Love at Christmas Inn Collection 1 Page 14
Lydia couldn’t restrain a happy exclamation. She launched into his arms and Graham laughed, spinning her in a delicious, dizzying circle. “I’m taking it on, Lydia. I believe in Christmas Inn. I believe in you.” After a breath-stealing pause, he concluded. “I believe in us. In what we already are, and what we can come to be. I hope you do, too.”
A happy shout later, Lydia squeezed him tight all over again. “I do, Graham. Believe me, I do!”
He paused, held her hands in his. Deliberate and visibly nervous, he took a breath. “Will you come back with me? To Ashville? For Christmas? I want you to meet my parents, my sister and family.”
The trembles hit again, and they had nothing whatever to do with chilly weather. Her soul came alive. “I’d love to, Graham. I’d be honored to share the day with them…and with you.”
Graham bent close, capturing her lips in a kiss as masterful and confident as it was warm and silky soft. Lydia’s pleasured sigh broke the stillness an instant before a strong push of wind wrapped around them like loving arms.
High above, in the shelter of a weathered but sturdy steeple, bells began to chime, softly at first, then building before they faded to silence once more.
Graham broke free of their kiss and Lydia joined him in listening to the melody and looking up…way up…at the steeple.
“Gotta be the wind. The wind is doing that, right?”
Graham’s words prompted Lydia to smile, and stroke his cheek. She kissed him once more, with all her heart and with all the joy that consumed her. “Maybe. But let’s make sure we never forget.”
“Forget what?”
“That God is in the wind…”
About the Author
MARIANNE EVANS is an award-winning author of Christian romance and fiction. Her hope is to spread the faith-affirming message of God’s love through the stories He prompts her to create.
Readers laude her works as: “Riveting,” “Realistic and true to heart,” “Compelling.” Her Christian fiction debut, Devotion, earned the prestigious Bookseller’s Best Award as well as the Heart of Excellence Award. Hearts Communion earned a win for Best Romance from the Christian Small Publishers Association. She is also a two-time recipient of the Selah Award for her books Then & Now and Finding Home as well as a three-time recipient of the International Digital Award for her books By Appointment Only, Maria’s Angel and Operation Breathless.
Marianne is a lifelong resident of Michigan and an active member of Romance Writers of America, most notably the Greater Detroit Chapter where she served two terms as President. Marianne loves to hear from readers, so connect with her at MarianneEvans.com, at her blog, on Twitter, or “Like” her author page on Facebook.
More Titles by Marianne Evans
Other Titles in the
Love at Christmas Inn Collection
Christmas Bells are Ringing
With Bells On
Bells on Her Toes
Coming Soon
With This Kiss (December 2016)
Bella Natale! A Florentine Christmas Romance (December 2016)
Nobody’s Baby But Mine (April 2017)
Christian Fiction Titles
Devotion
Forgiveness
Sisters in Spirit Series
Sisters in Spirit, The Complete Anthology
Aileen’s Song
Siobhan’s Beat
Kassidy’s Crescendo
Maeve’s Symphony
Sal’s Place Series
Search & Rescue
Beautiful Music
By Appointment Only
Windfall
Woodland Church Series
Woodland Hearts, The Complete Anthology
Hearts Crossing
Hearts Surrender
Hearts Communion
Hearts Key
A Face in the Clouds
Christmas Titles
Finding Home
Snowflake Kisses
Christmas at Tiffany’s
Heart’s Haven Collections
Operation Breathless
Maria’s Angel
Jodie’s Song
Pure Amore Titles
Date Night
Then & Now
(Part of Pelican Book Group’s Pure Amore Book-of-the-Month Subscription Service)
With Bells On
Mary Manners
With Bells On
Copyright 2016
MARY MANNERS
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover Art by Heaven’s Touch Designs, Delia Latham
This book is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, places, events or locales is purely coincidental.
Warning: No part of this book may be copied, scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means without the express, written permission of the author. Unauthorized duplication and/or distribution is illegal. Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Unless otherwise indicated, scripture references are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version(R), NIV(R), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com.
Published by Haven Group
Published in the United States of America
Contact information:
Haven Group: havengroup.4@gmail.com
Mary Manners: sunriserun63@aol.com
“Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift.”
~Matthew 5:23-24, NIV~
1
Emmy Lancaster settled back in the leather seat of the posh limousine her aunt Dahlia had sent to fetch her from McGhee-Tyson airport. The fuss hardly seemed necessary—a simple rental car or even a taxi would have sufficed for the short ride into Hope Creek. But Aunt Dahlia wouldn’t hear of such a thing, insisting on only the best for her favorite niece. So Emmy embraced the kindness.
The next several weeks would present a flurry of activity and challenges. Emmy would take on the lead entertainer role in Aunt Dahlia’s holiday show, slated to benefit a new pediatric wing at the local hospital. The week-long stretch of rehearsals, followed by a series of a dozen shows, would lead straight into Christmas.
Holiday tunes that filtered through the limo cemented the fact that Christmas was well on its way. Currently, Bing Crosby’s warm bass-baritone yearned for a cheerful blanket of white. Emmy hoped for snow, too. In Hope Creek, it seemed almost mandatory at Christmas time.
“Are you there, Emmy?” Aunt Dahlia’s signature, upbeat southern twang came through the cell phone pressed to Emmy’s ear. “Are you listening?”
“Yes, I’m here.” Emmy fought the urge to hum along with Bing. She could hardly help herself. Like Aunt Dahlia, singing had proved to be her passion from the moment she realized she could use her vocal chords to string notes together. “What were you saying?”
“My driver, Louis, will take you to Christmas Inn, where I’ve booked a room for you on the second floor—room eight, I believe.”
“Right. Room eight.” Emmy filed away the information.
“You should be off the road and settled in soon.”
“Yes. Traffic’s not too bad tonight, and we’ve traveled the roads in record time, thank goodness. I think we’re almost there.” Emmy peered out the window as snowflakes drifted through the air to kiss the polished car. Along the parkway, Christmas lights twinkled across a black-velvet canvas of sky. Their merry dance of illumination bolstered Emmy’s mood as well as her ability to fight off the ache that had pitched a tent along the small of her back. The flight from California, with its layovers and unexpected delays, had proven grueling and had s
tolen Emmy’s energy while putting her behind schedule a solid six hours. “I’m sorry I missed rehearsal this afternoon.”
“It couldn’t be helped, but we’ll get an early start in the morning and go until we can’t dance another step or sing another note.”
“Now, auntie…you know I never grow weary of singing. The dancing, though, is another story altogether.” In reality, Emmy sometimes felt as if she had two left feet. She’d worked tirelessly through a decade of ballet and jazz classes to counteract the curse. “I’ll do my best, though.”
“You always do, my dear. I’m not a bit worried about your part in the show. But Harvey, on the other hand…” Aunt Dahlia’s voice trailed off. “Well, let’s just say that the theater is closed to the public—no shows on Mondays and Tuesdays this week—so we’ll have plenty of time to put things in order.”
“I’ll wear my dancing shoes and bring along a supply of potato chips and juice.” Salt was good for strained vocal chords, a trick Emmy had learned early-on from Aunt Dahlia. “I’ll be ready. I’ve heard Harvey is a fine dancer, and I was able to tell through the demo clip you sent that our voices blend nicely. A bit of practice together should make the harmony shine. You mentioned that he’s been working hard on the show’s choreography, so I’ll simply follow his lead and—”
“Emmy, dear…about Harvey…” Aunt Dahlia cleared her throat and, after a lengthy pause, continued in an uncharacteristic monotone. “There’s been a slight change in plans due to—”
“Oh, Aunt Dahlia...” Emmy interrupted as the limo crested a slight hill and Christmas Inn came into view along a backdrop of ethereal, moonlit mountains. “Oh, oh, oh…it’s gorgeous!”
“What’s gorgeous, honey?”
“The inn…oh, the inn!” Emmy leaned forward, craning her head to peer through the windshield as the wipers worked to clear flecks of snow. “It’s breathtaking…so much more majestic with holiday cheer than I remember.”
Grand turrets rose three stories high, flanking an expanse of brick and glass that shimmered against the night sky like magical starlight. A candelabra glowed from each window, as if guiding her home. The grounds along the entranceway seemed to dance beneath a whisper of shimmering snow. She’d always loved spending time here when she was in high school and later college, before she left for the West Coast. Exploring the undulating gardens for signs of the changing seasons had been an activity she’d treasured.
More often than not Jayson had been at her side. The memory gnawed at her. Where was he now?
“Yes,” Aunt Dahlia’s voice drew Emmy back. “The Christmas family has kicked renovation plans into high gear, working to restore the family inn to its legendary state of grandeur. I knew you would be enchanted by the progress, Emmy, that’s why I chose to book a room there for you. That, and—”
“We’re pulling into the drive now, Auntie.” Emmy’s gaze flitted from the stately turrets to the sweeping, circular drive as she drank in captivating details of illumination. Suddenly surging with Christmas cheer, she felt the urge to belt out the refrains of Jingle Bell Rock and Silver Bells all rolled into one. “Oh, oh, oh!”
“Yes, the inn is lovely,” Aunt Dahlia affirmed once again. “But, Emmy, dear, focus for just one moment. I have something to tell you about tomorrow…about the show.”
“Whatever it is, Auntie…whatever you need, I’m there for you. Yes.” Emmy gathered her purse, bobbling the cellphone as she slipped the strap over one shoulder. She recovered quickly and continued. “I know how important the hospital project is to you, as well as seeing to the children’s needs. Just share the details with me in the morning. I’ll be there with bells on, ready to kick up my heels and belt out a tune or two.”
“I know you will, dear, and I appreciate your generosity, but give me just a moment before you flit away again. This is important—”
Not to be deterred, Emmy reached for the overnight bag she’d dropped on the floorboard and prepared for a quick exit. “You mentioned earlier that Louis is going to pick me up tomorrow morning in the limo, right?”
“Yes. At eight o’clock sharp. But about the rehearsal—”
“Eight o’clock sharp.” Breathless with excitement, Emmy was unable to draw her gaze from the rooftop where a pair of ethereal angels welcomed visitors with trumpets formed of mesmerizing, golden lights. “Yes, right. Louis, eight o’clock…long rehearsal.” Snow crunched beneath the vehicle’s tires as it slowed at the entranceway to the inn. Emmy released her seatbelt and tugged at the door latch. She knew Louis would see to her luggage. “I have to go, Aunt Dahlia. I can’t wait to see the inside of this place again. It’s incredible, amazing… simply gorgeous.”
“If you must…go explore, then, while you still have a bit of energy left.” Aunt Dahlia sighed, seeming resigned to the fact that Emmy refused to be lassoed into further conversation. “Get a good night’s sleep, dear. You’ll need it.”
“Thanks, Auntie, for booking the room. I just know that I’m going to love it here, to the moon and back.”
“Yes, we’ll see.”
“I promise I will get some sleep as soon as I’ve checked things out a bit. I wonder if the inside is as grand as I remember. And the chapel, with its wondrous bells…”
Ah, the chapel…the bells…how long since they’d rung to signify love…?
Emmy had shared her first kiss on the chapel steps with Jayson Taylor, and they’d heard those bells toll at the affection. And though legend nodded toward the belief that the bells rang only when true love was found, they’d laughed and chalked it up to a breeze through the steeple…nothing more. That was eons ago, when she was young and naïve. She’d believed teenage love could last forever, and had thought Jayson did, as well. Emmy brushed away the memory and the hurt that filtered in. She would not allow such thoughts to dampen her joyful mood.
“I’ve heard the kitchen is undergoing some renovations,” Aunt Dahlia informed her. “But if you ask, I am sure Ari Christmas or her chef will see that you get something to eat. You’ll need your strength in the days ahead.”
“I’ll check on that.” In fact, Emmy’s stomach voiced a not-so-delicate growl. She’d taken her last meal before noon.
“Of course you will. Happy exploring, my dear. I’ll see you in the morning. ” Aunt Dahlia chuckled softly, and then added a cryptic, final statement. “You’ll want to talk with me more then, I’m sure.”
2
Jayson Taylor tossed the extra length of a two-by-four aside and brushed sawdust from his hands, then retrieved a fistful of nails from the tool belt slung low across his hips. With each swing of the hammer, he muttered a mantra.
“What…why…how do I get myself into these fixes?”
“You’re gonna lose a thumb that way, boss.” Manny Lawson glanced up from the opposite side of the set platform they were constructing for Dahlia Brewster’s upcoming charity Christmas show. The term Manny used, boss, was more of a tongue-in-cheek, playful jab than anything else, because he and Jayson had been friends since their college days. “Your agreement with Miss Dahlia is a done deal. Let it go.”
“I’m an idiot.”
“If you say so.”
“And a glutton for punishment.”
“OK.” Manny’s eyebrows disappeared beneath a frame of shaggy black hair, but his wide brown eyes held a hint of concern. “So your point is…?”
“I’ll never—”
“Never say never, boss.”
“Is there an echo in here?” Jayson drove the final nail with more force than necessary, sinking the two-inch length of metal with a single blow.
“No.” Manny rose to stretch kinks from his back. “Sorry, boss, but—”
“Hit the pause button on the play-by-play analysis, Manny.” Jayson grimaced. “I know what a fix I’m in. I’m just…venting a little.”
“Sure, boss. Like a teakettle about to blow.”
“Thanks for that visual.” Jayson drew a deep breath as he rubbed his throbbing temples. He
had hired Manny onto the Dahlia Brewster Family Theater crew two seasons ago, and figured it was one of the best decisions he’d ever made. But sometimes Manny allowed his tongue to wag ahead of his brain. This appeared to be one of those times. “I get the picture. I’ll tone it down a bit. Just—”
“Say no more.” Manny mimed a locking motion across his lips, tossed the imaginary key over one shoulder. “I’m done with the color commentary—for now. We’ve got work to do, and not a whole lot of time.”
“You’ve got that right. The cast will be arriving soon…at least part of the cast.” He tried not to think about Emmy, or the fact that they’d be working side-by-side for the better part of the next several weeks. He wasn’t sure how that was going to go over. The last time he’d seen her—walking away from him with her chin lifted to the air and tears streaming down her cheeks—had been more than seven years ago.
Women…there’s just no understanding them. Especially when it comes to Emmy.
“So, what do you think, boss?” Manny asked as he yanked a wadded bandana from his back pocket and used it to wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. “What’s next on the construction agenda?”
“Why don’t you suit up before the others arrive, and start sandblasting the section of that old set that we’re going to merge with this one? Hopefully we’ll have everything ready to paint by morning.” Jayson tested the blaster, and Max, the mastiff mix he’d rescued from the animal shelter nine years ago, let out a low whine as the machine roared. The animal crouched low to the floor and buried his head in his paws.
“I don’t think your sidekick is on board with the plan,” Manny noted.