The Patricia Kiyono Christmas Collection Read online

“Sure it is. It only takes me fifteen minutes to run to the church.”

  “You usually run at night?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Nice going, he told himself. Even he could tell he was coming off like a dad. Time to switch subjects. “Uh, so how did rehearsal go?”

  “Not too bad.”

  There’s a non-answer, if I ever heard one. “Could be better, huh?”

  “Oh, there are always challenges when you start a new project.”

  “Daddy, there were a couple of really naughty boys,” Angie piped up from the back seat. “They were knocking over chairs and they climbed up on the minister’s wood thing, and one boy even climbed up the curtains and tore one down.”

  “They tore down the curtains?”

  “Yes, Doc VanEss checked them out for concussions because they ran headfirst into each other, and when he sent them back to the choir room, they ran through the sanctuary and started to tear it apart.”

  “Really? Where were their parents?”

  “Their mom was probably at home, resting. Their dad has visitation rights, but he often doesn’t show up. Grandfather was there, and I’m sure he had words with them. But those boys are out of control. I’m going to have to talk to my sister about this. I can’t run the rehearsals alone, not with thirty kids. And those two boys have enough energy for ten of the others.”

  “That sounds like a tall order. Makes you wonder how teachers do it every day.”

  Sophie sat up in her seat and squealed. “That’s it!”

  The brakes screeched as Mitch slammed his foot down. “That was it? I passed your house?”

  She laughed. “No, it’s another block and a half down on the right. I meant you just gave me an idea how I can get this to work. I need to talk to the meanest, strictest teacher I ever had. Maybe she can help me whip this group into shape.”

  “Is she really mean?” Angie’s timid voice came from the back seat.

  Mitch looked up in the rear view mirror and tried to connect with his daughter to reassure her, but Sophie beat him to it.

  “She’s only mean to naughty kids, Angie. To kids who behaved themselves, she was a really nice lady. I’m sorry I scared you.”

  Angie nodded and settled back in her seat.

  For a youngster, she really knows how to handle kids, he thought.

  Youngster. Yeah, right.

  ~~~~

  Mitch tucked his daughter into bed and kissed her goodnight. He checked the nightlight before turning out the light in her room, leaving the door open a crack. Most nights Angie slept well, but once in awhile, she needed her daddy. And he had no intention of getting lost in the dark trying to reach his daughter.

  He had no regrets about leaving the fast-paced life he’d led in Chicago and trading it for the peace and quiet of Zutphen. But in Chicago he’d had help. There had been people hired for anything his family needed — cooking, cleaning, advice about raising a child. Here, he was on his own. He’d made a few acquaintances, but no good friends. Sometimes he felt a longing, a need for adult companionship. Someone to help him get though some of the drudgery of daily life. Another person to help him make decisions about caring for Angie. He needed… a connection.

  He turned on his fancy one-cup coffee maker and prepared a cup of coffee. Other than his camera equipment, it was one of the few conveniences he’d kept from his former life. Thanks to today’s appointments, he had work to do, and he’d learned that working at night meant he didn’t have to stop working to pick Angie up from school or tend to her other needs. Knowing it would take a few minutes for the water to heat enough to start brewing, he went down to his studio and surveyed the chaos left after his last session. The camera was still on the tripod, and the screen was still in one piece. He checked the rest of his equipment, sighing with relief each time he found things as they should be. Soon he had the pictures transferred to his computer and began the task of choosing and editing photos to show to the families. If the customers liked his work, hopefully he’d get some referrals to get his new business going.

  But as he scrolled through the pictures, the faces blurred. Instead of a family of five, he saw a cute young blonde with expressive green eyes. And he remembered the excitement he’d felt sitting next to her in the car, and the sense of loss when she’d gotten out. Good grief, he sounded like a teenager.

  Coffee, that’s what he needed. His cup should be done brewing by now. He got up and went back to get it. The spacious country kitchen seemed cavernous compared to the tiny but functional area in his Chicago condo. Of course, he hadn’t needed much room. The cook had prepared meals for the three of them and had pretty much banished him from using most of the appliances. There, he’d been allowed to use the coffee maker and microwave, but not much else.

  Here, the coffeepot looked lonely on the six-foot counter. In fact, the entire space looked lonely. He pulled his mug from the tray. After taking a sip, he cast an eye around his home. Though he and Angie had moved in two months ago, the place still looked empty. Not at all like a home where people lived.

  He’d photographed plenty of country kitchens and tried to think what was missing. His mother said the rooms needed color. Maybe he’d invite her to come for a few days and help him decorate. She’d like that. She’d fill the place with knick-knacks and curtains and… stuff. Stuff to make people feel comfortable. To make this place feel like a home.

  More than anything, he wanted to make the house a home for Angie. He remembered visiting his uncle and aunt during the holidays when he and his siblings were young. And he remembered the laughter, the happiness, the sense of belonging. A lifetime ago, he’d hoped to create some of that feeling with Sarah. But her idea of family had been so different from his own. Meeting her parents should have given him a clue. An only child of wealthy elitists, she’d been raised with strict rules and expectations. Happiness wasn’t one of them.

  He couldn’t let his mother-in-law succeed in taking Angie away. He didn’t want his beautiful daughter to be molded into a clone of Melinda Billingsworth. He’d do anything to prevent that.

  But he couldn’t keep his daughter if he couldn’t support her. Time to get to work. He took another sip of his coffee and carried it back to his office.

  Chapter Five

  Sophie blinked as she focused on making her to-do list for the day. She’d tossed and turned all night. At the end of the screenplay she’d been writing, the main character parachuted out of a plane, landed on a rooftop, and captured the villain. But each time the scene played in her dream, the hero would instead follow that up by looking directly into the camera with those gorgeous blue eyes and murmur, “This is for you, Sophie.” And then the movie would end. Why? And why was the dream so unsettling?

  Probably because the hero looked exactly like Mitch Carson. And she didn’t want to think about the handsome photographer. Even if he was interested in her, she didn’t dare pursue any kind of relationship. She couldn’t let anything distract her from her goal. And in order to accomplish her goal she needed to focus on her portfolio so that she’d have spec scripts and resumes ready to send out.

  Concentrate, she told herself. What did she need to do today? She checked the list she’d begun the night before.

  1. Revise script for Christmas pageant.

  2. Send screenplay to three more agents.

  3. Formulate a plan for dealing with the Longton boys.

  Number three was going to take the most work. She’d told Mitch and Angie her idea to find the meanest teacher she’d ever had, but she really had no idea how to contact her, or whether or not the woman was still alive. Joanie would know. Her sister knew every detail about every resident of Zutphen, past and present.

  Sighing, she pulled her robe out from under the covers and slipped her arms in the sleeves. Michigan winters were even colder in attic rooms, and she’d learned to keep her bathrobe tucked between the sheets and blanket to keep it warm. Her slippers, when she wasn’t wearing them, we
re kept over the heating duct on the floor.

  Still yawning, she padded down the stairs. Joanie sat at the kitchen table, frowning into her coffee cup.

  “Something wrong with your coffee?”

  Joanie turned bleary eyes toward her. “No caffeine. I miss my regular coffee. This decaffeinated stuff just doesn’t taste right, and I forgot to ask Dave to pick up some flavored creamer.”

  “I can pick some up. I have a few errands to run today.”

  Joanie’s worn features broke into a smile. “Bless you, little sister. Say, you got home late last night. I wondered what happened when the Meindertsmas brought Joey home without you. Did your rehearsal run long?”

  “You and I have to talk about that. But no, it didn’t run too long. One of the dads was late picking his daughter up, and I stayed with her until he got there.”

  “That’s not good. Who is he?”

  “Mister Carson. He’s the new photographer who opened up a studio in the old Hager house in town.”

  “Oh, him. He’s got kids?”

  “Yes, a little girl, Angie.”

  “Is he single?”

  “I don’t know — but Joanie, I need to—”

  “You should find out. I can ask Rachel. She knows the scoop on everybody.”

  “Joanie, listen to me!” She put her hand on her sister’s. “We need to talk about this play. It’s not going to work with just me doing it. No wonder the last few programs were so boring with kids just standing there. Those wild kids run around like crazy. Those Longton twins knocked over chairs, climbed up on the pulpit, and tore down the curtains behind the pulpit.”

  “What?” Joanie pulled her hand back and shook her head. “Peggy Longton has got to get better control of those boys. They’re going to tear the town apart if she doesn’t. The twins have been nothing but trouble since their father left.”

  “Well, I think Sam is going to have a word with her. The twins were having a field day in the choir room and ran headfirst into each other. Doc VanEss came and looked them over and then sent them back to the choir room. Of course they decided to return to the choir room by streaking through the sanctuary. Apparently Sam managed to pull one off the pulpit before it fell over, but the other one had climbed almost all the way up the drapes covering the wall behind the pulpit, and the entire curtain rod came crashing down.”

  “Oh, good heavens.”

  “I want to kick them both out of the pageant. Can I do that?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll have to check with the Sunday School Superintendent. Oh wait, that’s their aunt. She might not back you up.”

  “Wonderful. All right then, if they’re going to act like animals, maybe they can be animals in the pageant. I just won’t tell them ahead of time. But it’s not going to be any animal that flies, swims, climbs, or runs.”

  “What does that leave?”

  “An amoeba, maybe. But listen, that’s not the only problem we had last night.”

  “What else?”

  “The songs we chose were too difficult. I had the words on a slide show presentation, but many of the kids can’t read that well yet. There were a lot of words they didn’t know or couldn’t pronounce. I’m going to have to simplify it.”

  “Okay. Do you have any ideas?”

  “Not really. I think I need easier songs that give the same message.”

  “Good idea. How about if I call Marylou Grant? She’s the music teacher at school and I heard she directs the kids’ choir at her church. Plus, I think sometimes she writes songs for kids.”

  “That would be a good start. Do you know how to contact her?”

  “I’ll leave a message for her at the school and ask her to call me back when she has a break, or at the end of the day.”

  “That works. And do you have any idea how to reach Old Mrs. VanMeter?”

  “Agnes VanMeter? Why would you want to talk to her?”

  “I need to get some ideas on how to handle those twins during rehearsals. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t dare act that way if she were the one directing the program. So I need to talk to her.”

  “Great idea. If anyone could get them in line it would be her. Let me think, she was friends with Great Aunt Susan. I’ll call her and see if she knows where Mrs. VanMeter is.”

  “Wonderful. You get on that. I’ll scramble some eggs and fix whatever else I can find in your fridge. If you find Mrs. VanMeter, I’ll run over to Zylstra’s after breakfast and get you some flavored creamer.”

  ~~~~

  Mitch compared the two boxes of macaroni and cheese. One was a lot lighter than the other, and it had a packet of powdered cheese. The other was larger and heavier and contained cheese spread. It cost more than the other one, but the directions seemed a lot easier. Could he ever hope to manage this cooking thing? He supposed he’d better try. He tossed both packages in the cart. He’d do the easy one tonight and save the other one for later.

  Next, he needed some vegetables. Something to go with the macaroni and cheese. Something that didn’t involve reading directions. He headed to the produce section. Seemed like he’d read somewhere that fresh fruits and vegetables were healthier than canned. They sure tasted better, he knew. But what could he give a six-year-old? She liked carrot sticks. Better grab a bag. Nice and easy. And maybe some beans. He knew she liked green beans because she ate them up whenever they were served. If he remembered correctly, they just needed to be boiled for a while. So that took care of a couple of nights. His gaze caught the bagged salads. Ah. Salad in a bag. Just pour salad dressing on top. Easy. Doable. Three bags went into the cart.

  His mom would be so ashamed to see he’d turned out so lousy at cooking. Rita Carson had raised her three sons and daughter to be self-sufficient. They’d all been expected to do their own laundry and clean up and take turns in the kitchen. For the most part, her lessons had stuck. He kept the house fairly neat. He and Angie wore clean clothes. But cooking remained a mystery. He always managed to mess up even the simplest meals. Good thing Angie wasn’t picky.

  Pushing the cart around the display of onions, his cart bumped another head-to-head. He uttered an apology before he recognized Sophie.

  “Good morning, Miss Sophie.”

  She turned those wide green eyes toward him. “Oh, hi, Mr. Carson.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Mitch, please. Mr. Carson is my dad.”

  The luscious eyes twinkled as her lips curved upward.

  “Okay, Mitch. I’m Sophie. Only the kids call me Miss Sophie.”

  He nodded. “Point taken. So, uh, how is the big Christmas show coming along?”

  Her smile faded a bit. Had he put his foot in his mouth?

  “I’m going to have to do some rewriting, I think. And… I’m not used to working with kids. But it’ll be great. Angie’s a real sweetheart. I hope she wasn’t put off by all the time I had to spend dealing with those boys.”

  “No, she really enjoyed it. She can’t wait to practice again on Sunday. So does this mean I pick her up later than before?”

  “No, I work with the kids during the first half of the regular Sunday School hour, so she’ll get out at the same time as usual.”

  “Got it.” He paused, not wanting the conversation to end, but unsure how to continue. When had he ever been so awkward with a female?

  “Uh, so… can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  Her look of surprise had him backpedaling. His mind scrambled to find a reasonable topic of conversation. “I… um, I thought maybe you’d have some ideas of people who could take care of Angie.”

  She seemed to accept that. “Sure. Let’s go to the café. I could use a good cup of coffee.” She led the way to the store’s coffee kiosk. They put in their orders, and Mitch noticed she stuck to a basic cup of black coffee.

  “No flavorings, stir-ins, or whipped cream?” he teased.

  “Maybe later. I like creamer, especially flavored ones, but right now I’m still trying to wake up, so plain old coffee will do the trick.”<
br />
  “I like plain old coffee when I’m working on my photos.”

  “Amy Michaels was really happy with the way you handled her kids during her family’s sitting. Is business picking up?”

  “Not as much as I’d like. I’ve got the Reinharts tomorrow, so I’m hoping they and the Michaels family will spread the word about my studio.”

  “Why don’t you try something different? I’ve seen studios advertise something called a mini-session. Just fifteen minutes, and the customer gets a CD with like ten or fifteen images they can use on Christmas cards or as gifts. Since you don’t have as much time invested, you can charge less.”

  “That sounds like a great idea. If I get a bunch of those booked, I’ll definitely need help in the evenings.”

  Her eyes crinkled as she smiled, and he hoped his return smile wasn’t as goofy as it felt. “So, let’s take a seat and I’ll give you the low down on the teenagers in the area.”

  “Right.” He spied a small table and carried their drinks to it. She raised a brow when he pulled out a chair, but said nothing as she sat. Curiosity finally got the best of him.

  “You know, that’s the second time you’ve looked at me as if I’ve done something strange. Apparently, opening the car door for you isn’t normal, and neither is pulling out your chair. Is that not done in Michigan? Should I give up those habits?”

  “NO!”

  Mitch nearly jumped out of his chair at the force of her answer. And then he realized she hadn’t spoken alone. The barista who’d poured their coffee, as well as two other women seated in the cafe tables around them had echoed Sophie’s answer.

  An elderly woman seated behind him tapped him on the shoulder. “Young man, you’ve been raised with good manners, and you should never give them up. If Sophie was surprised when you opened doors and pulled her seat out, it’s because she’s grown up with young boys who don’t know how to treat a lady. She deserves the best, so you just keep right on doing what you do.”