The Christmas Wife

By Cindi Myers

YouTube Influencer Cassie McClain must turn her fake online life into reality when her biggest sponsor holds a "Christmas in Connecticut" contest and the winner wins a five-day stay in Cassie's home. Suddenly, Cassie is scrambling to keep from revealing the truth about her made-up Handsome Husband and Adorable Baby to Master Sergeant Darinda Valentine and Darinda's investigative reporter brother, Quentin. Cassie can't risk losing the sponsorship money that is paying for her mother's care in a special Alzheimer's unit. Her attraction to Quentin, not to mention her fake husband, Scott's flirtation with Darinda, threaten to expose her secret to the public, and could lead to a very un-merry Christmas – or a crazy path to unexpected romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cindi Myers
• Release date: Nov 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201897437

Book preview

Chapter One

And that wraps up the latest video here at Modern Millie. Let me know in your comments if you try my recipe for Fabulous Fall Apple-Cheese Dip, and be sure to click subscribe and hit the notification bell so you won’t miss the next episode. Like and follow me on Instagram for more updates between episodes and until next time, love and kisses to you all.

Cassie McClain hit the Off button to stop the recording and turned to hand the baby she had been holding to her best friend, Sarah Rogers, who had been standing just off camera. I think Tabitha just spit up on me, she said, making a face.

Sarah cradled the infant and wiped at the baby’s mouth with a burp rag. I told you not to jostle her so much. She just ate.

At least you had her pointed away from me this time. Scott Rasmussen, who had been seated on Cassie’s other side, stood and picked up the platter of cheese dip. I’ll just take this with me to the fire station. The crew is going to love it.

Thanks, Scott, Cassie said. I shouldn’t need you again for the next few videos, but I get complaints from viewers if you don’t show up every once in a while.

I still don’t get this whole YouTube thing. He made a motion toward the video camera on a tripod across from the breakfast bar. People actually watch these little videos?

Hundreds of thousands of people watch the Modern Millie channel, Sarah said, the baby cradled on her shoulder. You’d know if you ever bothered about anything but fire-fighting and food.

He shrugged and pulled cling wrap over the tray of cheese dip. I’ve gotta go. My shift starts soon.

You should have chosen someone smarter to be your husband, Sarah said when Scott was gone. He hasn’t got a clue.

Pretend husband, Cassie corrected. And his ignorance is an advantage. I only have to pay him for his time on camera with food. It’s a bargain any way you look at it.

I don’t think he gets that people all over the world think you two are married, Sarah said. A lot of people here in town believe it, too. They think the reason they never see you two together off camera is because he’s at the fire station in the next township all the time.

And I need them to keep believing that, Cassie said. My show is part of YouTube’s family programming, so I need a family.

No one with a real husband and children would have time for gourmet dinners and Pinterest-worthy crafts, Sarah said. You’d be too exhausted.

I am exhausted, Cassie said. I just hide it well.

Hmmm. Sarah transferred Tabitha to her carrier. The infant – the youngest of Sarah’s six children – gave a cherubic smile and kicked her little legs in a way that would have had 90 percent of Cassie’s viewers cooing and posting comments like Adorable! and So precious! Speaking of fake families, Sarah said. What do you have for me today?

There’s a Mommy Pampering Gift Basket from one of my sponsors. Cassie walked to a corner table crowded with freebies various channel sponsors or potential sponsors had sent her to try. The large wicker basket dominated the space, with a plush robe, scented candles, bubble bath, and other items.

This robe is so soft. Sarah stroked the fabric, then her eyes lit up. And chocolates. These look expensive. And delicious.

All yours, Cassie said. And I shouldn’t need Tabitha for the next few sessions. My baby is going to be napping while I film.

Sarah laughed. You really do live the strangest life. Do you feel like a character in a sit-com?

A little, Cassie admitted. On camera, I’m Modern Millie, wife to Handsome Husband and Darling Baby – pseudonyms to protect my family’s privacy. Off camera, I’m single, childless Cassie McClain. Only her viewers didn’t realize Modern Millie was fiction – because Cassie had never quite gotten around to telling them. The knowledge made her stomach dip, but she pushed the guilt back into the dungeon where it belonged.

A scuffle at the back door, followed by frantic toenails on the ceramic tile, announced the arrival of a rather large, sort of red, flop-eared dog. You have Ruby, Sarah said, stepping out of the way of the dog’s charge toward Cassie.

Yes, I have Ruby. Cassie rubbed the hound’s long velvety ears and smiled into adoring brown eyes. You’re better than any old husband and baby, aren’t you, darling?

Sarah was about the protest – Cassie could tell – when Cassie’s cell phone began playing the opening chords to Johnny Cash’s I Walk the Line.  Aren’t you going to answer that? Sarah asked as the tune continued to play and Cassie remained frozen in place.

It’s probably a junk call, Cassie said. Everyone I know texts me instead of calling. She was in no mood to hear a sales pitch for refinancing, or learn about potential fraud for a bank account she didn’t have.

Sarah moved around the counter and cocked her head to view the phone’s screen. It says it’s Julia.

Julia? Cassie lunged for the phone. Julia, her agent, rarely called – only if something really big – or really wrong – was happening. Hello?

Cassie! Great episode this week. Julia spoke in a clipped, slightly nasal accent that to Cassie always sounded scolding – even when she was handing out praise. Then again, maybe it was this air of intimidation that made her such a good agent. You made those stenciled signs look so easy I think even I could do them, Julia continued. Though, of course I won’t.

Thanks, Cassie said. But I know you didn’t call to tell me you liked my signs. What’s up?

Everything is up. You have a new sponsor! Congratulations.

Now Cassie’s heart was trying to hammer its way out between her ribs. The deal with Bullseye Department Stores? she managed to squeak.

It went through. All signed, sealed, and official. They’re going to start running ads on your channel right away. And they’ve come up with a fabulous idea to promote your new home décor line with them.

Oh? Cassie had learned some time ago that her idea of fabulous and Julia’s didn’t always mesh.

"They’re going to hold a contest to send one lucky service person and a companion to spend the week before Christmas at your home with you and your family. It’s just like that old movie – Christmas in Connecticut. Have you seen it?"

No, Cassie said. No, I haven’t seen the movie, and no, we can’t do that. I can’t let strangers into my home, I can’t –

You have to. Julia’s voice didn’t leave any room for argument. The Bullseye representatives were very firm on this. They insisted on this contest to promote their new Modern Millie @ Home line. Besides, you’d be crazy not to do it. This is going to give you the kind of exposure you’ve only dreamed of before. You’re not just some little vlogger anymore. You’re going to be a full-blown – and potentially very rich – lifestyle celebrity.

I don’t want to be a celebrity, Cassie protested. I just want to take care of my mom.

Well, this will let you do it, no more worries, Julia said. And come on, it’s only for four nights. Bake some cookies, decorate a tree, show the prize winner around your cute little town. It’ll be fine.

Cassie swallowed, but made one more attempt. Scott will hate it, she said. She had billed her ‘husband’ as an introvert who hated publicity and crowds, despite the way he insisted on hamming it up for the camera.

Tell him the kind of money you’re going to be pulling in and he’ll get over his shyness, Julia said. Someone from Bullseye will be contacting you soon to discuss publicity for the event. Promise me you’ll be cooperative.

I don’t –

But the phone was already silent. Cassie set it on the counter and sank onto the barstool once more.

What’s wrong? Sarah moved to her side. You’ve gone sort of green around the edges.

I got the contract with Bullseye, for the new home decor line in all their stores.

Sarah let out a whoop. That’s fabulous! That’s what you wanted, right? Now you don’t have to worry about those new fees at the Manor. You’ll be set.

It’s what I wanted, Cassie agreed. But Bullseye is going to hold a contest to promote the new line. The prize is a trip for a service person to spend the week before Christmas here. She swallowed down a knot of growing panic. With me and my family.

All the elation drained from Sarah’s face. She sank onto the bar stool next to Cassie. Your family. As in Scott and my baby.

Cassie buried her face in her hands. I’m ruined. When they find out I’m not married and I don’t have a baby, I’ll be exposed as a fraud. Maybe they’ll even sue. My mom will have to go to some charity home, I’ll lose the house, I’ll – She couldn’t say anything else, since she was starting to hyperventilate.

Sarah put her arm around Cassie’s shoulders. Calm down. Take slow, deep breaths. It’s going to be all right.

How can you say that? Cassie wailed.

We can do this, Sarah said. I’m only next door, so I can run the baby over whenever you need her. You can – you can tell your guests you hired me to babysit, so you’d have more time to devote to them. And Scott can be on shift at the firehouse for most of the visit. And you know him – he’s so easygoing, he’ll go along with the charade when he has to. He’ll even think it’s fun.

Right. This would be fun the way four straight days of SATs would be fun. The way a tax audit would be fun. I don’t know how to be anyone’s wife, Cassie said. Much less a mother. Doing it for the duration of a few 20-minute videos is one thing, but I’m never going to fool anyone over four days.

You only have to be a wife and mother for Christmas, Sarah said. Just pretend it’s one very long video. You’ll be fine. She patted Cassie’s shoulder, looped the gift basket over one arm and picked up the baby carrier with the other. I’d better go home and start dinner. I’m making your Boogie Woogie Beef. Dale and boys love it.

Thanks, Sarah. For everything.

After Sarah was gone, Cassie stared dumbly at her beautifully restored farmhouse kitchen, with its white-painted cabinets and deep green sink, the black quartz countertops and the professional range. Her parents had completed the remodel only a few months before their health began to fail. Now it was the setting for almost every episode on her Modern Millie YouTube channel, one familiar to her many followers and others who tuned in every week to see what she was cooking, baking, cleaning, or making.

Cassie tried to muster the strength to get up and wash the dishes she’d dirtied making the cheese dip. She had footage to edit, Instagram pictures to upload, and mail from sponsors to vet. But a dark mood glued her to her chair – a combination of guilt over all the little fictions she had given in to that now seemed like one big lie – and worry that if she didn’t keep lying, it would all come crashing down around her.

She glanced at the wall calendar, with its lists of appointments and dates to remember. Her gaze zeroed in on the red letters at the bottom right hand corner. Payment Due to Care Center, the writing said in only a slightly shaky hand. The new, more expensive payment to Morningside Manor, the very nice private care home where her mother lived. Her mom was the reason Cassie was doing all this. The reason she had to keep going.

She pushed herself into a standing position. You can do this, she said, as if she was talking to the camera across from her. After all, what choice did she have?

Morningside Manor was not a Manor, but an ordinary house. A very nice house with a white picket fence, a broad, screened-in front porch, and a rose garden in back. The only clues that this was not an ordinary suburban home were a discrete sign at the street, and an intercom by the gate. Cassie identified herself via the intercom and a moment later the lock on the gate released and she followed the walkway up to the front porch, where she was buzzed through yet another door and into the house. The locks had unnerved her at first, as if this was some sort of high-security prison. But the truth was, some of the residents were prone to wander, and couldn’t be counted on to make their way safely back.

Good morning, Delia, Cassie greeted the middle-aged attendant sitting with two older women in the front room. Hello, Mrs. Crenshaw, Mrs. Baker.

Hello, dear, Mrs. Crenshaw said. Mrs. Baker only glared, which was her usual response to visitors, so Cassie didn’t let that bother her.

Where’s Mom? she asked Delia.

She and Kendra are in the rose garden, Delia said, then went back to turning the pages of a large picture book she and the other two were examining.

Cassie passed through the kitchen, where some kind of casserole filled the air with the smells of chicken and sage, and out to the back yard, which was entirely given over to garden beds, filled with roses, flowers, and vegetables. This was her mother’s favorite place. Some days she was content to dig for hours with a little spade, planting seeds, and sometimes digging them up again. Others, like today, she sat in the shade of an arbor, simply admiring the view.

Kendra, a twenty-something woman in pink scrubs, her natural hair pulled back in a clip, looked up from painting Cassie’s mother’s nails. She was hoping you’d visit today, Kendra said. She wanted to show you her new manicure.

Hello, dear. Millicent McClain, the original Millie for whom Cassie had named her show, tilted her cheek up for a kiss. Cassie brushed her lips across the cool, papery skin of her mother’s face and inhaled the scents of Coty face powder and Jergen’s lotion, then slid onto the bench next to her. Millie’s ash blond hair was cut in an attractive chin-length bob and colored once a month by a beautician who visited the Manor, and her creamy skin had few wrinkles, thanks to good genes and a lifelong use of sunscreen. Though she had grown careless about her clothing in those last months living at home, the caregivers at the Manor now saw to it that she was smartly dressed in fashionable clothes, complete with jewelry and her favorite rose lipstick. A stranger might mistake her for a successful business executive or well-to-do retiree.

Kendra brushed on the last of the topcoat and replaced the cap on the bottle. You let that dry before you go doing anything with your hands, she said. She stood and addressed Cassie. Your coming today is good. She’s feeling a little down. Then she excused herself and returned to the house.

Cassie laid her hand on her mother’s arm. That pink polish is very pretty, she said.

Millie held out one hand and considered the polish. You know I don’t usually wear nail varnish, but the dear girl seemed so set on doing it, I thought I ought to let her. She’s the type who likes to fuss and I don’t mind as much as some of the others.

The others were four women, ranging in age from Mrs. Burneal, who was seventy-one, to Ms. Lester, who was ninety-two. Millie, at sixty-seven, was the youngest of the ‘family’, who were cared for by a dozen full and part-time attendants who worked rotating shifts. All the residents were women, and as far as Cassie knew, all the attendants were too. The arrival of a male – even the UPS delivery driver – caused a stir every time.

You’re sweet, Cassie said, and kissed her mother’s cheek.

I heard her tell you I was down. I’m not down, I’m just old. And if you want to know the truth, a little annoyed at your father.

Cassie tensed. Her father had been dead over two years now, but her mother seldom remembered that. It seemed cruel to keep reminding her. In fact, the specialist Cassie had consulted had urged her to go along with whatever direction her mother wanted to lead the conversation. Why are you annoyed at Dad? she asked.

He’s snoring something terrible. It’s keeping me awake at night.

Some of the tension left Cassie’s shoulders. She was on familiar ground here. Mrs. Crenshaw, who had the bedroom next to Millie’s, did indeed have a very loud snore that had drawn complaints from several residents. I’ll ask Kendra or one of the other carers to speak to him about it, she said.

Yes, I think you should. Millie regarded her nails again. You know I don’t usually wear nail varnish, but the dear girl seemed so set on doing it, I thought I ought to let her.

Cassie suppressed a sigh and patted Millie’s shoulder. That’s very good of you, she said.

When her mother first began repeating herself, circling back over and over to a single thread of conversation, unable to keep track of others, Cassie had found it very upsetting. Now, she tried to accept it as one of the quirks of dementia, and to listen as if this was a perfectly ordinary conversation.

How are you, dear?

The question surprised her – her mother seldom expressed much interest in those around her these days, including her daughter. I’m fine, mom. Doing well.

That’s good. Millie frowned. I can’t seem to remember – you aren’t married, are you?

No, mom. I’m not married. Only on camera.

Why not? You’re an attractive woman, accomplished. You’d make a wonderful wife and mother.

There was no sense upsetting her mother by pointing out that a woman did not need a husband or child to be fulfilled. Millie had apparently found fulfillment in those roles, so wanted the same things for her daughter. I have plenty of time for that, Cassie said. I’m busy and happy. Well, mostly happy.

I’d be happier if your father would stop snoring. I know they say he can’t help it, but I don’t know if I believe that, do you? He kept me awake for hours last night.

Pain pierced Cassie, a sharp mix of grief for the mother she had lost, and anger at the unfairness of her situation. She wanted her real mother back – the strong woman who for years had offered a shoulder to lean on and a wealth of smart advice. Millie knew how to get a stain out of a silk blouse and how to shake off a man you no longer wanted to date. She could write a letter demanding a refund or a card of condolence to a friend.

No company made condolence cards for families dealing with Alzheimer’s or dementia. There was no one-size-fits-all response to losing the essence of a love one while they still lived. Cassie wanted to shout and pound her fists and demand that someone do something.

But there was nothing to do but carry on – to treasure the moments when the old Millie shone through the fog, and to try to remember all the things her mother had tried to teach her when Cassie was too stubborn or heedless or foolish to listen. I’ll talk to Dad about it, Mom, she said, trying to sound cheerful. He wouldn’t want you losing sleep. Her father had adored Millie, covering up for her little lapses for months until Cassie discovered the truth.

Millie patted Cassie’s cheek and smiled tenderly. Okay. Then she stood. It’s time for my nap now, she said, and shuffled off in the direction of the house.

Cassie waited in the rose garden a while before she followed. Her mother had only been in this house a couple of months, but she had settled in surprisingly well. Before that, she had lived in another house down the street, with seven other women, more attendants, but no locked gates or doors she couldn’t open herself. There were six houses in all, some for men, some for women, some for couples, and this one, dubbed a memory care unit, for those who needed extra supervision.

It was a lovely solution to a difficult problem, but one that came at a great price. And the memory care unit, with its greater security and higher ratio of carers, cost more. That price jump had led to Cassie’s decision that Modern Millie and Handsome Husband needed a baby.

Sarah, who had been pregnant with Tabitha at the time, had been the one to suggest it. Julia, who knew Millie was really Cassie but didn’t know her marriage to Scott was a fake, and who had been saying for months that when Cassie had a baby she could count on a big surge in both followers and sponsors, had been ecstatic when Cassie announced she was pregnant. There had followed six months of filming behind chairs and counters and other props, followed by the introduction of baby Tabitha. As predicted, revenue had soared, giving Cassie the funds she needed to pay for her mother’s increased care.

Then the care center had announced a rather large across-the-board fee increase beginning in January and Cassie had panicked again. The contract with Bullseye Department Stores would pay those fees and more.

Back inside, she checked on her mother and found her asleep on her back in her bedroom, the quilt pulled up around her shoulders. Cassie moved quietly away, and returned to the front room. She said good-bye to everyone there and waited while Delia released the electronic locks on the door and gate. Walking outside didn’t feel like leaving a prison, only stepping back into a trap of her own making.

Chapter Two

Quentin Valentine studied the photograph on his computer screen, then manipulated his mouse to crop out the people around the central couple. There, that was better. Now the dinner between the handsome Broadway star and the much younger chorus girl looked much more intimate. He saved the image, then switched to the manuscript with his story about the star and the chorus girl. Full of facts and innuendo, it avoided outright libel, and would please his editor at New York Exposed. The story might even make the front page of the next issue.

His phone vibrated, knocking against his mug of now-cold coffee. Quentin snatched up the phone and frowned at his sister, Darinda’s, name on the screen. Hello? he answered.

Hello, darling brother. Your usual cheerful self, I see. Darinda’s voice had a teasing quality that took any sting out of the words.

Hello, Sis, he said, and leaned back in his desk chair. Aren’t you supposed to be in the back of beyond on some training exercise? Sergeant First Class Darinda Valentine was stationed at Fort Drum upstate.

That was last week, Darinda said. Try to keep up.

So what’s up now?

Why do you think anything is up? Can’t I call just to talk to my brother?

You could, but you never do.

All right. I have leave for Christmas. Her voice rose with excitement. Two whole weeks!

Quentin’s stomach knotted. Darinda would expect them to spend the holiday together. At a time of year when he was likely to be busiest. At least, he hoped he would be. There was the matter of rent for this tiny but still expensive New York apartment. That’s great, he managed.

Try not to sound so ecstatic.

I guess I’m just not that excited about the holidays. Especially since it’s only October.

"If things work out the way I hope they do, this is going to be a very special Christmas,’ she said.

Oh? Why is that? What was Darinda up to now?

Bullseye Department Stores is having a contest to send one lucky service person – and a companion – to Connecticut the week before Christmas to spend four nights and five days with Modern Millie. I’m going to enter and I really think I can win.

Who is Modern Millie and why do you want to spend Christmas with her?

"You are so clueless sometimes. Modern Millie is only the biggest lifestyle channel on YouTube. She makes videos from a farmhouse in Connecticut and I just love her. Contest entrants have to write an essay about why they want to spend Christmas in Connecticut and I wrote a killer one about how you’re the only family I have left and it would mean so much for the two of us to spend Christmas together in Connecticut, just like we used to do at Grandma and