A Bramble House Christmas (Carrigans of the Circle C Book 6) (19 page)

B
ack in Finn’s room, Willa collapsed on the bed. “I can’t believe I let him go. I can’t believe he wasn’t scared.”

“Let me tell you a thing about boys. They love adventures.”

“In books, maybe.”

“In real life, too. Trust me, Scout is going to remember this all his life.”

Willa nodded. It did make her proud that Scout cared about the sick children. Having been one himself for far too long, he could certainly relate to their situation.

Finn put his arms around her waist. “Any chance I could convince you to come back to bed?”

She relaxed against his chest. “Tonight was fabulous. But I’m not going to be able to sleep until he’s home and safe.”

“Who said anything about sleeping?”

She laughed softly. “How about a game of Scrabble instead?”

“Strip Scrabble? In bed?”

“Yes, to the in-bed part.”

He planted a soft kiss on her lips. “I’ll take what I can get. I’ll run downstairs and get the game.”

Once he was gone, Willa went to the window, drew back the curtain, and looked out into the dark night. It would be hours before dawn. She hoped Scout and Kris Krinkles wouldn’t be gone too long. With a sigh, she dropped the curtain, then made a small circuit of the room. She noticed Finn’s sketchbook on the bureau and resisted the urge to look inside. There was a UPS envelope beside it, which she barely glanced at.

But then she took a second look.

Something had caught her eye. Something that didn’t seem right.

The name on this envelope was Greg Finnegan Conrad.

She picked up the letter, focusing on the name as if somehow the letters might arrange themselves into something that made sense. But the letters remained in place. Keeping the letter in her hand, she went to the nightstand where Finn had placed his wallet. Gingerly she opened it and pulled out the first card she saw, a credit card.

On the card was the same name. Greg Finnegan Conrad.

Willa couldn’t breathe. She blinked several times, almost not trusting her own eyes. This—this just couldn’t be real. And yet the card and the letter both felt so solid in her fingers.

Who was this man she’d just slept with—Finn Knightly or Greg Finnegan Conrad?

A moment later she heard Finn quietly enter the room.

“I found it,” he said.

She held up the envelope and the Visa. “So did I.”

He looked at her stunned.

“Is this your real name?”

“Ah, Willa. You weren’t supposed to find out this way.”

Despite the evidence, she’d been praying she was wrong, but his words dashed her faint hopes.

“A-are you Greg Conrad’s son?”

“I am.”

The pain in her heart was so fierce she could hardly speak. “A-and Finn Knightly...?”

“I’ve always gone by Finn. Knightly is my mother’s maiden name. She liked me using it for my nom de plume. She saw it as a tribute to her father, who was also an artist.”

He wasn’t one or the other. He was both. “So it’s not a coincidence we both ended up in Marietta?”

“No. But does it really matter what brought us to this town? As soon as I met you, I knew you were special. I had no plans to fall in love. I actually fought it. But it happened. And as far as I’m concerned, it’s the only thing that matters.”

“Love? How can you even talk about love? There is no love without honesty. You didn’t have the decency to tell me who you really were, and you expect me to believe you love me?”

“I didn’t tell you because I was ashamed. Almost as soon as I met you I realized you weren’t the sort of woman who’d swindle money from a sick man.”

“Oh, my gosh.” She should have seen that coming, but somehow she had not. “You thought I was...that I had...”

A lump grew in her throat. Anger and hurt warred inside her. She didn’t know which she felt more strongly. What she did know was that her heart ached and the world was suddenly spinning. She pressed her back against the wall, needing something solid behind her to keep standing.

“I’m so sorry, Willa. But try to see it from my family’s point of view. We find out from a lawyer that our father left a nurse he’d only known six weeks fifty thousand dollars. Can’t you see how odd that seemed to us?”

“Of course I can. I certainly would have understood if you’d wanted to talk to me about it.” She waved the envelope in front of his face. “So why didn’t you just call me and ask me to explain?”

Finn rubbed his jaw, looking troubled, pale. “I was afraid you wouldn’t talk to me once you found out who I was.”

“Right. Because I had to protect my fifty thousand dollars, right? Let me tell you something,
Greg Finnegan Conrad.
You and your family can have every penny your father bequeathed to me. All I ask in exchange is that you never try to contact me again. And that starts right now.”

With that, she dropped the envelope to the ground and ran out of his room.

T
ears flooded Willa’s eyes as she fled out the door to the sanctuary of her room. Logic told her she’d done nothing wrong, but she couldn’t help feeling dirty and ashamed. She hadn’t asked for, or even wanted that darn fifty thousand dollars! And as for the ring...

She pulled it off and tossed it into the top bureau drawer. It wasn’t fair! Greg Conrad had meant for the ring to bring her happiness, but wearing it had brought her nothing but grief.

She thought back to her first days at the B&B, the feeling she’d had that Finn didn’t approve of her somehow. And yet, he’d befriended her, specifically so he could worm out her confidences about his father.

And then, if that wasn’t enough, he’d courted her and seduced her.

She’d been such an easy mark, never once suspecting he had an ulterior motive.

Willa went to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. Then she stared at her reflection, suddenly angry.

No more guilt. She’d done nothing wrong, except maybe dreaming too big. In her prayers she’d never asked for anything more than Scout’s good health and happiness. Her mistake had been reaching for romance and love, as well.

Well, she’d learned her lesson on that score.

Willa paced the confines of the room. It was ten minutes past five now, and still pitch dark outside. She was suffocating in here. But she didn’t dare go for a walk and risk missing Scout’s return. She couldn’t even go down to the sitting room in case she ran into Finn.

Finally, she had a bath and put on her PJs. She’d just finished brushing her teeth, when the door opened and Scout slipped into the dimly lit room.

She turned off the water. “Scout are you all right?”

“Mom! Mom! It was amazing.” He was sitting on the floor, tugging off his boots.

“I’m so glad, honey.” She hugged him, feeling the cold of the night on his jacket. “Were you warm enough?”

“Yup. I was in a sleigh, Mom, and it was pulled by a team of really nice dogs ’cause the reindeer were busy doing another route.”

She could tell he was trying to keep his voice quiet, but his enthusiasm came through loud and clear.

“Real dogs, huh?” She unzipped his jacket, then helped him step out of the snow pants.

“Santa drove us to the hospital and we had to be really quiet. I helped Santa put gifts in the stockings for all the kids. But one girl was awake and crying because she was hurting. And I talked to her and told her about how I used to hurt too, but now I’m better, and maybe she’ll be better soon, too.”

She led her son to the bathroom where he made quick work of brushing his teeth, going pee and washing his hands.

By the time he hit the bed, his eyes were fluttering closed, but he still kept talking.

“And there were cookies and milk, and Santa shared them with me.”

“That was nice.”

“Uh huh. And the best part, Mom?”

“What’s that Scout?” Despite her broken heart, his happiness made her smile.

“He’s real, Mom. There actually is a Santa.”

W
illa slept. She hadn’t expected to. But the sound of Scout’s even breathing soothed her and she drifted off for a few hours of sweet oblivion.

Scout, bless his heart, slept in until eight. No sooner had he awoken though, than he scampered to the end of his bed and came back with a stocking stuffed with goodies.

Willa studied it with disbelief. Her own stocking and gifts for Finn were waiting for him under the tree in the breakfast room.

“You have one too, Mom.” Scout retrieved a pretty red stocking decorated with white snowflakes. “Can we open them now?”

“Sure. I guess.” Had Kris Krinkles come in while they were sleeping? The idea was a little creepy. Or, looked at another way, kind of magical.

Willa found bath salts, her favorite hand cream—and how could Kris Krinkles have known that?—as well as warm socks, mittens and some of Sage’s pistachio truffle balls—again, Willa’s favorite.

Befuddled, she set aside her gifts and duly admired Scout’s treasures until finally she suggested it was time they put on their robes and go down for breakfast.

Yesterday Eliza had told her that they had a strict PJs only dress code for Christmas morning and that she and Scout could come down at their leisure.

Willa was congratulating herself on keeping it all together, but one glance at Finn’s door as they stepped out into the hall almost did her in. Tears blurred her vision and she paused to blink them away.

“Mom, can I check if Finn’s up? I want to tell him about last night! It was like an Everyday Sam adventure!”

Willa shook her head. “If he’s not at the breakfast table yet, we should let him sleep.”

Her heart thudded as they made their way downstairs. Would Finn be there? Would he try to talk to her?

But there was only one person sitting at the table when they entered. From her sour expression it seemed Mable Bramble had not been infected with any Christmas cheer. Nor was she following the PJ dress code. As usual she was wearing a very proper blouse and skirt, her hair pulled back in the rather severe style she favored.

Mable did manage to unbend enough to wish them a Merry Christmas, just as Eliza and Marshall entered the room, both dressed in PJs and robes and carrying platters of bacon and blueberry banana pancakes with whipped cream.

“Yay, bacon, my favorite!”

“Merry Christmas, Scout.” Marshall gave Scout a fist bump. “Did Santa come last night?”

“He sure did. We went on a sleigh pulled by dogs. And I helped him get toys to the sick kids too.”

Mable sniffed with disapproval, clearly assuming the child was fibbing, but Eliza and Marshall made an appreciative audience.

Scout held court throughout breakfast, sharing the story of his Christmas Eve adventure. Willa sipped coffee and listened, trying not to focus too much on the empty chair where Finn usually sat.

Eventually hunger got the best of Scout, and he gave up talking in favor of eating.

Willa put a little food on her plate and hoped no one noticed her lack of appetite. But of course Eliza did. Several times she seemed on the verge of saying something to her. Each time though, she stopped.

After his first serving had been gobbled up, Scout asked, “Is Kris Krinkles still in his room? I want to thank him for the presents. And see if maybe we can go for another sleigh ride this afternoon.”

“I’m sorry Scout, but he’s gone,” Eliza said gently. “We won’t see him again until next Christmas.”

“Oh.” Scout took a moment to digest that. “What about Finn?”

Willa held her breath waiting for the answer.

Eliza’s gaze shifted to Willa. “Finn went to the Graff for breakfast today. Just for...something different, I guess.”

Scout turned to his mom. “Will I get to see him before we go home tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure,” Willa said softly, mashing a piece of her pancake with her fork, sensing Eliza’s sympathetic eyes on her.

“He’s not here,” Eliza said. “However he did ask me to give you these.” From under the tree she pulled out two rectangular-shaped presents, one wrapped in silver, the other blue. She handed the blue one to Scout.

“Wow, thanks!” Scout lost no time unwrapping his gift, and as soon as he spied what was inside, a smile spread over his face. “Look, Mom, it’s a Shane Doan sweater!” Quickly he slipped the hockey jersey over his head.