Be Mine at Christmas(15)
Author: Brenda Novak

Matt shot his mother a look that said, “Next year I’m bringing the eggnog.” But he didn’t bother to wait for her response. It was Kayla’s turn to open her gift, and he didn’t want to miss it.

“This is for me?” she asked in surprise when his aunt dug the present out from those that remained.

His mother checked the tag. “Yep. From Matt.”

Kayla smiled shyly at him and tore away the wrapping. When she reached the plush blue box inside, she sent him another questioning glance, then snapped open the lid.

Her smile spread across her whole face. “It’s a gold locket,” she breathed. “I love it!”

Her response filled some of the hollowness Matt had been feeling since he’d left the bedroom downstairs. Especially when she hurried across the room to hug him. Her little arms felt so thin and fragile, as fragile as he imagined her heart must be.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said.

She immediately returned to her mother so Angela could help her put it on, but Sherry insisted they let someone else do that so Angela could open her gift.

Angela’s eyes flew wide when Sherry set a box in her lap, a box that was much, much bigger than Kayla’s. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t bring any gifts,” she said self-consciously.

Matt shrugged. “I didn’t tell you it was a gift exchange.”

She cleared her throat. “You should have.”

He hadn’t wanted her to feel obligated to go out and buy a bunch of presents. He’d just wanted her to come. “It’s fine.” Hadn’t anyone ever given her a gift she could accept without feeling the obligation to respond in kind?

Probably not. Typically, only parents and grandparents gave gifts like that.

Matt’s mother huddled closer to Angela. “Let’s see what it is.”

“Yeah, open it,” Kayla chimed in, her locket now securely fastened around her neck.

Angela unwrapped the box and pulled out the quilt Matt had found in one of the gift shops. Handmade by a local woman, it showed nine historically significant structures in Virginia City—the First Presbyterian Church on C Street, Mackay Mansion on D Street, Piper’s Opera House at B and Union, the Fourth Ward School on C, St. Mary’s in the Mountains, Storey County Courthouse, the Territorial Enterprise Museum, where Mark Twain had begun his career, and the Liberty Engine Company No. 1 State Fireman Museum. In the Fireman square, he’d had the maker stitch Love, Matt, along the edge.

“It’s beautiful!” Angela exclaimed.

He could tell she really liked it. “I thought it might give you something to remember us by.”

“Come on, Matt. Who could forget you?” his brother teased.

“She won’t forget you,” his mother announced and slapped a square flat present in her lap.

Matt immediately recognized the size and shape, and groaned. “I left those at home. On purpose. How did you get—”

“I have my own stash,” she said triumphantly.

Sure enough, it was a copy of the calendar.

“He’s May and November,” his aunt informed Angela, and just about ripped it out of her hands so she could turn to the right months. “See? Isn’t he gorgeous? He’s my nephew, but I gotta tell ya, he’s the hottest one in there.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Come on, Aunt Margaret.”

His sister-in-law laughed and pointed. “I never would’ve believed it possible, but I think you’re embarrassing him.”

Matt scowled. “Why would I be embarrassed? I only did it to help the burn victims.”

“Honey, that thing’s started more fires than you’ll ever put out,” his aunt teased.

The whole family had a good laugh at his expense. But Matt didn’t mind too much. Not when Angela finally looked up from the calendar and he saw the heat in her eyes.

Maybe she was trying not to acknowledge what she felt. But whatever had caused the frenzy downstairs wasn’t gone. Not by a long shot.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SHEILA GILBERT LOOKED much the same as she had in high school. Barely over five feet tall, with shoulder-length blond hair, blue eyes and a curvaceous figure, she’d gained a smoker’s voice and somehow lost her ready smile—but those appeared to be the only changes.

“It’s wonderful to see you again,” Angela said as she and Kayla led the way to a table at the Silver Dollar Café, where Sheila had suggested they meet. A mom-and-pop place that had opened since Angela had left town, the restaurant was located across the street from Matt’s parents’ jewelry store. Angela had noticed that little detail the moment they’d driven up. Every few seconds, she found her attention drifting to the window—just in case she spotted a member of his family on the street outside. She’d liked the Jacksons. She’d liked them all—

“When did you get in?” Sheila asked.

Angela forced herself to focus. “Last Sunday.”

“What brings you back?”

She shrugged as the waitress delivered their water, and Sheila ordered coffee. “I missed it, wanted to see the town,” she said when the waitress had hurried away.

“You missed this place?” Sheila raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re kidding, right?”

Kayla’s nose appeared above the top of her menu. “You don’t like it here, Sheila?”

“What’s to like?” she asked.

“Everything,” Kayla replied earnestly. “The mountains and the trees and the buildings. And Matt, and his parents and cousins. And his funny grandma.”

Obviously, Kayla liked them, too.

“Matt?” Sheila turned to Angela expectantly.

“Matthew Jackson,” she said. “We ran into him the first day we got here.”

Sheila released a low whistle. “Now I understand. If you’ve seen Matt, you’ve seen the very best Virginia City has to offer.”

Kayla proudly lifted her locket. “He gave me this at the Christmas party last night.”

Sheila held it in her own hand for a moment. “Very nice.” She grinned wryly. “See? That’s my problem. He’s never given me a locket.”

“But you like him,” Angela said.

“Who doesn’t?” Her voice grew dreamy. “He’s a tough catch, so be forewarned. But maybe you’re better at big-game hunting than I am. Anyway, he’s nice, sexy and brave. He keeps us all safe while looking like a dream in that uniform.” She leaned forward. “And have you seen the calendar? I have May permanently taped to my ceiling. The mere sight of that picture makes me—”