Sugar Creek Christmas Nook, Page 2

  “My counselor told me I needed a more constructive hobby than my daily target practice,” Sylvie said.

  Emma’s grandmother had raised her since Emma was fourteen. Sylvie had worked as a top-level, top-secret something in the CIA, as had Frannie. What the women did was still vague, classified, and possibly a little exaggerated. Part-time work had been Sylvie’s choice while Emma was in her custody, but as soon as Emma went to college, Sylvie had returned to her double life. Her grandmother and Frannie had only retired in the last year, and Emma wasn’t convinced the two were completely removed from the agency.

  Her grandmother ran her painted fingernails through her short hair. “I started the group so Frannie and I could discuss life as a civilian, but that talking about your feelings crap got old after the first meeting. So we moved on to something else.” Sylvie shrugged. “Turns out I like books.”

  “When she’s not at the casino,” Hattie whispered.

  Emma reached for her cousin’s dog-eared paperback. “Books about men with no shirts, apparently.”

  “The shirts would get in the way of their life’s work,” Frannie said.

  “And what work is this?” Emma heard herself ask.

  “Firemen, policemen, Navy Seals,” Sylvie said with a little too much gusto. “Or just being sexy.”

  Frannie fanned herself with her copy. “It’s a full-time job.”

  Sylvie patted Emma’s hand. “Before we delve into our first book about an Arabian prince and his lady, I want to make sure everyone knows my granddaughter, Emma.”

  “Didn’t I see you on the internet?” A woman her grandmother’s age pulled out her phone and began to do a quick search. “You look so familiar.”

  “She’s a well-known morning television host,” Sylvie said. “My Emma’s just taking a little break to spend the holiday with her family.”

  “And we’re glad,” Hattie said. “Plus it takes the heat off me and my divorce.”

  Emma knew every tidbit about celebrity gossip, but very little about the latest happenings with her own family. “Glad I could help.”

  “And gets the book club ladies off my back with their match-making.” Hattie took a healthy bite of a cookie. “So Sylvie said something about you doing some work while you’re here?”

  “I’ll be filling in for Melissa Jackson while she’s on her maternity leave. Mayor Conway hired me.”

  The women took a collective pause before exploding into mayhem.

  “Oh, no.”

  “Dear, Lord, somebody tell her.”

  “This is bad.”

  “That man screws up everything!”

  “Wait.” Emma held up her hand to silence the swell of chatter. “Tell me what?”

  “Shug”—Sylvie popped a bite of cheese between her lips—“Mayor Conway unexpectedly passed away last week.”

  “I just talked to him a week ago Sunday.”

  “He died on Monday,” Frannie said.

  This wasn’t part of the plan. “Come back to Arkansas,” her grandmother had said. “I’ve got the perfect job for you to get your Christmas story.”

  “He promised me Melissa’s position,” Emma reminded them.

  “Even in death that man can’t be trusted.” Frannie blew out a sigh.

  Emma turned to her grandmother, gritting her teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me before I paid the neighbor kid to get my mail, locked up my apartment, and drove all the way here?”

  “Because, my little pistol, I wanted to see my granddaughter.”

  The doorbell clanged, and the women in the room stilled.

  “Well, who could that be?” Sylvie set her plate on the side table and stood.

  “Want me to cover you?” Frannie reached into her jacket.

  “No!” Emma’s turned inspecting eyes back to Sylvie. “There will be no covering anyone tonight. And what is that rhinestone thing sticking out from your sweater?”

  “My new holster. It’s supposed to be concealing, but clearly I need a refund.”

  Though the doorbell rang again, Emma ignored it. “You ladies are retired. Do you get that you’re no longer in the field? And you are in Sugar Creek. There are no bad guys here. No terrorists. No dirty politicians.”

  Frannie harumphed.

  “Okay, a few dirty politicians,” Emma conceded. “But no drug cartels.”

  “Because they’re afraid of us. We keep this town safe,” Sylvie said.

  Frannie grinned. “We’re legends.”

  As Sylvie slipped to the foyer, Emma rubbed her left temple where a headache had begun to pound. There was only one thing that put an ache in that spot. Her family.

  All her life, Emma had prayed for a normal family. Her mom, Sylvie’s daughter, had been so blissfully traditional. When Elizabeth Casey had unexpectedly died only months after Emma’s eighth birthday, the world had gone dark and cold. Emma’s father, Edward, had sold their house and many of their belongings, and the two took to the road so he could pursue his burgeoning music career. They lived in motels and apartments, never staying in one place long enough for Emma to make friends.

  Until Sylvie stepped in. But Sylvie hadn’t exactly been the stereotypical grandmother.

  “Your grandmother’s retirement from the CIA has not been an easy transition,” Frannie said as she bit into another cookie. “For me either.”

  “It’s your third time to retire,” Emma said. “No more victory laps.”

  “We decided this was it,” Frannie said. “For real. I like this town, and I’m going to stay. Though it’s proving hard to find myself a strong, black man to be my next mister. Lots of white folks here.”

  Emma smiled at her honorary aunt. “Maybe you need to broaden your horizons.”

  Frannie smacked her palm against the novel. “That’s exactly what these books are teaching me. But I’ve also yet to find one single sheik.”

  “So basically,” Hattie said, “they’ve given up international espionage for the romantic kind. You won’t be here thirty-six hours before the ladies will be trying to fix you up.”

  “Girls, look who stopped by.” Sylvie reappeared, her arm around a tall, smiling man.

  Emma dropped her cookie into her lap and simply stared. The man’s eyes lit on her, and his smile disappeared.

  “Hello, Emma,” Noah Kincaid said. He stood in her grandmother’s living room as if he belonged, as if he were comfortable anywhere. Ten years had passed, but his brown eyes still crinkled when he smiled, and his dark hair was still full with that same tendency to fall onto his forehead. He was no longer the skinny college boy, but the very well-proportioned man who didn’t appear to be a stranger to the gym.

  “Wow, Em.” Hattie consulted her watch. “You were here less than an hour.”

  Noah Kincaid. The boy she had loved in college. The one she’d said yes to when he’d gone down on one knee and proposed her junior year. And the one whose heart she’d stomped on when she’d broken it off, leaving him with nothing more than a letter and her ink-smudged regrets.

  “Hello, Noah,” Emma managed. “It’s been a while.”

  “Small world, huh?” Sylvie’s twinkling eyes darted from Noah to Emma. “I never dreamed Noah would stop by.”

  “You stopped by the office yesterday and told me to drop in,” he said evenly. “A leaky faucet?”

  “Yes.” Sylvie bobbed her head a little too enthusiastically. “It’s in the guest bathroom upstairs. But sit down for a spell. We were just starting our book discussion.”

  Settling in for a visit looked like the last thing Noah wanted to do. He rubbed the back of his neck, just like he used to do so many years ago, a tell-tale sign he was upset or very uncomfortable. Like when sitting in a living room full of women that included his ex-fiancée.

  “What are you ladies reading?”

  Frannie piped up first. “The Hot Sheik’s Pregnant—”

  “War and Peace!” Sylvie said quickly. “Woo! What a page-turner that one’s been, eh, ladies?”

&nbs
p; “Yes.” Emma finally found her voice again. “Why don’t you give us a quick summary?”

  “We don’t want to bore dear Noah with that.” Sylvie shot Emma a warning glare. “The mayor here has better things to do.”

  Emma frowned. “Mayor?”

  “Oh.” Sylvie clutched the pearls at her throat. “I was going to tell you. After Mayor Conway kicked the bucket, Noah here was voted in for the interim. Isn’t that the most delightful news? I mean, not that the mayor keeled over, but that Sugar Creek is now under Noah’s fine leadership.”

  Emma thought she might throw up her cookie. “I thought I would be working for Mayor Conway. I came all the way to Sugar Creek to take his marketing director’s maternity leave.”

  “I’m sure your job is secure.” Sylvie handed Noah a plate. “My Emma has always been a whiz of an event planner. If anyone can continue Melissa’s work organizing our town events, it’s her. Right, Frannie?”

  Frannie sipped something that smelled a little strong to be just fruit punch. “I’d trust Emma to organize a government coup.”

  “That’s very”—Noah’s voice was dry as a barren twig—“reassuring.”

  “Oh, before you take a look at my sink, I made your favorite—a chocolate pie.” Sylvie dashed from the room, and the women immediately filled the silence with small talk for the new mayor.

  Noah was the mayor? What in the world? The two had met in high school in Sugar Creek and gone to the same college in Oklahoma. Being the only two from the small town in Arkansas, they’d gone from acquaintances to friends to. . . an engaged couple. Emma knew Noah had moved back home after securing his bachelor’s degree and had gone to law school at the University of Arkansas. He’d always had big dreams of opening his own practice. But now he would be her boss?

  “Here we go!” Sylvie breezed back to the living room, holding a pie like it was an offering of gold. And maybe it was. The woman might not have been the most domestic thing, but she could always bake. “Homemade graham cracker crust, a little surprise layer of ganache, and meringue that is peaked and toasted to perfection.”

  Frannie tipped back her cup. “The hot sheik would approve.”

  “Thank you, Sylvie.” Noah said.

  “You betcha, hon.” Sylvie’s smile was too sweet, too grandmotherly. “Wanted to give this to you before I put you to work.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Noah said. “You know you can call me for help any time.”

  “I know, baby. Because you’re always so nice. When I need a hand, who do I call, Frannie?”

  Frannie raised her cup. “Noah!”

  “And when you had that raccoon in your garage, who did you call?”

  “The man who used to make my explosives.”

  “No, after that.”

  “Noah!”

  “Emma, he’s just going to make the best mayor ever,” Sylvie said. “He’s been on the planning commission for years, and you would not believe all the changes. Tomorrow morning you’re going to see a whole new Sugar Creek. And wait ’til you get a load of all the holiday plans.” She handed Noah his pie. “And Noah, my Emma will be at city hall first thing in the morning to start her new job.”

  Ah, there it was. Sylvie had anticipated his resistance.

  “We should probably talk about that.” For only the second time that night, Noah’s gaze found Emma. “It might be best if I found someone who—”

  “Emma will be in your office at nine o’clock.” Sylvie was a woman used to getting her way by any means necessary. “I’m so glad she’ll be working for someone as wonderful as you. You need the temporary help, and she needs the temporary work. It’s just a match made in heaven.”

  Judging by Noah’s face, he did not believe heaven was the source of this situation.

  He set his bribery pie on a nearby table. “I’d better see to your sink.” He walked by Emma and paused, his eyes lingering, as if adjusting to the sight of the girl he had known—had loved—now ten years older. “Welcome back to Sugar Creek.” His smile as he passed held no warmth. “And just in time for your favorite holiday.”

  She watched him walk away. That was the man who had once held her whole heart.

  And thanks to the news story she desperately needed, Noah Kincaid now held her future.

  Chapter Three

  “Mr. Kincaid will see you now.”

  Emma smiled at that the next morning.

  Mr. Kincaid. So formal. But Noah was a somebody now. While she . . . . well, who she was right now was a little bit up in the air. She certainly wasn’t an attorney/mayor.

  Emma stepped inside the office and shoved all her nerves behind her professional mask of confidence and calm.

  “Hello, Emma.” Noah didn’t bother to smile, and he certainly didn’t bother to soften his annoyed tone.

  She had lain awake most of the night, letting various scenarios of this meeting play in her head until she had flicked on the bedside lamp at four a.m. and read until it was time for breakfast with Sylvie. Her mental role-playing had still not prepared her. He looked as devastatingly attractive as ever, even with that scowl.

  “Good morning, Noah.” Emma steadied her voice, just like she did when reporting disturbing events on the show. “It’s been a long time.” And hadn’t time been good to him?

  “So you’re back in town.” He gestured to one of the two seats in front of his desk.

  Emma settled into one and crossed her legs, wishing she could rub her sweaty palms on her skirt. “Yes, temporarily. The mayor and I had discussed my starting these last few days of November, then working through the entire month of December.”

  “I’m sure Sylvie and your cousins are glad to see you.”

  My goodness, but he smelled nice. Like man and strength and spice and something so incredibly alluring it made her want to inhale deeply and just sigh in appreciation. “The town’s changed a bit.” Emma had seen Sylvie at least once a year, but that usually involved her enticing her grandmother to whatever city Emma worked in. “You seem to have a lot going on. And now . . . you’re mayor.”

  He laughed at that, the sound deep and rich. Noah stepped from behind his desk and surprised Emma by lowering his frame into the chair beside her. He was so . . . close. The room instantly shrank, as did a little bit of her confidence.

  “I still have my practice in Bentonville, but I’ve obviously had to cut back on my work load there. It was an unfortunate event that led to my being mayor. It’s just until the special election next February.”

  “I’m sure they picked the best man for the job. You’ve always loved this town.”

  “I still do. We have big goals. I assume Mayor Conway told you our plan to make Sugar Creek a vital tourist destination. With the boom in cultural hot spots in the surrounding towns, it’s the perfect time. People like quaint, and we’ve got plenty of that.”

  “You just have to capitalize on what you have and make sure tourists know about it.”

  “Right. That’s partly Melissa’s job.”

  “The woman on maternity leave.”

  “She’s done an incredible job organizing our events for the next few months. This holiday season is a critical time for us.” He placed his elbow on the armrest and leaned toward her. “Why exactly do you want this job?”

  “I had multiple phone meetings with the mayor. He said the job was mine.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I’m taking a little sabbatical from television. I want to spend the holidays with Sylvie, and of course, I look forward to reconnecting to my hometown.” Emma leaned closer. “Noah, I can help Sugar Creek. I’d like to do a story on the way the town’s celebrating Christmas and putting me on the front lines is the perfect way to make that happen. I can get Sugar Creek national promotion on Sunrise News. Think of the impact.”

  Noah studied a spot on the carpet as he considered this. “Emma, I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t think you’re the person for the job.”

&nb
sp; “I disagree.” Had he not heard her say she could get them the attention of the whole country? “Melissa needs her time off. And coincidentally, I have about six weeks to spare. I’d say it was ideal.” Minus the fact that she’d be working with her ex-fiancé.

  “I’m trying to help you here. It’s not anything you’d be interested in.”

  “I have a double major in journalism and marketing. I think I can handle the huge PR needs of a small town.”

  “Our PR needs are actually fairly significant now. We can’t afford to drop the ball. I’ve put out feelers for some outside marketing assistance.”

  “You truly think I can’t do this?”

  “I think we need someone who isn’t just passing through. Someone who cares about Sugar Creek.”

  Emma handed Noah the file in her hand. “Here are the copies of my emails with Mayor Conway, as well as a comprehensive list of ideas I have and my resume. The mayor said I had the job.”

  “The mayor’s dead.”

  Emma rested her hand over her heart. “And you’re not going to honor the last wish of this great man of values and integrity?”

  “He died of an overdose in a pay-by-hour hotel wearing fishnets, pink underwear, and accompanied by two individuals who were neither his wife nor definitely female.”

  Oh. “At least the bar is set low.”

  “I’m not running a popularity contest. I’m trying to run a law firm and a town. I’m not sure how much Mayor Conway told you, but Sugar Creek has undergone the first phase of renovations thanks to some federal and state grants.”

  “The downtown area looks amazing.” Gone were the derelict and empty stores. The run-down buildings had been painted vintage colors that invited shopping and gathering. Broken windows had been replaced with decorated displays that could match anything in Manhattan. Downtown Sugar Creek was a buzzing hive of restaurants, shops, and a coffee house or two. “I hear you helped make a lot of that happen.”

  “I’m good at paperwork.”

  “Like the kind you might push through to give me this job?”

  Noah shifted in his seat, angling closer. “I’m pretty certain my predecessor left out some pertinent information about this temporary job he offered you.”