Home For Christmas

Can a magical Christmas under glass…

…bring them back together for good?

Widowed dad Adam Masterson still doesn’t understand why Joy Boston left Indian Lake and broke his heart all those years ago. Now she’s returned to sell her grandfather’s beloved poinsettia greenhouse—and Joy and Adam’s connection is as strong as ever. But Joy has a life in New York. And Adam has only until Christmas to convince Joy that she belongs in Indian Lake—with him.

CATHERINE LANIGAN knew she was born to storytelling at a very young age when she told stories to her younger brothers and sister to entertain them. After years of encouragement from family and high school teachers, Catherine was shocked and brokenhearted when her freshman college creative-writing professor told her that she had “no writing talent whatsoever” and that she would never earn a dime as a writer.

For fourteen years she did not write until she was encouraged by a television journalist to give her dream a shot. That was nearly forty published novels, nonfiction books and anthologies ago. To add to the dream, Hallmark Channel has recently released The Sweetest Heart, based on the second book in her Harlequin Heartwarming series, Shores of Indian Lake. With more books in the series and more movies to come, Catherine makes her home in La Porte, Indiana, the inspiration for Indian Lake.

Also By Catherine Lanigan

Shores of Indian Lake

Family of His Own

His Baby Dilemma

Rescued by the Firefighter

Hers to Protect

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Home for Christmas

Catherine Lanigan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90089-2

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

© 2019 Catherine Lanigan

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“I own this greenhouse now.”

“Right.” Adam reached into his pocket, took out the key. “It’s the craziest thing—this key to the greenhouse. It takes me back not just to us, but to all the fun, the sharing, the knowledge. And to Frank. This greenhouse was his passion,” Adam said.

“I remember the feeling I had when I’d walk through the doors after school. Being here was…”

“Magic,” he finished for her as he took her hand, turned it palm up, placed the key in her hand and closed her fingers around it.

Joy sucked in a breath as he touched her.

Energy shot from his hand to hers, filling her with an overwhelming longing to be held by him. Joy couldn’t stop this magnetism even if she wanted to. And she didn’t want to.

His eyes held hers, not wavering.

It was as if they were in a realm all their own. Maybe it was magic that she and Adam had once had…

Dear Reader,

For most of my life, one of the joys of Christmas was visiting the local greenhouses. There I would peruse rows and rows of the most magnificent poinsettias. But eventually the family-run greenhouses closed as more box stores moved in.

In Home for Christmas, I wanted Joy Boston to come face-to-face with her past, but also take on the challenges of our modern times. Joy inherits her grandfather’s business, which is now closed—until Joy’s first love, Adam Masterson, appears. They broke up when she bolted out of town after high school. Joy has moved on to a new life in New York City. Adam moved on as well and has a six-year-old son, Titus. Still, Adam always had a place in his heart for Joy and the greenhouse. Is the same true for Joy?

Home for Christmas will warm your heart and show you that where there is love, there is always hope.

Please write to me at catherinelanigan.com or follow me on Facebook, on Twitter, @cathlanigan, and always at heartwarmingauthors.Blogspot.com. Join Prism Book Tours at prismbooktours.Blogspot.com. Don’t forget to watch my movie on the Hallmark Channel: The Sweetest Heart, based on my Heartwarming novel Heart’s Desire.

Catherine

This book is dedicated to my parents, Frank J. Lanigan and Dorothy Lanigan, who taught me the meaning of Christmas was love. Their home was always welcoming, warm and generous. No one was a stranger in our home. This is the home I now inhabit, and as my dear friend Vicki Bushman described, “The walls of this house drip love.” There is no greater love than the love we have for our fellow man. Merry Christmas to all. God bless us, everyone!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

It is true that there are thousands of Christmas stories, but this one is very special to me. Its publication is due in part to my dedicated and insightful editor, Adrienne Macintosh, who instantly saw the eternal connection between Joy Boston and Adam Masterson.

Thanks also to executive editor Kathleen Scheibling and my mentor, editorial VP Dianne Moggy, for believing in the Shores of Indian Lake series. Bless you.

My gratitude and love always to my ever-faithful friend and agent, Lissy Peace.

You are all the very best of gifts that life has to offer. You are always welcome, Christmas or anytime, in my love-filled home.

And to all my readers, without your support and affectionate emails, letters and tweets, I don’t know how I would continue on. Your words of encouragement through the dark days after my husband’s passing meant the world to me. Your letters are still coming in and I treasure every card and letter. Heartwarming is so very aptly named. YOU are the heart-warmers. Never stop.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Introduction

Dear Reader

Dedication

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

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

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Excerpt

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

JOY STOOD AT her large office window, watching the Christmas decorating below. A fire truck raced down the street with a Christmas wreath attached to the front grille. She couldn’t help smiling. Joy always happily anticipated Thanksgiving preparations. It was the one time of year her grandfather left her hometown of Indian Lake, coming to New York to be with her. The fire truck blasted its siren and Joy smiled, remembering her grandfather always hanging a wreath on the front of his old truck and then driving her around Indian Lake with a thermos of hot cocoa, singing Christmas songs together as they looked at the lights reflected in the frozen lake waters. She’d thought then even the aurora borealis couldn’t compare to the beauty and sparkle of Indian Lake at Christmas.

Her view of Manhattan had blurred, and she wiped away her tears. She hugged herself, wondering why her thoughts kept wandering back to her grandfather so much this year. Perhaps it was because this year they wouldn’t be spending Thanksgiving together. Her grandfather owned the largest poinsettia wholesale nursery in northwestern Indiana. Though Joy’s year-end at Newly and Associates CPA firm was grueling, Frank Boston’s Christmas rush was brutal. This year he told her he simply could not break away.

“He’s so busy…bless his heart,” Joy mumbled.

The rap on the doorjamb was familiar. “Hey, girl,” Glory said. “Got a minute?”

Joy turned and smiled. Glory Washington was not only her best friend, but her roommate. They’d met the first week Joy had come to work at Newly and Associates. Glory was a month older than Joy to the day and never let her forget that she had seniority. When Glory wanted something her way, she usually got it. Glory was also the most trusting, generous and brassy person Joy had ever met, and Joy loved her to pieces.

“For you? Always. What’s up?”

Glory’s smile flashed impishly as she sashayed into the office in high-heeled suede boots, which she’d no doubt bought at one of her favorite resale shops. She wore a faux fur deep burgundy coat, black wool skirt, black cowl-neck sweater and an enormous rhinestone snowflake clip in her blond-black-and-cherry-bark dreads. The woman could wear a potato sack and look stunning.

“I saw you with the old man. You think he’s going to make you partner after the wedding?”

Glory was referring to Joy’s seven-day-old engagement to Chuck Newly, handsome, successful, ambitious and heir of the two-centuries-old New York Newly family.

She couldn’t wait to tell her grandfather, and she was doubly sad that he wouldn’t be in New York for Thanksgiving. He hadn’t returned her call from a few days ago, and she’d been too swamped at work to call him again. She was giddy with excitement about the announcement, though. She’d call him tonight for certain.

“Glory. Honestly,” Joy snorted, “you have a talent for shooting for the moon without any fuel or even the rocket. I’m not marrying Chuck to get ahead in my career.”

“Yeah? Why, then?”

“Because he’s sweet to me, uh, when we’re finally alone. Not always easy. He’s smart…and…and good to the employees and he’s clearly devoted to his father. His attitude toward family is important to me, you know? His mother must have been wonderful.”

Glory folded her arms over her chest, her faux Louis Vuitton purse banging against her side.

Joy frowned. She didn’t like that probing, accusatory stare Glory was piercing her with. “And…they’ve planned an incredible Thanksgiving for us. We’ll watch the parade at some friends’ penthouse. Then dinner at Le Bernadin.”

“Wow. Impressive,” Glory groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Liar. You’re not impressed.”

“Neither should you be.”

“What?”

“You already bought a turkey. We were going to have the whole gang over for dinner. Remember?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Did you forget?”

“No. Not really. But when Mr. Newly…Dad, I mean, told us of his plans, what could I say?”

“Oh, no. I get that. Alexander Newly is the most overbearing person I’ve ever met.”

Joy smiled. “And that’s saying a lot… coming from you.”

“Okay. Fine. I admit to being somewhat obtrusive on occasion, but it’s for everybody’s own good. I like being the mother hen.”

“This, of course, is because you’re older than I am.”

“That’s right.”

“You’re the best roommate in the world. And we still have Christmas.”

“Look, I don’t mind missing the holidays, if I thought you were happy.”

“Don’t start. I’ve told you. I’m happy! What’s not to be happy about? I’m engaged to a handsome, up-and-coming guy who—”

Glory cut in. “Whose father appears to love you more than he does.”

“That’s not true,” Joy countered as she fingered a sheaf of papers on her desk. Anytime the truth pinched the edges of her heart, she immediately rebuffed the feeling by moving on to something new. Immersing herself in yet another client’s financial fiasco or potential bankruptcy was her forte. She liked saving her clients, bailing them out of hot water, taking meetings with the IRS and pulling their hands off panic buttons. She was good at her job. Very good.

Glory stared at her. “Not true, huh?” She jerked her head toward the open door.

Chuck, dressed impeccably in a new black wool suit, brilliant white shirt and gray-and-black designer tie, breezed into the office, his Bluetooth activated as he spoke with a client. Going up to Joy, he kissed her cheek and smiled, not missing a beat of his conversation.

“Fine. Later,” he said and clicked off. “Joy, you gotta learn to take my calls—especially after hours.”

She frowned. “Not when I’m working on Nathan Withers’s account for you. And not when the only thing you have to talk about is the client.”

“Ouch.” He grinned, glancing at Glory. “My bad. But you know how I get around the holidays. Forgive me?”

He kissed her lightly on the mouth.

Joy barely had time to pucker her lips before he whirled around, took an incoming call on the Bluetooth and was gone.

Glory glared at her. “I didn’t say a word.”

Joy opened her mouth to protest and closed it. She didn’t like how much truth was in what Glory said. Too many times Joy had wondered why there weren’t romantic moments between her and Chuck. He was always like this at the end of the year. Of course, that didn’t explain the lack of romance during the summer. There hadn’t been a weekend where they took the Staten Island Ferry and just “escaped” the city. No trips to an island beach or even the Jersey beach. Even dinner date conversations revolved around their clients. Still, she and Chuck had planned a future together. Solid. Secure. Clearly devoted to family as she was to her grandfather. And one day, they’d get around to romance. Wouldn’t they?

Glory’s smile was too smug. “That guy makes my case for me.”

“Forget it. I’m marrying Chuck and that’s it. I’ve got work to do. So do you,” Joy finally said.

“I do,” Glory replied. “Want a coffee? I need a pot of caffeine myself.”

“Is that because you didn’t get in till after one last night?”

Joy’s cell rang. She looked at the caller ID. “Gish. Another Indiana scammer.”

Glory cranked her head around. “How many of those have you gotten in the last few days? Maybe it’s not a scammer.”

“Right.” Joy accepted the call. “This is Joy.”

“Joy, thank heavens I got you!”

“Mrs. Beabots? Is that you?”

“You recognize my voice?”

“Yours I would never forget. So, what’s up?”

“Oh, Joy, dear. I have the most awful news.”

Joy felt her scalp crawl, and her knees weakened. She placed one hand on the desk and lowered herself into her chair. “It’s Grandpa.”

Glory stiffened, her eyes instantly alert. Quickly, she crossed to Joy. She put her hands on Joy’s shoulders.

Joy felt her support and covered one of Glory’s hands with her own.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Is he sick?”

“He passed away. Last night, dear. Massive heart attack.”

“But…” Joy tried to make sense of what she was hearing. Frank could not be dead. He was her touchstone. “He was fine last year at Thanksgiving. I mean, I know he took a couple naps. And when I last talked to him, he said he had to cut the call short because his poinsettia supplier was on the other line.” Joy’s eyes were full of tears, but she didn’t feel them. Her face had turned cold. Her hands shook.

“Frank’s attorney tried to call you last night. He said he left a message…”

“My phone was off. Then this morning, my fia—my boss called right when I woke up. He’s relentless and he talked to me on the entire subway ride and up until I walked into my office.”

“I understand, dear. Now, you have to come back here immediately and tend to the funeral details. The attorney wants to go over the will with you. His name is Kyle Evans. I’ll text you his number. Joy, I’ll do all I can to help you with anything you need.”

“That’s sweet of you. Thank you.”

“We all loved Frank, dear. This is a shock to all your friends back home. Call me when you arrive.”

“I will.” Joy hung up.

Friends? What friends did she have in Indian Lake? None that she knew. There was only her grandpa, and now he was gone and she was alone. She put her phone down and dropped her head into her hands. “I feel sick.”

Glory rubbed Joy’s shoulders. “I’m so, so sorry, Joy. What can I do?” Glory asked.

“Nothing. There’s nothing anyone can do. My grandpa is gone. My only family. I…I have no one.”

“Not true. You have me. And—and Chuck…” Glory’s voice trailed off.

Joy looked down at the incoming text from Mrs. Beabots with Kyle’s phone number. “I have to go back to Indian Lake. ASAP.”

“Sure you do, sweetie. But…” Glory glanced out the door.

“What?”

“That’ll make your new father-in-law-to-be not so overjoyed.”

“The firm can live without me. Chuck is very capable. Even though he puts a lot on my shoulders, he’ll be fine,” Joy replied firmly. “Grandpa was all I had. Plus, I need to take care of the funeral arrangements.”

“How long will all this take?”

“A week, tops. Besides, I have over a month of accrued vacation. Honestly, I can video chat with our clients, and with text and email, no one will know I’m gone.”

“Tell me what I can do,” Glory said.

“Would you mind going to the apartment and packing a bag for me? Casual stuff. And a dress for the funeral? I’ll book my flight now.”

“Done.” Glory rushed to the door and stopped. “Joy. You know I love you, girl.”

“Love you, too. And thanks.”

As Glory whisked out the door, Joy dialed the attorney’s number.

The call was picked up on the second ring. “Evans and Evans Law. How may I help you?”

“Hello. This is Joy Boston. I need to speak with Kyle Evans. I just received his message that…my grandfather, Frank Boston…” Joy’s voice was chopped off by the biting burn of sorrow in her throat. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she dropped her forehead to her palm. “…died…”

CHAPTER TWO

THE AUDITORIUM SEATS at Saint Mark’s Elementary School were filled to capacity with parents, grandparents and students who applauded as the final curtain fell on the traditional Thanksgiving pageant. Adam Masterson bolted to his feet and proudly yelled “Bravo!” as his son, Titus, took another bow.

Adam felt his heart swell and his sight blur watching Titus’s smile radiate across the expanse. Titus. The light of his life, the motivation that forced him to get out of bed in the morning despite the shroud of grief he wore since his wife, Amie, had died three years ago. “Well done!” Adam shouted, smiling at Titus, who stood next to Timmy Bosworth, dressed in a Pilgrim costume.

Timmy took Titus’s hand in his and raised it over their heads. “Thank you and happy Thanksgiving!” Timmy announced to the crowd.

The audience erupted in more applause as the curtain fell for the last time.

“Adam,” Sarah Bosworth said, as she hoisted three-year-old Charlotte into her arms, “Titus was wonderful. He recited his lines like a professional actor. I felt like I was right there on Plymouth Plantation with those kids.”

Adam couldn’t help the rush of pride that shot straight up his spine. “He was good, wasn’t he?”

“He was. Timmy told me that he and Titus only practiced three times.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Adam said, bending closer, his hair falling over his forehead. “I think Titus has an eidetic memory. The first time I took him through his lines, he’d memorized everything.”

“No kidding?” Sarah’s eyes widened. “Wish I had that ability.”

Adam glanced toward the stage and saw some of the kids running down the aisle. “He’s been reading since he was three. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at anything he does.”

“Trust me,” Sarah said. “Gifted children aren’t easy. I know. Both Timmy and Annie are exceptional, and just last week, I caught Charlotte here sitting at the piano playing with Annie.”

Adam chucked Charlotte under the chin. “A prodigy, huh?”

Charlotte tossed her blond curls and laid her head on Sarah’s shoulder. “I like piano.” Charlotte smiled up at Adam.

“Dad! Dad!” Titus shouted exuberantly, as he worked his way through the throng of parents leaving their seats. Titus’s rented Pilgrim costume was faded but fit well. He did struggle with the black hat, which tended to interfere with his ever-present sport band that held his thick glasses in place. Titus’s mom had been myopic, too. But unlike Amie, Titus tended to be quite clumsy, always impatient to race to the next room, the next day and the next adventure.