by Caroline Lee
The bell jingled again, and a new voice called out, “Is my wife in here?”
Ian, without missing a beat, called back, “We have a few wives in here. Are you missing one?”
A man came stomping around the corner of the shelves. He wore his long blond hair tied back in a queue and carried himself like a sailor. Christa could even see a hint of a tattoo on the back of his hands as he pulled off one glove to scratch his nose.
“Have you seen Marina? I’ve been chasing her around town all morning feels like.”
Ella chuckled. “You just missed her. She was here before Andrew, picking up some of that medicine her grandmother prefers.”
The newcomer nodded to Andrew, even as he sighed. “I swear, Daj knows that stuff is just sugar water, but the woman is made of teak and steel, and she always gets what she demands.”
“Is she ailing?” Andrew asked with concern.
Shaking his head, the man pulled his glove back on. “Teak and steel, I tell you. She’s weathered a hundred storms, and I think she’ll likely outlive us all. Hello,” he said to Christa, with a warm smile.
“Skip, this is my friend, Christa,” Andrew offered, introducing her yet again. “Darling, this is Skipper King, whose wife’s grandmother—Daj—lives nearby. Skip is an architect and carpenter. He designed and built, not just the new orphanage, but my home as well.”
“And mine,” Vincenzo offered.
“And MacKinnon’s Restaurant,” Ella called out.
A red flush began to creep over Skip’s face. “Aw, it’s not that big of a deal.”
“On the contrary,” Christa assured him. “You have a real talent from what I’ve seen, Mister King.”
She was proud of how steady her voice sounded, how sincere. When really, her insides were flopping around like a low kicker card. Andrew had called her darling. Earlier, he’d laid claim to her. Mine. He kept introducing her as his “significant-pause-friend,” as Ella had teased, but friend was a whole lot different from darling and mine.
She was beginning to suspect that significant pause meant Andrew didn’t quite mean “friend” in the usual sense.
And she stood a little taller when she admitted she didn’t quite think of him as a “friend” either.
Eddie was looking adoringly up at Skip as the adults continued their conversation about the Christmas celebrations. “When can we take the Mermaid back out, Skip?”
“When the ice thaws, laddie,” the man said, clapping Eddie’s shoulder. “In the meantime, I’ll see you after the new year to work on those cabinet joins, eh? Merry Christmas, friends!”
“Eddie works for Skip when he’s not in school,” murmured Andrew under his breath, as the others called out Christmas wishes to the departing Skip. “And he treats him—and Jack and Tom Tucker, whom I consider part of my family—to jaunts on his sailboat, the Mermaid.”
Christa nodded to show she understood, even though she was still reeling from Andrew’s casual endearment. “I hope he finds his wife.”
Andrew chuckled. “Marina is a free spirit, and I suspect Skip loves that about her. Chasing her is part of the fun.”
They waited until Ian finished tallying up the Bellini’s purchases, then Andrew tucked her hand into the crook of his arm again. “Christa and I are off to luncheon at MacKinnon’s. No offense to your pies, Arabella”—he offered her a smile and a little bow—“but Briar’s really are remarkable, and I’ve heard they will be serving chicken pot pie, which I am particularly partial to.”
Vincenzo chuckled and offered him his hand. As Andrew shook it, the other man cocked his head in what Christa was coming to suspect was his version of a wink. “I hope you both enjoy it. Welcome to Everland, Christa. We’re all very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The others called out their goodbyes, and Andrew led her from the store. It wasn’t until they were strolling along the cleared sidewalk that he cleared his throat.
“They all really were very pleased to make your acquaintance, Christa. And you have no idea how proud I was to introduce you to them. Thank you for meeting my friends.”
Darling.
Mine.
“Thank you for introducing me to them,” she managed, her throat suddenly thick.
He glanced down at her. “Are you feeling well?”
“I—” She swallowed, then offered him a smile. It must not have been too convincing, because he pulled her to a stop, even though it was cold.
“Christa?” His eyes skimmed over her face, as if checking for signs of pain or illness.
She tried again. “Thank you, Andrew, for showing me what a wonderful town Everland is. I’m not certain I’ll be offered this job on a permanent basis, but now that I’ve seen so much of Everland, and met so many of the wonderful people…” She trailed off, shaking her head. Then she took a deep breath in of the frigid December air. “I can’t imagine going back to the life I used to lead, traveling from town to town. I can’t imagine leaving Everland.”
I can’t imagine leaving you.
She’d only known him a week, really, but…but he made her feel alive in ways she’d never felt before. He made her feel worthy and desirable and important. He made her feel like a woman.
There they stood, hands clasped, and the steam of their breaths mingled between them. He was close enough to kiss, but she refrained—just barely—from pushing herself up on her toes to capture his lips with hers.
For one thing, it would be inappropriate to do so here in public.
For another, she wasn’t certain their lips wouldn’t freeze together, resulting in an emergency visit to the doctor.
And finally, there was a voice in the back of her head, a voice which sounded remarkably like Doc’s, reminding her godmothers didn’t get married. They didn’t get their own Happily Ever After, because they were supposed to be too busy arranging them for other people.
But when Andrew suddenly smiled, it no longer seemed to matter.
“Christmas, you have no idea how happy that makes me.” He straightened and tucked her up against his side once more. “Let’s go eat.”
Chapter 7
“Won’t you have some more roast?” Zelle Volkov asked, her long hair swinging over her shoulder as she offered Andrew the platter of meat.
Chuckling, he took it from her and placed it to his left. “I couldn’t eat another bite. Thank you for such a wonderful meal.”
“Da, moya lyubov,” her husband agreed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his stomach with a groan. “You’ve become an even better cook than your mother.”
“That’s saying something.” Zelle threw a wink at the fourth person at the table, Max.
The dark-haired man shrugged. “I don’t recall being invited to dinner at Doc and Meri’s place, but your cooking sure has improved, Zelle. Remember when you used to—”
“Max DeVille, there are some things even friends shouldn’t speak of!”
When Max and Dmitri chuckled, Andrew couldn’t help but smile.
This group was younger than him—Zelle was likely Micah’s age—but he still enjoyed spending time with them. Dmitri Volkov—and he had a long list of names and titles in between that first and last name—had been a noble in his old country. The title Knez was, Andrew knew, a sort of lesser prince, but most people referred to him as a duke. However, when he’d married Zelle, he’d given up his position in eastern Europe and settled into the life of a horse rancher.
Between his stock and the ones Max had brought into the partnership, they’d built their herd into something to be proud of.
Zelle was smiling as she reached for her goblet. “Now, I’m going to change the subject, and it’s not about those smelly horses again.”
“Moya lyubov, I thought you liked riding?”
“I do, honey, but I don’t need to hear about it all day and night. And when you and Max get together, it’s all business, all the time.” She was right; the dinner conversation had been dominated by Max and Dmitri discussing thei
r joint venture. “How would you like it if I invited Andrew to speak of nothing but guns and his armory all evening?”
Max blinked. “I’d love it. Andrew’s business is fascinating.”
“You really think so?” Andrew asked.
“Sure! When we were playing poker, you were complaining about being overwhelmed, but I liked hearing all about it.”
“Da,” Dmitri agreed. “Guns are…very much fun.”
His wife giggled at his search for the English words. “Well then, we definitely can’t have you speak about that, or I’ll go cross-eyed with boredom. Although, I will note that my Dmitri wasn’t playing poker with you gentlemen, because he was home with his wife where he belonged.” She sent a fond smile to her husband, then immediately swung her attention to her old friend. “Which is where you’ll be, once you find a wife and settle down.”
Thinking about Christa’s mission to pair Max up with her “client,” Andrew almost missed the quick spasm which crossed Max’s face. It had looked almost like bitterness, but the man’s features smoothed into an easy grin in an instant.
“You betchya,” he drawled with a wink, “just as soon as I can find the right lady.”
Zelle’s snort was ladylike, but she rolled her eyes. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“There’s a limited number of single women in Everland,” he defended himself.
Dmitri shrugged. “Then go someplace else. There were many beautiful women in my home country.” He caught his wife’s hand. “Almost as beautiful as moya lyubov.”
“Scotland too,” Andrew cut in, remembering his last visit. “Some of the lassies there made me wish I was a wee bit younger.”
Max chuckled, but it sounded strained as his gaze darted between them. “You…you’d be alright with me leaving?” The way he asked was almost as if he were asking permission. “Just leaving the ranch, and you, and jaunting off into the great unknown to find a pretty lady?”
“No, of course I would not be alright with you leaving, Max. You are my closest friend.” Dmitri shrugged. “And it is foolish to set out on a grand adventure with no other plans than to find a beautiful woman.”
“Why not?” Zelle demanded teasingly. “You did.”
Her husband hummed in agreement and brought her hand to his lips.
Andrew nodded to Max. “There’s plenty of opportunities elsewhere if you ever wanted to travel. But don’t make the plans lightly, not when you have so much for you here.”
He remembered the younger man complaining about not feeling useful, now that the breeding program was up and running, and the horse ranch was a success. He was an equal partner, which meant he wasn’t poor, but Andrew could understand his urge to do more.
“Sure, my family is oh-so-loving,” Max quipped sarcastically.
Andrew gestured around the table. “Family is more than blood, son.”
Max lifted a brow and leaned forward, his grin suddenly turning wolfish. “Fair enough. So what’s this I heard about you being seen about town with a lady friend? Ian and Ella Crowne were right taken with the pair of you.”
To his surprise, Andrew found himself flushing, which caused Zelle to crow. “So it’s true? I heard from Briar that you’ve been bringing a female companion in to dine often over the last week and a half, but we weren’t sure if it was someone from your armory or a family member visiting, or what.”
From the way the long-haired woman sat forward eagerly as she spoke of her gossip session with her best friend, Andrew knew he wasn’t going to get out of it. Dmitri caught his gaze and rolled his eyes.
“You should best just confess, my friend. Zelle will not let this go.”
“No I won’t,” she agreed. “Who is she?”
There was no reason not to tell them. “Her name is Christa Harrington. She’s new in town, and I’m trying to talk her into staying.”
“Permanently?” Max asked.
Andrew grinned and nodded. “If she’ll have me.”
Zelle made a little squealing sound of excitement, and Dmitri’s grin stretched ear to ear.
“Congratulations, my friend. You are in love?” Dmitri asked.
“I—” Andrew stopped himself, his eyes slowly widening. “I am!” A laugh burst out of him. “I never imagined I’d…” Shaking his head, he reached for his own goblet, but didn’t drink. “I love her,” he repeated quietly.
“Why?” Max asked, equally quietly.
When Andrew met the younger man’s eyes, he saw a sort of yearning there, and knew Max wasn’t teasing him.
“She is…remarkable.” Best not to mention the cross-dressing or matchmaking thing. “She is determined and strong, and she has a work ethic I admire.” I want to take care of her. “Her sense of humor matches mine, and I like that she doesn’t— She isn’t shy.” There, that was the easiest way to say she thinks like a man. “To my eyes, she is beautiful, but it’s more than that. She’s smart and witty, and she’s seen enough of the world to be fascinating.”
Max was nodding along, a slow smile dawning on his face. “I’m happy for you, my friend. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
“At the Christmas celebration?” Zelle asked eagerly.
“Yes, I hope she’ll accompany me.” Andrew had a surprise for her. “And I can’t wait to introduce her to the rest of my friends.”
Scooping up his own goblet, Max held it high. “Congratulations, Andrew. May you find happiness.”
“To friendship,” Dmitri added, lifting his glass.
His wife mirrored the action with a smile. “To True Love!”
Andrew grinned. “Merry Christmas!”
“Here, you can carry one more thing,” Bashful declared, as she heaped another pine bough onto the pile in Christa’s outstretched arms. “You’ve got plenty of room.”
“I don’t— Pfft.” Christa’s ability to speak became hampered when a bunch of needles got inside her mouth. “Pfft. Pfffffft.”
“See?” Bashful clearly wasn’t hearing her complaints because she placed one more on top. “There. I’ll carry the ribbons and this basket of holly. Dorcas?”
“I’ve got the cake!”
“Good. Let’s be off, you mothers.” From the sound of it, Bashful had pulled the door open. “Christa, dear, don’t trip.”
Easy for her to say.
With a few helpful nudges from Dorcas, Christa felt her way across the porch and down the stairs, listening to the other two godmothers chatter cheerfully about the Christmas celebrations at the church. The two of them, with Suzy’s help, had put together the boughs and now were going to drop them off for the decorating committee.
“I, personally, look forward to the music,” Bashful was declaring to anyone who would listen, her cloak swooping around her as she spun in the street. “Just wait ‘til you hear Vincenzo Bellini play!”
From under her pile, Christa grunted in agreement. It was bound to be a lovely celebration.
“I know what our Christa is most looking forward to!” Dorcas beamed.
The other woman sighed. “Not cake.”
“Why wouldn’t she look forward to cake? My cake is delicious.”
“Yes, but she’s likely looking forward to seeing the culmination of her hard work. Just imagine, a Christmas Eve kiss!” Bashful sighed romantically. “That’s how Suzy did it with Rose and that US Marshall a few years ago, remember?”
“And we all made sure her sister Snow had a Christmas morning kiss last year!”
“I recall Doc did most of that work.” Bashful leaned toward Christa, who was doing her best to feel her way along the sidewalk. “Dorcas can’t always be trusted, you know. A few years back she set the orphanage on fire.”
Christa stumbled. Is that why Andrew had to finance a new orphanage building? She turned toward Dorcas, wondering if the woman could see her incredulous expression behind the boughs.
But Dorcas just clucked. “Narrative causality! Narrative causality! Besides, I think Christa is looking forward to
something else this Christmas, and it has everything to do with one Mister Andrew Prince.”
She and Bashful sighed in unison, and suddenly, Christa was quite glad they couldn’t see her under all the greenery. She turned in the direction she hoped the church was and began hurrying.
“Is that true?” Bashful called out, huffing as she caught up. “You have been out walking with Mister Prince more than a few times. He’s quite handsome, isn’t he? If you like older men that is.”
“He’s not—pfft—he’s not old!” Christa managed.
But the other woman just chuckled knowingly. “I suppose he’s not. That salt-and-pepper hair certainly makes him look distinguished. And he dresses well. Has all his own teeth too, I believe.”
“He’s got a cute butt!” Dorcas called out, much too loudly.
Christa prayed the street would open up and swallow her whole. Or barring that, for at least there to have been no one around to hear what Dorcas had said.
“Well?” Bashful demanded. “And you need to turn a bit to your left. There,” she added, after nudging Christa in the correct path.
“Well what?” she managed to grumble without moving her lips much.
“Is he the reason you’re looking forward to Christmas? Is he wooing you? Is he your beau?”
Beau? Wooing? He’d jokingly spoke of wooing.
Or had it not been a joke?
Earlier in the week, when they’d stopped in at Crowne’s Mercantile, he’d called her darling. And she’d liked it. Very much.
She enjoyed his company very much and was looking forward to meeting his family at dinner tomorrow, and heaven knew she liked looking at him. He made her laugh, was just full of fascinating stories and insights, and he set her insides aflame.
Wooing implied a future, didn’t it? Is that what she wanted? A future with Andrew Prince?
Well, why not?
“Remember,” panted Dorcas, as if she’d had to jog to keep up with them, “godmothers can’t marry. We all knew the no-True-Love clause when we signed the contract.”
Oh, right. That was why.