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Sweet Romantic Fiction Editors’ Choice Christmas Collection, Vol 1
Sweet Romantic Fiction Editors’ Choice Christmas Collection, Vol 1
Sweet Romantic Fiction Editors’ Choice Christmas Collection, Vol 1
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Sweet Romantic Fiction Editors’ Choice Christmas Collection, Vol 1

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Compiled especially by editors to create an entertaining mix of contemporary, historical, and suspense stories, this Christmas Collection has something for every "Christmas Romance" reading enthusiast. Enjoy six individual novellas in this volume one extravaganza
  • Choosing Christmas by Carol James: When Angela is hired as an AP at the school where Adam's mother is the principal, Angela and Adam find they share a past, an unexpected connection. And they must choose whether to surrender to the pain of that past or find hope for the future in the spirit of Christmas. (contemporary romance)

  • The Christmas Child by Penny Musco: When their unmarried maid offers them her unborn baby, Hannah sees it as an answer to prayer, but Robert refuses. Will infertility and a wife's newfound faith crush Robert's and Hannah's marriage? How will God answer Hannah's desperate prayers? (historical romantic fiction)

  • The Christmas Mission by Karen Malley: When Nicole's and Michael's lives intertwine during the busy Christmas season through a surprising connection to a homeless mission, will they be able to shake the pain of their pasts and find happiness together? (contemporary romance)

  • A Christmas Stolen by Lillian Duncan: After her niece is abducted, Danica comes face to face with the two men who ruined her life. Is this Christmas ruined, or will Danica realize that God's love that can never be stolen—no matter the circumstances. (romantic suspense)

  • A Dream of Christmas by Erin Stevenson: When Charity discovers that her former father-in-law has found her and her children, they seek shelter with her old friend, Finn. Happy to help, Finn wants her to stay. His Christmas dream won't come true without Charity and her children. (contemporary romantic fiction)

  • Mistletoe Mix-up by Jody Day: College student, Evan is decorating a house in exchange for holiday room and board. Across the street, RisÉ is also home from school and becomes friends with Evan. As Christmas nears, Evan discovers he's been decorating the wrong house. Will this mix-up ruin Christmas and a budding romance? (contemporary romance)
LanguageEnglish
Release dateJul 4, 2023
ISBN9781522304302
Sweet Romantic Fiction Editors’ Choice Christmas Collection, Vol 1
Author

Jody Day

Jody Day, author of Living the Life Unexpected, is the British founder of Gateway Women, the global friendship and support network for childless women with a reach of almost two-million around the world. A thought-leader on female involuntary childlessness, she’s an integrative psychotherapist, a TEDx speaker, a former Fellow in Social Innovation at Cambridge Judge Business School and a former board member at AWOC (Ageing Without Children). A proud World Childless Week Champion she now lives in the Republic of Ireland.

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    Sweet Romantic Fiction Editors’ Choice Christmas Collection, Vol 1 - Jody Day

    Sweet Romantic Fiction

    Editors’ Choice Christmas Collection, Vol 1

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

    Sweet Romantic Fiction: Editors’ Choice Christmas Collection, vol 1

    Includes: Choosing Christmas COPYRIGHT 2022 by Carol James; The Christmas Child COPYRIGHT 2018 by Penny Musco; The Christmas Mission COPYRIGHT 2022 by Karen Malley; A Christmas Stolen COPYRIGHT 2018 by Lillian Duncan; A Dream of Christmas COPYRIGHT 2022 by Erin Stevenson; Mistletoe Mix-up COPYRIGHT 2018 by Jody Day

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Contact Information: titleadmin@pelicanbookgroup.com

    All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version(R), NIV(R), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

    Scripture quotations, marked KJV are taken from the King James translation, public domain. Scripture quotations marked DR, are taken from the Douay Rheims translation, public domain.

    Scripture texts marked NAB are taken from the New American Bible, revised edition Copyright 2010, 1991, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Washington, D.C. and are used by permission of the copyright owner. All Rights Reserved. No part of the New American Bible may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

    White Rose Publishing, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC

    www.pelicanbookgroup.com PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410

    White Rose Publishing Circle and Rosebud logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC

    Publishing History

    First White Rose Edition, 2023

    Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-5223-0430-2

    Published in the United States of America

    Choosing Christmas

    Carol James

    Dedication

    To all my friends, parents, and fellow teachers at PCS. The years we spent together were transformative. Thank you for growing and encouraging me. God is not unjust; He will not forget your work and the love you have shown Him as you have helped His people and continue to help them. Hebrews 6:10

    Titles by Carol James

    The Waiting

    Season of Hope

    Mary’s Christmas Surprise

    The Unexpected Christmas Gift

    1

    Static crackled from the old intercom box on the wall above the whiteboard. Ms. Taylor, Dr. Jernigan would like to see you in his office.

    Thank you. Please tell him I’ll be right there. Angie pulled her makeup bag out of the bottom desk drawer and ran her brush through her hair. She refreshed her lip gloss and powdered her nose. Then she stood and slipped on her suit jacket. Her students had teased her about being dressed up today, but they’d just have to get used to it.

    Excitement fluttered her stomach as she headed down the hall. The school board had met last night and made their decision. She drew in a calming breath and forced back the tears. Grammy and Poppy would have been so proud.

    As Angie entered the main office, Mary Jo winked from behind the front desk and then nodded toward the door behind her. They’re waiting on you.

    Smiling, Angie walked across the office and rapped on the door. When Will opened it, she stepped inside. He nodded toward the sofa behind her. Ms. Taylor, you remember John Carlton.

    Not a surprise that the president of the school board would be here, too. She turned and offered her hand. So very nice to see you again, Mr. Carlton.

    And you, as well. He shook her hand and then gestured toward the sofa. Won’t you please have a seat?

    She perched on the edge of the cushion and folded her hands in her lap. Will dropped into the chair across from them.

    Mr. Carlton smiled. As you’re probably aware, the board met last night to consider filling the position of assistant principal.

    Angie nodded, her heart skipping with excitement.

    Thank you for your application. Your résumé’s quite impressive. You’re an excellent teacher and have been a faithful employee.

    So far, so good.

    Unfortunately, we’re unable to offer you the assistant principal position at this time. The school needs a candidate who has more experience in personnel management. Someone with an advanced degree.

    She shot a glance toward Will. His eyes were fixed on his lap. Turning her attention back to Mr. Carlton, she countered, I appreciate your position. However, my master’s will be completed before this school year ends.

    He nodded. Dr. Jernigan reminded us, and for that reason, we’d like to offer you the newly created position of Upper Elementary Lead Teacher. It would mean a ten percent increase in salary beginning in January. I’ll have the job description and salary information sent to Dr. Jernigan before the end of the semester. With an updated contract, of course. He stood and shook her hand. Pray about it.

    Then the two men shook hands, and Mr. Carlton left.

    This had not gone at all the way she’d expected.

    Will slipped onto the sofa beside her and grasped her hand. Angie… I’m so sorry. I tried.

    Tears threatened.

    Say something. He sandwiched her hand between both of his.

    You know I’m qualified for that position even if I don’t have my degree yet. I have the right experience. I know the curriculum backward and forward. I even helped write some of it. She would not cry. You shouldn’t have had to try anything.

    I know. He rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs. Baby, the board felt…they thought the offer of the lead teacher position would be a good compromise. And maybe in a few years…

    Good? For who? She pulled away her hands. And personnel management, really? Do they not realize exactly how many personnel I manage every day?

    The board knows you’re an excellent teacher… That’s why they’re creating this position for you. They don’t want to lose you.

    They’ve already hired someone, haven’t they?

    Angie… He shook his head. I really can’t say.

    Can’t or won’t?

    Shouldn’t. He broke eye contact. Let’s just say, the board really didn’t have much of a choice.

    People always have a choice.

    He huffed. It’s the nephew of one of the church elders. He just got his master’s in admin and wants to move back here to be close to his mom. She’s sick, and he needs to take care of her. He shook his head. I’ve told you more than I should’ve.

    Angie’s heart ached for the nameless young man. I am sorry. She drew her hands away and stood. But I’ll have to think about things. I’m not sure this is the future I want.

    Angie, don’t make it any harder. Will stood and rested his hands on her shoulders. I pushed all I could without making them suspicious. I understand you’re hurt, but you should be grateful they created a new position for you.

    Grateful? If she looked at it from his perspective, maybe. But from hers? It stung like a slap in the face. I’m qualified. You shouldn’t have had to push.

    In a perfect world…yes. He drew her close. Go home. Take the rest of the week off and pray about it. I’ll have Mary Jo get a sub. He whispered across the top of her hair, Neither the school nor I want to lose you.

    ~*~

    Angie breathed in the calming aroma of her chai. A latte this late in the day would keep her up all night. But maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. She was so upset. She probably wouldn’t get much sleep tonight anyway. She’d tried to pray during the drive to the coffee shop, but her mind had been churning over today’s disappointment.

    When she’d started her master’s, she’d been sure her decision to pursue a degree in admin had been the right one. But now? Maybe she’d misinterpreted things.

    She should have never agreed to date Will. It wasn’t the first time a teacher and an administrator had begun a relationship, but it put him in an awkward position. That was one reason she’d decided to pursue her master’s. So they’d be on a more level playing field at work.

    They’d been discreet. Careful. Going to restaurants and events in Dallas rather than staying in Fort Worth. Their contracts didn’t forbid personal relationships between employees, but school policy certainly didn’t encourage it. Other employees knew. Some of the board probably knew, too. But they turned the other way.

    When they were at school or extracurricular functions, it was all about their jobs, their responsibilities to the school, their students, and their students’ families. Neither of them would do anything to jeopardize that.

    Only once had they run into some parents when they were out. The single comment Mrs. Jensen had made was, It’s very nice to see the two of you enjoying each other’s company. They’d fully expected word to go zipping through the school family, but as far as they’d been able to tell, the Jensens had respected their privacy.

    Over the years, Angie had chosen to put her professional life above her personal life. And until today, she’d been satisfied. But now, she could only wonder if all her sacrifice had been worth it. And Will? She’d finally come to understand what her heart had been trying to tell her for several months now. He was a great guy. Just not the one for her.

    She pulled her phone from her pocket. Today’s verse from her Bible app popped up. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:18.

    Could a person really see something that was unseen?

    Yes. When she’d been in college, she’d been able to see the unseen. Her vision had drawn her toward teaching in a Christian school and touching the hearts and minds of children. Investing her life in the unseen. The eternal.

    Maybe these last few years she’d been concentrating mostly on what she could see. What the Bible said was temporary…and she’d forgotten about focusing on the everlasting.

    She’d go home and pray. But she’d also update her information on the professional websites.

    2

    Angie rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock. Ten thirty. She jumped up. The last time she’d slept this late was probably in college. She stretched, thankful Will had given her the rest of the week off. He was a considerate and kind-hearted man and boss.

    She scooted her feet into her slippers, grabbed her laptop from the other side of the bed, and padded down the hall to the kitchen. She made a cup of coffee and grabbed some yogurt from the fridge.

    Deciding to deal with e-mails first, she nestled down into a fleece afghan on the sofa and opened her laptop. She found a few reminders from the school about the upcoming Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays and testing schedules. Some junk. A save-the-date notice for the faculty Christmas party. A quick hope you’re doing better note from Will.

    And…an e-mail from Crescent Bluff Christian School. Crescent Bluff. A little town…someplace around Waco. She clicked on the email.

    Dear Ms. Taylor,

    We came across your name and résumé through an Internet search for possible assistant principal candidates. We would be very interested in speaking with you about an opening for next semester.

    Please contact me at the number below at your earliest convenience. I’ll be happy to address any questions you may have about our school.

    The e-mail was signed Isabelle Thornton, Principal, Crescent Bluff Christian School.

    As Angie closed the laptop, tears filled her eyes. She’d prayed for wisdom and guidance before she went to bed last night, so why should she be surprised? Maybe because her prayers had lacked expectancy. In truth, she’d prayed mostly out of habit and routine. But even so, her Father was faithful when she wasn’t.

    Angie clicked on the link to the school’s website. It was K through 8. No high school. Small, but charming. The children in the images appeared happy and engrossed. Not sitting still in their desks like little robots, but learning hands-on. Many of the images were taken outside. Something about it felt as if she’d stepped back in time.

    She took a deep breath and entered the phone number.

    Isabelle Thornton. May I help you?

    Angie hadn’t expected the principal to answer.

    Hello?

    Yes. Sorry. Mrs. Thornton, this is Angela Taylor. I—

    Ms. Taylor. Thank you so much for calling so promptly. As I said in my e-mail, our school is looking for an assistant principal to begin as soon as possible. I saw your credentials online and feel your background could be a good fit for our little school. I’d love to talk with you about the position…if you’re interested, that is.

    Yes. The same bubbly excitement that had filled her when she’d gotten her first teaching job percolated through her again. I’m very interested.

    A warm chuckle answered. Perfect. I thought you would be.

    She thought Angie would be interested?

    Now let’s set up a day for us to meet and for you to come visit the school. And of course, time is of the essence. The end of the semester is just around the corner.

    Well, I…I mean, I know it’s short notice…but I could come tomorrow. I’m already taking a personal day. She bit her bottom lip and held her breath.

    And perfect, once again. I’ll e-mail you an application and the school address. So, shall we say nine o’clock? Could you be here by then?

    Wonderful. Thank you. The bubbles multiplied. And Mrs. Thornton?

    Yes, dear?

    Your e-mail couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.

    God’s timing is always perfect. See you tomorrow.

    The principal ended the call, and for a few seconds, Angie stared at the phone. When she was a little girl and disappointments had overcome her, Grammy would always say, Maybe God has something better in store. She picked up her mug and breathed in the cinnamon-y warmth of pumpkin-spice. So maybe He does.

    ~*~

    Crescent Bluff was nestled amid the undulating fields of central Texas. In mid-spring, the landscape would be covered with the sapphire and gold of Texas bluebonnets. But this time of year, summer grass that had outlived its season carpeted the countryside in golden brown as far as Angie could see. The gnarled silhouettes of leafless mesquite trees gave the landscape a Van Gogh-esque feel. Only the green of an occasional live oak or juniper provided evidence of life.

    Her GPS said she should be at the school a little before nine. Even now, the question that had kept her awake most of last night swirled through her mind.

    What in the world was she doing?

    Spontaneity had never been one of her personality traits. She was slow to make decisions, methodical, evaluating the possible outcomes from all sides. She hated the thought of making a wrong choice. But after yesterday’s phone conversation, an unfamiliar urgency prodded her on.

    She hadn’t mentioned this personal field trip to Will. No need to ruffle the waters without reason. Last night when she’d chased sleep, unable to catch it, she’d made a mental list of pros and cons. Two cons pretty much overshadowed any of the pros. Finding a place to live on such short notice and her current teaching contract.

    Mrs. Thornton’s words from yesterday swirled through her mind. God’s timing is always perfect. Perfect, without flaws, ideal, lacking nothing…perfect.

    Following the GPS prompts, she turned off the highway and drove through the quaint town of Crescent Bluff. On the outskirts, she passed a large church campus. Then she made a left turn and pulled into the parking lot of a small, red brick building which, judging from the steeple, was once a church.

    Arrived. The electronic voice from her phone confirmed what the sign in front of the building stated, Crescent Bluff Christian School.

    Angie turned off her car and took a deep breath. She picked up the envelope containing her completed application and a copy of her résumé. This whole thing was so out of her comfort zone. As she walked toward a pair of glass doors, her heart whispered, Father, Your will be done.

    Following the instructions on a sign next to the door, she pressed the doorbell and waited. A grandmotherly woman, short with gray curly hair, opened the door and smiled. Angela?

    Mrs. Thornton?

    Please, call me Isabel. There are no children around. The principal offered her hand.

    And please call me Angie. They shook hands.

    I’m so glad you could come today. I’ve arranged for you to observe in one of our first-grade classes this morning. Then two of our school board members would like to meet with you, and after that, I’ll treat you to lunch, and we’ll talk.

    Angie followed Isabel down the hall. Prints of classic art hung on the walls, encircled by what were obviously student reproductions. Angie paused at one she recognized—Monet’s Japanese Bridge. The reproductions were primitive, but the students had captured the essence of the original.

    Isabel slipped up beside her and stood in silence for a few seconds. Aren’t they lovely? Her tone was hushed, almost reverent. Our kindergarten reproductions from one of their picture studies.

    Beautiful, Angie whispered back.

    They moved down the hall, and then Isabel stopped and tapped on the door labeled Mrs. Clark’s First Grade. She opened the door.

    As they stepped inside, Mrs. Clark stood. Class, this is Ms. Taylor, the visitor I told you about. Please welcome her. The children spoke their greetings.

    Boys and girls, Isabel responded, Ms. Taylor has come to learn about our school. You’ll have to show her all the things we do.

    Mrs. Clark gestured toward a chair in the back of the room, and as Isabel left, Angie settled in. The students gathered on the floor around the teacher, while she opened a copy of The Velveteen Rabbit and began reading aloud. After a passage, she stopped and asked some of the students to tell back what she’d read. Their recall amazed Angie.

    Then they discussed the ideas expressed in the passage they’d read. These children were actively listening, thinking, and commenting. They weren’t simply putting letters together to make words, but they were drawing ideas from the words that were being read. Their minds were engaged, and they loved it. Angie loved it.

    One little girl raised her hand. You know, Mrs. Clark, just because something’s old doesn’t mean it’s bad, does it?

    Mrs. Clark began discussing what makes something valuable and where people find their value.

    A lump rose in Angie’s throat. Something about this place beckoned to her. She was home.

    ~*~

    Angie studied the classic books on the shelves in Isabel’s office. The cherry furniture and Winslow Homer prints on the walls gave the room a traditional, homey feel. Not the cinderblock and linoleum coldness of Hope Christian School.

    During the interview, the school board members had been warm and their questions thorough.

    Isabel stepped into the office and sat in the chair next to hers. Well? Your thoughts. Questions?

    Angie pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. She would not cry. This is what I’ve always believed education should be but never knew such a place, a philosophy, existed. I loved it.

    The board members were very impressed with your résumé and your answers to their questions. A smile warmed Isabel’s face. We’ve been praying for guidance since our assistant left last summer. And we believe you may be an answer to those prayers…

    Isabel picked up an envelope from her desk. "Pending the results of your background check and responses from your references, we’d like to go ahead and present you with an offer.

    And now the hard part. She handed Angie a sheet of paper with a salary proposal printed on it. We’re a small private school, and even though we’re well-endowed, our salaries can’t compete with those of larger schools. Most of our teachers work here not for the money, but because they feel called and are willing to make financial sacrifices to serve the children and their families.

    Angie reviewed the proposal. The figure was about two-thirds that of her current teaching salary and half what she would have made as an assistant principal. Her budget was already tight, and even though Crescent Bluff was a smaller town than Fort Worth, the cost of living here couldn’t be low enough to make up the shortfall. Disappointment settled over her. No matter how interested she might be, this arrangement could never work.

    Out of politeness, she continued scanning the rest of the offer including retirement and insurance benefits, and then she came to a line item labeled housing package. She rested a fingertip on the words and looked up at Isabel. Housing?

    Yes, the salary package includes housing. The school has access to a small house. Furloughing missionaries have used it over the years. And we’d like to offer it to you…including utilities and maintenance…if you need it and are willing. It’s less than a mile from the school. You could even walk or bike to work.

    Angie did some quick mental math. She added the cost of her rent and utilities. Now the salary the school was offering exceeded her current income. She took a deep breath. I’m interested. Very interested. I certainly want to pray about it, but I think this might just work.

    Of course. But before you decide, I’ll give you the address of the house, and you can run by and take a look at it. Adam’s there today doing some painting and routine maintenance. I’ll text him and let him know to expect you. She picked up a canvas bag and held it up. Here are some books about the educational philosophy we follow. I hope you’ll glance over them before you make your decision. And, please let me know if you have any questions.

    Isabel stood. Now, let me treat you to a delicious school lunch, and we’ll discuss what you observed.

    3

    Angie pulled into the driveway of the red brick bungalow and parked behind a huge white work truck. The quaint cottage probably dated back to the late 1920s or early 1930s. A glassed-in sunroom gave it a charming feel. She parked, walked up to the front door, and pressed the bell. A chime rang out but so did country music. She waited a few seconds and then rang again and knocked. When no one responded, she grasped the doorknob, turned it, and eased the door open. Hello?

    The musty scent of fresh paint greeted her. The living room, dining room, and sunroom were painted a soft gray with white trim. Lovely. Canvas drop-cloths covered furniture that had been pushed to the centers of the rooms. Isabel hadn’t mentioned that the house was furnished, but it only made sense that if it had been used by furloughing missionaries, basic furnishings would be included.

    A nasal voice whined about the pain of a broken heart. She followed the music into the kitchen. The cabinet under the sink was open, and a pair of blue-jeaned legs with cowboy-booted feet extended from the cabinet across the floor toward the center of the kitchen. Hello?

    The man in the cabinet sang along with the song. She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, and then she knocked on the countertop and raised her voice. Hello?

    A loud clunk sounded from under the sink, and the man slid out of the cabinet, holding his head. He grabbed his phone from the counter and silenced the music. He must not have shaved…or combed his hair…maybe even bathed…in at least a week. She wouldn’t get close enough to find out.

    He stood. Can I help you?

    She drew her shoulders back. Adam?

    He cast her a sideways glance and narrowed his gaze. And you are?

    Angela. Angela Taylor.

    He shook his head. Angela Taylor… No recognition marked his expression.

    I interviewed at the school today. Mrs. Thornton texted you about me dropping by to look at the house?

    He looked again at the face of his phone. Oh…you mean this text I never heard come in?

    Well, I don’t know how you could have heard anything over that music. I rang the doorbell twice.

    Twice, huh? He got a bottle of water out of the fridge and held it out to her.

    She shook her head. I knocked, too.

    He lifted his eyebrows in exaggerated surprise. Knocked, too. Wow. He gestured toward the back of the house.

    Her face warmed and perspiration prickled her scalp.

    So, take a look around. Let me know if you have any questions.

    I will. She took a deep breath and turned away.

    In addition to the main rooms, the house had three bedrooms and two baths. The master bathroom had been updated, but the hall bath had the original pink and black tile. One of the two smaller bedrooms was painted hot pink and the other sunflower-yellow. Not what she’d choose.

    I haven’t painted the bedrooms yet.

    She jumped and turned toward him. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. You just about scared me to death.

    At least I didn’t make you smash your head against a sink.

    He was a little snotty. It’s not exactly my fault. As I said, I rang the doorbell twice, knocked once, and called out.

    Oh, and called out, too. He nodded.

    I’m not sure how much more warning a normal person needs.

    A normal person. He crossed his arms over his chest. Regarding the paint, I was planning to do the master bedroom black, and the other two purple and avocado. But if you get the job, you can pick which room I paint which color.

    I really like the gray in the living and dining rooms. Couldn’t you use that for the bedrooms, too?

    He shook his head. Already bought the paint. Got it cheap and don’t have enough in the budget to buy more.

    Surely, they wouldn’t do anything about the painting until she made her decision. She could make the room colors a part of her requirements to accept the job. Or she could even buy the paint and redo it herself if they’d let her. Mrs. Thornton seemed to be a reasonable woman.

    She turned toward him and offered her hand. Thank you for letting me look around. I’ll get out of your way so you can get back to whatever you were doing.

    You mean knocking my head against the sink?

    She wanted to roll her eyes. He was so immature. She withdrew her hand.

    I’d appreciate that. I’ve got a lot to get done today.

    ~*~

    Her chocolate curls bounced as she marched back to her car. Adam closed the door and then burst out laughing. She was unbelievably cute when she was embarrassed. He shouldn’t have been so mean. He touched the lump on his throbbing forehead. Wrong. She’d had it coming.

    His phone vibrated, and he hit the answer button. Hey, Mom. He put the phone on speaker and screwed the top off the water bottle.

    Hi, dear. Did Angie stop by?

    She did. He took a drink.

    And?

    And what? Mom was fishing.

    And…what did you think?

    He wouldn’t tell her what he really thought. She’s, uh, kind of cool.

    I know. I liked her, too. Her excitement bubbled out of the phone.

    Cool as in aloof. Not as in nice. Snotty.

    Mom chuckled. Self-assured. Poised.

    Snotty…

    Well, I’ve made her an offer, and I’m pretty sure she’ll accept once we get her references and background check back. We just need to pray that she can get out of her current contract.

    Something told him that wouldn’t be a problem.

    ~*~

    The doorbell. Angie rolled over and picked up her phone. Eleven o’clock. Sleeping this late was quickly becoming a habit. Pulling on her robe, she headed up the hall and then peeked through the peephole. Will…dressed in a suit on Saturday morning. Something was up.

    She opened the door. This is a nice surprise. Is everything OK?

    He stepped into the hall and then closed the door behind him. Guess you didn’t get my message.

    Message?

    Text. About the symphony.

    She shook her head. I’m so sorry. I put my phone on silent yesterday, and I must have forgotten to change it last night.

    He held her hands. One of the board members donated some DSO tickets. I thought that and an early dinner in Dallas would be a fun date.

    I’ll hurry.

    He drew her close and kissed her cheek. Hey, it’s OK. More than anything, I just want to spend time together. He slipped off his jacket and loosened and unknotted his tie. We can watch old movies and order pizza. That’ll be just fine with me.

    Actually, that sounds wonderful. Give me five minutes to change. She scooted down the hall to the bedroom and pulled on a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater. Then she brushed her teeth and ran a comb through her hair. She spritzed on the perfume he'd given her for Christmas. Today’s beauty routine was complete.

    And now, to break the news. She headed back toward the living room.

    Will had made his way into the kitchen and was starting a pot of coffee. He turned toward her and grinned. Hope you don’t mind.

    Not at all. She slipped onto one of the barstools and watched him move around the kitchen. Comfortable. Their relationship was comfortable. This Christmas would mark three years they’d been dating. They knew as much about each other as a couple could without being married. He was ready, but she’d always used school as an excuse to wait. Planning a wedding while pursuing an advanced degree would have been too much. She wouldn’t have been able to devote the proper amount of time to either. But now? She had one last online class and no more excuses left.

    He brought her a mug and sat across from her. So, I’ve got your new contract out in the car. Mr. Carlton brought it by Friday.

    She nodded. About that… Something’s come up.

    A wary smile crossed his face.

    Unbidden tears filled her eyes.

    C’mon baby, whatever it is, we can fix it. It can’t be that bad.

    She took a deep breath. I need to leave the school. I found a job as an AP in Crescent Bluff. Pending background check and references, of course. But that shouldn’t be any problem. They want me there as soon as possible to train so I can step into my position in January.

    Wow. He sipped his coffee—one of his stalling techniques. Angie, I understand you’re hurt and disappointed about the board’s decision, but my guess is this new guy will only be here temporarily. By then you’ll have your degree and the job will be yours.

    She grasped his hands. I wasn’t looking. This job found me, and when I went to visit yesterday… The tears burned. I can’t explain it. This school…this philosophy…is everything I believed education should be but never knew existed. Her voice broke. It’s such a God thing.

    His gaze swept over every inch of her face.

    Say something, she whispered.

    I don’t agree with your decision, but I understand the hurt it’s coming from. He rubbed his thumbs over the backs of her hands. So, what do you need from me? References? Recommendations?

    She took a deep breath. I need you to get me out of my current contract.

    He brought her hands to his lips and kissed the back of each one. Done. Then he stared deep into her eyes. So…what about us?

    I just need your patience and some time to sort things out.

    A smile softened his face. That you have.

    4

    Adam finished applying the last of the touch-up paint on the baseboard in the sunroom. He’d had the guys place the furniture where it had been before they’d painted. From the little he knew of the new tenant, he probably could have saved a lot of time and effort by waiting until she got here to arrange everything. But the guys were working on another project today. Once she got settled in, he’d have them come back if she wanted anything rearranged.

    A familiar SUV pulled up into the driveway and parked behind his pickup. Then a rental truck turned in behind it. Angela Taylor, the new assistant principal of CBCS stepped out of the SUV. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She looked years younger than she had the first time they met. Of course, his memory might have been affected by that knock on his forehead.

    A guy climbed out of the truck. Friend? Boyfriend? Brother? He walked up behind her, put his arms around her waist, and nibbled her neck. Well, that answered that question. She leaned her head back against his chest… So now he’d stooped to voyeurism. Adam shook his head and went into the kitchen to rinse off the paintbrush.

    The doorbell dinged and then the front door whooshed open. Hello?

    Adam turned off the water and walked out of the kitchen.

    The lovebirds stood in the doorway.

    Come on in. Adam gestured toward the back of the house.

    Her gaze swept the living room.

    The guys put the furniture back where it was before we painted. They can come back after you get settled if you want anything moved.

    It’s lovely. I like it just the way it is. She smiled.

    Loverboy cleared his throat.

    Oh. Her cheeks pinked. This is Will Jernigan. Will, this is…

    She didn’t remember his name. He leaned forward and offered his hand. Adam.

    They shook hands and then Will drew her close.

    Yes. Adam’s, um, the handyman. She nodded.

    Contractor.

    Her cheeks moved from pink to bright red. Contractor. Sorry.

    Well, take a look around and let me know if you’ve got any questions. He made a show of pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking the display. Then he looked up. I’ve got a little time before my next appointment, so I’ll be glad to help you carry in any of the big stuff.

    As the two headed down the hall, Adam went back into the kitchen. He couldn’t wait to see how she reacted to the paint in the bedrooms. Before he could turn the water back on, she appeared in the kitchen doorway.

    The, um, paint in the bedrooms…

    Yeah, sorry about that. Not sure exactly what happened. When the painters opened the cans, every one of them was that light blue. He shrugged his shoulders. And we didn’t have the budget to replace it, so I guess you’ll just have to live with it.

    A knowing look crossed her face and she grinned. Thank you.

    For the first time, he saw her real smile. Warm and sweet. You bet. He grinned back.

    ~*~

    Adam lay face down stretched out on the massage table at the chiropractor’s office. This would feel extra good today. All the hauling had made his back tight and sore. That last piece—some monster of an antique desk—just about did him in. He closed his eyes and escaped into the world of soothing, repetitive, never-ending music.

    John tapped on the door and then entered. So how’s it going? Even his tone relaxed Adam.

    A little sore. Helped somebody move.

    Probably not the best choice. John slipped onto the stool at Adam’s head. How about some hot stones today?

    Sounds great. He closed his eyes while John worked out the kinks.

    Still swimming?

    Yep. And some water aerobics. It’s a little weird. Me and some women. Could’ve been a good dating opportunity if they weren’t all my mom’s age.

    John laughed. I hear ya.

    Seriously, the water seems to help more than anything else I’ve tried. Plus the baked goods I get are a real bonus.

    5

    The autumn mustiness of dried leaves swirled around Angie on the walk from her new home to the school. The crisp cool of early November made her heart sing. Today, she was beginning a new adventure. She rang the doorbell at the school’s main entrance.

    A faceless voice answered through the intercom. May I help you?

    Angela Taylor. I have an appointment with Mrs. Thornton.

    She’s expecting you. One moment, please.

    A woman about Angie’s age appeared at the glass door and opened it for her. Ms. Taylor? I’m Megan, Mrs. Thornton’s assistant and the school secretary. Welcome. So nice to meet you.

    Nice to meet you as well. Angie followed her down the hall toward Isabel’s office. The same feeling of awe and excitement she had when she’d first visited the school rushed back over her.

    Megan tapped on the principal’s office door.

    Come in, Isabel replied, her voice muffled.

    Megan gestured toward the door. Stop by the office before you go home, and I’ll give you a set of keys and a handbook. We’re glad you’re here.

    Angie took a deep breath and opened the office door. A man occupied the chair with its back turned toward the door. Isabel sat in the one facing her.

    Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Thornton. Megan didn’t tell me you had a guest. I didn’t mean to interrupt.

    Isabel stood. Angie. I’m so glad you’re here. And you’re not interrupting. It’s just Adam.

    The man stood and turned toward her. Today he looked professional in his suit and tie. His hair was combed away from his face, perfectly in place. The scruffy beard was gone. Nothing about him said contractor except the faint discolored blotch in the middle of his forehead.

    He offered his hand. Hello, Angela. Did you get settled in?

    She nodded as they shook hands. Angie.

    Adam. Isabel planted her hands on her hips and then turned toward Angie. He didn’t tell you, did he?

    Tell me…?

    Isabel shook her head and wagged her finger at Adam. Then she turned back toward Angie. This is my son. Part-time contractor, part-time legal advisor, full-time real estate attorney, and ridiculous tease. I’m so sorry. One of us should have told you. It just slipped my mind…probably because I assumed he would.

    Angie played back every conversation he might have overheard, every facial expression she’d made, and every attitude she’d displayed.

    So, how’s the house? Adam winked at her.

    Her cheeks warmed. Very nice.

    Everything’s in good shape? Working OK?

    I’m having some trouble with the cable, but I’ll figure it out.

    I’ll stop by after work and take a look at it. It has a history of being finicky.

    That’s really not necessary. I’m sure I can fix it.

    You wouldn’t want me to lose my job due to negligence, would you?

    Angie was pretty sure that would never happen.

    He leaned in and pecked Isabel on the cheek. Gotta run. Then he turned and grinned at Angie. See you a little after five.

    ~*~

    Angie curled up on the wicker sofa in the sunroom and drew one of Grammy’s crocheted afghans over her legs. She opened the next volume of the educational set Isabel had given her. She wanted to soak up every idea, every example set forth in the books. This philosophy of not watering down ideas, of offering children the best and highest and letting them take what they could, was contrary to everything she’d been taught in both college and grad school. But when she’d observed the various classrooms, its truth rang loud and clear in her heart.

    The spiciness of the soup she’d put in the slow cooker this morning mixed with the nutty aroma of the cornbread baking in the oven. The air was filled with a comforting warmth that said home. She’d spent only one night in this house, but she felt as though she belonged here.

    A black BMW pulled into her driveway, and Adam stepped out. The lawyering business must be pretty profitable. But from what little she knew of him, he was a hard worker. Any success he’d achieved was most likely earned.

    She closed the book and made her way to the door. Opening it, she waited. He walked up the driveway. You really didn’t have to come by tonight. I’m sure you’re tired.

    He grinned and loosened his tie. Wasn’t it Thomas Jefferson who said not to put off anything you could do today…or something like that? He shrugged. I mean, who am I to question a founding father?

    True, but it was Ben Franklin. She smiled.

    He grinned. You’re right. Anyway, who knows what tomorrow might bring? He stepped into the living room and pulled off his suit coat and tie and draped them across the arm of the sofa. Let me take a look at that cable.

    He walked to the right of the fireplace and scooted the shelf out from the wall. He knelt down and began fiddling with the wires. The HDMI cable wasn’t making a good connection, but it should work fine now. He grabbed the remote from the shelf and aimed it at the TV. The screen burst to life. He turned it off, slid the shelf back into place, stood, and stretched. Anything else you need me to check while I’m here?

    No…thank you. You really didn’t need to make a special trip. What do I owe you?

    All part of the deal. He pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to her. Need anything else, call me. His stomach growled. Sorry. I worked through lunch. And something smells really good.

    It’s Poppy soup.

    Poppy soup…? He raised his eyebrows. Gotta be a story there.

    She leaned close. He wore the same cologne she’d given Will for his birthday. The same expensive cologne she’d loved, but Will hated. My grandfather’s secret recipe, she whispered.

    His eyes locked onto hers. They were deep chocolate. Got it, he whispered back. Your secret’s safe with me.

    The kitchen timer dinged. That would be the cornbread.

    Well, let me get out of your hair. He headed toward the sofa to get his jacket and tie.

    Adam?

    He turned back and raised his eyebrows.

    The recipe makes a ton. If you won’t let me pay you, you could at least let me feed you.

    He grinned. You’re a good negotiator. He followed her into the kitchen.

    She pulled the cornbread out of the oven while he opened the cabinet above the dishwasher. Of course, he’d know where everything was kept.

    He stared at the stacked dishes. So what all do we need?

    Bowls, bread and butter plates, and flatware. I would have made a salad if I’d known I would have company.

    Soup and cornbread’s great. He carried everything to the kitchen table and set two places. He went back to the cabinet and got down two glasses. Water OK? Or something else?

    Water’s fine. She set the soup and cornbread on the table while he filled the glasses, and the realization struck her. He was awfully comfortable around the kitchen. He knew how to set a table…even knew which plates were used for the bread and butter. He was married. So shouldn’t he be having dinner with his family? His wife and possibly children? A knot formed in her chest. Perspiration prickled her scalp. This was beginning to feel illicit. She shouldn’t have invited him for dinner. She didn’t want to lose her job before she even really got started.

    He walked around the table and pulled out a chair for her. Miss?

    She sat. I didn’t even think to ask if you needed to call…anyone…and let them know about your change in dinner plans.

    He slipped into the chair across from her and shook his head. No use. Lucy always lets calls go to voicemail.

    Lucy?

    My dog. He winked.

    She spooned soup into his bowl and handed it back to him. Then she filled hers. Hey, I’m sorry about that knock on your forehead.

    I doubt there’s any permanent damage. A smile brightened his face, and his eyes sparkled with life. Mind if I bless the food?

    ~*~

    Adam stared at the sparks swirling skyward from the flames in the fire pit. Lucy stood up and wagged her tail. A hand rested on his shoulder, and he reached up and squeezed it. Hey, Mom. How was the board meeting?

    Long…but good. Angie’s official. She slipped into the chair beside his. Did you find some dinner?

    He nodded. Went by the house to fix the cable, and Angie invited me to stay for dinner.

    I see.

    The crackling and popping of the fire filled the silence between them.

    He turned so he could see Mom’s face. Would the son of the principal and a faculty member dating have any ethical implications?

    Mom rested her hand on his. You know she’s in a serious relationship.

    Yep.

    Mom sighed. Since she’s an administrator, I don’t believe there are any ethical problems…but I do know it could be very complicated.

    He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. I’m good at complicated.

    6

    Angie stuffed her clothes into the locker and then turned toward Megan. Are you sure the teacher won’t mind having someone join the class in the middle of the session?

    Oh, Ruth’s great. She loves having new students.

    A heavy wall of steamy chlorine met them as they headed out of the dressing room into the pool area.

    She followed Megan’s lead, dropped two dollars in a basket, and then slipped into the shallow end of the pool. Thankfully, Megan found a spot near the back left of the group. Close enough where Angie could watch the teacher but far enough to the side so she wouldn’t be the center of attention. The other students appeared to be a combination of faculty and older women.

    Ruth opened her Bible and read a scripture from Psalm 23 in a soothing tone. ‘He refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for His name’s sake.’ May our Lord refresh your spirit and guide you today and every day. She changed the music to some instrumental hymns. Let’s begin.

    Motion to her right grabbed Angie’s attention as Adam slipped into the water behind the rest of the class.

    She leaned over toward Megan. I didn’t realize this was a coed class, she whispered.

    Megan’s brow wrinkled. It’s not.

    Angie nodded her head his direction.

    Megan grinned. Oh, it’s just Adam.

    Just Adam. Knowing Just Adam was behind them would make concentrating on the instructor a struggle. Angie took a deep breath determined to focus all her attention on Ruth.

    They moved from a warm-up to aqua-jogging for cardio and then did some leg lifts. Angie glanced behind her. Adam had moved to the deep end of the pool and was swimming laps. He had a smooth, even stroke.

    Megan handed her a foam pool noodle, and they did some stretches and cool down movements. At the end of the exercises, Ruth led them in a closing prayer. If Angie hurried, she’d be gone before Adam noticed her. She climbed out of the pool.

    Hello.

    Angie turned.

    An older woman with gentle blue eyes smiled at her. You’re Angela Taylor, the new AP, aren’t you?

    Angie nodded and smiled. Yes. So much for a quick escape.

    Megan took Angie’s noodle and returned it to the stack.

    I’m Lorraine Shipley. I’m a member of the school board, and I wanted to tell you how excited we are that you accepted the position. CBCS is a very special place. I taught third grade there until I retired, and my years at the school were life-changing. Maybe your time there will be, as well.

    It’s already been more than I hoped for. Angie’s gaze wandered over Lorraine’s shoulder as Adam climbed out of the pool and headed toward the locker rooms.

    Lorraine reached out and squeezed Angie’s hand. I’m so glad. Please let any of the board know if you need anything. We’re here to support you.

    I will. Thank you very much.

    Megan sidled up to Angie. So, let’s change, and I’ll take you home.

    Could you just drop me by the school? I have a couple of things I need to finish.

    Megan elbowed her. Miss Conscientious.

    ~*~

    Angie stepped back and looked at her office. All she had left to do was choose artwork for her walls. Today had been a good day…fulfilling. She loved everything about this place: the people, the philosophy. Even the little house. Although she’d been here less than a week, she belonged. More than she ever had in Fort Worth. She belonged in a way she never had before. On a heart level. And yet, deep inside that heart, a void waited to be filled.

    She gathered her bag and purse from her office and locked the door. Thunder rolled and large raindrops splatted on the sidewalk outside. She should have checked the forecast this morning before she decided to walk. Too bad she hadn’t let Megan take her home.

    The Lost and Found box sat by the door. She rummaged around until she

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