Zack’s Christmas Bride
©2019 by Stella Clark
All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, events or locales is completely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Stay in touch...
Newsletter
Chapter 1
She glanced towards the dark window to listen.
There was the familiar snipping of their gardener, Jackson, cutting away at the hedges below. It would be the last trim of the year until spring returned to New York City. Their large home would soon be covered in snow. Then the holidays would be upon them. And then spring. And the heat.
It was an endless cycle that Della Prescott dreaded.
Every year was the same. There were the same seasons with few differences. There was the same house that she stayed in every day. There were the same parties; one for her family and their friends, and one just for the family.
Everyone treated the double holidays like they were a special activity, a secret from the world.
They were a secret. But she wasn’t the one giggling about them like everyone else did.
Her whole family tried to make the best of it.
But she knew. She knew because it was all her fault. She had known for as long as she could remember that her life was different, which forced her family to be different, which was all her fault.
Judy Hanson, the prettiest girl in New York City, had married the finest and richest man on the east coast, Donald Prescott. They had the biggest wedding New York had seen in over fifty years. It was the talk of the century. Apparently, it was still referred to in the newspapers for many reasons.
Everyone had expected a happy ever after future for them and the family they readily built. Except that the moment Judy Prescott held her first baby in her arms, something had gone terribly awry.
The baby girl had soft blonde hair with bold blue eyes. But there was something wrong. She wasn’t perfect in the way that Judy Prescott had sworn her children would be.
Della could picture the moment perfectly.
“What happened?” Judy would have cried out. Her hair would have still looked perfect. The new mother would have been torn between protecting her in her arms and giving her back to be fixed. “What did you do to my child?”
Sitting at her armoire, Della sighed. It was a lovely little set, handmade just for her only thirteen years ago for her tenth birthday. Everything was perfect about the furniture except for the mirror. There was no mirror.
Her mother, the stunning Judy Hanson Prescott, had claimed she didn’t need it. She was beautiful without having to appease her vanity. But most of all, she didn’t want to make Della feel bad. That part had not been said, but the silence said enough.
“Miss?”
Della froze in her seat, realizing she had been tracing the birthmark on her cheek again. It was red and a little puffy, very distinctive and not something that she could hide.
Because she couldn’t hide it, her parents thought hiding her away from the world would fix the problem.
“Yes, Hazel?” She forced herself to smile at the maid. “What is it?”
The young woman stepped into the room only to frown. “Your meal, Miss Della. You didn’t eat again. Is everything all right?”
Her eyes dropped over to the table in the other corner of the room where the tray sat. “Oh.” Della shrugged. “I’m fine. I’m just… Did my delivery come? The books? I was waiting on the new books about art. Did they arrive?”
The younger girl hesitated before shaking her head and picking up the tray. “I’m afraid not. Only two newspapers were delivered. Would you like to read those?”
She considered it before shaking her head. “No, thank you.”
Hazel nodded and left. Della was left to her own devices as usual. She studied the dark shades on her window that kept the outside world from seeing her. It didn’t help her see out very well. She wrinkled her nose. Then her stomach growled. Trying not to think about the world she had never been part of, now all Della could think about was the food that had just left the room.
“Hazel?” Della called over her shoulder.
But the young woman was gone.
Though she didn’t have free reign of the world, she did have free reign of the house. Della brushed her long hair over her shoulders as she stood up and headed down the hall. There was the grand staircase to the right, but she didn’t like that one. Her mother didn’t like her going down that one, anyway. There was always the chance they might have an unexpected guest grace their halls. Instead, she preferred the servants’ stairs to the left where she was less likely to be met.
She reached the back of the kitchen in seconds. Though she raised her voice to call for Hazel and see about finding something to eat at last, there were voices speaking that caused her to hesitate.
“But a stranger!” It was Lulu’s loud southern voice, the newest of the maids. “You’d up and marry a man you never met?”
The short cook, Elsie Bell, answered softly. “I think so. Why not? It’s not like there’s a chance to meet any gents when we work all day. Don’t you want to do something else with your life when you grow old? Just think of it. Your
