Twelve Days of Krista: 50 Loving States, California

By Theodora Taylor

A lot can elfin' happen in 12 days...

Get one old lady on one private plane to London--that's all British scion Hugh Edgeworth need do to secure a billion-dollar deal. That's all. But then Krista Kringle happens! Infuriating, yet inexplicably attractive, this mad woman claiming to be an elf with magical matchmaking powers wrecks not only Hugh's Christmas, but also his entire life! With his status quo in shambles, will Hugh be able to return to his old life in London? Or is his future about to take one elf of a turn?

Find out what happens in this 12-episode rather romantic comedy! Perfect for fans of Hallmark movies, homemade cookies, and watching magical things unfold.

READERS NOTE: This romantic comedy will only stick around until Valentine's Day. So get it now, while the magical lovin' is still warm!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Theodra Taylor
• Release date: Nov 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781942167259

Book preview

A MATCHMAKER IN A PEAR TREE

One

Do They Know it’s Christmas?

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10:47 a.m.

25 December

San Francisco

Bugger me.

The words push into Hugh’s head when he sees his girlfriend’s name flashing in angry block letters on the Jaguar’s incoming call display screen: REBECCA PELTON…REBECCA PELTON…

It is almost 7 o’clock in the evening in London which means Christmas dinner—the one during which he had planned to propose to his girlfriend of two years—is long over. He knows nothing good will come of this conversation with Rebecca. Nonetheless, he presses the screen’s green phone icon and adopting his most calm and sympathetic tone says, Dinner didn’t go well, I take it?

It was horrid, actually, Rebecca answers, her tone cool and understated yet still somehow dripping with tension. My parents, grandparents, aunts, cousins, our friends—in fact, every person you insisted I invite to this dinner—are now wondering why I made such a fuss.

For the record, he’d suggested a small gathering with his father, her parents, and their grandparents. And he had only bothered to share his marriage proposal plans with Rebecca as a courtesy. Because she did not do surprises. If not for that, Hugh would have kept the whole thing under wraps until the big reveal. In the end, it had been Rebecca’s idea to take his original vision of a cozy, intimate family dinner and turn it into a full-blown Christmas extravaganza-slash-cocktail party.

But Hugh wisely decides to keep these thoughts to himself and instead opts for an apologetic tone with his hopefully still soon-to-be fiancée. I’m terribly sorry, darling. Really I am.

Rebecca continues on as if he hasn’t spoken, As Papa reminded me several times this evening, he was a business executive for nearly thirty years and not once did he miss Christmas dinner with his family.

Hugh rolls his eyes. Stanley Pelton became little more than a corporate figurehead after British Coal bought the Pelton Pit in the late nineties. Only a few years later, the mine was officially shut down. In Hugh’s opinion, it couldn’t have been that difficult for Pelton to make it home for holiday dinners considering he had no real business to attend to aside from living off the profits from the sale of his family’s private mine.

But unfortunately for both him and Rebecca, Hugh’s father, Charles Edgeworth, is nothing like Stanley Pelton. Even when his fellow metal barons began selling their centuries-old companies to American and Middle Eastern outfits, Charles insisted on holding onto Edgeworth Metals. And to this very day, Charles has kept his vow to never sell his legacy to those upstarts even as it becomes harder to compete in an increasingly global market.

In fact, due to the fierce competition at home and abroad, Edgeworth Metals is in desperate need of overseas contracts to keep the company afloat. To that end, Hugh and his father arrived in San Francisco a few days ago to pitch their aluminum manufacturing services to Boris and Alexei Rustanov, the director and founder of Rustanov Enterprises. The brothers are researching partner companies who can help them manufacture a massive bauxite deposit from their Siberian mines. Even though Edgeworth Metals is the smallest outfit on the Rustanov’s shortlist, Hugh campaigned ferociously for the contract.

As Hugh explained to the two siblings in fluent Russian (thanks to a past Russian nanny and a schoolyear abroad in Moscow), Edgeworth Metals might not be the biggest European metals company, but it would certainly invest the most time and energy into the success of the project. And he doubts the Rustanovs will find another company that will be as responsive to their needs.

The brothers were impressed by Hugh’s pitch. But Charles wasn’t content to let his son bask in the glow of a job well done. When Boris Rustanov mentioned his plans to fly his mother-in-law to London on Christmas for a surprise tour of the city’s great libraries, Charles promptly volunteered Hugh as her escort. This despite knowing full well about Hugh’s Christmas plans with Rebecca.

Hugh isn’t all that surprised, actually. Charles Edgeworth—in another contrast to Stanley Pelton—habitually skips Christmas and most other holidays in favor of his work. Hugh is certain his father would happily sacrifice his only son if it meant securing a billion-dollar deal. In his father’s opinion, Hugh should be eager to prove himself a worthy successor to Charles as soon-to-be president of Edgeworth Metals. And anything to do with the well-being of the company takes precedence over everything…even his son’s engagement.

Thankfully, Hugh is sure the taciturn Boris Rustanov would never have agreed to his father’s offer if he didn’t intend to grant Edgeworth Metals the contract. A contract that will mean job security for thousands of people, including Hugh who is due to take over as company president upon his return home. In fact, as he’d pointed out to Rebecca several times when he rang and said he wouldn’t be able to make Christmas dinner, after all, this deal could very well assure both the future of his career and that of Edgeworth Metals for years to come. However, Rebecca wasn’t nearly as thrilled about the opportunity as his father.

I have no idea what to tell Mummy and Papa, she currently complains on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. Only years of good breeding keeps her tone from sliding into a full-blown whine. Now instead of celebrating the news of our engagement, they’re wondering where you’ve gone off to! I don’t think they believed me when I told them an important business matter came up. In fact, I overheard one of my cousins speculate that you’d left me for an American.

I’d never leave you for an American, he assures her. And we’ll show those cousins of yours when we make our big announcement on Boxing Day.

To further mollify Rebecca, Hugh adds, If you like, I could have Cresswell put together a press release after we’ve made things official. And anyone who doubts my commitment to you will see how very wrong they are.

That would be helpful, Rebecca reluctantly admits. Especially if Mrs. Cresswell can include that shot of us at Kate Middleton’s charity gala last summer. But… the almost-but-not-quite petulant tone returns to her voice, I fail to see how escorting an elderly woman to London will make or break your business deal! Mummy and Papa are frightfully put out and I’m beginning to wonder if I made a mistake agreeing to wait until Christmas for your proposal. If you’d left me with the ring I’d at least have something to show my family…

I’m sorry, darling, Hugh repeats, thinking of the heirloom wedding ring he’d taken out of the family vault before this trip in anticipation of proposing to Rebecca upon his return. But then his father stepped in and effectively destroyed any chance of Hugh returning home in time for his planned engagement. I promise to make it up to you when I’m back.

I hope so. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life!

Then you’ve led a charmed life, haven’t you? Hugh thinks. But he opts to keep his thoughts to himself. Rebecca may have an inflated sense of entitlement, but she doesn’t deserve to be stood up on her engagement day.

The car’s navigation dings to let him know his destination is ahead on the right. Hugh pulls up to a low stone curb outside the Pacific Heights address provided by Boris Rustanov’s assistant. Unlike the homes he’s seen in other San Francisco neighborhoods, this Georgian-style mansion is neither narrow nor pressed right up against its neighbors. Unusually wide and tall, the stately brick house dwarfs the two houses on either side with plenty of space left in-between. In short, it is a house fit for a Russian billionaire living in San Francisco.

Maybe his father was right to volunteer him for this assignment. After all, what other special favors could they possibly have done for a man who can easily afford a home such as this in one of the most expensive cities in the world?

Hugh? Hugh! Are you still there?

Hugh quickly shifts his attention back to the Jaguar’s display screen...and Rebecca. I am sorry, darling. The signal cut out. Anyway, I promise I’ll be in London by the time you wake up tomorrow. And if all goes to plan, this minor setback will be well worth it. You have my word.

I certainly hope so, Rebecca answers. But he notices she sounds less cross than before as she ends the call with, I’ll see you tomorrow, darling. Kiss, kiss.

Kiss, kiss, he replies before ringing off.

It is now 10:59 a.m., exactly one minute before he’s due to collect Boris’s mother-in-law. With a heavy sigh, he cuts off the motor.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Hugh starts and jerks his head toward the side passenger window A tall, owlish woman with skin the color of coffee and a neat little salt-and-pepper afro is peering in at him. Hello, dear Hugh! she calls.

This must be the mother-in-law, Marian Thompson. He recognizes her from the notes his assistant sent him last night.

Hugh quickly exits the vehicle and walks around the car to greet her. A pair of reading glasses hang loosely around her neck, and she is wearing a flowy red outfit that is so pleated and diaphanous he isn’t sure if it’s a dress or some type of festive jumpsuit. In any case, Marian looks exactly as one would expect an eccentric, book-obsessed elderly woman to look.

Aside from the large bowl of popcorn tucked under one arm.

Hugh, you’re so handsome! Marian exclaims as he closes the distance between them. She turns to the empty space on her right and says, Why on earth didn’t you tell me he’d be so good looking?!

Hugh stops for a moment because unless he’s mistaken, Marian appears to be discussing him with…thin air. Eventually concluding he must be missing something, Hugh inclines his head in a small bow and sticks out a hand. Hello, Ms. Thompson. I’m Hugh Edgeworth. How do you do?

Lord have mercy! Hear that accent! And look at all that dark wavy hair…and the suit! Marian continues as if Hugh’s greeting has only made her more exasperated with the nonexistent entity she appears to be addressing. It’s like 50 Shades of Grey meets a Jane Austen novel! And you know how much I adore them Jane Austen novels.

Despite the educated undertones of her speech, Marian Thompson has a deep southern accent that makes her words sound even more emphatic than they already are. Marian pauses for a moment and appears to listen before sucking her teeth. As my daughters would say—whatever!

She turns back to face Hugh as if dismissing her invisible companion. It is very nice to meet you, my dear. I know your story is gonna be so dang good!

Hugh is uncertain how to respond, so as any well-trained Brit confronted with an awkward situation would, he pretends everything is perfectly normal.

Studiously ignoring the bowl of popcorn and Marian’s odd behavior, Hugh reaches for the suitcase at her feet. You needn’t have bothered with your luggage. I would have been happy to bring it down for you.

Oh, I know you would, dear, but the spirits told me you’d arrived so I took it upon myself to come down on my own. But you were so busy talking to that fancy girlfriend of yours you didn’t see me come down the steps.

Hugh is surprised but makes a careful show of keeping his expression neutral. Anyone could have easily discovered information about his relationship with Rebecca via a quick Google search and a glance at the many photos of them floating around the internet. He assumes Marian has done her homework, no doubt feeling as curious about him as he was about her. Though he’s at a complete loss as to what she means by spirits. Maybe it’s some sort of regional slang?

In any case… Ms. Thompson, allow me to assist you, he says, smoothly opening the rental car’s boot and placing her small suitcase inside.

My you are considerate! I’m sure the matchmaker is going to like that!

The…matchmaker? he repeats, still not catching her meaning.

Sorry, no spoilers, Marian says with an impish shake of her head. I don’t even tell my own daughters what the spirits tell me.

Hugh tilts his head to the side. I apologize, Ms. Thomson. But I don’t understand.

Of course, you don’t! Your story hasn’t even happened yet and I’m certainly not going to spill the beans. But I know we’ll have a good laugh about it afterward. Ooh, that reminds me—hold this for a moment. The old woman shoves the popcorn bowl at Hugh and fishes a thin box out of her massive handbag. I bought you a few things.

Oh? You didn’t have to do that.

Marian holds the box out to him. It’s the least I could do seeing as how you’ll be entertaining me this afternoon.

Confused but too polite to turn down the gift Hugh takes the box. There is an old-fashioned cable car pictured on the lid next to the words: CABLE CAR CLOTHIERS HABERDASHERS. And beneath those words in a smaller font it reads: SAN FRANCISCO’S BRITISH GOODS STORE SINCE 1939.

Finally, something Hugh can understand. How very thoughtful of you, he says with sincerity as he opens the box.

Inside he finds two items: a bright red tie and a musty-smelling booklet with yellowed pages. A play, he realizes, upon closer inspection of its cover: A Day Well Spent: A Play in One Act, he says reading the title aloud.

It’s an original edition. Very hard to find, Marian informs him proudly. The musical Hello Dolly was based on it. Even though I prefer to give folks novels, this seemed like the right choice for you.

Oh, I see… Hugh says with a polite smile though he really does not see. At all. Well, thank you…for the play and the tie. I shall endeavor to wear it soon. And by soon he means only once when he pays Marian a cordial follow-up visit in London—a visit he hopes she’ll mention favorably to her son-in-law.

In any case, he’s beginning to understand why, according to his assistant’s research notes, the people in Marian’s hometown of Greenlee, Virginia still refer to her as The Crazy Librarian though she’s a retired nurse.

Hugh makes a great show of putting the lid back on the gift box. He places it carefully on top of his leather J.W. Hulme duffel before closing the boot.

Right then! he says once they’re both comfortably settled in the front seats of the Jag. Our flight departs in three hours. The private jet your son-in-law arranged is leaving from Oakland International and from what I’ve heard, that airport lacks a certain level of, er, amenities. I took the liberty of making reservations for us at the Wood Tavern for lunch. It’s less than thirty minutes from the airport and we’ll have plenty of time to make it to the gate afterward…

Hugh trails off when without so much as a may I? the older woman starts tapping an address into the rental car’s navigation system with her index finger. I didn’t pop this popcorn for nothing, she tells him. This is where we’re having lunch today.

He can’t say he’s pleased when a new destination pops up on the screen. But Marian might be the only thing standing between Edgeworth Metals and a billion-dollar deal, so…

Hugh grits his teeth and begins to follow the GPS instructions to what must be one of the piers off The Embarcadero. He can only assume this because based on the car’s navigation screen, the destination doesn’t show up as anything but a patch of green between The Embarcadero and the bay.

To Hugh’s relief, the large warehouse-like building he pulls up in front of is only a 15-minute drive from the Rustanov estate. By his calculations, it should take no more than 45 minutes to reach the Oakland Airport. Leaving them with plenty of time to have lunch at, well, wherever they are now.

A quick scan reveals no available parking in front of the building. And the building itself doesn’t look remotely like a restaurant. It’s massive at roughly five stories and closely resembles a concrete rectangle with a flat roof. But unlike the other warehouses on the surrounding piers, this one is painted red. And instead of industrial-looking rolling metal doors, these sliding doors are dark green and look like they belong on a barn. The words SANTA’S WORKSHOP are painted across the front of the building in whimsical white lettering outlined in gold.

Go ahead and park here, Marian tells him. The spirits say tow trucks don’t come near this place.

Right then… Hugh cuts the engine even though he doubts it’s wise to trust an old woman who claims to get her information from …. spirits.

Perhaps it’s some sort of theme restaurant? Hugh thinks as he steps out of the car. If so, it smells delicious. The scent of freshly baked biscuits—or cookies, as the Americans would say— float into his nostrils making him long for the sweets he rarely indulges in nowadays.

Hugh opens the door for Marian and crooks his arm towards her. She clasps it with one hand while hanging on to her bowl of popcorn with the other.

Are you sure you wouldn’t rather leave your, er, snack in the car? he asks hopefully as he closes the door behind her.

I’m sure, Marian answers. Then she stops and appears to listen to the air for a few seconds before saying, The spirits tell me she’s on the left side of the building. Right over there!

Before Hugh can ask what and who Marian is going on about, the old woman lets go of his arm, charging ahead with a speed he would not have expected from someone her age. She veers toward one side of the large building like a woman who knows exactly where she’s going. Which he hopes she does. He’s hungry and they’ve now missed the gourmet lunch he booked for them.

Hugh follows her cautiously, all the while wondering how much longer he should indulge the old lady. An hour, he decides, squaring his jaw. After that point, he’ll have to force the matter and take her to the airport whether she wants to go or not.

They round the building’s corner and he’s hit by the distinct scent of silicates, calcium carbonate, talc, and zinc oxide. In other words: fresh paint. Hugh notices a still wet, darker red coat of it covering the surface of the warehouse’s windowless left side.

Hugh finds it odd that someone would paint a building on Christmas Day. But even stranger is the large tree planted in the concrete about twenty feet from the wall. No, not a tree he realizes as he and Marian draw closer. At least, not a real one. The tree is made of metal and about ten-feet tall. It consists of a steel base welded to resemble a tree with light brown aluminum craft wire coiled around the trunk and branches, giving a decidedly bark-like effect.

The sculpture is impressive and, as it turns out, very solid. Perched in its sturdy branches is a young woman wearing paint-splattered coveralls, bright green Converse trainers, and a red welding mask. She’s pushed the mask off her face revealing pleasing features screwed tight into an expression of intense concentration as she hangs a series of sparkling, pear-shaped ornaments in crooked rows along the metal tree’s branches.

Hugh watches her as she works. Baggy coveralls aside, she’s attractive…pretty even with her creamy brown skin and long dark hair pulled into one of those deceptively simple-looking over-the-shoulder braids. From his vantage point on the ground, he can see she has massive dark eyes, a pert nose, and delicately pointed features that bring to mind the words elfin and spritely.

She reminds him of those female art students from his university days. They were often intelligent and attractive young women but he refused to date them. Mostly because he dreaded the idea of having to go to those experimental shows featuring live goats covered in eggshells or women in bikinis made of credit cards setting fire to a bin of nappies. Hugh never got performance art and found those who engaged in it to be pretentious and overly emotional. Yet another reason he settled on Rebecca: she appreciated art but had no interest in pursuing it as a career.

The young woman and her sculpture appear to be having the opposite effect on Marian. She is gazing up at the girl in the tree as if she’s stumbled upon the Queen herself.

It’s her! she breathes.

And for the first time since he picked Marian up at her son-in-law’s home, she places a hand in the popcorn bowl and brings a small fistful of it to her mouth.

Oh, hey there! the young woman calls down, perhaps alerted to their presence by the loud crunching sounds coming from Marion. You must be here for lunch! Her entire face has lit up as if their arrival is an unexpected Christmas present.

Yes, that’s right, Hugh answers carefully. Then, Is this sculpture a recent installation?

Sure is! she calls back down. It’s to launch my annual Twelve Days of Christmas Panoply.

Panoply. Well, that’s a word he’s never heard used to describe an art exhibit. Brava, he thinks sardonically.

Krista’s been putting on this exhibit for the past twelve years, Marian informs him between handfuls of popcorn. It’s a respected waterfront tradition to those in the know. People and spirits from all over the city stop by to see what she’s created. That explained, Marian looks back up at the girl in the tree and calls out, The spirits think your work is brilliant, Krista!

Aw, thanks! How nice, the young woman replies, showing no sign of concern or confusion at Marian’s strange compliment. Tell them I’ve got tons of cool stuff planned but today may be the best day of the installation thanks to Grandpa. Krista spreads her arms wide indicating the metal tree. I literally screamed when I saw what he brought me this morning. Can you believe it???

Ah, yes. Very unique, Hugh answers, mostly to extricate himself from further conversation. Then in a lower voice, he asks Marian, Shall we get lunch? I think the main entrance is back around the front.

The young woman laughs. You can’t eat lunch here!

Hugh should have guessed this would be the case. It’s Christmas Day, after all. Even with America’s relaxed attitude towards commerce during the holidays, Hugh knows he was lucky to find any open restaurants at all when he booked that place near Oakland.

Then would you be so kind as to recommend somewhere we can eat? Hugh asks, working hard not to let his growing irritation show. Perhaps someplace nearby?

Sure! Hold on and I’ll take you, Krista calls back down.

From out of the backpack strapped to her shoulders she produces a small sculpture. It’s about two feet high and appears to be lightweight aluminum because of how deftly Krista is able to move it around. It’s a figure of a man with a shag haircut wearing flared pants and a seventies-era button-up shirt with a disco collar.

Hugh has no clue who it’s supposed to be until Marian squeals, David Cassidy!!!

In spite of Marian’s helpful screech, Hugh still has no clue who the fellow is.

Krista places the small sculpture on the highest branch of the tree as reverently as if it were a statue of the Virgin Mary.

Marian claps her hands in delight. A Partridge in a pear tree! The spirits were right, Krista. You are brilliant.

The young woman beams down at them and then pulls a small soldering iron out of her backpack. A discreet whooshing sound starts up as she welds one of the statue’s feet to a wire branch.

Excuse me! Hugh yells up at her. It was very nice to meet you but we really must be going. We've got a plane to catch.

Just a few more seconds, the young woman calls back as she deftly moves the soldering iron to the statue’s other foot. David is so seventies-Licious I am sure he’ll get stolen if I don’t make sure he stays foot.

Ha, stays foot! Marian cackles like the young woman has said the funniest thing ever. Yeah, we definitely need to have lunch with her, she says to Hugh, giving him a sharp elbow to the ribs.

Oof! Feeling bruised and grimmer by the minute, Hugh checks his watch and wonders at what point he can escape without seeming rude. Should he pretend to go along with the plan then head to the airport as soon as both women are in his car? He could always arrange for an Uber to take Krista back to the warehouse or art studio or…whatever this place is.

Hey, you down there! Catch me, okay?

That’s all the warning Hugh gets before the young woman free-falls right into his arms. The breath is momentarily knocked out of him and he