BAH, HUMBUG!
A Romantic Comedy Novella
By Heather Horrocks
SMASHWORDS EDITION
PUBLISHED BY
BAH, HUMBUG! © 2011 Heather Horrocks
All rights reserved
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This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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DEDICATION
To my mother Loya and my mother-in-law Betty, who knew how to create family. I'm so glad I was part of your loving circles.
And to Mark. I'm eternally grateful to be inside yours.
Book Description - Bah Humbug!
Excerpt from While You Were Stranded (the first Chick Flick Clique romantic comedy
Excerpt from The Christmas Star by Diane Darcy
Book Description -- Bah, Humbug!
Lexi Anderson is an up-and-coming, Martha Stewart-type TV hostess whose two kids love the Jared Strong adventure novels, which happen to be written by their new neighbor, Kyle Miller.
For the first time in his writing career, Kyle has writer’s block--until he sees the snowman on his lawn and he realizes this is the perfect place for his villain to hide the weapon. He digs into the snowman to discover two things: the weapon fits in the body just under the head, and the snowman was supposed to be the back drop for Lexi’s next show.
From this improbable beginning comes friendship. Can there be more for a woman who is afraid to get close again and a man who has shadows from his childhood?
Families join together and hearts are healed as this couple goes walking in a winter wonderland.
SEVEN DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS
Satisfied, Jared Strong watched the police haul off another crook to jail--another crook he had uncovered. He nodded to Melinda and said, “I knew it was old Mr. Sellers all the time.”
Leaning against the headboard of her bed, Lexi Anderson sighed and shut the book. “We did it. We reread the third Jared Strong book, just in time to buy the new one when it comes out Tuesday.”
Her two pajama-clad children leaned into her, one of each side.
Steven said, “I think it’s so cool how Jared always knows who the bad guys are.”
“That’s because you’re nine. When you’re as old as I am, you’ll like Melinda better,” said Trista, from her ripe old age of eleven, referring to Jared’s best friend and co-detective.
“I don’t care what you say. I want to be a detective when I grow up. Just like Jared.” And Steven snuggled back into Lexi’s side and hugged her arm. “Read the last chapter again, okay?”
“Okay.” She smiled as Trista tried to feign indifference.
As she reread the ending, she was filled with a sense of contentment. She was reading her childrens’ favorite book in their beautiful new home.
Things hadn’t always gone so smoothly. She’d had some hard knocks. Her parents had died in a car crash when she was seventeen. She’d married her boyfriend in what she now realized had been a desperate attempt to create a family around her.
Unfortunately, on his twenty-fifth birthday, her husband decided family wasn’t what he wanted, and had taken off to “experience life.” Neither she nor the kids had heard from him since then.
She avoided relationships because she wasn’t about to lose someone else she cared about. And she supposed she was overprotective of her children, but they didn’t seem to mind.
Since the divorce, she’d been forced to fight her way up from the bottom of both the financial and emotional heap. And now, well, they were doing all right. She had been called a younger, fresher version of Martha Stewart. She’d just signed a lucrative five-year contract to continue hosting her one-year-old national television show. She and the kids had more money than they could have ever imagined. Enough money that she’d been able to buy this house, their first, which nestled on a lovely lane with maple trees shaking hands above the street.
At first she’d worried about making the move from San Diego to Salt Lake City. But everything seemed perfect here. The way the kids raced through the house laughing and loving it just as much as she did. The way they all seemed to fit into this home as if they’d lived here forever.
She hoped they’d fit into the neighborhood and school, as well. The neighbors seemed friendly enough. When the moving truck pulled up yesterday morning, six neighbor guys had shown up and helped unload the truck.
There were still two bedrooms filled with boxes, but the rest of the house was unpacked and decorated for the holidays.
The house and neighborhood were perfect. Through the windows, she could see cars driving by, their lights dimmed by drivers wanting to see the decorations on what was known as Christmas Street.
Besides, the kids were excited because the Jared Strong author, Kyle Miller, lived somewhere in the Salt Lake area. Of course, that area covered small entangled towns from Bountiful down to the Point of the Mountain, so the odds of running into him were minute. But the chance of going to a local book signing had still been an attraction.
Best of all, this year the kids seemed to be doing better than ever in school. And the three of them had settled into a nice routine. They didn’t need anything or anyone else in their lives. They had each other and that was enough.
Next Friday, they were going to splurge, attend the book signing at Fashion Place Mall, buy the fourth book in the Kyle Miller series, Jared Strong and the Mystery of the Haunted House on Walnut Grove, and get Kyle Miller, himself, to autograph it.
As she closed the book a second time and looked down at her children, she decided she didn’t want anything in her life to change. Life was perfect, just the way it was. Safe, secure, single...and happy.
If only she weren’t so nervous about starting over, this moment might seem perfect.
SIX DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS
Jared stepped forward, taking care not to awaken the guard. He had to get to the bottom of this mystery, and he couldn’t do it without finding the...
What? What did Jared need to find?
And why was Kyle battling such a monstrous block on this plot? He’d tried a gazillion things so far. None of them had worked. And he wasn’t sure what he was going to do next.
He didn’t know where the villain hid the murder weapon. He didn’t know what Jared needed to find to solve the mystery. And he couldn’t make the ending work.
Pushing back from the keyboard, he stood and stretched out the kinks that five hours of sitting had worked into his muscles. Not that the five hours had done much good. Neither had the past three weeks.
It was eleven in the morning and he was going to have to spend the rest of the day working.
He was supposed to have this book to his editor, Ernest Billings, by the end of January. It was December seventeenth now, and he was still struggling with making the ending work on the first draft--and that meant he had at least another month after he actually finished the ending before he could polish the entire manuscript enough to email it to Ernest. The book was supposed to be on the shelf in another six months, which meant everything was timed far too tight.
He’d never missed a deadline before. And, since he was determined not to miss this one, he was just going to have to work through the holidays.
He crumpled up a sheet of paper and tossed it into the growing heap on his floor next to the waste paper basket. He had a cleaning service that came in once a week to keep the rest of his house clean--not that he was a slob, mind you--but his office was off limits. And, during deadlines, it could get messy.
He glanced out the window. Oh, great. The neighborhood kids had Christmased his yard again. There was a plastic elf lounging next to the big pine tree between his house and the empty house next door, and he had not put it there. He sighed. He supposed this was what he got for living on an official Christmas Street, where the entire neighborhood--except Kyle--decorated excessively. He could move, but not until after he’d finished this book.
He’d go out later and add the elf to the growing collection in his garage.
The phone rang. He thought he’d taken it off the hook, but obviously had forgotten. He glanced at the Caller ID. When he saw his brother’s name, he groaned. Oh, well, might as well get it over with quickly. Keefe would just call every few minutes until the ringing drove him crazy, so Kyle picked up the receiver. “Yeah?”
“Hi, Kyle. Dad asked me to call. Bet you can’t guess why?”
Oh, he knew why. The annual family get-together on the ranch. Except he couldn’t take the dreariness any more. He was almost glad to have a legitimate excuse. “Sorry, Keefe. I’m having fits with this book and I’m not going to be able to make it.”
There was a slight pause. When Keefe spoke, his voice was still pleasant, but Kyle could imagine how much it cost him to sound that way instead of as irritated as he doubtless was. “Dad’s gonna be disappointed.”
“Don’t you think that’s playing it a little strong?”
“He didn’t want to call you himself, because he’d get too upset. He knew you’d back out.” The irritation was there now. “Besides, Alyssa wants to bring some cheer back into the holidays for the family.”
“Don’t have time this year. Sorry.”
“You can be such a pain sometimes. Justin’s Eagle Court of Honor is on the Sunday between Christmas and New Year’s. It would mean a lot to him if you came.”
Guilt shot through Kyle’s veins. But he fought it. He was not going to pack for the family’s annual guilt trip. “Sorry,” he repeated, a slight chill in his own voice. “You don’t understand. I have this killer deadline and...”
“Oh, I understand just fine. I understand that your deadlines are grandiose excuses for not spending time with the people who care about you. You know, you may think you’re this high-and-mighty author now you’ve sold a few mystery novels--“
Kyle bit his tongue. He would not mention that his books weren’t just any mystery novels, but New York Times best-sellers. Three best-sellers, but who was counting? And if he didn’t finish this one, he was afraid there wouldn’t be a fifth in the series. “Hey, this is my job. You’ve got a regular job--“
”Thanks for reminding me.”
“--but I write for a living. And that means I have to finish my books. And this one is a bear.”
“They’re all bears of some color or another. Come on, Kyle, can’t you come out for a few days? Bring your laptop. It will really mean a lot to Dad. And I’d kind of like to see your ugly mug myself. Besides, it’s your turn to host.”
“If you want peanut butter and banana sandwiches.”
“Have dinner catered. Or take us to Red Lobster. You can afford it.”
Kyle was tempted. He had ordered pizza in for so many nights in a row that the delivery guy--Jake--seemed like one of his best friends. The one he saw most often, at least. But he couldn’t afford to take the time off this year. “You can come, but I might not answer the door.”
“If you don’t take a turn, then Alyssa will have to do it again. That’s not fair to her.”
“I’m really, really sorry. I tell you what, Keefe. If I push really hard, maybe I can get up there for the New Year’s festivities and the Court of Honor.”
“Oh, sure you will.” Keefe sounded extremely skeptical.
“It could happen.”
Voices raised in the background. Keefe sighed and said, “Wait a minute. The kids are fighting.”
Kyle watched as a FedEx truck drove slowly past his house. Needing to get back to his book, he turned back and drummed his fingers on his desk. Come on, Keefe. I’ve got work to do.
Music sounded in the background. Very familiar music. No wonder. Keefe had turned on Christmas music and the strains of Walking in a Winter Wonderland played over the phone.
“Okay, I’m back.”
“Turn that down. You know I can’t hear myself think with that rot playing.”
Keefe just laughed. “Oh, bah, humbug! yourself, Kyle. ‘Tis the season. You’ve just become a scrooge.”
“I have not.”
“A grinch, then.” Keefe got serious and his voice lowered. “The grieving has been going on long enough, Kyle. It’s been twenty-two years. It’s time we get over it. Alyssa would like this to be a healing Christmas for our family. Mama would want it.”
If there was anything Kyle didn’t want to do this year, it was deal with that particular hurt. “I’m going to hang up now.”
“Okay. Hey, I’ll see you next spring at one of your book signings. It might come as a surprise to you to know that some people don’t care about books, and not everybody in the world cares that you’re a best-selling author. And maybe one day you’ll learn that there’s more to life than deadlines. Like family.”
Kyle fought back his irritation. “I bet the next person I speak to knows my name.”
“That’s really nice. Too bad so few of your family can remember it.” A click told Kyle that Keefe had gotten the last word in their conversation.
He replaced the receiver and sat quietly for a moment. Why couldn’t his family understand how important his deadlines were? They were always pushing him to come to events--but his writing was his livelihood. Besides, he had fans who’d be disappointed if his next book didn’t come out six months from now. Kids.
And, speaking of writing, he’d better get back to it or he’d never get Book Five finished, much less need to decide on the official title, whether or not the publishing company actually used the one he chose.
Reaching over, he took the phone off the hook. Multiple potential interruptions handled with one simple motion.
He cracked his knuckles, put his hands over the keyboard, and picked up where he’d left off.
In other words, he was still stuck.
Jared had nowhere to go.
* * *
Lexi stood back and surveyed her work.
The snowman was magnificent. The three balls were perfectly round, each smaller than the one below it. He was the perfect snowman, with eyes of coal, a carrot nose, twig arms, red licorice lips and a brightly colored muffler. A slow smile rolled across her lips. “What do you think?”
Trista walked all the way around the rotund, frozen, white body. “It’s great.”
“I don’t know, Mom.” Steven pointed to its belly. “I kind of think it needs a knife sticking out right here and maybe some ketchup dripping down.”
Lexi rolled her eyes at her blood-thirsty son. “It does not need anything of the sort. The photographers will be rolling up the street first thing in the morning to film this snowman in front of this gorgeous pine tree for my first show on the new contract. There will be no knives, no fake blood, no heads cut off. Do you understand?”
Steven frowned. “Ah, Mom.”
Trista laughed. “Boys are so lame.”
Lexi’s cell phone rang. “Hello.”
“Listen, Lexi,” Craig said, “the party’s off for tonight.”
“Ahh, and both the snowman and the food are perfect.” Lexi teased with her favorite cameraman. “You’d better be kidding me, because that is not a funny thing to tell a woman with several hundred dollars worth of appetizers sitting in her brand new kitchen.”
“I wish I was joking. I’m calling from the hospital. Carolyn’s in labor.”
“But she’s not due for two weeks. Is she all right?”
“The doctor says she’ll be fine, but the crews have set up for the birth\. It’s looking like we’ll be here all night.”
Carolyn was a local single anchorwoman who had been artificially inseminated and thus become the focus of an on-going special edition story. And the news crews--who Lexi’d invited to a get-acquainted party--of course had to film the dramatic ending to the story.
Disappointed, Lexi glanced at the snowman and sighed. “Well, I suppose the snowman will last. After all, it’s below freezing. But I’ve got all this food,” she moaned.
“I know. I really wanted to see your new place, too. Sorry.”
Her “Bye” echoed after the click.
She sighed again. All that food inside her kitchen, going to waste. She and the kids couldn’t make a dent in it. She’d made enough for a large crowd. The same large crowd now crammed into a birthing room at University Hospital.
“What’s wrong?” Trista asked.
Lexi turned back to her kids with a sigh. “The party’s off. Carolyn’s having her baby.”
Steven tossed a snowball and hit Trista in the leg.
Trista shot him a don’t-you-dare-try-that-again look as she brushed the snow from her pants. When she straightened, she shrugged. “Just invite someone else.”
“Like who?”
“How about our new neighbors?”
Lexi smiled. “You are absolutely brilliant. That’s just what I’ll do. Come on, let’s walk down the block and invite everyone to a party.”
Trista started walking back to the house. “I think I’m going in to warm up, Mom. But you go ahead.”
Steven grinned and followed his sister into the house.
The cold was bitter today and Lexi was anxious to get inside her house with woman’s best friend--chocolate. Hot chocolate, to be exact. But she didn’t want that food going to waste. She supposed she could freeze it, but it would never be the same.
Lexi glanced at her watch. It was three-thirty now. She’d invite people for the time planned for the original party, six o’clock. She smiled. She was going to have a party, after all. She’d get to know her new neighbors, at least some of them.
And tonight, after everyone had gone back home, she’d give the hospital a call and see when they anticipated the birth. Carolyn did everything dramatically. Lexi wouldn’t be surprised if she’d be in labor for a day or so, just to out-do everyone else.
When the doorbell rang, Kyle groaned.
He was never going to finish this book. Let whoever it was stand there; he didn’t have to answer. Maybe he’d have a switch installed that would stop the doorbell from sounding when he didn’t want to be disturbed.
He changed to a scene at the end of the book and worked on it for thirty minutes or so, long after the doorbell quieted and the would-be interruption gave up on him, but didn’t get much done in that scene, either. With a sigh, he saved the file.
He hadn’t been this frustrated in a long time. Maybe what he needed was a short break. Yes, that’s what he’d do. He’d go for a walk around the block. He’d leave Jared still searching--forever searching--and forget all about the book for a few minutes. If that was possible.
Kyle turned to the window. It was snowing outside. It was indeed beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Unfortunately. And what was that outside? A newly made snowman at the edge of his yard, close to the elf and pine tree. Oh, please. How archaic. And how lovely that his neighbors had built it smack dab on his property line.
He supposed he ought to feel happy to have a snowman on his yard that he hadn’t had to build--except that he wasn’t in a snowman type of mood. He wasn’t ready for Christmas, Frosty or otherwise. Christmas just brought back painful memories.
He was ready for a walk. He needed to stretch and breathe some fresh air.
Stepping onto his porch, Kyle inhaled deeply. The cold air stung his lungs. He pulled his muffler up around his nose, and sloshed down the steps in his snow boots.
He was glad he’d stepped away from the computer. He needed some relaxation, something to take his mind off the story that wasn’t working. Perhaps his subconscious could unravel the plot kinks for him. His conscious mind certainly was having no luck.
Reaching the sidewalk, he turned right. And stopped as an idea began to form in his mind.
The snowman. That was the answer.
Why hadn’t he thought of it before? The villain could hide his weapon in a snowman. Perfect. The cops would never think to look inside a snowman, and it wouldn’t melt for weeks. But Jared could uncover the truth. It wouldn’t be enough to solve the case and end the book, but it would be a great twist.
He was really going to have to thank his neighbors this time. Who would have thought they’d help him by Christmasing his yard?
And what a nice job they’d done on the snowman, too. It was a shame to mess it up, but he needed to see if his villain’s evil plan would work.
His mind racing now, he reached into his coat pocket and grabbed a small flashlight. He’d use that in place of the villain’s weapon.
Clomping through the calf-deep snow, Kyle stopped right in front of the snowman. Was that red licorice? He loved red licorice. He popped it off and into his mouth.
Now, for the flashlight. He dug out a hole in the front of the protruding belly. He could stick the flashlight in, but it was obvious that the snow had been disturbed.
Okay, that wouldn’t work. What next?
He pulled off one of the twig arms and tried to cram the flashlight in the hole, but he soon saw that wouldn’t work, either. Even if he could push the flashlight into the tiny hole, he’d never be able to push the twig back in to hide it.
The head. He lifted it off and sat it next to the body. Digging busily, he scooped out a hole in the top of the body and laid the flashlight in.
Perfect. Now he’d just put the head back on. Reaching down, he was startled by a woman’s angry yell.
“Hey. What in the heck are you doing to my snowman?”
Looking up, he watched a woman fly up the sidewalk toward him.
Guilt grabbed him. He hadn’t really done anything wrong. After all, the snowman was on his property. Still, she seemed very upset. “Is this your snowman? Why did you build it here?”
She dashed up to the snowman and stared at it, disbelief and horror apparent on her face. She pointed to the empty house beside his. Too late, he noticed the unlit Christmas icicle lights dangling across the front.
“I just bought this property.” She turned on him with fury in her eyes. “What kind of a person tears apart snowmen?”
She reached for the head.
Feeling really stupid, Kyle said, “Here, let me--“
Leaving the head where it lay, she snapped her hands onto her hips. “You have done quite enough already. Please leave. And please do not tell me you live anywhere around here.”
He supposed she meant to look intimidating, but he was struck by her appearance. Why did she look so familiar? He’d swear he’d seen her before, somewhere. Her long red hair flared out from under a purple snow cap. He wondered if her incredibly dark green eyes would lighten when she wasn’t so angry.
And because she was so enraged, he certainly wasn’t about to admit he lived next door. Instead, he said, “I’d like to help you fix the snowman.”
She crossed her arms and drew herself up to her full height, which must have been five foot five, tops. “No. Please go ruin someone else’s decorations. And take your flashlight with you.”
He stepped back and caught the tossed flashlight. Fine. He’d offered to help and he’d tried to apologize. If she didn’t want to accept either, there wasn’t much he could do about it.
He stepped onto the sidewalk. He wasn’t about to go home now. He’d continue on his walk, and hope she was inside when he came back around the block. Three houses farther down, he looked back to see the woman lift the snowman’s head and drop it into place. She looked up and caught him watching her.
She turned her back on him.
He turned and continued his walk. If she was still outside when he came back around, he’d have to sneak in the back door.
It was unfortunate he’d gotten off to such a poor start with his new neighbor. Especially one as attractive as this one could be--at least he assumed she could be, when she wasn’t angry and scowling.
* * *
She could still feel that man’s gaze on her back. Darn him anyway. Who did he think he was, destroying other people’s snowmen? She hadn’t seen him when she knocked on neighbors’ doors, and hoped he didn’t live nearby. It would be a shame to ruin a nice street like this with an attitude like his. That guy had better beware if she caught him on her property again.
She set the snowman’s head on top and moved it around until it settled into place.
She tipped her head in disgust. It would take forever to fix this. She lifted the twig and stuck it back in place.
With a huge sigh, she began packing snow onto the hole in the belly. Her anger kept her going. Even an hour later, when she’d repaired the snowman to her satisfaction and trudged up to her house to find a FedEx package waiting for her, leaning against the brick on her porch.
Wondering who’d already sent her a gift in her new house, she lifted the package. But it wasn’t addressed to her. It was addressed to Kyle Miller.
Kyle Miller. As in the author?
She checked the address. 501 Sycamore. Her house was 503. They lived right next door to the Kyle Miller? To the Jared Strong guy? Wait until she told the kids.
But maybe she’d better wait until she made sure this Kyle Miller was actually the author. The name could be a coincidence. Miller was a common enough name. So was Kyle.
She knew the author lived somewhere in the general area. But she’d better not jump to conclusions.
Maybe the package was from a publishing house. She checked it. It was from “Keefe and Alyssa,” whoever they were.
She carried the package inside, set it on the end table, and shrugged out of her parka.
Just in case she really was going to meet the Kyle Miller, she was going to brush her hair, freshen her makeup, and wear her nice coat.
The day was looking up.
* * *
Clutching the FedEx package in her gloved hands, Lexi pulled her good coat closer around her as she waited for Kyle Miller to answer his doorbell.
She knew someone was home. She had seen someone through the windows a few moments ago. Come on, it’s freezing out here. She’d come to this house earlier, but no one had answered. But she really wanted to meet Kyle Miller and invite him to the party--whether he was the author or not.
She knocked on the door again. Hard. Her breath hung frozen in the air, and she wrapped her muffler around her mouth. At least her lips warmed a little. It had started snowing again, and flakes melted on her forehead and ears.
Finally, when she could barely feel her cold fingers any more, the door creaked open, and a man poked his head out. “What on earth are you doing out there in this snowstorm?”
It was the jerk who’d knocked over her snowman! Oh, great. The Kyle Miller she lived next to was a jerk. She prayed now that he was not the author, because the disillusionment would be a great blow to her children.
He must not have recognized her yet, because of the muffler. She decided to go with it for now. “I’m doing just what it looks like. I’m freezing my fanny off.”
“Oh, right. Come on in.” He motioned inside.
Still carrying his package, she stepped into the foyer.
Warmth. Blessed, delightful warmth.
No Christmas tree, though, or any decorations. Surely he wasn’t married, or his wife would have taken care of it. Of course he wasn’t married, she smacked herself mentally. Who’d want him?
The man closed the door behind her and she wondered if she should be worried, though her anger still burned hotly enough over her vandalized snowman that she felt she could hold her own.
“Here’s an umbrella you can use to get back home.” He brightened as if he’d just realized something. “You are the very first person I’ve talked with since Keefe’s call. Tell me, do you know who I am?”
“Sure.” She glanced at the package as if to check the name. “You’re Mr. Miller.”
“Kyle Miller. Surely you’ve heard the name.” He sounded disappointed. “I’ve been on the best-seller list.”
She paused and tried to paste a blank expression on her face--not that he could see it--as her heart sank. He was the author. Well, if it meant something to him to have her recognize his name, she was glad to pretend she hadn’t. “No. Can’t say I have. I’m just here to--“
He interrupted. “Do you read?”
“Oh, yeah. All the time. Voraciously. I finished Dick and Jane just last night. Fascinating story. Listen--“
He interrupted again. “I’m serious. Don’t you read?”
“I was being serious, too. In a flippant sort of way. Of course I read books. I just have never heard of you.” She shrugged casually. “Sorry.”
“Oh, that’s okay.” He seemed to really notice her for the first time, and his eyes ran up and down her coat and stopped on her muffler. “Isn’t that hot?”
How hot you know not, Mr. Kyle Miller! “The FedEx man delivered this package to my house. Except it was supposed to come to yours.”
Choosing this moment to reveal herself, she pulled the muffler down and said, “Why on earth would you tear apart someone’s snowman?”
* * *
The woman’s voice was as cold as the storm outside and Kyle cringed at the sound of it. This gorgeous woman was the same one who’d refused to let him apologize earlier. Boy, he had really blown it. “It wasn’t what it appeared. I was trying to put the head back on.”
“After you beheaded it.”
“Well, yes, but only because I was looking for a place for the weapon.”
“Of course you were.” She frowned. “And I’m Santa’s head elf.”
“You don’t believe me.” Not that he could say he blamed her. Guilt flooded him as he remembered yanking off the head in his eagerness to try out his villain’s plan.
“No.”
“Well, I can go show you. The villain--well, I don’t want to reveal too much, but--“
She touched his arm and the warmth that tingled up his arm surprised him. “Listen, Mr. Miller, let’s just say I’m not stupid. I do read, and I can tell the difference between fixing a snowman and destroying a snowman. I’m really sorry we’re gotten off to such a bad start as neighbors, but I don’t really see that it’s my fault.” She stepped back. “Merry Christmas, anyway.”
She wrapped the muffler around her face, and then stopped and unwound it again. “Actually, I think I have heard of you. I did read one of your little mysteries. I didn’t enjoy it very much, though. Far too predictable.”
FIVE DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS
“Where are they?” Lexi checked the front window again. “This is my first show here and the camera crew is twenty minutes late. I don’t need this today.”
Trista stopped her and took her hands. “Now, Mom, when I get this freaked out, you sit me down and tell me I need to chill out.”
“I don’t need to chill out. I need my camera crew here.”
“Trust me. You need to chill out. Your makeup’s going to do weird things if you don’t stop frowning.”
“My makeup?” Lexi asked, searching for the foyer mirror to check herself in.
“Oh, my gosh, Mom, chill out.”
The phone rang, and Steven grabbed it. “Hello...Yes...Yes.” He handed it to her. “It’s for you.”
“Hello.”
“Hi, Lexi.” Craig’s voice crackled over his cell phone.
“Hi, Craig.” She tried to push her worry back and keep her voice level. “Now I know Carolyn had her baby yesterday so you’ll need another excuse today.”
“We’ve had a flat tire, but we’ll be there soon.” He explained the details quickly and got off the line.
After Lexi hung up, she moaned, “What else can go wrong?”
Trista wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist. “Poor Mommy. Do you need a chocolate bar?”
Caught off guard, Lexi laughed. Trista had a way of joking her out of her funks. She teased, “Chocolate? You think I need chocolate?”
“Made you laugh. That means you owe me chocolate, too.”
Steven yelled out from the family room, where he was playing some video game, “Get me some, too.”
“No. Absolutely no chocolate.” Lexi worked hard to keep a straight face. “I need to stay slender for my television audience.”
“Well, without a film crew you don’t have a television audience,” Trista reminded her gently, and patted the couch. “Sit down, Mom.”
Lexi sank into the deep cushions with a sigh. “They’ll be here. Craig said it was just a flat tire. They’ll arrive any minute. My show will go on.”
And, because Trista had succeeded in making her laugh, Lexi realized she had calmed. Things would work out--even if they were shooting two shows today to last through the holidays so they could all take the next week and a half off.
“It’ll be okay, Mom,” her daughter reassured her.
“You’ll do fine,” Steven said as he came through toward the kitchen for a snack.
She laughed again. “You guys are the best family any woman could ever want.”
* * *
Kyle debated on whether to answer the phone, even when he saw his editor’s name on the Caller ID. On the fourth ring, he grabbed it. “Hello, Ernest.”
“Hi, Kyle. How’s it going?”
“Oh, good, good. Great.”
“Glad to hear it. Doing anything special for the holidays?”
“Just getting the book done.”
“Even better.”
“You’re a slave-driver, Ernest.”
“And you are a miracle writer. Listen, I’m calling to let you know that the production people just moved up your deadline by two weeks. I said it was okay, because you’re always way ahead of schedule, so I figured this wouldn’t bother you.”
Kyle suppressed a groan. “Can they change it back?”
Ernest laughed. “Like you actually need it. Come on. You’re the most reliable, punctual writer I’ve ever worked with.”
Kyle couldn’t believe this. He could complain, but he was determined to meet all his deadlines. And he wasn’t about to admit to Ernest the trouble he was having. If he had to confess all two weeks early, so be it. “So the new deadline is the middle of January?”
Kyle turned toward the window. Outside, a camera crew stood around the snowman he’d trashed yesterday. His neighbor was standing in front of the restored snowman, and the film crew was filming her. Must be some sort of special about their Christmas street.
Ernest laughed. “Middle of January. You’re incredible. So it’s coming okay, then? It was all right for me to switch the deadline?”
“Nearly done, Ernest. Just a little more tweaking,” he said with very little hope that he spoke the truth. “It’s almost there.”
“Good to hear that,” Ernest said. “Oh, and the art department needs information to start working up the cover art. Got anything for me?”
Kyle stared back out the window at the snowman. It was the best idea he’d had, so far. “Use a snowscape and a snowman.”
“Sounds great. Talk with you next week. And have a merry Christmas.”
As he hung up the phone, he knew he was going to have to figure out some way to break free of this writer’s block he was caught in. He’d just lost two weeks, which meant he was under more pressure than ever. And he now had to make the snowman work into his story.
He sank back into his chair, looking at his calendar to see just how bad the situation was, and caught sight of the note reminding him of the book signing tomorrow afternoon.
He didn’t suppress his groan this time.
FOUR DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS
Why, oh, why had she let her kids talk her into coming to the book signing? But more than that, she couldn’t believe that she’d tricked her kids. Instant guilt hit her. Okay, okay, she’d actually lied to them. She’d called the book store and found out the signing was from one to three, but she’d told the kids four to six. She couldn’t believe she had lied to her kids just to keep from confronting Kyle Miller again. Whatever had possessed her?
And she’d lied to Kyle, too. Twice in twenty-four hours. She was on a roll, but it wasn’t good.
Trista pulled on her hand. “Come on, Mom. There’s going to be a long line.”
Oh, no, there wasn’t. Guilt nagged at her. She wasn’t a good liar. And that’s probably why her kids had believed her--because she had never lied to them before. Oh, sure, the shot wasn’t going to hurt that much, that type of thing--but an out-and-out lie? No.
“Remember last year when we went to the bookstore party at midnight?” asked Steven.
“That was awesome,” said Lexi, feeling worse each moment.
When they reached the book store, there was no line. Just an empty table with a big sign and a picture of the artwork of the new book.
“Oh, no,” Steven cried out. “He’s not here.”
“He’s got to be.” Trista stopped. “There’s a book signing.”
Obviously trusting their momentarily untrustworthy mother, they both turned to Lexi. She’d really done it now. She couldn’t bear the disappointment in their eyes. “I’m sorry, kids. I must have made a mistake.” Another lie. You’re doing great, Lexi. Great role model here.
Trista’s lip quivered. “I wanted him to sign our book.”
Steven, more practical, said, “Well, at least we can still buy the book.” He scowled. “Unless they’re already sold out.”
Lexi tried to keep her voice light and free of lies. “Let’s go find out.”
Luckily there were still copies left, though they were apparently going fast. Lexi purchased a copy of Jared Strong and the Mystery of the Haunted House on Walnut Grove and wondered if she would ever enjoy reading a Jared Strong book again. She’d find out tonight when her kids insisted on hearing the first chapter.
Trista sighed. “I really wanted Mr. Miller to sign it.”
Lexi did her best to soothe her daughter--as well as her own guilty conscience. “Perhaps we’ll see him around.” After all, he did live next door. Unfortunately.
“Sure, Mom. We’ll meet Mr. Miller some day. Right.” Steven shook his head and led the way down the aisle toward the front of the store.
A door opened, revealing an office.
A man stepped out in front of them. Behind him, still in the office, stood another man. She recognized him immediately. Kyle Miller.
Her heart did double time. With adrenaline pumping through her veins, she should be able to lift up the floor to hide beneath. She turned her head and hoped he wouldn’t pay attention to her.
Her kids moved past the two men. He hadn’t seen her. The kids hadn’t seen him. Relief filled her.
The men shook hands, and the other man said, “I’d like to thank you again, Mr. Miller. It was the best book signing we’ve ever had.”
Her children spun around.
Trista gasped and grabbed Steven’s arm. “It’s him.”
“No, children, you must be mistaken,” Lexi said. She was busted. “I know this man. He murders snowmen.”
Kyle held out a hand and smiled at her traitorous children. “Kyle Miller. And you are?”
“I’m Trista Anderson. And this is my brother, Steven. Oh, Mr. Miller, we’ve read all of your books. We love your books.”
He glanced at Lexi and an irritating smile twitched at the corners of his smug mouth. “Oh, you do, do you?”
Steven spoke up. “We sure do. Our mom reads them to us. She’s read us every single one, lots of times. And we just bought your new one. Would you sign it for us?”
His gaze penetrated hers. She flushed warm from her head to her toes. He knew she’d lied to him, as well. He knew she read his books to the kids. Oh, crap. “I read it to them to show them the horrendous mistakes an author can make.”
“Oh, Mom,” Trista said with a curious look on her face, “you’re so funny.”
“Yes, isn’t she?” Kyle tapped a finger against his thigh. “I’d love to sign your book.”
Steven handed it over to him, excitement shining on his face. “I can hardly wait until Mom reads this to us.”
“I figured she’d read you Dick and Jane.” Kyle Miller smiled and flicked Lexi a glance.
Oh, well. Things couldn’t get worse, could they? She might as well joke with the man. “Actually, I can hardly wait for The Snowman Murders book that you’re obviously working on now.”
“Really?” Steven asked with wide eyes.
“Your mom’s such a joker.” Kyle ignored her, and smiled at the kids. “Would you like to join me for ice cream?”
“Hey, there’s the Jared Strong guy.” A young voice called out.
Lexi looked up to see a group of excited boys moving toward the author, who glanced at his watch. “Join me at my house at seven. Otherwise, we won’t have any privacy. It’s been nice to meet you, Trista and Steven. See you later.”
He turned to greet the approaching group of boys. She was surprised he did it so graciously, as if he really cared about these kids.
Sigh. She supposed it was only snowmen who were in danger around him. But she was determined not to go inside his house again.
It wasn’t until they were in the car that Trista wailed, “But we don’t know where he lives.”
Lexi’s conscience nagged at her again, but she didn’t say a word.
* * *
Kyle glanced at his watch. Seven-fifteen.
It didn’t look as though she was going to bring her kids over. Well, it probably served him right. After all, he had destroyed her snowman, the one she’d had to fix so the camera crew could film it the following day. He still felt guilty over that--guilty enough he’d invited her and her children over. He didn’t usually do that sort of thing.
He smiled at the memory of her face when her kids had spilled the beans about her reading his books to them. He had to admit it had helped his self-esteem, too, to know the next person he’d encountered after his conversation with his brother had known who he was, after all.
Yes, he knew that in the eternal scheme of things, it didn’t matter. But in his insecure author’s heart, he needed the confirmation. Any author would feel the same.
And she had given him an absolutely wonderful idea for hiding the weapon.
He guessed he probably owed her an apology, as well. Part of him was reluctant. But another part of him, the part that had seen the kids’ faces when he’d said to come over, made him want to not disappoint them.
And, if he was totally honest with himself, there was something about the woman that intrigued him. She wasn’t the most ravishingly beautiful woman he’d ever encountered--but she made a definite vivid first impression. And second. And third.
Well, he’d just go over there. Take his ice cream and his scooper and walk right next door and knock on the door. Why not? What could she do? He already knew she read his books and loved them, and the knowledge made him smile all over again.
Yeah. He’d go over.
“Okay, kids, it’s time for the angel. Help me know when she’s straight.” Lexi stepped onto the stool, and held the new white-robed tree-top angel she’d found. It was gorgeous, topped with bright red hair and holding a bouquet of tiny lights. “How do you like her?”
When Steven came back into the room from the kitchen, he tilted his head and stared at the top of the tree, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Why do we have Ronald McDonald on top of our tree?”
Lexi caught Trista’s eye, and they laughed together.
“What’s so funny?” Steven demanded.
“Oh, sweetie. This isn’t Ronald McDonald. It’s just an angel with red hair.”
“Maybe it’s Mom,” Trista said.
The doorbell rang. Lexi glanced at her watch. Seven-twenty. Maybe it was neighbors delivering holiday goodies. “Would you go answer that, Trista, while I finish straightening Ronald McAngel?”
Trista nodded and disappeared into the entryway. Lexi hummed along with the Christmas song on the radio--Deck the Halls--and bent one of the top branches. There. The angel stood straight now.
Lexi surveyed the tree with satisfaction.
She and the kids had decorated it with wooden candy cane shapes painted to look like little horses, candy cane ornaments they’d collected, real candy canes, and red bows, and it made a striking tree. Yup. This one worked.
A squeal came from the entry area, and Trista called out urgently, “Steven, come here. Quick.”
Steven raced toward the door.
“Who is it?” Lexi asked as she started down the ladder. No one answered, but when she reached the bottom and turned around, she saw for herself.
Kyle Miller. Looking impossibly handsome, his presence filling the room though he hadn’t even entered it yet, but stood on the edge of the carpet. He smiled. “You guys didn’t come to my party, so I brought the party to you.”
“Look, Mom,” Steven yelled. “He brought us ice cream. We’re going to have ice cream with Kyle Miller.”
“How’d you know where we live?” asked Trista.
“I’ve got connections.” He smiled. “Besides, it wasn’t hard to discover. I live right next door.”
The kids’ eyes grew larger.
“We live next door to Kyle Miller,” Steven said in hushed, awed tones.
Lexi resisted rolling her eyes at the hero worship. Like the guy needed a bigger head. “Need more titles for your snowman capers?”
Kyle smiled at Steven and handed him a bag. “If it’s okay with your mother, why don’t you go scoop up the ice cream for us?”
The kids looked at her. She was trapped. She smiled what must be a sickly smile. “Sure.” Yeah. Scoop it up. Great. She’d known she couldn’t keep her kids from learning he lived next door for long--but she wasn’t ready to deal with this tonight.
As the kids raced off toward the kitchen, Kyle took a step into the room. “Listen, we got off to a bad start the other day, and I’d like to fix that, if I could. I’m very sorry that I ruined your snowman. This house has been empty for so long and the neighbors are always decorating my yard with lights and snowmen.” He smiled again. “They think it’s funny to Christmas my yard. I didn’t realize it was your snowman, or that anyone would care what I did with it. But I’m very sorry.” Then he just stood there, all handsome and solemn, waiting for her to speak.
Well, she’d be a total jerk if she didn’t accept an apology that nice. She stepped forward, too. “I forgive you.” She scowled in mock ferocity. “But don’t think that’s going to keep me from coming up with future titles for your books.”
To her surprise, he laughed. “So what’s the title of the day?”
“Let’s see.” She put her fingers to her forehead, stretching out the moment. “To Kill A Snowman.”
“I like it.”
She relaxed. And that was probably a foolish thing to do with a handsome man like this. Especially one who had that “interested” gleam in his eye, whose smile warmed her, and who seemed to fit in too easily with her family. She needed to keep up her guard.
She didn’t need a man in her life. Remember?
Everything was fine just the way it was.
No changes.
Remember?
And then her kids raced back into the room, their faces bright with delight at having their favorite author here.
* * *
Kyle watched the expression on Lexi’s face and wondered what made her look so pale.
She must have realized he still held his coat, because she finally offered to take it from him, and hung it in a closet.
“Your house looks great.”
“Well, it should.” Finally, she smiled. He’d guessed right--without the scowl, she was very pretty. “I have a decorating show and people expect it of me.”
“A show?” he parroted, sounding like an idiot. That must have been what the film crew had been doing yesterday.
The little girl spoke up proudly. “On Channel Four. Alexis Anderson.” She sounded like she knew he’d recognized her mother’s name.
He did recognize her mother’s name. That’s why she’d looked so familiar. “You’re Alexis Anderson? The up-and-coming Martha Stewart of the new millennium?”
“Guilty.” Lexi smiled. “Only without the prison term.”
“You look taller on television.” He whistled. “No wonder your house looks gorgeous.”
“Thanks.” She motioned toward the kitchen and the two kids who stood there, waiting for him. “Besides, I love Christmas.”
“Well, of course you love Christmas. You’re paid to love Christmas.”
Instead of being offended, she simply smiled. “I already loved Christmas. I just also happen to get paid for it now.”
“My family should have called you to host the family party, not me. I’m no good at this kind of thing.”
She led the way into the kitchen, and the kids fell back with him, and started asking questions. The questions all kids asked him: What’s going to happen in the next Jared Strong book? Will Melinda ever get Jared to notice her? Will anyone ever outsmart Jared?
By the time he’d given his standard answers--can’t reveal any secrets ahead of time; maybe; and never--he was seated at the table in the kitchen.
Lexi sat across from him. The kids sat on either side like bookends.
And suddenly the scene overwhelmed him. Everything was perfect. She’d just moved in, but her house was already totally decorated. He’d lived out of boxes for six months after his own move. Everywhere he looked touches of home and holidays jumped out at him.
On the front door hung a large red and green wreath.
In the living room, the beautiful candy cane tree appealed to the little boy in him.
In the entryway, large whimsical wooden reindeers pulled a sleigh filled with brightly wrapped gifts, and on top sat a stuffed Santa.
Boughs of holly entwined their way up the oak banister.
Mistletoe hung in the doorway to the kitchen.
Cinnamon and baked bread scented the air.
The closing notes of Deck the Halls faded, and Silent Night, Holy Night rang out.
His mother’s favorite Christmas carol. Homesickness swept through him. Not for his house, or his father’s or his brother’s. But for the home of his childhood, before his mother had died on Christmas Eve and left him and his dad and his two brothers to muddle through each subsequent Christmas season with just one skinny little Wednesday’s tree and a sleighful of aching hearts.
He needed to get out of here so he could breathe. At the same time, he wanted to stay and be part of a real family Christmas, if only for a few moments.
Before he could do anything, the boy asked him another question.
He took a deep breath for calm, and tried to listen.
* * *
Lexi watched Kyle across the table. He seemed so far away, as if he were in one of his books instead of here.
Her son repeated his question. “Mr. Miller, do you ever go speak at schools and stuff?”
That brought his attention back to the table. “Please, call me Kyle.”
Steven glowed.
“And, yes, sometimes I do speak at schools.”
“Would you come speak at my school?”
Lexi said, “Steven!”
“No, that’s all right. I’d like that, but I’m on deadline right now. I won’t be able to do it until I’ve sent my book to my editor.”
The boy’s face fell. “Oh.”
Trista said, “Steven’s birthday is on January fourth and we’re having a big party. Would you like to come over for cake and ice cream, Mr. Mil--um, Kyle?”
Kyle caught Lexi’s eye. Slowly a smile widened on his face. “Sure. What time?”
Steven’s eyes got big. “You’ll come to my birthday party?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Why not? I like parties. You’re going to have cake and ice cream, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” Steven’s grin filled his whole face. “I’m gonna have Kyle Miller at my birthday party. Wow. Thanks.”
Kyle smiled.
Lexi didn’t. “It’s very nice of Mr. Miller to offer to do such a nice thing, but I’m sure he’s much too busy to come here for your party during his deadline.”
“Ah, Mom.” Trista frowned. “He said he would.”
“Really. It’s okay.” Kyle said and his eyes darkened, though with what emotion Lexi couldn’t tell.
Before Lexi could say anything else, Steven overflowed with excitement. “This is so cool. My friends aren’t going to believe it. Kyle Miller will actually be at my party, and maybe you could read some of your book to us. Maybe we could have a mystery party like Mike had.”
Even Trista was swept away. “Oh, Mom, can I invite my friends, too? Maybe we could dress up like some of the characters. I’ll be Melinda.”
“And I’ll be Jared Strong!” Steven stood up and struck a heroic pose. “Ta-dah!”
Dismayed, Lexi saw change she wasn’t ready for. She didn’t want anyone to come in and upset their life. Her children were very vulnerable and she didn’t want them disappointed. She didn’t want to be in this man’s debt. She’d worked too hard to be independent.
She felt compelled to offer him something in exchange. “Hey, kids, why don’t you go up and get our first three Jared Strong books and ask Mr. Miller if he’ll autograph them for you.”
“Cool,” Steven said.
As the kids raced up the stairs, Lexi turned to Kyle. “It’s very kind of you to offer, but I need to do something for you in return.”
* * *
He raised an eyebrow, wondering what new, surprising thing she would come up with next. “What did you have in mind?”
“I’ll allow you to do my son’s birthday party.”
“Very generous of you.” He smiled.
She smiled back, brightly. “In exchanged, I’ll do your family’s Christmas party.”
Just like that, huh? He grinned. “Oh, you are quick. I didn’t know reading Dick and Jane could sharpen the mental skills like that.”
She flushed pink and had the grace to look sheepish. “I guess I owe you an apology for the other night, too.”
“Accepted, but that’s not what I meant. You make hosting my family party sound so easy.”
“How hard can it be? Fix a turkey dinner and some pies.”
“That’s the point. I’m no good at all that.”
“But I am. I love to host big parties.”
Not for Kyle’s siblings. Not for Kyle’s dad. And especially not at Christmastime. It was a tempting thought, just not a wise one. He shook his head. “You don’t know my family.”
She looked horrified, while her green eyes reflected mischief. “Does snowman mutilation run in the family?”
He couldn’t keep from chuckling. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, then, how bad could they be?” She leaned forward and touched his hand. “I would really like to do this.”
Warmth spiraled from her hand into his and zipped up his arm, melting his normal reserve, and he conceded somewhat. “Perhaps.”
She smiled and withdrew her hand. She had him, now. “One other thing...”
He mock scowled, wishing he dared reach out and take her hand in his. “What now?”
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