Christmas in Dixie, page 1
Christmas in Dixie
A Sweet Southern Romantic Comedy
Kaci Lane
Copyright © 2021 by Kaci Lane
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means without written permission from the author.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Books by Kaci Lane
Chapter One
Lacie
* * *
“With a cold front moving in Christmas Eve, it looks like Atlanta might just get a white Christmas. So keep an eye on the roads. I’m Lacie Sanderson, on location in downtown Atlanta, wishing you all a safe holiday.”
I put on the smile that helped me win Apple Sauce Queen my junior year of high school and wait for Dustin’s signal. After an awkward minute, he nods, and the camera light stops blinking.
“That’s a wrap, Lacie.”
I immediately slump my shoulders and relax my quivering cheeks. “Thank God, it’s freezing out here.” That came out a little too southern, as does most everything I say when the camera isn’t rolling.
“Well, you’re headed west. Mark said the precipitation should fizzle out before it reaches Alabama.”
I arch my eyebrow at Dustin. “No, it’s going to move faster than Mark thinks. Alabama will have snow by Christmas morning, if not sooner.”
Dustin shakes his head and chuckles. “Whatever you say, Lacie Bug.”
I frown. He’ll never let me live down the day my parents visited The Weather Channel and spilled the beans on my childhood nickname.
Dustin continues packing up his camera as I remove my earpiece. Once everything is put away in the news van, he wishes me a Merry Christmas and heads back toward the station.
I blow into my chapped hands and hop in my Honda CR-V. I turn on the heater and choose my favorite Christmas music station. It’s only a few miles to my apartment, but it takes a half hour thanks to all the rush-hour traffic running both ways. I assume half the people are headed to work and the other half out of town. Over the past few years, I’ve met very few people in Atlanta who are actually from Atlanta.
After witnessing an exchange of horn honks and obscene gestures among my fellow commuters, I make it home. I’ve got to finish packing and make sure everything is in order so I can leave after seeing Collins. My insides warm, and I smile. Not the fake Apple Sauce Queen smile I reserve for on-camera, but my natural, not-so-over-the-top smile. Collins and I met on New Year’s Eve last year and have dated ever since.
He checks off all my boxes. He’s handsome, successful, smart, and compassionate, and he’s been going to church with me. I can totally see us getting married one day. Which is why I’ve made every excuse under the sun to keep him away from my family.
As my G-Maw would say, they’d have him running like a chicken with his head cut off.
In high school, my daddy strategically cleaned his guns at the dining room table whenever a new guy would pick me up for a date. And he still says he can’t understand why I broke up with Bradley. Ugh. From leading our high school football team to win state to serving as the Apple Cart County sheriff, Bradley Manning has made the whole town of Wisteria, Alabama, practically worship him.
I roll my eyes as I hop out of my crossover and lock the door behind me. Daddy is the least of my worries. My extended family is the real reason I want to keep Collins under wraps until I lock him down.
I go inside my apartment and take a whiff of the air. I should probably wash my egg skillet soiling in the sink before I leave. When you have to get to work before six a.m., you learn to let a few things slide.
I drop my purse on the tiny kitchen counter and roll up my coat sleeves. As I scrub the yellow scales on my not-so-nonstick skillet, my mind wanders. I imagine walking down the aisle toward Collins in a beautiful gown, with my arm looped through Daddy’s. Then my perfect day is ruined by my crazy Aunt Misty whistling loudly and bringing everyone’s attention to her improper choice of wedding attire.
I wince as I rinse the pan. Yeah, we’re definitely eloping. With any luck, I can keep Collins away from the full Mayberry clan at least until the ink on our marriage license dries. Then it will be too late for him to cut and run, as G-Maw would say.
I reach for my hand towel that reads, “Christmas Cookies and Hallmark Movies.” I dry my hands, then spread the towel across the counter and set the pan on top to dry. The hand towel takes up half my counter space.
When I moved to Atlanta, my choices were get a teeny tiny apartment or a roommate. And since I knew absolutely nobody and I’m not claustrophobic, I chose Option A. I’m not a huge fan of the city, but working for The Weather Channel has been my dream since fourth grade, when Jim Vann visited our school.
In Alabama, we have a weird hierarchy of celebrities. There’s Nick Saban, the Alabama football coach, followed by two heavyset guys who have a radio show about little more than food and corny impersonations. Then there’s Jim Vann. He’s the king of weather in the southeast.
I’ve watched him navigate us through every storm throughout my life. I’ve always had a fascination with weather, but when he visited my elementary school and showed us weather graphs and polygons in real time, I made up my mind then and there to become a weather girl. But not just any weather girl. I wanted to anchor the news for The Weather Channel. And with an on-camera position in the field, I’m well on my way to fulfilling that dream.
I remove my coat and lay it across my purse, then head to my bedroom. My suitcase is already open on the bed, with most of my clothing folded beside it. I walk to my closet and stand on my toes to rummage through the top shelf. Or more like the only shelf. If I don’t take my own coveralls, I’ll end up wearing my brother’s skanky hunting clothes to the family hog killing.
As soon as I smoosh my coveralls in the corner of my suitcase, I change out of my work clothes. The last thing I want to do is wear slacks, heels, and a blouse on a four-hour drive to the middle of nowhere, so I exchange that outfit for my thickest sweatshirt and some yoga pants.
I check my appearance in the full-length mirror hanging from my closet door. There. A bulky Mississippi State sweatshirt to make my brother mad, along with slightly faded elastic-waist pants. The perfect attire for Wisteria.
Collins
* * *
My stomach churns as I get a text from Lacie saying she’s done packing and ready for me to come over. I text back that I’m on my way and stare down at my own suitcase in the hallway.
She has no idea that I’ve managed to take off work and spend Christmas with her. I shrug on my jacket and slip out into the garage before my roommates ask any questions. They know I’m planning on visiting her family for the holidays, but they don’t know my intentions.
I’ve known Charlie since rush week at Georgia, and he’s sending vibes that he knows something is up. But I can’t tell him or Mitch that I’ve had a diamond burning a hole in my pocket for several weeks now. Mitch would try and talk me out of marriage, as he’s committed to nothing but noncommitment. And Charlie would act awkward around Lacie, since his weakness is keeping things on the DL.
I run a hand across my short beard and hop into my Land Rover. I feel a little silly dressed in scrubs, knowing I’m coming back here after leaving Lacie’s. But she thinks I’m on call this weekend and that I’m going to the hospital after I leave her place. Lacie picks up on everything, which has made keeping secrets from her much harder than fooling the two goobers I live with.
We both live downtown, but I would like to buy a house in the suburbs once we marry. I know Lacie’s only in Atlanta for work, and having a yard wider than my push mower might be a nice change of pace.
It doesn’t take me long to get to her apartment building. I jump out and knock on the door. She answers right away and smiles up at me, her chocolate-brown eyes shining. I step inside and pull her in for a hug. She’s warm and cozy and smells like flowers. I’m not sure what kind, but it’s soothing. I’ve dozed off more than once on her couch while she snuggled up to me with her hair under my nose.
We both work crazy hours, but that’s part of the commonality that kicked off our very first conversation. And her drive and ambition were a total turn-on from day one. Then her sweet-as-molasses voice sent me over the edge. It didn’t take but a few months for me to know I wanted to marry that girl one day.
Lacie lifts her head and gives me a quick kiss before breaking the hug. I follow her a few steps to her tiny living room and take a seat on the couch. She plops down beside me. “Maybe you won’t have to go in on Christmas Day,” she says.
I shrug. With any luck, we’ll be snuggled up at her
“Well, as someone who had to give a weather update at every fake Santa stationed in Atlanta last year, I can assure you working on Christmas isn’t fun.”
“But you had such a cheerful attitude doing it.” I run my hand through her dark hair and smile.
“You didn’t know me last Christmas.”
“Not in person. But I still watched the weather.” It was true. When I saw her at the hospital benefit on New Year’s Eve, I knew right away she was the beautiful girl I’d watched deliver the weather every morning while getting ready for work.
Lacie leans back against my chest and sighs. “I’m gonna miss you this week.”
“Yeah, and I’ll miss you.” I try to sound as if I’m not about to strike out toward Wisteria.
Lacie never says much about her hometown, except that it’s small and she has a big family. It’s probably one of those places with a gazebo downtown and Christmas wreaths on every streetlamp. Like in those low-budget Christmas movies I’ve suffered through the past month, all because I love her.
She raises her head and grins at me. “I better hit the road. The temperature is supposed to drop all day.”
I chuckle and pull her close. “And you can’t drive in the cold?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “No, it’s gonna snow.”
I laugh harder. “Okay, maybe here.”
“No, in Alabama, too.”
“Uh-huh.” I nod my head.
She gives me the same face ornery patients do when I try and convince them that residents are real doctors. “Collins, I’ve been studying the weather patterns for Alabama all week. Trust me.”
“Okay, babe.” I raise my palms in surrender.
She stands slowly and reaches out her hand. I take it and stand in front of her, wrapping my arms around her small waist and pulling her in for a kiss. She fits perfectly between my arms, and all I can think about is how I can’t wait to officially spend the rest of my life snuggled next to her.
After the kiss, I squeeze her in tighter, feeling her heart beat against my chest. It’s all I can stand to not go ahead and propose right here, in her living room, while she’s dressed in sweats and I’m in my scrubs.
But Lacie deserves better than that. She’s old-fashioned and high-class. I need to meet her parents before I propose and let them know my intentions. Then I need to plan the perfect proposal. Someplace outside. Heck, maybe even in a gazebo. Someplace special, where she’ll always remember that moment.
After a long minute, I pull away, knowing she’s anxious to get on the road. “I’ll put your bags in for you.”
“Thanks.”
I follow her to the door, where she has way too many bags for a few nights. But she always overpacks. I’ve never understood that. I could go to the moon with only one suitcase.
I take her two biggest bags, and she follows me with a fancy duffle and her purse. I maneuver them all to fit best in the back of her crossover and close the hatch. She smiles and kisses me gently on the lips.
I smile back. “Merry Christmas, Lacie.”
“I’ll be sure to call you when I get there. Wisteria doesn’t have the best cell service, so I’ll call from Mama’s. You’ll have the house number that way, too.”
I nod. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Her eyes sparkle as those words leave her pink lips. My heart skips a beat, and it takes everything in me to not jump in her vehicle and suggest we elope.
Instead, I run my hand down her hair and squeeze her cheek. Then I go to my own vehicle and drive back home. By now, my roommates are on their way to work, so I can get packed and head toward Wisteria.
My hand trembles as I fumble with fitting my key into the garage door. I’m going to a place I’ve only heard about, with no real plan of how or exactly when I’ll propose. I’m thinking Christmas Eve, but the lack of certainty behind it all makes my mouth go dry. It’s not like me to not have a plan.
I go inside and change out of my scrubs and into khaki pants and a buttoned shirt. My usual look outside of work. Then I get to packing.
After stacking my clothes and tossing in my toiletries bag, I fumble around the bottom of my sock drawer. There. I bring out the tiny black box and pop it open. The corners of my mouth raise as I admire my grandmother’s diamond. As the only child and grandchild, she left it to me for my future bride. I’ve already had it sized to fit Lacie, thanks to sneaking one of her rings to the jeweler’s.
I close the lid and exhale a huge breath. Then I tuck the box securely in the inside zipper pocket of my suitcase. I take a quick glance around my room to make sure I didn’t miss anything, then head outside.
As I climb into the driver’s seat, a knot forms in my stomach. I’m about to drive hours away to a town I have no idea about to meet people I’ve only seen in photos, then propose to the woman I love. But if it ends with Lacie promising to be my wife, it will all be more than worth it.
Chapter Two
Lacie
* * *
I suck down the last of my Starbucks and turn up my favorite Christmas song. I’m now in Tuscaloosa, so it shouldn’t be long before I get to Apple Cart County.
I laugh at how before moving to Atlanta, I complained about Tuscaloosa traffic. But I drive straight through town, no problem. Of course, football season is over, which makes all the difference in T-town. As I drive farther, large office buildings and interstates change into neighborhoods and smaller shops. Then the houses become scattered among hay fields and pine trees. Once all the restaurants switch from fast food chains to little cafes, I know I’m getting close.
My stomach pits with the same conflicted feeling that plagues every trip back to Wisteria. I love my parents and grandparents. And I mostly love my little brother. I also enjoy the slower pace of small-town life. However, there’s a price to pay for all that. I can’t manage to stay more than one day without my crazy aunt popping up. And even a trip to Dollar General to buy toothpaste turns into an interrogation by whatever gossiping granny is in line beside me. I’ve learned the hard way to pack everything I might ever need—and multiples of it—to avoid an emergency DG run.
My insides warm as I spot the orchard at the end of Apple Cart, the neighboring—and slightly larger—small town to mine. Apple Cart is the county seat, and the town is well kept, with more stores. Granted, there’s still a ton of colorful characters and interesting places. There’s even a general store that’s like a combo of new clothes and yard-sale crap. But compared to Wisteria, Apple Cart looks like the cover of Southern Living.
I think my town is the only one to have a hotel, liquor store, and Mexican restaurant all in the same building, under the same management. Well, technically it sits right across the county line, since Apple Cart is a dry county. But the mailing address is Wisteria. Lucky us.
Downtown Apple Cart is nicely decorated, with fake snowflakes on all the streetlamps. Even the Piggly Wiggly has a blowup Santa on the roof. He waves a little too wildly as I pass by. Must be the cold-front winds coming this way.
The ten-year-old inside of me gets a little giddy at the thought of a white Christmas. Nobody believes it’s coming to Alabama, not even my boss. But I’ve studied the weather patterns for over a week, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Jim Vann confirmed my predictions on tonight’s local news.
I drive into the Wisteria town limits and notice that our welcome sign is now held up via PVC pipes. Great. Quality tourist advertisement there. At least the sign is legible. Or maybe that’s not such a good thing.
The drive through town takes all of two minutes. There’s a wooden manger scene in front of my parents’ church, and lights strung on city hall. Not much more. But I didn’t expect Dollar General and the gas station to decorate.
