A Christmas Miracle

by Anna Adams

She was having a ridiculous night. She’d grown far too invested in Jason. She had to put an end to this. She didn’t want to be the town laughingstock, pining for the bank’s leg-breaker who might eventually foreclose on her.

  “Evening,” she said, as she opened the door for the two of them.

  “Hey,” Jason said. “I missed practice tonight.”

  “How did the carolers persuade you to join them?” Amanda asked, laughing up at him with the glow of a woman who was attracted.

  Fleming took a deep breath. It bothered her, but she didn’t want that. She’d thought they could be friends. She might feel more than friendship, but she could control it, and she’d be all right when he left for his next job.

  “I got swept into this singing thing,” Jason said, with a meaningful glance at Fleming. “I didn’t have a choice, and if you could hear me singing, you’d know that the group made a mistake.”

  “It’s just for fun, though,” Amanda said. “If you finish up on Christmas Eve outside the pub, you may get invited inside for some buttered rum or an Irish coffee. You can’t go wrong.”

  “Why don’t you sing with them?” Jason asked.

  “No one ever asked me.”

  “You should come,” Fleming said. “We’ve picked up new members every night we practice.”

  “Good idea,” Jason said. “When’s the next practice?”

  “We were talking about the night after tomorrow. The group is having coffee right now. You guys should go over there and talk to them to make sure.”

  “Maybe we will,” Amanda said. “Why don’t you come along, Fleming?”

  “Thanks, but I have some work to do at the shop.” And she wanted to get out of here. No wonder she spent so much time alone. She didn’t seem to handle adult relationships with aplomb. “Good night.”

  “See you soon,” Amanda said.

  Jason just smiled at her with a hint of confusion. She didn’t blame him. She confused herself.

  She tucked her mail under her arm and headed back to the store, letting herself in the back way. She sorted the bills and orders from the flyers and offers, and a note about taxes on the property. At least that was no surprise.

  She got herself a mug of cocoa. This was more like it, getting her work done. Not thinking about Jason, who’d come to town for business and was determined to leave as soon as the job ended. He wasn’t going to fall in love with the charm of Bliss. He wouldn’t find that his hometown was the place he was supposed to be.

  And he wasn’t falling for her. His past intrigued her. His thoughts and feelings mattered to her. But in his estimation, she was probably just a friendly woman who didn’t know her boundaries. In a town too small to hold him.

  She had her own business to take care of. The shelves needed a good tidying. People moved things from here to there and just set unwanted items where they happened to be standing when they changed their minds. Fleming started at the front of the store, arranging shelves until she felt justified in taking a look at her writing.

  She went to the counter and pulled out her laptop. First, she checked her email.

  Her heart gave a leap when she saw the name of the mystery magazine to which she’d submitted a short story. Could it be a sale? Or would they call, in that case? She opened the email, closing her eyes as she clicked on the link.

  There was only one way to find out. She opened one eye.

  Big mistake on a night when she was already a touch out of sorts.

  “Dear author” was never a good beginning, and the rest followed with even more discouraging news. They got the title wrong, but the “disappointing” characters had her characters’ names. It was her story, all right, and they didn’t want it.

  She’d hoped. Man, how she’d hoped. She put her head down and breathed hard to keep from crying.

  She rubbed at her eyes, but then looked at her screen again, and tears began to flow. It wasn’t that she didn’t love the shop. She wanted desperately to keep it alive and in her family. But she wanted this, too. This writing. It was impossible to be objective about it because it meant so much to her.

  A sharp rap at the shop door rattled her. Shaking her head, she dashed a hand at the ridiculous, shaming tears, knowing before she looked that her caller would be Jason. He always showed up when she least expected him.

  She found a smile and waved at him.

  Go away. She willed him to leave, and tried even harder to smile in a way that would keep him from guessing she’d been weeping. This letter from the magazine—it was a rejection he wouldn’t understand. But one that wouldn’t stop her from trying again.

  He opened the door and came inside.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” She closed the laptop and pushed her stool back. “I’m fine. What happened with you? I didn’t expect to see you around here tonight.”

  “I was walking back to the hotel and I saw you.” He came closer. “Go ahead and tell me it’s none of my business if you want to, but I can see that you were crying. Don’t pretend you weren’t. My mother didn’t show up here again, did she?”

  Fleming tried to form the words. They wouldn’t come. “I can’t tell you it’s none of your business.”

  “She was here? I can’t believe it.” He looked taken aback, and Fleming panicked.

  If it felt like his business when she cried, what did that mean about their relationship? Or her inability to keep her own heart safe? “No, she wasn’t. What I mean is that I can’t be that rude to you.”

  He came around the counter. “You’re not being rude if you just tell me you need comfort. What’s got you crying in an empty store all alone a couple of weeks before Christmas?”

  “That makes me sound pretty pathetic.” The excitement and trouble she’d faced since Thanksgiving suddenly piled up, making her feel pathetic, too. Tears seeped around all her best intentions, and she leaned forward, coming to rest on Jason’s strong, broad chest.

  He wrapped her in the warmth of his arms and dropped his chin on her head. She managed not to sob, but couldn’t seem to stop the slow, steady drip of sadness. Too much had happened. She felt drained, of resourcefulness, of energy, of control.

  Until she remembered she was weeping on her banker’s expensive coat. Imagine the dry cleaning bill. Maybe Amanda offered him special rates.

  Fleming straightened, forcing herself to fight for her missing control. She wiped her tears away once and for all and tried to look like a businesswoman, rather than a blotched, deeply disappointed damsel in distress.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’m sorry for the way I’m behaving. I can’t explain it.”

  “You mean you won’t?”

  She ignored the question. “I hope your coat won’t have salt stains.”

  “Fleming?”

  She glanced at him, but not for long. His gaze interrogated her. “I’m fine.”

  “Is it your mother? Hugh?”

  “They’re both fine. It’s really nothing. Everything’s fine.”

  “You can tell me if you want.”

  “And what will you do if I talk to you about something that bothers me this much? You can’t fix it. I don’t know how to fix it.” That sounded as if she were giving up. She never would. Writing made her happy and whole, like nothing else. “But I’ll figure it out, eventually.”

  “Okay.” He ran his hand down her sleeve, and she didn’t know what to say.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He laughed, a sweet, almost irresistible sound. She could be addicted if she let herself.

  “For what?” he asked.

  “For being kind when I needed kindness.” She glanced back at her laptop, shut now, and innocuous looking. “Can I offer you some coffee or hot chocolate? Tea? I might have a beer back there.”
>
  “No, thanks. I’m on my way. I have a late meeting tonight.”

  He’d stopped only because she’d been upset. She couldn’t contemplate what that meant without putting too much meaning into it. She had to get the truth straight in her head. They’d become friends, and he was only doing what a friend would do.

  “Good night, Jason.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  * * *

  SNOWFLAKES AND ICE pellets floated out of the dark. Jason ran up the courthouse steps and stopped at a sign in the rotunda to search for the mayor’s office. He ran his finger over the directory map and then memorized the way before he went to the nearest elevator.

  The mayor’s assistant had long since gone home for the night. A tidy desk sat outside double doors that opened into an ornate office that was being dominated by men’s voices.

  Surely there were women on Bliss’s city council. Maybe Katherine should come home and run for office.

  Jason knocked on the door frame. Five men and two women turned around. One man, the most prosperous looking, in a bespoke suit that silently proclaimed his success in life, came toward Jason, his hand outstretched.

  “Jason, I’m Mayor Bradford. Nice to meet you.”

  “Mayor.” Jason shook his hand. He glanced at the women and the rest of the men, who all looked him over as if they were searching him for something. “How can I help you? My father mentioned you might want to hear about the bank’s progress.”

  “We’ve heard good things about the bank in the weeks since you’ve been here.” Mayor Bradford gestured toward a chair, offering Jason a seat. “But we don’t need to talk about the bank tonight.”

  Jason sat, intrigued. “I don’t understand.”

  “We’ve asked you to meet us at this late hour for a specific reason. This man, Andy Steiger.” The mayor gestured toward the guy at the end of the table. “He’s leaving the council. He has a family matter that requires his attention, and he’s resigning. We like the work you’ve done. We’ve looked into your résumé, and we feel you’d be good for business in Bliss. Your family has a long history here. Perhaps it’s time you took your place back in our town. How would you like to replace Mr. Steiger?”

  Jason stared at the group, who clearly felt they were bestowing an honor. They were, but it wasn’t the role for him. It was for a man who didn’t get itchy feet, who didn’t need new challenges to conquer that he’d never found in a nine-to-five job for any extended length of time.

  “I appreciate the opportunity,” he said, “but I don’t think I could commit to that kind of time. My work takes me all over the world.”

  “We understand you’re renovating your father’s former home here.”

  “I’ve been looking at it. Thinking about it.” That was ridiculous and he knew it. He’d stopped fooling around in the wreckage and started phoning contractors. He seriously wanted to rebuild the place. It belonged in his family. His siblings might like to visit. His grandparents might want to spend time back in the mountain town that had been their first home.

  And there was his mother...

  “I remember when your father was a boy,” an older man said, his voice gruff. “He had his ambitions. More than your grandfather or his father before him. Your dad was never going to stay in Bliss. He had his sights set on taller heights. I guess you take after him?”

  Not a chance. If he had a family, Jason would stay put and take care of them. He wouldn’t leave it to grandparents and older siblings. “I like my job. I do it well,” he said. “But doing it means I have to travel.”

  There was silence. The rest of the council looked toward the mayor, who seemed to be thinking over his options.

  “We don’t expect you to give us your final answer right now,” he finally said. “Naturally, you’d like to consider the possibilities. These fine people have discussed this matter thoroughly this evening, and I’m comfortable with our decision. Perhaps you and I could meet for lunch and discuss any issues you might have. You know, it’s not a full-time job, but it would require a commitment. Take some time to think about what that might mean for you.”

  Jason almost said no. But these people might help or hinder his father’s bank after he left town. And he owed them the courtesy of considering their offer.

  “Don’t you have local people who could take Mr. Steiger’s seat?”

  “We like the way you work.” Mayor Bradley seemed to be pretending he hadn’t heard a word Jason had said. At best, he hadn’t listened.

  “I’ll get in touch with you tomorrow about lunch.” Jason stood and nodded at the group around the table. “Thanks for asking me up here. I appreciate your considering me for such an important position.”

  “You have skills we need in this town. More homegrown business, less reliant on tourism, would be a huge plus for us. You obviously know how to build and repair a company.”

  Jason wasn’t sure they could know so much about him simply because his family’s bank was getting itself in order. They’d obviously done some research. He nodded and shook each hand offered to him before he left.

  The idea surprised him, and challenged him a bit. What would it be like to restore his family’s home and work in this town where he’d been born? The council might welcome him, but how would he be accepted by the people whose homes and businesses were dependent on the measures he’d taken?

  Like Fleming?

  He reached for the door handle. What really stood between them except his wandering feet and her inexplicable affection for this town buried in the woods and mountains of Tennessee?

  Who was he kidding? He was unwilling to commit to any relationship. When he cared enough for a woman, maybe that commitment would come.

  When he thought of Fleming, his yearning for her unnerved him. He wanted to believe she could be in his life. But even if she wanted him, could he stay? He never had before.

  No one ever stayed.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  AT LAST THE ornaments had arrived. The ones they offered at Mainly Merry Christmas each holiday season, special to Bliss, marked with the year and the place. Fleming loved the ornaments. But more importantly, they brought in sales. Many people in town collected them, and many bought them as gifts for their children or parents or friends who’d moved away.

  Just over a week before Christmas, Fleming unpacked the ornaments and hung them on a tree she put up by the counter.

  Then she set up a sandwich-board sign. With red and green chalk and her best penmanship, she announced the arrival of this year’s collectible ornament, and drew Christmas trees, Santas, sleighs and snowmen.

  She carried the sign out to the sunny sidewalk, where she realized she had to tidy up some of her chalk drawings. Art was clearly not her thing. The Santas looked a little more Halloween than Christmas—which couldn’t be good for business.

  She heard the clicking of high-heeled boots on the concrete before a voice spoke behind her. “You’re friends with that banker, Jason Macland, aren’t you, Fleming?”

  Fleming almost fell onto the sign. She twisted to see who was speaking. Sue Bradford, the mayor’s wife, in a thick wool coat and a cute hand-knitted cap, peered at her over shopping bags.

  “Hi, Sue.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. My husband asked me to talk to you about Jason.”

  Fleming wished she could crawl away. The more she wanted to distance herself from Jason, the more people seemed to piece them together. She scrambled to her feet, dusting chalk off her jeans. “I don’t really know him that well, Sue. He holds my mortgage.”

  “Yours and several others from what I hear.”

  “Uh-huh.” Where was this going? “We’re not that close or anything.”

  “No, but I see you with him quite often. You persuaded him to join the car
olers?”

  “Well, he is singing with us, but...”

  “Okay.” Sue adjusted her packages and saw the sign. “Oh, the new ornaments are in? Let’s go inside. I need to get one for my sister in New Hampshire, and I need one, and I’m starting a collection for the children, too.”

  Cash register sounds cha-chinged in Fleming’s imagination. She felt a little guilty, commercializing Christmas, but she was also glad of the sales. “Would you like something warm to drink, Sue? Tea?”

  “Tea would be delightful. Or coffee if you have it.”

  Fleming had a commercial urn set up with holiday-spice coffee right now, giving the store an inviting scent. She held the door for Sue.

  “Let me get you a cup. Put your bags anywhere.”

  She had mismatched cups and saucers in the back that she’d bought over the years in antiques stores. Pretty and delicate, they were a nice treat for browsers in the shop. She took a couple from the back and poured coffee for two. After adding a little cream to her own cup, she set Sue’s by the urn.

  In a moment, she’d set out a bowl of small, wrapped chocolates and a plate of cookies in cellophane packages.

  “Help yourself to sugar and cream and a bite to eat,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  “How many ornaments? I’ll package them up for you.”

  “Are you gift wrapping? That would be such a relief.”

  “Sure.”

  “Good. I’ll take seven. Then I’ll have a few extra in case I need them. My husband likes to send them out to friends in the capital.”

  Everyone in Bliss assumed Mayor Bradford had his sights set on Nashville and beyond.

  “I’ll get them from the back. The ones still in their boxes will be easier to wrap.”

  “I can’t stand to do the wrapping every year,” Sue said. “I love shopping, and I really enjoy watching my friends and family opening their gifts, but if someone would come home with me and wrap everything the night before Christmas, I’d believe in Santa and all his elves again.”

  Fleming laughed, but it was another idea to keep in mind in case she needed a job next year.