A Christmas Bride (20 page)

“Oh.” Faye and Viola sighed the word in unison.

“But I just don't see how we get around Pam.” She picked up her wine and took another slug. If ever there was a time for drinking, this was it. Her friends stared down at their never-ending pasta bowls. No one had eaten a bite. “David is loyal to his family. He always has been. This was an issue when it came to his marriage.”

“So maybe we should back off,” Faye said.

“No. This is not the time for retreat. But I don't know what exactly we do next,” Poppy said.

They sat in silence for a long while, staring at the food and drinking their wine, until Viola finally spoke. “Well, if Bud were here, he'd say that we need to rebrand Willow.”

“Rebrand?”

Viola nodded. “Yup, that's advertising speak for rehabilitating her image.”

“I didn't think her image was all that bad to start off with,” Faye said. “I mean, her mother is a nutcase, but Willow's okay. Look what she's done for Melissa and Jeff. You can't have lunch at the diner without Gracie singing her praises.”

“That's it,” Poppy said. “We need to get Gracie's help. Everyone listens to Grace, and she'd do anything for David.”

“We can also talk to our church friends. You know, start a little gossip going, only instead of saying bad stuff about Willow, we could say nice stuff. Nothing works faster in this town than the Presbyterian phone tree,” Faye said.

“But what, exactly, is the good stuff?” Viola asked.

They stared at each other as the realization dawned on them that they didn't actually know what the good stuff might be. All they'd ever heard about Willow and her mother was bad stuff.

“Well, crap, we ought to know the truth about her if we're going to rebrand her, shouldn't we?” Faye said.

Everyone nodded and took another sip of wine.

“All right,” Poppy said after a moment as she moved her pasta bowl aside. “We need to make a plan.”

“Another plan?” Viola asked.

Poppy nodded. “Yes, another one. And for starters, we need to figure out all the good stuff about Willow. Faye, I want you to go down to the library and find out everything you can about Willow and that company she used to work for. Don't just read the articles that accuse her of being a malcontent. I'm not sure any of those are fair or balanced.” She paused for a moment. “You know, before you go to the library, have a chat with Jeff. He used to be a reporter. He could probably give you some good advice about digging up the truth.”

“I'm on it,” Faye said.

“Viola, I want you to talk to Gracie and tell her everything we've been trying to do. We need her help. Pick her brain for ideas. Gracie knows everyone in town. If we want to launch a rebranding effort, she's the right place to start.”

“Aye, aye.” Viola gave a salute.

“I'm going to talk to Walter and see if we can stall Bryce Summerville. If we can't salvage the romance between David and Willow, then I want to make sure that Willow has a chance to buy Eagle Hill Manor. It will be her consolation prize.”

“Does she have the money she needs to buy the place?” Faye asked.

“I don't think so,” Poppy said.

“That's a problem. Bryce told me he has the cash for an investment like that. He was really very interested.”

“Oh, that's not good. I think maybe we should pray,” Faye said.

“Wait. I'm confused.” Viola frowned at her empty wineglass. “Should I be praying for David and Willow to fall in love and find acceptance within his family, or should I be praying that Willow finds an investor?”

“Well, for now, maybe we should pray for both,” Faye said.

“Yeah, and while we're at it, maybe we should pray that God knows which prayer to answer, because I'm still not convinced that Willow and David can make a happy marriage if she's determined to become an innkeeper and he's determined to run for Congress,” Poppy said on a long sigh.

Willow awakened on Thursday and told herself that it was a new day and she could make whatever she wanted out of it. And today she would treat herself to coffee and a Danish at Bean There Done That, which would have two important benefits.

First, she'd avoid eating breakfast at home, which consisted of a spinach and mango smoothie that was about the same color green as the Grinch's complexion. And second, hanging for a while at the coffee shop would delay her in town long enough to avoid having to come face-to-face with either David or Natalie.

She wasn't hiding at the coffee shop, exactly; she was fortifying herself for the day ahead, which consisted of decorating the inn to the nines while simultaneously avoiding David and Natalie, either of whom was likely to destroy her carefully manufactured composure.

She was trying to think happy, positive thoughts when Russell Cade, her attorney, called her cell. She punched the talk button, and Russ's gruff but kindly voice came over the line. “Willow, it sure looks like someone up there doesn't like you.”

So much for the power of positive thinking.

“What?” she said in an acid tone.

“The Department of Health and Human Services let us know late yesterday that they aren't going to pursue the case against Restero.”

“But why?”

“Who knows? It could be budget cuts. It could be someone in a high place who doesn't want Restero touched. It could be that the lawyers over there don't think we have a good case. I can't tell you what goes through their minds. But this changes nothing.”

“Except there's no way to send Corbin to jail now.”

“Well, there is that. But it was unlikely that anyone was going to get nailed with criminal charges. Let's just make 'em pay. And the good news is that if we win this case, we'll get one hundred percent of the penalties instead of thirty percent. So it's a lot more money now.”

She propped her elbow on the table and rested her head in her hand. “Russ, this has never been about money to me. You know that, don't you?”

“I understand that, but keep in mind that if you nail a corporation hard enough in the pocketbook, it can change behavior.”

“Yeah, but until I win the case, they are out there telling the world that I'm just doing this for the money. They make me look crass and mean and…” She let her voice trail off as memories of Pam Lyndon's vitriol from last night replayed through her mind.

“Courage, Willow. You're not the first whistle-blower to have their reputation trashed. And I've never once met a whistle-blower who cared about the money, either. It takes a certain kind of person to stand up against a giant corporation like Restero. Just remember that.”

“Yeah. I guess. A totally crazy person.”

“Not so crazy. A moral person,” Russ said in his gravelly voice. “So, are you ready to go it alone?”

“Yes,” she said. “I have no other choice.”

“Good for you. I think our case is strong. We're going to win this thing, but it's going to get ugly before we do.”

“I know.” All that ugliness would give Pam Lyndon more fuel for her fire. But it couldn't be helped. If Willow walked away now, what was to stop Restero from doing something like this a second time? If she walked away, she'd never clear her name.

“Look, there won't be much action between now and the first of the year. I'll give you a call in a few weeks. In the meantime, have a happy holiday, okay? And stay strong.”

She pushed disconnect, squared her shoulders, and told herself that she was doing the right thing. But this wasn't a choice she could impose on Natalie or David. That was very clear.

She just needed to get through the next week and a half, until the wedding, and then she could figure out what came next. She'd have to find a real job and give up her dream of buying Eagle Hill Manor and becoming, of all things, a wedding planner.

She dawdled over her coffee and then spent the morning following up with the baker and the florist, so it was after ten by the time she got back to the inn. The place was deserted. David was at work, of course. And Natalie was at school. But Mrs. M was nowhere to be found.

Willow went straight to work on the tree, hanging lights, draping the gold bead garlands, and putting up ornaments. When that was finished, she moved on to draping pine roping on the banisters of the grand stairway. She tied yards and yards of bows and strung miles of twinkle lights. Mrs. M finally checked in after lunchtime to say that she would be out and about all day doing unspecified errands, which included picking Natalie up after school and taking her to her semiannual dental appointment. So Willow worked on alone, and the more holly she hung, the less jolly she felt.

By late afternoon she needed to get away from the red and green. She bundled herself up and strolled out to Laurel Chapel. It was windy up on the hill, so she took refuge in the ruins of the church.

Mrs. M had once said that she felt close to Shelly out here, and Willow understood exactly what she meant. There weren't any ghosts out here, of course, but Shelly's memory haunted this place.

“Here I am, Shelly,” she whispered, self-conscious to be speaking aloud to a feeling. “I'm trying to be strong, but, you know, I feel like a character in one of your Gothic romances. Someone who's brokenhearted and takes to long, frozen walks on the moors.”

She leaned against an empty window frame and laughed in spite of herself. “Listen to me. Brokenhearted. Did you ever think? No, I don't guess you did. Especially not me and David, anyway.”

She let go of a long breath that steamed in the chill, waiting to feel something like guilt, but it didn't come. She wasn't guilty about David. She had this strong sense that Shelly wasn't interested in holding on to David from beyond the grave.

Willow pulled her cashmere coat closer around herself, raising the collar against the cold. It was starting to get dark; the days were so short this time of year. She really ought to be heading back to Serenity Farm.

She turned toward the door, but before she reached it, David came striding through.

His cheeks were ruddy from the cold, and the wind had blown his hair across his brow, making him look a lot like one of those Gothic heroes Shelly loved so much. His dark eyes sealed the deal. He was wrapped in a single-breasted charcoal-gray overcoat that fit his broad shoulders as if it had been made for him.

“You decorated the tree,” he said in a slightly annoyed tone as he stopped in the doorway, blocking her escape.

Of all the things she expected (or wanted) David to say, this wasn't it. In fact, coming from him—a stand-in for Ebenezer Scrooge—this comment was downright nonsensical.

“Um,” she said, “I thought we were in agreement that decorations were needed for the wedding. And it's sort of my job to see that the inn is ready for Jeff and Melissa's big day.”

His lips thinned. “Natalie will be disappointed. Did you even think about that? She wanted to help.”

Damn. He sure knew how to cut right to the heart. “Uh, no, I guess I didn't. I'm really sorry. I just needed to do my job today. You know, what you're paying me to do.” Her voice quivered.

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He had such amazingly thick, dark eyelashes. He opened his eyes. “You're fired.”

“What?”

“I have to fire you, because you know, we've got a thing going. And I really thought the whole Christmas tree was about doing something together and not about Jeff and Melissa's wedding. I'm tired of hearing about Jeff and Melissa's wedding.”

“Wait a sec. Do we have a thing? Because as far as I'm concerned, whatever thing we had is officially over and done with.”

He stepped forward, his hands jammed into his coat pockets. “Look, I'm sorry about what Mother said last night. I don't agree with her point of view.”

A lump the size of a walnut swelled in her throat. He was so handsome it almost hurt to look at him.

“Come here,” he commanded, but she stayed put. Touching him would weaken her resolve. And she needed to be strong, especially if he wasn't going to be.

She shook her head. “Look, I know you don't share your mother's views about me, but unfortunately, a lot of other people do. So it's kind of a no-brainer, you know. We don't belong—”

He stepped up to her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her right into silence. The touch of his lips, slightly cool on the outside, hot on the inside, made the world spin in crazy circles. She wanted this. She wanted him. She fell into his kiss and might even have made a little moan that told him everything she was trying to hide.

He finally pulled back, but not until he'd thoroughly warmed her from head to toe. “This is how it's going to be,” he said in that take-charge voice of his. “We're going to date exclusively. And we're going to do it in public.”

She almost laughed. “Date? Really? Does anyone really date anymore?”

His grip on her shoulders firmed. “You know exactly what I mean. Do I have to spell it out for you? I want us to be friends with benefits.”

Lovers
. But he hadn't used that word. She shook her head. “No, David. It's not going to work.”

“Of course it's going to work. We just need to give it time. I even told my political consultant to take his concerns and shove them in an unmentionable place.”

“His concerns about me?”

David nodded. “It's all that crap about Restero. But I changed his mind. Look, all you have to do is drop your private suit and let the government do its thing. Once you aren't in the mix, most of the problems go away.”

“What?” She took a step back, her heart suddenly racing a mile a minute. “Why would I do that?”

“Because if you walk away from your private claim, then no one can say you're doing this out of some kind of profit motive. It really weakens what the opposition is going to hit us with. And besides, the government will take up the case. I'm sure of it.”