The Christmas Piano Tree: What's Christmas without a tree? (A Kissing Creek novel Book 1) (6 page)

Then he’d be gone in a
pouf.

“Okay. I’ll give your baked goods a try,” Mr. Grover agreed after thinking it over. The sour look on Rachel’s face sealed the deal, holding her nose and shaking her head. “And they’d better be good.”

She smiled. “They will be. The best you’ve ever eaten.” Anything would be an improvement over his stale doughnuts, but she’d never tell
him
that.

Kristen picked up her little girl to keep her from putting her sticky fingers in the glass candy jar while Mr. Grover rang up the sprinkles on the old cash register, making the bells ring and delighting Rachel.

“Mommy, listen, it’s a Christmas angel,” she said, clapping her hands.

“
Our
angel, Rachel,” Kristen said, saying a silent
thank you
prayer to Aunt Gertrude, and then smiling at Mr. Grover. He didn’t notice the child’s delight. He was paying more attention to the five dollar bill she’d given him.

He held the paper bill up to the light. “Are you sure this is
real?”

“Yes. It might be old, but it’s good.”

“Where did you get it? In a time capsule?”

Before she could answer him, Jared came up behind her and set a half-gallon of milk on the counter. “Here’s the milk, Kristen. Last one in the cooler.”

“Who’s
he?
” Mr. Grover asked, suspicious.

“An Army buddy of Scott’s,” she said without missing a beat.
My
, how easily the lie tripped off her tongue. Even
she
was beginning to believe it. She didn’t dare look at the sergeant to see his reaction. Seemed she had nothing to worry about.

“Sgt. Milano, sir,” said Jared, extending his hand. His voice was friendly, respectful.

Immediately the store clerk’s attitude changed. “My boy was over in Iraq,” he said, puffing out his chest as he shook the sergeant’s hand. “We’re mighty proud of you fellows.”

Jared nodded. “Thank you, sir. Just doing my duty.”

He picked up the paper bag with the milk and sprinkles while Mr. Grover gave Kristen her change. Still shaking his head, the clerk started humming a tune as he put the old five dollar bill into the till. Kristen just shook her head. Amazing how the sergeant had a knack for charming everyone he met in Kissing Creek. Including her.

On an impulse, Kristen put her arm through the sergeant’s as they left the general store with Rachel in tow. She could feel his muscles harden under her fingers. She sighed heavily. She hadn’t meant to start anything, but she just did. And she didn’t regret it.

“I’ve never seen Mr. Grover act like that before,” she said, still surprised. “He’s usually as sour as his pickles.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” said Jared, flashing her a smile that lit up his hazel green eyes like holiday lights. “A lot can happen tonight.”

“You’re right about that.” Kristen looked up at the tall sergeant with wonder. Tall, handsome, and oh so magical. She had the feeling he might be Santa Claus after all.

* * * * *

“I’ve been waiting for you, Mrs. Delaney,” said Phineas Carey, standing next to his silver Mercedes parked in front of her cottage. He didn’t look like a typical banker. Conservative was not his middle name. He wore fancy loafers with tassels even in the snow, a long double-breasted overcoat with a fancy, white silk scarf tied in an elegant knot, and what had to be a gold Rolex on his wrist. He kept tapping on the glass with his black-gloved finger to remind her she was on
his
time.

Kristen winced. He was totally out of place among the tall pine trees surrounding the old cottage sitting by itself at the end of the road. Inviting and homey. But even Mr. Carey couldn’t stop the snow from coming down like soft lace, layering everything with a pretty design.

Whatever the reason he was here, it couldn’t be a good one. Especially after someone robbed his bank. He had that
bah
,
humbug
look in his eye that sent chills through her. It wouldn’t do any good to show fear, though stalling him sounded like a good plan until she could get him off to the side alone to plead her case. She put on a bright smile, and then wiped the snowflakes off her nose as she slammed the door on her SUV. “Looks like we’ll have a white Christmas, Mr. Carey.”

“
Green
is my favorite color, Mrs. Delaney,” he said, scowling.

Green is also the color of the Grinch
, she wanted to add, but didn’t. She didn’t need to antagonize him further.

“What brings out here this far from town?” she asked casually.

“I’m here to collect your back mortgage payments.”

Kristen’s stomach flip flopped. Could he be any more direct? Before she could say anything, Jared got out of the passenger side, the look on his face questioning. “What’s going on here, Kristen?”

“Who the hell is he?” Mr. Carey sputtered, taken aback by the big man with the no-nonsense look in his eyes. Was it her imagination or did he lose his cool for a moment?

“I’m a friend of Scott’s,” the sergeant answered before Kristen could say a word. God bless him. “We served on the front lines together in Afghanistan.”

Minute by minute she was getting in deeper with her lie, but Kristen was grateful Jared picked up the story for her. Made it easier somehow. As if it
was
true.

“I’ll have your money as soon as I get another job, Mr. Carey,” she said, and then explained how she’d been laid off.   Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jared give her a surprised look that turned to anger. Disbelief, then anguish. She knew his concern for her couldn’t be personal, but the look on his face had her wondering. No, she’d imagined it. He was upset because she was a soldier’s wife and military families looked out for each other.

“Why are you no longer employed at the school?” the banker wanted to know, curious.

“It’s just for the holiday season,” she lied, something that was getting easier for her. That didn’t make it right, though. She didn’t dare give him the real explanation. “I’m starting my own business, selling my baked goods at the general store.

“I can’t wait,” he said firmly. “I want my money now,”

“I understand, Mr. Carey, but I need more time,” Kristen begged. “
Please
. My Aunt Gertrude always made her payments early each month in cash—”

Kristen stopped. Why did she feel like she had to explain
anything
to this man? He knew her aunt received her husband’s pension check every month, cashed it, and then paid her bills. What
she
hadn’t known until she returned to Kissing Creek was that Aunt Gertrude had refinanced the cottage.

Mr. Carey snubbed her with a wave of his hand. “I understand you’ve got troubles, Mrs. Delaney, but business is business. I can’t let folks not pay their mortgage because they’re dead.” He handed her a piece of paper. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t pay up. This is for you, made out all legal and proper-like.”

With her heart racing, Kristen scanned the paper. It was worse than she could have ever imagined. Downright soul-crushing. It was a demand letter based on the
due-on-sale
clause in her aunt’s refinancing contract. A pitfall the woman probably didn’t see or was conned into signing without fully understanding what it meant.

She read the paper again and again, hoping it wasn’t,
couldn’t
be true. But it was. The Carey Bank was calling the mortgage due because the property had been transferred to her and she hadn’t kept up the payments. Kristen didn’t meet the exemption requirements because she wasn’t real kin.

She crumpled up the letter. Closed her eyes for a moment and prayed for strength. She couldn’t take another setback. Not now. But she couldn’t give up. She had to make her case, for Rachel’s sake.

“Mr. Carey, I assure you, I’ll make the payments as soon as I can,” she began, biting back what she really wanted to say to him. That he could take his mortgage and shove it. Instead, she finished with: “I know I can make money with my cookies and cakes. If you’ll just give me a chance—”

“I can’t deposit chocolate chip cookies in the vault,” the banker said, his voice hard and cold. “I want cash and this is the only way I can get it, all signed and legal.”

“Mr. Carey, please—”

“No.”

“I’d listen to the lady if I were you,” Jared said, taking long strides toward the man, forcing him to jump back like a frightened squirrel. He’d been silent up to now, listening, taking it all in before making a move. Kristen had the feeling he was just itching to put the banker in his place.

“Tell this man to back off or I’ll call Sheriff Hogan,” Mr. Carey threatened, his fingers ready to dial the number on his cell phone.

Kristen panicked. “Better do as he says, Jared.” She shot him a look that said he didn’t need any trouble with the sheriff.

But the sergeant stood his ground, contemplating his next move, when—

“Mommy, I’m cold,” said Rachel, reaching for her hand. Kristen looked down, surprised. No one had noticed the little girl tumbling out of the back of the SUV and listening to their every word. This wasn’t the first time she’d wiggled out of her seat belt and taken off without her. Kristen had spent twenty minutes looking for her last week in the discount store until she found her hiding in the toy department.

“How many times have I told you, Rachel, not to go wandering on your own,” Kristen said, picking her up. She looked upward, thanking God for sending Rachel at just the right moment.

The sergeant, however, was not backing down. Although she admired him for it, it also scared the hell out of her.

“Why don’t we go inside and talk this over,
man to man
,” Jared said to the banker, an obvious threat in his voice not to give him any funny business.

“The sheriff told me about you,” said Mr. Carey, wiping the sweat off his face in spite of the cold. “I’d be careful what I say, soldier, unless you’d like to spend your Christmas in a cold cell.”

“It’s
sergeant
,” said Jared, squaring his jaw. “And I don’t take kindly to you talking like that to my best friend’s widow.”

Kristen was taken aback.
His best friend
? Wasn’t that carrying the story too far? Scott lost a buddy awhile back, but when he was assigned to a new battalion he never wanted to talk about the men he served with, telling her it was better not to get too close.

Speaking of too close, she had to separate the sergeant from the banker to diffuse a situation becoming hotter by the minute.

Easy.

She handed Rachel to Jared. By the sharp look in his eye, he wasn’t fooled by her tactic, but he could see the little girl was tired and faltering from the tension swirling in the air around them. She cradled her head into his shoulder and closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh. Poor baby, Kristen thought, pulling wisps of hair away from her face. She was all worn out.

To make matters worse, the snow was really coming down now, landing on her cheeks, her nose. Another storm was coming with big, dark clouds moving in. Lightning struck in the sky, followed by thunder. They had to take shelter. Still, Kristen decided it was worth a try to appease the banker before he got back into his nice, warm Mercedes and drove away. 

“Why don’t you come inside and take a look at my aunt’s old piano, Mr. Carey?” she said, opening the front door to entice him. She hated the idea of selling the piano, but no one ever played it. The elderly lady insisted it stay just as it was the last time her husband sat down and ran his fingers over the keyboard and then slumped over, dead from a heart attack.

Kristen walked inside and swept her fingers over the piano. Not a speck of dust. She had to smile. Aunt Gertrude wasn’t much of a housekeeper except when it came to that piano, insisting no one touch it but her, dusting and polishing it every day and putting clean doilies on the top lid.

She’d kept it up out of respect for her aunt.

“What would I want with an old piano?” Mr. Carey snarled.

“It’s made from real wood, not pressed. It must be worth several hundred dollars.” Her gracious smile induced him to step inside, if only to get warm. “You could sell it on EBay for the back payments.”

“That piece of crap?” He plunked down his finger on a yellowed key. It sounded so bad Kristen’s ears hurt. The banker laughed. “It’s no use to me. Burn it for firewood.” He pointed his index finger at her, his body shaking with anger. “I’m warning you, Mrs. Delaney. I want my money or out you go.
Tomorrow
.”

Kristen clasped her hands over her chest. He
was
kidding, wasn’t he?

“On Christmas?” she asked. “Where’s your holiday spirit?

With a loud
bang
on the piano keys, Mr. Carey said. “I’m not kicking you out today, am I?”

The shock of his words sent Kristen into a downward spiral, one she never thought she’d come out of. Dizziness swirled in her head. Bile rose in her throat. She held her stomach, unable to stop that sick feeling from consuming her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. What an awful man. She understood that he was in a bad mood because of the robbery, but surely the bank had insurance.