“The Woodward House?”
“Yeah.”
He dreaded returning in the daylight, but he knew he had no choice. He didn’t know her plan, but he couldn’t let any harm come to the estate. The sham castle built on a hill still held the spirits of his family, and they required protection.
It was all he had left of his parents.
Collecting his coat, he tossed Michael the keys to his rental car, which he’d rescued from the tow yard this morning.
“Drive me there.”
Chapter Four
“This all looks amazing! Can we move those candlesticks to the end of the hall? Oh, be careful with those ornaments! Just put the boxes down in the living room. We’ll decorate the tree later.”
Kate wasn’t one to toot her own horn, but even she had to admit it: the Woodward House looked amazing. It wasn’t all her doing, of course. She merely lugged a few boxes and used her copy of the house keys to let everyone inside. When she called Miss Carolyn to tell her of her plan, The Christmas Company phone tree went into full effect, and within an hour, most of the town’s decorations were torn down from their places off of the square and almost one hundred people showed up at the Woodward House to ready it for Christmas. Thankfully, this place wasn’t unfamiliar to the people of Miller’s Point. Mr. Woodward had let them use it as a muster point for the festival for years, so once inside, everyone had a good idea of which archways and bannisters needed the most Christmas-ification.
It was a painfully simple plan, really, and everyone hopped on board quicker than she anticipated. All she had to do was teach Clark Woodward to love Christmas. The process of that began with a Christmas makeover of his house. After seeing his pitiful slump at Mel’s diner, she took to imagining quiet, lonely Decembers passing by him in a dark apartment in Dallas, complete with Hungry Man dinners and falling asleep on the couch. The sort of Christmas she only imagined in her nightmares. It was clear he’d fallen out of love with Christmas—Kate didn’t believe anyone naturally disliked the holiday—because it’d been too long since he’d had a wonderful one. She was going to reintroduce magic into his life, and by tomorrow morning when she was done with him, he’d have to agree to putting the festival back on.
It would be difficult, but she had an ace up her sleeve. Some people claimed it was impossible to change someone’s heart overnight, but Kate knew better. After all, she’d read Dickens.
“I think we’re all done inside. They’re finishing outside, but do you want to light ’er up in here?”
“Yes! Just one second…”
Kate sprinted for the top of the grand staircase, her muscles tingling. Everything had to be perfect, and this was the moment of truth. She nodded to Billy Golden, the load-in specialist for the festival, who’d been running point for her since his arrival this morning. He stood at the foot of the stairs with an electrical dial in hand, waiting for her signal. She held up her hands, as if preparing to conduct a symphony. “Okay. Now.”
Kate blinked, fully expecting that in the split second of her eyes being closed, she would open them to find herself completely immersed in the winter wonderland of her own creation.
“What have you done?!”
Oh, no. The voice of her target echoed through the grand foyer of the Eastlake Victorian-style manor, shaking the paintings on the walls and knocking crystals of the chandelier. All movement—including Kate’s heart—halted. Her eyes lowered, step-by-step down the carpeted, garland-strewn staircase, until she reached the tips of his mirror-shined shoes. She recognized his voice even without peeking at his face.
There was no noise but the driving, tinkling melody of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” It wafted through the house like the smell of fresh-from-the-oven gingerbread cookies.
Apparently, Clark Woodward didn’t appreciate music or delicious gingerbread because he let out another yawp of displeasure:
“And turn that music off!”
Without so much as peeking up from his shoes, Kate touched the pause button on the phone in her pocket, effectively silencing her Bluetooth playlist.
Once, when she was a kid, Kate had gotten caught trying on the Ebenezer Scrooge costume, fake beard and all. The man playing the miser that year had a lisp and a bit of a limp, so she was dragging her left foot around the dressing room saying, “Merry Chrithhhmathh.” To her everlasting shame and regret, he’d walked in on her mid-private performance.
She felt nearly as captured now.
Michael. She cursed his name. He was supposed to keep him busy until noon at least! Everyone was supposed to be safely back home so there would be no way of restoring the house to normal order. That was the entire point of the distraction. If Clark demanded his house be emptied of all Christmas cheer, the plan would be ruined.
You’ve got to do something, Kate’s rational brain told her petrified tongue. You can’t just stand here like an idiot. It’s starting to get awkward. Hands shaking in her pockets, she wondered if she hadn’t made a poor decision or two this morning. Not about the choice of an angel as a tree topper instead of a star—she stood by that. She wondered if she’d made a mistake in coming here at all. Was she beaten before she’d even started? Was she even strong enough to save her town? Why did she
