Operation Christmas Read online

  No. Not any woman.

  He wanted a woman like Madeleine.

  ****

  The clean, sexy smell of the stranger’s aftershave washed over Madeleine when she darted under his arm. Nice registered in her brain as she broke into a broad smile upon seeing her mom. She pulled back. A customer reached her first to ask a question, allowing Madeleine a chance to glance over her shoulder. The stranger in the doorway might be gone but the tingle of his presence still danced across her skin. No one but Danny had been able to bring her body to life without touching. How very strange and inappropriate.

  She let out the breath she held when the customer moved down the glass case. “Mom,” she said in a low voice. “Tiffany called me this morning. She’s pregnant.”

  “So soon?”

  “I know. Go figure. Isn’t it great! Baby number two will arrive shortly before Caleb’s second birthday. Tiffany’s surprised but crazy happy.”

  “What a wonderful Christmas present.”

  Madeleine lowered her eyes, seeing the flush of joy spread across her mom’s face. A stab of envy twisted in her heart. She balled a gloved fist at her midsection. Not that she begrudged her best friend her fertile mishap. The yearning to experience motherhood firsthand meant she would have to grin and bear it while Tiffany bubbled over with enthusiasm about her new pregnancy and Caleb’s being the smartest baby ever.

  She stepped aside when the customer moved to the register to pay. Deciding it a good opportunity to leave, she gave her mom a hand signal she would call.

  “Madeleine, wait. I’ll be right with you.” Her mother gave her a pleading gaze from behind the register. The machine ground out a receipt for a fresh bread purchase. “I’ve a favor.”

  “Oh, oh,” Madeleine quipped to the customer. “This is where I should run, not walk. That’s my mom, and I’m sure a favor means I’m in trouble.”

  The woman grinned and glanced toward the window. “I don’t think any of us will be running far today. They’re saying eight inches.”

  Janet Belmar nodded. “It’s beautiful. It feels like Christmas.”

  The woman left and her mom leveled her with sympathetic eyes. “Come. Let’s talk.”

  “Can’t. I’ll be late for work.” Tears glittered and turned the room fuzzy as she dutifully followed her mom into the short hall that also accommodated a bathroom. An equally small office sat across from it. The heart of the bakery lay straight ahead. She lifted her hand to wave at her dad who worked alongside another baker. Grams would have been in the bakery today as well, but had stayed home with a cold. She accepted a tissue pulled from her mom’s pocket.

  Janet took firm hold of her daughter’s shoulders. “I know you, sweetheart. We went through this the last time Tiffany got pregnant. You’re young. You’ll have you own babies one day. You’ll see.”

  “Mom, I don’t have time for this.” She bit down on her trembling lower lip.

  “You have to move on, sweetheart. Find some nice boy and date. Danny would have—”

  “Don’t say it.” Madeleine shrugged out of her mother’s grasp and held up a hand. “Don’t. It’s about what I want, Mom. Danny doesn’t get a say in this now, does he?”

  “Oh, Madeleine.” Her mother’s sturdy frame seemed to wilt before her eyes. “I love Grams, but please don’t take on her bitterness.”

  “Sorry.” She squeezed her mother’s outstretched hand and held on for dear life. “But, really, I’ve gotta run. I can’t afford to be late again.”

  “Wait. Before I forget. I do have a favor. Dad and I are going Christmas shopping tonight. You and Grams are on your own. Keep her company, would you? I know she’s hard to take sometimes, but sit with her a spell. Tell her about your day. She worries about you. Okay?”

  “Of course. Why would you even ask? Really, Mom. Just go have fun.”

  Her mom grinned. “Christmas shopping with your father? Unlikely.”

  Madeleine turned to leave, stopping to admire the holiday tin Belmar Bakery used to package Christmas cookie gifts. She ran her fingers over the raised imprint of an angel with wings spread over the tin’s lid. “This is beautiful. Love the colors.”

  Janet tilted her head to gaze at the tin. “I can’t remember a prettier tin. Grams found it and insisted we use it this year even if it did cost more. She said it would bring luck. And I need not tell you Grams can be very persistent.”

  Madeleine heard her mom’s effort to lighten the mood, but she was unable to pull her gaze from the angel. “Where was Danny’s angel, Mom? What good did all our prayers do?”

  Seeing her mom tear up, they reached for each other and hugged. Words no longer provided answers. She lifted her gaze to the large bakery clock. “Yikes. I’m going to be late if I don’t hustle. In fact,” she gave her mom a quick peck on the cheek, “I am late. Bye.”

  “Bye, sweetheart. Drive safe. It’s really coming down now. Think happy thoughts.”

  “Rainbows and butterflies.”

  “Not sappy thoughts. Happy thoughts.”

  Madeleine laughed. “Thanks, Mom. I will.”

  The slap of cold and her mom’s lame joke did wonders to redistribute her emotions. Her eyes flicked to the clock on the dashboard. Yep. Late again. Her boss would be steamed snowstorm or no snowstorm. Although young, he miserly counted the minutes late without any consideration for the many after-hours she spent at the office.

  She understood very well this personal venture represented his first attempt at a start-up company, but really! She kept the books, and they showed a profit in a less than stellar economy. His recent moods were too much. It appeared Kurt channeled more negative Christmas attitudes than she did. Was he so self-absorbed he’d forgotten she struggled with this being the second anniversary of Danny’s Humvee bombing? Geez, she did not need Kurt morphing into some nasty modern-day Scrooge at such a vulnerable time.

  Suddenly, the light ahead changed to red. Her foot hit the brake—thump thump thump thump. The anti-skid brakes always scared her witless. Today, her heart catapulted straight to her throat as the car slid every which way with little response to which way she turned the wheel.

  “Turn into a slid. Turn into a slid,” she whispered as Gram’s Mini Cooper skidded to a stop halfway through the intersection. With a white-knuckled grip tight around the steering wheel, Madeleine maneuvered the car out of the path of oncoming traffic glad to escape the stares of other drivers and relieved she didn’t hit anyone.

  This was her life. Out of control and on a disaster course.

  Kurt caused tension at work; Grams at home. She felt trapped by her finances. New employment opportunities were far and few between so she clung to the job to save up for a down payment on a small house or condo. If that ever happened, she’d need the job to support herself. Gram’s hand-me-down car meant she didn’t have a car payment when she sold Danny’s gas-hog sports car to his brother. While her savings might be growing, her confidence lagged far behind.

  Living apart from her folks would be hard, especially when Danny had insisted she stay with them until he got out of the Army. “So I don’t worry,” he told her, when she balked at giving up their small apartment. “I don’t want you alone at night.”

  Madeleine found out quick, in the empty months she waited for her lease to expire, Danny’s concerns were valid. However, of late, grow up and move on crossed her mind more than once. Away from all the protective pampering she received at home. “I’ve grown up plenty,” she muttered to shut up the little voice in her head. “I’ve buried the love of my life.”

  All her hopes and dreams for a bright future lie buried with Danny. Make new dreams. How could she make new dreams when nightmares about his death invaded her sleep and made for restless nights? They were part of the reason she feared moving out and being alone.

  At the entrance of her work’s parking lot, the Mini fishtailed an impressive S. The office lights burned bright. Kurt’s four-wheel drive SUV sat in its usual place, but no one else had arrived
, which gave her some measure of relief.

  Gathering her packed lunch, Madeleine hurried through blinding snow to an office with no Christmas decorations and less holiday spirit. The one person cheerful enough to put up decorations had left in a snit last week after one of Kurt’s tirades and took her decorations with her. Madeleine’s only holiday cheer consisted of a snowman candy dish and a floppy Santa atop her computer screen and endless bakery contributions to the counter by the coffeepot.

  Inside, she heard Kurt’s voice in a phone conversation. No, an argument that sounded domestic in nature. Obviously, he thought he was alone in the office. She slunk into her office quiet as a mouse and began her day.

  Had she known what awaited midday, she would have had the sense to turn heel and leave behind a resignation letter.

  Chapter Two

  The creepy guy standing before her gave Madeleine the willies. She wanted to wipe the smirk right off Derek’s narrow face with a firm slap. Sandy hair, a splash of freckles, inappropriate glances with dark eyes that peered out from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Most would call his looks okay. He’d spoiled such thoughts for her. Her dislike grew daily and stemmed from his crude suggestion he could “service” her “no strings attached.” All she had to do was ask. Oh yeah. She’d rather have her fingernails removed. She avoided him at all costs.

  Now he entered her office without the simple courtesy of a halt at the open door. Red faced, he threw his expense report on her desk. “I need my expense check today. All of it.”

  “You were at last week’s meeting. Repair techs can’t claim gym memberships as a company expense. No one can.” Madeleine did her best to remain professional, knowing which red-lined expense held up his check. The report had been returned to him to see the deletion before a check would be issued.

  “It’s part of my deal.”

  “No one told me about your special deal. I’ll have to run this past Kurt. Do you really want that?”

  “Sure. Why not? In fact, I’ll run it by him for you.” He snatched the report off her desk. “You seem to have forgotten who I am.” He turned in a huff and headed for Kurt’s office.

  Oh yeah, she knew. Her boss and Derek were buddies with geek tendencies. Off-hour fun included a quest to develop the next big application to rock the computer world. Obviously, Derek didn’t know Kurt the Scrooge, who metered out her minutes. It made her curious as to whether the glue in the friendship held enough strength for Kurt to fork over the monthly expense denied everyone else publicly in a meeting.

  Kurt’s friend or not, it didn’t give her the authority to pay every bogus expense that came across her desk. She might hate that part of her accountant’s job, but Kurt depended on her to be ethical. And if unfair practices loomed in her future, she’d search for a new job. Somehow her thoughts were always braver than her actions.

  ****

  Late that night, while in deep sleep, Madeleine awoke in a tangle of bed sheets. Unwelcome sorrow gripped deep at her core. Since learning of Tiffany’s new pregnancy, she avoided talking to her best friend for fear her depression would mar her happiness. They were like sisters, really, since Madeleine didn’t have any siblings.

  But that wasn’t the dream that woke her. Some stupid office dream disrupted her sleep. Now she lay in the dark rehashing the day with new anger. Derek’s gloating when Kurt approved the “special” expense had frayed her last nerve. She intuitively suspected Kurt intended to approve the expense from the moment he called the meeting to redefine allowed company expenses. Was it a test to see if she’d red-line it? Or a means to deny any other such requests from his repair techs should they catch wind of Derek’s allowance? She didn’t know what to think.

  Christmas brought with it as many emotions as people. Given the lack of Christmas spirit in her office, maybe Kurt had bad childhood memories. She did know he struck out on his own at an early age, a self-made man who put himself through college on loans. And God knows she had her own Christmas dread. Planning a funeral killed Christmas two years ago so she too didn’t seem inclined to decorate the office when Kurt pooh-poohed it as silly.

  Turning to her side, she forced herself to conjure up some happy thoughts her mother always suggested. The stranger with the manly aftershave popped into her mind. Her flicker of interest and his handsome face made it impossible to look direct into his gorgeous smile. Danny had been on her mind, and Tiffany’s new pregnancy. The stranger obviously made up the segment of the population who celebrated joyous Christmas memories.

  Even last night’s dinner conversation revealed an undercurrent of tension in her family. They might be “carrying on,” but Danny’s death defined the season and overshadowed the birth of Christ. Oh, they said all the right words. Went to church and celebrated. The bakery stood a seasonal bastion of holiday cheer. Yet discord among the family members snuck into the most benign conversations over dinner.

  Last night Grams had been on a roll, grumping about everything. Madeleine zoned, after venting about her disastrous day at the office. By the time she observed her mom’s red sweaty face, she didn’t know the cause—Grams’ half-heard talk about hormones or lack of them or menopause.

  Her mom clarified the topic with a roll of her eyes. “I don’t care about anything except this ending.” She fanned her face with her napkin.

  “Don’t complain,” Grams said over her spoon poised mid-air. Hot, homemade chicken noodle soup sent up a curl of steam. “You’ll miss those hormones one day.”

  “Never.” Her mom dabbed at sweat above her brow and upper lip before applying a death grip to a piece of French bread to yank it apart.

  Madeline tuned in out of curiosity, when her dad snorted.

  “And so will you.” Grams jabbed a finger at her son.

  “I already do.”

  This caused a burst of laughter between the three that Madeleine didn’t seem privy to its meaning except it was sexual, or lack of it, by the looks on everyone’s faces. Parents were so weird. And did Grams have to bring up her parents’ sex life at the dinner table?

  When the confusing recollection played out, Madeleine glanced at the clock. Too soon to get up on her day off and too cold to roam the dark house, she punched her pillow into a new shape. “Well,” punch, punch, “I don’t miss my libido.”

  Unable to sleep, she sank limp into her bed sheets. No one fully understood. Dating held no interest. She didn’t want to feel attraction. What about the stranger? Flopping to her back, she adjusted the pillow again and closed her eyes.

  “Ah uhmmm.” Her jaw snapped shut in hopes a Yoga mantra would lull her back to sleep. Instead, it tickled her tongue and woke her up more. The furnace kicked on with a rattle. Madeleine’s eyes flew open. She went rigid and clenched her fists. If only she could scream out in some primal cry that would wake the neighborhood and relieve the inner turmoil.

  There were so many haunting wonderings that surrounded Danny’s death. The pain of knowing he died so violently, while she slept safe and unaware in her bed. Thoughtful by nature, Danny was the gentlest soul she’d ever known. He didn’t deserve to die in such a way. Yes, she knew the risks of having a husband in the Army. Yes, yes, yes. She knew, already.

  So how could she betray him by feeling attraction for another man no matter if a split second encounter in the bakery door? Especially toward a stranger who knew nothing about pain and suffering or the stigma of being widowed at such a young age.

  “Ah uhmmm.”

  Soft noises in the kitchen below her bedroom signaled her parents were getting ready to head to the family bakery where their day began in the pre-dawn hours. She scurried out of bed and threw on a robe not wanting to be alone with her thoughts another second. The wonderful aroma of strong Colombian coffee led her nose first to the kitchen. Day-old bakery sat on the table, as usual.

  “You’re up early.” Her mother turned from the gurgling coffeepot.

  “Can’t sleep.” She yawned with a full stretch before slumping into a chair. Her mom s
lid a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. She leaned her face over the mug and closed her eyes. “Ah uhmmm.”

  “What?” Her mom set a mug by her dad, who grunted his thanks.

  Madeleine snickered. “What Dad said.”

  “Okay.” Janet settled herself into a chair across from Madeleine. “It’s too early to decipher what’s going on here or play games. You two make my head pound.”

  “She said it smelled good,” her dad offered with nonchalance.

  “Oh, and now you understand our daughter better than me?”

  “Apparently.” He returned his full attention to his paper.

  Madeleine, not inclined to explain, avoided her mother’s eyes boring into her with questions she didn’t care to answer. Her mom’s clean short-clipped nails made a rhythmic kachink kachink kachink against the ceramic mug in a bid she glance her way. She lifted her gaze to stop the annoying request for eye contact. Her mom lost no time in getting in her say. “We’re making Christmas stollen and cookies today. Get dressed and come along. It will do you good to make your hands busy.”

  “So my mind won’t be?”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth, young lady. I mean its Saturday, and you don’t have to go to the office. So come help us make pretty Christmas cookies. This is your favorite time of year at the bakery.”

  Not anymore. Not since Danny left me alone at Christmas.

  Guilt tapped along her spine in tandem with the dismal thoughts streaming across her tired brain. She needed to stop or she’d be headed deep into another low of self-pity and depression. Heaven help her, now that she was up, all she wanted to do was crawl back into bed and sleep the weekend away. “No one will be here when Grams wakes.”

  “Grams always gets up to an empty house. Loves it, she says. Glad we’re out of her hair so she can drink her coffee in peace.” The corners of Madeleine’s mouth quirked up to hear her mom mimic Gram’s cranky voice.

  The newspaper crackled as her dad reached around his morning ritual for a perfect blind grab at his coffee mug. “I’ve plenty of hands to bake. What I need is someone to make deliveries. Stan called in sick.” He drank the hot coffee and set it on the table to turn a page of the newspaper without missing a beat.