THE ROAD TO CHRISTMAS
Author:
Sheila Roberts
ISBN:
9780778386568
Publication
Date: September 20, 2022
Publisher:
MIRA
Book Summary:
From USA TODAY bestselling
author Sheila Roberts comes a multi-generational Christmas road trip story
filled with humor and heart, set against the snowy mountains of Washington
state.
Michelle and Max Turnbull are not planning on a happy holiday.
Their marriage is in shambles and the D word has entered their vocabulary. But
now their youngest daughter, Julia, wants everyone to come to her new house in
Idaho for Christmas, and she’s got the guest room all ready for Mom and Dad.
Oh, joy.
Their other two daughters are driving up from California. Audrey
from L.A., picking up Shyla in San Francisco and hoping to meet a sexy rancher
for Audrey along the way. What they don’t plan on is getting stranded on a
ranch when the car breaks down.
The ones with the shortest drive are Grandma and Grandpa Turnbull
(Hazel and Warren). They only have to come from Medford, Oregon. It’s still a bit
of a trek and Hazel doesn’t like the idea of driving all that way in snow, but
Warren knows they’ll have no problem. They have a reliable car for driving in
the snow—and snow tires and chains if they need them. They’ll be fine.
Surprises are in store for all three groups of intrepid travelers
as they set out on three different road trips and three different adventures,
all leading to one memorable Christmas.
Buy
Links:
Harlequin:
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& Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-road-to-christmas-sheila-roberts/1141654815?ean=9780778386568
Books-A-Million:
https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Road-Christmas/Sheila-Roberts/9780778386568?id=8292090795540
Powell’s: https://www.powells.com/book/the-road-to-christmas-9780778386568
Author Bio:
Sheila Roberts lives on a lake in
Washington State, where most of her novels are set. Her books have been
published in several languages. On Strike
for Christmas, was made into a movie for the Lifetime Movie Network and her
novel, The Nine Lives of Christmas,
was made into a movie for Hallmark. You can visit Sheila on Twitter and
Facebook or at her website (http://www.sheilasplace.com).
Author
Website: https://www.sheilasplace.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/funwithsheila
Twitter: https://twitter.com/_Sheila_Roberts
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sheilarobertswriter/
Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/529302.Sheila_Roberts?from_search=true&from_srp=true
MICHELLE TURNBULL WOULD HAVE TWO turkeys in her house for
Thanksgiving. One would be on the table, the other would be sitting at it.
“I can’t believe he’s still there,” said Ginny, her longtime
clerk at the Hallmark store she managed. “You two are splitting, so why not rip
the bandage off and be done with it?”
Rip the bandage off. There was an interesting metaphor. That
implied that a wound was healing. The wound that was her marriage wasn’t
healing, it was fatal.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and went to
unlock the door. “Because I don’t want to ruin the holidays for the girls.”
“You think they aren’t going to figure out what’s going on
with you two sleeping in separate bedrooms? Don’t be naive.”
Ginny may have been her subordinate, but that didn’t stop
her from acting like Michelle’s mother. A ten-year age difference and a long
friendship probably contributed to that. And with her mother gone, she doubly
appreciated Ginny’s friendship and concern.
Michelle turned the sign on the door to Open. “I’ll tell
them he snores.”
“All of a sudden, out of the blue?”
“Sleep apnea. He’s gained some weight.”
Ginny gave a snort. “Not that much. Max may have an inch
hanging over the belt line but he’s still in pretty good shape.”
“You don’t have to be overweight to have sleep apnea.”
“I guess,” Ginny said dubiously. “But, Michelle, you guys
have been having problems on and off for the last five years. Your girls have
to know this is coming so I doubt your sleep-apnea excuse is going to fool
anyone.”
Probably not. Much as she and Max had tried to keep their
troubles from their daughters, bits of bitterness and reproach had leaked out
over time in the form of sarcasm and a lack of what Shyla would have referred
to as PDA. Michelle couldn’t remember the last time they’d held hands or kissed
in front of any of their daughters. In fact, it was hard to remember the last
time they’d kissed. Period.
“You have my permission to kick him to the curb as of
yesterday,” Ginny went on. “If you really want your holidays to be happy, get
him gone.”
“Oh, yeah, that would make for happy holidays,” Michelle
said. “Audrey and Shyla would love coming home to find their father moved out
just in time for Thanksgiving dinner and their grandparents absent.”
“If you’re getting divorced, that’s what they’ll find next
year,” Ginny pointed out.
“But at least they’ll have a year to adjust,” Michelle said.
“And this is Julia’s first Christmas in her new home and with a baby. I don’t
want to take the shine away from that.”
The coming year would put enough stress on them all. She
certainly wasn’t going to kick it all off on Thanksgiving. That wouldn’t make
for happy holidays.
Happy holidays. Who was she kidding? The upcoming holidays
weren’t going to be happy no matter what.
“Well, I see your point,” said Ginny. “But good luck pulling
off the old sleep-apnea deception.”
Their first customer of the day came in, and that ended all
talk of Michelle’s marriage miseries. Which was fine with her. Focusing on her
miserable relationship didn’t exactly put a smile on her face, and wearing a
perpetual frown was no way to greet shoppers.
After work, she stopped at the grocery store and picked up
the last of what she needed for Thanksgiving: the whipped cream for the fruit
salad and to top the pumpkin and pecan pies, the extra eggnog for Shyla, her
eggnog addict, Dove dark chocolates for Audrey, and Constant Comment tea, which
was Hazel’s favorite.
Hazel. World’s best mother-in-law. When Michelle and Max
divorced he’d take Hazel and Warren, her second parents, with him. The thought
made it hard to force a smile for the checkout clerk. She stepped out of line.
She needed one more thing.
She hurried back to the candy aisle and picked up more dark
chocolate, this time for her personal stash.
Hazel and Warren were the first to arrive, coming in the day
before Thanksgiving, Hazel bringing pecan pie and the makings for her famous
Kahlua yams.
“Hello, darling,” Hazel said, greeting her with a hug. “You
look lovely as always. I do wish I had your slender figure,” she added as they
stepped inside.
“You look fine just the way you are,” Michelle assured her.
“I swear, the older I get the harder the pounds cling to my
hips,” Hazel said.
“You look fine, hon,” said Warren as he gave Michelle one of
his big bear hugs. “She’s still as pretty as the day I met her,” he told
Michelle.
“Yes, all twenty new wrinkles and five new pounds. On top of
the others,” Hazel said with a shake of her head.
“Who notices pounds when they’re looking at your smile?”
Michelle said to her. “Here, let me take your coats.”
Hazel set down the shopping bag full of goodies and shrugged
out of her coat with the help of her husband. “Where’s our boy?”
Who knew? Who cared?
“Out running errands,” she said. “I’ll text him that you’re
here. First, let’s get you settled.”
“I’m ready for that,” Hazel said. “The drive from Oregon
gets longer every time.”
“It’s not that far,” Warren said and followed her up the
stairs.
Half an hour later Max had returned, and he and his father
were in the living room, the sports channel keeping them company, and the two
women were in the kitchen, enjoying a cup of tea. The yams were ready and
stored in the fridge, and the pecan pie was in its container, resting on the
counter next to the pumpkin pie Michelle had taken out of the oven. A large pot
of vegetable soup was bubbling on the stove, and French bread was warming. It
would be a light evening meal to save everyone’s tummy room for the next day’s
feast.
“I’m looking forward to seeing the girls,” Hazel said.
“So am I,” said Michelle.
She hated that all her girls had moved so far away. Not that
she minded hopping a plane to see either Audrey or Shyla. It wasn’t a long
flight from SeaTac International to either San Francisco International or LAX,
but it also wasn’t the same as having them living nearby. Julia wasn’t as
easily accessible, which made her absence harder to take. She’d been the final
baby bird to leave the nest, and dealing with her departure had been a
challenge. Perhaps because she was the last. Perhaps because it seemed she grew
up and left all in one quick motherly blink: college, the boyfriend, the
pregnancy, marriage, then moving. It had been painful to let go of her baby.
And even more so with that baby taking the first grandchild with her.
Maybe in some ways, though, it wasn’t a bad thing that her
daughters were living in different states because they hadn’t been around to
see the final deterioration of their parents’ marriage.
Michelle hoped they still wouldn’t see it. She consulted her
phone. It was almost time for Audrey’s flight to land. Shyla’s was getting in
not long after.
“Audrey’s going to text when they’re here,” she said.
“It will be lovely to all be together again,” said Hazel.
“Family is so important.”
Was that some sort of message, a subtle judgment? “How about
some more tea?” Michelle suggested. And more chocolate for me.
Another fifteen minutes and the text came in with Max and
Warren on their way to pick up the girls, and forty minutes after that they
were coming through the door, Shyla’s laugh echoing all the way out to the
kitchen. “We’re here!” she called.
“Let the fun begin,” said Hazel, and the two women exchanged
smiles and left the kitchen.
They got to the front hall in time to see Max heading up the
stairs with the girls’ suitcases and Warren relieving them of their coats.
“Hi, Mom,” said Audrey and hurried to hug her mother.
Shyla was right behind her.
“Welcome home,” Michelle said to her girls, hugging first
one, then the other. “It’s so good to have you home.”
“It’s not like we’ve been in a foreign country,” Shyla
teased.
“You may as well be,” Michelle said. “And before you remind
me how much we text and talk on the phone, it’s much better having you here in
person where I can hug you.”
“Hugs are good,” Audrey agreed.
“We brought you chocolate,” Shyla said, handing over a gift
bag.
Michelle knew what it was even before she looked inside.
Yep, Ghirardelli straight from San Francisco.
“I know you can get it anywhere, but this is right from the
source,” said Shyla.
More important, it was right from the heart.
“And you don’t have to share,” Audrey said. “We brought Dad
some, too.”
Sharing with Dad. There was little enough she and Max shared
anymore. “That was sweet of you.”
“We figured you might need it,” Audrey said.
Was she referring to Michelle’s troubled relationship with
their father? No, couldn’t be.
“After last Thanksgiving,” Shyla added.
Michelle breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, they were
talking about the power outage, which had ruined both the turkey and the pie
she’d had in the oven.
The girls had loved it, settling in to play cards by
candlelight. Michelle had been frustrated. And far from happy with her husband
who’d said, “Chill, Chelle. It’s no big deal.”
It had been to her, but she’d eventually adjusted, lit the
candles on the table and served peanut butter and jelly sandwiches along with
olives and pickles and the fruit salad she’d made, along with the pie Hazel had
brought. Hazel had declared the meal a success.
Max had said nothing encouraging. Of course.
“Oh, and this.” Shyla dug in the bag she was still carrying
and pulled out a jar of peanut butter. “Just in case we have to eat peanut
butter sandwiches again.”
Hazel chuckled. “You girls think of everything.”
“Yes, we do,” Audrey said, and from her capacious purse pulled
out a box of crackers. “In case we run out of bread.”
“Now we’re set,” said Michelle and smiled. It was the first
genuine smile she’d worn since the last time she’d been with the girls. It felt
good.
“Oh, and I have something special for you, Gram,” Shyla said
to Hazel. “It’s in my suitcase. Come on upstairs.”
Michelle started. She didn’t need Hazel seeing where the
girls were staying and wondering why they were stuffed in the sewing room and
not the other guest room. “Why don’t you bring it down here?” Michelle
suggested.
“I should stir my stumps,” Hazel said and followed her
granddaughter up the stairs.
Audrey fell in behind, and Michelle trailed after, her
stomach starting to squirm. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure about that excuse she’d
invented for changing her husband’s sleeping arrangements. But the excuse was
going to have to do because she didn’t have time to think of anything better.
They passed the first bedroom at the top of the stairs,
which had once been Audrey’s and had been serving as a guest room ever since
she’d graduated from college and got her first apartment. It was where Warren
and Hazel slept when they came to visit. Then came the second room, which had
been Julia’s but was serving as Max’s new bedroom. The door was shut, hiding
the evidence. Shyla reached for the doorknob.
“Not that room,” Michelle said quickly. “I have you girls
together,” she said, leading to Shyla’s old room, which was serving as the
sewing room. It still had a pullout bed in it for overflow sleeping when
Michelle’s brother’s family came to stay. Bracing herself, she opened it,
revealing the girls’ luggage sitting on the floor.
Audrey looked at Michelle, her brows pulled together. “We’re
in the sewing room?”
“You girls don’t mind sharing a room, right?” Michelle said lightly.
“What happened to Julia’s old room?” Shyla asked.
“We’re not using that room for now,” Michelle hedged.
“More storage?” Shyla moved back down the hall and opened
the door. “What the…”
“Your father’s sleeping there,” Michelle said. Hazel looked
at her in surprise, igniting a fire in her cheeks.
“Dad?” Audrey repeated.
“He snores,” said Michelle. “Sleep apnea.”
“Sleep apnea,” Hazel repeated, trying out a foreign and
unwanted word.
“Has he done a sleep test?” Audrey asked.
“Not yet,” said Michelle. She kept her gaze averted from her
daughter’s eyes.
“Gosh, Mom, that’s a serious sleep disorder.”
“How come you didn’t tell us?” Shyla wanted to know.
“Is he getting a CPAP machine?” Audrey sounded ready to
panic.
“Don’t worry. Everything’s under control,” Michelle lied.
Audrey looked ready to keep probing so Michelle hustled to change the subject.
“Shyla, what did your bring Gram?”
“Wait till you see it. It’s so cute,” Shyla said, hurrying
to unzip her suitcase. “I found it in a thrift shop.”
“Still shopping smart. I’m proud of you,” Hazel said.
“I learned from the best—you and Mom.” She pulled out a
little green stuffed felt cactus inserted in a miniature terra-cotta pot and
surrounded by beach glass. “It’s a pin cushion,” she said as she presented it.
“That is darling,” said Hazel.
From where she stood by the doorway, Michelle let out a
breath, then took another. Like a good magician performing sleight of hand, she
had diverted attention to something else and pulled off her trick. Now you see
trouble, now you don’t.
How long could she keep up the act?
Excerpted
from The Road to Christmas by Sheila Roberts. Copyright © 2022 by Sheila
Roberts. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
