Copyright © 2011 by Vanessa Gray Bartal
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Author’s Note
Savvy readers will notice this is book 3 in the series when book 2 has not yet been published. The books are written in chronological order with book 1 taking place in summer, book 2 in fall, and book 3 at Christmas. Rest assured, however, that no spoilers from book 2 are in this book—it’s meant simply to be a gentle Christmas read. Enjoy, and Merry Christmas! Vanessa.
Chapter 1
“Lacy, a package came for you.”
Her grandmother’s polite knock, plus her gentle voice filtering through the door, roused Lacy from a deep sleep, which was scandalous considering the late hour. Lacy crawled from bed and opened the door, trying hard not to look like she’d just woken up.
“Thanks, Grandma,” she said, her voice raw and scratchy from disuse. She extended her hand toward the small package, trying not to feel guilty when her grandmother looked at her in surprise. Of course there was no accusation in her beloved grandmother’s face. Even though it was after ten in the morning, she still wouldn’t chastise her oldest granddaughter. The woman was a saint, in Lacy’s opinion, which made her own behavior all the more embarrassing. Slowly but surely, she was turning into a sloth.
It had started two weeks ago when her friend, Tosh, became too busy for her and her friend, Jason, stopped calling. Suddenly sitting back, enjoying life, and licking her wounds had seemed like a good idea to Lacy. Only that had somehow morphed into staying up until the wee hours of the morning, eating popcorn, and watching infomercials about miracle hair products.
Her inertia had grown worse as Christmas approached. This was her first Christmas without Robert, the first Christmas since he’d broken their engagement and dumped her for her sister. What was so bad about reveling in a little self pity? So what if she hadn’t shaved her legs in over a week? Who got close enough to her to care? No one, that’s who, at least not lately. The only two men who had even a remote chance of getting that close to her were both nonexistent lately.
As a pastor, Tosh was having his busiest season, and it was making him cranky. Lacy had never seen him so stressed. She had no idea how Christmas parties could make someone grumpy, but then she’d never had to attend thirteen in a row. Unlike Tosh who was doing just that and then some.
Jason’s absence was unexplained, but they didn’t really keep tabs on each other the way she and Tosh did. Her relationship with Jason was more complex and fraught with more emotional minefields. She was insanely attracted to him, which was good enough reason to stay away from him, only that didn’t seem to be possible. They were like two magnets that kept flipping back and forth, alternately attracting and repelling each other. Apparently lately their poles were the same and they were keeping their distance. Lacy tried to tell herself it didn’t matter, but she still felt the sting of his rejection, even if it was unspoken.
She sat on the floor in front of her bed, turning over the package in her hand. It was a plain cardboard box, but something rattled inside. When she tore open the outside packaging, she saw a neatly wrapped little present with an attached note that read, “Do not open until Christmas.”
“Pfft,” Lacy said out loud. “Fat chance.” She ripped open the smaller box and stared dumbfounded at its contents, blinking the sleep from her eyes to see it better. It was a beautiful gold filigree locket. Turning it over, she read the inscription on the back. “I love you.”
Amazed, she sat on the floor, staring at it and turning it over in her fingers, looking for clues. Who would have sent this and why now? Why not give it to her in person, unless it was someone who couldn’t say the words out loud?
That tantalizing thought left three possibilities: Either it was Tosh, whose desire to take things to the next level wasn’t actually a secret. Or it was Jason, who would probably rather be dropped into boiling acid rather than ever tell a woman he loved her. And then there was the third option: Lacy’s grandfather, Tom Middleton. New to their family and still finding his way, it would be like him to send a sentimental gift without actually telling her anything at all. He was her biological grandfather, but she hadn’t known about him until recently. They were a lot alike, she and her grandfather; sentimental words didn’t come easily.
Only one other man had ever given Lacy jewelry, and she was certain this wasn’t from him. Her ex-fiancé, Robert, had given her an engagement ring, but before that he had given her something else, something more meaningful, something she had kept despite their breakup.
On the day he told her he was dumping her for her sister, Riley, she had ripped off her engagement ring, shoved it into his chest, and told him she never wanted to see him again. Then she had gone back to her apartment, rifled through her jewelry box, and dug out the other piece of jewelry he’d given her, hugging it tightly to her chest.
Setting aside the locket, she stood and walked to her drawer, rifling through until she reached the small box filled with the personal items she kept hidden from the world. In it was a card from Tosh, something he’d sent because he knew it would make her laugh, along with a clipped picture of Jason in his uniform she had cut from the paper. There was the bulletin from Barbara Blake’s funeral service, and there was the ring from Robert.
It wasn’t valuable, at least in terms of dollars. He had bought it from a street vendor in Manhattan on a whim, but he had presented it to her with a flourish, telling her he loved her and getting down on one knee. They had only been dating for a couple of months, and Lacy had been swept away by the romance of it all. She had worn the ring every day until he replaced it with an engagement ring.
She pulled the ring out now, studying it for a few beats before clenching it in her hand and pressing her closed fist to her forehead. How could she have been so wrong about Robert? How could she have been so stupid to turn over her heart to someone who had hurt her so cruelly? How could she ever fully trust anyone again?
Unclenching her fist, she dropped the ring back in the box and closed the drawer. She had to get a grip on herself. Somehow, she had to get out of this downward spiral, and especially before Christmas arrived. Christmas was a notoriously depressing day for the lovelorn. No need to add more fuel to the fire by letting herself go and adding low self-esteem into the mix.
First thing first, she needed to get herself whipped back into shape. The best way to do that was to go for a run, but she groaned aloud just thinking the word. If there was anything she hated more than running, it was running when it was cold and wet outside. But this was her penance for eating four bags of microwave popcorn in the last week. They were the mini bags, but still. Gross.
She suited up, attempting to pile on the layers without adding so many that she would overheat and die along the road somewhere. How to dress for a run was the type of thing that athletic people inherently knew. Lacy, on the other hand, was not athletic. She was and had always been a geek. Her days of high school band had taught her which instruments couldn’t survive the cold or the wet, but nothing about football. The game was still a mystery to her, as was running for pleasure. She ran because, if she didn’t, she would get fat.
With that depressing thought in mind, she left the house and pounded the pavement for thirty minutes, alternately sweating and freezing as she vowed to figure out the proper mix of clothes for a winter run. Her ears, nose, fingers, and toes were numb, but her midsection was soaked with great rivulets of sweat. For
that reason, she couldn’t stop until she got home for fear that she would freeze wherever she landed. What if she accidentally backed up against a metal pole or something? The fire department might have to get her unstuck.
She finally arrived home, stumbling in the front door and collapsing on the entry rug.
“What on earth was that?” her grandmother’s voice drifted from the kitchen.
“Lacy went for a run,” her grandfather replied.
“Oh,” her grandma said, as if the sound of collapse had been inevitable the moment Lacy set out. “Lacy, dear, are you okay? We’re getting ready to bake soon. We waited for you.”
Lacy tried to call that she was fine, but the sound came out a garbled mass of unintelligible sounds. When she realized she was actually slobbering on the rug, drool running from one side of her face like a sleeping Saint Bernard, she pulled herself up on her hands and knees and shakily attained a standing position.
“Shower,” she called weakly in the direction of the kitchen. She wasn’t sure if they heard her pathetic whimper, but they must have because they once again told her they would wait for her.
When it took two razors to finally eradicate the thick growth of stubble on her legs, Lacy was properly disgusted with herself. How had she sunk so low in just two weeks? Just because Tosh and Jason were too busy to pay attention to her didn’t mean she shouldn’t pay attention to herself. Never again, she vowed as she did a deep conditioning treatment on her hair and applied an in-shower face mask. Had she been brushing her teeth before she crawled into bed at night? She couldn’t remember, and she shuddered at the thought that maybe she hadn’t. She was seriously done with the self-pity routine. No matter what, she would find a distraction for herself before she sank again.