Jenny Lind let out a cry of horror as the Christmas tree cake catapulted out of her hands.
“Wow,” breathed the kid, stopping in mid-run.
Yeah, wow. The cake landed in Grandma’s lap and she, too, let out a cry and threw up her hands as if a bomb had just hit her. The other women at the table ran to help clean Grandma up, one of them bumping into Guy and bouncing him off Bentley, who gave him a second shove, which bounced him off a waiter passing by with a tray of food. That sent two hamburgers, one serving of pot roast complete with mashed potatoes and gravy, an order of fish and chips, and a plate of spaghetti crashing to the floor and got the attention of every diner in the place.
Livi had forgotten about putting on her coat and rushed to help with Grandma, as did her friends.
“Watch out for the spaghetti,” someone called. Too late. Down went an unsuspecting diner.
“You Neanderthal,” Guy snapped at Bentley. “If we weren’t in a restaurant...”
“You’d what?” Bentley stepped up to Guy, invading his space.
“This is not the time or the place,” Guy said through clenched jaws.
“Yeah? There’s never a time or place for gutless wimps like you,” Bentley snarled.
Okay, that did it. Guy’s temper was now officially boiling over. “You want to take this outside?”
“Damn straight I do.”
“Good idea,” said the restaurant manager, who had joined them. “Get out.”
Meanwhile, Jenny Lind was crying over spilled cake, and Grandma was whimpering and brushing at her frosting-coated chest as the women hovered around her, trying to mop her off with napkins.
This should not have happened. Guy dug his wallet out of his back pocket.
“You gonna try to pay me off?” Bentley taunted.
“No, I’m going to try to clean up the mess you made,” Guy said, disgusted. He turned to the upset cake winner and gave her a fifty. “I’m really sorry.”
Still crying, she nodded and took it and thanked him.
“That’s all you rich boys do is buy people off,” sniped Bentley.
“Out!” roared the manager, his face the color of the spilled spaghetti sauce. He pointed to the door and Guy and Morris Bentley marched out of the restaurant, the rest of their party trailing after.
They barely made it outside before Bentley rushed him, sending them flying out into the snow, landing on the ground. He was bigger and a bruiser, but Guy had indulged in some cage fighting when he was younger and he was fit. And pissed, and he came up swinging.
Legs, fists, kicks and punches—it quickly became a bloody battle and the most excitement some people had seen in a while. He got Bentley in the gut and the chin and Bentley socked him in the eye. Of course, he and Bentley had drawn a crowd, and now the locals were hooting and cheering and calling instructions to both Bentley and Guy.
“Come on, fruitcake, fight like a man,” someone called.
“I’ve got ten bucks on Bentley,” someone else said.
“You’ll lose it,” Guy snarled, and threw a good, solid punch.
Bentley staggered back but then returned like an angry bear. Small town brawling, a new way to enjoy the holidays.
Suddenly, in the middle of everything a new body entered, just as Guy was aiming to take Bentley down. “Stop it right—” She got no farther. Guy was already in mid-kick, and she ran into his leg, getting scooped off her feet. Bentley had been ready to lunge at Guy. Instead, he wound up completing what Guy had started. Livi went down, Bentley falling on top of her and the two of them taking Guy with them. They crashed into the snow in a pile worthy of an NFL game.
“Livi, are you all right?” Bentley asked, scrambling off her.
At the same time Guy was saying, “I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”
She rubbed her leg and glared at Bentley. “Morris Bentley, you should be ashamed of yourself. What is the matter with you?”
“It’s not me, it’s him,” Bentley said, pointing at Guy. “He’s all flash, Liv. He doesn’t deserve you.”
It was true, but Guy couldn’t help pointing out, “I’m not the one who made a scene in the restaurant.”
“Good fight, men,” said Tom, giving Bentley a friendly slap on the arm before Kate hauled him away.
Yeah, great entertainment for the locals. Guy rubbed his throbbing hand. What the hell was he doing here?
“And right before Christmas,” Livi continued as if that elevated the fight to a cardinal sin. She rubbed her thigh again. Poor woman would probably have a bruise come morning.
“I’m sorry, Liv. I’ll make it up to you when we do our deliveries Christmas Eve,” Bentley said, penitent.
“Morris, I think it would be good if we took a break from hanging out.”
Now he looked panicked as well as remorseful. “You need help delivering stockings and turkeys.”
“Joe can help me,” she said, her voice frosty.
Bentley was in deep shit. In spite of being pissed at the idiot, Guy couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.
“He’s leaving town,” Bentley pointed out.
“Did the part come in?” she demanded.
“Not yet. But it’s supposed to be in tomorrow. And as soon as it is I’ll have that fancy toy fixed and ready to roll. He’ll be out of here before Christmas Eve,” Morris added, glaring at Guy.
Guy almost asked if Bentley thought he could manage it, then decided to keep his mouth shut. No sense antagonizing him. “Fine with me,” he said.
“Well, you just concentrate on that. I can handle making deliveries fine without you,” Livi said. The look in her eyes was as arctic as her voice.
“Where will you get a truck?” Bentley demanded.
“You’re not the only man in town with a truck,” she reminded him, then whirled and started for her car. “Come on, Joe.”
“He may have money but money isn’t everything,” Bentley called after them.
That was what losers like Bentley always said. Class envy. Just how did that tool think nonprofits survived? It wasn’t on good wishes. It was thanks to people with money.
Livi was making such fast tracks for her car she slipped in the snow. Guy caught her arm to steady her. She looked up at him and the expression in her eyes said it all. I’m falling for you.
The anger he’d felt only a moment before melted into a puddle of shame. Don’t. You don’t know me.
“Look, that was as much my fault back there as it was his,” Guy said.
Sure, Bentley had started it, but Guy had been more than willing to go along for the ride and burn some testosterone. Much as Guy disliked the other man, it wasn’t right to let him take all the blame for what happened in the parking lot.
“He was the one who pushed you in the restaurant. It’s Morris’s fault the cake Jenny won got ruined.” She shook her head. “There’s no excuse for what he did.”
Yeah, there was. Men in love did stupid things.
But Livi had made up her mind. Bentley was stuck in a time-out.
“So, will you help us?” she asked Guy. “If you’re still here?”
“Of course I will.” Although with Bentley anxious to run him out of town, Guy would probably be on the road long before it was time to make deliveries.
Anyway, would driving around with her handing out turkeys and Christmas stockings full of trinkets transform him into a man she could respect? The sooner he got out of this town and forgot about Olivia Berg the better.
Except she was unforgettable.
“I hope you’ll attend our volunteer appreciation lunch tomorrow,” she said as they drove away from the scene of the Christmas cake murder.
“I’m not a volunteer.”
“No one paid you to help us out today. I really did appreciate it, and I’d love to have you come.”
So he could be reminded of what a two-faced liar he was. “No problem,” he said, careful not to commit.
The one she should have been inviting was Bentley. It sounded like he did a lot to help her.
Maybe she had invited him. If she had, it was as good as canceled.
Poor schlub. Morris Bentley smelled a rat. He was simply trying to run Guy off and protect Livi, and yet he was the one in deep shit. Guy should run himself off.
Starting that evening. He’d make some excuse, go up to his room and hide for the rest of the night. He’d find a reason to miss her volunteer lunch the next day and then scram as soon as his car was fixed. Bentley would be back on turkey patrol and he and Livi would patch things up. She’d return to her life, marry the big doofus and live happily ever after.
And never see the Eiffel Tower. Guy frowned. He didn’t deserve her, but neither did Bentley.
Livi noticed him rubbing his hand, which felt like he’d pounded a cement wall with it. “Does it hurt a lot?”
“It’ll be fine,” he said, and stopped rubbing.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into him.”
“Sure you do. He’s in love with you.” As if she couldn’t see that.
She nodded and bit her lip. “I know. And I love Morris, too, but as a friend.”
The F word. “It’s important to be able to see yourself spending a lifetime with someone.” Guy sure couldn’t see Livi spending her life with Bentley. But then, what did he know?
“I do want to get married and have a family.” She paused. “There aren’t exactly a lot of choices here in Pine River. Morris and I are the best of friends. Maybe that’s enough.” She stole another look at Guy. Waiting for him to offer her an alternative?
He was a fake, which made him a pretty crummy alternative. “There’s a whole big world out there, Olivia.”
“But maybe I’m meant to stay in this corner of it. You know, brighten the corner where you are.”
“You’re doing a good job of that.”
She murmured her thanks and they both fell silent. If they knew each other better, if she knew who he really was, and that he wanted to be more than he was... What would he say to her? Don’t commit to anybody just yet. Give me time to grow. I could change.
He didn’t say anything. He simply couldn’t spit out what he needed to, couldn’t tell her what she should know about him. He had to get out there and do something to earn her respect.
Of course, being the CFO of a large company like Hightower Enterprises would have been more than enough to earn the respect of most people. Sadly for him, Olivia Berg wasn’t most people.
They turned onto her street. “I was going to watch a Christmas movie,” she said. “Maybe you’d like to join me.”
Of course he would, because he’d been drugged with fruitcake. Don’t be stupid, he told himself.
Too late. “Sure.” He was making a bad habit of not listening to himself.
Back at the house they hung up their coats, then she disappeared into the kitchen to fetch cookies. Guy caught sight of the gift basket he’d gotten her sitting on the living room coffee table, all gussied up in cellophane and a big red bow. He’d bought it because he knew she’d like it. And maybe because he hoped she’d still like him when she learned his true identity? Could a gift basket erase a bad first impression? If only they hadn’t gotten off on the wrong foot.
Ha! There was an understatement. He’d kicked her with the wrong foot.
He went upstairs to wash up. The man in the bathroom mirror had a banged-up face and a dribble of dried blood under his nose.
“You are such a fool,” Guy told him.
Livi was just coming out of the kitchen bearing a plate of cookies when he came back downstairs. “I thought my dad might join us,” she said, “but he opted not to.”
“Not into having company?” Guy asked as they settled on the couch.
“More like recovering from politeness overload. He still misses my mom, and getting out there with people and pretending to enjoy the season tends to drain him. Christmas was her favorite holiday,” she added, and Guy noticed that some of the joy had dropped out of her voice.
He understood. “I get it. The holidays weren’t the same after my dad died.”
“How did your family cope?” she asked, setting the cookie plate on the coffee table.
“I’m not sure we ever really did,” Guy said with a shrug. “We don’t get together much as a family anymore. My oldest brother’s on his third divorce. My mom’s remarried. We’re still trying to do Thanksgiving but...”
It was difficult to put into words how their lives had changed over the years, especially during the holidays. They still made a point of doing Thanksgiving—ate turkey and stuffing, had some laughs, played with the kids, but it always felt to Guy as if their hearts weren’t in it. This year had been especially hard with Michael’s latest marriage mess leaving him far from being good company.
As for mixing with Del’s family? Well, they’d never be the Brady Bunch. “I’m the only one going to see my mom for Christmas this year.” And even though he wanted to see her, he wasn’t sure how that visit was going to turn out.
“I so miss having my mom with us. She made the holidays special.”
“It looks like you’re doing a pretty good job of that yourself,” Guy said.
“Not like her. There are times when I wish I could go back in time.”
Him, too. He’d have made sure a big chunk of money got given to Christmas from the Heart. How different this all would be without that fateful decision hanging over him.
“But since I can’t, I’m determined to continue living the best way I can and to try to keep our family together,” Livi said. “I want my mom to be proud of me.”
“How could she not?” Guy couldn’t help wondering how proud his dad would have been of some of his choices. Would he have cared that Guy had told his CSR director to sever old ties with this small charity?
Maybe not. But would he have been disappointed with his son’s cowardly duplicity? For sure.
Guy remembered one of the last pieces of advice his dad ever gave him. “Sometimes you have to make hard decisions, son. Once you make one, stand by it and don’t be ashamed. And always be honest in all your dealings, no matter how hard that is. Nothing pays as high a dividend as honesty.”
And nothing cost so much as dishonesty. Guy was seeing the truth of that now.
Meanwhile, here was Livi, smiling at him as if his opinion mattered. “I’m sure trying to keep the joy in our lives,” she said. “I just wish my dad could try a little harder. I’m sure when my brother and sister-in-law come tomorrow, though, that will perk him up. Meanwhile, we have a movie to watch and Christmas cookies to eat. Would you like some milk to go with them?”
Cookies and milk, like when he was a kid. “Sure.” Keep the holiday movie playing.
She motioned to the gift basket. “Or we could have some champagne.”
“Milk will do it for me.”
She nodded. “All right then. I’ll be right back.”
What are you doing here? Make some excuse and leave before this goes any further. Hide in the guest room until the car’s ready.
Guy not only stayed put, he settled on the couch in the hopes that she’d join him there.
She did, after putting in a DVD. She didn’t cuddle up right next to him—Livi Berg was too classy to get pushy unless it was for a good cause—but she did sit close enough to tell him it was at the back of her mind.
Her phone pinged, signaling a text. She picked it up, looked at it, then turned off the phone and set it on the coffee table. Guy could guess who it was from by the irritated expression on her face. Bentley was still stuck on the outside looking in while Guy was snug in the living room, eating cookies and watching a movie with Livi. How long could his luck hold out?
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a couple of nutcracker Hessian soldiers on the end table on his side of the couch. He’d never liked nutcrackers, always thought they were creepy. These two seemed to be glaring at him, like characters from a Stephen King novel. It would serve him right if they came to life in the night and stabbed him with their bayonets.
“I love this old movie,” Livi said, aiming the remote at the DVD player. “I watch it every Christmas.”
Not It’s a Wonderful Life. That was his mom’s favorite and she’d made him and his brothers watch it with her every year—until they got old enough to make an excuse and escape. Corny and stupid. No man was poor who had friends, or something like that.
Or maybe she was about to show him A Christmas Carol. The evil businessman. That would be even worse. He braced himself.
The screen showed him The Family Man with Nicolas Cage. It was A Christmas Carol and It’s a Wonderful Life melded together and wrapped up in modern clothes. He’d seen the movie once, years ago, with a girlfriend. He’d found it pretty entertaining. This time he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to watch it.
Go now. Take a cookie and scram. He took a cookie and stayed put.
And watched Jack Campbell, investment broker, learn a thing or two about life. Well, sort of watched. Between thinking about how much he’d like to pull Livi next to him and wishing he was the kind of man who deserved to do that, it was hard to concentrate on the plot. Not that it needed much concentration. The story was the same one writers brought out in some form or other every Christmas.
“Wasn’t that wonderful?” she asked when the ending credits finally rolled, tears in her eyes.
“It was okay.”
“Just okay?” She looked shocked.
“Well, it’s kind of the same old story told over and over again—man with no heart grows one.”
“That’s a classic theme,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, the theme that every businessman is a hard-hearted bastard.”
“Some are,” she argued, and he knew exactly who she was thinking of.
So he’d screwed up. But he wasn’t all bad. “You know, Livi, most businessmen are trying to do something good in their own way, trying to make something of themselves, provide a better life for their family and their employees.” That was what his dad had done.
“I know,” she said softly. “And without those businesses, Christmas from the Heart wouldn’t be able to do what it does. I guess I like these movies because they remind us that life is about priorities. All the success in the world doesn’t mean much if you lose the people in your life while you’re pursuing it, especially when that’s why you want the success in the first place. And I think all of us were put here on this earth to share. Did you ever see the old movie Hello, Dolly!?”
Conversational whiplash. Where were they going now? He shook his head.
“I watched it on TV with my mom and grandma when I was a little girl. It’s all about this widow who’s a matchmaker and she’s always talking to her dead husband.”
“So, she’s a medium?”
Livi smiled and shook her head. “No, she just likes to keep his memory alive. Anyway, she has this line in the movie where she talks about money being fertilizer, meant to be spread around to make things grow. I think that’s a good attitude to have, no matter what your business. Don’t you?”
Livi Berg was exactly the kind of woman Guy’s mom would approve of. “You are something else,” he said, and slipped an arm around her and drew her toward him. She came willingly and she kissed him back willingly. And, oh man, life was good for that one moment.
If only he could find a way to make it last.
A shower, some aspirin and a bag of frozen peas to his aching chin hadn’t left Morris feeling any better. He’d been an ass—there was no getting around it. And now Joe Ford, who’d done nothing more than eat some fruitcake and put away some chairs, was Liv’s new hero. And Morris’s moment of madness hadn’t helped.
He had no excuse for his behavior other than... Okay, there was no excuse.
He texted an apology to her, which she ignored, then tossed aside his phone and grabbed the TV remote in an effort to distract himself. Nothing worked, not even streaming Die Hard, one of his all-time favorite holiday movies. Instead of seeing Bruce Willis taking down bad guys, all he could see was himself, shoving Ford and starting that nightmare chain of disaster in the restaurant. He never got mad like that. Of all the times to start. He was an idiot.
An idiot who’d been in love with Liv ever since he turned twelve and came to the realization that girls didn’t have cooties. From then on he’d done everything to win her heart from tugging on her hair or snitching her lunch sack from her and making her chase him to putting cheap Valentine candy on her porch on Valentine’s Day—yeah, he got smoother as he got older—and then running away so she wouldn’t catch him in the act. Okay, not that smooth. It had taken him clear until their junior year in high school to get up his nerve to ask her out, and then it had taken him three dates to get up his nerve to kiss her. But after that they’d been a couple. He’d hated it when she left for college and it had killed him when she broke up with him when she came home for Thanksgiving. He’d been patient, though, and after she returned to Pine River for good he’d convinced her to try again. The second try hadn’t worked and she’d relegated him to the friends corner. He hated the friends corner.
But even that was better than where he was now. Now he was in deep shit.
Okay, he may have been an idiot but Ford was... What? An interloper, a slick newcomer turning Livi’s head with his fancy clothes and his fancy car.
It was more than that. There was something else about the guy, something Morris couldn’t put his finger on, but he sensed it in his gut.
He grabbed his phone again, got on the internet and typed in Joe Ford. Up came a singer, a football coach, a funeral home and an insurance agent. Last up was a former CEO of a global communication company in another part of the country who had graduated from college before this Joe was even born. Morris searched Facebook, too, and didn’t find anybody who looked like Joe Ford.
“You’re a fake,” he muttered. Whoever this man was, whatever he was hiding, Morris hoped he could find out before it was too late and Liv got her heart broken.