A Texas Christmas Wish

By Alissa Callen

To Aggie Harper every day is Christmas. Even if that means late nights and a non-existent love life to keep her beloved mother’s knitting store that specializes in ugly Christmas sweaters afloat. She loves her small Texas town life and believes she is living her dream until a big city stranger strides through the front door of her store and has her question what she really wants from life.

Since the death of his mother, corporate lawyer Mason Firth lives to work, especially when tinsel adorns storefronts and he can’t escape the aroma of gingerbread. A mysterious unpaid family loan sends him to Last Stand, but instead of discovering any answers he finds himself risking a sugar coma from Christmas baked goods, making barbed wire Christmas wreaths and losing focus whenever around warm hearted Aggie.

Can a woman determined to spread Christmas joy and a man resistant to emotion and all things mistletoe, create their own Christmas miracle?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tule Publishing
• Release date: Oct 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781951190675

Alissa Callen

When USA Today bestselling author Alissa Callen isn't writing, she plays traffic controller to four children, three dogs, two horses and one renegade cow who believes the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. After a childhood spent chasing sheep on the family farm, Alissa has always been drawn to remote areas and small towns, even when residing overseas. She is partial to autumn colours, snowy peaks and historic homesteads and will drive hours to see an open garden. Once a teacher and a counsellor, she remains interested in the life journeys that people take. She draws inspiration from the countryside around her, whether it be the brown snake at her back door or the resilience of bush communities in times of drought or flood. Her books are characteristically heartwarming, authentic and character driven. Alissa lives on a small slice of rural Australia in central western NSW.  To find out more, visit Alissa on her website.  You can also follow Alissa on Facebook and Pinterest. 

Book preview

Author

Prologue

Just like he’d done for the past fifteen years, Mason Firth planned to unwrap his mother’s Christmas present twenty-three days early.

And just like every time the latest receptionist in his father’s Denver law firm placed a brown-papered parcel on his desk, the knot of his Italian silk tie constricted his breathing. His mother had been gone for what felt like a lifetime, but every Christmas, a present from her found its way to him from an unknown sender.

Thank you, Cathryn. He barely glanced at the young blonde hovering by his elbow. Last week he’d attempted to help her settle into her new job and made the mistake of asking what her Christmas plans were. Ever since then, he couldn’t miss the red sweep of her matte lips or the increasing potency of her perfume.

You’re welcome.

His attention remained on the parcel. After a long moment, her heels tapped on the polished floorboards. He didn’t need to look up to know she’d sashayed out of his office, her feminine hips and sleek ponytail swinging.

He might live to work, but the voice that reminded him he wasn’t getting any younger had grown in volume. That same voice reiterated that the family law firm was called Firth and Sons. Technically this generation only consisted of one son, and as for the next…there’d be no son, let alone a daughter, the way he was going. A fact his none-too-subtle father recognized. He’d been the one to hire Cathryn and the pretty but disorganized brunette before her.

The door clicked shut and Mason glanced up, jaw tight. Cathryn deserved to go out with someone who didn’t find corporate law more appealing than her kiss-me mouth or her sensual laugh. He also never mixed business with pleasure. There was one thing that he wasn’t, and that was a rule breaker.

He refocused on his mother’s parcel and loosened the tie at his throat. It was as though he’d waited all year for this moment. Eleanor Firth’s unconditional love had been the one constant in a world dominated by his father’s inflexible will. It didn’t matter how long ago the life had ebbed from her eyes and her cancer-frail hand had slipped from his, the loss within him failed to recede.

He picked up the present and searched for a return address. Just like the previous parcels to both him and his father, there weren’t any sender details or a postmark to indicate where the gifts had been posted. Instead, a black sharpie line canceled out the postage stamps. Whoever his mother had entrusted to send her presents continued to conceal their identity.

He carefully unwrapped the brown paper to reveal the glossy gold and white Christmas gift wrap below. A large card in a red envelope was tucked beneath a wide gold ribbon. He hesitated. For the first ten years, he’d opened the card first. But now, a pragmatic and hollow feeling said that there would come a time when this would be the last parcel. He and his father never discussed what gifts they received or what would happen when they no longer arrived. He didn’t know how his father would feel if this was the final present; all he knew was that if it was, he didn’t want to know.

He peeled away the Christmas wrapping to reveal a medium-sized simple wooden photograph frame. Apart from the first present, which had been an ugly Christmas sweater, the other gifts had been formal and expensive. On his wrist glinted a luxury watch from five years ago, while the high-end cufflinks from three years ago adorned the cuffs of his white business shirt. He studied the frame that looked to be handmade from reclaimed wood that retained a hint of sky-blue paint. Its rough, weathered texture was a direct contrast to the dark gleam of the mahogany of his pedestal desk.

He reached for an ornate sterling silver letter opener, another past present, and with a single swipe opened the red envelope. He slowly slipped out the card. The sight of his mother’s neat loops and curls never failed to make his throat ache. He read every word and when he was finished, he wasn’t surprised to find his hand unsteady.

Along with her heartfelt inscription conveying how much she loved him, she explained that this would be the last of her presents. She went on to say that he was now thirty-two, the age at which she’d married his father, and she knew that he’d be alone just like his father had been. As much as she loved him, it was now time to give him wings. She ended with the words:

My Christmas wish for you, this year and every Christmas after, is for you to find your joy. Work won’t fill the emptiness inside you. The only thing that will is the picture that fits inside this frame.

Mason remained still and then, shoulders tight, pushed back his chair. He returned the card to the envelope, rewrapped the wooden frame and went over to the sideboard that matched his antique desk. He pulled open the top drawer and added this year’s gift to the ugly Christmas sweater and the collection of previous cards.

Then, just like he’d done for the past fifteen years, he sat at his desk, briefly closed his eyes, straightened his tie, and went back to whatever file he’d been working on.

Chapter One

Aggie Harper didn’t know what she’d done. All she knew was that for such bad luck to have found her, a buzzard’s shadow must have crossed her path, she’d walked under a ladder, and she’d pointed at a Texas headstone.

Conscious that she stood on a very public street of a very curious town with her hands planted on her hips and her expression resembling a thundercloud, she took a deep breath. But even as air stole into her lungs and flicked her internal switch to calm and composed, the enormity of the disaster in front of her didn’t diminish.

The crack curving across the glass of the store window to the left of the doorway didn’t appear a big deal. Parts of the break weren’t any thicker than a strand of silk knitting yarn. The damage was immense.

She pressed her lips shut to stifle the frustration writhing inside. The timing couldn’t be worse. Beyond the broken window, the glimmer of the red, greens, and gold of Christmas didn’t bring their usual comfort. Her ugly Christmas sweater store would soon be on life support. Despite her steady income from selling yarn and online knitting patterns, and the amount of sweaters she sold during the holiday season, thanks to a tightening economy, every dollar counted. Replacing a window, let alone paying the insurance deductible, wasn’t in her already stretched budget.

A gust of winter air delved beneath the collar of her red coat, reminding her that the evening shadows would soon segue into night. Without looking away from the broken window, she tucked her moss green mohair scarf more firmly around her neck. An exhaustion that wasn’t only from staying up until late to perfect her latest knitting pattern pressed upon her shoulders.

She wasn’t aware that she had an audience from within the closed store until the movement of a hand waving at her dragged her focus away from the window crack. She erased all tension from her face. Janet couldn’t know how much financial pressure she was under.

The single mom had arrived in Last Stand at the beginning of spring needing a fresh start. Aggie hadn’t hesitated to employ her even if her accountant’s glower had conveyed that Janet’s wages would be coming out of Aggie’s own pocket. To Aggie, every cent was worth it to see the hope and happiness that now lit up Janet’s smile.

She returned the other woman’s wave and pushed open the white-trimmed double glass doors to enter the historic building. The scent of cinnamon and pine wrapped around her from a display of scented candles that adorned the wrought-iron shelves on the side wall.

I’m so sorry. Janet’s hands wrung together. I only noticed the crack when I was vacuuming.

Aggie gave her a hug. These things happen. I’ll call my insurance company. Everything will soon be sorted.

Janet’s forehead remained furrowed as she pulled away. It could only have happened in the last hour? I didn’t hear a thing.

That doesn’t surprise me if you were vacuuming. Aggie kept her voice light. The antiquated vacuum cleaner that made more noise than a Learjet wasn’t the only thing needing replacing. She turned to glance through the glass storefront that consisted of both small and large panels. It could be worse. There could be a couple of panes broken.

Exactly. Maybe it was a bird?

Maybe? Except the point of impact looked like something small and blunt had hit the surface. She could only hope the break was an accident and that if it was vandalism, then it was an isolated incident. She faced Janet. It’s getting late. Time for you to head home.

When Janet went to shake her head, Aggie touched her arm. Doesn’t Kyle have a math test tomorrow he needs help with? I’ll finish cleaning up.

Janet only stared at her.

Aggie gave her brightest smile. I’m fine and no, I’m not working too hard. This is my favorite time of year, remember?

Janet bent to collect the cumbersome vacuum cleaner. This was a familiar discussion. I will go home, only because the vacuuming’s all done, Kyle does have a math test, and because Brynn’s waiting for you.

Aggie groaned. Please tell me she’s upstairs and not in the knitting room.

Janet grinned. Knitting room…for at least fifteen minutes.

Without another word, Aggie headed past the circular racks of ugly Christmas sweaters toward where a kaleidoscope of yarn filled the back wall. Janet’s Good luck, followed her.

The short attention span of her childhood best friend was legendary. Aggie heard a soft thud from the room to her left. As too was the inaccuracy of her throwing arm.

Brynn? she called before walking through the doorway. Pure reflex enabled her to catch a purple ball of flying yarn that was meant to go into a basket in the center of the knitting room.

Brynn Croft sat on a wingback chair in corner of the cozy room that formed the heart of the store. Aggie’s business was so much more than a retail outlet; she also provided a social and healing community space. Many a town and personal problem had been solved to the sound of clicking knitting needles and the aroma of fresh-baked apple and cinnamon muffins. Except this time, the knitting room’s atmosphere was far from relaxed and peaceful.

Frustration tensed Brynn’s normally smiling mouth as she jabbed thick knitting needles into the oversize ball of pink and blue hued yarn wedged on her lap. The ball already had so many protruding knitting needles, it resembled a porcupine.

Aggie grinned as she approached and took the knitting needles from out of Brynn’s clenched fist. When they were growing up in the rolling hills outside of town, Brynn would be the first to adopt a stray kitten or to raise an orphaned calf. It was only knitting that sent her into a tailspin.

Brynn fixed weary brown eyes on Aggie. If you tell me that today is be-kind-to-yarn day, I’m not stopping Clara Perkins from setting you up on a date with that new guy in the hardware store.

I’d never dream of saying such a thing. Aggie bent to retrieve the pair of needles and ball of yellow yarn on the floor that had triggered Brynn’s disintegration. Look…you’ve cast on five stitches… That’s two more than last time.

Brynn scowled. Why can’t I do it? Even Poppy, who hasn’t turned ten yet, can knit a scarf. To make matters worse…she’s offered to make me one.

Aggie flashed Brynn a reassuring smile.

Brynn gave a deep sigh. I am going to learn to knit, even if it is the death of me.

And I will help you…

Even if I am the death of you, Brynn completed with a laugh, her sunny nature returning.

Coffee? Aggie moved over to the small kitchenette to flick on the electric kettle. Then how about we look at how to cast on again?

Brynn didn’t answer. Instead, her eyes narrowed. Your brave face doesn’t fool me, Aggie Harper. Brynn came to her feet. We both know I’m not here to knit. Even before today’s broken window, we’ve been worried about you. So, tonight, it’s a girls’ night out at the Last Stand Saloon.

Thanks, but I—

Brynn smiled her sweet smile that didn’t match the dogged light in her fixed gaze. There was a reason why when their music teacher wasn’t able to come to their one-room schoolhouse south of town, Brynn had directed their Christmas play. My treat—and before you think of an excuse—Maisey’s already left and Eden will call in on her way back from Austin.

Resistance would be futile. Brynn knew her too well, as did Eden Wright, the third member of the trio that had formed during their days at Elm Springs School out at Wildflower Hill. Maisey was a recent addition to their close-knit group and, as fate would have it, she was the new kindergarten teacher at their old school.

It will be nice to see everyone. Thank you.

Anytime.

As they left the knitting room, she sent Brynn a sideways glance. Has Clara Perkins really tried to set me up with that new hardware guy?

No, but now I think about it, it’s a good idea. At least this time when you wear your ugly Christmas sweater, it won’t be the middle of summer.

Aggie looked ceiling-ward as Brynn walked ahead to open the back door of the store. The first and last blind date her friends had set her up on had been a disaster. She had worn a Christmas sweater, but it had been a simple pattern she’d knitted out of red and white summer-weight cotton. It also hadn’t been her outfit that had been the problem.

I know you’re rolling your eyes, Brynn said with a laugh as she glanced over her shoulder.

Aggie pulled the collar of her red coat higher as she stepped outside. For the hundredth time, it wasn’t my fault that the favorite topic of my date, which you approved of mind you, was the endangered Texas blind salamander.

Brynn’s smile widened as Aggie turned to lock the door. Blame Logan. He hadn’t included that little detail when he said he had a single college friend coming to town.

Logan was Brynn’s older brother and when he was in his ranch workshop working on his spanner sculptures, there were quite a few things he missed.

That’s the first and last time I’ll bow to matchmaking pressure, Aggie said before burying her chin into her scarf as the wind barreled along Oak Street.

Brynn just sent her a grin.

They walked the short distance past the bookshop and