A Christmas Homecoming (12 page)

Chapter Eight

Bailey startled awake and checked her alarm clock. Eight o’clock. “Yikes.” She kicked off the sheets and darted for her closet.

Ding dong!

“I’m coming.” She grabbed her cuddly, blue bathrobe and charged down the stairs, missing the bottom step again and landing on all fours. “Oomph.”
Smart,
Bailey
. Too bad Stephen wasn’t here to catch her this time. She scampered to the door and yanked it open. “I’m so sorry. I hope you weren’t waiting long.” A man wearing a Santa hat and a teen boy each held one end of the Noble Fir she’d chosen at the lot.

“Only a couple of minutes. We were about ready to give up though,” the guy wearing the Santa hat said. “Do you have the tree stand set up and in place?”

“Umm . . .” She glanced toward the great room where the tree would go and spotted the stand. “Looks like it.” Stephen must have set it up last night when he was getting the movie ready.

“Morning!” Stephen, fresh-faced and all smiles strode onto the porch. He raised a brow at Bailey and grinned. “Rough night?”

Bailey’s face heated. “I stayed up late baking and forgot to set my alarm. Since you’re here, I’ll let you take over.” She spun around and darted up the stairs.

It seemed the man was destined to see her at her worst. Last night during her pity party, and now all rumpled—not that it really mattered. A handsome man like Stephen probably thought of her more like a sister than a woman he could have feelings for. She pulled jeans and a red, long sleeve Henley top from her closet then fingered her hair into a ponytail to keep it out of her way. She’d change into church clothes later that would be comfortable enough for Christmas shopping with her friends after church.

After slipping on her glasses, she crept down the stairs. Maybe Stephen wouldn’t notice her, and she could make a pot of coffee and clear the cobwebs from her head.

Silence filled the house. Had he gone back to his cabin already? Disappointment hit her—silly. But she had to admit she enjoyed his company. She hadn’t expected him to come over this morning, so maybe he’d only stopped by to make sure the tree had been delivered. It stood tall in the great room, and a crackling fire burned in the fireplace.

Soft Christmas music along with the scent of coffee floated toward her from the kitchen. “Hello? Stephen, are you here?” She walked into the large space and stopped. Stephen had coffee brewing, and he stood at the stove with a slab of bacon in hand poised over the pan.

He looked her way. “I hope you like bacon and eggs.”

“I love bacon, but you don’t need to cook for me.”

“I overslept too and didn’t have time to eat. It’s as easy to cook for two as one. I forgot to mention, I called off the companion search for my mom. At least for now.”

“Understandable.” But what would she do once Mona came home? His mother would need care that she wouldn’t know how to give. She’d have to trust that Stephen and his brothers would plan accordingly.

“I’ll have this cooked in no time. There’s coffee if you want a cup.”

“Thanks, but I’ll wait. I think I’ll take the boxes into the great room while you finish.”

“Oh no, you don’t. I want a hand in decorating the tree from beginning to end.”

“Suit yourself.” She poured herself a mug of coffee, added hazelnut creamer and sat at the bar. “Why do you want to help so much?” Her dad had never enjoyed the task, so she assumed most men didn’t.

“I’ve always loved Christmas, and I used to help my mom and brothers decorate the tree when we were kids. I know it’s not the same, but I want to do this for her.”

Talk about a nice guy. She didn’t know men like him existed—at least she hadn’t met one with such a tender heart. She was drawn to Stephen like a butterfly to flowers.

He slid a plate piled with bacon, eggs, and toast her direction. “Eat up.”

She breathed in deeply. “This smells so good. I wish I could wake up to this every day.” She snapped her mouth shut, suddenly realizing how forward she sounded.

He winked. “
Bon appétit.”

After eating, they headed for the basement where the boxes were stored and made quick work of carrying several plastic ornament storage boxes into the great room.

“Where do we start?” He looked like a lost boy in the clothing department.

“Lights.” She pried the lid off a box.

He groaned. “Not my favorite part.”

“Mine either, but it’s the most important step in decorating a tree.” An hour later, white light lit the tree. She stood back and grinned. “Perfect.”

“Not bad if I do say so myself. Now we can do what
I
consider the best part. Ornaments!” Without waiting for instructions, he pulled open the ornament box closest to him with the excitement of a kid ripping into a present.

“Hold on. Your mom has a special way of doing this.”

“No she doesn’t. We put the ornaments wherever we want.” He reached for a Star Wars Jedi ornament.

She shook her head. “Not anymore. She likes only bulbs, and only the oversized ones.”

The grin slid off his face. “But what about these? My dad had the whole collection.”

She shook her head. “Sorry. Only bulbs.”

His crestfallen face tugged at her heart. Would it really hurt to have a few contraband ornaments? “Oh fine. Add them, but keep them on the backside. Maybe she won’t notice.”

His face lit, then his mouth pulled down in a frown. “Are you sure? I don’t want to disappoint my mom.”

“I think hanging them on the side she won’t see will be fine.” At least she hoped Mona wouldn’t walk around the tree and give it her usual inspection. “We need Christmas tunes in here.” She clicked on the radio and sang along softly to
Silent Night
, a true classic.

“You have a nice voice.”

Her gaze darted across the room, where he happily unpacked a mishmash of ornaments. “Thanks.” Her mom had always told her she had a nice singing voice, but she’d never believed her. After all, Mom said she was beautiful too, and that wasn’t true. Funny, how moms could see what few others did. She shrugged off the thought and pulled out a hand-blown glass bulb Mona had purchased at a gallery last year. It truly was a work of art with waves of varying shades of red.

“That’s nice.” Stephen now stood only a foot away, a look of awe on his face. “I can see my mother’s tastes have elevated since I last helped decorate.”

She chuckled. “If those character ornaments are any indication, I’d say you’re right.”

“Hey don’t knock ’em,” he said, playfully. “How about you? What do you hang on your tree?”

She continued to pull large glass bulbs from an ornament bin that kept each one separate and safe and handed one to Stephen. “I don’t have a huge collection of ornaments like your mom, so several years ago, I went to the craft store and bought a bunch of different shaped and sized white ones. They are so pretty. Some have glitter, some are frosted, and some are clear. My favorite is a white on white angel bulb.”

“Hmm. Your tree is completely white?” He asked the question as if she’d broken some cardinal rule of tree decorating.

“The tree is green. At least it would be if I’d put one up.”

The questioning look in his eyes gave her pause.

“Since I’m here this year, there is no need to put up my own tree.”

“Ah. So what do you do for fun? It seems you’re always working.”

“Other than play in the snow, watch movies, shop, and hang out with friends, I don’t know. How about you?” She laughed and tossed a wad of crumpled newspaper at him that bounced off his shoulder.

His eyes widened. “Really? I don’t think you want to go there. The last time we had a paper fight in this house . . . let’s just say things did not end well.”

Bailey sobered. “Sorry. My inner-child sometimes gets the best of me.” She’d begun to think of him as a friend, but she’d crossed a line.

He grasped the wadded paper and flung it back at her. A soft chuckle escaped his lips when it bounced off her forehead. “I was only messing with you. But I need to head out now. Can you finish this up yourself?”

She stood, relieved. “You had me going there, Stephen. I thought for sure I’d made you angry or something. Thanks for the help.”

“Thank
you
for allowing me to assist.”

“As if I could stop you.” She rolled her eyes.

He grinned. “You mentioned baking last night.”

“Yes. I baked cookies. There’s a plate covered in tinfoil on the counter for you.”

He gave her a lopsided grin and a wave. “I’ll grab it on my way out.”

One look at the clock had Bailey rushing to her room. She needed to get ready for church. Although she hadn’t planned to decorate this morning, she’d enjoyed Stephen’s company. He was a difficult man to read, but he actually seemed to enjoy spending time with her. Her heart pattered a bit faster at the thought. Would he ever be able to see her for the person she was, or would he only see her as his mother’s dowdy assistant?

After going home to change and grab his Bible, Stephen headed into Bend. He gripped the steering wheel so tight his hands hurt. What was going on with him? He wasn’t himself. That much was clear.

And he really needed to stay away from Bailey so he could think straight. For whatever reason, she messed with his head—not her fault though. He didn’t expect to be attracted to anyone, much less his mother’s assistant, but he was drawn to the reserved woman. He pulled into a church parking lot. He’d never been here before but had heard good things from Bailey’s client, Mrs. Gladstone.

His family had built this building, although he hadn’t been involved with it since he’d been in France at the time. He recognized Rick’s trademark craftsmanship. His brother had a gift with wood.

He pulled the door open and stepped into the space, immediately feeling at home. Earth-toned walls framed tile floors. His mother’s touch was apparent, from the reclaimed wood feature wall to the lighting. Talk about being wired to notice details. He blocked out the design features and strolled into the sanctuary where worship music streamed through the speakers. A seat near the back appealed, and he sat.

A short time later, he noticed Bailey rush in wearing black slacks and a purple jacket. She slipped into a row a section over and focused on the screen above the stage. He stood with everyone else and joined in the worship, doing his best to block Bailey from his mind. He knew few of the songs since he’d been out of the country and many were new, but he enjoyed worshiping nonetheless.

His mind strayed to all that was going on with his family as the pastor dove into the book of Mark and spoke on giving thanks—fitting. Thankfulness didn’t flow from him. Frankly he was uptight. Concerned with the changes he saw in his mother, afraid she was dying, irritated that he didn’t quite fit into the family business anymore even if Rick said he could have his old position back, frustrated that everything had changed, and to top everything else off, Bailey’s secret admirer was annoying him too.

Then again, the attention seemed to be good for her self-esteem, so he shouldn’t be so bothered. But he was. He had no claim on her, but he had come to care about her almost as soon as they’d met, and he didn’t want some mystery dude breaking her heart.

What was it that made Bailey doubt herself? She’d shined that first day he’d helped her redecorate Mrs. Gladstone’s house, but he’d noticed her insecurity from time to time. Especially when she was with his mother. Did Mom intimidate her? And what had Bailey so upset last night when he saw her through the glass door in the kitchen? She’d tried to hide it, but he’d seen her red-rimmed eyes. His heart went out to her, but he didn’t know what he could do other than be her friend. It would be a fine line to balance between being her friend and her boss.

Chapter Nine

Sunday afternoon Bailey scooted out of her car and waved to Nicole and Sarah, waiting beside Nicole’s Mini Cooper. Bailey’s boots sank into the inch or so of fresh snow that covered the sidewalks. Good thing she’d worn sensible footwear today. The drive here had been uneventful, and best of all, she hadn’t spotted the silver car. Maybe it had been a coincidence after all. She grinned and took in the quaint western-themed town. She’d never done her Christmas shopping in Sisters, Oregon, but she had high hopes of finding the perfect gift for each of the people on her list.