Two Christmas Stories

By Verna Clay

"Christmas Kisses"

Although born into wealth and privilege, Cecelia Brightman has never found the forever-after kind of happiness she seeks. She has devoted her life to helping others through charity work, but now, at the age of forty-two, she can no longer continue on the same path. Much to the chagrin of her parents and friends, she leaves the trappings of wealth to follow her heart to the small town of Paxtonville in Colorado to be near her brother and his large family.

Connor MacKenzie is carrying baggage from a previous sorrow that almost destroyed him. However, Cecelia Brightman, the new owner of the local coffeehouse, is rocking his lonely world.

"Somewhere to Spend Christmas"

Is there somewhere that Christmas wishes come true?

When the bus Sunny Fairbanks is traveling on stops for a layover in the small seaside town of Somewhere, she decides to walk on the beach at sunrise—and falls in love with the area. Her decision as to whether to remain in Somewhere for a few days, or continue northward, is unexpectedly made for her when she steps on a shard of glass. A young man jogging along the shoreline comes to her aid and she is forced to do something she hates—accept help.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Verna Clay
• Release date: Oct 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463543825

Verna Clay

"2020 Finalist - Readers' Favorite International Contest (Paranormal Romance) for SOMEWHERE by the Sea.""2014 Gold Medal Winner - Readers' Favorite International Contest (Historical Romance) for Abby: Mail Order Bride."My perfect day: coffee shop; laptop; latte; characters demanding their stories be told; a plot that comes together; and hours to live in an alternate reality.Seriously, I have always loved reading, and now I love writing. As a preteen, I devoured Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys Mysteries. When I reached my teen years, the romance genre became my favorite and that has never changed. After years of procrastinating, I tried my hand at writing and I've been doing so with a passion ever since. I have written over thirty romance novels and novellas in the genres of contemporary, contemporary western, historical western, fantasy, and paranormal. Because I hate saying goodbye to characters who have lived with me for months, I usually create a series so they can be revisited from book to book. I have also written a Young Adult novella titled "Fragile Hearts" using the pen name of Colleen Clay.

Book preview

Christmas Kisses

Romance on the Ranch Series

#5

Verna Clay

Dedicated to the possessors of shattered dreams.

Preface

The heroine of this story made her first appearance in book three, Baby Kisses. She is Cecelia Brightman, the sister of Miles Brightman and sister-in-law of Tooty, the stars of Baby Kisses. It was fun bringing her character to life.

Although born into wealth and privilege, she has never found the forever-after kind of happiness she seeks. She has devoted her life to helping others through charity work, but now at the age of forty-two, she can no longer continue along the same path. Much to the chagrin of her parents and friends, she leaves the trappings of wealth and follows her heart to the small town of Paxtonville in Colorado to be near her brother and his large family.

As for the hero of Christmas Kisses, he is new to the series and carrying baggage from a previous sorrow that almost destroyed him. However, I have a feeling Cecelia may be the perfect answer for Connor MacKenzie.

This story has been written specifically with Christmas in mind, so, of course, there are children involved. Some of the youngsters are new to the series; others are rejoining the ongoing saga. There is also a set-up for a possible romance between certain of the children when they are grown. For a series I once thought was over, I suddenly have all kinds of ideas for future books.

Merry Christmas

Romance on the Ranch Series:

Dream Kisses

Honey Kisses

Baby Kisses

Candy Kisses

Christmas Kisses

Rock Star Kisses

Forever Kisses

Forgotten Kisses

Angel Kisses

The Last Kiss

1: Third Person

Cecelia Brightman sighed and glanced out the window of her high-rise office in one of the choicest locations in Manhattan. As coordinator for Charity Disbursements, Inc., she had the fortunate, and sometimes unfortunate, job of deciding which charities making application for fund raising events would be accepted for review by the board of directors, and which would be gently refused.

Shuffling the papers on her desk, she lifted another application, but her mind was elsewhere. In one week she would be in Colorado visiting her brother and sister-in-law for a much needed vacation. Sometimes her workdays ran as long as ten hours. Of course, that was by her own choice. She had no husband or children to care for and the older she became, the less she looked forward to nights spent alone in her penthouse. Since the age of twenty-five, after graduating from exclusive, Barnard College, she had devoted her life to helping others through charity work. Now, at the age of forty-two, she was beginning to wonder if she had made a big mistake in not actively seeking a husband and having children in her twenties and early thirties. The more she was around her brother and sister-in-law, Miles and Tooty, and their five children: Harris, Eli, Morgan, Austin, and nineteen month old Sunny Beatrice; the more melancholy she became.

Before, whenever she'd had doubts about the direction of her life, she'd just worked harder, and soon new projects consumed her every waking minute.

That strategy wasn't working now.

And that was the reason for her visit to Colorado. She needed to be with family, not charities. Of course, her mother and father lived nearby in their own posh penthouse and she visited them often, but she'd always felt somewhat estranged from them. They were well known among their elite country club community and enjoyed a rich-and-famous lifestyle. However, much of their prestige came from being the parents of author Maxwell Henry, the pen name of their famous son, Miles. They loved him dearly and had agonized after a car accident rendered him a paraplegic as a teenager, but after the publication of his first best seller, they'd capitalized on his fame and used it as a social stepping-stone.

Cecelia knew that spending time with her parents was not the answer to her increasing loneliness.

A tap on her door interrupted her musings and through the glass she saw Charles Wilson, her assistant, waiting for her response to his knock. She motioned him in. Usually reserved, Charles fairly oozed excitement and Cecelia thought she knew why. Is it here?

Charles placed a finger on the side of his chin and grinned so big that his perfectly capped teeth took center stage in his perfectly tanned, perfectly handsome face. Years ago, he'd hinted that maybe there could be something romantic between them, but Cecelia had never viewed him in that light. After a few more hints, she'd made it clear with her own hints, that she wasn't interested. He'd grinned, said, I hear you loud and clear, and never broached the subject again. About a year later he'd met a barista that he claimed made Café Mochas to die for and married her six months later. They now had three children and couldn't be more opposite than a cat and dog. Charles was gorgeous; his wife, Betty Sue, looked like a throwback from the hippie heydays of the sixties. He wore Armani suits; she wore swirling linen skirts and peasant tops. He worked out in the gym faithfully; she refused to set foot in one and insisted she got all the exercise she needed chasing their three children, ages five, six, and seven. He loved caviar; she loved burritos. He came from Boston wealth; she came from Shreveport poverty. However, the two of them had been going strong for years and their antics laughed at by coworkers. Someone was always saying, Wait 'til you hear what Betty Sue has Charles doing now; the latest being spending time at a retreat that didn't allow talking. When Charles returned, he'd had the office in stitches recalling his vacation that left him speechless, literally.

Cecelia held her breath waiting for Charles' reply.

It is. And, my God, I've never seen anything like it.

She jumped to her feet. I can't wait. She followed Charles to the Donations Art Room, and marveled that the famous artist, Connor MacKenzie, had actually responded to the letter she'd sent three months previous and agreed to donate a painting for their annual Christmas charity auction, the proceeds of which were going to an organization selected by vote of the board of trustees. Even though it was only June, the auction required months of planning. The charity receiving the proceeds had yet to be made public, but Cecelia, in her letter, had revealed that it was a small non-profit organization named Loving Arms Adoption Agency, and that they found homes for children who had unexpectedly lost their parents—orphans who had once had a family—but now, either had no relatives to take them in, or relatives that couldn't or wouldn't raise them. Rather than send them through the foster care system, they housed the children until suitable adoptive families were found. They had a ninety-eight percent success rate and Cecelia had been pitching them to the board of trustees for years. Finally, they had been selected.

Charles walked to a large picture on a tripod he'd draped. Dramatically, he threw up his hands and said, Come no closer.

Cecelia halted and her heart hammered. She loved the paintings by the reclusive artist, and, in fact, had recently snagged two of them at a local gallery because she'd been invited to a pre-showing. She now owned five originals and several prints by this genius of light, shadow, and color.

With a flourish, Charles swept the drape away.

Cecelia gasped and covered her mouth with her palm. She was speechless. Never had she seen a more beautiful painting. The artist, renowned for mystical renderings, had created a scene straight out of a magical forest. Known for his muted colors and lighting, the gray mist blended so perfectly with the green pines that the viewer could not distinguish where one ended and the other began. Filtered light penetrated the mist to barely reveal several deer beside a stream. The canvas was about four feet high and five feet in length and the pines stretched all the way to the top while the stream ran the width.

Such was the beauty of the artistry that Cecelia felt tears welling up. She stepped closer and looked for the painter's trademark. She scanned for a long time.

Charles said, It took me awhile, but I finally located them.

Moving until she was close enough to touch the painting, she eyed it inch by inch. Her eyes lit and she lifted her gaze to Charles.

He grinned. Ah-hah, you've found them. Tell me what you see?

I see the man and the woman in the far left corner. Hmm, something seems odd. She gave Charles a startled look.

He responded, Exactly. This painting is going to sell for tens of thousands. As far as I know, it's the first one he's done with a third person painted.

With wonder, Cecelia said, And it's a child. There's a child between the man and woman holding their hands. How perfect for the charity it's going to benefit. The tears she had been sniffing back now dripped down her cheeks.

Charles said, Aw, honey. I think you need to come to dinner with me and Betty Sue and my gang tonight. You've been way too sad lately. My wife and kids will have you rolling on the floor laughing.

Before responding to his invitation, Cecelia said, If it wasn't against the rules, I'd bid whatever the cost for this painting.

2: Career Change

Cecelia bounced Sunny Beatrice on her knees and listened to Tooty and Miles try to persuade their children to go to bed. Each one had an excuse. Harris had homework, Eli wanted to finish the last chapter of his book, Morgan was afraid of the dark, and Austin just didn't want to.

Finally, Miles said in his no-nonsense tone, Boys, either you say goodnight to our guests and head to bed, or we don't go to the movies on Saturday. It's up to you.

Immediately, Miles' children said a hasty goodnight before scurrying to their rooms. Obviously, they knew their father stood by his word.

Tooty grinned at her guests. I love it when he talks like that. It works every time.

Alligator and Dixie, who had been invited to supper, laughed along with Cecelia. Alligator held his newly adopted daughter, Pilar, in the crook of his huge arm and when she started to squirm, he handed her to Dixie. He said, Honey, I'll let you take over before she cuts loose with that operatic voice.

Dixie smiled lovingly at her husband and child and accepted their three month old. The baby stopped squirming when Dixie placed her over her shoulder and patted her back.

A stab of envy and sadness pricked Cecelia's heart as she watched them. To hide her melancholy, she bent her head and kissed her niece, loving the smell of her baby scent.

Tooty said, Let's see if Sunny Beatrice goes to bed as easily.

Reluctantly, Cecelia handed the child to Tooty. Tooty walked to Miles and held his daughter out to him for a goodnight kiss. Cecelia got a lump in her throat watching her brother and Tooty, and Alligator and Dixie, shower love on their babies.

While Tooty tucked her children in, Miles asked if anyone wanted coffee and everyone agreed. He excused himself and started to roll his wheelchair from the den to the kitchen. Cecelia jumped to her feet. Here, let me pour for everyone.

Miles chuckled. No, baby sis, you stay here and relax. You're on vacation. I've got everything handled.

Cecelia settled back on the couch hiding her disappointment. Since Miles' accident, she'd always tried to do for him. As unreasonable as it was, she was saddened that he no longer needed her for anything—not like when he was a teenager, and later, when he'd gone through deep depression after the ending of a love affair with a younger woman he'd been engaged to.

After meeting Tooty, however, all that had changed. Tooty was his perfect mate and they'd been married for eight years.

Cecelia turned her attention to Alligator and Dixie. She'd first been introduced to them a few years back while visiting Miles and Tooty. The couple owned the only coffee shop in the small town of Paxtonville with the cute name of Dixie's Cuppa Joe, and ran a thriving coffee, pastry, and candy business. They'd met when Al Kosky or Alligator, so named because of his gigantic height and breadth, was working for the FBI investigating a local resident. After marriage to Dixie, he'd retired from service and moved to Paxtonville and founded ChocoDrops, a candy company specializing in unique chocolates.

Cecelia always made it a point to treat Tooty and her friends to the fabulous treats and coffee at Dixie's Cuppa Joe whenever she visited. Over the years, she'd come to know many of Tooty's girlfriends, and usually a group of eight or ten women would show up to relax and chitchat in the homey atmosphere.

Miles returned with a tray perched on his knees that was loaded with a carafe, mugs, and cream and sugar. He set the tray on the coffee table at the same time Tooty came back into the room. She said, Another bedtime battle won thanks to Miles.

Miles poured coffee into a mug, added cream, and handed it to Tooty. Here's some refreshment for my battle weary wife.

Tooty accepted the cup, laughed, and said, I have a feeling the battles are going to worsen before they get better.

Cecelia interjected, As I recall, mother and father had to combat us to go to bed, too. Isn't that right, Miles?

Her brother laughed. Yep. Guess I can feel my boys' pain and I kind of sympathize with them.

After joking about the children, Tooty looked at Alligator and said, Okay. I just tasted your latest ChocoDrops flavor and I'm hooked. I think persimmon is my favorite so far.

Miles laughed. Honey, you say that about every new flavor.

I know. But each one tops the last. Tooty returned her attention to Alligator. How do you decide what to try next?

He laughed. I can't take the credit. Dixie is always throwing suggestions out and when she said persimmon, something clicked, and when the lab's kitchen experimented with it, I must confess, it became my second favorite. He winked. My favorite has always been jalapeño.

Cecelia said, I have to agree. I've tried them all and loved them, but jalapeño is fabulous. In fact, I plan on ordering a suitcase full of every flavor to bring back as gifts for my coworkers, but I'm going to stock my own cupboard with jalapeño.

Dixie grinned, smoothed her baby's curly black hair, and looked at her husband.

Tooty said, Okay, what's up? You two have been fairly bursting at the seams all night. You can't hide anything from me.

Alligator nodded at Dixie, apparently giving her permission to reveal a secret, and Dixie gushed, Do you know anyone who might be interested in buying Dixie's Cuppa Joe? Alligator and I are moving to Denver.

Tooty gasped. What!

Miles asked, What brought this about?

Cecelia leaned forward.

Dixie said with excitement, Well, you know the kitchen that develops Alligator's candies is located in Denver and he spends a lot of time there, and, well, ChocoDrops are taking off and we're getting large orders. We want to expand our candy business. But to do so, Alligator needs to spend even more time at the kitchen, and we hate being away from each other.

Alligator interrupted, I refuse to be away from Dixie and Pilar for more than a few days.

Dixie gave him a loving look and continued, We've given it a lot of thought and decided to sell the coffee shop. We're going to open a candy store in Denver and maybe franchise it. We've already found the mall we want to be in and met with the leasing agent. Everything is falling into place on that end, so now we just need to sell the coffee shop. It's a great business and fun to operate. You're the first to know about this, so if you think of anyone who might be interested, feel free to pass the word on.

Miles said, We're going to miss you, but I can see how excited you are. We'll–

Cecelia interrupted, I'll buy your business.

All heads jerked in her direction.

3: Recluse

Connor MacKenzie lowered his paintbrush when his hand started its usual cramping. Looks like I'm done for the day.

With a disgusted toss of his brush onto the table beside his easel, he reached for his cane and limped to his chair in the living room. Easing into the recliner, he pushed it back and closed his eyes, focusing on relaxing his right hand and arm. If he couldn't get the muscles to relax, he'd have another sleepless night. His doctor was pressing him to have surgery to reconstruct damaged nerves with an eighty percent chance of almost full recovery. It was the other twenty percent that gave him night sweats. He'd been warned for years that this time would come, but if he lost his ability to paint after losing his wife in the same car accident that injured him and forced him to give up his baby son for adoption, he figured he'd probably shrivel up and die.

Thinking about his boy stuck a lump the size of Mt. Whitney in his throat. After the accident, when the foster care system had talked of placing the two month old under their authority, he'd known he had to do something. The doctors said he was looking at probably four years recovery time. He'd done it in three. It had taken two years to just get out of the wheelchair and walk with a cane, and another year to regain function of his right hand.

So, in the best interest of his son, because he and Rose had no living relatives, he had allowed his child to be adopted by a couple his doctor referred. The couple was childless, well-educated, wealthy, but most importantly, loving. They had come to visit Connor and he'd checked them out big time, even hiring an investigator. They had passed the investigation squeaky clean.

All too clearly he remembered that rainy day as he lay immobilized in a hospital bed with pins in his head, and pain wracking his body, his gut-wrenching decision to let Sean be adopted.

Connor swiped a hand over his eyes. He hadn't thought about that day for a long time, but Sean's fifteenth birthday had just passed, and he always became melancholy around that time.

Breathing slowly—in and out, in and out—he worked at relaxing. Forcing his mind away from his son, he wondered if the charity foundation had received his painting yet, and what they thought of it. When he'd read the letter from a representative, his first inclination had been to refuse, but then he'd seen the name of the organization the proceeds would be funneled to. It was the same one that had arranged the adoption of his son. It was a wonderful non-profit that had done right by him and Sean. He knew his boy was happy and loved.

One of the criteria that Loving Arms Adoption Agency encouraged was for the adoptive family to send updates at least yearly to the birth parent or parents. So every January Connor received a letter and pictures from the Barfields encapsulating his son's previous year. And, as always, they encouraged him to let his son know he was alive and to spend time with him. He always sent a thank you card, never accepting their offer. The pain would be too much.

An hour later, he felt his body relax and he dozed.

4: Learning the Ropes

Cecelia unlocked the door to Dixie's Cuppa Joe and stepped inside. It was five-thirty and the sun was making a glorious appearance. For a moment she simply glanced around the darkened room and then remembered she needed to disarm the alarm. Reaching for the light switch, she illuminated the shop and walked to the box in the back near the delivery entrance. She was so excited it took two attempts to enter the code.

I own a coffee shop in this wonderful town!

For the past three months, since her crazy declaration that she would buy Dixie's Cuppa Joe, she had prepared for her cross country move and the thrill of operating her own business. Her New York employer had been shocked, but not as shocked as her mother and father. They simply could not understand why she would want to leave her charity work, her beautiful penthouse, and friends from a lifetime spent in the Big Apple.

Explaining her decision was not easy because, in some ways, she couldn't understand it herself. She only knew it was what she wanted more than anything. She wanted connection. However, even fully understanding that desire eluded her.

Foregoing her musings, she walked to stand behind the counter to gaze at the chairs and tables scattered throughout the cozy room. For the past week, after signing the papers finalizing her transaction and funding the purchase, Dixie had taken her through the daily ropes of running a coffee shop. She now knew the secrets to brewing coffee that brought huge numbers of residents and tourists to Dixie's Cuppa Joe. And although she still had much to learn, she could now prepare some of the coffee drinks and smoothies that made the shop so trendy. Quickly, she reviewed a few of the most popular selections—Mocha Madness, CinnaBomb, Very Vanilla Velvet Vienna—and hoped she could prepare them to the satisfaction of customers. Of course, Julie Hackstetter, who worked at the shop part-time, and Justin Blake, who worked full time, as well as two other part-timers, knew everything there was to know. Cecelia appreciated the fact that Dixie had trained her employees in every aspect. She almost giggled when she realized that soon she would be considered a barista.

The shop door opened and Justin entered. With a drawl, he said, "Howdy, Miz Cecelia! Looks like this is D-Day, as in Dixie's Cuppa