Christmas In Mustang Creek

Aunt Geneva looked delighted. “I knew it! Oh, I am so going to win that bet with Millicent Klozz.”

What?

“You two bet on my love life?” Charlotte was laughing again, but still chagrined. “Or lack thereof? No wonder Millicent knew his name.”

Aunt Geneva waved a frail hand. “So he’s in town. What happens next?”

There was only one answer. “I have no idea.”

* * *

If the choice was either to share a couch with a bloodhound or move into a Christmas-card house like this one, well, no contest. Unfortunately, things weren’t that simple.

The complication? Charlie.

Despite the cold, Jax paused on the snowy sidewalk to take it all in.

He’d seen pictures of the old place, of course, and Charlie had told him dozens of stories, but this was his first actual, real-time visit.

So he savored the moment, admired the wraparound porch, the ornate front door, the shutters, the gables and arches. A picket fence surrounded the spacious—make that huge—front yard, and Jax knew there was even more room around back. He knew about the big garden plot and the clotheslines and a couple of gnarled old apple trees, still producing fruit every summer.

Jax sighed, suddenly wistful, opened the gate and started up the recently shoveled walk.

Getting closer, he could see that the paint was peeling in a few places and the roof over the porch sagged.

His knock was answered by an elderly woman who flung the door open wide and beamed at him.

“Jaxon?”

“Yes.”

She wiped both hands on her apron and offered one that seemed to hold a slight dusting of flour. “I’m Millicent Klozz,” she said.

“Yes,” he answered. “Hello.” Of course you are.

Her smile was welcoming, and she stepped back, making a sweeping gesture with one arm. “Don’t stand out there in the cold,” she said cheerfully, raising her voice to be heard over the happy barking of the dog at her feet. “Come on in. You can choose your room.”

He was being steamrollered, and he was letting it happen. Enjoying it, even. But he also knew he was playing along, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. He couldn’t just move in; Charlie, who couldn’t possibly know what was happening on the home front at the moment, would freak when she found out.

And he wouldn’t blame her.

Come on in. You can choose your room.

Indeed.

If he’d known Millicent better, and if she’d been about a hundred years younger, he would’ve quipped, “That’s easy. I’ll take Charlotte’s room.”

He didn’t say that, of course.

But he might as well have, because the sweet old lady answered as if he had. “Behave yourself, you rascal,” she mock-scolded, with a twinkle and a little ringing laugh. Then she bustled up the stairs, which looked like solid walnut and, with some refinishing, would amount to a showpiece.

Jax recovered quickly, deciding he must’ve imagined at least part of the exchange. “Maybe we ought to wait,” he called after her, hesitating at the foot of the stairs. “Talk this over with Charlotte.”

“Oh, she’ll be fine with the idea,” Mrs. Klozz said merrily, standing on the landing and gazing back at him with an expression of mild and totally benevolent impatience.

Well, that confirmed his suspicions anyway. Charlotte had no clue what was going on. The situation was downright odd—and kind of funny, too. Like something that might happen in a Christmas movie.

“She doesn’t know,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Not yet,” Mrs. Klozz told him, still blithe. “I’ll handle it. Now, if I were you, I’d take the larger one on the east side of the house, but then, I’m an early riser and I like a good dose of sunlight first thing.” She paused, regarded him with a smile. “Come along, dear. I don’t have all day.”

Despite his reservations, Jax climbed the stairs.

When he reached the top, Mrs. Klozz led him down a long, well-lit hallway. There was more fine woodwork, all of it intricately carved, and a huge stained-glass skylight cast beams of dancing color everywhere.

The place was almost magical, and Jax knew Charlotte loved every plank and pane and peg of it.

Then, why had she left? Meanwhile, Millicent launched into the tour. “Wouldn’t this house make an excellent B and B?” she said with an expansive gesture and a contented sigh. “That’s the bathroom door,” she informed him, pointing. “It doesn’t latch properly, so you might find Mutley in there once in a while. He likes to sleep next to the register. He’s a darling, but he sheds. You don’t mind pets, do you?”

Considering his vocation, he should hope not. “Um, no, ma’am.”

Her smile was back on high beam. “Of course you wouldn’t, you’re a veterinarian. I swear, sometimes I don’t think my memory is any better than Geneva’s, bless her heart. You’ll want to watch out for Can-Can—the cat—because she finds men irresistible and likes to lounge on the window seat in your room in the morning. It’s the eastern exposure, you know.”

His room. Right.

Until Charlotte came home.

“Naturally, Mutley will adore you,” the lady prattled on. “He’s a sweet soul, like most dogs. Still, enough can be enough, and if you forget to close your door at night, you might find him in bed with you. Can-Can, too.” Before Jax could wedge in a comment—he was still playing along, humoring the old woman—she continued. The merriment was gone, and she looked just plain sad. “They miss Geneva. And so do I.”

Jax opened his mouth to say something kind—he hadn’t decided what—but he missed his chance.

Millicent had brightened again. “Come to think of it,” she said, “Mutley could use a walk. Would you mind once you’ve got a minute? I worry about icy sidewalks at my age.”

Jax replied that he’d be glad to walk the dog. He looked down at their furry escort and smiled.

Mrs. Klozz stopped in front of a door and opened it, gesturing for Jax to step inside. The early riser’s bedroom, he assumed.

He went in. The room was big, the floor hardwood, and instead of the flowery wallpaper he might have expected in a house inhabited by women, there was just paint. No frilly curtains at the bay window, either, and the cushions on the built-in seat underneath were plain, too. The bed was antique, a brass four-poster, covered with a colorful homemade quilt. An old hope chest sat at the foot, and he saw a sturdy desk and chair on the far side of the room.

Jax could imagine living here, sleeping in this room, working at the desk, surveying the snowy landscape from the window seat.

This game, he thought, was getting out of hand. Charlotte would never agree to Millicent Klozz’s plan.

But he found himself wishing she would.

Once again Millicent seemed to be reading his mind. “Don’t you worry about a thing, young man,” she said quietly. “Charlotte is a sensible woman, and she will see reason.” A confident sigh followed. “She’ll be gone a while longer, though, handing out cookies and catching up with Geneva. In the meantime, would you mind taking Mutley out for that walk?”

Jax, still bewitched and bewildered, was grateful for the distraction. “No,” he said. “Not at all.”