Celebrity Christmas (Frosty Pines

Christmas) Ruby Hill

Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/celebrity-christmas-frosty-pines-christmas-ruby-hill-3/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

Celebrity Christmas (Frosty Pines Christmas) Ruby Hill

https://ebookmass.com/product/celebrity-christmas-frosty-pines-
christmas-ruby-hill-2/

Celebrity Christmas (Frosty Pines Christmas) Ruby Hill

https://ebookmass.com/product/celebrity-christmas-frosty-pines-
christmas-ruby-hill/

Love for the Single Mom (Frosty Pines Christmas) Ruby

Hill

https://ebookmass.com/product/love-for-the-single-mom-frosty-
pines-christmas-ruby-hill/

Cowboy's Christmas Hope: Trinity Falls Sweet Romance -

Icicle Christmas - Book 2 Clara Pines

https://ebookmass.com/product/cowboys-christmas-hope-trinity-
falls-sweet-romance-icicle-christmas-book-2-clara-pines/
Christmas Beneath The Stars (Christmas 03) Melissa Hill

https://ebookmass.com/product/christmas-beneath-the-stars-
christmas-03-melissa-hill/

Small Town Celebrity (Windy Lake, Minnesota 04) Ruby

Hill

https://ebookmass.com/product/small-town-celebrity-windy-lake-
minnesota-04-ruby-hill/

An Ivy Hill Christmas Julie Klassen

https://ebookmass.com/product/an-ivy-hill-christmas-julie-
klassen/

12 Dogs of Christmas Melissa Hill

https://ebookmass.com/product/12-dogs-of-christmas-melissa-hill/

A Heaven Hill Christmas Laramie Briscoe [Briscoe

https://ebookmass.com/product/a-heaven-hill-christmas-laramie-
briscoe-briscoe/
 CELEBRITY CHRISTMAS
FROSTY PINES CHRISTMAS
RUBY HILL
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Love Light Faith
Celebrity Christmas
Text Copyright © 2023 by Ruby Hill
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be
reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express
written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and
incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are
used
fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
First printing, 2023
Publisher
CozyRomanceBooks.com
1
“W ould you look at that? That’s Charlie Williamson, isn’t it?”
 The second woman leaned in to scrutinize the magazine the first
woman held. “Yes, that’s
him! I can’t believe someone from Frosty Pines is a superstar.
That’s so great that he landed that new
movie role.”
Scarlett forced her gaze away, trying not to overhear the
conversation, and at the same time,
feeling a curl of envy tighten around her chest.
“You’d never believe he was from such a small town, not now.
Look how well he’s dressed! I bet
that shirt cost more than my rent.” The second woman tapped
at the front cover of the magazine with
her other hand. “He does this town proud. It’s wonderful he’s
achieved so much lately.”
And I can’t even get my non-profit off the ground.
Squeezing her eyes closed, Scarlett let out a slow breath,
pushing away her jealousy and trying
instead to build a swell of happiness for Charlie’s success. She
curled her hands into tight fists for a
few seconds, then unfurled her fingers. It shouldn’t matter one
bit that Charlie was now some big
name in the movie business, and in comparison, she was still in
Frosty Pines, running a local drama
group in her spare time.
“You were in school with Charlie Williamson, weren’t you?”
Scarlett looked up, recognizing the second woman who was now
talking to her. “Yes, we were,
although that was a long time ago—over a decade now.” They’d
been high school sweethearts as
well, but it wasn’t like they needed to know that. “It’s amazing
how much he’s achieved.”
Letting the conversation drop away, she focused on what she
was supposed to be doing: checking
through Mrs. Stephens’ shopping, which was mostly cleaning
supplies and a pint of paint. Trying to
 push Charlie out of her thoughts, her eyes drifted to the
magazine the two women had been gawking at,
and he came running right back into her mind. She’d never
forgotten him. Now and then, a little
memory would pop up, and she’d find herself remembering
what it had been like to be in his arms.
All the same, it had always been a little frustrating to see how
well life was going for him while
she was battling to even get her dream started.
“He’s got a great place out in L.A., it says here.”
“That’s nice.” Clearing her throat, Scarlett shrugged. “I don’t
think I could leave here, though.
Frosty Pines is my home.”
“Oh, mine too.” The other two women chimed their agreement,
putting a smile back on Scarlett’s
face. The one thing she was happy about, the one thing she’d
never regretted, was staying at Frosty
Pines. It was where she belonged. She’d been born and raised
here and fully intended to spend the
rest of her life in Frosty Pines if she could. Everything she
wanted and everyone she loved was here.
Just because Charlie had gone on to bigger and brighter things
didn’t mean that was what she wanted
for herself. In fact, it was practically the opposite.
“Scarlett. There you are.”
The warm voice of her friend—and soon-to-be sister-in-law—
brought a glad smile to Scarlett’s
face.
“Hey, Fiona.”
“Hi.” Her friend came around the counter and hugged her tight.
“You look busy.”
“I’m always busy.” Scarlett grinned. “But then again, so are you.
How’s the coffee shop today?”
“Hectic. Exactly the way Leo and I like it.”
Scarlett laughed as Fiona grinned back at her. Two years prior,
Fiona and Leo had won a
 Christmas coffee competition, and since then, news about their
coffee shop had traveled across the
state. Scarlett was sure it was part of the reason for a huge
boom in tourism over the last years, and it
seemed like this Christmas would not be any different. Scarlett
was glad for her brother, not only for
the coffee shop business doing so well, but also because he had
Fiona in his life. She was the best
thing that had ever happened to him, and Scarlett didn’t think
she’d ever seen Leo so happy.
“Your brother sent me over with a message.” A frown crossed
Fiona’s brow. “I don’t really
understand it. He said to tell you that Charlie is supposed to be
back in town soon.”
Scarlett’s heart threw itself around her chest, ice dripping down
her back. “Did you say Charlie?”
“Uh… yeah, I think so. At least that was what Leo said. He saw
it online somewhere.” Cocking
her head, Fiona looked long and hard at Scarlett. “Who’s
Charlie, and why does he make you go
white?”
Swallowing hard, Scarlett shook her head and tried to laugh, but
it came out as a rattling wheeze.
“Let’s just say he’s been on my mind recently.”
“Who is he?”
“You’ll recognize him. I think almost everyone in America knows
who he is by now.” Grabbing
her cell, she typed in his name and then held it out to her
friend. “This is Charlie.” She watched with
a knowing smile when Fiona’s eyebrows shot high. “See, I knew
you’d recognize him.”
“Wait, you know him?”
Scarlett nodded. “He’s from Frosty Pines. He and I grew up
together, and we got to know each
other really well in high school. We were in the same local
drama group, and acting was always his
 passion. He went one way with it, though, and I went another.”
When Fiona’s eyebrow arched,
Scarlett only sniffed and looked away. “He was back and forth to
Frosty Pines for the first few years
after he left, but I’m guessing it’s been about five years since I
last saw him.”
“Wow.” Fiona’s eyes widened and then looked back at Scarlett.
“And he’s back in Frosty Pines
now? Have you kept in touch?”
Scarlett slid her cell phone back into her pocket. “No, not really.
I’ll admit, I’ve followed him
and watched him slowly climb his way to success.”
“And that bothers you?” Perceptive, Fiona eyed Scarlett
carefully. “Just because you’re not a big-
time movie actor doesn’t mean that you haven’t achieved
anything.”
“But look at me!” Scarlett flung out her hands, gesturing to the
shop. “All I’ve done so far is work
for my parents at their hardware store. I’ve been here ever
since I finished high school, which was
twelve years ago now, and I haven’t done anything with my
acting.”
“You run that drama program for kids,” Fiona interrupted,
speaking with a little more firmness to
her tone. “And you’re trying to get that non-profit up and
running, the one that’s going to be a
community theater?”
A wry smile touched Scarlett’s lips. “The first one isn’t exactly a
career highlight, and the second
one… I can’t even think about that. I’ve done a lot of the
groundwork, but the startup costs are too
much to even look at right now, and all the record keeping I’ve
got to do is migraine-inducing. I could
do with someone who knows what they’re doing to help get it
all going, but I don’t know who that
would be.”
 Fiona’s eyebrows rose toward her hairline. “Why don’t you ask
Charlie?”
Spluttering, Scarlett shook her head. “No way.”
“Why not?”
“Because… because it’s Charlie! He’s most likely forgotten about
me. I can’t waltz up to him and
tell him I’d like his help with the non-profit.”
“I think you could. Getting a big-name actor behind you would
help grease some wheels, wouldn’t
it? And they way you’re talking about him makes it sound like
he’s a good guy.”
Scarlett blinked. “He was, but we don’t know each other
anymore.” With a grimace, she turned
away from her friend. “You don’t understand. We had more than
friendship between us, and that’s
made our relationship a little awkward—at least for me. Sure,
I’ve dated on and off, but there’s never
been anyone like Charlie for me, someone who shared the same
passion as I did, someone who really
understood me.”
A glance over her shoulder told her Fiona was smiling. “It
sounds like he meant a lot to you.”
“Back then, he did, yes, but he hasn’t been back to Frosty Pines
in years, and it’s not like I’m
planning on picking up where we left off! I might say a quick
hello, but that’s about it. I’m not sure
your idea would work.” Seeing how the light died in Fiona’s eye,
Scarlett immediately twisted
around and grasped her hand. “But thank you. I’ll think about it,
okay?”
A small smile touched Fiona’s mouth. “Okay, well, you do that.”
With a firm nod, she made to
step away, only to come back. “Oh, I forgot. The whole reason I
came here was to ask if you wanted
to come out to dinner sometime next week? Everything’s
already beginning to ramp up for Christmas,
 and with the coffee shop already getting busier, it feels like we
deserve a treat to help us get through
the six weeks leading up to Christmas Day!” With a grin, she
arched an eyebrow as Scarlett laughed.
“I definitely wouldn’t say no to that. Where are you thinking of
going?”
“The steakhouse?”
Scarlett grinned. “Sounds good to me.”
“Great! I’ll let Leo know, and I’ll make the reservation for next
week.” Fiona smiled and headed
to the door. “I’d better get back. All the lunch orders will be
coming in soon.”
“Okay. See you later.” With a wave, Scarlett watched as Fiona
left the shop. It was only once her
friend had gone, however, that she turned away and let her
eyebrows pull down into a frown.
Charlie’s going to be back in Frosty Pines.
The thought of seeing Charlie again was difficult enough, but to
go to him with the hope that he’d
help her out with her community theater was something else—
and on top of that, she wasn’t even sure
she wanted to see him. It might evoke some more jealousy, a
bite of envy, and Scarlett was already
battling enough of that.
In a small town like Frosty Pines, though, that was going to be
pretty inevitable. It wasn’t a case
of ‘if,’ but rather ‘when’ she’d lay eyes on him. Sighing to herself,
Scarlett dropped her head, looked
down at the floor, and silently wondered if Fiona was right.
Maybe this was an opportunity she
needed to consider.
2
C harlie stretched and yawned. Opening his eyes and looking
around the unfamiliar room, it took
him a few seconds to remember where he was.
 It wasn’t a place he could really call home any longer, but then
again, he didn’t know where
else home would be. He’d spent the last twelve years working,
going from one place to the next for
whatever job he could get, so it wasn’t like he had a secure
home base anymore. Sure, he had a house
filled with stuff he either didn’t need or barely had time to use,
but it wasn’t home, not in the same
way as this house was.
Scrubbing one hand over his face, Charlie pushed himself up.
This house was as it had always
been, and the town—or what he’d seen of it so far—was much
the same. Frosty Pines, Montana had
been a great place to grow up. Coming back, it brought a
strange sense of nostalgia, a feeling he
wasn’t really used to. He’d never given himself time to feel
homesick.
Yawning again, Charlie swung his legs around the side of the
bed and stood up. What would it
feel like to be back here for Christmas? It had been over five
years since he’d enjoyed Christmas with
his family. His older sister was happily married with children of
her own, but they’d promised to
come to Frosty Pines the day after Christmas, and Charlie could
hardly wait.
I think I’ve been away for too long.
With a grimace, Charlie rubbed one hand over his eyes, clearing
the sleep from them. He’d known
how much his parents had wanted him home for Christmas, no
doubt desperately hoping he’d come
back to be with them over the festive season, but they’d never
put him under any pressure. They’d
said they’d understood when he’d told them about his career
opportunities and the fact that he was so
busy, he didn’t have time to get away. That had all been true, of
course, although he’d been forced to
 inject a false sense of happiness into his voice whenever he’d
called. When Christmas Day had rolled
around, he’d missed being with them, at home with the people
and the places he knew and loved so
well. He hadn’t had any other choice, though, not if he’d wanted
to get the breakthrough he needed.
“Except now I’ve got it,” Charlie mumbled to himself. He pulled
on an old hoodie and sloped his
way to the door. Almost eighteen months ago, he’d gotten his
big break, and since then, life had
changed dramatically. Instead of chasing jobs, they came to
him. He was in demand, his agent said, so
when this December had rolled around, Charlie had insisted on
going home to Frosty Pines. His agent
hadn’t liked it, of course. He’d said Charlie would be better
staying in Los Angeles and promoting his
latest film, being seen by the media, getting his photo taken at
Christmas parties and events—anything
to boost his public image.
Charlie was glad he’d insisted. The second he’d heard the smile
in his mom’s voice when they’d
spoken about his Christmas plans had told him how glad she
was. His dad had been his usual gruff
self, but Charlie had known he’d been pleased. His mom had
said as much.
“Morning, Dad.”
His dad stood up from his chair, slapping one hand on Charlie’s
shoulder. “Morning, son. Did you
sleep well? You sit down. I’ll fix you some coffee, and your
mom’s already cooking pancakes.” He
nodded across the kitchen to where Charlie’s mom was hovering
over the stovetop.
Charlie grinned. “Thanks. That all sounds great.”
“We’re so glad to have you home.” His mom glanced over at
him, her cheeks rosy from the
warmth of the pan. “Breakfast is coming up in a few minutes.”
 “Thanks, Mom.”
“It’s no trouble, sweetie.”
Sitting down, Charlie let out a long, contented breath. It’s so
good to be home.
“You still take your coffee black?”
Charlie nodded and then accepted the coffee from his dad with
a warm smile. “Thanks.” Looking
around the room, he settled back in his chair a little more. “It’s
great to be back in Frosty Pines.”
“We’re so glad to have you.” His mom smiled but blinked rapidly,
turning her head away, but not
before Charlie had caught the glassiness in her eyes, and a twist
of guilt forced his smile away. He
really had been away for too many Christmases.
“You’re gonna have to try the Sugar Cookie Latte at Steamy
Mugs.” His dad grinned when Charlie
looked at him in surprise. “I get it, it’s maybe too sugary for
your taste, but you can’t be in Frosty
Pines and not have one! Leo and Fiona have become famous for
their lattes—and we’ve had flocks of
tourists coming to the town because of them.” His eyes
searched Charlie’s face. “You remember Leo,
right?”
“Of course I do. I haven’t been away for that long. He was a
year ahead of me in high school, but
we got along well since I was close with Scarlett. Last I saw
him, he was trying to open up a coffee
shop. It’s great to hear it’s doing so well.”
His mom chimed in, “That Fiona has been a good thing for Leo.
He’s never stopped smiling since
she showed up.”
That was the answer to Charlie’s unspoken question. “So Fiona
works for Leo?”
“With him,” his mom corrected. “Although I guess it was for him
when she first arrived.
 Apparently, she’d been treated really badly at her last job, but it
seems like everything’s turned
around for her and Leo.”
A slow smile edged itself across his face. “That’s great.”
The next second, another face came into his mind, but he
slammed his mouth shut, refusing to ask
his mom about Scarlett. They’d kept in touch for the first few
months after he’d left for L.A., but there
had barely been any contact since then. Even when he’d come
back here, there had been quick hellos
but nothing more—regardless, he’d never forgotten about her.
He’d been so busy with his career,
there hadn’t ever been any time for dating or even thinking
about dating. What he’d had with Scarlett
back in high school had been his last real relationship, although
he was sure she’d probably forgotten
all about that by now. Maybe she was married.
A hand twisted his heart.
“Scarlett’s been great with Fiona, too.” Serving up the pancakes,
his mom shot him a quick
glance, which Charlie tried to ignore. “Seems like Fiona didn’t
have much family before she came
here, so Scarlett offered her the spare room at her place, since
she lives there alone, anyway. Fiona’s
been staying with her ever since.”
She’s not married, then. “I’m really glad for Leo. When’s the
wedding?” Clearing his throat, he
smiled when his mom squeezed his shoulder before she sat
down to join them at the table.
“Not until February—Valentine’s Day, actually.” Her head tilted.
“I remember you and Scarlett
were close back in high school. Have you kept in touch? I
thought that maybe—”
“No, not really.” Charlie looked away, a little embarrassed to
have interrupted his mom. “What
does she do with herself these days?”
 “She’s working at her parents’ hardware store still, but she’s still
into all that.” Picking up the
maple syrup, his dad poured it liberally over his pancakes.
“Acting, I mean.”
Charlie glanced at his mom, who was nodding. “Really?”
“Sure. There’s a children’s local drama program she volunteers
at, though I did hear that she was
trying to set up a local non-profit for the children of Frosty Pines
—like a community theater? That
must have happened since the last time you were back home.”
The gentle smile on his mom’s face told
Charlie exactly what she thought of Scarlett’s idea.
“She was always very kind.” This murmur was met with a firm
nod from his mom, although
Charlie frowned. “Is anybody helping her with that non-profit?”
With a twist of his lips, his dad shook his head. “Not as far as I
know. Getting a non-profit going
is difficult, or so I hear. You could always ask her about it.
You’re bound to run into each other, and
maybe you’ll have enough time for a coffee together this time.
After all, you’re here for a while,
aren’t you?”
Charlie looked down at his pancakes. “Yeah, I’m here until the
first week of January.”
“Plenty of time, then!”
“Yeah, maybe.” No doubt it would be a little awkward between
them if he asked her out for a
coffee. It had been a long time since they’d sat down and talked
together. The fact that he’d stepped
away and left Frosty Pines—and her—behind meant he’d ripped
a gulf between them, one he wasn’t
sure he’d be able to traverse. Sure, it had been a long time ago,
but the shadows of it were still there.
“So, have you got any plans for Christmas while you’re here?
Anything you want to do or places
you want to go?”
 Glad for the change of conversation, Charlie shook his head. “I
just want to be here with you both.
That’ll make a happy Christmas, for sure.”
She smiled and squeezed his hand. “That’s all we want, too.”
“There’s the annual Christmas festival,” his dad suggested. “It’s
usually a good night.”
“It’s really expanded since the last time we went. They’ve got so
many wonderful stalls there
now,” his mom added, her dark eyes twinkling. “There’s the
Christmas light switch on with that big
Christmas tree, Leo has his hot cocoa, Kaitlin has her bakery
stall, there’s the bookstore stall with
Riley’s incredible bookish baskets—plus a ton of gifts and
trinkets. The candles are my favorite. I’ve
bought one every year.”
A contented happiness settled over him, and he smiled back at
his parents, looking first at his dad
and then at his mom. “It all sounds amazing, Mom. I’m sure this
is going to be a great Christmas.”
“I’M SO SORRY.” Waving at his cell, Charlie jerked his head to
the door. “I’ll be right back for that.”
Embarrassed at how loudly his cell’s ringtone was echoing
around the coffee shop, he scuttled
outside, keeping his head low. He’d figured he’d come get one
of the Sugar Cookie Lattes in the
hopes of saying hello to Leo, but only a young man called Neil
had been at the coffee counter. It was
still being prepared, which meant he had a couple of minutes to
take a call.
“Hello?”
“Charlie?” The overly excited voice of his agent had Charlie
rubbing one hand over his eyes.
“I’m on vacation, Andrew,” he reminded him firmly. “That means
no calls, no inquiries, no
auditions. I’ve got enough work to fill my schedule for the next
eighteen months.”
 “Yes, yes, of course.” Andrew sounded a little nervous, given the
way his words kept tripping
over each other. “I’m not calling you because of that. I’m calling
because… well, I’ve tried my best
to keep it from getting out, but the media has discovered you’ve
gone home for Christmas.”
A heavy weight dropped onto Charlie’s shoulders. “Wait, what?
How did they find out?”
“I don’t know.” The slight edge to Andrew’s tone hinted he
might be a little afraid Charlie would
blame him for this. “You told me you were really careful at the
airport, but I’ve gotten a tip that
there’s a couple of media outlets really interested in what you’re
doing and where you are. I don’t
know if anyone will actually show up to your little town, but I
thought it was best you knew.”
Charlie had quickly learned that this was one of the downsides
of being a famous actor. Getting
his big break had been one thing, but all the publicity and
attention that came with it was quite
another. In a lot of ways, this change in his life was proving
difficult for him to go along with, much to
Andrew’s exasperation.
“I swear, I’ll try not to interrupt the rest of your Christmas.”
Andrew coughed, his voice a little
higher pitched. “Even if one very important offer has come
through, then I—”
“Then you’ll put it to one side until I’ve finished my vacation.”
Charlie spoke each word firmly,
carefully ignoring the annoying urge to ask exactly who had
called and what they had said. “I’m only
going to be here until the first week of January. The last thing I
need right now is to get my head back
into work. I want to be here with my family. You get that,
right?”
 “I do. I absolutely do.” It was clear Andrew was backtracking,
and Charlie couldn’t help but grin.
“And you’re right, I should wait until after your vacation. It’s
only that this is time sensitive, and…
never mind. It will wait. It definitely can wait. I’ll make sure it
can wait.”
“Thanks, you’re the best.” There was an obvious hint of irony in
his tone, but Andrew only
laughed. They had a good rapport, and since Andrew respected
his boundaries—on the whole, at
least—Charlie was grateful for him. Andrew had been his very
first agent and was still his only
agent. What he had done in getting Charlie to where he was
now meant a lot. “Thanks for the warning,
Andrew. I hope you have a good Christmas when it comes.”
“Thanks.”
With a sigh, Charlie ended the call, silently praying Andrew
wouldn’t have another reason to get
in touch before Christmas, although he had to admit the
warning was appreciated. Rolling his eyes to
himself, Charlie wondered exactly how many of the hungry
media giants would really make their way
to Frosty Pines. Surely there was more for them to do—and
better stories to grab—than coming to a
small town in the hopes of snapping a couple of photos of him
on vacation! Part of the reason he
loved being back home again was simply that he could just be
Charlie Williamson, not Charlie
Williamson, the actor, Charlie Williamson, the celebrity who liked
eating at high-end restaurants, who
went to art gallery openings and spoke on panel shows. This felt
more comfortable. Frosty Pines let
him be who he was rather than the person he had to pretend to
be a lot of the time.
With a wince, he swung around on one heel, ready to stride
back into the coffee shop, only to slam
 straight into someone smaller, who then staggered back with a
yelp of surprise. As he went to help
them, stammering an apology, Charlie’s eyes fixed themselves
on none other than Scarlett Gilbert.
3
W hatever Scarlett had walked into was solid and unyielding,
forcing her to stumble back. A
firm hand caught her arm, helping her to gather herself, and as
she looked up into wide, hazel
eyes, her own flared with surprise.
Oh.
“Charlie… hi.”
Charlie’s hand dropped from her arm, his broad smile
suggesting he was thrilled to see her.
“Scarlett. It’s so good to see you. It’s been so long.”
Without warning, Charlie bent forward and hugged her. With no
other choice but to respond, she
put her arms around his neck and, standing on tiptoe, fought to
keep her balance so he wouldn’t pull
her off her feet. He’d always been tall, with those familiar broad
shoulders leading down to strong
arms which were presently wrapped around her. The instant
tension which had been roaring like a
lion when she’d realized who he was slowly began to quieten. It
was almost a comfort to be held so
tightly. He had definitely filled out a lot more since high school—
but she recognized that familiarity
all the same.
“Good to see you, too.” Trying to extract herself from his arms,
she pushed away the sensation of
comfort. It took a second longer for Charlie’s hands to fall back
to his sides, and at the lingering touch
of his hands sweeping around her waist as he stepped back, she
shivered violently.
“It is cold.” Charlie grinned at her, his wide smile sending a glint
into his eyes. “I was going to
 pick up the latte I ordered. Are you heading inside?”
“Um… yeah, I am.”
“I heard the Sugar Cookie Latte is really good, so I figured I’d
get one.” The smile on his face
sent her own lips quirking upwards.
“Yeah, they’re great.” Turning, they walked together toward the
coffee shop. “I think Leo, Fiona,
and Neil make them constantly, they’ve been so popular.” It was
interesting how quickly their
conversation had become easy, as though they’d fallen right
back into where they’d left off. “I’m sure
you’ll love it.”
A sudden fire burned up through her as their fingers brushed,
and her gaze shot up to his—but
Charlie wasn’t looking at her.
The only thing she’d been expecting had been awkwardness or
searing jealousy, but instead, there
was an entirely different sort of fire setting her alight. Another
glance had her breath hitching. Little
wonder he’d caught the attention of practically the entire nation.
He really was striking. The once
gangly build had filled out, the square jaw and gleaming hazel
eyes practically demanding her
attention.
If he hadn’t held the door open for her, she’d probably have
smacked right into it.
“Hi, sorry about that.” Charlie made his way to the counter,
where Neil was standing. “I had to
take a call.”
“It’s not a problem.” Neil gestured to the coffee to his left and
gave Charlie a thumbs up before
looking at Scarlett. “Hey, Scarlett. What can I get you?”
“The usual, thanks.”
Neil grinned. “Sugar Cookie Latte coming right up.”
“I’ll get this.” Charlie pulled out his card and paid for her coffee
before Scarlett had a chance to
 say a word, finding her gaze draping itself down him. The well-
fitting jeans were hollering for her to
take a closer look. “I was hoping to say hi to Leo, but it doesn’t
look like he’s working today.”
When he glanced back at her, Scarlett’s face burned, wondering
if he’d seen where her eyes had
lingered. “Leo and Fiona are at his place this afternoon, getting
everything organized for the
Christmas Festival. They have a lot to prepare for this year since
they’ve gotten so much more
popular.” Tilting her head, she managed a smile, trying to slow
her suddenly furious heartbeat. “You
remember the Frosty Pines Christmas Festival, right?”
Charlie nodded fervently. “My parents were talking to me about
it. They said it’s become much
bigger and brighter than I remember.” His grin sent a spark into
his eyes. “And I’m really looking
forward to going this year. I’m sure it’ll look really different.”
“Well, you have been away for a long time,” Scarlett interjected.
Her face hot, Scarlett looked straight ahead, not able to look up
at Charlie. There hadn’t been any
sort of anger in her voice there, not even a hint of frustration,
but there was a sense of longing which
had twined itself through her words. She’d heard it clearly, and
Charlie would either have heard it,
too, or be confused by what she’d meant.
“Here’s your latte.”
“Thanks, Neil.” Grabbing it, she managed a glance at Charlie,
only to see him frown.
Great. Now I’ve made it awkward.
“It has been a long time.” Obviously willing to acknowledge
what she’d said, Charlie tipped his
head, his shoulders lifting. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since
we’ve talked. When I was in and out of
town the first few years, we didn’t manage anything more than
a hello, did we?”
 Was it just her imagination, or was his smile a little sad?
“The last few years, I’ve had too many demands on my time to
be able to do anything other than
work over Christmas.”
“I hear you’re doing well.” Scarlett’s eyebrows lifted at the long
breath that came after her words.
Was it regret or frustration drawing lines across his forehead? “I
guess your folks must have missed
you over Christmas, though.”
That was clearly the wrong thing to say, given that the lines on
his forehead pushed themselves
even deeper.
“Yeah, they did.” His shoulders rose. “They never said anything,
didn’t try to keep me away from
what I was doing or try to influence me to come back. They
wanted me to succeed—and I have. I only
wish I hadn’t missed out on being home for Christmas for so
long.”
Her heart pulled with sympathy. There were clearly a lot of
sacrifices he’d had to make in getting
to where he was now, and she wasn’t sure he was exactly
happy about that.
“I guess that’s why we’re different.” When he looked at her with
a slight frown, she shrugged and
smiled. “I don’t think that I could have made those decisions.
You know I never wanted to leave
Frosty Pines, but I’m glad to see where you are now, Charlie,
really.” It was right then, in saying
those words, she’d felt that tug of happiness for what he’d
achieved push away any lingering hints of
envy. “I’ve got plans of my own, too, I just haven’t managed to
get any of them to follow through
yet… but you’re living proof that hard work and determination
can help with that!”
When he smiled, a flush of warmth ran through her again, and
Scarlett looked away quickly.
 Charlie was having such a strange effect on her; she could
barely understand what was going on.
“Thanks, Scarlett. And yes, I believe you’ll achieve what you
want to do as well! You’ve always
had that resolve in you, so whatever you’re aiming for, it’s
bound to happen.”
The kindness of his words seemed to add an extra hint of
sweetness to the next sip of her latte. “I
appreciate that. I guess we’ll be seeing you around Frosty Pines
over Christmas, then?”
Charlie’s face split with a smile. “Absolutely! It’ll be just like old
times.”
Instantly, Scarlett went hot all over. She had no doubt that
Charlie didn’t mean what he’d said in
that way, but to her mind, old times were about holding hands
and walking through the snow; holding
each other close as snowflakes fell around them; sharing sweet
kisses under the mistletoe. Those
were what she remembered about their times together.
Charlie tilted his head, and the way he was frowning at her
made her blush. No doubt he was
wondering why her face was so red.
“I should probably get going.” Neither of them had sat down,
and her legs were already beginning
to get tired from standing on the floor of the coffee shop, given
that she’d spent most of the morning
standing at the hardware store counter. “I’ll see you around.”
Charlie nodded. “I’ll come out with you. I’ve got nowhere else to
be, and I think I’d like to
wander around Frosty Pines.”
They both turned toward the door, and Scarlett, even though
she would have preferred to have
said her goodbyes at the coffee shop, had no other choice but
to let him go with her. Charlie opened
the door, and she stepped out into the cold, only for his hand to
yank her back inside. With a cry of
 surprise, she staggered back as Charlie slammed the door shut
and stood in front of it, one hand
balled into a fist as he stood tall, his shoulders a little hunched.
“What on earth—?”
“I’m so sorry.” Throwing her a quick glance over his shoulder,
Charlie shook his head. “I didn’t
think they’d find me so quickly. In fact, I didn’t really think
they’d be here at all.”
“Who?” Her arm hot from where he’d pulled her back, she took
a step forward as Charlie turned
around to face her.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “It comes with the job, apparently.”
Blinking quickly, Scarlett quickly realized what had happened.
“You mean, there are
photographers somewhere outside?”
He nodded, his jaw working hard. “Exactly what I mean. I’m
getting really good at spotting them.”
“Right.” Her smile felt stiff. “The media have followed you to
Frosty Pines, then?”
Charlie scrubbed one hand across his face and nodded. “Yeah,
they have. I just don’t want them to
take photos of anyone else that I care about. It’s not fair to you
or to anyone else.”
Blinking, Scarlett looked up at him for a long moment, although
Charlie was looking back outside
through the window. He cares about me?
“If you leave without me, then that will probably be okay.”
Letting out a rasping breath, Charlie
spoke as if he hadn’t just said a few words which had tipped her
world from one side to the other.
“I’ll hang back here for a while longer.”
“Oh… okay.” The tightness of her voice surprised even her, and
she coughed quietly. “Thanks,
Charlie. I’ll see you later.” With what she hoped was a casual
wave, she pulled open the door of the
 coffee shop and stepped straight out. No immediate flash from
a camera threw itself over her. Nobody
ran across her path, shouting out questions about Charlie. There
was… nothing. It was all very
normal. Not sure whether she was relieved or a little
overwhelmed by what had just happened,
Scarlett brushed it off and crossed the road to her car. Her first
encounter with Charlie had been a
little awkward, sure, but it had definitely revealed a lot to her as
well. She’d seen more to him than
she’d expected, more layers to who he was now compared to
who he’d been in high school. Loathe as
she was to admit it, Scarlett had to admit to herself she wanted
to peel away every layer until she
knew him inside out.
4
“S carlett says you ran into her yesterday at the coffee shop.”
Leo grinned, stretched out his legs,
and crossed them at the ankle. “Sorry I wasn’t there to see you.
If I’d known a celebrity was
coming in, I’d have left Fiona to the Christmas Festival planning
and come to say hi.”
Charlie snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’m not a celebrity, not
really, and I’m not sure I want to be,
either.”
Leo frowned, his smile shattering. “It can’t be all that bad.”
With a pause, Charlie grimaced. “I’ll be honest with you, Leo.
It’s hard work. I’m not
complaining; I know I’m lucky. But I could have never imagined
how much work goes into making a
movie and then promoting it—such as publicity and interviews
and being seen in certain places and
with particular people… all that sort of stuff. I don’t enjoy all
that. I love acting, and that’s what I
want to do, but all the stuff that goes with it is proving a little
tricky. The last thing I want is for
 photographers to come here and start interrupting the lives of
everyone in Frosty Pines. I thought I’d
be able to have Christmas here without any of that, but my
agent called me yesterday to say that he
thought a couple of photographers were chasing after me… and
he was right. One of them was
waiting for me when I left your coffee shop yesterday.”
“Yeah, Scarlett told me about that, too.” Leo chuckled ruefully.
“I guess they kind of go hand in
hand, right? The big break and the publicity? You can’t have one
without the other.”
“Exactly.” Charlie stretched forward to grab his beer. “Again, I
don’t mean to complain. It’s only
now that I’m back here that I realize how much I’ve missed it. I
never meant to be away for so long,
but every time I catch my mom looking at me and smiling, I see
how much she’s missed me these last
few years.”
“But they’ve supported you.”
Charlie smiled. “They’ve been nothing but supportive. I think
things change when you’ve been
away from home for a long time, though. Everything takes on a
little more significance.”
“You still call this place home?” Leo looked a little surprised. “I
would have thought you’d call
L.A. home by now.”
“No way.” A wry smile touched the side of Charlie’s lips. “I’ve got
a house, sure, but I’m never
there long enough to make it feel like home.” He gestured to
the window. “That’s why being back here
has made me feel homesick, if that makes sense. I get that I’m
here now, so I can’t be homesick for a
place where you actually are, but it’s as though all the longing
and nostalgia I’ve felt over the last few
years, the feelings I bottled away and forced myself to ignore,
have decided to throw themselves at
 me all at one time.”
“I think I understand.” Shifting in his chair, Leo picked up a beer
only for the door to ring. “Oh,
that will be Maverick. I thought you might want to catch up.”
At the mention of the name of an old friend from high school,
Charlie’s grin spread wide across
his face. “That’s great. Thanks, Leo.”
“No problem.”
“Oh, you’ll have to excuse me for a second.” Seeing his agent’s
number light up his phone,
Charlie sighed and pushed himself out of his chair. “I’d better
get this.” Taking a few steps away, he
answered the call. “I thought I asked you to leave me alone
until after Christmas.”
“You did.” There wasn’t a single note of humor in Andrew’s
voice. “But I thought you might want
to know about this.”
A knot twisted in Charlie’s stomach. “What is it?”
“I did warn you that the photographers might be out in force
already, didn’t I?”
Charlie drew his eyebrows together. “You sure did, but I’ve been
careful.”
“Not careful enough.” The heaviness in Andrew’s tone only
grew. “I got a note that there’s going
to be a picture of you and some young women coming out later
this week.”
“What?” Charlie pushed his hand across his tight, dark curls. “I
don’t understand.”
“It happened yesterday, outside a coffee shop? It’s you hugging
a young woman with brown hair.”
Charlie closed his eyes, everything becoming very dark. He
knew exactly who it was and exactly
what had happened. He hadn’t thought twice about pulling
Scarlett into a hug. It had been his instinct
when he’d first seen her, a way to try to get rid of the flurry of
awkwardness he’d felt run through him.
 But if a photographer had been close by, then they could have
captured that moment… which they
obviously had.
Which means Scarlett is going to be splashed all over the
papers.
“Charlie? You know what I’m talking about?”
The only answer he could give his agent was a groan.
“I’m sorry.” Andrew let out a long breath, and even though
Charlie knew it wasn’t his fault, he
couldn’t help but let some words fly. “You said I would be okay
in Frosty Pines. You didn’t think
anyone would follow me.”
“I remember what I said, but I was wrong.” A sharp edge sliced
through Andrew’s words. “In
case you’ve forgotten, you’re a big name now. That means that
we’re going to have to work with
this.”
Blinking, Charlie shook his head as though Andrew could see
him. “Work with this? No way.
We’re going to get that picture pulled.”
“Think about it.” Andrew spoke slowly. “That picture is going to
come out whether you want it to
or not. We have to be able to use it to our advantage.”
“I don’t want to use it to my advantage. You have to find a way
to stop it being published.”
“I can’t.” Andrew didn’t sound as frustrated as Charlie felt. In
fact, it sounded like he was
smiling. “I’ve tried, and the photographer absolutely isn’t going
to give it up. He said it was going to
be a great piece for the Christmas season—a sweet little love
story.”
Charlie closed his eyes tightly, his jaw working for a few
seconds. That’s the last thing I need.
The idea of having to tell Scarlett she was going to be in a
photo splashed across the tabloids was
 embarrassing enough, but the thought of explaining how the
media were going with the story that they
were in love was something else entirely. “You need to try
harder, Andrew. I can’t do that to
Scarlett.”
“I don’t think you understand.” Andrew’s tone changed into a
growing excitement. “I think if we
go with this idea, it’ll be great. Really great. It might even more
free publicity for you.”
“Go with what idea?”
A brief pause had Charlie’s gut tensing in anticipation.
“I think we should pretend that you and Scarlett are together.”
Charlie shook his head. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“What if I’m not?”
Instantly beginning to splutter, Charlie heard his agent’s voice
grow a little louder in his ear.
“Now hold on, hold on, before you start telling me that you
can’t or that it’s a bad idea, hear me
out.” He took a breath. “Let’s say you and Scarlett are dating.
Maybe she’s some long-lost love or an
idea like that, but anyway, we spin the story that you’ve found
someone special back in your
hometown for Christmas.” A quiet chuckle came down the line.
“It’s picture perfect. Exactly what
your reputation needs, and temporary enough not to be a
serious relationship. In a couple of months,
we can do the sad breakup story, and then everyone will know
you’re free and single again, which is
what we want.”
A knot tied itself around Charlie’s heart. “Is that what we want?”
“Of course it is!” his agent exclaimed. “We need you to be
young, free, and single. A Christmas
romance will give the press a good story and keep your name
top-of-mind. At the same time, it’ll
make every young woman wonder what they’re missing out on.”
 The knot around Charlie’s heart slid all the way down to his
stomach. “I’m not sure I like this.”
“What’s the alternative?” Andrew now sounded a little
exasperated. “Tell everyone that you’re
just friends, as if they’re going to believe it? The press carries
on hounding you, trying to snap
pictures of you hugging or saying hello to someone else here in
your little town, and you don’t get the
quiet Christmas you’ve been hoping for?” There were a few
beats of silence. “Or we give them the
story of your Christmas romance, they snap a few pictures of
you and Scarlett together, and then they
leave you alone for Christmas.”
Charlie let out a slow breath, hating that his agent was making
sense. “It’s going to be a lot to ask
Scarlett to do for me.”
“Yes, it is. Will you ask her?”
“I’m not sure.” Since when was I even thinking about going
along with this?
“The least you can do is warn her about it. Why not explain the
idea and see what she says?”
“Fine.” Going against his better judgment, Charlie found himself
agreeing. “But if she says no,
then we go with that. I won’t put her under any pressure.”
Putting an extra firmness into his tone, he
smiled grimly at how quickly Andrew agreed and then ended the
call.
Running one hand over his hair, he turned and caught Leo’s
slightly lifted eyebrow.
“Everything okay?”
Charlie nodded and then said hello to Maverick before sitting
back down.
“I’m fine.” He tried to smile. “Good to see you again, Maverick.
Thanks for coming over.”
“It’s good to see you, too. How’s life in the celebrity world?”
 At Maverick’s question, Charlie rubbed one hand over his face
and heaved out a breath. “Right
now, my work is going great, but there are a couple of
photographers in Frosty Pines, which I don’t
appreciate.”
Maverick chuckled. “Leo filled me in on what happened with
Scarlett.”
Charlie tried to laugh, but happiness didn’t flood through him
like it usually did. “My agent was
just calling me about that, actually. I thought I’d managed to
catch Scarlett in time, but I didn’t realize
the photographer was already there when we first ran into each
other.”
A glance at Leo told him that his friend immediately understood,
given the way his grin faded.
“Oh.” Leo glanced at Maverick and then back at Charlie. “So
what does that mean?”
“That means that a photographer got a shot of Scarlett and me
hugging.” With a scowl, he picked
up his beer. “And now the press is going to misconstrue that
hug to mean more than it was.”
Leo’s eyebrows shot high. “Ah. So that’s a problem.”
“Exactly.” With a sigh, he took a swig of his beer. “My agent
wants me to go with it, to get the
press to believe we are together, and that I’ve found a
Christmas romance in my hometown, but I’m
not convinced Scarlett is going to go for it. It’s a huge thing to
ask someone, and I don’t want to ruin
her Christmas.”
The look on Leo’s face told him his instinct was right. “All you
can do is ask. But I’d love to be
around when you do.”
At this, Charlie flung his head back and groaned just as Leo
began laughing. There had to be a
little humor in this, Charlie supposed, but all the same, in the
next couple of days, he was going to
 have to go ask his high school sweetheart whether she would
mind playing the part of his Christmas
romance.
5
“W e’ll finish with this box and call it a day.”
Scarlett frowned. “I’m happy to do more, Dad. There’s a lot
here.”
“I can see that, but there’s no need.” Her dad gestured to the
storeroom. “New inventory takes a
while, and this will take us the rest of tomorrow.” Tilting his
head, he frowned. “Aren’t you supposed
to be going out to dinner with Leo and Fiona tonight, anyway?”
A breath caught in her chest as Scarlett threw her hands up.
“Oh, shoot, I totally forgot! What time
is it?”
“Just past six. What time is your dinner?”
Groaning, Scarlett closed her eyes. “Six.” Hugging her dad
quickly, she made her way to the door.
“I’d better go. I’m sorry.”
“It’s no problem.” He made a shooing motion toward the door.
“Go on, enjoy yourself.”
Flustered, Scarlett hurried toward the front door of the shop,
only to spin around again to grab her
purse from behind the counter. It had her keys and her cell, and
she paused for a few seconds, sending
a quick message to her brother telling him she’d be a few
minutes late.
Who knows what I look like?!
After a day of working at the hardware store, she wouldn’t have
time to touch up her makeup or
change out of her jeans and shirt. Then again, it was only going
to be Fiona and Leo, so she didn’t
think either of them would mind too much.
It took her around ten minutes to get across town to the
steakhouse, and by the time she got there,
 despite the cold wind which had practically blown her across the
street, beads of sweat were
breaking out across her forehead. Pausing only to swipe one
hand over her face, Scarlett stepped
inside and was soon directed to the table.
She stopped dead.
Charlie.
Blinking, her breath swirled around her chest as she stared back
at the man sitting with Leo and
Fiona. Why was Charlie here? Had Leo invited him and forgotten
to tell her? Or was this an
accidental meeting, and he’d only sat down for a few minutes to
say hello?
“Scarlett!”
Leo, catching sight of her, waved a hand. Pinning a smile on her
face, Scarlett moved forward,
smoothing her hair as best she could with one hand.
“Hey.” Fiona got out of her chair and hugged her. “Glad you
could make it. Leo said you were
busy with your dad at the store today.”
Scarlett managed to steadfastly not look in Charlie’s direction as
her stomach filled with
fluttering nerves. “We had a lot of new inventory to get through,
and I lost track of time. It’s a good
thing my dad reminded me about dinner, or I’d have completely
forgotten about it!”
Leo chuckled and waved her to the chair opposite Charlie. “Well,
I’m glad you made it. I hope
you don’t mind, but I invited Charlie to join us.”
Charlie instantly held up both hands, palms out to her. “Your
brother waved at me from across the
street, and when he found out I didn’t have any plans, he
suggested I come to join you guys for dinner.
I don’t have to stay, though.”
There was nothing else for her to do but look straight at him
and say that no, of course she didn’t
 mind if he was here with them. The words came easily enough,
but inwardly, Scarlett was silently
wondering how bad of an impression she was giving with her
appearance right now. The last person
she’d expected to see was Charlie, and given that she’d almost
run across town, the wind tugging at
her long, straight hair and flinging it in all directions, she had no
doubt she looked a little rough
around the edges.
Great.
“Thanks. I’m glad you don’t mind.” Charlie’s smile lit up his
expression, and the tightness in her
stomach grew even stronger. “I wasn’t exactly looking forward
to a quiet evening alone! I have a little
too many of those already.”
“It’s no problem.” With as warm a smile as she could manage,
Scarlett sat back in her chair and
tried to relax.
The thud of her heart in her chest made her cheeks warm,
knowing she was trying to fool herself.
Yes, it was only Charlie, but at the same time, it wasn’t just
Charlie. Their first meeting had left her
with so many confusing feelings, she hadn’t had time to sort
through them yet.
“So, how’s life at the hardware store?”
The question had her wincing. “It’s been okay. Busy today.”
“It’s not what Scarlett wants to do, like you know,” Leo
interrupted, ignoring the sharp glance
Scarlett sent his way. “She volunteers at the kids’ drama
program, but there’s this plan for the non-
profit—”
“Which we really don’t need to get into.” Forcing a laugh,
Scarlett tried to wave the subject away,
trying desperately to glare at her brother while keeping her
smile fixed in place. The last thing
Charlie needed to know about was her failure.
 Charlie tilted his head. “If it’s okay with you, I’d really like to
hear about it. It sounds like a great
idea, this community theater.”
Blinking, she frowned. Did she tell him that?
“My parents told me,” he said, as if he’d know what she’d been
thinking. “And I think you might
have mentioned it at the coffee shop. Tell me about it!”
Scarlett took a breath. Fiona gave her an encouraging smile and
Leo sat back in his chair, his arms
folded and a grin on his face.
She began to explain. “I want to set up a community theater so
that everyone in Frosty Pines has
access to the arts—but especially for the kids. It needs to be a
non-profit, but there’s a ton of
paperwork and financial requirements that go with that.” With a
roll of her eyes, she shook her head.
“That’s the hard part. There’s a lot of support for it within the
community, but I can’t seem to get all
the separate strings to tie up together in the way they’re
supposed to. I need someone who knows what
they’re doing—almost someone who can take over that part so I
can focus on getting what we actually
need in terms of practicality and even advertising. Like I said, it
hasn’t been easy to do that, so I
haven’t succeeded yet.” She managed a smile, throwing it
across at Charlie. “I won’t give up,
though.”
“You never have before.” Reaching across the table, Leo patted
her hand and smiled in what was
obviously supposed to be an encouraging way. “You’ve always
gone for what you wanted, and you
always seem to know what the right thing to do is. It’s one of
the things that irritates me about you the
most.”
The table erupted with laughter, and in a single second, Scarlett
felt a lot more at ease. Charlie
 was grinning, Fiona’s eyes were dancing, and Leo was
somewhere between laughing and trying to
explain what he meant. Scarlett tried to find a retort to shoot
back at her brother, only for her own
features to split with a smile, as Leo squeezed her hand again.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it quite that way.”
“I figured.” With a grin, she tipped her head toward Fiona. “I’ll
definitely agree with that last
part, though. Look how good Fiona has been for you!”
“Absolutely!” Leo’s eyes swiveled to Fiona, and his grin softened
into a tenderness that had
Scarlett smiling gently. It was obvious just how much in love
Fiona and Leo were, and she was happy
to see it. Introducing them—and then insisting that Leo give
Fiona a job at the coffee shop—had been
the best thing for them both.
“Shall we maybe take a look at the menu?” Charlie arched an
eyebrow and handed a menu to
Scarlett, only for her to wave it away.
“Oh, I know what I’m having.” The emphasis had his eyebrow
rising. “The ribeye steak is always
my go-to when I come here.”
Charlie’s smile lifted one side of his mouth. “And you never want
to try anything different?”
“Nope.” Tossing her head, she grinned at him. “Why try a new
dish when you already know what
you like and what you want?”
The soft hues of green and brown in Charlie’s eyes slowly
darkened, his smile sliding away.
Swallowing hard, Scarlett tried to focus her eyes on the menu,
but it was as if her gaze was stuck fast
to him. Heat bubbled in her stomach, her pulse quickening,
blood roaring in her ears until everything
else faded away into the background, and all she saw was
Charlie.
“Can I take your order?”
 The server’s voice had her jumping in surprise, and with heat
building in her face, she gestured
quickly to the menu and gave her order. The server moved to
Leo next, and Scarlett stared straight
down at her lap, trying to get her breathing under control.
Exactly what was going on?
“THAT WAS A GREAT NIGHT.”
“Yeah, it was.” Scarlett smiled and picked up her wine glass. The
evening had gone really well,
to the point where she was glad Charlie had joined them for
dinner. Leo and Fiona had left the table
briefly to go and say hello to another couple they recognized
sitting across the room, leaving Charlie
and Scarlett to wait for their dessert to arrive.
“I’m glad to have you here alone for a few minutes.”
The sudden easiness fled, and a fizz of nerves threw itself
straight at her as, surprised, she looked
straight back at him.
“I need to talk to you, Scarlett.”
Her nerves began to form a chain and climb up her chest, into
her throat, and formed a block
there. She had no idea what he was going to say, but the way
his eyes were darting from one place to
the next, she figured this was going to be significant. Her eyes
closed briefly for a moment or two,
and she took in a long, steadying breath.
“My agent called me.”
Was he going to ask her to be in a film with him? The idea was
dumb, and she shook her head to
herself, seeing his slightly puzzled look. “Okay.”
“There’s a long story to this, but I’ll give you the short version.”
Coupling his hands, Charlie
rested his elbows on the table, then looked straight at her, his
gaze steady. “When I first met you
outside the coffee shop, we hugged, and unfortunately,
someone took a photo of that. The media are
 going to run with a story about my Christmas romance in Frosty
Pines… with you.”
Scarlett blinked furiously, her heart slamming hard against her
ribs. “Oh, no.” Charlie winced,
and immediately, Scarlett squeezed her eyes shut. “Sorry, I
didn’t mean it like that. I only meant—”
“It’s okay.” Reaching across, he put his hand on hers for a
moment. “I get it. Believe me, I’ve
learned everything about the media and how difficult they can
make daily life, so I don’t blame you
for a reaction like that. All the same…” Taking a breath, he set
his shoulders. “My agent is suggesting
that we go with it.”
It was like everything burned her and chilled her at once.
Shrinking inwardly, she saw him shrug.
“I didn’t think it was a good idea, and I wasn’t sure you’d go for
it, but I thought I’d ask. It doesn’t
mean we’d have to do anything… serious. Just holding hands,
maybe doing a couple of Christmassy
activities together—that sort of thing. The press will get a
couple of shots, but hopefully, after a
while, they’ll leave me alone, which means I get a quiet-ish
Christmas here with my parents.”
Scarlett tried to speak, but her words were stuck in her throat.
“And I’d make sure to help you out in return,” he continued,
speaking more quickly now. “All that
stuff for your non-profit? I can put you in touch with people
who can help you with that, and I’m more
than able—and willing—to help financially as well.”
The edge to his voice was one of either desperation or
embarrassment, but Scarlett didn’t care
which one it was. It was as if every sound had become ten
times as loud, and Charlie’s voice was
whispering through it all. It was proving difficult to take in what
he was saying, thoughts about the
 non-profit bouncing around her head, while at the same time,
the fact that he was asking her to fake a
relationship was screaming at her.
“You don’t have to answer me now.” Charlie twisted his lips and
turned his head away. “I’m
sorry, this is a lot to take in—”
“You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? To have
everyone know my name and face when
it’s all over the celebrity gossip magazines and sites?” The
hoarseness of her voice came from the
shock of his question, and when he nodded, she shook her head
and let out a quiet exclamation.
“Wow. I’m going to have to think about it.”
Charlie sat back, his shoulders dropping. “I should probably
never have asked you. I’m sorry that
photo is going to come out, and I’m sure people will ask a ton
of questions, but you’re right, it is a lot
for me to ask. I’m sorry I have to even think about this in the
first place! I didn’t expect the media to
follow me here, and I didn’t think they’d make up this kind of
story.”
If she did this, then what happened if she fell back in love with
him?
The way her heart pounded was a warning. Swirling feelings
were already trying to surface, and
even though she was doing her best to keep them calm and
steady, chances were they’d grow to
overwhelming proportions if she pretended to be Charlie’s
girlfriend. She couldn’t risk her heart.
Charlie would be leaving again after Christmas, leaving her and
any feelings for him far behind.
She’d already had to deal with that once. It would be dumb to
do it again.
But my non-profit…
Scarlett’s heart tugged toward the idea of doing as Charlie
wanted. Yes, she might get hurt. Yes,
 there was a danger of falling in love with him again. But if she
said no, then her dreams of starting her
non-profit might fade away to nothing. Right now, right here,
was a chance for her to get what she’d
always hoped for, what she’d been pushing toward for so long.
Was she really going to knock it
away?
“I’m sorry, Scarlett.” Charlie heaved a breath just as Leo and
Fiona came to join them. “Let’s
forget about it.”
“Forget about what?”
In answer to Leo’s question, Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Stop
prying,” she told him firmly, finally
managing to grab a hold of a decision and stick herself to it.
“Although you two should probably be
the first to know.”
Fiona frowned. “Know what?”
Drawing in a long breath, Scarlett looked straight at Charlie.
“That Charlie and I are dating. It’ll
be an official Christmas romance.”
The second she spoke, Charlie lifted his head and stared at her,
only for the side of his mouth to
creep up. Fiona began to pepper her with questions, but Leo sat
back in his chair, grinning, obviously
aware of what Scarlett meant.
“Are you sure?” Charlie’s quiet voice had her hesitating, but with
a lift of her chin, Scarlett
nodded.
“I’m sure. If it’s a way to get my non-profit up and running,
then I’ll go for it.” Ignoring the way
her hands were slick with sweat and her insides running
together like writhing snakes, she demanded
her lips pull into a smile. “So I guess this makes us official.”
Chuckling, Charlie smiled back at her, shaking his head as if he
couldn’t quite believe she’d
agreed. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
 6
“I remember making snowmen with you back in high school…
and you definitely did a better job
on the head than that.” Charlie grinned as Scarlett threw a
snowball at him, managing to dodge
out of the way.
“There’s nothing wrong with the head!” Protesting vehemently,
Scarlett stomped over to where he
stood, then tilted her head, her lips pursed. “Okay, so it’s a little
lopsided, but—”
“It’s bigger on one side than the other.” Pointing it out, Charlie
nudged her playfully. “But don’t
worry, I can fix it.”
Scarlett laughed and shoved him back. “I don’t think so. I’ll fix
it; you go find some sticks for the
arms.”
Moving away obediently, Charlie couldn’t help but look back
over his shoulder as Scarlett tried
to adjust the shape of the snowman’s head, patting snow
carefully onto one side and then smoothing it
down with her gloved hand. Grinning, he turned back to go get
some sticks and found that his smile
wouldn’t fade. In fact, it had stuck around ever since he’d met
Scarlett earlier that afternoon. This
was only their third official ‘date.’ The first had been a walk
through Frosty Pines, and the second had
been getting lunch together, both of which had photographers
snapping away at any opportunity. From
what Andrew had found out, there were two specific
photographers who’d seemed to set up camp
here in Frosty Pines. Hopefully, once the story began to lose its
freshness with the media, there would
only be one and then none at all.
This evening, he and Scarlett had walked together to the coffee
shop—with her arm through his—
 and then wandered out into the snow once they’d had their
lattes. Leo and Fiona were in on the
situation, of course, as were Maverick, Scarlett’s parents, and
his parents, too, but the rest of the
townsfolk of Frosty Pines thought they were high school
sweethearts who’d found their way together
again.
It was a sweet story, and one the press was running with, and
Scarlett had seemed to be okay with
all of it so far. The first time she’d seen her photo on social
media, she’d simply shrugged. Charlie
had explained how their breakup would come a couple of
months after Christmas, and she’d nodded,
said okay, and then gotten on with pretending to be his
girlfriend. Scarlett was doing everything right,
and Charlie was appreciative of her willingness to help him out.
And they easily fell into an easy
familiarity that they had before, even though it was so long ago.
That was beginning to be a problem. Being back here with
Scarlett, hearing her laugh and trying to
make her smile just so he could see her blue eyes sparkle,
meant a familiar sensation was trying to
take root in his heart—and every time he pulled it up and threw
it away, it would make its way right
back and stubbornly stick itself there all over again.
“I think this is better!”
Hearing Scarlett call over, Charlie turned back to look at her,
laughing as Scarlett shoved another
handful of snow onto the side of the snowman’s head. “You’re
going to make the other side too big
now!”
Scarlett stuck her tongue out at him, then giggled. “I’m doing
my best! I’m worried that— Oh, no!”
With another firm pat of snow, the head of the snowman began
to wobble, and as Charlie scurried
 forward to try to stop it, he somehow managed to shove his
hand straight through the ball of snow. As
Scarlett let out a shriek, the head of the snowman fell to the
ground and shattered all over the place.
“Oh.” Charlie’s breath frosted the air as he stared at it, the urge
to laugh rolling up his chest.
Scarlett leaned into him, and within seconds, peals of laughter
were echoing around the Frosty Pines
park. Charlie put one hand around her shoulders, dropping the
sticks for the snowman’s arms on the
ground by his feet as he pulled her close. Scarlett wiped her
eyes with her other gloved hand, and
then, with her chin on his chest, she looked up at him.
“I guess we’re going to have to start over.”
“Yeah, I guess we will. I’m sorry about that.”
Giggling, she sighed happily and then leaned into him a little
more. “It’s okay. I guess I’m out of
practice.”
The smile curving her mouth was like a siren, begging him to
pay attention. A single glance at
those lips sent a hunger growling in his core, and quickly, he
dropped his arm and bent down to pick
up the sticks instead. Kissing her wasn’t a good idea, not when
he was having trouble steadying his
emotions. No doubt that was one of the photos the media
would be hoping for, but he had no intention
of giving it to them. After all, he would be going back to L.A.
after Christmas, and even the thought of
kissing Scarlett was making his heart go like a tilt-a-whirl. This
wasn’t a situation where he could let
his heart get involved.
“Do you mind if I help this time?” Forcing an easy smile, he
gestured to the snow which had once
been the snowman’s head. “I mean, we have the arms here…
and here…” He jabbed them on either
 side of the snowman’s body. “So all we need is the head.” Lifting
an eyebrow, he grinned when she
threw up her hands. “Is that a yes? You’ll let me help?”
“I don’t think I have much of a choice!” Coming around, she
bent down next to him. “Let me start
off, and then you can help roll it.”
“Okay.”
Soon, they had the head almost the right size. They were so
busy laughing and enjoying their time
together, Charlie barely noticed the first flash. It was only when
they’d managed successfully to put
the head on the snowman that the second flash caught his
attention.
“Just eyes and a nose, I think.” The note of cheerfulness he’d
forced into his voice had Scarlett
glancing up at him. “Yeah… I think we’ve been spotted.” At that,
the smile was wiped from her face
the very next second, and Charlie’s gut twisted. He hated seeing
her go from genuinely happy to fake
pretense all in one moment. “Sorry.”
Her smile was right back, but it didn’t send shards of light into
her eyes. “That’s supposed to
happen, though, right? This is what you need.”
“Yeah, it is, but it’s hard to ignore them and carry on like
normal,” he murmured, putting one arm
around her shoulders and tugging her close against him again.
“Maybe this will keep them happy.
Look up at me for a second?”
Her eyes drifted up to his, but all the heady emotion was gone
now. It was as if the chill of the
snow had gotten into his veins and dampened the fire he’d been
battling, leaving him with a heaviness
instead. “Okay, hopefully that will do it. How about we forget
about the eyes and the nose and head
back into town? Maybe we could get a drink somewhere?”
 The lights which illuminated the park caught her eyes as she
nodded, only for them to close when
another flash came their way. “Okay.” Her smile flew away
again. “Will they follow us there, too?”
Charlie bit back his first answer, wanting to say that no, they’d
be fine, but knowing he couldn’t
promise that. “Possibly, but they won’t be anywhere near as
obvious, I swear. I want this experience
to be as comfortable as possible for you.”
She nodded only for another flash to light up the air. “I thought
I’d get used to it, but those camera
flashes are hard to ignore! I don’t know how you can
concentrate when all that is going on.”
“They might have gotten what they wanted.” A little frustrated,
he turned her gently, and together,
they began to walk away from their snowman and into Frosty
Pines. “I’m sorry about that, Scarlett. I
was having fun.”
“I was, too. We could have kept going, but I’d have probably
looked disappointed or embarrassed
in whatever photos they took, and I’m guessing that’s not the
look you’re going for.”
His hand fell from her shoulders, but to his surprise, her gloved
fingers quickly threaded through
his. The look of surprise must have been obvious because she
merely smiled back at him.
“I thought we were supposed to be an item.” Her eyebrows
lifted, the pompom at the top of her
cozy winter hat bobbing in time to her steps. “I think this is the
sort of thing we do, remember?” Her
gentle teasing made him smile, the warmth of her hand in his
sending a flurry of heat running up his
arm. His heart suddenly decided it was going to stop, and right
after, beat so quickly that he couldn’t
catch his breath, letting out a ragged gasp instead.
 “You’re okay with this, aren’t you?” The slight frown on her face
had him nodding, coughing as if
it would somehow unclog his throat so he could speak.
“Yeah, of course.” His laugh sounded a little raw. “I feel like an
idiot. It was me who suggested
this, and I’m the one getting all flustered.”
Her soft smile was the only response he got, but as they walked
in silence along Three Stars
Street and toward the Polar Snap Sports Bar, Charlie forced
himself to relax. With Scarlett, he didn’t
have an urgent need to talk, no nervousness pushing him to
break the quiet. This was his Scarlett, and
he was comfortable with her in a way he wasn’t with anyone
else, even after all this time. They’d
fallen back into their old closeness as if it had only been ten
days instead of more than ten years apart.
She really was incredible.
“Wow. This place hasn’t changed.”
Scarlett laughed as they stepped inside. “I think the screens
have gotten a little bigger.”
Considering, Charlie nodded slowly. “Yeah, you’re probably right,
but the booths all look the
same, and maybe the music is different, but other than that, it
looks the same as how I remember it. I
love that.”
He took it all in. The big sports screens on every wall each
showed a different sport, although the
volume was muted on all of them. Instead, a jazz version of I
Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus rang
around the space, making Charlie smile. Okay, so they hadn’t
done much by way of decorations for
Christmas—just a few fairy lights hanging from the counter
where they’d go order—but with the soft
lights, the comfortable red leather booths, and the oak tables, it
gave a comfortable, cozy atmosphere.
And the smell of good cooking had his stomach grumbling.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The secret in the
hill
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the
laws of the country where you are located before using this
eBook.

Title: The secret in the hill

Author: Bernard Capes

Release date: August 8, 2022 [eBook #68712]

Language: English

Original publication: United Kingdom: Smith, Elder & Co, 1903

Credits: an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE

SECRET IN THE HILL ***
 THE
SECRET IN THE HILL
BY
BERNARD CAPES

LONDON
SMITH, ELDER & CO.,
15, WATERLOO PLACE
1903
(all rights reserved)
 To
MISS PRECISION
AND
“YOUR AFFECNUT LITTLE FRIEND”
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
WITH DEFERENCE
BY
ITS AUTHOR AND THEIRS
 CONTENTS.
PART I
I. I first see Joshua Pilbrow
II. A Great Loss and a Queer Equivalent
III. Uncle Jenico
IV. My First View of the Hill
V. The Story Of The Earthquake
VI. Mrs. Puddephatt and Fancy-Maria
VII. Mr. Sant
VIII. Treasure-Hunting
IX. Harry Harrier
X. Friends at Last
XI. Mischief of Sorts
PART II
I. The Badger
II. The Great Storm
III. Open Sesame
IV. The Secret in the Hill
V. A Reappearance
VI. An Odd Compact
VII. “Facilis Descensus Averni”
VIII. The Feast of Lanterns
IX. The Weary Sands
X. The Darkest Hour
XI. Joshua Speaks
XII. Rescue
XIII. Rampick Speaks
XIV. What the Letter said
XV. Out of the Depths
Conclusion
 THE SECRET IN THE HILL.
PART I.

CHAPTER I.
I FIRST SEE JOSHUA PILBROW.

When I was a very little boy my mother died. I was too young to feel
her loss long, though I missed her badly at first; but the
compensation was that it brought my father nearer to me. He was a
barrister, a prodigal love of a man, dear bless him! And he felt his
bereavement so cruelly that for a time he seemed incapable of
rallying from the blow. But presently he plucked up heart, and went,
for my sake, to his business again.
He was more liked than lucky, I believe. I had evidence enough, at
least of the former; for after my mother’s death, not bearing that we
should be parted, he carried me with him on the last circuit he was
ever to go. Those were the days when Bench and Bar dined well,
and sat up late telling tales. Sometimes my father would slip me into
his pocket, so to speak, and from its shelter—when, to be candid, I
had been much better in bed—I heard fine stories related by the
gentlemen who put off gravity with the horsehair they wore all day.
They were a merry and irresponsible lot, rather like a strolling
company of actors; and, indeed, it was no less their business to play
many parts. There were types among them which I came to
associate with certain qualities: such as the lean vivacious ones,
who ate and drank hungrily, and presently grew incoherent and
quarrelsome; such as the rosy bald-headed ones, who always
seemed to make most laughter; such as the large, heavy-browed
ones, who sulked when they were bettered in argument. But my
friend amongst them all, next to my father, was Mr. Quayle, Q.C.
I fancied I had discovered, after much consideration, why he was
called Q.C. He was a little man, quite bald and round all over his
head and face except for a tuft of hair on his chin, and there was the
Q; and he wore a pouter-pigeon ruff under his chin like this, Q/C, and
there was the Q.C. I may have been wrong; but anyhow I had
precedent to justify me, for many of these jolly souls bore such
characteristic nicknames. There was Plain John, for instance, who
had so christened himself for ever during a dispute about the uses or
abuses of multiple titles. “Plain John” had been enough for him, he
had said. Again, there was Blind Fogle, so called from his favourite
cross-examination phrase. “I don’t quite see.” They were all boys
together when off duty, chaffing and horse-playing, and my father
was the merriest and most irrepressible of the crew.
There was one treat, however, of which he was persistent in
baulking me. Pray him as I might, he would never let me see or hear
him in his character of Counsel. The Court where he would be
working by day was forbidden ground to me, and for that very reason
I longed, like Bluebeard’s wife, to peep into it. This was not right,
even in thought, for I knew his wishes. But worse is to be confessed.
I once took an opportunity, which ought never to have been given
me, to disobey him; and dreadful were the consequences, as you
shall hear.
We were travelling on what is called the Home Circuit, and one
day we came to Ipswich, a town to mark itself red in the annals of my
young life. On the second morning after our arrival I was playing at
horses with George, my father’s man, when Mr. Quayle looked in at
our hotel, and, dismissing George, took and sat me upon his knee.
“Dad gone to Court?” said he.
“Yes,” I answered; “just.”
He grunted, and rubbed his bald head, with a look half comical,
half aggravated. His eyes were rather blinky and red, and he
seemed confused in manner and at a loss for words.
“Dicky,” he said, suddenly, “did you live very well, very rich-like,
when mamma was alive?”
 “Yes,” I answered; “’cept when mamma said we must retrench,
and cried; and by’m-by papa laughed, and threw the rice pudding
into the fire, and took us to dine at a palace.”
“And that was—very long before—hey?”
“It was a very little while before mamma went away for good,” I
murmured, and hung my head, inclined to whimper.
Mr. Quayle twitched at me compunctious.
“O, come!” he said, “we must all bear our losses like men. They
teach us the best in the world to stand square on our own toeses.
There! Shall I tell you a story—hey?”
I brightened at once. He knew some good ones. “Yes, please,” I
said.
“O, lud!” he exclaimed, rubbing his nose with his eye-glasses. “I
am committed! Judex damnatur. Dicky, I sat up late last night,
devouring briefs, and they’ve given me an indigestion. Never sit up
late, Dicky, or you’ll have to pay for it!”
He said the last words with an odd emphasis, giving me a little
shake.
“Is that the beginning of the story?” I asked, with reserve.
“O, the story!” he said. “H’m! ha! Dear take my fuddled caput! Well,
here goes:
“There were once two old twin brothers, booksellers, name of
Pilbrow, who kept shop together in a town, as it might be Ipswich.
Now books, young gentleman, should engender an atmosphere of
reason and sympathy, inasmuch as we talk of the Republic of letters,
which signifies a sort of a family tie between A, B, and C. But these
fellows, though twins, were so far from being united that they were
always quarrelling. If Joshua bought a book of a stranger, Abel would
say he had given more than its worth, and sell it at his own valuation;
and if Abel attended a sale, there was Joshua to bid against him.
Naturally, under these conditions, the business didn’t flourish. The
brothers got poorer and poorer, and the more they lost the worse
they snapped and snarled, till they took to threatening one another in
public with dear knows what reprisals. Well, one day, at an auction,
after bidding each against t’other thremenjus for a packet of old
manuscripts and book rubbish—which Abel ended by getting, by-the-
by—they fastened together like tom-cats, and had to be separated.
The people laughed and applauded; but the end was more serious
than was expected. Abel disappeared from the business, and a few
days later the shop took fire, and was burned to the ground.
“So far, so plain; and now, Mr. Dickycumbob, d’ye know what’s
meant by Insurance?”
“No, sir?”
“Well, look here. If I want to provide against my house, and the
goods in it, being lost to me by fire, I go to a gentleman, with a gold
watch-chain like a little ship’s cable to recommend him, and says I:
—‘If I give you so much pocket-money a year, will you undertake to
build up my house again for me in case it happens to be burned
down?’ And the gentleman smiles, and says ‘Certainly.’ Then I say, ‘If
I double your pocket-money will you undertake to give me a
thousand pounds for the value of the goods in that house supposing
they are burned too?’ And the gentleman says, ‘Certainly; in case
their value really is a thousand pounds at the time.’ So I go away,
and presently, strange to say, my house is actually burned to the
ground. Then I ask the gentleman to fulfil his promise; but he says,
‘Not at all. The house I will rebuild as before, and for the goods I will
pay you; but not a thousand pounds, because I am given to believe
that they were worth nothing like that sum at the time of the fire?’
Now, what am I to do? Well, I will tell you what this Joshua did. He
insisted upon having the whole thousand pounds, and the gentleman
answered by saying that he believed Joshua had purposely set fire
to his own house in order to secure a thousand pounds for a lot of
old rubbish in it that wasn’t worth twopence ha’penny.
D’yunderstand?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Very well, then, and listen to this. If the gentleman spoke true,
Joshua had fallen in Scyllam cupiens vitare Charybdim, which
means that he had jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire, or, in
other words had, in trying to catch the Insurance gentleman, been
nabbed himself by the law. For arson is arson, and fraud fraud, and
the gentleman with the watch-chain isn’t to be caught with a pinch of
salt on his tail. But that was not the worst. Human bones had been
found among the débris of the building, and ugly rumours got about
that these bones were Abel’s bones—the bones of an unhappy
victim of Joshua’s murderous hate. The man had disappeared, the
brothers’ deadly quarrel was recalled; it was whispered that the fire
might owe itself to a double motive—that, in short, Joshua had
designed, at one blow, to secure the thousand pounds and destroy
the evidences of a great crime. Joshua, sir, was arrested and put
upon his trial for murder and arson.”
I was listening with all my eyes and ears.
“Who defended him?” I whispered, gulping; for I knew something
of the legal terms.
The answer took me like a smack.
“Your father, sir.”
“O!” I exclaimed, thrilling. And then, after a pause, with a pride of
loyalty: “He got him off, didn’t he?”
Mr. Quayle put me down, and yawned dyspeptically.
“What!” he said. “If any man can, papa will. I ask your pardon,
Master Dicky, I really do, for palming off fact instead of fiction on you.
But my poor brain wasn’t equal. The case is actually sub judice—
being tried at this moment. Yesterday began it, and to-day will end. If
you whisper to me to-night, I’ll whisper back the result.”
The delay seemed insupportable. He had read and worked me up
to the last chapter of the story, and now proposed to leave me
agonising for the end. It was the first time I had ever been brought so
close to the living romance of the law, and my blood was on fire with
the excitement of it.
“O, I wish——” I began.
The barrister looked down at me oddly, and shook his head.
“Ah, you little rogue!” he chuckled.
I felt too guilty to speak. He knew all that was in my mind.
Suddenly he took my hand.
“Come along, then,” he said, “and let’s have a peep. Papa needn’t
know.”
He shouldn’t have tempted me, nor should I have succumbed. A
murder romance was no book for a child, though my father figured in
it as a Paladin championing the wronged and oppressed.
I hung back a moment, but the creature cooed and whistled to me.
“Come and see Joshua,” he said, “with his back to the wall, and
papa in front daring ’em all to come on.”
 The picture was irresistible. I let myself be persuaded and run out,
tingling all over.
It was a dingy November morning. The old town seemed dull and
uneasy, and a tallow-faced clock on a church dawdled behind time,
as if it had stopped to let something unpleasant go by. That might
have been a posse of melancholy javelin-men, who, with a ludicrous
little strutting creature at their head—a sort of pocket drum-major, in
sword and cocked hat and with a long staff in his hand—went
splashing past at the moment. The court-house, what with the fog
and drip, met us like the mouth of a sewer, and I was half-inclined to
cry off so disenchanting an adventure, when my companion tossed
me up in his arms and carried me within. Through halls and
passages, smelling of cold, trodden mud, we were passed with
deference, and suddenly were swung and shut into a room where
there were lights and a great foggy hush.
I saw before me the scarlet judge. I knew him well enough, but
never awful like this—a shrunk ferret with piercing eyes looking out
of a gray nest. I saw the wigs of the counsel; but their bobtails
seemed cocked with an unfamiliar viciousness. I saw the faces of the
Jury, set up in two rows like ghostly ninepins; and then I saw
another, a face by itself, a face like a little shrewd wicked gurgoyle,
that hung yellow and alone out of the mist of the court. And that face,
I knew, was the face of Joshua.
The terrible silence ticked itself away, and there suddenly was my
father standing up before them all, and talking in a quick
impassioned voice. My skin went cold and hot. If I reaped little of the
dear tones, I understood enough to know that he spoke impetuously
for the prisoner, heaping scorn upon the prosecution. Never, he said,
in all his experience had he known calumny visit a soul so spotless
as the one it was now his privilege to defend. The process would be
laughably easy, it was true, and he would only dwell upon what must
be to the jury a foregone conclusion—the accused’s innocence, that
was to say—with the object to crush with its own vicious fallacies a
prosecution which, indeed, he could not help remarking bore more
the appearance of a persecution.
Mr. Quayle at this point laughed a little under his breath and
whispered, “Bravo!” in my ear, as he eased his burden by resting my
feet on the back of a bench. As for me, I was burning and shooting
all over with pride, as my eyes went from my father to the poor little
ugly prisoner in the dock, and back again.
The accused, went on my father (in substance. I can only give the
briefest abstract of his speech), would not deny that there had been
differences between him and his brother. Indeed, it would be useless
to, in the face of some recent notorious evidence to the contrary. But
did not all history teach us the folly of jumping, on the strength of an
unguarded word, to fatal conclusions? Had not one of our own
monarchs (surnamed Fitz-Empress, as he need not remind the jury)
suffered a lifelong regret from the false interpretation put upon a rash
utterance of his? “Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?” he had
cried, in an unthinking moment. “You shall pay for this!” had been
Joshua Pilbrow’s threat to his brother, under a like aggravation, in
the sale-room. “Gentlemen,” said my father, “how deadly the
seeming import, how laughable the explanation in either case. King
Henry cried only distractedly for some one to persuade his
importunate Chancellor to leave him alone. Joshua Pilbrow meant no
more than to insist that his brother should ‘stand the whole racket’ of
a purchase of which he himself had disapproved. Hence, gentlemen,
these tears!”
There was a little stir in court, and my companion chuckled
delightedly in my ear again.
My father then proceeded triumphantly to give the true facts of the
case. The packet of books had, it appeared when opened, revealed
one item of unexpected value, in the profits from which Joshua, as
partner, insisted upon sharing. To this, however, Abel, quoting his
own words against him, demurred. It was his—Abel’s purchase, Abel
contended, to do with as he chose. The dispute ran so high as to
threaten litigation; when all of a sudden one night Abel was found to
have taken himself off with the cherished volume. Joshua, at first
unable to credit such perfidy, bided his time, expecting his brother to
return. But when, at last, his suspicion of bereavement settled into a
conviction, he grew like one demented. He could not believe in the
reality of his loss; but, candle in hand, went hunting high and low
amongst the litter with which the premises were choked, hoping
somewhere to alight, in some forgotten corner where cupidity had
concealed it, on the coveted prize. Alas! it never rains but it pours.
He not only failed to trace the treasure, but, in his distracted hunt for
it, must accidentally have fired the stock, which, smouldering for
awhile, burst out presently into flame, and committed all to ruin.
******
Such was the outline of the story, and, for all that I understood of
it, I could have clapped my father to the echo, with the tears gulping
in my throat, for his noble vindication of a wronged man. There were
other points he made, such as that Joshua had himself escaped with
the utmost difficulty from the burning building (and did that look like
arson?); such as that he had instructed his lawyers, after committal,
to advertise strenuously, though vainly, for his brother’s whereabouts
(and did that look like murder?); such as that the bones found
amongst the ruins were the bones of anatomical specimens, in which
the firm was well known to have dealt. I need not insist on them,
because the end was what I knew it must be if men were not base
and abominable enough to close their ears wilfully to those ringing
accents of truth.
The prosecution, poor thing! answered, and the judge summed up;
and still Mr. Quayle, quite absorbed in the case, did not offer to take
me away. I had my eyes on my father all the time. He had sunk back,
as if exhausted, after his speech, and sat in a corner of the bench,
his hand over his face. The jury gave their verdict without leaving
their places. I heard the demand and the answer. The cry, “Not
Guilty,” rang like a pæan in my ears; and still I kept my eyes on my
father.
The prisoner, freed from the dock, had left the court, when
suddenly some people stirred, and a whisper went round. A barrister
bent over the resting figure, and arose hurriedly. In a moment there
was a springing up of heads everywhere, so that the dear form was
blotted from my sight. Mr. Quayle, looking over my shoulder, caught
a word, and gave a quick little gasp.
“Dicky,” he said, catching at me, “come out at once! We must get
away before—before——” and he left the sentence unfinished as he
hurried me into the street.
 CHAPTER II.
A GREAT LOSS AND A QUEER EQUIVALENT.

I looked in Mr. Quayle’s face; but I asked him no question. The mud
we trod seemed colder, the houses we passed more frowning than
before; but I asked no question. I could not form one in my mind;
only suddenly and somehow I felt frightened, as if in dreams before a
great solitude. Then in a moment I was sobbing fast and thickly.
Ah, what is the use to skate round the memory! Let it clutch me for
a moment, and be faced and dismissed. My father, my dear, ardent,
noble father was dead—struck down in an instant—shaken out of life
by the poignant utterances of his own spirit. While the flower of his
fervour was blossoming and bearing fruit, the roots thereof were
dead already—smitten in their place in his heart. That, its work done,
had ceased beating. Sometimes afterwards in my desolation I
recalled the church clock, with its poised motionless hands, and
thought what a melancholy omen it had been.
Mr. Quayle was kindness itself to me in my utter terror and
loneliness. He took upon himself, provisionally, the whole conduct of
my affairs. One morning he came in, and drew me to him.
“Dicky—Dicky-bird, me jewl!” he said. “I’ve found the fine cuckoo
that’s to come and father the poor little orphaned nestling.”
I must observe that he had his own theories about this same
“harbinger of spring,” which, according to him, was the “bird that
looked after another bird’s young.” I remembered the occasion on
which he had so defined it, and the laughter which had greeted him;
and his alternative, “Well, then, ’tis the bird that doesn’t lay its own
eggs, and that’s all one!” But the first definition, it appeared, was the
one he kept faith in.
“D’you remember Mr. Paxton?” he said.
“Uncle Jenico?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Uncle Jenico Paxton, mamma’s own only brother. Poor papa, my
dear—always a wonder and an honour to his profession—has left, it
seems, a will, in which he bequeathes everything to Uncle Jenico in
trust for his little boy, Master Dicky Bowen. And Uncle Jenico has
been found, and is coming to take charge of little Dicky Bowen.”
Was I glad or sorry? I was too stunned, I think, to care one way or
the other. Any one would do to stop the empty place which none
could ever fill, and neither my sympathies nor my dislikes were
active in the case of Uncle Jenico. I had seen him only once or twice,
when he had come to spend a night or so with us in town. My
memory was of a stout, hoarse old man in spectacles, rather lame,
with a little nose and twinkling eyes. He had seemed always busy,
always in a hurry. He bore an important, mysterious reputation with
us as a great inventive genius, who carried a despatch-box with him
choked with invaluable patents, and always left something behind—a
toothbrush or an umbrella—when he left. Let it be Uncle Jenico as
well as another.
While we were talking there was a flurry at the door of the room,
and a man, overcoming some resistance outside, forced his way in. I
gave a little cry, and stood staring. It was the acquitted prisoner,
Joshua Pilbrow. George appeared just behind him, flushed and
truculent.
“He would do it, sir,” said the servant, “for all I warned him away.”
Mr. Quayle had put me from him and arisen. There was a bad look
on his face; but he motioned to George to go, and we were left
alone.
The intruder stood shrugging his disordered clothes into place,
and looking the while with a sort of black stealth at the barrister. His
face held and haunted me. It was bleak and sallow, and grey in the
hollows, with fixed dark eyes—the face, I thought, of a malignant,
though injured, creature. But it did not so affect Mr. Quayle, it was
evident.
“The verdict was ‘Not guilty,’ sir,” said the man, quite suddenly and
vehemently.
Mr. Quayle gave an unpleasant laugh.
“Or else you wouldn’t be intrudin’ here,” he said shortly.
“I came to thank my benefactor,” said the man. “I had heard
nothing till this moment of the tragic sequel.”
 “Well,” said the barrister, in the same cynical tone, “you have come
too late. The price of your acquittal is this little orphaned life.”
He put his arm about my shoulders. The stranger looked hard at
me.
“His son?” he muttered.
“There are some verdicts,” said Mr. Quayle, “bought too dear.”
In a moment the man turned upon him in a sort of fierce
concentrated bitterness.
“With the inconsistency of your evil profession,” he cried, “you
discount your own conclusions. The law guarantees and grudges me
my innocence. A curse upon it, I say! Did he there sacrifice his life
for me? He sacrificed it for truth, sir, and it’s that which you, as a
lawyer, can’t forgive.”
“You will observe,” said Mr. Quayle, icily, “that I have not
questioned the truth.”
“Not directly,” answered the visitor. “I know, I know. You damn by
innuendo; it’s your trade.”
The little lawyer laughed again.
“You malign our benevolence,” he said. “The law, by its artless
verdict, has entitled you to sue on the insurance question. Think, Mr.
Pilbrow; it actually offers itself to witness to your right to the
thousand pounds.”
“And I shall force it to,” cried the other; “and would to heaven I
could make it bleed another thousand for the wrong it has done me.
It would, if equity were justice.”
“Equity is justice,” said Mr. Quayle. “Good morning.”
The man did not move for a moment, but stood looking gloomily at
me.
Now, I cannot define what was working in my little soul. The
pinched, shorn face was not lovely, the eyes in it were not good; yet
there was something there of loss and hopelessness that touched
me cruelly. And was not my father lying in the next room in solemn
witness to its innocence? Suddenly, before Mr. Quayle could stay
me, I had run to the visitor and plucked at his coat.
“You did not do it,” I cried. “My father said so!”
He gave a little gasp, and fluttered his hand across his eyes,
sweeping in a wonderful way the evil out of them.
 “Ah!” he said, “if your father, young gentleman, would whisper to
you where Abel lies hidden! He knows now.”
He stepped back, with a strange, wintry smile on his lips, stopped,
seemed about to speak, waved his hand to me, and was gone.
“Dicky, Dicky,” cried Mr. Quayle, “you’re the son of your father; but,
dear me, not so good a lawyer!”
 CHAPTER III.
UNCLE JENICO.

That same evening Uncle Jenico arrived. I was just put to bed at the
time, but he came and stood by me a little before I went to sleep and
dreamt of him. He was not the least grown from his place in my
memory—only, to my wonder, a little more shabby-looking than I
seemed to recollect. The round gold spectacles were there, and the
big beaver hat, and the blue frock coat, and the nankeen trousers,
and the limp—all but the first and last a trifle the worse for wear. His
smile, however, was as cherubic, his despatch-box as glossy, his
walking-stick as stout as ever; and he nodded at me like a
benevolent Mandarin.
“Only we two left, my boy,” he said. “Poor papa, dear papa! He’s
learnt by now the secret of perpetual motion.”
It was an odd introduction. I cried a little, and, moved by his
kindness, clung to him.
“There!” he said, soothing me. “That’s all right. We are going to be
famous friends, we are. We’ll invent things; we’ll set the Thames on
fire, we will.”
Whether from exhaustion or from the dreamy contemplation of this
amazing feat to be performed by us, I fell asleep in his arms, lulled
for the first time out of my grief, and did not awake till bright morning.
The fog was gone; the birds were singing to us to carry my father to
his rest under the blue sky.
By-and-by we set out, Uncle Jenico very grave, in black, with a
long weeper round his hat. Mr. Quayle, and one or two more, who
had lingered a day behind the Assizes to do honour to the dead,
came with us; and others, including the judge, sent flowers. It was a
simple, pathetic service, in a green corner of the churchyard. I felt
more than understood its beauty, and when once I caught a glimpse
of Uncle Jenico busily and stealthily writing something with a pencil
on the inside lining of his hat, I accepted the fact naturally as a detail
of the ceremony.