Tin Angel

For the first time in Alice Hart’s life, she likes the way she looks.

The ugly duckling has become a swan. But how could this be?

She’s ninety years old, far from young and beautiful
…

Alice Hart is a lonely old woman who believes true love happens only once in a lifetime. When the angel Christmas tree topper given to her by the fiancé she lost sixty years ago comes to life, Alice’s wish to be young again is granted, but she’s given only ten days to find true love or die unfulfilled. So she concocts a story that she’s Alice’s long lost niece, hoping to attract the attention of her handsome tenant.

Disillusioned by his experiences with high-maintenance women, Jack Billings yearns to find an old-fashioned girl who is more interested in his heart than in material things. When his elderly landlady vanishes, her newly arrived niece, Ally, seems to hold the clues to her disappearance. Jack at first dismisses Ally as another material girl, but as he digs deeper into Alice’s mystery, he learns that Ally is more than what she seems and worries that the girl he’s coming to love might be a scam artist or worse.

Table of Contents

TIN ANGEL

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Coming soon

About the Author

“
H
ow’s this look?”

Alice Hart leaned forward in the overstuffed armchair, squinting her tired eyes to get a better look at the tin angel Jack Billings had set atop the Christmas tree. Wrapped with faded gold foil and netting, the angel was almost as old as she.

“The tree looks wonderful, Jack. Whatever would I do without you?” She smiled at the handsome young man who’d come to her rescue countless times over the five months he’d been renting her upstairs apartment. A tumble of black hair fell across the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. He brushed it back and flashed her a Cary Grant grin.

“Aw, you’re such a charmer, you’d have no trouble rounding up one of your other admirers.” He stepped down off the stool and stood next to her chair.

Alice swooshed a wrinkled, liver-spotted hand through the air. “Go on, it’s Saturday night. You mustn’t waste your time with an old woman. Go on, before you’re late for your date.”

Jack’s deep, throaty laughter filled the parlor. Alice liked the sound of it. She didn’t get many visitors. Pastor Riley and Doc Brooks didn’t count. They came weekly out of obligation, but Jack came because he wanted to. She tucked the wool blanket on her lap snugly around her legs. If only she were young again, she just might pursue a man like Jack.

“What makes you think I have a date?” He got down on one knee and rested an elbow on the arm of her chair. With his chin in his hand, he stared deeply into her eyes. “There’s no one I’d rather be with than you,” he teased, but there was a kindness in his voice that touched her.

“Careful or you’ll make me blush.” She plucked at the blanket with long, spindly fingers—fingers that had once been beautiful and able to fly gracefully over ivory piano keys. But that was years ago, before the arthritis had set in. “The tree looks beautiful,” she said, shifting her gaze.

“Beautiful, indeed. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.” He leaned over and gently kissed her cheek.

His finely sculpted lips were warm. A tingle ran down her spine, burning a trail of shame. She was ninety years old. She shouldn’t still have these feelings. Yet she realized that was one of old age’s cruelest tricks. While on the outside she had grayed and withered, inside she still felt twenty-five.

Alice squeezed his large, strong hands and bid him good night. After Jack left, she leaned back in the chair and stared at the Christmas tree. The glass ornaments twinkled against the multicolored lights. A deep, hollow feeling filled her chest. This could very well be her last Christmas. At her age, how many more could she expect to have? Tears pricked at her lids. She never imagined her life would turn out as it had, but then does anyone ever imagine they’ll wind up alone? Even now, after more than sixty years, she could still picture Thomas Long’s face—his lopsided smile that sent her heart pitter-pattering every time he flashed it her way, and those deep chocolate eyes that looked straight into her soul.

A tear trickled down her cheek. The war had taken Tom before they could marry. But he wasn’t the only one who’d died that awful day in 1942. She’d died along with him. At least in spirit. If it hadn’t been for Hart Theater, the family business where she played the piano each night, she’d have had no reason to ever leave her parents’ rambling Victorian home.

Jasper, a sleek black cat with piercing gold eyes, jumped onto her lap. He curled into a ball and let out a raspy, contented purr. “At least I’ve got you,” Alice whispered, stroking his back.

She shouldn’t have let life slip by. Surely there could’ve been someone, somewhere who’d have found her attractive. If only she’d put herself out in the world, perhaps she’d have met someone…someone like Jack. He was just the type of man she would love to have met when she was young. The kind of man Tom had been—gentle and considerate. A lump formed in her throat. Nothing about life was fair.

She stared past the gleaming Christmas tree, through the leaded glass windows, out to the snow-lined street. She’d lived in Silvercreek her entire life. She’d watched the small Connecticut farming community become a bustling industrial town, but she’d never truly been a part of it—just a bystander looking in from the outside. She sighed and closed her eyes. What she wouldn’t give to be able to live life over, if only for a few weeks. To be twenty-five again and in love…

Something sharp scratched Alice’s arm. She opened her heavy-lidded eyes to find Jasper stretching contentedly on her lap. The grandfather clock ticking softly in the room’s shadowed corner showed midnight. She’d fallen asleep in the parlor again. She pushed out her bottom lip and shook her head sadly. Pretty soon she’d be sleeping through the night in the chair.

Nudging the cat off her lap, Alice reached for her cane. Even with support, her legs were wobbly, and her joints ached from rheumatism. Slowly, she made her way to the bedroom. She slipped into a nightgown and then took the hairpins from the bun at the top of her head. Long silver strands cascaded down her back, falling just below her waist. She’d always worn her hair long, even as a child. It covered her like a blanket, hiding her imperfect features—the thin straight nose, the overly full lips, the dark wide-set eyes, and the square jaw. Not to mention her tall, lanky frame. Yes, she was far from beautiful, but her hair was exquisite.

Despite the twinge of pain in her gnarled fingers, she plaited her hair expertly from years of practice. She pulled back the down comforter and climbed in between the flannel sheets. Her stomach rumbled angrily. She’d not eaten dinner again. The only time she remembered was when she ate with Jack. Thank goodness for Jack. Without him, she’d most likely starve. Ignoring hunger’s grumbling, she closed her eyes and let sleep take hold.

She slipped into a world where her body no longer ached and her heart wasn’t broken. She floated on a cloud, and in her dreams, she became whatever she wanted—a beautiful young girl in love. As she drifted deeper into sleep’s abyss, the years melted away.

“Dance with me.” Tom’s eyes sparkled. The pale light cast glints of gold on his sleekly combed hair. His fine, black tuxedo, tailored to perfection, accentuated his muscular build. She’d never seen him more handsome.

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, then led her through huge double doors into a candlelit ballroom. The orchestra began to play a waltz. She placed her hand on his shoulder, and he swept her across the polished floor. Their steps matched perfectly. He pulled her closer, holding her tight, as they twirled. His warm breath tickled her ear, and she relaxed against him, content to be in his arms. They danced round and round through cotton-candy clouds, but suddenly, he was ripped from her, disappearing in a swirl of mist and fog.