On Christmas Avenue

by Ginny Baird

  She watched him, mesmerized, as he strode to his desk and slid open the top drawer. “I actually did leave a gift here.” Mary gasped when she saw it was a ring box. He carried it over to her and stared at her lovingly. “You’re the woman I’ve been waiting for, and I don’t want to live without you. I know Seattle is on your mind, and if that’s what you want, I’ll go there too.”

  “What?” she asked in shock. “You’d leave Clark Creek? Your job? Your family?”

  His blue eyes sparkled. “I get what you told me, and I feel it too. Us and long-distance? That’s no good. I want us to be together. Twenty-four seven.”

  She couldn’t let him do this, make that kind of sacrifice, as much as she wanted this to work. His life was here. His family needed him. Clark Creek needed him. “Evan, no.”

  “I’m willing to try it for a while,” he said convincingly. “Take a leave of absence and see how we like it. Besides which, you told me yourself you never stay in any one place too long.”

  “But Evan,” she said, the full truth hitting her. “I want to stay here.”

  The realization zapped her like a lightning bolt striking suddenly from above. Of course, that’s what she wanted. She knew it now with her whole heart. She didn’t want another big-city adventure. She’d found her adventure right here in Clark Creek with the man she loved.

  He appeared stunned, but also pleased. “What?”

  “I’m saying I don’t want Seattle. I want to stay here in Clark Creek with you and your wonderful family, in this amazing small town.”

  “But, you’ve worked so hard.”

  “I’ll work harder here,” she assured him. Her mind latched onto the idea that Connie had suggested. “I can be good for Clark Creek, like you are. I can help here, serve a purpose. Can’t you see?” She sent him an earnest look. “This is where I’m meant to be. In a community that I can contribute to—and be a part of. Not just for the short term, but for a lifetime.”

  He took her in his arms. “Mary, are you sure?”

  “All my life, I’ve waited for this moment to come along. To feel like I don’t have to keep moving because I’ve found my place. The place where I belong and can put down roots.”

  He pulled her closer. “And have you?” he asked warmly. “Found your place?”

  She nodded. “My place is with you.”

  “I feel exactly the same.”

  He popped open the ring box, exposing the most beautiful ring Mary had ever seen. It was a stunning solitaire diamond offset by two sapphires shaped like hearts.

  She gasped. “It’s gorgeous.” Then she noticed the gold emblem on the inside of the lid of the velvet box. A Singleton’s Signature Diamond. “Is this from Sam’s shop?”

  “It is.”

  When had he done this? It had to have been this morning. “But how—?”

  “You’re not the only one who can work a little Christmas magic.”

  Mary laughed and he slid the ring on her finger. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Mary Ward,” he said. “Will you make me the happiest man alive and be my bride?”

  “Only if you’ll be my groom.”

  “If one of my brothers tries to get in the way, he’ll have to fight me.”

  Mary laughed, her heart overflowing. “Oh, Evan. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  He kissed her sweetly while snow fell outside the window.

  “I can’t wait to tell your family,” she said as they embraced. “My mom and Judy, too.”

  “Hmm, yeah,” he said. “They’ll all be so surprised.”

  She thought back to how mysterious his family had been acting. “No, wait.” She pulled back, laughing. “Did your mom and the others know?”

  “It’s very hard keeping secrets in Clark Creek.”

  “Yeah? Well, I don’t mind it.”

  “You know what?” he said. “I don’t either.” He gazed into her eyes, and she heard that Christmas music playing all around them and in her soul. She smiled up at him, really glad to have stopped her wandering, and he looked extra happy about that too.

  Then their lips met again, and she was home.

  The End

  Homemade Turkey Stuffing

  In On Christmas Avenue, Evan invites Mary to his family’s Christmas dinner, featuring his dad’s delicious stuffing. Mary’s never been one to put down roots, but as she celebrates with Evan, she imagines what it might be like to settle down. Here’s that traditional stuffing recipe for your own table…and you don’t have to wait for the holidays to make it. After all, life is a special occasion!

  Prep Time: 15 minutes

  Cook Time: 45 minutes

  Serves: 12

  Ingredients

  4 cups corn bread, diced

  8 cups rustic bread with crust, diced or torn

  1/2-pound (2 sticks) butter, unsalted

  2 1/2 cups (2 - 3 onions) yellow onion, chopped

  1 1/2 cups (2 – 3 stalks) celery, chopped

  2 tablespoons + 1 1/2 teaspoons fresh sage, chopped

  2 tablespoons fresh thyme, chopped

  1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt

  1 teaspoon black pepper, freshly ground

  2 to 3 cups chicken or turkey stock

  Preparation

  Preheat oven to 350°F.

  Toast bread cubes on baking sheets until slightly crusty, approximately 10 to 12 minutes. Cool and transfer to a large mixing bowl.

  In a large heavy sauté pan, melt butter and sauté onions and celery on medium heat until vegetables are tender.

  Add herbs and sauté for an additional minute.

  Combine vegetable mixture with bread, seasonings and stock.

  Transfer to a deep buttered baking dish.

  Bake 45 minutes uncovered until stuffing is hot and crusty on the top.

  Thanks so much for reading On Christmas Avenue. We hope you enjoyed it!

  You might like these other books from Hallmark Publishing:

  An Unforgettable Christmas

  Wrapped Up in Christmas

  Christmas in Bayberry

  At the Heart of Christmas

  The Christmas Company

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  About the Author

  Whether writing lighthearted romantic comedy or spine-tingling romantic suspense, romance author Ginny Baird delights in delivering heartwarming stories. She is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author whose novels include An Unforgettable Christmas for Hallmark Publishing. When she’s not writing, Ginny enjoys cooking, biking and spending time with her family in Virginia. Ginny loves hearing from her readers! She invites you to visit her website, ginnybairdromance.com, and connect with her on social media.

  Turn the page for a sneak preview of

  A Down Home Christmas

  by Liz Talley!

  Chapter One

  I should’ve come home before now.

  The thought buzzed in Kris Trabeau’s head as his car bumped down the winding drive that led to Trabeau Farms. New potholes and overgrown trees greeted him, causing the guilt he continually stowed in the back of his conscience to rocket to the forefront.

  At the very least he should have hired someone years ago to help his aunt. The old homeplace was too big for such a slip of a woman to take care of by herself—especially one with a broken leg.

  But he knew his Aunt Tansy well. The fiercely independent woman would have sent whomever he hired on their way before the ink was dry on the check. Which was part of the reason he’d driven almost three hundred miles to Charming, Mississippi. It was beyond time to convince his stubborn aunt to give up on living alone and come live with him in Nashville.

  Just as Kris crested the hill that would bring t
he farmhouse into view, a chicken flapped across the drive.

  A chicken wearing a sweater.

  “What the—” The words died on his lips as a huge beast loped behind in pursuit of the squawking fowl. A leash trailed behind the dog that seemed single-minded in its pursuit of the chicken.

  Next came a barefoot brunette, waving her hands and screaming. “Heel, Edison. I said heel!”

  Kris slammed on the brakes, the brand-new Mustang fishtailing before jerking to a halt. The woman’s gaze flew toward him, her mouth dropping open, before she continued her mad dash to apprehend the dog. Kris unbuckled and climbed out of the car. “Whoa, hey, you need help?”

  “I got it,” she called back, disappearing down the hill.

  Kris lifted his eyebrows and mouthed, Wow.

  Then his aunt came limping as fast as her crutches would allow. She wore a track suit circa 1995 and a medical boot around her leg. “Think he’s gonna get my Loretta, does he? Well, he’s got another think coming, is what he’s got.”

  Kris moved then, meeting his aunt who hadn’t seemed to notice he stood in her driveway. “Whoa, now, Aunt Tansy. What’s going on?”

  “Oh, sugar, Edison’s after Loretta Lynn again. That dog has taken a fascination with my chickens,” his aunt said, her gaze fastened to the spot where the chicken, dog, and pretty brunette had disappeared. Then she jerked stunned eyes to him. “Wait, Kris? What are you doin’ here?”

  “Surprise,” he said, throwing up his hands. “I thought I would visit for the holidays.” Even though I swore I would never come back.

  Aunt Tansy closed her mouth and wobbled a little. “For the holidays?”

  Here in front of him was the very reason he needed to convince her to make a change. Tansy hobbling around chasing a dog was dangerous. She could have tripped again and done even greater damage to her healing leg. Or what if she had a heart attack? Heart disease ran in the family. Or someone broke into the house and Aunt Tansy couldn’t get to his great-granddaddy’s shotgun in time? So many horrible things could happen to his closest living relative, things he hadn’t considered until Thad Cumberland, editor of The Charming Gazette, had called his manager and relayed the news that Tansy had fallen, broken her femur, and was in surgery.

  The panic at the thought that she could’ve died alone in that house with things still unsettled between them had sent a load of guilt so massive, Kris had trouble breathing. Guest appearances, tours, and promotional opportunities had occupied too much of his time lately, and he’d put his personal life on the back burner—including his Aunt Tansy. He couldn’t put off addressing her situation any longer. Thanks to the new contract, now he could afford to take care of her the way she deserved.

  But, of course, he couldn’t tell her his plan just yet.

  Tansy’s dark eyes flashed with something that made the guilt he carried wriggle inside him. Tansy had taken him in at ten years old when his parents had died in a plane crash, sending a terrified Kris from the flat plains of Texas to the gentle Mississippi hills. Living at Trabeau Farms with a maiden aunt he’d barely known hadn’t been easy. But Tansy was a determined woman and hadn’t given up on him, even when he threw a brick through the front window of Ozzy Vanderhoot’s Old-Fashioned General Store or when he drank a six-pack and spray-painted a choice directive on the Charming, Mississippi, water tower.

  “Well, boy, I’m glad to see you, but I ain’t got time to sit here jawin’ when Edison’s chasing my Loretta. He may not mean harm, but he might scare her to death. Wait here. I’ll be right back,” she said, starting toward the woods to his right.

  “Hold up,” he said, taking her by the elbow. She felt too thin. Looked too tired and old. How long had it been since he’d seen her? Three years? Maybe four? “You broke your leg. I’m sure you’re not supposed to be running after chickens.”

  “I’m not running after chickens. I’m running after a dog.”

  “Let me get the dog…and the chicken,” he said, carefully leading her to a flat patch where she could balance better. She looked so slight a stiff wind could likely blow her over.

  Tansy didn’t look satisfied. “You remember how to handle chickens? You’re a fancy city boy now and all.”

  “I’m pretty sure I remember how to pick up a chicken,” he said, with a roll of his eyes. Fetching eggs had been one of his jobs growing up. Of course, back then, his aunt hadn’t named her egg producers and dang sure hadn’t dressed them in sweaters.

  “I suppose it’s like riding a bicycle,” she conceded.

  “Probably. I’ll be back in a sec,” Kris said, before jogging down the slope that led to a wooded copse that held a small creek and good climbing trees. He’d built a fort in those woods when he’d first come to live with Tansy, and the remnants were probably in there somewhere.

  He followed the sound of yipping dog and squeaking brunette, pushing through the brush that should have been dead in December but wasn’t. Because it was Mississippi and unusually warm for December. Heck, sometimes they even wore shorts at Christmas.

  “Ouch, ouch. Please, Edison. Stop. Stop!” the woman yelled somewhere off to his left.

  At that moment, the sweater-wearing chicken flew by Kris’s head and the dog came bounding after it. Kris ducked as the chicken tumbled by, crashing into the underbrush. He snatched the leash that bumped behind the dog, making the beast’s head jerk around when he reached the end of the tether. The huge fluffy dog immediately started yipping at the hapless hen. A few steps behind, the brunette emerged, panting, her curly hair displaying bits of leaf and twigs. With her pointed chin, big gray eyes, and flushed cheeks, she looked a bit like a woodland fairy.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” she breathed, pressing a hand against her chest.

  Edison, who looked like a cross between a Saint Bernard and Chow Chow, whined and strained at the leash. The chicken’s sweater had caught on a broken limb and the poor thing flapped and squawked. Kris extended the end of the leash to the woman. She took it and jerked her dog back toward her. “Sit, Edison. And hush! You’re scaring Loretta.”

  The dog sat, tongue lolling out, panting, eyes still fixed on the Rhode Island Red that flopped about pitifully in the brush. Kris went over to the bird and wondered how in the heck he was going to free the terrified Loretta Lynn without getting pecked to death. He started unbuttoning his flannel shirt.

  “What are you doing?” the woman asked, sounding slightly alarmed.

  “Trying to calm this chicken down.”

  “By taking your shirt off?” Her eyes grew wide as she looked from him to the chicken.

  “I’m going to drape it over her so I don’t get pecked. Then I’ll try to free her.”

  “Oh,” the woman said, tugging as her beast leapt against the restraint. “Good idea. Birds have a higher visual stimulus and covering her eyes should calm her down.”

  Visual stimulus?

  He shrugged out of his shirt, glad he’d pulled on an undershirt to ward off the early morning chill when he left Nashville that morning. Then he approached the chicken, who grew even more agitated as he moved toward it. Carefully, he drew his shirt over Loretta, then slid his hands around her now-clothed body, pinning her wings to her sides. The hen went still. “There.”

  “Her sweater’s still hung,” the woman said unhelpfully.

  “I got it,” he said, pulling the royal blue yarn free from the branch and looking back at the woman and dog. “Why is this chicken wearing a sweater anyway?”

  “That’s Loretta Lynn. Miss Tansy’s pet. She likes to knit sweaters for her hens. She got the idea off Pinterest.”

  “Pet? She calls them pets?” Kris arched a brow. “And people make clothes for farm animals now?”

  “Haven’t you seen the videos of baby goats in pajamas? They’re so cute.” She paused and then shook her head as if she knew she’d gotten off track. “For some reason, Edison really likes Loretta. I think it’s because she’s very flappy.”

  Kris couldn’t stop his smile.
“Flappy?”

  “Miss Tansy sometimes gives Edison dog biscuits, and he remembers. So when he gets loose, he comes here. Unfortunately, the chickens intrigue him. Maybe he prefers Loretta because she makes the most noise.”

  “That makes sense. He’s a dog, after all,” he said, turning back to the chicken. He carefully lifted and tucked her beneath his arm. The hen, oddly enough, seemed to sink in relief against his side. Poor Loretta Lynn. “There now.”

  “I’m so relieved she’s not dead. Miss Tansy would have killed me and Edison.” The woman let out a sigh.

  “And who are you exactly?” he asked.

  The woman pushed back the hair curling into her eyes and held out her hand. “I’m Tory Odom. I live next door to Tansy.”

  “You’re one of the Moffetts?”

  “No, I live in the cottage on the other side of Tansy,” she said as he took her hand. It was small and capable-looking, like she could smooth a child’s fevered forehead or hoe a garden equally well.

  “Oh, the Howards’ old place?” Last time he’d been home, he’d predicted a strong wind could topple what was left of the Howard place.

  “I restored the cottage. It’s really nice now.” Edison took that moment to spring toward the bundle under his arms. She tugged on his leash and pushed him into a sitting position. “And you are?”

  “Oh, I’m Kris. Tansy’s nephew.”

  “The country music singer?”

  Kris felt pride stir inside. He’d waited a long time to be known as a country music singer. Being named CMA’s New Artist of the Year just weeks ago had cemented his position in the country music scene. He’d placed his award in the center of his mantel and made sure the accent light hit it perfectly. The award was the first of many he’d use to decorate the downtown Nashville loft he’d purchased earlier that year with the royalties on his first album. A Simple Dream had hit big last spring, but it had taken years of sweat, tears, and sore fingers from playing guitar for his dream to come true. He’d hit number one with two songs on his debut album and was in the process of putting together his second one. Of course, he still had to write some songs for it, but they would come. He prayed they would come. So, heck yeah, he was the country music star. “Star is kind of a strong word, but, yeah, I play country music.”