From Kirkus Reviews
A nicely plotted Christmas story (first published as a 1996 paperback from Bookcraft, inc.) by a member of the Utah House of Representatives. Will Martin, 32, is the youngest vice president his Wall Street firm has ever had. When Grandfather dies in a small upstate New York town, Will must go home to care for Gram and settle his grandfather's real estate firm. As it happens, Will's mother and father were killed in an auto accident 28 years ago. After that, his grandparents raised him. Once upstate, Will now finds he has to take a few months off to bring the real estate office into the 20th century with computers, e-mail, and so on. When Will asks Gram what she wants for Christmas, she hands him her dead husband's journal (begun 55 years ago) and points to the entries for Christmas Eve, which reveal that Will's grandfather had visited ``Lillian'' at that time for decades. Who is Lillian? A secret child? Perhaps a mistress? The answer is Gram's actual Christmas wish, her longed-for present. Will has a hard time finding Lillian, but eventually doesleading to a tearful moment that will play just fine on CBS when this tale appears early in December as a Sunday Night Movie starring Debbie Reynolds and Neil Patrick Harris. -- Copyright ©1998, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.
From the Inside Flap
f four, Will Martin lost his parents and went to live with his grandparents. The warm memories of life in a small town and the old-fashioned Christmas holidays he and his grandparents shared sustain him still as a young man making his way in the world.
Years later, Will takes a leave of absence from his job in New York City to return home after his grandfather's death to help run the family real estate business. There he discovers something about his grandfather's past that shatters him and the memories of the life he so loved. At dinner one evening, his grandmother tells Will that she has been reading her husband's journals and learned that every Christmas Eve, when she and Will were out doing their traditional last-minute shopping, her husband was seeing a woman named Lillian. This year, his grandmother's Christmas wish is for Will to find out who Lillian is and why Will's grandfather, a seemingly devoted husband, saw Lillian every year for more than twenty-seven years and never mention
About the Author
Richard Siddoway is an educator and a member of the Utah House of Representatives. He is the author of three previous books. The parents of eight children, he and his wife, Janice, live in Bountiful, Utah.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
The silver Jaguar XJ6 sent pinwheels of red and gold leaves into the autumn twilight as Will Martin left the interstate and approached the town of his birth. As always a feeling of melancholy enveloped him as he drove down the two-lane highway lined with century-old crimson maples whose boughs intertwined and formed a shadowy tunnel across the road. The powerful engine hummed as he maneuvered the gentle twists and turns that led to the town. Will fished the cellular phone from his inside coat pocket and punched in a number.
"Mick," he said into the phone. "I'm sorry I'm late. I was hoping you'd still be at your shop." He smiled at the reply. "I'm less than five minutes away. Thanks." He punched the end button on the phone and returned it to his pocket.
The last vestiges of sunlight brushed the tops of the trees in the town square as he slid the Jaguar to the curb in front of Mick's Flower Shop. He hopped out and hurried into the shop. Mick sat behind the cash register counting the day's receipts. He looked up as he entered the store. "Afternoon, Will. It was nice of you to call, but I figured you'd still want the bouquet you ordered. I wasn't going anywhere until you arrived."
Will smiled as the white-haired old man rose from his chair and made his way to the walk-in cooler in the back of the shop. He emerged a few moments later holding a dozen yellow roses. "This okay, Will?" He held the bouquet lovingly in his hands. "Or should I call you Mr. Martin now that you're running the agency?" Mick's eyes crinkled up
at Will.
"Will will be fine," he replied, with a smile of his own. "The flowers look great, Mick. How much do I owe you?"
"Hmm, I suppose I ought to give you the same price I gave your grandfather. After all, I don't suppose I'd be in business if it weren't for him." Will lifted a quizzical eyebrow. "But that's another story for another day. Ten dollars."
"Are you sure? That seems awfully reasonable. Especially when I kept you open on Thanksgiving Day."
"Yup, ten dollars. That's the Martin price, including tax." The old man smiled. Will handed him a ten-dollar bill. "Thanks, Mick, I'd like to hear that story some time." He took the roses and raced back to the car. He glanced at his watch as the powerful engine pulled the car from the curb. If I can make it to Julia's in five minutes, I'll be on time, he thought. He steered through the light traffic around the town square and hurried down Olive Street to the new condominiums that had sprung up on the edge of town. He slid into a parking spot and hurried up the steps to Julia's front door.
Inside, Julia Welsch admired herself in the hall mirror. The dark red suit she wore accentuated her honey-blond hair. She leaned close to the mirror and inspected her face. Quickly she reached into her bag and applied a fresh dab of color to her lips. The grandfather clock chimed melodiously, as the doorbell rang. Well, he's on time, she smiled, that's a first. She picked up her dark green overcoat, opened the door, and accepted Will's kiss on the cheek.
"You look gorgeous," he said as he took her arm and led her to the waiting car.
"You don't look so bad yourself," she replied, sinking into the leather seat. Maybe things are moving along at last, Julia thought, at least he's finally taking me home to meet his grandmother.
Will glanced at the woman sitting next to him. I'm a lucky guy. I hope Gram approves of her. He smiled at Julia as she examined herself in the mirror set in the sun visor. The Jaguar sped across town. Will turned into the circular drive in front of a two-story brick home bounded by neatly trimmed hedges. A covered porch ran the width of the house. The manicured lawn was covered with autumn leaves. The smell of wood smoke hung in the air as Will helped Julia from the car. Immediately the front door flew open and Ruth Martin stepped onto the porch. She was wearing a dark blue dress that set off her silver hair. Although seventy-five years of age, she looked ten years younger. Will hugged her, handed her the roses, and kissed her cheek. "Gram, this is Julia Welsch." Ruth Martin smiled broadly and held Julia's hands in hers as she looked into the young woman's clear blue eyes.
"Come in, come in," she said, as she led them into the foyer of her home. "Will, it's so good to have you home for the holidays this year."
"It's good to be here."
"Dinner's ready. Why don't you get Miss Welsch seated in the dining room and then help me bring in the food from the kitchen."
Will led Julia through the living room, through the French doors, and into the dining room. The table was set with the pale ivory linen cloth and the crystal he knew would be there. This meal always began the holiday season for the Martin family, and the menu never varied. He pulled out a chair for Julia. "I'll be right back," he whispered as she took her seat.
Julia inspected the dining room while she waited. The Spode china reflected her perfect face as she gazed across the room at the painting of Warren Martin hanging on the wall above the sideboard. Two elegant silver candelabra bracketed the picture. Julia turned to find a similar painting of Ruth Martin on the wall behind her. She examined the silverware and noticed that the handle of each knife was engraved with the family crest. She thought of the handsome man helping his grandmother in the kitchen and smiled a deep, satisfied smile. Thirty-two years is long enough for him to be single.
The kitchen door swung open and Will appeared, his cheeks flushed from the steaming, roasted turkey he carried. He placed it on the table as his grandmother appeared balancing a bowl of mashed potatoes in one hand and cranberry jelly in the other. Quickly the rest of the food was retrieved from the kitchen.
"Will, you're the man of the house now. Please say a blessing on the food, and thank the Lord for all the good things He's given us this year." She placed the vase of yellow roses in the middle of the table and quietly bowed her head.
Will cleared his throat and offered a prayer of thanksgiving. When he finished, he looked at his grandmother's face and saw the hint of a tear in her eye. He began to carve the turkey.
They chatted as they ate, speaking companionably about family and work and cultural interests, punctuated by compliments to Ruth about the feast they were enjoying. As they were finishing their pumpkin pie, Julia said, "Mrs. Martin, did you know that I'm in charge of the Country Club Christmas Ball this year?"
"Oh, how nice. Is this your first time?" Ruth asked.
"Yes, and I've had such great support from the community. Everyone seems so excited about the dance. It's a chance to put on our Christmas finery and help support the development of a new children's wing at the hospital. I'm delighted to be a part of it."
"I'm sure you are," Ruth said, smiling.
"We've asked for RSVPs, you know. The caterers just have to have some idea of the number of people they're going to serve. I mean, you just couldn't have them run out of food, now, could you?" Julia asked with a knowing look in Ruth's direction. "Will," she continued, as she lowered her eyes and looked at him, "I haven't seen your RSVP yet, but I'm sure it's not necessary. I'm certain I'm going to make everyone else jealous with the handsomest man in town at my side."
Will glanced at his grandmother, an embarrassed look on his face.
"What about you, Mrs. Martin. Will you be joining us at the ball?" Julia beamed in her direction.
A shadow crossed Ruth Martin's face. "I haven't made up my mind. I'm not sure I'm ready to get back into the social whirl quite yet."
"But it will be the event of the season," persisted Julia."You really must come."
"Thank you for your kind invitation," Ruth replied quietly. "I'll just have to see how I feel."
The smile hardened on Julia's face. "I'll put you down as a yes. The evening just won't be complete without you." In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Julia turned to Will. "Guess who called me today."
Will shook his head. "I'm sure I can't imagine."
