The Clause in Christmas Read online

  “First,” Eliza said, placing both hands on Cassie’s shoulders, spinning her around, “I’ll show you the register. Half the keys stick and it won’t calculate the change for you.”

  Cassie let out a good-natured groan. “What have I gotten myself into?”

  “You’ll get the hang of it. Just don’t accidentally short Frida Connelly on her change. She’s a retired math teacher, and she counts it every time.”

  Eliza laughed, and the infectious lilt teased a giggle from Cassie’s lips, too. Since the moment she met Eliza, the spunky blonde won her over with her endearing honesty and well-meaning meddling. And Cassie could tell that working together was going to be more fun than quality control at Santa’s workshop.

  Cassie had experienced so much joy in Poppy Creek, she simply couldn’t understand why her mother had ever left.

  As Cassie sat at the white wicker dining set situated in Maggie’s cheery kitchen nook, she sifted through a stack of glittery Christmas cards, enjoying the scent of cinnamon and sugar filling the homey space.

  “I can’t believe you took a break from the bakery to come home and bake,” Cassie teased.

  The corners of Maggie’s eyes crinkled as she laughed. “I’m so busy managing the operations side of the business, I hardly get to bake for myself anymore.” Maggie rolled the plump ball of dough in a shallow dish of cinnamon and sugar. “And that vanilla cinnamon latte you made me earlier left me craving a fresh batch of snickerdoodles.”

  Cassie’s mouth watered as her gaze drifted toward the oven. “They do smell delicious.”

  “The first batch will be ready by the time you’re finished with that Christmas card.” Maggie smiled, nodding toward the stack Cassie had only sifted halfway through. “And who’s the lucky recipient?”

  Cassie fidgeted with a particularly gaudy card with hearts and flowers bursting from Santa’s sack, which appeared to be crafted from an actual swatch of red velvet. “My mom,” she murmured, running a finger over the soft fabric.

  “How lovely. I’m sure it will make her day.”

  “Maybe. If she even opens it. She usually avoids any hint of holiday mail as though an elf might pop out and sing a telegram.”

  Maggie chuckled. “Do you think your mother will visit you in Poppy Creek for Christmas?”

  “Not a chance.” Cassie sighed, thumbing through the stack of cards absentmindedly. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you could pay my mother to come back here.”

  Frowning, Maggie rolled another clump of dough in the palm of her hand, making a perfect circle. “That’s too bad.”

  A niggling thought tugged at the back of Cassie’s mind. One she’d debated asking Maggie half a dozen times, but could never quite bring herself to form the words. “Maggie…”

  “Hmm?” Maggie concentrated on lining all the cookies in a perfect row on the baking sheet.

  “Did you…” Cassie paused and swallowed past the uncomfortable lump in her throat. “Did you know my mother?” There. The question was out. She couldn’t take it back now.

  A ball of dough slipped from Maggie’s fingers, bounced against the edge of the cookie sheet, and flattened on the tile floor.

  As Cassie watched Maggie scoop it up with a spatula and toss it in the trash, her heart beat in an anxious rhythm, awaiting Maggie’s response.

  Maggie returned to the mixing bowl and began rolling a replacement when she finally answered. “I knew of your mother. I was a bit older, so our social circles didn’t cross paths all that often.”

  “What was she like? As a kid, I mean.”

  “Well, as a youngster, she seemed adventurous and precocious. Always getting into trouble. She wanted to do anything the boys could do, but better. Whether it was climbing the tree higher or riding her bike faster.” Maggie chuckled, shaking her head. “Your poor grandmother. She was a bundle of nerves worrying after your mom.”

  “And my grandfather?”

  “Oh, he thought it was wonderful. He’d take your mother fishing and teach her how to shoot a pellet gun. In some ways, it was like he had a son and a daughter. That is, until…”

  “Until what?” Cassie had completely forgotten about the Christmas cards and scooted toward the edge of the chair, the wicker creaking as she shifted her weight.

  “Until she grew up,” Maggie said softly. “Seemingly overnight, she developed into a young woman. An incredibly beautiful one, at that. And her tastes for adventure went off in a… different direction.”

  “Boys?” Cassie asked, already confident of the answer.

  “Among… other things,” Maggie answered tactfully.

  It didn’t take much imagination for Cassie to guess what Maggie meant. She’d long suspected her mother’s drinking endeavors had started early. “That must have been difficult for her parents.”

  “It was. They did their best. But your mother…” Maggie trailed off, the cookies long forgotten.

  “Had a mind of her own?” Cassie finished.

  “Things only got worse when your grandfather passed away.”

  “How old was my mom?”

  “Barely seventeen.”

  Cassie’s throat tightened. Never having met her own father, she could only imagine the pain of losing someone you loved. “How awful.”

  “Your poor mother seemed to completely lose herself after that. She got pregnant a few months later. Which nearly broke your grandmother’s heart.”

  “Was she angry?”

  “More scared, I think. Of course, I can only guess. I wasn’t privy to all of this information when it happened. I heard rumors. But I suspect the fact that she’d just lost her husband, her own health was fragile, and your mother was still a child, all factored into your grandmother’s decision to…” Maggie hesitated.

  “To what?” Cassie sat so close to the edge of the chair she might as well have been sitting on the floor.

  Maggie closed her eyes, her features strained. When she finally opened them, her eyes sparkled with tears. “She asked your mother to give you up for adoption.”

  All the air drained from Cassie’s lungs, and she collapsed against the back of the chair.

  “Oh, honey.” Wiping her hands on her apron, Maggie rushed over and sank into the chair beside her. Placing her palms over Cassie’s hands, she gave them a reassuring squeeze. “Your grandmother loved you dearly. I’m certain she did.”

  A tear slid down Cassie’s cheek as she forced a thin-lipped smile. During her time in Poppy Creek, she’d come to believe her grandmother loved her, even though she’d never been a part of her life. But now, Cassie didn’t know what to think.

  “When people are afraid,” Maggie said slowly, “they tend to do things they wouldn’t normally do. And I think your grandmother was terrified she and your mother couldn’t give you the life you deserved.”

  Cassie nodded, although her heart physically ached. The life she deserved? What did that even mean? All she wanted was a family—someone who loved her. What more did she need?

  “I’m so sorry,” Maggie whispered, her own tears falling freely. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you.”

  Cassie interlocked her fingers with Maggie’s, squeezing back. “I’m glad you did. Truly. It helps to finally have some answers, even though I still don’t understand why my mother left Poppy Creek.”

  “No one knows. The suspicion is that your grandmother gave her an ultimatum and your mother refused. A few months after you were born, your mother disappeared, taking you with her.”

  “It just doesn’t make sense.” Cassie released Maggie’s hands, pressing her fingertips to her throbbing temple. “Why didn’t my mom give me up for adoption? She doesn’t exactly relish the role of motherhood.”

  “I’m sure it was because she loves you and didn’t want to give you up,” Maggie said simply.

  Cassie frowned, but an inkling of hope pricked her heart. Could that really be true? Cassie wanted to believe it. But something deep in her gut told her there had to be more to the story.<
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  “Do you know who my father is?” she asked.

  “I wish I did, but I’m afraid I have no idea. No one else in town seems to know, either. Your mother never told you?”

  “No, she didn’t.” Cassie’s lips trembled slightly as conflicting emotions—pain, disappointment, hope—washed over her.

  “Well, I’ll tell you one thing I do know,” Maggie said, rising to her feet.

  Cassie glanced up expectantly.

  “The first batch of cookies should be done. And nothing brightens a mood better than a warm-from-the-oven snickerdoodle.”

  Cassie smiled as Maggie slipped on a pair of plaid oven mitts and yanked open the oven door. The mouthwatering aroma of sugar and spice spilled into the kitchen.

  While Maggie busied herself with sliding the cookies onto a cooling rack, Cassie turned her attention to the stack of Christmas cards. The one resting on top depicted a charming cottage covered in shimmering snow with the words Home for the Holidays scrawled across the top in red swirly letters.

  Fanning the card open, Cassie pressed the crease into the table.

  Before her conversation with Maggie, Cassie had planned to send a simple holiday greeting.

  But now the words she penned carried an extra level of meaning.

  Dear Mom,

  Merry Christmas.

  Wishing you a heart full

  of hope this holiday season.

  Love always,

  Your daughter

  Chapter 23

  When Cassie stepped into the cottage that evening after leaving Maggie’s, she didn’t bother to turn on the lights. Standing in the darkness, she watched the multicolored glow from the Christmas tree dance across the vintage wallpaper.

  Closing her eyes, she inhaled the same comforting scents of lavender and lemon wood polish she’d noticed the first day she arrived. The aroma she’d come to associate with a woman she’d never met, but whom she’d come to love dearly nonetheless. The same woman she’d recently learned may never have wanted her—a thought Cassie couldn’t quite reconcile in her heart.

  As she flicked on the switch, light flooded the living room, illuminating familiar sights she’d grown to cherish. The comfy couch where she and Luke had sat side by side watching Christmas movies. The cozy armchair where she’d read A Christmas Carol. So many memories had turned this cottage into a home. But there was still one room in the house where she’d yet to venture.

  The brass doorknob to her grandmother’s room turned easily, and the creaking hinges gave way as if they were expecting her. Cassie’s heartbeat thrummed in her ears as she crept across the threshold.

  Shut off from the rest of the house, the frigid chill in the room sent a shiver down Cassie’s spine. A small potbelly stove sat dormant in the corner, unused since her grandmother’s passing.

  Two brocade armchairs faced the stove and a four-poster bed rested against the opposite wall. But what caught Cassie’s attention was an antique dresser adorned with a collection of silver picture frames.

  Inching closer, Cassie lifted the first frame, rubbing her thumb along the tarnished edges as she studied the black-and-white photograph of a young couple on their wedding day. Their blissful, smiling faces shone even beneath the dust-laden glass. Cassie noticed, with interest, that her grandmother’s vibrant, youthful features didn’t appear much older than in the photograph she’d discovered in Frank’s office.

  The next handful of frames displayed the same couple as they aged over the span of several decades. But as Cassie’s fingertips grazed the final frame, she pulled back in surprise. A young Donna Hayward gazed into the distance, her large green eyes hollow, the rims smudged with inky black eyeliner. In her thin arms, she cradled an infant with a telltale patch of chestnut curls visible above the folds of a pink crochet blanket.

  To Cassie’s knowledge, she was looking at the only photograph of herself as a child.

  A burning sensation filled the back of Cassie’s throat as she blinked at the image. Hot tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, and she quickly flipped the photograph facedown on the dresser, overcome with emotion. First the revelation in Maggie’s kitchen and now this…

  Cassie didn’t know what to do with herself. So, she did the only logical thing that came to mind—she tore through the rest of her grandmother’s belongings in search of more answers.

  Combing through the dresser drawers yielded nothing useful. Neither did the antique steamer trunk of extra quilts at the foot of the bed. It wasn’t until Cassie dislodged something wedged in the bottom drawer of her grandmother’s nightstand that her skin prickled with hope.

  A plain manila envelope, crinkled and smelling faintly of potpourri and menthol.

  Hands trembling, Cassie carried the envelope to the edge of the bed, the springs groaning in protest as she perched on the worn, floral quilt. In one quick motion, Cassie spilled the contents of the envelope onto the bed.

  A jumble of glossy Polaroids and typed letters stared up at her.

  As a familiar face came into view, Cassie’s breath stalled in her throat. Unable to believe her own eyes, she frantically rummaged through the pile, growing dizzier by the second as the same features appeared over and over again.

  Every single face in the collection of photographs was hers.

  Cassie paced the faded wool rug, trying to make sense of the items on her grandmother’s bed. She’d gone through the photographs and letters from the private investigator a dozen times, still unable to fully accept the reality of the situation. But Cassie should have known her grandmother had hired someone to track her down. How else would Edith have found her?

  Yet the fact that Edith hired an investigator wasn’t what upset Cassie. It was the cold, hard truths staring her in the face that Cassie found truly unsettling. Words like unemployed, alone, jaded, depressed, jumped out from the investigator’s reports, each one a dart to Cassie’s pride. She didn’t relish the idea of being followed by a stranger, let alone judged by one. Cassie felt exposed, humiliated, and…

  Cassie’s pace slowed as a thought gripped her, and she sank into the armchair, cupping her face with both hands. Her shoulders began to shake as a sob rose in her chest.

  Since the moment she’d sat in Luke’s office, stunned by the news of the clause in her grandmother’s will, Cassie had wanted to know why. Why had Edith added the clause? Was it a game? A joke? A senile woman’s peculiarity?

  As realization curled around her heart, Cassie cried both from gratefulness and from grief. Grateful that her grandmother had saved her from a life of emptiness. And grieved that she’d never had a chance to know her. Maybe at one time Edith thought Cassie would be better off with another family. But after seeing the kind of life Cassie led, Edith found a way to bring her into the type of family Cassie had always hoped for—the one she’d found in Poppy Creek.

  While she still didn’t know the significance of the Calendar itself, Cassie felt certain it wasn’t merely the frivolous whim of a dying woman.

  It was a gift.

  Luke wasn’t sure what to expect when he received Cassie’s cryptic text that simply read Come to the cottage ASAP.

  But when Cassie threw open the door, flushed and wide-eyed, Luke felt a pang of concern. “What happened?”

  Stepping aside for Luke to enter, Cassie flashed a small, sheepish smile. “I got… a little carried away.”

  Luke’s jaw dropped as he took in the chaos of the living room. Every single drawer and cupboard had been opened, their contents scattered about the room. As far as he knew, there’d never been a burglary in Poppy Creek. But this haphazard scene sure looked like one. “Are you okay? What happened?” he repeated.

  “I found something.” Cassie grabbed Luke’s hand and led him to the coffee table.

  His heart flipped—both from her touch and anticipation. “What exactly were you looking for?”

  “Anything and everything,” Cassie told him. “I found the… Gosh, I don’t even know what you call it. A dossie
r? A file?” Cassie scrunched up her face in thought, then shrugged. “Let’s call it a report. I found a report the PI sent my grandmother about me. And it got me thinking… what else could I find?”

  Luke frowned. “He sent her a report? I thought she’d just hired him to find your address.”

  “Yeah, well. Turns out it was a bit more extensive than that. But that’s not why I asked you to come over.” Kneeling, she pulled him down beside her. “Look at this.” Cassie lifted a small velvet box from the coffee table. As she slowly cracked open the lid, a folded note fluttered onto the table, revealing a stunning antique engagement ring. A flawless oval-cut diamond sparkled in the center, bordered by vibrant-hued emeralds. “Isn’t it the most gorgeous ring you’ve ever seen?” Reverently, Cassie slipped it onto her ring finger, allowing the diamond to catch the light.

  Luke couldn’t respond. The sight of the ring on Cassie’s finger completely stole his breath.

  Then, as if breaking a spell, she slid it off her finger with a sigh. “It’s the same ring my grandmother was wearing in the photo I found in Frank’s office. And that’s not all.” She tucked the ring back in the box and picked up the folded piece of paper. “Guess whose name is on the note?”

  But Luke could barely concentrate on Frank’s name scrawled in sloping cursive.

  All he could think about was the way Cassie looked with that ring on her finger.

  Chapter 24

  Cassie smiled to herself as she hung the evergreen wreath on the crooked rusty nail jutting out of Frank’s front door. She’d chosen a simple swirl of fresh greenery with a few pinecones sprinkled throughout. No bow. Zero frills. At the very least, even if he didn’t appreciate the festivity, he might leave it up for the pleasant aroma.

  Closing her eyes, Cassie took a moment to enjoy the delightful scent herself. When she opened them again, Frank’s suspicious gaze greeted her.

  “What’s that?” he grunted.