Thursday, 13 December 2012

Abigail's Christmas - A holiday romance with a touch of magic!

Abigail's Christmas is a wonderful Christmas story, perfect for the romantics on your list, and only $3.99!  

When Abigail went out on Christmas Eve to look for a tree to brighten her drab apartment, she wasn’t expecting to end up with her dream man on a sleigh ride in the Rockies with a wedding in the offing!

An enchanting tale of love and romance, with a magical touch of fantasy.

To purchase, click here and choose the vendor of your choice.


The following takes place on Christmas Eve.  Abigail has just met Scott who graciously helped her find a Christmas tree for her new apartment.

“This is it,” she said when they finally reached the big old house.
“You live here?” he asked, incredulously. 
“Only in a small corner of here. My flat is upstairs. Up many stairs.” 
Hoisting the tree further up on his shoulder, he said, “Lead on.” 
As they entered the house, Mrs. Flannigan opened her door. “I wondered what all the commotion was. I see you’ve found a tree. Be sure you get the needles off the carpet after you drag that thing upstairs. It’s never going to fit you know.” 
“Good evening Mrs. Flannigan. Merry Christmas.” 
“Humpf.” The door closed. Scott and Abigail looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Inside the flat Abigail said, “I’ll make us some mulled cider while you try to get the tree into its stand.” 
Scott examined the small room. “Just where did you think this would fit?” 
“If we move the table and chairs it can go there, against the wall.” 
“It’s a least a foot too tall, and the branches will take up half the room.” 
Abigail looked at the tree, at the ceiling, and at the man who stood there trying to prop it up in a space for which it was clearly too tall. “Oh, dear. I did so want a big, full tree. We can move the table and chairs over, but I don’t know what we can do about the ceiling.” 
Scott smiled and shook his head. “I’m afraid we can’t do anything about the ceiling, but maybe we can take a foot or two off the bottom of the tree. I don’t suppose you have a saw?” 
“Do I look like the kind of girl who’d have a saw?” 
“No. I didn’t think so. I’ll go downstairs and ask Mrs. Flannigan. Is there a Mr. Flannigan?”
“I think so but I’ve never seen him.” 
A few minutes later Scott was back with a small hacksaw, and soon after that the tree was standing securely if slightly tilted to the left in its holder. Abigail handed Scott a mug of hot cider and the two stood admiring the results of his labor. 
Abigail studied the tree. “Is it a little off center?” 
“Not if you lean a little this way when you look at it.” 
Abigail laughed. “I haven’t had so much fun in years.” 
He stopped what he was doing and looked at her, suddenly quiet and serious. “Neither have I.” 
For a long moment they stood simply gazing at each other. It was Abigail who, embarrassed, turned away to start unpacking the lights. She handed them a string at a time to Scott and he began stringing them around and through the branches. 
“So how did you end up in the restaurant business?” 
“Sort of by accident. In high school I was a hockey player — a pretty good one. I figured I’d be playing professionally. But I had an accident and injured my knee badly. With surgery it was fixed up, but not well enough for professional hockey.” 
“You know, I thought hockey player when I first saw you. So what did you do?” 
“I went to college. Took a degree in business and management. I tooled around for a few years working for other people then went out on my own. Started my own business, McKenna Solutions. I love good food, and the restaurant business has always interested me. So many restaurants don’t make it past the first year. They can have a wonderful chef, but if they don’t understand good management and don’t know how to market their business they fail. That’s where I come in. If they’re well located and offer good food I can keep them from failing. I have a number of clients here in Vancouver, and in Whistler and Lake Louise and Calgary. I travel among them.” 
Abigail opened the boxes of fine glass ornaments and together they began placing them on the tree. “So that’s what you’re doing at Luigi’s?” 
“Not exactly. Luigi was on the verge of bankruptcy when he came to me. I liked his cooking, and he’s in a great location, so I decided to buy into his business. He gets to cook, which he loves. I get to eat his cooking, which I love. And we both make money.” 
“You live here in Vancouver then?”Abigail asked. 
“Not really. I keep a small place here, but home is in the mountains, near Canmore.” 
“I’ve never been there. It’s near Banff and Lake Louise isn’t it? I’ve heard it’s beautiful.” 
“As close to heaven as you can get.” Scott mused. “But what about you? You said at the restaurant that your family isn’t here in Vancouver?” 
“They’re in Halifax. That is, my brother and his family. They’re all that’s left. My parents are both gone.” 
“I’m sorry. No boyfriend then, no husband or ex-husband?” 
“An ex-fiancĂ©, if that counts.” 
“Nope. Can’t say that it does.” 
“What about you? Wife, girlfriend?” 
“Married once. Too young. It didn’t take. She wanted bright city lights and night life and I’m just a country boy. I can hole up for days in my mountain cabin with nothing but the elk and deer for company.” 
“That sounds heavenly to me.” Abigail stood back to look at the work in progress. “I think if you stand on that chair you’ll be able to put the angel on top,” she said, unwrapping the beautiful ceramic tree top ornament they had chosen together. 
“I think that about does it. Ready to throw the switch?” 
“Okay. Here we go.” Abigail drew her breath in sharply. Never had she seen a tree as beautiful. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she began. “I couldn’t have done this alone. And I so needed this Christmas tree.” Tears came to her eyes as she sat on the love seat and gazed at the shimmering lights. 
Scott said softly, “So did I, only I didn’t know it. But there’s one more thing needed to make our Christmas Eve complete.” 
He went over to the kitchen counter and picked up the mistletoe. He walked back to the loveseat and held it over her head. Then he kissed her gently. “Thank you, Abigail Johnson. I expected to spend just another lonely evening, and instead…well, thank you.” 
He sat down on the loveseat beside her, put his arm around her and pulled her close. 
Too soon, Abigail thought. It’s too soon. I shouldn’t have let him kiss me. But it was so nice. So…she snuggled down against him, her head on his shoulder and was asleep in moments.

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Blair McDowell