Trading Christmas: When Christmas Comes / The Forgetful Bride

Trading Houses. Trading Towns. Trading Christmas!

Emily Springer, widowed mother of one, decides to leave Leavenworth, Washington, to spend Christmas with her daughter in Boston.

Charles Brewster, history professor, curmudgeon and resident of Boston, wants to avoid Christmas altogether. He figures a prison town should be nice and quiet over the holidays—except he’s thinking of the wrong Leavenworth!

Through an internet site, Charles and Emily arrange to swap houses for the holiday. So Emily goes to Boston—and discovers that her daughter has gone to Florida. And Charles arrives in Leavenworth to discover that it’s not the prison town—it’s Santa’s village! The place is full of Christmas trees, Christmas music and…elves.

Meanwhile, Emily’s friend Faith Kerrigan travels to Leavenworth to visit her and instead finds Charles the grinch. Then Charles’s brother, Ray, shows up at his home in Boston to discover that he isn’t there—but Emily is.

Through all the mix-ups and misunderstandings, amid the chaos and confusion, romance begins to emerge in unexpected ways. Because everything changes at Christmas!

November 2011

Dear Friends,

I wrote a story called When Christmas Comes back in 2004—and laughed all the way through the manuscript. To my mind, it was the perfect Christmas movie. Lots of action, delightful characters (if I do say so myself!) and plenty of good-natured humor. There’s Santa, the dwarfs, a runaway lobster and…

Well, guess what? Hallmark Channel agreed that this romantic comedy was a natural for a Christmas movie, so they approached me with the idea of turning it into one, to be broadcast in late November or early December of this year. They wanted a different title, though, and in the end decided to use the shout line from the original back cover copy. Trading Christmas. It’s a perfect title.

Yes, Trading Christmas is really When Christmas Comes—with one additional bonus. It will come to life via your television screen. (There’s actually a second bonus included in this volume; it’s another Christmas story—first published in 1991—called The Forgetful Bride).

Years ago I saw a cartoon that showed a goat chewing away on a movie reel. He looks up at the viewer and says he liked the book better. In this instance, you’ll have to be the judge. The book or the movie? Hopefully both will keep you richly entertained.

Happy holidays, everyone. I hope you laugh and sigh and think this was the best Christmas book and movie you ever enjoyed.

Debbie Macomber

P.S. You can reach me at P.O. Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366, or through my website, www.DebbieMacomber.com.

Trading Christmas

Debbie Macomber

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Praise for Debbie Macomber’s Christmas stories

“Macomber once again demonstrates her impressive skills with characterization and her flair for humor.”

—RT Book Reviews on When Christmas Comes

“Don’t wait until Christmas to read Debbie Macomber’s When Christmas Comes. This heartwarming little book will get even the Scrooge in you ready to welcome the holiday season! It’s a delightful story, complete with lessons about love, friendship and the spirit of Christmas, but is never preachy. This is just the book to curl up with before the season spins out of control.”

—Bookreporter.com on When Christmas Comes

“Once again author Debbie Macomber is back to offer readers a delightful seasonal story of friendship and love. Macomber is a master storyteller and this small volume is a testament to her lively skills…A warm and loving novel that is destined to quickly become a Christmas favorite.”

—Times Record News,Wichita Falls, Texas, on The Christmas Basket

“Debbie Macomber’s familiar setting of Blossom Street in Seattle will make her many fans feel right at home, and the Christmassy atmosphere makes readers feel that they have just had a refreshing holiday vacation from real life.”

—Bookreporter.com on Christmas Letters

“A fast, frothy fantasy for those looking to add some romance to their holidays.”

—Publishers Weekly on The Snow Bride

“Where Angels Go…should definitely get anyone in the mood for holiday cheer and warmth.”

—FreshFiction.com

“What would Christmas be without our traditional Christmas story from our favorite author?”

—Writers Unlimited

Trading Christmas

For my cousin Paula Bearson, with gratitude.

And special thanks to writer and friend Ann DeFee.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Epilogue

One

“What do you mean you won’t be home for Christmas?” Emily Springer was sure she couldn’thave heard correctly. She pressed the telephone receiver harder against her ear, as though that would clarify her daughter’s words.

“Mom, I know you’re disappointed… .”

That didn’t even begin to cover it. Emily had scraped and sacrificed in order to save airfare home for her only daughter, a student at Harvard. They always spent the holidays together, and now Heather was telling her she wouldn’t be back for Christmas.

“What could possibly be more important than Christmas with your family?” Emily asked, struggling to hide her distress.

Her daughter hesitated. “It’s just that I’ve got so much going on during those two weeks. I’d love to be home with you, I really would, but…I can’t.”

Emily swallowed past the lump in her throat. Heather was twenty-one; Emily realized her daughter was becoming an independent adult, but for the last eleven years it had been just the two of them. The thought of being separated from her only child over Christmas brought tears to her eyes.

“You’ve got all the neighbor kids to spoil,” Heather continued.

Yes, the six Kennedy children would be more than happy to gobble up Emily’s homemade cookies, candies and other traditional holiday treats. But it wouldn’t be the same.

“I was home a few months ago,” Heather reminded her next.

Emily opened her mouth to argue. True, her daughter had spent the summer in Leavenworth, but she’d been busy working and saving money for school. If she wasn’t at her library job, she was with her friends. Emily knew that Heather had her own life now, her own friends, her own priorities and plans. That was to be expected and natural, and Emily told herself she should be proud. But spending Christmas on opposite sides of the country was simply too hard—especially for the two of them, who’d once been so close.

“What about the money I saved for your airfare?” Emily asked lamely, as if that would change anything.

“I’ll fly out for Easter, Mom. I’ll use it then.”

Easter was months away, and Emily didn’t know if she could last that long. This was dreadful. Three weeks before Christmas, and she’d lost every shred of holiday spirit.

“I have to hang up now, Mom.”

“I know, but…can’t we talk about this? I mean, there’s got to be a way for us to be together.”

Heather hesitated once more. “You’ll be fine without me.”

“Of course I will,” Emily said, dredging up the remnants of her pride. The last thing she wanted was to look pathetic to her daughter—or to heap on the guilt—so she spoke with an enthusiasm she didn’t feel. Disappointment pounded through her with every beat of her heart. She had to remember she wasn’t the only one who’d be alone, though. Heather would be missing out, too. “What about you?” Emily asked. Caught up in her own distress, she hadn’t been thinking about her daughter’s feelings. “Will you be all alone?”

“For Christmas, you mean?” Heather said. Her voice fell slightly, and it sounded as if she too was putting on a brave front. “I have friends here, and I’ll probably get together with them—but it won’t be the same.”

That had been Emily’s reaction: It won’t be the same. This Christmas marked the beginning of a new stage in their relationship. It was inevitable—but Christmas was still Christmas, and she vowed that wherever Heather was in future years, they’d spend the holiday together. Emily squared her shoulders. “We’ll make it through this,” she said stoutly.

“Of course we will.”

“I’ll be in touch soon,” Emily promised.

“I knew you’d be a trouper about this, Mom.”

Heather actually seemed proud of her, but Emily was no heroine. After a brief farewell, she placed the portable phone back in the charger and slumped into the closest chair.

Moping around, Emily tried to fight off a sense of depression that had begun to descend. She couldn’t concentrate on anything, too restless to read or watch TV. The house felt…bleak. Uncharacteristically so. Maybe because she hadn’t put up the Christmas decorations, knowing how much Heather loved helping her.

They had their own traditions. Heather always decorated the fireplace mantel, starting with her favorite piece, a small almost-antique angel that had belonged to Emily’s mother. While she did that, Emily worked on the windowsills around the dining room, arranging garlands, candles and poinsettias. Then together, using the ornaments Emily had collected over the years, they’d decorate the Christmas tree. Not an artificial one, either, despite warnings that they were safer than fresh trees.

It sometimes took them half a day to choose their Christmas tree. Leavenworth was a small Washington town tucked in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains, and it offered a stunning array of firs and pines.

This year, without Heather, there would be no tree. Emily wouldn’t bother. Really, why go to that much effort when she’d be the only one there to enjoy it. Why decorate the house at all?

This Christmas was destined to be her worst since Peter had died. Her husband had been killed in a logging accident eleven years earlier. Before his death, her life had been idyllic—exactly what she’d wanted it to be. They’d been high-school sweethearts and married the summer after graduation. From the start, their marriage was close and companionable. A year later Heather had arrived. Peter had supported Emily’s efforts to obtain her teaching degree and they’d postponed adding to their family. The three of them had been contented, happy with their little household—and then, overnight, her entire world had collapsed.

Peter’s life insurance had paid for the funeral and allowed her to deal with the financial chaos. Emily had invested the funds wisely; she’d also continued with her job as a kindergarten teacher. She and Heather were as close as a mother and daughter could be. In her heart, Emily knew Peter would have been so proud of Heather.

The scholarship to Harvard was well deserved but it wasn’t enough to meet all of Heather’s expenses. Emily periodically cashed in some of her investments to pay her daughter’s living costs—her dorm room, her transportation, her textbooks and entertainment. Emily lived frugally, and her one and only extravagance was Christmas. For the last two years, they’d somehow managed to be together even though Heather had moved to Boston. Now this…

Still overwhelmed by her disappointment, Emily wandered into the study and stared at the blank computer screen. Her friend Faith would understand how she felt. Faith would give her the sympathy she needed. They communicated frequently via email. Although Faith was ten years younger, they’d become good friends. They were both teachers; Faith had done her student teaching in Leavenworth and they’d stayed in touch.

Faith—braver than Emily—taught junior-high literature. Emily cringed at the thought of not only facing a hundred thirteen-year-olds every school day but trying to interest them in things like poetry. Divorced for the past five years, Faith lived in the Oakland Bay area of San Francisco.

This news about Heather’s change in plans couldn’t be delivered by email, Emily decided. She needed immediate comfort. She needed Faith to assure her that she could get through the holidays by herself.

She reached for the phone and hit speed dial for Faith’s number. Her one hope was that Faith would be home on a Sunday afternoon—and to Emily’s relief, Faith snatched up the receiver after the second ring.

“Hi! It’s Emily,” she said, doing her best to sound cheerful.

“What’s wrong?”

How well Faith knew her. In a flood of emotion, Emily spilled out everything Heather had told her.

“She’s got a boyfriend,” Faith announced as if it were a foregone conclusion.

“Well, she has mentioned a boy named Ben a few times, but the relationship doesn’t sound serious.”

“Don’t you believe it!”

Faith tended to be something of a cynic, especially when it came to relationships. Emily didn’t blame her; Faith had married her college boyfriend and stayed in the marriage for five miserable years. She’d moved to Leavenworth shortly after her divorce. Her connection with Emily had been forged during a time of loneliness, and they’d each found solace in their friendship.

“I’m sure Heather would tell me if this had to do with a man in her life,” Emily said fretfully, “but she didn’t say one word. It’s school and work and all the pressures. I understand, or at least I’m trying to, but I feel so…so cheated.”

“Those are just excuses. Trust me, there’s a man involved.”

Not wanting to accept it but unwilling to argue the point, Emily sighed deeply. “Boyfriend or not,” she muttered, “I’ll be alone over the holidays. How can I possibly celebrate Christmas by myself?”

Faith laughed—which Emily didn’t consider very sympathetic. “All you have to do is look out your front window.”

That was true enough. Leavenworth was about as close to Santa’s village as any place could get. The entire town entered the Christmas spirit. Tourists from all over the country visited the small community, originally founded by immigrants from Germany, and marveled at its festive atmosphere. Every year there were train rides and Christmas-tree-lighting ceremonies, three in all, plus winter sports and sleigh rides and Christmas parades and more.

Emily’s home was sixty years old and one block from the heart of downtown. The city park was across the street. Starting in early December, groups of carolers strolled through the neighborhood dressed in old-fashioned regalia. With the horse-drawn sleigh, and groups of men and women in greatcoats and long dresses gathered under streetlamps, the town looked like a Currier & Ives print.

“Everyone else can be in the holiday spirit, but I won’t—not without Heather,” Emily said. “I’m not even going to put up a tree.”

“You don’t mean that,” Faith told her bracingly.

“I do so,” Emily insisted. She couldn’t imagine anything that would salvage Christmas for her.

“What you need is a shot of holiday cheer. Watch Miracle on 34th Street or—”

“It won’t help,” Emily cried. “Nothing will.”

“Emily, this doesn’t sound like you. Besides,” Faith said, “Heather’s twenty-one. She’s creating her own life, and that’s completely appropriate. So she can’t make it this year—you’ll have next Christmas with her.”

Emily didn’t respond. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You need your own life, too,” Faith added. “I’ve been after you for years to join the church singles group.”

“I’ll join when you do,” Emily returned.

“Might I remind you that I no longer live in Leavenworth?”

“Fine, join one in Oakland.”

“That’s not the point, Em,” her friend said. “You’ve been so wrapped up in Heather that you don’t have enough going on in your life.”

“You know that’s not true!” Emily could see that talking to Faith wasn’t having the desired effect. “I called because I need sympathy,” Emily said, her tone a bit petulant even to her own ears.

Faith laughed softly. “I’ve failed you, then.”

“Yes.” Emily figured she might as well tell the truth. “Of all people, I thought you’d understand.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Em.”

Her friend didn’t sound sorry.

“I actually think being apart over the holidays might be good for you—and for Heather.”

Emily was aghast that Faith would suggest such a thing. “How can you say that?”

“Heather might appreciate you more and you might just discover that there are other possibilities at Christmas than spending it with your daughter.”

Emily knew she’d adjust much more easily if she wasn’t a widow. Being alone at this time of year was hard, had been hard ever since Peter’s death. Perhaps Faith was right. Perhaps she’d clung to her daughter emotionally, but Emily felt that in her circumstances, it was forgivable.

“I’ll be fine,” she managed, but she didn’t believe it for a moment.

“I know you will,” Faith said.

Even more distressed than before, Emily finished the conversation and hung up the phone. Never having had children, Faith didn’t understand how devastating Heather’s news had been. And if Emily was guilty of relying on her daughter too much, Christmas was hardly the time of year to deal with it. But wait a minute. She’d encouraged Heather’s independence, hadn’t she? After all, the girl was attending school clear across the country. Surely a few days at Christmas wasn’t too much to ask.

Emily decided a walk would help her sort through these complicated emotions. She put on her heavy wool coat, laced up her boots and wrapped her hand-knitted red scarf around her neck. She’d knitted an identical scarf for her daughter, although Heather’s was purple instead of red, and mailed it off before Thanksgiving. Finally she thrust her hands into warm mittens. It’d snowed overnight and the wind was cold enough to cut to the bone.

The Kennedy kids—ranging from six years old to thirteen—had their sleds out and were racing down the hill in the park. In order of age and size, they scrambled up the steep incline, dragging their sleds behind them. When they reached the top, they all waved excitedly at Emily. Sarah, the youngest, ran over to join her.

“Hello, Mrs. Springer.” Sarah smiled up at her with two bottom teeth missing.

“Sarah,” Emily said, feigning shock. “Did you lose those two teeth?”

The girl nodded proudly. “My mom pulled them out and I didn’t even cry.”

“Did the tooth fairy visit?”

“Yes,” Sarah told her. “James said there wasn’t any such thing, but I put my teeth under my pillow and in the morning there was fifty cents. Mom said if I wanted to believe in the tooth fairy, I could. So I believed and I got two quarters.”

“Good for you.”

With all the wisdom of her six years, Sarah nodded. “You’ve got to believe.”

“Right,” Emily agreed.

“In Santa, too!”

As the youngest, Sarah had four older brothers and a sister all too eager to inform her that Santa Claus and his helpers bore a strong resemblance to Mom and Dad.

“Do you believe, Mrs. Springer?”

Right now that was a difficult question. Emily was no longer sure. She wanted to believe in the power of love and family, but her daughter’s phone call had forced her to question that. At least a little…

“Do you?” Sarah repeated, staring intently up at Emily.

“Ah…” Then it hit her. She suddenly saw what should’ve been obvious from the moment she answered the phone that afternoon. “Yes, Sarah,” she said, bending down to hug her former kindergarten student.

It was as simple as talking to a child. Sarah understood; sometimes Emily hadn’t. You’ve got to believe. There was always a way, and in this instance it was for Emily to book a flight to Boston. If Heather couldn’t join her for Christmas, then she’d go to Heather.

The fact that this answer now seemed so effortless unnerved her. The solution had been there from the first, but she’d been so caught up in her sense of loss she’d been blind to it.

Emily had the money for airfare. All she needed was to find a place to stay. Heather would be so surprised, she thought happily. In that instant Emily decided not to tell her, but to make it a genuine surprise—a Christmas gift.

Emily reversed her earlier conviction. What could’ve been the worst Christmas of her life was destined to be the best!

Two

Charles Brewster, professor of history at Harvard, pinched the bridge of his nose as he stared at the computer. His eyes trailed to the clock in the corner of the screen to discover that it was three o’clock. Charles had to stop and calculate whether that was three in the afternoon or three at night. He often lost track of time, especially since he had an inner office without windows.

And especially since it was December. He hated the whole miserable month—the short days with darkness falling early, the snow, the distractedness of his students and colleagues. Christmas. He dreaded it each and every year. Cringed at the very mention of the holidays. Rationally he knew it was because of Monica, who’d chosen Christmas Eve to break off their relationship. She claimed he was distant and inattentive, calling him the perfect example of the absentminded professor. Charles admitted she was probably right, but he’d loved her and been shocked when she’d walked out on him.

Frowning now, Charles realized it was happening already. Christmas was coming, and once again he’d be forced to confront the memories and the bitterness. The truth was, he rarely thought of Monica anymore except at Christmas. He couldn’t help it. Boston during December depressed him. In fact, he associated Christmas, especially Christmas in the city, with unhappiness and rejection. It was as if those emotions had detached themselves from Monica and just become part of the season itself.

Standing up, he strolled out of his office and noticed that all the other History Department offices were dark and empty. It must be three at night, then, which meant he hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Funny, he distinctly remembered Mrs. Lewis bringing him a tuna sandwich and a cup of hot coffee. His assistant was thoughtful that way. On the other hand, that might’ve been the day before. Frankly, Charles no longer remembered. His stomach growled, and he rummaged through his desk drawers for a snack. He located a candy bar, eating it hungrily, with only the briefest consideration of how old it might be.

It was too late to head home now, Charles decided. If he left the building, Security would be on him so fast he wouldn’t make it to the front door. He’d have to haul out all his identification and explain why he was still here and… No, it was easier just to stay.

He returned his attention to his work. He’d recently been contracted to write a textbook. He’d agreed to a tight deadline because he knew it would help him get through the holidays. Now he wondered if he’d taken on too much.

The next time he glanced up from the computer, Mrs. Lewis had stepped into the office. “Professor Brewster, were you here all night?”