The Christmas Quandary: Sweet Historical Holiday Romance (Hardman Holidays Book 5) Page 24

  “Thank you, Lila. For making all my dreams come true.” He shot her a rakish look as the hand he settled on her waist dropped lower, caressing the curve of her hip. “Well, almost all my dreams. Anticipation of how well you’ll fulfill the rest of them before the day is over makes me want to carry you back to the my house right now.”

  Playfully, she swatted at his arm. “Tom Grove, you best behave yourself, at least until this impromptu reception is over.”

  He smiled and draped his arm around her shoulder. “I hope you know how much I love you, Lila. I may not bring much money to this marriage or anything of great material value, but the one thing I can give you is an abundance of unconditional love.”

  Lila pulled his head down and kissed him with unbridled emotion. “I love you so much, Tommy. More than you can imagine. We’re going to have a wonderful life together.”

  “Yes, ma’am, we are,” Tom said, grinning at his bride. He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you bought me a newspaper for Christmas.”

  Mischief sparkled in her eyes. “Just wait until you see what I have planned for New Year’s Eve.”

  Cinnamon Rolls

  These cinnamon rolls are so delicious, they freeze well, and they make wonderful holiday gifts (if you can keep your family from eating them all before you can give some away!)

  Cinnamon Rolls

  Dough

  2 cups milk

  ½ cup vegetable oil

  ½ cup sugar

  1 package active dry yeast

  4 ½ cups flour

  ½ tsp. baking powder

  ½ tsp. baking soda

  ½ tbsp. salt

  Filling

  1 cup melted butter

  ¼ cup cinnamon

  1 cup sugar

  Icing

  4 cups powdered sugar

  ¼ cup milk

  3 tbsp. softened butter

  8 ounces cream cheese, softened

  1 tsp. vanilla extract

  Scald the milk, oil, and sugar in a medium saucepan over medium heat (bring milk to nearly a boil, but don’t let it boil!). Set aside and cool to lukewarm (temperature of milk in a baby’s bottle). Sprinkle yeast on top of milk and let rest for one minute.

  Add four cups of the flour and stir until just combined. It is going to be sticky. Cover with a tea towel and set in a warm place for an hour.

  Remove the towel and add baking powder, baking soda, salt, and final ½ cup of flour. Stir to combine.

  On a floured surface, roll the dough into a large rectangle, somewhere in the proximity of 10 inches by 30 inches.

  Pour melted butter over dough. Use your fingers or a knife to spread evenly. Sprinkle on cinnamon and sugar. You can also mix cinnamon and sugar into the butter before pouring over dough. Either way works fine.

  Beginning at the long end farthest from you, roll the rectangle tightly toward you. Use both hands and work slowly, keeping the roll nice and tight. Some filling may ooze out and that is okay. It gives you something to snitch later.

  When you have the roll finished, pinch the outside edge of the roll to create a seam. You should now have a long log. Transfer to a cutting board and cut into 1 1/2 inch slices. You should get about 25 rolls.

  Spray a pan with non-stick cooking spray and place rolls in the pan. I like to use smaller pans and freeze them. If you want to give cinnamon rolls as a holiday gift, put them in disposable aluminum pans, then they are ready for gift giving!

  Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Cover the pans with a tea towel and set aside for about 20 minutes. Remove towel and bake for about 15 minutes or until rolls are golden brown. Do not overcook! While the rolls are baking, whip up the icing.

  Mix the powdered sugar, butter, cream cheese, milk and vanilla in a bowl. Icing should be thick but pourable.

  When the rolls come out of the oven, pour on the icing. Make sure you cover every bit of roll. This step is vitally important for the overall happiness of your taste buds.

  Author’s Note

  It’s such fun for me to return to Hardman for another holiday season with the fun-loving families who reside in this fictional world.

  When I first introduced Tom Grove in The Christmas Calamity, I knew he eventually would have his own story.

  The thought of a girl for Tom made me ponder who would be just right for him. She needed to have spunk and charm. She had to be fun and sweet. I think Lila fit the bill quite well. And I don’t know why, but the name Lila always makes me think of lilacs and springtime, so that’s why Tom calls her Lila Lilac.

  I try to include some historical facts in my works of fiction, and this story is no exception.

  The first United States automobile show really was held in November of 1900 at Madison Square Garden. Varieties of autos were on display with any number of fascinating demonstrations. From the articles I read, many thought the gasoline engine would never be more than a passing fad. I wonder what they’d say now.

  The World’s Fair did take place in Paris that year. I found an article in the Heppner newspaper that talked about one of the local farmers attending with his sheep for a display. The man reported the “Turkish dancers” as one of his favorite exhibits. The first Olympic games outside Greece were held there.

  I also found in the Heppner newspaper archives about the painting of Abraham Lincoln falling off the wall. It’s amusing to see the types of news that used to make headlines!

  If you are wondering why I was reading the Heppner newspaper instead of old issues of the Hardman paper, I have been unable to find any archives from Hardman.

  Recently, I came across a book of Victorian morals and manners. Among the many “dos and don’ts” was a list for teachers, which inspired the list of rules Tom reads through.

  Oh, and the whole thing about a gypsy came from a fun photo I found on Pinterest. A gypsy woman claimed to have hexed a bunch of police officers for arresting her son.

  My dad had an old stereoscope that was always fun to look through. That’s where I got the idea to include it in the story. I think Luke will like those slides Ginny purchased him for Christmas. Don’t you?

  If you’ve never seen a zoetrope, peek at them online. Some of them look like elaborate works of art.

  As always, thank you for reading my books. If you have ideas for future Hardman stories, please let me know!

  If you have a moment, please review The Christmas Quandary online. Help other readers find great new books by telling them why you enjoyed the story. You can post your review of The Christmas Quandary here.

  Thank you for reading Tom and Lila’s story. I hope we meet again in the depths of another book.

  Best wishes,

  Shanna

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  Hardman Holidays Series

  Heartwarming holiday stories set in the 1890s in Hardman, Oregon.

  The Christmas Bargain (Hardman Holidays, Book 1) — As owner and manager of the Hardman bank, Luke Granger is a man of responsibility and integrity in the small 1890s Eastern Oregon town. When he calls in a long overdue loan, Luke finds himself reluctantly accepting a bargain in lieu of payment from the shiftless farmer who barters his daughter to settle his debt.

  The Christmas Token (Hardman Holidays, Book 2) — Determined to escape an unwelcome suitor, Ginny Granger flees to her brother’s home in Eastern Oregon for the holiday season. Returning to the community where she spent her childhood years, she plans to relax and enjoy a peaceful visit. Not expecting to encounter the boy she once loved, her exile proves to be anything but restful.

  The Christmas Calamity (Hardman Holidays, Book 3) — Arlan Guthry's uncluttered world tilts off kilter when the beautiful and enigmatic prestidigitator Alexandra Janowski arrives in town, spi
nning magic and trouble in her wake as the holiday season approaches.

  The Christmas Vow (Hardman Holidays, Book 4) — Sailor Adam Guthry returns home to bury his best friend and his past, only to fall once more for the girl who broke his heart.

  The Christmas Quandary (Hardman Holidays, Book 5) — Tom Grove just needs to survive a month at home while he recovers from a work injury. He arrives in Hardman to discover his middle-aged parents acting like newlyweds, the school in need of a teacher, and the girl of his dreams already engaged.

  Can forbidden love blossom amid the constraints of war?

  “Strong characters, historical authenticity, and unique twists of fate blend with details of a wounded soldier's love.”

  Jane Kirkpatrick

  Award-winning author of This Road We Traveled

  Garden of Her Heart (Hearts of the War, Book 1) — The moment the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, life shifted for Miko Nishimura. Desperate to reach the Portland Assembly Center for Japanese Americans, she’s kicked off the bus miles from town. Every tick of the clock pushes her closer to becoming a fugitive in the land of her birth. Exhausted, she stumbles to her grandparents’ abandoned farm only to find a dying soldier sprawled across the step. Unable to leave him, she forsakes all else to keep him alive.

  After crashing his plane in the Battle of the Atlantic, the doctors condemn Captain Rock Laroux to die. Determined to meet his maker beneath a blue sky at his family home, he sneaks out of the hospital. Weary and half out of his mind, he makes it as far as a produce stand he remembers from his youth. Rather than surrender to death, Rock fights a battle of the heart as he falls in love with the beautiful Japanese woman who saves his life.

  A poignant, sweet romance, Garden of Her Heart proves love can bloom in unlikely places even under the most challenging circumstances.

  Read the first chapter now by turning the page!

  Chapter One

  May 4, 1942

  Near Portland, Oregon

  Hushed whispers started softly, intermittently, before rising in a steady crescendo that peaked at a deafening roar. The momentum stalled and plummeted to a silent lull as the bus ground to an abrupt rattling stop.

  The fierce thud of angry footsteps began at the front of the bus and ended at the last seat, where Kamiko Nishimura hid beneath an austere appearance and a broad-brimmed hat. Fear, unbidden and distasteful, rose in her throat and filled her nose with an unwelcome stench. She masked the trembling of her hands by clasping them primly on her lap, keeping her head down and eyes glued to the floor.

  A pair of polished black shoes entered her line of vision, accompanied by a looming presence hovering over her.

  “I want you off my bus,” the driver demanded. Fury clipped his words and induced a quake in his voice.

  Slowly, Miko tipped back her head and raised her gaze to meet his. Hatred darkened his eyes while a vein throbbed in his neck at a frenetic beat.

  The man clenched his beefy fists and leaned toward her. “I won’t stand for a Jap on my bus! My nephew died at Pearl Harbor along with many fine men. You Japs are all a bunch of…” The words spewing forth from his lips were unfit for anyone to hear, especially a bus filled with women, children, and a few older couples.

  Appalled and mortified, Miko refused to cower or allow any hint of her tumultuous emotions to show.

  The impassive expression on her face throughout his tirade further enraged the driver. He grabbed her arm in a bruising grip. As though the mere contact with her sleeve might impart a ghastly disease, he jerked his hand back and wiped it along the side of his trousers. “If you don’t get off right now, so help me, I’ll throttle you with my bare hands. Now move!”

  Terrified by the thought of what the man might do in his agitated state, Miko picked up her handbag and rose to her feet. Remarkably tall, she stood a few inches above the man who appeared ready to shoot her on the spot. If he had a gun in his possession, she held no doubt he would have blasted a hole through her without blinking.

  Regal and poised, she draped a dark blue raincoat over her arm and lifted her suitcase. The driver blocked her path, glaring at her as though his unconcealed malice might somehow bring about her swift demise.

  Adamant that no one on the bus realize the depths of her unnerved state, she took a step forward. “Pardon me, please,” she said, her tone calm and even.

  The driver seared her ears with another round of his opinions about the Japanese in general and her in particular as he stomped down the aisle and opened the door.

  Several people tossed jeering comments at her as she walked to the front of the bus. Miko focused straight ahead, her face unreadable, and made her way down the steps with all the grace of a queen.

  “Don’t you ever sneak on another bus, you dirty Jap!” the driver yelled and closed the door before her feet touched the ground. Barely giving her time to step away, he pulled back on the road with surprising speed, tossing gravel in his wake.

  Miko remained unmoving until the bus disappeared around a bend in the road. The erect posture she maintained melted and her shoulders slumped forward in defeat.

  No matter how many times she’d been called names or insulted in the days since Japan had attacked Pearl Harbor in December, each occurrence left her dejected and wounded in spirit.

  Miko possessed a fierce patriotism for America, as did each member of her family. Yet, because of their Japanese ancestry, many people regarded them with suspicion and loathing, convinced they served as spies.

  The utter ridiculousness of the idea might have left her amused if the situation hadn’t been so dire.

  In January, the city of Portland voided all business licenses held by Japanese residents. The ruling hadn’t affected her father’s business, however, and the Nishimura family continued living daily life in a normal manner for the next month.

  Then President Roosevelt had issued an order in February authorizing the Secretary of War to protect the country from espionage and sabotage by removing individuals posing a threat. Nervous and dreading the outcome of the order, Miko and her family went on about their business. Like well-watered weeds, rumors flourished that the government planned to evacuate all Japanese people from the West Coast to military areas.

  A few weeks later, the downtown attorney’s office where Miko had worked the past five years fired her. The only explanation was a pointed look and shrug from her employer as he said, “You’re Japanese.”

  A newly enforced curfew forbade Japanese people from leaving their homes between eight in the evening and six in the morning.

  With nothing to occupy her time except worries about the future, Miko accompanied the pastor of the Presbyterian church she’d attended all her life to his daughter’s home in Tillamook on the Oregon coast. Sally had been Miko’s best friend since the two were old enough to talk. After Sally’s mother had passed away when the girl was only fourteen, Sally spent as much time at the Nishimura household as she had her own.

  Glad for company with her first child due any day, Sally welcomed her father and Miko with open arms. Although Sally’s husband wanted to be home with her, duty placed him in Europe, with no hope of taking a leave from the Army or the escalating war.

  Once the healthy baby boy arrived, Pastor Clark had departed for Portland. Miko had chosen to stay with her friend despite Sally’s insistence she return to her family.

  “I just have a feeling you should go with Dad, Miko,” Sally said, the evening before her father drove back to his home in a suburb of Oregon’s largest city.

  Miko laughed and cuddled baby Drew closer. “Is this like the feeling you had when we were ten that we should each eat a whole cherry pie? Do you remember how sick we were? I still can’t stand the taste of cherry pie. Or maybe it’s like the time you insisted I should go on a date with Ted Jones because you had a feeling he was meant for me. Sam Inouye took me home when Ted turned out to be a complete stinker.”

  Dismayed, Sally ignored Miko’s attempts at humor. “Something ba
d is going to happen, Miko. I don’t know what, or how, or when, but I know it will. Please, please go home with Dad tomorrow.”

  Miko argued that if something bad was indeed about to happen, Sally shouldn’t be left alone with a newborn.

  Pastor Clark kissed both girls on their cheeks, admired his tiny grandson, and then climbed in his car with a reminder for them to stay out of trouble.

  Weeks passed without any incident, then rumblings about evacuating Japanese Americans along the West Coast became fact. Miko followed the news as civilian exclusion orders posted by the government required Japanese Americans living in certain regions of the coastal states to report to temporary housing set up in assembly centers. Several areas in California and one in Washington had already undergone evacuation.

  Determined not to dwell on the bleakness of her future, Miko couldn’t help but consider what might take place. Certain it was only a matter of time before Oregon would join the evacuation efforts, she wasn’t surprised to answer the telephone one lovely Sunday afternoon and hear the alarm in her father’s voice as he begged her to travel home as soon as possible.

  “The order arrived to leave our homes and report to an assembly center in Portland no later than the fifth of May. You must come home, Miko. Right away,” he said.

  Shocked by the urgency, Miko felt her mind spin in a hundred different directions. “The fifth? But that’s two days from now! Why didn’t you let me know sooner?”

  “We couldn’t find Sally’s number. With Pastor Clark out of town, we didn’t know whom to call. Your brother finally found her number in your address book. I’m sorry, Miko. Please return home as quickly as you can. We’re leaving everything at your grandparents’ farm. Meet us there. We plan to report to the center tomorrow evening.”