Love in Mistletoe Springs:
The Mistletoe Springs animal shelter loses their grant, endangering the lives of countless stray dogs, cats, even birds and turtles. The community attempts to save the shelter by running a Christmas in July fundraiser. Groups of volunteers scramble to get all the details together while managing their personal lives. For ten people, love gets in the way.
Mitch Silverton agreed to be in charge of decorating for the fundraiser. And he needs his boss, Margaret Holberg, to donate her family's vast array of decorations to make the day unforgettable. BUT...
She's not sharing. Christmas is not a holiday she wants to celebrate in July, and saving the animal shelter is not high on her list of important things to do.
He wants her to share more than the decorations. He wants her heart. Will he succeed in changing Miss Scrooge into Mrs. Christmas?
Sounds great, Ginger! Tell us why you decided to delete this scene we're about to read.
I deleted this scene because I decided I didn’t want Mitch’s mom to die. Since it is a novella, and I was limited to about 25,000 words, the depth needed to convey his sorrow would have taken more words than I had. I also needed him to fall for Margaret pretty quickly, and one thing I know is that if you don’t already have a love interest to help you through tragedy, you aren’t looking for one at that moment. He may have accepted her help, but he wouldn’t have felt ready to “love” her for some time, time I didn’t have to give him. He only had a couple of months to fall in love.
Here’s Ginger's scene:
Mitch Silverton stepped through his front door, surprised at how many lights Samantha, his mom’s nurse, had turned on. Usually when he arrived home from work, the house was dark and quiet. He flipped switches as he walked toward the kitchen. Samantha sat at the table with his mom.
Samantha nodded and picked up her knitting bag and her purse. “See you tomorrow, Almyra.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Mitch.”
He took the seat she’d vacated. “What’s going on?”
“It’s time, Grayson.”
He frowned. She only called him Grayson when she wanted his undivided attention. “Time for what?”
She sighed and rested her frail, vein covered hands on the table. “It’s time for me to move to a care facility where I can get full-time care.”
His heart fell. “No.”
“Yes. It’s still my decision.”
An ache settled in his chest. “But Mom…”
“No, buts Grayson. You’ve spent the last few years working and taking care of me. I’ve lived with this cancer far longer than the doctors expected, but my time is soon coming to an end. God and I have been having a lot of intimate conversations. I’m tired, son. You’re tired.” She stretched out a hand, and he grasped it in his own. “I hear you sigh every night as you come home from work. Caring for me and working, it’s too much to ask of you. Besides…” She took a deep breath, “I went to the doctor today. I’ve been having numbness in my legs. He ordered an immediate scan. I have a tumor growing near my spine.”
He released her hand and stood. “No.”
“Sit down, Grayson.”
“The doctor said it would continue to grow and soon I won’t be able to walk at all.” She reached up and caressed his cheek. “You’re such a good boy, and I know you love me and want to care for me. I can’t put you through any more. I would be bed-ridden, and that’s too much of a burden on you.”
“But those places are awful. You wouldn’t get the kind of care you get here. Doesn’t Samantha do a good job?”
“Samantha is moving to Oregon with her husband. Who knows what kind of nurse I would get next? She’s been a good friend, but we both agree that it’s time for me to transfer to a facility with twenty-four hour nursing care.”
“You agree? What about me? I don’t get a say in how my mother spends the last years of her life?”
Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t have years left, Grayson Mitchell, and you know it. Stop being pig-headed about this.”
“You’re tired. Let’s get you to bed, and we can talk about it more tomorrow.” He rose to help her to her room. She didn’t fight him.
After he got her settled in bed, she grabbed his wrist. “I’m going. Samantha did some research for me and found an excellent facility not far from here.”
“I’m not talking about this right now.” He tucked her hand under the covers, turned out the light, and walked from the room.
He couldn’t imagine allowing his mother, his only living relative, to move to a facility that supposedly cared for the sick and feeble. He’d seen the news reports on the bad conditions rampant in places like that. He ran his hand through his hair. Not that his opinion mattered. His mother would do what she wanted. She always had.
Walking to the fridge, he pulled out a can of soda and popped open the lid. He drank most of it in one long swig. If he were a drinking man, he’d have poured himself a stiff one, maybe more than one, to combat the flurry of thoughts rattling through his head.
Could he do anything to stop his mom from moving? And what about the tumor? It couldn’t be good that it was close to her spine.
He moved into the family room and collapsed onto the sofa.
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