A Christmas Homecoming

by Johnson, Kimberly Rose

  “It feels so good in here. I might even start to feel my toes again, if we stay very long,” she said through chattering teeth.

  He chuckled. “Good point. We should order pie and tell them to keep the coffee coming.”

  “Sounds perfect.” They sat at a table beside a window. Bailey caught her breath. “Look, it’s starting to snow again. I can’t believe this view.” Her rosy cheeks matched the excitement in her voice. “It’s so beautiful up here.”

  “Mmm.” His gazed rested on her. “You don’t come up here often?”

  She shook her head. “Never. I don’t ski. Besides, your mother keeps me very busy, especially now.”

  “About that. I’m worried about her. She’s not herself.” He knew the chances of her health returning to its pre-stroke condition weren’t likely, but he still held out hope she’d one day be the person he remembered before fleeing to France. “Her demeanor is completely changed. What happened?”

  Bailey pressed her lips tightly together as if debating her next words. Her gaze met his. “I think she’s angry and embarrassed. It must be frustrating to be dependent on others for simple tasks. I’m not an expert in psychology, but I know I’d be angry to be stuck in that situation, and way past embarrassed.”

  His mother’s insistence that he find a replacement for Bailey seemed to support her observation. Could it be Mom was embarrassed that her assistant had to help her with personal needs? “Now that you mention it, you could be right. My mom is a prideful woman, and I’m sure asking you for help was humiliating.” While they ate their apple pie in silence, he couldn’t help but wonder why Bailey continued to be so kind to his mom considering everything. He wanted to ask why she didn’t quit and go work for their competition, but he didn’t want to put any ideas in her head if she hadn’t thought of it already.

  Bailey was a huge asset to his family and their business, and he didn’t want her to leave. He’d viewed some of her work via the gallery Mona kept online and was quite impressed with Bailey’s vision. Now if he could only get his mother to realize what they had in her. How could he convince his mom that Bailey was an asset and not a liability?

  Bailey stood in the middle of the cold basement the day after Thanksgiving. Sore didn’t begin to describe how she felt. Who would have thought inner tubing and playing in the snow could make her so uncomfortable? She definitely needed to join a gym. She was too young to feel like this.

  She looked around the dusty space and blew her breath out in a puff. Why her boss stored Christmas decorations in this damp space she would never understand. She bent and groaned as she hoisted a plastic storage box into her arms then trekked upstairs to the main level. One thing was certain, she would work off yesterday’s feast with all the trips she would be taking up and down the stairs today.

  Too bad no one was around to help. Stephen had taken Mona to physical therapy, so she’d have the place to herself for the next couple of hours.

  She stood amongst a dozen boxes. How could she do this alone? It had taken Mona and her days to deck out this place for Christmas last year. She needed her own assistant, but no way would she ask for one. Mona was in an even worse mood than usual when she’d left the house for her appointment, and she was never pleasant after physical therapy.

  At least Bailey knew exactly how her boss liked her house decorated. She connected her iPod to the speaker on the main level then cranked up the volume to her favorite Christmas album and sang along with Angels We Have Heard on High. From the top of a twelve-foot ladder, she hung mistletoe above the entryway and topped it off with a delicate red bow.

  As she climbed down the ladder, she spotted a man walking to the door. She looked more closely and frowned. Why is Spencer here? She pulled open the door. “Long time no see. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes.” He brought his hands out from behind his back.

  She sucked in a breath. “Who are the flowers for?” He held a bouquet of red roses.

  “You. And they’re not from me.” He quickly added after thrusting them toward her.

  “If they aren’t from you, then who?” She suddenly realized how cold it was outside. “Come in for a minute and warm up.”

  “Okay. Sure.” He followed her inside and closed the door behind him. He blew out a slow whistle. “This place is something else. Are you the decorator?”

  “I did the Christmas stuff.” She pulled the card from the bouquet and placed the flowers on a nearby table. “Roses for a sweet lady.” She turned the card over. “It doesn’t say who they’re from.”

  “Looks like you have a secret admirer, Bails.”

  “I thought we agreed to Bay or Bailey. Not Bails.”

  “Just kidding. Well, my work here is done. I’ll be seeing you.”

  “Wait! You must know who they’re from.”

  He shook his head. “Beats me. They were sitting on Mark’s desk. I had to head out this way for something else and offered to drop them by. And before you get weird, I asked, and they are not from Mark.”

  “Good. I’d hate to tell Nicole she was engaged to a scoundrel. But why would they be at the police station, and why would they be on Mark’s desk?”

  “It’s a mystery to me.” Spencer turned toward the door. “Catch you later.”

  “Okay. Thanks. ’Bye.” She found a vase for the flowers and put them in water. The flowers, though a kind gesture, kind of creeped her out. Why would someone leave flowers at the police station for her? Then again, if the person had access to Mark’s desk, he couldn’t be too bad. At least that’s what she wanted to believe. Spencer sincerely seemed to be clueless about who they were from, but how could that be?

  On her way to get the ladder she noticed the mistletoe had fallen. It looked as if she needed to try again. She climbed the ladder and retied the ribbon around the hook in the ceiling. The flowers situation troubled her, even though it should have made her happy. After the incident with the silver car she’d been on edge, which was irrational, but she couldn’t help herself.

  She leaned back to make sure the mistletoe looked perfect. The ladder wobbled. She grasped the edges with both hands, and then her world teetered. She squealed and squeezed her eyes shut. The ladder jerked to a stop and righted.

  “Easy there.” Stephen braced the ladder with both hands. “How about you come down from there before you break your neck?” He stayed planted at the bottom.

  “Stephen.” Her heart thumped wildly. “Thank you! I didn’t hear you come in. Where’s Mona? Wait, how’d you get in? There’s no way you came in that door without me noticing.”

  He shook his head. “I saw you through the window, so I used the door in the kitchen. My mom is at the hospital. The physical therapist had a concern, so she insisted my mom see her doctor. It turns out Mom has a blood clot in her leg, as well as an infection.” Worry filled his eyes.

  “Oh, no!” Bailey climbed down one rung at a time, doing her best to ignore her sore muscles. Her foot missed the next. She gasped.

  “Easy now. Raise your foot an inch and you’ll be there.”

  She felt for the rung, found it and climbed the rest of the way down.

  Stephen released the ladder and took a step away once her feet were nearly on solid ground.

  She turned to face him, resting a hand on his arm. “Is there anything I can do?”

  He shook his head. “I stopped by to pick up a few things she asked for. Mom’s doctor admitted her.” He took another step back, causing her hand to drop off his arm, then stopped. “My mother always spoke highly of you and your work before her accident. I hope you will stay on, but it’s only fair you should know that she’s asked me to replace you.”

  Bailey gasped. “Are you firing me?”

  Pain crossed his face. “No. I . . . I’m sorry. This isn’t coming out right. That’s not what I was trying to say at all. I meant the opposite, in fact. I’ve looked at your online portfolio, and it’s exceptional. You are a talented designer whose time is more than likely being wa
sted as my mom’s girl Friday.”

  “Oh.” So he liked her work, but why did . . . She shook her head. “I’m very confused. Why does Mona want to get rid of me?”

  “I believe you were right about the reason her attitude has turned hostile toward you. My mom is a prideful woman and asking you to help her with personal matters has been humiliating for her. Seeing you reminds her of that and rubs salt into her humble pie, and it doesn’t taste good.”

  So she’d been right. Mona was acting out because she was embarrassed.

  “However, regardless of what Mom wants, we need you. Our clients know you, and you know our business. I’d like for you to put feelers out for an assistant for yourself. My mom won’t be able to work in the foreseeable future, and we need to keep things running as smoothly as possible. You’re in charge of the design aspect of the business now, and you’ll need someone to take care of running errands and whatever else you did for my mom. Once she is able to come home, I’ll hire a nurse or a companion with medical training to live here, so you’ll be relieved of her care. That ought to ease the tension between the two of you.”

  Bailey opened her mouth, but no sound came out. He wouldn’t ask her to find an assistant if he thought his mother was going to recover. “How serious is this infection and clot?”

  “It’s not good. She could die if the clot goes to her heart.” His voice caught, and he cleared his throat. “The doctor thinks we caught the infection in time. If we did, then depending on the blood clot situation, she may be home in time for Christmas, but he warned that I needed to make other arrangements for the business. Apparently, the stress is too much for her health.”

  “I’m so sorry, Stephen. If there is anything at all I can do other than finding an assistant, please let me know. Your family is like a second family to me, and I want to help. What will your mom say when she finds out you didn’t fire me?”

  His gaze cleared, and it looked as though he saw her with new eyes. “I’ll tell her how it is. I’m hoping she will come to her senses. Thank you, for not getting angry and for offering to help.” He rushed past her and up the stairs. He stopped at the top and turned. “I’ve thought of something you could do.”

  “Anything.” Anyone willing to stand up to Mona on her behalf had her loyalty.

  “Make this the best Christmas ever. And let me know what you need. Oh, and if you don’t mind continuing to stay at the house, it would make me feel better knowing this place isn’t empty.”

  “Okay.” She blinked back tears. Based on Stephen’s request, it sounded as if this would in all likelihood be Mona’s last Christmas. She squared her shoulders, determined to fulfill Stephen’s request. This would be a Christmas to remember.

  “I saw roses in the kitchen.”

  Her stomach knotted. “Yes. Apparently I have a secret admirer.”

  He raised a brow. “Any idea who?”

  “No. Hence the word secret.” She forced a smile. The last thing Stephen needed was to know how weirded-out those flowers made her.

  He nodded. “Well, I need to get moving.”

  “Okay.” She kicked up the pace and soon the kinks had worked out of her body. Tuning out all her worries, she threw her concentration into decorating. She glanced toward the window and realized it was dark. What time was it? She pulled out her cell phone. “Seven!” Where had the time gone? She’d finished the entryway, staircase, and great room, but it’d taken all day. Ready to drop, she kicked off her shoes and sank into the couch. They still needed a Christmas tree. Maybe Stephen could have one delivered. She had a consultation at nine in the morning and then needed to visit one of the job sites along with a plethora of other tasks.

  The doorbell pealed. In the time she had been living here, no one had ever rung the bell. Her mind shot to the flowers—no, her admirer wouldn’t come ringing her employer’s doorbell–unless he’d hoped to catch her alone. It was probably common knowledge by now that Mona had been hospitalized. Enough of this paranoia. She stood and rushed to the door, trying to ignore her protesting muscles.

  Stephen stood there with slightly slumped shoulders.

  Relief washed over her.

  “I wanted to let you know I’m back and see if everything went okay. No more ladder mishaps?”

  She grinned in spite of feeling ready to drop. “Not a one.” She opened the door wider. “I can’t believe it, but I’m about finished with the decorations. Which reminds me. We need a tree. There is a grower-direct lot in Bend, so the trees last a long time. Do you think you could have one delivered sometime this week? I’ll be out all day tomorrow, but if you’re free . . .” She pressed her lips together. “Sorry. I ramble when I’m tired.”

  A soft grin lifted his lips. “I’ll make sure there’s a tree, but I’m not paying someone to deliver one that I didn’t pick out myself. Let’s plan to visit a tree lot this weekend.” He walked into the house. “Do you mind if I see what you did?”

  “Of course not.” She moved aside.

  He stood in the center of the entryway directly below the mistletoe where he had a perfect view of the main floor. She hadn’t tackled upstairs and had no plans to either. “It’s perfect. Mom will love it.”

  “She’d better. I took pictures during the past two Christmases for reference. She does it the same way every year. This is your mother’s design.”

  He really looked at her for the first time since coming to the door, and a twinkle lit his eyes. “You sure get into your work.”

  Her stomach lurched. She glanced in the hall mirror, and her eyes widened. Dust streaked across her nose, and glitter decorated her hair. “I’m a mess.” She was ugly enough, without adding to it. She sighed. Why hadn’t he laughed at her? She’d known a few people who would have. Then again, he wasn’t a cruel person.

  “Come here.”

  She moved toward him, uncertainty causing her to move extra slow.

  He chuckled. “I don’t bite. You look terrified.” He pulled what looked to be a clean hanky from his pocket and wiped the top of her nose. “Much better,” he said softly as he stuffed the cloth back in his pocket. “Bailey?”

  “M-hmm.”

  “Breathe.”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding and prayed he wouldn’t look up and notice they stood below the mistletoe.

  He moved toward the door and turned back. “The mistletoe is a nice touch. See you later, Miss Sparkles.” He winked and sauntered outside.

  She snapped her jaw closed. What was it with men and nicknames? In spite of her annoyance, she couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face. Maybe the glitter helped her appearance. She couldn’t wait until Saturday!

  Chapter Six

  Stephen kicked snow off his boots and stepped into his cabin, still grinning from his encounter with Bailey. She sure knew how to wear her work. She’d probably be washing glitter out of her hair for days. Considering the hours she worked, he was surprised she’d managed to catch the eye of an admirer. Then again, any man who cared to notice would see she was a remarkable woman.

  He took off his winter gear and stowed it in the closet then moved to the kitchen. He sobered as he opened the fridge and spotted turkey leftovers. Had Thanksgiving only been yesterday? Mom had seemed fine, except for eating next to nothing. Apparently she had been hiding a couple of things. He grabbed a bottle of water and closed the door.

  Suddenly tired, he moved into the living room and collapsed on the couch. The day had gone nothing like he’d planned. Coming home wasn’t supposed to be this hard.

  He looked over at the mantle, and Rebecca’s picture grabbed his attention. “You would never believe what’s going on. Mom is a mess . . . I’m a mess.” He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “I miss you.” Rebecca would know what to do. She always knew how to deal with his mother.

  His wife wasn’t here anymore, and he needed to stop wishing for the way things used to be. He thought he was past the mourning stage, but now the daily reminders from the past wer
e becoming too much. Lord, how do I move on when every time I turn around something reminds me of Rebecca?

  He stood and tucked her photo behind a vase. Maybe if her gorgeous face wasn’t staring at him every time he walked in the door, he would stop wallowing in the past.

  He snatched up his cell and punched in Rick’s number. “Hey, it’s me.”

  “How’s Mom doing?”

  “Not great. Has she always been this difficult?”

  “Apparently being away for two-and-a-half years has affected your memory. Mom is the orneriest woman I know, but she’s probably scared and that’s causing her to be more difficult—at least that’s Judy’s take.”

  “More than likely your wife is right. I’d be scared if I were in Mom’s situation.”

  “I think most people would be. How are things going with Bailey? I still can’t believe Mom told you to let her go. Did something happen with a client?”

  “No. Nothing like that. Honestly, I think it has more to do with Mom’s pride than anything. Bailey is an exceptional designer. Mom is in no state of mind to be hiring or firing. Although she did say something about a client preferring not to have Bailey on the site.”

  “What?”

  “It’s nothing. The woman is a snob. Apparently she expects her designer to look a certain way, and Bailey doesn’t fit her expectations.” He’d admit that the woman didn’t go all out with her appearance, but when a person got into their work the way she did, it was probably for the best. Her dry cleaning bill would be astronomical.

  “Hmm, well that’s too bad. Personally, I like Bailey’s work. She’s easy to deal with. And once she makes up her mind about a detail, she rarely changes it, which is great from my point of view.”

  “So you’re comfortable with Bailey filling Mom’s shoes. At least for now? I took the liberty of telling Bailey to hire an assistant. If she’s going to take over the design side of the business, she’ll need help.” Silence met his ears. Had he made a mistake usurping his mother’s authority? His shoulders tightened. “Rick? Are you still there?”