The Christmas Campaign

Millie’s fingers fluttered to her face. “Oh, my goodness, how you remind me of him.”

“Me?” Jake had never thought he looked like his grandfather. That honor went to Peter.

“Except for your dark hair, you could almost be him sitting there.”

Jake sat a little straighter. He’d always been told he favored the O’Neils, especially his father. Not something he liked to hear since Keith O’Neil was the poster child for wild living and divorce after leaving Jake’s mother.

“Are you going to do it?”

He frowned. “Do what?”

“Build the senior center Mr. Elliott wanted.”

“You know about that?”

She nodded. “Your grandfather and Gunner and me used to talk about it. He—your grandfather—drew up a plan...” She glanced toward the walnut file cabinet in the corner of the room.

His heart speeded up. He and his grandfather had discussed the senior center he wanted built, but Jake had no idea there was a plan. If he could get his hands on it, he’d be light-years ahead of Peter.

“Do you know when the city council meets?” he asked Millie.

“The first and third Tuesday. They’ll be meeting tomorrow night.”

His mind whirled. If he worked at it, he could present his proposal to the city council at tomorrow night’s meeting. But he needed a director...or maybe two.

He eyed Millie. “You and Gunner are pretty familiar with what Grandfather wanted, right?”

She beamed at him. “We are.”

The couple might not have MBAs, but they knew what the senior center needed. He raised his eyebrows. “How would you and Gunner like to be the directors of the Richard Elliott Senior Center?”

“Why, that’s exactly what your grandfather suggested,” she said.

“Good. It’s settled, then. In the beginning, there won’t be any pay, though.”

She put her hand on her hip. “Wouldn’t take it if there was any.” Then she frowned. “But how will you get the city council to put money into it? Your grandfather was worried about that.”

Jake was as well, especially since he wasn’t that familiar with the council members. The only member he knew was the one for his district, Boyd Anderson. He wished now that he had attended a meeting or two. But at least the mayor was a good friend.

“Isn’t that nice Nicole Montgomery on the city council?” Millie asked. “I know you could charm her into voting for it.”

He searched his memory. He wasn’t familiar with her as a council member, but he’d gone to school with a Nicole Montgomery. The image of a dark-haired teenager floated to the surface—could that be her?

“Do you know where I could find her tomorrow?”

“She’s the bookkeeper for her daddy at Montgomery and Sons Construction Company,” Millie said. “And her mother is in my book club—we meet tomorrow night. I’ll work on her.”

He stood. “Good. Now, let’s see if we can find Grandfather’s plan for the center.”

If he could get Nicole Montgomery on his side along with the mayor, Peter wouldn’t have a chance.

CHAPTER TWO

NICOLE MONTGOMERY CAREFULLY put the sixtieth candle on her father’s birthday cake, and wondered which of her brothers would make a crack about Daniel Montgomery not burning down the house. “Do you want the cake in the dining room?”

“On the buffet.” Her mother turned to get something from the refrigerator.

Nicole pushed open the dining room door and couldn’t keep a grin from sliding across her lips. She shook her head. As usual, her mom had gone all out. Blue and white streamers hung from the ceiling and birthday balloons floated up from their tethers, competing with Christmas decorations that had been up since the day after Thanksgiving.

While normal people hit the stores at 5 a.m. on Black Friday, her mother decorated the family home, inside and out. It never seemed to faze her that a week later, she would add birthday decorations. If it’d been Nicole, she would have simply waited on the wreaths and Christmas trees.

Back in the kitchen, she peeled the Idaho golds that would soon be her mother’s award-winning creamed potatoes.

“Look at this.”

Joyce Montgomery pushed her smartphone under her daughter’s nose. Nicole leaned back so she could see what was so important, but the words blurred. “It’s too close, I can’t read it.”

“It’s a text from Sarah Redding, the director of the children’s shelter. Volunteers are needed this Saturday to help get the place ready for state inspection. I’m sure Peter Elliott will be there.”

Her mother was matchmaking again. Maybe she’d drop the subject if Nicole ignored her.

“You should plan on going. Your brothers, too. I’ll tell them as soon as they get here for dinner.”

“It’s Pop’s birthday. You might want to wait until the celebration is over.” Nicole scratched her nose with the back of her hand. She wished her mom would quit trying to fix her up. She’d done the relationship thing, and it hadn’t worked out.

And it wasn’t as if men didn’t ask her out. She’d simply gotten in the habit of preferring her own company to the dreaded dating scene. The nervousness of that first date. Making small talk. Shake hands or kiss at the door? Nope. Been there, done that, had the broken heart to prove it.

She could count on one hand the men she trusted, and they were all family members. “What do you want me to do after I finish the potatoes?”

“I want you to promise me you’ll help at the shelter this Saturday. I know you don’t have anything planned.”

“I might. There are a lot of Christmas parties happening already.” It was only Monday afternoon. Anything could happen in four days and seven hours.

“Pff,” her mother huffed. “You never go out on Saturday.”

Nicole washed the diced potatoes and put them on to boil. “You never know, I might have a hot date. Besides, Peter Elliott doesn’t notice me any more now than he did in high school. So don’t try to find ways to throw us together.”

Nicole was surprised she hadn’t mentioned Jake. He was another of her mom’s men-you-could-date-if-you-wanted-to subjects since Nicole’s breakup with Stuart two years ago.

“But you both serve on the city council. If you’d just practice flirting a little—”

“Mom! Really.” She bent down and hugged her five-foot-four mother. “I’m not his type. All during high school and in college, he only had eyes for Allie Carson. She was cute and dainty—something I’ll never be.

“And don’t start with his cousin Jake. Neither of them are into someone who can look them straight in the eye, or outshoot them on the basketball court...or who walks like a heifer plodding across cotton rows.”

Nicole’s reference to a comment made twenty-one years ago brought a frown from her mother. “You do no such thing. And that dance instructor never said that was the way you walked.”

Nicole might have been only twelve, but she knew what she’d heard. And she’d never gone to another class.

Her mother wasn’t one to let a subject die. “I mean, you might not have been asked to dance the lead in a ballet, but you were...very graceful on the basketball court.”

And that was the only place she was graceful. Nicole’s size-ten feet and five-ten frame were not made for dancing, no matter what her mother wanted to believe.

“She could’ve been another supermodel,” said her brother Sam as he entered through the back door. He handed Nicole the two-year-old in his arms, and then turned to take a shopping bag from his very pregnant wife.

“With my feet, I’d probably stumble on the runway.” She nuzzled the baby’s soft blond hair as Sam tenderly guided Amy to a chair. Her oldest brother, who’d just turned forty, had it good, and he knew it. No biological clock ticking for him. Or Amy, who at thirty-six was only three years older than Nicole. With the birth of their son in two months, Amy would have her family complete. At least that was her plan.

“I’ll take Grace, and you can put this wherever Mom has the other presents stashed,” Sam said.

Her brother held out the prettily wrapped package Amy had brought in. Nicole glanced at the silver bow and embossed paper. All that fancy wrapping was wasted on her dad. Now, her mother on the other hand...

“No, I’m good.” She so seldom got to hold her niece, and she wasn’t ready to give her up yet. “Put that in the dining room and then go drag Pop out of his wood shop and tell him dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. Chris and Aaron should be here by then.” It would take that long for Sam to pry their dad away from whatever special project he was working on and get the sawdust brushed off his clothes.

Just as she’d predicted, twenty minutes later when the two men came in from the shop, her other two brothers arrived with their families. When it came to celebrating birthdays, or any holidays for that matter, no one did it up any better than the Montgomerys, and an hour and a half later, the house rocked with the sound of conversation and laughter.

With the meal finished, Nicole leaned back in her chair and glanced around the dining room table, lingering on each face, especially her dad’s at the head of the table. He sat with his steepled fingers against his chin, a contented smile on his lips. She glanced down at her matching long fingers. She’d always been fascinated that his large hands could tease a delicate dolphin out of a block of wood or set a bird’s broken wing. He was probably the reason she hadn’t married—she hadn’t found any man who could measure up to him.

Her mom set the candle-laden cake in front of him, and Sam said, “Where’s the fire extinguisher?”

Daniel Montgomery raised an eyebrow. “Better be careful what you say—you’ll be here one day.”

Then he took a deep breath and blew all the candles out while everyone cheered. Nicole sighed, wishing her empty apartment had a little of this warmth and hominess. Except celebrations like this also served as a reminder of what she didn’t have.

On days like this when the whole family was together, she felt like an outsider, the only one without someone special and without children. Oh, good grief. Being single wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It wasn’t like she didn’t have friends. She traveled when she wanted to and controlled the TV remote—what more could she ask for?

“I neef potty!” Her niece’s yell broke her thoughts.

Thank you, Grace. Nicole pushed her chair back and threw her brother a smile. “I’ll take care of this.”

Sam glanced at his brothers. “Now, that’s the way to train your sister.”

She whacked him on the shoulder as she led Grace toward the bathroom.

“Tank you, Aunt G.,” Grace said a few minutes later as Nicole helped her with the Pull-Ups. All of her nieces and nephews had trouble saying “Nicole,” so the problem was remedied by calling her by her first initial.

“You’re welcome, honey. Let’s wash your hands.” When she finished drying Grace’s hands, she asked her, “Having fun today?”

The golden curls bobbed, and Nicole swept the tiny girl up in her arms, marveling at how light she was. With her dainty frame, no doubt she would become the ballerina her grandmother always wanted. A good thing, since the other three grandchildren were boys.

As Nicole neared the dining room, her mother’s voice carried through the open door.

“Samuel, I want you to make sure your sister goes to the children’s shelter cleanup Peter Elliott is doing Saturday. And Aaron and Chris, I expect you to encourage her and to be there, as well.”

Nicole stopped midstride as heat raced up her neck to her cheeks. She should have known her mother wouldn’t listen to her. She counted to ten, giving her heart time to still, then, setting Grace down, she slipped her phone from her pocket and texted her best friend. Invite me to lunch and Christmas shopping Saturday? PLEASE.

Less than a minute later a message pinged. Sure. But why the PLEASE?

Explain later. Nicole put her phone back in her pocket. Then in a voice loud enough to carry, she said, “Okay, Gracie, let’s get you back in your booster seat.”

Silence greeted her as she reentered the dining room and slid Grace into the high chair. “Did I miss anything?”

“Nope,” said her brother Aaron.

Nicole caught the look her mother gave him.

“Oh, by the way,” Aaron said. “I’m volunteering Saturday to help Peter Elliott fix up the shelter. What time do you want me to pick you up?”

“Pick me up for what?”

“Aren’t you going to help?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, I have a lunch date, but I hope you have fun.”

“Lunch date?” her mom repeated. “You never said—”

“Cheryl sent me a text a few minutes ago. We’re doing lunch and then we’ll pick up some Christmas presents.” Which wasn’t a lie. She glanced at her brothers, and the sympathy in their eyes burned her insides. Burned enough to make her blink back tears.

Her dad cleared his throat. “Hey, Nic, if you’re finished eating your cake, come see what I’m working on in the shop.”

She cut a sharp glance at him. No sympathy, just love in his face. She nodded.

Her dad crooked his arm for her to slide her hand through. “We will be back directly, unless Nicole decides to sand a little on that bookcase she’s making,” he said over his shoulder.

“Don’t either one of you dare!” her mother called after them. “You still have your presents to open.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As they stepped out of the house, her phone alerted that she had a text, and she glanced at it. It was from Cheryl, already canceling their lunch date because she’d remembered a prior commitment. With her boyfriend, no doubt, but Nicole would keep the cancellation to herself.

She strolled with her dad to his workshop.

“Can you believe it’s almost the first of December and seventy degrees?” he said.

Thank you, she replied silently. “I think it’s supposed to turn cold this weekend.”

One thing about her dad—he didn’t push her to talk about something she didn’t want to discuss. The fragrant smell of cedar washed over her when she stepped through the door. “You’re making a cedar chest.”

“Yep. It’s over here.” He led her to the chest, which was finished except for attaching the hinges.

She ran her hand over the smooth wood, admiring the red lumber that seemed to glow. “You never did make me one.”

“You know what they say about the cobbler’s children having no shoes,” he said with a laugh. “Except that’s no longer true. This one’s yours.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. She had so not expected this. “Oh, Pops, thank you. It’s beautiful!”

“Like you.”

“Stop that. You’re going to make me cry.”

He hugged her. “It’s true.”

Nicole laid her head on his shoulder. She knew better. Her mouth was too wide, and her hair too straight, just like her body. Guys never seemed to give her a second look.

She squeezed him and then walked over to the bookcase she’d been working on, half tempted to pick up her sanding paper. “Thanks for feeling sorry for me and getting me out of the house.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I heard Mom when I was in the hallway.”

“Oh.” He rummaged in his toolbox and handed her a sheet of garnet sanding paper. “She means well—she knows how much you want a family, and we’ve both seen the way you look at Sam and Amy. And little Grace.” He put his arm around her. “Honey, I know it was bad after Stuart married what’s her name—”

“Tiffany.”

“Yeah, her. But the point is, eventually you’ll have to risk your heart again.”

If only her heart wasn’t a block of ice. Nicole wasn’t sure she’d ever be willing to trust another man.

“Your mom just wants you to be happy.”

She quirked her mouth in a wry grin. “And Jake O’Neil and his cousin Peter Elliott are at the top of her list of eligible men in Cedar Grove.”

Her dad laughed. “Could be worse.”

“But pushing me on Peter isn’t the answer. I spend two hours a month with the man at the city council meetings, and not once has he indicated he might be interested in me. Other than to get my vote on one of his pet projects.”

“Speaking of votes, I talked to Hugh yesterday. He’s talking about not running for the mayor’s office again in the next election.”

Her heart kicked up a notch. She hadn’t heard that. “Really? Why not?”

“He said he’d been having a few health problems. If he doesn’t run, that would get rid of one of the obstacles you mentioned when we talked about you running for mayor.”

Her mind raced. She’d known and respected Hugh Gordon all her life, but he wasn’t the most effective mayor Cedar Grove could have. If he didn’t run, and if she could win the election, she could implement a plan she’d been working on with Judge Connors, an old friend of her dad’s.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I like it,” her father said. Then he wrinkled his nose. “Except if you become mayor, I’ll have to get someone to run the office.”

The family-owned company was small, and Nicole did it all, from bookkeeping to answering the phone. “Do you really think I could get elected?”

“I don’t know why not. You handily won the city council seat, and the mayor’s office will be a cinch, too. But you need to start campaigning now, let people see you helping out at places...like the children’s shelter. I doubt Cheryl would mind if you canceled your outing.”

“Pops!”

“I’m serious, Nic. You know as well as I do that you would have jumped on helping out if your mom hadn’t been the one to suggest it. I’ve heard you say a dozen times the shelter is a good thing for Cedar Grove. If you’re seriously considering the mayor’s race, you need to get your name out there and quit hiding your light under a bushel. And who knows, you and Peter might just hit it off.”

She stared at him. “Not you, too.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You never know—”

She put her hands on her hips. “I know this. South Mississippi will freeze over before Peter Elliott ever asks me for a date.”

Or his cousin Jake.

CHAPTER THREE

THE SUN HUNG low on the horizon as Peter walked to his car. He’d tucked the letter from his grandfather in his briefcase to read later tonight. Right now he had to answer a text from the director of the children’s shelter. Call me.

As he dialed Sarah Redding’s cell phone number, he shrugged out of his suit coat. It was unseasonably warm weather for the last of November. That was one thing he’d enjoyed since returning home—the odd days of warm weather in fall and winter. Of course, tomorrow it could be thirty.

Sarah answered on the first ring. “We have a problem.”

“We always have a problem, Sarah,” he responded.

“Well, you know that recent storm damage we had, it’s more extensive than I first thought. And we have the state inspector coming next Monday. I’m afraid we won’t be ready in time. I’ve put the word out for volunteers this Saturday, but—”

“Just hold on, I’ll be there in five minutes. We’ll figure out something.”

That was another good thing about Cedar Grove. A person could go anywhere in town in less than ten minutes. Sarah met him at his car. “I don’t see how they can expect us to get all this done in seven days.”

“Did you call them and explain?”

“I tried to, but they wouldn’t budge.”

He took the list of repairs from her hand and scanned it. Whoa. The roof needed repairing, windows needed to be unstuck, shutters replaced or repaired, leaves were too close to the foundation, holes needed to be filled in the yard, receptacles...the list went on. No way could they get all this done without hiring a crew, and that they didn’t have money for.

“Have you contacted Mr. Davis?” Davis was a handyman the center used for repairs.

“He’s in the hospital with a broken leg—he fell off a roof. I’ve called a few other contractors, but with this warm weather they’re all busy trying to beat the rain predicted for this weekend.”

“Show me what needs to be done inside.”

He followed her through the back door into the kitchen where Tyler Bennett sat at the table. Peter had almost forgotten the trouble the boy had gotten into. “Hey, Tyler. Did something happen at school today?”

The teenager brushed a mop of brown hair away from his forehead, revealing defiant blue eyes.

Sarah folded her arms. “He’s suspended for three days.”

Peter struggled to keep disappointment from his voice. “What was it this time, Tyler?” Even though he knew the answer, he wanted to hear the boy’s side.

Tyler’s mouth twitched. “Nothin’ important.”

Sarah said, “Nothing important? He—”

Peter put his hand on her arm. “Let him tell me what he did,” he said gently.

The hand the teenager had been dealt the past few years was one most adults would want to walk away from, and Peter hurt for the teenager. But the kid had his whole life ahead of him, and in this particular circumstance, having him own up to what he did was the only way Peter knew to help him.

Tyler drew circles on the paper in front of him. Peter waited. When the boy looked up, Peter raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

Tyler huffed. “I unscrewed the top of the pepper shaker at the teachers’ table. One of the basketball players ratted me out. Shoot, Coach Dawson doesn’t even taste his food before he grabs the salt and pepper.”

Peter clamped his jaw to keep from grinning. “Why?”

The teen looked down. Finally, he lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Coach wouldn’t let me even try out for the team. Said I should’ve come three months ago with everybody else. Not my fault I wasn’t here, yet.”

“Did you tell him that?”

He shook his head. “He’s the coach, he ought to know.”

“Well, he might not,” said Peter. “So, you don’t see anything wrong with what you did?”

The teenager averted his gaze. Again the half shrug. “Maybe it was a dumb thing to do.”

“Maybe?”

“All right. It was a dumb thing to do, and I won’t do it again.”

“That’s better. Have you written the coach an apology?”

Tyler slid an envelope from the papers on the table. “Along with five pages of ‘I won’t unscrew the top of the pepper shaker again.’”

Peter took out the paper and looked over the apology.

I’m sorry I unscrewed the pepper shaker and ruined your lunch. It won’t happen again.

Tyler Bennett

“You’ll give it to him tomorrow?”

“I can’t go back to school until Thursday.”

Maybe Peter could do something about that. “Okay.”

He turned to Sarah. “Show me what needs fixing.”

They walked into the living room first, and she pointed out the light switches and receptacles that needed replacing. “Like I said, I put out a call for some volunteers this Saturday. The warm weather is supposed to hold until late afternoon before it rains and turns cold. If enough people show up, maybe we can knock out every bit of this.”

Peter looked at the list again. He could replace the receptacles, but it’d probably be faster to hire an electrician. Everything else could be done by the volunteers. “You’re a genius. How many people did you contact?”

“I started with our regular volunteers, and a couple of people I know from church.”

“Good. I’ll see if I can find an electrician for the wiring.”

She tilted her head toward the kitchen. “Do you have time to shoot a few baskets with Tyler? You can turn the floodlights on.”

A mound of paperwork waited for him back at his office, not to mention he’d like to read his grandfather’s letter. But those things could wait. If there was a chance that shooting a few baskets with the teenager might soften those stony blue eyes, he’d give it a try. “Sure.” He turned and raised his voice. “Hey, Tyler, do you have time to shoot a few baskets?”

“Are you kidding? Sure.”

The boy was waiting with his basketball by the back door when Peter walked into the kitchen. “You sure you can play basketball?” Tyler looked skeptical.