Libby drove straight into the garage and quickly walked back to the rental car. She opened the passenger door, waited until her mother got out, and hugged her warmly.
“I’ve missed you,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Katherine Hart hugged her back and kissed Libby’s cheek before pulling away. “It took us a while to find out where ‘here’ was,” Katherine returned loudly enough for James to hear, pulling her own collar up against the chilly breeze.
“Elizabeth,” James said, turning Libby into his arms and hugging her. He also kissed her on the cheek, then leaned away, still holding her shoulders, and his scowl returned.
“Do you have any idea the trouble you’re in?”
“That can wait,” Katherine said, glancing at the truck that had pulled up beside their rental car. “Who would this be?” she asked Libby as she stared at the giant stepping out of the truck.
Libby took one look at Michael and quickly pulled away from James. She took hold of her mother’s arm and led her over to the truck. “This is my landlord, Michael MacBain,”
Libby told her. “Michael, this is my mother, Katherine. And this is James Kessler.”
“Missus Hart,” Michael said, bowing slightly as he took her hand. “Kessler,” he said, nodding curtly, then giving his attention back to her mother. “It’s nice to see that you’ve come to help your daughter settle in.”
“I’ve come to take my daughter home, Mr. MacBain.”
“Really?” Michael asked, lifting one brow. “It’s my understanding that she is home.”
With the grace of a woman who’d found herself in many social situations throughout her husband’s illustrious career, Katherine Hart set her features into polite amusement. She looked around at the rugged landscape, at the house Libby was renting, and then lifted her assessing gaze to settle on Michael.
“Home is where her work is. And where her family is, Mr. MacBain. And that is in California.”
Libby was getting a crick in her neck trying to watch everyone’s expression as Michael and her mother talked about her as if she wasn’t even there. Which was, Libby realized, a great performance from Katherine for James’s benefit. Her mom was playing the worried parent role almost too well.
But it was James who most alarmed Libby. He was being unusually quiet, his golden eyes intent on Michael as he tried to decide exactly how the giant fit in here.
Michael took hold of Katherine’s elbow and started leading her to the house. And Katherine, ever the epitome of grace, let him, craning her own neck to give him her attention.
“We needn’t stand in the cold,” Libby heard Michael say as she tagged along behind them. “I’ll get a fire going in the hearth, and your daughter can make ya some tea.”
James pulled Libby to a halt. “Who the hell is this guy?”
“My landlord.”
“In residence?”
“No,” she shot back, pulling away from him. “Will you calm down. He’s just being neighborly.”
“He’s being damned forward, if you ask me. Get rid of him, Elizabeth. We have to talk.
Alone.”
“Oh, we’ll talk, all right,” she said, running to catch up with Michael and her mother.
It was just as she was walking through the kitchen that she heard Michael say from the living room, in utter and complete seriousness, “Libby can’t return to California until after Christmas, even if she wants to. She’s obligated to work for me, in payment for a mishap that occurred the day she arrived here.”
“What sort of mishap?” Katherine asked as she sat on the couch facing the hearth. “And what sort of work?”
Michael hunched down and started building a fire. “Libby ran over several of my prize Christmas trees,” he said as he laid sticks of kindling over the paper. “And I’ve agreed to let her pay for them by working in my Christmas shop this season.”
Libby realized she was standing in the living-room door with her mouth hanging open.
She snapped it shut, darting a look from Michael’s broad back to her suddenly speechless mother. James had taken a seat beside Katherine and was now gaping himself.
Only Michael seemed oblivious to the silence. “So she can’t leave until her debt to me is satisfied,” he continued, turning to smile at Katherine. “If you’re staying for a while, I could use your help as well, for a fair wage, of course. Do ya bake, Missus Hart? Or maybe ya do crafts? We’re needing Christmas tree ornaments to sell, and handmade ones do very well.”
Libby’s mouth fell open again. Had Michael just offered her mother a job? For money?
Katherine Hart probably hadn’t even seen a real dollar bill in years. And she certainly hadn’t worked since high school.
“Elizabeth can pay for the trees,” James said. “She’s a highly successful surgeon and can’
t be working in a Christmas shop. She needs to get back and salvage her career. How much does she owe you?” he asked, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “I’
ll write you a check right now.”
Michael struck a match and lit the paper beneath the kindling, watching until it caught before he turned to look at James. He shook his head.
“Money won’t pay for the trees,” he told him. “They were prize Douglas fir, ya see, certain to win first place at the state fair next summer. Put your checkbook away, Kessler. I’m needing help more than I’m needing money.” He looked from James to Libby. “Besides, she’s already agreed.”
James and her mother turned on the couch and also looked at her. Prickles of heat rose in Libby’s cheeks. Dammit, Michael was crazy.
He was also a genius.
“That’s right,” she confirmed. “I promised to work for Michael until Christmas.”
“Elizabeth,” James said, standing to face her. “You’re about to be sued for breach of contract. You left without notice.”
Michael also stood up.
“We can discuss this later, James,” Katherine said, tugging on James’s hand to get him to sit down. “Elizabeth, did you put on some tea?” she asked. “And thank you for the offer for a job, Mr. MacBain. I-I’m flattered and will certainly think about it.”
“That’s good, then,” Michael said, rubbing his hands together as he walked into the kitchen, turning Libby ahead of him, and pushing her toward the stove. “I think I’ll just go downstairs and check on the furnace, since I’m here. Ya said it was making a funny noise?”
“Yes,” Libby snapped. “It’s making a lot of noise and blowing lots of hot air.”
A startled scream came from the living room just then, and Libby and Michael both rushed to the door at the same time. They saw Katherine standing on the hearth, holding on to the run in her stocking as she stared at Trouble, who was trying to jump up after her.
James grabbed the kitten by the scruff of the neck, holding it away from himself as if it were trash. Trouble let out an angry mew, and suddenly Guardian was climbing up James’s pants leg to rescue his brother.
Libby beat him to it and also rescued Guardian while she was at it. “Aren’t they adorable?” she asked her mother, holding the kittens against her chest as she faced Katherine. “Robbie gave them to me. There’s another one, too,” she said, looking around. “Her name is Timid. And this is Guardian, and this is Trouble,” she added, turning each one to face her mother. “Kittens, this is my mother.”
Katherine let James help her down from the hearth and leaned over to check the run in her stocking. She brushed her hair back from her suddenly embarrassed face and darted a look at Michael and then back at Libby.
“Who’s Robbie?”
“He’s really my landlord,” Libby explained. “He’s Michael’s son. This is his mother’s house.”
“And where is his mother now?”
“She died when Robbie was born,” Libby told her.
And again, Katherine darted a look at Michael. “Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. MacBain.” She looked around the room and then back at Libby. “Where’s the other one?” she whispered.