Christmas Inn Love

by Collins, Kelly

  They sat for more than an hour staring at the twinkling lights and admiring the ornaments Celia had collected over a lifetime.

  “I should go. Tomorrow will be a busy day.” He didn’t look forward to walking into his childhood home.

  “Would you like me to go with you?” Celia asked.

  Jackson hopped to his feet. “I could go too.”

  Rob unraveled himself from Celia. “I think you have to work, young man.” He turned to Celia. “I don’t want to take you from your business, but if you’re free, I can use your wise counsel. I have a Victorian that needs repurposing.”

  * * *

  He’d driven by his mother’s house which, aside from a housekeeper entering to dust and vacuum once a month, had remained locked up. There was no doubt he had avoided the house in the same way he had avoided his mother for all those years. They didn’t have the relationship Celia and Jackson did. He realized now that he was responsible for that too.

  He left the engine idling when he exited to knock on Celia’s door.

  Celia answered, looking pretty as ever. She wasn’t the girl he’d had a crush on in high school. She was the beautiful woman he loved now. He stood and stared at her.

  “What?” She rubbed under her eyes. “You have a strange look on your face. Is my mascara running?”

  He wanted to give her those three words, but he hesitated because they required perfect timing. He could have told her at the festival, but he didn’t want to take her moment of spontaneity away and overshadow it with his own proclamation of affection. He wouldn’t wait long, but he would make it special. Celia deserved more than what she had.

  “No, you look beautiful. I never tire of seeing you.”

  “Wait until I’m eighty.” Her eyes grew wide as if she hadn’t considered them growing old together.

  “I’ll still want you when you’re eighty. Now let’s go.” He stepped aside to let her out. “You want to drive the Jaguar?”

  “You’d let me?”

  “Anything you want, sweetheart.”

  He raced after her to the car. She was inside and buckled up before he could say another word.

  She didn’t wait until he fastened his seatbelt before she drove off. Her enthusiasm filled him with happiness and fear.

  Was it wise to let Celia loose with all that horsepower at her fingertips?

  “I think it’s shorter if we cut through the streets closer to your house,” he said, pointing at the one they passed.

  A smile lifted her lips. “I know, but I want everyone to see me. I’ve got a hot man and a hot car.”

  He looked out the window and thanked the universe for bringing Celia Roberts into his life. “Have at it then. You can drive as long as you want. In fact, if you want this car you can have it,” he said.

  She turned and gawked, taking her eyes off of the road.

  “Watch out,” he said with a touch of panic in his voice.

  She snapped her head forward and turned sharply, overcompensating, and stopping.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t drive.” She gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. “It might be too much car for me. You might be too much man for me.”

  “Nope on both counts. This car and I were made for you.”

  “You’re very generous.” She licked her lips, reminding him of how generous she’d been the night before.

  “I’ve done well in business but not so well with personal relationships—until now. Until you. You’ve given me everything.” He looked at her. "I’d give you anything to make you happy.”

  “What more could I want?”

  He thought of a few things he wanted to give her but now was not the time. “Eyes up front, missy.”

  They drove to his childhood home, which was an authentic Victorian like Celia's, but unlike hers, it was poorly maintained.

  He noted as they passed, the other houses were decked out for the holidays like the Hummingbird Inn, but his mother’s house looked like an unkempt orphan. It was a sad house in need of attention. That’s why he’d avoided it. As soon as he was able, he’d paroled himself from the misery. It was the prison where Fiona McKenna had served her time.

  As they got out of the car, it filled Rob with emotion. The most prevalent was guilt. Had he let his mother down or had she let him down? He didn’t know the answer to that question.

  Celia was the one who brought him out of those morose thoughts. She held his hand as he pushed through the gate of the weathered picket fence.

  “Wow.” He swallowed a boulder-sized lump stuck in his throat. “This is a little more emotional than I expected.”

  She touched his shoulder. “I’m here for you.”

  He took the keys and unlocked the door.

  “I pay the light bills,” he said as he flipped the switch. “I have a person come in and clean the place.”

  Everything was as she’d left it. Nothing had changed since he’d lived there. Every stick of furniture was in its place. One or two things were covered with sheets, but it was the same.

  “Time warp,” he said.

  “It’s beautiful,” Celia remarked. “Very sweet.” She moved to a decorative table in the corner and picked up a picture of him as a baby. “I don’t remember you ever being this small. When did you come to Pinetop?”

  He remembered the exact day they’d pulled up. “I was seven and my mother moved here in search of independence. She had it until the townsfolk found out she’d never married.” In some ways, he was just like his mother because he’d left for his independence.

  She moved around the room. “It’s a beautiful home. Needs lots of work, but we could bring it back to its original beauty.”

  “You like everything of my mother’s. First her land and now her house,” he joked.

  “No, I like her son first. The rest is just stuff. Means very little without you here.”

  “What should we do with it?” he asked. “I have a place and so do you.” He faced her. “I meant what I said about not competing with another business. What if you converted this to another inn and ran them both? Could you do that?”

  She looked at him strangely.

  “Have I grown a third eye?” he asked.

  “Are you giving me this house too?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “What am I going to do with it? If I kept it as an inn, then I would be in direct competition with you. Or I could pay you to manage it—”

  She put a finger to his lips. “You’re keeping the house?”

  “Yes, I think so.” How could he erase his past when it had brought him back to Pinetop and given him Celia? “I didn’t know until now.”

  “Okay, then we have to do the house proud,” she said. “We have the Christmas Parade in ten days. It’s a tradition that’s been around for decades. Don't you remember it?”

  “I do.” He’d never gotten into the floats or decorating for the parade, but he remembered how the town rallied around the holiday. It was as if every resident dressed their house up for Sunday dinner.

  “Isn’t it time this house saw happiness?” She spun around in a circle, taking in the parlor. “We can decorate it for the parade. I have some extra stuff. I’ll bet your mother has a cache of decorations stored somewhere. This could be fun.”

  She squeezed his hand, making him feel raw with sentiment. It was hard to feel anything but joy around her. She was the embodiment of Christmas.

  “That’s a great idea.” He considered his mother, who had been abandoned by the man she loved. “I think she would want it to be happy.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Did you know her well?” he asked.

  “Enough to say hello when she came to town. She was always with a dog and enjoyed eating at the lunch counter.”

  He nodded. “I should have come home sooner, but she treated me like a job. She fed me, clothed me, and raised me. When I grew up, she was done.” He brushed a hand over his face. “I flew her out a couple times to see me, but not much ch
anged. She was critical and aloof, and always compared me to my father. My mom raised me to be nothing like him, so the comparisons were painful.”

  “Did you ever see him after he left you?”

  He walked through the living room skimming his fingers across the dark burled wood furniture.

  “I never met him when I was young. But once, when I was developing some land in Arizona, I walked off the site and a man came up to me and said he thought I was his son.”

  He yanked the sheet off the floral settee his mother always sat on. If he closed his eyes, he could see her there knitting doilies.

  “What did you say?”

  He shook his head to dislodge the memory. “I told him I had no father and walked away.” It was a bittersweet memory in his life. “I had projects that took me all over the place, but I could have come back. I should have. This is a big house. Too big to live in alone.”

  “You don’t need to be alone,” she said with a soft smile.

  He looked down at her and didn’t see an accomplice to the bully who used to torment him, but a woman who loved him.

  He led her to the settee and helped her take a seat while he took a knee. “Celia, will you marry me?” The words fell out of his mouth without thought.

  “Why don’t we focus on getting this place together, warming it up, and getting it ready for the Christmas Parade for now?” she said. “We can talk about the other later.”

  It felt like their roles were reversed. Now Celia was the calm one.

  “You’re right. I was impulsive and didn’t think things through. You deserve better than what I just gave you.”

  She leaned over and kissed him. “Let’s look for decorations.”

  “Are you changing the subject?”

  She moved her lips across his.

  He didn’t push it for now. She didn’t say no, and his inner voice was giving him clear direction. He needed to make it special and that had to start with telling her he loved her first.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Celia

  Celia and Rob climbed to the attic where they suspected Fiona stored seasonal stuff. Opening the box of Christmas decorations was like opening a time capsule. Rob’s mother had what Celia thought was the coolest collection of vintage ornaments, but he barely remembered them.

  “Oh, my gosh.” She held several in her hands. “These are wonderful.”

  “I forgot about this stuff.” He touched a strand of packed bubble lights.

  He looked through other boxes and paused at a velveteen box he held on to.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Just some stuff that used to sit on my mom’s dresser years ago. I’ll look through it later.” He set it aside.

  She dug through the boxes. Each item she unwrapped became her new favorite treasure. “This will be the best-decorated house in Pinetop.” She bounced with excitement.

  They put up every decoration, opting to create an interior window display in honor of Fiona. They had probably once used some ornaments outside, but they were too precious for that now.

  “This old-time Santa and Mrs. Claus will be such a hit.” She burst with excitement.

  After examining one cord and finding it frayed, her shoulders slumped.

  “We can still set it out, but it would be cool if it lit up.”

  “Don’t give up yet,” he said. “Let’s go to the hardware store and see if they have a replacement. I can try to switch it out.”

  They took a break for lunch and to look for lights.

  “I want to get a flocked artificial tree for the window.” She could see it now, the white tree lit with colored lights. She hadn’t been this excited in a long time.

  “Whatever you want. This is your baby, but we need my truck if you want to get one today.”

  “Scott should be able to deliver one.”

  “Not if I’m with you.”

  “This is a small town, and he knows better than to push the envelope that far.” It had been over a week since she saw Scott. She had mixed feelings about the man. Half was disgust and half disappointment. Neither would garner kindness.

  Celia drove the Jaguar to the front of the hardware store. She wanted to run the errands first and then have lunch at the counter. A sudden burst of enthusiasm took over when they approached the entrance.

  “We have to hurry because I’m dying to plug in those lawn ornaments.”

  “Have I spawned a new obsession?” He snaked his arm around her waist.

  “I’m all about Christmas. That should have been obvious last night when we decorated.” She smiled as her insides heated. He had asked her to marry him, something she needed to think over when she was alone.

  She stopped short and when he collided with her, she stumbled, but he caught her just as they stepped on the sensor to open the sliding doors. Scott, sitting at his customer service station, turned around and scowled.

  “Afternoon, Scott,” Celia said with happiness in her voice.

  Rob’s hand was on her stomach. Hers covered his as they shuffled into the store.

  Scott turned back to his work.

  “If I bought an artificial tree, would you deliver it to Fiona McKenna’s address?” she asked.

  “I’d have to charge a fee. Bobby could pay for it.”

  Celia knew he was trying to goad Rob by calling him his high school nickname, but neither of them gave him the pleasure of reacting.

  “How much?” she asked.

  “You know what?” Rob said. “We’ll buy rope and tie the tree to the top of the Jag. It’s only a few blocks.” He stared at Scott. “Thanks anyway.”

  He hurried Celia away from the customer service desk.

  “You’d risk that paint job because he’s a jerk?”

  “Yes, I would,” he said. “We can buy a mover’s blanket, or I’ll get a piece of cardboard.”

  “Or we could get your truck or borrow Jackson’s. Come on. I know little about fancy cars, but I have paint job intuition. We’re not scratching that car.”

  Rob stopped like it inspired him.

  “Do you think Jackson would like to drive the Jag home? We can switch keys?”

  Celia wasn’t on board. There was no way she’d put that much power in her son’s hands. “No way. Jackson is not driving that car.”

  “Just a thought.” He shrugged. “One day then. Maybe for the prom or homecoming?”

  Celia melted. “You like my son, don’t you?”

  “I do.” His hand went to his heart. “He reminds me of me, only I didn’t have you for a mom. Mine wasn’t so intent on making me happy.”

  Celia’s throat tightened as emotion welled within her.

  “You’re a good man and not your mother or father. The man you are is perfect for me,” she whispered.

  “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

  “As parents, we do our best. It’s not always good enough, but it’s all we have in our toolbox at the time. I wasn’t perfect for Jackson. Despite my influence, he’s his own person. He’d rather eat a burger than a salad. He stays up too late. I have to remind him at least twice to do his chores, but I love him.” She covered her heart with her hand. “I still can’t get over his performance at the festival. Where did that come from?”

  “He got that from you.” Rob leaned forward and kissed her.

  “Ahem.” Scott cleared his throat.

  Rob whipped around and cut his eyes to Scott.

  Celia took his hand and tugged him toward the door. “You can take Jackson out for a spin during broad daylight on a flat, paved surface. In the meantime, let’s go next door and borrow his truck.” She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Let’s get the tree and decorate for Christmas.”

  “I wish there was another place where we could get a tree.” He looked past her to the door. “I don’t suppose you would go for cutting down a real one and painting it white?”

  “No way. I like the fake ones because it leaves the real ones alone. The sooner we ge
t the keys and load up, the sooner we can go home and have grown-up fun.”

  “What kind of fun did you have in mind?” he said loud enough for Scott to hear.

  Celia knew Scott had his eye on them and heard everything.

  “Rob,” Celia warned. “Let it go.”

  “Sorry,” he said and kissed her again.

  They picked up what they needed, grabbed carryout from the counter, and went back to Fiona’s house to set up the tree.

  “We have to do your house next.” She could see it now. A huge tree next to the wall of glass decorated with hundreds of glass balls and strands of popcorn and cranberries.

  “I don’t think my house is on the parade route, sweetheart.”

  “We can do it for you and for me.”

  There was an unexpected knock on Fiona’s door. Rob and Celia glanced at each other.

  "No one knows we’re here but Jackson and Scott.” Rob answered the door to find Dave Swanson on the porch. “Hi there, Mr. Swanson. It’s good to see you again.”

  “Afternoon, Mr. McKenna.”

  “Please call me Rob.” He opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Won’t you come in?”

  The old man was reluctant, but accepted Rob’s invitation.

  “Afternoon, Celia.” He looked around the parlor. “I see you’re decorating Fiona’s house.”

  “It needs it.” She clutched Santa to her chest. “Look at these. Rob and I plugged them in and only one works.” She pointed to the other. “Poor Mrs. Claus needs a new plug to be ready for the Christmas Parade.”

  “About that,” he said. “I got a complaint, well—um.” He shoved his hands in his pocket and looked at the ground. “Saw the truck outside and thought I’d nip it in the bud.”

  “Is there a problem? What can I help with?”

  “Well, the problem is the two of you.”

  The sting of a thousand bees pierced her heart. “There’s no problem.” She set Santa down and moved to stand by Rob.

  “Folks have complained about public displays of affection verging on pornographic. It’s not becoming to a member of our Christmas committee. As the president of the committee, I have to address all complaints.” The poor man’s face turned cherry tomato red.