Page 96 of Take Me Home for Christmas

“What the hell, West?”

The bundle was tied up with a red and green ribbon. An envelope was tucked beneath the stack, and she pulled it free. Her name was written on the front in West’s neat script.

She flipped through the pages of one of the journals. Keeley West’s lyrical handwriting flowed haphazardly over the pages. These were the innermost thoughts of a woman Elle had never met. Intimate writings that Elle didn’t feel comfortable reading. She slammed the journal shut.

Had the man gone crazy? Why would he give them to her? She tore open the envelope and unfolded the note within.

Elinor,

I’m sure you are asking yourself why I have given you these. Within the pages of these journals is the story of my late wife’s life. The words written there are more precious to me than my own breath. I loved Keeley dearly.

Also contained within these books are some hard truths. Truths about life and war and survival. Truths that need to be told.

I’m too close to this to do Keeley’s legacy the justice it deserves. I would only sully the dogmatic spirit of her stories with my pragmatism. And my bitterness at her loss.

It will take someone who writes like Keeley to pull a book like this off. Someone who leads with their heart. Who puts others first. Who writes with empathy.

That someone is you, Elinor. I believe that Keeley somehow worked her magic to get these journals to you. She knew you were the right person for the job even before I did.

Helen Keneally never really wanted my memoir. She only signed me because she covets these journals. As Keeley’s long-time editor, she’s probably worried about what will be revealed within their pages.

However, I am prepared to offer them to her on one condition: that she allow you complete editorial control over the book. My agent will stipulate such in the contract, as well as additional compensation beyond your salary at Vantage.

As you have no doubt discovered about your esteemed publisher, Helen does not play fair. By accepting my offer, you will be shielded from any manipulation she might try in the future. The contract will also guarantee that the promotion she promised you will be awarded to you immediately. It is long overdue.

I hope you will give this offer careful consideration. It will be life-changing. You will have your name on the masthead of the magazine as a lifestyles columnist as well as on the cover of a book as an editor. The possibilities beyond that are endless.

It’s time the world knows Elinor McAlister.

Merry Christmas,

Everett West

Elle wipedher tears with the sleeve of her pajamas. Her heart was racing. What West was proposing was an enormous challenge. One that she’d be a fool to turn down. And he was correct. The possibilities beyond this were endless. Her fingers were already twitching to begin writing.

The most rewarding gift you can give me is to accept this gift with humility. The only thing I need in return is for you to enjoy it.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy it all right, West. And you’ve just given me the idea for a perfect gift for you in return.”

She’d return the fly-fishing vest after Christmas.

The Christmas Eveparade was more crowded than ever. It seemed everyone from the neighboring towns had descended on Chances Inlet this year. Not that Hayden could blame them. The weather was chamber of commerce perfect, and everyone seemed to be in a festive mood. Spectators were three deep along the parade route. Kids raced along the sidewalk carrying popcorn balls and candy canes the local bank was giving out.

Even his mother was feeling the holiday spirit. She’d invited him over for his favorite breakfast of French toast this morning. Apparently, all was forgiven about him not choosing Livi. He had a harder path to hoe regarding his decision to move to New York. Perhaps she wouldn’t take it as badly as he thought, though.

His aunt texted him last night, telling him not to worry about his mother any longer. Maybe Christmas miracles did come true. Across the street, his mom waved to him from the steps of Knotical. Hayden and Simone waved back.

“Check it out.” He elbowed Simone and pointed toward the television truck parked in front of the diner. “The media showed up.”

Simone shook her head. “They’re probably hoping for another spectacle like last year. Like it’s our shtick to have Santa find his long-lost dog every Christmas during our parade.”

“Who knows? Maybe his cat is missing this year.”

“You’re awfully perky today,” Simone grumbled.

“It’s Christmas Eve. What’s not to be perky about?”

“I take it you’ve finalized your plans?”

---