Winston Moore soon tapped his watch, moving them along. The Granges’ staff were gracious hosts. They gave everyone a gift bag of goodies on their way out. Creamy milk chocolate stars and imported marzipan along with beautiful ornaments ready to hang on the tree.
Once outside, Abby saw that it had started to snow. The sidewalk between the mansions was now patterned with fat snowflakes. Layne preceded Abby through the front door of the Eugene Freemont Home. The 1848 Greek Revival was majestic, Abby thought, with its front façade of soft-toned brick, five bay-width and six fluted Ionic columns.
Wreaths and swags of garland greenery decorated the main entrance with its high ceilings and tiered chandelier. Enormous pink and red poinsettia plants added color to the entry hall. A father and his son welcomed them with smiles and handshakes.
“Eugene Freemont founded Freemont Inns, the opulent hotel chain throughout the northeast,” Winston told the group. “However he never stayed overnight in one of his own holdings. He preferred his own bed.”
Abby understood how Freemont felt. She wondered if she’d made a mistake, reserving a room for tonight in Philadelphia. She didn’t like to leave Tennyson for too long a time, even with a pet sitter. She also liked sleeping in her own bed. She still couldn’t forget Lander. His presence lingered at the cabin. She missed him. A lot.
Winston pointed everyone toward the double parlor. “This home was decorated in a Napoleon Bonaparte motif. Don’t miss the spectacular circular staircase rising, seemingly without support, in a domed cylindrical chamber at the rear of the house. It will amaze you.”
He paused, then added, “Enjoy hot apple cider and an assortment of Christmas cookies in the library. The Freemont chef makes the best sugar cookies in Philadelphia.”
Abby wandered through the mansion. Time seemed to stop in the Greek Revival. The furniture, gilt-wood mirrors, and the wool Brussels carpet in a geometric-floral pattern were resplendent, evoking memories of another era. She caught up with Layne at an elliptical table in the library.
“This is my third snowman,” her friend said, holding up the cookie and licking the sugar off her lips. “They are so delicious. They don’t even need frosting.”
The sugar cookies on the sterling silver tray were disappearing rapidly. Abby took one, then accepted a crystal cup of hot cider from one of the servers circling the room.
She hated to leave the mansion, but the tour guide needed to keep them on schedule. The next two Victorian homes passed in a blur. She wished she could spend more time at each one. History lived and breathed within the walls.
The stars seemed to brighten and there was something in the air that she couldn’t quite place when she strolled up the walkway to the fifth home, an 1885 Italianate Victorian.
The Reynolds House called to her in a way she’d never experienced. She had an immediate affinity for the mansion. As if she was coming home. She shivered, suddenly as nervous as she was curious.
She stared for a long moment at the bracketed cornices, parapets, and square towers above the three-story roofline. She’d read in the brochure that the balconies were made of both stone and wrought iron. She swore she saw the shadow of a man standing at the window on the upper balcony. She had the strangest sensation she knew him. She shook off the feeling. Could anything be more ridiculous?
“Miss,” Winston called to her from the double portico. “Please come and join the others.”
Abby took the steps to the wide porch. The tour guide held the door for her. She walked in and stopped dead. She couldn’t have moved if someone had paid her.
Positioned in the center of the wide foyer, a six-foot-long, two-story gingerbread house welcomed visitors. It was intricately and beautifully decorated. Abby had never seen anything like it. She breathed in the sugary scents of gumdrops, peppermint sticks, marshmallows, wafer cookies, royal icing, and a dozen other candies.
She felt suddenly lightheaded. Knocked off balance by her uncanny feeling that something strange was going on here. She swayed, bumping shoulders with Layne. She was quick to apologize. She locked her knees, stood up straight, then fisted her hands to calm herself.
“The Reynolds family will join us in the formal living room,” Winston said, motioning everyone to the right.
“Note the two marble fireplaces and the extravagant woodwork throughout,” he commented. “Reynolds House has sixteen rooms and the original hardwood floors. There is a Christmas tree in every room of the house.”
The group murmured over the enormity of decorating so many trees. Abby’s heart warmed with the memory of Lander dragging her evergreen in from the garage. She could still hear the thump-thump of the trunk along the hallway as well as see the resolute expression on his face. He’d been determined that she have a good holiday.
Winston cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “The mansion is affectionately called The Vault. Lawrence Reynolds was in banking. Yet, oddly enough, he never trusted his own money to the business safe. Instead, he had his own bank vault built in the basement of his home. It remains there today.”
“That vault is now used as a wine cellar,” a man’s deep voice added from the doorway. “My family trusts the Reynolds Bank.”
Those gathered were all smiles and soft chuckles. All but Abby. She stood frozen to the spot. Her back was to the entrance, yet she recognized his voice. How could she not? Deep, resonating, and with so much sex appeal, her entire body tingled.
As discreetly as was humanly possible, she turned and peeked around the broad shoulders of the man blocking her view. She inhaled slowly and kept her focus. Yes, it was definitely Lander, well dressed and handsome in a black suit, crisp white shirt, and red-and-green striped holiday tie.
Fortunately for her, she stood in the middle of the crowd and he had yet to see her. Reynolds. She now knew his last name. And that he came from old money and lived in a historic mansion.
Realization settled heavily within her. No matter how many ways she spun the facts in her head, they didn’t change: the two of them were at opposite ends of the social and financial spectrum. Her heart squeezed. She wished at that moment she was back on Pine Mountain. Safe, snug, and cozy in her cabin. There she could still hold on to her dream of Lander coming back to her. Here in this opulent setting, the dream crashed like a snow globe falling to the floor. She wasn’t ready to face him. She didn’t want him thinking that she’d chased after him to the city. She’d wanted him to make the first move in seeing her again.
She shifted behind the big man in front of her. Each time he moved, she moved. She became his shadow.
Beside her, Layne whispered, “That’s one good-looking man. I’d love to find him in my stocking on Christmas morning. Him and his millions.”
What would the woman say if Abby told her that she’d found him in his car in a ditch twelve days ago? Her erotic gingerbread cookies had caused his accident, but she had saved his life. They’d bonded during the blizzard. Yet when the sun broke through the clouds and the electricity flickered on, Lander had returned to Philadelphia.
She hadn’t expected him to stay at her cabin. But she had thought he might call. Although cell phone service on the mountain was minimal at best. There had been no Christmas card, as he’d promised. Seeing him now made her shudder. She felt like an intruder in his home, even if she’d received a coveted invitation for the tour in the mail.
Abby caught glimpses of the two lovely women who soon joined Lander. Both stood by his side and slipped their arms through his. The ladies were striking, Abby thought. Impeccably dressed and with an air of sophistication.
“I’m Lander and this is my mother Catherine and my sister Angela,” Abby heard him say. “We welcome you to Reynolds House.”
She immediately felt drawn to the older woman, knowing as she did about that special final Christmas gift from her husband and how much he’d loved her. How strong a connection they’d had, even after he was gone. She envied her that love, and hoped to find it for her
self someday. She didn’t want to admit it, but she’d hoped to have it with Lander. Some things weren’t meant to be, no matter how much you wished them so.
She watched as several members of the tour moved forward to shake hands with the family. The man in front of Abby did so as well. She was suddenly in the open and vulnerable. Her heart was fragile. She darted behind the Christmas tree. A gorgeous tree, she noted, decorated with clear glass balls, white snowflakes and doves and—her eyes rounded—gingerbread men.
She stared overly long into the face of the M&M-eyed cookie. He stared right back at her. His round O of a cinnamon-candy mouth showed he was as surprised to see her as she was to see him. He wore white powdered sugar mittens and black licorice boots.
The only thing missing was a peppermint-stick penis.
“The Reynolds family will be serving an orange-custard tart and a sticky toffee bundt cake in the parlor,” Winston announced in his scholarly voice, though Abby detected a gleam in his eye when he mentioned the tart. “There will also be a Yule punch, a traditional family recipe.”
Abby peered through the branches of the tree, straight toward the hallway. The entrance had cleared. The Reynolds family now circulated among the tour guests, laughing and chatting, their gestures elegant and worldly. Reminding her that she didn’t belong here.
Lander moved around the perimeter of the room, getting closer and closer to where she stood. Abby was certain he had spotted her. She felt his eyes on her, from the top of her head down to her still-sore big toe. And everywhere in between. That set her pulse racing. She prayed she wasn’t blushing as red as the poinsettias decorating several side tables. Perhaps this wasn’t the best hiding place after all, she thought.
She mentally calculated her escape. She figured it would take her thirty steps to reach the entry hall, if she walked fast. Once there, she hoped to clear the door without him stopping her. She had no problem waiting outside for the group. It was cold, but not freezing. She had to take the chance. Besides, she’d welcome the numbness so she wouldn’t have to feel the ache in her heart. She’d missed him; seeing him like this only made it worse. Because now she knew she could never have him.
She closed her eyes, counted to ten, worked up her courage—
“Hello, Abby,” Lander whispered near her ear. His hot breath chilled her to the bone.
The man had approached on cat’s feet. His low voice startled her; so much so, her eyes went wide, and she backed deeper into the tree, nearly losing her balance. Several ornaments shifted and shook, but she didn’t look at him.
With a shaky hand, she steadied a dove before it slipped off its hook. Pine needles poked her bare knee between the hem on her gray wool skirt and the top of her black winter boots, making her skin itch. She gave a quick scratch.
A flash of Lander dragging in her evergreen shot before her eyes, making her feel even more miserable. How she wished they were back at her cabin, just the two of them. No mansion, no tour, and no visible differences between them.
She finally made eye contact with him. Her breath caught in her lungs, nearly strangling her. “Lander” came out hoarse.
He stood before her, tall and magnificently male. A hush came over her. The soft blue glow of the Christmas tree lights was the same color as his eyes. He’d gotten a haircut since she’d last seen him. He was smooth shaven. His cologne was subtle, hinting of amber, musk, and man. Gently, confidently, he cupped her chin with his hand, then ran his thumb across her lower lip. “I see you received my invitation,” he said, looking pleased. “I’m glad you could make it.”
His invitation. “So it was you who granted my holiday wish to tour the historic mansions,” she said. The Reynolds name could pull the proper strings. “Thank you, Lander.” She’d always be grateful to him. “Why did you invite me?” She needed to know.
“I wanted you with me on Christmas Eve.”
Had he said what she thought he’d said? Her stunned expression elicited his explanation. “The formal invite was mailed late, but I still hoped you’d accept. Tonight I stood at the upstairs balcony window and watched for you. I hoped Santa would grant me my wish. I was one happy man when you walked up the sidewalk.”
She’d seen his shadow. And sensed his presence. “I fell in love with your home the moment I saw it,” she confessed, not moving an inch, as if she could. “But I had no idea it belonged to your family.”
“I’m pleased you like it, but how do you feel about the man who lives here?” he asked, genuinely interested in her answer. He appeared rather nervous, and nothing like the self-assured man she’d known in Pine Mountain.
She gave him a small, reassuring smile. “I rather like him, too.”
His expression relaxed as he exhaled his relief. He looked at her now as he had at the cabin, with both compassion and desire. Leaning close, he gently kissed her lips. A promising kiss that would have to suffice until they had more privacy.
He glanced at the tree, then asked, “How do you like my gingerbread men?”
She scanned the ones she could see, and couldn’t help but grin. “I like the one decorated in a Santa suit. The G-man with the green frosted bow tie, vest, and shorts is cute, too.” She paused, then continued tongue-in-cheek, “It’s what’s beneath those outfits that counts the most.”
“No peppermint sticks or peanut testicles,” he said, lowering his voice for her ears only. “The cookies are soft gingerbread, not hard.”
Abby couldn’t help but laugh. She loved his humor. He shared in her secret of creating erotic cookies. She trusted him not to tell anyone else.
From the corner of her eye, Abby saw his mother and sister approach them. They were both smiling. “Is this your Abby?” the older of the two asked Lander.
“My Abby,” he confirmed easily, tucking her to his side. “Catherine and Angela, meet Abby Denton,” he said.
His Abby. She needed a moment to take in his words. Yes, it was true. He’d claimed her as his. Tears filled the corners of her eyes. Happiness pushed the last of the holiday sadness from her heart. It was the most romantic moment of her life.
“I’m pleased to meet you both,” she managed to say.
Catherine welcomed Abby to their home with a hug, as did Angela. His mother’s hug was fragile, yet warm. Angela embraced Abby as if Abby were her sister. Their acceptance of her was overwhelming, as if they were welcoming home a long-lost daughter. Once Angela released her, Lander took her hand in his. Their fingers laced, and she felt secure and safe by his side.
“It’s time we met, Abby,” Catherine stated with an affirmative nod. “My son is quite fond of you. He told us about the blizzard, the accident, and how you saved his life.”
Abby’s heart swelled at hearing the woman’s words.
“My mother and I will always be grateful to you,” Angela added with a sincerity that touched Abby. “We were worried sick when he didn’t contact us for several days. We thought the worst.” Her hands shook and Abby could see both mother and daughter still hadn’t totally recovered from living through the nightmare of not knowing what had happened to Lander.
She wanted to tell them she’d almost died when she found him, his lips blue, his heart barely a murmur in his chest. But she didn’t. Why make them relive the accident again? He was home safe now, and that’s all that mattered.
“Cell phone service on the mountain isn’t always reliable,” Abby said truthfully.
“From what I understand, you were both injured following his car crash,” Catherine continued. “Lander hurt his ribs and you injured your foot. I insisted he see our family physician upon his return.”
“X-rays indicated two of my ribs are fractured,” Lander told Abby, holding his side. “How’s your toe?”
“I saw my doctor, too,” she admitted. “My big toe is broken. It still hurts when I stand too long.”
“Do you need to sit down now?” Lander immediately asked, concerned for her.
She shook her head. “I’ve waited years to take
this holiday walking tour,” she reflected. “I’ll tough it out.”
“You are both strong and brave in so many ways,” Catherine said. Her voice held respect and admiration.
“Abby is an amazing woman,” Lander agreed. His gaze warmed as he squeezed her hand. Abby squeezed back. She’d always have this special moment to remember, no matter what happened between them.
Several minutes passed in which he and Abby did no more than stare at one another. She got lost in his eyes. Memories of their time together silently passed between them. Each knew what the other was thinking. When his lips twitched and his smile spread, sexual chills raised goose bumps all over her body. Her stomach quivered, and she felt far too hot to be wearing her winter clothes. A lacy holiday red nightgown came to mind. To Lander’s too, by the look in his eyes.
Beside her, Angela cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to the moment at hand. “My brother mentioned you have a cat named Tennyson,” she said. “I’m a cat lover, too.”
“Tenn didn’t make the trip,” Abby said. “I have my nearest neighbor on the mountain pet sitting at my cabin. Bernice has recently adopted a female kitten named Pippa, who, according to Bernie’s last text, is madly in love with my old boy. Tennyson has yet to commit to liking Pip. They’re only together for a short time. I was planning to return to Pine Mountain after the tour.”
She saw Lander frown, but decided his look of disappointment about her leaving was wishful thinking on her part.
“Next time you visit, you’ll have to bring Tennyson with you,” Angela encouraged her. “The house is huge, and there are lots of rooms to explore.”
Next time she visited.
She meant to be kind, but Angela’s words were a dose of reality, and they left Abby uneasy. Visiting meant she would come, and then go. There was no permanence in a visit. She realized in that moment how much she wanted to stay. Stay and feel Lander’s arms around her again, his kiss upon her lips. All the wishful thinking in the world wasn’t going to change that. She longed more than ever for the safety of her cabin.
The Sugar Cookie Sweetheart Swap Page 24