Yuletide Proposal

“They’re just people,” he said quietly. “Parents like you who want their kids to succeed. We can help them, if we work together. If we get the town working together.”

How many years had she prayed, begged God to let her help kids, to give her the knowledge and grace to make a difference in the world? Her old job had denied her that opportunity. She’d felt useless, a cog in a machine that ground up and spat out those who didn’t conform. She’d done her best to help, but this would bring her the chance she’d longed for every time she’d pushed herself a little harder to finish her doctorate. This was why she’d clung to Zac’s ring and savored his past words of encouragement even when he was no longer in her life. Now he was telling her she could make a difference in Hope.

“Okay. I’ll do it.” Her nerves evaporated.

“Thank you.”

“On one condition,” she added.

“Brianna.” Zac sighed. “What condition?”

“Just listen.” She had to stand firm on this. “I have Cory, my mom in the nursing home and my dad healing from his heart attack. I also have my work. All of them take my time, time I’ll have to cut back on to help you. So I want your agreement that if and when you see a time and place where you can get involved with Cory, you will.”

“Cory? But what would I do?” Clearly Zac was not enthralled by the prospect.

“I don’t know. But there must be something.” Brianna leaned forward. “Cory’s on the wrong path and I need help to turn him around before his appointment with the judge at Christmas. I’ve agreed to help you out, Zac, now I want your promise you’ll do what you can to find some common ground with Cory.”

“I don’t know what I can do,” Zac murmured.

“You’ll think of something.” Inside she was desperately afraid he’d refuse, but she stood firm. “That’s my condition, Zac. Take it or leave it.” She waited, hoping he’d say yes because she really wanted to be a part of Your World, to make a difference, to see lives changed because of something she’d helped create.

“All right. If there’s something I can do, I’ll try.” That was all Zac said, but it was enough.

His secretary paged him then, so Brianna left. As she drove back to work, she realized Zac’s project was her opportunity. If she could just find the right words, share her vision with the school board, maybe she could finally help kids as she’d longed to since she’d left Zac—and this town—so long ago.

“Please don’t let me screw this up,” Brianna prayed.

Chapter Four

“Dad, why is Mom so insistent I revive her store? It’s been closed for years.” Fresh from a disastrous visit at the nursing home, Brianna flopped into a chair. “I don’t understand her obsession with that place.”

“Nor did I until last year.” Hugh Benson sank into his easy chair, his face sad. “I learned the whole story after a private investigator visited us. You see, your grandfather passed away last year. According to his will, his assets were then distributed to his descendents—Anita being his daughter.”

“A grandfather? In Iowa? But you never told me—” Brianna frowned at him.

“I never knew. Your mother told me when we were married that her father was dead. That’s all I ever knew until last year when your mother told me her father inherited a furniture store from his father. Anita grew up there. She worked in that store from a very early age, loved it and learned every facet of what went on. You know how adept your mother is at business. As an only child, she expected to one day run the family business herself.”

“Of course.” Brianna recalled her mother’s keen business sense. “She’d have been very good at it. She always had a flair for interior decor.”

“Yes.” Her father looked grim. “Well, Anita stepped in to manage the place when her dad had his first heart attack. She was only eighteen and did well, except she made a mistake. Her error cost the company money and her father was furious. A little later, when he was forced to retire, he refused to give Anita any control because of that mistake. He said she wasn’t smart enough or capable enough to carry on the business he’d inherited from his father.”

“Poor Mom. That must have hurt.”

“Yes, even more because he put some distant cousin in charge and made Anita one of the hirelings. The cousin made bad mistakes but no matter how Anita pleaded, her father wouldn’t recant. Anita was desperately hurt and left Iowa after her mother died. Her father told her not to come back so she didn’t. She never spoke to her father again. The bequest he left her was the smallest in his estate, smaller than the least employee’s. He punished her to the end.”

“So to get back at him, Mom created her own business to pass on to me,” Brianna guessed, glimpsing the past with wiser eyes. “That explains so much. But why didn’t she ever tell me?”

“Would it have made a difference?” her father asked, his face grave.

“You mean would I have given up my goal of psychology?” she asked. “No. But at least I’d understand why she was so determined that I stay. She was ashamed and embarrassed and determined to prove her father wrong by building her own business. Except I couldn’t be part of it.” Hindsight explained a lot.

“So now you know.” Hugh Benson’s pencil flew across the page, his caricature of Cory coming to life. “You said you came back to Hope to help kids. So that’s why you’re helping Zac present this Your World plan tonight?”

“Yes.” Brianna sighed. “I’m not sure about working with him, though.”

“Because?”

But Brianna could not, dare not answer that. Not until she’d sorted out the miasma of conflicting feelings that took over whenever Zac was around.

Outside, a short beep of a car horn sounded.

“That’s Jaclyn. We’re going out for a quick supper before I go to the board meeting. I know you’re going back to see Mom. Cory’s eating at his new friend’s house but he’s supposed to be back in a couple of hours.” Brianna grabbed her bag and her jacket. As she slipped her feet out of slippers and into her sandals she felt her dad’s stare. “What?”

“I thought—hoped you might stop by the nursing home later tonight. You know the truth now. Maybe you two could make up.” There was no condemnation in his quiet voice but that didn’t stop Brianna feeling a ripple of guilt.

“It’s too soon for that, Dad.” She grabbed the doorknob. “Mom was pretty upset today.” She winced, remembering her mother’s angry diatribe.

“Brianna.” Her dad’s firm tone insisted she hear him out.

She inhaled and waited.

“Your mother had a stroke.” He sounded angry. “She can’t do the things she wants to do and her temper flares. She gets uncertain mood swings and frequently can’t express herself the way she wants. Cut her some slack, will you?”

All the past hurt, all the angry words and bitter remarks she’d endured came flooding back. Brianna couldn’t stop the rush of anger.

“I’ve been cutting Mom slack my whole life, Dad. I figured that maybe, after all these years, she might have learned to do the same for her one and only daughter. But I guess I still embarrass her.” Stung by the chastisement in his eyes, she left, quietly but firmly shutting the door behind her before she walked to her friend’s car.

“Hey, Brianna. I’m starv—” Jaclyn took one look at her face and turned off the car. “What’s wrong? Cory again?” She frowned, shook her head. “No, wait. I know that look. It’s your mom, isn’t it, Brianna?”

“I’m a fully accredited psychologist, Jaclyn. I’ve dealt with all kinds of people. Yet, I can’t seem to deal with my feelings toward my own mother.” Slowly she unclenched her fingers as she relayed what she’d learned. “It explains why, all these years, she’s been so driven. But why couldn’t she have just told me?”

“Old grudges die hard.” Jaclyn frowned. “Now, what are you going to do about it?”

“Keep trying to rebuild our relationship.” Brianna couldn’t keep the bitterness of the past inside any longer; she had to let it out. “My mother is the reason I left Hope. Well, her and Zac.”

“I’m your best friend, Brianna.” Jaclyn frowned. “Isn’t it about time you finally explained why I never got to wear your mother’s choice of that delightful flounced fuchsia bridesmaid dress down the aisle for your wedding?” She giggled at Brianna’s gagging sound but quickly sobered. “You’re only about ten years late explaining.”

“It was always too hard to talk about. I wanted to forget it.” She gulped, forced herself to continue the sad story. “Remember the rehearsal dinner?”

“Like I could forget that—all eleven courses.” Jaclyn grimaced.

“There weren’t eleven!” Brianna argued. “But my mother did have to make her only daughter’s wedding an extravaganza.”

“Go on.”

“After the rehearsal dinner I hadn’t seen Zac for a while so I went looking for him. He and my mother were by the hotel pool.” Brianna bit her lip. “I overheard them talking. He accepted her offer of a teaching job in Hope for two years. Without even talking to me, he accepted.”

“But how could—?” Jaclyn’s furrowed brow smoothed. “Oh, I remember now. Your mom was elected chairman of the school board that year, wasn’t she?”