Blessings of the Season (2 page)

“Wow.” He stepped back and grinned. “I was going
to say we have to get back to work, but that was better. Much better.”

He hadn't been asking for a kiss! She was mortified. She was humiliated. She was mad. “Oh!”

She stepped backward, ready to storm off in a huff, only to have the heel of her shoe catch in the hem of the white gown that had been draped over her. It jerked off the hanger and fell into a pool around her ankle. She shook her leg to free it.

“Here, let me help.” Nate reached for her.

“I think you've done enough already.” She put her hands on his chest to push him away, but before she could do it two handfuls of silk and lace jerked open behind her.

“What goes on here?” Without even turning to look at him, Addie instantly recognized the voice of short, portly, bald-headed Doc Goodwin. He boomed, “You? What are
you
doing here?”

“This is not what it looks like, Mr. Goodwin.” She didn't know how she could breathe, much less speak. Still, she tried to appear calm. “I was just about to go upstairs to fill out the forms to start work today.”

“And is this your idea of starting work?” Mr. Goodwin gave her a look that said, given her upbringing, he'd have believed her capable of any kind of wild tale. “I'm afraid you are
not
Goodwin's material, Miss McCoy. You should leave.”

G
reat
. What had started out as a relatively painless means of funding his life before getting that full-time school position had ended up with him caring for an unloved kid and feeling responsible for getting a Southern belle fired. His faith was too strong to leave this unexpected situation without at least trying to make things right. Even if it was near to Christmas—his least favorite holiday.

He stepped out into the open. “Mr. Goodwin, you can't fire this girl.”

“I know I can't fire her—she doesn't work for me,” the voice called back and the older man trundled purposefully down the main aisle, his bald head high.

“You're not being fair, sir.” Nate walked to the aisle like a man who knew he held a trump card and was not the least bit afraid to use it.

“I can speak for myself, thank you.” The woman pushed past Nate, her shoes clip-clopping briskly after
the uneven gait of the old man lumbering down the aisle, then turning left. “Mr. Goodwin, please, let me explain.”

“I don't need an explanation, Miss McCoy,” the gruff voice bellowed back. “Not from you or your slacker boyfriend.”

“That…that
man
is
not
my boyfriend.” She stopped, folded her arms, then glared at Nate. She took a step toward him, and the shoes that made her look a bit like a kid playing dress-up slipped on the slick floor. She wobbled.

That seemed only fair. The minute he had looked into those eyes inches from his as she stood with a nightgown draped over her hair like a wedding veil, he had been thrown off balance. “I don't think he's listening.”

“My whole life I looked forward to the day I'd have a quiet life here in Star City. I imagined a simple little house that looked like every other house on the block. I imagined that I'd belong to the church choir, I'd join the PTA, work on committees, fit in with the community. I know it doesn't sound like much to a guy headed for a big job in Los Angeles, but it's all I ever wanted, all I dreamed about. Working here was a part of that dream.” She finally took a breath, and her shoulders slumped forward. “And I just lost it forever.”

A guy didn't have to have a master's degree in human behavior to recognize a sweet girl who just wanted to be accepted, who deserved to be given a chance to do her best, who needed a break. As his last official act as manny to Jesse Dylan Moberly Goodwin, Nate was going to see to it that she got that break. “Don't be too sure about that lost dream, Miss…”

“McCoy. Addie McCoy,” she murmured.

“Addie McCoy,” he repeated softly. He smiled and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Addie McCoy.”

She took his hand. “Nice to meet you, too, Nate Browder.”

“Don't give up on your dream just yet. Christmas is coming. It's the season when the most unexpected things can happen.” He went to her side and glanced down the rows of sleepwear to where the older man had almost reached a gray metal door with a lit exit sign over it. With his eyes still on her, he called out to the old man again. “Miss McCoy here was not fooling around on company time.”

“That's not what I saw,” the man blustered without even turning to look at them.

“What you saw was a good employee doing a good deed. She was just helping me to entertain and take care of your—”

The elevator bell, about ten feet away from them, dinged.

Nate winced and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Jesse!”

“Jesse,” Addie echoed in a softer tone but just as urgently as he had spoken his charge's name. She spun around and, suddenly completely unconcerned with her own problems, started walking in a circle around the nearest rack. She bent down, then stretched up on tiptoe. “He's probably hiding in the clothes racks laughing about all this. I'll help you find him.”

“Did you say Jesse?” That had Goodwin's attention. He turned and started back toward them. “I haven't seen
the child since he was three or four. My son was only married to the boy's mother for just over a year. I thought they were sending someone along to deal with him.”

The elevator door whooshed open just as Addie came around the rack, ending up at Nate's side again. He stopped her with just a touch to her shoulder and a resigned look as he called out to Doc Goodwin. “They
did
send someone. Me. Only I haven't done such a great job.”

“I believe you have misplaced something, Mr. Browder.” Maimie Goodwin, all six feet two inches—including heels and a coif of lightly teased silver hair—of her, stepped out of the elevator with a scowl on her face and a small redheaded boy in tow.

Poor kid. Nate wanted to go to him and give him a great big hug and tell him everything would be all right. But Nate couldn't exactly promise that, could he? His job here was done. He had a plane ticket and a job interview in California.

Like Addie McCoy, this was a kid who could have greatly benefited from an early Christmas gift—a second chance. Everybody needed one of those now and then. Given Jesse's history and the looks on the faces of the elder Goodwins, that was not going to happen.

Jesse looked up. His lower lip quivered.

“Guess you won the last round of hide-and-seek, buddy.” Nate gave the boy a thumbs-up in an attempt to encourage him as much as he could. “Good job.”

“I wish I could say the same to you, Mr. Browder.” Mrs. Goodwin led Jesse out of the elevator.

“Don't blame him, Mrs. Goodwin.” Addie McCoy stepped between Nate and the elegant woman guiding
Jesse by keeping one manicured hand on his shoulder. “He only lost track of Jesse for a minute, and that was just because he was trying to help me get my job back.”

The elevator doors rattled shut. Mrs. Goodwin tipped her head to one side. “What could Mr. Browder possibly do to help you get your job back, Addie, dear? Pay your salary? Volunteer to play Santa Claus himself for free? I don't think even that would change our minds.”

“About me?” Addie asked in a small voice that went straight through Nate.

Mrs. Goodwin shook her head. “About closing the store after the first of the year, my dear.”

“What?” Nate had never even heard of Goodwin's Department Store or Star City, Tennessee, until ten days ago, and suddenly even he was shocked and dismayed by this news. He looked at Addie, suspecting she was the reason for this sudden onslaught of sympathy. One look in her shocked and misery-filled eyes, and he couldn't keep himself from offering, “If playing Santa Claus for free would help, Addie, I'd do it.”

Doc Goodwin gave a blustering harrumph, then came up to join them, his head bowed. “I'm sorry I allowed you to think I was letting you go because of something you had done, Miss McCoy. It was a lapse of pride on my part.”

Addie shook her head. She looked like a kid who had just learned Christmas wasn't coming this year…maybe not ever again. “I don't understand.”

“That was the conclusion of the meeting we just had. We have to start making cutbacks immediately, starting with suspending all Christmas promotions.” Mrs. Goodwin glanced down at the glum-faced boy at her
side, pursed her lips, then placed her hands on either side of his head, covering his ears as she whispered, “We just had to sack Santa Claus.”

Doc shrugged his large, sloping shoulders. “I should have been up-front with you about that.”

“Yes, you should have been.” Maimie dropped her hands from Jesse's ears, then dipped her eyes to indicate the child. “All of the problems we're dealing with today could have been avoided if everyone had only been up-front and honest from the get-go.”

Addie's eyes shifted from Jesse to Maimie to Doc and then to Jesse again. Nate could tell she
so
wanted to ask what the older woman meant by that. But she didn't. Nate found that level of unselfish respect and kindness endearing.

Mrs. Goodwin must have felt a touch of the same emotion as she smiled, sort of, raised her head regally and said, “And it is in the spirit of openness and honesty, Addie, that I will tell you that I would like to offer you another position with the store—”

The girl's lovely face lit up. She glanced at Nate, smiled, then gushed, “Oh, Mrs. Goodwin, that would be so—”

Maimie held up her hand. “But I can't. We have more people on the payroll than we can afford right now. And with all the competition for the tourist dollar these days? Well, our type of store just doesn't pull the people in, even at Christmastime, anymore. I'm sorry.”

“That's okay, Mrs. Goodwin.” She looked so sad and
so small as she twisted and tugged slightly at the almost garish snowflake pin on her lapel and tried valiantly not to cry. “I just wish there were a way I could help.”

“You can help by not telling anyone what you heard here today,” Doc suggested a bit gruffly. “If people find out the store is struggling and may close, more than a few of them will decide to shop elsewhere.”

“Yeah. I know.” Addie nodded, then looked at Nate. “We've had a lot of stores come and go in town. But Goodwin's has always been a staple. One of the few things in my life, besides my faith, that was consistent and reliable.”

“What's going on?” Jesse demanded. “You look like you dropped your handheld game system in one of those wishing fountains.”

The Goodwins looked to Nate to translate.

“There was an incident at the airport,” he explained. “I told him to ask Santa for a new game system, by the way. I hope that's okay. If it's a problem…I mean, if Santa doesn't come through, I'd be happy to get him one. It seemed to mean a lot to him.”

“That's hardly in your job description.” Maimie sighed, then looked at the boy. “We can still afford whatever we decide the child needs.”

“Yeah, but…” Nate looked at all of the faces staring back at him.

Each one of them was dealing with his or her own particular brand of broken heart, and at Christmastime, to boot. Not that Nate had ever felt any real affinity toward the season. As the child of divorced parents who alternately tried to outdo one another or, as he got older,
tried to dump him on each other, he considered it one of the lousiest times of the year. No wonder he used to stay at college for winter break. Nowadays, he just wanted to run away from anything that reminded him of the myth of there being no place like home for the holidays, surrounded by the love of family and friends.

“Doc, why don't you take the boy to the toy department and let him pick something out?” Maimie suggested.

“Wow, can you do that?” Jesse asked, his whole face brighter.

“I still own this store, young man.” The older man plunked his chubby hand on the kid's shoulder as he began to guide him to the stairwell. “I can do anything.” He glanced back at Addie a bit glumly and added, “Well,
almost
anything.”

“I promise you, Miss McCoy,” Maimie was quick to chime in, “If I can think of any way that we can bring you on board at Goodwin's to our mutual benefit, I will do it.”

“I appreciate that more than you know, Mrs. Goodwin,” she said in her soft, lyrical accent. The two of them began to walk toward the elevator.

Nate had felt sorry for these people? At least they'd have each other and the comfort of a familiar hometown full of traditions and support. What would he have?

Only everything he ever wanted. Christmas alone where no one could find him. A job making loads of money catering to kids who didn't really need him for anything. Freedom. No one to disappoint him, and no one to be disappointed in.

That's what awaited him. It had seemed like more than enough for a great life when he'd left California. Now, having come to Star City, having to leave Jesse and having met Addie McCoy? It felt less like a dream life and more like a life he was settling for.