Nickolai's Noel (3 page)

“Mother, I have to go. I have a customer.”

“But, Noel, I—”

“I’ll call you back, Mother. Get Quincy to send that email.” And she hung up as Nickolai entered the shop. “All ready,” she said cheerfully and handed him the box. “I hope she enjoys it.”

“Thank you. I hope she will, too.” But he didn’t sound too sure. He paused at the door and looked back over his shoulder, first at
Lazy Morning
and then at Noel. “I hope it finds a happy home.”

“Me, too.”

• • •

The next time Noel saw Nickolai Glazov, he put a Calgary Flames right wing out of the game. Then he made his third goal of the night—and that hat trick brought a victory for the Nashville Sound.

And though she never expected it to happen again, the next time she saw him face to face was six months later on Christmas Eve at Beauford Bend Plantation.

Six months later

It was bitter cold when Noel pulled in front of Beauford Bend Plantation. After dropping off the quilt that Emory had commissioned for Jackson’s Christmas gift, she was headed for Louisville, and her little Toyota crossover was packed to the to the max with luggage, gifts, baked goods, and her current project. With any luck, she’d be there by nine o’clock—in time to kiss her niece goodnight and help fill stockings.

She hadn’t been wrong that day last summer when Emory and Jackson had come into Piece by Piece and she’d suspected that romance might be blooming. Things between them had been up and down for a little while, but they were engaged now, and Noel would be a bridesmaid in their upcoming April wedding. Since Jackson was one of the biggest country music superstars in the world, even Noel’s mother was impressed—not as impressed as she would have been if Emory had been a Phi Mu, but you couldn’t have everything.

Before Noel had the chance to ring the bell, Emory threw open the front door of the plantation house. She was pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, though her white blond curls were in disarray. Noel loved seeing her so happy.

“Shh!!” Emory said in a loud breathy voice. “Jackson’s around here somewhere, and I don’t want him to see that box!”

“You do know you’re not whispering, don’t you?” Noel stopped for her friend’s hug. “You’re just talking with a lot of air.”

Emory let her mouth droop in a pretend frown. “Oh, right. Come on. Let’s go back to my office.”

The public rooms of Beauford Bend also served as the venue for Emory’s party events business, Around the Bend, and there wasn’t an inch left unadorned with greenery, glitter, and sparkling ornaments.

“This is gorgeous, Emory,” Noel said.

“Do you really think so?” Emory’s pink cheeks went pinker. “You don’t think I overdid it? All of Jackson’s brothers will be here for Christmas, and I want it to be perfect.”

“It’s very elegant and not overdone at all.”

“I did the family wing a little more understated in country primitive with a lot of cedar, pine, and berries.”

“They’re very lucky that you’ve made them such a wonderful Christmas. Is everyone here already?”

“Gabe and Rafe are.” Emory named Jackson’s twin brothers. “Beau will be here by lunchtime tomorrow. We’re just going to pretend Christmas doesn’t start until he gets here. Now!” Emory closed the office door behind them and took the box from Noel and set it on her desk. “I can’t wait to see it.”

“I hope it’s everything you wanted,” Noel said.

Emory lifted the lid and spread the quilt out.

“Oh, Noel.” She ran her hands over the appliquéd and embroidered guitars that were likenesses of the ones in Jackson’s collection. “And you’ve embroidered a musical score around the edge!” Other than asking for a guitar theme, Emory had told Noel to use her judgment for the design. “Is this a real song?”

Noel nodded happily. “It’s ‘A Promise Kind of Smile.’” Not only was that Jackson’s latest hit, he’d written it for Emory and, in an effort to win her back, had gone to New York and sung it to her in public.

“Oh!” Emory wiped her eyes and then closed in for a hug. “It’s wonderful. I know you put other projects on hold to do this for me. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“You just did.”

Emory pulled away and looked around. “I need to pay you … ”

“Let’s worry about that when I get back from Louisville.”

Emory shook her head as if she was summoning her senses back. “Of course. You need to get on the road. And here I stand blabbering away. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She moved toward the door.

“Christmas and being in love?” Noel refolded the quilt and put the top back on the box. “Let’s hide this in the closet.”

“Merry Christmas,” Noel said to Emory just as she stepped out the front door—where she ran right into Dirk Thornton, head of security for the plantation.

“Noel.” Dirk took her arm and ushered her back inside. “I saw your car, and I was just about to come find you. You can’t go to Louisville. An ice storm has hit up there.”

“An ice storm?” she said. “Are you sure?”

Dirk nodded. “I-65 is closed from about fifty miles north of Bowling Green all the way up. And the storm’s moving this way. It’ll be here by morning.”

How did I not know this?
But she knew the answer. She’d stayed up late last night finishing the guitar quilt and baking. Today the shop had been busy, though after a frantic call from her sister, Noel had left Ora alone long enough to go to the Toy Box to buy the last Holiday Barbie collector’s edition they had in stock. There had been no time to check the weather. And though she’d talked to various members of her family several times, they wouldn’t have mentioned the storm because, as usual, they ignored reality if they thought it was going to interfere with what they wanted.

“What about the back roads?” Noel asked.

Dirk shook his head. “Forget it, Noel.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Emory said. “You’ll stay right here and have Christmas with us.”

There was no way she was going to horn in on the Beauford family’s Christmas. From where Noel stood in the wide foyer, she could see that the formal dining room table had already been decorated and set for Christmas dinner—set for nine, including a highchair, which meant that Dirk, Gwen, and their two children would be joining Emory and the Beauford brothers. The Thorntons weren’t blood kin, but they might as well be. Besides, Gwen, a chef and the catering manager for Around the Bend, would certainly be making the feast—something else Noel’s family was depending on her to do. They could cobble together a simple meal, but roasting a turkey and baking a ham was way beyond their skills.

“In fact, you’re going to spend the night with us,” Emory said determinedly.

No, she was not.

“Thank you, Emory. That’s sweet.” She pulled her gloves from her pocket and put them on. “I’m just going to go home. I need to call my family and, honestly, having some downtime will be nice.”

“No!” Emory wailed. “I can’t let you spend Christmas alone.”

“Emory,” Noel said firmly. “How long has it been since Beau has been home?”

“A while,” Emory admitted. Beau was a Special Forces soldier and the baby of the family.

“He needs time with his brothers and Dirk and Gwen—not to mention getting to know you better. This is no time for an outsider.”

“You’re not an outsider.” But Noel could tell Emory saw the sense of it.

“Besides, I’m just going to pretend this isn’t Christmas. I’ll have Christmas when I see my family—probably this weekend. You know the ice never lasts long.”

Emory gave a halfhearted nod. “At least stay and have Christmas Eve dinner with us. As I said, Beau won’t be here until tomorrow. It’s going to be casual tonight. Gwen’s making chicken and dumplings, and we’re going to eat in the family wing dining room, and Gabe has a friend here from Nashville. He’s going home after we go to church at midnight, and if you’re sure you won’t stay, you can do that, too.”

Noel hesitated. That would be nice, since she wouldn’t be the only guest.

“We won’t have any trouble getting to town for church, Noel,” Dirk said. “The storm won’t be here until about daybreak.”

“All right,” Noel said. “I hope Beau will be able to get here from the airport.”

Dirk nodded. “I’ve alerted Jackson. He’s already got a helicopter at the airport on standby.”

A helicopter. If her mother thought of that, she’d try to make Noel charter one. This was not a phone call she was looking forward to.

“All right.” Noel put her gloves back in her coat pocket and undid the buttons. “What can I do to help?”

Just then, a stampede of feet moving toward them and a roar of male voices filled the space. You could practically taste the testosterone in the air.

At the sound of Jackson’s voice, Emory laughed with delight and swung her head around. Noel followed suit just in time to see Jackson Beauford enter the room with a set of big, blond twins that Noel couldn’t tell apart. That would be Gabe, the pro football player, and Rafe, the professional bull rider.

And bringing up the rear was Gabe’s “friend from Nashville”—Nickolai Glazov. No way he would remember her.

And no way she could tear her eyes from his perfect face with its strong jaw and eyes the color of Superman’s tights. She tried and failed.

But he parted the twins like he was Moses and they were the Red Sea and smiled as he came toward her.

“Noel!” He took her hands, and she began to tremble. “What a pleasure to see you again!” And he kissed first one palm, and then the other.

She thought she would pass out.

She was prettier than Nickolai remembered—not that he remembered her as ugly. It’s just that when Noel crossed his mind—usually when he was crawling in bed under that quilt with the stars—he thought more about the homey warm feeling she and her shop evoked than how she looked.

But standing there in that red wool coat with the hood thrown back and her caramel and butterscotch hair framing her sweet little elfin face, Noel was one of the most appealing sights Nickolai had seen in a long time.

She dropped her brown eyes and smiled. There was so much noise around them from the others conversing that Nickolai stepped a little closer to Noel so he would be able to hear her when she spoke.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, too. Congratulations on the season. It’s going really well.”

“Thank you. Maybe this is the year for the playoffs. Then, we’ll see.” What he hoped to see was the Stanley Cup. It was still early but possible, though he never spoke of it.

“How is Tewanda enjoying the quilt?” Noel asked.

Uh oh. Nickolai dropped her hands—which he was loath to do—and pushed his hair back.

“Tewanda no longer has the quilt.”

Noel’s eyes widened in surprise.

“She lost interest. Her attention span is short. She made a bed of it for her little dog.”

A sound of disbelief escaped Noel, and she covered her mouth with her hands. “Sorry.”

“No. Is all right. It pains me to tell you such a work of art was not appreciated. But it is now. I took it from her.”

“I see,” Noel said, but he doubted that she did.

“That is, I bought it from her. That was fair. It was her gift, therefore her property and not mine. But now I own it.”

“Oh … my. So you ended up paying … double?”

He nodded and tried to give her his best smile. “I subtracted the cost of the dry cleaning bill. That, too, was fair. Besides, how can you put a price on something beautiful that nourishes the spirit?”

She laughed then, and the pure crystal happiness that was the sound of her laughter went through Nickolai and settled in his soul.

“Did Tewanda buy herself a replacement birthday gift?” Noel asked around her musical laughter.

“I don’t know,” Nickolai said. “I no longer am Tewanda’s beau.
Beau.
That is a good Southern word? I learned English in Russia as a small child, but I did not know when I moved to Nashville that to make myself understood here, I’d have to learn a whole
new
language.”

“Beau is a wonderful Southern word.” Her laughter settled into a smile. It looked …
saucy
. Yes, that was a good description.

“But I’m sorry about you and Tewanda,” Noel said.

He shrugged. “Meh. It happens. She didn’t think I should have subtracted the $53.46 for the cleaning of the quilt.”

Gabe Beauford stepped up behind Noel and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Let me take your coat, Noel,” he said. “Emory tells me an ice storm has hit Kentucky and you’re going to join us tonight. Your family’s loss is our gain.”

She nodded as he removed her coat. “Yes. I need to call them.”

Nickolai didn’t like the frown that had crept over her face and decided to chase it away with a compliment—though he never gave compliments he didn’t mean. “I like your sweater.” It had picture of the American version of
Ded Moroz
—Father Frost. “Very festive.”

“Oh!” Noel said with alarm and crossed her arms over her chest. “I forgot I had on this Santa sweater. Nobody wears Christmas sweaters anymore unless it’s to an ugly Christmas sweater party. But my niece is four and I thought she’d like it.”

So she had a little niece and a family who would be unhappy she couldn’t come to them tonight. He briefly considered offering to drive her there. He was amazed at how these Southerners let a little ice and snow shut down their lives, even if it was never for very long. But Gabe had invited him here to spend Christmas Eve with his family, and it would be rude to leave. Besides, an appealing situation had just gotten more even more appealing now that Noel would be here, too.

Jackson moved in front of Noel and put a hand on her arm. What was it with all these Beauford men touching Noel?

“Sorry about your trip, Noel,” Jackson said “But we’re glad to have you.” Then he looked from Gabe to Nickolai. “Emory wants us to take that Yule log she ordered from England and start it burning in the den in the family wing.”

“What,” Gabe asked, “in the Sam Hill is a Yule log?”

Nickolai was glad Gabe asked because he wanted to know, too.

“No idea,” Jackson said. “I’m just taking orders.” He started to walk away, assuming that Nickolai and Gabe would follow him. “But I’ll tell you this: somebody has to stay with that thing while it burns.”