Mistletoe Magic Page 8

  She walked over to the sliding doors that led out to the small balcony and stepped outside. The December air was dry and cool, similar to that at home, but not nearly as cold. She had forgotten to pack a bathing suit, but somehow she doubted she would have time to visit the various swimming pools at the luxurious hotel.

  “Let’s go to the casino while you decide what you want to do first. Remember, this is my first time here.”

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  If anyone were to see them together, odds were good they would pass as a happily married young couple on their honeymoon. Certainly not a man and woman who, until last week, barely knew the other existed.

  They spent the next six hours in the casino, Bryce at the blackjack tables while Melanie tried her hand at the roulette wheel. Deciding too much thinking was required, Melanie had wandered over to the slot machines, content to lose her winnings. She’d draped her purse shotgun style across her shoulder. Reaching inside to grab another twenty-dollar bill out of her wallet, she spied her cell phone. Flicking it open to check her missed call list, she saw that the same telephone number she’d seen in the limousine had called her numerous times. Highly unusual. Melanie felt a tinge of alarm. For someone to make so many phone calls, it must be something important. She clicked on the number and pushed the SEND button.

  What she heard sent shivers down her spine.

  * * *

  “I’ve been looking all over for you,” Bryce said. “I was starting to think you ran out on me. Hey, are you okay? You don’t look so good. Melanie?” The sudden change in his tone brought her back to reality.

  Not knowing what to do, or say, Melanie opted for the truth. At the bar over lattes, she told him about her desire to adopt a child. She explained that her reason for not telling him was that their relationship was too new, too fresh. Tears pooled in her eyes when she said, “I think I should just go home.”

  “Why would you even think such a thing? So, you want children, you’re willing to adopt, become a single parent. What’s not to like about that? Hell, I admire you even more than I did already.” He blotted her tears with the tip of his finger.

  “Really?” she asked, surprised at how easily he accepted her choice. He really was the most perfect man alive. Almost. They still hadn’t slept together, but that didn’t matter. When the time was right, she knew it would be worth waiting for.

  “Yes, really. Now dry those tears, because we’ve got tickets to see Cher. You still up for that?” he asked, a wicked grin revealing his sexy white teeth.

  When did I start thinking of teeth as sexy?

  “Of course I am, but, Bryce, there’s more.”

  “I’m listening.”

  * * *

  Five hours later, they were on a flight to Denver. Only this time, as man and wife.

  And what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. They still hadn’t slept together.

  Chapter 15

  Melanie looked at the fake, cheap, metallic gold ring on her finger. Then she looked at the fake cheap metallic gold ring on Bryce’s finger. Then she looked at the marriage certificate printed on cheap, plain white paper. Then she looked at Bryce, who was still in a state of semishock.

  They were married. Husband and wife. Till death do them part. The old ball and chain. She had married Bryce Landry. She was Melanie Landry now. She had to admit, she liked the sound of her new name.

  Unlike the flight to Vegas, they were unable to purchase first-class tickets on such short notice, so the only seats available to them were those in coach at the very back of the plane. By the restrooms. The stench was atrocious.

  Melanie had barely uttered a word since she’d confessed to Bryce that, even though she had been told by the horrible woman at the adoption agency that she wouldn’t be able to adopt a child unless she was married, she’d gone ahead and had her application processed anyway. She said that she knew it was selfish and foolish of her.

  She was flabbergasted when he told her there was no time like the present, that he would’ve married her anyway. He said it was his destiny.

  “I told Ashley when I got married she could be my maid of honor.”

  Bryce took her hand in his. “Let’s worry about one problem at a time. We can always have another wedding. Now, tell me again what this woman Carla said.”

  Melanie’s eyes flushed with unshed tears. “It’s like something right out of a novel. Apparently there was an eight-car pileup on I-70, nothing new there. A couple in their early thirties died at the crash scene. Carla said there were no relatives, no foster parents available. So I guess the next step was World Adoption Agency.

  “According to Carla, Olga Krause has been stealing the state practically blind. She believes Olga is hoarding away money for when she retires. There are eleven other children in need of a home. Those poor little kids; I should’ve known something was wrong. And to think that old bat was in charge of all those innocents! She reminded me of Scrooge—I remember thinking that at the time. She just had a mean look about her. I hate to judge, but I hope that woman is prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Let her live the remainder of her life behind bars. Carla said the children were malnourished and frightened. Oh, Bryce, what in the world have I gotten myself into? And you, too.”

  Bryce squeezed her hand because, for once, he really didn’t know what to say. The only thought that kept beating against his skull was the fact that he’d married Melanie. They’d been dating for less than one week, and he’d married her. What he couldn’t get past was the fact that he’d never felt such pure and complete happiness. Yes, it had been a crazy thing to do when Melanie told him she wouldn’t be able to adopt a child unless she was married. Like the gentleman he was, he’d quickly made arrangements for a Vegas-style wedding, and now they were on their way home to Denver. Melanie had called her parents, telling them she was returning sooner than planned and that she would pick up Odie and Clovis as soon as she could. She had neglected to mention she was coming home a married woman.

  Bryce had a feeling this Christmas was going to be unlike any other. Past and present.

  “We’ll work things out. I have lots of friends in Boulder.” What he didn’t say was that he wasn’t sure if any of them would be willing to take in thirteen children.

  * * *

  Less than twenty-four hours after leaving Denver International Airport, they’d returned to Placerville. Seated in the rear seats of the private jet Melanie had engaged, they were the last ones to exit the plane. Neither spoke while they waited for the other passengers to retrieve their book bags, diaper bags, and the like from the storage compartment.

  Bryce would’ve been happier seeing Cher, but Melanie and the thirteen kids were much more important. Being in academia, he was around young adults most of the time. Of course, he was beyond thrilled to be Ella’s uncle, but would he pass muster as a parent if it came to that? He could only hope. Now more than ever, he wanted to be the stand-up kind of man his father would’ve been proud of.

  After they had gotten to Denver, Carla had explained that there was no prohibition on single-parent adoptions in Colorado—that Olga must have deliberately misled Melanie on that score, because anytime a child left the orphanage, the funds available for Olga to embezzle decreased. But neither Melanie nor Bryce had the least regret about the solution Bryce had come up with for Melanie’s adoption woes. Married they were and married they would remain. Till death do them part.

  With a renewed sense of purpose, Bryce vowed those thirteen children were going to have the best Christmas ever.

  He would make sure each and every child found a home, and, maybe, if he was lucky, each and every one of them would have a home before Christmas.

  Epilogue

  One week later . . .

  Melanie quietly closed the door to the spare bedroom, careful not to shut it all the way, just in case Sam or Lily needed her during the night. This was their second night together, her first night as a legally certified foster parent. Carla had exped
ited her application given the circumstances. Normally, she would be required to take parenting classes and undergo an extensive background check, but her circumstances were anything but normal.

  Bryce and her parents were waiting for her in the living room. She’d invited them over to thank them for their help locating temporary homes for the other eleven kids. It hadn’t been easy, but they’d managed.

  World Adoption Agency had been permanently closed. Olga Krause had dozens of charges filed against her. She’d been jailed, then released on her own recognizance. It would take years before her case was heard in court. Melanie rather hoped that the old woman would die first, saving the taxpayers money. Melanie knew that was callous, but she didn’t care. The children in her care had suffered greatly on her watch, and who knew what kind of psychological problems they would endure in the future? Her mother always told her that children were most resilient. She hoped this was true.

  And now it was time for her and Bryce to tell her family they were married. They’d decided to wait until all the hoopla died down, since the story of the orphanage had made headlines.

  She took a seat next to her husband, still amazed at the changes in her life in such a short span of time. Bryce kept reminding her, saying over and over that you only live once. She agreed with him.

  “Melanie, you’ve been dancing around all night. I know you’re happy you have Sam and Lily—your father and I adore them already—but something is bothering you. Am I right?” her mother asked with the sweetest smile. She was the best mother in the world. Melanie loved her so much at that moment, she had to close her eyes for a few seconds to compose herself. She was truly the luckiest woman alive.

  “You’re not sick, are you, kiddo?” her dad asked. “If you are, we’ll get you the best doctors in the world.”

  “Dad, you’re such a riot. No, I am not sick. At least, I don’t think I am.” She turned to Bryce. “Do I look sick to you?”

  “You look beautiful, Melanie,” Bryce said, his voice laced with love. And longing.

  “Mom, Dad.” She paused. “There is no other way to say it, so I’m just going to say it: Bryce and I got married in Vegas.”

  There.

  She looked at her parents, waiting for their reaction. When they said nothing, she repeated herself.

  “Bryce and I are married, and we’re going to adopt Sam and Lily.”

  Her parents looked at one another, then at Bryce, and back at her. They high-fived each other. Then came the congratulations.

  “Wonderful news! I knew something was up.” Her parents hugged her; her dad shook Bryce’s hand so long that she was sure it would fall off. That old guy thing. Mother and daughter hugged each other, tears puddling in their eyes.

  “I couldn’t have handpicked a better man for you, Melanie dear. Now, why didn’t I see this coming?” her mother whispered loud enough for the others to hear.

  Bryce laughed. “We didn’t see it coming, either, but it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.”

  Melanie kissed her husband on the cheek.

  “So you’re both okay with this? You’re not going to have me committed?”

  They all burst out laughing.

  Bryce nuzzled her neck, whispering in her ear, “If I don’t have you tonight, they’ll commit me.”

  “Patience, Bryce. Patience,” she whispered back.

  Then Melanie giggled like a kid at Christmas. Right now at that precise moment, her world was absolutely perfect.

  Merry Christmas, world!

  Mister Christmas

  Prologue

  December 18, 2013

  “You can’t be serious?” Claire said, though deep down inside she knew he was as serious as the disease with which he claimed to have been recently diagnosed. “Christmas is one week away. I promised my brother I’d spend the holidays in Colorado with the family this year.” Claire O’Brien paused as she listened to Donald Flynn’s litany of reasons why it was imperative she come to Ireland, first thing in the morning. Lastly, he explained to her that it was a matter of life and death, that his disease was fast-moving, and there wasn’t much time left, though she didn’t believe him. She’d just spoken to him last week and he hadn’t even hinted he was ill, let alone about to meet his Maker. “I’m ill, Claire. Can I count on you?”

  She’d said of course.

  No, he had something up his sleeve. She was far from naive. Living in the land of glitz and glamour had wizened her real quick-like to the ways of the rich and famous. Claire O’Brien was used to all sorts of people. Demanding. Spoiled. Rude. Whiny. But this? She wasn’t sure what to call it. A plea maybe? She’d met Donald Flynn four years ago, when she was introduced to him at a party given for the firm’s newest partner, Lucas Palmer. According to managing partner Brock Ettinger, Donald had been completely taken with her and had requested that all of his financial dealings be turned over exclusively to her.

  And now he was dying, or so he says. “Bull. He’s up to something.”

  Requesting her presence immediately, and she detested flying. Donald certainly didn’t sound ill, or fearful. Just his usual commanding self. Though Claire had to admit, she truly liked the old guy even if he was a bit demanding at times.

  As she calculated the necessary changes to her schedule, she realized that she would be lucky to catch a flight by midnight. Hopefully, some airline would have an international flight available on such short notice. Though she hated the thought, as much as she wanted to spend the holidays with her family, a part of her was almost relieved knowing she had a good reason to bow out, albeit with her usual excuse. Of course, the flying part wasn’t good, but it is what it is.

  Work, her usual excuse. And always valid.

  Her family was used to it by now. Ever since her niece Shannon died from a rare blood disorder, something called thrombocytopenia, she no longer enjoyed her family visits. There was always that little something that seemed to be missing when they were together. Of course, it was Shannon. Her jolly bantering whenever they were together. As the firstborn grandchild, Shannon had been the life of the party, the link in the chain that bound them together, the one who made sure that they all had wrapped gifts under the tree exclusively from her. If someone felt the least bit cranky, Shannon had always made it her job to cheer them up. Shannon had always been the life of the party since day one, when she’d wrapped the entire O’Brien family around her tiny, pink finger. So if she was completely honest with herself, and she tried to be most of the time, she was actually grateful for Donald’s request. Before she had a chance to change her mind, she scrolled through her BlackBerry for Patrick’s phone number.

  “Hey, sis,” Patrick answered, not bothering with hello.

  Caller ID, Claire thought. Sometimes a good thing. Sometimes not so good. The personal etiquette of phone calls no longer existed in today’s high-tech-oriented world.

  “Hey, yourself,” she replied, knowing she was stalling. She couldn’t just blurt it out. “So, how’s the family?” Lame, Claire, lame.

  “Why do you want to know?” Patrick asked.

  Darn! He was onto her already. She could hear the telltale indications of an inquisition in his voice.

  She might as well get it over with. “You know how much I want to spend the holidays with you guys, right?” She paused, waiting for him to agree with her.

  “No, but I suppose you’re about to tell me?” he shot back.

  “Patrick Edward O’Brien! Stop being such a shit. This is hard enough as it is. Look, I just received a call from a major client. He’s near death and has requested my presence. You know, the will and all.” At least she guessed it was about his will, but Patrick didn’t need to know that. She held her breath as she waited for him to reply.

  “Really, Claire?”

  “Of course, really! I wouldn’t lie about something so important. I am ashamed of you, Patrick. You ought to know me better than that by now.”

  She heard his chuckle and knew she’d gotten through th
e worst of the conversation. “What I know is you’re an attorney who, it just so happens, has a way with words. So, seriously, little sister, is your client really at death’s door?”

  Attorney-client privilege prevented her from explaining further. “That’s what I’m told. You know I can’t go into details about my clients. I really wanted to see you guys, but this is my bread and butter. If I don’t hustle my rear over to Ireland, I could be out of a job.”

  Claire heard his sharp intake of breath. “Ireland? Did I hear you correctly?”

  She couldn’t help smiling. Coming from a big Irish family that had never had the opportunity to travel across the pond, she had expected precisely this reaction. “Yes, as a matter of fact, you did.”

  “Then I say go for it even though Stephanie and the girls are really looking forward to your visit. Stephanie has a secret, but you’ll just have to wait to hear what it is.”

  “Stop it! I hate it when you do that,” Claire said, truly meaning it. Patrick had a way of saying things that irked her to no end—or rather a way of not saying them. “Spit it out.”

  “No can do. You’ll just have to wait until your next visit.”

  “I’ll call Stephanie myself. I am sure she won’t make me come all the way to Colorado just to hear a little secret. And for the record, I do not know what that saintly woman and those two precious girls see in you.”

  More chuckling across the phone lines. “They adore me, what can I say? Of course, the feelings are mutual. Seriously, Claire, can’t you reschedule this trip until after the holidays? We were really looking forward to seeing you this year. I know it’s hard since Shannon’s death, but the rest of us seem to manage to get through the holidays.”

  To be sure, he was right. It had been over five years since her niece’s untimely death. Claire remembered all too well the utter shock she’d felt upon hearing the news. Even worse, she’d died on the day she was due to graduate from high school. She’d be out of college now had she lived. Claire’s eyes teared up just thinking of the loss that Colleen and Mark, her sister and brother-in-law must feel. Seeing how they’d suffered, Claire avoided committed relationships like the plague. Of course, Patrick had as well, but then he’d met Stephanie, a young woman with two daughters. They’d married three years ago and had yet to have children of their own.