Her Christmas Hero (Home To Dover 6)

by Lorraine Beatty

  “I am. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  “You’re going forward with everything?” She wasn’t giving up. Good for her.

  “Yes. Whether you like it or not, Dover’s Christmas will happen. I’m not going to fail a second time.”

  Linc studied her. What did she mean? “A second time?”

  Gemma shook her head and lowered her head. “Nothing. Forget it.”

  He took a step closer. He needed to know. “What happened?”

  She kept her back to him. “I had an event planning business. It failed. That’s all you need to know.”

  Linc pulled her around to face him, absorbing the icy glare in her green eyes. She’d added another question to his list about her past. She put on a happy, confident face most of the time, but something had wounded her deeply. Something she kept hidden, and he wanted to know what it was.

  “So our Christmas celebrations are your way of proving yourself?”

  “Yes. There’s nothing wrong with that. Success here will open doors. It’ll give me the chance to start a new business or get hired by an established company in a big city.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that. He’d grown accustomed to Gemma and Evan living in the cottage. He liked being tangled up in their lives. He wasn’t sure when he’d changed his mind about that, but the thought of them moving on, away from Dover, hit him hard. Too hard.

  “You need to go. I have work to do,” she repeated.

  Linc moved to the door, but he was determined to get to bottom of Gemma’s past. Understanding her, knowing her fears, was suddenly very important. Having her in his life was suddenly paramount, too.

  *

  Friday passed in a flurry of phone calls, emails and restructured events. By the time Gemma left for the meeting with the Chamber and the owners that evening, she wasn’t sure she could even think straight. But somehow she’d managed. Now she waited while the conversation in the conference room slowly died down. She’d addressed the situation, laid out her plans for simpler versions of her original ideas and tried to reassure the store owners that the Dover Christmas weekends would go forward on schedule.

  Fortunately some of the things she’d purchased had already been paid for and delivered. The ads she’d placed and the marketing had been taken care of, as well. But there were still big obstacles to the weekend. Especially the big lighting kickoff.

  As the owners settled down the questions started up. Gemma answered each one calmly, meeting every negative with a positive. Her confidence grew. This is what she loved: creating on the fly, letting her imagination run free and finding new inspiration.

  “I know you all have concerns, but there is one area that this financial loss will seriously impact, and that’s the lights on the storefronts. I’ve purchased lights for the town to use every year, and they have been delivered, but I couldn’t pay for them. I convinced the company to hold off on returning them so we could come up with a solution.

  “There’s also the matter of hanging the lights and drapes over the streets. I had arranged for a professional crew to do that, but we can’t afford to use them now. I’m working on some alternatives. If any of you have lights you could donate or if you could help hang the street drapes, please speak to me at the end of the meeting.”

  By the time the meeting concluded, Gemma was tired, but confident. Most of the owners’ fears had been eased, but she still had a huge obstacle to overcome. All her ads and marketing hyped the Dover Glory Lights as the main event, the one that would ensure the success of the following weekends. If she couldn’t come up with payment, the company could very well take them back. And without the lights the other events would fizzle and fail.

  Tom Durrant of Durrant’s Hardware approached her, a warm smile softening distinguished features. “Gemma, I’ve been talking to my family and the boys and I are more than willing to help hang the lights. Just let us know.”

  Tom had two sons and a son-in-law who lived in Dover and were always willing to help out when needed. Gemma wanted to hug the man. “Bless you. That will help a lot.”

  “I’ll see if I can round up a few other volunteers. We’re all counting on this Christmas to boost our business.”

  “I appreciate this so much.” Gemma’s spirits rose. She’d prayed the town wouldn’t be discouraged by the loss of funds, but part of her had been skeptical. Now she felt ashamed of her doubt.

  A middle-aged gentleman tapped her shoulder. “Ms. Butler. I’m Neal Smith. I own the upholstery shop on Church Street. I know you have backup plans, and you’ve made it seem like things will be okay, but I just can’t see my way clear to spend the time or the money on these schemes. I’m ’fraid you’ll have to scratch me off your list.”

  She tried to hide her disappointment behind a confident smile. “Mr. Smith, I understand your concerns, but why don’t you and I talk and see if we can find a compromise?”

  “Nope. My mind’s made up. I’m through with this nonsense.”

  Gemma watched him go, her earlier triumph wilting like a flower in a drought. She scanned the other owners making their way out of the room, wondering how many more would back away from the celebrations. Success would depend on everyone doing their part, and she’d promised the town success. It was important to them, and for her future and Evan’s.

  Gathering up her belongings, she made her way to her car. Voices drew her attention. Two men stood in front of a store a few doors down. Linc and Mr. Smith. They shook hands. Smith nodded, then Linc patted him on the shoulder before walking away.

  Something about the conspiratorial exchange left a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Linc had been resistant to her changes from the start, but surely he wouldn’t turn people against her. Would he? He’d been quick to assume she’d call everything off after the theft. Was he using that as leverage to get people to drop out?

  She shoved the notion aside, dismissing her suspicions as nothing more than the imaginings of a fatigued mind. She headed home, focusing instead on alternatives to her Christmas light kickoff. The event was a week away and most of the decorating had to be done. It was too late to change any of the ads she’d placed. She’d looked into renting the lights for the month instead, but that had also proved far too expensive. She’d approached the mayor and he promised to speak to the city council about designating funds, but he didn’t have much hope. The whole purpose of the Christmas expansion was to add to the city coffers. Not drain off more.

  Gemma didn’t have a solution, but she knew in her heart it would all work out. Even if she had to climb a shaky ladder and tack each string of lights in place herself. She refused to cancel the holiday celebrations. The town was counting on her, and she was counting on its success to reboot her career.

  By the time she’d arrived back at the cottage, two more owners had called and withdrawn from the window-decorating contest. There were already several empty storefronts around the square. If many more owners pulled out, that would leave long stretches of darkness, which in turn would do little to draw visitors to town. Her kickoff would only work if everyone participated and every store was blazing with lights. Anything less and it would be no different from any other small town—ho-hum lights scattered haphazardly around town.

  She needed a sounding board. An impartial observer. Thankfully Caroline was home when she called. She listened as Gemma expressed her concern. “What bothers me the most is why so many have suddenly decided to withdraw. The Chamber had promised only a small amount of financial help to the merchants as incentive.”

  “Maybe they’re just demoralized that one of their own has stolen from them.”

  “Or they’ve lost faith in me.” She rubbed the dull ache in her temple.

  “Impossible. Maybe there’s something else going on. You don’t think Linc is convincing people to back out, do you?”

  Gemma closed her eyes against the heaviness sinking through her body. She didn’t want to believe Linc would stoop to such a thing, but she
’d seen him and Neal Smith joking together only moments after Neal had pulled out. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “Well, I don’t think Linc would ever stoop to that. And I don’t think you do, either. You’re just looking for an explanation and he’s the likely target.”

  “Well, he does like to be in control.”

  “That’s your fear talking. Linc is a good guy. Don’t go throwing up walls that aren’t needed. You’ll regret it. I promise.”

  The odd tone in her friend’s voice told Gemma they weren’t talking about Linc any longer. “Something is bothering you. What’s going on?”

  “I missed Vince. More than I ever expected to. I sat down and made a list of the things I liked and the things that drove me nuts, and the list of likes was way longer. He called and wanted to try again so he’s coming over this weekend to talk things through.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “I am, and I have you to thank for it.”

  “Me? What did I do?”

  Caroline chuckled softly. “I heard myself telling you that no one is perfect, and I realized that’s what I’ve been looking for. Perfection. My list didn’t allow for faults and flaws and humanness. Vince isn’t perfect, but neither am I.”

  Gemma ended the call, thinking about what her friend had said about faults and flaws. How did you tell which ones were tolerable and which weren’t? It was a subject she didn’t have time to examine right now.

  *

  By Monday morning Gemma was too frustrated and too tired to think clearly. All her efforts to find lights or people to donate money toward them had come to nothing. She believed in her heart that something would turn up, but she had no idea what it would be. Mostly she wanted an explanation from Linc. Three more stores had pulled out. She wanted to believe Caroline was right about him, but the evidence was piling up.

  Since there was no ball game this week, she hadn’t seen Linc since he’d stopped by the cottage on Thanksgiving night. Francie told her he was working overtime, looking for someone to take Seth’s place at the shop. But she planned on making him her first call when she reached the office. She needed to settle this once and for all.

  As she approached the intersection of Main and Peace Streets downtown, she found the street barricaded. She parked on a side street and hurried down the sidewalk to the office. Two Montgomery Electrical bucket trucks were positioned in the middle of the block. Men in the buckets were attaching the Christmas wreath drapes in place across the street. At the end of the courthouse park, along Church Street, a fire truck with its bucket raised was doing the same. Stunned, she could only stand and watch. Who had arranged this? More important, who was paying for it?

  Leatha hurried toward her from the office. “Isn’t it wonderful? All this help. It’s a blessing from God, and the good folks here in Dover. And the best part, the lights are all here. Paid for by an anonymous donor.”

  Gemma jerked around to look at her assistant. “When did that happen? No one told me.”

  “I don’t know. Sometime over the weekend. There was a message when I got in today saying the lights would be delivered this morning. Before I could call you, Mr. Linc showed up and hauled off the lights, then Neal Smith—he’s one of our volunteer firemen—came by and asked for the plans on how to hang the lights on the storefronts. Isn’t it exciting?”

  Smith? The man she’d seen Linc talking to the other night. She spun around and headed toward the office, Leatha hurrying to keep up. “I need some answers.”

  “Well, why don’t you go ask Mr. Linc? He’s right up there.” Letha pointed skyward to the nearest bucket truck.

  Gemma tilted her head back, trailing her gaze up the extended metal arm until she saw a familiar pair of shoulders beneath a hard hat. “Linc is hanging the lights?”

  Leatha nodded. “One of his employees is in the other truck.”

  Linc shifted position in the bucket and glanced down. Their eyes met. He smiled and offered a small wave. She raised her hand in return. She didn’t know what to think. She’d spent all weekend growing more and more outraged, thinking he was sabotaging her plans when he was doing the opposite.

  “Hey, Ms. Butler.”

  Gemma pulled her attention from Linc to the man jogging toward her. Neal Smith. He smiled, catching his breath before speaking. “I’ve been thinking about what I said about not wanting to be in that window thing. I just don’t have any imagination, that’s all. Maybe you could stop by and give me some ideas?”

  Gemma swallowed the shout of joy rising up in her throat. “Of course. I can even help you decorate if you’d like.”

  “That would be real nice. Now that I see all the lights and stuff going up, I’d sure hate to be the Scrooge with the dark storefront window this weekend.”

  Laughter escaped her throat and she clasped her hands together. She wanted to spread her arms wide and dance around the park, but first she had to find the generous person who’d paid for the lights. “Thank You, Lord. You are always faithful.”

  With the decorations well in hand, Gemma returned to her office, trying to figure out what had caused Linc’s change of heart about the Christmas events. Maybe Caroline was right and she was too quick to think the worst. Over time it had become a habit. One that she should work to change.

  The sight of Linc high in the bucket hanging lights—lights he’d been opposed to—filled her with an unusual kind of happiness. She couldn’t deny her attraction to him any longer. He invaded her thoughts at night, she wondered about him during the day, and when he was near, she wanted to watch his every move. The way he walked, quick and deliberate, the way he rubbed his forehead when he was irritated or troubled. How he always stood with his weight thrust onto one hip, a masculine pose that only made him more attractive. But most important, she was beginning to think he was a man she could trust. A man who could be counted on.

  It had been a long time since she’d even considered that idea. The thought tied her stomach in a knot.

  Because what if she was mistaken? She’d been wrong before. Horribly wrong.

  Chapter Nine

  Linc secured the end of the wire to the top edge of the building, then leaned back and examined his work. The clear lights outlined the facade of the old abandoned hotel and the windows. He knew there were more lights to position on the lower level, but he couldn’t make heads nor tails of Gemma’s plans. Clearly her months working for Montgomery Electric hadn’t taught her the proper way to lay out wiring.

  Glancing downward he stared at the front door of the Chamber offices, hoping for a glimpse of Gemma. He’d expected her to be scurrying around below making sure everyone did things properly, but she’d barely acknowledged him with a halfhearted wave, then retreated into her office. Of course she hadn’t known he’d be here this morning. He’d made all the arrangements without consulting her. It avoided any more confrontations. He shoved aside the thought that she might not appreciate his stepping in to fix things. He’d cross that bridge if and when he came to it.

  Linc grasped the controls and lowered the bucket. Time to talk to the lady in person. Not an unpleasant prospect. She’d looked stunned to find him hanging lights. She wasn’t alone in that. He’d never expected to be helping this way. After the shock of Leon’s embezzlement, and in the wake of Gemma’s determination to press on with the events, he’d found himself unwilling to let her dream or her hard work fail. Gemma had captivated him with her ability to accomplish things with a smile and enthusiasm. She’d quickly risen to the occasion, and even with the lack of funds, had found alternative ways to keep the events on track. She’d eased fears, boosted morale and inspired confidence. Everyone was counting on these events, and in a way, so was he. It was why he’d ensured their success, despite the cost.

  Safely back on the sidewalk, Linc placed a call to Gemma, who agreed to meet him with the design layout so he could finish the hotel. The sight of her hurrying across the street made him smile. In her dark jeans and
soft white sweater she exuded an energy and a grace that was a delight to watch. Though lately, everything she did delighted him.

  She stopped in front of him, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Show me what you’re confused about.” He nearly blurted out that he was confused by her. She had him viewing everything in his life differently, and his emotional circuits were so overloaded he couldn’t sleep anymore. Clearing his throat, he opened the plans and pointed to the large overhanging metal canopy that jutted out from the hotel. “I have no idea where you want this string of lights.”

  She gave him a quick explanation, which, had he been blessed with even a dab of imagination, he could have figured out. He shrugged. “Yeah, that makes sense.” He studied the adjacent building. It would be much simpler. The lights would follow the roofline and outline the arched windows across the front.

  He looked at Gemma. She studied him with a concerned expression. “Something wrong?”

  “Why are you so angry all the time?”

  “What? I’m not angry.”

  “Then, why do you always have a frown on your face?” She placed her fingers on the spot above his nose between his eyes. He inhaled sharply at the warmth in her touch that radiated down to his toes.

  Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I’m getting too personal.”

  He grasped her wrist, his thumb resting on her pulse point. It was racing. Her skin was warm and incredibly soft. “It’s okay. You’re not the first person to comment that I scowl a lot.”

  Her eyes locked with his and held him captive. He realized there were tiny gold flecks in her deep green eyes. The air between them hummed like an alternating current, linking them with an invisible force. She blinked, her long lashes brushing against her cheeks. When she met his gaze again her eyes glinted with warmth.

  “Maybe you should do something for fun. Something that would make you smile more.”

  She sounded breathless, as if she’d just been kissed, or wanted to be. She pulled her hand from his grasp, leaving him with an odd empty feeling in the middle of his chest.