Her Christmas Hero. Lorraine Beatty
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and she got it all straightened out. Nice lady. Very sweet. And very single.”
Linc had discovered that when he’d checked her file. “She’s the new director of Christmas events for the Chamber.”
“Really? Mom stepped aside, huh? I knew she was thinking about it.”
Linc suddenly felt like a distant cousin instead of the eldest son. Everyone knew what was going on but him. How had he missed all this? Maybe in his shock and grief he’d failed to pay attention. He’d have to do better. It was up to him now to stay involved in his siblings’ lives. And his mother’s. What else hadn’t she told him? How was he supposed to be the head of the family if everyone kept him in the dark? Seth turned to leave. “Where are you working today?”
“Up in Madison. The Kramer house is behind schedule.”
What else was new?
The rest of the day produced more annoyances and setbacks. By the time he called it quits, Linc was tired and ready to crash. After a quick shower and a sandwich, he refilled his glass of sweet tea and went out on the front porch. The air was rich with the smell of fall and the late-blooming camellias and roses. His gaze went immediately to the cottage. The silver car was parked along the narrow drive beside the house. There was no sign of the boy. He’d spotted him earlier in the yard tossing a football in the air. He’d considered offering to throw a few spirals to the kid, but then decided against it. Linc didn’t need to get involved with the new tenants. Still, he found himself looking for her—Gemma. Unusual name but appropriate. With her red-gold hair and clear green eyes, she made him think of sparkling gemstones, like vibrant emeralds and fiery topaz. She was all soft and feminine, which made it all the more intriguing that she’d challenged him. She seemed too delicate to have such a strong backbone.
As he watched, the front door of the cottage opened and the object of his thoughts stepped onto the porch, settling into one of the rockers. With one leg folded under her, she pushed the rocker with her toe. She looked relaxed, dreamy, and he wondered what she was thinking. Part of him wanted to go talk to her. But a bigger part warned him to steer clear. The last thing he needed right now was any romantic distractions. Especially with a friend of his mother’s. He pivoted and headed for the family room.
Monday Night Football was about to start.
* * *
The October twilight was pleasantly warm. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves on the ground in front of the cottage as Gemma kept the wooden rocker in motion. The light was fading, but she wasn’t in any hurry to go inside as long as there was a single ray of light left to enjoy. Resting her head against the back of the chair, she closed her eyes, letting her senses appreciate the scents of autumn. She loved the mixture of earth, dry leaves and fading vegetation.
A sliver of guilt poked into her reverie. She’d come outside to read through the folder that Pete McCorkle, president of the Dover Chamber of Commerce, had given her on the town’s previous celebrations—not to daydream.
A busy squirrel screeched from a nearby tree, making the hair on the back of her neck tingle. No. It wasn’t the critter that had her senses on alert. She opened her eyes. Someone was watching her. She glanced toward the main house, expecting to find Linc looking at her again. But the porch was empty. She looked at the large window on the side of the house. Was he watching from that room? She fought the urge to retreat inside.
The sensation faded, and she relaxed. She must be imagining things. Linc’s scrutiny earlier had left her edgy. But she refused to worry about his bad attitude or his effect on her nervous system. In her line of work she’d learned how to deal with all types of people, from the overly friendly to the overly hostile. But Linc triggered emotions that were unfamiliar and disturbing. Until she could put a name to them, she was keeping her guard up and plenty of distance between herself and the eldest Montgomery brother. Linc was exactly the type she wanted to avoid. Overly confident, arrogant and with a need to take charge.
Opening the folder in her lap, she leafed through the reports Pete had given her. There wasn’t much to look at. They consisted of a small parade, random lights around town, a nativity, a Christmas tree in the square park and a lighted star on the courthouse dome.
They’d given Gemma to the end of the week to come up with ideas to transform their ho-hum celebration into something spectacular that would be a draw for holiday tourists, and in turn boost their sagging economy. Most of her responsibility would fall on the first two weekends of the celebration. She wouldn’t be involved with the other two events, the community meal for the needy and the toy drive, but she already had ideas for a few additions that would hopefully enhance them.
Her creative juices were already flowing. She’d come up with a dozen ideas, and with the budget she’d been given she shouldn’t have any trouble seeing them through. She and Evan had made a tour of downtown yesterday and explored some of the neighborhoods. If she could get enough of the business owners on the square motivated, she could make Christmas in Dover an event people flocked to each year. She could see it growing steadily and someday being named in the top ten attractions in the South. Maybe even a feature article in Southern Living magazine.
She chuckled softly. She was getting ahead of herself. First she had to get her ideas approved.
“Hey, Mom. What’cha doing?”
Gemma smiled as her son joined her on the porch. “Looking over some work for tomorrow. Did you run out of time on your video game?” She’d set strict limits on the amount of time Evan could spend on his games.
“Yes, ma’am. Can I play under those trees until dark?”
“Sure.”
Refocusing on the file, her confidence wavered. She had a lot to accomplish between now and December 1. Thankfully the Chamber heads were eager for her to succeed. And she needed to succeed. Failure meant accepting help from her parents. She’d imposed on Caroline long enough, and moving back home would be emotional suicide. But with a mountain of debt, working as a low-level accountant would barely provide a living for her and Evan.
Gemma ran her hands through her hair, staring up at the passing clouds. As long as she could remember her parents had pressured her and her older sister, Beatrice, to achieve greatness. Nothing less would do. Her father, a well-known professor of political science, and her mother, head of a large private foundation, had expected even more from their daughters. Bea had done her part by earning her doctorate.
Gemma was the black sheep. Her creative bent had been a puzzlement to her parents, something they didn’t understand or condone. To them it was a waste of time to draw or paint. She’d fought them her whole life, even down to taking piano lessons. If she wasn’t going to be a concert pianist, what was the point?
She’d compromised by getting a second degree in accounting, but she had no intension of getting her CPA—an achievement her parents ceaselessly pressured her to attain. Accounting was a handy skill to have to fall back on, but event planning was her passion.
Determined to prove herself and carve out her own life, she’d started Fine Day Events with her good friend Darren. Their business had been a huge success, fulfilling all of Gemma’s hopes. Until Darren had betrayed her and destroyed her dream.
But she’d learned her lesson. This time she would rely only on her own skills and abilities. She was an exceptional event planner, and she would turn Dover’s holiday celebrations into something everyone in south Mississippi would flock to see.
Nothing would stand in her way.
* * *
Linc’s cell phone rang the moment he changed the channel to ESPN and settled back for a distracting game on Monday Night Football. He groaned and picked up his phone. Mom. Maybe she was coming home. Finally. “Mom. How’s it going?”
“Fine. I was just calling to ask you if you’d made our new tenant comfortable. I want her to feel welcomed so I hope you’re going by and checking on her.”
“I’m not the welcoming committee, Mom. I’m sure