A Christmas to Remember (16 page)

To my beautiful mother, Helen. She always surrounded us with books of every kind, and so for me and my sisters reading was as necessary as breathing. What a wonderful year-round, lifelong gift. I love you, Moo.

“What is it now?” Lincoln had been nose deep in client financial files when a jarring knock on the front door of his house interrupted his concentration. Things at his accounting firm were a little chaotic these days, so he’d been counting on a quiet evening at home to get some work done. He pushed away from his paper-covered dining room table, kicking assorted shoes and old mail out of his way. Opening the door he demanded, “What do you want?”

“Merry Christmas.”

Lincoln glared at the woman on his front porch. Her cheerful holiday greeting didn’t improve his mood. She was wearing a fur-trimmed Santa hat on top of her bouncy blond hair. Red jingle-bell earrings hung from her ears, making a light tinkling sound when she moved her head. The short red dress she wore skimmed her body invitingly, showing off a terrific pair of legs. Despite his irritation, he’d have to be in a coma not to notice that she was as cute as a bug. And sexy as hell. She smiled and her face lit up—all bright and eager to please. It made him suspicious, and he wondered what she was selling.

He crossed his arms. “Thanksgiving was three days ago. I haven’t had time to finish my turkey leftovers. So, I’m afraid this is a no-Christmas zone until at least the middle of December.” He didn’t care if he sounded like the Grinch. As an accountant he’d seen too many of his clients spend beyond their means every year trying “buy” a Merry Christmas for those they loved. He wanted no part of the crazy hype.

She nodded agreeably, causing her earrings to jingle-jangle like crazy. “Sir, let me just say that your position is completely understandable.”

“Great. I’m glad you understand. Have a nice day.” He stepped back and started to close the door, but she was too quick for him.

Her hand shot out, stopping him. She boldly pushed across the threshold and continued her campaign. “I couldn’t agree more that the rampant early build-up to the Christmas season is an ever growing problem.”

His eyebrows shot up. “That’s quite a speech. Yet here you are on my porch dressed like one of Santa’s elves.”

She smiled once again. “You’re Lincoln Jones, right?”

“That would be me,” he admitted cautiously.

“Great.” She spread her arms wide and announced, “I’m your early present.”

Okay. Now he got it. This was a joke. One of his friends thought it would be funny to send him a woman. They were probably hiding in the bushes to get his reaction. If so, they were in for a big disappointment. “Oh, really? Who sent you? Was it Jake?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know anyone named Jake.”

“Somebody from the office, then?” He needed to work on his stern boss demeanor if they thought they could get away with this.

She kept smiling and shaking her head, jingling the entire time. “No, your mother sent me. Your mother is Bitsy Jones, isn’t she?”

That stopped him cold. “My mother? She sent me a woman?” He straightened, suddenly afraid she might be watching from the bushes.

“I’m not a woman. I’m a service.” She held out a business card. “And she’s paying for the whole thing.”

He took the card warily. “My mother doesn’t live here anymore, so if this is a scam you’re out of luck.” His parents had retired and moved to South Padre Island a few years ago. He’d moved out of his cramped apartment and had been living in the old family house since then.

She continued pushing her way past him and looked into the living room. “Oh my, I can see why she thought you needed me. This place is a mess.”

In his opinion she seemed unnaturally delighted by this discovery. He looked around, seeing the place through her eyes, realizing she was right. Piles of newspapers and magazines were stacked here and there. Dishes covered the coffee table, not having made their way back to the kitchen. Shoes and jackets and a variety of clothing were scattered about haphazardly, landing wherever they’d been dropped. Defensively he declared, “I haven’t had a chance to pick things up.”

“Don’t worry. That’s perfectly fine.” She seemed to be making mental notes, cataloguing the depth and breadth of the sloppiness that lay before her.

He was right behind her as she walked farther into the house. Finally, he’d had enough. “Hold on a minute. What exactly do you do? And what does it have to do with my mother?”

She turned around, holding out her hand for a handshake. “Sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m Dinah Mason, and I own
A Place for Everything
. I’m a professional organizer.”

He ignored her outstretched hand. “A professional organizer? My mother stopped telling me when to clean my room a long time ago.”

Her hand dropped to her side. “Isn’t this her house?”

“Well, yes. My parents own the house, but I live here now, and it’s my stuff.”

“I understand that, and it’s perfectly normal for everyone to get a little protective about their stuff. I promise to be gentle.”

He glowered, hoping to get it through her head that nothing had been decided. “I haven’t agreed to anything yet, lady.”

Calmly she explained, “As I said, the name’s Dinah. And maybe you should call your mother to put your mind at ease. Bitsy said she and your father are planning a trip home for the Christmas holidays, and she wanted me to pop in and do my magic. Get the house spruced up and decorated before they arrive. I promise I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

His mother’s implication that he couldn’t handle things on his own cut him to the core. “Well,
Dinah
, she could have just asked me to do that. I can clean a house, you know. I do it every time they come to visit.”

“That often?”

He suspected she was being sarcastic. “And on holidays I’m the one who has to climb up in the attic to drag down the Christmas decorations. If they weren’t coming home this year I wouldn’t even bother putting up a tree.”

“Your mama said you don’t like attics, but her main concern seemed to be you having your hands full with work right now.”

Linc crossed his arms over his chest. “She
told
you I don’t like attics?”

“She mentioned something about spiders. Nothing to be ashamed of.” She grinned like she enjoyed the idea that they now shared a secret. “The bottom line, Lincoln—Can I call you Lincoln?—is that your mother doesn’t want you to worry about any of this. Do you mind if I look around a bit more?” Without waiting for his answer she wandered off toward the dining room.

“Don’t touch anything.” He couldn’t keep the panic from his voice as she approached the table. He let out an undignified yelp when she ignored him and picked up a file. He didn’t want anyone barging in and touching his stuff. He breathed a sigh of relief when she moved it an inch to the left and put it back down, but that didn’t stop him from hurrying over to block her from rifling through anything else. “I have everything exactly where I want it, so if you could stop.”

“I apologize, but it is important that I understand as much as I can about a person’s system before I begin to work with them.”

In his haste to keep her at a safe distance, he hit a stack of forms with his hip. He closed his eyes and swallowed a curse as they tumbled to the ground, scattering across the floor. He looked around at the mess and with a growl started picking up the papers. “My system may look complicated, but it works just fine.” He grabbed a page from her hand and grumbled, “Give me that and don’t help anymore.” In a nicer tone he added, “Please.” He was doing his best to stay polite. Otherwise, he was sure his mother would hear about that, too. But God, this woman was entirely too pushy.

She held up both hands and backed away. “Okay. You win for now, but at least speak to your mother.” She handed him another business card. “Unless I hear from you, I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock.” She headed toward the front door, but then paused. Turning around, she promised, “This is going to be lots of fun, Lincoln. You’ll see.”

With another of her irritating smiles she walked her cute little self out of the house, leaving him befuddled and fuming. He pulled his phone from his pocket and hit the button to call his mother. She answered on the second ring, but before he could ask her what was going on, she greeted him happily. “Hello, son. Let me guess. You’ve met Dinah.”

* * *

“Bitsy Jones hired you?” Dinah’s mother seemed impressed. “That’s quite a feather in your cap, young lady. I can almost guarantee if she likes your work it will lead to other jobs.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Dinah sat with her mother at the kitchen table. They each sipped a margarita while her stepfather made his special enchiladas. This was their established pattern whenever they invited her over for dinner. He cooked. They drank and gabbed. “But I won’t be working with her. I’ll be working with her son Lincoln.”

“Oh, he’s such a nice young man. He comes into the bank at least once a week. He’s always so friendly and, I might add, awfully good looking, too.” Sheila Wright was a manager at Everson Bank and Trust and had her pulse on the happenings around town.

It was true. The man was awfully handsome and yes, her heart had involuntarily taken a giant leap at the sight of him when he first opened his front door. But Dinah frowned and said, “I’ll admit he’s good looking, but he’s been grumpy and disagreeable since the moment I met him.”

Her stepfather Warren spoke up. “I’m sure you’ll win him over.”

“I hope so.”

Dinah had moved from Dallas to Everson about a year ago when the company she’d worked at closed their doors. She’d worked as an accessory buyer for Loomis Fine Furniture, and she’d been good at her job, but it wasn’t anything she was passionate about. She’d also left Adam, too. He’d been her boyfriend for several years, but they both knew the relationship wasn’t heading anywhere, so the split was amicable and probably healthy, too. They’d kept dating out of habit longer than they should have, so nobody’s heart had been broken when she moved away. In fact, they still kept in touch, and he’d been very supportive when she’d told him about the new business venture she was launching.

The idea for starting her own business was born when a friend hired her to organize her closet. Nothing made her happier than taking a mess and turning it into order, so turning her passion into a full-time job made sense. And since she’d been unemployed, the timing seemed perfect. Her mother convinced her to move to Everson, and her stepfather found a house she could afford to buy with payments lower than the rent on her loft in Dallas had been.

She’d gone around Everson’s town square leaving her business cards everywhere. Things had started out a bit slow, but then Maple Antiques hired her to organize their inventory and that led to other jobs. And after she’d left cards at Binyon’s Hardware store, she started getting loads of calls from people wanting help organizing their closets. Since then things had picked up even more, but as her mother said, this job for Bitsy Jones promised to be a real feather in her cap. So she had to do a good job. For that to happen, Lincoln needed to drop the Mr. Cranky act and get with the program.

* * *

Dinah showed up at Lincoln’s house at nine the next morning, buzzing with anticipation. Just the idea of tackling a house like Lincoln’s got all of her juices flowing. From what she’d seen yesterday this place was a genuine, unadulterated disaster. She felt like skipping with joy. Instead she rang the doorbell. And waited.

She listened for the sound of anyone moving around inside. Maybe he’d stood her up in protest. But Bitsy Jones had called her last night and assured her things were all set. She insisted that she’d set her son straight and promised he wouldn’t give Dinah any more trouble. No matter what his mother said, it was clear that Lincoln Jones would be a hard nut to crack.

She knocked on the door this time. And waited again. Nothing. She’d finally given up and had one foot down the porch steps when the door flew open behind her.

“Hey, sorry. I was trying to clean up a little before you got here.” Lincoln’s tall frame filled the doorway. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, showing off his strong forearms. He had a dirty plate in one hand and a pillow in the other. A dish towel was thrown over one shoulder and a smear of dirt graced his cheek. None of that hid the fact that he was an attractive man.

Very attractive. He was tall and athletic-looking. With dark wavy hair. And those deep dark eyes that might just twinkle if he ever bothered to smile. The man was scrumptious. Just looking at him made her toes curl and her tummy act all wobbly. It had been a long time since she’d had such a strong physical reaction to a man. Mercy, she couldn’t afford to get distracted by his looks. She needed to remember he was a client, not a potential date.

“Where’s your Santa elf get-up?” he asked as she hurried back across the porch.

She glanced down at her jeans and sensible T-shirt. “I don’t work in that outfit. It’s only to make the gift presentation festive.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “I guess you dress up like a bunny rabbit at Easter time.”

She laughed. “I haven’t thought about it. Maybe I’ll have to get a pair of bunny ears.”

He continued staring down at her from his height advantage, blocking entrance into the house. “Oh, I think you should go for the whole shebang. I picture a big fuzzy rabbit outfit with floppy ears. It would be cute.”

She was certain he was making fun of her, but she tried not to react. “Okay. Can I come in now?” She felt heat flood her cheeks as he openly studied her.

“Oh, sure.” He stepped aside so she could enter.

She took the pillow he was holding. “You really didn’t need to clean. I’ll take care of everything. In fact, if I see the way you normally operate I can come up with an organizational program designed specifically for your needs.”

“Thanks, Dinah, but I don’t want an organizational program. All I want is to clean the house, get the dang Christmas decorations up, and make my mother happy.”

“Yes, sir. You’re the boss.”

“Am I?” He didn’t sound like he believed her.

“Well, unless your mother gives me a conflicting directive. She is the one paying me, so…”

“That’s what I thought. So, where do you want to start?”

Her eyes darted around, taking stock of all the projects to tackle. “I need to make some notes first, and then I promise I’ll consult with you before I start tossing things willy-nilly onto the trash heap.”