Merry, Merry
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About this ebook
The joyous season turns memorable in the hands of the incomparable #1 New York Times bestselling author Fern Michaels. . .
Some people think owning buckets of money gives them the right of way. Well, if cosmetic king Peter King thinks he's going to buy struggling veterinarian Andi Evans's family property out from under her, he's got another thing coming. This Christmas, Andi is not in a giving mood. . .but is she ready to receive something her heart never expected?
Praise for Fern Michaels and her novels
"Heartbreaking, suspenseful, and tender."
—Booklist on Return to Sender
"Fast-moving. . .entertaining. . .a roller-coaster ride of serendipitous fun."—Publishers Weekly on Mr. and Miss Anonymous
33,500 Words.
Fern Michaels
Fern Michaels is the USA Today and New York Times bestselling author of the Sisterhood, Men of the Sisterhood, and Godmothers series, as well as dozens of other novels and novellas. There are over ninety-five million copies of her books in print. Fern Michaels has built and funded several large day-care centers in her hometown, and is a passionate animal lover who has outfitted police dogs across the country with special bulletproof vests. She lives in South Carolina with her four dogs.
Read more from Fern Michaels
On the Line: A Riveting Novel of Suspense Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5No Way Out: A Gripping Novel of Suspense Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Yesterday Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Mr. and Miss Anonymous Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Serendipity Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Southern Comfort Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Homecoming Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Cinders to Satin Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Crown Jewel: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Holly and Ivy: An Uplifting Holiday Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Wishes for Christmas Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Wish List Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Seasons of Her Life Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Return to Sender Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Fate & Fortune Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5To Have and to Hold Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Nosy Neighbor Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Picture Perfect Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
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Merry, Merry - Fern Michaels
Books by Fern Michaels
Fancy Dancer
Tuesday’s Child
Betrayal
Southern Comfort
To Taste the Wine
Sins of the Flesh
Sins of Omission
Return to Sender
Mr. and Miss Anonymous
Up Close and Personal
Fool Me Once
Picture Perfect
About Face
The Future Scrolls
Kentucky Sunrise
Kentucky Heat
Kentucky Rich
Plain Jane
Charming Lily
What You Wish For
The Guest List
Listen to Your Heart
Celebration
Yesterday
Finders Keepers
Annie’s Rainbow
Sara’s Song
Vegas Sunrise
Vegas Heat
Vegas Rich
Whitefire
Wish List
Dear Emily
Christmas at Timberwoods
The Godmothers Series
Breaking News
Deadline
Late Edition
Exclusive
The Scoop
The Sisterhood Novels
Home Free
Déjà Vu
Cross Roads
Game Over
Deadly Deals
Vanishing Act
Razor Sharp
Under the Radar
Final Justice
Collateral Damage
Fast Track
Hokus Pokus
Hide and Seek
Free Fall
Lethal Justice
Sweet Revenge
The Jury
Vendetta
Payback
Weekend Warriors
Anthologies
A Winter Wonderland
Making Spirits Bright
Holiday Magic
Snow Angels
Silver Bells
Comfort and Joy
Sugar and Spice
Let It Snow
A Gift of Joy
Five Golden Rings
Deck the Halls
Jingle All the Way
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
MERRY, MERRY
FERN MICHAELS
eKENSINGTON BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Books by Fern Michaels
Title Page
RETURN TO SENDER.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A WINTER WONDERLAND
Copyright Page
Andi Evans stared at the light switch. Should she turn it on or not? How many kilowatts of electricity did the fluorescent bulbs use? How would it translate onto her monthly bill? She risked a glance at the calendar; December 14, 1996, five days till the meter reader arrived. The hell with it, the animals needed light. She needed light. Somehow, someway, she’d find a way to pay the bill. On the other hand, maybe she should leave the premises dark so Mr. Peter King could break his leg in the dark. Breaking both legs would be even better. Like it was really going to happen.
Maybe she should read the letter again. She looked in the direction of her desk where she’d thrown it five days ago after she’d read it. She could see the end of the expensive cream-colored envelope sticking out among the stack of unpaid bills. Guess what, Mr. Peter King, I’m not selling you my property. I told that to your forty-seven lawyers months ago.
She started to cry then because it was all so hopeless.
They came from every direction, dogs, cats, puppies and kittens, clawing for her attention, their ears attuned to the strange sounds coming from the young woman who fed and bathed them and saw to their needs. They were strays nobody wanted. This was what she’d gone to veterinarian school for. She even had a sign that said she was Andrea Evans, D.V.M. Eleven patients in as many months. She was the new kid on the block, what did she expect? Because she was that new kid, people assumed they could just dump unwanted animals on her property. After all, what did a vet with only eleven patients have to do?
Andi thought about her student loans, the taxes on her house and three acres, the animals, the bills, the futility of it all. Why was she even fighting? Selling her property would net her a nice tidy sum. She could pay off her loans, go to work for a vet clinic, get a condo someplace and . . . what would happen to her animals if she did that? She wailed louder, the dogs and cats clambering at her feet.
Enough!
a voice roared.
Gertie!
Tails swished furiously; Gertie always brought soup bones and catnip. Andi watched as she doled them out, something for everyone. She blew her nose. I think they love you more than they love me.
They love what I bring them. I’d like a cup of tea if you have any. It’s nasty out there. It might snow before nightfall.
Where are you sleeping tonight, Gertie?
Under the railroad trestle with my friends. Being homeless doesn’t give me many choices.
You’re welcome to stay here, Gertie. I told you the cot is yours anytime you want it. I’ll even make you breakfast. Did you eat today?
Later. I have something for you. Call it an early Christmas present. I couldn’t wait to get here to give it to you.
Gertie hiked up several layers of clothing to her long underwear where she’d sewn a pocket. She withdrew a thick wad of bills. We found this four weeks ago. There it was, this big wad of money laying right in the street late at night. Two thousand dollars, Andi. We want you to have it. We watched in the papers, asked the police, no one claimed it. A whole month we waited, and no one claimed it. It’s probably drug money, but them animals of yours don’t know that. Better to be spent on them than on some drug pusher. Doncha be telling me no now.
Oh, Gertie, I wouldn’t dream of saying no. Did you find it in Plainfield?
Right there on Front Street, big as life.
Andi hugged the old woman who always smelled of lily of the valley. She could never figure out why that was. Gertie had to be at least seventy-five, but a young seventy-five as she put it. She was skinny and scrawny, but it was hard to tell with the many layers of clothing she wore. Her shoes were run-down, her gloves had holes in the fingers and her knit cap reeked of mothballs. For a woman her age she had dewy skin, pink cheeks, few wrinkles and the brightest, bluest eyes Andi had ever seen. Did you walk all the way from Plainfield, Gertie?
Gertie’s head bobbed up and down. Scotch Plains ain’t that far. I left my buggie outside.
Translated, that meant all of Gertie’s worldly possessions were in an Acme shopping cart outside Andi’s clinic.
Here’s your tea, Gertie, strong and black, just the way you like it. It’s almost Christmas; are you going to call your children? You should, they must be worried sick.
What, so they can slap me in a nursing home? Oh, no, I like things just the way they are. I’m spending Christmas with my friends. Now, why were you bawling like that?
Andi pointed to her desk. Unpaid bills. And a letter from Mr. Peter King. He’s that guy I told you about. His forty-seven lawyers couldn’t bend me, so I guess they’re sending in the first string now. He’s coming here at four-thirty.
Here?
Gertie sputtered, the teacup almost falling from her hand.
Yes. Maybe he’s going to make a final offer. Or, perhaps he thinks he can intimidate me. This property has been in my family for over a hundred years. I’m not selling it to some lipstick mogul. What does a man know about lipstick anyway? Who cares if he’s one of the biggest cosmetic manufacturers on the East Coast. I don’t even wear lipstick. These lips are as kissable as they’re going to get, and his greasy product isn’t going to change my mind.
I really need to be going now, Andi. So, you’ll tell him no.
Gertie, look around you. What would you do if you were me? What’s so special about this piece of property? Let him go to Fanwood, anywhere but here. Well?
Location is everything. This is prime. Zoning has to be just right, and you, my dear, are zoned for his needs. I’d tell him to go fly a kite,
Gertie said smartly. I hear a truck. Lookee here, Andi, Wishnitz is here with your dog food.
I didn’t order any dog food.
You better tell him that then, ’cause the man’s unloading big bags of it. I’ll see you tomorrow. Greasy, huh?
Yeah. Gertie, I wish you’d stay; it’s getting awfully cold outside. Thanks for the money. Tell your friends I’m grateful. You be careful now.
Hey, I didn’t order dog food,
she said to the driver.
Bill says it’s a gift. Five hundred pounds of Pedigree dog food, sixteen cases of cat food and two bags of birdseed. Sign here?
Who sent it?
Don’t know, ma’am, I’m just the driver. Call the store. Where do you want this?
Around the back.
Andi called the feed store to be sure there was no mistake. Are you telling me some anonymous person just walked into your store and paid for all this? It’s a fortune in dog and cat food. No name at all? All right, thanks.
A beagle named Annabelle pawed Andi’s leg. "I know, time for supper and a little run. Okay, everybody SIT! You know the drill, about face; march in an orderly fashion to the pen area. Stop when you get to the gate and go to your assigned dishes. You know which ones are yours. No cheating, Harriet, she said to a fat white cat who eyed her disdainfully.
I’m counting to three, and when the whistle blows, GO! That’s really good, you guys are getting the hang of it. Okay, here it comes, extra today thanks to our Good Samaritan, whoever she or he might be."
Bravo! If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it. There must be thirty dogs and cats here.
Thirty-six to be exact. And you are?
Andi looked at her watch.
Peter King. You must be Andrea Evans.
Dr. Evans. How did you get in here? The dogs didn’t bark.
Andi’s voice was suspicious, her eyes wary. "I’m busy