Christmas in Good Hope (A Good Hope Novel Book 1) (23 page)

“You don’t know that. You
think
you know.” Marigold stepped back and held Ami at arm’s length, her expression surprisingly stern. “Take some advice from your baby sister. Keep the faith. And remember, you never know for sure what’s around a corner . . . until you take the turn.”

C
hapter
T
wenty-
T
hree

Though Beck had never been to Ami’s childhood home, he knew her father lived on a tree-lined street high on a hill overlooking the bay. The homes in that area might not be as grand as the one he lived in now, but they were spacious enough to handle four children with ease.

As cars lined both sides of the street, Beck found a spot several blocks away from the Bloom house and pulled to the curb. A bottle of wine lay on the passenger seat, a gift for the man who’d given thirty-five years to the youth of Good Hope. A gift for the man whose eldest daughter made Beck’s life richer simply by being a part of it.

Tucking the wine bottle under his arm, he set out in the direction of Steve’s house. People driving by honked and waved in greeting. Beck lifted a hand in response, continually amazed by the friendliness of the residents of this peninsula.

He’d been prepared to take his time getting acquainted, but the citizens of Good Hope would tolerate no standoffishness. Especially not Ami Bloom. Beck quickened his step in anticipation.

Forty-eight hours was too long to go without seeing her. The house didn’t feel like home without her in it. Beck had considered texting or calling but had forced himself to hold back. Her sisters were in town, and he knew she was busy finalizing arrangements on their dad’s open house.

He was looking forward to meeting her family. If things went the way he hoped, they’d one day be his family, too.

Ami made him laugh. She made him want to reach out and lend a helping hand. She warmed his bed, but even more importantly, warmed his heart.

He simply couldn’t do without her. Very soon, that’s what he was going to tell her in terms of two very special Christmas gifts that came straight from his heart.

One of those gifts was safely hidden away in his carriage house. The other was in a black velvet box sitting on his dresser. He smiled, thinking of the romantic scene he had planned for the twenty-fourth. Of course, that was assuming he could find a way to steal her away from her sisters—and father—for a couple of hours.

Where there was a will . . .

“Beck.”

His head jerked at the sound of his name. Max strode toward him from the opposite direction. They met at the walkway leading to Ami’s childhood home, a Craftsman-style bungalow.

“What are you doing in the neighborhood?”

“Same as you,” the accountant replied.

“You know Ami’s father?” Beck wasn’t surprised Max was acquainted with Steve, only that he knew the man well enough to be invited to his open house.

“Years ago he was my Big Brother. And we’re fishing buddies,” Max added.

“Steve’s your
brother
?” Beck cocked his head. Why was he only hearing about this now? “You’re related to Ami?”

Max laughed. “The organization, Cross. You know, Big Brothers, Big Sisters. They pair kids without moms or dads with mentors. Steve was mine.”

The accountant talked so much, Beck assumed he knew everything about the man. “You never mentioned that fact.”

“Do you think you can learn a person’s life history in six months?”

“I suppose you’re right.” Beck cocked his head. “With him being your Big Brother, I assume you know Ami’s sisters pretty well.”

“You’ll like them,” Max decreed as they stepped onto the porch.

They’d reached the red-painted front door of the two-story home. A brightly painted sign greeted them: Welcome. No Need to Knock. We’re Expecting You!

Beck smiled.
Only in Good Hope . . .

Yet even as he raised his hand to knock, the door opened.

“Good afternoon. Welcome.” The woman with the friendly smile had enough of Ami in her to tell him she was a sister.

The hair was different. Instead of brown, this woman’s was deep red interspersed with strands of gold. A smattering of freckles dusted her ivory cheeks. Like her father’s, her eyes were hazel.

“I’m Primrose. You can call me Prim.” She extended a slim hand to Beck, and when Beck leaned forward to take it, he realized she didn’t stand alone.

“Beckett Cross.” He glanced down at the two redheaded boys at her sides. “Who are these young men?”

She smiled fondly at her sons. “The one with the jam on his shirt is Callum. The one with the marker on his cheek is Connor.”

“Pleased to meet you,” they intoned together. While they may have been well coached, the mischievous glint told him being mannerly wasn’t a natural state.

“It’s nice to meet all of you.” Beck stepped inside and smiled at Primrose. “My café, Muddy Boots, is next door to Ami’s bakery.”

Prim’s eyes took on a devilish twinkle, much like her sons’. “I’ve heard all about you from my sister.”

“All good, I hope.”

“Of course,” she said smoothly, then shifted her attention to Max.

Instead of a handshake, the accountant got a quick hug. “It’s been a long time, Brody.”

Max cleared his throat and appeared uncharacteristically at a loss for words. “Too long. It’s not the same in Good Hope without you.”

“Yes, well.” Her cheeks flamed with color and her hands fluttered. “Let’s shut the door and keep the cold outside where it belongs. Callum and Connor, will you please take these gentlemen’s coats?”

Beck removed his and Callum snatched it from him just as Ami strolled up. He felt a surge of satisfaction when her eyes lit with pleasure.

“I thought you might be getting thirsty.” Ami held out the glass of lemonade to her sister, even as her smile remained directed at Beck. “I see you’ve met Beck.”

Prim took the tumbler from her sister’s hands. “He’s every bit as gorgeous as you said, Am.”

Ami laughed and shook her head. “Sisters.”

Beck couldn’t keep his gaze off Ami. Two days might as well have been an eternity. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered in a soft-looking sweaterdress of mint green. Instead of her beloved UGGs, she wore heeled boots of dark brown suede.

He took a step closer and placed a hand on her arm, unable to go one more second without touching her. “You look incredible.”

The elusive dimple in her cheek winked. “The dress and boots are on loan from Fin.”

“I’ll have to seek Delphinium out and thank her.”

“Did I hear my name?”

Beck swiveled and did a double take. Delphinium Bloom could easily have passed for Ami’s twin. If her sister had been wearing mint green—instead of a dress the color of claret—he’d have been hard-pressed to tell them apart, especially from a distance.

The facial features were identical. As were the green eyes, hint of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and tan-colored hair. Fin’s cut was different, more . . . jagged. And her dress probably cost twice as much as anything currently hanging in Ami’s closet.

The differences were subtle but significant. Fin had the look of a big-city girl, with a polished smile and a wary—almost cynical—look in her eyes. She also exuded an energy totally at odds with her older sister’s calm demeanor.

Ami had been right. There was something compelling—charismatic—about Fin that Beck knew many would find difficult to resist. He could. For one reason. She wasn’t Ami.

“Welcome.” She extended her hand in the manner of someone well versed in business etiquette, her gaze firmly focused on him. “I’m Fin Bloom. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Before he could respond, someone called Ami’s name and she turned.

“I’ll let you two get acquainted,” Ami said with an apologetic smile. “It appears I need to put out more cookies.”

Beck watched Ami hurry off, then turned and gave Fin’s hand a brisk shake. “Beckett Cross. I bought Muddy Boots last summer.”

He offered her the bottle of wine. “A gift. For your father.”

She studied the vintage and nodded approvingly. “Very nice. Thanks.”

Though the event was supposed to be casual, most of the men roaming around wore dress pants and sweaters. Like him, they’d left their ties and sport coats at home.

“Well, Mr. Beckett Cross.” Fin looped her arm through his as they strolled into the parlor. “I’m glad you were able to join us. I want to hear all about your relationship with my sister.”

Her interrogation was cut short when Ami stepped from the kitchen with a huge platter of cookies and assorted bars teetering precariously in her arms.

“Excuse me,” he said to Fin, then rushed across the room to Ami. “I’ll take that.”

She murmured a protest but he’d already removed the tray from her arms.

“This is much too heavy for you,” he told her.

“I’m stronger than I look.”

“I know, but you don’t have to do it all. Not anymore. You can use me.” His gaze met hers and he winked. “Any way you want.”

She grinned. “Hold that thought . . . for later.”

Fin had walked up. Beck wasn’t sure how much she’d heard, but the smile hovering on the edges of her red lips told him it had been enough.

“Where would you like these?” Beck asked Ami.

“Follow me.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Fin,” Beck called out over his shoulder.

Like Moses parting the Red Sea, Ami forged a path through the crowd to two long tables positioned against one wall. There was a large, multitiered cake made to resemble stacked books of English classics. The top book looked like a Good Hope yearbook, and the dates on it matched the year her father started teaching and the current year.

At the very top, on a chalkboard made out of fondant, were the words “35 years of inspiring students.” The nearby cupcakes, which Beck assumed Ami had baked, in the shapes of apples with red sugar crystals on top were almost gone.

The table where both the cupcakes and cake had been placed seemed designated for sweets, while the second table held an assortment of hot and cold finger foods, vegetables, and fruit.

Beck held the tray while Ami consolidated the items, making room for the platter he held.

While she fussed with the presentation, he glanced around the room. It amazed him to realize he knew most of the people in attendance by name. In little more than six months he’d become a part of this vibrant community on the shores of Green Bay.

He thought back to his old neighborhood in Bogart. Despite having lived in that house for over a year, he hadn’t known any of their neighbors. Of course, he and Lisette had both worked long hours, and any free time was spent with family. That may have changed after the baby, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Beck.” Cory White, holding a towheaded toddler in his arms, strolled up. “It’s good to see you.”

The man was all smiles, as was the child in his arms, who was the spitting image of his father.

The familiar pang of loss stabbed at him, though it was now dull and manageable.

“Well,” Cory said, when he caught his wife’s beckoning hand. “If I don’t see you before, merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Ami, we’re running low on punch.” The unfamiliar voice had a husky, sensual quality. “Where did you put the bottles of ginger ale?”

Beck shifted his gaze to the pert-nosed sprite in a stretch black dress that emphasized a lean, well-endowed figure. Though her eyes were a brilliant blue and her hair a mass of blond curls, he pegged her as another Bloom. “You must be Marigold.”

“My reputation obviously precedes me.” She smiled brightly, her gaze sharp and assessing. “You must be Beckett Cross.”

“It appears my reputation also precedes me.”

Marigold glanced at her sister and a wordless message seemed to flow between them. When those dancing blue eyes returned to him, Beck couldn’t help but smile.

“I’d love to stay and chat but I’m desperate to find the ginger ale.” The harried look around her eyes told him this punch thing fell into the crisis category.

“In the garage, on the shelf to your right,” Ami instructed. “There’s a bunch of bottles. You can’t miss them.”

“On my way.” Marigold gave Beck a jaunty wave, then hurried off, spiky red heels clicking on the hardwood.

“Tell me there aren’t any more of them.” Beck looped an arm over Ami’s shoulders. “I’m staggered to see so many beautiful women in one family.”

“It’s wonderful having all my sisters back in Good Hope.”

“Ami.” Fin hurried up. “We’re almost out of punch.”

“I know.” Ami’s brows pulled together. “Marigold is getting more ginger ale from the garage.”

“No, she’s not. I just saw her. She’s visiting with Etta Hawley.” Fin gestured with her head toward a foursome.

“I recognize Etta and Clay.” Beck narrowed his gaze. “Who’s the tall older man with them?”

“Lars Svensen,” Ami answered. “He used to be the principal at Good Hope High.”

“We need to do something about the punch,” Fin told her sister.

“Can I help?” Beck asked.

“I appreciate the offer.” Ami flashed him a smile. “But Fin and I can deal with this.”

“Then I’m going to mingle and let you two handle the punch.” Beck couldn’t stop himself from giving Ami’s arm a gentle, supportive squeeze. God, how he’d missed her. “If you need anything—”

“I’ll let you know,” she said, taking her sister’s arm and heading across the room in the direction of the garage.