A Witch For Mr. Mistletoe (Witches of Christmas Grove Book 4) by Deanna Chase

Author:Deanna Chase [Chase, Deanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bayou Moon Press, LLC
Published: 2022-12-14T18:30:00+00:00

Olivia stood in an unfamiliar living room with two floor-to-ceiling glass walls that looked out over a snow-covered knoll. Below the house, there was a small picturesque city that was quiet in the early morning light. Soft classical Christmas music played from the radio as the sound of heavy footsteps clomped on the stairs.

A girl no older than thirteen with strawberry blond hair piled in a messy bun came running down the stairs with a chocolate brown shih tzu right behind her. She rushed into the living room, paused as she stared at the tree and the one gift that was wrapped beneath it, and then hurried into the kitchen calling, “Mom? Dad?”

There was no answer, just an echo off the walls.

She frowned and then walked slowly to the refrigerator and plucked the handwritten note from beneath a magnet.

It read:

Priscilla,

Sorry, honey. Your dad and I were called into work. It’s a PR emergency. Go ahead and open your gift. It’s under the tree. We’ll have Christmas dinner when we get home.

Merry Christmas,

Mom

The note slipped from Priscilla’s fingertips as her eyes turned glassy with tears. The dog pressed its tiny body against her leg, prompting her to pick up the dog and bury her face in her fur as she sobbed.

Olivia tried to reach out to her, but when she placed a soft hand on the girl’s shoulder, it was clear she hadn’t felt it.

“Priscilla?” Olivia tried.

Still no answer.

The air around Olivia seemed to be electrically charged before there was a tiny flash of light, and suddenly the adult version of Priscilla was standing right beside her. “I can’t hear you.”

Startled, Olivia jumped slightly. “Where did you come from?”

She shrugged. “How should I know?”

Olivia eyed the woman beside her and then the young girl who was sitting in front of the tree with her dog, holding the package. Tears stained her cheeks, but she’d stopped crying and now just seemed resigned. Olivia turned to the woman standing beside her. “That’s you, right?”

“Yep. My thirteenth birthday is in six days,” she said with a sigh. “Not that anyone will remember.”

Sadness hit Olivia squarely in the gut. No kid deserved that. What kind of parents did that to a kid? “Did your parents really go to work on Christmas day?”

“They were always working. Doing PR for entitled Hollywood stars meant they showed up when they were called, no matter what else was happening. I think that year, their biggest client was trying to climb down the chimney and got stuck. They had to spin the story as something other than what actually happened.”

“He didn’t get stuck in the chimney?”

“Oh, he did. But it wasn’t to act as Santa. His wife hid their drugs there, and he was trying to find them.”

That sounded more plausible than a man getting dressed in a Santa suit and actually trying to slide down the chimney. “Did both of them have to go? I can’t believe they left you by yourself on Christmas morning.”

Priscilla turned to Olivia. “I’m not alone.

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