Christmas from the Heart

by Sheila Roberts

Once more Morris was glaring at him, longing to crush him like an empty beer can. Well, too bad. Morris could deal with it. If the man had any brains he’d have known to bid on those books.

  Finally, it was time to announce the winners of the fruitcake competition. All the entrants were called up on stage and given certificates of appreciation. Bernadette, the third-place winner, was happy with her fifty-dollar gift card, and Jan graciously accepted second place. Mrs. Newton was announced the grand winner for the year and burst into tears and all the other women gathered around her for a group hug. Next to Guy, the two judges smiled, satisfied with the outcome.

  A couple of men wearing Santa hats and carrying guitars took over for a community sing, and finally, the event was at an end. Guy went to collect his winnings, and Morris, who was helping take down chairs, stopped to growl, “She can’t be bought.”

  “I’m not buying anyone,” Guy snarled, and walked away with his prize. Except maybe he was. If he threw around enough money, could he endear himself to Olivia Berg and get himself off Santa’s naughty list? He hoped so.

  Meanwhile, he helped with cleanup and taking down booths. Finally, with everything done, Livi and her volunteers were ready to hit the local restaurant to unwind. Her dad passed, claiming he was tired, but her assistant, Bettina, and another friend named Kate, who Livi introduced as her bookkeeper, were both eager to go out and celebrate.

  “You have to come with us,” Kate told Guy. “I mean, how would it look if the fruitcake judge refused to hang out with the little people?”

  Oh boy, celebrating with the assistant and the bookkeeper. That would be fun. And then Morris Bentley promised to join them after he’d dropped off his mom—who wasn’t smiling at Guy now that she’d failed to place in the competition. Oh boy. More fun.

  As they walked to the car with her father, Guy handed over the gift basket of books, saying, “This should be enough reading to keep you busy for a while.”

  “Oh, you shouldn’t have done that,” she protested, but her eyes were shining as she took it.

  “Consider it a thank-you for letting me stay with you,” said Guy. Andrew Berg nodded in approval and Guy smiled. He’d scored points with both father and daughter.

  They dropped off her dad, who took her gift basket in the house for her, then drove on to Family Tree. Built to look like—surprise, surprise—a log cabin, the place had colored lights running along its roofline and, inside, tinsel garlands strung across every window. Christmas carols were playing an accompaniment to the sound of laughter and conversation. Guy could smell onions grilling.

  Most of the booths and tables were filled, and he spotted several people from the fruitcake competition. The winner of the Christmas tree cake sat at a large table with her family. The creator of the chocolate fruitcake sat at a booth with her husband, a studious-looking type with dark hair and glasses. Carol, the owner of the bakery, was at another table with a couple of other women.

  Bettina had arrived now, along with a husband and baby in tow, and Kate the bookkeeper with a tall man named Tom, who was wearing jeans and a jacket hanging open over a dark sweater. He had an easy smile and was happy to shake hands and congratulate Guy on being brave enough to get sucked into judging fruitcake.

  “The things we do for our women,” said Bettina’s husband, Danny, with a shake of the head, and winked at his wife.

  Guy didn’t bother to correct him but Livi said, “Oh, I’m not, we’re not...” Then she blushed. “We only just met.”

  Funny, Guy felt like he’d known her for years.

  “Really?” Tom looked surprised. “Oh. Well, anyway, cool that you stepped in.”

  “It was kind of fun, actually,” Guy admitted.

  “Are you a fruitcake convert now?” Livi asked him.

  “Maybe. That chocolate one was awesome.”

  Now here came Bentley. Too bad he hadn’t stayed home. Everyone else greeted him warmly and he had a smile and a handshake for the other men. He didn’t bother with Guy.

  The maître d’ sat them all at a table across from the Christmas cake winner and her gang, and their waitress, a woman named Coral, appeared shortly after to take drink orders.

  “I’ll take a Hale’s,” said Tom.

  “Me, too,” said Bettina’s husband, and Guy made that a third.

  A very un-merry Morris went right for the hard stuff, ordering Scotch on the rocks. Livi and Kate decided on peppermint shakes and Bettina ordered a soft drink. The baby, settled in a portable high chair, got a bottle.

  So there they all were, a happy band of revelers and one Grinch. And this time it wasn’t Guy. Drinks came and Tom asked Guy where he was from and how he wound up in Pine River.

  “Just our bad luck,” Bentley muttered, and Livi stepped in to quickly explain how she and Guy had met.

  “I hope that belt comes in tomorrow so you can get to your mom’s in time for Christmas,” said Tom.

  “It will,” Bentley said in a tone of voice that dared the parts supplier to screw up. Guy strongly suspected that if it didn’t arrive Bentley would drive him to the nearest bus station and personally escort him onto the first bus out of town.

  The women chatted and the guys talked sports. Coral arrived to take their food orders and hamburgers were ordered all around. Bentley scowled at his empty glass and asked for another Scotch and Livi frowned at him.

  “What?” he demanded.

  Obviously, they were all old friends because Kate stepped in and said, “If you keep drinking like that you’re going to be celebrating Christmas on your lips.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said, and when his drink came, tossed it back like it was pop.

  “Morris,” Livi scolded. “What’s the matter with you? Take it easy on that stuff.”

  He held up a hand. “Okay, okay.”

  Their food arrived and everyone dug in and conversation turned to the event and how successful it had been. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you,” Livi said.

  “You know we’d do anything for you, Liv,” Bentley said, and Guy couldn’t help feeling sorry for him until he added, “The people you can count on the most are your old friends.”

  “Friends are important,” she said diplomatically.

  Everyone but Bentley, the two-legged wet blanket, kept the conversation going, making sure to include Guy. The main course came and went and Bettina and her husband ordered dessert. Tom and Kate decided to split a piece of cheesecake. Livi passed, claiming cookie overload, and Guy declined as well, claiming fruitcake overload, which made almost everyone smile. Except Bentley. He passed on dessert and ordered a third drink.

  Meanwhile, all around them, other diners were visiting, laughing, enjoying themselves. Much like Livi’s party would have done if the boyfriend wannabe hadn’t joined them. He wasn’t winning any points with her with his great Sphinx imitation, but Guy wouldn’t be the one to tell him that.

  Finally, the check came. Guy picked up the tab, paying cash. No way was he going to let Livi get a glimpse of his credit card. Everyone thanked him, except Bentley who muttered that he could pay for his own food.

  “Don’t be an ass, Morris,” Kate told him in disgust.

  Then it was time to leave, the assistant and her family in the lead and the accountant and her boyfriend following. Livi stood and grabbed her coat.

  Guy moved to help her with it, but he’d barely gotten a hand on it when Bentley said, “I can help her,” and gave him a shove.

  It caught Guy off balance and he stumbled backward just as a wired little boy came running past. Guy managed to not take down the kid but he wasn’t able to avoid colliding with someone from the table next door who’d just stood up. The someone who’d won the Christmas tree cake.

  The family had begun to sing “Happy Birthday” to Grandma, and she was moving toward the old woman, her prize held in front of her. Her col
lision with Guy sent her stumbling and the cake went flying.

  Oh no, Guy thought. Please don’t let it... Too late. It did.

  12

  Jenny Lind let out a cry of horror as the Christmas tree cake catapulted out of her hands.

  “Wow,” breathed the kid, stopping in mid-run.

  Yeah, wow. The cake landed in Grandma’s lap and she, too, let out a cry and threw up her hands as if a bomb had just hit her. The other women at the table ran to help clean Grandma up, one of them bumping into Guy and bouncing him off Bentley, who gave him a second shove, which bounced him off a waiter passing by with a tray of food. That sent two hamburgers, one serving of pot roast complete with mashed potatoes and gravy, an order of fish and chips, and a plate of spaghetti crashing to the floor and got the attention of every diner in the place.

  Livi had forgotten about putting on her coat and rushed to help with Grandma, as did her friends.

  “Watch out for the spaghetti,” someone called. Too late. Down went an unsuspecting diner.

  “You Neanderthal,” Guy snapped at Bentley. “If we weren’t in a restaurant...”

  “You’d what?” Bentley stepped up to Guy, invading his space.

  “This is not the time or the place,” Guy said through clenched jaws.

  “Yeah? There’s never a time or place for gutless wimps like you,” Bentley snarled.

  Okay, that did it. Guy’s temper was now officially boiling over. “You want to take this outside?”

  “Damn straight I do.”

  “Good idea,” said the restaurant manager, who had joined them. “Get out.”

  Meanwhile, Jenny Lind was crying over spilled cake, and Grandma was whimpering and brushing at her frosting-coated chest as the women hovered around her, trying to mop her off with napkins.

  This should not have happened. Guy dug his wallet out of his back pocket.

  “You gonna try to pay me off?” Bentley taunted.

  “No, I’m going to try to clean up the mess you made,” Guy said, disgusted. He turned to the upset cake winner and gave her a fifty. “I’m really sorry.”

  Still crying, she nodded and took it and thanked him.

  “That’s all you rich boys do is buy people off,” sniped Bentley.

  “Out!” roared the manager, his face the color of the spilled spaghetti sauce. He pointed to the door and Guy and Morris Bentley marched out of the restaurant, the rest of their party trailing after.

  They barely made it outside before Bentley rushed him, sending them flying out into the snow, landing on the ground. He was bigger and a bruiser, but Guy had indulged in some cage fighting when he was younger and he was fit. And pissed, and he came up swinging.

  Legs, fists, kicks and punches—it quickly became a bloody battle and the most excitement some people had seen in a while. He got Bentley in the gut and the chin and Bentley socked him in the eye. Of course, he and Bentley had drawn a crowd, and now the locals were hooting and cheering and calling instructions to both Bentley and Guy.

  “Come on, fruitcake, fight like a man,” someone called.

  “I’ve got ten bucks on Bentley,” someone else said.

  “You’ll lose it,” Guy snarled, and threw a good, solid punch.

  Bentley staggered back but then returned like an angry bear. Small town brawling, a new way to enjoy the holidays.

  Suddenly, in the middle of everything a new body entered, just as Guy was aiming to take Bentley down. “Stop it right—” She got no farther. Guy was already in mid-kick, and she ran into his leg, getting scooped off her feet. Bentley had been ready to lunge at Guy. Instead, he wound up completing what Guy had started. Livi went down, Bentley falling on top of her and the two of them taking Guy with them. They crashed into the snow in a pile worthy of an NFL game.

  “Livi, are you all right?” Bentley asked, scrambling off her.

  At the same time Guy was saying, “I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

  She rubbed her leg and glared at Bentley. “Morris Bentley, you should be ashamed of yourself. What is the matter with you?”

  “It’s not me, it’s him,” Bentley said, pointing at Guy. “He’s all flash, Liv. He doesn’t deserve you.”

  It was true, but Guy couldn’t help pointing out, “I’m not the one who made a scene in the restaurant.”

  “Good fight, men,” said Tom, giving Bentley a friendly slap on the arm before Kate hauled him away.

  Yeah, great entertainment for the locals. Guy rubbed his throbbing hand. What the hell was he doing here?

  “And right before Christmas,” Livi continued as if that elevated the fight to a cardinal sin. She rubbed her thigh again. Poor woman would probably have a bruise come morning.

  “I’m sorry, Liv. I’ll make it up to you when we do our deliveries Christmas Eve,” Bentley said, penitent.

  “Morris, I think it would be good if we took a break from hanging out.”

  Now he looked panicked as well as remorseful. “You need help delivering stockings and turkeys.”

  “Joe can help me,” she said, her voice frosty.

  Bentley was in deep shit. In spite of being pissed at the idiot, Guy couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

  “He’s leaving town,” Bentley pointed out.

  “Did the part come in?” she demanded.

  “Not yet. But it’s supposed to be in tomorrow. And as soon as it is I’ll have that fancy toy fixed and ready to roll. He’ll be out of here before Christmas Eve,” Morris added, glaring at Guy.

  Guy almost asked if Bentley thought he could manage it, then decided to keep his mouth shut. No sense antagonizing him. “Fine with me,” he said.

  “Well, you just concentrate on that. I can handle making deliveries fine without you,” Livi said. The look in her eyes was as arctic as her voice.

  “Where will you get a truck?” Bentley demanded.

  “You’re not the only man in town with a truck,” she reminded him, then whirled and started for her car. “Come on, Joe.”

  “He may have money but money isn’t everything,” Bentley called after them.

  That was what losers like Bentley always said. Class envy. Just how did that tool think nonprofits survived? It wasn’t on good wishes. It was thanks to people with money.

  Livi was making such fast tracks for her car she slipped in the snow. Guy caught her arm to steady her. She looked up at him and the expression in her eyes said it all. I’m falling for you.

  The anger he’d felt only a moment before melted into a puddle of shame. Don’t. You don’t know me.

  “Look, that was as much my fault back there as it was his,” Guy said.

  Sure, Bentley had started it, but Guy had been more than willing to go along for the ride and burn some testosterone. Much as Guy disliked the other man, it wasn’t right to let him take all the blame for what happened in the parking lot.

  “He was the one who pushed you in the restaurant. It’s Morris’s fault the cake Jenny won got ruined.” She shook her head. “There’s no excuse for what he did.”

  Yeah, there was. Men in love did stupid things.

  But Livi had made up her mind. Bentley was stuck in a time-out.

  “So, will you help us?” she asked Guy. “If you’re still here?”

  “Of course I will.” Although with Bentley anxious to run him out of town, Guy would probably be on the road long before it was time to make deliveries.

  Anyway, would driving around with her handing out turkeys and Christmas stockings full of trinkets transform him into a man she could respect? The sooner he got out of this town and forgot about Olivia Berg the better.

  Except she was unforgettable.

  “I hope you’ll attend our volunteer appreciation lunch tomorrow,” she said as they drove away from the scene of the Christmas cake murder.

  “I�
�m not a volunteer.”

  “No one paid you to help us out today. I really did appreciate it, and I’d love to have you come.”

  So he could be reminded of what a two-faced liar he was. “No problem,” he said, careful not to commit.

  The one she should have been inviting was Bentley. It sounded like he did a lot to help her.

  Maybe she had invited him. If she had, it was as good as canceled.

  Poor schlub. Morris Bentley smelled a rat. He was simply trying to run Guy off and protect Livi, and yet he was the one in deep shit. Guy should run himself off.

  Starting that evening. He’d make some excuse, go up to his room and hide for the rest of the night. He’d find a reason to miss her volunteer lunch the next day and then scram as soon as his car was fixed. Bentley would be back on turkey patrol and he and Livi would patch things up. She’d return to her life, marry the big doofus and live happily ever after.

  And never see the Eiffel Tower. Guy frowned. He didn’t deserve her, but neither did Bentley.

  Livi noticed him rubbing his hand, which felt like he’d pounded a cement wall with it. “Does it hurt a lot?”

  “It’ll be fine,” he said, and stopped rubbing.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into him.”

  “Sure you do. He’s in love with you.” As if she couldn’t see that.

  She nodded and bit her lip. “I know. And I love Morris, too, but as a friend.”

  The F word. “It’s important to be able to see yourself spending a lifetime with someone.” Guy sure couldn’t see Livi spending her life with Bentley. But then, what did he know?

  “I do want to get married and have a family.” She paused. “There aren’t exactly a lot of choices here in Pine River. Morris and I are the best of friends. Maybe that’s enough.” She stole another look at Guy. Waiting for him to offer her an alternative?

  He was a fake, which made him a pretty crummy alternative. “There’s a whole big world out there, Olivia.”

  “But maybe I’m meant to stay in this corner of it. You know, brighten the corner where you are.”

  “You’re doing a good job of that.”