Christmas Ghosts
SIT DOWN
SATURDAY with Catherine Lanigan
My favorite section of Sit Down Saturday is reading
about what inspires authors to write a story. True, there are the invaluable brainstorming
sessions with our editors that guide us and keep us on track with the values
and readers’ interests of Heartwarming. But the bottom line is that each of us
experience that one “Ah Ha” moment, that lightening flash that ignites our
imagination and spurs our storytelling.
For me, it was during my Aunt Sara’s visit back to my
hometown here, La Porte, Indiana. She had lived here decades ago, taught
school, married my Uncle Dick who was a radio announcer and together they had
three children. They moved to Oregon and she hadn’t been back for over twenty years.
She wanted to drive around and visit some of her favorite
places that still lived in her memory. One of them was the Bernacchi
Greenhouses.
When we drove up to the vacant all glass greenhouses,
we got out and walked around. We were both saddened as we looked through the
glass to the empty wood plant tables and the weeds growing through the tile
floors.
We shared memory after memory about Christmases past
and what fun we had at the greenhouses. The retail store was always so
elegantly decorated and the best Christmas theme ideas came not from glossy
catalogues we all receive in the mail today or Pintrest, but from walking around the
Christmas shop, smelling the mulled cider and fresh baked cookies that shoppers
enjoyed---for free.
Best of all, were the poinsettias. Hundreds and
hundreds of poinsettias.There are multitudes of scenes of greenhouses filled with poinsettias all across North America every Christmas, but for us, it was the warmth and kindness
of the people who worked at our greenhouse, that made Christmas special for us.
In my series, SHORES OF INDIAN LAKE, it is just that sense of family and community
that I have tried to bring to each and every book. HOME FOR CHRISTMAS is the
story of Joy Boston, NYC accountant and recent fiancé to Chuck Newly, who
learns of her beloved grandfather, Frank Boston’s, sudden death and returns to
Indian Lake to make funeral arrangements.
She's stunned when she drives up to the vacant
greenhouse, which has obviously been closed for years. Worst of all, she's seared with betrayal that
he’s lied to her, telling her that his business was going well. Joy hasn’t been
back to Indian Lake since she left for college only months after her parents
died in a car accident on a foggy February day on Dead Man’s Curve. A massive
oak tree has stood at the dangerous curve for a century and has never been cut
down, though over a dozen people have died at that curve. The wealthy
land-owner where the tree resides has bullied the town council not to destroy
the tree because she buried her brother’s body near the tree long before she
granted Indian Lake access to build a road through her large property. Joy has
blamed the townspeople’s apathy and ignorance
as the cause of her parents’ death.
But the ghosts of her parents and the happy days she
spent growing up in the greenhouses, tending seasonal flowers and learning
horticulture from her grandfather beckon to her.
However enticing their siren song is, Joy’s world tilts
and rocks when she comes face to face with Adam Masterson, her first love.
Here’s an excerpt:
Unwinding her scarf, she walked behind the counter and
was surprised to see full boxes of ribbons, foil and cellophane, and bolts of
wrapping paper sitting in the same spots as they had a decade ago. “Not
everything was sold or discarded.”
She looked toward the back of the retail gift area.
Two French doors led to a smaller greenhouse where specialty orchids, amaryllis
and hybrid poinsettias used to be displayed on long wooden tables. That was
Joy’s favorite area, where her grandfather would test his yearlong projects of
coral-and-white-striped poinsettias, yellows, ambers, and try as he might, the
absolute impossible task of creating a blue poinsettia. Blue poinsettias didn’t
exist naturally, and he would dye white ones to please designers in Chicago,
but he was a dreamer. He’d often told her he wanted to create a flower that was
not only beautiful but timeless. Something the world would never have seen if
it hadn’t been for him.
Behind the special greenhouse were the storage rooms,
where the new shipments of gift items, table linens, Christmas stockings,
birdbaths and feeders, scented candles and bath oils and washes used to be
delivered and stored until they were put out for display.
“I wonder if any stock is left...” Joy started toward
the storage room when she heard a door slam. She halted. “What was that?” She
peered through the French doors. Was someone breaking into the greenhouse?
“Hello? Is someone there?”
Peering through the windows, she saw a tall man,
wearing a buckskin-yellow suede jacket with a sheepskin collar and lining,
jeans, a scarf around his neck and a tan cowboy hat that was pulled down low so
that she couldn’t see his face. He was carrying a large sack of something on
his shoulder as he pushed one door open with his booted foot.
His presence filled the room as if he owned the place
and she was the one intruding.
He placed the sack on the cement floor of the
greenhouse, then slapped his hands together, creating a cloud of white dust. He
pushed the tip of his cowboy hat up and leveled on her the bluest eyes she’d
ever seen.
Familiar eyes.
Eyes that probed her in a way that went straight to
her heart.
“Adam?” She almost choked out his name, being both
stunned and oddly pleased to see him.
“Hey.”
He continued to stare at her, assessing her as if she
were one of his cogs in a machine he was creating.
“Hi,” she returned.
Unsmiling, he said, “I heard you might come back.”
“Yes. Of—of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Been a long time.”
Joy didn’t like the accusatory tone Adam used. Nor did
she like the fact that he’d matured into a handsome man with flashing,
mesmerizing eyes. And how was that possible? They were “over” a long time ago.
“He was my grandpa.”
“And you came back because he died.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry. I mean I’m sorry about Frank. He loved you a
lot.”
“And you know this...how?”
“He never stopped talking about you.”
Joy felt a pang of guilt for not being there more for
her grandfather. But she didn’t like Adam’s tone. She glanced through the
French door, propped open by the sack of cement he’d deposited.
She saw a compressor, metal pipes, PVC pipes, vent
apparatus and coils of copper tubing. A toolbox with wrenches, hammers and
screwdrivers sat next to the pile of materials.
“Just exactly how did you get in here?”
“Key.”
Joy had to consciously halt her eyes from flying wide
open. “You? Have access to my grandfather’s place of business?”
“Clearly—” he waved his hand across the empty retail
area “—it’s not a business anymore.”
“I was told Frank closed it years ago.”
“He did. Five years, to be exact.”
Joy put her fingertips to her temples. None of this
made sense. “I don’t understand. I flew him to New York for Thanksgiving every
year. He told me he had to hurry back here to get the poinsettia shipments in.
He said business had never been better.”
“He lied.”
“I got that, Adam!”
“Don’t jump on me!” he shot back, all too quickly and
with twice the force.
“Why didn’t he tell me the truth?”
“He didn’t want to disappoint you,” Adam replied,
dropping his harsh tone.
Her eyes were tearing again, but she didn’t care. “He
told you that?”
“He did.”
“But nothing he would do could ever, ever disappoint
me. I loved him. That’s all. The attorney told me on the phone that Grandpa was
too proud to ask for my help.”
“That, too.” Adam glanced down as he asked, “Would you
have come back if he asked?”
“I don’t know. No. Maybe...if he’d told me how bad it
was.”
Adam shook his head. “Well, we’ll never know.”
“I should go.” He started to go, then turned back to
her.
Joy braced as she felt a wave of heat from him.
“I know Frank lied to you about some things, but it
seems to me you could have pried yourself away from your city friends long
enough to visit your only living relative. All these years and you never came
back. I watched Frank spend Christmas after Christmas alone. He talked about
you and the old days. How he loved you. And what did he get? A ten-minute phone
call, Joy. A ten-minute phone call.”
Adam slapped his hat against his thigh, turned and
stomped toward the French doors.
Joy’s natural defenses shot to the fore. “I have
responsibilities!”
Adam pulled to a stop and marched back to her. His
face was nearly nose to nose with hers. “Nothing was as important as Frank and
you know it. I would have killed to have what you had with Frank. All that
love. All that concern and caring. At least I got to enjoy that after college,
when I came back here. Frank befriended me as if not a day had passed. He may
have been your blood, but he was my family. And I miss him.”
“Me, too,” she whispered, as she lowered her eyes.
He moved back. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I swore when
I moved back here that I’d keep myself in check. Getting close to people never worked
out for me.”
“Like when I left—”
“Like then, yeah.”
Joy blinked back tears. Everything Adam said was true,
and she felt like dirt. She should have come to visit her grandfather, but she
couldn’t. It wasn’t always college or her career. It was Indian Lake. The place
where her loving parents were buried. She couldn’t face it. She wouldn’t be
reminded of the way they died. And the aftermath.
“I’m sorry, Adam. For everything.”
“Yeah. Well.” He stepped back. “I guess I’ll see you
at the funeral.”
“Yeah.”
Deflated, Joy watched Adam walk away before backing up
to the counter and slowly sliding to the floor.
Joy pulled her knees to her chin, shivered and looked
at the empty space. “I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry, Grandpa. Please forgive me.”
In all our lives, Christmastime gives us a time when
we reflect not only on the past year, but on our relationships the joys and the
regrets. HOME FOR CHRISTMAS reminds us that we all stand on the shoulders of
those who lived before us. That who we are and the choices we make moving ahead,
determine not just our own future, but they also bend the fate of others we
care about. I have always believed that
true love never dies. HOME FOR CHRISTMAS gave me a chance to explore the deeper
layers of that belief, while having a lot of fun cutting down an enormous Christmas
tree, caroling with Adam’s six-year-old, gifted son, Titus, and sharing cookie
baking and the Christmas Concert with all our favorite characters from earlier stories.
Yes, Mrs. Beabots is up to her match-making best as she wisely steers Joy through
the labyrinth of her still-wounded heart.
I hope you enjoy HOME FOR CHRISTMAS. Available at
Amazon.com, BN.com and the Harlequin web sit. Follow me on Twitter @cathlanigan;
Facebook and Pinterest. WWW. Catherinelanigan.com and please do join the fun on
my Prism Book Tour which begins November 11th. I’ll be posting giveaways on Facebook. And of
course there is a Rafflecopter Amazon card prize you’ll love!
Merry Christmas!
Catherine
Congrats on your new release! Love the cover, excerpt and inspiration. What a great book for ushering in the season!
ReplyDeleteYou are the best! Thanks for stopping by, Rula. I hope you like the book. I sure can't wait to read your next Heartwarming. Happy Thanksgiving!
DeleteCongratulations Catherine! I love the themes of this book, and your comment that we all stand on the shoulders of those who lived before us and those who loved us. A very poignant scene here, too, that highlights how our loved ones protect our feelings to keep precious memories alive. Great Christmas messages.
ReplyDeleteJanice, thank you so much. I have to admit I spent a lot of tears on the keyboard over this book. Every line brought back ghosts of Christmases past. Happy Thanksgiving!
DeleteI love the scene. Can't wait to read the story. Greenhouses are one of my favorite places.
ReplyDeleteCatherine, congratulations on your newest release!
ReplyDeleteAs you know, I love every one of your Shores of Indian Lake books, and Home for Christmas is no exception. It's one of your best!
No wonder it's getting fantastic reviews and so many early sales. Thank you for sharing the inspiration.
Very best wishes!!
Bless you, Kate, for your support and cherished friendship. AND I'm so glad you liked the book!
DeleteCongratulations, I love Christmas and all the memories it brings of past holidays, family, food and lots of love.
ReplyDeleteThose are the best Christmases. And for those spending Christmas in a hospital, my prayers go out to you. It shouldn't be, but it's harder to deal with loss and grief at Christmas and New Years, it seems than any other time. God Bless Us, Everyone!
DeleteCatherine, I love this scene and I can't wait to read your book. Congrats on the release!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, Elizabeth! I'm very excited about this Christmas story!
DeleteGreat scene--so inviting. When your mention greenhouses, I realized how nostalgic I've been over the years about the greenhouses in Marshalltown, Iowa, my mother's home town. They were in a field next to my grandparents' house and quite a sight. The freight trains coming through on tracks adjacent to the field are all part of the sights and sounds I think of as one picture. Thanks, and congratulations.
ReplyDeleteThat's so interesting you mention trains, Virginia. There are 147 trains that go through my hometown every day! Talk about the crossroads of America, right? Anyway, those train whistles mean a great deal to me and they trigger all kinds of ideas in my writing.
DeleteI love the excerpt!
ReplyDeleteBless you, Patricia. I had several I wanted to post, but this one was so moving to me. I'm glad you liked it, too. Happy Thanksgiving!
DeleteA wonderful post, Catherine, and I love the excerpt, too!
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for stopping by and commenting, Liz. Happy Thanksgiving and Merry Christmas! AND there are more excerpts on my PRISM BOOK TOUR www.prismbooktours.blogspot.com starting November 11-23rd. Love those sneak peeks, right?
DeleteCongratulations on the new release. I can relate to the empty greenhouse image. There are so many hopes and dreams I can imagine into the places I see closed or abandoned.
ReplyDeleteCallie...it's so true, especially now as it seems and is a reality, of many retail establishments closing due to on-line shopping. Even the big box stores are closing. And the world is changing and moving on. The ghosts of all those dreams and goals seem to hang in the air around these buildings, both new and those that are a hundred years old. And all that makes for....another story....
Delete