into the general fund.”

  Hadley looked incredulous. “Are you serious?”

  “Read it yourself.” Ami gave Hadley the note.

  Hadley’s gaze skimmed the words before she looked up. “Who would do such a wonderful thing?”

  “It’s a mystery.” Ami’s gaze dropped to read the wonderful message again. “All I know is the White family will have a very merry Christmas, indeed.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ami floated all the way to Beck’s home to help him with the last of the decorating. The news about Cory and Jackie’s gift from an anonymous benefactor had already made its way around Good Hope by the time she reached her destination.

  The Open Door even put out a rare afternoon edition with the news, including an interview with the happy couple. The heartwarming feature filled Ami with good cheer and put a bounce in her step.

  Once she reached the large home on Market Street, instead of rushing up the steps, Ami stood on the sidewalk and studied the impressive white structure. As a little girl, she’d looked forward to those times when her mother brought her and her sisters along when she visited Katherine Spencer.

  Her mom and the older woman would sit in wicker chairs on the porch, sipping lemonade while Ami and her sisters would crowd together on the large swing. Ami had loved that swing. Heck, she loved everything about the nineteenth-century home.

  “It’s a beautiful home.”

  Ami jumped—just a little—at the sound of Beck’s voice. She turned and smiled. Was there anything sexier than a man holding a sack of groceries?

  “I love your house,” she said simply as she started up the short walkway to the porch. “Ever since I was a teenager, I dreamed of buying it and turning it into a B and B.”

  Beck climbed the steps, then shifted the groceries in his arms. He unlocked the door and stepped back to let her enter. “I wouldn’t think too many teens dream of opening a bed-and-breakfast.”
r />   Once inside, they shrugged off their coats before continuing on to the kitchen.

  “When I was in high school, I cleaned for Katherine. The job gave me money for the extras I wanted that my parents couldn’t afford. It may sound corny, but while I polished the woodwork and made the windows shine, I’d hum and pretend the house was mine.”

  But it was only pretend. Even back then she’d known that as a baker—which was her career goal—she’d likely never make enough to afford such a grand home.

  “It’s not corny,” Beck said softly. “I can picture this as your home.”

  Ami flushed and placed the bottle of milk and carton of eggs he’d taken out of the sack into the refrigerator.

  “I was convinced I could never afford it.” That was, until the summer after her sophomore year in high school, when her mother had taken her and Fin on a shopping trip to Milwaukee. “A stay in a Milwaukee bed-and-breakfast opened my eyes and gave me hope.”

  There had been several large conventions in Milwaukee that weekend and the hotels were all booked. Instead of staying downtown as they had on previous occasions, her mother had found two rooms in a bed-and-breakfast.

  Fin had groused. She liked staying downtown, surrounded by tall buildings, not in a residential area where the homes sat back from the street, surrounded by flowers and trees and large carpets of green. Ami had been instantly charmed by the three-story brick home.

  “How did it open your eyes?” Beck ignored the staples he’d just placed on the counter, keeping those intense brown eyes fully fixed on her.

  “I talked with the owner. She took me back into her kitchen.” Ami gestured with one hand. “It was like this one, modern but still with that old-time feel. She told me how much she enjoyed meeting new people and welcoming them to her home.”

  Like Ami, the portly proprietress loved to cook and bake. According to the woman, having a B and B allowed her to do everything she did best—including making guests feel at home.

  Ami had returned to Good Hope with a tiny seed planted in her head. Excited about the possibility, she’d told Fin of her plans. While her sister hadn’t laughed, she’d been clearly puzzled. Why would she want strangers in her home? Not only that, strangers she had to cook for and clean up after?