Saving Saint Nicholas by Kay Springsteen

Author:Kay Springsteen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, Regency, historical, mystery, cozy, dog, rescue dog, light, Christmas, holiday, holidays, clean romance, sweet romance
Publisher: Dingbat Publishing
Published: 2023-12-24T00:00:00+00:00

A PLAN. THEY HAD A plan! And it seemed like a good one, a plan that could work. Holly’s footsteps were so light as she made her way home, she might have been flying.

Upon arriving, she pushed on the door and stepped forward.

“Oof!”

Blinking in surprise, Holly studied the ten-inch opening. She pushed on the door again, but it would budge no farther. She put one leg through and turned sideways then tried to wriggle the rest of her inside, but she only succeeded in getting stuck.

“Um... er, Grampy?” she called out in a thin, uncertain voice.

“Holly, is that you?”

“Yes, Grampy.” Who else would it be? “Erm... I can’t get in.”

“One moment, my dear.”

Rustling and scraping sounds reached her ears, and she strained to make sense of what she was hearing. Something thumped.

“What on earth...”

The door was flung open, and Grampy stepped back with a welcoming flourish of his hands, showing more vigor and spark than he had in two years.

Holly stepped over the threshold, and her jaw dropped.

Crate upon crate...upon crate greeted her. Crates on the floor, on the table, on the chairs. Crates against the walls, in the doorway to Gramp’s room, in the doorway to her room.

Holly sighed. They had a plan. And not a moment too soon.

“I see you’ve been quite busy today,” Holly mentioned, keeping her tone gentle and casual as she hung up her redingote. Thankfully, the coat hooks were not hidden by crates.

Her grandfather chuckled. “Well, you know Christmas is almost here. We must be ready.”

“About that.” She drew a deep breath to fortify herself. Gramp didn’t take easily to any sort of change. “I talked with Mr. Fernsby today, and he’s going to help us.” She tensed, waiting for the protest she expected.

Instead, Gramp nodded, his gaze going unfocused as though seeing something in his mind rather than their home. “Is he a believer?”

An easy smile sprang to Holly’s lips. “I feel he is a believer of the best kind. He cares about others, and he enjoys helping people.” She deliberately kept all mention of smuggling to herself.

“We’ll need several people, mind.” Gramp shoved a crate aside and stepped to the hearth. Using the poker, he turned a spit on which a small chicken was roasting, then he pulled the spit and bird from over the coals.

“That smells delicious, Gramp.” Holly dodged a stack of crates in the kitchen area and opened the cupboard to retrieve their plates. “What are we having with it?”

“I have potatoes roasting in the coals,” answered her grandfather, using the poker to rake them out. “And I’ve boiled some of the snow peas you got at the market.”

Covent Garden... brought thoughts of Mr. Wolcott to mind. He truly seemed like an entirely different person than Inspector Wolcott. When he’d walked her home from the market, he had been more open and forthcoming about himself than the night before that. A frown pinched her brow. Though not entirely forthcoming, she supposed, since he had continued to keep his relationship to Mr.

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