Free Winter Magic: 4 (The Hawks Mountain Series) by Elizabeth Sinclair

books just out, I’m working the Christmas distribution. And there’s Jason Clark, our star author, who can’t seem to settle on the contract details unless I promise to leave him my house and all my money in my will.”
    “Exactly. Now, if she works here, when you’re not available, I can oversee what she’s doing. We can put her in the sitting room on the second floor. Aside from my quilting lessons, no one uses it. I can call the office supply store for whatever she’ll need, and Davis can have her set up by tomorrow.” She glanced at him, waiting for an answer.
    When he offered none, Sarah lifted Jezebel from her lap and set the cat on her feet on the tiled floor. The gold bell tinkled softly. Jezebel threw Jonathan a look that said losing her soft, warm bed in Sarah’s lap was his fault.
    His aunt stood and shrugged. “Food for thought,” she said lightly. She walked to the cabinet at the end of the room. “Well, I’m off to gather some bayberry branches to mix with the pine boughs on the mantels.”
    Jonathan was barely aware of her slipping on her coat and boots, extracting a basket and pruning shears from a shelf, and then heading out the side door.
    His mind buzzed with Aunt Sarah’s suggestion. Bring Andi into his house to work with Aunt Sarah? What nonsense. Then again, Sarah knew the workings of the gala as well as he did. And after all, Sarah was his mother’s only sister and wanted to see the foundation endure as much as he did.
    Having Andi here day in and day out would be rough on his libido, but he was a mature man who had always prided himself on his will power. And, if worse came to worse, he could always work in town to escape temptation.
    He glanced out the window, made his decision, and then hurried after his aunt.
    THE FAMILY ROOM of The Wishing Place had been decorated by the children for Christmas, and Andi loved it. Gingerbread men cookies, hand-crafted ornaments and colorful paper chains hung from the boughs of a giant tree that filled an entire corner of the room. Beneath it, a toy train made endless circles around the trunk. Single electric candles sat on the sill of each window, and the mantel was festooned with stockings bearing each child’s name in garish gold glitter.
    Andi leaned back in the large overstuffed chair and settled a book in her lap. The children, their eager faces alight with excitement, surrounded her on the floor, waiting for her to begin reading.
    She picked up the book, opened to the title page and read, “Santa’s Merry Christmas.” As always, she explained the pictures for the littlest ones as she went along. “Here’s a picture of the Christmas Village. Right here,” she said, pointing to the largest house in the illustration, “is Santa’s house. And here,” she pointed to a smaller house next door to Santa’s, “is where the elves live.” She held the book up and swung it from side to side, so everyone could see the colorful depiction of the author’s image of Santa’s hometown.
    The children ooed and ahed , then settled back to hear the story.
    “Is there a real Santa’s Village?” seven-year-old Danny asked, his cherubic face glowing with hope. Danny had leukemia and was scheduled for his first chemo treatment. He and his parents were staying at The Wishing Place waiting for a hospital bed to open.
    Andi nodded. “Well, I’m sure there is.”
    His grin widened. “Can we go there?”
    What did she tell him? “We’d probably have to ask Santa first. I’m pretty sure you can’t go there unless he says it’s okay.”
    “Will you ask him?” Danny was on his knees, his eyes centered on her.
    As she stared down as his expectant expression, Andi had an idea. “Yes, I’ll ask him.”
    The children cheered loud enough to be heard blocks away.
    As Andi continued to read, the colorful illustrations began to catch her eye, and the idea grew and began to form in her mind. The more form and definition the idea took, the more the excitement