Mountain Mistletoe Christmas

by Patricia Johns

  “Bert Wilkins?” she asked.

  “Yeah. You know him?” Nick asked.

  “Yeah. I used to babysit for him,” she said with a short laugh. “His boys were a handful. So much energy.”

  “Wow... He and I have been friends for years,” Nick said with a shake of his head. “I guess it works that way in a place this small.”

  “What are the boys doing now?” she asked.

  “Nathan’s in college, John is working up at a lumber mill and Colin just got married last summer,” Nick replied.

  “Time flies,” she said. “That’s great. I’m glad they’re all doing well.”

  “How about you?” he asked. “You obviously babysat for Bert, but...”

  “I was raised here,” she replied. “That’s obvious, I guess. We knew the Wilkins family from church. I lived on the other side of the tracks, though. I grew up in the old row houses—and it was a bit nicer then. I feel like I should point that out.”

  He knew the part of town she was referencing and could guess she’d grown up poor. “There’s something about these mountains that pulls you back, isn’t there?”

  She smiled wistfully. “I didn’t come back for the mountains, exactly... But this place has real potential.”

  He had a feeling that she was talking about business potential, not the kind of sublime awe he felt when he stared up at those jagged mountain peaks and smelled the glacial fresh air.

  “So what brought you home, then?” he asked. “Business?”

  She shrugged faintly. “A fresh start has to start somewhere. My parents have both passed, and I have family in Mountain Springs—my sister included. I think I need to get those relationships in order again.”

  “I know that feeling,” he admitted.

  “Do you?” She looked hopeful.

  “My daughter—I’m trying to fix a few things with her, too.”

  “Yeah...kids aren’t easy, are they?”

  “Not really,” he agreed.

  Why was he doing this—opening up this way? He didn’t do that with other clients, but there was something about this woman that was prying loose his reservations. This was getting too personal for him.

  “You know, there’s a local writer who grew up in that same neighborhood across the tracks,” he said. “Did you know Lisa Dear?”

  Jen paled. “That’s my sister.”

  “Seriously?” Nick looked over at her in surprise. “I know her. She and I met at the dog park.”

  “Are you two...involved?” Jen asked delicately.

  “No.” He laughed softly. “It’s not like that. We’re just friends.”

  “Oh.” She nodded. “Just wondering. It would have affected things.”

  “Like what?” he asked.

  “Um...” She shrugged. “My sister and I tiptoe around each other a little bit.”

  “Her dog died,” he said. “So I don’t see her as often anymore. But we have a lot of mutual friends, so we got to know each other. She used to talk about this house, too—”

  Jen dropped her gaze. Whatever friendliness had been building between them seemed to pop, and they stood there for a couple of beats in silence. This was supposed to be about her house—not her sister. And obviously, there was some tension between the two women.

  Lisa used to talk about buying this old mansion, not that she’d been able to afford it. It looked like both sisters had similar taste in real estate, at the very least.

  “Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “I can get that sink and counter replaced for you within a few days. I’m not sure how much damage will be underneath there, but we can rebuild the cupboards and replicate what you’ve got, or we can look at alternatives.”

  “I’d like to keep it the same—authenticity and all that,” she said.

  “Great. We can do that. Once we get the counters off, I can tell you what we’re dealing with. As for the bathroom, I’ll call in my plumber and get him to check it out. We had a cancellation, so we do have a bit of free time to dedicate to this. But come February, we’re booked for another two months.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “I appreciate whatever time you give me right now. I’ll be looking for a contractor to help renovate the rest of the house this spring, too.”

  Was that an invitation to put in a bid? If he wasn’t otherwise booked, he’d throw his hat in the ring for this job. He wouldn’t pass up a chance to work on this old mansion.

  Nick pulled out a pen and paper, then jotted down some estimates and mentally tallied them. “I’m thinking it will take about two weeks, so up to just before Christmas, and I can do it for this much, if there is only moderate damage beneath.” He circled the bottom number and passed it over.

  Jen looked at it, then nodded. “I don’t have time to shop around, so I’m trusting you on this. Angelina assures me that you’re honest and fair.” She paused. “Are you expecting me to negotiate here?”

  “No,” he said with a low laugh. “I give the price that I can do the job for. And that’s assuming there aren’t any other complications. If anything comes up—more damage than I’m anticipating, for example—that will affect that bottom line, I’ll talk to you about it and you can decide what you want to do.”

  “Did you need some time to think about it?” he asked.

  “When could you start?” she asked.

  “I could start on the kitchen tomorrow. I could have the plumber for an assessment tomorrow or the day after,” he replied. “Full disclosure, though, my daughter is coming for Christmas—I’m actually picking her up at the bus station today. I can guarantee that I’ll get this work done before Christmas for you, but I’m going to need some flexibility so I can have time with her, as well.”

  “Fixing that relationship,” she said, her voice softening.

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “Trying to, at least.”

  “How old is she, if you don’t mind me asking?” Jen asked. “You seem pretty young.”

  “I’m forty-five and she’s twenty-three,” he replied with a small smile.

  “They’re so cute at that age.” She shot him a grin, and he chuckled.

  “Absolutely adorable. They know everything.” And Amelia was more self-assured than most.

  “They seem to think so at twelve, too,” she said with a shake of her head. “Okay. You have yourself a deal. Thank you.”

  Nick held out his hand, and she accepted his handshake. Her hand was slim and cool—just like it had felt in his hand last night while they were dancing, and he pushed back the memory. Her cheeks flushed, and she pulled her hand out of his. He wondered if she was remembering the same thing.

  “Okay. I’d better head out, then,” he said.

  “Sure. Thanks again.”

  He still felt that inexplicable tug toward her. He needed to tamp that down. This couldn’t get personal... Besides, he’d heard a few stories about Lisa’s sister who’d married some rich guy. He should have connected it sooner.

  Nick turned toward the stairs. “I’ll be here by eight tomorrow morning to do some measuring and get started.”

  He could hear Jen’s footsteps behind him on the staircase, and when they got back down to the kitchen below, he cast another cursory glance around the room. It wouldn’t be too big of a job, and this place was truly beautiful. He was glad to see that it was going to be cared for and wouldn’t just crumble into ruins.

  Nick headed for the front door, and when he got there, he stepped back into his boots. He had a few things he wanted to do before he picked up his daughter this afternoon—namely, pull out the old Christmas decorations. Amelia used to love Christmas, once upon a time, and so did he. He used to read her Christmas stories as a kid, take her shopping on Main Street, make hot cocoa together with way too many marshmallows. But that was a long time ago...

  “See you tomorrow,” Ni
ck said. “And, um, say hi to Lisa for me.”

  “Will do.”

  As Nick gave Jen a nod of farewell and he stepped out into the swirling December snow, his heart fluttered in anticipation—and this time not for the beautiful woman with the soft blue eyes that made him talk too much in spite of himself. This flutter in his chest was for his daughter. He couldn’t wait to see her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  JEN PULLED INTO the driveway in front of a squat duplex and parked her SUV behind a rusty white hatchback that blended into the snowy driveway. This was it.

  As she got out and slammed shut the door, she heard a thump against the window and looked up to see a toddler with his hands against the glass and a huge grin on his face. That would be her nephew, and her heart melted at the sight of him. The last time she’d seen Bram in person, he was a couple of months old. But she had a lot of photos for the time in between. She waved at him.

  Bram thumped the window a few more times until Lisa appeared behind him to scoop him up, and they both disappeared. When Jen got to the front door, Lisa pulled it open before she even knocked and stepped back to let her in.

  “Hi!” Jen said, and she leaned it to give her sister a one-armed hug. “You look great.”

  Lisa wore a pair of purple leggings with a matching hip-length sweater. For all of her claims that she wasn’t going to clean, the place smelled like bleach and when Jen glanced around, it was neat and tidy.

  “Hi, Bram! How are you?” Jen asked, bending down to the toddler’s level and giving him a big smile. “I’m your auntie!”

  “Come on in,” Lisa said, and Jen slipped out of her boots and hung her coat up on a hook next to the door, then followed her sister inside. The duplex was small and older, and a large section of the living room was occupied by colorful plastic toddler toys.

  “So how come you moved?” Jen asked. The last time she’d seen her sister, she was living in an apartment on the other side of town.

  “This place has a little yard,” Lisa replied. “And I wanted Bram to be able to play outside.”

  Lisa put Bram down in the kitchen. The dishwasher was whirring and there was a pile of dishes in one sink. Bram headed off to a laundry basket and started to pull the clothes out of it piece by piece. He was still a little young to be running out to play, but Jen could sympathize with the thought.

  “Do you want some coffee or something?” Lisa asked.

  “Sure.”

  Lisa pulled a canister out of a cupboard and started filling the coffeemaker on the counter.

  “So how long are you back for?” Lisa asked.

  “Um...” Jen shrugged. “For good, I think.”

  Lisa smirked. “No, really.”

  “I’m serious,” Jen said. “I mean, it’s a little complicated with Sam. He says that as long as I can wing it here financially and Drew is happy, he won’t push for custody. And you love that mansion as much as I do!” It sounded pretentious to even say it, somehow, and Jen felt her cheeks heat. “I think it’ll be good for Drew to grow up in a smaller place.”

  “You couldn’t wait to get out of Mountain Springs.”

  “I know, but that was different.” She’d been younger then, and desperate to get away from the dingy life here and achieve something better. Besides, people saw her a certain way in Mountain Springs—she was one of the Dear kids, and no one seemed to expect much from them. If she’d gotten a job and helped her parents pay some bills, that would have been enough. But she’d wanted more than that. She’d been so certain that she’d been destined for greatness, if she could just shake this town off her boot.

  “Drew is going to grow up in a mansion, so those small-town ideals might be a little distant.” Lisa raised an eyebrow. Her sister always did have a way of making Jen’s life sound tawdry.

  “Hey, you would have bought it!” Jen countered. “So don’t act like me buying that place is some moral failing.”

  “Yeah, look around,” Lisa retorted. “I’m swimming in that down payment.”

  Jen sighed. “Lisa, we were poor when we were kids. And Mom and Dad did their best, but there is no getting around that. Yeah—I wanted out. I don’t know why you didn’t.”

  “Because this is my home,” Lisa replied.

  “Or, this is your source of all that angsty writing,” Jen said, attempting to tease.

  “At least I know who I am,” Lisa replied.

  “I know who I am, too,” Jen said.

  “Mrs. Taylor, the professor’s young wife,” Lisa said, but her smile looked more natural now. “She’s very bright, they say.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Jen sighed. “I’m not Mrs. Taylor anymore, and I’ll have to figure things out. I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.”

  “I’m not enjoying your divorce,” Lisa replied, sobering. “But I never liked him. Sam was pompous, egotistical and thought he was better than the rest of us.”

  “Well, I’m more inclined to agree with you now,” Jen said.

  “So...about the mansion. Who’s doing the work on it?” Lisa asked.

  “A friend of yours,” Jen said. “Nick Bryant.”

  Lisa raised her eyebrows. “I could have told you about him if you’d asked.”

  “I know,” Jen replied. “And I would have, but Angelina Cunningham was the one to introduce me to him, and he worked on the lodge.”

  “He’s a good guy,” Lisa said.

  “He comes well recommended,” Jen replied.

  “No, I mean, he’s a sweet guy,” Lisa said. “And he’s got a big heart. He’s not your type.”

  “He’s working on the house, Lisa,” Jen said. “What do you think I’m going to do?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just saying—he’s not someone to use for your own ends.”

  Jen stared at Lisa, anger simmering. What did her sister think of her, that she was prowling around looking for some naive guy to manipulate into...into what, exactly? But before Jen could say anything, Bram tramped over to where Jen stood, a pair of his mother’s underwear in one fist. Jen squatted down and held out her hand.

  “Can I have it?” she asked brightly.

  “Oh, geez,” Lisa said, rolling her eyes. “Bram, those are Mommy’s!”

  Bram handed them over to Jen, and Jen wadded them up and tossed them to her sister.

  Why did it always feel like she and Lisa were on the edge of a major fight? Their relationship had never been an easy one, but when she’d gone off to school and met Samuel, whatever that was left of it seemed to snap.

  “I’m not looking for a guy, Lisa,” Jen said.

  “Good,” Lisa replied. “Do this one on your own.”

  Jen felt her cheeks heat, but she didn’t answer her sister. Whatever Lisa thought of her, over time Jen hoped she’d have to see that she was wrong.

  “How’s Drew doing?” Lisa asked after a few beats of silence.

  “He likes his dad’s girlfriend,” Jen replied, grateful for a change in topic. “So he’s doing fine, I guess. It could be worse. He could hate her.”

  The coffeemaker sputtered to a stop and Lisa poured two mugs and slid one in Jen’s direction.

  “How is he doing in school?” Lisa asked.

  “Okay. He’s smart, but he doesn’t really apply himself. I wish he would.”

  “He has to find what he likes first,” Lisa said.

  And maybe her sister was right. Besides, whether he liked his dad’s new girlfriend or not, he’d just gone through his parents’ divorce, and that wasn’t easy on any of them.

  “And how is Sam?” Lisa asked.

  “Better than me.” Jen felt tears mist her eyes. “Whatever. He’s self-centered and egotistical, just like you said.”

  “You said he might push for custody,” Lisa said. “Is that a real threat? Does he want Drew to stay with him?”

  Jen
frowned. “He hasn’t asked for it outright. He thinks having Drew for the summer, spring break and every other Christmas will work well. He’s very busy, with his books and his classes, and other projects...”

  Jen could hear it in her voice—she’d always made excuses for Samuel, and she let her voice trail away, not finishing the thought.

  “I guess that’s good, then,” Lisa said. “I’m glad I don’t have Bram’s dad asking for anything. It’s less complicated.”

  Jen didn’t comment. They’d already argued over whether or not Bram deserved to have his dad in his life, and Jen’s opinions didn’t count for a lot.

  “So what about you, Lisa?” Jen asked, trying to brighten her tone.

  “What about me?” her sister asked.

  “Have you ever considered taking some creative writing classes?” Jen asked. “The university offers a few online. I think you’d have to be enrolled in their creative writing program, but a friend of mine started the program and—”

  “Jen.”

  Jen stopped.

  “Do you know what I’ve been doing all this time?” her sister asked, cocking her head to one side.

  Working a housekeeping job at Mountain Springs Lodge and dating the wrong kinds of guys, mostly. But Jen didn’t say that.

  “I’ve been reading,” Lisa went on when Jen hadn’t answered. “I’ve been reading book after book—the classics, the important authors and all the frivolous fiction I can squeeze in. For years, Jen. And when I wasn’t reading, I was writing. Story after story, honing my craft. I don’t need a class to tell me how to find my voice or how to get published. I already am published, and I’m good at what I do. I don’t need a step up, okay?”

  “Okay.” Jen eyed her sister for a moment. “How many stories have you had published now? It was about fifteen last I counted, right?”

  “Forty-one. But if you want to include just the journals you’d be impressed with, sixteen.”

  Jen let out a breath. That many? Lisa was right. That did sound like success in its own right, and maybe Lisa had managed to do that her own way without her big sister’s advice. How much had they missed out on in each other’s lives these past years?