Those Christmas Angels

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  Debbie Macomber

  Three delightful angels come down to earth—just in time for Christmas!

  Shirley, Goodness and Mercy: three well-intentioned angels who are occasionally allowed to intervene (or—perhaps more accurately—interfere!) in human affairs. Despite their frequent misadventures, despite the chaos they often cause, things always seem to turn out right.

  Their latest prayer request comes from the Seattle area. Anne Fletcher sees her son, Roy, becoming a bitter, career-obsessed man. She prays for a special woman to be sent into Roy’s life, a woman who’ll show him what really matters.

  The angels swoop down and find a way to throw Julie Wilcoff in his path—literally! From that moment on, Shirley, Goodness and Mercy shall follow them…whispering suggestions, arranging encounters, hoping for the best.

  Other titles by Debbie Macomber now available wherever Harlequin ebooks are sold:

  Blossom Street Books

  The Shop on Blossom Street

  A Good Yarn

  Susannah’s Garden

  Back on Blossom Street

  Twenty Wishes

  Summer on Blossom Street

  Hannah’s List

  The Knitting Diaries: “The Twenty-First Wish”

  A Turn in the Road

  Cedar Cove Books

  16 Lighthouse Road

  204 Rosewood Lane

  311 Pelican Court

  44 Cranberry Point

  50 Harbor Street

  6 Rainier Drive

  74 Seaside Avenue

  8 Sandpiper Way

  92 Pacific Boulevard

  1022 Evergreen Place

  A Cedar Cove Christmas (5-B Poppy Lane and Christmas in Cedar Cove)

  1105 Yakima Street

  1225 Christmas Tree Lane

  Dakota Series

  Dakota Born

  Dakota Home

  Always Dakota

  The Manning Family

  The Manning Sisters

  The Manning Brides

  The Manning Grooms

  Christmas Books

  A Gift to Last

  On a Snowy Night

  Home for the Holidays

  Glad Tidings

  Christmas Wishes

  Small Town Christmas

  When Christmas Comes (now retitled Trading Christmas)

  There’s Something About Christmas

  Christmas Letters

  Where Angels Go

  The Perfect Christmas

  Angels at Christmas (Those Christmas Angels and Where Angels Go)

  Call Me Mrs. Miracle

  Heart of Texas Series

  VOLUME 1 (Lonesome Cowboy and Texas Two-Step)

  VOLUME 2 (Caroline’s Child and Dr. Texas)

  VOLUME 3 (Nell’s Cowboy and Lone Star Baby)

  Promise, Texas

  Return to Promise

  Midnight Sons

  VOLUME 1 (Brides for Brothers and The Marriage Risk)

  VOLUME 2 (Daddy’s Little Helper and Because of the Baby)

  VOLUME 3 (Falling for Him, Ending in Marriage and Midnight Sons and Daughters)

  This Matter of Marriage

  Montana

  Thursdays at Eight

  Between Friends

  Changing Habits

  Married in Seattle (First Comes Marriage and Wanted: Perfect Partner)

  Right Next Door (Father’s Day and The Courtship of Carol Sommars)

  The Man You’ll Marry (The First Man You Meet and The Man You’ll Marry)

  Orchard Valley Grooms (Valerie and Stephanie)

  Orchard Valley Brides (Norah and Lone Star Lovin’ )

  The Sooner the Better

  An Engagement in Seattle (Groom Wanted and Bride Wanted)

  Debbie Macomber’s Cedar Cove Cookbook

  Debbie Macomber’s Christmas Cookbook

  In memory of Sandy Canfield,

  talented writer and dear friend.

  And to Charles Canfield with affection and thanks for the 38 years of love and support he gave Sandy.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  ANNE FLETCHER pulled the last box of Christmas decorations from the closet in the spare bedroom. She loved Christmas—always had and always would, regardless of her circumstances. It was a bit early yet, a few days before Thanksgiving, but some Christmas cheer was exactly what she needed to get her mind off her problems. The grief that had been hounding her since the divorce…The financial uncertainty she now faced…The betrayal she still felt…

  “No,” she said aloud, refusing to allow herself to step closer to that swamp of regrets. It often happened like this. She’d start thinking about everything she’d lost, and before she knew it, she’d collapse emotionally, drowning in pain.

  Carrying the plastic container down the hallway, she glanced inside her art room and paused to let her gaze drift over to her easel and her latest project. The bold colors of the setting sun against the backdrop of the Pacific Ocean pleased her. Yes, she was divorced, but there’d been compensations, too. Her art had fulfilled her in ways she hadn’t even recognized were possible.

  How different her life was at fifty-nine than she would’ve imagined as few as five years ago. What Burton had done was unforgivable. He’d hurt her—and cheated her of funds that were rightfully hers.

  Once again she stopped herself, not wanting to indulge those bitter memories and regrets. She’d done plenty of that in the beginning, when she’d first learned he’d found someone else and wanted out of their thirty-year marriage. It was a fling, or so she’d managed to convince herself. A midlife crisis like the ones so many men suffered. Any day Burton would come to his senses and see what he was doing to her and to Roy, their son.

  Only he hadn’t, and Anne walked out of divorce court numb with shock and disbelief. Not until the judge’s gavel echoed through the room had she fully believed her husband was capable of such treachery. She should’ve known, should’ve been prepared. Burton was a top-notch divorce attorney, a persuasive man who knew all the ploys. But despite everything, she’d trusted him….

  Her friends had been stunned, too—less by Burton’s deception than by Anne’s apparent acceptance of what he’d done to her. It wasn’t in her to fight, to drag her marriage and her life through the courts. Burton had recommended an attorney, whom she’d obediently retained, never suspecting that the man who’d represented her in court would apply to Burton’s law firm as soon as the divorce was final. Of course, he’d been hired….

  Burton had promised to treat her fairly. Because she was convinced that he’d soon recognize what a terrible mistake he was making, she’d blindly followed his lead. Without a quibble and on her attorney’s advice, she’d accepted the settlement offer—one that had turned out to be grossly unfair. Without realizing it at the time, Anne was cheated out of thousands of dollars’ worth of assets.

  Burton’s ploy in this particular case had been simple: he’d strung her along. Twice he’d come to her in tears, begging her forgiveness, talking about reconciliation, and all the while he’d been shifting their assets to offshore accounts. All the while, he’d been lying, stealing and cheating. She’d loved him and she’d believed him, and so had taken her husband at his word. Never had she dreamed he could betray her like this. After thirty years, she’d walked away with only a pittance. And, needless to say, no alimony.

  Yes, Anne could fight him, could take him back to court and expose him for the thief he was, but to what end? It was best, she’d decided long ago, to preserve her dignity. She’d always felt that life had a symmetry to it, a way of righting wrongs, and that somehow, eventually, God would restore to her the things she’d lost. It was this belief that had gotten her past the bitterness and indignation.

  Anne refused to be bitter. At this point, she couldn’t see how anger, even righteous anger, could possibly help her. She’d adjusted. Taking the little she’d managed to salvage from her marriage, she’d purchased a small cottage on St. Gabriel, a tiny San Juan island in Puget Sound. In college all those years ago, when she’d met Burton, she’d been an art student. She had a flair for art and enjoyed it. Given the demands of being the wife of a prominent divorce lawyer, she’d put aside her own pursuits to assist Burton. Her husband’s ambitions had become her own, and Anne was the perfect wife and hostess.

  It’d been a disappointment to her to have only one child, a son they’d named after Anne’s father. Roy was the light of her life, her ray of sunshine through the years. When she wasn’t hostessing social events on her husband’s behalf, Anne spent her time with Roy, raising him with limitl
ess love and motherly devotion.

  If there was any bitterness in her soul about the way Burton had treated her, it was for what he’d done to Roy. Unfortunately, Roy was the one who’d introduced Burton to Aimee. He never forgave himself for that, despite Anne’s reassurances. Still, Roy took on the blame and assumed responsibility for what had followed. He couldn’t seem to forgive himself for his role in the divorce, no matter how innocent that role might have been.

  To complicate the situation even more, her son refused to forgive his father, not only for betraying Anne but for stealing Aimee, the woman he himself had loved and planned to marry. Roy’s anger was constantly with him. The anger had become part of him, tainting his life, as though he wore smudged, dark glasses that revealed a bleak, drab world. All Roy cared about now was his business, his drive for more and more, and while he’d achieved greater success than most men twice his age, Roy wasn’t happy.

  Her son’s cynicism troubled Anne deeply—even more than the divorce itself. She’d put that behind her, as much as she was able, and built a comfortable life for herself, doing what she loved best—painting. Mostly through word of mouth, her work had started to sell at the local farmers’ market and then at a couple of galleries in the area; it now provided her with a small income.

  Anne would’ve given anything to help her son. No matter how much money he made or how many accolades he received, he remained lonely and embittered. She desperately wanted him to find happiness.

  In the five years since the divorce, Roy had not spoken to his father once, despite Burton’s repeated efforts. Yet Roy was so like Burton. He shared his father’s talents, his ambition. They shared another trait, too, the one that concerned Anne the most. Roy possessed his father’s ability to be ruthless, but he’d directed that ruthlessness primarily at marriage and relationships. Roy was thirty-three, and in Anne’s view, he should get married. However, her son resolutely refused to discuss it. His attitude toward love and commitment had been completely warped. He no longer dated, no longer sought out relationships.

  The only thing that mattered to Roy was the bottom line. He’d grown cold and uncaring; little outside of Fletcher Industries seemed to affect him. Anne realized her son was in trouble. He was hurting badly, although he seemed incapable of recognizing his own pain. Roy needed someone to teach him the power of forgiveness and love. She’d wanted to be that person, to show him that forgiveness was possible, but in his zeal to succeed, Roy had started to block her out of his life. It was unintentional, she knew, but nonetheless, it hurt.

  Roy had established Fletcher Industries, his own computer security company, shortly after he graduated from college in Seattle. His innovative, cutting-edge software led the competition in the field. Recent contracts with the government and several banks had given Fletcher Industries a solid position as one of the top companies of its type.

  Those first years after his business was formed, Roy spent far too many hours at work, caught up in the wave of demand. It wasn’t uncommon for him to stay in the office for two or three days at a time, living on fast food and catnaps. That all changed after he met Aimee. Her son had fallen in love and he’d fallen hard. Anne had been thrilled and Burton was, too. Then Roy had brought Aimee to his home in Southern California to introduce her to his parents, and all their lives had exploded.

  Following his parents’ divorce, Roy had quickly reverted to his old habit of working long hours. Only now a callousness had entered into his business dealings. Anne was aware of this, but she was helpless to change her son, and her heart ached with her inability to reach him. Time and again, she’d tried to open his eyes to what he was becoming, but he couldn’t or wouldn’t hear.

  The kettle whistled, and leaving the Christmas box in the hall, Anne moved into the kitchen. She took the blue ceramic teapot from the cupboard and filled it with boiling water, then added a tea bag—Earl Grey, her favorite—and left it to steep. After a moment, she poured herself a cup and took a first sip of the aromatic tea. She frowned, berating herself for allowing her thoughts to follow the path they’d taken. Just when she assumed she was free of Burton, she’d wallow in the pain all over again and realize how far she had yet to go. There was only one cure for this bout of self-pity and for the worry that consumed her. Setting down the china cup, Anne bowed her head and prayed. Sometimes it was difficult to find the words to express what was in her heart, but not today. The prayer flew from her lips.

  “Dear Lord, send my son a woman to love. One who’ll help him heal, who’ll teach him about forgiveness. A woman who’ll open his heart and wake him up to the kind of man he’s becoming.”

  Slowly, as if weighed down by her doubts, Anne’s prayer circled the room. Gradually it ascended, rising with the steam from the teapot, spiraling upward out of the simple cottage and toward the leaden sky. It rose higher and higher until it reached the clouds and then sped toward the heavens. There, it landed on the desk of the Archangel Gabriel, the same Archangel who’d delivered the good news of God’s love to a humble Jewish maiden more than two thousand years ago.

  Gabriel, however, was away from his desk.

  Shirley, Goodness and Mercy, three Prayer Ambassadors who had a reputation for employing unorthodox means to achieve their ends, stood just inside the Archangel’s quarters. Together the three of them watched as the prayer made its way onto his desk. Only the most difficult prayer requests went to the mighty Archangel—the prayers that came from those who were most in need, from the desperate and discouraged.

  “Don’t read it,” Shirley cried when Goodness, unable to resist, bent to pick up the wispy sheet.

  “Why not?” Goodness had always had more curiosity than was good for her. She knew that peeking at a prayer request before Gabriel had a chance to view it was asking for trouble, but that didn’t stop her. Mercy was the one most easily swayed by things on Earth, and Shirley, well, Shirley was nearly perfect. At one time she’d been a Guardian Angel but had transferred to the ranks of the Prayer Ambassadors. That had happened under suspicious circumstances, so Shirley’s perfection was a little compromised. Shirley never mentioned the incident, though, and Goodness dared not inquire. She knew that some things were better left unknown—despite her desire to hear all the sordid details.

  “Goodness,” Shirley warned again.

  “I’m just going to glance at the name,” Goodness muttered, carefully lifting the edges of the folded sheet and peeking at the signature.

  “Is it anyone we know?” Mercy demanded, drawing closer.

  Goodness eyed Shirley, who was doing her best not to reveal her own interest. “Well, is it?” Shirley finally asked.

  “No,” Goodness said. “I’ve never heard of Anne Fletcher, have you?”

  “Anne Fletcher?” Shirley cried, and then as if her knees had gone out from under her, she sank into the chair reserved for Gabriel. “Anne Fletcher from California,” the former Guardian Angel repeated slowly.

  Goodness looked again, lifting the edge of the sheet just a bit higher this time. “Formerly of California,” she said.

  “Oh, no!” Shirley cried. “She moved. I wonder why. Tell me where she’s gone.”

  “The San Juan Islands,” Mercy said, bending over Goodness to take a look for herself.

  “She’s in the Caribbean?” Shirley said, sounding distraught.

  “No, in Puget Sound—Washington State,” Goodness told her.

  “I remember it well,” Mercy said with a dreamy smile. “Don’t you remember the Bremerton Shipyard? We had so much fun there.”

  “What I remember,” Goodness informed her angelic sister, “was all the trouble we got in when you started shifting aircraft carriers and destroyers around.”

  “I don’t know how many times you want me to apologize for that,” Mercy muttered, crossing her arms defiantly. “It was a fluke. Nothing like that’s happened since, and frankly I think you’re…”

  Her words faded as she saw Goodness studying Shirley. “How do you know Anne Fletcher?” Goodness asked softly.

  “Poor, poor Anne,” Shirley murmured, seemingly lost in thought. “I knew her mother—I was her Guardian Angel. I was with Beth when she gave birth to Anne.”

  So Shirley had a connection to Anne Fletcher. “I didn’t read the request,” Goodness said, more eager than ever to throw caution to the winds and take a second, longer look.