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Dear Santa(53)

Author:Debbie Macomber

“I had no recourse. A legal battle would only have benefited the lawyers. I trusted someone untrustworthy and paid the price.”

“How awful, Billy.”

“I should have mentioned it earlier. Like you, I’ve had to let go of the resentment and bitterness. For a while, I decided to give up the restaurant business, unwilling to take another big financial risk. Dan was the one who talked me through my anger and frustration. Then Dede and David said they would be silent partners with me. Their faith in me to make the Wine Press a success meant the world. They believed strongly enough to give me the seed money necessary to start up. Thankfully, my reputation with the wineries in the state was enough for them to give me credit until I could repay them. And I have.”

Lindy leaned her head against Billy’s shoulder. He’d been through so much and come out both smarter and wiser. Looking back did no good. Not for Billy and not for her. They both needed to keep their eyes forward.

They both remained silent as Billy pulled into the driveway at her parents’ house.

“Do you want to come inside?” she asked.

Billy shook his head. “I should probably check in with the staff. Can I see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll call you.”

That suited Lindy, who was ready for a long, hot shower and some downtime. Billy must run on adrenaline. He never seemed to stop.

Lindy spent a quiet evening with her parents and slept like a lamb through the night. She woke to a text message from Billy suggesting she stop by so they could have lunch together.

When her phone rang midmorning, she thought it was probably Billy, since she hadn’t responded, wanting to check with her mother first.

Only it wasn’t Billy.

“Lindy,” her boss’s excited voice shot over the line. “I couldn’t wait to tell you. The Ferguson Group contacted us this morning and they want to go with your design.”

Lindy’s heart leaped into overdrive, roaring like an Indy 500 engine. “They did?” She could barely speak, having lost her breath.

“They loved your proposal and are hot to get started. I know this is your vacation, I know we promised you two weeks. I feel bad even asking this of you, but is there any way you can cut it short so we can move ahead?”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Lindy didn’t know what to say. While she was thrilled and excited, she hated to leave sooner than planned.

“Like I said, we owe you this time off, but the company would be willing to amply compensate you for this inconvenience.”

“It isn’t the money,” she said, and realized how badly she wanted to stay. Pressing her hand against her forehead, as if that would help her think, she had to remind herself this was what she’d always wanted, what she’d worked for all these weeks. This validation. This success.

“What would it take for you to return?”

“I’ll be back tomorrow sometime,” she said.

“Thank you, Lindy. You won’t be sorry.”

She sincerely doubted that was true. The call ended abruptly, as if her boss was afraid Lindy would change her mind.

Like someone lost in a fog, Lindy wandered through the house until she found her mother.

Ellen stopped what she was doing and stared at Lindy. “Is everything all right, honey?”

“The Ferguson Group accepted my proposal. Now they want to get started right away, and my boss wants me to return to Seattle as soon as possible.”

Her mother broke into an immediate smile. “Honey, congratulations. That’s wonderful news…isn’t it? I mean, other than you needing to cut your vacation short.”

“I’m thrilled. I really am, although I hate that I have to leave so soon.”

“I know. Dad and I will miss you.”

“I’d better pack,” Lindy said, and headed to her bedroom almost by rote.

“Do you need to leave right this minute?”

Some of the joy and pride in Lindy’s accomplishment leaked from her voice, as if she was only now realizing the ramifications of this decision.

“I’m expected to be back in the office tomorrow.”

“Oh. That is soon. I’m happy for you, only I hate to see you go.” It went without her mentioning it that once Lindy was back in the office, it’d be long months of detailed work. Hours and hours at the office. Late nights, and often working one or both days of the weekends.

“What about Billy?” her mother asked, as Lindy reluctantly dragged her suitcase from beneath her bed.

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