On Christmas Eve Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EPILOGUE

  The Cape Light Titles

  CAPE LIGHT

  HOME SONG

  A GATHERING PLACE

  A NEW LEAF

  A CHRISTMAS PROMISE

  THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL

  A CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER

  A CHRISTMAS VISITOR

  A CHRISTMAS STAR

  A WISH FOR CHRISTMAS

  ON CHRISTMAS EVE

  The Angel Island Novels

  THE INN AT ANGEL ISLAND

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2010 by The Thomas Kinkade Company and Parachute Publishing LLC.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form with-

  out permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of

  the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  BERKLEY® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  ISBN: 9781101466094

  1. Cape Light (Imaginary place)—Fiction. 2. City and town life—New England—Fiction.

  3. New England—Fiction. 4. Christmas stories. I. Spencer, Katherine, (date) II. Title.

  PS3561.I534O6 2010

  813’.54—dc22

  2010017355

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  Version_2

  DEAR READERS

  Giving a title to a book is like naming a child. You mull over ideas. You speak the names out loud. You find one you like. You change your mind. You want to make sure that the name you give will fit and will somehow fulfill the promise of this new creation. This Cape Light book is called, very simply, On Christmas Eve. It’s a simple title, but those three words evoke so many feelings.

  On Christmas Eve, our homes are filled with color, light, and song.

  On Christmas Eve, we gather with those we love.

  On Christmas Eve, we count our blessings and face our challenges with hope and faith.

  And so it is for our friends in Cape Light. Lucy and Charlie Bates have been through several hard patches in their long marriage. Now Lucy’s powerful connection with a teenage runaway threatens to tear them apart . . . Unless, of course, this difficult young girl is actually the angel in disguise who will bring them closer together.

  Meanwhile, solid, practical Betty Bowman has fallen in love—with Santa Claus. Well, not the Santa, but a department store Santa. The situation would be funny, except that under his fake white beard, this Santa carries a genuine hole in his heart. A hole that may be too deep for Betty to fill.

  On Christmas Eve is filled with challenges but also with successes. The people of Cape Light never forget those less fortunate than themselves. The whole town comes together to help neighbors in trouble, as they always do when there is an emergency. But on Christmas Eve their efforts fill them with a special satisfaction. What better way can there be to celebrate the birth of the Lord than to share his greatest gifts: faith, love, and charity?

  I hope you enjoy this visit to our little town. And I wish you peace and happiness all year long—especially on Christmas Eve.

  Share the Light,

  Thomas Kinkade

  CHAPTER ONE

  BETTY BOWMAN CHECKED THE ORDER SHEET, READING THE list out loud. Her partner, Molly Willoughby, was crouched inside the catering van, making sure all the food and equipment they needed was present and accounted for.

  “. . . eight boxes of mini quiche, six pigs in a blanket, two trays of chicken wings . . .”

  “And a partridge in a pear tree?” Molly asked.

  “It’s hard to find a partridge this time of year. They’ll have to settle for chicken.”

  “Settle? Our wings are legendary,” Molly reminded her. Betty watched her hop down and close the van door. Painted letters across the side read Willoughby Fine Foods in plum-colored script, outlined in gold. Betty had joined the business as a partner years ago, but Molly was the company’s founder, and they had decided to keep the name the same.

  “This one’s going to be a no-brainer. Just a big Sunday afternoon buffet,” Molly said. “Mostly kid food.”

  Betty knew what she meant. The party order suited a palate somewhere between the ages of five and fifteen. But that’s what she loved about catering. The variety of venues and foods always kept it interesting. They’d serve pâté de foie gras at a mansion one night and pizza puffs in a school gym the next.

  Betty slipped the file under her arm and checked the time. “I’d rather kick off the season with an easy one. We have about a hundred more booked before Christmas.”

  “Not quite, but close. Not that I’m complaining,” Molly quickly added. “Not in this economy.”

  Betty felt the same. Business had slowed down considerably in the fall, after the spring and summer rush of graduation parties and company picnics. But the phone had started ringing again as the holidays approached, and Betty knew they had to count their blessings.

  Betty hated it when business was slow. It wasn’t just the financial side. She liked to keep busy and feel productive. It was just her personality. Okay, maybe she did have some workaholic tendencies, but was that always a bad thing? She enjoyed her job—her two jobs, actually. She still kept a hand in at Bowman Realty, which she had run successfully for nearly twenty years until catering had caught her fancy.

  She had started out helping Molly in a pinch, when Molly was pregnant with her third child. By the time Molly was ready to admit she was overwhelmed and needed real help, Betty was hooked and ready to jump in. She was no cook, but she was so good at managing the staff and the books and smoothing over ruffled clients—areas that were not Molly’s strong points—that Molly had welcomed her partnership. Betty had b
een ready for a change and decided to follow her bliss. She and her closest friend had been building the business and having loads of fun ever since.

  “How about a quick cup of coffee?” Betty said, heading back inside the shop. “I could use a little caffeine to keep me moving.”

  “Me, too,” Molly admitted, following her inside. “Thanksgiving wiped me out. We were at Jessica and Sam’s house this year, but I still brought over most of the food. It’s hard for Jessica with the new baby.” Molly came from a large family, and most of her siblings, like her older brother Sam Morgan, still lived in the area. “Then I stopped by the Kavanaghs’ anniversary party last night just to check on things. Two of the waitstaff hadn’t shown up, and Sonia was in over her head. So I ended up staying until the last waltz.”

  Betty glanced at her pal as she poured two mugs of coffee. “You should have called. I would have come to help.”

  “It wasn’t a big deal. But you know Cynthia Kavanagh. If anything went wrong, our good name would be trashed all over town.” Molly sat on a high stool at the counter and doctored her coffee with a dollop of milk.

  Cynthia Kavanagh did have a wide network, and Betty knew that much of their success depended on personal recommendations. But Betty thought Molly was sometimes too anxious about that. Still, she knew where her friend was coming from. Molly had only recently become successful and accepted into certain circles in town. Years back, as a struggling single mother, Molly had cleaned houses for women like Cynthia Kavanagh. But Molly had transformed herself with hard work and a real vision for her future. Betty always admired that about her. It was one of the reasons she put up with Molly’s bossy streak.

  “I wouldn’t have interrupted you last night if this shop had burned down,” Molly said flatly. “How was your date with Alex Becker? I’m dying to hear. You haven’t said a word.”

  Betty smiled and shrugged. “There’s not that much to tell. It was just a first date.”

  “Just a first date? That’s the most important one,” Molly insisted. “It’s absolutely crucial. Especially a blind date. Do you know most people make up their mind about a stranger within twelve seconds of setting eyes on him? It’s some chemical thing that goes on in your brain.”

  Betty took a sip of her coffee. “You’re always coming up with these pseudoscientific facts about relationships, Molly. If you ever want to give up catering, you could be a . . . a relationship scientist. If there is such a thing.”

  “If there were, I’d be pretty darn good at it.”

  “A Nobel Prize winner,” Betty conceded. “Let’s see . . . the first twelve seconds. Well, that part went pretty well,” she reported, thinking back. “He was punctual. A few minutes early, in fact. I opened the door and I thought, ‘Hey, not bad. He’s very attractive. Tall, in good shape. Has most of his hair and a very nice smile.’”

  Molly nodded approvingly.

  “He was well-dressed. A suit and tie, very polished and well groomed.”

  “Alex can afford to look good. He’s a doctor, a very successful one, too,” Molly reminded her. “It sounds as if he wanted to make a good impression.”

  “I thought so. He even brought me some flowers, which was a nice touch. I mean, it wasn’t as if I was making dinner and he had to bring a hostess gift.”

  “See? A lot can happen in twelve seconds. Sounds like you guys were getting along great. And he had barely walked in the door.”

  “It was fine. It can be really awkward when you’ve never met the person before,” Betty confessed. “You know how I feel about blind dates.”

  “Don’t remind me. I’m just glad you broke your rule for this one.”

  Since her divorce more than ten years ago, Betty had been on her share of first dates—blind and otherwise. More than she wanted to remember. She had basically sworn off them altogether. But Molly had insisted on introducing her to Alex Becker, a friend and colleague of Molly’s husband, Dr. Matthew Harding. Matt had a family practice in Cape Light, and Alex, a cardiologist, had a practice in Newburyport, a town about ten miles north.

  Betty had gently avoided the matchup, but Molly had been relentless. Betty rarely minded being single. She was fine with being on her own most of the time, but the holidays always made her feel a little lonely. So finally, after much coaxing and pestering, she had given Molly permission to give her number to Alex.

  “Where did you go for dinner?” Molly continued.

  “Water’s Edge, in Newburyport,” Betty reported. She could have predicted the look on Molly’s face. Shock, awe, and envy.

  “I knew it.” Molly set down her mug with a thump. “The reviews for that place are over the top. How was it?”

  “Quite a Saturday night date scene,” Betty admitted. “I’m glad I wore my little black dress and good jewelry. They seemed to know Alex pretty well. We were whisked off to a table right away.”

  “Nice. I love that celebrity treatment.” Molly grinned and glanced at her watch. “We have time for some highlights. Let’s skip the meal for now. What did you guys talk about?”

  Betty smiled. She wasn’t sure what Molly liked talking about more, men or food. Sometimes, it was definitely a draw.

  “Just the usual. His job, my job. Kids. Hobbies. Ex-spouses. Sometimes I wish I could just fill out a questionnaire and mail it in.” Betty laughed at her own joke, but Molly didn’t look quite as amused.

  “But not with Alex? I mean, you enjoyed getting to know him, right?”

  “Oh, sure. He’s very easy to talk to. Good social skills. We have a lot in common. He’s been divorced for a long time, too, and also has grown children. He likes to travel, play golf, go sailing. We talked about movies and books. We seem to have similar tastes . . . It was nice.”

  Betty took another sip of coffee, glancing at Molly over the rim of her mug.

  Molly waited, staring at her expectantly. “Nice? That’s it?”

  Betty shrugged. “I’d like to say sparks were flying or I was struck by lightning. But I don’t think he felt like that either. Really, Molly. It’s just not like that at this stage of the game. Very nice is good,” she tried to explain. “Really good. Better than average.”

  “Okay, okay.” Molly held up her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m being way too nosey, even for me.”

  “Yes, you are,” Betty agreed. “But I’ve gotten used to that by now.” She paused and met Molly’s eye for a moment. “I know you’re dying to ask me, so, yes, he kissed me good night—a quick, friendly sort of peck. And he said that he would call.”

  “Terrific. That’s a good sign. I’m sure he will.”

  Spoken like a happily married woman, Betty thought. Molly had obviously forgotten how perfectly nice men often made that promise—and then you never ever heard from them and never had a clue why.

  “I hope so,” Betty said finally. She gulped down the rest of her coffee and set down her empty mug. “Sonia and the crew should be there by now. I think we should go.”

  “On with the show,” Molly agreed. She slipped off the stool and grabbed her jacket from a hook near the door. Betty locked up the shop, and the two women got in the van.

  Betty took the driver’s seat. “So where are we headed again?”

  “The old Elks Lodge on Tinker Lane. The Rotary Club always has their charity party there. I guess they get to use the space for free.”

  “The party is for a charity?” Betty asked. “I thought it was just for the club and their families.”

  “The Rotary finds families who can use a little boost and some cheering up. It’s mainly for the kids, but the parents enjoy it, too. There seem to be a lot of folks in that category this year,” Molly observed.

  “How true,” Betty said quietly. She sometimes felt sorry for herself because she was alone, but so many others had it so much worse. Betty knew she had to be thankful this year and do her best to help some people who were not as fortunate.

  “It would be nice if our company did something for charity this Christmas, Molly. Don�
��t you think?”

  “Sure. We do give this group a big discount. They’re getting everything practically at cost.”

  Betty meant something more than that but didn’t want to pursue the issue at that moment. Molly was less openhanded than Betty tended to be. More practical minded. Betty knew that Molly had seen some lean years and had a tougher time working her way up. She’ll come around, Betty thought. I just have to find the right situation.

  The Elks Lodge was located a few miles out of town. It had formerly been a huge old house and was still surrounded by a vacant tract of land, though a portion had been paved as a parking lot on one side of the house and in back.

  Back in the days when she worked in real estate, Betty would have called the place a fixer-upper. But someone had draped pine garlands and red bows on the porch rail and a big wreath on the door, which made the old house look inviting and cheerful today.

  And Christmasy, Betty thought with a jolt. It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and the TV was already flooded with Christmas commercials; the car radio was playing nothing but Christmas music. But Betty still found the approach of the holidays to be a shock. She hoped this first party would get her more in the mood.

  As she steered the van into the lot, she noticed that it was already crowded. “Look at all these cars. We’re not late, are we?”

  “Must be club members,” Molly said. “I hope they don’t get in our way when we set up.”

  “Maybe they’ll be helpful,” Betty said optimistically. Though clients rarely were. They usually slowed you down with a lot of questions and reminders that you’d already heard a hundred times before.

  Betty pulled the van into a spot near the back door, the entrance nearest to the kitchen. The company’s other van was parked nearby. Their helpers, Sonia and Joyce, had left the shop earlier with chairs and tables and had already carted that load inside. Now Sonia and Joyce met them at the back door and helped carry a load of food to the kitchen. The first load of many, Betty knew.