It Must've Been the Mistletoe Read online

  My mother clutched my arm and squeezed. “You missed a wonderful party tonight. We had a lot of fun.”

  Caleb turned around from the front seat and winked. “We sure did. The guys played a round of night golf. And I also filled in as Adeline’s partner. You’re a lucky man, Will.”

  My mother stared at me curiously. “Is there something going on between you and Adeline?”

  Trent spoke up first. “Not yet. Jessica wants to set them up on a date. I tried to tell her it wasn’t going to work out, but she didn’t want to hear it.”

  “Adeline’s a sweet girl,” my father added, looking at me over my mother’s head. “With the way you work, I’d hate for you to break her heart. She’s a good egg.”

  My mother nodded and patted my hand. “She’s also very beautiful. There’s not a lot of people out there with the whole package. Just do us a favor and don’t hurt her. You’ll have Jessica to deal with if you do.”

  “And she’s the last person you want on your bad side,” Trent said, and everyone laughed.

  I was beginning to think meeting Adeline wasn’t the best idea. I didn’t like hurting the women I’d dated over the years; it just always happened that way. I was a busy man, and found it hard to give people the quality time they hoped for. Who knew, maybe she wouldn’t want anything to do with me once she met me. That would make things a lot easier.

  I was tired, but I couldn’t sleep. My body was still on California time—three hours behind. Trent’s house had changed over the years. It wasn’t a bachelor pad anymore. Everywhere you turned, there were pieces of Jessica. Whether it be a painting on the wall, or the fancy candles on the mantle. Not to mention, the Christmas decorations everywhere.

  Standing by the fireplace, the heat on my skin felt good. On the mantle, there were pictures of mine and Trent’s family, as well as Jessica and hers. There was even one of her and Adeline, laughing so hard it looked like they were about to fall out of the porch swing they were on.

  “Can’t sleep either?” Trent said, his voice low and sleepy.

  I turned around and shook my head. “I blame it on West Coast time. What’s your excuse?”

  Sitting down on the couch, he rubbed a hand over his face and through his hair. “I’m nervous.”

  “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” I made my over and sat across from him.

  He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Of course not. I love Jessica.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  Taking a deep breath, he huffed it out. “I’m nervous that I won’t be enough. What if I can’t give her everything she wants?”

  “I think we both know I’m not the best suited to tell you it’ll be okay. I wouldn’t know what it’s like to be in love with someone.”

  He snorted. “It’s scary.”

  “I have no doubt. But from the outside, looking in, you and Jessica fit together so perfectly, I honestly don’t see how you could ever not be enough for her. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for her.”

  Trent met my gaze, the doubt slipping away. “You’re right.”

  I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

  Slowly, he sucked in another breath. “Thanks, Will. I love her so much. It scares me to think that one day she might fall out of love with me. I don’t want to lose her.”

  “Just don’t do anything I would do, and you’ll be okay.”

  That brought a smile to his face. “One day, brother. One day, you’ll know what it feels like.”

  I scoffed. “I’m starting to think I don’t want to.”

  “Yeah, it’s terrifying to fall in love, but the rewards outweigh it all. There’s no greater gift.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  Trent patted my shoulder. “You won’t have to. You’ll find it on your own. I have faith.” He yawned and stood, stretching his arms above his head. “I think I’m about ready to go to bed now. Thanks for the talk.”

  “Anytime.” Once he was gone, I sat by the fireplace and looked at the fire until my eyelids grew heavy. The clock struck two and that was the last thing I remembered before falling into a deep sleep.

  Six

  Adeline

  There was something about my grandparents’ house that always felt like home. Any chance I had, I was always spending my spare time with them, especially with my grandfather. I could listen to his stories all day long. We used to pop a bag of popcorn and watch documentaries every Saturday night. Before my grandfather passed away, he made me promise I’d never sell the house. The historical society wanted to buy it and turn it into a museum, but no amount of money would ever make me change my mind.

  I’d taken a quick shower when I got home, changed into pajamas, and poured myself a glass of wine, before retreating to the living room. With the gas logs turned on, I snuggled with my favorite blanket on my mint-green Victorian style sofa. The Christmas tree was lit, and underneath was filled with presents. An hour later, I finished my wine, and laid my head back on the sofa.

  Darkness soon took over. I could hear things in my dreams, but I couldn’t see them.

  Footsteps sounded around me on hardwood floors, and there were voices I didn’t recognize. Panic flooded my veins and I jerked awake, screaming.

  A woman came into view. She looked startled. I didn’t know her, but there she was, standing in my living room, dressed in a long, black dress, covered with a white apron. She stumbled back into the edge of the mantle and gasped. She looked to be in her late-thirties, her milky complexion flawless.

  What the hell was going on? Where was I? This wasn’t my living room, was it? I glanced around. No. My living room looked different.

  The hardwood floors weren’t as brightly polished as I’d had them done this past fall. And the furniture wasn’t mine. The couch I’d woken up on was a Victorian sofa like mine, but this one was a dark beige, not mint green. What really caught my eye was the Christmas tree. It had lights and red ribbons, with crystal ornaments twinkling throughout, along with strands of pearls draped from top to bottom. It was completely different than the one I’d put up just a couple of weeks before.

  I had to be dreaming. It was the only explanation.

  “Ms. Hamilton, are you all right?” the woman asked.

  “Who are you?” I snapped, tossing my blanket onto the floor. I jumped to my feet and sucked in a breath. That was when I noticed my clothes. I wasn’t in my pajamas, but in a long, light blue nightgown with lacy, cream-colored sleeves. I pinched my arm and squeaked in pain. This dream felt so real.

  The woman curtsied and bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Ms. Hamilton. I didn’t mean to startle you. My name is Helen. I know you had a long journey, but we have much to prepare for the party tonight. Your grandmother is dying to meet you.” Party? Grandmother? Nothing made sense. Although, she did look familiar somehow.

  Closing my eyes, I squeezed them tight and blew out a breath. Maybe if I focused hard enough, I’d wake up and be back in my living room. Everything went silent and I smiled. Once I opened my eyes, the woman would be gone, and all would be right in the world. I could move from the sitting room and make it to bed, where I could get a good night’s rest for the wedding tomorrow.

  However, when I opened my eyes, she was still there. Stunned, I rubbed a hand over my face. “This can’t be real.”

  Helen walked over to me and touched my forehead. “You’re not ill, are you? Should I call on the doctor?”

  “No, I’m fine. I think I’m just dreaming.” Once more, I looked around the room and pinched my arm as hard as I could. Nothing changed, except now, my skin was bruising before my eyes. Rubbing the spot, I shook my head. “How did I get here?”

  Helen giggled, staring at me like I’d lost my mind. “You arrived in the middle of the night and was on the porch when Reginald found you. He’s your grandmother’s coachman. Do you not remember the trip here?”

  Shaking my head again, all I could remember was fa
lling asleep. “No,” I whispered.

  She looked at me curiously. “Strange. You must’ve gotten here somehow. Reginald helped bring you in and you fell asleep on the couch. No one wanted to wake you.”

  “Helen, I need you in the kitchen, please,” someone yelled.

  “I apologize, Miss. That’s Evelyn. She’s the main cook in the house. I must go. I’m sure you’ll meet everyone soon.” She nodded toward the stairs. “Your room is up the stairs, first room on the right. I’ll be up to help you get dressed. Your gown is laid out on your bed.” Turning on her heel, she hurried off.

  If this was a dream, it sure did feel real.

  The cold hardwood floors froze my feet as I walked over to the front door. Opening it, I gasped in disbelief. What used to be my concrete driveway was now a dirt road. My car was nowhere in sight, and there was a carriage in its place. And in the distance, I could see horses in a field. The white columns out front were still decorated with garland and red ribbons though, only there were no twinkling lights.

  “Adeline?” A soft, feminine voice called from behind me, sounding shocked. “Close the door. You don’t want everyone seeing you in your nightgown.”

  I jerked around, and my heart stopped. The woman standing at the top of the stairs was no stranger. I recognized her from the picture I’d just shown my students the day before. I’d studied every single portrait in my family history. It was Mary Adeline Hamilton, my fifth great-grandmother, and the woman who inspired my family to name me Adeline. If memory served me correctly, she died in 1879.

  I gently shut the door and made my way up the stairs, padding barefoot on the hardwood. Her white hair was thin, but she had it up, covered under a hunter green hat that matched her dress. Tears sprang to my eyes. Even if it was a dream, my own flesh and blood stood before me, close enough to touch. “Grandmother?” I whispered.

  She smiled and clasped my chin. “You look just like your mother. I miss her so much. I hate it took thirty years for us to find you.” Her focus landed on my neck. “We knew who you were as soon as we saw that locket.”

  I touched the heart-shaped pendant. “How so? I don’t understand.”

  A soft chuckle escaped her lips. “It’s been a long night, and I know you’re worn out. We thought you’d have more time to rest before the party, but it doesn’t seem so.” She leaned in close and hugged me. “I’m dying to know all about you. When the party’s over, we’ll talk as much as you want. I hope you know how much it means to me to have you here.”

  I hugged her back and breathed her in. She smelled like lavender, just like my other Hamilton grandmother had when she was alive. It made me miss her.

  She stepped back, but kept her hands on my shoulders. “How are your cooking skills?”

  I shrugged. “Good enough, I guess. Why?”

  She blew out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry this is all so last-minute, but the week of Christmas is packed with festivities. Tomorrow, there’s going to be a baking raffle at the town hall. All the eligible young women and men must enter.”

  I didn’t know if I liked the sound of that. “What do I have to do?”

  “You have to bake a meal and pack it up nice in a basket. Your basket will be given a number. Each young man will draw a number out of the hat, and whoever chooses yours, will be your escort to the Christmas party here on Christmas day.”

  I stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “And I have to do this?”

  She shook her head. “No, of course not, but with you being new to town and all, I thought you’d want to get to know some people. Trust me, dear one,” she said, running a hand down my hair, “it’ll be most amusing.”

  “I’ll do it.” It sounded absurd, but if it made her happy, I’d agree to almost anything.

  Helen appeared at the bottom of the stairs and cleared her throat. “Sorry to interrupt, Madam, but I must get Miss Adeline ready for the party.”

  My grandmother’s eyes brightened. “Indeed.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can get dressed on my own,” I said, only to hear them chuckle. Looking between them, I asked, “It is just a Christmas party, correct?”

  My grandmother tutted and waved her hand. “More like a homecoming party, Christmas gathering, and debutante ball. The town has been expecting your arrival for a long time now. They want to meet you; the young men in particular.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “So, that’s why you want me to participate in the baking raffle.”

  She sheepishly looked away. “Maybe. Can you blame an old woman? I just want you to make some connections. It’s important to have friends.”

  “I bet.” Even in a dream, I couldn’t escape the matchmaking game.

  My grandmother patted my cheek. “You’re thirty years old, Adeline. Most women your age are married with a handful of children already. Your choices of a suitable match grow slimmer by the day.”

  “Thanks,” I replied sarcastically.

  Her gaze saddened. “You don’t have to pick a husband. Love is important. I want you to find it. It’s a gift that should be cherished.” She cupped my cheek and smiled, before turning on her heel and disappearing down the stairs. It felt like I was back at home with Jessica, and her attempts to play matchmaker; only now, I was thrust back in time with a grandmother who’d died a hundred and thirty-eight years ago.

  Helen cleared her throat. “James Ferguson and George Cantrell will be here tonight,” she said low. “They’re both handsome, if I do say so myself.”

  I followed her up the stairs to my bedroom. Even in my dreams, I couldn’t escape the embarrassment of people wanting me to find a man. It made me feel pathetic. I couldn’t help it I wasn’t interested in any of the guys Jessica threw my way. Believe me, I wanted to feel something for someone.

  “Are you married?” I asked Helen.

  She stopped at my bedroom door and smiled. “I am. His name is Jonathan Carrigan. I don’t think you’ve met him yet, but he tends to the horses.”

  She opened the door and I couldn’t help but smile. My room was laid out the same way, with the bed straight ahead, a dresser to the left, and windows to either side. But again, the furniture was different. The antique bed frame stood high with a stool to the side. The curtains and bed spread were all made of white lace, not the light blue colors I had in real life.

  I moved over to the window and slid the curtain out of the way. There was a young man walking a horse over to the field beside the house. He was tall and thin, with scraggly red hair, dirt on his face, and dressed in old clothes. Even under all the dirt, I could tell Helen’s husband was a handsome man. He almost reminded me of Arnold, the man who took care of my horses. He had the same red hair as well.

  “Any children?” I asked, turning away from the window.

  Her smile faded. “No, Miss. We’ve tried for years.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine.”

  She shrugged. “We’re still happy. It gives me time to do other things.” She nodded at the dress on the bed and I gasped.

  “Wow.” I hurried over to the exquisite gown. It was light green with gold accents embroidered throughout. Judging by the style of the dress and the hoop skirt in the corner of the room, I’d have to say it was around the late 1860s. Instead of a full round hoop like earlier in the 1860s, it was flat in the front and round in the back. I lifted the dress and held it to my chest. “This is beautiful.” I was amazed at the quality.

  Helen grinned wide. “Thank you. I made it myself.”

  “Really?”

  She giggled. “My mother taught me how to sew at an early age. I’ve been doing it ever since.”

  “You need to open up a dress shop. Why are you a maid when you have all this talent?”

  She took the dress and gently laid it on the bed. “Your family treats us well. They provide my husband and I with a place to live. I couldn’t possibly leave—wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “You wouldn’t have to leave,” I told her. “You could always do both.
There are tons of women in this world with multiple talents. Don’t let fear stop you.”

  For a brief moment, I could see the wheels in her mind turn. But then she sighed and averted her gaze. “Thank you, Ms. Hamilton, for your kind words.”

  I could see she wouldn’t take heed, but I’d forgotten the time and place. Not many women would throw caution to the wind and chase a dream in the 1800s. They weren’t even allowed to vote yet.

  I took off my nightgown, and reached for my undergarments, hoping that I wouldn’t wake up soon. I wanted to meet more people. This time period was absolutely fascinating.

  Helen brought over a corset and I cringed. The thought of not breathing all day made my lungs hurt. “Lift your arms, Ms. Hamilton,” she advised. I hesitated, but when I met her gaze, I did as she asked, and she slid it down over my waist. The second she tightened the first string, I sucked in a quick breath.

  “You can call me Adeline. Ms. Hamilton makes me feel old.”

  She chuckled. “I will do as you wish, as long as we’re in private.”

  Satisfied, I nodded. “How many people are coming to the party tonight?”

  Helen’s face lit up. “The whole town, Miss. Your arrival gives your grandparents a reason to celebrate Christmas twice. We will have the party tonight, and the main party on Christmas day. They love the holidays.”

  I glanced down at my locket. “Yes, they do,” I said, thinking back to my grandparents. “It’s a Hamilton trait.”

  “Speaking of that, I love your locket. Mrs. Hamilton has one. She had one made for your mother on her sixteenth birthday.”

  Gasping, I placed a hand over it. “They both had one exactly like this?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry you grew up without her.”

  My brain was in a fog. It was like I was living another person’s life. “I manage,” was all I could think of to say.

  “Your mother was very beautiful.” I followed Helen’s line of sight to a picture on the dresser. It was then when it all clicked into place. The portrait was of Roger and Annaliese Hamilton on their wedding day. She’d died giving birth to their only daughter, Adeline-Jane Hamilton. Adeline-Jane had died in a carriage accident, while on her way to visit my great-grandparents.