James Winthrop Frayne II paid no mind to the sounds of a helicopter flying overhead. It wasn't the first time they'd buzzed the family farm outside of Rochester, and it wouldn't be the last, he supposed. He was just thankful that it wasn't a drone.
It was getting colder upstate, a sure sign that the seasons were changing. Ever since he could remember, there was something about winter he loved. Maybe it was the lace that the unclothed tree branches made against the sky. Maybe it was the cool crispness of the air after slogging through the humidity and mosquitoes of the summer. Maybe it was shuffling through mounds of colorful leaves, watching the joy on Patch's handsome little dog face as he raced through the multicolored mounds.
Maybe they know Juliana is home. She was not due back until Thanksgiving, though. Somebody must have leaked something. Man, this is getting annoying! He tried to shrug off the distinctive choppy sound of the rotors and went back to his task of clearing the trails before winter set in with a vengeance.
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"See anything worthwhile, Ian?" The pilot, one Jaden Gramble, spoke into the microphone attached to his headset. Choppers were notoriously high decibel, which precluded normal conversation.
"Nothing so far, Jay. Nothing at all." Damn. They'd been scouting for weeks and still hadn't discovered the elusive it. This year, the magic was eluding them, and they were beginning to worry.
"Maybe Vermont. You know, the snow and the skiing and the brrr…"
"You've been watching White Christmas one too many times, Ian. Next thing you'll want me to do a duet of Sisters." Man, he hated to go back to the hangar metaphorically empty-handed. As he banked, the weak rays of the sun highlighted the landscape. And right smack in the middle was it.
The two men glanced at each other and back at the vision unfurling before them. "She's gorgeous! Beautiful! Look at those limbs!" Ian went into raptures. "She's perfect! Just perfect."
"Grab some digitals, Ian. We'll send them back to the main office. Now, where the hell are we?" Jaden consulted the GPS. "The JW Frayne Land Trust. Oh, yeah, it's a huge tract of land owned by that reclusive billionaire."
"What, that Howard Hughes-type guy?" Ian deflated. "He'll never let us use her. He's a total wack job."
"His affairs are being taken care of by his nephew and his nephew's son. I'll have HQ contact their main office. We need to move fast if we want to secure her in time."
"Let's roll."
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"Will you be home in time for Christmas, Trix?" Honey Wheeler Belden's sweet voice floated through space and provided a much-needed boost to Trixie's flagging spirit. It wasn't just being away from her friends and family during the holidays. Although Trixie loved her job, it was excruciating at times, sitting across from a notorious serial killer or terrorist and poking through his or her psyche. After that, she had to listen to the recordings of the sessions, time and time again, to pick apart the discussion and sort out the lies from the grains of truth embedded within.
And then there was the unending series of hotel rooms. They began to blur together. Neutral decorations, the smell of disinfectant, waking up in the middle of the night, wondering where on earth she was. Wondering if she really did hear the door lock snick open, and was that truly a shadow creeping about the room.
"I'll be home for Thanksgiving, Honey, and Christmas," she responded dryly. "How's everyone back in Sleepyside, New York?" Gleeps, she needed them all. At times, the darkness was overwhelming.
"Everyone is good. Mart is up for a promotion at the station, but the NYC stations are sniffing around, too. He doesn't know what's going to happen, but he's pretty stoked."
"Good for him! He's earned it. Would you mind if he took a job in the City?"
"No, not at all, Trix. I go there so frequently with my father, it's almost as if I work there, too." Honey managed the mergers and acquisitions function of her parents' company, Wheeler/Hart International, LLC.
"Bobby still madly in love with Jessie Lynch?" Bobby was Trixie's sixteen-year-old brother and seemed to have a crush on a different girl each week. Jessie Lynch, one of the year-younger Lynch twins, was the current object of his affections. How he could tell her from her identical sister, Shelley, was a total mystery to Trixie.
"Yes, it's too cute. Larry and Terry are none too thrilled about it." L and T were the other Lynch twins, the same age as Bobby, and they were friends forever.
"I can relate to having overprotective brothers!"
"Dan and Diana are doing well. She's finally adjusted to having a policeman as a spouse. Brian, I suppose, is cutting a swath through the nurses at New York-Presbyterian." Honey paused for a few seconds, wondering whether to mention Tad Webster. "Tad was asking about you the other day."
Trixie drew a sharp breath. "He can ask about me as much as he wants to. He is never going to get close to me again, ever."
"I know, Trix, but I just wanted to let you know. I'm sure that he's going to seek you out when you come home."
Trixie gave a weary sigh. "Seriously Honey, all that happened so long ago. Whatever feelings I had for him died when I walked in on him and Jane Morgan."
"I'm sure he realizes all that he gave up."
"Yeah, maybe. I don't know. It was nice while it lasted, but it's over."
"Is it over, Trix? You haven't let yourself get close to anyone ever since that happened. It's not good for you to immerse yourself in your job."
"I know you worry, Honey. It's not like I'm not looking for someone to share my life with; it's just that that person hasn't shown up yet. Maybe he'll never show up, and I'm good with that, too."
Honey hoped that Trixie couldn't hear her rolling her eyes on the other end of the conversation. Maybe it was time to try and start setting up some blind dates when her sister-in-law finally came home. She'd have to talk to Mart about it, see what he thought.
"On cheerier news, the City Council has turned down old Mr. Frayne's request to build a 10-foot-high stone fence around Ten Acres. Your dad was ecstatic."
"I feel sorry for him. Not my father, but old Mr. Frayne. The way he shut himself off after his wife died is not healthy."
"No, it isn't, but at least he has his family upstate. In the past few months, his nephew has been making more visits to the estate. Maybe they're trying to get him declared non-compos mentis."
"Oh, he'll shut them down quick enough! He may be eccentric, but he's not crazy. Some people just happened to handle grief differently than others. I can't tell you how many times I spoke to law enforcement officials and the first thing they said to me was that they suspected a child, a spouse, or significant other because they weren't hysterically crying upon the death of the victim. It's just such tunnel vision."
Honey frowned, dubious. "I don't know, Trix. The press is calling him the Howard Hughes of this century."
"Well, unless he has suddenly grown two-foot-long fingernails, I seriously doubt that. Anyway, I need to go transcribe my notes and grab a bite to eat. Love you, and see you soon."
"Love you too! Let me know when you're coming home."
Trixie placed her iPhone on the table next to her laptop, stood and walked to the window. She was rather lonely, even if she wouldn't admit it to anyone but herself. She thought about those long ago days; about school dances; her first kiss; and what she thought of as love at the time.
Really, if Tad did seek her out, she would have to thank him. Although she felt as if he crushed her heart when he cheated with Jane, after a few days she felt an overwhelming relief. She never realized how she built her whole life around him and suddenly she was free.
However, it still hurt. It made her question why she wasn't enough, what Jane possessed that she didn't. It wasn't that she wanted Tad back, no, far from it. It was the unsettling feeling that there was something in her that wasn't good enough to sustain love.
Instead, she threw herself into work and school, amazing herself as her innate natural abilities blossomed.
She placed a hand over her heart. San Quentin was not a happy place. It was dismal and dark and three thousand miles from home. The inmates that she was in the process of interviewing there were the darkest of the dark.
She was reminded of Friedrich Nietzsche's often quoted saying. Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster. For when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.
Right now, in this nondescript hotel room far from home, the abyss felt quite close.
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"Uncle James did what?" Jim couldn't believe his ears. There was always the possibility that he heard wrong.
"Uncle James gave permission to Rockefeller Center to cut down the big Norway spruce in the north part of the preserve. It will be the official tree for this Christmas season in New York City," Katie Frayne repeated.
"What's the matter, Jimmy? It's only a tree. There are tons more in the preserve." Those dulcet tones could only belong to his cousin, Juliana, who sauntered into the room in all her movie-star glamor. Juliana Maasden's parents died in a tragic car accident when she was around four. Katie Frayne, her maternal aunt, immediately adopted her and Jim went from being an only child to having a big sister.
Jules, as she was called by the family, used her family name when she pursued her career on the stage and screen. With her petite frame, blonde beauty, and undeniable talent, she rose to fame with her very first tiny part on a beloved television show.
Of course, along with the adulation of millions came the downside of fame: crazy fans, unrelenting paparazzi, and in-depth investigative reporting on her family, most of which was lies. Outside of the industry, she was Juliana Frayne.
"Because it's the Old Lady, Jules," Jim plopped on the chair, his handsome face frowning.
"I'll never get over your habit of naming trees," Juliana laughed. "The Old Lady, The General, Maverick."
Katie's eyebrows rose. "Maverick?"
"He said the bark resembled Tom Cruise's face in Top Gun."
Jim flushed a deep red, and Jules took pity on him. Not much, though. She wrapped a hand around his chin and squeezed. "You redheads! Always blushing!" She kissed the top of his head. "You know, I know people. I can get you into films," she whispered loudly.
Jim rolled his emerald green eyes, so unusual with red hair and so striking. "Thanks, but I don't think they want a stuffy old attorney butchering lines."
"Believe me, little brother, with the way you look, you could stand there and just look dumb. Don't you know, gingers are in?"
"Yeah. Sure." Jim rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Jules.
If only he knew how many times the tabloids had labeled him as the mysterious, handsome redhead accompanying me to on flights or whatever, he'd be mortified. He has no idea of how good-looking he really is.
"When are they coming for her, Mama?"
"They're there at the site now, doing the logistics of cutting it down and getting it transported to the City," Katie responded.
"I still don't know how they got to Uncle James," Jim grumbled.
"They asked your dad, who asked his uncle," Katie said. "Uncle James was pretty proud that the preserve was providing the tree. Aunt Nell used to make him go every year to the lighting. He asked her to marry him, there, such a romantic story," Katie sighed. "It would make a good movie, Jules."
"It would, Mama, but I have enough of my family being harassed because of my profession."
Jim pushed back from the table. "I'm going out there," he announced and left abruptly. Katie sighed after him. "I wish he'd find a girl to lavish all that affection he has stored up instead of on some old trees."
"He will, Mama." Jules grabbed a cup of coffee. "I'll be catching a ride with him back to the City, and I'll be back for Turkey Day."
"We're celebrating the holidays in the City this year, Juliana. Dad has a lot of business pending, and we want to see if Uncle James will come to the brownstone. He needs to get out of Ten Acres and start living again."
"Sounds great! I'll be staying there anyway until I finish filming Don't Go Breaking My Heart."
"Rom-com?"
Jules waggled her finely arched brows. "Is there any other kind?"
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The Old Lady was trussed up like a rotisserie chicken, Jim thought sourly. Her branches, instead of spreading proudly, were tied close to her trunk to avoid unnecessary damage to them. It was just lucky she was near one of the roads that crossed the preserve so that damage to other trees and habitats was minimal.
Two huge cranes were at the ready, noisy and spilling their awful diesel smell into the clean air. Jim pulled up on a ridge close to the action, got out of his Jeep and watched. There was an army of men at The Old Lady's base, doing careful calculations. She was taller than the maximum one hundred ten feet allowed by the City so there would be two cuts made: the one that felled her and the one that trimmed her to the proper length.
The cranes were hooked up, there was a loud shout, and the roar of the chainsaw began to intrude upon the peace of the preserve. Jim felt it, viscerally, when they touched the saw to The Old Lady's trunk and began to sever her from the earth.
He couldn't watch any longer and turned back to the house.
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Several hours later, in another time zone, Trixie Belden finished her interviews at San Quentin. Next was Atascadero State Hospital. This one was going to be tricky. She was interviewing several men who were committed to the facility with the verdict Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity.
Were they honestly insane, or just good fakers? It was her job to find out. Her rental car was already loaded as she hopped in to begin the nearly two-hundred-and-fifty-mile journey. A few days there, and she'd finally be able to get home.
Some days they didn't pay her enough to do this job.
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Several days later, New York City was an exciting, adrenaline-filled rush. The streets! The shops! The hordes of people always charging somewhere. The scream of sirens and the smell of roasting chestnuts; the neon flash of Broadway shows and the huge electric billboards in Times Square made for an exhilarating experience.
It was also a dangerous place. Not just human danger, like the swift pickpockets who worked the holiday shoppers from out of town, or the three-card monte dealers. As Juliana Maasden Frayne found out, there was danger in the exposed root of a tree as she was bopping down Madison Avenue dressed in a thin summer sundress. She only hoped her acting skills were enough so that moviegoers didn't realize she was freezing her quite nice tookus off.
It was a pivotal scene in the movie, the one where she stumbles upon her fiancé kissing another woman on the steps of one of the expensive, well-maintained brownstones. The scene was progressing well when that errant root caught at the toe of her strappy sandal and down she went.
Hard, on her ankle. It wasn't a case of the show must go on. It was a case of The Keystone Kops, as everyone and their brother rushed to her aid and saw the rapidly swelling extremity. The sheer pain of it all brought tears to her eyes.
"Get her to the hospital, Trish." Emilio Aquino, the director, commanded his personal assistant, as a production associate wrapped a blanket around Juliana's shivering form. "That's a wrap for Juliana's part of the scene, but we can continue with shots of Bryn and Dallas."
Bryn MacDougall was playing the woman kissing Jules' fiancé, and Dallas Wayne was the cheatin' lowlife in the film. They were hoping that the accident would delay filming in the unseasonable cold snap the City was experiencing, but they rolled their eyes and shrugged their shoulders. That was show biz. At least they got to huddle under some warm blankets with a cup of hot coffee while they bundled Jules off.
Trish had the foresight to call the hospital on the way there, so Juliana didn't have to sit in the crowded Emergency waiting area and be bothered by fans or photographers while she was in pain. They were hastened into a private examining room as a nurse came in to obtain information. If she was star-struck at having a real movie star to interview, well, it was just another day in the Big Apple.
Another hospital staffer knocked and entered with the ubiquitous plastic snap bracelets that allowed hospital personnel to scan information into the electronic record that would follow Jules as she progressed through the various departments. Trish snorted silently; she was sure that more than one staffer would peek in for a look at Juliana. It was just lucky the HIPAA laws prevented staffers from snapping pictures.
"You don't have to stay, Trish," Juliana told the bored-looking woman. "I'm sure Emilio needs you a lot more than I do."
"No, I'm sure he would want me to stay," Trish replied, a doubtful note in her cigarette-rasped voice.
"No, he needs you. This isn't the first time I've been in a hospital, and I'm certain I can take care of myself. I'll call him when I'm done here."
Trish handed Juliana the small backpack Jules used as a purse. One would think with all her money and connections, she'd be carrying a Prada or a Michael Kors, but it was a simple pink canvas one with a shark silkscreened on the front. "Okay. You're the boss. Your cell and wallet are inside."
As Trish left, a dark-haired man swept into the room. He was wearing blue scrubs and man, he was right out of Central Casting. Tall, well-built, with black, wavy hair, a face that rivaled the most handsome leading man in Hollywood, dark, nearly black eyes, and a look of concern on his handsome face. "Hello, Ms. Maasden. I'm Dr. Brian Belden. Would you mind telling me what happened? Then I'll look at that foot and we'll go from there."
For the first time in her life, Juliana Maasden Frayne was speechless.
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"Be careful, Jim. Dad and I will be down in the City in a few days." Katie Frayne admonished her son. It didn't matter that he was six-four and a man. To her, he was still her child.
"Yes, Mama. Jules is staying at the brownstone, right?"
"Uh-huh. I hope the press didn't find out where she's staying. I know the film company 'accidentally' leaked the fact she'd be staying at NU Hotel in Brooklyn." Katie amended the accidentally with air quotes. "I think they even have her stunt double doing decoy work."
"Good thinking on their part. I'll see you there, then, Mama." He leaned over and kissed the top of her head, giving her a squeeze at the same time. People meeting them for the first time were amazed that the petite, blonde-haired and blue-eyed Katje Vanderheiden Frayne gave birth to the strapping, red-headed, emerald-eyed giant.
Until they met Winthrop Frayne, that was.
When he stepped outside, his eyes went immediately to where The Old Lady once rose majestically into the sky, and he sighed. He'd have to visit her in the City. At least her death throes would be celebrated with 70,000 bright colored lights.
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"Ms. Maasden?" Brian tilted his head in the same manner as his inquisitive sister, had he known. Maybe she's in shock.
"Oh! Sorry, Dr. ah, Belden. I was filming over on Madison Ave and clumsily tripped over an exposed tree root. It didn't help that I was freezing to death at the time."
"Okay. Sit back and let me examine that ankle."
His long, gentle fingers probed the swelling, eliciting a gasp of pain. "You are going to have a colorful bruise there. Do you mind if I cut off your sandal?" Christian Louboutin. It was a sin.
"No, go right ahead." She watched him as he removed a pair of sterile scissors from one of the supply cabinets and snipped the straps digging into her much-abused flesh. The relief was immense.
Brian set aside the shoe and continued his examination. "I think you have a bad sprain, maybe even a hairline fracture, but I don't think it is anything that is going to require setting or surgery. I'm going to send you for x-rays. Depending on what the radiologist reports, I may send you for a CT scan, but I feel that's unlikely. I know you're in a lot of pain, but I don't want to give you anything right now. I'll send the nurse in with a cold pack to help reduce some of the swelling. Do you have any questions so far?"
"Ah, no. Thanks. Um, is there any way I can get back to filming?"
"Certainly not today. We'll have to see what the tests show, Ms. Maasden."
"Juliana."
"Juliana." Brian left the room to attend to the next patient. But he couldn't help grinning. She certainly was beautiful.
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Jim Frayne approached the old Victorian mansion with a sigh. Despite his great-uncle's wealth, the house was descending into disrepair. He knew his dad was trying to talk the old man into modernizing the place, but so far, Uncle James was stubbornly resisting. It was almost as if he wanted everything exactly how it was when Aunt Nell died.
He followed the long driveway to the back of the house, and it was there he noticed a window was open. Wide open. Fear went snaking down his spine. It was cold, and Uncle James was elderly and alone, out here in the country. And rich. Everyone knew it.
Maybe some enterprising crook broke into the house. Jim didn't wait to call 911. He crept toward the window, angling his tall frame inside. He stopped to listen and thought he heard a groan coming from the living room.
Without another thought for his safety, he made his way through the dilapidated and messy house. He peeked into the room and to his horror, saw his uncle prone on an old mattress and some young punk in a hoodie kneeling at his side.
Just then, the floorboard creaked, and the punk whirled around, grabbing a nearby shotgun and leveling it at Jim's chest. "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in this house?"
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Hours after she was escorted through the ER door, Jules was still in the hospital. She had been poked and prodded and x-rayed, and CT scanned. Blood was drawn, and she was really bored watching whatever passed for entertainment on the television these days. Luckily, she convinced one of the nurses she really needed to get the thick, theatrical makeup off her face. The nurse brought a basin filled with warm, soapy water and Jules removed the gook from her face.
It helped. She could breathe again, or rather, her skin could.
A tired Brian Belden, M.D., knocked and entered. "I'm so sorry we're running behind. Six car pileup on Broadway. The good news is, it's only a sprain. No hairline or other fracture. A bad sprain, but it's better than a fracture. The bad news is, you'll need to RICE."
"RICE?"
"Rest, Ice, Compression, and Elevate," Brian explained. "I'm going to wrap your foot in an elastic bandage, not too tight. You'll need to keep that on for twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Ice on and off every twenty minutes, and it's essential you keep off that foot for at least a week. If you must get around, we'll issue you crutches, but they can be tricky to use."
"I can use them. When I was first starting my career, I played a wounded victim of a serial killer who liked to amputate feet," Jules responded wryly.
"Oh, I remember that! Low budget horror… uh, Walk on By, right?"
"You saw it? You and the six other people who actually paid good money?"
"Hey, good crappy horror is hard to find!" Brian grinned at her, and a little flare of electricity popped, right in her gut. "You look different."
"One of the nurses was kind enough to bring me some soap and water so I could get all the makeup they slather on for films. I still need to cream my face to get the rest of it off. I'm sure I resemble a rabid raccoon."
"No, you look beautiful." Brian reddened. Of course, she knew that! "Uh, I'm not going to write you a prescription for narcotic painkillers. You can take ibuprofen if it starts to ache badly. One of the nurses will be in shortly with discharge instructions. Follow-up with your doc in a week or so."
He's shy, she realized as he bent his head and began to wrap her foot. "I have a problem," she confided.
"Hmmm?"
"Well, it's pretty late, and I'm sure they wrapped filming by now. When I got here, one of the studio people was with me, and she arranged it so that I was whisked in here so the paparazzi wouldn't swarm the building. If I walk out the front door, there will be hell to be in a matter of minutes."
"I'm going off shift, do you want to share a cab? By the time I write up your orders and they check you out, we can leave by the employee entrance."
"Dr. Belden… Brian… that's so nice of you! My problem is a little more complex. See the studio leaked that I would be staying at the NU Hotel in Brooklyn. They don't know my parents have a place here in the City because it's under my great-uncle's name. If I take a cab there… well, loose lips and all that."
An idea popped into Brian's brain, and would not be dismissed. Sighing, he lifted his head and stared into lovely, worried blue eyes. "Why don't you come home with me?"
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Jim's temper flared at the audacity of the punk holding the gun on him. The Famous Frayne Temper immediately went into overdrive. "Who am I? Who are you? What are you doing here in my uncle's house?"
"Mr. Frayne is a relative? What's your name?"
"James Winthrop Frayne II. Jim. What the hell is going on here?"
The figure placed the gun on the floor, and the hood slipped back. Hell, it wasn't some punk. It was a woman. The bluest eyes he had ever seen stared straight into his. "I'm Trixie Belden. My family lives on the farm next door, Crabapple Farm. I came to check on your uncle. When he didn't answer, I went around back and broke in. I found him here on the floor. Do you have a cell phone?"
It was dizzying trying to keep up with the blonde whirlwind. "Yeah, why?"
"I think I left mine home or dropped it when I climbed in the window. Can you call 911? He's not breathing well, and his chest sounds wheezy. I think he might have pneumonia."
Jim whipped out his cell and made the call, no questions asked. As he did, his emerald gaze dropped to the floor where Trixie… was that what she said? Where Trixie was kneeling next to the old man, whispering gentle words to him and trying to make him comfortable.
"The dispatcher told me the ambulance would be here shortly. How long has he been like this?"
"I'm not sure, Jim. I just got in this morning from a business trip out to the West Coast. He's a crotchety old thing, and I usually check on him a couple times a week."
"Who are you calling crotchety, young lady?" James Frayne's voice sounded thready and weak.
"I'm calling you crotchety, old man. Now you listen to me, and you listen well. The ambulance is coming, they are going to take you to the hospital and get you all fixed up right and tight. When you come home, there's going to be some changes made around here. I'm sure that Aunt Nell would be most unhappy to see how you've let the house go. You certainly got enough money to get it fixed up. You might not listen to your nephew here or his dad, but you're going to listen to me."
The only man snorted. "So you think!" The word set off a fit of coughing, and Trixie did all she could to help the spasms stop.
"He doesn't sound well at all," Jim worried. "I hope the ambulance gets here soon."
"One of the problems of living outside of town. Why are you here?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but I was headed down to New York City from the family farm up near Rochester for business purposes. I thought I would stop in and see Uncle James."
Trixie's temper fired at that. She stood up in all her 5'3" glory and let loose. "I think I have every right. Your father stops here very rarely. I don't think I've ever seen you around here. Instead, you leave it to his neighbors to make sure he's okay. The least you could've done is buy him a damn life alert."
Man, she was spectacular when she was in a temper! Those blonde curls quivered around her outraged face in those magnificent eyes spit hot blue fire. There was a smattering of light golden freckles across her pert nose, and her full lips were pink and eminently kissable. And she filled out that hoodie in a breathtaking manner.
"I really don't think we should be arguing over a sick man," Jim snarked. She might be gorgeous and everything he ever dreamt of, but damn, she was a firecracker.
Trixie turned her pert little nose up in the air, and even though he had a foot on her, she looked down on him. "I agree. Our priority should be to get Mr. Frayne the medical attention he so desperately requires."
The ambulance arrived shortly after that, interrupting their fraught silence and surreptitious glances at each other. "I'll follow you in my car," Jim said wearily.
"Are you sure you should be driving in your condition? You look like you're about to keel over." Trixie didn't want to, but her innate sense of honor and fair play bounced to the fore. "How about if I drive you? They're going to have questions at the hospital, and I don't think you're going to have answers."
He wanted to say no. He didn't want to lean on her any more than necessary. But it wouldn't help his uncle if he got into an accident on the way to the hospital. He rolled his eyes and agreed grudgingly.
They watched as the crew competently hooked up an IV line and bundled the old man into the waiting ambulance, speeding down the long driveway and onto Glen Road. "My car's next-door at Crabapple Farm," Trixie explained.
"How do you propose to get there? Exit the same window you entered?" Jim couldn't help his sarcastic reply.
"It is closer to the property line. However, the keys are on the hall table. You go and close the window while I go and fiddle with the door. It sticks, you know."
No, I didn't know, he fumed as he slammed the back window shut. God, how could anyone live like this?
Trixie was waiting for him as she promised. "Watch yourself on the front porch. There are a couple of loose floorboards." She pulled the door shut and locked it. "What I wouldn't do for a can of WD-40 right now!" She turned to the handsome redhead watching her intently. "Come on Jim, we better get over to Crabapple Farm."
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Juliana's eyes widened at Brian's question. He turned a brilliant shade of red. "It's not what you think!" Brian hastened to add. "I sublet an apartment from my sister-in-law's parents. It's a huge place compared to most apartments in the City, and I have much more room than I need."
"I couldn't impose on you like that," Jules responded. The little voice inside her head had a differing opinion. Oh yes, you can.
"If it helps any, you know I'm a doctor here. My brother, Mart, is an investigative reporter for the local news in Westchester County. He's married to Honey Wheeler, and it's her parents who are allowing me to use their NYC apartment."
"Wheeler? As in Wheeler/Hart, LLC, the global conglomerate? Hart to Heart Productions is financing this film! You sure hang around in rarified circles, Brian Belden, M.D."
Brian shrugged. "We all grew up together. Honey, my sister, Diana Lynch Mangan, and Dan, her husband. It never seemed to matter a lot to us."
"Okay. You've got yourself a deal."
"I'll send a nurse in with some scrubs you can wear. In case you didn't notice, your dress is pretty torn up."
"Thanks. Thank you, Brian, although you might live to regret this."
"I don't think so. Gus, my cab driver, is a great guy and he wouldn't say sh… crap if he had a mouthful. See you soon."
Jules pulled out her cell phone and called Emilio. He was not pleased. "It took you long enough to call!"
"You know how it is in hospitals. Hurry up and wait. I have a bad sprain, and I should stay off the foot for a day or two. Can you film around me?"
A string of profanities greeted her words, followed by silence and an apology. "We'll have to, I guess. I'll substitute the scenes of Heather and Blake secretly meeting at the restaurant." In the film, that was right before her character found them kissing in front of the brownstone, a galvanizing moment in the film. "Do you need me to send a car to get you?"
"No, everything is good. I'll give you a call tomorrow. Right now, my foot is killing me."
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A half hour later, she was dressed in ill-fitting scrubs and was being wheeled out to the waiting taxi. By this time it was dark, and thankfully, there were no waiting photographers to catch her ungainly exit. Brian got her settled in, smiled at the driver and they took off.
"Are you hungry?"
"I'm starving, and my damn foot is killing me."
"I'll call out for a pizza, how does that sound? You can take a couple of ibuprofen after you eat, they're hell on the stomach lining."
Jules leaned back on the seat and closed her eyes. "Pizza sounds like heaven, and I'd give anything for the pain to stop." She drew in a breath and blew it out, trying to visualize blowing all her upset and chagrin with it. "Thanks again, and sorry for being such an unpleasant companion."
Brian smiled wryly. "You ain't got nuthin' on my little sister when she lets her temper loose."
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Jim followed Brian's not so little sister to the back of Ten Acres and through a small almost indiscernible path between the overgrown bushes that marked the property line. Even with all the craziness that was currently going on, he had a deep, male appreciation of the way her hips swayed.
He kind of expected her to lead him to a Honda Civic or Toyota Corolla. Instead, she led him to the huge Hummer parked in the driveway. The damn thing looked like a tank. "Kind of a big car for a pint of peanuts like you."
"Yeah, well, I'm surprising in many ways." Not the least of which was spending most of her time in prisons talking to the worst of the worst offenders.
"Do you live here?" When Trixie turned the lights on and pulled out of the long driveway, he saw the charming, white rambling farmhouse. It looked like something out of middle America. He half expected to see an older man standing on the porch with a pitchfork and his deadpan wife standing next to him.
"Part-time. It's my parents' house. I'm either here, or in a small apartment I have in the City. When I'm home, that is." Truth to tell, Trixie was getting tired of living out of a suitcase. The next two months were going to be spent collating her notes and transcribing her interviews.
And trying to regain some of the joy of living.
"What exactly do you do for a living?" When the interior light flashed on in the car, Jim saw the jumble of books and papers back there. Sexual Homicide, Patterns, and Motives was not exactly easy reading.
"I work with the NSA, in a section that specializes in deciphering why criminals and terrorists become criminals and terrorists. My job is to interview convicted serial killers and people convicted of terror crimes to see if we can learn any additional information that would help law enforcement to apprehend these criminals quicker and to identify patterns that develop early on in life."
"Ah. Nature versus nurture. I don't think that it's an argument that can be won by either side. But why you?"
"What do you see when you look at me?"
"A petite, pretty girl." Jim didn't want to say more; he knew a possible trap when he saw it.
"I don't know so much about the pretty part, but I'm non-threatening. In fact, I fit some of the killers' victimology. They find it easier to open up to me than to some hulking FBI agent secretly smirking because they finally got the bad guy behind bars." Trixie paused for a moment. "Now that you know all about me, what about you? What do you do?"
"My dad and I have pretty much taken over the day to day operations of JWF, Inc. I'm a corporate attorney."
"I'm always fascinated by the fact that some law students choose to go the corporate attorney route rather than get out there and prosecute criminals."
"I think, Trixie, that you have to have a real passion for doing that."
By this time, she was turning into the parking lot for Sleepyside Medical Center, a grand name for a smallish facility. "Well, here we are. Emergency is right over this way. Let's go see what Mr. Frayne is up to. I wouldn't be surprised if he were trying to convince the nurses that he wasn't sick at all."
Jim smiled when Trixie was greeted by name by the receptionist on duty. "They took him in the back, Trix. Bed three." Connie eyed Jim up and down. "Who's your friend?"
"Old Mr. Frayne's great-nephew. Thanks, Connie." Trixie rolled her eyes. It wasn't enough that Connie had the pick of doctors working in the hospital. She had an eye for fine man flesh, too.
True to Trixie's word, James Frayne was insisting that nothing was wrong with him. All while he coughed a lung up. Jim was tired and cold and damn hungry. If his family had been there, they would have recognized the twin spots of dull red on those high cheekbones.
"You listen here, Uncle James. You will do what the doctors and nurses tell you to do, be a good sport about it and quiet down so they can help. I'm tired of everyone pussyfooting around you and caving into your silly demands. It's time to get back to living."
Uncle James stared up at the man who resembled his beloved nephew, Win. The collected medical personnel held their breaths, wondering if the old goat was going to go ballistic. Instead, he smiled through his oxygen mask and his faded green eyes twinkled. "Got gumption, boy." And because he was tired and sick and realized he didn't want to join Nell quite yet, he stopped struggling.
"It's a November miracle!" Trixie laughed, bending over to give his dry cheek a soft kiss. "I'll be in the waiting room, Jim. You're family. You should be here with him."
Uncle James didn't say anything, just reached out a hand and took hers, tugging her next to him. "You want me to stay?"
He nodded and closed his eyes, still holding her hand.
Jim observed the interaction between his crusty great uncle and the beautiful girl next door. She was looking down at the still figure on the bed, her eyes gently tender.
And he found himself wishing he had someone to gaze at him with the same fond expression.
Of course, it was the same old story. Waiting and waiting while innumerable tests were run and results were tallied. In the end, the ER doc pulled them aside to talk.
"He's got pneumonia, both lungs, always dangerous in a man his age. He's run-down and dehydrated. We're going to admit him to the hospital and start antibiotics and hydration. He's a tough old bird and a fighter. Right now, he's sleeping." The Doc paused, taking measure of the tall man with red hair and green eyes. "You're his great-nephew, correct?"
"Yes, I am."
"I'd suggest either getting a live-in aide for him or one of those emergency response alert systems, Mr. Frayne."
"I'll talk to my father. He has more sway with Uncle James than I do."
The next hour or so was spent getting Uncle James into his room, answering even more questions, and finally escaping into the parking lot. By then Jim was yawning and set Trixie off on her own set of yawns and a round of schoolgirl giggles. By the time she turned into the driveway at Crabapple Farm, Jim was sound asleep.
Trixie turned and examined him in a way that hadn't been possible before. He sure was handsome, with that blazing hair and those freckles that made her want to lick them off to see if they tasted as sweet as the appeared.
He was well-built, too, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and those long, long legs. Big hands and big feet, she snickered to herself, and you know what that means! He stirred a bit, and she placed a hand on his arm, rock hard, and shook. "Jim? We're at the farm."
He opened those sleepy, but still dazzling, emerald eyes, confused. Where am I? His gaze focused on the beautiful blonde with her hand still on his arm, and he felt a tingle start there and spread throughout.
"We're back at the farm, Jim. You're exhausted. Why don't you come into the house with me? We have a guest bedroom downstairs you can use to get some sleep. I don't think you should drive into the City in your condition, and I need some sleep myself."
She didn't have to argue. There certainly wasn't anywhere he could sleep in the mess that was Ten Acres. "Okay, Trixie. Lead on."
He followed her through the back door, into a mud room, and following that a charming country kitchen. "Feel free to raid the refrigerator. We have bottled water, and I'm sure there's some lemonade in there."
"Thanks."
"The bathroom is over here, and here is the guest room." Trixie threw open the heavy, old-fashioned mahogany door. Inside was a brass, queen-size bed with an heirloom quilt and masses of pillows. There was a flat screen television mounted on the wall and an alarm clock on one of the nightstands that were stationed on either side of the bed. At the foot was what used to be called a hope chest.
"I'm not sure if you brought your phone charger with you, but if you have an iPhone, there's a charger that we keep down here. It's in the top drawer of the nightstand. I'm sure you're exhausted and worried about your uncle. We really should go to bed." Trixie suddenly realized what she said, and the hated rose blush bloomed on her cheeks. "You know what I mean," she rolled her eyes.
"Even though that was a most tempting invitation," Jim smiled. "I'm not sure I would have the energy to take you up on it. Thanks, Trixie. Thanks for taking care of Uncle James and thanks for all your help today."
"No problem Jim. Have a great night. If you need anything, I'm the first room at the top of the stairs on the left."
Jim eyed the bed. Yeah, he could really respond to that. What he'd really like to do would be to crawl into that oasis of comfort with her next to him. As tempting as it was to think about making love to her, it wouldn't be for that. It would just be for the pleasure of having a warm body next to his.
She gave him a quick grin as she left and shut the door. Jim stripped down to his underwear, placed his phone on the nightstand and crawled under the covers. There was going to be hell to pay tomorrow when he confronted his father about the state of affairs at Ten Acres. It was time someone took charge there, and that someone was going to be him.
He grabbed a pillow and placed his arm around it, and as he fell asleep, he couldn't help wishing that it was the irresistible, beautiful, blue-eyed blonde who took him to task in his uncle's house.
Trixie leaned back against the door once she had it firmly shut. Oh, gleeps. James Winthrop Frayne the second certainly stirred up some long-forgotten hormones. However, he was off to New York City and all the corporate intrigue that entailed running a huge, private company.
It would've been nice, though.
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It was certainly coincidental how to members of the Frayne family ended up spending a lot of time in the emergency room on the same day, miles apart. Juliana waited in the taxi while Brian ran into a pizzeria and picked up dinner. When he jumped back into the car, the delicious scent of pepperoni pizza made her stomach rumble.
"Well, at least you know I haven't lost my appetite!" She had to giggle, remembering how many times loud stomach noises halted filming.
"And it's a good thing. When's the last time you ate?"
"Oh, God, I think I had a protein smoothie for breakfast. It seems like weeks ago. I don't like to film on a full stomach," she explained. "It's not that I'm worried about my weight or one of those Hollywood people who go to the bathroom after every meal. It's just a quirk I guess."
"Gus, can you go around to the service entrance, please? There's entirely too many people coming and going, Juliana. I don't want someone to see you, and before you know it, the entire press Corp. will be stationed outside."
"Sure thing, Dr. Brian. And don't worry about me. I won't breathe a word of it, not even to my wife."
A few minutes later, the taxi pulled into the driveway that led to the service entrance of the large apartment building. "Mr. Wheeler owns this building and several apartments in it. He often has either family or out-of-town business associates or guests staying here. The family has special key cards that allow us to enter back here when we don't want to deal with the press." Brian had a credit-card-sized electronic key. "Do you need help?"
Well, that was a stupid question. Of course, she did. He jumped out of the car and put the pizza on the roof, assisting Juliana out. There was a ramp up to the entrance, and Brian made a snap decision.
He just gathered her up in his arms, to her surprised "Ooof!" swung the crutches over a forearm, and asked her to hold onto the pie.
Well, it was efficient.
Later, in the privacy of one of the huge bedrooms in the apartment that took up an entire floor, Jules just had to sigh. I may be starring in a silly romantic comedy with manufactured situations, but oh my! She fanned herself. Being carried over the threshold by a hot, young doctor certainly was swoon-inducing.
They shared the pizza, a couple of Cokes, and he gave her some Advil; it dialed down the pain in her ankle to a tolerable level. It was funny how she felt so completely at home with him as they talked and laughed. He told her funny stories about medical school, and she regaled him with film set mishaps. When she began to yawn, he helped her to the lovely room.
"My sister lived here for a while a few months back when her apartment was being fumigated. She's not much into girly stuff, but I know she left some face cleanser in the bathroom. I brought you one of my t-shirts to, um, sleep in. If you need anything, just give me a yell. I'm a light sleeper, all those years as an intern and resident on 72-hour call."
"Okay, Brian and thank you. I really appreciate this."
"Glad to help. Good night." He almost wished she would say she's scared and lonely and wouldn't he care to cuddle?
"Good night." When he shut the door, she flopped back on the bed. Man, he was gorgeous. Now to find out if he was available.
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Jim stood in front of Rockefeller Center's famous skating rink. They had the Old Lady there, still trussed like Little Nell on the railroad tracks, only Snidely Whiplash was a corporation instead of a mustachioed creep. The Old Lady had scaffolding all around her. He shook his head sadly. She was so much more beautiful back in the preserve.
He left early in the morning after a rather restless night. It wasn't that the bed wasn't comfortable, or the room warm and inviting. It was the blonde upstairs. He found his thoughts turning to her again and again. Was she seeing someone? Did she sleep in those Victoria's Secret-type transparent baby dolls? Were they real?
Jim, an early riser by nature, grabbed a shower and left her a thank-you note. He tried to remember where the path was between Ten Acres and Crabapple Farm but just ended up creating a new one in the dark, accompanied by a few muffled curses.
There were going to be some changes here. First, he was going to hire a cleaning crew. He'd get Mama down to supervise since she'd have to come down in any case. Next, he'd hire a general contractor who specialized in restoration to do the repair work. The old place was a glorious example of Victorian architecture if it was renovated.
And then he'd find a way to see Ms. Trixie Belden and find out if all those dreams he had really were prescient.
Trixie awoke slowly with a feeling of anticipation. That's right. Jim Frayne, delicious red-haired, supple hunk, had spent the night in the guest room. She threw on a robe and hurried downstairs, only to be disappointed by an open bedroom door and a propped up note on the kitchen table.
Trixie:
Thanks for the hospitality! I hope we can start off on a new foot. I saw your cell phone number posted on the fridge and entered it in my phone. I'd like to take you out to dinner sometime. My number is 212-555-3939.
Fondly,
Jim
His handwriting was bold and slashing… and fondly? Just what did that mean? He wants to take me out! Gleeps! She hadn't been this excited in a long time.
But, time was flitting by, and she had things to accomplish before going home to her flat in the City. She straightened the house and stripped the guest bed, but not before holding the bedding to her face and inhaling his scent. Deep and woodsy, and oh, so manly. By two she was packed and ready to head out.
As she opened the back door to leave, both she and Tad Webster jumped. He had his hand poised to knock, and she wasn't expecting a guest. Especially not him.
"Hey, Trix," he smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corner.
"Hi, Tad. I was just on my way out. Do you need something?"
"I need to talk to you. Please."
Trixie rolled her eyes but did not invite him in. "So, talk." She sat on the porch swing and looked up into the face she once thought she would die without.
"Trix, everything that happened between us… it was a long time ago. I was just a kid. I still care for you, I always cared for you." Soulful, puppy-dog eyes begged her to understand.
"You sure had a funny way of showing it, Tad."
"I'm sorry, really sorry, Trixie. I never meant to hurt you. Can you ever forgive me?" He sat next to her and took her hand, his fingers warm against the coldness there.
Trixie gently extricated her hand. "I forgave you a long time ago, Tad. But, if you're really asking can we get back together, then the answer is no. It will always be no." When he started to interrupt, she held up a hand. "I thought I loved you. I thought I would die without you. But I didn't. Life went on and I realized you gave me a gift." The smile she gave him was radiant.
"A gift? How could my peccadillo with Jane be a gift?" Damn, this wasn't going in the direction he wanted.
"Because it gave me courage, Tad. It made me find me. It made me realize there was more out there than just you and Sleepyside. And for that, I'm grateful. But as to resuming any sort of relationship… no. The day I saw you with Jane is the day it ended. I told you. I can forgive anything, but that."
"Aw, Trix…"
She stood and patted his head as if he was a dog. "I have to get going. See you around, Tad." He watched the sway of her hips as she walked to her car and kicked the post on the porch.
Man. He'd always wonder why he let her get away.
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Jules woke the next morning, refreshed after a great night of sleep. Her ankle was throbbing, but nothing too unmanageable. It was strange, how comfortable she felt in this fabulous apartment with handsome Dr. Belden. Safe and protected.
A knock at the door interrupted her musings. "Come in." She arranged the blankets around her; she was rather old-fashioned that way. No nudity for her!
Thus, the tabs were frothing at the page to get that picture of her climbing out of a car with her dress up to there or sunbathing topless.
Ain't gonna happen.
Brian poked his head in, saw she was awake. A giant grin made him even more devastatingly handsome. "Morning, Juliana! How's the ankle this morning?" He entered balancing a tray.
"It hurts, but not too bad, Brian. Thanks. What's all this?"
"Breakfast and a cold pack." He placed the tray over her legs, and she was immediately assaulted by the delicious scent. A small bowl of oatmeal with berries; glass or orange juice; and a cup of coffee, black with a pitcher of milk and sugar packets.
"You didn't have to do this, you know. But I'm glad you did." She watched as he flipped the blanket away from her foot and placed the cold pack on it.
"You need to eat. I came in during the night to check on you and change the cold pack. You were out like a light!"
"No wonder my ankle feels so much better this morning. Thank you." Jules shrugged her shoulder. "All I keep saying is thank you. It seems so inadequate."
"Hey, how can I resist the woman who escaped the foot fetishist in Walk on By? I must have watched that a million times." Mainly because of you.
Jules giggled. "You'll never let me forget that horrible movie."
"It was great." Brian turned serious. "I'm off rotation for the next several days. But, I should let you know the news this morning was full of speculation about your whereabouts. The press is full-on rabid. Lots of rumors circulating, as usual."
"Oh, rats. Rats, rats, rats!" Jules put her spoon down and took a sip of coffee.
"I have a suggestion. You can stay here until it's safe for you to go home."
"But what about clothes? I can't keep using all your t-shirts!" Oh, yeah. She was not going to look this gift horse in the mouth!
Brian wanted to respond that she could use every single t-shirt he owned. "My sister, Trixie, is back in town. How about if I send her over to your house to pick up some clothes?"
"Sounds great! My brother, Jim, should be home, but he may be at the office. I'll call my personal assistant and have her meet your sister there. Jackie can gather up some things for me and give them to your sister."
"Won't the press follow her?"
"No, she keeps strictly to the background. They don't even know I have a PA."
"Sounds like a plan. I'll leave you to finish eating. Then, it's time for an ibuprofen, I'll unwrap your foot so you can shower or bathe."
"Okay, Brian. Sir." Jules saluted him, and a tiny part of her wondered what it would be like if she invited him to join her in the tub.
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The insistent ringing of her cell phone had Trixie muttering. "All right! All right!" If it was work, she was going to tell the NSA where to shove it. She was tired, she hadn't been home in weeks, and she needed time away from the abyss. Lots of time.
She glanced at the caller ID. Brian. "Hey, Brian, why the early morning call?"
"And good morning to you too, Trix."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. What's up." She ran a hand through her unruly curls.
"I need a favor."
"What kind of favor?"
"I need you to swing by a friend's house to pick up some clothes. She had an accident, and she's staying with me for a few days."
"She?"
"It's a long story." Brian glanced around his living room as if the walls had grown ears. "It's Juliana Maasden. She sprained her foot on the set yesterday."
"The movie star? That Juliana Maasden?"
"Yeah. Her family has a brownstone not too far from you. She's having her PA pack a bag for her if you would be so kind as to bring it here. The press doesn't know about the house since it's under whatever her family name is and not her stage name."
"I'm sure there's a long story there, Dr. Belden. One that you are going to spill in return for getting your girlfriend's clothes."
"She's not my girlfriend!" Not yet, anyway.
"Just tell me when and where," Trixie sighed, looking at the mounds of tapes and notes she had yet to dig into.
A few hours later, she passed by Rockefeller Center. Workmen swarmed the area, preparing for the upcoming Christmas season. The huge tree was the centerpiece of it all, surrounded by scaffolding. The branches were slowly unfurling after being trussed up for so long, and it looked as if it was going to be a real stunner this year. In fact, Trixie was watching the activity without paying attention to where she was walking and…
"Oof!" She collided with hard, masculine body. Only the quick reflexes of the man she bumped into prevented her from tumbling to the ground. "Oh, gleeps! I'm so sorry. I…" She stared up and up into a familiar, smiling face.
"Well, Ms. Belden, we meet again under unusual circumstances." Jim Frayne kept his hands on her, steadying her.
"Well, Mr. Frayne, so we do. You know the old saying. If you stand on a street corner in New York City, sooner or later you'll see someone you know." She grinned up at him. "How is your uncle? And what are you doing here in Rockefeller Center?"
"Uncle James is doing remarkably better, the old goat. My mother is up at Ten Acres, supervising a cleaning team. Once the house is cleared out, we'll begin renovations. She's been to see him and used her charm to help him to capitulate."
"Good going! Just be careful of the mattress he has in the living room, the one you saw him sleeping on. Rumor has it he keeps a lot of cash sewn up in there."
"I let Mama know. And to answer your other question," he gestured at the tree. "The tree is from my family's preserve upstate. I call her the Old Lady. I was not exactly happy when my uncle donated her here."
Trixie glanced over at the tree again, her blue eyes softening. "She's beautiful, Jim. I can see why you're saddened."
Jim Frayne had the thrilling experience of watching her in profile. She's gorgeous. He cleared his throat, caught in her effortless spell. "I'm glad we bumped into each other."
Trixie turned to him, a rose flush highlighting her cheeks Had he ever seen eyes that intensely blue? "You mean when I ran into you."
"I was trying to be a gentleman about it." A lopsided, charming grin lit his face. "I was going to call you. Ah, would you like to have dinner with me? Tonight, say about seven?"
"I'd love to, Jim."
"Okay, I'll pick you up. What's your address?" Yes, the world was looking much, much brighter as she gave him the information. "I thought maybe Thai? There's that little place…"
"Uncle Boons? Love it. I'll be ready."
"See you then." He wanted to kiss her goodbye. He wanted to pull on that one curl that spiraled down to her chest, just to see if it was as springy and soft as it looked. Instead, he settled for a hot look and a smile.
"See you." She hurried up the street, late for her meeting at Juliana Maasden's house. Jim had the distinct pleasure of watching the sway of her hips and the bouncing off those delicious curls and sighed. He glanced up at the Old Lady. "She is beautiful and kind and smart, isn't she?" And somehow, seeing a part of his life towering over the skating rink didn't seem quite as bad as it had earlier.
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Jules was sitting up in the living room when Trixie arrived with her suitcase. "You don't look anything like Brian," she smiled. The other woman was petite, with long, curly blonde hair, porcelain skin, and the bluest eyes Jules had ever seen. And to be honest. Jules liked her on sight. She wasn't in awe of Jules' movie star status, and it was just so refreshing.
"No, he's the only one in the family that takes after our dad. Our other two brothers and I take after our mom." Trixie liked Jules. She wasn't pretentious at all, or full of herself or glancing down at her phone every second. She was present, and that counted for a lot.
"You know, you're just my brother's type," Jules mused out loud. Jim had a penchant for lively blondes, and Trixie certainly fit the bill.
"I didn't realize you had a brother," Trixie said, surprised. "But, I'm kinda seeing someone."
"News to me, Trix," Brian inserted, frowning.
"New to me, too." She stuck out her tongue.
Jules had to laugh. "I do have a younger brother, Trixie. I don't allow journalists into my private family matters. I wanted to be the star, not them."
"I'm glad you protect them," Trixie smiled. "You'd be surprised at how many criminals out there target families of celebrities." She glanced at her watch. "I need to get going. I want to check in at the office, and I need to start transcribing and analyzing my tapes and notes."
"All right, Trixie. Thanks for getting my stuff."
"No problem." Trixie flashed her quick grin as Brian walked her to the door. "I like her, Brian. Don't mess this up."
Brian rolled his eyes. "There's nothing to mess up, Trix."
"Mark my words, brother dear. There will be." With that, she kissed him on the cheek and scooted out.
Brian shut the door after her and considered his words. Was it possible that someone like Juliana Maasden could be attracted to an ordinary guy like him?
God, he hoped so.
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Jim and Trixie's first date went well. In fact, it went so well, they immediately made a second date. And a third. And a fourth. All around them, the City was awakening to the magic of Christmas. Decorations were being placed; storefronts were full of poinsettias, Santas, and glittery ornaments. Menorahs and dreidels sprouted with the blue and silver that signified Chanukah. The smell of roasting chestnuts and pine boughs filled the air.
Christmas in New York City. It was breathtaking.
Thanksgiving was for family, though. Trixie and Brian headed home to Sleepyside, leaving their hearts in New York. Jim, Juliana and a now recovered Uncle James spent the day in the brownstone. James was amazed at the changes that had passed him by since Nell passed on. For a while he fretted, thinking he was leaving her memory behind, until the night he dreamed of her.
She looked as beautiful and young as the day they married. She waggled a finger in front of him. "James, what have you been thinking, locking yourself away in Ten Acres like that. I'm surprised and disappointed in you! Get out there and live, darling. Life is a gift."
"I didn't want to dishonor your memory, my love."
"You're doing that by shutting yourself away from everything and everyone you love, darling. We'll be together again, I promise. Love is eternal, you know. Jim and Juliana are finding that out! You're going to be there for some important days, and I'll be there, too, watching. Live, James. Do it for me. Most of all, do it for yourself."
During dinner, Katie Frayne broached the subject on her mind for the past several days. "So, Jules, tell me about the movie and just where you have been staying all this time?" Her children were adults, Katie recognized that, but still, she was curious.
Jules blushed. "I met someone, Mama. It's still new and exciting, and he isn't in the business. I've been staying with him." Oh, yes. But she wasn't in a guest bedroom any longer. And Brian was an excellent lover. She was in love with him, all of him, even if he squeezed the toothpaste in the middle.
Even Emilio was pleased with her. Juliana was glowing, and the scenes between her and Tayler Zermanil as the new guy were incandescent. Damn if this stupid little rom-com wasn't Oscar-worthy.
"And you, Jim?" Win Frayne just had to join the Spanish Inquisition. That was the best part of being a parent.
Making your kids squirm for all the times they were with you and yelled, "Hey, Daddy, that woman's vagina is showing!" when it was just a gust of wind and panties. Or, asking loudly in a crowded room, "What's a virgin?"
Jim smiled, that lopsided grin he inherited from his dad. "I met someone, too." He didn't elaborate, but those emerald green eyes held secrets. He was spending more and more time at Trixie's place. More and more time in her bed. More and more time daydreaming about her. Meeting for a quick lunch by the Old Lady one or two times because they couldn't get through the day without seeing each other.
Uncle James piped up then. "We've been invited to the lighting of the tree," he announced. "The family that donated the tree is always invited. Feel free to bring your boyfriend and girlfriend."
Juliana frowned. "I'm not sure that's wise. We'd be exposing them to the press."
"Jules, he'll have to get used to it if this is serious," Katie stated. "I don't think we'll be front and center. They usually have some celebrity or dignitary pressing the button to light the tree."
"I'll think about it, Mama. You too, Jim. We need to think about it."
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Back at Crabapple Farm, Brian and Trixie were being subjected to the same interrogation. Moms had forgone her usual open house to have a family dinner, and the stretchy walls of the farmhouse were stretched to capacity with family.
"Lucky they built dining rooms in the old days to hold a crowd," Maddie Wheeler said, laughing. This was so much better than dinner in some cold, impersonal restaurant.
"So, Brian, how is it dating a movie star?" Mart asked. This was the scoop of a lifetime, but his lips were zipped. He knew he could get a job at any NYC television network with this info, but he wouldn't. By the look in his brother's eyes and the note in his voice when he spoke about Juliana, this was serious. And this was family.
"It's just like dating anyone else. She can turn it off when she has to. We've been out and about several times and she hasn't been recognized." He knew all that would change someday, just as he might be known as Mr. Maasden.
That is if he could convince her that marrying a harried ER doc was the best thing to do.
"And how about you, Trix?" Honey whispered. "You seem awfully busy lately."
"And I, unlike brother dear here, am not going to say one word about him. Except he's tall, redheaded and handsome." Trixie's eyes took on a dreamy look.
"And she's a goner," Diana smiled. "I know that look. I saw in every day in the mirror before I married Dan."
"And you still have it every day," he added, sneaking a quick kiss. "So do I."
Trixie just grinned and went back to eating. She'd be back in New York City tomorrow, and back in his arms. Just where she needed to be.
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"Hey, baby, I have something to ask you." Jim was lounging in bed. It used to be her bed. Now they both thought of it as their bed.
"Hmm?" She was running a pick through her bouncy curls. He loved watching her do it. There was something so intimate about it, something that touched his soul.
"Remember I told you that the Old Lady came from my family's preserve up north?"
"Yup. She's almost ready to be lit."
"Well, they always invite the family to the lighting. My parents, sister, maybe her boyfriend, Uncle James and I will be there. And I want you to be there, too."
Trixie turned to him. "Jim, are you sure? It seems like that's more for family." Meet his parents and sister? Butterflies began to flutter in her abdomen.
"I really want you there, Trixie. There's one thing, though, you should know before you say yes."
"Oh, gleeps, Jim, don't tell me you have kids or a wife or anything," she teased.
"No. But, I do have a famous sister. If you decide to go, I'm sure the press will be there. You'll end up in the tabs." "Seriously? Do I know your sister?"
Jim sighed. Here it was, make or break this relationship. "My sister is Juliana Maasden, the actress. She uses her birth name in the business. My parents adopted her when she was little, she's actually my cousin. But that's only in name. She's my sister for all intents and purposes."
"Oh, gleeps. Oh, Jim!" Trixie's eyes went wide with shock.
"Please say it doesn't matter, baby," he pleaded.
"I don't see how it could matter," she responded, slowly. "My brother, Brian, is dating her. And I met her when I brought clothes over to Brian's apartment. They've been living together."
It was Jim's turn to be shocked. And then he began to laugh. "What are the odds? God, what are the odds?"
Trixie began to giggle along with him. She climbed into their bed, snuggling up close. "I'd say the odds are astronomical," she whispered, pressing her curves against him.
And then, they forgot all about brothers and sisters and anything else except the feel of their bodies against each other.
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Fortunately, it was cold the day the Old Lady was to be lighted. There was so much coming and going and crazy production going on, both Trixie and Brian shed any inhibitions they may have had about meeting the Frayne family. Brian was just as shocked as Trixie had been, leaning over and whispering in her ear, "Welcome to the family."
Jim gazed into her beautiful face and knew. They wouldn't be missed. He winked at Uncle James and backed her up. They were lost in the crowd, waiting for the magical time when the lights would blaze forth. The angels held their trumpets high, and someone on stage was blathering about New York City enchantment.
They both held up their heads as the Old Lady blazed into life, adorned with the multicolored lights that proclaimed love. "She's beautiful, Jim," Trixie breathed. "Beautiful and magical."
Jim took her hand, both bathed in the light and went down on one knee. "She is, but I found something even more beautiful, Trixie." He held out a small box. "I love you. Marry me." The ring inside was a little old fashioned, not as big as some of the diamonds she had seen. "It was my Aunt Nell's."
"Yes. Yes, I'll marry you, James Winthrop Frayne, the second." He pulled off her glove and slipped on the ring. It fit perfectly.
And then, he kissed her.
They originally thought the next day's paper would be full of Juliana Maasden and her current flame. Instead, it was a picture of Jim and Trixie kissing. The Daily News had it right in their caption.
Love is the Reason for the Season.
And they all lived happily ever after.