Santa's Kiss [Book Three in the Ladies of Legend Christmas Anthology]
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Resplendence Publishing, LLC
www.resplendencepublishing.com
Copyright ©2008 by Jan Scarbrough
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
Santa's Kiss
For my husband Bill, who makes a great Santa.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
About the Author
Also available from Resplendence Publishing:
More than Words by Kelly Kirch
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Santa's Kiss
by
Jan Scarbrough
Copyright © 2008, Jan Scarbrough
Published November 2008
by
Resplendence Publishing, LLC
Edgewater, Florida
All rights reserved
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Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and occurrences are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
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Look for the following Legend, TN titles by the Sister Writers now available from Resplendence Publishing:
Ladies of Legend, TN, Finding Home by Janet Eaves, Magdalena Scott, Maddie James and Jan Scarbrough
Beauty and the Beast by Janet Eaves
Harvest Moon by Janet Eaves
Murder on the Mountain by Maddie James
A Legendary Christmas, A Christmas Anthology by Janet Eaves, Maddie James, Jan Scarbrough, and Magdalena Scott
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For my husband Bill, who makes a great Santa.
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Chapter One
New Beginnings Baby Boutique
Legend, Tennessee
Three days before Christmas
"Take your hands off my wife!” Graham Winchester grabbed the shoulder of the man who had just spun his pregnant wife around and stuck a camera in her face.
"He thinks I'm Dawn,” Jane cried, pulling away from the stranger.
"I don't care. The bastard needs to keep his hands to himself!” Did his wife look like her famous twin? Hardly. Being nine months pregnant, she had lost most of her resemblance to her sister.
The man didn't seem to notice Jane wasn't the actress. He shrugged out of Graham's grasp and whipped around. “Keep your hands to yourself, buddy. I'm just doing my job."
"Paparazzi,” Jane hissed.
"It's a free country, lady."
Graham barely controlled his temper. “And that gives you the right to accost a woman in public?"
In the display window, a toy train circled a stuffed Peter Rabbit and three gaily wrapped Christmas gifts. It tooted sharply.
Lilly, the boutique's owner, peaked from behind a rack of upscale clothing for babies and toddlers. Concern clouded her eyes and she stepped toward them. “Can I help you, mister?"
"I'm from Gossip Magazine,” the man told them. “I'm looking for Dawn Smith, and I thought you people might know where she's hiding."
The “you people” comment raised Jane's dander. Graham saw annoyance flash in her eyes, tightening her lips. Lilly bristled too. Folks in Legend may be down-home and friendly, but they certainly didn't deserve the derisive label “you people."
The former English teacher and expectant mother poked an accusatory finger at the photographer's North Face parka. “If I knew the whereabouts of my sister, what makes you think I would tell you?"
"We haven't seen Dawn in a year.” Graham backed his wife.
"Graham's right. Dawn's at home in Southern California."
The reporter scowled, his body language saying what he didn't voice aloud—stupid, Podunk hicks. “You're behind the times, lady. Dawn Smith blew out of town after the news broke about her lover."
"What about her lover?” Jane asked.
His wife didn't know about her sister's latest heartache, and Graham was trying his hardest to keep the facts from her. Jane was already overdue, for God's sakes, and he wanted nothing to disturb her at this crucial time.
But the photographer had no such compunction. “Don't you read the news? It was all over the papers and the Internet. The unfortunate guy died of an overdose two weeks ago."
"You mean that millionaire, Chris something-or-other, is dead?” Jane sounded confused. “But Dawn only dated him a few times. Why call him her lover?"
Graham knew what his wife was thinking. They both understood dating was a way for Dawn to get her name in the paper. It helped her stalled acting career. Since her divorce almost two years earlier, she had been seen with many well-known men, never any serious relationships.
"Lover, friend, whatever,” the man scoffed and stuffed his camera back into his carry-on. “I don't care what you call the guy. The fact is Dawn Smith was seen with Chris Newton the night of his death. After the police questioned her, she left town. No one knows where she is."
Jane's hand slowly lifted to her mouth. “Oh, no.” She gave Graham a frightened glance.
He read the questions and the worry in her eyes. Damn! This was just what he didn't want right now. Jane didn't need to be upset. Thankfully, Dawn had understood and it was one reason she had begged off coming home for the holidays.
"Maybe something's happened to Dawn,” Jane said.
"Nothing has happened to your sister.” Graham put his arm around his wife and pulled her into his comforting embrace.
"That's right. Don't worry, Jane,” Lilly spoke up, turning toward the reporter. “But something's about to happen to you, mister, if you don't get out of my shop."
"Okay, sweetheart, I'm going."
Graham tightened his hold on his wife. He didn't want to lie to her. “You know Dawn,” he whispered. “She's just gone to ground, hiding from the likes of this guy."
No lie there. That's exactly what Dawn had done, and with his help, she was closer than the interloper from Hollywood knew. But Mr. Paparazzi didn't need that information and neither did Jane.
Graham's male protective instincts, which had kicked in some time during the first trimester burned, brightly in his gut. His wife and his child were what mattered now. Dawn was a big girl. She could take care of herself. He would keep her secret as long as he could, but whatever mess Dawn was in, it was up to her to handle.
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Dawn Smith drove down South Main Street in her rented Toyota Highlander past New Beginnings Baby Boutique thinking about her twin sister. Jane Smith Winchester was expecting her first child, a boy already named Caleb William for both grandparents. Little Caleb would be a welcome addition to the family. Dawn sighed. Jane and her husband were all she had.
She flicked a tear from underneath her sunglasses and then gripped the steering wheel. God, she hated coming home like
this.
She wasn't really coming home. Legend's only bona fide television and movie star was slinking home like some stray bitch with her tail between her legs. Or that's how it felt. Long, lonely miles of Interstate between Hollywood and East Tennessee hadn't improved Dawn's attitude or outlook on the changes in her life. Her insides felt raw and vulnerable.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
She was used to accolades and applause. Since elementary school when she starred in the fourth grade adaptation of H.M.S. Pinafore, she had focused on one thing—acting. She had taken dance and voice lessons, and performed in every ten-bit play from the town Founder's Day pageant to high school musicals. Stardom came naturally to her. Legend High's Miss Most Likely to Succeed was a foregone conclusion. She knew she would be successful and so did everyone else in her small hometown.
Dawn drove slowly past the Old Meeting House. It looked just the same as it did every year. A green holiday wreath with a red bow decorated the door of the two-story brick building. A newly planted blue spruce was decked with white lights and paper ornaments. The plastic Nativity scene was faded, but still a familiar symbol of the season.
She had left Legend in the rearview mirror a long time ago, and except for the high school reunion over a year ago where Jane and Graham had reconnected, and their wedding last Christmas, she hadn't been home. She didn't want to. Not that she was too good for the old town, but she had moved on with her life. She had bigger fences to leap, mountains to climb. Dawn Smith was going to amount to something in her life, something that most people in the small town could not understand.
Or so it had been.
That dull, nagging pain of regret hit her again, souring her stomach, making her want to throw up. Dawn reached for a Coke Zero in the console and took a drink from the half-empty bottle. It was tepid and flat. As flat as she felt. Flat and defeated.
She was having trouble coping with the sudden changes in her life.
Yip! Yip! Yip!
The sound of barking from the travel carrier in the back of the SUV made her smile. “Hush, Bits. We're almost there."
Yip! Yip!
Dawn heard Little Bits circling in his crate, trying to get comfortable. The trip had been hard on the small Corgi, but he had been a trooper and her only companion on her cross-country journey. Self-pity surfaced and Dawn wiped another tear from her eye. No, she wouldn't cry. She had done enough of that. She would make the best of this, no matter what. She just needed some rest, some peace and quiet, and solitude to figure out what had gone so terribly wrong.
Yip!
"Oh, gosh, Bits.” She would never have peace and quiet with Bits around. That thought brought more tears and another watery smile. How she loved the short, red and white creature with the pointed ears and foxy face. The dog's loyalty was a tangible thing, more than most humans she had ever known, except one.
"Clint always loved me,” she said to a dog who couldn't understand.
Clint Roberts, her high school boyfriend, football hero and big man on campus, had loved her and even to this day carried the torch for her. But she left him to pursue her dreams, and he had understood.
Mushy with emotion, Chris's death being her recent breaking point, Dawn struggled to pull herself together. Maybe she needed a stiff drink. Or a quickie. Or maybe she needed just to curl up and sleep, and when she awoke, she would discover this change of circumstances was just a horrible nightmare.
A car horn beeped. Traffic was heavy for Legend. The sidewalks were crowded with merry folks, carrying festive packages and waving hello to friends, not rushed like in a big city, but slow and easy and old-fashioned. The strip of once empty stores flanking Main Street had filled up since she was here last. She hardly recognized them.
Dawn blinked once more to clear her vision and when she blinked again, she drove past the last downtown shop. Legend was busy, but it hadn't expanded far from the original, old business district built in the 1920's.
Glad for the diversion, wishing for anything to take her mind off her troubles, Dawn stopped at the traffic sign at Main and Jacobs and then turned down the street and around the corner to Oak, driving past her family home where Jane and Graham lived. Bless, Graham. If it weren't for her brother-in-law, she wouldn't be here right now, away from the limelight, given a little breathing space to conjure up a resolution to her problems.
She was staying at Aunt Harriet's house. Harriet Winchester, Graham's aunt, was gone again on one of her many whirlwind jaunts, this time to view the Christmas lights at Williamsburg. The seventy-two year old former teacher never went on these trips without one of her gentlemen admirers. It amazed Dawn that Aunt Harriet had so much spunk and life left in her.
Somewhere along the line, life had ebbed out of Dawn, leaving her tired and physically drained, just like she was going through the paces. She knew when her troubles began. The divorce. Randy Matthews, her producer husband, running off with Candice Price, a former television teen star who was hardly above the age of consent when it happened. The two were married now. They almost had to marry after Candice ended up pregnant, flaunting her protruding belly to the media as if it were some sort of sport's trophy.
Candice's pregnancy was a slap to Dawn's face. Not only did the woman-child steal her husband, but she gave him something Dawn had failed to give him in their ten-year long marriage—a baby, and more importantly, a son and heir.
Anger replaced her earlier sadness. Dawn set her jaw and drove down the alley behind the row of houses, stopping at a white, clapboard, one-car garage. She climbed out, stretching the small of her back, and then unlocked the door with the key Graham had sent via FedEx. After lifting the heavy, wooden door, Dawn scrambled back into the Highlander and drove into the dark enclosure.
Sighing with relief, she sat a minute with her hands on the wheel. Harriet's place was perfect. A tall white fence surrounded its backyard so the neighbors couldn't see her. Harriet often had guests stay at her house when she was gone, so another visitor during Christmas wouldn't raise suspicions. And Dawn was a long way from the bright lights of Hollywood.
She didn't necessarily want to be with family or friends, but she sure as hell wanted nothing to do with Southern California. Legend, Tennessee was home. She didn't have any where else to go.
Dawn climbed out once more and pulled down the garage door, shutting out the world. Then she released the Pembroke Welsh Corgi from his crate. Little Bits loved the freedom of the backyard, scampering happily through the remnants of the last snow, flushing squirrels and doing his business. Dawn watched him a while, reluctant to go inside. She had been cooped up as well and the sharp, blue sky and the whiff of fresh mountain air stilled her soul.
Finally Dawn dragged her one suitcase from the backseat. Heck, she had brought more stuff for Little Bits than she brought for herself. For once in her life, she didn't need to please anyone. Only Graham knew she was here and she planned not to need more than jeans, some comfortable turtlenecks and sweaters. She had left Dawn Smith, the movie and soap star, far, far behind.
For the moment, at least.
After settling the dog paraphernalia in the kitchen, Dawn fed Little Bits. Graham had stocked the refrigerator for her, as she had asked, because he knew she didn't want to go out of the house. She was holding up, hunkering down, hoping to collect her thoughts so she could get on with her life.
Harriet Winchester's small living room was comfortable and familiar. Lace dollies draped over the back and arms of a blue print sofa. Colorful throw rugs softened hardwood floors, and a polished antique cabinet displayed fine porcelain and crystal. A faint aroma of mothballs clung to the curtains.
With the Corgi exploring the downstairs, Dawn flicked on the cable television just to have some company. She stretched out on the sofa and pulled one of Harriet's handmade afghans over her legs. It wasn't long before Little Bits was back, poking her with his nose, begging for attention. Dawn lifted him on top of her legs where he stretched out and promptly fel
l asleep.
For some reason, the weight of the little dog comforted her. The blaring noise from the television reassured her. She was alone for the first time in years. She had never been alone, really. Twins were never alone. Neither were movie stars.
Dawn's vision blurred as she tried to watch the early news on the flickering screen, and she wondered, sadly, if she could manage to live with her aloneness.
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Chapter Two
The Emporium
Two days before Christmas
"Ho, ho, ho. And what do you want for Christmas, little girl?"
The impish ten-year-old sitting on Santa's lap wrinkled her nose and poked a slim finger at the fake beard. “I know who you are, Coach Roberts. You can't fool me."
Clint Roberts leaned near the precocious child's ear and whispered, “But, Sarah, we don't want the other children to think I'm not the real Santa Claus."
Sarah grinned. “Oh, c'mon. The kids know you're not real. We're only here for the free candy canes."
So much for the innocence of childhood. Clint released a resigned breath and pulled a red and white candy cane from his Santa sack, handing it over. “Here ya go. Merry Christmas."
"Thank you!” The little girl scampered off Santa's lap, and for the first time in two hours, no small child stood in line to take her place.
Midnight McClain materialized in front of him, a satisfied smile spreading across her fair face. With her long black hair and flashing black eyes, Midnight had an exotic look and flare. “You're doing such a wonderful job, Clint. Why don't you take a break for a while?"
"I think I might.” Clint stood and stretched. He couldn't very well relax while he was supposed to be playing Santa, but after what he just heard from Sarah, there wasn't much chance of destroying a child's fantasy. All the kids in Legend knew him.
Clint tugged off his red cap and unhooked the fake beard from behind his ears. Wandering over to Midnight's bar, he ordered a hot mug of Legend by Starlight, her specialty coffee with Irish crème. The drink went down smoothly, easing the tension he had developed by pretending to be the jolly old man from the North Pole.