Read A Fairytale Christmas Online
Authors: Susan Meier
A Fairytale Christmas
This November, Harlequin
®
Romance invites you to celebrate
A Fairytale Christmas
Meet the McKenzie sisters—twins who couldn’t be more different if they tried!
Dreamy single mom Gwen secretly longs for a happy-ever-after for herself and her adorable baby, Claire, but can she ever learn to trust again?
High-powered Gill craves professional success, and has given up waiting for Prince Charming to sweep her off her stilettos. Except this year, does fate have a surprise in store…?
With some Christmas magic, these sisters are about to meet the men of their dreams!
Find out how in two fabulous linked stories
by popular author
Susan Meier
and introducing brand-new author
Barbara Wallace!
USAN
M
EIER
B
ARBARA
W
ALLACE
A Fairytale Christmas
USAN
M
EIER
Baby Beneath the Christmas Tree
Dear Reader,
When I was offered the opportunity to write this anthology, and was asked if there was a newer writer I’d like to work with, I didn’t even hesitate. I instantly said Barbara Wallace!
I met Barbara at the Romance Writers of America national conference. Not only was she pretty, but she was also sweet and kind. I knew those qualities would translate into a great story. And they did. Barbara created a wonderful twin sister for my heroine, and put Gill in a romance readers will long remember.
It’s always fun to write about Christmas. I believe it’s a magical time of the year. I got a chance to really expand on that theme by setting “Baby Beneath the Christmas Tree” on a Christmas tree farm. Gwen and Drew are made for each other, but neither sees that because there are too many complications in their lives. Gwen is a young single mom, desperate to finish her degree and be able to support her child. CEO Drew is an absentee dad, getting a second chance with the sixteen-year-old son he barely knows.
They have an age difference, a class difference and even a totally different outlook on life. So it’s more than magic when they realize each can solve the other’s problem. But solving problems is one thing. Getting the courage to take another chance on love when each has been hurt before is quite another. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll get some extra-special help from the spirit that permeates Teaberry Farms.
I hope you enjoy “Baby Beneath the Christmas Tree” as much as I enjoyed writing it! To an author every book is special, but for me this one truly is magic.
Susan Meier
To my friend Denise, who listens to every incarnation of every story long before I write it!
F
OR
as long as Gwendolyn McKenzie could remember the old timers in the tiny town of Towering Pines, West Virginia, had whispered that Teaberry Farms was enchanted. The rumor was that if you touched one of the Teaberry Christmas trees while wishing, your wish would come true.
Driving up the fir-lined mountain road that took her to the farm, Gwen glanced around in amazement, understanding why the legend had formed. Majestic evergreens punched into a vast indigo sky. Fat, fluffy white snowflakes pirouetted around the green pine branches, falling heavily, like frosting on sugar cookies, creating a magical world.
But when she reached the Teaberry mansion, Gwen’s mouth dropped open in dismay. Two rows of tall windows with thin black shutters dominated the huge redbrick home, but the shutters tilted drunkenly from age and neglect. The Teaberry family hadn’t even visited for at least a decade, so it didn’t surprise her that the house was in disrepair. But she’d thought Andrew Teaberry, her new boss, would have called ahead to have the place prepared to be used. If the house was this bad on the outside, she feared it would be worse on the inside.
Still, a wisp of smoke rose from the redbrick chimney, disappearing into the inky sky, proof that the caretaker must have started a fire in preparation for the owner’s return. At
least she and her daughter wouldn’t spend their time shivering while they waited for Andrew to arrive.
She got out of her beat-up little red car, opened the back door and reached in to unbuckle the car seat of her three-month-old baby. When she’d gotten pregnant by a boyfriend who’d bolted the very second she’d told him, Gwen and her twin sister Gill had both worried that she might fall into the same trap their mom had. Ginger McKenzie had married the man who had gotten
her
pregnant. But when twins were born he’d panicked, saying one baby was difficult enough to handle, two was impossible. He left town, leaving Ginger to raise the girls alone, watching out the window, longing for him to come home.
Six months after her mom’s sudden death, finding herself in a position very close to Ginger’s, Gwen had quickly shaped up. She didn’t want to be one of those women who wasted her entire life pining after a man who didn’t want her. She’d stopped believing in miracles. She’d stopped believing wishes came true. She’d packed away her dreamy side. And she now only dealt in facts.
Which was why she was at this rundown old house, about to start a job as the assistant to a man she’d never met. She had to pay her own way, support a child and finish her degree. This job might be temporary, but it paid enough money that if she watched how she spent she could keep herself and Claire through her last semester of university.
“Hey, Claire-bear,” she said, lifting the little girl and rubbing noses. Bundled in her thick pink snowsuit, with the white fur of the hood framing her face, chubby, happy Claire really did look something like a stuffed pink bear.
Using the key sent to her by Andrew Teaberry, Gwen unlocked the front door and stepped inside. A huge curving ma
hogany staircase greeted her and Claire. But so did cobwebs. A layer of dust coated the banister and the stairs.
“Wow. We could be in big trouble, Claire-bear.”
Walking from room to room, she felt her dismay grow. Though the lights worked, the sinks had water and the kitchen appliances had been plugged into electrical outlets and hummed with life, the house was filthy. Her boss might have instructed the caretaker to get the utilities turned on and the furnace working, but he’d forgotten about cleaning.
Discovering a suite in the back that had probably at one time been the maid’s quarters, Gwen set Claire’s baby carrier on the dusty bare mattress of the single bed, but then lifted it up again. She’d arrived an hour early, hoping to make a good impression, but Andrew hadn’t yet arrived. If she hurried, she could race home for a vacuum cleaner, mop, broom, soap and dustcloths, and still have time to clean this suite enough that Claire could sleep here.
Two hours later, Andrew Teaberry pulled his shiny black SUV into the circular driveway in front of his family’s old homestead and his face fell in disgust. Pressed for time on this spur-of-the-moment trip, he’d thought ahead enough to hire an assistant and have the caretaker open the place, but he hadn’t considered that the Teaberry mansion might not be habitable.
“So this is the fabulous Teaberry Farms.” In the passenger’s seat of the SUV, Drew’s sixteen-year-old son Brody glanced around and snorted with derision. “Looks like a rat-hole to me.”
Drew nearly squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he had to move into this old monstrosity while he negotiated the purchase of a local manufacturing company, his ex-wife had decided to get remarried, forcing
Drew to keep their son for the entire month of her honeymoon. So while he negotiated to buy the business of crusty old Jimmy Lane, a West Virginia entrepreneur who only wanted to sell his business to someone who lived in West Virginia, he was saddled with a sassy sixteen-year-old.
Inserting the key into the back door lock, he glanced behind him at Brody, who was so engrossed in whatever he was doing with his cell phone that he didn’t even watch where he walked. Wearing a black knit cap over his yellow hair, and a thick parka that seemed to swallow him whole, Brody was the complete opposite of his dark-haired, dark-eyed, always observant dad. The kid was going to step into traffic one day.
Brushing up against one of the pine trees beside the kitchen door as he pulled the key out of the door lock, Drew prayed that they both survived this month. He pushed open the door, stepped into a kitchen that looked like something out of a horror movie and froze.
“Mr. Teaberry!” The woman standing by the dusty kitchen counter winced. “I’d say welcome home, but I’m not sure that’s exactly appropriate, given the condition of the place.”
Drew blinked at yet another surprise this morning. Unless she was Max Peabody, the caretaker, this had to be his temporary administrative assistant, Gwen McKenzie. In their phone interview she’d told him she had one more semester of university to finish, so he’d pictured her as being a petite sprite, someone who’d look only a little older than his son. Instead he’d hired a classically beautiful woman with thick blond hair and catlike green eyes, who was built like every man’s fantasy come to life. A bright red sweater accented her ample bosom. Dark, low-riding jeans caressed her perfect bottom. Her shoulder-length hair swung when she moved.
He slid his laptop onto an available counter, glancing around at the nightmare of a kitchen. The oak cabinets were
solid, but coated in dust, as were the kitchen table and the four chairs around it. But, like the cabinets, the furniture and the ceramic floor tiles looked to be in good shape. The house wasn’t really falling apart, just dirty.
“Good morning. Sorry we’re late. We couldn’t get on the road until hours after we’d planned.”
She batted her hand in dismissal. “Not a problem.”
Brody pushed into the kitchen behind his dad, not caring that he’d bumped into him. “Hey, babe, thought for sure you’d have muffins and coffee waiting.”
Drew blanched at his son’s disrespect. “Not only is Gwen not our cook, but we don’t call employees
babe.
”
“All right. Great. No babe.” Brody pulled his sunglasses down his nose and peered over the rim at Gwen. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”
“We don’t call employees sweetie, either!” Drew said, his temperature rising. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the kid was deliberately antagonizing him. “How about an apology?”
Brody glared at his dad. “Fine. I’m sorry. Why don’t you just write a list of rules so I know what I can and can’t say this next month?”
With that he stormed through the kitchen, all but knocking the swinging door off its hinges as he punched through it.
Though Drew knew he should go after him, he had no idea what to say to this new version of Brody. That was part of the problem. Sixteen years ago, when his ex had moved herself and their son to Colorado, two thousand miles away from Drew, he’d protested. But in the end she hadn’t budged, and his visits with Brody had become something like two-week vacations, spent on tropical islands or at ski resorts.
They’d always gotten along well. Until this trip. Now, Brody was suddenly obnoxious. Drew had absolutely no idea what
the heck he was going to do with him for the entire month of December. One-on-one in a house so far out in the country that it didn’t get cable TV, they were going to be miserable. Especially since Drew wasn’t even sure when or why Brody had turned into such a mouthy kid or where to start with discipline.
He did, however, know exactly what to say to an embarrassed employee. He turned to Gwen. “I apologize for my son’s behavior.”
“Not a big deal,” she said with a laugh. “He’s what? Fifteen? Sixteen? He’s testing the water. All kids do it.”
A steamroller of relief rumbled through Drew. At least the relationship with his temporary administrative assistant would be normal. Then she smiled at him, her pretty green eyes shining, her full lips winging upward, and everything male inside of Drew responded. Her thick, shiny blond hair framed a heart-shaped face with bright eyes, a pert nose, and generous lips made for kissing.
Involuntarily, his gaze once again swept down the red sweater and tight jeans. He rarely went out, and when he did the women he dated were nothing like Gwen. They were tall, cool sophisticates. Models. Starlets. But there was no denying that this gorgeous blonde made him wonder what it would be like to kiss her—
He groaned inwardly. He wanted a normal working relationship with this woman! Plus, even if he was the kind to dabble in affairs, she was too young for him, and an employee. If those weren’t enough, he had responsibilities as Chairman of the Board of his grandfather’s conglomerate. The pressure of holding top position in a global company left him no time for anything but work. That was why he’d only spent vacations with Brody. Why Brody had had time to change without Drew
even realizing. Why he had to figure out how he’d handle him for the four long weeks of December.
“I think I’ll grab Brody and get our bags.”
She winked. “Good idea.”
Her wink was cute. Not flirty, but happy. And for some reason or another that sent a sizzle through Drew when he’d already reminded himself he wasn’t allowed to be interested. Eager to get away from this confusing situation, he headed for the door that Brody had stormed through, and found himself in a hall and then a foyer, where Brody was bounding up the dusty steps.
He glanced around in renewed disgust. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and created feathery loops on the walls. The house wasn’t even clean enough to sleep in, but they had to stay here. There wasn’t a hotel in tiny Towering Pines, and they were too far away from a city to drive back and forth. Plus, Jimmy Lane loved the idea that Drew was one of the original Teaberrys. He wanted to visit the Christmas tree farm. He wanted to see the mansion. Somehow or another Drew was going to have to make this place sparkle before his visit.
But as Brody stormed away Drew knew he’d have to deal with that later. “Hey! Aren’t you going to help me with the bags?”
“Don’t you have people for that?”
“Not here!” Drew yelled, as Brody continued up the steps. “Except for Ms. McKenzie, who’s
my
assistant and not yours, we’re on our own.”
“Oh, I get it.
You
can use
Ms. McKenzie
for personal things, but I can’t.”
Something in the way Brody said that stopped Drew cold. Not because he shouldn’t have an assistant, but because he was attracted to her. The entire time he’d been in the kitchen
he’d kept losing his train of thought and stealing inappropriate looks at her.
Brody huffed out a sigh and started down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, Drew led him out the front door.
Stepping into the falling snow again, Drew headed toward his black SUV. The six inches that had blanketed West Virginia that morning gave the farm the look of a Currier and Ives painting. Even in disrepair, the big redbrick house had a solid, steady feel to it. Huge pines wrapped it in a warm embrace. Snow covered the fence and outbuildings, making everything sparkle.
Brody glanced around. “What a dump.”
A sting of guilt whipped through Drew as he popped the hatch of the car. “Just because it isn’t our cup of tea, that doesn’t mean the farm is a dump.”
“Whatever.” Brody reached in and dragged his duffle bag out of the rear compartment. It fell into the snow with a thud. Brody sighed heavily. “What good is it to be rich if you have to carry your own luggage?”
Anger surged through Drew. “Life isn’t only about comfort.”
Yanking his duffle from the snow, Brody looked up over the rim of his sunglasses at his dad. “Whatever.”
Drew knew he was in over his head with this kid, and he needed to fix this situation, fast.