I'll Be Home for Christmas and One Golden Christmas: I'll Be Home For Christmas / One Golden Christmas

“Plenty to drink?” he asked as he scanned the mail lying on the countertop.

She lifted her shoulders. “Yes, but I must tell you, I don’t drink and I’d prefer not to have to mix drinks for your guests.”

He shrugged. To each his own. “I’ll take care of that, then. But don’t worry. I don’t expect this stoic crowd to get too wild.”

Relieved to hear that, Myla relaxed a little. “Henny told me how important this is to you.”

He moved into the room, throwing his briefcase on a desk in the corner before heading to the refrigerator. “Henny’s very efficient. She knows how these functions work. The old-boy networking system never slows down.”

Myla noticed the lines of fatigue around his eyes. He seemed so cool and in charge that she found it hard to believe he could be worried. “Can I get you anything?” she asked.

“Nah, I’ll just have some juice.” Spying a tray of appetizers in the refrigerator, he picked up a cracker covered with a shrimp mixture and popped it into his mouth. “That’s good,” he said between chews.

“I found the shrimp in the freezer,” she explained. “I know the recipe by heart.”

“You’re in charge of the kitchen,” he said by way of appreciation. “Do you need anything?”

I need to have my head examined, she thought. She was terrified of being here, but she needed this job. She wouldn’t allow her children to be homeless again.

“No, Henny went over the schedule with me.”

“Good.” Nick placed the empty juice glass in the sink. “Guess I’ll head up to get a shower.” Turning back on his tasseled loafers, he asked, “How’s Jesse?”

“Much better.” Touched that he’d bothered to ask, Myla guessed he was just being polite. “Her fever is down.” At his questioning look, she added, “They’re in Henny’s room, all settled in.”

He nodded, wondering why he’d become so tongue-tied all of a sudden. “By the way, your car’s in the auto shop. It should be fixed in a couple of days. Your belongings will be delivered tomorrow.”

“But…” Myla began, not knowing how to ever thank him. He’d taken care of everything in such a businesslike manner. She supposed he was used to taking matters into his own hands, while she was just beginning to learn how to deal with everyday problems on her own. “Thank you,” she said, her voice tapping down the tad of resentment she couldn’t deny.

He raised a hand to ward off her gratitude. “It was no trouble and besides, I’m depending on you to run my house. You can’t do that if you’re out trying to get your car fixed.”

“Good point,” she reluctantly agreed. He didn’t take compliments or praise very well. “I’m sorry for all this trouble.”

Nick shrugged. “Don’t worry. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll send you the bill.”

“I insist,” she said as she watched him plow through the swinging door to the hallway. Somehow, she’d pay him back for his kindness, but she couldn’t say if it would make her feel better or not.

Nick’s bellowing call from the den brought her head up. Rushing through the swinging door, she flew down the hall to the other room to find him standing in front of the tree she and the children had put up that afternoon.

“What’s this?” he asked, his hands on his hips, his chin jutting out as he stared at the eight-foot-tall evergreen.

“It’s a Christmas tree, of course,” she said, wondering why the fresh-cut tree seemed to be bothering him so much. “Henny called a nursery and had it delivered.”

Nick ran a hand through his hair and gave another long sigh. “I told her in no uncertain terms, that I did not want a tree in this house.”

“She never mentioned that to me.”

“No, I don’t suppose she would have. Well, too late to take it down now.”

Finding her courage, Myla stepped closer to the tree to touch one of the brilliant ornaments she’d found in a huge box in the garage. “The children had such a great time decorating it, I’d appreciate it if you would try to enjoy it.”

Nick’s gaze moved from the tree to the woman at his side. Her eyes were almost the same shade as the lush branches reaching out toward him. And they sparkled every bit as brightly. He couldn’t deny her this one concession to his rigid holiday rules.

“Okay. The tree can stay up, but no more decorating without consulting me first, no matter what Henny tells you.”

“All right.”

He didn’t like her tone or the hurt look in her eyes. “What are you thinking?”

She smiled then, but her eyes still held a certain sadness. “That you have a beautiful house. Six bedrooms, is it? And four baths? And those sunrooms. I’ve always loved having lots of live plants in a sunny room.”

Nick hadn’t really noticed the plants. He shrugged, his gaze sweeping casually over his surroundings. “It’s almost too big for a bachelor and his baby sister, but it’s home.”

“Is it?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Is it what?”

“Home?”

“I live here, don’t I?”

“Yes, but…oh, never mind. This place is like something out of a dream, but it just seems as if something is missing in this great, old house.”

She’d sensed it, when she’d gone through the rooms earlier, dusting and gawking at the same time. The house was as reserved and cool as the man who lived in it, and just like him, it cast out a false sense of contentment.

Nick sighed, then turned to go. “Don’t try to analyze me, Myla. There’s nothing missing here. Everything is as it should be.”

“If you say so.”

She watched as he left the room and stalked up the curving staircase. How sad that he couldn’t enjoy the holidays. Myla wondered what had made him this way. She turned back to the tree, her gaze fixed on the gold and white angel watching her from the top of the sturdy blue spruce. “I think Nick Rudolph needs your help,” she whispered.

An hour later, the house was filled with the sound of laughter tinkling on the air as crystal glasses tinkled with ice. The aroma of mulling cider wafted through the night while the fire in the massive marble fireplace located across one wall of the den crackled and popped. Myla viewed the cluster of people scattered around the tree, making sure each guest had plenty to eat and drink, while she listened to the carefully selected group’s conversation.

“Nick, I love the house this year,” a stout woman covered in diamonds said between bites of puffed pastry stuffed with artichoke filling. “I haven’t seen it this festive and bright in a long time.”

Nick’s smile was all calculated charm. “Glad you approve, Dottie. I’m not much on the holidays, but my new housekeeper insisted I put up a tree, at least.” He guided Dottie away from the tree, then said, “Remind me to show you Rudolph Oil’s fourth-quarter report. I’d love to have you serve on the board again. We could use your input.”

Clearly enthralled, the woman practically preened. “You know, I’ve been telling Jacob we need to reconsider that decision.”

Jacob, a tall gray-haired man, listened diligently. “Whatever you say, dear.”

Nick grinned, then caught Myla’s eye. He saw the disapproving look she cast his way and wondered what he’d done to offend her. Excusing himself from Dottie, he cornered Myla by the buffet.

“Is everything all right?”

“Fine,” she replied, her gaze scanning the crowd. “Would you like another glass of soda?”

He finished off the cool liquid left in the bottom of his glass, then shook his head. “No, but I’d like to know why you were glaring at me earlier.”