of shoppers strolling through the square, leaving both Holly and Meg with their mouths agape. “Gorgeous,” Meg murmured.
“He’s a client,” Holly said, still stinging from his abrupt manner. “And rude! Besides, you know I’m engaged.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “You broke up with Stephan nearly a year ago and you haven’t seen him since. He hasn’t even called you. He’s not much of a fiancé if you ask me.”
“We didn’t break up,” Holly replied, starting off toward the car parked on the other side of the square. “He told me to take all the time I needed to decide on his proposal. And he has contacted me. I had a message on my machine a few weeks ago. He said he’d call me after the holidays and that he had something very important to tell me.”
Meg grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. “You don’t love him, Holly. He’s snooty and self-absorbed and he has absolutely no passion.”
“I could love him,” Holly said, a defensive edge to her voice. “And now that my business will be in the black, I’ll have some independence. I won’t be marrying him for his money, for a secure future. We’ll be equals.”
Meg paused for a long moment, then groaned. “Oh, I didn’t want to tell you this,” she muttered, “especially right before the holidays. But I read something in the papers last month and—”
“If this is another story about underworld crime, I—”
“Stephan’s engaged,” Meg blurted out. “That’s probably what he wants to tell you. He’s marrying the daughter of some really rich guy. They’re getting married in June in the Hamptons.” Meg slipped her arm around Holly’s shoulders. “I shouldn’t have told you like this, but you have to put Stephan out of your life. It’s over, Holly.”
“But—but we were engaged,” Holly murmured, stunned at the news. “I finally made my decision and—and—”
“And it wasn’t right. Holly, why do you think it took you a whole year to decide? It’s because you didn’t love him. Someday you’ll meet a man who’ll sweep you off your feet, but that man wasn’t supposed to be Stephan.” She patted her back sympathetically. “So, let’s just focus on work, all right? We’ve got a new job that pays $15,000. Open that envelope and let’s hear what we have to do.”
Numbly Holly tore open the envelope. In her heart, she knew Meghan was right. She didn’t love Stephan, she never had. She’d only decided to accept his proposal because no one else had bothered asking. But the news still stung. Being rejected by a man—even a man you didn’t love—was still humiliating.
She drew a shaky breath. So she’d pass this Christmas as a free woman—no family, no fiancé, nothing but work to occupy her time. Holly pulled out a sheaf of papers from the envelope. Clipped on top was a letter, written on wide-lined paper, in a childish scrawl with smeared lead pencil. She skimmed through it, then moaned softly, her troubles with Stephan suddenly pushed aside. “Oh, my. Look at this.”
Meg snatched the letter from Holly’s fingers and read it aloud. “Dear Santa, my name is Eric Marrin and I am almost eight and I have only one Christmas wish.” She glanced at Holly and grinned. “W-U-S-H. I would like you to bring me a Christmas like me and my dad used—Y-O-U-S-T—to have when my mom lived at our house. She made Christmas…” Meg frowned at the spelling. “Seashell?”
Holly sighed. “Special.” She flipped through the rest of the papers, long lists of items suggested for Christmas gifts and decorations and special dinners and activities, all to be paid for by an unnamed benefactor.
Meg waved the letter under Holly’s nose, her apprehension suddenly gone. “You have to take this job, Holly. You can’t let this little boy down. This is what Christmas is all about.” She glanced around the square, then fixed her gaze on the department store. “Dalton’s,” she murmured. “You know, I’ve read about Dalton’s, last year in some upstate newspaper. The article said their Santa grants special wishes to children, but no one knows where the money comes from. Do you think that guy was—”
Holly shoved the papers back into the envelope. “I don’t care where the money comes from. We have a job to do and I’m going to do it.”
“What about our clients in the city?”
“You’ll take the train back to the city tonight and take care of them, while I do the job here.”
Meg smiled. “This will be good for you, Holly. No time to be lonely for your family, no time to think about that jerk, Stephan. An almost unlimited budget to make a perfect Christmas. It’s like you’ve won the lottery or died and gone to Christmas heaven.”
Maybe this was exactly what she needed to rediscover the spirit of the season! All the way up from the city, she’d stared out the train window and watched the picturesque Hudson Valley scenery pass by. And when they’d stepped off the train, she’d been transported to another world, where the commercialism of Christmas hadn’t quite taken hold.
Here, people smiled as they passed on the street and children laughed. From every shop doorway, the sound of Christmas music drifted out on the chill night air, mixing with the jingle bells from a horse-drawn carriage that circled the square. “It is perfect,” she murmured, the lyrics from “Silver Bells” drifting through her head. And spending Christmas in Schuyler Falls was a far sight better than passing the holiday buried in year-end tax reports for her accountant.
She drew a deep breath and smiled. “Maybe I’ll have a merry Christmas after all.”
THE ANCIENT ROLLS ROYCE turned off the main road into the winding driveway of Stony Creek Farm just as Holly finished rereading her contract. The ride from downtown Schuyler Falls was even more picturesque than the train ride upstate, if that was possible. The old downtown gave way to lovely neighborhoods with stately brick and clapboard homes, built as summer homes for wealthy New Yorkers in the early part of the century, those who enjoyed the waters of nearby Saratoga Springs. Then, the streetlights disappeared and the houses became fewer, set back from the winding road and nearly hidden by thickets of leafless trees.
Somewhere in the darkness, the Hudson River streamed by, the same river she saw from her high-rise apartment on the west side of Manhattan. But here it was different, more pristine, adding to the magical atmosphere. The chauffeur, George, kept up a steady stream of informative chatter, giving her the history of the town and its people, yet steadfastly refusing to reveal who had hired him. She did learn that Stony Creek Farm was one of the few active horse breeding farms left in the area, owned by the Marrin family, longtime residents of Schuyler Falls.
As they slowly approached the main house, Holly peered through the frosty car window. On either side of the driveway were long white barns flanked by well-maintained plank fences. The house wasn’t nearly as grand as some she’d seen, but it was large and inviting with its white clapboard siding, deep porches and green shutters.
“Here you are, miss,” George said as he pulled to a stop. “Stony Creek Farm. I’ll wait out here to take you back to town if you’d like.”
She nodded. They’d dropped Meg at the train station to catch the late train back and Holly had picked up her overnight bag from a locker there. But as the hour was late, she’d decided to find a hotel after she’d introduced herself to Eric Marrin.
In truth, now that she was here, Holly wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject of her assignment. Her contract expressly forbid any mention of who’d
