Christmas from the Heart Read online

  David and Terryl would be coming up for Christmas Eve, then leaving after breakfast in the morning to drive to her parents’ for a big family dinner. Livi would spend the afternoon at the community hall, serving dinner to those in need. Come evening, it would be just her and her father trying to fan the flames of Christmas cheer. She’d found a game she thought they could play together but she wasn’t holding her breath on that happening. There’d been no family games since Mom died. She hoped her father would at least like the crossword puzzle book she’d bought him. He used to be fond of them. He could be again.

  She’d baked candy cane cookies, holiday brownies and snowballs and delivered them to the neighbors. She’d also given Morris a plate of treats, slipping on a few pieces of the fudge she’d made for the Christmas movie marathon she was indulging in with Kate and Bettina. Kate had insisted they all needed a break and so they were binging on some of their favorite Hallmark offerings—The Nine Lives of Christmas and Marry Me at Christmas, then planning to finish up with A Christmas Carol.

  Her father, knowing he was being invaded by women, made himself scarce after dinner, retreating to the den, which housed a second TV. “You have fun with the girls, Snowflake,” he’d said, and vanished.

  She didn’t blame him. He’d never been one for romantic movies even when Mom was alive. Now they were anathema to him, and she knew he’d never watch A Christmas Carol again.

  Kate was the first to arrive, and came bearing chocolate chip mint ice cream, hot fudge sauce and a can of whipped cream. “Remember, calories don’t count when they’re shared with friends,” she said, quoting the sign that hung in Carol Klaussen’s bakery.

  “If that’s true then how come I always gain ten pounds at Christmas?” Livi retorted.

  “You’re too busy working and not spending enough time with your girlfriends.”

  “I’ve had more time this year,” Livi said. “I must be more organized.” Or maybe she had less to do now that she had less money to work with.

  Thinking about that put her in a grumpy mood, and, although she tried to hide it from her friends, it came out when they came to the end of A Christmas Carol.

  “I know, I just love happy endings, too,” Bettina said, misreading the tears in Livi’s eyes.

  “I’m not sure she’s thinking about Tiny Tim and the new and improved Scrooge,” Kate said, taking in Livi’s scowl.

  “I’m not,” Livi said hotly. “I’m thinking about a modern-day Scrooge and all the people who will be doing without because he couldn’t part with a few extra dollars this year.” She was having to make some heartbreaking decisions when it came to providing food to people. There simply wasn’t enough to go around.

  “His company turned you down, not him personally,” Kate reminded her.

  “Letting it go, remember?” put in Bettina.

  “He is his company,” Livi insisted. “And I have let it go. But he’d better hope we never meet in person.”

  “And what would you do if you did meet him?” Kate teased. “Poke him in the eye with a sprig of holly? Tie him to a chair with a string of Christmas lights and make him listen to ‘Holly, Jolly Christmas’ until he went crazy?”

  “Maybe I’d kidnap him and drive him around on Christmas Day to visit the homes of people who won’t be having such a good Christmas thanks to his stinginess.”

  “Like the Ghost of Christmas Present,” said Bettina.

  “Something like that.” Except in real life, heartless people in high positions rarely got to see how their stinginess trickled down to others.

  “We can’t help you there,” Kate said. “But...” She reached into the shopping bag she’d brought and pulled out a large, wrapped box. “I do have something for you for stress release. Open it.”

  Livi unwrapped the box to find her friend had brought her a dartboard. She raised both eyebrows. “Darts?”

  “Whoa,” Bettina said. “Are you forgetting what happened last time we played darts at Bruno’s?”

  Livi groaned. “Please don’t remind me.” She had completely missed the dartboard on every throw, and after her last throw punctured Steve Nixon’s behind she’d been banned from playing.

  “This is for your office.”

  “Oh yes, Tillie would love me putting holes in the wall.”

  “Or the privacy of your own bedroom,” Kate said. “Take it out.”

  Livi did and saw that her friend had superimposed a picture of a man who looked to be somewhere in his early fifties over the circle of colors.”

  “Who’s that?” asked Bettina.

  “It’s Michael Hightower, the president of Hightower Enterprises. I tried to find a picture of Guy Hightower but couldn’t.”

  “Hard to get a good picture under a rock,” Livi muttered.

  “Anyway, now you have something to take your aggression out on.”

  Livi thanked her and promised to make use of the present, although she’d have preferred to take her frustrations out on the man himself. He was so lucky she didn’t know where he lived.

  * * *

  Just what Guy wanted to do, drag himself all the way up to Arlington, Washington, to Aunt Cathy’s dairy farm before heading to his mom and stepdad’s so he could pick up his great-great-grandmother’s Limoges chocolate pot.

  “It’s a family heirloom,” Mom had explained, “and we don’t trust FedEx or UPS to get it to me in one piece.”

  “Oh, come on, Mom,” he’d pleaded. “They’re insured.”

  “Insured doesn’t mean they can replace it if it gets broken,” his mom had insisted. “And besides, you haven’t visited your aunt Cathy in ages and she wants to see you.”

  Unlike his mother, his aunt had chosen country life over the city. Her dairy farmer husband wasn’t as rich as Guy’s dad had been, but the man had done okay for himself. Still, the sisters had definitely moved in different circles. Going to see Aunt Cathy and Uncle Art had been a novelty when they were kids. Once they grew up and got busy with their own lives, it was more of a nuisance.

  It was especially a nuisance now because instead of taking the fastest route to Idaho over I-90, he was stuck detouring over Highway 2. Beautiful country but a time suck nonetheless.

  Of course, when he got there Aunt Cathy had insisted he stay for lunch. Uncle Art wanted to show him the improvements around the place. By the time they were done, the afternoon was slipping away and his foot was itching to hit the gas pedal on his Maserati.

  A few lazy snowflakes arrived to set him free. “You’d better get on the road before the weather gets bad,” said his aunt.

  As if he didn’t know how to drive in the snow. But Aunt Cathy was a worrier.

  “Now, be careful with this,” she cautioned as she handed him the box with the prized chocolate pot in it. “Some things are irreplaceable.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it,” he assured her. To prove it, he drove down the driveway at the pace of a cow meandering across the meadow. He’d wait until he hit the highway to open up the throttle, then he’d let this baby go for it. He wasn’t so sure about how much he’d enjoy spending time with the stepfamily, but he was sure he’d enjoy the drive to Mom’s place.

  The car gave a squeal as he turned onto the highway, the same squeal he’d heard a couple weeks earlier. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but he did this time. He’d have to take the Maserati back in to the dealership when he returned home. When it came to high-end machines like this one, a man couldn’t let things slide. Meanwhile, open road lay ahead and he pressed down on the accelerator and went for it.

  The scenery on Highway 2 was travel magazine–worthy. Guy had seen enough of the world to know heaven when he saw it, and Western Washington with its lush trees, sparkling waters and mountains was, indeed, heaven. Not a bad detour if you had to take one.

  He roared through Monroe, then Sulta
n and Skyway, racing past forests and rivers, pastures and barns. The snow was really starting to come down. He’d have to stop and chain up once he reached the pass.

  Three miles past Gold Bar his steering lost power, turning the car from a smooth driving, purring tiger to a rhino. He checked the dash and saw his alternator light was on. What was this? He pulled over, got out and opened the hood and looked under it to discover that his serpentine belt had broken. No notice, sudden as a heart attack.

  Except for that squeal. He’d heard it earlier, too, but hadn’t paid attention.

  He had no choice but to pay attention now. Guy may not have been an expert on cars but he did know that without that belt, he was going nowhere.

  Frowning, he pulled his cell phone out of his North Face jacket. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait long for his towing service to get to him. Who knew where they could tow him. Would he find a garage anywhere that would have a belt for an Italian sports car?

  No cell reception. Oh yeah, it just got better and better.

  “Great,” he muttered. He’d just had this baby tuned up a couple months back. He shouldn’t be stuck here in the middle of nowhere. Why had he paid extra at the foreign car dealership for all those maintenance checks if they weren’t going to check and maintain everything?

  There was nothing for it. He’d have to walk back to town and find a phone.

  He slammed the hood shut, pulled his boots out of the trunk and put them on, still frowning. He liked snow, he was fit enough to walk ten miles if he had to. He just didn’t want to. He wanted to reach his destination. Thanks to whatever gremlins had hopped in his engine along the way, that probably wasn’t happening today.

  He was just starting his trudge to town when an older-model Honda Civic passed him and then stopped. It backed up and the passenger side window slid down. “Looks like you’ve got car troubles. Would you like a lift?” offered the driver.

  Hadn’t this woman’s dad ever told her never to pick up strangers? If she was his sister he’d sure rip her a new one for stopping to let some man in her car, even in a blizzard. She had green eyes, curly hair the color of honey and plump, little kiss-me lips. Any crazy would climb right in and do who knew what to her.

  Guy wasn’t crazy, but he was pissed, and in no mood to make polite conversation.

  “That’s okay, I’m fine,” he said, and continued to trudge on.

  Freezing his ass off. Okay, maybe he was crazy.

  Except, pissed as he was, he’d generate more than enough steam to keep warm.

  She sure was cute, though.

  She coasted along beside him, backward. “Not that you don’t look fit enough to walk, but it’s a ways in either direction. Cell phone reception can be spotty.”

  He’d already discovered that.

  “Maybe you’re afraid of girls?” she teased.

  Not this girl. She had a smile like a magnet. Did he really want to walk back to Gold Bar?

  He got in. “Thanks. I appreciate the lift.”

  “Where are you headed?”

  “Idaho. Christmas with the family.” Stepfamily.

  “Oh my. You took the long way.”

  “I had to stop in Arlington and pick up something for my mom.”

  She nodded and smiled, obviously impressed by what a good son he was. Was this woman always so trusting?

  He felt compelled to ask, “You don’t always go around picking up strangers, do you?”

  “Oh no.” She smiled. Man, those lips.

  “That’s good. ’Cause you never know what kind of crazies are out there.”

  “You didn’t look like one.”

  “Ted Bundy probably didn’t, either. Ever hear of him?” Okay, that sounded creepy.

  Her smile faltered momentarily.

  “I promise I’m not a serial killer,” he said in an effort to uncreep himself.

  The smile returned full force. “I didn’t think so. I’m a good judge of character.”

  “Yeah?” Suddenly he was feeling a little less pissed.

  “Oh yes,” she said with a nod that made the curls bounce.

  He was a sucker for curly hair. You hardly ever saw women with real curly hair anymore. Why was that?

  “And what makes you such a good judge of character?” he teased. She smelled like peppermint. He wondered if this little cutie was taken. Hard to tell since she was wearing gloves. There had to be a ring on that left hand. She looked about thirty, and by their thirties hotties like this one were never single. Or if they were, they came with baggage.

  “I deal with a lot of people. You get so you know.”

  “Yeah? What do you do?” Coffee shop waitress, perhaps? Judging by the car she was driving, nothing that paid much.

  “I run a nonprofit.”

  Oh no. One of those. A person out to help others—using someone else’s money, of course. The memory of his unpleasant encounter with Olivia Berg arrived on the scene, irritating as jock itch. He could feel his jaw tightening.

  This woman isn’t Olivia Berg. Don’t take your irritation out on her. “What’s the name of your organization?” he asked, the very image of diplomatic courtesy.

  “Christmas from the Heart.”

  “Christmas from...?” Oh no. This wasn’t happening. This was some sick dream.

  “Have you heard of it?”

  “Uh, yeah.” The last thing he wanted was to be captive in a car with this woman. “Hey, any place you can drop me where there’s a phone will be great.” In fact, let me get out of this car right here, right now.

  “I can do better than that. We’re not far from Pine River, where I live,” she said. “We’ve got a garage there and Morris Bentley is an excellent mechanic. They can tow your car and have it fixed in no time.”

  The sooner the better.

  “My name’s Olivia Berg. My friends call me Livi.”

  He would not qualify for friendship once she learned who he was. As far as this woman was concerned, he was the devil incarnate.

  She gave him an encouraging glance. And your name is?

  Oh boy. He could feel the sweat sneaking out of his pores. He’d been perfectly justified in cutting loose her little charity. He had no cause to feel guilty. None. But there she was smiling at him like they were on the road to friendship. Little Olivia Berg, the great judge of character. And here he was, feeling like Scrooge in front of a firing squad. With no blindfold.

  Even though he had nothing to be ashamed of he couldn’t seem to spit out his name. Lie.

  “Joe.” Yeah, Joe. Good, old everyman Joe.

  Her expression asked, Joe What?

  Joe... Joe... Why was this woman so pushy?

  A truck rolled past, sending up a rooster tail of snow. “Ford,” he added. “Joe Ford.”

  “Nice to meet you, Joe.”

  She wouldn’t be saying that if she knew who he was. But she wouldn’t. He’d get his car fixed, get on his way and get back to his life. So it really didn’t matter if he was wussing out and not telling little Livi Christmas his real name. She didn’t need to know.

  “Where are you from, Joe?”

  “Seattle.”

  “Seattle is such a pretty city,” she said. “I went to the University of Washington and loved it. My parents took me to dinner at the top of the Space Needle when I turned twenty-one.”

  She spoke with reverence, like she’d visited the Vatican. “It’s a cool city,” he agreed.

  “It’s sure fun to visit. I remember the first time I went to the Pike Place Market and saw those guys at the fish store tossing the fish back and forth. That was so cool.”

  “It’s a real tourist attraction.”

  “I love tourist attractions,” she said with a vigorous nod, making those honey-colored curls bounce again. “I hope before I die I can see a whole bunch of
them. I’d love to see the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben and go for a gondola ride in Venice. Have you traveled a lot?”

  He’d been there, done all of that. “Yeah,” he said. “But some of the best places to see are right here in the US. It’s hard to beat the Grand Canyon or California’s wine country or skiing in Vail.”

  “I can imagine,” she said wistfully. Obviously, Livi Berg didn’t get around much. Too busy making hardworking businessmen feel guilty.

  They were pulling into town now, a dot on the map cuddled by trees—fir, cedar, maple and the pine trees that had given the place its name. The downtown was a collection of ancient buildings spiffed up with cedar garlands stretched across their windows and red bows on the lampposts. A lot of trucks. Men in jeans and flannel shirts. Women hurrying along bundled in coats and boots, a couple towing small children behind them. Guy was no expert in fashion but he could tell that nobody here was keeping up. Even his chauffeur, cute as she was, wore a coat that screamed secondhand. Obviously, she wasn’t living high on the money her charity brought in.

  As if reading his thoughts, she said, “Most people here live simple lives. And our local economy hasn’t caught up with Seattle.”

  Whose had? With Microsoft and Amazon providing thousands of jobs, the city was on fire. It had been growing ever since it made one of those best-places-to-live lists and condos and apartments had sprung up everywhere like mushrooms in the rainy city. Small houses in old neighborhoods were now worth a fortune. New, sleek buildings had gone up downtown and the freeways had gotten clogged. Pulling down the old Viaduct and replacing it with an underground tunnel had made everyone feel safer but so far it hadn’t eliminated traffic. The city bulged and bustled and glistened, and for the kings and queens of the hill the pace was fast.