by Debby Mayne
BY DEBBY MAYNE
AND TRISH PERRY
Summerside Press, Inc.
Minneapolis 55438
www.summersidepress.com
Love Finds You on Christmas Morning: Deck the Halls
© 2011 by Debby Mayne
Love Finds You on Christmas Morning: ’Tis the Season
© 2011 by Trish Perry
ISBN 97-8-160936-193-8
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission of the publisher.
Scripture references are from the following sources: The Holy Bible, King James Version (KJV). Scriptures marked NIV taken from the holy bible, New International Version®, NIV ®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com.
The town depicted in this book is a real place, but all characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or events are purely coincidental.
Cover Design by Koechel Peterson & Associates | www.kpadesign.com
Interior design by Müllerhaus Publishing Group | www.mullerhaus.net
Summerside Press™ is an inspirational publisher offering fresh, irresistible books to uplift the heart and engage the mind.
Printed in USA.
Acknowledgments
We would like to thank Tom Byrd, author of Around and About Cary, for providing historical information about the charming town of Cary, North Carolina.
Thanks also to Howard Johnson, president of the Cary Chamber of Commerce, and Paul Ashworth, proprietor of Ashworth Drugs.
—Debby Mayne and Trish Perry
BY DEBBY MAYNE
Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.
PSALM 90:1 KJV
Chapter One
Early autumn 1926
Lillian Pickard shifted her weight to take some of the load off her aching feet. There always seemed to be one customer who lingered at the end of the long day, keeping Lillian from locking up Joachim’s Five and Dime and going home. She took a couple of deep breaths and tried to remain pleasant as Mrs. Gooch carried her handheld basket of odds and ends to the counter.
Lillian rang up the woman’s selections and bagged all the items then handed them to her. “Have a nice evening, Mrs. Gooch. See you again soon.”
“You are a mighty sweet girl,” Mrs. Gooch said as she took her bag. “It’s a shame you have to work such long hours. Give my regards to your mama.”
“I will.”
As soon as Mrs. Gooch made her exit, Lillian scurried to the door and locked it, just in case anyone had the notion to walk in. She counted the money in the cash drawer, tucked it inside the deposit envelope, and slid the envelope into the slot on the side of the safe.
Finally she was ready to leave for home. The tiny house she shared with her parents was less than a half mile away, but on evenings like this, it might as well have been ten miles. Her feet throbbed and her mind raced over all the things she still needed to do when she got home.
Her daddy’s factory injury five years ago had rendered him incapable of working most of the jobs he was qualified for. He’d needed Lillian’s mama nearby to take care of him in the earlier days, so it had been up to Lillian to support the family. She didn’t mind at first, but as time went on, it became painfully obvious that her lot in life wasn’t what she’d always wanted.
The first raindrop plopped smack-dab in the middle of her head as she crossed the road. Lillian groaned. As if her situation weren’t already bad enough …
She heard the rumble of an automobile coming toward her, so she jumped back, closer to the building. She turned to see which of the rich people were out riding around. There weren’t many automobiles in Cary, North Carolina, and it was after business hours, so Lillian assumed it was someone showing off.
The automobile pulled to a stop, and the man driving it leaned over and cranked down the window. “Hey, gorgeous! Need a ride?”
Thank the Lord the sun wasn’t shining or William Tronnier would see the redness of her flaming cheeks. “Mr. Tronnier!” But before she had a chance to say anything else, the occasional raindrop progressed to a steady downpour. “I always walk home from work, but thank you for the offer.”
He laughed. “You shouldn’t have to walk in the rain when I have this perfectly fine automobile. Get in before you drown.”
She only hesitated for a few seconds before deciding that taking him up on his offer was much better than getting drenched. As she stepped up into the automobile, her ankle wobbled.
“Whoa there, Miss Pickard.” He leaned across the seat, opened the car door from the inside, and reached for her hand, which she gave without a second’s hesitation. He pulled her up to the seat and quickly let go.
* * * * *
There was no way William would let this opportunity slide by. He’d all but given up on breaking through Lillian’s shell when he spotted her walking home. Ever since meeting Lillian Pickard last Christmas season, he’d tried to come up with a way to get to know her better. His first idea of shopping at the store where she worked had backfired. He’d spent the better part of an hour gathering some items to purchase. But while she rang him up, he saw the glazed look in her eyes that he’d come to recognize as the barrier between the classes. And it broke his heart.
“Turn right at the next road,” Lillian instructed, snapping him from his thoughts.
“Yes, I know where you live.”
She turned and gave him a questioning glance. Her long, dark eyelashes framed what he remembered as being light blue-gray eyes that twinkled when she talked.
“I took Merv for a spin when my family first got this automobile, and we happened to drive by your house,” he explained.
“Oh.” Lillian fidgeted with the purse in her lap.
“We went all over the place,” William continued, hoping to ease some of the discomfort he’d caused. He nervously rambled on about where he and Merv had gone that day. By the time he realized he’d monopolized the conversation, they’d reached the cottage where Lillian lived with her parents.
As they pulled to a stop, Lillian reached for the door handle. “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Tronnier.”
“Wait.” William cleared his throat. Lillian let go of the door handle and turned to face him. “I wondered… Well, I thought maybe…”
Lillian’s forehead crinkled. “Did you need something?” She tilted her head and pursed her lips.
“Would you like to do something with me sometime?”
“Like what?”
William shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps I can take you for a ride in my automobile.”
The corners of her lips twitched, as though she might be repressing a smile. “You already have, Mr. Tronnier, and I thank you for it. Between the rain and my aching feet, I have to admit, I dreaded the walk home.” She got out and leaned over to look him in the eyes. “Thank you again for your generosity.”
He exhaled slowly and nodded. “You’re quite welcome, Miss Pickard. Have a nice evening.”
As William drove away, he wanted to kick himself. One thing he’d been known for, besides being the son of a wealthy farmer, was his way with words—and now those words had escaped him.
* * * * *
“Lillian, did I just see you getting out of an automobile?” her mama asked. Before giving Lillian a chance to answer, she shook her head and clucked her tongue. “It’s not a good idea to take rides from people you don’t know.”
“I know him.”
Mama lifted her eyebrows. “You know someone with an automobile? Or do you just know of him?”
“Honey, I know who the Tronniers are, and they’re out of our league. I hope you don’t—”
Lillian lifted a hand to stop Mama from continuing. “It was just a ride, Mama. It was raining, and my feet were killing me. Mr. Tronnier took pity on me and offered me a ride.”
Myriad emotions slid across her mama’s face—first a tad of disappointment that transformed to acceptance and finally satisfaction. “As long as you don’t forget who you are and where you stand in society, you’ll be fine.”
“Yes, I know, Mama.” She headed toward her bedroom. “I’ll help set the table after I put my things away.”
Lillian stood in front of the scratched mirror that rested atop her equally distressed dresser. Rain and unruly hair were a bad mix. Frizzy ringlets drooped over her shoulders, and her feeble attempt at dressing stylishly clung to her in unkempt folds. Knowing who she was and where she stood in society wasn’t difficult, considering what a mess she was. Mr. Tronnier was definitely a nice man, but the tiny tingle of attraction she’d felt when he helped her into his automobile needed to be tempered with reality.
She changed into some dry clothes and flat shoes before joining her parents in the small dining nook between the kitchen and living room. Mama had put food on the plates rather than in serving bowls because the small table was already overcrowded. As soon as she was seated, Daddy took her hand to say the blessing.
“Lord, thank You for the meal my wife has prepared, as humble as it may be.”
As soon as Daddy finished praying, Lillian started eating. They’d run out of the meat she’d purchased with her last earnings, so their plates were filled with potatoes, onions, fried okra, and a slab of corn bread—the standard meal on the Pickard table at the end of a pay period.
“So tell me about that Tronnier boy.” Her daddy set down his fork.
Lillian shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. He drove me straight home.”
“You must have talked about something. Did he ask you about your work?”
“No.” Lillian didn’t mention the fact that William had stopped by the Five and Dime periodically since she’d met him, loading up on silly, nonessential things she never would have wasted her money on. But then, she didn’t have spare money; he obviously did.
“You had to talk about something. I can’t imagine a young man being completely silent with a pretty girl sitting right there beside him.”
Mama cast a glance in his direction. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for someone in Mr. Tronnier’s position to consider someone like our Lillian, even if she is the prettiest girl in town.”
Lillian held up both hands. “Please, let’s stop talking about this. Mr. Tronnier saw me walking in the rain, so he was kind enough to offer me a ride home. Nothing else.”
“I agree. That was a very kind gesture, and we shouldn’t read more into it than what it is.” Mama sighed and forced a smile as she directed her attention to another topic. “How was work today?”
As much as Lillian didn’t feel like discussing work, she was happy for a different subject. She dug deep and came up with a few anecdotal stories to share with her parents.
“Joachim needs to hire someone else,” Daddy said. “You shouldn’t have to run that place all by yourself.”
“He was there most of the day,” Lillian said in her boss’s defense, even though she wholeheartedly agreed.
Daddy pushed away from the table. “I sure hope he finds someone to work through the holidays. The way people spend money these days, you’ll be swamped. You might want to ask for a raise.”
“I plan to,” she replied.
“Good. After you get more money, all that work won’t seem so bad.”
Lillian disagreed. She didn’t particularly enjoy her job, and she suspected that Mr. Joachim wouldn’t have hired her if he’d had more qualified candidates. But everyone in town who wanted to work had a job, and she’d arrived at the Five and Dime when he was desperate for help.
Over time, she’d learned that when people walked into the store, they generally knew what they wanted. And if she spotted an opportunity to sell them something else based on what they plopped onto the counter, all she had to do was mention it. Occasionally they even took her suggestion. As for the numbers…well, she still had trouble counting money. Mama said she got that from her. She wished she had a fraction of her father’s math skills.
“Got any dessert?” Daddy asked.
“Just some shortbread I made from the recipe your mother gave me.” Mama smiled. “Maybe we can budget for some store-bought cookies after Lillian gets her raise.”
“There’s no guarantee Mr. Joachim will give me a raise. I just said I planned to ask for one.”
“The way he’s raising prices in that store, surely he’ll see that you can’t afford to keep working there on the salary he pays you.”
Lillian couldn’t afford not to keep working there, but she kept her comments to herself. Mama didn’t understand business, and Daddy had lost touch with reality after not working for so long.
She sat and listened to her parents go on and on about the state of the economy—about how people were foolish and spending every dime they had as though it would never run out. Lillian suspected it wouldn’t run out for many of them since they had decent jobs that paid well.
“You look like you could use a little more rest tonight, Lil. Why don’t you go to bed early?” Mama said. “I’ll take care of the dishes.”
Lillian wasn’t about to argue. Her feet throbbed from trying to wear the high heels one of the women from church had given her. She didn’t care how in-style they were. Tomorrow she was wearing flats, even if they were dowdy. What did she care? It wasn’t as though she could fool anyone into thinking she was a fashion expert.
She went back to her bedroom, closed the door behind her, turned around, and studied her reflection in the mirror again. Her long, curly hair was terribly out-of-date. She lifted the ends and tucked them beneath her collar, trying to imagine herself with one of the shorter bobs so many of the girls in town were sporting. Maybe one of these days… She tilted her head and studied her look some more. Mama and Daddy would have a fit, but a cute bob might be just what she needed.
* * * * *
“We expected you home an hour ago,” William’s mother said. “What kept you so long?”
William grinned as his face grew hot. “I had a little fun showing off the automobile.”
“I bet it was a girl,” his brother Mason retorted. “That’s the only thing that’ll set a man’s face on fire.”
Their mom turned to him with a grin. “Did you meet up with a girl, William?”
“Well…not exactly.” He shot his brother a pretend fierce glare.
Mason folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Wanna tell us her name?”
“You don’t know her,” William said.
“Try me.” Mason tilted his head, lifted an eyebrow, and grinned.
“Lillian Pickard.”
“Oh, I know who she is,” Mother said. “Isn’t she the girl who works at Joachim’s?”
“Yes, she’s the one.”
“Pretty girl,” Mason said. “Maybe a little old-fashioned for you, though, Will.”
“What’s wrong with old-fashioned?”
Mason shrugged. “Nothing’s wrong with it. I just thought you could do better. You’re the looker in the family.”
“Mason!” Their mother frowned at the older of the two sons. “If Will likes a girl who is old-fashioned, what business is it of yours? And it would certainly do you some good to stop chasing after all the silly, prissy young women you seem to fancy.”
William shot his brother an I-could-have-told-you-so look. “It doesn’t matter. She’s not interested in me. I took advantage of the rain and offered her a ride home.”
“
How do you know this girl?” Mother asked.
“She was at Ina and Merv Jordan’s Christmas party last year.”
“Yes, I remember.” Mason narrowed his eyes. “In fact, you had her cornered for almost an hour. Even if she’d wanted to meet other people, she wouldn’t have been able to.”
“I didn’t have her cornered. We enjoyed chatting.”
“That’s not how I remem—”
Their mother cleared her throat. “Boys! That’s enough. So when do you plan to see Miss Pickard again?”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again.”
“That doesn’t sound like the brother I know.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll see her again, William,” their mother said. “Cary isn’t that big of a town.”
William smiled and gave her a hug. “I’m sure I’ll see her, but that might be as far as it goes. She doesn’t seem interested in me as a suitor, and I’m not about to push myself on her.”
He started for the stairs but was stopped by the sound of his brother coming from behind. William glanced over his shoulder and saw that the two of them were alone in the foyer. “So what have you been doing all day?”
“Amos wanted to get out of the office, so I helped Pop with the books. His accountant told him he needed to hire someone, but he doesn’t know anyone who needs a job.”
William chuckled. “I’m surprised he was able to get you to sit still long enough to work on the books.”
“Trust me, it wasn’t easy.” Mason ran his fingers through his freshly cut hair. “So tell me more about Lillian Pickard. Sorry about some of my comments earlier. I was just joking. She would be very pretty if she’d update her hairstyle and wear better clothes.”
“I’ve never cared about that. In fact, I like how she wears her hair. She’s different.”
“Yes, you can say that again. She is definitely different. I didn’t want to say this in front of Mom, but one day I stopped in to pick up a few things at Joachim’s and I caught her eating a pickle sandwich. She quickly stuck it beneath the counter, but she had a big mouthful to swallow before she could offer to help me. I thought, ‘How odd. What kind of girl would eat a pickle sandwich?’ ”