Christmas karol, p.27
Christmas Karol, page 27
“Wait!” Roberta called out after them. “Don’t forget to take off your shoes!” She turned to Karol. “Sorry! They’re just so eager to play.”
Annabel shut the door and ran after them, meeting Martha at the doorway to the den.
“I got an mp3 player for Christmas,” she said. “Wanna go listen to music?”
“Sure!” Martha said.
They ran toward the staircase, holding hands.
“Hi Annabel,” Peter said as she passed him.
“Hi Peter,” Annabel said, grinning as the blush crept back over her cheeks. She giggled and pulled Martha behind her up the stairs.
Karol stepped forward and hugged Roberta. “Merry Christmas,” she said. “Don’t worry about their shoes.”
Roberta laughed and nodded. Karol stepped back and turned to Alan. He smiled at her from under his mustache. She hugged him too and he slapped her on the back.
“Is that the Plunketts?” Beau emerged at the top of the stairs just as Annabel and Martha were running up. “Martha!” he said. “How’s that painting coming?”
“Hi Beau!” Martha said. “It’s good! I think I’m almost finished.”
“Come on!” Annabel said. And the two of them slipped past Beau and ran down the hall.
Beau came down the stairs just as Fran emerged from the back of the house, carrying Stella on her hip.
“Joe fell asleep in the living room,” she said. “I just woke him up. Hi everyone!” Stella waved and everyone laughed.
“Go ahead into the den,” Karol said. “Peter, Timothy, there are some board games and books and things in there. And I’ll bring in some cookies.”
“Cookies!” Alfie yelled, running into the den.
Peter and Timothy looked at each other then followed Alfie in. Beau came forward to shake Alan’s hand and they both moved down the hall, following the boys. Fran came up beside Karol.
“Can you take her for a second? I want to make sure Joe didn’t fall back to sleep.”
“Of course!” Karol reached for Stella who reached up and wrapped a lock of Karol’s hair around her fingers and put it in her mouth. Karol laughed and Fran wandered off down the hall.
“Karol,” Roberta said, coming up next to her. “I’m a little worried about the new arts and crafts initiative for the shelter kids. I’m not sure that intern I hired last month is really up to the . . .”
“Roberta.” Karol turned to look at her friend and business partner. “It’s Christmas Day.”
“Oh, I know, but . . .”
“It’s going to be fine,” Karol said. “You’re taking the week between Christmas and New Year’s off. It’s in your contract.”
“I know but . . .”
“If you need me to come into office in the new year and scare everyone or something I will but for now . . .”
“Mom! They have a chess set with dragons for pieces!” Timothy ran out of the den, holding up the rook—a crouching green dragon with wings spread wide.
“Are we playing chess?” Peter’s voice filtered out into the hallway. “Or just yelling about the pieces?”
Timothy grinned and ran back into the den. Karol turned and carried Stella into the kitchen, Roberta following behind her.
“How’s he doing?” Karol said.
Roberta grinned. “So, so good. I can’t even . . . it’s like night and day. Did I tell you he wants to be an astronaut?”
“That’s fantastic! I’m so glad!”
“But Karol . . .”
“Here. Have a baby.” Karol handed Stella over to Roberta, who took her, her face softening. “Why don’t you take her and these cookies,” she put a plate of cookies in Roberta’s other hand, “into the den and then sit down and relax. Really Roberta, it’s okay.”
“Blagabargablah!” Stella said.
Roberta laughed and scrunched up her face at Stella. She nodded and carried the cookies and the baby out of the kitchen. Karol turned and started toward the oven, wanting to check on the roast. Fran came in and put an arm around her. Karol leaned her head on Fran’s shoulder. They stood there like that a moment and then Fran spoke.
“I’m pregnant.”
“What?!”
“Shh!” Fran laughed. “I just wanted to tell you.”
“That’s! Oh! Fran!” Karol pulled away and looked into her sister’s eyes. “That’s so . . .”
A wail filtered down the hall and Fran turned.
“That’s Stella. I’ll go get her.”
Karol grabbed Fran and hugged her. “I’m so so happy for you!” she said.
The wail came again. Fran pulled away, grinning. “More on this later.” She went out into the hall.
Karol stood there a moment, too happy to move. Someone had turned on the music and “Jingle Bells” was piping through the kitchen speakers, turning the chatter from the den into a comfortable hum. She remembered the roast and turned back toward the oven. As she was closing the oven door, Beau came into the room holding an empty plate.
“Are there any more cookies?” he said. “These ones flew off the plate.”
“It’ll cost you,” she said.
Beau smiled that lopsided smile and took a step toward her. “Oh?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She came toward him. They met in front of the sink.
“I’ll pay,” he said. “It’s a cookie emergency.”
She reached out and took the plate from his hands, putting it on the counter. She raised an eyebrow and pointed upward. A sprig of mistletoe dangled from the overhead light fixture. Beau grinned. Karol reached for him and he bent his head down to meet her. They kissed—a long, slow, comfortable kiss. Karol pulled away and looked up into his eyes.
“I think I’m going to need a lot of cookies,” Beau said. “It’ll probably cost me a little more than . . .”
She kissed him again, and he wrapped her in his arms. And there was that feeling—that feeling like coming home.
“I love you,” he said into her hair.
“And I love you.”
This is such a nerve-racking section to write, given that it is inevitable that I will forget someone. If that someone is you, please know that I really do appreciate you and am terribly sorry to have left you out. Whoever you are.
Thanks, first of all, to Alyssa Cordova for taking a chance on this project—and on me—and to Rebecca Curry and everyone else at DW Books for shepherding it along. Thanks, also, to my brother, Spencer, for the formal introduction and also for being my brother which, as it turns out, he does brilliantly—as he does everything else.
Thank you to Frank Breeden for his generosity and advice.
Thank you to Shandelle Hether-Gray for changing everything and, more specifically, for giving me the courage to seek out what I want.
Thank you to my mother, Ellen, for being not only the world’s best mother but also the world’s best editor. And to my father, Andrew, for always wanting me to be happy and for showing me that writing stories was something someone might actually aspire to do.
Thank you to my children—my two beautiful boys—for being exactly who you are. Being your mother is the great joy of my life.
And lastly—except for whoever I forgot—thank you to my husband, John, who has made me a mother and has given me the life I’ve always dreamed of.
www.dailywire.com
Table of Contents
Cover
Title page
Copyright page
Contents
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Landmarks
Cover
Faith Moore, Christmas Karol
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Annabel shut the door and ran after them, meeting Martha at the doorway to the den.
“I got an mp3 player for Christmas,” she said. “Wanna go listen to music?”
“Sure!” Martha said.
They ran toward the staircase, holding hands.
“Hi Annabel,” Peter said as she passed him.
“Hi Peter,” Annabel said, grinning as the blush crept back over her cheeks. She giggled and pulled Martha behind her up the stairs.
Karol stepped forward and hugged Roberta. “Merry Christmas,” she said. “Don’t worry about their shoes.”
Roberta laughed and nodded. Karol stepped back and turned to Alan. He smiled at her from under his mustache. She hugged him too and he slapped her on the back.
“Is that the Plunketts?” Beau emerged at the top of the stairs just as Annabel and Martha were running up. “Martha!” he said. “How’s that painting coming?”
“Hi Beau!” Martha said. “It’s good! I think I’m almost finished.”
“Come on!” Annabel said. And the two of them slipped past Beau and ran down the hall.
Beau came down the stairs just as Fran emerged from the back of the house, carrying Stella on her hip.
“Joe fell asleep in the living room,” she said. “I just woke him up. Hi everyone!” Stella waved and everyone laughed.
“Go ahead into the den,” Karol said. “Peter, Timothy, there are some board games and books and things in there. And I’ll bring in some cookies.”
“Cookies!” Alfie yelled, running into the den.
Peter and Timothy looked at each other then followed Alfie in. Beau came forward to shake Alan’s hand and they both moved down the hall, following the boys. Fran came up beside Karol.
“Can you take her for a second? I want to make sure Joe didn’t fall back to sleep.”
“Of course!” Karol reached for Stella who reached up and wrapped a lock of Karol’s hair around her fingers and put it in her mouth. Karol laughed and Fran wandered off down the hall.
“Karol,” Roberta said, coming up next to her. “I’m a little worried about the new arts and crafts initiative for the shelter kids. I’m not sure that intern I hired last month is really up to the . . .”
“Roberta.” Karol turned to look at her friend and business partner. “It’s Christmas Day.”
“Oh, I know, but . . .”
“It’s going to be fine,” Karol said. “You’re taking the week between Christmas and New Year’s off. It’s in your contract.”
“I know but . . .”
“If you need me to come into office in the new year and scare everyone or something I will but for now . . .”
“Mom! They have a chess set with dragons for pieces!” Timothy ran out of the den, holding up the rook—a crouching green dragon with wings spread wide.
“Are we playing chess?” Peter’s voice filtered out into the hallway. “Or just yelling about the pieces?”
Timothy grinned and ran back into the den. Karol turned and carried Stella into the kitchen, Roberta following behind her.
“How’s he doing?” Karol said.
Roberta grinned. “So, so good. I can’t even . . . it’s like night and day. Did I tell you he wants to be an astronaut?”
“That’s fantastic! I’m so glad!”
“But Karol . . .”
“Here. Have a baby.” Karol handed Stella over to Roberta, who took her, her face softening. “Why don’t you take her and these cookies,” she put a plate of cookies in Roberta’s other hand, “into the den and then sit down and relax. Really Roberta, it’s okay.”
“Blagabargablah!” Stella said.
Roberta laughed and scrunched up her face at Stella. She nodded and carried the cookies and the baby out of the kitchen. Karol turned and started toward the oven, wanting to check on the roast. Fran came in and put an arm around her. Karol leaned her head on Fran’s shoulder. They stood there like that a moment and then Fran spoke.
“I’m pregnant.”
“What?!”
“Shh!” Fran laughed. “I just wanted to tell you.”
“That’s! Oh! Fran!” Karol pulled away and looked into her sister’s eyes. “That’s so . . .”
A wail filtered down the hall and Fran turned.
“That’s Stella. I’ll go get her.”
Karol grabbed Fran and hugged her. “I’m so so happy for you!” she said.
The wail came again. Fran pulled away, grinning. “More on this later.” She went out into the hall.
Karol stood there a moment, too happy to move. Someone had turned on the music and “Jingle Bells” was piping through the kitchen speakers, turning the chatter from the den into a comfortable hum. She remembered the roast and turned back toward the oven. As she was closing the oven door, Beau came into the room holding an empty plate.
“Are there any more cookies?” he said. “These ones flew off the plate.”
“It’ll cost you,” she said.
Beau smiled that lopsided smile and took a step toward her. “Oh?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She came toward him. They met in front of the sink.
“I’ll pay,” he said. “It’s a cookie emergency.”
She reached out and took the plate from his hands, putting it on the counter. She raised an eyebrow and pointed upward. A sprig of mistletoe dangled from the overhead light fixture. Beau grinned. Karol reached for him and he bent his head down to meet her. They kissed—a long, slow, comfortable kiss. Karol pulled away and looked up into his eyes.
“I think I’m going to need a lot of cookies,” Beau said. “It’ll probably cost me a little more than . . .”
She kissed him again, and he wrapped her in his arms. And there was that feeling—that feeling like coming home.
“I love you,” he said into her hair.
“And I love you.”
This is such a nerve-racking section to write, given that it is inevitable that I will forget someone. If that someone is you, please know that I really do appreciate you and am terribly sorry to have left you out. Whoever you are.
Thanks, first of all, to Alyssa Cordova for taking a chance on this project—and on me—and to Rebecca Curry and everyone else at DW Books for shepherding it along. Thanks, also, to my brother, Spencer, for the formal introduction and also for being my brother which, as it turns out, he does brilliantly—as he does everything else.
Thank you to Frank Breeden for his generosity and advice.
Thank you to Shandelle Hether-Gray for changing everything and, more specifically, for giving me the courage to seek out what I want.
Thank you to my mother, Ellen, for being not only the world’s best mother but also the world’s best editor. And to my father, Andrew, for always wanting me to be happy and for showing me that writing stories was something someone might actually aspire to do.
Thank you to my children—my two beautiful boys—for being exactly who you are. Being your mother is the great joy of my life.
And lastly—except for whoever I forgot—thank you to my husband, John, who has made me a mother and has given me the life I’ve always dreamed of.
www.dailywire.com
Table of Contents
Cover
Title page
Copyright page
Contents
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Landmarks
Cover
Faith Moore, Christmas Karol
