Read Online Kissing Under the Mistletoe by Marina Adair - Free Book Online
Authors: Marina Adair
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
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who saw beyond the gaping holes in her employment record and her lack of a degree.
She’d even dropped her rates to the point of slave labor. The administrative assistant job at the Barrel Buyer was the last shot she had at staying here, at giving Holly her Christmas wish.
Hands steady, breathing regulated, Regan splashed some cold water on her neck and face and pulled her purse high on her shoulder. At least Mary had had the professionalism to pretend to peruse Regan’s portfolio before giving her the it’s-not-you-it’s-the-nature-of-the-industry speech. Never once pointing out the Gabe-sized target Sharpied on her back.
Serene smile in place, Regan smoothed her skirt down and, forcing her lips higher at the receptionist’s offer of Christmas cheer, shoved through the door and raced out of the office, making sure to drop a dollar in the red charity canister by the exit.
Cold air blasted her while a fine mist of rain trickled down, turning what had been a professional updo into more of a drowned-cat look. Using her portfolio as an umbrella, she clicked her heels down the lamp-lined sidewalk.
The town looked exactly like the photos she and Holly had seen online, only with a little extra spirit from Santa’s helpers. Twinkle lights and joyful reindeer decorated nearly every storefront. People smiled and nodded and “afternooned” one another, inquiring about the kids, what the rain would mean for next year’s harvest, and if they would be in townfor the Christmas musical, as though everyone here was one big family.
With its world famous wines, picturesque downtown, and tourists flooding the streets during the summer and fall months, St. Helena was one of the most visited spots in the Napa Valley. But when winter rolled around, it belonged to the five thousand residents who were lucky enough to call it home.
Regan had hoped to call it home—was still determined to find a way to stay. But her options were running close to empty. She had switched tactics, adapted to her new situation, but the outcome was the same.
Pulling her jacket tighter, she hunkered down and pushed into the rain. What she needed was a Christmas miracle. Just one. Because she wasn’t leaving until the big old fat man in red ho-ho-hoed.
She ducked between two garland-covered trees and dodged puddles as she passed the Grapevine Prune and Clip and Stan’s Soup and Service Station, coming to a full and startling stop by the town Christmas display.
There, blocking the north corner of Hunt Avenue and surrounded by a million lit candles and enough poinsettias to decorate the Vatican, stood ChiChi, red umbrella in hand, and St. Vincent’s Academy’s upper-grade glee club singing a haunting rendition of “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.” Regan took in Santa’s chipped hat, Dancer’s broken hoof, and the spot where Randolph should be standing—except that he was still in her trunk. In his absence was a gilded frame with an aged photo of Randolph standing next to...was that Gabe with glasses, freckles, and a cowlick? Good God, he wasn’t kidding when he’d said Randolph was the treasured town relic.
Regan had tried to return the deer last night, but a suspicious gray bun kept peeking out of the window above Pricilla’s Patisserie. Afraid she’d get caught red-handed with Red Nose himself, Regan figured it would be best to wait another day or two. Apparently she’d figured wrong. The town had gone into mourning mode.
Not wanting to get caught near the scene of the crime by the sweet woman whose car—and granddaughter’s marriage—Regan had destroyed, she whispered some “excuse me’s” and slunk past the glee club. Dodging their plastic swaying antlers and shimmying Santa gloves, she reached the other side of the formation and released a deep breath.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” ChiChi said, twirling her umbrella as she tiptoed over a puddle to catch Regan. “Just the woman I was looking for.”
“Me?” Regan
She’d even dropped her rates to the point of slave labor. The administrative assistant job at the Barrel Buyer was the last shot she had at staying here, at giving Holly her Christmas wish.
Hands steady, breathing regulated, Regan splashed some cold water on her neck and face and pulled her purse high on her shoulder. At least Mary had had the professionalism to pretend to peruse Regan’s portfolio before giving her the it’s-not-you-it’s-the-nature-of-the-industry speech. Never once pointing out the Gabe-sized target Sharpied on her back.
Serene smile in place, Regan smoothed her skirt down and, forcing her lips higher at the receptionist’s offer of Christmas cheer, shoved through the door and raced out of the office, making sure to drop a dollar in the red charity canister by the exit.
Cold air blasted her while a fine mist of rain trickled down, turning what had been a professional updo into more of a drowned-cat look. Using her portfolio as an umbrella, she clicked her heels down the lamp-lined sidewalk.
The town looked exactly like the photos she and Holly had seen online, only with a little extra spirit from Santa’s helpers. Twinkle lights and joyful reindeer decorated nearly every storefront. People smiled and nodded and “afternooned” one another, inquiring about the kids, what the rain would mean for next year’s harvest, and if they would be in townfor the Christmas musical, as though everyone here was one big family.
With its world famous wines, picturesque downtown, and tourists flooding the streets during the summer and fall months, St. Helena was one of the most visited spots in the Napa Valley. But when winter rolled around, it belonged to the five thousand residents who were lucky enough to call it home.
Regan had hoped to call it home—was still determined to find a way to stay. But her options were running close to empty. She had switched tactics, adapted to her new situation, but the outcome was the same.
Pulling her jacket tighter, she hunkered down and pushed into the rain. What she needed was a Christmas miracle. Just one. Because she wasn’t leaving until the big old fat man in red ho-ho-hoed.
She ducked between two garland-covered trees and dodged puddles as she passed the Grapevine Prune and Clip and Stan’s Soup and Service Station, coming to a full and startling stop by the town Christmas display.
There, blocking the north corner of Hunt Avenue and surrounded by a million lit candles and enough poinsettias to decorate the Vatican, stood ChiChi, red umbrella in hand, and St. Vincent’s Academy’s upper-grade glee club singing a haunting rendition of “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.” Regan took in Santa’s chipped hat, Dancer’s broken hoof, and the spot where Randolph should be standing—except that he was still in her trunk. In his absence was a gilded frame with an aged photo of Randolph standing next to...was that Gabe with glasses, freckles, and a cowlick? Good God, he wasn’t kidding when he’d said Randolph was the treasured town relic.
Regan had tried to return the deer last night, but a suspicious gray bun kept peeking out of the window above Pricilla’s Patisserie. Afraid she’d get caught red-handed with Red Nose himself, Regan figured it would be best to wait another day or two. Apparently she’d figured wrong. The town had gone into mourning mode.
Not wanting to get caught near the scene of the crime by the sweet woman whose car—and granddaughter’s marriage—Regan had destroyed, she whispered some “excuse me’s” and slunk past the glee club. Dodging their plastic swaying antlers and shimmying Santa gloves, she reached the other side of the formation and released a deep breath.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” ChiChi said, twirling her umbrella as she tiptoed over a puddle to catch Regan. “Just the woman I was looking for.”
“Me?” Regan
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