Walking Away With Christmas

By Tina Swayzee McCright

When a string of burglaries threatens to close the newly opened Garland Creek Resort, Gina Ferari, the resort photographer, discovers her aunt is the prime suspect. After a chance meeting, Gina finds an ally, and possibly more, in Carter Hayes, a visiting lawyer. But the situation worsens when an employee disappears, Carter's future with his law firm becomes questionable, and Gina can't get beyond her childhood loss to learn to trust again. Can a touch of magic bring back Christmas and Gina's happily ever after?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tina Swayzee McCright
• Release date: Dec 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781540111692

Book preview

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks to my husband The Irish Charmer, Kathryne Kennedy, Maria Dominquez, Sue Martin, Kathy Froncek, The Butterscotch Martini Girls, and the servers at the Sun City IHOP who kept me supplied with coffee.

Chapter 1

CARTER HAYES WAITED in the lobby of the newly-built Garland Creek Resort where rusticity met elegance.  His attention drifted to the porcelain angel, which reigned over the massive Christmas tree, smartly decorated with a variety of blue ornaments and white bulbs. Only three weeks until the winter holiday and four weeks until Wheeler, the senior partner at Wheeler, Hayes, and Douglas would make one of the most important decisions of Carter’s life. He was tempted to wish upon the illuminated angel if that were such a thing, but he gave up on Christmas magic before entering kindergarten. Hard work and determination would make him the next partner in his father’s law firm.

Carter, over here. His father, the formidable Palmer Hayes, slipped a card key into his son’s outstretched hand as he stepped away from the front desk. You have the cottage next to mine. After we unpack, I want to go over the Thompson account. It’s vital that you have every detail memorized.

His father had been taking advantage of every opportunity to grill him, and after driving for over three hours together, Carter didn’t have the patience for one more word. His mother would have made Palmer back off, which is probably why he persuaded the partners to leave family members at home, even though many of them wanted to stay at the resort during their grand opening month. I’ve done my homework, he told his father. Don’t worry. I’ve got this. 

I’ll decide when you’ve ‘got this,’ Palmer snapped. His foul mood brought out every crease on his aging face. Still sneering, he motioned for the bellhop standing near the French doors. I can’t believe Thompson decided to settle down on a ranch near this sorry excuse for a town, he told Carter. It doesn’t even have a mall. Not that I would shop in one.

Carter swallowed a sarcastic comment about his father not believing in holidays. I can see why he moved. Up here in the mountains, Thompson won’t have to fight Scottsdale’s traffic.

The man has chauffeurs. He can work or even sleep during the drive. His father turned to the valet loading their luggage onto a cart. Be careful. I don’t want my bags scratched.

Sorry, sir, the gangly young man apologized, even though he had done nothing wrong.

Cottages five and six. Carter slipped the valet a twenty. He marched off to catch up with his father, who would rip the heads off every employee in the resort if his mood didn’t improve. I’m sure you will be able to talk Thompson out of transferring his account to a local firm. No one is more persuasive than you.

If that were true, his father replied, Wheeler would have already made you partner. You know this week isn’t only about persuading Thompson to keep his account with us, it’s about proving to Wheeler that you’re more of an asset to our firm than Douglas’s Harvard punk nephew. I bet you anything, Douglas is campaigning for his nephew to make partner just to get at me. It’s not my fault he never had kids.

No. You just threw it in his face every chance you got. Carter rubbed his temple. That promotion will be mine. Or you will never let me live it down.

His father grabbed his forearm with more pressure than warranted. I want more than your assurances. I want results. If Douglas’s nephew works ten hours a day, you work twenty.

Carter glanced over his shoulder to the guests entering the lobby. A family of five, which included two teenage boys and a small girl jumping up and down. They shook off the snow and grinned, assumingly, at the anticipation of spending a carefree vacation at the new Garland Creek Resort. No one had noticed his father’s actions.

Palmer’s gaze followed his son’s, and he quickly released his grip. I apologize, he murmured. I lost myself for a moment. Young people today cannot fathom the amount of work that goes into building a law firm. The effort isn’t just for yourself, but for your children and their children and so on. It’s more than a business. It’s a legacy.

He studied his father’s defeated expression. The man had always been bigger than life. To see him bothered so much by a decision that ultimately came down to his actions, weighed heavily on him.

I understand more than you think I do. He had cringed at the way his father seethed whenever Owen Douglas, another partner in the firm, bragged that his nephew had graduated from Harvard Law School. I could have attended any school I wanted—well maybe not Harvard.

The truth was his mother had been battling Chronic Fatigue Syndrome when it came time to choose a law school, and he couldn’t bear the idea of leaving her alone to fend for herself. His father had kept telling her it was all in her head and continued to work long hours. No matter how many times his father had urged him to attend a more prestigious school out of state, he refused to change his mind. He never had lofty ambitions. He always knew he had a place in the firm. Since then, his mother had recovered, but his relationship with his father hadn’t.

Let’s talk about it later. Carter rubbed the tension building in his forehead. It’s been a long day.

True. Our cottages are on the other side of the pool house. His father marched across the lobby toward the exit. I hope this whole place isn’t decorated with those ridiculous twinkling lights and painted, plywood elves.

Carter sighed. At this point, wishing upon a Christmas tree angel couldn’t hurt. He glanced back over his shoulder at the tree and noticed a beautiful young woman taking pictures near the stone fireplace. Her wavy, chestnut-colored hair fell several inches below her shoulders. She pushed several silky strands away from her almond-shaped eyes as she handed a brightly wrapped package to a little girl who stood next to the tree. He grinned at the child’s surprise and delight. He vaguely remembered the excitement of receiving gifts when he was that age; probably four, maybe five.

The young woman stepped closer to the girl while she kept her framed with the camera. The girl’s eyes grew wide as she ripped off the wrapping. The photographer knelt on the wooden floor, seemingly unconcerned about her bare knees beneath her royal-blue dress. She alternated the position of her camera for her next shot.

The child opened the gift and withdrew a baby doll swaddled in a pink blanket. With all the wonder and innocence of a child on Christmas morning, she tossed the box and held her new toy to her chest. She showed her mother her gift and the photographer handed the amused parents a piece of paper.

Carter thought back on his own holiday mornings. His mother did her best to make them special with an abundance of presents and poorly sung carols, while his father worked away in his study. At least he had his mother. He turned to see his father standing at the door waiting for him and, with a heavy heart, Carter stepped away from the holiday cheer. And away from the ghosts of Christmas past.

SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Photographer, Gina Ferari, centered the gray-haired couple through the lens of her camera. They had not yet noticed her, but she had noticed them right away. They warmed their hands by the fire, sharing conspiratorial smiles that spoke of a day of fun, and perhaps mischief. Love flowed between them and seemed to beckon all