by Debbie Mason
“What was I thinking?” Evie muttered to herself, feeling almost as bad as she did when they’d announced the results of the vote.
She’d lost by an overwhelming majority. The petition signed by three hundred people, great weekend sales, and her impassioned speech weren’t enough to turn the vote in her favor.
The council members who’d voted against her had assured her it was one of the toughest decisions they’d ever made, but the town needed the jobs and revenue that the office tower would bring. While she hadn’t been impressed with Caine Elliot’s business degrees, money, and success, the council members clearly were. And she couldn’t fault them for putting the needs of Harmony Harbor above hers.
From the shadows, a lilting male voice responded to her question. “I imagine you’re not thinking so much as reacting out of a desperate need to save your shop.”
It was a voice she’d grown accustomed to the past few days. She gave Seamus O’Leary a weak smile as he stepped from the shadows. “You’re right, and desperation has clearly wreaked havoc on my cognitive abilities, because this has to be the worst idea I’ve ever had.”
“Well, now, don’t judge yourself too harshly just yet, lass.”
“I’ve been out here for an hour, and all I have to show for my effort is a frozen butt and bone chill.”
“There’s potential in your idea if you play it right,” Seamus said as he crouched in front of her with a steaming take-out cup in his hand.
There was something about him that reminded her of an older version of Jimmy Stewart in his role as George Bailey. She’d been thinking about good old George a lot lately. But despite the deep creases beneath Seamus’s monk-style gray bangs and the lines etched into the corners of his pale blue eyes, the man’s youthful energy and fun-loving manner made him seem younger than his careworn face suggested.
He offered her the cup with a smile, and she inhaled deeply, wrapping her mittened hands gratefully around it. “Hot chocolate,” she hummed, taking a sip. “Thank you. It’s just what I needed.”
“Good. Now, let’s give your plan some thought.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t really have a plan. All I kept thinking was they’re going to bulldoze my home and business to the ground, and then I looked over here while I was cursing Caine Elliot and spotted this.” She lightly clunked the back of her head against the bulldozer. “I remembered seeing people chaining themselves to trees to stop them from being cut down, so I thought, ‘I’ll chain myself to the bulldozer.’ But money is no issue to the ogre. He’ll just buy another one. What I should have done is chain myself to Holiday House.”
“I don’t know. This makes more of a statement, I think. Or it will once we draw a crowd.”
“A crowd? I thought a few friends with signs would be enough.” She’d sent out the text, but they had yet to show up. Maybe they’d thought she was joking. “I really didn’t think this through,” she said, imagining how pathetic she looked, shivering in the falling snow.
She’d had enough sympathy today to last a lifetime. The aftermath of the vote had been worse than hearing that she’d lost. She’d had to stand there and hold it together while everyone came over to offer their sympathy and ask what she was going to do next. Holiday House had been her nest, her refuge after New York. She’d felt like she’d come home. She felt safe.
“I appreciate your support, but I don’t think this is going to work, Seamus.” She handed him the cup and then dug in her pocket for the key to the lock. It wasn’t there. Her other hand was chained to the bulldozer, so she used her mouth to take off her mitten to once again dig in her pocket. Empty but for some fluff. “I’ve lost the key.”
“No matter. We’ll get someone to cut off the chains, but not before you get some publicity out of this. You’re friends with the reporter at the Gazette, aye?”
She nodded, not surprised he knew she and Poppy Harte were friends. Seamus had been a permanent fixture at Holiday House for the past few days. She’d liked having him around once she realized he was harmless. Lonely had been the conclusion she’d drawn about him. And now it made perfect sense why he was trying to help her—other than being a kind man, of course—Holiday House had become a refuge for him too.
And maybe because she began to think of what Holiday House meant to someone other than herself, a tiny spark of determination ignited inside her.
As though he saw it, Seamus said, “That’s a girl. Now, before we put the word out, you need to come up with a plan to keep Caine in town long enough to change his mind about your shop. It won’t be easy—I can tell you that. He’s a bit of a Scrooge, my nephew is.”
“Um, excuse me. Did you just say Caine Elliot is here, in Harmony Harbor, and that he’s your nephew?”
He pulled a face. “I let that slip, did I?”
“Ah, yeah, you did. Why didn’t you tell me when I was, ah—”
“Ranting about him the other day and calling him names just now?” He grinned. “Don’t give it another thought, lass. I knew where your anger was coming from. But you’re wrong about him, you know. He’s a brilliant lad, the best. Kind, generous to a fault. He’d give you the shirt off his back if you but asked.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not the man I know. But why haven’t you said anything before this? You weren’t spying on me for him, were you?” Her chest pinched at the thought.
“Not the way you’re thinking, but that’s all I can say. I never reported back to him about your business or what you were up to with the petition. And you might want to remember who it was that got you the last names on your petition.”
“You were a wonderful help this entire weekend. But I don’t understand why you were helping me when your nephew is putting me out of business. It’s a little like you’re working against him, which doesn’t make sense either because you clearly love him.”
“Aye, I do. And I owe him much, lass. Because of me he…” Seamus turned his head as if to listen to the cars driving along Main Street, their lights cutting across the empty lots. Then he returned his gaze to hers. His eyes were shiny, as though he’d blinked tears away. “I’m not working against him and never will. I’m trying to save him. I’m trying to save his immortal soul, and I see you and your shop as a way to do so.”
“Save his soul? That sounds ominous and a lot to ask of me and Holiday House. Other than people’s hopes and dreams, he hasn’t, uh, actually killed someone, has he?”
“Saints alive, no. He’d never be a part of something like that. He’s a good man. I know you’ve seen another side of him, the high-powered businessman, and he is that. I’ve seen it too. He can be ruthless, hard-hearted even, but it’s not who he really is. Emily—his granny—she’s made him that way. All the lad thinks about now is making more coin. He’s forgotten what’s important in life: love, family, and friendship. If we can force him to stay in Harmony Harbor, we can remind him of what matters most in life. Maybe then the boy I remember will return. If he does, I guarantee my nephew will move heaven and earth to save your shop—and the manor,” he murmured as an aside.
Seamus seemed as anxious to save his nephew as she was to save Holiday House, and while she wouldn’t share with him that she didn’t believe Caine Elliot could be redeemed, she didn’t have anything to lose. She had to try something. And it would be nice to have a partner. Her friends were wonderful, but they were all involved with someone and had supportive family close by, so she’d sometimes felt alone in her fight against Wicklow Developments.
“Okay. We have a goal. Now we need a plan to keep your nephew in town long enough to change him from Scrooge at the beginning of A Christmas Carol into Scrooge at the end of the book.”
Seamus chuckled. “It’s a good analogy, lass. But he’s not easily fooled, so we won’t be able to haunt him into changing his ways.”
“No, but there’s nothing better than the holidays to remind people of the importance of love, family, friends, and community. And I don’t want to toot my horn, but I am something of an
expert on the holidays.”
“That you are, lass. That you are.”
Evie smiled, thinking it was amazing what a little hope could do. She barely felt the cold through her jeans. “So, any suggestions as to how we can keep him around long enough for the magic of the holidays to do its work?”
“I might have an idea there. When he was a boy, not a day would go by that he wasn’t betting on something with someone. He was a canny lad, and not often did he lose. Which is probably why he loved it so much.” His grin faded. “He used his money for good back then, putting food on the family’s table. Buying small treats for his mam and da, never once for himself.”
“He sounds like he was a sweet boy. Are his mother and father still alive?”
Seamus looked away, shaking his head. “No. He’s lived with his granny since he was twelve. I’ve just reunited with him myself. Hadn’t seen him since he was a lad.”
He looked so sad that she reached out to touch his hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll make this work. I promise.”
“Aye, we will. And we’d best get on with it before the two of us freeze to death. It’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.” He made a face. “My apologies, lass.”
“I’m actually quite familiar with the phrase. It’s one of Charlie Angel’s favorites. He owns the Salty Dog.” With her unchained hand she pointed to the local pub on the corner across from the harbor.
“Now that you mention it, I’m pretty sure that’s where I picked it up. I shared a pint with Charlie and his friends after learning of the council’s decision. They’re as unhappy with the outcome as a lot of the shop owners on Main Street. You’re well liked, lass—though I can’t say I’m surprised. My nephew is another story. They sounded like they wanted nothing more than to keelhaul the lad.”
“Trust me, they’re more bark than bite. They’re a bunch of old softies, really. They’re the first to arrive at Holiday House when I put up the angel tree.” She angled her head. “Seamus, I might have thought of a way to show your nephew the error of his ways.”
“You’re not thinking of letting Charlie and his friends have a go at him, are you? Because while he might wear expensive suits, drink fine wine, and listen to classical music, the lad is a brawler. He’s six-four of sharply honed muscles.”
Had Evie taken a mouthful of hot chocolate just then, she would have choked on it. The man Seamus described had been the man she’d cast in the starring role of her mildly erotic fantasy when she’d heard Caine’s voice for the first time.
“Um, no. No one is having a go at him.” Including her, especially her. “We’ll have your nephew pick three angels from the tree, and he’ll have to fulfill the wishes. We’ll have him pick one at a time, and he can’t pick another one until his assignment is deemed a success by the person who made the wish. The wishes will serve as his Ghost of Christmas Past, Christmas Present, and Christmas Future. I’ll need your help with the first one.”
“Aye, and I’ll gladly give it to you. But, lass, I can tell you’re getting excited about this, and I don’t want to burst your bubble, seeing as it’s been burst plenty this week. I’m just not sure how we’ll get him to agree.”
“But it was your idea.”
“I did say he liked to bet, but the angel-tree wishes were your idea—a good one, I might add. It’s just that I’m not sure how to go about getting him to agree to what you’re suggesting. He can be a tad stubborn. Has a few issues with control. Oh, who am I trying to kid? You might as well hear it now so you know what we’re up against. Caine is a law unto himself. Everyone does his bidding, and in the end, he always gets what he wants. So I’m having a hard time figuring out what we can offer to entice him…”
His eyes narrowed, and because they appeared to be narrowed at her, she said, “Oh no, I draw the line at that. I will do anything to keep Holiday House from being mowed to the ground, other than, well”—her cheeks warmed, and she cleared the embarrassment from her throat—“sleeping with your nephew.”
Seamus hooted with laughter.
Okay, so obviously not what he’d been thinking. “You know I’m just teasing, right? I thought I’d break the tension by giving you something to laugh about. So now that we got that out of the way—”
“I meant no offense, lass. You’re as lovely as a pitcher of warm milk on a bitter day in December.”
The hot chocolate curdled in her stomach.
“But my nephew wouldn’t know what do with someone as sweet as you. He needs a woman who will go toe-to-toe with him, a woman as stubborn as he is, a woman who can stand up to Emily and show him the light. I’ve been keeping my eye out, but I haven’t found a suitable candidate—not that he’s looking for a wife. Or even a long-term relationship. So I think it’s best if we narrow our focus and leave love off the table.”
“Agreed.” She looked past him. “No need to alert the press. Here comes Poppy.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “And she’s not alone. See, it’s just like I told you: The people in this town love you.” He turned back to her with a grin. “I’ve figured out how to get my nephew to take you up on your bet. Now to get him down here.” He took out his phone, gave her a look, then began peeling off her hat, scarf, and mittens.
“What are you doing?”
“Making you look truly pathetic, lass. If you could manage some tears, that would be grand.”
Chapter Five
Stop pretending you’re busy on your phone and answer my question,” Theia said to Caine as she drove her compact car through the gates of Greystone Manor, the wipers slapping at the snow building up on the windshield.
“I’m not pretending. At the moment, I’m trying to avert a minor crisis. Some of us don’t have the luxury of unplugging. But instead of glaring at me, perhaps you should focus on the road. I highly doubt we’d survive a crash in your charming car,” Caine said, his knees practically to his chest.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a snob?”
“Yes. You. Repeatedly. It’s the one thing I don’t miss about you.”
“Well, there’re several things I don’t miss about you, one being your inability to call your grandmother on her crap. Not to mention that, in the almost three years we’ve known each other, you conveniently forgot to tell me you’re a Gallagher.”
“I didn’t mention it because, as far as I’m concerned, I’m not.”
“You’re as much a Gallagher as me. You have to tell them. Fine,” she said when he gave her a look. “But give them a chance, for me if not for yourself. I’ll keep my mouth shut. I won’t say anything to them if you promise to at least try to get to know them. You’ll see that I’m right. You’ll see that Emily has poisoned you against them. She’s lying, Caine. She has to be.”
“You know me better than that, T. I’ve substantiated some of what she’s told me. But for you, and for the sake of keeping the peace at your wedding, I’ll keep an open mind.” The last place he wanted to be on Christmas Eve was Greystone Manor surrounded by the Gallagher family.
“So you’ll back off trying to gain control of the manor?”
He didn’t want to do this right now. He had enough to do dealing with Evangeline Christmas. “I had hoped that, with today’s vote going in our favor, we would finally be able to move forward with the office tower, which I would then use to distract my grandmother with make-work projects while I hammered out an offer that would be acceptable to both—”
“You can’t be serious! Caine, there’s nothing you can offer the Gallaghers that would make them agree to sell.”
“Everyone has a price. You know that as well as I do. You also know that they don’t have the money to repair the flood damage in the tunnels.” The Gallaghers had had a streak of bad luck of epic proportions last summer. Not only did they have to deal with the havoc one of his grandmother’s minions had wrought, but a category-three hurricane had hit Harmony Harbor in August, causing extensive damage to the manor.
“They don’t hav
e the money because the man your grandmother hired made sure that the one person who would have happily bailed them out financially can no longer afford to.”
“Yes. That was unfortunate. But as you know, none of what he did was under Emily’s directive. I looked into it myself.”
“Oh, please, Emily was no doubt cheering him on.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case given her feelings for the Gallaghers. And while I don’t approve of or condone her tactics, no crime was committed on her part or that of Wicklow Developments.”
“Stop making excuses for her. The woman is a manipulative tyrant who doesn’t care who she hurts as long as she gets what she wants.”
“I know you think I let loyalty blind me to my grandmother’s faults, but I don’t. Despite what you think, I do call her on her crap. But she’s eighty and dying, T.”
“And that’s supposed to excuse her threats against Evie? Come on, Caine.”
“I may have overreacted Friday. I’ve been in the air more than I’ve been on the ground lately, and I was knackered. I still am. And, as proved by my uncle’s text of moments ago, Ms. Christmas is alive and well and stirring up trouble. Again.”
His frustration at the owner of Holiday House leaked into his voice. He should have kept his concerns to himself and dealt with the matter quietly and privately. Theia may be his best friend, but she was no longer in his employ and her loyalties were clearly torn. The last thing he or the company needed was for her to repeat his concerns to Ms. Christmas. The woman would no doubt take full advantage of the opportunity to paint them as evil villains and gain public sympathy. Exactly what she was doing right now with her publicity stunt. Honestly, he wanted to throttle Evangeline Christmas.
“Sorry. You can’t tell me in one breath that you’re concerned what Emily might do if Evie manages to block the development again and then pretend you might have overreacted because you’re tired. You look like crap, by the way.”
“Thank you. I wish I could say the same about you, but you look great, T. You look happy. You are happy, aren’t you? DiRossi is good to you?”