Once Upon a Christmas Carol Page 3

  He held up his hands. “They’ve taken my wallet and my phone. I’ll have to get it to you later.”

  She nodded and glanced at her feet. Her avoidance lasted too long and made her discomfort multiply. He knows how nervous I am, she realized.

  She cleared her throat. “Why are you still here? Why not bail out?”

  “No one to call.” A twinge of self-pity laced the words.

  “So bail yourself out.” He certainly looked like he could afford it, driving a car like that and wearing expensive, fashionable clothes.

  “Truth be told, I’m content to sit here. I’m in no hurry to go home.”

  Now she understood, and felt bad for assuming he was behaving like a drama queen. “I, uh, I’m sorry about your mom. I didn’t know...earlier.”

  He said nothing, just swallowed and glanced away.

  “She was a nice lady. I remember she would always bring out Popsicles, or a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade to the kids playing on the street during the summer.” Not that Trey would remember her being there.

  When Celia was a junior in high school and he a senior, she’d been bumped into his senior-level science class—Jordan High’s closest thing to an honor program. They’d been assigned to the same four-person team on a study, and Trey had asked her what her name was. She wasn’t crushing on him particularly hard at the time, but still she’d gone home and cried herself to sleep that night.

  “Do your parents still own the house next door?” he asked.

  She shook her head. They’d sold it a year into the bed and breakfast venture. They’d renovated the attic into two tiny rooms, one for her and one for Josh, and no longer needed a second house. They certainly didn’t need a second mortgage, and they hadn’t been able to afford it anyway when two years after that her parents separated and her mother moved to Southern California.

  “I hope the neighborhood is in high demand. I’ll be putting my mom’s house up for sale first thing in January.”

  The idea of his so permanently cutting ties with Welcome jolted her. She shook away the disquiet his statement caused. “I just wanted you to know, I’m going to ask Judge Grant to be lenient. I’ll tell him you’ve promised to pay the damages, and maybe he’ll go easy on you. He and your mom were both members of the Northern Botanical Society. Maybe they were friends.”

  “Thanks, Celia.”

  A flush crept from head to toe. On Trey’s lips, her name sounded eloquent, almost seductive.

  “No hard feelings, okay?”

  He nodded. “No hard feelings.”

  She managed a smile. “Come by the bed and breakfast when you’re released to give me that insurance information. I’ll buy you a cup of the best coffee in town.”

  He returned her smile, and her mood lifted a notch. “I’ll do that.”

  She turned to go.

  “Celia—”

  She stopped, intrigued by the suddenly higher pitch to his tone.

  “If there was a ghost, you’d be it.”

  She frowned. “What does that mean?”

  His grin faded into a warm smile. “It’s really good to see you.”

  * * * * *

  Celia Brown was no ghost; she was an angel in a fuzzy pink sweater and dark blue jeans that hugged her curves. The curves that he could see through the Plexiglas window of his holding cell, anyhow. He’d longed to see more but couldn’t muster the effort to rise from the bench.

  Trey had no family in town, but he did have friends he could have called. He could have phoned his secretary. He declined when the officer encouraged him to call the bail bondsman himself. Instead, he’d been content to let them stash him back here in this quiet, lonely cell, where not a smidgen of Christmas cheer sparkled. He supposed he was lucky—because of the holidays, he wasn’t being transferred to the county jail; they were holding him overnight to be arraigned in the morning. He would plead ignorance and grief in the hope the judge would take leniency on him for his first ever drunk driving offense. He’d only been .01 over the legal limit. Enough to get him arrested, but not to label him as a raging drunk.

  He’d nearly bitten off a chunk of his tongue when he turned his head to find Celia Brown tapping on his car window. Of all the places he could have crashed his car, it was into her family’s bed and breakfast. She’d only gotten lovelier, and in some way more assertive, during his years away. He wished there could have been a nicer reunion with the beautiful Girl Next Door. Instead, he’d caused her destruction and hardship.

  The confidence had been there, but that didn’t mean she didn’t blush as easily as a peach in the sun. She was probably mortified to see him. If he wasn’t certain she would die of embarrassment, he’d tell her nothing had ever happened to him more flattering than the night she’d declared she wanted him as her first lover.

  He’d never forgotten pretty Celia Brown. The instant he’d seen her, he understood that. There had been many women over the years, but never any serious relationships. When he’d seen her staring through the window, her face had clicked into place in the empty puzzle slot in his head, where every one of his many one-night stands and hopeless relationships had left a fuzzy and incomplete hole.

  An officer rapped on the door. “Last chance, Janssen.” He peered through the window, waiting. “You sure you don’t want to call the bail bondsman?”

  Trey merely shook his head.

  The officer opened the access panel and pushed a blanket and small pillow through. He sighed and shook his head, as if he’d never seen anything more pathetic than a former football star turned drunkard.

  “You’ll be served dinner in about a half-hour.”

  The panel slammed shut and silence fell again. Trey collected the blanket and pillow and tossed them on the bunk’s cracker-thin vinyl pad. He settled in, thinking back to the sultry September night of the Autumn Festival all those years ago, when he’d deflowered lovely, innocent Celia Brown.

  Maybe I am the most pathetic man in Welcome.

  He’d been drunk that night too.

  Chapter Four

  Though Judge Grant explained he wasn’t in the habit of granting special leniency to drunk drivers, he did tell Celia it was up to the district attorney’s office to choose how Trey would be prosecuted, if at all. She spent an hour bouncing between offices in the courthouse, completely ignorant of how the process worked. She’d never known anyone who’d been arrested before. She was glad she arrived early, but cringed as she thought of Josh in charge of the morning duties. Breakfast had already been served and cleared, but still...her brother didn’t have the same drive for perfection she did, or even share in her desire to see the Briarwood climb back onto—and stay on—the list of top-rated bed and breakfasts in the country. She wished he understood perks like his flashy Camaro relied on those ratings.

  Celia didn’t know the Assistant DA, and judging by his short, scrawny build, she assumed he wasn’t much of a sports fan, either. He didn’t stop when she caught him in the courthouse’s main foyer, and she had to jog to keep up with him. It was ten minutes to ten, and he was already on his way to Trey’s arraignment.

  “I’m Celia Brown. My family owns the property that was damaged in Mr. Janssen’s accident yesterday.”

  He stopped at the elevators and punched the up button, eyeing her without comment.

  “I want you to know, we don’t intend to press charges. Mr. Janssen has agreed to pay for all the damages and has expressed deep remorse for the accident. I’ve known Mr. Janssen since I was a little girl, and I was hoping you’d go easy on him. It’s his first DUI offense.”

  The Assistant DA looked at her like she’d just insulted his intelligence by suggesting he let a drunk driver off the hook. That, or she’d sprouted a horn from the middle of her forehead.

  “Does your maintenance man...” He flipped a manila envelope open and quickly scanned it. “Enrique Espanosa feel the same way?”

  She swallowed. “I can’t speak for Enrique.” The doors slid open, and she jumped in
to the elevator with him. “It’s just that Trey is only back in town because his mother died two days ago, and I know he’s really upset—”

  “Miss Brown,” he said, cutting her off. “It’s not appropriate for me to discuss the state’s plans for Mr. Janssen with you, but you can rest assured nobody in Welcome wants to prolong Mr. Janssen’s stay with lengthy, and very costly, legal hearings.”

  He dismissed her as he stepped off the elevator. She followed him into the courtroom. The judge was absent, and by the relaxed murmur in the courtroom, it appeared they had taken a short break between the last case and Trey’s. There were several other people in the gallery pews, and she slipped into the empty row closest to the front.

  Trey already sat at one of the lawyer’s tables next to a man she assumed was the public defender. He still wore the stylish cotton sweater and jeans, now rumpled as though he’d slept in them. Her heart went out to him. He must really not want to go to his mother’s house if jail was his preference.

  “You’re sure I’m not facing jail time for this?” she overheard him ask.

  “You’re charged with a misdemeanor,” the young defender told him. The public appointee looked like he belonged in high school, not in a courtroom.

  “I want you to try to get these charges dropped. Even probation would be a stain on my reputation. I’ll be happy to pay restitution to the town, or donate to its arts and humanities society.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s your first offense. You’ll be on your way home before you know it.”

  “Good. The sooner I can get away from Welcome and its ridiculous Christmas cheer, the better. It’s like Christmas barfed here!”

  The young attorney went stock still.

  “Mr. Janssen, I’ll have you know, Welcome’s Christmas vomit is award-winning.”

  Trey jerked his head around. He hadn’t seen the judge enter from the chambers on the right. Celia smacked her palm against her forehead.

  “I assure you,” the judge went on in a brittle tone as he dropped into his chair. “Welcome and all its ridiculous Christmas cheer are equally eager to be rid of you.”

  The Assistant DA smirked from the other table.

  “All rise!” the bailiff shouted. “The Honorable Judge Grant presiding.”

  Judge Grant was still swiveling his chair into position as he began. “Mr. Janssen, you’re charged with misdemeanor drunk driving. How do you plead?”

  The young defender stood. “My client pleads guilty to the charge of speeding and negligent driving, sir. In light of his first offense, and the fact Mr. Janssen has returned to Welcome to bury his mother, a lifelong resident, we request a suspended sentence in exchange for community service.”

  Trey snapped his head back the other way. “Wait, what?”

  The judge shot a look at the prosecutor. “The state’s position?”

  “I can’t perform community service,” Trey whispered urgently to his lawyer. “I’m here to get my mother’s affairs in order, that’s all. I have to get home.”

  Having overheard him, the judge narrowed a steely glare. “This is your arraignment, Mr. Janssen. It’s where we decide your bail, and when you should come back for your court date. Your lawyer should have explained this. If the state accepts your lawyer’s plea, you could be off the hook today. Do you prefer to have to return to our ridiculous town at a later date?”

  Trey’s shoulders sagged. “No, sir.”

  “Prosecution?”

  “The state agrees Mr. Janssen doesn’t pose a risk to residents and proposes thirty hours of volunteer community service, as well as payment of fines, court fees, and taxes.”

  “The court assigns sixty hours, in addition to the applicable fees.”

  “Your Honor,” Trey protested.

  “Do you prefer jail time?”

  He settled on his heels. “No, sir.”

  “All right then. Thirty hours of community service will be performed in service of the victim, the Briarwood Bed & Breakfast, as well as all financial losses reimbursed in recompense for damages inflicted, and thirty hours service performed at a court-approved charitable institution of Mr. Janssen’s choice. Mr. Janssen will have until March thirty-first to complete said community service, performed in no less than two-hour work shifts at any given time. Additionally, the court orders Mr. Janssen to pay a fine of five hundred dollars, plus court fees and applicable state taxes. The DWI charges will be placed on the state’s inactive docket and could be brought back within a two-year period, if prosecutors deem it warranted.” The judge gave him that icy look again and pointed his finger. “That means don’t drink and drive, Mr. Janssen, or you’ll be right back in that chair again, facing much graver consequences. Do you understand?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “You’re free to go.” The judge hit his gavel.

  “Thank you, sir,” the defense attorney said, but the judge was already calling for the next case on the docket. A bailiff escorted a middle-aged man into the courtroom, wearing a prison jumpsuit and handcuffs.

  “Look at it this way,” the lawyer said as the two of them stepped through the low swinging gates separating the gallery from the counsel’s tables. “You could motor through this in six-hour shifts and be done before New Year’s Eve. You’ll be back in San Francisco in time for the ball to drop.”

  Trey stalked up to her with long, angry strides. “This was your idea of leniency?” he demanded, all but ignoring his lawyer.

  “No, thirty hours was the DA’s idea of leniency,” she shot back. “Before you pissed off the judge by insulting his Christmas committee.”

  The lawyer looked perplexed. “Um, need I remind you—”

  “Great. Now I’m stuck here in this town for who knows how long.”

  “Seriously, you’re angry at me?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Let’s not forget who got drunk and drove across my lawn, over my sign, and through my window.”

  “Quiet in the courtroom!”

  She turned and stormed out ahead of them, but Trey was hot on her heels.

  “I’ve got to get back to San Francisco. I have a home there, a business to run.”

  “So go. I’m not stopping you.” She kept walking.

  “Mr. Janssen.” His lawyer trotted down the hallway behind them. “I have a list of qualifying charities you can look through.”

  Celia glanced back to see the young lawyer waving a sheet of paper like a white flag. She bypassed the elevator bank and headed for the stairs. No way was she getting trapped in an elevator with Trey. Her heart was thundering, and she didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing he was going to be working at the B&B. Probably a bad thing, considering his mood. She wondered if she was allowed to refuse the judge’s orders. After all, she wasn’t the one being punished.

  She heard his footsteps on the stairs behind her, and the rustle of a piece of paper crinkling.

  “I can do this in two days. I’ll plow this straight through.”

  “Um, no.”

  “What? I can stay up for thirty hours.”

  “I’m sure you can, party boy, and I’m certain your temper would be even lovelier than it is now. But you’re not going to do it in my bed and breakfast.”

  “You’re a hotel. Don’t you need someone on call all night?”

  “You’re supposed to be helping my business, not hurting it more.”

  “Excuse me, Miss Hospitality. I happen to be a business owner. I think I know a thing or two about good customer service.”

  She stopped at the first floor and faced him. “Look, you don’t have to do any of it, okay? I’ll punch up a time card for you and turn it in.” She gestured to the paper he held. “Just focus on your other charities.”

  “I’m not a criminal, Ms. Brown, and neither are you. I’m not going to let you aid and abet me in further misconduct.”

  She whirled away. “Fine. Do whatever you want. Just make sure I get that insurance information before you leave town.”


  He continued after her as she stormed out the front door. “Fine. I will.”

  “Fine!”

  “This has gone from bad to worse. Would you slow down?” He tramped after her. “Bloody hell, it’s cold out here.”

  “Where’s your coat?” she snapped without turning around.

  “In my car, which was impounded.” He followed her as she wound through the parked cars. “You may have noticed I was placed in handcuffs without it on.”

  She remotely released the door locks on her Camry and watched as he went to the opposite side of the car. “What, I have to drive you too?”

  He stared at her across the roof. “How am I supposed to get there?”

  “It’s not too far to walk.”

  “It’s twenty-eight degrees out here!”

  She hauled open her door. “Then a brisk walk will warm you right up!”

  Celia jumped in the driver’s seat and started the car. Trey stared at her with complete and utter shock on his face. She pulled out of the lot and turned down Main Street with a final glance in the rearview mirror.

  Close quarters with Trey Janssen would be a disaster. So why did she want nothing more? That was a bad sign. It was only thirty hours. Surely she could handle that? She could put him to work in the laundry room, and then she’d never have to see him. Or let him work the front desk, and then she could spend her time catching up on ten of a hundred other things that needed to be done.

  Celia grumbled under her breath as she made four rights and came up behind Trey on Main Street’s sidewalk. His breath plumed in the air and he walked fast, hunched, with his arms folded across his chest and his hands tucked in his armpits.

  She brought the car to a stop alongside the curb and released the door locks. He hesitated over a heartbeat, as though he had no desire to be in close quarters with her either—which was just fine with her—and then jumped in. She turned the blower on the heater up as high as it would go.

  He filled the car imposingly, a larger-than-life presence that had dominated so many of her dreams over the past twelve years. Despite his rumpled clothing, he smelled fresh and deliciously masculine, and it was all she could do not to close her eyes and drag in a deep breath of him.