Holiday Magic

by Fern Michaels

  A voice she didn’t recognize answered the phone. Melanie wasn’t sure if it was a male or a female either.

  “Mr. Edward Patrick Joseph O’Brien, please. Tell him it’s a matter of life and death.” Melanie liked this new role of taking charge, sort of like kicking ass and taking names later.

  Two seconds later, the man himself was on the phone. “This is Patrick.”

  Melanie rolled her eyes. She was sure the man deliberately downplayed his intelligence.

  “Patrick, this is Melanie, and we have a problem.” Just for meanness, she waited a few seconds before continuing. Let him wiggle in his britches.

  “Is it Stephanie, or the girls?” he asked.

  More meanness. “All of them.”

  “Tell me where they’re at, and I can be there in minutes,” he replied anxiously.

  Again, she let him stew. She knew it was mean, but it was her way of getting even over his putting Stephanie on that unpaid leave of absence.

  “Melanie, tell me what’s wrong. Please!” He shouted so loud she had to hold the phone away from her ear.

  “I need you to listen, and I don’t want you to interrupt me. Is that clear?”

  She heard an intake of breath over the phone line. “Okay. I’m listening.”

  Melanie made fast work of telling him what she wanted and when she wanted it. He complied as fast as Jessica Rollins had. Maybe graphic design isn’t my calling after all.

  Thirty minutes later, Stephanie was showered, dressed, and looking like a million bucks.

  “Now, I want you to get in my car. We’re going out for lunch.”

  “Melanie, I know you’re trying to cheer me up, and I really do appreciate it, but I have to be here when the girls get home.” She looked at the clock on the stove. “And that’s in two hours. I don’t see how we can go out to lunch and actually enjoy ourselves in such a short period of time.”

  “Did I say we were going to enjoy ourselves? Hmm, I don’t believe I did. Now go.”

  “Well, I hope you know I feel like a fool, all dressed up, looking so silly, just to eat lunch. And we’ll have to go to a fast-food place because that’s all I have time for. And I won’t take no for an answer, not where my girls are concerned,” Stephanie said adamantly.

  “I’ve arranged for my mother to be here when they get home.” She really hadn’t, but she would. “You have way too much blusher on. Go wipe some off before we leave. You look like Ronald McDonald.”

  “I really don’t like this side of you.”

  “Tough. Go wipe your cheeks. Now.”

  Stephanie turned around and headed for the bathroom.

  Melanie called her mother and explained the situation. She was more than willing to help out. She said she would be waiting at the bus stop for the girls and from there she would take them to Chuck E. Cheese, if Stephanie didn’t mind, of course. Melanie assured her she wouldn’t but reminded her mother not to forget to take her cell phone, because Melanie knew Stephanie would want to call and check on the girls.

  Stephanie came out of the bathroom as soon as Melanie hung up the phone.

  “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were up to something. But I don’t know better, at least not today. So let’s just have lunch and enjoy ourselves before the girls come home. It might be fun just the two of us for a change. We can order junk food.”

  “Yes, and we will as soon as you get in the car.” Melanie practically shoved her out the door. “I told you my mother would be here just in case we ran a little late, and you’re going to have to trust me on this one.”

  “And you want me to trust someone who says she doesn’t trust people who say trust me?”

  “Did I say that?” Melanie asked, as they loaded into her Lincoln Navigator.

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Well, I’m telling you now that you have to trust me. You don’t have to like me, just trust me.”

  Stephanie took a deep breath. “Turn the heat on, it’s freezing. I really wish you would tell me what’s going on. I don’t like surprises.”

  “Tough,” Melanie said as she maneuvered down the long, winding drive. Evergreens topped with a heavy layer of snow flanked the sides of the drive. It never failed to remind her just how beautiful Colorado really was.

  Exactly twenty minutes later, they pulled into the main parking lot at Maximum Glide.

  Stephanie looked as though she were ready to do battle. “What are we doing here? This is the last place I want to be right now.”

  “Tough. It’s where you need to be. There is someone here who wants to talk to you. Now get out, or I will carry you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.”

  “I’m not sure I want the girls to see you like this. It might scare them,” Stephanie teased.

  “Right! They love me any way I am, and we both know that.”

  “Yes, they do.”

  As they trudged across the parking lot, snow crunched against their boots, the sound barely audible over the crowds on the mountain. The previous week’s blizzard conditions were long gone. In their place the sun was as bright as butter, the sky as blue as a robin’s egg, and the snow as white and clean as freshly beaten cream.

  They hurried inside the main offices because even though the sun was out, the temperatures were still in the teens.

  “We’re having lunch in Patrick’s office. I told him to order in from The Lodge,” Melanie explained.

  “I don’t know why I agreed to this, but remind me when we leave to wring your neck.”

  Melanie tapped on Patrick’s door, then opened it before he had a chance to tell them to come inside.

  Just as she had commanded, there was a table set for two, an exquisite crystal vase with one single yellow rose, and a bottle of Cristal chilling in a bucket of ice.

  Stephanie glanced at Patrick, then back at her friend turned harridan. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

  “It isn’t,” Melanie said. “Enjoy lunch.”

  She hurried out of the office before Stephanie even had a chance to ask what was going on. She saw the table, the rose, and the champagne.

  “Please, come in and have a seat.” Patrick motioned to the chairs, which Stephanie recognized from The Lodge.

  “Just so you know, I’m not here because I want to be. Melanie seems to think this is…I don’t know what she thinks, but let’s just get this over with.”

  “You sound like you’re headed for the guillotine.”

  “It’s probably not as bad,” she responded, then sat down in the chair Patrick pulled out for her. Surprise, surprise. She didn’t know he had manners.

  “You can tell me that when I’m finished with what I have to say. I took the liberty of telling Jack to wait on our food. You might not want to be in the same room with me when I say what I need to say, something I should’ve said a long time ago, and I would have if I’d had the guts to admit it to myself. But better late than never, so here it is.”

  “Look, if it’s about my job, I probably shouldn’t have walked out the way I did. I was just so worried about Amanda and Ashley, then you made that comment about…well, you know what you said. I was embarrassed and just wanted to leave. So if you’re going to apologize, then fine. I accept.”

  “Actually, this isn’t about your job at all. As a matter of fact, it has nothing to do with this place.” He took a deep breath, raked his hand through his dark locks, then took another deep breath. “I come from a very large Irish family. I have three younger sisters and four older brothers, and my sisters have three sons and two, uh, one daughter. My brothers have a number of children also, but this is about my sisters and their children and me. About how it’s my job to protect them.”

  “Okayyy,” Stephanie said, still unsure what this was all about.

  “This is hard, okay?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Two years ago, my sister and her husband lost their daughter, Shannon.”

  “I’m so sorry, Patrick, I had no idea.”
Stephanie still didn’t know where this was leading, but she was calmer, knowing it had something to do with his family. Family she could handle.

  “She was seventeen…. She had this rare blood thing called TTP. She died the day she was supposed to graduate from high school. Our family hasn’t been the same since. I haven’t been the same since. It’s been a nightmare for my sister, and their younger daughter, Abby. It took about a year before the shock wore off. I…This isn’t coming out the way I want it to.”

  Patrick reached for her hand, and her first thought was to pull hers away, but when she saw the look in his blue eyes, she stopped herself. Sadness blanketed his face.

  “I swore that I would never allow myself to get in a situation that would make me suffer a loss as great as Shannon’s death. I saw what my sister went through, what she’ll go through for the rest of her life, what I couldn’t protect her and my oldest niece, my parents’ oldest grandchild from, and I decided that wasn’t the life for me. If I didn’t get too close to anyone, I wouldn’t get hurt. Typical cliché, but true. Then you and your girls came along. I tried not to like you, I tried not to like your daughters, but that’s impossible. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you this without putting my foot in my mouth, or ticking you off, and as luck would have it, Melanie called and told me what I knew but wouldn’t admit to.”

  “When did Melanie become such an authority on everyone?”

  “She’s observant, and she’s smart. A little mouthier than usual, but I’m glad she chose me to use as an example. What I’m trying to say is I have very, very strong feelings for you, and your girls. Do you think it would be possible to give me another chance to do things the right way?”

  This was the last conversation she’d ever expected to have that day. And with Patrick, of all people. So there was a heart beating inside that massive chest after all. Stephanie grinned.

  “I suppose I could, but there would have to be conditions.”

  “Anything you say,” Patrick agreed, then squeezed her hand.

  “Anything?” Stephanie asked.

  “Whatever it takes,” he said, his eyes boring into her as though it were the first time he’d actually looked at her.

  “Let’s hit the double black diamonds, first,” Stephanie said, feeling more lighthearted than she had in years. She actually felt like having fun for a change. She didn’t worry about the girls because she did trust Melanie even though she had told her she shouldn’t. That day Stephanie was simply going to enjoy being in the company of a man she thought was the sexiest boss alive.

  Patrick stood up, pulled out her chair, then took her in his arms. “I haven’t even kissed you.”

  “Then let’s not waste another minute,” Stephanie said just before his lips met hers.

  Epilogue

  Christmas Eve

  The knock at the door sent both girls racing to answer it. Melanie was stopping by to bring them their gifts. They’d been acting like two Mexican jumping beans ever since she told them.

  “Girls, let’s remember our manners,” Stephanie said.

  Both girls slowed down and opened the door.

  “You’re not Melanie,” Amanda said.

  “Amanda, that’s rude!” Ashley said, stepping aside to allow Patrick to come in out of the cold. “We’re trying to teach her manners, but I think it’s going to take a long time.”

  “I’m still learning myself. It just takes some people longer than others,” Patrick replied.

  “Patrick, I thought you were Melanie,” Stephanie said, though she wasn’t unhappy that it was him. They’d been out four times in less than two weeks. He wasn’t the man she’d thought; he was more. Loving, funny, and kind. He had the patience of a saint where the girls were concerned. She’d never been happier.

  “Yeah, speaking of Melanie, she called me and told me she couldn’t make it until later, something about her car. Said she wanted me to give you this.” Patrick reached inside his leather jacket and pulled out a thick manila envelope.

  “Oh, that must be the gift she wanted to give to the girls.”

  “I’m sure of it. Why don’t you open it?” Patrick asked as he invited himself to sit at the small table in the tiny kitchen.

  “Well, it’s not for me,” Stephanie said. She was surprised that Melanie hadn’t wrapped the girls’ gifts since she knew how much they loved shiny paper and fancy ribbons. But maybe she hadn’t had time.

  “Actually, Melanie said it was for you and the girls, so I think it’s okay to go ahead and open it.”

  By that time both girls were hanging all over Patrick. He lifted Amanda onto his right knee and Ashley onto his left. “Go on, Mommy, open it!” Amanda said.

  “Oh, all right, but I wish she hadn’t…Well, okay, I’ll just open it.” Stephanie had knitted a sweater and matching scarf for Melanie and a hat and gloves for Patrick. She had been hesitant to dip into the deposit money, which had been returned to her after the purchase of the house fell through, so gifts from her this Christmas were handmade.

  She used a fingernail to open the top of the envelope. She pulled out several official-looking papers. She skimmed through them, looked over at Patrick, who had her girls sitting on his lap as though they’d been doing that their entire life.

  She looked at the papers again. And again. Then it finally hit her.

  Melanie’s gift to her. Tears filled her eyes and coursed down her cheeks like a waterfall. She could hardly speak. She thought she must be dreaming. But it was what it was. She didn’t know how it was possible, but somehow, some way, Melanie’s gift to her and the girls was the deed to an unencumbered piece of property, the little house in Placerville.

  “This is the best present we’ve ever gotten, right, Patrick?” Amanda asked.

  They all laughed as the girls told their mother about Melanie’s surprise and how it was possible. And how Melanie had said that, for the first time in her life, she knew the true joy of Christmas giving.

  And a surprise it was, a complete and utter surprise.

  For the first time in her life, Stephanie and the girls would truly have a home of their own, thanks to the incredible generosity of a loving friend.

  “A Very Merry Christmas”

  CATHY LAMB

  To Cindy, Todd, Mitchell, and Cara Everts.

  Thanks for the drift boat rides down the Missouri

  River, the opportunity to tease the fish,

  and the water gun fights.

  Most of all, thanks for the laughs.

  Chapter 1

  “It’s the holiday season so I don’t want to have to shoot you.” I drummed my red fingernails against the long, polished bar, hooked my cowboy boot on the rail, and eyed the drunken fool who had crawled up on the stool next to mine like an inebriated sea urchin. “But you’re pushing it, buddy.”

  Through the dim light of Barry Lynn’s bar, a bar that has been around for over a hundred years and has the bullet holes to prove it, I could tell that he had gotten all dressed up in his fancy-pants fly fishing gear to head out to one of Montana’s world class rivers and pretend he was a “real man” out in the wilds. He had probably flown in on a private jet, and was looking for a little hee-haw before going home to his mansion and his pampered life.

  “Honey,” he said, pushing a hand through his blond wave, while I studied his buffed fingernails, “you’ve got a face that could cause Jesus himself to sin.”

  I refrained from smashing my unbuffed fist into his nose for that rude comment. “Jesus himself created this face. I can assure you he’s not going to sin. You, however, may cause me to sin when I knock you off your stool. Now back off.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the Three Wise Women, as they had dubbed themselves about ten years ago, waiting for me in our usual corner, near the Christmas tree, past the pool tables, by a window we opened up to the moonlight when the heat from many bodies became too suffocating. The discussion topic tonight: “Would marriage be easier if the couple
lived next door to each other and not with each other?” Plus Vicki was bringing all of us Gracious Journals to write in, whatever that was.

  The inebriated sea urchin sighed heavily, shook his head, then leaned toward me, his whiskey breath encircling my head. “Okay, honey, but I gotta get your name.” His three other middle-aged, fleshy buddies were now laughing at him from a nearby table. “Your name, then I’ll leave you alone.” More whiskey breath. “Your naaammme.”

  “My name’s Mary Magdalene.” I could feel my temper triggering. It did not take much. I knew it was because of my past.

  “Your name’s Mary Magdalene?” His eyes opened wide, then his face got contemplative. He was trying hard to think. Think, brain, think! “I’ve heard that name before.” His brow furrowed. “Are you famous?”

  I stared at a bullet hole in the ceiling and wondered who shot off her gun. Hey! Maybe it was a woman who was being hit on by a whiskey-breathing idiot.

  “You look famous.” He shook his head, baffled. “You got that, I dunno. Charisma. Something about you. Special-like. Original. You’re a thoroughbred. You know what I mean?”

  “So I’m a horse to you?”

  The mirror above a row of liquor bottles behind the bar gave me a brief look at myself. Full mouth, “a mouth that looks botoxed but it’s not,” Hannah, one of the Three Wise Women told me. High cheekbones. Brown eyes that seemed abnormally large to me. Long hair that is straight and black with a white streak running from a widow’s peak down the full length. My father said it was a birthmark blessed upon me from my ancestors, who about “swam over here from Italy, they were so desperate to come to America.”

  My mother, the rebel daughter of a proper, titled, English family, who fell head over heels in love with my father when he was on leave from serving in the U.S. Army, and ran off with him when she was twenty, called it my Wisdom Mark. “It would be wise if you were not quite so tough, dear. When we English say to keep a stiff upper lip, we do not mean ‘give someone else a stiff upper lip.’”