The Unexpected Gift

Morgan took only enough time to run a comb through her hair and touch up her makeup before rejoining Grant in the living room. He stood when she entered, then reached for her coat and held it as she slid her arms inside.

“Thanks,” she murmured, turning to face him as she buttoned it. “I’ll just follow you there.”

“It might be better if I drove you. These back roads can be tricky.”

She smiled, but she wanted to be able to leave at the time of her choosing without disrupting the party for anyone else. When she spoke, her voice was firm. “I found that out last night, after I drove in circles for an hour. But I’ve already been to town today and I have a better sense of direction now. Thank you for offering, though.”

Given the determined tilt of her chin and the uncompromising expression in her eyes, it was clear that her mind was made up. So Grant didn’t push. “Okay. Let’s head out.”

He took her arm as they made their way across the slippery drive, his grip tightening when she lost her footing on a patch of ice.

When he glanced at her boots, she gave him a wry smile. “Don’t even say it. These were bought for the streets of Boston, not the wilds of Maine. And, as I discovered last night, the two do not mix. I’ll be better prepared on my next trip.”

“Well, be careful in the meantime. Falling on ice can have nasty, long-term results. I have a bad knee to prove it.”

Once in her car, Morgan took her time maneuvering out of Aunt Jo’s driveway and then turned onto the main road, keeping Grant’s truck in sight. He headed back toward Seaside and into the town, turning down a side street not too far from the church she’d attended that morning. When he pulled into the drive of a small, colonial-style house with dark green shutters, she eased in behind him. Even before she’d set her brake and gathered up her purse, he was opening her door.

“Looks like Bill cleared off the walk pretty well, but take my arm just in case there are any hidden patches of ice,” Grant said as Morgan stepped out.

She did as he asked, and as they made their way toward the front door she turned to him. “Did you say there would be eight people here today?”

“That’s right. Kit, her husband, Bill, and their twin daughters, Nancy and Nicki, who are fifteen. My dad and uncle will be here, too, and us. So it’s a small group.”

“Is that the whole family?”

A shaft of pain darted across his eyes, so fleeting that Morgan wondered if she might have imagined it. “Pretty much,” he replied.

So he had no family of his own, Morgan concluded. She hadn’t noticed a wedding band on his hand, but that didn’t always mean anything. Not all men wore rings. And it didn’t matter, anyway. She had no interest in him in that way. It was clear they led very different lives and had very different philosophies. But many women would find an attractive, eligible man like Grant appealing. So why was he single?

Morgan’s musings were cut short when Grant pressed the bell at the front door and it was opened seconds later by a man with dark hair touched with silver at the temples. It was the same man who had conducted the services that morning at church, she realized in surprise. From the pulpit, he’d struck her as a kind person. Up close, her impression was verified. The fine lines on his face spoke of compassion and caring, and his hazel eyes radiated warmth and welcome.

“Hi, Bill,” Grant greeted him. “This is Morgan Williams. Morgan, my brother-in-law, Bill Adams.”

The man held out his hand. “Welcome, Morgan.”

She returned his handshake. “Thank you. I enjoyed your sermon this morning, Reverend.”

“Just make it Bill. We don’t stand on formalities around here. But I appreciate the kind words. Come in, both of you, before you freeze out there.”

Grant ushered Morgan inside, and a petite, raven-haired woman with lively brown eyes and a warm smile hurried down the hall from the back of the house. “You must be Morgan,” she said, holding out both hands. “I’m Kit. Welcome. I’m glad we persuaded you to join us today. Serenity Point is wonderful, but holidays are meant to be spent with other people.”

Two older gentlemen joined them from the adjacent living room. They both shared Grant’s vivid blue eyes, but there the resemblance faded. One of the men was tall and spare, though not quite as tall as Grant. He had thinning gray hair and a work-worn face with kind eyes. The other man was a couple of inches shorter and a bit heavier, with a thick head of silver hair and ruddy cheeks.

Grant drew Morgan toward them, a hand in the small of her back. “Morgan, this is my father, Andrew, and my uncle, Pete.”

They reached for her hand in turn.

“Welcome,” Grant’s father said.

“Thank you, Mr. Kincaid.”

“Just make it Andrew and Pete,” he told her. “Otherwise, this place will be drowning in Mr. Kincaids. And I’d like to offer my condolences on the loss of your aunt. Jo was a fine lady. We were all real sorry to hear of her passing.”

“Thank you.”

“Where are the twins?” Grant asked.

“Upstairs, trying on their new clothes. Speaking of clothes, let us take your coats.”

Bill reached for Morgan’s coat as she slipped it off her shoulders, while Grant shrugged out of his and handed it to Kit. She reached up to give him a hug, and Morgan couldn’t help overhearing their brief, muted conversation.

“Did you stop in to see Christine?” Kit asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you give her our love?”

“Of course.”

Morgan glanced toward them just in time to see Kit lay her hand on Grant’s shoulder while the brother and sister exchanged a look that Morgan couldn’t even begin to fathom. All she knew was that she felt as if she’d witnessed some very personal exchange. Feeling like an eavesdropper, she turned away and made an innocuous comment to Andrew about the weather.

When they moved into the living room, Grant excused himself so he could change into more casual clothing. And as Morgan’s gaze followed his retreating form, lingering on his broad shoulders, she couldn’t help wondering: who was Christine?

“Okay, Bill, I think we’re ready.”

As Kit reached for her husband’s hand, the other seven people around the table followed her example. Morgan found her hand taken on one side by Andrew, whose fingers were lean and sinewy, and on the other side by Grant, whose grip was firm, yet gentle—a combination she found very appealing.

Bill bowed his head. “Lord, we thank You for the gifts of family, friendship and food we enjoy this Christmas Day. We appreciate the many blessings You give us today, and every day. As we reflect on Your humble birth and Your great example of selfless love, let us come to know and live Your message every day of our lives so that others may see, and believe. We ask You to bless all those who are alone and lonely on this day, and to let them feel Your presence in a special way. And finally, we ask You to bless those who can’t be with us today in body, but who are always in our hearts. Amen.”

Grant released her hand, and Morgan found herself missing the comfort of his warm clasp. Which was odd, considering she’d just met the man. But she didn’t have time to dwell on her disconcerting reaction, because the conversation was boisterous and non-stop throughout the meal, filled with laughter and good-natured teasing. The bubbly twins, who had inherited their mother’s raven hair and bright, animated eyes, added to the liveliness, and Morgan found herself relaxing. She even forgot about work—until her pager began to vibrate.

She reached for it and gave the message a discreet look, noting that it was from Clark. One of her clients had come up with some brilliant idea for a new ad campaign, which in his opinion couldn’t wait until tomorrow. He expected Morgan to return his call today.

Placing her napkin on the table, she rose. “I’m sorry, will you excuse me for a moment? I need to return a page.”

The table fell silent, and Kit looked at her in alarm. “Is there an emergency?”

“Only in the eyes of my client.”

“You mean someone wants you to return a business call today?” Kit asked in shock.

Morgan glanced around the table. Everyone looked dumbfounded—except Grant, who didn’t appear at all surprised, just disapproving. Morgan felt a flush creep across her cheeks. These sorts of interruptions, day or night, holiday or weekend, were so much a part of her life that she took them for granted. But it was clear that this family considered it appalling that anyone would bother her on Christmas Day.

“Yes,” she replied to Kit. “It’s pretty much expected in the ad business that you’ll be available twenty-four-seven. I’m sorry to disrupt the meal. Please go ahead. I’ll be right back.”

In fact, by the time Morgan dealt with her demanding client and returned to the table, almost everyone had finished eating. As she slid into her place, Kit rose.

“I put your plate in the oven, Morgan. Let me get it for you,” she said.