A Christmas Miracle

by Anna Adams

  “You understand more about Christmas than I thought you did—oh, no.” She looked at Jason’s empty hands. “Where’s the wine?”

  “I’m sorry—I forgot it in the car. You go ahead. I’ll go back for it,” he offered as the doors opened on the tenth floor.

  Fleming hesitated, her hand stopping the elevator from closing. “All right. I’ll see you inside. They’re the only apartment on this level.”

  Fleming’s stepfather must be even more successful than Jason had understood. He wondered why she hadn’t asked him for help... maybe a loan of some kind. “See you in a few minutes.”

  The doors began to shut, sliding along their track.

  Fleming smiled, but tonight she was the one who looked as if she was alone and lonely. “I thought you had my back,” she accused.

  * * *

  IT WAS A silly thing to say, even as a joke. She wished she’d kept the thought inside her head where it had sounded funnier, but somehow going to her mother’s door with a handsome, self-assured man at her side had seemed easier than just showing up alone like the spinster daughter she felt she was.

  A sore thumb of the greatest magnitude.

  She didn’t need a man. It was ridiculous. What year was this?

  But Jason wasn’t just any man. He was the guy who showed up when she needed a boost, a taller person to reach the awning where her Christmas lights hung, the guy who went back for the wine. He was the man who’d tried to help her.

  He was also the man who didn’t mean to stay in Bliss, so she’d better not let herself feel any more than she already did.

  Throwing back her shoulders as if preparing for a high jump, she walked to the door and pushed the doorbell.

  A previous tenant had installed a chime that played “There’s No Place Like Home.” Fleming and Hugh thought it was funny, but her mother hated it, so they never used the bell unless a party was going on and knocking got drowned out by noise.

  Everyone inside laughed at the song, too. Fleming was smiling as Hugh opened the door.

  Behind him, people milled, men and women in their holiday finery. She caught the glitter of diamonds in earlobes and shiny, newly done hair. Formal gowns mixed with cocktail dresses and nice suits along with one or two tuxedos.

  “You came.” Hugh hugged her as if she were a gift. She recognized “The Holly and the Ivy” playing on the sound system. “Come in, come in.” He dragged her over the doorstep and craned his head, searching for Katherine. “Your mother started to doubt, but I told her you wouldn’t let her down. You should have brought a friend. Are you staying the night?”

  “I brought someone, but we can’t stay the night. I have to open the store tomorrow, and he always has a mountain of paperwork.”

  Hugh straightened. “Do I know this guy?”

  “He’s not a date, Hugh.” She shrugged her coat off. “It’s Jason, and we’re really just acquaintances.”

  “The bank’s hired gun?” Hugh sized up the situation with a wry smile. “The one who might evict you? I was joking when I said he liked you too much to close the doors on the shop.”

  “But you were sort of right. I’m sure Mom told you how he helped me with the loan.”

  “Why would you bring him? I want her to enjoy Christmas, not have to face the guy who’s causing her sleepless nights.”

  “Is she having trouble sleeping?” Fleming hoped not. “You should try to distract her from worrying about me. I’m working hard, and things are going all right. They could be better, but they’re all right.”

  “Will that be enough? What does your banker friend say?”

  “He seems as hopeful as we are, but that could be wishful thinking.” Which didn’t seem like Jason’s style. “But be nice to him, Hugh. He doesn’t have anyone in Bliss. Not even in Tennessee, really.” She thought about his mother, but let the thought fade away. The woman must have come to Bliss after she heard about Jason’s arrival, or surely Fleming would have heard of her by now. “Anyway, I thought he’d enjoy some Christmas spirit with us, and he offered to come.”

  “He won’t try to talk business with your mother?”

  “You mean will he offer me another deal I can’t refuse through her?”

  Hugh cracked a smile. “Is he that kind of banker?”

  “He’s not a banker. He understands banking, but he’s a consultant who fixes sick businesses, and he seems like an honest guy. I don’t think he’s enjoying his current job.” She held up her coat. “Not that he’d be spreading his doubts around if he had any. Where can I hang this? Is the closet full?”

  “I’ll put it away. Your friend’s meeting you here? He didn’t come with you?” He took the coat and wrapped it over his arm.

  “We drove from Bliss together. I brought some wine, but we forgot it in his car so he’s gone back for it.”

  “Honey.” Her mother materialized from the crowd of happy, laughing guests. “You came. I’m so glad. How was the drive? You look lovely.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” She’d owned this dress for at least four years. It was starting to look like a schoolgirl’s best. Acquaintance or not, she wanted to look good for—with—Jason. He’d go home and maybe he’d talk about the backwoods woman from Tennessee who still dressed as if she were on her way to a college formal.

  Or maybe he’d forget her the second he crossed the city limits, never to return.

  “There’s No Place Like Home” rang out, and her mom sighed.

  “One day I’ll persuade Hugh to change that thing.”

  “That’ll be Jason, Mom.”

  “Jason?” Katherine’s brows arched as she reached for the doorknob. “When did you start seeing him?”

  “I’m not seeing him. Please don’t embarrass me. He’s not staying in Bliss, and I don’t need a matchmaker, not you or Hugh.”

  “I’m not matchmaking. I notice you say he’s not staying?”

  “He’s not.”

  “So you’ve asked?”

  “I don’t have to. He’s been clear about it from the start.”

  “And that matters to you. Oh, dear. I have clearly been too uninvolved in your life.”

  Thank goodness, thought Fleming, because unfortunately, she feared she was getting serious about her feelings for Jason. “Mom, I’m begging you to be careful. Don’t say anything mean to him. Don’t be unkind about his job.”

  “You’re the one who brought Scrooge to my party.” Katherine had yanked the door open. Jason had to have heard. Unless he’d gone deaf. Hardly the kind of holiday joy to wish on anyone.

  “Ho ho humbug,” Jason said.

  Fleming envied him his cool.

  * * *

  “I DIDN’T MEAN IT. What I said earlier.” Katherine passed Jason a glass of wine when they finally met up again. Fleming had towed him around the room, introducing him to her parents’ friends. “I just meant that your job requires you to be a sort of Scrooge to the people in Bliss who—” She stopped.

  “May lose their homes or businesses.” He finished the thought for her. He took the glass and sipped. “I’ve thought of that a time or two.”

  “I’m sorry. I was incredibly rude. I can only blame my lack of manners on my concern for Fleming.”

  “You mean because she brought me this evening?”

  Katherine measured him with a look, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to expect from him, and he turned to search for Fleming. What was going on with her that had made her mother so overprotective?

  “I worry that she’s giving up her dreams to support mine.” Katherine clearly wasn’t sharing the whole truth. He read people well enough to know when someone was hiding something. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”

  If Fleming had other dreams, she was keeping them close to the vest. What were they, if not
the store? “I know how hard she’s working. She must want that shop. Maybe more than even you know.”

  “Probably.” She turned, a little harried. But she was a hostess, and this was a large gathering. She had a lot on her mind. “What can I get you? Are you hungry?”

  “I’m fine, Katherine.”

  “Where has Fleming gone?”

  “She’s talking to her stepfather.” Jason nodded toward Fleming and the stocky man. Fleming glanced his way. He nodded. She smiled, a blush coloring her cheeks.

  They were a couple tonight. He’d brought her. She’d come with him. They were together. Just for tonight—no past, no future.

  He took another wineglass from a passing server. “Will you excuse me, Katherine?” he said.

  “She doesn’t like wine.” Katherine plucked the second glass from his fingers. “She usually arrives early at a party, and she asks for cranberry juice in a nice glass. It’s not exactly the right color, but most people don’t notice.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Why what?” Katherine smiled. “Why the wine? Why the juice?”

  “Why try to pass one off for the other? I wouldn’t have thought Fleming cared what other people thought about her.”

  “She was in college when she turned twenty-one. All her friends embraced drinking, but it just never appealed to her, and she said she felt like the odd woman out. She told me she had a friend who called her their token temperance crusader. She doesn’t care about drinking—I mean, she doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it. She just doesn’t enjoy the taste.”

  “I still can’t imagine her pretending to be someone she isn’t.”

  Katherine tsked at him. “She would never do that. She’s the most honest woman I know. Just a little quirky.”

  He held up both hands. “We seem determined to misunderstand each other. I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. Let me get Fleming for you.”

  “Katherine, I don’t need you to get her.” He touched her arm, gently, because she seemed so wary, even here in her own home. “I’m sorry we’ve gotten off to such an uncomfortable start tonight.”

  “That’s my fault. I love my daughter. I’d do anything for her, and I’m concerned about her future.”

  He took a sip of his wine. That was a concept foreign to him, a parent worrying and fighting for their child’s happiness. “I don’t know you very well, but I respect the fact that you love your daughter, and that you appreciate the store for what it gave you when you needed a living.”

  She nodded. “That’s right.”

  “You don’t have to be afraid I’m going to shut down the place on a whim, or push Fleming to keep it until she can’t get out of it without losing everything.”

  “Because you might lose your job if the bank fails?”

  “I couldn’t care less about that,” he said, and in that moment, he meant it. His family’s bank mattered to his father. It was a consultancy for him.

  “You don’t care right now because you want to get along with Fleming’s family and friends, and I assume you’re decent enough to hate what this job is doing to people already in financial trouble. But later, if your reputation is involved...”

  “My reputation is always involved. I get new work via word of mouth from satisfied clients, but I’ve never pushed anyone to undertake business they couldn’t handle.”

  A palm touched the small of his back, and suddenly, he was deeply in the present, aware of Fleming’s touch, yes, but also of the scent of gingerbread, the glitter of the tinsel, and the wrapping paper on the gifts beneath Katherine and Hugh’s tree.

  This was what a Christmas could be. Family, looking out for each other, caring. This was what it should be. But it was also what he’d missed since the earliest holidays he could remember.

  “Mom, what are you saying to Jason? I thought we were celebrating the season tonight, but you seem to be talking business.” Fleming glanced at the glasses on a tray that sailed by on a server’s hand. “Maybe you should have a bite to eat and a drink. And try to let down your guard.”

  “I know,” Katherine said. “I get nervous and I talk too much. I’m not myself tonight.”

  “What’s up?” Fleming asked.

  “Nothing.” Katherine made a valiant effort to shake off her concerns. “I’ve behaved in a shocking manner toward Jason, and I should be apologizing, rather than making my excuses.”

  Seeing Fleming’s deepening concern, he backed up and touched her arm. “I’ll give you two a few minutes.”

  He took a turn around the room, moving anywhere the two women were not. A set of glass doors were thrown open onto the balcony, presumably to allow cool December air inside the stuffy apartment. A man and woman drifted outside.

  Jason crossed to the bar and asked for a beer and some juice in a wineglass. Afterward, he saw Katherine and Fleming standing together, apart from the crowd.

  “Just in time,” Katherine said as he returned. “I think we were on the verge of an ugly argument.” She smiled, bringing to mind the old saying about there being truth in every slightly bitter joke. “I must see to my guests. You two have a lovely evening. If you decide you want to stay, we have plenty of room, and we’d love to have you both.”

  She sailed away, pulling poise around herself like a jacket.

  “I like your mother. She just wants you to make choices that give you the best life. I don’t mean to sound as if I’m offering sage advice from behind my desk, but you want her to live her life, and she’s trying to help you live a safe one. I understand you’re both trying to make things right for each other.” Jason passed the glass of juice to Fleming. “Your own special concoction,” he said.

  Confusion passed over her face. “Mom told you about the juice. You probably think I’m immature and ridiculous.”

  “I think you prefer juice.”

  She paused, but then laughed, and her laughter bathed him in familiarity. They might not get along smoothly 100 percent of the time, and they might want different things from life, but they met somewhere in the middle. In some ways they were like calling to from the isolation of two lonely lives.

  Maybe Jason was right in his outlook, refusing to see possibilities. Loneliness was not a rock-strong foundation.

  “My mother feels guilty because as soon as she sold me the store, we started having problems,” Fleming said, taking the glass from his hand. Her fingers brushed his, though she didn’t seem to notice. “She was just quizzing me on sales figures. This should be our best month. That’s why she’s worried. If we can’t turn a profit in December, she fears we’re doomed.”

  “She might have a point,” he said. “But remind your mom that the first payment on the new loan isn’t due until February. You have time if you really want it, Fleming.”

  He couldn’t help encouraging her, because he didn’t want her to worry. He wanted to save the holiday for her.

  “Why do you and my mother keep treating me as if I’m playing store in my spare time? I’m working as hard as I can to make a living. I’m invested, and I’m not sure why I have to prove it to either of you. You’re not involved. Remember?” She sipped her cranberry juice and her lips pursed, making him smile instead of reacting to her taunt.

  It wasn’t the time or the place, and she had a point.

  “You don’t like that stuff, either?” he asked.

  “I like the way it hits the front of your mouth. Orange juice gets you in the back of your throat, but cranberry is more intense.”

  “You talk as if it’s a fine wine.”

  “And you managed to change the subject.” She held out her hand. “Come with me. I’ll show you my very first Christmas ornament. You’ll understand Mom better when you see she’s kept every ornament she’s given me since the year I was born.”

 
“I thought mothers did that to give them to their children as a start on their own collection of ornaments.”

  “Mom’s different. Maybe she’ll pass them along one day, but right now, she likes to relive my childhood via the ornaments. We end up talking about them every Christmas season. Same stories every year.”

  “You don’t want to hear them?” he asked, and suddenly, old memories flashed through his mind, images of a big, red, metal fire truck, or the window he’d sat in, blowing to fog the glass so he could write his name with his finger. He’d waited for his own mother in that window until he was so cold he was shivering, and his grandmother had appeared, insisting he needed to warm up in bed before Santa came.

  “I love hearing them over and over. We travel through the good years and the bad ones until we reach the present, which always seems more hopeful on Christmas Eve. Mom suggests it’ll be the same for me when I have children of my own. Then I’ll want them to know who I was, and I’ll need to remember—and according to her, I’ll bore the daylights out of them with the stories she’s told me.”

  Fleming didn’t sound as if she minded the idea. They’d slowly circled the room together as they talked, and they ended up in front of the tree.

  “I wonder if she’s right.” Jason palmed a small, perfectly recreated train that fitted as if it were made for his hand. “I do wonder who my parents were.”

  “Why your mother left, and why your father didn’t go after her and drag her back to your home, where she belonged?”

  He turned to look into Fleming’s face. Knowledge gleamed in her gaze. “That’s what you thought about your own parents?” he asked. “Even though you knew what your father was like?”

  “I don’t think anyone should be dragging anyone else, but yeah, I wonder why my father chose to disappear from my life for so long.” She glanced her mother’s way as if thinking about her birth father was somehow a betrayal. “How could I help wondering why he didn’t love Mom and me? A lot of the kids I knew had divorced parents, but they all had two of them. Fathers showed up every other weekend, maybe baffled about what they were supposed to do, sometimes forgetting treats for soccer practice, but they were there—and happy to be with their children.”