This Christmas Read online

  This Christmas

  a novel

  OLIVIA MILES

  Rosewood Press

  ALSO BY OLIVIA MILES

  Oyster Bay Series

  Feels Like Home

  Along Came You

  Maybe This Time

  This Thing Called Love

  Those Summer Nights

  Still the One (Bayside Brides)

  One Fine Day (Bayside Brides)

  Had to Be You (Bayside Brides)

  Misty Point Series

  One Week to the Wedding

  The Winter Wedding Plan

  Sweeter in the City Series

  Sweeter in the Summer

  Sweeter Than Sunshine

  No Sweeter Love

  One Sweet Christmas

  Briar Creek Series

  Mistletoe on Main Street

  A Match Made on Main Street

  Hope Springs on Main Street

  Love Blooms on Main Street

  Christmas Comes to Main Street

  Harlequin Special Edition

  ‘Twas the Week Before Christmas

  Recipe for Romance

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-0-9995284-9-5

  THIS CHRISTMAS

  Copyright © 2019 Megan Leavell

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  First Edition: October 2019

  contents

  Carrie

  Jules

  Tess

  Carrie

  Jules

  Tess

  Carrie

  Tess

  Jules

  Carrie

  Tess

  Jules

  Carrie

  Tess

  Jules

  Tess

  Carrie

  Jules

  Tess

  Carrie

  Tess

  Christmas Day

  Chapter One

  Carrie

  This Christmas was going to be the best one ever. Carrie Campbell was sure of this. Even more sure than the year she turned six and Santa had brought her the doll that ate and drank and wet its pants, and she’d been pretty sure then, because she’d written no less than twenty-four letters to the big guy, mailing a fresh list each morning in December, and making sure to bring it up in person when she sat on his knee in the Winter Lake town square gazebo at their annual visit to the Christmas Festival. This year, she was so sure, that she had splurged and bought herself an entire new outfit for tonight’s dinner, from the crimson red wrap dress to the lacy stockings to the rather impractical velvet kitten heels and matching clutch. After all, it wasn’t every day that a woman got engaged, was it?

  She’d told everyone she knew. She couldn’t help herself. It was just bubbling within her, bursting to come out, from the very moment that Lucas had first suggested dinner tonight. It was their four-year dating anniversary. And only two weeks ago, she had found the ring.

  She had been “cleaning” his apartment one evening, when he got held up at work, and there it was, the unmistakable Tiffany blue box sitting in his bedside drawer beside his extra set of keys and the silver cufflinks she’d given him for his birthday two years ago. At first, she didn’t even know what to do. She’d stared at the box, in shock, in joy, in total surprise, and backed away as if it were a bomb about to detonate. Really, she told herself, she shouldn’t take a peek. He’d spring it on her any day, she’d already blown the best part of her reaction, and she needed to save some of it for when he opened the box. With more willpower than she knew she possessed, she had closed that drawer, pressed her lips together to suppress her squeal, and went about her business for the rest of the night, well, other than the fact that every time Lucas left to go into his bedroom, her heart sped up a bit.

  It wasn’t until the next day that it occurred to her that it might not be a ring at all. That maybe it was a pair of earrings or a bracelet—a Christmas or anniversary gift that he hadn’t yet wrapped. The decision was made. She had to check. She had to set her expectations. And so, the very next time she had access to the bedside table (when she’d excused herself to his room to grab a sweater, even though she was practically sweating from anxiety) while he whipped up one of his famous stir-fries in the tiny space you could almost call a kitchen by Manhattan standards, she’d yanked open the drawer, pulled out the box, and opened it before she had time to change her mind or he had reason to check on her. And there it was. Sparkly. Round. Practically winking at her.

  It wasn’t exactly the ring she had carefully hinted at starting at their two-year mark (she had hoped for a cushion cut on a pave band like her sister Tess’s ring, and this was a brilliant, three-stone setting), but it was close enough, possibly even more beautiful than what she’d envisioned, and it was a ring nonetheless, as her best friend Melody was quick to point out when Carrie told her the next morning at the Upper West Side preschool where they both taught.

  “A ring!” Melody had dramatically set her hand to her heart in mock relief. “Sure took him long enough!”

  It was true, Carrie knew, that four years was a long time to be dating someone in your thirties, but it also confirmed to her that tonight was the night. It was Christmastime in New York. It was snowing. They were going to a cozy little restaurant in Little Italy—and it was their dating anniversary. And as of three o’clock this afternoon, she was officially on winter break.

  She just had to get through the day.

  A crash in the corner of the classroom pulled her from her daydream (and she was just getting to the best part, where Lucas got down on one knee and reached his hand into his pocket), and Carrie looked over to see that little Zachary Dean had dumped the contents of the dollhouse again. She counted to three, reminded herself that Zachary was only four, and that she only had one more hour left in her day before she was free for the next two weeks. Technically, her four-year-old class was only in attendance four days a week, and Fridays were a day reserved for meetings, cleanings, and lesson planning, but Carrie had cleared everything off her plate early this morning so that tomorrow she would be free to think of nothing but her upcoming wedding.

  She closed her eyes and smiled. Told herself it was no big deal that Zachary was now upending the container of blocks. Nothing could destroy her happiness.

  Besides, she loved children. She wouldn’t have become a preschool teacher if she didn’t. And now that she was getting married, it wouldn’t be long before she and Lucas started a family. There would be logistics to figure out, of course. Raising kids in the city was obscenely expensive, after all. But she wasn’t opposed to making the big move out to the burbs—Connecticut or New Jersey. She knew Lucas had scoffed at the idea any time she’d mentioned it before, said he hadn’t moved to New York just to end up back in some small town, but surely he’d have to see the reality of it in time. Besides, he was older now. Nearly thirty-five; two years older than her and the same age as her sister, Tess, who had an eight-year-old child. Surely he’d see the benefit of spending weekends doing things like coaching baseball and going to the park instead of hitting the bars.

  If they had a summer wedding, she could be pregnant by this time next year, she calculated, as she set the miniature table and chairs, beds and dressers into the wooden house. Maybe it would be a boy. A little Lucas Junior. Maybe he’d be sweet like Timothy—she cast a glance to the little boy with wire-framed glasses who was playing with some toy trucks, making en
gine noises as he pushed them around on the mat. (He was her favorite, of the boys, that was. Her favorite girl was Clementine, with her contagious giggle and blonde ringlets. Not that she’d be letting on.) Or maybe she’d end up with a spirited little boy, like Zach.

  She practiced her patience.

  “Time to pick up, Zachary,” she warned, and he gave her a long, stern stare. He scowled as he began shoving the remaining pieces back into the dollhouse. Turning brightly to the rest of the room, Carrie sang out, “Clean-up time!”

  At once, twelve little voices joined in chorus, the same song they sang every afternoon, Monday through Thursday, an hour before pick up. Next they would have their snack. Then they would have a story. Then, because it was Thursday and the last day of their four-day school week, they would share their favorite and least favorite parts of the week (practicing turn-taking and listening skills!) and then…

  Then she was going to get engaged.

  With renewed energy, she picked up a plastic bin and began collecting all the toy horses that Jasmine had been playing with, hoping that she wouldn’t have to pry the white one from her chubby hands, as she nearly had to yesterday.

  “You promise to keep him safe?” Jasmine asked today, holding the toy close to her chest.

  “I promise.” Carrie smiled. “He will be right here waiting for you after winter break. Nice and warm and toasty.”

  Jasmine looked uncertainly at the horse and then out the window where snow was still falling steadily and then chucked the toy into the bin before scampering off to join the others at the two rectangular tables where they would have their snack.

  Carrie laughed and finished collecting the toys while her teacher’s assistant began pouring water into paper cups. Tanya glanced at the door a few times, and then, with her finger pressed to her lips, and a long, telling glance at the children, opened it.

  Carrie stared at Melody, who was balancing a large sheet cake as she strode into the room, the art and music teachers close behind.

  “Congratulations!” they all cried out, and then, as if on cue, all the kids called it out too.

  Tears prickled the back of her eyes when she realized that this had been planned all day. That her best friend, her coworkers, and her kids, even Zachary, who was now grinning proudly, had held onto the secret, waiting to surprise her.

  It was the happiest day of her life, and she knew that there would be many more to come. Her wedding day. The birth of her children. Vacations. Anniversaries. The life she had been waiting for.

  “You guys! You didn’t have to do this!” After all, Melody knew that the proposal hadn’t exactly happened yet.

  “You don’t expect us to wait two weeks to celebrate with you, do you?” Melody asked, and all the kids shook their heads in larger than life motion. “This is a big day and you’ve waited a long time for it. We’re all just so happy for you.”

  Carrie waited until Melody had set the cake down before giving her a big hug. “Thank you.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” Melody said with a wink. “Remember that and be sure to call with all the details before I head home for the holidays.”

  Home for Melody was Tampa, Florida. She went every year, but everyone knew that Carrie stayed in the city for the holidays. She rarely left the island of Manhattan, unless Lucas made plans, which was less often than ever now that he was partner at his law firm.

  Carrie glanced over to see Clementine raising her hand. “Yes, Clemmy?”

  “May we please have some cake now?” the little girl asked in her small voice, and Carrie burst out laughing.

  “Of course! What’s a party without cake?”

  “A party!” a chorus of small voices called out.

  It was, indeed, a party, Carrie thought joyfully, as one by one, the faculty popped in to congratulate her and a card, signed by everyone, even the children, in shaky letters, was presented.

  Carrie felt her smile slip and she moved closer to Melody. “You don’t think we’re…jinxing anything, do you?”

  Melody snorted as she sliced the knife through the cake, ignoring the cry of demands for the corner piece with the pink butter cream flowers and butterflies—a special touch; few people other than her sisters knew how much Carrie liked butterflies.

  “Carrie, it’s been four years. It had to happen eventually.”

  Melody was right. It had been four years ago to the day that she and Lucas had gone on their first date, at the very restaurant they would dine in tonight, after meeting five days earlier at a bar in the East Village. It had been the usual casual conversation. Name. Occupation. What had brought each of them to New York. At the end of the night, he’d put her number in his phone. She hadn’t expected him to use it. Usually these things ended when the bartender announced last call. But he did phone her. The very next day.

  And now…he had bought a ring! There was certainly no reason to worry about superstitions, especially when she saw the joy on the children’s round faces as they were handed their cake.

  She could barely touch hers, so great was the anticipation, and by the time the parents lined up in the hallway, she felt downright sick. She’d seen the ring. She’d never been much of an actress—that had been much more of her sister Julie’s territory. Would she gasp? Bring her hands to her mouth? Both of the above?

  “I hear that congratulations are in order!” Mrs. Fine smiled warmly at her as she helped shrug little Daphne into a pink puffer coat. “How did he propose?”

  “Oh, he hasn’t. Yet.” Carrie realized her error the moment she saw the pinch of confusion between Mrs. Fine’s brows. “It’s happening tonight. We just wanted to celebrate with everyone, before the holidays.”

  “Oh! Well, good luck then,” Mrs. Fine beamed, as she shuffled Daphne along the hallway.

  Carrie pulled in a breath. She didn’t need any luck. She was already the luckiest girl in the world.

  Lucas was coming straight from the office, so they’d agreed to meet at the restaurant at seven. There was no point in him coming all the way uptown just to go all the way back downtown again, after all. Besides, she rather liked the idea of arriving separately for this date, just like they had four years ago. And just like four years ago, she took extra care in getting ready, carefully applying her makeup and brushing her hair, happy that she’d had the chance to snag a last-minute appointment at the nail salon on the corner after scrubbing away any evidence of finger paint.

  After all, she didn’t want to go showing off her sparkling ring with chipped nails and neglected cuticles!

  The phone rang just as she was stuffing it into her new clutch. She checked the caller ID: her younger sister. She swiped the screen, sending the call to voicemail. Jules was probably calling to see if she’d sent their niece a Christmas gift yet, so that she could wiggle her way onto the card like she did every year, with the promise to pay her back, which she never did. This year, Carrie had finished her Christmas shopping by the first of December, and Phoebe’s gift—a knitting kit—had already been wrapped and mailed to Vermont.

  Carrie sighed as she put on her coat. She’d call Jules tomorrow, when she had news to share. Right now, she wanted to savor the moment, not be sidetracked by family drama.

  The phone rang again—Jules could be persistent—but she smiled when she saw the name that appeared on the screen. “Lucas,” she breathed.

  “I’m running a few minutes late,” he said, but his voice was muffled and there was a lot of noise in the background. Subway, she determined. “I had to swing by my place first and pick something up.”

  Excitement and nerves ripped through her stomach and she took a deep breath before replying calmly, “No problem. I’ll still plan on meeting you there.” Really, his apartment was only about eight blocks away, but she’d grown attached to the idea of not seeing each other before the big moment. It was like a wedding day. No need to jinx it.

  She opted for a cab. The occasion seemed to call for it. It wove expertly through traffic,
and she savored the sights of the city illuminated for the season. Even now, she still felt a thrill when she saw the city at night. It was so different from the small town where she’d grown up, and different was what she’d been searching for. And found. Here in New York, her life wasn’t defined by her past, and her future…well, her future was about to start. Tonight.

  When she arrived at the restaurant she was pleased to see that it was decorated for the holidays, with garland and lights and holiday music coming from a piano near the bar. A drink? She’d barely eaten today from the nerves, managing only half of a slice of that delicious cake. But one would be fine. It would give her something to do while she waited.

  She ordered a glass of white wine, even though she did prefer a smooth Cabernet, especially on a cold winter night. But red made her teeth turn purple and tonight was certainly not the time for that. She took a small sip, and then a larger one. She was already halfway through the glass when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

  She turned, smiling, to see Lucas. He was wearing his grey coat and the plaid scarf she’d given him last Christmas, and his dark brown hair was still wet with snow. She reached up to brush it away, but he moved his head, swept it off himself.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said, frowning a little.

  She frowned now too. This was hardly the greeting she was expecting on the night she would be engaged. Still, she told herself, he was harried. He’d had to change plans. And everyone knew what a hassle it was to get around this city on the best of days, much less with the snow coming down.

  “The table’s ready,” she said, smiling brightly. She waited to see if he would kiss her, or hold her hand, but he just nodded.

  “Is it possible to have something a little more…private?” Lucas asked the hostess when they reached a table for two in the center of the room.

  “Of course,” the woman said, and with a small smile, she led them toward the corner of the room.