Christmas Kiss is on Her List Read online

  The knock at her door announced Dana’s arrival and Penelope went to unlock it. “What’s so important that you had to rush over here?”

  “Nice to see you too.” Dana took off her sweater and scarf and tossed them on the door side table. “What’s important is we’ve got a problem. A major problem.”

  “We do?”

  Dana nodded. “I just left a meeting with Barton Bixby, the new CEO of the network. That man has been a problem since he took over. You know how he’s made all these changes recently in how things are run. Well, that wasn’t enough for him. He had to go and have marketing run a contest without telling me. Me, the producer for the Southern Cooking channel, and I’m not even consulted.”

  “Contest? What kind of contest?” Penelope went to the kitchen and got two bottles of water from the refrigerator. She returned to find Dana pacing.

  “You haven’t looked at the SC website lately have you?” Dana pointed to the laptop and the display on the screen.

  Penelope tossed her one of the bottles and sat in her desk chair. She stared at the monitor, reading the announcement that she had somehow overlooked for weeks when she logged in to post her blog. Shaking her head, she turned to Dana. “They can’t do this. They have no right to do it without asking if I even agree to have some stranger spend Christmas with me.”

  “Well, honey, he did it and it’s too late. They’ve already got a winner. He’s been notified and he’s coming to the Anders farm for Christmas.”

  Penelope swallowed the knot forming in her throat. “B-but there isn’t an Anders farm. Not anymore.”

  “I know that and you know that, but you’ve been writing about it in your blog. So that kinda made it fair game in their book.”

  Dana untwisted the bottle cap and took a long drink of the water, sinking onto the arm of the sofa. “We’re both dead. When the network finds out I hired someone to write a cooking blog who can’t even cook…and lied about owning a farm…I’ll never get a job in the industry again.”

  “Can’t we reason with Bixby?”

  “I tried, Penelope, but he wouldn’t listen. He rambled on about how great this would be for your blog, the station and the network. Advertisers are interested in putting their product on your blog site. And they loved the contest idea, especially when they learned who the winner was. The advertisers demanded more than a blog to feature their products. They wanted a television spot. So in addition to having this guest for Christmas, we’ll send out a crew and tape a cooking segment with you and this man.”

  “They what?” The Kung Pao churned in Penelope’s stomach. “I won’t do it. I can’t do it. Did you forget I can’t cook?”

  Dana ran her hand over her face. “I didn’t forget, but we’ll cross that bridge when the time comes, okay? And you are doing it, Pen.”

  Penelope rolled her eyes. “What makes this winner so important that they want to plaster him on national television?”

  “Jeff Morton is a soldier returning home from Afghanistan. It will be a real hero’s homecoming. His first Christmas home spent with the great Penelope Anders. If they only knew. We’re doomed.”

  “Maybe not.” Penelope heard more assurance in her voice than she felt.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know who bought the farm.”

  Dana blinked. “You do?” Her expression went from grave to hopeful.

  “I’ll go talk to Barton Bixby and tell him there’s no way the current owner will allow me and a total stranger to spend Christmas at the farm.”

  “NO! You can’t do that. Mr. Bixby can’t find out that something in your blog isn’t true. You go in there and start talking to him, and I’m afraid he’ll have you confessing.”

  “Dana, what else can we do? I can’t see Derek Smythe agreeing to this.” Penelope frowned, not liking the idea of seeing him again. She hadn’t forgiven him for buying her family’s farm, even if she had to sell it to pay back taxes.

  “You leave him to me.” Dana patted her on the arm. “Why didn’t you tell me about this Mr. Smythe before?”

  “Because I wanted to forget all about him and Crater’s Corners. I’d rather a total stranger had bought the place instead of him.”

  Dana’s dark brow arched. “Do I detect a hint of something you aren’t telling me, Pen?”

  “Noooo.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.” Penelope bit at her bottom lip, trying to come up with an alternative plan. “Maybe I can quit the blog and then the contest will have to be cancelled.”

  Dana grabbed her by the arms. “Listen to me, you are not quitting. We are going to get through this fiasco together. I see a light at the end of this tunnel. As my Uncle Felix would say, ‘it isn’t a catastrophe yet’.”

  Chapter Two

  Derek studied his bankbook. There was no way he could afford a new roof or new septic system for the farm this year, even if it needed it. He’d sunk every dime he had into the place since the day he bought it and it continued to drain him dry.

  Again he regretted impulsively buying the farm instead of going to college as he’d planned. His parents had been beside themselves when he cashed in his college fund. Why he’d thought purchasing the farm would be seen as a romantic gesture by Penelope Anders when she had never given him a second look, was beyond him now.

  “Why Lord? Why did you give me the rope to hang myself? Was it because I asked? I know. I know. I did ask and you fulfilled my request and I’ve been wearing this noose around my neck ever since.”

  He closed his bankbook and put it in the desk drawer before going to the kitchen to get a fresh cup of coffee. “I’d sell this place if I could afford to make the needed repairs. If you’d see fit to provide the means…”

  Taking his coffee, he went to the front porch to sit. The crisp early December night air chilled him, but he didn’t mind. He might struggle to keep paying the upkeep of the farm, but he’d come to call it home over the years, even if Penelope had left without giving him a chance to explain why he’d bought it. She’d turned her back on her home, not even fighting to keep it after her aunt died and she learned in probate that there were back taxes owed. Instead of staying, she’d high-tailed it out of town. A few years later, he’d learned she’d settled in Atlanta and wrote a food blog that everyone in Crater’s Corners talked about.

  The shrill of the phone ringing drew him back inside. “Hello?”

  “Derek Smythe please.”

  “This is Derek Smythe.”

  “Hi. I’m Dana Stevens. I’m the producer of the Country Kitchen on the Southern Cooking Channel. Penelope Anders writes a blog for us. I understand you purchased her family’s farm a few years back.”

  Derek pulled the phone away and stared at the receiver. Had that woman just said Penelope Anders? He’d just been thinking about her and now this stranger calls him up and starts talking to him about her. What were the odds?

  “Hello? Mr. Smythe? Are you there?”

  “Uh. Y-yes. I own the Anders place. Why do you want to know?”

  “Mr. Smythe, would it be okay if I paid you a visit? I’d like to discuss a business proposition with you and I’d rather do it in person instead of over the phone.”

  “Business? What kind of business?”

  She plowed on, ignoring his question. “I can be in Crater’s Corners tomorrow morning. Would ten o’clock be good with you?”

  He hesitated, then said, “Ten is fine. Is Penelope wanting to buy the place back?”

  “I’ll see you then, Mr. Smythe.”

  The line went dead, effectively ending the mostly one- sided conversation. He hung up the phone and looked around the living room. If this woman was coming to visit, he needed to tidy up.

  By ten the next morning Derek had been up for hours, taken care of his morning farm chores, cleaned the house, and put on a stew t
hat should be done in time for lunch. Bread baked in the oven and a sweet potato pie cooled on the counter. If Dana Stevens was hungry, he’d at least have something to offer her.

  The doorbell rang and he wiped his hands on the dishtowel, before going to the front door. The young woman standing on the porch couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than him and she produced a cooking channel. A twinge of jealousy at her accomplishment flitted through his mind, and he pushed the thought away. He couldn’t allow himself to feel that; it wasn’t right. He’d made his choice in life and he needed to accept that.

  “Mr. Smythe?” She looked puzzled for a moment, but smiled.

  He nodded. “Miss Stevens?”

  She offered him her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smythe. Forgive my staring, but I was expecting someone older. As I mentioned on the phone I’m Dana Stevens with the Southern Cooking Channel.”

  “Won’t you come in?” He stepped back so she could enter, while wondering what Penelope said to have given her that impression. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee or sweet tea?”

  “Coffee would be nice. I couldn’t find a Starbucks anywhere in town as I drove through.”

  He laughed. “No, I don’t guess you would. We don’t have specialty coffee shops around these parts. How do you take your coffee?”

  “Cream and sugar if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No trouble. You can sit in the living room or if you prefer the kitchen, follow me.”

  “Actually, I’d love to see Aunt Edith’s kitchen. Penelope talks about it often. Have you done any renovations to the place since you bought it?”

  “No.” Derek led her into the kitchen. “Other than a fresh coat of paint here and there I haven’t changed a thing. I liked it the way it was, so I didn’t see any point in making alterations.” He pulled out a chair for her at the small Formica table. “You said on the phone yesterday you had a business proposition for me. What exactly did you have in mind?”

  Miss Stevens sat, crossing her legs. “Are you familiar with the Country Kitchen blog that Penelope Anders writes?”

  “I’ve heard of it. Not that I’ve read it.” He placed a spoon and a cloth napkin in front of her before going over to the coffeemaker. “I don’t have a computer or the Internet out here. Never saw the need for it.”

  She took out a pen and a small note pad from a large handbag and wrote on it. “Would you be opposed if the network paid for the service out here?”

  “Why would the network do that?” He took two mugs from the cabinet, poured the coffee and brought it to the table. Sitting down, he offered her the sugar bowl and the jar of non-dairy creamer.

  He watched her add the condiments to her coffee and stir. “If you accept my offer, Penelope will need access to post her blog from here.”

  He gripped his mug. “What offer is that, Miss Stevens?”

  “I’d like you to permit Penelope and a guest to come stay at the farm for Christmas. The Cooking Channel is willing to pay you for the use of the farm during the week of December twenty-first through the twenty-eighth. All you have to do is allow us to film a cooking segment here as if the place still belonged to Miss Anders.”

  “And why would I do that?” Derek leaned back in his chair.

  “Because of the goodness in your heart…and it is Christmas.” She toyed with her pen. “Mr. Smythe, the network ran a contest without consulting Penelope or me. They took for granted the Anders’ Farm still belonged to her since she writes about it in her blog. They offered one lucky winner the chance to spend a ‘Country Kitchen Christmas’ here with her and enjoy her cooking for the holiday. We need to use your place. If you won’t agree, then Penelope and I will most likely be fired.”

  Derek’s jaw twitched. This woman had some nerve showing up here, asking him to open up his home to Penelope after all these years. “Why are you the one here asking and not Penelope?”

  “I-I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” She looked at him for a long moment. “It’s my responsibility as the producer to handle matters like this. I’m sure she’d have asked you if I’d told her what I was doing, but I said I’d take care of the problem.”

  “So she doesn’t know you are here?”

  Miss Stevens shook her head.

  “Are you sure she wants to come here?” Derek persisted. “She hasn’t been back here even once since she left.”

  “Why wouldn’t she?” Miss Stevens countered. “She looks at pictures of the place all the time. She has a box full of them that she uses for the blog. She loves this place.”

  “She had a funny way of showing it. As soon as she learned the place owed money, she sold it and took off.”

  “What Penelope did or didn’t do is not the issue here, Mr. Smythe. I need to find a place for Penelope and the winner to spend Christmas. Will you please consider it?”

  Putting his cup on the table, Derek pushed back, walked over to the sink and looked out the window to stare into the barn yard. Lord, is this my answer? Have you provided me with the means to fix this place and get out?

  He slowly turned back and leaned against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest. “How much is the place worth to you for the week?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You said you were willing to pay me for the use of the place. How much are you willing to pay? The roof needs repairs. The septic system needs overhauling. I’d want the repairs done before Penelope and her guest arrive, especially if you are going to be filming. It wouldn’t do for them to come and have issues.”

  Miss Stevens frowned. “Are you blackmailing me, Mr. Smythe?”

  “No.” Derek drawled, trying to ignore a rising sense of anticipation. “I’m telling you my price.”

  “And exactly what dollar figure are we talking about? Do you have quotes on what it would cost?”

  “I sure do.” He left the kitchen to get the papers from his desk. When he returned, she snatched the pages out of his hand and gave them a once-over.

  She whistled. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Smythe, but I’ll call your bluff. We’ll pay for the work and anything else my contractor says needs fixing.”

  He held out his hand to her. “It’s a deal.”

  She shook his hand. “Do you have a cook, Mr. Smythe?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I noticed that pie on the counter and I believe I smell bread baking?”

  “Yes. It should be done in a few minutes. I have stew on the stove or didn’t you notice that?”

  “I noticed. You cook?”

  “I sure do. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  Chapter Three

  “Where are you, Dana? Why haven’t you called me?” Penelope paced through her tiny apartment. According to her assistant, Dana had left town two nights ago on a sudden business trip, but wouldn’t give details. This wasn’t the time for Dana to disappear. They had to figure out what they were going to do about this ridiculous Christmas contest.

  As if on cue, her phone vibrated and she tapped the icon, opening up the text from Dana.

  Good news. Anders Farm secured. Be back by 6. Let’s have dinner. Meet me at Carlisle’s. My treat. C U there.

  Penelope typed OK and sighed, glad to have finally heard from Dana, but didn’t feel relieved. How had her friend managed to get the farm for Christmas? She went into her bedroom and changed from her jeans and polo into dress slacks and a blouse that was more appropriate attire for dinner at Carlisle’s.

  At six sharp Dana walked into the restaurant where Penelope waited for her. “How’d you do it?” she asked.

  “Let’s just say I’m a miracle worker.” Dana boasted, as they walked over to the maître‘d. “Stevens party of two.” The man nodded and motioned for them to follow.

  “Is that so?” Penelope quest
ioned as they made their way through the maze of tables.

  “Of course. How else was I able to get your Mr. Smythe to agree to this charade?”

  Penelope shook her head and sat in the chair the maître‘d pulled out for her. “He isn’t my anything, Dana. So don’t go getting any ideas.”

  “I still think there’s a story about him that you aren’t telling me. He seemed just as opposed to seeing you again as you are to seeing him.”

  “He is?” Penelope found that tidbit interesting. “Then how did you get him to agree?”

  “A new roof for one and an overhaul on the septic system for another.”

  Penelope laughed. “You’re kidding? And you agreed to it? That place has needed those for years.”

  “Yes, I agreed. We needed the farm to save our hides, remember?” Dana’s lips pursed into a sudden frown. “When he showed me the quotes they looked a little inflated, so being a contractor’s daughter, I called my father and he sent my brother’s crew to Crater’s Corners. If I’m going to pay for the work I want to know I’m getting my money’s worth and that the job will be completed on time. We have to have the place ready before the twenty-first.”

  Penelope opened her menu, but laid it back down, leaning over the table. “So for the price of these repairs, Derek Smythe agreed to allow me to have the place for a week? He’s just going to leave?”

  “Who said anything about him leaving? He’ll be there and you will be nice and get along with him. You need him, Pen.”

  Penelope laughed again, but sobered when Dana glared at her. “Why do I need him? What aren’t you telling me?”

  A smile brightened Dana’s features. “He can cook. That man could be a chef if he had the training. I was floored when I tasted his stew, and the homemade bread with fresh churned butter melted in my mouth. Your blog talks the talk, but his food…it’s to die for. No need to thank me just yet, but I did sweet talk him into agreeing to show you how to make a few dishes we’ll feature on the cooking special.”