Once Upon a Texas Christmas

by Winnie Griggs

  There was an awkward silence once the two of them were alone and for once Abigail didn’t know how to fill it.

  Seth decided he had to say something. “Thank you for doing this for Jamie. I know it wasn’t easy for you, feeling about me as you do, but it means the world to him.”

  “Making memories is my theme this year, remember?” She was proud that her voice held steady. “And I don’t dislike you, Seth. I just need to keep my distance.”

  “Abigail, I—”

  Thankfully, Jamie’s return interrupted whatever he’d been about to say. She wasn’t sure she could take hearing another apology from him.

  The boy held up a shiny silver rattle, round on one end and with a long keylike handle on the other. “Will this work?”

  Abigail took it from him and examined it. “There’s an inscription here. ‘James S. Shaw, March 3, 1891.’” She looked back up at him. “Is that you?”

  Jamie nodded. “Momma said it was a christening gift and that I should save it for when I have my own kids. Poppa’s name was James, too, so everyone calls me Jamie.”

  “And what does the S stand for.”

  Jamie cut a quick glance his uncle’s way. “Seth.”

  * * *

  Seth felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. The last thing he’d expected of Sally was that she’d give her son his name.

  Had she done it out of remorse?

  Seth realized he didn’t know much about Sally and her husband at all. When Jamie had been dropped in his lap, he’d been too surprised to learn he had a nephew to ask many questions.

  Truth be told, he didn’t want to know. He realized now that it had been wrong not to give Jamie a chance to speak of his parents. And perhaps it had been shortchanging himself as well.

  Asking about the name was a good place to start. “So your mother named you after me?”

  “Uh-huh. Momma said she carried a piece of you with her always and she wanted me to have a small piece of you, too.”

  “She and I hadn’t seen each other for a very long time,” he said carefully.

  Jamie nodded. “Not since you both were little kids and they pulled her away from you.”

  Is that how Sally had described it? He supposed it was true as far as it went.

  Jamie sighed. “I wish she had known you weren’t really dead.”

  He heard Abigail inhale sharply at that, but he kept his focus on Jamie.

  “She told you I was dead?”

  Jamie nodded. “It always made her sad to talk about it, but she said she wanted me to know all about you, so she told me stories about the things the two of you used to do, the trouble you would get into, like the time you tied a bell on the tail of the neighbor’s cat.”

  Seth smiled at the memory. He and Sally had had bread and water for supper for three days over that one.

  Something didn’t seem to be adding up here.

  “Tell me a little about your father. I never had the opportunity to meet him.”

  “Poppa was a blacksmith and he was strong, stronger than the fathers of all my other friends.” Jamie’s voice was filled with pride. “Momma took in sewing, but she could do that from home.”

  Seth’s image of his sister took another blow. “Are you saying your mother had a job?”

  Jamie nodded, obviously puzzled by Seth’s tone.

  “What about your grandparents?”

  Jamie looked uncomfortable. “Poppa didn’t have any family. Momma didn’t talk about her family much, except for you. She said her stepparents didn’t really understand about true love but we shouldn’t be angry with them, we should feel sorry for them.”

  Had Sally’s adopted family cut her off? Is that why Jamie had ended up with him instead of them?

  “Did she ever mention the letters I wrote to her?”

  Jamie’s nose wrinkled in confusion. “You mean the letters she wrote to you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She told me she wrote you lots of letters when she first got adopted. She was worried about you ’cause you were hurt so bad.”

  Seth glanced at Abigail and saw a soft sympathy in her eyes. It was almost too much on top of everything else.

  What in the world was going here? Seth was beginning to doubt that Sally would have gone to the trouble of weaving so elaborate a fantasy just to have stories to tell her son. After all, why mention him at all?

  Had someone been intercepting both his and Sally’s letters? But why?

  Perhaps it was time he found out.

  But for now, Jamie needed some reassurances.

  He smiled down at the boy. “Anytime you want to talk about your parents you let me know. And I’ve got some stories I can share with you about your mother that I’ll wager she never told you.”

  Jamie’s eyes lit up at that.

  Seth reached for the rattle Abigail still held. “But for now, why don’t we figure out how to mount this fine-looking rattle on the top of our tree?”

  Seeing the glow of approval in Abigail’s gaze made him forget, for just a heartbeat, that things had changed between them.

  Then her expression shifted and the pain came crashing back.

  * * *

  The next morning, when Michelson caught sight of the tree, he described it as quaint. “Don’t worry,” he told Seth, “next year I’ll make certain we have elegant glass ornaments and silver garland.”

  He pointed to the front window. “And I’m sure I’ll be able to come up with something better than glittered paper stars for the front window.”

  Glad that neither Abigail nor Jamie had been around to hear that, Seth turned a stern eye on the man. “Actually, this tree is decorated with ornaments made mostly by me, my nephew and Miss Fulton. And that front window display has been generating quite a bit of goodwill for the hotel.”

  Michelson smiled indulgently. “That’s good. But we can do so much better, don’t you think?”

  Before Seth could respond, the man changed the subject. “What do you think about having the staff wear uniforms? It would add an air of formality around here, something it’s sorely lacking.”

  Seth stiffened, then tried to remember that this was exactly the way he himself had been thinking when he first arrived.

  “I tell you what. Arthur Madison, the hotel owner, is supposed to arrive on today’s train. Why don’t you run the idea by him?”

  Michelson clapped him on the back. “Splendid. And I have some other ideas I may just run by him as well.”

  Seth nodded and then quickly excused himself to take care of business elsewhere. Because the more he was around Bartholomew Michelson, the more he doubted that he was the right man for the job after all.

  * * *

  Abigail had been on pins and needles all morning. She’d wanted to be there to meet the train when Judge Madison arrived, but had known that honor rightfully belonged to his granddaughter and her family. But Reggie had promised to send him round to the hotel as soon as he’d had a chance to rest up from his travels.

  So Abigail had stayed in and around the lobby for the past hour, determined not to miss his arrival. And at last her vigil was rewarded when he walked in the door with Reggie on his arm.

  As soon as the introductions were complete, Reggie kissed his cheek and took her leave.

  “Judge Madison, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you.” Abigail didn’t even try to keep the gushing tone from her voice.

  The judge patted her hand and gave her a warm smile. “Abigail, my dear, I assure you the pleasure is all mine.”

  “Allow me to show you my library,” she said, pointing the way. “The one I have you to thank for.”

  “I like your sign,” he remarked as they passed under it.

  She hoped he didn�
�t notice that her smile wobbled a bit at that reminder. “Mr. Reynolds made it. It’s quite nice.”

  As they stepped back out in the lobby, he looked around appreciatively. “If you’ve done as good a job on the rest of the rooms as you have on the lobby, I most heartily approve.”

  “I’m so glad you like it. It was a very satisfying assignment. Thank you so much for trusting me with it.”

  “And how was it working with Seth? Did the two of you get along?”

  “Mr. Reynolds is quite the astute businessman. I learned quite a bit watching and listening to him. And speaking of Mr. Reynolds, I’m sure he’s waiting to give you a proper tour of the place. Come along, I’ll show you where his office is.”

  The judge eyed her curiously, as if trying to read something in her expression. “Is something wrong, my dear?”

  “Of course not. In fact, finally getting to meet you has made me so very happy.”

  He patted her arm. “It pleases me as well. Now, let’s go find Seth and have a look at the place.”

  Abigail led the way to the office and then stepped aside to let her companion enter first.

  Seth stood as soon as they entered and came around the desk to meet the judge halfway. “It’s very good to see you, sir. I trust you had an easy trip of it.”

  Abigail felt her world shift slightly off center. It was her first time back in the office since she’d moved her things out, and she found the room looked both the same and different. Mr. Michelson had definitely put his mark on it.

  And speaking of Mr. Michelson, the man had stood and was offering his hand to the judge.

  “Allow me to introduce myself, sir, I’m Bartholomew Michelson, the new hotel manager.”

  The judge shook his hand and exchanged pleasantries, all the while studying the man dispassionately.

  Feeling out of place, she stepped back toward the door. “I’ll leave you gentlemen to your business. I have a few matters in the kitchen to attend to.”

  But Judge Madison held up a hand. “Just a moment, if you don’t mind.”

  Abigail halted and Judge Madison turned to Mr. Michelson. “If you will excuse us, I have a few business matters to discuss with these two.”

  Michelson nodded affably. “Of course. But there are a few ideas I’d like to discuss with you when you have a few moments. I’m entirely at your disposal.”

  Once the man had made his exit the judge turned back to them. “Now, I’d like both of you to give me a tour of the place and show me what you’ve been doing the past couple of months.”

  Resigned to the fact that she would need to keep up her act that everything was okay between her and Seth, Abigail joined the two men as they headed out of the office.

  * * *

  “Seth, has something happened to upset Abigail?”

  Seth sat back in his desk chair, resigned to explain his failure to the man he admired most in the world. He’d hoped the judge wouldn’t pick up on the tension between him and Abigail during the hour-and-a-half tour they’d made of the premises, but he should have known better.

  He fiddled with a pencil on his desk. “Abigail had her heart set on getting the hotel-manager job from the very first. But I had already made a commitment to Bartholomew Michelson.”

  “That’s what you meant before, about hiring the right person for the job being part of what would get you the Michelson property.”

  Seth nodded. “He wanted to get out from under his father’s shadow, and his father agreed it was time for him to strike out on his own. So they were willing to make a trade, this job for Bartholomew in exchange for a reduction in the money owed. But I would never have made that deal if he hadn’t been highly qualified for the role.”

  The judge waved a hand dismissively. “That doesn’t concern me. I know you’re an honorable man.”

  Seth winced. “Perhaps not so honorable as you might think.”

  The judge didn’t press, just raised a brow in inquiry.

  “I let Abigail hold out hope she had a chance to earn the job. I didn’t realize how serious she was about it. In the beginning, I didn’t feel the need to put a lot of effort into explaining the situation.”

  “And later?”

  “Later, I didn’t want to hurt her.”

  “And when did she find out?”

  “Several days ago, when Michelson turned up unexpectedly.”

  “I see.”

  Seth shifted, afraid the judge saw a little too much.

  “Seth, my boy, it sounds to me as if you’ve made a regular mess of this situation.”

  Seth nodded miserably. “She won’t listen to a word of explanation from me. And, even though she remains polite, she still wants nothing to do with me.”

  “Not a good frame of mind to be heading into Christmas with.” He stood. “Oh, well, cheer up, my boy. You’re finally getting what you’ve always wanted. You can leave all of this behind you and build your own business empire.”

  He moved to the door. “I’m going to talk to Abigail about reserving that fancy new guest parlor for Christmas day. I want to have a grand party for all of my friends here in Turnabout. Who knows when I’ll be back this way?”

  Then he paused and gave Seth a look that seemed to carry significance. “I seem to remember you telling me that you were prepared to sacrifice even your queen if it ensured you achieved your goal. I wonder, do you still feel that way?”

  And without waiting for an answer, the judge made his exit.

  Seth slowly sat back in his chair.

  The judge was right. He could collect his end-of-job bonus, turn the keys to the place over to Bartholomew Michelson and get on the train back to Philadelphia with Jamie. The Michelson property would be his free and clear in a matter of days.

  He was within a hairbreadth of becoming the success he’d vowed to become all those years ago as he stood outside the gates of Sally’s adopted home.

  But who was he going to impress?

  Sally—she was gone.

  The caretakers at the orphanage he’d grown up in—why would he want to impress them?

  All those people who had turned their backs when he was looking for work—he couldn’t even remember their names.

  The people who mattered, whose approval he really cherished, didn’t look for him to prove anything. Judge Madison had always afforded him the respect of a friend. Jamie didn’t care about what he did so long as they were together.

  As for Abigail—ah, Abigail was a different story altogether. What she required of him was something he’d deliberately, stupidly, withheld.

  And now it was too late. He’d sacrificed his queen before counting the cost.

  How could he have been so blind for so long?

  * * *

  He was still pondering the supreme mess he’d made of things when he tucked Jamie into bed that night.

  “Uncle Seth, I wish we didn’t have to leave Turnabout. I really like it here.”

  And there it was, another reminder of what he’d lost. “I know. And I really like it here, too. But my work is finished and it’s time for me to move on.”

  “Why don’t you just get another job here?”

  “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. For now, I work for Judge Madison and I go wherever that work takes me. But one day soon, I’ll own my own hotel and be able to work just for myself. Then you and I can build a real home for ourselves.”

  “Why don’t you just buy a property here instead of one back in Philadelphia?”

  It was clear there would be no appeasing the boy.

  “I’m sorry, Jamie, I really wish things could be different, but that just isn’t possible.”

  Jamie turned over on his side. “Miss Abigail says anything is possible, it just might mean changing the way you loo
k at what it is you want.”

  That sounded like Abigail. Unfortunately, he didn’t have her gift for looking at things in unconventional ways.

  Still, if he looked hard enough, was it possible to win back his queen?

  * * *

  Abigail smiled as brightly as she could, keeping the lie pasted on like a mask. Saturday should have been a grand day.

  The hotel had taken first place in the decoration contest and Judge Madison had been there to accept the prize. Mr. Michelson had unaccountably been called back home for an emergency of some sort, so he wasn’t there to witness it.

  The parade through town had been fun to watch. And the weather, though sunny, had finally turned appropriately cold for this time of year, which in Turnabout meant it was in the mid-forties.

  There were hayrides to look forward to this afternoon and a bonfire tonight with fiddle playing and caroling. Under other circumstances it might have been fun, but Abigail wasn’t in the mood for celebrations.

  Had Seth bought his and Jamie’s train tickets yet? Was he eager to get on with his life, with his pursuit of a business empire of his own?

  She prayed he would keep Jamie with him, or would at least find more time to spend with the boy if he did send him back to boarding school. Those two needed each other.

  Just like she needed both of them.

  Abigail had managed to slip away from her friends and family and now stood back from the milling crowds, watching people enjoying themselves.

  Perhaps she could leave unnoticed, retreat to the library or the new room Everett and Daisy had prepared for her, and lose herself in a book.

  She’d just started in that direction, when someone hailed her. Turning, she saw Constance waving at her.

  Feeling as if she’d been found out in a minor crime, Abigail joined her friend. “What is it?”

  Constance linked her elbow with Abigail’s and started leading her toward the other end of town. “I need you to come with me. And hurry.”

  Suddenly alarmed, Abigail picked up speed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, I just need your help with something.”