Christmas in Good Hope (A Good Hope Novel Book 1) Page 18

  She looked up to find Beck with his back against the counter, gazing at her. He motioned for her to continue.

  “I knew turning this home into a B and B was the only way I’d ever be able to afford it. While I can’t explain it, I had this sense that this was where I was meant to live. I told myself there would come a day when Kate would be ready to sell, and I’d be ready.”

  “Then I bought it out from under you.”

  “No, you didn’t.” She shook her head. “Even if Kate would have given me first option, I couldn’t have bought it. I’m not yet in the financial position to take that step.”

  “Seems to me owning and running a B and B would be a lot of work.”

  “I guess it’s all in how you think about it. I love to cook and bake, visit with people, and make new friends.”

  “What about the bakery?”

  Ami blinked at the abrupt change in topic. “It’s doing fine. Why do you ask?”

  “You own and run a successful business.” He inclined his head, his gaze assessing. “Let’s say you’d have been able to buy this house. What would you have done with the bakery?”

  As he took her arm on their way to the parlor, Ami realized she’d never once considered what she’d do with Blooms Bake Shop. The thought of turning it over to someone else brought a pang to her heart.

  “I suppose I’d hire Hadley—or someone else—to run the bakery for me.”

  “What about family?” She must have looked blank, because he continued, “Husband? Children? Do they have a place in this dream of yours?”

  Ami gazed down the hall, imagining a small, dark-haired girl in footie pajamas running toward her with outstretched arms. Beck stood beside her, a baby in a blue blanket cradled in his arms and a toddler, also in blue, gripping his legs.

  Her chest swelled with a longing so intense it stole her breath. When Ami finally found her voice, she had to fight to keep out the tremor. “Yes. In my dream, there’s a husband and a whole passel of children.”

  “Passel?”

  At Beck’s startled look, Ami laughed. “What can I say? Ask me to dream and I dream big.”

  An odd look appeared on his face, and he stared at her as if seeing her for the first time.

  She laughed and waved a dismissive hand, trying not to be embarrassed by her ramblings. After all, he’d asked. Besides, nothing could dampen her mood.

  My cup of good cheer runneth over.

  “I have fabulous news.” She clasped her hands together, and her voice quivered with excitement as he led her into the parlor, where most of the decorating still needed to be done.

  He grinned as if finding her excitement contagious. “What is it?”

  “The rotary received an anonymous donation to the Giving Tree.” Ami still had difficulty believing it was real. “It was a targeted donation.”

  “Which means?”

  “Oh, of course you wouldn’t know that.” She gave a happy little laugh. “It means the benefactor specified where the money would go.”

  “They can do that?” Beck picked up a box of carefully packaged ornaments and placed it on the table.

  “Yes, absolutely.” Ami’s hand fluttered. “It doesn’t happen often, but we’ve seen it before.”

  “Where did they want the money to go?”

  “I guess I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s just that this is so wonderful.” She took a step closer to Beck. “The person gave us enough to pay Cory and Jackie’s back payments on their mortgage. They’re now current and the bank has halted the foreclosure proceedings.”

  “That is good news. Any idea who gave the donation?”

  Ami shook her head. “I wish I knew so I could thank him or her. It’s such a wonderful gift. Cory and Jackie cried when they got the news.”

  Beck’s lips curved. “I’m happy for them.”

  “Me too.”

  The news buoyed both their spirits, and they laughed often during the next hour as they added ornaments to the Christmas tree. Not wanting to duplicate the color scheme in the historic Hill House, they agreed to stick with colors that would enhance the furniture’s scarlet-and-gold color scheme.

  Surreptitiously, Beck watched Ami wind garland around the banister with a concentration worthy of a chess master. The emotion that engulfed him could no longer be brushed aside. In her quiet, gentle way, Ami was slowly filling the hole that Lisette’s death had left inside him.

  Beck shifted his gaze before she could catch him staring and filled a basket designed for firewood with an assortment of ornaments Ami had selected. She’d been right. The vibrant reds and golds along with the sparkly branches drew one’s eye.

  He’d always assumed he didn’t like decorating and had avoided what he considered to be a chore. But he was enjoying this time with Ami, working side by side, laughing and talking or simply working in companionable silence.

  When he’d moved to Good Hope last summer, Beck had been certain if he was ever ready to love again, it would be in the distant future. He hadn’t counted on Ami Bloom.

  Beck glanced over and found her studying the banister with her hands fisted on her hips.

  He cared about this kind and gentle woman. A lot.

  “What?” Ami had turned back and obviously caught him frowning. “Don’t like the garland? Too pedestrian?”

  “It isn’t that.” He let his gaze linger for several heartbeats. “You look pretty in green. Your eyes shine like emeralds.”

  “Why, Mr. Cross.” She drawled the words in a poor attempt at a southern accent. “I didn’t realize you had a poet’s soul.”

  “We all have our secrets.” He winked, then turned back to the firebox he was stuffing with oversize ornaments.

  Secrets. Ami took a deep breath and attempted to steady her nerves. It wasn’t fair to have secrets from the one you loved.

  Yet, instead of confessing, Ami turned and surveyed the tree. “It needs a star.”

  “Let’s see if they brought us one in the box.”

  As he peered inside, Ami leaned over to help him search. The ornaments had been extremely well organized, but the tree toppers had been included in a box with some miscellaneous Christmas items.

  Their cheeks were almost touching when Beck turned his head and laid his mouth on hers for a brief kiss.

  “What was that for?” Ami asked, pleased by the gesture.

  “You make this fun.”

  “I’ve enjoyed it, too,” Ami admitted. “When you live in a small apartment, there isn’t much to decorate. Growing up, Christmas decorating was a two-day event.”

  “Complete with sugar cookies and hot cocoa?”

  “Is there any other way?”

  “Sounds like fun.” There was a wistful quality to his voice.

  “What was it like for you growing up?”

  “In regard to Christmas?” he clarified.

  Always the attorney.

  “Yes.” Ami kept her smile easy. “Was there a lot of decorating and cookie baking in your household?”

  “My parents have an active social life. December is especially busy. It seemed to make good sense to hire a professional to decorate the tree and the house.”

  Fin often spoke of people who lived that kind of lifestyle, but Ami couldn’t imagine a non-hands-on Christmas. “I bet the decorators did a nice job.”

  “Always looked good.” Beck’s gaze shifted to the tree. “Not as good as ours.”

  Ours.

  She liked the way that sounded. “Ours is beautiful. But we still need a star.”

  “An angel won’t do?” He held up one with a porcelain face and a diaphanous gown.

  Ami shook her head. “A star says you’re home.”

  She felt the heat of Beck’s gaze and stared into intense brown eyes.

  “We’ll find a star,” he said.

  They found one in the next box, a burnished gold with a hint of sparkle.

  When she climbed the ladder to place it at the top, he remained close, steadying her wit
h his hands. In seconds, the star was in place. She turned back to Beck in triumph.

  Her breath caught in her throat at the intense emotion in his eyes. Was it her and their tree he was thinking of, or was he thinking of his wife?

  The instant she stepped off the ladder, his hands fell away. Disappointed, Ami forced a smile. “How about I make us some dinner, then we finish up the last of the decorating?”

  “She cooks, she decorates, she’s Wonder Woman,” he teased.

  Ami simply laughed. “For the record, we decorated, and while I may be starting the meal, I expect help.”

  Beck followed her into the kitchen. “I’m not sure there’s much in the cupboards. Though I did pick up milk and eggs.”

  “I love a challenge.”

  In the end Ami took the eggs, some Swiss cheese, onions, and spinach and whipped up a frittata.

  Beck produced a bottle of pinot blanc and poured them each a glass. They took their food into the parlor.

  The fire crackled in the hearth while they ate. Once they finished, Beck insisted on gathering up the dishes. While he took them to the kitchen, Ami kicked off her boots, totally relaxed.

  When Beck returned to take a seat beside her and placed an arm around her shoulders, she sighed in contentment.

  He sipped the wine and listened to her talk about her day. If he was a kick-off-his-shoes kind of guy, his would have joined Ami’s UGGs. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt this relaxed and content. It had to have been years.

  Like his parents, he and Lisette had been busy professionals. They would often joke that they only met when they were coming or going.

  She hadn’t even slowed down once she became pregnant, and he’d found himself wondering more than once how a baby would fit into their tight schedules.

  He had no doubt they’d have made it work. Lisette was very organized and made time for what was important. He was important to her. So was their baby.

  “Beck.”

  He turned to see Ami’s gaze on him, those beautiful emerald eyes filled with concern.

  “Is everything okay?” Her voice was as rich as one of her cream-filled pastries.

  “All good.” He sipped his wine.

  “I imagine it’s difficult to be so far away from your family during the holidays.”

  “In some ways it’s easier.” He spoke without thinking. While he missed his parents and siblings, last Christmas had been brutal.

  “How so?”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m looking forward to serving Christmas lunch at the café.”

  She went along with the blatant change in topic without missing a beat. “I never asked, are you planning to cook?”

  Beck laughed aloud. “Tom will be in charge of the kitchen.”

  “Perhaps my sisters and I can come over and help—”

  “No.” Beck placed a hand on hers. “Focus on your family. With all your sisters back, it sounds like this will be a special year.”

  “If you need extra help, I want you to call me. And I’m baking the pies, no argument.”

  “You’ll get none from me.”

  She smiled and snuggled back against him.

  On Friday, the Twelve Nights celebrations would start up again and the weekend would be hectic. Once Christmas was over, Janey would be back and life would return to normal.

  But as he stroked Ami’s silky brown hair and his emotions surged, something told Beck that when this Christmas was over, his life would never be the same again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Cross home threw open its doors from six until ten Friday evening. Guests flooded in, oohing and aahing over the decorations. On exiting the house, each person received a brightly colored Christmas cookie wrapped in cellophane and ribbon. Unlike in Victorian times, Ami’s green icing didn’t contain even a hint of arsenic.

  Ami hadn’t planned to be there. After all, this wasn’t her home. Though she had to admit, it was starting to feel that way. She’d spent more time under these eaves in the last few weeks than in her own apartment.

  When Beck had initially asked her to serve as his hostess, Ami gently reminded him that Friday was a workday for her at Muddy Boots. He’d been prepared, informing her the night of the home tour had historically been a light one for the café and Tom was confident he could handle any rush.

  With no other barriers, Ami had enthusiastically agreed.

  As was customary for the Victorian home tour, she dressed for the period. The gold brocade she’d picked up at a local costume shop perfectly complemented the home’s color scheme, though it showed a little too much cleavage for her taste.

  Beck didn’t appear to agree. His eyes had lit up when she’d descended the stairs after changing out of her sweater and jeans. He raised her hand to his lips for a kiss that lingered a little longer than what would have been considered gentlemanly in Victorian times and pronounced her stunning.

  Ami had to admit she felt beautiful tonight, with her hair pinned in a loose mass of curls at the nape of her neck. Though she rarely took the time, thanks to a younger sister who’d been into hair from diaper days, Ami was proficient in fixing her hair in all sorts of styles.

  She’d also spent extra time with her makeup, using a shimmering brown shade for her eyes and applying mascara and lip gloss with a heavy hand.

  While she felt confident she looked her best, it was the man standing next to her who stole her breath. Resplendent in black trousers, red silk vest, and white tuxedo shirt, Beck looked yummy enough to eat. The fitted tailcoat showed off his lean, muscular form to full advantage.

  He fit her image of a gentleman host to perfection as he stood beside her at the front door, welcoming visitors. In the background, a string quartet played music popular in the Victorian era.

  Opulent bouquets of tightly massed flowers boasting a heavy concentration of red roses accompanied by lots of foliage added a sweet fragrance to the air.

  “Remind me where we’re keeping the extra cookies?” Dakota asked Ami in a low tone, looking as fresh and pretty as any young debutante of the late nineteenth century. The Worth gown, a blue satin woven with gold threads, suited her fair complexion to perfection.

  Beck had hired the teenager to hand out cookies to those exiting the house by way of the kitchen. For a girl who normally lived in jeans, dressing up had been an extra bonus.

  “I’ll show you.” Excusing herself, Ami moved through the parlor with Dakota following. She pointed at the room on the left at the far end of the hall, then reached into the beaded reticule looped around her wrist and pulled out a key. “This is the same room where we’re storing the Giving Tree gifts.”

  “Who’s going to deliver them?” Dakota asked as the door clicked open.

  “Why, Santa, of course. On Christmas Eve.” Ami gave the girl a wink. “You’ll find the bakery boxes on the makeshift table.”

  While Ami couldn’t imagine anyone walking out with any of the gifts, not everyone coming through tonight was known to her, and it seemed best to be cautious. “Be sure and lock the door after you.”

  “Absolutely.” The shadows that had darkened Dakota’s eyes even a week ago had disappeared. Living with her aunt had been good for her.

  Ami placed a hand on the girl’s arm. “Thanks for helping out.”

  “This is a blast. And I can use the money,” Dakota confided with the refreshing honesty of youth. “I’m happy you and Beck asked me.”

  You and Beck.

  How many times this evening had Ami heard those words? You and Beck have done a fabulous job with the home. Do you and Beck have plans for Valentine’s Day?

  With everything going on, Ami hadn’t thought that far ahead. The day for lovers. Well, based on their numerous encounters of the physical kind, she and Beck met the criteria. The big question was, would they still be together in February?

  That would be up to him, once she told him the whole truth about her accident.

  “Ami.”

  She l
ooked up to find Dakota’s worried gaze on her. “What?”

  “Are you okay? You have the strangest look on your face.”

  “It’s these shoes.” She stuck out the elegant satin shoes with their pointed toes, French heels, and intricate beadwork. “I can’t wait to take them off.”

  “I think they’re sexy.”

  The husky feminine voice had Ami whirling with a smile of delight.

  “I’ll get the cookies.” Dakota hurried off.

  Ami barely had time to register the familiar waterfall of blond curls and laughing blue eyes before she pulled the petite dynamo into her arms. “Marigold. Ohmygoodness, I didn’t expect you until Tuesday. What a wonderful surprise.”

  She hugged her sister tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of jasmine as tears stung the backs of her eyes. Oh, how she’d missed her baby sister.

  “It’s good to be home,” Marigold murmured just before she released her.

  “Let me look at you.” Ami held the youngest of the four sisters at arm’s length and studied her.

  Long, curly strands of blond hair, artfully disheveled, fell in a tumbled mass past her shoulders. Vivid blue eyes. A perky, upturned nose that made her look like an intriguing sprite or fairy. She was the shortest of the Bloom girls, barely hitting five three, with a lithe figure that still managed to have curves in all the right places.

  Tonight she wore the little black dress so popular with urbanites. Instead of heels, she had on thigh-high boots that added at least three inches of height.

  “You’re going to kill yourself in those shoes,” Ami, ever the big sister, warned. But there was no censure in her tone, only a warm welcome.

  “Pot calling the kettle black,” Marigold shot back.

  “Huh?”

  “You forget. I saw the shoes you have on under that heavy dress. They’re lethal.”

  Ami gave a reluctant chuckle. “Yes, but I have sensible ones upstairs.”

  “Would that be in Mr. Beckett Cross’s private quarters?” Marigold cocked her head. Before Ami could answer, she continued, “I saw our delectable host. I totally approve.”

  “Beck and I are . . .” Ami paused, searching for the right word. Friends? Lovers?