A Chance This Christmas Read online

  A Chance This Christmas

  A Road to Romance Story

  Joanne Rock

  A Chance This Christmas

  Copyright © 2017 Joanne Rock

  EPUB Edition

  The Tule Publishing Group, LLC

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-947636-21-7

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  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  The Road to Romance Series

  The Runaway Bride Series

  Excerpt from His Christmas Gift

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Sneaking back into her Christmas-crazed hometown—the quaintly renamed “Yuletide, New York”—Rachel Chambers started to sneeze before she even reached her mother’s driveway. No surprise there, since she’d been allergic to Christmas ever since the famous Yuletide Revitalization efforts that turned the former anemic Harristown into the thriving Alpine village that attracted tourists year-round.

  For years, her father had been lauded as the mastermind behind a public relations coup that put their sleepy Adirondack municipality on the map. But when he absconded with the town’s funds earmarked for building a new Santa’s workshop the summer before Rachel left for college, her family went from local saviors to big-time villains, as if they were all the Scrooges that stole Christmas.

  Rachel sneezed two more times as she trudged through the snow from the centrally located parking lot toward the childhood home that her mother had maintained even after Rachel’s dad took off. The house had been billed as the original Santa’s workshop at one time, and half of it was open to the public when Rachel had been growing up. In the eight years since her father’s embezzlement, the locals had raised enough funds to go through with the new digs for Santa across town, downgrading the Chambers’ residence to a run-of-the-mill elf house.

  As Rachel stared up at it—garish green and red lights blinking from every eave and lit wreaths crowding each window—she thought the house looked more like the nightmare vision of an elf on crack. But that opinion might have been influenced by the Christmas allergy.

  At the next sneeze, she dug in her purse for an antihistamine and hurried to the side door with her suitcase before anyone spotted her. Her mother might have regained some standing in Yuletide, but Rachel knew she wouldn’t be warmly welcomed in her first reappearance since the summer her father left eight years ago. Some people blamed Rachel for distracting the whole town with a scandal of her own while her father fled.

  But that was another story.

  She kept her wool ski cap low on her forehead to blend in with the holiday crowds already swarming the sidewalks. The Chambers’ home (now identified out front as Teeny Elf’s House to fit a new storyline in the walking tour brochure) was on the main thoroughfare, right across from the town square with the gazebo and a hundred-foot tree. Thankfully, Teeny Elf’s House wasn’t the big draw for tourists that Santa’s workshop had been back when Rachel was a kid, so she didn’t have much trouble slinking past the families marveling over Teeny’s toys in progress on the main level.

  The scent of pine and mistletoe hung heavy in the air as the “Waltz of the Flowers” was piped in over well-hidden speakers. In addition to the trains, trucks and dolls in progress on the workbenches, there were replica toys for sale in the gift shop portion of the house up front. Rachel waited until the back room was empty except for her and then she headed up the darkened stairs where a sign read “Closed to the Public” on a chain that had never kept people out when she was a kid either.

  Once, a whole family had trooped through her bedroom with their cameras during a birthday sleepover, looking for Santa. There was a YouTube video of it somewhere. As if it hadn’t been mortifying enough when it had actually happened, she had the joy of seeing her sleepover makeovers go viral. Viewers seemed to love it when she threw a tube of gooey pink lipstick at the camera, screeching at them to get out. Back then, her allergy to balsam hadn’t surfaced yet and she’d been happy here, for the most part.

  “Mom?” she called down the upstairs hall as the scent of pine gave way to lemon polish and the zingy citrus tea her mother liked.

  She hadn’t called ahead to warn her mother of the visit since Rachel hadn’t been entirely sure she’d really go through with it. Normally, her mom visited her in Brooklyn where she’d lived since graduating from design school. But Rachel had made a wine-inspired pact with her girlfriends one night that they would each “make peace with the past” to try and fix their assorted messy lives. Inspired by a radio show where a life coach impressed upon them that you couldn’t move forward until you’d healed your past, Rachel thought it sounded brilliant at the time.

  Yet it had taken her almost a year to really follow through. She needed to make peace with Yuletide, for one thing. And with her long-ago boyfriend, Luke Harris, the hometown hero everyone in town thought she’d betrayed the day she was caught kissing his best friend during that parade she’d skipped. Luke was slated to marry Rachel’s former best friend the following week and Kiersten Garrett—the bride-to-be—wanted Rachel to be there. Tough to do when the groom still shunned her along with half the rest of the population.

  Or so Luke led the world to believe. Rachel wasn’t sure if anyone else knew that she’d broken things off with him weeks before that incident to follow her crush on his friend, Gavin Blake. Gavin had attended private school in nearby Lake Placid but he’d taken to hanging out with friends in Yuletide starting in middle school. She’d ended up being part of a silly teen love triangle—chased by Luke even after the breakup, and all the while she chased Gavin, a local star athlete who’d barely given her the time of day. It all came to a head on the day she missed the parade and her life turned upside down.

  “Mom?” Rachel called again, peering up the second staircase toward the small third floor. Since it seemed quiet up there, she headed toward the living area, passing discolored patches on the walls where family photos used to hang.

  Her mother had dealt with the worst of the town’s fury after the Chris Chambers’ embezzlement scandal. Rachel had tried to convince her mom to put the house on the market and get out of Yuletide for good, but there’d been no budging her. This was her home, no matter that her husband had betrayed her and all their friends, too.

  “Rachel? Is that you?” Her mother’s voice—tentative, anxious—floated from the front of the sprawling, Swiss-style chalet.

  “… Rachel?” A second feminine voice sounded. Louder. Belligerent.
>
  Uh-oh.

  Since when did her mother have company? Rachel’s steps halted just outside the living room.

  Before she could plot an escape, two figures emerged into the hallway, both dressed in green felt elf attire, minus the pointy shoes and hats. Anywhere else in the world, that might have seemed unusual. But her mother and Mrs. Garrett must have put in hours on the gift shop registers or for the town tour today, jobs that had always rotated through the residents who benefited the most from Yuletide tourism.

  The two of them stood side by side in their striped red and white socks. Her mother was biting her lip, her dark hair in a neat, hair-sprayed bob, while Mrs. Garrett’s overgrown blonde frizz barely fit in a ponytail holder. The woman had been a friend of her mother’s once, and perhaps they’d healed their rift. Rachel had certainly smoothed over things with Mrs. Garrett’s daughter, Kiersten, the town’s bride-to-be.

  “How dare you.” Mrs. Garrett’s red pom-pom collar shook with wobbly indignation where it fit too tight around her neck, setting the decorative jingle bells into a discordant clang. “What on earth possessed you to show your face in this town the week before my daughter marries?”

  Eyes narrowing, she took a step closer in the dim hallway, bringing as much menace as a fifty-something elf can muster.

  Rachel’s mother sidled past her, stepping between them. “Katie, be reasonable. My daughter hasn’t been here in eight years. I sure don’t want to scare her away.” She spared a glance over her shoulder at Rachel, maintaining the “good cheer disposition” that was requisite at all times for wearing the elf costume around town. “Welcome home, darling. I’m so glad to see you.”

  Katie Garrett fumed visibly, shoulders rising and falling with her huffing. “Is it any wonder she chose this week to come back? She’s here to break up the wedding!”

  “No, Mrs. Garrett.” Rachel shook her head, wishing she’d called her mother to warn her about the visit. She was too tired to do battle with anyone tonight after the long trip from Brooklyn that involved a train, a bus and an Uber since Rachel didn’t own a car. Instead of being on the road for five hours, it had been closer to nine. “I’m here for quite the opposite reason. Kiersten told me point-blank she would like me to attend the ceremony—”

  “It wasn’t enough for you to break poor Luke’s heart the first time?” Mrs. Garrett pointed a shaking finger in Rachel’s face. “Now you need to ruin Kiersten’s chance with him? I’m going home to talk to her this minute.” Stomping around Rachel and her mother toward the staircase, she didn’t even look back. “Molly, we’ll have to speak another time. I’m shocked you would let your daughter just waltz back into town after what she did.”

  What she’d done was make out with Gavin Blake behind the Candy Cane Slide in Santa’s Playground on the day Luke Harris proposed to her in the most public way possible. She’d been oblivious since she’d ditched the town’s “Christmas in July” parade to watch Gavin skateboard.

  But it got worse, since the whole drama had coincided with her father’s disappearance and the discovery of his embezzlement. There had been an ongoing suspicion that Rachel had helped her father to escape, even though she’d been cleared by a police investigation long ago.

  Still, Mrs. Garrett’s grumbling diatribe continued as she gathered her elf shoes and hat from a bench near the stairs and headed down into the public portion of the chalet.

  “Well that wasn’t the Christmas welcome home I would have chosen for you, sweetheart,” her mother murmured as she snaked an arm around Rachel’s waist. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

  Tipping her head onto her mother’s shoulder, Rachel allowed herself a moment to soak up the unconditional maternal love.

  “I should have warned you I was coming.”

  “This is your home.” Her mother kissed the top of her head. “You never have to call first.” Edging away from Rachel, she hooked their arms and headed toward the kitchen. “Come have tea with me and tell me all about this idea of Kiersten’s. She really wants you to attend the wedding?”

  The kitchen hadn’t changed much other than a few missing photos on the shelves over the table. But then, this had always been her mother’s domain so there wouldn’t be many traces of her father in here. Her mother’s grandfather had built the house as one of the original members of the village of Harristown, and Molly’s mother had cooked in this kitchen before her. Decorated in soothing Nordic style with lots of white and just a few hints of blue, she still displayed her Delft plates in a china cabinet while the day-to-day, pure white dishes sat on open shelves over the counter.

  Rachel passed her mom a mug from one of the hooks while the water heated. She’d always found the all-white room a soothing retreat from the aggressive green and red of the rest of this holiday-crazed town.

  “Kiersten was always my closest friend,” she reminded her mother. “She never thought I did anything to help Dad with his plan to swindle the locals. And she was the only one who knew I broke up with Luke before the kiss with Gavin.”

  “She’s been a good friend.” Her mother pulled a kitchen blind lower to block some of the blinking green light from the wreath on an exterior window. “But you and her groom have a…um, notorious history. Are you sure it’s wise to go to the wedding?”

  Rachel resented the way Luke had never cleared her name with the town, at least letting people know that she had broken things off with him before his ill-fated proposal. She’d honored his wishes for weeks after the breakup, keeping the split on the down-low because—he said—he didn’t want the town pitying him in the weeks before he left on a military deployment. Afterward, she’d left town since her father’s betrayal had been a far bigger deal in her mind. She’d always assumed Luke would clear her name eventually. Too bad she hadn’t thought ahead to how her silence would keep her alienated from her home.

  Sinking onto one of the counter stools across from the range, Rachel sighed. “I’m here to make peace with him before the ceremony.”

  She didn’t mention she also hoped to salvage her standing with the whole town. Judging by Mrs. Garrett’s reaction, the goal seemed a bit lofty. But if she could just smooth things over with Luke, it would fulfill her pact with her friends, make Kiersten happy and—truth be told—ease the guilt she’d carried for eight years because Luke had deserved better than to discover her kissing his best friend on the day he proposed to her in such a public way. They’d all been friends at one point, and her kissing Gavin had driven a wedge between them.

  Or so she’d heard.

  “You embarrassed Luke in front of the whole town,” her mother reminded her.

  Quite unnecessarily.

  “That’s why it took so long for me to come back. You have to know that, Mom.” She opened the wooden box full of tea bags kept perpetually stocked on the countertop, choosing chamomile and hoping some of those soothing properties would ease her nerves. Her itchy eyes were a lost cause. Balsam filled the house.

  “We were all searching for you when the skywriter message appeared.” Her mother passed a mug of hot water.

  Rachel gritted her teeth as she ripped open the tea bag. “I remember.”

  Because her mother still recounted the story on a semi-annual basis. And because Rachel had never cared to clarify she’d seen the skywriting for herself, while she was finally in Gavin’s arms after weeks of chasing him. She’d never forgotten the look in his eyes—the betrayal in Gavin’s gaze even though she’d had no idea Luke was contemplating a proposal to win her back. And that had been before Luke found them together. She’d hurt two guys in one fell swoop.

  Coming around to sit on a stool beside her daughter, Molly brought a fresh mug of tea for herself, too. “Imagine the poor boy’s humiliation when the whole town was reading ‘Marry Me, Rachel,’ while we searched everywhere for you?”

  And of all the luck, Luke had to be the one to find them together. The confrontation had ended any chance she might have had with Gavin Blake, prompting all thr
ee friends to leave Yuletide early that summer. Gavin had committed to his snowboard cross training. Luke returned to his army base, and Rachel left for college a month earlier than planned. Her father’s embezzlement and defection ultimately overshadowed all the rest of it anyway.

  “I’m sure it was awkward for everyone, Mom, but it was many years ago.”

  Her mother patted her hand. “For you and me, maybe. But the Harris family has a memory for old grudges.”

  Rachel sipped her tea, agreeing wholeheartedly. The Harris family was the pre-eminent founding family of Harristown, and they’d been holdouts against her father’s whole “Yuletide” makeover from the start. She had thought that was why Luke’s parents had never seemed to like her when they’d been dating. They must have been appalled Luke proposed to her—let alone in such a public way.

  “I have my work cut out for me, don’t I?” Rachel observed between sips.

  “You know who might be able to help you?” Her mother swiveled in her counter stool, facing her.

  “Santa can’t help with this one, Mom.”

  Her mother narrowed her blue eyes. “You’d have to get on the nice list first anyhow,” she countered. “But seriously, Rachel, you should talk to our new neighbor.”

  “You’ve met the person who bought the house next door?” Rachel remembered her mother saying that there was an offer in on the property, but she hadn’t heard an update about that in weeks.

  Her mother slanted a mysterious look over her steaming drink. “It’s Gavin Blake.”

  The mug handle slipped from Rachel’s grip, sloshing some hot tea on her hand.

  “Who?” She must not have heard correctly. She blew a cooling stream of air along her scorched skin.

  Gavin Blake could not be in Yuletide. Surely Kiersten would have mentioned something like that before wheedling Rachel into coming home?

  “Gavin,” her mother repeated, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for the other third of the Luke-Rachel-Gavin love triangle to move in next door and for her not to have mentioned it before. “He’s not in town often with his training schedule, but apparently, he wants to invest in Yuletide and retire here one day. Or so I’ve heard. So he’s going to be fixing up the house next door.”