The Holiday Bride (3 page)

Justin lifted an eyebrow, but William just cleared his
throat and headed for the stairs. “You know what I mean, son.”

“She’s good, I’ll give her that,” Justin said.

“She’s not playacting,” Carmella retorted soundly. “She’s
just tired. Bet it was exhausting riding all the way around the world in that
sleigh.”

“Yes, well,” William said, taking his leave. “I think I’ll
just take her upstairs and let her get some rest.”

William carried Bridget to the master bedroom and tenderly
set her down on the bed. As cautiously as he could, he removed one sneaker and
then the next. Her instep dropped into his hand and he halted, looking up at
her legs with a flush. She wore nylons and a short white dress marked with dark
stains that appeared to be some kind of uniform. William hadn’t thought about
women’s legs in a long time, and certainly hadn’t been this close to any.
Definitely none this lovely. He quickly lifted a throw blanket to cover them,
and the rest of Bridget’s womanly figure as well.

He caught a glimpse of Karen’s picture on the nightstand and
felt his face redden, suddenly overtaken with guilt. He hadn’t looked at
another woman since Karen died, and had honestly had no desire to. What with
being a single dad and managing the bank, he scarcely had time for a female
friend. He was nearly forty besides, and well out of practice with the ladies.
With Karen, things had been easy. They’d been companionable college friends
who’d become lovers, then later had married. He’d felt lucky to have been
spared the trials and tribulations of playing the field that so many of his
buddies purported to delight in, but secretly disdained. It really was a jungle
out there, and William Kinkaid’s swinging days were done.

Something sparkled on Bridget’s left hand, and he realized
with an odd sense of sadness that she wore an engagement ring. Well, of course
she would, wouldn’t she? Pretty young woman like that was bound to be taken.
Was sure to have a wonderful life—and fiancé—waiting for her
somewhere out there. And wherever they were, William was going to help find
them. It was the least he could do for a stranger, especially at Christmastime.

“She’s so beautiful,” Carmella’s soft voice rang out behind
him. William turned in surprise to see his daughter had entered the room.

“Bet she escaped from prison,” Justin said, trailing behind
her.

Carmella puffed out her cheeks. “Did not!”

William shooed them out of the way and quietly shut the
door. “Now, come on, you two. I’m sure she didn’t escape from prison.”

“Yeah. The elves made her,” Carmella informed them.

“Elves don’t make people, fuzz brain.”

William shot Justin a look, and then stooped low to speak to
Carmella. “Is that what you asked for, Carmella? A new mommy?”

“Oh, yes. And isn’t she perfect? A little younger than I
asked for, but I guess that’s okay.”

A lump welled in William’s throat. “Sweetheart,” he said
softly. “I know how much you miss your mother. We all do.” He pursed his lips a
beat. “But I think that you should know—”

“There’s no such thing as Santa!” Justin proclaimed with
mirth.

The child gasped, pain streaking her eyes. “Daddy, say he’s
wrong!”

William huffed and glanced at Justin, agitated. “Downstairs.
Now.
”

Justin skulked away, saggy pants drooping, as Carmella
clutched her teddy. “But he brought me Cubby! And a mommy! You said he was real.
You wouldn’t lie, would you, Daddy?”

William set his jaw, feeling like a big fat fake. He
couldn’t tell Carmella that Santa wasn’t real and break her little heart. She
still had so much of childhood left, and her childhood had been hard on her
already. Growing up without a mother had left her longing for things he
couldn’t provide. William saw that now and felt awful about it.

“Of course there’s a Santa,” he said, drawing his daughter
and her bear into a hug. “You bet there is.” He pulled back and thumbed her
nose with a smile. “You got your Cubby, didn’t you?”

****

Chapter Three

One hour later, William lowered his voice and spouted into
the mouthpiece, “What do you mean I have to wait forty-eight hours to report a
missing person. I just told you, she’s already here!”

He set down the phone and massaged his temples just as the
doorbell rang. Cheery voices and laughter rang out from the foyer as Carmella
raced into room.

“Grammy and Poppy are here!”

William sighed, wondering how he was going to explain
Bridget to his parents. They were overbearing enough when he led the life of
the unencumbered single dad. Who knew how they’d take the news of a stranger
landing on his sofa?

He walked toward the front door and helped his mother with
her coat. She was neatly prim as always, in a crisply ironed skirt and
buttoned-up blouse. His father was a mess, as usual, with none of his patterned
items matching. “Mom! Dad!” William said, greeting them both with hugs. “How
was the trip? Any trouble getting here?”

“Well, the walk was a little slippery,” his mom said.

“Other than that, it went just fine,” his dad finished for
her.

William supposed it helped that they lived next door.
Otherwise, with the storm pelting, they might not have made it.

Emma leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Carmella says
Santa left something on your sofa...”

“Something life-size,” Grant chortled with a grin.

“Actually, it’s not like that at—”

“Sure it is, Daddy!” Carmella butted in. “You said so
upstairs. Just after you took her to bed, remember?”

Emma fanned her face with her purse as William reddened. “I
don’t really think this is appropriate,” she hissed under her breath. “Not with
the children—”

“He’s a grown man, Emma,” Grant cut in. He leaned in toward
William. “But your mother’s right, son. You should have asked her to leave
before the kids got up.”

“No, he should have asked her to
wait
until after the wedding,” Emma said a little too loudly.

William croaked,
“Wedding?”

“Oh boy!” Carmella crowed. “She’ll look just like my Bride
Barbie! Wait until you see her!” she said, shooting her grandparents a sunny
smile.

Justin guffawed and William cupped his mouth with a hand.
His parents were nearly to the stairs, his mom led by Carmella.

“Mom! Dad! Before you go up there—”

“She
is
decent,
son?” his dad asked.

“She’s just like Goldilocks,” Carmella said.

Grant studied his son with admiration. “A blonde, eh? Well,
why not.”

Carmella tugged at her grandma. “Come on, but shhh... She’s
sleeping.”

“Mom, wait!” But it was too late. They were already to the
landing. William sighed and chased after them.

Justin gallantly rushed ahead, holding open the door for his
grandparents.

“Very nice, Justin,” William said under his breath. “Ultra
helpful.”

“Oh my yes,” Emma said. “Lovely, really lovely.”

“Of course, you can’t see much with that blanket in the
way,” Grant quipped.

Emma turned to William. “Does she always sleep this late?”

“Not a drinker, is she?” Grant wanted to know.

“
Please,
”
William said in hushed tones.
“Let’s all go back downstairs. Mom and Dad, I’ve got some cocoa for you in the
kitchen.”

Justin triumphantly shut the bedroom door. “Sounds good.
I’ll come, too.”

“Adult cocoa, Justin. Not for you.”

Carmella looked hopeful.

“Or for you either, pumpkin.”

“Can we open some of our presents?” Justin asked slyly.

“You bet,” William said. “Just don’t touch any of the ones
brought by you-know-who.”

Emma snatched the bourbon bottle from her husband and poured
another liberal dose into her cocoa mug. “Oh, dear. This won’t do at all.”

Grant drained his mug, then set it aside. “Aren’t you a
little old to be picking up strays?”

“Look,” William said, “I don’t know what else to do! The
police say no one has filed a missing persons report. I tried the hospital,
too. But nobody’s called there looking for her, either.”

“Maybe you should take her to the hospital,” Emma said
seriously. “Maybe she’s not
right
.”

“The fact that she can’t remember anything doesn’t make her
a psycho, Mother. Besides, you saw what it’s like out there. Nobody’s going
anywhere until the plows get through.”

“What about Dr. Mass?” Grant asked.

“I phoned him, too.” William checked some notes on the
table. “He gave me some instructions about waking her up every hour. Checking
her pupils with a flashlight.”

“So you’re just going to let her stay here?” Emma asked.

“Dr. Mass says that–unless she takes a turn for the
worse–he’ll see us in his office in the morning, assuming the streets get
cleared.”

His mom tapped the side of her mug with neatly trimmed
fingernails. “I still don’t know if this is such a good idea. A damsel in
distress... a lonely widower...”

“It’s almost two o’clock on Christmas Day,” William said. “I
can’t just toss her out in the snow!”

“No, I probably wouldn’t toss her out of my bed, either,”
Grant said thoughtfully.

Emma swatted his arm.

Grant leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper. “Say,
what if she’s escaped from prison? That would give her plenty of reason to
forget who she is!”

William huffed with exasperation.
“She is not on the lam, okay?”

Both of his parents pushed back in their chairs and stared
at each other.

“Don’t you think the cops would have mentioned it?” William
asked, a slight edge to his voice.

William couldn’t believe it. His dad almost looked
disappointed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Besides,” William added, “she doesn’t exactly look like the
hardened criminal type.”

Emma shook her head. “What about the children? How are they
taking it?”

William frowned. “Carmella thinks Santa brought her.”

Grant chuckled and William cast him a cursory glance.

“And Justin?” Emma asked.

In the next room, Justin eagerly pawed through Bridget’s
gifts. “I say we open all of them.”

“You heard what Daddy said.”

“Yeah... don’t touch! So, I won’t. I’ll just open and peek
inside.” He yanked off the gift tag, hooting.
“For Koochie, for us to be naughty and nice...”

“Koochie?” Carmella puzzled. “Do you think that’s for
Daddy?”

“One way to find out!”

He tore back the wrapping of a long box and Carmella lunged
forward. “Justin!”

Before she could stop him, he’d dispensed with the rest of the
paper and flipped open the lid. “Well, well, well...” Justin fell back whooping
holding up a skimpy black-and-red lace teddy.

Just then, the adults entered the room.

“Why son,” Grant said discreetly to William. “You buy that
getup for Goldie?”

“Goldie? Hey, no! Wait!

Carmela stuck out her bottom lip. “No, Poppy. These are
from
Bridget.” She purposefully
collected the lingerie and deposited it with William. “Here, Daddy. I think
this is for you.”

 
William held the
lace teddy, which dangled down in front of him. “No, honey, I don’t think it’s
my size.” If someone had stuck hot coals to his face, it couldn’t have felt any
warmer. Then he looked up to spy Bridget on the stairs, and felt himself
combust from heat all over.

Lucy stopped walking and gaped at William holding a racy
teddy and standing beside the Christmas tree. His face was the color of
cinnamon, while Carmella pouted and the tween rollicked with laughter on the
floor.

“Hello, dear!” a neatly dressed older woman called.

A man with abysmal fashion sense stood beside her and
grinned. “You must be Bridget!”

“You’re awake,” William said, his voice cracking.

Frankly, this moment seemed a fine time to turn around. “No,
actually I’m—”

“Sleepwalking?” Justin asked.

Carmella shook her head at her brother. “She’s not
sleepwalking, you Dumbo. Can’t you see?”

“Why don’t you come on down here and join us?” the older man
said.

“Yes, dear,” his wife agreed. “We’d like the chance to get
to know you better.”

That would be ideal, if only she had a way to understand
herself. Who was this family, and how had she gotten mixed up with all of them?
She recalled the sofa, remembered waking up here this morning quite well. It
was all that came before that was a blur.

William shoved the lace teddy in his pocket with an embarrassed
look. “Do come downstairs, if you’re able. Do you need help?”

“No,” she said uncertainly. “Thanks. I think I’ve got it.”

A little while later, they sat around the family dining
table where William carved a large turkey. Lucy had learned his parents were
named Emma and Grant, and that the tween’s name was Justin. Justin was slightly
snarky, but Lucy supposed that came with the territory. Little Carmella, on the
other hand, was simply adorable. She was so intent on Lucy being her
Mommy
,
Lucy hadn’t known what to think, or say, about any of it. While she’d gathered
from the conversation that William had lost his wife some time ago, she wasn’t
sure how long it had been or under what circumstances. How hard that must be on
William, handling this all on his own.

“White meat or dark?” he asked, meeting Lucy’s eyes. But she
truthfully didn’t know. Lucy shrugged and Emma laughed, warmly patting her
hand. A light mix of 1940s jazz played in the background. The music was
comforting, and familiar, to Lucy at once, and yet—she couldn’t place it.