Every day is christmas, p.1
Every Day is Christmas, page 1
EVERY DAY
is Christmas
BY
PAT SIMMONS
This novel is a work of fiction. References to real events, organizations, or places are used in a fictional context. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental. All Scriptures cited are from the King James Version Bible.
@2024 Christian Reads Press/Pat Simmons
Developmental Editor: Chandra Sparks Splond
Proofread by Judicious Revisions LLC; Miriam “Cookie” Mitchell
Beta Reader: Evangelist Charlotte Townsend
Interior Design: Kimolisa/Fiverr.com
Cover Design: designerboard18/fiverr.com
Praise for Pat Simmons
I love Couple by Christmas. It was a wonderful Christmas story and such a beautiful testament to the spirit and presence of God for what and how He can bring a marriage back together, what God has joined together let no man put asunder; I will definitely share this book with family and friends and others looking for a good Christmas book, and a good Christian love story. This was a wonderful read. I love the Author she’s just the greatest❤️—Mary
Waiting for Christmas. This book is amazing, I actually enjoyed my time reading this book. Pat Simmons is the Queen of clean and Godly stories. I Love it!!!! Ciara has a heart to give. Sterling and Ciara make a great couple although they have their own issues. It was awesome to see how their relationship blossoms into something Beautiful. God, as always, is the reason for every season. Pat Simmons, may God Bless your creative hand as always. 🙌🏾❤🙏🏾😊 Rubykat
Christmas Takeover was a sweet family story that gives you a glimpse into how Christmas should be celebrated Jamieson-style. Pat Simmons weaved a story filled with fun, humor, love, and change. Pace and Harmony will warm your heart with each look and conversation centered around the meaning of Christmas... Enjoyable, fast-paced read.—Msmagnolia Reads
Table of Contents
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
Chapter Twenty-three
Epilogue
About the Author
Other Christian Titles
Chapter One
Of all the times for Gina Christmas’s father, Ray, to be under the weather, tax season was forbidden.
How could their family-owned accounting firm, Christmas Tax Help for All Seasons, run without him? Her father was convalescing from back surgery until the third week of April.
I can do this. I can fly solo for the next six weeks until April 15. Sure I can.
Although Gina was a proficient certified public accountant, she had serious reservations about meeting the April 15 deadline for all their clients. Between completing upcoming quarterly reports for the company’s clients and filing tax returns for repeat customers, she was swamped. However, she couldn’t fail her father or herself.
The company started as a small storefront shop, which had been expanded and upgraded twice in the past fifteen years. It was the brainchild of Gina’s grandfather, George, who was good with numbers despite lacking a formal education and had a kind demeanor. Grandpa called it living up to his Christmas surname. Plus, he always credited his parents for instilling in him a responsibility to live for Christ daily to please God. That sentiment was passed down to Gina’s dad, then to Gina and her two siblings, Denise and John, the oldest. George currently enjoyed retirement in Arizona.
Gina’s stomach growled as she reviewed the Missouri state and federal tax returns with Mr. Thomas in her father’s office. The client had been a widower for two years now, and he liked keeping his children close, which was the source of his complaints while she prepared his taxes.
The door chimed in the lobby, alerting Gina that the next customer had arrived forty minutes early.
“Have a seat. I’ll be with you in a moment,” she shouted.
To keep the paperwork orderly, Gina met with her clients across the hall in her office. Gina had been so busy she hadn’t bothered to open the blinds in their separate offices, which gave them a full view of the spacious lobby decorated with five plants—Gina’s limit to water—warm beige walls, cobalt blue trendy furniture with pops of burgundy accents, and a fully stocked snack bar in a corner nook. The snacks were reasonably priced, and all the proceeds went directly to one of two charities—the Round-Up program, where change added up when round to the nearest dollar, and Every Day is Christmas.
Even though Gina tried to space out the appointments by two hours—a challenging task when combining her clients and her father’s—she was still overextended.
Gina resumed explaining to Mr. Thomas why his refund wouldn’t be as generous as the previous year.
“Robin worked last year, so you can’t claim her as a dependent on your taxes. You could on your previous tax season because she was unemployed.”
“She still eats and sleeps at our house.” Mr. Thomas rubbed his premature gray hair. He frowned at the amount.
“I found every deduction I could, but your adult children working is good. They can help with household expenses, and that will take some of the burden off you.” Gina couldn’t sympathize with the father of three. His “children” were well-educated but picky about job offers and turned them down for frivolous reasons. Now, inching close to their thirties, they had excuses on stand-by for not moving out.
“I know you did, Miss Christmas.” He nodded. “You’re better at finding stuff than your father.” He leaned closer and chuckled. “Don’t tell Ray I said that.”
Gina smiled. The client’s compliment would make her father proud. She followed in his footsteps and earned her accounting degree from Harris-Stowe State University, one of two of Missouri’s historically black colleges and universities. She passed the Uniformed CPA Examination and continued with more classes until she fulfilled every requirement to obtain her license.
“Here.” She pointed to the lines she had marked. “If you sign these forms, I can e-file them to Jeff City for your state and Kansas City for your federal returns. Consider making more charitable contributions before next year’s tax season. You can also increase your contributions to your company’s 401(k) and IRA account.”
Clients knew Gina had founded a nonprofit, Every Day is Christmas, and was on its board of directors. Although it was against the code of ethics to even hint at making a donation to the charity, this charity helped nurture creativity for youth in a children’s home.
“I never turn down the opportunity to give,” Mr. Thomas said, although he wasn’t happy about his refund amount.
“I know you don’t, and God blesses us when we bless others.” Gina got up and walked the client out of the office. Entering the lobby, she froze at the sight of the next client. Gina steadied herself against the wall to catch her breath.
She inhaled, and a new faint scent tickled her nose. It wasn’t the vanilla and rosemary air freshener from the plug-in by the window. Suddenly, the office’s stylish decor faded in the background as the man became the accent piece. He stood from his relaxing pose in one of four club chairs to greet her.
Tall and built like a warrior.
His eyebrows, trimmed mustache, and jet-black beard complemented his flawless medium-brown skin. Gina wanted to cry because the man’s handsomeness was blinding. Wow.
Judging from his crisp jade Oxford shirt and creased black slacks, he worked in an office. A slight smile tugged on his full lips when he made eye contact with her. There was a mix of confusion and attraction...maybe.
“Hi. Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” he stated. His baritone voice rang in her ears, sealing whatever deal he placed on the table, including pro bono for his taxes.
This couldn’t be real. He was too priceless not to have bodyguards to protect his assets.
He took one step forward. “I don’t have an appointment.”
No! She wanted to scream. Disappointment made her heart sink that she wouldn’t get to learn more about him, but relief flooded her senses because there was no wiggle room for a new client. “Sorry, I’m swamped, and my dad’s out. I can’t take any walk-ins.” Gina remained professional despite suffering from star-struck-itis.
He didn’t hide his confusion. “Isn’t this a Christmas store?”
Gina smiled. “Sorry, no, although we showcase Christian Christmas–themed ornaments. It’s March fifteen—too early for Christmas items.”
Squinting, the unnamed man studied her. “Your sign says Christmas for All Seasons.”
She giggled and stretched out her hand at the handsome stranger. “I’m Gina Christmas, and it’s Christmas Tax Help for All Seasons, our family accounting business.”
He turned away from her and laughed to himself, then faced her again. “I feel stupid. My grandmother told me months ago there was a year-round Christmas shop downtown that sold unique Christian Christmas–themed items. Then she was in the hospital, and out of the
“Ah, someone liked Westerns.” She couldn’t resist the twist on the name of actor Michael Landon, who had played Little Joe Cartwright on Bonanza.
“Usually, seniors get the name recognition. Most people in our generation don’t know of Michael Landon.”
“You’re right. I’m thirty-two, but I’ve watched plenty of reruns with my grandfather.”
His eyes seemed to glow as he nodded. “My grandmother loved Highway to Heaven and Little House on the Prairie. She thought it was the perfect name for me.” His smile was filled with adoration. “She’s the same one who sent me on this expedition out of season.”
He had a sense of humor and loved his grandparents—a plus.
“I’ve never met anyone with the last name Christmas.” He snickered and folded his arms as if he were in no hurry while Gina had to get ready for her next client.
“I’m glad to be the first, and I get that a lot. I’m thankful my parents didn’t name my sister or me Mary, Holly, or any other seasonal names. Speaking of seasons, we allow a charity to display their Christmas-themed gifts crafted by young artisans from low-income homes and shelters, mostly the children’s home. Some inventory comes in for Christmas in July, but October begins the Christmas season.”
“So this is the right place.” Slipping his hands into his pockets, he seemed to look at her through the hood of thick black lashes.
Gina had to depend on top-brand mascara for that effect. “Sort of. You can go online for more information about the charity’s history, little artisans, and past masterpieces.”
She beamed with Godly pride for the children. “But...if you are hungry, we stock our nook with snacks, and you can round up your purchase to the nearest dollar to give to the same charity.” The door chimed, and her father’s next clients walked inside.
She smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Jackson. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” she greeted, then faced Landon again. “Sorry. I don’t have what you’re looking for, but perhaps a snack?”
The nook was the brainchild of Gina and her sister, Denise, when they were small and tagged along to work with their dad and grandfather. They stocked it with goodies purchased with their allowance money and were able to keep the proceeds. As they became older and got jobs, they continued with their snack bar but donated the proceeds to charities. Their customers were clients, neighboring merchants, and delivery persons who purchased chips, cookies, candy, nutritional bars, or drinks like bottled water, juice, and soda.
His lips twitched, almost in irritation. “Not interested. Thank you for your time. I’ll let my grandmother know you’re out of stock.” He turned and left with his cologne trailing him.
When the door closed, Gina stuck out her tongue.
The Jacksons shook their heads, and Mr. Jackson grunted. “What’s a dollar or two to give back and help others? His attitude is part of the problem with young people today.”
Mrs. Jackson tsked.
Gina couldn’t agree more. The man had irresistible looks and a friendly personality but lacked a cheerful giver mentality. If he had a girlfriend, he would probably have her pay whenever they went out.
Having wasted enough time she couldn’t retrieve, Gina waved the Jacksons back to her dad’s office.
The joke was on Landon. How was he supposed to know that many of the angel ornaments and decorations his grandmother owned had been purchased from an accounting company, not a Christmas store?
What a wasted trip. As Landon had walked into the lobby and looked around, he realized nothing resembled a retail store. The interior was a stylish commercial business. A corner nook reminded him of a hotel mini-store where guests could buy toiletries or snacks. Child-inspired handmade signs encouraged people to buy from their little store. There were bags of peanuts, chips, cookies, and other snacks.
He had skipped lunch to drive fifteen minutes from his Clayton office to downtown St. Louis, but it wasn’t worth it, and he was about to leave when the stunning Gina Christmas appeared.
Landon almost forgot his name, feeling like a shy schoolboy instead of a thirty-five-year-old civil engineer. His rush back to the office no longer mattered. He liked being in her company until she mentioned donating. He checked out mentally. There had to be a phobia about giving away money to supposedly help others because Landon had an illness that seemed to suffocate him.
He huffed as he steered his vehicle back to his office. Granny Lonna would be disappointed when he told her the visit had been a bust.
His grandmother’s health was deteriorating due to dreaded dementia. Time was not on her side, nor their family’s. Whatever Granny Lonna wanted, she got, except maybe this time. Landon would look somewhere else. Would she enjoy Christmas this year if she didn’t know who she was?
Stopping at a light, Landon frowned, wondering if his grandmother’s mind was already on the decline because she was adamant that the business sold ornaments year-round.
He called her through his Bluetooth.
“Landon, my favorite grandson,” she answered cheerfully. “Were you able to find the Christmas store?” Worry lined her voice.
Had she already forgotten Landon was her only grandson out of five grandchildren? “No, Granny Lonna. The place was a tax service, and the woman said they would probably have some things come in July or, at the latest, October. It’s just an odd setup. I thought it was a year-round Christmas shop.”
Landon got it; it was a seasonal side hustle. He did spy a large box peeping from behind a sofa marked Every Day is Christmas, stuffed with strings of lights and tree toppers. There was no telling what else was behind the furnishings.
“Well, they have one-of-a-kind pieces, so please check back—regularly,” his grandmother urged. “Like every month. In a couple of weeks sounds even better.”
Granny Lonna wouldn’t take no for an answer. Landon conceded, and the cheerfulness returned to her voice.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“That’s my grandson. Now, pick the most beautiful Black angel for me.”
“Okay.” The two chatted for a few more minutes until Landon heard the doorbell ring, and then, seconds later, Judy Miller’s voice, the nursing aide from the senior living community who came to do her daily health check.
Before ending the call, he asked to speak with Judy to ensure his grandmother’s vitals and appetite were good.
Tugging on the strands of his mustache, Landon thought about how he would spend his lunch. He would grab a sandwich from the café in the building. Then his thoughts switched back to Gina Christmas. At first sight, the woman was gorgeous, and his assessment improved each moment they talked. Landon would have fallen on the floor if he hadn’t been sitting.
She was beautiful and commanding. Friendly, confident, and...dare he say, a gold digger?
What woman asks a stranger for money?
Those in need, God whispered.
He paused his internal tirade. God knew he wasn’t stingy with his money, but Landon liked to follow the trail to see where his money stopped. Had his grandmother known the place was a front for a charity? What kind of charity? To benefit who, with what, and when? Sometimes, people were too generous with their money and failed to ask questions.
How often had he donated to causes and later learned that they didn’t receive the services or money as promised? Landon hadn’t entirely closed the door when he heard her mumble, “Not a cheerful giver. The nerve of that woman. She didn’t know him.
Instead of giving cash, Landon’s charity was volunteering, spending one-on-one time with folks, and seeing what they needed with his own eyes.
My eyes see everything—good and evil, God whispered. I judge the heart, including yours.
Landon prayed that he wouldn’t judge, and it was hard when dishonest people walked among them. He preferred doing.
In fact, he had invited a teenage neighbor who lived with his grandmother to a professional soccer match between opposing teams, St. Louis City SC and D.C. United, at City Park downtown, near the Christmas store next weekend. When Landon learned the boy would rather watch, play, and breathe the game, forsaking his academics, Landon knew he had to do something.
