Merriest Christmas Ever Page 11

  After a shower and breakfast, Gracie carried her to-do list to the drawing room next to the kitchen. Set at the back of her house, it had two walls of windows. The ones on the back wall ran almost ceiling to floor, the same as the others in her home. Those to the east were shorter because of a velvet-cushioned window seat, but the wall stuck out several extra feet, reaching toward the light.

  Sunlight poured through the glass, lending a glow to the golden oak floors, and picking up the satin stripe in the ivory wallpaper. A bright, beautiful room, it was perfect for her Holiday Open House. Gracie hoped to furnish it one day with soft couches and plump chairs, and turn it into a family room, if she had a family. But right now, an empty room would be the best place for her displays.

  She listed things she’d need: stands for wreaths, tables.

  Her mind was still on her coming social affair as she drove to the Bradmoore house. She’d decorated for other people’s parties, and read library books about entertaining, but never given a party herself. Her RSVP notice read “Regrets only”, and no one had declined, so far, so she’d need a lot of food. Other than fancy cookies and cakes, what should she serve? Were paper napkins okay, or should she use cloth? She’d serve refreshments in the dining room.

  Harry welcomed her with a handclasp, and waved her to a huge box, saying he’d like her to use some of Alice’s decorations, and then promptly excused himself. He’d be in the library, but he was giving her full rein. He looked tired. Had Kirsten upset him, as well as Merett, with the Christmas ghost? Was Harry sorry he asked Gracie to decorate, now she’d made a mess of things with his granddaughter?

  Gracie soon lost herself in the joy of decorating. Placing candles in every window downstairs, she added bows and silk greenery. With the final decoration from Alice’s box in place, she began to add things she’d brought. Mistletoe, tiny silver bells, glitter-frosted branches. Feeling like an impostor, she tiptoed from room to room.

  Her feet froze to the floor when she entered an upstairs room that was obviously Merett’s. A youthful picture of him smiled at her from one frame, and an equally young Holly from another. Trophies. Sports poster. Time frozen in place. Gracie had wondered what his room was like back then. How often she’d pictured his long lean frame sprawled out on this bed. How often she’d dreamed about him.

  Feeling as if she’d happened upon a shrine, she put his window decoration in place and was about to leave when she noticed a yellowed clipping under the glass on his night stand. It was a picture of her when she had won “outstanding new reporter award” for her work on the Clarion. Heart pounding, she left the room quickly.

  Had he kept it because he was her mentor, or because it was her? Either way, a smile played around her lips. Her picture had lain at his bedside for years.

  The door next to Merett’s bore a pink ballet shoe plaque with the words, “Kirsten’s Room.” Inside, Gracie expected to find the room of her own childhood dreams—a haven frothed in pink with a canopy bed and shelves of elaborately gowned dolls. But the walls and carpet were gray, the tailored curtains striped. An attractive guest room that seemed barely changed with her arrival, the only “Kirsten-touch” was a well-loved teddy bear, leaning against the bed pillows. The room needed a woman’s touch, the same as Kirsten needed a woman’s love.

  Stroking the bear’s tattered ear, Gracie smiled. Kirsten had dressed Teddy in a sash of bright calico print left from the Greenfield tearoom. Around his neck was a satin ribbon on which she’d strung some pearls and “blue diamonds”, like she’d chosen for Gramma’s Christmas tree star.

  Gracie fetched the three foot tree she’d bought at Heber’s, especially for Kirsten, from her car. Placing it in a corner of the room, she decorated it with strands of tiny multicolor glass beads, white twinkle lights, and a gold star.

  “Very nice.” Harry’s deep voice startled Gracie. She turned to find him standing in the doorway. Smiling, he gestured toward the tree. “Kirsten will love it.”

  “I hope so,” she said, gathering up her things. Kirsten should be there soon. “I’d like to make her happy.”

  Harry eyed Gracie curiously, and she squirmed under his gaze. What had he made of her remark? Did he know she’d also like to make Merett happy? “Thank you for asking me here today. It’s an honor. I can tell by your wife’s decorating materials that she knew fine things. I’ll bet she entertained beautifully.” Gracie hesitated, then rushed on to confide. “I’m giving a party, an open house, on the fourteenth, and there’s a lot I don’t know. I wish your wife were...” She broke off, the color rising in her cheeks.

  “Alice could have trained you well.” He rubbed his brow. “Maybe I can help. She taught me a lot. Sit down.” Waving her toward Kirsten’s window seat, he seated himself on the bed. “Tell me what you have planned.”

  “I think you should serve coffee and a mulled cider,” he said, when she finished. “The sweets you’ve described sound perfect, and I’ll have Mrs. Jarvis make you some canapés. In fact, I’ll loan her to you. And Alice has a silver tea service and crystal punch bowl you can use.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t. Something might happen to them.”

  “And if it did?” Harry shrugged, a frown passing over his face like a racing storm cloud. “It’s not as if we’re going to use them again.”

  Gracie heard the front door close. She shut her eyes.

  “Kirsten never arrives quietly. It must be Merett.” Harry stood and offered Gracie his hand. “I think you should talk to him.”

  “I tried to explain to Kirsten that ghosts aren’t real, but she got this wild idea.”

  Harry squeezed her hand. “I know you’d never lead her astray on purpose, and I’m counting on you to convince her it isn’t true.”

  Merett glared at her when she reached the bottom of the steps. “Well, if it isn’t the ghost host.”

  Gracie wasn’t amused. “I told her again and again the tale was a myth, and her mother couldn’t come back any more than Mirabelle could.”

  “Well, guess what? She doesn’t believe you. Or me. Or Dad. And you know what?” He leaned closer, eyes flashing. “Holly’s going to look for us in our New York apartment. So we have to move back. At once.”

  Gracie clapped her hand over her mouth. She’d lost so many people; she couldn’t lose him and Kirsten, too. Not that they were truly hers, but they’d become an important part of her life. “I had nothing to do with that.”

  “Then, who did?”

  Gracie dug clenched fists against her thighs and took a deep breath. She’d planned to apologize, but Merett wasn’t giving her a chance. “You talk as if everything would be perfect if you went back to New York. Like your life would be the same as before.” She stopped struggling to keep her voice even and let it rise. “You make it seem as if Holly’s just waiting for you there. So maybe that’s why.”

  “You think I’m to blame?”

  “I think it’s time you got on with your life. You have a newspaper that’s yours, but act as if your job at the Reporter doesn’t exist.” His mouth fell open, and Gracie reveled in pulling the rug out from under him. “You don’t know where you belong, so what can you expect of her? Kids need security, and you’re supposed to give that to her.”

  “What the hell do you know about raising kids?”

  “I know they need love and attention, something I never had, and miss to this day.” She hadn’t known she was going to say that, and reeled from her own words.

  He scrubbed his fingers across his eyes.

  Gracie edged toward the door. She’d never identified Kirsten’s pain with hers before, and now that she had, she hurt for the child even more. “I’m going now.”

  Merett opened the hall closet and handed her coat to her. Turning back, he gaped at the stairway. “What have you done to this house?”

  Gracie followed his gaze to the stair rail twined with silk greenery, velvet bows, and tiny gold jingle bells. “I…I decorated. Your father asked me to.”

  “You use
d Mama’s stuff, and cheapened it with those dumb bells.” Merett roughly jangled one.

  She’d done it all wrong, and Harry had been too nice to say she’d botched the job. She’d made a mistake, the same as when she wore Holly’s blouse. Gracie Singleton Saylor was a fake from Edge Road, who’d never be able to pull off the party she planned. And now that she’d confronted Merett about the way he raised his daughter, she’d never hear from him again.

  * * *

  Tired of staring at the computer screen, Merett buried his face in his hands. He’d begun to make plans for the Reporter, but when Gracie called his bluff about being afraid to move on, he realized that staying in Ferndale was a coward’s way out. A man with guts would return to the Big Apple, and rise to the pinnacle of success he’d promised himself.

  He’d hurt Gracie, and when she ran from the house, he knew for sure she’d be better off with him gone. But when he called his editor friend in New York to ask for a job, Tom Hendrix said he wouldn’t have an opening until after the first of the year.

  “My, my, Merett.” A cloud of perfume settled over him as Beryl Marcum stepped around the divider. Perching on the edge of the chair facing his desk, she crossed her legs slowly. She wore a gold military-style dress with a very short skirt that hiked to mid-thigh with the motion. “You’re deep in thought.”

  “Thinking is part of my job.” She set his teeth on edge, and for her to drop by now, of all times, seemed like the worst of luck. “What’s on your mind?”

  “You. And me.” She smiled, lowered her lashes, and leaned toward him. “We go way back, Merett. We could be good together. Good for one another.”

  He was too horrified to speak.

  “Don’t look at me that way. Holly would have approved. She and I were friends. Now, Gracie Singleton is something else.”

  “You’re out of your mind. You and I are oil and water. We don’t mix.”

  “We could.” Beryl’s voice remained sultry as she sat back to uncross and recross her legs. “Let’s have dinner, and see what we have in common.”

  “No.” He bolted out of his chair.

  “Oh, sit down. You’re acting like a scared little boy, and it’s not very attractive in a grown man.” She stood and moved close to him. “I’ll bet you are some man when you want to be.” She licked her glossy lips and took hold of his tie.

  Emma ducked around the partition to stack the mail on his desk. She leveled a cool look at Beryl. “I don’t recall you asking for permission to come back here.”

  “I don’t need permission.” She pulled Merett closer by his tie.

  “Ms. Saylor is here to see you, Mr. Bradmoore”

  “Thank you, Emma. Ms. Marcum was just leaving.”

  “You want me to leave so you can talk to poor little Miss Church Mouse?”

  Merett yanked his tie loose, and pointed furiously toward the divider.

  “You’re going to regret this,” Beryl said furiously. “Mark my word.”

  She tapped off on her high heels, Emma following, and he sank into his chair. He had to get a grip before facing Gracie. He’d acted hateful the last time they talked, and seeing Beryl leave wouldn’t make her any happier. His mind going every which way, he fiddled with the mail Emma had brought.

  “May I come in?” Periwinkle eyes peeked around the partition. Full curves straining at a clinging sweater followed. Gracie, her hair caught back with a ribbon in a low ponytail, appeared, wearing a printed skirt that flowed over beige lace-up boots. The feminine look suited her. She took the seat Beryl had vacated.

  “I came to talk about Kirsten.” Gracie looked down at her lap. “And to say I’m sorry your home decorations weren’t suitable. I’ll do whatever I can to make them right.”

  “They’re fine. Dad likes them, and he’s the one who hired you.” Merett squirmed in his chair. “Actually, I like them, too. I’m sorry for the way I acted.”

  “Then let’s talk about Kirsten. I want to make things right, and I have a plan. Let her spend the night with me. Let her find out for herself that life at my house...the old Larraby home...is ghost-free.” Gracie leaned toward him, eyes bright. “No chains clanking. No footsteps on the stairs. No ghosts anywhere.”

  It was a ludicrous idea, but he’d hurt her enough, so he weighed his words. “Just because Mirabelle doesn’t appear at your house on a particular night doesn’t mean she won’t another night. And it doesn’t mean Holly won’t visit our apartment in New York. Kirsten wants to believe. It won’t be that easy.”

  “I know, but seeing my house is perfectly normal will help. Meanwhile, we need to give her something else to think about.”

  “Other than a ghost? What would you suggest this time? A fairy godmother? A wizard? Or how about seven dwarfs?”

  “Oh, shut up!” Gracie’s words were soft and patient, her smile sweet. “Christmas is a miracle, Merett, and this is a miraculous time of year. Talk about Christmas.”

  “Ask for her list, you mean.”

  “That’s right, and plan to take her shopping for her grandpa and grandma. If you give her things to look forward to, she won’t have to keep looking back.”

  Merett tented his fingers and closed his eyes.

  “With pleasures in store, she won’t mind giving up the ghost so much.”

  What Gracie said made sense. Kirsten had been so thrilled with the tree Gracie put in her room she’d talked about it for hours. Maybe Christmas was the distraction she needed. A quick move to New York was impossible, and Gracie was trying hard to make amends. “Okay.”

  Gracie gave him a million-watt smile, and rushed around the desk to hug him. “You won’t regret this, Merett. I promise you.”

  Her cheek was velvety soft against his, and the sweet woman scent of her filled an empty spot in his heart. With a twist of his head, he could taste her lips, but a need so strong it twisted his gut rose inside him, demanding more.

  “Since this is Friday, tonight will be perfect,” she whispered in his ear.

  Any night would be perfect for what he had in mind. But it wasn’t him she was inviting to sleep over. With a wry smile, he hummed the opening to Ghostbusters.

  Laughing, she smoothed his hair back off his forehead. “It’ll work. Don’t be a doubting Thomas. Is tonight all right?”

  “Tonight?” He pictured her in his arms, in bed, her satiny smooth skin next to his. Tonight would be perfect. Ten minutes from now, the length of time it would take to drive to her house, would be even better.

  “Merett. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” he lied. The desires she awakened made him uncomfortable, but they were so painfully sweet, he was reluctant to let them go. He wanted to make love with Gracie. She was so tantalizing, so sweet and lovely. He touched his forefinger to her soft lips, and she parted them, her lavender-blue eyes wide with surprise. “Tonight is fine.”

  “Merett?” Beryl stepped around the divider again. “You know that dinner we were talking about?”

  Gracie sidestepped quickly. Merett bolted out of his chair, hating Beryl Marcum. “I thought you left. I told you…”

  “I know what you said, but what you said isn’t what you meant.” She perched on the edge of his desk and smiled cattily at Gracie. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to talk privately.”

  * * *

  Merett rang the bell, Gracie opened the door, and Kirsten threw both arms around her. “Daddy said I’m spending the night with you. That’s super. He picked me up so I wouldn’t have to bring Teddy on the bus. Where am I going to sleep?”

  Gracie’s eyes were on Merett, and he squirmed under her cool gaze.

  “Never mind. I’ll figure it out.” Coat still on, Kirsten ran for the stairs. “I’ll take my things up.”

  “Hello, Gracie.” Merett felt silly standing on the porch holding a raggedy-eared teddy bear and a pink overnight bag.

  “You forgot something,” Gracie called over her shoulder to Kirsten.

  “My coat.” She ran back to hang i
t up and left again, this time with her belongings.

  “I know you’re in a hurry,” Gracie said, starting to close the door.

  Her cheeks bore twin red dots. “Are you okay?” he asked, concerned she might be getting sick. She nodded and pushed the door a few inches farther. He stopped and held it open. “If this is about Beryl, I want to explain.”

  “I told you to get on with your life, and what you do is your business, but I was surprised to learn you’d started dating her.”

  “You’re jealous.” He couldn’t help grinning.

  “Like Hades, I am.”

  He wiped the smile off his face with difficulty. Gracie was a good, old-fashioned girl. “It’s cold standing on the porch. May I please come in?”

  A sharp breeze whipped snow off the porch through the screen door. Her face impassive, she stepped aside with a sweeping gesture.

  Another couple inches of snow had fallen overnight. Stomping his feet, he closed the door behind him.

  “I’m not jealous,” she announced, arms folded. “Why should I be?” She had him there. She’d never said she cared about him, but for some reason, he thought she did. “But Beryl, of all people.” Gracie’s voice dripped disgust. “I ran out because she makes me sick.”

  He’d tried to forget Beryl’s visit and threat to make him sorry, which she’d repeated with even more venom the second time. But it was clear Gracie hadn’t forgotten, and he took her hands in his. “I threw her out of my office the first time, and she came back for a second round.”

  “It was only a matter of time before she came after you.” Gracie sighed. “You are the best-looking single man in town.”

  Merett chucked Gracie under the chin. “You really think so?” She turned her head, and he turned it back again, gently. “Beryl did suggest dinner, and say we’d be good together. Whatever that means,” he added, in a suggestive tone.

  Folding her arms, Gracie huffed. “You were right to want to keep a low profile. If we hadn’t gone to Savino’s...”