Her Christmas Hero (Home To Dover 6) (7 page)

Linc took a couple from the pile in his hand, one corner of his mouth lifting. “She hasn’t made these in a long time. She’s started baking again since she’s been watching Evan.”

“Evan looks forward to spending time with her. I think they are good for each other.”

“I suppose so. So what’s going on with the Christmas events? Mom giving you advice on how to do things?”

She ignored his challenging tone. “There’s an extra week between Thanksgiving and the first of December. We decided to use that to decorate the downtown.”

“But Christmas always starts the day after Thanksgiving. Everyone knows that. It’s—”

Gemma raised her hand as she sat back down at the table. “Tradition. I know. But not this year. There’s not enough time to get everything in place. We’ll need that entire week to prepare for the Dover Glory Lights event.”

Linc placed his fisted knuckles on the tabletop and stared down at her. “That’s a big mistake. No one is going to be happy about pushing Christmas kickoff back a week.”

Gemma smiled up at him, inwardly bracing against the waves of emotion emanating from Linc. He may appear cool on the outside, but inside he felt things fiercely. “It can’t be helped. A little speed bump, nothing more. Besides, your mother thinks it won’t be an issue, and she should know.”

He straightened, shaking his head slightly. “Why are you so determined to change everything? Our Christmas has been just fine for a long time.”

She ignored the way he loomed over her and focused on her job. “Just fine until Southways closed. You might not have noticed a drop in business since then, but the merchants on the square have. They need to revitalize the downtown, draw more customers.”

“By turning our simple Christmas into a spectacle? Hasn’t the holiday been hijacked enough with people ignoring the real reason for Christmas, calling it a holiday, turning it into a greedfest? I want better for my hometown.” Linc gestured to the papers on the table. “I don’t suppose this speed bump means you’ll have to scale back on your Rockefeller-style extravaganza?”

If she wasn’t so irritated she would have laughed out loud. He was behaving like a little boy who didn’t get to hang the star on the treetop. “Not at all. In fact, I should have the time now to add those extra touches I’ve been thinking about. And by the way, the whole world flocks to Rockefeller Center to enjoy the lights.”

Linc leaned down and looked into her eyes. “And by the way, this isn’t New York.”

His smile was mocking, and his eyes were filled with a challenging glint. His nearness sent her nerve endings dancing. Gemma swallowed her discomfort. “That’s a good thing, because I don’t have the budget for that many lights.” She held her ground, wondering what he would do next. She expected him to storm out. Instead, he shoved his hands in his back pockets and shook his head.

“Don’t you have any traditions that you cherish, or are you a female Scrooge who hates Christmas?”

Gemma looked away. There’d never been consistent traditions in her family, unless you counted the lack of tradition as one. She stood and faced him, arms crossed over her chest. “I love Christmas. I love the reason we celebrate, I love the music, the decorations and the gifts. I love the nativity scenes and the trees, but mostly I love the lights. I want lights from every rooftop, every tree and shrub and building and walkway. I want to make downtown Dover as beautiful and glorious as possible. Yes, the lights will draw in visitors, the more the better. But I don’t think of them as glamorizing the holiday, but a way to draw them to Christ. If we wanted to show people the real meaning of Christmas, how the light of His life changed the world, then we couldn’t put up enough lights on the planet.” She took a deep breath, brushing her hair behind her shoulder. She’d gotten carried away. She dared a look at Linc, prepared for whatever rebuttal he was going to toss her way. Instead, she found a puzzled frown on his face and an odd light in his blue eyes that only added to her unease.

The air between them vibrated the way it always did when he was near, but this was different, softer. As if he was seeing her in a different way. She held her breath. When he remained silent she plunged ahead.

“And as for Santa, he’s the symbol of giving. God gave us Himself and taught us how to give to others. Each time we give a gift we’re honoring Him. I want people to come to Dover and rejoice. Maybe some of them will go home and want to learn about Jesus.”

The scowl on Linc’s face eased into a small smile. Her heart rate quickened and a surge of anxiety chilled her veins. She didn’t know what she’d said that had caused the shift in attitude, but the warmth in his eyes had warmed her blood several degrees.

Linc’s shoulders relaxed. “Well, when you put it like that...”

She thought he would say more, but he picked up another cookie from the plate and nodded. “I’d better check on Mom.”

Gemma breathed a sigh of relief when he shut the door behind him. Unfortunately, he’d left plenty of his vibrant energy behind. They were on opposite sides of the holiday issue, but she found herself enjoying the sparring between them. She always felt alive and strong. Not that she’d bested him, but that she’d held her own. It was nice to know her old determination was coming back. And that was all it was. It certainly had nothing to do with the strong-jawed, blue-eyed, all-male eldest son. Not at all.

She was not attracted to him. She was not.

* * *

Gemma sorted through her papers and notes Thursday evening as she waited for the town square business owners to arrive. This was their second meeting and the most important. She would lay out detailed plans for the various activities. She’d taken photos of the refreshed wreaths Seth was working on, which she posted on a corkboard behind her. She hoped the quick progress would inspire the owners and nudge those who might be on the fence to get on board.

She’d accomplished a lot in the past two weeks. She’d upgraded the Dover website, solicited food vendors for the weekends and started contacting local media about the upcoming events. Her only concern was how the owners would feel about that lame-duck week when they’d have to decorate. Mayor Bill Ogden was on board so she didn’t think it would be a problem, but as Linc had pointed out, she was tampering with tradition and that could spell problems.

The conference room door creaked and her spirits dipped when she saw Linc walk in. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m a business owner.”

“True, but you don’t own a business on the square.”

“No, but Mom made me promise to help you out. So here I am.”

“She did not.”

A sly smile moved his lips. “She did. You can ask her.”

“Well, you can tell Francie I appreciate her concern, but I don’t need your help.”

Linc set his hands on his hips and shrugged. “Doubt if that’ll work, but you’re welcome to talk to her when you see her.”

Gemma busied herself with her handouts, sorting them in piles and laying them crisscrossed, and trying to ignore Linc. He was probably right. Francie would be offended if she refused her son’s help. She no doubt saw it as a kind gesture. Gemma saw it as an obstacle she didn’t need.

“Fine. Then, take a seat and don’t interrupt. I have a lot to cover and I don’t need any negativity from you.”

“No problem. There’ll be plenty of negativity once everyone gets here.”

Gemma sent a scowl in his direction, which only made him smile. He took a seat on the end of the first row, right in her line of sight. If he thought he was going to intimidate her, he had a surprise coming. Once she was focused on her task, nothing could pull her out of the zone.

Linc sat, spread his arms out along the back of the chairs, rested one ankle on his knee and grinned. Gemma’s pulse quickened and a warm flush filled her cheeks. She pulled her gaze away, allowing her hair to fall forward and hopefully hide her reaction. Okay, so she could focus when it was anyone but him. The dark jeans and cream-colored Henley that he wore did little to hide the sculpted chest and muscled arms. The sleeves were shoved up, revealing corded forearms and a black watch strapped across his wrist. He looked relaxed, confident and defiant. He was taunting her, biding his time until the other owners arrived and started poking holes in her plans.

No way. She would not let him influence the others who were starting to arrive. Quickly she went to greet them and introduce herself to the ones who’d missed the previous meeting. When she returned to the front of the room, she was able to ignore Linc and focus on the job at hand. Well, almost.

“Good evening. I’m so glad to see so many of you here. We have a lot to go over and I know you’ll have questions.” She explained about the extra week and her plans for decorating. When no one expressed any concerns she moved forward.

Gemma briefly went over the plans for the grand lighting the first weekend and explained about the lamppost-decorating contest, and the addition of carriage rides around the square.

“Oh, how romantic.” A woman in the front row smiled up at her.

Gemma smiled in agreement, her confidence lifting a notch. “Week three will be the children’s weekend. We will continue with your lovely tradition of having visitors donate toys, and I understand Peace Community Church will host that event. The annual community dinner will be held again, but that is organized by the city of Dover. Santa will be enthroned in the square park to visit with the children, and street vendors will be offering food and beverages. This will give visitors a chance to wander along the storefronts and cast their vote for the best windows.” Gemma sent a smug smile in Linc’s direction.

“Sounds like a lot of work to me.” An older man in the third row stood. “I’m Denver Kolb. I can decorate the window, all right. My wife’s good at that sort of thing, but how are we going to get folks to come down here? How are they going to hear about our newfangled celebrations?”

“I’ve already started on that. Thankfully, Dover already has a very appealing website. I’ve added a page for our Christmas events and will post pictures as we go along. I’ve also started to contact various media outlets—newspapers, television, radio—to let them know what we are doing. But the best marketing tool we have is you. Word of mouth will draw more people to Dover than any other thing. Talk it up to your friends, your relatives. Post it on your social media pages.”

“I don’t do any of that social stuff. Do you have anything I can give people?”

“I will have something, yes. I’m working on a small postcard-size handout and a large poster that you can place in various places. I should have all of this finalized in a day or so. I will keep in touch with you via email, or if that’s not an option, Leatha will call you and leave messages.”

“What about the last weekend? Will it still focus on the real meaning of Christmas?”

Gemma stole a quick glance at Linc and saw a faint smirk on his lips. She squared her shoulders and smiled out at the crowd. “Yes. Absolutely. The local choirs will still sing, and the churches on the square will be open for prayer or candlelight services. We’ll keep the food vendors and hopefully the carriage rides, but that weekend will be devoted to honoring the season.”

She swallowed around the tightness in her throat, waiting for the reactions to her plans. “I know this sounds like a lot of things to pull together, but most of it will fall on me. I’ve done this before, many times, and I’ve organized events that will deliver the greatest impact for the least amount of effort. Provided we all work together. I’m here to help you work through your concerns and tackle issues as they arise, but I don’t think there will be any we can’t handle together.”

The owners stood and began chatting, many of them approaching her with questions and comments. To her relief, most were enthusiastic and excited about the events and no one expressed concern about that extra week.

Linc strolled up to the table where she’d laid her drawings. She squared her shoulders and smiled. “So. I guess you were disappointed.”

He frowned. “’Bout what?”

“That the owners didn’t rebel against my plans for the events or the lame-duck workweek. I thought they were very cooperative and even enthusiastic.”

“We’ll see.” He inhaled a slow breath. “I know you believe in what you’re doing. I get that, but I’m concerned about the long-term. Part of the charm here is the low-key way we do things. These events will change the focus. Instead of sitting back and enjoying the holiday, we’ll be running around trying to top last year, and Christmas will be lost in trying to make things bigger and flashier.”

The man was determined to keep Dover in the last century. “Well, it’s fortunate that you’re not the one in charge, then, isn’t it?”

A woman approached and Gemma took the opportunity to turn away from Linc. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Shirley Roe from the Magnolia Diner. I couldn’t make the first meeting, but I wanted to tell you how excited I am about expanding our holiday events. I know the increase in visitors will be a blessing for my business. Most of the people at Southways ate lunch at my place. I’m planning on doing a little sprucing up before the big lighting weekend. I want our visitors to see the real charm of my café and the down-home food we offer.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m going to do my best to make sure these weekends are as special as they can be.”

Shirley extended her hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Butler, or do you prefer Ms.?”

Gemma grasped the woman’s hand. “Gemma is fine.”

Linc was still standing near the table, studying her with his intense blue eyes. She raised her chin. “Another satisfied customer.”

“So which is it? Ms. or Mrs.?”

A twinge of anger tightened her throat. What did it matter? But maybe she could shut down his curiosity with the truth. “Miss. I’ve never been married.” She saw the surprise register in his eyes and the sudden tightening of his jaw. In for a penny in for a pound. “And yes, Evan is my biological child. Any other questions?”

Linc had the grace to look embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Yes, you did.” Gathering up her papers, she slipped them into the satchel and headed for the door. Why did everyone think they had a right to ask personal questions?
Where’s your husband? Are you widowed? Divorced?
Sometimes she wanted to silence them all with the truth, but that would only create more questions.