A Fairytale Christmas by Susan Wiggs Read Free Book Online

“I’m not going home again,” she said simply. “That’s not my home anymore.”
    Jack didn’t pry. He knew Maria’s mother had remarried. “So when’s the last time you saw José?”
    Her eyes teared at the mention of his name. “A few weeks ago.”
    “Tell you what. You go to the kitchen and make yourself a cup of tea, and I’ll see about tracking down José for you.”
    “Okay.” She sniffled, then levered herself up and lumbered toward the kitchen. “Thanks, Mr. Riley.”
    “We’ll work things out, Maria.” He watched her go, feeling an odd yearning in his gut. Barely a woman herself, she was going to have a baby.
A baby
. Jack Riley’s secret vice was an unadulterated love of babies. “It’s going to be all right,” he said, even though Maria was already gone.
    “We can always hope,” said a female voice behind him.
    He turned to see Sister Doyle, the director, looking uncharacteristically grave as she stood in the doorway ofher office. Broad-shouldered and open-faced, she wore jeans and a denim work-shirt; a pair of reading glasses balanced precariously on her nose. Her red hair was cropped short. The only indication of her vocation was the large silver crucifix she always wore on a chain around her neck.
    She held a letter in her hand. “Our funding’s been cut, Jack. We’re fifty grand in the hole. The Langston Trust cut off funds, effective immediately. We’re history, Jack. The center will have to close the day after Christmas.”
    * * *
    On Monday morning, Madeleine sat at her desk and surreptitiously put her right hand over her heart. Funny. It didn’t
feel
any different. But it was. Broken, possibly beyond repair.
    Her heart had ached when she had lost her father, but at least there had been a sense of closure about the loss. She missed him, but the grief had mellowed with the passing of time. She had loved him, he had loved her, and she had gathered the cherished memories into her heart, a treasure and a comfort.
    John’s abandonment, on the other hand, had shattered the very foundations of her beliefs. In retrospect, she realized it had been stupid to pin all her hopes and dreams on one night with a man she had just met; stupid of her to give a man that sort of power over her.
    For the ten-thousandth time since Saturday morning, she looked at the color photo of herself and John that had run in the society pages. Ah, but what a man. No one would blame her for falling head over heels for the guy.
    “Mystery Cowboy Lassoes Publishing Heiress,” the caption read.
    Yes, he had lassoed her, all right. Heart and soul. Andbody. Even now, in spite of everything, she felt a hot twinge of desire. She had dared to touch him in ways she had never touched a man. With him, she had felt true passion for the first time, and it was like being reborn, like Dorothy walking out of her black-and-white existence into the Technicolor world of Oz.
    Madeleine’s single foray into casual flings had left her vulnerable, shaken to the foundations of her well-ordered life. She wasn’t cut out for this, she decided.
    She just cared too damned much.
    Against her will, she closed her eyes and remembered the gallant way he’d cloaked her in his tux jacket. The delicious Irish coffee. The foot massage. Decorating the Christmas tree and being held while she wept. Making love until she wept for a totally different reason.
    In that one night she’d lived and felt more deeply than she had in a whole lifetime.
    Now she had nothing to show for it but a broken heart and a size-twelve Lucchese cowboy boot made, according to the inside label, of European goat.
Goat
. She shuddered.
    She shook her head. It was too ironic. Not quite as dainty as a glass slipper but every bit as ridiculous, the boot had been the only clue he had left. The housekeeper had found it under the bed on Saturday and was still giggling about it when Madeleine had left for work this morning.
    She glanced down at the photo again and in spite of