A Christmas to Cherish (A Festive Christmas #4)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“ W hat do you mean you can’t get him on the phone? Have you tried his secretary?” Emma Sullivan took off her glasses and pressed two fingers to her temples. “We need to get these papers ready on time.”

Her assistant, Roger, stared at her from behind wire-rimmed glasses, fingers hovering over the tablet. “I’ve left him several messages. His secretary has even tried his personal line, but no one has been able to reach him.”

Emma blew out a breath, pushed her chair back, and stood up. “Get me his secretary on the line. Now.”

Roger lowered the tablet and nodded. He took a few steps back, then spun around and scurried out of the room, the smell of cheap cologne lingering in his wake. Through the glass window, she saw him step behind his desk, cluttered with files on either side, and mutter to himself. Then, he disappeared behind the mountain of paperwork, and Emma turned away from the door and looked out the window.

Even the city’s skyline didn’t comfort her, as it usually did, and the sight of dark clouds gathering on the horizon only worsened her mood.

She felt the chill deep down in her bones, making her want to trudge home, crawl under the covers, and emerge when the sun was out.

But she knew it wasn’t possible—not with a little girl relying on her to be reunited with her mother.

It was just like Stevens to drag his feet when it came to paperwork, especially with the holidays around the corner. As much as she hated to admit it, Emma was forced to consider whether or not she could make good on the promise she’d made to herself. Already, she’d received several hopeful phone calls from her client, Ms. Monroe, who was eagerly awaiting a reunion with her daughter.

Come on, Stevens. You’re not really going to keep them apart with Christmas around the corner, are you?

Frowning, Emma rubbed her temples and glanced at the phone on her desk. When Roger’s head emerged from behind the mountain of paperwork, he wore a grim smile. Emma reached her desk in two strides and cradled the phone between her neck and shoulder. A short while later, she hung up and buried her face in her hands.

Stevens’s secretary was almost as bad as he was, and her ability to lie was even worse.

Emma didn’t think she would make it in the business for long, but she pushed the thought out of her mind and sat up straighter.

Exhaling, she spent the next few minutes skimming through the files on her laptop and waiting for something to jump out. She had two fingers pressed against the crick in her neck when Roger reappeared at her door, hair in tufts on top of his head, tie messy, and an envelope in his hand.

“This just came for you in the mail, Ms. Sullivan.” Roger left it on the edge of her desk and raced back out, the door clicking shut behind him.

Emma blinked, rubbed her eyes, and rummaged through her drawer for her letter opener. Her eyes were still glued to the screen as she slid the letter open and wrenched her gaze away. Pushing her chair back, she stood and held the letter to the light.

But it didn’t reveal any hidden secrets.

Or anything else, for that matter.

Emma,

You need to come home.

Your father

He hadn’t even bothered with a greeting or any of the usual niceties, and on her second read, Emma felt her stomach tighten.

Why was her dad reaching out, and through a letter, no less?

Was she not even worth a phone call or a text message?

Did she really mean so little that a letter was all she was worth?

It felt cold and impersonal, and it made her want to toss the letter out and pretend she’d never gotten it.

She had never known him to be the first to reach out in her entire life, and since their explosive confrontation almost fifteen years ago, they had little to say to one another.

Not since he’d made his feelings about her career and life choices very clear.

Emma’s stomach tightened as she sat down and thought about the last time she’d visited her family in Rockport. She remembered the nervous laugh she’d shared with Andrew in the driveway—how solid and warm his fingers had been against hers. She could still recall the chill that had hung in the air as they’d stood on the front porch, waiting for her parents to open the door.

Even now, butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she remembered how Andrew had dipped her head back and kissed her, his lips tasting like snow and peppermint cocoa.

She hadn’t known it would be the last time she’d set foot inside the two-story Victorian, nor had she guessed what awaited her once the door swung open and her parents welcomed her inside.

Over the years, she’d replayed that visit, recalling with perfect clarity the tinsel strung all over her parents’ living room and stairs, the festive music playing in the background, and the fireplace crackling, casting long shadows across the walls. Emma still remembered the frown that had barely left her father’s face and the anxious looks her mother had kept throwing them. For two weeks, Andrew had done his best to win them over, bending over backward to please them, but her parents had been undeterred.

Nothing he’d said or done was good enough, even though he and Emma had been together for eight years, and their daughter, Jules, had been around for at least half of that time.

It wasn’t until Jack Harper, her high school sweetheart, kept showing up at the door that she’d put two and two together.

All these years later, the thought of the lengths they’d been willing to go to—just to push them back together—still made her sick to her stomach.

They’d acted like her husband, her dear Andrew, had been beneath them, and not even the knowledge that Jules, their granddaughter , was flying down in a few days with her other set of grandparents had swayed them.

Looking back, Emma wondered if anything would’ve.

As she sat there in her chair, trying to recapture snippets of their last conversation, she held the letter in her hands and ignored the pounding of her heart.

After all this time, she still had no idea what had gotten into her parents or why they’d rejected Andrew so vehemently.

Blinking, Emma sat up straighter, and her gaze drifted to the framed picture on her desk.

It showed a younger-looking Jules, with freckles scattered all over her face, a thin smile hiding braces, and arms crossed over a hand-knit Christmas sweater. Next to her, Andrew draped his arm over her shoulders, dark hair swept back, all while flashing the camera a million-dollar smile. In the picture, Emma leaned against them, her head tilted back. The Christmas tree’s twinkling lights caught the gold strands in her otherwise auburn hair.

They looked like the picture-perfect family, like something from a Hallmark card.

Seeing how happy they were and knowing it would all be ripped away from them a few short years later didn’t sit well with her.

It stirred the familiar ache in her chest and a pang of loneliness.

When had it all gone so wrong?

Emma didn’t realize she was crying until the fingers she pressed to her cheek came away damp.

She was rummaging through her drawer for a pack of tissues when a familiar voice caught her attention. Startled, she sat up and rubbed her face dry, forcing a smile to her lips. Jules was leaning over Roger’s desk, a red-and-green package held out to him and a warm smile on her face.

Roger’s face turned a bright red as he reached over to take it and returned her grin.

Jules called something over her shoulder and crossed the carpet to get to the office. In her dark jeans and oversized red sweater, she looked so much like her father that it made Emma pause. When Jules stepped in and lifted her blue eyes to her mother, another pang of loneliness hit, even stronger than the last.

She was the spitting image of her father, and sometimes, it rendered Emma speechless.

Today, of all days, was no exception.

Jules swung her tote bag over her shoulder and placed it in one of the wooden chairs opposite Emma’s desk. “Are you okay, Mom? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Emma swallowed past the lump in her throat and coughed. “Yes, I’m fine. I was just reading over the letter your grandpa sent.”

Jules perched on the edge of the seat and raised a dark brow. “Did you just say Grandpa sent you a letter?”

In a daze, Emma thrust the letter out and waited for Jules to take the piece of paper.

She forced herself to sit down and heard her mother’s voice in her head, accusing her of becoming a corporate sellout and turning her back on her roots.

All these years later, her parents still didn’t understand the good she was doing, and she feared they never would.

Not when their heads were buried in the clouds.

Still, Emma couldn’t deny the letter had stirred something within her, a strange yearning for the sleepy seaside town she’d grown up in—for the parents who had cruelly rejected her all those years prior.

She had no idea why they still had a hold on her after all this time, but she couldn’t deny the feelings they evoked or the pull she felt at her father’s words.

Rockport hadn’t been home in years, but she still dreamed of it often, still visited it while she slept soundly in her big, empty bed in the city.

In her mind, the town remained perfectly preserved and untouched by time, as if she were studying it through a photograph.

“He’s never sent anything like this before.” Jules lowered her hand, brows furrowed. “Something must be wrong. Have you tried calling?”

Emma sat up straighter and squared her shoulders. “You know your grandparents and I don’t do well with phone calls…”

Or any other form of communication, but Emma didn’t want to bring that up.

Jules knew all too well how strained things had been.

Her daughter straightened her back and linked her fingers together. “We should go. With Christmas around the corner, it’ll be good to get out of the city and go spend some time in Rockport.”

Emma blinked. “Since when are you such a fan?”

“We haven’t been there since I was…what, eight or something? I think it’s about time I see Rockport through new eyes.”

Emma frowned. “Actually, you were four…”

Jules leaned over the desk and took her mother’s hands in hers. “Come on, Mom. You were just telling me how frustrating it is to be passed over for partner again and how you needed some time off to recharge. This is the perfect opportunity. Kyle is away on another expedition and probably won’t be back till after the holidays, so I can even come with you.”

Jules’s boyfriend, Kyle Kelce, was usually away on some expedition, which made maintaining a relationship difficult, but Emma admired how dedicated her daughter was and how good the two of them were for each other.

Still, she couldn’t deny the gentle fluttering in her chest at the thought of going back to Rockport, and it was that anticipation that scared Emma when she considered what awaited her once she stepped foot off the plane.

She didn’t want to get attached again, only to have her hopes and heart dashed at her feet.

Emma didn’t think she could survive another heartbreak at the hands of her parents—or Rockport.

She would always have a soft spot for her hometown, but it had a way of sucking her back in, of making her feel like she was once more that pimply, gangly teenager living in her mother’s shadow.

Emma had worked hard to rise above that person, and she didn’t want to look back.

“Grandpa sent this letter because he wanted you to come,” Jules continued in a softer voice. Her eyes darted around the office, and Emma followed her gaze, taking in the shelves of books and the mahogany desk she sat behind before lingering on the view from the window.

A streak of lightning flew across the night sky, illuminating her daughter’s features.

When it started to rain, Emma pried her hands out of Jules’s grip and pushed her chair back. “I suppose getting out of the city for a few days would be good, but we won’t stay long. I have a big case around the corner…”

And she couldn’t afford to slack off, not when she’d been passed over for another promotion.

Emma prayed a few days in Rockport would be exactly what she needed to get her head on straight.

Well, it looks like you’ll be getting your wish after all, Dad.

Jules squealed and clapped her hands together. “I’ll book us the flights. Good thing I was packed for Christmas break. Now, I don’t have to unpack.”

Emma tried to muster a smile for her daughter, but all she saw reflected in her daughter’s gaze was Andrew’s crestfallen face, silhouetted by the moon’s light, as they’d driven back home in silence fifteen years ago.

She hoped she wasn’t setting herself up for yet another heartbreak at the hands of her parents.

Don’t do to Jules what you did to Andrew. Please.