A Home for Christmas Read online

  She looked at the tangled mess in her hands. “I don't know how to break this to you, but I'm not a surgeon.”

  Blake chuckled. “You'll manage. Feel free to go sit on the steps while you work at it. Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thank you. I'm fine.”

  Such a proper response. Unless he'd missed something, she hadn't been feeling so proper a few moments ago. The doctor had been good and rattled. He was still feeling a little rattled himself with her sitting at least twenty feet away.

  “So, tell me,” he began as he repositioned the ladder and started back up it, “has the place changed much over the years?”

  “Not a lot. I remember there was always paint peeling somewhere on the house. My grandfather seemed to continually be scraping or painting a portion of the place. It was yellow then instead of white. The color of sunshine,” she said softly as she looked up at it.

  He'd go out tomorrow and buy yellow paint if it would make her happy. There was just something about her. She had a melancholy, faraway expression that made her seem so . . . sad. She must really miss her grandparents. Still, with them being gone so long, he wondered what had brought her back to their home after so many years.

  “But the yard was always immaculate.” She touched the boxwoods near where she sat with the tips of her fingers. “Grandmother loved planting flowers and trimming the bushes.” She looked up, “And those trees, they seemed perfectly round. I think they must have had men come every spring to prune so they'd stay that way.”

  “Did you come here often?” He righted the hook he'd been trying to reach earlier.

  “Not as often as I would have liked.”

  She had spoken so softy, he barely heard the words before she bent to the task before her.

  “You know, I think they make plastic things to wrap lights around so that they don't get in this kind of mess.”

  “Yeah, but that sucks the fun right out of it, don't you think?”

  She smiled up at him. “I don't know. I've never helped put up Christmas lights.”

  “Come on. You mean your folks didn't decorate for Christmas?”

  She shook her head. “Not with outdoor lights. My mother thought it was tasteless.”

  “But you helped decorate the tree, right?”

  She shook her head again. “Mother had a decorator do the tree. That is, when we spent Christmas at home. Otherwise, she wouldn't even bother with one.”

  “Where'd you grow up?” he asked, trying hard to keep disbelief from lacing his words.

  “My parents had a home in Connecticut, but I didn't spend much time there.”

  Blake scratched his head, trying to follow. “Why not?”

  “I lived at boarding schools.”

  Why would anyone want to send their child off to live in boarding schools? “But you came home for the holidays, right?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I see.” A picture formed in his mind of her as a little girl. A princess locked away in an ivory tower who wasn't allowed to play or do any of the fun, traditional things that made holidays special.

  “What about here? Didn't you ever come here for Christmas?”

  “I did once. Mother had planned a trip to Switzerland, but I got sick and couldn't go. So, she sent me here to stay with Grandmother and Grandfather because I begged her to let me come. Since she couldn't find a nurse to take care of me on such short notice with it being the holidays, she agreed.” She laughed. “Getting sick that year turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

  “What was it like?”

  Her face lit up, and he was glad to see that she had at least one happy Christmas stored in her memory. “There were lights everywhere. All around the house, in the bushes, along the walk. Inside,” she pointed, “a Christmas tree stood in that bay window. Grandfather cut it himself and brought it in from the woods at the edge of town. The tall pines, I think he called it. Anyway, some of the branches had fallen off from where he'd dragged it through town and the shape wasn't perfect, not like the trees Mother had. But I thought it was beautiful.

  “Grandmother made popcorn and taught me how to make a garland out of it. She let me help her bake shaped cookies and decorate them. And after I went to bed on Christmas Eve, she wrapped the presents herself and put them under the tree.”

  Sounded like typical things families did at Christmas. He got the feeling nothing about her upbringing had been typical.

  Blake studied her more closely then. The wistful look on her face went straight to his heart, creating an irrational yearning to give her fifty or so Christmases like that one she'd had with her grandparents. The thought should have scared him senseless. After all, he knew nothing about her. But instead, for some reason, it just felt . . . right.

  “She knitted me a green scarf. I thought it was the most wonderful gift I'd ever received.”

  The softness playing about her mouth vanished, replaced by an affected look of indifference. “Mother wouldn't allow me to wear it. She said it was the ugliest thing she'd ever seen. When we arrived back at home, she took it from me and threw it away.”

  “That's cruel!” The words were out before he could stop them.

  A slight smile lifted the corner of her luscious mouth. “I sneaked out that night and rummaged through the garbage until I found it. I took it up to my bathroom, washed it out, and hid it in my closet to dry. I still have it.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Finished.”

  He hadn't noticed that while she spoke, she had arranged the lights she'd been untangling into a neat circle at her feet. “Well, there's plenty more where that came from.” He tipped his head toward the pile in front of the bay window.

  She stared at it a moment, considering.

  “Or you could string those you just did around those bushes there in front of the porch.”

  “I don't know how,” she admitted.

  Finished with his task, he backed down the ladder and said, “I'll let you in on the secret of putting out Christmas lights if you promise you won't tell anyone.”

  She stood as he approached. “Cross my heart.”

  He looked over his shoulder as if making sure no one eavesdropped on the quiet, tree-lined street. “There's no real method to it. You just throw 'em on there, plug 'em in, then spread 'em out so the lights aren't too bunched up in any one spot.”

  She nodded, a mock-serious look etching her lovely features. “I had no idea.”

  He bent to pick up the lights at her feet then took her hand and led her to the boxwoods. “Well, it's top secret. If you tell anyone, I'll have to shoot you.”

  Janice laughed and smiled up at him. He now knew how it felt to be pole-axed. Lord, she was stunning.

  With fingers that felt like five thumbs, he grabbed the plug at the end of the lights and said, “We'll drop this here in back so it'll be easy to get to.”

  “Where's your family?” she asked as she, despite his instructions, methodically wrapped the lights around the first bush.

  He frowned. “In their homes doing the kind of stuff families do on Saturdays, I guess.”

  “Oh.” She seemed surprised. “You live here alone?”

  “Yep. Just me and the mice.” He smiled. “They're too smart for traps. I'm in desperate need of a cat.”

  “It's an awfully large place for just one person.”

  He leaned an arm against the porch railing as he watched her move to the next bush. “Well, I hope to fill it up with about half a dozen kids some day.”

  There was that surprised look again, except this one held an element of shock. “Do you have someone lined up to supply those for you? Or were you planning to adopt?”

  “Well,” he rubbed the stubble lining his chin wishing he'd shaved, “I'd like to fall head over heels in love first. Then get married. You know, manage it the old-fashioned way.”

  She didn't comment or look up at him, and he wondered . . . ”How 'bout you? Do you hav
e kids?”

  “No.”

  He wanted to ask about a husband, but figured that would be too forward. She didn't wear a wedding band or engagement ring. That was encouraging, but she could be one of those modern types who didn't go for the sort of relationship where the woman wore her man's ring and took his name.

  “I guess being a doctor keeps you pretty busy.” Probably too busy for a relationship of any kind. He thought of Doc Prescott, the town's doctor. He'd never married. Doctors had a lot of demands on their time.

  “Yes,” she agreed, still working at the lights.

  “What's your specialty?”

  “I'm an internist. Finished.”

  He'd been watching her face again and not paying any attention to her task. “Great.” He straightened away from the railing. “Let's plug 'em in.”

  Stepping up onto the porch, he retrieved a long, green extension cord, plugged it into a receptacle, and unwound it as he carried it down to the bushes. He found the end of the cord and plugged in the lights. The miniature, multicolored bulbs twinkled against the dark green bushes.

  Janice's smile told him she was pleased with her effort. “Perfect,” Blake confirmed.

  “Can I do those over there, too?” She pointed to the bushes across the sidewalk.

  “Sure. Use the lights in that pile.”

  She retrieved the lights and primly sat on the steps untangling them as she had before. He shook his head. She'd probably never slumped a day in her life. He left her to it as he concentrated on getting the lights up on the house. Plain white lights in strings around the windows and icicle lights in the eaves. His progress was admittedly slowed by frequent glances in his guest's direction.

  After they'd been working for some time, he noticed that Janice had allowed herself free rein in the placement of the lights. She'd finished the bushes and had started looping some of the strands with large multicolored bulbs around the porch railing. He didn't mind, but wondered if she was putting lights in places she remembered seeing them when she was a kid.

  A car stopped in front the house, and he turned from watching Janice to see who it was. Great. Just what he needed. His brother, Cory. Did the guy have radar or what? He stepped out of his red Mercedes sports coupe, dripping designer clothes and pricey cologne.

  “Hey, big brother. I see the annual day after Thanksgiving hanging of the lights is under way. Who's your charming assistant?”

  Here we go, Blake thought. He backed down the ladder and made the introductions when he reached the bottom. “This is Dr. Janice Thornton. Janice, this is my brother, Cory Ferguson.”

  Cory took Janice's hand and held it entirely too long. “A doctor. Well, now, they sure do make them younger and prettier these days, don't they?”

  Blake watched fascinated as Janice pulled her hand away from Cory's and rubbed her palm down her thigh as if trying to remove the feel of him. Blake smiled. He couldn't remember ever meeting a woman who wasn't affected by his brother's good looks and charm.

  “What are you doing in town, Cory? I thought you were skiing this weekend.”

  “Yes, well, that was the plan.” He eyed Janice like a choice piece of meat at the butcher shop. “Bebe's a little green around the gills and running me ragged fetching things for her. I'm thinking about hiring a nurse.”

  Wife number four was pregnant with his brother's first child. A child was the greatest gift a woman could give a man, but to Cory, it was just an inconvenience.

  “You stop by for a reason, Cory? Or is this just a social call?”

  Janice eyed the two men with open curiosity.

  “Mom and Dad asked me to come by today so we could discuss their Will.” Cory turned to Janice.

  Here it comes, Blake thought. The pronouncement.

  “I'm an attorney.”

  Janice didn't look particularly impressed. Blake's smile widened.

  “So, I was driving by and saw you out here. I just thought I'd stop and say hello.”

  Blake nodded. If Cory was fishing for an invitation to stay, he was doomed to disappointment.

  They all stood looking at each other for an awkward moment.

  “Well,” Cory finally said, “guess I'll get on out to the farm.”

  “Give Mom my best. Remind her I'll be by in the morning to help her with her decorations.”

  “Sure. A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Thornton.”

  Janice nodded, but didn't offer him her hand. Instead she slipped it into her pocket.

  “Later, Bro.”

  Cory slapped him on the shoulder and then turned to stroll back to his car. Janice and Blake watched until he pulled away from the curb.

  “How many siblings do you have?” Janice asked.

  “Five. I'm number three. Cory is number four.”

  “He looks much older than you,” Janice commented.

  He stood a little straighter at hearing her compliment. “There's only thirteen months between us. Mom had us all right together, except for my baby sister. She was a late-life surprise after all us boys.”

  “Your mother must be an exceptional woman.”

  He smiled down into Janice's upturned face. “She's pretty amazing. How 'bout some lunch?”

  Janice glanced at her watch. “Oh, I didn't realize how late it was getting. I'd better be going. I have that appointment to get to, then I should call the hospital. I may need to do rounds later.”

  “On a holiday weekend?”

  “Someone has to do it, and since I don't have a family, I feel sort of obligated to let my partners spend time with theirs.”

  Confirmation. No husband. “That's mighty considerate of you.”

  She shrugged and just stood there, making no movement toward her car. Despite her words, she didn't seem in a hurry to leave.

  “Maybe you could come back later. I'd hate for you to miss the lighting ceremony after all the hard work you've done. I'm going to be finished in record time, thanks to you.”

  She looked up at the house, shielding her eyes from the sun. She wanted to. He could see it in her eyes and in the way she nibbled on her full, lower lip.

  “I could make dinner.” Now where had that come from? He should just let her get in her car and drive away. He didn't know much about her, but if he would just think rationally, he'd realize he knew more than enough. She was a city girl. She lived a couple of hours away. She had a demanding, time-consuming job. All that added up to no time for a relationship, especially with someone who enjoyed the laid back, slower pace of a small town. He was at a point in his life when he didn't want or need to waste time on a dead-end relationship based solely on attraction.

  But he could dream. He hoped she was tempted. If circumstances were different, he wouldn't mind having the chance to get to know her a little better. To explore the feelings she evoked in him.

  “I'm on call. I shouldn't be so far from the hospital.”

  Yet she'd spent the entire morning with him, hanging lights. He wondered again what had brought her here. It must have been something pretty compelling to pull her away from work when she was on call. Who in Angel Ridge would be important enough for her to drive all this way?

  “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

  She looked up at him then. Her slow smile fired his already overwrought senses.

  “Likewise.”

  She turned to walk away, and he followed, appreciating the view. Her pants hugged her curves in all the right places. When they reached her car, he opened the door for her. She turned and, with her hand beside his on the top of the door, said,

  “Thank you for letting me help with the lights. I really enjoyed being here again.”

  “Come back by any time.” As the words left his mouth, he told himself that he'd made the offer strictly because of her family connection to the place.

  “Thank you.”

  She got into the car and turned the key in the ignition. When the engine purred to life, he shut the door and watched her drive away, unsure if he'd ever see her
again. He returned to the task of hanging the lights, but his joy in it had gone with his unexpected visitor.

  Chapter 2

  “Here you are. Come in, come in.”

  The elderly man who met Janice at the door of his home-office did not jog one memory in her, despite the fact that he was her great uncle.

  She took his hand and kissed his cheek above a downy white beard. “Hello, Uncle Charles.”

  “My, you've grown into a beautiful woman, Janice. I must say, you look just like your mother.”

  Janice wrinkled her nose, hating the comparison, but she supposed it was inevitable. He, on the other hand, reminded her pleasantly of her grandfather. Just looking at him brought another rush of warm memories to the surface. Memories of just-baked cookies and milk and crawling up into his lap and being rocked to sleep . . . .

  “Come and have a seat in the back parlor.”

  With the front of the old Victorian serving as waiting room and patient examination rooms, Charles Prescott kept an office and comfortable sitting room in the back for his private use. Funny, she couldn't ever remember visiting Angel Ridge's only doctor for either professional or personal reasons. Surely she must have seen him the Christmas she'd been sick and had stayed with her grandparents.

  “It's good of you to come out here on a holiday weekend.” He indicated a pairing of wing chairs with a sweep of his hand, and they both sat.

  “I must admit, I was intrigued by your call and a bit curious. May I be honest with you, Uncle Charles?”

  “Please.”

  Best to begin diplomatically. “It's been years since I've visited Angel Ridge, and honestly, I don't remember ever meeting you.” She didn't mention that her mother had never spoken of him.

  “I'm not surprised. I saw you just once when you were a little thing, even though your grandfather was my brother. You had a high temperature and were sleeping fretfully when I came by. Your mother had left you with Bill and Edna while she went off to Europe or some such thing.”

  “That's my mother.” She'd also been two days late picking her up from school that year because of a shopping trip to New York.