Hope For The Holidays Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title

  Copyright

  Other Books By Rebecca Deslisle

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  About The Author

  Champagne Books Presents

  Hope For The Holidays

  By

  Rebecca Deslisle

  HIGH RIVER, AB

  CANADA

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Champagne Books

  www.champagnebooks.com

  Copyright 2016 by Rebecca Deslisle

  ISBN 978-1-77155-274-5

  November 2016

  Cover Art by Kays Art

  Produced in Canada

  Champagne Book Group

  19-3 Avenue SE

  High River, AB T1V 1G3

  Canada

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Champagnebooks.com (or a retailer of your choice) and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Other Books By Rebecca Deslisle

  Date With A Dom

  One

  Even a responsible adult felt like a kid after the first big snowfall of the winter. Despite the nuisance of donning extra layers of clothing to shovel a driveway and slip-sliding all the way to work, the overnight eight-inch downfall put a spring in Hope Hardcastle’s step and a lift in her heart. Clearing the sidewalk and driveway of her half of the duplex wouldn’t take long. She tackled the snow removal methodically, starting at her doorstep. Somewhere close by, a snow blower ruined the early morning silence. Hope much preferred the old-fashioned method of manual labor. The simple process of shoveling brought back memories of helping her dad clear the drive back in Chicago where she’d grown up, and later, her own driveway mere minutes away from where she’d spent all her life. Though she now lived in Madison, Wisconsin, just a few hours from Chicago, the distance could have been an ocean away for all the differences in her lot. Whereas in Chicago she’d been pampered and cherished; in Madison she was responsible for her own fate. She’d arrived, anxious to prove herself up to the challenge. She was only a few feet away from rounding the corner when a child’s voice called, “Look, Daddy, I made an angel!” Time slipped away, and a voice from the past called, “Mommy, look! I made an angel!” Pain ripped through Hope, nearly bending her over with her loss. The shovel dropped from her hand and she hugged herself, rocking and crooning to bear the sorrow. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she straightened up. A small girl, maybe four years old, stood at the corner of her garage, staring at her apprehensively. “Are you sick?” she asked. Swallowing her grief, she answered, “I’m fine.” “I can get my dad if you need help.” She wore a pink snowsuit with white fake fur trim. A brown curl escaped her hood. “I’m fine,” she repeated, and wiped away the telltale tears. “Who are you?” “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” She eyed her suspiciously. “Are neighbors strangers?” “I guess it depends on whether you know them yet,” she said, still with a painful catch in her throat. “In this case, you shouldn’t be talking to me.” “I can call my dad. He’d intro-duck us.” “Introduce, you mean.” She repeated the proper word, but made a face. “Don’t you want to meet me, Misses...?” Hope shook her head, annoyed at herself for giving an innocent child a hard time, yet unable to deal with her persistence. “I think you’d better go find your dad. He’s probably looking for you by now.” No sooner did she speak than the droning sound of the snow blower quit, restoring peace and quiet to the area. “Kimmie?” a male voice called. “Uh-oh. Gotta go.” “It was nice meeting you,” she whispered to the departing girl. Or not meeting you... It was better keeping a distance from the child. No sense getting to know her then having her leave. She’d be a pest, anyway, with all her questions and neediness. Where had that come from? She’d barely met her. She seemed like an average four-year-old, or thereabouts. Why would she assume she’d be needy? No definitive answer came to mind, yet something in her demeanor suggested that she was sensitive, rather than the typical devil-may-care of most four-year-olds. Oh, it wasn’t her problem! Darn her for trespassing onto Hope’s property, no matter whether she was the neighbor she claimed to be. Though in all honesty, she’d seen lights on the other side of the duplex last night when she got home from work. No sooner did she resume shoveling and round the corner of the garage than she stopped in surprise. “Somebody cleared my driveway.” “Hey.” A male voice startled her. “I’m Joshua Michaels. My daughter is Kimmie.” He extended his hand, and Hope stared at it for a moment, then at his handsome face. Too good looking for his own good, he was probably a charmer of the first order, yet when their eyes met, she was surprised to see he had sad eyes. She’d much rather see him as insincere, using his looks to get what he wanted in life, like her ex. That way she wouldn’t be susceptible to any tricks he might try on her. She sought something to support her label of him. “You did my driveway? Where do you get off, coming onto my property without my permission?” “Whoa! I was trying to be neighborly. We just moved into the other half of the duplex yesterday. Did Kimmie make a pest of herself? She said you two met.” “No, we did not, and I prefer it that way. I can’t afford a lawsuit if one of you gets hurt on my property.” “Hey, I might be a lawyer, but I’m not litigation crazy. Like I said, I just want to be neighborly.” “Well, thanks, but no thanks. Stay on your own side of the fence.” Lifting her head, she marched toward her door, shamed by her behavior but unable to change it. ~ * ~ “Did we do something wrong, Daddy?” Puffs of condensation hung in the frosty air. “I don’t know, Kimmie. Some people are just afraid to accept favors, I guess. You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t worry about it. We tried to be neighborly. She didn’t. It’s her loss.” “But how can we live next to someone and not be friends? We should move back home.” “That’s not our home anymore, Kimmie.” Giving up Megan’s dream house was the end of the dream that was their marriage. They’d scrimped through college, and she’d worked after graduation so he could go to law school. Barely two years later, he made partner, and they no longer needed the second income, so Megan gave up her job when Kimmie was born. Life was a fairytale existence for two idyllic years. Until the rug was pulled out from under them. Megan was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Eventually, Joshua took a leave of absence from the law firm to care for her and Kimmie. Her prolonged illness outlasted his benefits, and though he applied for medical assistance, it didn’t take long to drain their savings and the equity in the house. Selling the house seemed a betrayal to his wife’s memory so and he’d struggled for a year to keep their home. And he really wanted to provide Kimmie stability. Joshua knew he shouldn’t feel guilt for letting Megan’s dream house go. Unfortunately, knowing and doing were two separate things. “We can’t go back, honey. We’ll just have to work it out with the new neighbor. She’ll warm up after she gets to
know us. How can she resist us?” “But what if she doesn’t?” “Then I feel sorry for her ‘cause she’d miss out on knowing you.” He laid his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “How ‘bout breakfast? You hungry?” “Yeah! How about if you bring breakfast outside while I make a snowman?” “No way, Sunshine. You’re going to Tiny Tykes ‘cause I have to work.” “But I have to make a snowman!” “Trust me. They’ll have snow there.” The girl sighed heavily. “Don’t take too long cooking! I don’t want the snow to melt.” “The snow won’t melt.” Joshua wouldn’t mind if the shrew on the other side of the wall would though. The last thing he needed was a neighbor he had to pussy-foot around for fear of upsetting her. ~ * ~ With the busses were running late with the snow emergency, Hope barely made it to work on time. She could have taken the car, but she’d unhooked the battery for the winter to prolong its life and didn’t dare get grease on her new grey pantsuit. Being the manager, she was normally the first person in the office, last to leave, and she expected her employees to be on time and ready to work. Idle chitchat was not tolerated, nor was tardiness or chronic absenteeism. Today, the dozen employees, all female, were gathered in the break room, conveniently located next to the general office, and they were apparently in a good mood, judging by their laughter. “Do you suppose Ms. Hardass—Excuse me, Miss Hardcastle—is buried under the snow?” “One can only hope,” someone answered with feeling. Hope entered the room and cleared her throat, immediately catching their attention. “No such luck, ladies.” “Oh, Jesus,” Debbie said, her face matching the deep red of her hair. “Indeed,” Hope said, and pointed to a plaque on the wall. “For your information, if I weren’t so strict, we wouldn’t be #1 for Productivity for the last five quarters.” “It’s a crumby plaque, for God sakes. Most companies would back it up with a nice bonus.” “If you’re not satisfied with the company,” Hope warned, “you’re welcome to seek other employment.” “Yes, Ms. Hardcastle. As if you’d give me or any one of us a decent reference.” That hurt. Hope might be tough, but she considered herself fair. Deciding to enter a notation in the woman’s file for insubordination, Hope nodded to the office area, indicating that the discussion was over. One by one, the employees clocked in and headed out the break room door. Hope had worked tirelessly for this company for the past three years, turning around a ho-hum operation into an efficient and well-run machine, one she could be proud of. In addition, she attended night school twice a week to finish her bachelor’s degree. With that accomplishment under her belt last spring, she was now working on her masters, again at night. The classes, studying, and assignments kept her busy, though she saved one evening a week for fun. A couple of the women who worked for other businesses in the building went out every Friday night for pizza and a movie. The movies weren’t always Oscar-contenders, but the threesome always enjoyed a lot of laughs and Hope felt in time with the rest of the world. ~ * ~ The following Saturday, Hope was three quarters through her workout DVD, when the doorbell rang. She ignored it, assuming it was someone selling something. Girl Scouts had already been around peddling wreaths, but whoever it was and whatever it was, she wouldn’t be tempted. A few minutes passed and the bell rang again. Once again she ignored it. Whoever rang the bell was persistent, ringing a third and fourth time. Finally, the tape ended and she marched to the door and swung it open. “This better be good.” The new neighbor, the father, stood on her front step in a black leather jacket, holding a tray covered with red plastic wrap. “I promised Kimmie I’d bring you some Christmas cookies.” Who needed cookies with him around to nibble on? My God, where had that come from? Hope blushed and was so flustered she couldn’t remember his name. “That’s very kind of you. Unfortunately, I can’t accept them. I don’t eat sweets.” The look on his face suggested she should try them, that they might sweeten her up. “Did Kimmie do something to piss you off?” “No, not at all. I just like my privacy.” “I’m hardly invading your space by offering some goodwill. Come on, she’s a good kid and I can’t lie to her and pretend you liked her offering. Give them to a friend, or take them into work.” “I can’t do that. The girls might think I’m human.” He smiled, a big infectious grin. “So it’s not just us.” “I guess I was a little rough with...Kimmie? Was she afraid to come over?” “She’s at a birthday party, but...” She eyed at him curiously. “What?” “I wasn’t sure I trusted you not to hurt her feelings again.” She shivered, partly from the open door and realized he still held the tray. “Oh, for God’s sake. Come in.” Stepping inside, he pushed the door closed. She deposited the cookies on a nearby Queen Anne table, a thrift store find. “Does your wife work?” He avoided her eyes. “She passed away a year ago, just before after Christmas.” “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Hope felt like a heel. “It was rough on our daughter. Still is.” She nodded in understanding. It must have been hard on him, too. “Listen, I can’t remember your name, but if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.” “Well, thanks. I appreciate that. I’m Joshua Michaels.” He extended his hand, which she took. His grip was strong and warm, and he seemed to size up her whole body in one quick glance. Suddenly aware of her leotard and tights, she withdrew her hand and crossed her arms over her chest. “Hope Hardcastle.” “Really?” He studied her briefly. “You don’t seem like a Hope. You’re more a Lizbeth or... I don’t know, something more formal.” Before she could protest or defend herself, he changed the subject. “If you really mean that about helping out, it would be a Godsend to have you watch her, especially when the daycare shuts down for Christmas break. My parents are in Florida getting their condo ready to sell—they plan to buy a bigger one since they’ll be retiring soon, and my sister is due any day with her third child.” He shook his head, obviously overwhelmed with the logistics. “I may have to ask you to let her stay with you a bit until life straightens out. Would you be willing to help?” She shrugged. “I work full time; I can’t be available at a moment’s notice.” “I know. Evenings, though, or weekends. Not all the time, and it would just be for a few weeks. I’m doing pro bono work until I build up my practice again. When duty calls, I have to go. Unfortunately, crime doesn’t keep banker’s hours.” She nodded again. County governments often hired law firms to provide manpower to serve as public defenders, and that those lawyers were required to meet their clients’ needs. “We’ll see. I’d offer you some coffee, but...” “Not a problem. I’m heading into the office for an hour or so while Kimmie is otherwise occupied.” “Where’s your office?” He mentioned a prestigious law firm on the Capital Square. It figured. He wouldn’t be stuck with pro bono cases forever. Now that he returned to his practice, surely his former clients would gravitate to him. She was destined to be plagued by lawyers. Her father was a lawyer. She’d even married one. At least she’d found out the neighbor’s calling just in time, because she was getting to sort-of like this new guy on the block. Now she knew better. “I won’t keep you,” she said, steering him toward the door. “How ‘bout you?” “I’m the office manager of the local branch of a credit rating company.” He stopped. “Which one?” “SAR?” “Sherman and Reed?” Her chin went up. “Do you have a problem with that?” “Not personally. I just know they’ve had a batch of lawsuits lately,” She faced him, hands on hip as if ready to do battle. “All companies have lawsuits from time to time. It’s the nature of doing business.” He flashed a smile at her. “Absolutely. I didn’t mean to sound accusatory.” “We have stringent guidelines to follow, which are fair and equitable.” “Did I hit a sore spot, per chance?” Her chin lifted. “Not at all. We’re obligated to report what we find. It’s up to the loaning institution to evaluate the information they receive and make a determination. It’s beyond our capability to do more than determine risk.” “Right.” “Don’t do that—don’t lay guilt on me.” He laughed, his eyes sparkling as if her reaction amused him. Damn him. She would not apologize for the company that employed her. “My job, my alliance is to my business, to be the very best manager I can be, not wonder about the integrity of
the company. I follow stringent company procedures and trust the home office to do the same.” “Very commendable. I know you’re only doing your job, in the same way I do mine. Sometimes I mentally judge one of my clients aforethought. Does that come across in my defense? It’s possible, but we’re human.” “The difference is that I would never assume guilt or culpability. We report what we find, period.” “Then you should respect your work.” Despite his words, when he closed the door, she felt dirty. ~ * ~ That night, Hope was awakened by a child’s sobs. She thought at first it was her reoccurring nightmare, but even when she came fully awake, the sobs continued. “Mommy! I want my mommy!” Obviously, it was the little girl next door, probably in her dad’s bed on the other side of the wall the duplex shared. The two units were mirror images in layout. Quiet murmurs from her dad assured Hope that everything possible was being done to reassure the girl. She didn’t want to think of her as Kimmie. She didn’t want to get that close. Though she’d indicated to Joshua she’d help out, she hoped he’d never take her up on her reluctant offer. The sobs subsided into hiccups and she realized that if she was able to hear a hiccup next door, they were able to hear the music she played all night. She could not stand the silence of the empty house, could not tolerate the memories that crept insidiously into her mind. Memories of her daughter calling for her in the night propelled Hope out of bed. Surely she didn’t still cry after three years. She would have forgotten Hope by now, would have come to rely on her father for comfort. The idea of her daughter needing her, crying hysterically, set off a pounding in Hope’s head. She knew a migraine would soon follow. Might as well go downstairs and watch a DVD, though she doubted she’d be able to concentrate on the plot. An infomercial would be of as much interest. She grabbed a book from her nightstand. There would be no more sleep tonight.