Christmas Kisses Read online

  “Who are these children?” he asked, accepting the cup.

  “Aunt Harry’s kids.”

  “Really? I didn’t know she was ever married.”

  “She wasn’t. She adopted the children through an orphans’ foundation. Most of them live in South America. She sends money each month for their maintenance and education.”

  “But there must be eight or nine kids here.”

  “I told you. She’s generous to a fault. She’d send every cent she has, if I didn’t stop her. That’s why I want her winnings securely in a trust before I tell her. It makes her happy to take care of the kids. She calls them hers, but there comes a time when someone has to look out for her welfare, too.”

  “The check will be here in less than a week. The winning name is already public,” Russ warned. “I’m surprised it wasn’t mentioned tonight. Don’t you think you should tell her before she finds out from someone else? She’ll think we’re trying to cheat her out of her share.”

  “She’d never think that, but I intend to tell her. I’m just waiting for a day she’s in a clear frame of mind.”

  “She seemed clear as a bell tonight.”

  “Russell, I’m so glad you could join us.” Aunt Harry approached, smiling. “Did you get enough to eat?”

  “Everything was delicious, Miss Morris.”

  “I just love holidays, don’t you? Having friends and family around. There’s nothing better.” She studied the pictures lining the mantel, her eyes shining with love. “I wonder if my children are having fun today. I hope they’re having a good holiday. If only they could be here. If only I had more money to send them.”

  The wish hung silent among them. Russ cleared his throat, and glanced over at Beth.

  She looked away.

  Russ asked softly. “What would you do if you had more money, Harriet?”

  “Oh, don’t listen to my senseless prattle. You know how I am. Money isn’t important to me, Russell. I’m rich beyond belief. Just look at my wealth.” She patted Beth, and her hand swept the mantel expressively. “Look at my blessings. Nobody can put a price tag on happiness. Money can only buy temporary things. Love and family are forever.”

  Russ glanced at Beth, and she blushed.

  “Aunt Harry.” Beth cleared her throat. “I have something to tell you.”

  “About us winning the lottery? Isn’t that a hoot!”

  Beth’s mouth dropped. “You know?”

  “Well…yes. We’ve been talking about it all evening.” She eyed them quizzically. “Where have you been?”

  “Aunt Harry, you knew, and you didn’t say anything?”

  “I knew Russ bought the winning ticket with my dollar? Heavens yes. You didn’t think you could keep a thing like that a secret, did you?” Her witch’s hat tilted seriously to one side, and Beth reached over to straighten it.

  “You’re rich, Aunt Harry.”

  “I know, dear.” Harriet patted her hand. “And now, I have money to boot. One million will buy a lot of temporary satisfaction.”

  “No, Aunt Harriet.” Beth’s voice firmed. “I don’t want you to waste that money. I’ve talked to Hague at the bank, and we’re setting up a trust—something for your old age.”

  “Well, my goodness.” She patted Beth’s arm. “Isn’t that sweet of you? Cash is so much better than small appliances. Goodness knows, I have enough of those. Maybe I’ll just send a small portion to the orphans’ foundation. They have so many needs—”

  “Harriet, maybe you should think about investing the money for your retirement,” Russ suggested, ignoring Beth’s pointed look.

  “Oh, my. What do I know about investments?”

  “Well, I know a little about them—”

  “I don’t know, dear. I’ll have to think about it. Now, would the two of you like another piece of gingerbread? There’s plenty.”

  Beth and Russ both passed.

  “I’m neglecting my other guests. I’m going to speak to George. He thinks I might get to play bingo again.”

  Russ and Beth watched Aunt Harry join the small group of friends standing with George, then looked at each other.

  “She knew all along about the money.”

  “I know,” Beth murmured. “She never said a word.”

  “Are you sure she’s…”

  “Nuts? Yeah, I’m sure.”

  Russ took her arm and steered her toward the front porch for a breath of air. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Did you reach your broker?”

  “Yes—he likes my idea. We’re buying heavy.”

  “Russ,” Greg cut them off at the doorway. “Are you going to be in Morning Sun for long?”

  Russ wanted to say, not long enough. He covered his disappointment for the interruption, as Beth excused herself to join Harry with the few remaining guests. He watched her with them. He’d seen her in a variety of peculiar circumstances, but he’d never seen her as genuinely warm as she was tonight. She obviously loved Aunt Harry’s friends, touching each on the arm, or giving a brief hug as she talked with them, laughing at their comments.

  The two men exchanged small talk in front of a mantel that resembled a scene straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Russ’s gaze roamed the homey setting. Decorations, food-laden tables, friends and family. If Aunt Harry’s eccentricities ran in the family, they weren’t evident in Beth or Greg.

  Beth’s laugh caught his attention. Who was the real Beth? The woman who sometimes acted as eccentric as her aunt, or the caring, self-sacrificing niece who carried more family responsibility than any woman should have to? He didn’t know the answer.

  Finally, there was no more delaying the inevitable. Everyone else had left, and Harry had gone to bed with the admonition to Beth, “Wrap up some leftovers for Dave to take to Jasper before he leaves.” Russ had to go home. If Dave’s house was lonely before, it was going to feel like Siberia tonight.

  “I’m glad you spent the evening with us.” Beth stuffed her hands in the well-worn jeans pockets. She had slipped upstairs and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, and she had never looked more gorgeous to Russ.

  “It was a great time. Thanks. This evening was better than winning the lottery.”

  “Oh sure!” she scoffed.

  “Seriously, I agree with Harry. Money can only buy things. Family—good family—and friends are priceless.”

  She glanced over. “You miss your parents, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, especially on holidays. Dave and I talk on the phone, but we’ve drifted apart.”

  “Just a sec. I have to walk off that last piece of gingerbread. I’ll walk you home.” He protested, but she grabbed a jacket and pulled him out the door. As they walked up the drive to Dave’s house, she paused and put a hand on his arm. “Got room for one more cup of coffee?”

  “I couldn’t possibly. Not one more. Maybe never.”

  He stepped closer. She wasn’t going to dismiss him this easily, not if he could prevent it. The moment was here. He would not ignore it. She was already half in his arms.

  Drawing her to him, he met her expressive gaze. Surprise, question, curiosity filled her eyes. Surrender would have been nice, but he’d evidently have to work harder for that. For now, he’d take whatever she was offering.

  She had such a kissable mouth. Bending, he brushed her lips once, twice, then lingered. She tasted of crisp fall air and gingerbread spices. With a sigh, she trembled, and stepped closer into his embrace.

  “You taste good,” he murmured, breathing deeply with relief.

  She relaxed letting her arms move up his chest to rest over his shoulders.

  “So do you.” This time she took the initiative. The impact was enough to drive him mad. He wanted her, wanted her in a bad way.

  Meeting her eyes, he cautiously lowered his mouth to take hers. It was a long time before either of them was inclined to surface for air.

  “Now—” he smiled, leaning back against the door, settling her against him “—isn’t th
is better than ignoring me?” His hands moved down her back, pressing her closer.

  “Yes,” she whispered, but there was fear in her response.

  “What are you afraid of Beth?”

  “You.”

  “Me?” He chuckled. “I’m harmless.” Hell, he was so harmless he was a disgrace to manhood. How long had it been since he’d been with a woman?

  “No,” she gently pushed away. “You’re quite lethal.”

  He tried to draw her back into his embrace, but she held him off. “It’s late. I really have to go back.”

  “Not that late.”

  “Too late.” She smiled, leaning back to kiss him lightly on the mouth. “See you around, winner.”

  “Yeah.” He followed her to the end of the walk and watched her all the way back, wondering just what was so lethal about him.

  She was the loaded weapon.

  CHAPTER 6

  BETH IMMEDIATELY called and made plane reservations. Russ helped her with a list of places to go and wished her well on seeing the world.

  “Take care of yourself, and don’t forget to come back,” he joked at the airport.

  A bad case of last-minute jitters made her consider staying home for a brief moment. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll be home sometime.” She took a deep breath. Leaving Morning Sun wasn’t quite as easy as she thought it would be, even for a short time.

  Russ insisted on carrying her bag and staying with her until she boarded. He walked her to her gate. There wasn’t much to say.

  “Well, this is it. Off to Europe.”

  Money could buy a lot of things; none which seemed all that important at the moment. There was so much she wanted to say. Will you be here when I come back? Will you miss me while I’m gone? What will you be doing every minute while I’m so far away? I will see you again, won’t I? She swallowed hard.

  Russ tipped her chin and kissed her lightly. He was so warm. So comfortable. His arms felt so good. “Take care of yourself. I’ll be here if you need me.” He handed her the overnight case she was carrying on the plane, and she went toward the boarding gate. This was going to be fun, she reminded herself. She was rich! Life was perfect. Wasn’t it?

  * * *

  LONDON WAS COLD and foggy. She’d caught a cold as she’d walked along the Thames River and got soaked watching the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. She was running a temperature by the end of week one.

  She rode on the top deck of a bus for the experience, took the tube to Harrods, then visited Madame Tussaud’s, The London Museum, and the National Gallery. How many different versions had Van Gogh done of sunflowers anyhow? Fish and chips were tasty and scones reminded her of Aunt Harry’s sweet breads.

  Harrods offered all the shopping her feet could stand. Aunt Harry would love the Beatrix Potter tea set Beth had bought for her. It was sure to be the centerpiece at Easter dinners for years to come. On an impulse, she bought a twelve-inch hand-painted china replica of Jasper. The dog could have posed for the artist. Maybe Russ would think of her when he looked at it in Washington. The thought of Russ brought a physical pain to her heart, and she shivered even though the store was warm.

  Paris was vibrant and exciting. The taxi drivers scared Beth half to death. Notre Dame was beautiful. The huge stained-glass windows were absolutely breathtaking. Tears welled in her eyes as she followed the tour through the cathedral. Were her tears for the tragic history, the depressed seeking refuge here, or were they also for herself?

  She took a ride down the Seine. The couple seated in front of her snuggled and kissed during the entire trip. Would Russ still be in Morning Sun when she returned? A busy signal was all she received last night when she called home. The phone had to be off the hook again. The aliens were evidently in a talkative mood.

  She rode the Métro. She ate at sidewalk cafés. Men noticed her. One approached and spoke so rapidly she hardly got a word he said, except she did understand that the tall, handsome Frenchman was on the prowl when he slipped his arm around her shoulder and leaned close. She pulled her sweater around her, and left a full plate to hurry back to her hotel. She wasn’t hungry anyway. What really sounded good right now was a nice cup of hot cider and a slice of Aunt Harry’s gingerbread.

  Rome was amazing. The taxi drivers here were even worse than the ones in Paris. Saint Peter’s was awe-inspiring. Vatican City was beyond description. The Sistine Chapel was even more majestic than she ever imagined. She bought a calendar for Aunt Harry outside the Colosseum. The wild taxi ride to the Pantheon left her with a headache, which the dark interior did little to alleviate. She stood beside Raphael’s tomb enthralled, yet wishing she were home. She gulped down two Excedrin without water and hailed another taxi to go back to her hotel.

  This time Aunt Harry answered. “Harriet Morris, Planet Earth.”

  “Aunt Harriet! I’m coming home.”

  “Whatever for? Need more money?”

  “No, Aunt Harry. I’ll be home next week.” That gave her a few days in the Big Apple before she flew back to Morning Sun.

  New York was big and expensive. It poured every day she was there. Hotel charges were astronomical, and the price of a cup of coffee in Manhattan would buy a whole meal in Morning Sun. Were all big cities like this? Beth had her fill of big-city living by the third day in New York. Was she ever happy to be back in Morning Sun.

  This morning, she snuggled deeper beneath her down comforter, on her new mattress, in her own room, and thought about the rest of her life. Christmas was still six weeks away, and what a gift she’d already given herself. When she’d returned from her trip, she’d stepped off the plane and had gone straight to the bank of pay phones. Anne had been more than happy to sell her bookstore for cash money. That same day, Beth had purchased The Readers’ Nook, securing the deed with a handshake and a smile.

  And a check for thirty-five thousand dollars.

  Anne had made it plain to everyone that she was waiting to sell until the right person came along. Beth was the right person, and Anne was absolutely delighted that her beloved bookstore was going to one of her favorite customers. They’d signed the deed over coffee in the back room with Anne promising to stay on a few weeks to train Beth in bookkeeping, the ordering processes, and the proper procedures for buying and selling used books.

  Closing her eyes, Beth listened to Harriet downstairs. It was fantastic to be home again. Aunt Harry was glad to have her home, too, although she’d enjoyed MaryAnn’s company the two weeks Beth was off on her adventure.

  Now that Beth was settling in Morning Sun for good, there was no need for Harriet to move into Eldelson’s Health Care facility at the first of the year, as they had tentatively planned. Harriet admitted she was a little disappointed, but agreed to stay with Beth awhile, at least. Beth had had her taste of adventure, and Morning Sun was not so bad after all. “Home was definitely where the heart was,” she’d explained to Harry. And Beth’s heart had never left Morning Sun.

  Rolling to her side, she thought about a someone her heart was never very far from. Russ Foster. He must think she was crazy. Flying off at a moment’s notice to see the world, only to hightail it back fourteen days later. He did seem to get a kick out of the china dog she brought him.

  The alarm buzzed, and she slapped it off, then rolled out of bed. An hour later, she unlocked the door to The Readers’ Nook. By nine, the aroma of fresh brewed coffee mingled with the scent of spiced cider. Sighing, she flipped the Open sign into place, and began the first day of the rest of her life.

  Anne was there by nine-thirty, earlier than expected. It was easy to see she already missed the store.

  “Feels like another snow,” the older woman predicted, hanging her coat on the back of the office door. “We’ve sure had our share already. I dread to think what January and February has in store for us.”

  “Snow should put everyone in the Christmas spirit.” Beth poured Anne a cup of coffee. She would need all the business she could get. Anne had already warned
that January and February were slow months.

  “Let’s get past Thanksgiving first.” Anne chuckled. “You just became a store owner and already you’re talking like a merchant.” They both laughed, and Beth leaned over to hug her friend.

  “You’re right, Anne. I’ll take it one day at a time, but I’ve always enjoyed a good snow.”

  “You don’t want it to snow too much. People won’t come for your grand opening.”

  Beth had placed grand opening ads in the local newspaper and had arranged for a catering service to serve finger sandwiches, cookies and stuffed mushroom caps. She’d even coerced six-year-old Toby Garrett, who lived three houses from Aunt Harry’s, to act as official doorman. She hadn’t yet mentioned that she wanted him to wear a tuxedo and top hat. Hopefully, he was a good sport.

  That afternoon, between poring over the ledgers with Anne, and learning other aspects of the business, Beth waited on customers. Anne kept records in an ancient ledger, the figures written in tiny script Sales were meticulously entered along with purchases, deposits, and checks written, but Anne hadn’t balanced the books in years. Bookkeeping was not Beth’s strong suit, but even she knew checkbooks had to be balanced. She would have to buy a computer and software to bring her books into the twenty-first century.

  “It’s going to snow,” Aunt Harry announced when Beth walked into the kitchen a little after six that evening. She proceeded to the stove and lifted the lid on a pot, sniffing but unable to detect an aroma. Water boiled vigorously.

  “What are you cooking, Aunt Harry?” she asked casually.

  “Cooking?”

  “In the pot.”

  “Is there something cooking in the pot? Well, add a little salt, will you dear?”

  Beth switched off the burner, and stepped to the refrigerator to make a cold turkey sandwich. “I’m not sure I like you quitting that good job and buying a bookstore. You’ll have to work longer hours,” Harry complained. “What did Mr. Herring say about this?”

  “He’s the boss, so he wasn’t happy I quit, but I had accumulated over six weeks vacation time. The trip to Europe wasn’t a problem. And I told him I would stay on until he found someone, but he knew I didn’t really want to. His wife’s filling in until they can hire someone to take my place. I told him they could call me anytime they need my help.”