Holly Jacobs - A Valley Ridge Christmas

There was nothing sadder than a deserted house, Maeve mused. Once, a family had lived there. She had a vague recollection from her childhood of Mr. and Mrs. Culpepper. They’d seemed ancient then. The house had been vacant since Maeve had moved back to town.

Even the layer of snow that covered it couldn’t erase the lonely look of the place. For some reason, it made Maeve ache. She remembered a time when she would have been thrilled to call even that sorry neglected house her home.

She forced herself to ignore the wave of unpleasant nostalgia that had been biting at the edge of her memories since she met the Myers family.

She cut through the back of the property, went around the dilapidated fence and arrived back at the store. She went inside and was relieved when she practically bumped into Sophie McCray. Sophie was one of those eternally sunny people, around whom it was impossible to stay glum.

“Maeve,” Sophie cried out as she teetered toward her on high-heeled boots. Sophie was petite and as such, rarely seen without some kind of heel on her footwear. But given that she was only weeks away from giving birth, Maeve thought maybe her friend should consider trying out some more sensible shoes. Sophie’s stomach protruded so far out that she couldn’t zip her coat, sensible shoes made even more sense. But Sophie didn’t seem to care as she ran over and embraced Maeve.

“What are you doing out?” Maeve asked. “Colton should have tethered you to the farm in this weather.”

“He tried, but I don’t tether well. Besides, we needed a few things and he’s helping Sebastian and Finn dig out some neighbors. I’m on my way to the diner to meet Mattie and Lily.”

“Lily will probably run late and I’ll be the one at fault,” Maeve admitted. “I have company and she came to help me out.”

Sophie nodded knowingly. “I heard.”

“The Valley Ridge message boards—I should have guessed. Social media doesn’t have anything on our grapevine, does it?”

Sophie laughed. “So how is your pregnant visitor?”

“Her name’s Josie. She’s passing through Valley Ridge with her husband, Boyd, and son, Carl. She’s fine for now. Lily’s going to set up an appointment with Neil before they move on. I’ll feel better after he checks her out.”

“If you don’t mind more unexpected company, maybe I’ll stop by later and say hi. Us pregnant women need to stick together.”

“I’m sure Josie would enjoy that.” Maeve rarely had anyone over to her house. Instantly she’d gone from no guests to overflowing with guests.

“Is it true they lost their house?” Sophie asked.

With some people, Maeve would have bristled at the question, assuming they were only looking for some juicy gossip. But this was Sophie, and there was concern in her eyes. Maeve didn’t want to give up Josie’s confidences, but felt safe confiding in Sophie. “They’re headed to North Dakota to look for work.”

“I wish I knew about some job in Valley Ridge,” Sophie said. “But times have been tight here like everywhere else.”

“I know.” Maeve jostled the grocery bag from one arm to the other. “But as soon as the storm’s aftermath is cleared, it sounds like they’ll be on their way.”

“Well, I’m glad I’ll meet her before they leave. I’ll stop in after lunch, if that’s okay?”

“That would be fine.”

Maeve wasn’t sure why she didn’t like to open her home to anyone, but that was the truth of it. She had never been someone who could have friends over after school, or after work. Her home now was her private sanctuary. She hadn’t thought twice about having Josie and her family come over, but with more people crowding into her modest house it made her feel...anxious.

She pushed the feeling aside and went looking for the first thing on her list. She rounded a corner in the home section and spotted an employee with his back to her. He was wearing a T-shirt that had a large logo of the store. “Excuse me. Can you tell me where the lamp oil is?”

“Can I? Certainly, I can. The question you wanted to ask was, Will I?” the employee muttered as he turned around.

“You,” was Maeve’s response. Not that she was surprised. The minute the words left the man’s mouth she’d known he was the snarly guy from this morning. Despite his surliness, Maeve couldn’t avoid liking his voice.

Maeve hadn’t realized until this very moment how much she loved a good voice. The rich, low gravelly type was her favorite. Put a voice like that on one of her audiobooks, and she could listen to the phone book being read.

And this man’s voice was deep, commanding, intoxicating.

“Listen, I don’t want to start another debate with you. You’re Jerry’s employee and even if he’s not here, he has standards. So, I’d appreciate it if you would help me find the lamp oil without any more of your sarcasm.”

He tipped an imaginary hat. “Anything for you, Red.”

“Maeve. Remember?”

He chuckled. “I’m not likely to forget. Maeve Buchanan, the librarian.”

“Well, then, if you haven’t forgotten my name, I’d appreciate it if you’d use it.” That was polite, not that this guy deserved polite.

“Follow me and I’d be happy to show you to the lamp oil, Maeve.”

She wasn’t the only one he was testy with. That much was evident as he led her through the aisles, ignoring everyone as they passed.

“So is your mood an everyday occurrence, or is it specific to today?” she asked.

He gave her a quizzical look.

“You are less than salesman-nice.”

“You’re right. I find the snow and the power outage unbelievably annoying. And I feel sort of naked without my computer...”

At the word naked Maeve got a very vivid image of the man with the good voice in far less clothing than he was wearing. She immediately tried to push the unwelcome image away.

Pretty is as pretty does, or so the saying went. So far, judging by his attitude, he wasn’t very pretty at all.

“...I guess it shows in my manners. Sorry.” He stopped at a shelf and pointed.

“Oh, you have manners? I hadn’t noticed.” Now she was the one being snippy. She felt a little guilty—but only a little. After all, it wasn’t his fault that she’d had crazy images of him in her head. She coughed. “Thank you for showing me to the proper aisle.”

“Would you like to have dinner sometime?” His look of surprise matched how she felt.

Maeve couldn’t have been more taken aback if the man had asked her whether the moon was flat, or if it was summer. “No, I don’t think so. To be honest, not if you were the last man on earth.” She said it as nicely as she could, but she wanted to be clear. Her mother would have scolded her for being so blunt, but this man set her teeth on edge and didn’t seem to realize how off-putting he was. “But thanks for asking and for your assistance.”

She practically sprinted toward the cashier, anxious to get away from this man, who she suspected was still staring after her.

“I’m Aaron, by the way, Maeve the Librarian. Aaron Holder,” he called.

She didn’t turn around, but did wave a hand to acknowledge him. Aaron. Nice name. Nice voice. But other than those two things, she could find very little that was nice about Mr. Aaron Holder.

* * *

AARON WATCHED RED dash for the register with her lamp oil and grocery bag in hand. She certainly had the temper of a redhead. He wasn’t one to believe in stereotypes, but this one seemed to apply.

He acknowledged he’d been less than pleasant both times they met. When he was younger, his mother used to say that the world had best watch out when he was in a mood—especially when it involved his sisters. Recently, his mother informed him that he’d been in a mood for the past two years.