I'll Be Home for Christmas Page 3

  “I am.” She snagged a cookie off the plate sitting on the black-marble island. The rich butter cookie in the shape of a tiny green Christmas tree melted in her mouth. “These taste just like Mama’s.”

  “I know! Jo-Jo and Bella found Mama’s Christmas cookie cookbook.”

  She popped another cookie into her mouth. “Anyway, I’m still trying to wrap my brain around being back here. It didn’t help, seeing Dan the Developer first thing, but . . . I’ll get over it.”

  “Good to hear,” her sister said with a dash of sarcasm.

  Ignoring Sophie’s grin, Amy turned toward the great room where a huge Virginia pine stood loaded down with familiar ornaments. “Wow. That’s beautiful.”

  “Jed and Jo-Jo did it,” Sophie replied. “When we found out you and Timothy were coming after all, we pulled a few decorations off the tree for you guys to place. Maybe tomorrow night? We could make pizza. Remember how Mama used to do that when we decorated?”

  “Yeah.”

  She didn’t want to remember, but the memories seemed to ooze out of the woodwork around here.

  “Okay. I’ll run to the store in the morning and buy what we’ll need.” Sophie popped a K-cup in the Keurig coffeemaker, hit the button on top, and grabbed a cookie. “After I doctor my coffee with creamer, let’s go sit by the fire and you can tell me what you really thought of Dan.”

  Amy frowned and rolled her eyes. “I’ll go into town with you. I’d like to see if anything’s changed.”

  But she couldn’t ignore Sophie’s comment. She had a good idea that something did happen between her and Dan Wentworth. Something that made her both uncomfortable and . . . elated. Not ready to call those feelings an attraction, Amy instead decided her heightened awareness about Dan Wentworth stemmed from him holding her future in his hands. Or because she held his future in hers. More confusion to add to the pile growing in her head.

  But that awareness wasn’t going to keep her from finding out everything she could about his grand intentions and his big wallet. She was there to work with her sisters on getting this place sold, and then she planned to get on with her life.

  No matter how sweet he’d been in helping her with Timothy.

  Chapter Four

  Dan checked the messages on his phone first thing in the morning.

  Still nothing from the Tucker sisters.

  His dad was pressuring him to finalize the deal on their horse farm. It would be a big feather in his cap, but Dan had mixed feelings regarding the vast property he’d had his eye on for months.

  Part of those mixed feelings now involved Amy Tucker Brosseau. Sophie, who’d been hesitant to sell anyway, had warned him they couldn’t talk business until they heard from Amy. She wanted her older sister there in person for that discussion, good or bad.

  Well, now that sister had arrived… with a big chip on her pretty shoulder. A firecracker in a nice, feminine package.

  He’d hoped she’d be the determining factor in all of this. That she’d greet him with open arms, accept the generous offer he had extended, and convince her sisters to do the same, all in one fell swoop.

  That had not happened yet. But . . . it was early. She needed to settle in and discuss things with everyone. The woman seemed like a prickly pear, colorful but dangerous. Untouchable. But then, she was right to talk to her sisters first. Maybe she’d already convinced them. He needed to quit worrying and put her out of his mind.

  Then why had he thought about her all night?

  Had to be because of the boy.

  Dan had always wanted children, but that hadn’t quite worked out for him. After one failed marriage, he planned on staying on the bachelor list for a long time to come. He’d put having a family out of his mind and focused all of his energy on building Wentworth Properties into a statewide development company. That left little time for any kind of serious relationship, much to his dear mother’s dismay.

  Great, except for the going-home-alone-each-night part. Last night, when he’d watched Amy trying to lift her son out of that car, her expression filled with love and toughness, something inside Dan had flared up and hit him right in his gut. Afraid to analyze what that something might be, he chose to ignore it. He’d been so heavily buried in real estate that maybe coming up for air seemed a lot like an attraction. This keen awareness of her, he’d decided, stemmed only from nerves and the need to win. Nothing more.

  Dan had dated since his nasty divorce, but he didn’t have anyone special in his life. He wouldn’t mind getting to know Amy a little better while she was here though. Like a bad penny, he had to keep showing up or he’d lose this deal. Amy’s fourth of the Tucker land could be his back-up plan. His daddy had taught him to always have a Plan B.

  Sophie had come close to trying to buy the place, and though she had good intentions, she didn’t have the capital to pull that off. Even in bad shape, the place was still a gem. Three-hundred acres of rolling hills and farmland with enough property to build vast estates that included stables and at least ten acres per lot.

  Dan wanted that gem. He could see the curving streets lined with mushrooming live oaks and lush azaleas along the sidewalks, the big farmhouse- and craftsman-style homes with sloping graceful yards, the rolling hills and flowing stream that would make a lovely community park centered among the estates. He could envision all of it because he’d designed it.

  The holidays were coming up and that meant his mom and dad would expect him out at their house for the annual Sunday open house right before Christmas . . . and then again for Christmas dinner. Not that he minded, but he was tired and he longed to go up to the old hunting cabin on the far side of the Wentworth spread north of Lexington, a place where he could rest and hunt or walk along the creek bed.

  “No rest for the weary.” That’s what his daddy always said. No whining allowed in the Wentworth household.

  Dan poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down to return calls and read emails. But a sharp tap-tap on his office door brought his head up.

  “I didn’t see anyone at the desk outside, so I came on in.”

  Amy Tucker Brosseau stood there in jeans and a worn leather jacket, her hair down around her shoulders in a burst of what looked like scattered sunrays.

  Surprised and wary, Dan stood up, his pulse pounding a tad too fast. “Hi. How are you?”

  She stared him down and then took her time looking at the pictures and plaques on his wall. “Wow, you’ve won a lot of awards.”

  Embarrassed, Dan tried to regain his footing. “Yeah, well, the business has won awards. The Chamber of Commerce appreciates that we’ve stayed in Bluegrass Crossing when we could have moved our main offices to Lexington.”

  “Yeah, this building is impressive,” she said, her arms crossed in a definite stance of resistance. “Looks like y’all take up the whole block.”

  He nodded and felt defensive. “We rent out offices in the back to other businesses, too.”

  “Smart.”

  He came around the desk. “Have a seat and tell me why you’re here.”

  “Right down to business,” she said, slipping past him to settle into one of the high-back, red-leather chairs across from his desk. “Honestly, I’m not sure why I’m here. I came into town to pick up some groceries, and . . . I saw the Wentworth name on the building. This used to be a grand antebellum mansion on the local historic registry, and now it’s a real-estate office. Decided I’d like to see the place.”

  “And now that you’re here?”

  Her vivid blue-green eyes reminded him of a deep mountain lake. “Now I understand a lot more about you and why you want our land so much.”

  “What’s to understand?” he said, leaning back against the desk. “I see potential. I buy land. I build on that land. Everybody wins.” He motioned his hand around the room. “I saved this place and got tax credits for doing it. It’s still registered as a historical property.”

  “Not everybody wins though,” she replied. “I’m not su
re what will become of my sisters and me. And even though I want to sell the horse farm, I have to be sure my family will actually benefit.”

  “But you’re the one who’s ready to get this over with, according to your sisters.”

  “I am ready. I was ready the day I left Kentucky.”

  Dan hated to be blunt, but she seemed the type who could take it. “It seems to me that you and your sisters kind of gave up on the old homestead.”

  “We didn’t give up,” she retorted, her eyes fire-tipped with anger. She crossed one leg over the other and started swinging a booted foot back and forth, a sure sign that the woman wasn’t happy. “We had to let go. Big difference.”

  He tried again. “And now you’re all back. You might think you’re home to end things, but . . . it could be a new beginning.”

  “I don’t see it like that,” she said. “I really came here today to talk to you alone. I’ve heard it all second hand, and I like to hear things straight from—”

  “The horse’s mouth,” he finished with a grin.

  She tossed some of that waterfall hair. “Or maybe in this case, the mule’s mouth.”

  Dan shrugged off the insult. He liked the fire in her eyes, even if it scared him. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything,” she said. “I have a little while since Timothy is following Jed around this morning.”

  “Are you hungry?” Dan asked, suddenly starving—suddenly nervous.

  “I might be,” she said. “I nibbled something at breakfast, but I could eat again.”

  “We have a good café in the back of the building. Used to be the kitchen and formal dining room. Now it’s the Bluegrass Bistro.”

  “Do they have coffee?”

  “Yes. The best, in my opinion.”

  “Let’s go.”

  He lifted away from the desk. “Let me clear up a few things and alert my wayward secretary, and we can be on our way.”

  She stood and tugged at her jacket. “I’ll wait out in the reception area.”

  Dan watched her walk out, his heart doing funny little flutters. It wasn’t every day a pretty woman waltzed into his office demanding a full explanation regarding his intentions.

  He couldn’t stop smiling, but he had to proceed cautiously. She might look like a delicate flower, but Dan saw steel in those eyes. She’d sell . . . but she’d demand every penny she could wring out of him.

  He’d have to do some convincing over breakfast. He said a quick prayer, asking God for guidance. He’d need some divine help with this one.

  Amy didn’t know what had come over her. One minute she was headed to the grocery store, and the next she’d turned her old jalopy into the parking lot of Wentworth Properties.

  The big three-story brick building with the white columns and long tiled front porch had caught her attention since it had been rezoned from private to commercial and was now a business—with the Wentworth name on the sign in front of it. Then she’d decided she wanted to question Dan Wentworth on her own and get a feel for the man without her overbearing sisters adding their opinions, observations, and comments.

  Now she sat in this cute little bistro lined with pictures of Kentucky Derby winners. Along with those interesting photos, colorful local artwork hung on the walls, available for sale.

  Sitting with a man who both mystified and confused her, Amy fought back the urge to get up and leave. Dan was nice. No doubt about that. And a gentleman. Anyone could see that. But this was a bad idea. Something about him set her on edge and made her doubt all the bad things she’d tried to forget about her own home. Maybe because he’d obviously grown up in an upscale, high-end world where people like her didn’t belong. Maybe he just brought out all of her insecurities.

  “Here you go,” the waitress said with a perky smile. “Here’s your biscuits and gravy, Mr. Wentworth. And a waffle and fruit for your friend.”

  “Thanks, Candy,” Dan said, his smile making the young woman blush. “We’ll take it from here.”

  Code for “Don’t bother us anymore unless I raise my hand.”

  The girl nodded and trotted off to her next table.

  “That’s a mighty small waffle,” he said, his tiger-like eyes glancing at her plate. “You need some bacon and eggs with that.”

  “I waitress at a diner almost every day,” she replied. “I see plenty of bacon and eggs, and I usually smell like bacon and eggs. I like waffles and fruit. But you go right ahead and clog your arteries with that gravy. Which looks wonderful by the way.”

  “Made from scratch by Miss Berta Barton. She’s been cooking here for thirty years. She was the cook for the former owners who were descendants of the original owners. She kind of came with the property.”

  When a gray-haired woman with a jolly laugh peeked out from the swinging door, he waved to the little sprite. “Hey, Miss Berta.”

  “Hey, Dan!” The woman’s silvery-blue eyes ignited. “Eat up now!” The woman grinned at Amy and then went back into the kitchen.

  “Thirty years. That’s a lot of biscuits,” Amy replied between bites, impressed that he seemed to love historical buildings and dedicated cooks. “This waffle is amazing.”

  “Never had a bad thing here.” His smile radiated a quiet confidence. “Our employees are friendly and loyal.”

  She could see that in the way everyone had greeted him when they’d walked in. “You seem to respect them in return.”

  “I do. I value them and appreciate their hard work. Good, churchgoing people.”

  Was he trying to pander to her, or was that sincerity in his words? She’d go with sincerity for now. “So . . . why do you want to buy our farm?”

  His eyes turned a burnished gold. “I want to build homes there. Estate homes with acreage and stables.”

  He went on to describe the master plan involving stately homes with enough property to house horses and allow a family to thrive in a country setting near the big city. It sounded amazing and beautiful and exclusive.

  “It’ll be a nice subdivision,” he said.

  “For all those daddy’s girls out there who want a pony or two?”

  “Maybe. Is there something wrong with a father wanting the best for his children?”

  Amy got that sinking feeling she’d tried so hard to keep at bay. “Sometimes a father only wants what’s best for himself and his career.”

  “Your father,” he remarked. “Bad memories.”

  She put down her coffee cup, and Candy materialized to give her a refill. “I have some good memories,” she admitted. “But a lot more bad ones.” She shook her head. “They both died too young, but Tuck passed away on the land he claimed to love, even though he was never really home enough to work that land, to train the horses, to talk to the hands, or to help raise his four daughters.”

  “I’m sorry.” Dan leaned in. “But he left you his legacy. Surely that counts for something.”

  Her head came up at that statement, anger sparking in her heart. “He left us a rundown horse farm.”

  “Do you really want to sell the place?”

  His quiet question held her there, suspended between then and now. “Yes,” she finally said. Then she stood up. “I have to go. I don’t even know why I came here.”

  “I’ll walk you out.” Dan threw some money on the table and followed her toward the door.

  “I can find the way to my car.”

  He kept walking with her, even when she nearly ran. When she reached her car, he touched a hand to her arm. “Amy, you’re bound to have mixed emotions about this, but selling the property is a sound decision. You can all benefit from the profits and let go of the past. It’ll give you a solid foundation for Timothy.”

  She knew all of that, yet it sounded so cliché and practiced. And invasive. “Do you tell all of your potential sellers that?”

  “No,” he said, his eyes centered on her. “I don’t pressure people. I see the big picture, but sometimes it’s not about the big picture. It’s more about a
ll the little things that make up a life, a home, a family. It’s like a puzzle that’s missing some of its pieces.”

  She nodded. “That’s how my heart feels right now. As if some of the pieces are missing. And honestly, now that I’m here, I’m not so sure what I should do.”

  “I’ll help you figure it out,” Dan said, “if you’ll let me.”

  She didn’t respond, but she did look him in the eye with a stormy directness that belied the rattling of her heart. “Thank you for breakfast. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon enough.”

  But she hoped not too soon. She needed some time to absorb the push and pull of being around a man who might change her life forever. She needed some time to pray and get her soul aligned with what her head told her.

  Chapter Five

  What took you so long?”

  Amy whirled from the refrigerator to find Bella staring at her from the kitchen door, her brown hair caught up in a ponytail. “I drove around, checking things out,” she said. Then because she felt guilty for not being truthful, she added, “And I stopped by the Wentworth building.”

  “Oh,” Bella said, advancing into the room with enough curiosity to help her put away the cheese, pepperoni, and vegetables she’d bought for their pizza-making event. “And what did you think of the Wentworth building?”

  Amy didn’t want to talk about her feelings. “It’s lovely.”

  Bella’s eyes brightened. “And did you talk to any of the Wentworths who work in that building?”

  “Yes, I did,” Amy finally blurted. “I talked to Dan. We got off to a bad start last night, so I wanted him to explain his grand plan for turning this place into something worthwhile.”

  “I think it’s worthwhile the way it is,” Bella replied, a daring lilt in her words. “I didn’t like Dan when I first met him.”

  Amy put away the milk, eggs, and butter she planned to use to make some cupcakes. “I’m getting that none of you liked him at first. What changed?”

  “Our attitudes,” Bella said. “He’s a good man who’s a successful businessman, but he’s not pushy. And until we sign on the dotted line, he can hang around all he wants. But we can’t put this off much longer. We all have lives to get back to—or not—and decisions to make.”