Christmas In Mustang Creek

She shook off a twinge of—what?

“I shared a room with Jax because there wasn’t any alternative. It was so late, I knew you’d be sleeping, and the weather was terrible. In any case, he isn’t my young man.” Wait, did she sound snarky? Defensive? She hoped not. “The roll is delicious, by the way. You definitely got the vanilla right. Thank you.”

Mrs. Klozz’s eyes fairly twinkled, and she waved off Charlotte’s thanks with a good-natured smile and a motion of one hand. Then she rushed on, caught up in the story she was spinning. “He followed you here. It’s quite romantic. What are you going to do now?”

Wow. The grapevine was in fine form, evidently.

Had Jax followed her to Mustang Creek? Charlotte had her suspicions, but he hadn’t come right out and said so—had he? He’d come to town expressly to join his friend’s veterinary practice; that was her understanding anyway.

Beside her, Mutley gave a very small begging whine. She ignored it. Aunt Geneva didn’t approve of animals hovering during dinner, although Charlotte had been guilty of sneaking him a morsel or two if she was through eating, so his bad habits could be her fault.

Charlotte realized she’d been asked a question and offered a belated response. “I’m not going to do anything,” she said. “Jax has his life, and I have mine. Mustang Creek might be small, but that doesn’t mean we have to be in each other’s pockets.”

Brave words.

Mrs. Klozz didn’t seem to be listening. She picked up a cinnamon roll, took a tiny bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Maybe some more brown sugar in the filling? Raisins? I always hesitate there. Not everyone loves raisins. An acquired taste.” A pause. “What do you think?”

Charlotte wanted to laugh. She liked this woman already. “About brown sugar or raisins? It’s delicious as it is.”

“No, no, dearie, about Jaxon Locke. Keep up with the conversation.” A second pause. “So...what do you have to say about that young man?”

Mrs. Klozz was pleasant, and quite eccentric, as well. Where had Aunt Geneva found her?

By then, Mrs. Klozz was beaming, offering up another cinnamon roll.

Charlotte helped herself. She was getting full, but the pastries were among the best things she’d ever tasted. “I...um, don’t have a lot to say where Jax is concerned,” she replied, picking up the thread of the discussion.

Millicent pointed a fork in her direction. “He’s going to join that practice and take over the small-animal part of the business for now. Which reminds me, we need to take Mutley and Can-Can in to have their nails trimmed. I’m sorry to push the job of getting them there on you, but I hate the expressions on their furry faces when they realize where they’re headed. Animals are so sensitive. Would you mind, dear?”

Mutley, sensitive guy that he was, scratched himself then, sort of ruining the moment. Mrs. Klozz ignored his less-than-charming behavior.

“I was unaware of his exact plans,” Charlotte said, shoving about half a roll into her mouth. “Jax’s, I mean,” she mumbled.

They were talking about Jax now, right? With Millicent Klozz making one verbal hairpin turn after another, it was hard to know.

Apparently regarding the trip to the vet’s office as a done deal, Millicent swung the conversation into yet another curve. “Geneva will be able to come home for Christmas, according to her doctor,” she announced. “Oh, dear, I need to get more baking done. Then I can take cookies to the other patients. Just because dear G gets to come home doesn’t mean everyone’s that lucky. You’re sure about the icing?”

She looked anxious, and Charlotte’s mouth was still full, so she merely nodded.

“Well, good.” Millicent settled back and sighed. “I love this old house. It’s so comfortable, isn’t it? That’s the word for it. Comfortable. I’m very glad you’re home, Charlotte. I was rattling around here all by myself except for Mut and Can, and I needed some company.”

* * *

Jax scraped the snow off his windshield and tried to cheer himself up. Sure, Charlie had hightailed it out of there at warp speed this morning, declining to stick around for breakfast, but there was no point in reading something into it that wasn’t there.

Maybe she hadn’t wanted to sit through his meeting with Nate, and who could blame her?

They’d be seeing each other again soon. He was convinced of it.

He’d come to Mustang Creek to find Charlotte again. He’d succeeded. The job was a bonus, since it provided him with a legitimate reason to show up here, but he couldn’t deny that she’d been his real reason.

Okay, last night hadn’t been the evening of his dreams, although it came closer than any other evening of the past year.

So what if he hadn’t gotten to hold her in his arms, let alone kiss her, let alone—

There was a downside to everything, he supposed.

At least he’d been with Charlotte. Just the two of them...

Anyway, the last thing he wanted to do was crowd her.

For now, he was content to be in the same part of the country. At one point during the night, he’d rolled over and lay there, listening to her soft breathing in the dark, and that had been enough. He wouldn’t mind being a little closer the next time, but that was a start.

The meeting with Nate had gone well, too. His flourishing practice needed another pair of caring hands, Jax was experienced with both large animals like ranch stock and small ones, typically beloved pets, and the new arrangement seemed to be a good fit. If not for Charlotte, would he have stayed in Idaho and eventually taken over his father’s practice? Probably. But it had been his father who’d encouraged him to pursue her, with that signature genial smile of his. Son, seems to me you can’t forget Charlotte, and I know you’ve tried, he’d said. I think maybe you need to take a trip to Wyoming.

Well, he was in Mustang Creek, he had a job and now he needed to win the girl.

Mission not quite accomplished, but he was two-thirds of the way there.

The clinic was a low sprawling facility that had a simple sign and a parking lot big enough for trailers; inside, it was surprisingly modern, with computers at the reception desk and a full surgery suite. Nate was young and vibrant, just as Jax remembered him from vet school.

Nate showed him around enthusiastically. “Kennels here.” He pointed. “And we have an excellent care staff. They love all the animals and make sure they feel as comfortable as possible in an unfamiliar environment. I have to warn you, we do an animal-rescue adoption on Christmas Eve, which is right around the corner. Free puppies and kittens, all shots included. That’s one busy night. Hope you don’t mind. Volunteer basis. If you have other plans, I understand.”

He didn’t have plans. Wouldn’t be heading back to Idaho for the festivities. His dad would be all right; he was spending the holiday with his older brother, Jax’s uncle Seth, which he did every year, so he wouldn’t be alone. The two men usually celebrated Christmas Eve by swapping stories and reminiscing over spiked eggnog. Jax always enjoyed the informal get-together because they enjoyed it so much, but this year, he’d skip it. He had a new job, after all, and besides, he’d heard those same yarns time and time again.

All the same, he felt a little nostalgic, thinking about his family. Christmas Day, the whole crew gathered at his aunt’s house and utter mayhem ensued with excited grandchildren running amok, too many women in the kitchen, stray scraps of wrapping paper on the floor here and there...

He would miss that, but out of all the cousins, he was the only one still unmarried. No one tried to make him feel left out, but he couldn’t help it, especially when everyone settled down to dinner next to his or her spouse, chatting comfortably. There was always the inevitable question—So, Jax, you seeing anyone special?

“The Christmas Eve pet-rescue deal is a great idea,” Jax said, meaning it. Normally, he didn’t encourage people to introduce pets to their households during the upheaval of a holiday, but he knew Nate would have some kind of screening process in place, and the need to find good homes for otherwise unwanted animals was year-round. “Count me in.”

“Thanks.” Nate glanced at his phone. “I’ll see you at my place around four o’clock. I’ve got to go check on a husky that had surgery on his leg this morning and then run out to the Calder ranch because we have a mare who’s about to drop. It’s like an early Christmas present.”

Jax walked back out to his truck.

Maybe Charlotte needed a kitten. Or a puppy. He had no idea what else to get her for Christmas. Someone had beaten him to candy-cane socks, and the pink kitten pajamas had already been done, too. He felt himself grin over that one.

A pet might not be a bad gift, but it was unfair to give an animal to someone who might not be ready to make that kind of commitment. Although he could take it if she decided to move back to New York...

He hoped she’d choose to stay.

Charlie was such a mix of country girl and city woman. He’d fallen for the city woman, and now he wanted to know the country girl. She’d looked right at home in the jeans and casual sweater that morning. It would’ve been even better if he could have taken them off and made love to her. He hoped that scenario was in his future.

Speaking of his future... He had a job, but he still needed a place to live. Sacking out on Cameron’s couch, which he’d been invited to do tonight, was fine for the short term. It would get old fast, for both of them. The hotel was adequate, if impersonal, and he wasn’t going to live there.

Time to look for a house or apartment.

So he got into his truck, started the engine and called Charlie. That took some fortitude. She didn’t answer so he left a message. “This is Jax. I need a place and wondered if you could recommend somewhere.”

Two minutes later, she called back. At least, that was her number on his call display.

Only it wasn’t Charlotte’s voice he heard on the other line. “Jaxon Locke?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Oh, good. Charlotte accidentally left her phone behind. I think she was in a hurry. I can use these gadgets, but they aren’t all the same, you know, so it’s an iffy proposition. I guess I pressed the right button, though.” A brief pause. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Jax actually removed the phone from his ear, stared at it, then went back to the conversation. “I am, too. I’m not sure who I’m speaking to, but Charlie mentioned... Are you Mrs. Klozz, by any chance?”

“Call me Millicent, dear.”

Call her Millicent. “So, Charlie—Charlotte—isn’t home at the moment?”

“She’s out” came the reply. “I’ll tell her you called.”

All well and good, but Jax still didn’t understand why Mrs. Klozz—Millicent—had troubled herself to return someone else’s phone call.

“O-kay,” Jax said, drawing out the word. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Now, don’t you worry.” Millicent went on with the disjoined conversation. “You aren’t bothering me at all. Not one bit.” She drew in an audible breath. “I did want to answer your question, though. You should just stay here. We have plenty of room.”

Jax’s mind went blank. “What?”

Millicent sounded sympathetic. “This is a big house, and we could use a man around here. I can’t fix that stupid door on the upstairs bathroom—the one that won’t close properly—although I swear I’ve tried. There are other small problems you could probably take care of much better than I can, so why don’t you come and stay here with us? How ridiculous for you to pay rent somewhere.”

He finally understood. And he could imagine how Charlotte would react to that idea. “Ma’am, that’s very kind of you, but—”

“Call me Millicent,” she reminded him. “I realize this might be construed as bribery, but I make some mean Christmas cookies.”

He didn’t doubt that, but...

“Here’s the address. Even with Charlotte and me, there are four empty bedrooms. Think about it that way, Jaxon. Two helpless women who could use a little protection and someone to fix the bathroom door would appreciate having you here. You need a roof over your head, and you and Charlotte already know each other. Perfect.”

They needed protection? In Mustang Creek, Wyoming?

First of all, Charlotte Morgan could hardly be described as helpless. Plus, Jax might be new in town, but he was fairly sure that if he so much as dropped a quarter in the snow, some upstanding citizen would hunt him down and return it.

And how did Millicent know his name anyway?

Caller ID, maybe. But that didn’t explain how she’d found out he was in the market for a place to live. Surely she hadn’t gone so far as to listen to Charlotte’s voice mail. And even if she’d been so inclined, how would she have gotten the password?

“See you soon,” Millicent said breezily, ending the call.

Nate had emerged from the building at that moment and stopped by the truck, looking at him with amusement.

Jax rolled down the window. “The husky okay?”

“Husky is fine. Everything okay with you?”

“Not sure,” Jax said, scratching his jaw. “I think a little old lady just railroaded me. I might not need your couch, but don’t lend it to anyone else yet. Not all the parties involved have weighed in.”

“Okay. If it doesn’t work out, just walk in, shove off the dog if you can manage it because he weighs about a hundred and fifty and settle down with a pillow.”

Jax had to laugh. “Rufus sounds like quite the watchdog.”

“He’s conscientious in his own way. He barks if he can see the bottom of his food bowl. You could steal my car and he’d sleep through it, but try to take his bowl. And if you end up with no place to stay, remember that Rufus can sleep on the floor.” He went to his SUV, got in and waved cheerfully as he drove out of the parking lot.

Jax planned on getting a dog of his own someday. A midsize animal, maybe a beagle mix. Beagles barked a lot, even bayed now and then, but they were sweet tempered, good around kids and well mannered in general, although you had to keep an eye on them where low-lying food was concerned, because they were unabashed thieves.

Family friendly, though.

Jax chuckled, shook his head. Must be the season—he seemed to be thinking about settling down a lot.

Family friendly.

Really?

He needed to talk to Charlie.

4

Charlotte walked up the front steps of the extended-care facility with a heavy heart.

It was an attractive place, cheerfully decorated for the upcoming holidays, with wide, ice-free sidewalks, a gazebo and a small pond with a fountain, out of service for the winter, of course. A seven-foot snowman stood near the main entrance, with one chunky arm raised in welcome. His eyes and mouth consisted of colorful buttons, and his nose was the customary carrot. To complete the look, Frosty sported a plaid neck scarf and a spiffy top hat.

For all that, it hurt to think of Aunt Geneva as a permanent resident, to acknowledge that when she came home, it would only be for a visit.

She’d always been a homebody.

On a brighter note, Charlotte came bearing gifts. She carried a quantity of baked goods that would lighten anybody’s mood, Scrooge and the Grinch included.

Mrs. Klozz had definitely outdone herself, loading Charlotte down with spritz, oatmeal chocolate chip, molasses and peanut butter cookies, and that was just for starters.

She’d gain ten pounds a week if Millicent kept baking like this.

She stepped inside, juggling her purse and the big box of goodies she’d come to deliver.

There was a reception desk with a smiling middle-aged woman behind it, and Christmas music played in the background. A large fragrant tree in the corner glittered with lights and ornaments, and there was a display of opened Christmas cards on the desk next to a guest registry.

“Good afternoon and happy holidays,” the receptionist chirped. “May I help you?”

“I’m here to see Geneva Roberts,” Charlotte explained, setting down the brightly colored box festooned with ribbons. She could swear it weighed about twenty pounds. “My aunt’s friend baked a few things for the staff and tenants.”

“Oh, that Mrs. Klozz!” the other woman cried joyously. “Isn’t she lovely? Everyone will be delighted when we serve afternoon coffee.” Her smile flashed as bright as the Christmas tree in the corner. She wore dangling earrings shaped like tiny elves in green suits, and her cotton scrubs were printed with lavish red poinsettias. “You must be Charlotte. Geneva talks about you all the time. Please sign in and I’ll give you a map of the facility and direct you to your aunt’s room.”

Although she’d chosen the place and made all the arrangements for Aunt Geneva’s admittance, Charlotte hadn’t actually seen the building in person until today. Despite the shiny brochures and high recommendations from the family doctor, she’d had moments of doubt. Along with a few disturbing dreams, in which she’d glimpsed dingy halls smelling of antiseptic and glum residents clad in gray, like characters in a Dickens novel.

The reality was more than reassuring.

Just the same, it was hard to imagine her aunt being truly happy anywhere but that big old house on Maple Street, where she tended her garden every summer. In the winter she’d sit and watch her “programs,” as she called them, knitting or crocheting, while Can-Can slept next to her on the sofa and Mutley lay curled up on the rug at her feet. Charlotte could barely recall the days when her aunt had worked as a bookkeeper for a local supermarket because she’d immediately cut back her hours to make sure she was there to see Charlotte off to school in the mornings and greet her when she came home every afternoon. That was when she’d started taking in sewing, specializing in wedding gowns and outfits for the bride’s attendants. Eventually, she’d worked from home full-time; as a seamstress, she was constantly in demand. Suddenly finding herself with a small child to raise couldn’t have been easy, but Geneva had certainly made it seem that way.

And there’d always been that big old house. Geneva and her sister, Charlotte’s mother, had been born and raised there, and she’d inherited the place while she was still fairly young. There’d never been a mortgage.

Now, through an arrangement Geneva had made long ago, ownership of the house would be transferred to Charlotte.

She had mixed feelings about that.

On the one hand, she knew she’d cherish the place, couldn’t have stood to see it sold, torn down or occupied by strangers. On the other, having the deed put in her name meant Aunt Geneva couldn’t manage the place anymore.

And that was sobering.

Furthermore, owning a house, especially an old one, was a responsibility. While she was fine for now, financially speaking, Charlotte would have to get another job sooner or later, and Mustang Creek wasn’t exactly a hotbed of opportunity. Another advertising job seemed unlikely.

But she’d worry about things like that once Christmas was past and the New Year’s glitter had been swept up. Not that she and Mrs. Klozz would be having a party with champagne and confetti. More like white-chocolate biscotti and maybe a splash of something decadent in their coffee.

Yeah, she could see the spritely Millicent Klozz going for that. Just once a year, but the gleam in her eyes said she was up for a little innocent mischief now and then.

Someday she’d have to pursue the question of how Mrs. K. and her aunt even knew each other.

“Down that hallway.” The receptionist pointed to the map. “Take the first turn to the right. Her room is D-25. We have staff popping in, just in case anyone needs anything, so you’ll have to pardon us if there’s an interruption to your visit. It’s why we’re here—to be of service.”

“I’m glad to know Aunt Geneva’s being looked after,” Charlotte responded in a genuinely grateful tone.

The room was easy enough to find, and Charlotte’s throat tightened when she saw the wreath on the door was the paper one she’d made in the fifth grade, battered after all these years but carefully preserved, with pieces of tape keeping it together. She had to stand there for a moment and compose herself before she knocked.

“Aunt Geneva?” she called tentatively.

When the door opened, the familiar face lit up in a smile of joyful recognition. “Charlotte Jean,” Geneva said, opening her arms. “You come here.”

Charlotte reciprocated her aunt’s warm hug 100 percent. To her relief, Geneva looked much the same, healthy, with a hint of pink in her cheeks, wearing a patterned pink top and white slacks, slippers instead of shoes. Her space was furnished with pieces brought from the house. The parlor table with the old lamp, that green chair, the faded rug under the coffee table...

“Let’s go sit down. I’ve made tea.”

The routine was familiar and therefore comforting. Smiling, she glanced over at Aunt Geneva’s treasured antique teacups, lined up on a shelf next to the mantel.

“Everything here is so nice,” Charlotte said honestly, noticing framed pictures of her at various ages on the walls. The sight made her throat constrict again. “Do you like it?”

Her aunt looked thoughtful as she went straight to the green chair, a book propped on one cushioned arm. “Well, let me put it this way. It’s restful. I don’t think I realized how anxious I was until I moved here. Before that, I used to wake up in the middle of the night, more often than I like to remember, and wonder if I turned off the stove or locked the doors or made sure the cat was inside.” She stopped speaking, just long enough to bite her lower lip. “I forgot my medication now and then, nothing drastic, but still not good. I probably fed Mutley ten times a day because I lost track of whether I’d done it or not and I didn’t want him going hungry. One night I let him out and forgot to let him back in. It was cold. The next morning there he was, shivering on the porch.” Moisture glistened in her eyes for a moment. “I’d like to think I’m smart enough to know when I need help. The doctor says I’m suffering from a mild case of dementia, and I don’t disagree. Let’s face it, honey, I’m no spring chicken. Let me put it this way. I no longer want to live alone.”

It was a practical attitude, but one that Charlotte found hard to accept. Geneva seemed so entirely normal.

And she clearly missed Mutley and Can-Can.

Pets were allowed at the retirement center, Charlotte knew, but that didn’t mean Geneva was up to taking care of them.

She perched on the edge of the couch, folding her hands, choosing her words carefully. “I’m back now,” she began. “We could—”

“No, we can’t,” her aunt interrupted kindly, but with conviction. “I won’t have you putting your own life on hold, Charlotte. I do pretty well most days, although I need extra care. Besides, you’ll have your hands full with that big old house. It needs a new roof, by the way.”

Charlotte nodded, smiling. “Yeah,” she said. “I’ve known about that for a while.”

“I think the furnace is from the Roosevelt era,” Aunt Geneva remarked, pouring tea for both of them and picking up her cup. “It was installed some time during his third term, if I remember correctly. If it quits, go down to the cellar and give it a good kick. So far, it’s holding up, but that’s not going to last indefinitely.”

Charlotte laughed. “I love you,” she said.

“Not as much as I love you,” Aunt Geneva retorted on cue. It was an old game. “Now, tell me what’s been going on with you. How’s what’s-his-name? The veterinarian.”

“You know perfectly well that we broke up a long time ago. And you also know his name is Jaxon.”

“I was so sure he was the one,” she mused sadly.

Charlotte sighed. “He’s actually here in Mustang Creek.”

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