A Family Affair: Christmas Read online

  Christmas is coming to Magdalena!

  It’s time to head back to Magdalena in this holiday novella…

  The town is preparing to celebrate the holidays when a snowstorm hits and threatens to ruin the festivities. But that’s not the only threat blowing into town…Pop’s son is here from California to enjoy Christmas with his father, but when he leaves, he’s taking Pop with him…or is he? Will the town give up the Godfather of Magdalena, or will they show Pop’s son that when we open our hearts, anything is possible…even second chances?

  Truth in Lies Series:

  Book One: A Family Affair

  Book Two: A Family Affair: Spring

  Book Three: A Family Affair: Summer

  Book Four: A Family Affair: Fall

  Book Five: A Family Affair: Christmas, a novella

  Book Six: A Family Affair: Winter (April 2015)

  Book Seven: A Family Affair: ... (TBA)

  A Family Affair: Christmas

  a novella

  Truth in Lies, Book Five

  by

  Mary Campisi

  Table of Contents

  Christmas is coming to Magdalena!

  Dedication:

  Who’s Who in A Family Affair: Christmas

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  The End

  Bonus Material:

  Simple Riches

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Other Books by Mary Campisi:

  Dedication:

  This book is dedicated to Charlene, a woman of great talent, compassion, and kindness. There will never be another friend like you. Thank you.

  Who’s Who in A Family Affair: Christmas

  Pop Benito: The Godfather of Magdalena, member of The Bleeding Hearts Society, town matchmaker, dispenser of wisdom and common sense, superb pizzelle maker

  Anthony Benito: Son of Pop and the late Lucinda Benito, lives in California, has a daughter, Lucy

  Lucinda Benito: Pop’s deceased wife, granddaughter Lucy named after her

  Lucy Benito: Pregnant daughter of Anthony and granddaughter of Pop, currently residing in Magdalena

  Rosalyn Benito: Anthony Benito’s ex-wife and Lucy’s mother

  Mimi Pendergrass: Mayor of Magdalena, president of The Bleeding Hearts Society, proprietor of Heart Sent Bed and Breakfast, widow, lost a son, Paul, and is estranged from daughter

  Harry Blacksworth: Former playboy turned husband and father, married to Greta, has two stepchildren and a baby (Jackson), he’s Charles’s brother and Christine’s uncle (or is he?)

  Greta Servensen Blacksworth: Former cook for Charles and Gloria Blacksworth, now married to Harry, mother of three children

  AJ & Lizzie Servensen: Greta’s children, Harry’s stepchildren

  Jackson Blacksworth: Harry and Greta’s son

  Gloria Blacksworth: Deceased widow of Charles Blacksworth, mother of Christine, and a woman bent on destroying her husband’s “other” family…one way or another

  Nate Desantro: A man of strength and principle, married to Christine Blacksworth, brother to Lily and son of Miriam. Runs ND Manufacturing, and has a furniture building business with Cash

  Christine Desantro: Charles and Gloria Blacksworth’s daughter, married to Nate Desantro, is a financial advisor, has daughter, Anna

  Anna Desantro: Nate and Christine’s daughter, named after Nate’s sister who died hours after birth

  Lily Desantro: Daughter of Charles Blacksworth and Miriam Desantro, half sister to Nate and Christine, has Down syndrome, is the “light” of Magdalena

  Miriam Desantro: Charles Blacksworth’s mistress, Nate and Lily’s mother, artist/woodworker

  Jack Finnegan: Plant manager at ND Manufacturing, works for Nate, worked for Nate’s father

  Ben Reed: Policeman from Philadelphia, partnered with Cash, best man at Cash’s wedding

  Gina Reed: Married to Ben and pregnant with first child. Physical therapist, friends with Tess, Bree, and Christine

  Paige Reed: Ben Reed’s cousin, a dancer who lives in Philly and once “dated” Cash

  Daniel “Cash” Casherdon: Former policeman, married to Tess, works with Nate in furniture business and has camp with wife to help troubled kids

  Tess Casherdon: Married to her true love, Cash, after years of separation due to tragedy. (He shot her kid brother while on duty.) Might not be able to have children; dog named Henry

  Ramona Casherdon: Cash’s aunt, raised him since he was eight, keeps to herself

  Will Carrick: Former police chief, widower, uncle to Tess, mentor to Cash, married to Olivia Carrick, his sister-in-law

  Olivia Carrick: Married to Will Carrick, mother of Tess, lost son in shooting incident that tore Tess and Cash apart, estranged from older daughter

  Bree Kinkaid: Married to Brody, friends with Tess, Gina, and Christine. Lifelong goal is to be a wife and mother

  Brody Kinkaid: Married to Bree, works for Bree’s dad, more brawn than brains, on a mission to increase his “brood” and have a son

  Rex & Kathleen MacGregor: Bree’s parents, Rex owns MacGregor’s Cabinets

  Rudy Dean: Police Chief of Magdalena, father to Jeremy

  Jeremy Ross Dean: former junior policeman in Magdalena, now a chef, waiting for Harry’s Folly to open where he’ll be working

  Natalie Servetti: Magdalena’s “sleep-around” woman, and Gina’s cousin

  Carmen & Marie Servetti: Gina’s parents; they believe good looks trump intelligence and integrity

  Chapter 1

  For weeks, people talked about the storm that would hit Magdalena right before Christmas. They said it was going to be the worst in history, even worse than the one in ’75 when the roof on St. Gertrude’s church collapsed and Father Reisanski had to hold Mass at the high school until the snow stopped and the roof could be repaired.

  Pop had lived through the storm of ’75 and he’d live through this storm, too. Mother Nature had a way of making a person sit up and rethink his position on just what he could and could not change, like a person’s attitude or destiny. There was another storm rolling in and it would be here a heck of a lot sooner. Pop squinted at his watch. Yup, the storm should be here in less than two hours, filled with gusts of hot air and enough highfalutin attitude to fill a compost bin.

  That storm was Pop’s son, Tony.

  The boy called two weeks ago, said he was on his way back from a business trip in Virginia and planned to spend a few days in Magdalena before heading home to San Diego. Pop had enough information to load his BB gun and shoot holes in his son’s story, but he let the boy talk, pretending he didn’t know Tony intended to drag Pop back to California with him. Oh, but he knew all about it, starting with Miriam Desantro’s phone call to his son, telling him Pop thought someone was stealing his pizzelles. The young folk believed anybody over sixty-five must have Alzheimer’s if they made a claim that couldn’t be supported by fact in ten seconds or less.

  Well. He’d certainly supported his claim with facts. Lots of them. She had a name, too. Lucy Benito, his granddaughter. She was the one who’d been hiding out in his spare bedroom and stealing his pizzelles. Miriam couldn’t apologize enough when she learned the truth and that made her the perfect accomplice to Pop’s plan.

  Oh, but he couldn’t wait to reel Tony in.

  ***

  Miriam added the flour mixture to the glass bowl, scraping the sides as she blended the ingredients with her hand mixer. Greta had told her that Harry ordered two more stand mix
ers for the Christmas baking event, but Miriam had no use for such high-end contraptions. Her hand-held mixer had never failed her, not when she’d made Charlie’s birthday cakes or Lily’s favorite chocolate chip cookies. Not even when she’d made fifteen banana breads for St. Gertrude’s bake sale last year. There was something to be said for comfort and Greta Blacksworth seemed to understand that, because she didn’t push Miriam toward the red or silver stand mixers.

  If Miriam had her druthers, she’d be in her own kitchen right now, instead of Harry and Greta Blacksworth’s gigantic, stainless steel one with more appliances than a service center store. But Pop had asked her to coordinate a baking event with a few of the women in town—he provided the names—so his granddaughter could learn how to make Christmas goodies from some of the best bakers in town. It wasn’t like she could ignore or refuse his request, not after the horrible error in judgment she’d made: the one that had disturbed her son and hurt Pop’s feelings. But how on earth was she to know that the reason behind the missing pizzelles had nothing to do with Alzheimer concerns, and everything to do with Pop’s pregnant granddaughter? Oh, but she’d created a catastrophe and Pop wasn’t going to let her forget about it anytime soon, which was what landed her in the same kitchen as Ramona Casherdon, a woman who’d always been a mystery and not a particularly likeable one.

  “Mrs. Desantro, twenty minutes is up. Should I take the sugar cookie dough from the fridge?”

  Miriam smiled at the young girl and turned off the mixer. “Of course, dear. Grab it and we’ll roll it out while this one chills for a bit.” Poor thing hadn’t ventured toward the other end of the large granite island where Ramona Casherdon rolled peanut blossoms since the woman told her she didn’t need help and preferred to work alone. Figures. That woman could not spit out a kind word if she had Tabasco sauce in her mouth.

  Lucy Benito opened the stainless steel fridge and lifted out the cookie dough wrapped in wax paper. “My grandma used to make sugar cookies,” she said. “She let me decorate them with colored frosting and sprinkles.”

  No mention of mother-daughter baking time. As a matter of fact, there’d been no mention of a mother at all. The town had only gotten a peek of Rosalyn Benito and that was at her mother-in-law’s funeral. But that had been more than enough. “Your grandma was a great baker,” Miriam said as she handed Lucy the dough for the fridge. “But your grandpa was always the pizzelle maker in the family.” Miriam unwrapped the cookie dough, tore off a chunk, and placed it on the floured granite surface. “Have him teach you his tricks so you can carry on the tradition.”

  “I will.”

  Miriam caught the wistfulness in the girl’s voice and recognized the loneliness in those two words, a feeling she’d known quite well at that age. It had taken years to rid herself of the loneliness, only to have it take hold again during her marriage to Nick Desantro, and not let go until she met Charlie. She guessed the poor child had a lot of emotions running through her right now. Hormones aside, what did it say about her relationship with her parents when she’d come to Pop with her troubles? Tony and his wife didn’t even know their daughter wasn’t still in college, let alone pregnant and living here. Oh, but that was a world of heartache waiting to happen. Since the morning Pop contacted her about Lucy three weeks ago, Miriam not only apologized for her misjudgment but agreed to help him with his granddaughter. She wasn’t the only one helping the pregnant girl. Mimi Pendergrass stepped in, as well as Greta and Christine, newly married and pregnant, Gina Reed, and Tess Casherdon. Of course, Ramona Casherdon offered no help other than with the baking, but what advice would she be able to offer in regard to relationships? The town knew she’d do anything for her nephew, maybe even Cash’s wife Tess, but others, for the pure sake of doing? Not likely.

  Lucy Benito deserved safe haven and a chance to sort things out, and Miriam intended to help her. She looked so young, so fragile, her build small and slender with the exception of the cantaloupe-sized belly poking out from under her shirt. Her eyes were a shade lighter than “Blacksworth blue,” her skin fair, her hair a mass of red curls pulled into a high ponytail. She reminded Miriam of her namesake, Lucinda Benito, Pop’s dead wife and one true love.

  “Mrs. Desantro, do you think Grandpa’s okay?”

  Miriam glanced up from the cookie dough she’d just flattened with the rolling pin. “Why do you ask?”

  Lucy shrugged, darted a gaze toward Ramona. “I know I shocked him,” she said, her voice low. “And he’s older and older people might have weaker hearts…and if something happens to him…”

  “Your grandfather is a tough man and he’s not going to let a little shock take him down.” Miriam squeezed the girl’s hand. “He’d worry ten times more if you didn’t tell him, and it’s the worrying that wears a person down, not the occasional shock.”

  “Does the baby’s father know?”

  Ramona Casherdon hadn’t spoken three complete sentences since she got here and now she’d asked the one question everyone wanted to know but didn’t want to ask. Leave it to Ramona.

  Lucy cleared her throat and said, “Excuse me?”

  Ramona’s dark eyes turned darker, her frown more intense. “The question is simple enough; the answer should be, too. Does the father know he’s going to be a father?”

  Miriam shot her a look. “I don’t think that’s any of our business.”

  “Of course it is.” The woman set down her spatula and knife and made her way toward Lucy. She’d been known to intimidate the fiercest opponent, and Lucy Benito was no match for her bold questions. Miriam, however, was.

  “She’s not going to answer, Ramona, so don’t press her. Lucy’s come to Magdalena for her grandfather’s help, and for a safe place to think and decide what to do. I’m going to help her, too, and I’m not the only one.”

  “Running from answers never solves anything.” Ramona placed her hands on the counter, cocked a dark brow, and studied Lucy. “The questions won’t go away, no matter how hard you try to ignore them. It’s time to grow up, little girl. You’ve got a baby in your belly and another life to think about besides yours.”

  If Miriam were a cursing woman, she’d let out a string of curses, enough to decorate all five of Harry’s Christmas trees. “Ramona, that is quite enough.”

  “He knows.” Lucy slid a glance at Ramona and said, “And he’s not interested. He said anybody could be the father—” her voice cracked and she swiped her eyes “—even though he knows that’s not true.”

  “Force a paternity test,” Ramona said in a matter-of-fact manner, as though they were talking about gathering herbs or vegetables for soup and not bodily fluids for parental identification.

  Lucy shook her head. “I won’t tie somebody to me because of a baby. I’ve had enough years of watching people make themselves and everyone around them miserable.” She sniffed. “I will not become my parents.”

  Ramona looked away, asked in a pinched voice, “Your parents are unhappy?”

  Bitterness coated Lucy’s next words. “Unhappy? They haven’t been happy since I can remember. How can they be when they’re living on different continents?” She scowled. “Doesn’t matter now because they’re divorced.”

  “Divorced?” Miriam stared at the girl. “When? Does your grandfather know?” She’d talked to Anthony at least five times in the past two months and he’d never mentioned a word about a divorce, and neither had Pop.

  Lucy shook her head. “It was official last month. Grandpa doesn’t know and I don’t how to tell him, but once Dad gets here it will all spill out. He’ll find out I’m pregnant and Grandpa will find out he’s divorced.”

  ***

  Anthony Benito settled back in first class and closed his eyes. The flight from Richmond to New York was just over an hour depending on weather, which at the moment was overcast with a drizzle, but promised to clear when they hit 4,000 feet. He’d made this trip almost three years ago for his mother’s funeral, but life had been different then; Rosalyn ha
d sat beside him, not exactly supportive, but present nonetheless, the gigantic diamond on her ring finger glittering “Mrs.” status. But Rosalyn was gone, relegated to the category of “ex” though the ring lived on in one reincarnation or another.

  He sighed, wished he did not have to make this trip, but how else was he going to get Pop on a plane when the man vowed to never step foot in California again? Just because the man fell and broke a few bones did not mean the state was cursed. Try telling that to the old man. He had his own opinions, lots of them, and nobody had ever been able to change them but his wife. Well, Anthony would get his father on a plane, and if he needed to use a bit of coercion and a mild sedative, that’s exactly what he’d do.

  Anthony had planned his escape from Magdalena since he was twelve years old and realized not everyone ate “greens” or homemade pasta. Some people, the normal ones, thought dandelions and mustard greens were weeds and therefore inedible. The second he left Magdalena, Anthony became one of those people. He shunned the simplicity of homemade pasta, opting instead for meat and prepared foods that had more to do with convenience and trends than health and nutrition. As years passed and he bought into organic, non-processed eating, he remained averse to peasant-style food choices that might reveal his ethnicity and meager upbringing.

  More was better, in Anthony’s eyes. A pricier car than the last, a grander home, a fancier wardrobe. More. And then he made a trip home when he was twenty-five because his mother’s words sat on his shoulders and weighed him down with too much guilt. I miss you; you’re my baby, my only child. Come home, Anthony, please come home to see me.

  And that’s when he met her, and for nineteen days, he saw life differently, especially his life. All because of her. The attraction was instant, explosive, all-consuming. It didn’t matter that she was six years older with responsibilities he could never understand. Nothing mattered but being with her. They were meant to be together and when it was time to leave, he was certain she would join him; certain she would agree to let her responsibilities become their responsibilities. But she didn’t. She didn’t want him to stay either, even though he’d been willing to give up California for her. Instead, she’d sent him away.