Christmas In Silver Bell Falls

by Samantha Chase

  Christmas

  In

  Silver Bell Falls

  By

  Samantha

  Chase

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 by Samantha Chase. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

  To My Favorite Romance Chasers

  I cannot thank you enough for the love and support you show me on a daily basis. You are the reason I do what I do and why I love it so much.

  Your love and friendship is a blessing to me and I want you all to know how amazing you are.

  This book is for you.

  Chapter One

  There was nothing quite like coming home at the end of a long day: kicking off your shoes…having a little something to eat while watching TV…and most importantly, not having to hear any more Christmas music!

  Melanie Harper was certain she wasn’t the only one who felt that way. It was early November and the holiday season was just getting under way.

  “More like under my skin,” she murmured as she walked into her kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. Taking her glass, she went back to her living room and sat down on the couch.

  It had been a long day. A long week. Hell, if she were being honest, it had been a long three months. With deadlines approaching, her editor was getting more and more snarky while Melanie was getting more and more discouraged.

  Writer’s block.

  In her ten years of writing, she’d never once suffered from it, but for some reason the words refused to come.

  “Figures,” she said with disgust and turned on the TV. Flipping through the channels, it was all the same thing—Christmas specials, Christmas movies and holiday-themed shows. Unable to stand it, she turned it off and sighed.

  It was always like this. Christmas. The holidays. Every year, if something bad was going to happen, it happened around Christmas.

  Not that it had been that way her entire life, but…she stopped and paused. No, scratch that. It had been like that her entire life. Her earliest memory was of the Christmas when she was five. That was the year her mother left. Her father had been too distraught to celebrate that year so she spent the day watching him drink and cry.

  There had been a glimmer of hope for the next year—her dad promised her it would be better. The flu had both of them fighting for the bathroom the entire day. And after that, it was all one big, giant blur of suckiness. Between financial struggles and family issues—and that one year where they had gotten robbed the day before Christmas—Melanie had come to see the months of November and December as nothing but a big nuisance. Eventually they stopped even attempting to celebrate.

  And now she’d be able to add “getting cut by her publisher because of writer’s block” to the Christmas resume of doom.

  The name almost made her chuckle.

  It would have been easy to sit there and wax unpoetic about how much she hated this time of the year, but a knock at the door saved her. Placing her wine glass down, she padded to the front door and pulled it open.

  “Hey! There’s my girl!”

  Melanie smiled as her dad wrapped her in his embrace. “Hey, Dad.” She hugged him back and then stepped aside so he could come in. “What’s going on? I thought we were getting together on Saturday for dinner.”

  John Harper smiled at his only child as he took off his coat. “Is this a bad time?”

  She shook her head. “No, not at all. I just wasn’t expecting you. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

  He chuckled softly. “It’s almost eight, Mel. Of course I have.” He studied her for a minute. “Don’t tell me you haven’t.”

  She shrugged. “It was a long day and I sort of lost my appetite.”

  “Uh-oh. What happened?”

  Melanie led him to the living room and sat down on the couch again. “My deadline will be here at the end of December and I haven’t written a thing.”

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “So…can’t they extend your deadline?”

  She shook her head. “They’ve extended it three times already.”

  “Hmm…so what’s the problem with the story? Why are you having such a hard time with it? That’s not like you.”

  She sighed again. “They’re pretty much demanding a Christmas story.”

  “Oh.”

  She didn’t even need to look at him to know his expression was just as pinched as hers at the topic. “Yeah…oh.”

  “Did you try explaining…?”

  Nodding, she sat up and reached for her glass of wine. “Every time I talk to them. They don’t get it and they don’t care. Basically their attitude is that I’m a fiction writer and I should be able to use my imagination to concoct this Christmas story without having to draw on personal experience.”

  “Maybe they don’t realize just how much you dislike the holiday.”

  “Dislike is too mild of a word,” she said flatly. Taking a long drink, she put her glass down and looked at him. “I don’t even want to talk about it. The meeting with my editor and agent went on and on and on today so my brain is pretty fried. The only thing to come out of it is yet another crappy reinforcement of the holiday.”

  “Oh, dear…”

  Melanie’s eyes narrowed. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “I guess maybe I should have called first because…” He stopped. “You know what? Never mind. We’ll talk on Saturday.” He stood quickly and walked back toward the foyer.

  “Oh, no,” she said as she went after him. “You can’t come here and say something like that and then leave! Come on. What’s going on?”

  John sighed and reached for her hand. “Your grandmother died.”

  Melanie simply stared at him for a minute. “Oh…okay. Wow. Um…when?”

  “A month ago.”

  Her eyes went wide. “And you’re just telling me now?”

  Slowly, he led her back to the couch. “Mel, seriously? Your grandmother hasn’t spoken to me in over twenty-five years. I’m surprised I was notified.”

  “I guess,” she sighed. Then she looked at him. “Are you okay?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I always thought when the time came that it wouldn’t mean anything. After all, she kind of died to me all those years ago. But now? Now that I know she’s really gone?” His voice choked with emotion. “It all suddenly seems so stupid, so wrong. I mean, how could I have let all those years go by without trying to make things right?”

  Squeezing his hand, Melanie reached over and hugged him. “It’s not like you never tried, Dad. Grandma was pretty stubborn. You can’t sit here and take all the blame.”

  When she released him, she saw him wipe away a stray tear. “In my mind, I guess I always thought there would be time. Time to make amends and…”

  “I know,” she said softly. “And I’m sorry. I really am.”

  “You probably don’t even remember her. You were so little when it all happened.”

  It was the truth, sort of. Melanie had some memories of her grandmother and none of them were of the warm and fuzzy variety. Unfortunately, now wasn’t the time to mention it. “So who contacted you?”

  “Her attorney. He actually called last night and met me in person today.”

  “Well that was nice of him. I guess.”

  “He had some papers for me. For us.”

  Melanie looked at him oddly. “What kind of papers?”

  “She um…she left some things to us in her will.”

 
Her eyes went wide again. “Seriously? The woman didn’t talk to either of us all these years and she actually put us in her will? Is it bad stuff?”

  John chuckled. “What do you mean by bad stuff?”

  “You know…like she has a really old house and she was a hoarder and we’re supposed to clean it out. Or she has some sort of vicious pet we’re supposed to take care of. That kind of thing.”

  John laughed even harder. “Sometimes your imagination really is wild; you know that, right?” he teased.

  Melanie couldn’t help but laugh with him. “What? It’s true! Things like that happen all the time!”

  “Mel, it doesn’t,” he said, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes. “And for your information, there was no hoarding, no vicious pets…”

  “Did she collect dead animals or something?”

  He laughed again. “No. Nothing like that.”

  Relaxing back on the couch, she looked at her father. “Okay. Lay it on me then. What could she possibly have put in her will for the two of us?”

  John took a steadying breath. “She left me my father’s coin collection.”

  That actually made Melanie smile. “I know how much you used to talk about it.” She nodded with approval. “That’s a good gift to get.”

  He nodded. “She’d kept it all these years. Then there’s some family photos, things from my childhood that she had saved, that sort of thing.”

  “So no money,” Melanie said because she already knew the answer.

  John shook his head. “And it’s fine with me. I don’t think I would have felt comfortable with it. All those years ago, it would have meant the world to me to have a little help so you and I didn’t have to struggle so much. But we’re good now and I don’t really need or want it.”

  “Who’d she leave it to? Her cat? Some snooty museum?”

  “Museums aren’t snooty,” he said lightly.

  “Anyway,” she prompted. “So who’d she leave her fortune to?”

  With a sigh he took one of her hands in his. “She left the bulk of her estate to the local hospice care center.”

  “Oh…well…that was nice of her,” Melanie said. “I guess she wasn’t entirely hateful.”

  “No, she wasn’t,” John said softly. “And she did leave you something.”

  The statement wasn’t a surprise since he’d mentioned it earlier, but Melanie figured he’d tell her when he was ready.

  “When the attorney told me about it,” he began, “I was a little surprised. I had no idea she still had it.”

  Curiosity piqued, she asked, “Had what?”

  “The cabin.”

  Okay, that was a surprise, she thought. “Grandma had a cabin? Where?”

  “Up north. Practically on the border of Canada.”

  “Seriously? Why on earth would she have a cabin there?”

  A small smile played across John’s face. “Believe it or not, there was a time when your grandmother wasn’t quite so…hard. She loved the winters and loved all of the outdoor activities you could do in the snow. She skied, went sleigh riding and…get this…she loved Christmas.”

  Pulling her hand from his, Melanie stood with a snort of disgust. “That’s ironic. The woman went out of her way to ruin so many of our Christmases and now you’re telling me she used to love them? So…so…what? She started hating them after I came along? That would just be the icing on the rotten Christmas cookie.”

  John came to his feet and walked over to her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to look at him. “It wasn’t you, sweetheart. It was me. When your mom left, grandma wanted us to move in with her—but there were conditions and rules and I just knew it wasn’t the kind of environment I wanted you to grow up in.”

  “Dad, I know all this. I remember the fights but…what made her hate Christmas?”

  He shook his head. “She didn’t. As far as I know, she always loved it.”

  “Then…then why? Why would she ruin ours?”

  A sad expression covered his face. “It was punishment. I grew up loving Christmas and we always made such a big celebration out of it. It was her way of punishing me for not falling in line. She took away that joy.”

  Tears filled Melanie’s eyes. “See? She was hateful. And whatever this cabin thing is, I don’t want it.”

  “Mel…”

  “No, I’m serious!” she interrupted. “I don’t want anything from her. She ruined so many things in our lives because she was being spiteful! Why on earth would I accept anything from her?”

  “Because I think you need it,” he said, his tone firm, serious.

  “Excuse me?”

  Leading her back to the sofa, they sat down. “I think this may have come at the perfect time.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

  “Okay, that didn’t quite come out the way I had planned,” he said with a chuckle. “What I meant is…I think you could really use the time away. With the pressure you’re feeling about the book, maybe a change of scenery will really help put things into perspective.”

  “Dad,” Melanie began, “a change of scenery is not going to undo twenty-five years of hating Christmas. And besides, I really don’t want the…the cabin. I don’t want anything from her. It would have meant more to me to have her in my life while she was alive.”

  He sighed. “I know and I wish things could have been different. But…this is really something you need to do.”

  She looked at him with disbelief. “Now I need to do it? Why?”

  “Melanie, you are my daughter and I love you.”

  “That’s an ominous start.”

  “You’re too young to be this disillusioned and angry. We can’t go back and change anything, but I think you need to do this to make peace with the past and have some hope for the future.”

  “Dad…”

  “Three months, Mel, that’s all I’m asking.”

  She jumped to her feet. “You expect me to go live in some arctic place for three months? Are you crazy?”

  He smiled patiently at her. “I’m not crazy and you know I’m right.”

  “No…I’m still going with crazy.”

  “There’s a stipulation in the will,” he began cautiously.

  “What kind of stipulation?”

  “You need to live in the cabin for three months. After that, you’re free to sell it.”

  “That’s a bunch of bull. What if I don’t want to live there at all? Why can’t I just sell it now? Or give it away?”

  “If you don’t want it, it will be given away.”

  “Well then…good riddance.”

  “You’re being spiteful just for the sake of it, Mel. What have you got to lose? You work from home so you don’t have that hanging over your head and your condo is paid for. Think of it as a writing retreat. Your editor will love the idea and it will show how you’re seriously trying to get the book done. It’s a win-win if you think about it.”

  “Ugh,” she sighed. “I’m not a big fan of being cold.”

  “The cabin has heat.”

  “It will mean I’ll be gone for Christmas.”

  He chuckled. “Nice try. We don’t celebrate it anymore, remember?”

  She let out a small growl of frustration. “I’m still going to have writer’s block. That’s not going to change.”

  “Trust me. It will.”

  Tilting her head, she gave him a curious look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Okay, there really isn’t any way not to tell you this…”

  “Tell me what?”

  “The town is pretty much all about Christmas.”

  “Forget it. I’m not going.” She sat back down and crossed her arms.

  “You’re too old to pout so knock it off,” he said.

  She glared at her father. “So I’m supposed to go to this…this…Christmas town and then, thanks to the wonder of it all, suddenly I’m going to be able to write this fabulous holiday story and have it become a be
stseller?”

  “There’s that imagination again! I knew it was still in there!”

  “Ha-ha. Very funny.” Slouching down she let out another growl. “I really don’t want to do this.”

  “Mel, it’s not often that I put my foot down. You’re normally more level-headed and you’re old enough that I don’t need to, but this time, I’m going to have to put my foot down.”

  “Who gets the cabin if I turn it down?”

  John sighed dejectedly. “I have no idea. The lawyer didn’t say.”

  “Maybe she left it to someone who really needs it,” Melanie said, trying to sound hopeful.

  “She did,” John replied. “You.”

  ****

  A week later, Melanie was in her car and driving halfway across the country to see if she could get her writing mojo back. It was a fifteen-hour drive so she split it up over two days and since she was alone in the car, she had nothing to do but think.

  “She couldn’t have left me a condo in Hawaii or maybe someplace tropical like the Bahamas? No. I have to go to the tip of freaking New York for this.” It was a running dialogue in her head throughout the drive and it seemed like the closer she got, the angrier she became.

  On the second day of the trip, when her GPS told her she was less than an hour away from her destination, she called her father and put him on speakerphone.

  “Hey, sweetheart! How’s the drive?”

  “She hated me,” Melanie replied. “She seriously hated me.”

  “I’m not even going to pretend I don’t know who you’re referring to,” he said. “Are you there already? Is the cabin in bad shape?”

  “I’m not there yet but I’m driving on this little two-lane road and there is nothing out here. I mean nothing! The GPS says I should be there soon but I haven’t seen a city or a town in quite a while. Where am I supposed to shop and get food? Or am I supposed to hunt for it? Because if I am, that’s a deal-breaker and you should have told me.”

  John laughed. “You seriously need to put all of this in your book. It’s hysterical!”

  “I’m not trying to be funny here, Dad! I’m serious! There isn’t anything around!”

  “You haven’t gotten there yet. If I remember correctly, there are plenty of places to shop and eat. You won’t starve and you certainly won’t have to go out and kill your dinner so don’t worry.”