The Christmas Rose

by Pam Crooks

  THE CHRISTMAS ROSE

  Copyright © 2020 by Pam Crooks

  Cover Design: Killion Group

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or transmit this book, or a portion thereof, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This ebook may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others.

  THE CHRISTMAS ROSE is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by, the trademark owners.

  Version 2020.11

  24,945 words.

  Praise for Pam Crooks!

  HARRIETT

  “Absolutely loved this book! Excellent plot, well-developed characters...I will definitely be looking for more books by Pam Crooks!”

  -----5 Stars! Amazon Reviewer

  TRACE

  “A charming romance you will read for hours. Dishes can wait!”

  -----5 Stars! Amazon Reviewer

  A COWBOY AND A PROMISE

  “Adored this book and probably one of the best cowboy romances I’ve read this year!”

  ----5 Stars! Netgalley Reviewer

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Please leave a review!

  More Christmas Novellas!

  About Pam

  Chapter 1

  Omaha, Nebraska, 1892

  Ignoring the bite of the cold December breeze swirling about her, plucking at the hem of her black woolen coat, Juliette Blanchard closed her eyes and allowed herself to be swept away by the fantasy she’d relived again and again these past months. The dream that would soon be a reality. Vivid in her mind, a lone eagle soared over the breadth of the small oxbow-shaped lake, its regal wings spread in graceful flight. Beneath him, the water shimmered and sparkled, kissed by the midday sun. Lazy waves lapped against the shoreline that stretched toward hills crowned with trees and punctuated with wildlife. Here, embellished by her imagination, nature pulsed with springtime abandon. Fragile sprouts had burst into color, and dazzling hues of green painted the land as far as the eye could see.

  All that was missing was her beloved hotel.

  But soon, it would be there, real and vibrant. Her creation. The fruits of her design and ambition to make it happen.

  Slowly, her eyes opened. Three hundred acres sprawled out before her, all part of her dream, too.

  “It’s perfect, isn’t it?” she breathed. “The water. The trees. The gentle slope of the land. It’s all so perfect.”

  “Indeed.” Stephen Dunn, the entrepreneur who intended to purchase the acres, nodded, clearly pleased. “As long as one is not deterred by the lack of leaves, the brown grass, and this damned Nebraska cold right now.”

  “There isn’t a finer place to build the hotel,” she added, more convinced than ever of her choice, despite the dull color of the lake, clouded with ice that managed to sparkle beneath the sun. “None this side of the Missouri.”

  “I suspect not east of it either, Miss Blanchard.”

  “No.” She’d spent countless hours in research and had painstakingly investigated every suitable body of water in the Midwest and beyond.

  But this, this had always been her favorite. And now her dream would come true.

  “I’ve designed the hotel so the guests will be spared the morning sun when they have breakfast on the patio. On the other hand, the outdoor pool will soak up the heat from the hottest part of a summer’s day. Families can lounge to their heart’s content.”

  From the time she’d been ten years old, the serenity of this little patch of Nebraska had captivated her. Even after moving to New York three years ago to continue her studies in architecture, she’d not forgotten it.

  “The land, of course, will make a fabulous golf course, don’t you think?” Again, her mind envisioned the well-manicured greens, the bunkers, even the tiny balls being lobbed about. “Gentlemen will come from all over the country to play here.”

  “Your enthusiasm is most catching.” Dunn beamed. “I can hardly wait to break ground.” He turned to Charles Hatman, the Omaha land developer in charge of the project. “I trust the building contractor is prepared to begin as soon as the ground thaws and we give him a date?”

  “Yes, sir.” Hatman puffed on a cigar, his attention as rapt on the three hundred acres as Juliette’s had been. “The bids are in. Construction crews are assigned. Materials are ready to be ordered.”

  “Good. Very good,” Dunn said.

  Excitement spiraled through Juliette. Only one detail remained, a formality at this point, and the deal would be final. She glanced at the diamond watch piece that had once been her mother’s and noted the time. Once her meeting was done, she could catch the afternoon train that would begin her return trip to Buffalo, just in time to celebrate Christmas. And what a finer gift to herself could there be, when the meeting was done?

  “The bankers are waiting for us, gentlemen. We have papers to sign, and I don’t want to be late.”

  Dunn chuckled. “No grass will grow under her feet, will it, Charles?”

  She smiled at his teasing. He was highly recommended by her Aunt Louise, a renowned architect in her own right; indeed, the man had financed many of her aunt’s famous designs. Juliette was honored by his interest in her hotel.

  In the time she’d been conferring with him, they fell into a comfortable business relationship. Still, until the project was complete, Juliette intended to remain professional and attuned to every detail.

  Oddly enough, Hatman made no response. Just puffed vigorously on his cigar and stared at the land beyond the lake.

  He looked inexplicably grim. She exchanged a quick glance with Dunn. She arrived in Omaha only last evening with her younger sister, Camille. Hatman and Dunn met them after breakfast, and they rode directly out here. While she knew Dunn well enough, she hadn’t met Hatman before today, though they corresponded many times via her aunt’s office in New York. Perhaps the man was always this tense.

  “Shall we go?” she asked and pivoted toward the carriage where Camille waited for her.

  “Certainly.” Dunn extended his hand, indicating she was to precede him.

  But Hatman didn’t move.

  “He won’t sell,” he said suddenly.

  Juliette blinked in puzzlement and turned back toward him. “Who won’t sell?”

  “The son-of-a-gun who owns these acres.”

  Horror coursed through her. “What?”

  Dunn’s chest puffed in indignation. “I thought everything was set, Charles.”

  “Everything was—except the land.” Cigar smoke billowed in frustrated swirls. “He won’t budge.”

  “But he must sell!” Juliette gasped. “This entire project depends on it.”

  “You think I don’t know that, Miss Blanchard?” Hatman jerked the cigar out of his mouth and faced her. “He’s been stringing me along for weeks. I’ve done everything I could to convince him.”

  “Why weren’t we informed of this problem?” Dunn demanded. “You led us to believe the sale was proceeding as planned.”

  “Because I was sure it would.”

  “You offered him the price we discussed?” Juliette
asked.

  “More.” Again, Hatman puffed furiously on his cigar.

  The entrepreneur’s brow arched. “And he didn’t take it?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Claims he’s not interested.”

  Juliette pressed trembling fingers to her lips. “Perhaps you should speak to him again. Offer him more money or—or something.”

  “I’m telling you, it won’t do any good, Miss Blanchard,” Hatman said. “I rode out to his place right at sun-up. Figured it was my last chance to deal with him before we met with the bankers. Didn’t do me a bit of good.”

  “A stubborn cuss, isn’t he?” Dunn muttered.

  “Thick-headed like his pa was. Everyone knows the McCord boys are down on their luck. We’ve offered Tru the sweetest deal around. Why he won’t sell is beyond me.”

  “Tru?” Juliette’s world tilted alarmingly. “Tru McCord owns this land?”

  “He does.”

  “But that’s impossible,” she said, heart pounding. “His father lost it. In a card game several years ago. He—”

  Memories crashed in on her, stifling the words on her tongue. She hadn’t known, never dreamed...

  “Don’t know how he came to own it, Miss Blanchard. He won’t say. But he’s had these acres for as long as I’ve been acquainted with him, which has been a good long while.”

  Dunn frowned. “Doesn’t matter how he came to own them, just that he does. And he won’t sell.”

  Juliette squared her shoulders. The entrepreneur’s brisk tone was a sober reminder of the seriousness of their dilemma. “Of course. That’s the crux of the problem, isn’t it?”

  She would do well to hide her past relationship with Tru from these men. They had little interest in it, especially since a luxury resort hotel was at stake, as well as the enormous profits they would stand to lose.

  But, oh, why Tru? Of all the landowners in the state of Nebraska, why did he have to own the acres she needed?

  “Well, Miss Blanchard. There’s no use in meeting with the bank now, I’m afraid. Can’t buy land that’s not for sale, can we?” Dunn heaved a heavy sigh.

  “I’m sorry,” Hatman said, genuine regret in his expression. “I did all I could. There are other sites available, however. I’ll draw up a list—”

  “No.” Juliette spoke sharply. “There’s no other location that would be as well-suited for my hotel as this one. I’ve designed it specifically for this very spot.”

  Both Dunn and Hatman studied her, then shook their heads in unison.

  “A real shame,” Dunn said.

  With Hatman beside him, he strode toward the carriage, and Juliette could feel the deal slipping through her fingers.

  “Wait!” she called.

  They halted, and she hurried toward them.

  “I’ll talk to Tru,” she said and swallowed hard.

  Hatman frowned. “Won’t do any good, Miss Blanchard. He won’t listen.”

  “I can try.” What choice did she have?

  “But—”

  “It won’t hurt if she speaks with him, Charles,” Dunn said. “We don’t have anything to lose at this point.” He gave her a faint smile. “Would you like me to accompany you, Miss Blanchard? Perhaps between the two of us we might convince him to sell.”

  The weak side of her wanted to say ‘yes’, that she couldn’t face Tru again, alone, after all these years. But the proud side didn’t want the entrepreneur to see her beg.

  Because if that’s what it took to get Tru McCord to give up his land, that’s what she’d do.

  Get down on her knees and beg.

  “No,” she said. “I’ll see him myself.”

  “Very well, then.” Dunn patted her shoulder, a grandfatherly gesture of encouragement. Or perhaps it was one of sympathy for a lost cause, she couldn’t be sure. “You know where to find me. Do inform me how this meeting transpires, won’t you?”

  Juliette managed a confident nod. “Of course.”

  The businessmen climbed into the carriage, and after a long, troubled moment, Juliette joined them.

  The Next Day

  Juliette ignored Camille’s concerned gaze. For the second time in as many days, she and her younger sister were in a carriage, riding toward the McCord ranch. Yesterday’s scheduled appointment with the bankers had come and gone. She’d cancelled and rescheduled their train tickets, though the prolonged stay meant a hit to her limited traveling funds. Today, Stephen Dunn and Charles Hatman were somewhere in Omaha, seeing to other business matters.

  Matters which no longer pertained to her.

  Juliette alone had to keep her dream alive. What if she failed? What if Tru tossed her onto the train back to New York empty-handed and defeated?

  The worst of it would be explaining to Aunt Louise that three years of study, planning, and hope were wasted. That the demise of this project had doomed her career before it started.

  A career she urgently needed to support herself and Camille. The salary she’d earn from the hotel project would replenish her bank account, which had become alarmingly drained from the high costs of their education and the Blanchard family medical bills.

  “I suspect he’s not the monster you think he is, Juliette,” Camille said quietly.

  Juliette’s thoughts scattered. There was no need to ask who ‘he’ was. “He’s being deliberately defiant about selling.”

  “I’m sure he has his reasons for refusing.”

  “He’s in dire need of money. The McCords always are.”

  “But it’s Christmas, Juliette. Tru is entitled to his land. It’s all he has. Why must you try to take it from him? Now, of all times?”

  Her logic completely befuddled Juliette. “Christmas has nothing to do with it.”

  “Well, it should. Where’s your sense of good will? Or even kindness toward your fellow man?”

  Why was Camille invoking the season to defend him? The argument was as baseless in comparison as apples were to oranges. Juliette leaned forward, desperate to make her understand. “With the money we want to pay him, he could have so much more. Don’t you see, Camille? He could put a down payment on a nice house in town. Or buy more land someplace else.”

  “Juliette.” Camille sighed. “Listen to yourself.”

  Her sister’s softly reproving words pulled Juliette up short. Her mouth dipped in a wry grimace. “I’m sounding like Father again, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, you are. He was driven to make money, any way he could. He didn’t care who he hurt along the way. Nor would he care one whit if it was Christmas, either.”

  Juliette shifted her stare back out the carriage window. She was like her father in some ways, she supposed. She had the same need to succeed. The same intelligence. The same creativity.

  But was she as ruthless?

  She’d never been tested before now.

  She’d never had so much at stake.

  And she was fast learning why her father had become successful in the business world. He’d done what he must to make a name for himself, even if it meant resorting to tactics that were, well, ruthless.

  If only he were still alive. He’d tell her exactly how to get those acres for her hotel.

  “You’re a Blanchard, Julie-girl. Don’t ever forget it. Your name will open a lot of doors in this part of the country. Do what you have to to keep them open and don’t look back.”

  The words he’d instilled in her over and over again came alive, as if it were him sitting across from her in the carriage seat instead of Camille. They gave her courage to face Tru again and refreshed her resolve to fight for what she wanted.

  “I don’t think I like the look on your face, Juliette.”

  She shifted away from the window and considered her frowning sibling. The scarlet fever that took their parents’ lives had almost claimed Camille’s, too. The disease left her forever frail, but what she lacked in size, she made up for in her outspoken opinions.

  “This is a business ma
tter, Camille. You needn’t have bothered coming with me this morning.”

  “I didn’t want to sit in a hotel room by myself while you rode out here and tangled horns with Tru McCord.”

  “‘Tangled horns’?” The term amused Juliette. She adored her sister and took no offense at her scolding. Camille was nineteen and the only family she had left except for Aunt Louise. They were as close as two sisters could be. “You’re talking like a ranch hand, not an educated young woman from New York.”

  “You make it sound as if being a ranch hand is demeaning.”

  Juliette’s smile faded, and she puzzled over the defensiveness in Camille’s tone. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just a phrase I’ve never heard you say before.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Oh, Juliette, why do you have to have this land?” Her slender arm swept outward, indicating the McCord acres they were riding on.

  She stiffened. “You know why. We’ve discussed it many times.”

  “But there are other places in Nebraska where you could buy three hundred acres. In Iowa, too. Can’t you just—just change your vision a little?”

  Juliette gaped at her in disbelief.

  “You don’t have to prove yourself like this,” Camille said firmly. “Aunt Louise already favors you. She wants you to be a partner in her agency. Why isn’t that good enough for you?”

  “Because it’s a man’s world, Camille,” Juliette shot back. “I want to earn my own place in it.”

  “With Waite and Caulkings.” Camille rolled her eyes.

  Yes. The most prominent architectural and building firm in the State of New York.

  And completely male.

  Juliette’s dream to become their only female partner made even Aunt Louise salivate. Richard Waite and F.W. Caulkings had followed the development of her luxury resort hotel with great interest. They intended to expand their firm on an international level and were considering adding another partner to aid them in the process.

  Juliette intended to be that partner. And she really, really needed Tru’s land, no matter what Camille said.

  She leaned back in the carriage seat and sought a different topic of conversation. One far safer and less likely to stir Camille’s ire. “Why don’t you call on Sarah Evans this afternoon? Perhaps you can do some Christmas shopping together.”