Читать книгу Bride Under the Mistletoe: The Magic of a Family Christmas - SUSAN MEIER - Страница 15

THE next morning, Wendy met Patty and Emma by the time clock. Patty tapped her forearm to catch her attention. “You know, you haven’t really spoken much since you got Harry. Everything okay?”

Punching her time card, Emma added, “You didn’t bite off more than you can chew with that little boy, did you?”

Wendy gasped. “Oh, no! I love everything about having Harry in my life.”

“Then what?” Emma asked.

Wendy licked her suddenly dry lips. Part of the problem she was having with Cullen was that she hadn’t talked about any of this with her friends. The only input and opinion she had was her own. Lately, she was beginning to think she wasn’t all that smart when it came to men.

Patty growled, “Come on, spill it.”

Catching Patty’s arm and nodding to Emma, she moved the three of them to a quiet corner. “Okay. The problem is Mr. Barrington.”

Both Patty’s and Emma’s eyebrows rose. “He’s a crappy boss?”

“He’s a great boss and he’s even been helping me with Harry.”

“Oh, really?”

“Harry and I met Cullen the Saturday before he took over for Mr. McCoy.”

“The day of the ice storm?”

Wendy winced. “The day we lost power.”

“Oh, you little devil! He stayed at your house, didn’t he?”

“Yes, and that’s why Harry got so close to him.”

“And you, too?”

She sighed. “And me, too.” Glancing around to make sure the hall was clearing and no one could hear, she took her voice down to a whisper. “Last Friday night, he tried to kiss me and—”

Both Emma and Patty’s eyes widened.

“—then we had a bit of a disagreement about money. I more or less accused him of trying to buy me.”

This time their mouths fell open.

“Girl, when you decide to have a life you pull out all the stops.”

“No kidding. The problem is he’s a really great guy. And I’m afraid he’s never going to speak to me again because—well, I’m an idiot. I keep taking everything he says and does the wrong way.” She shook her head. “But I think he’s wrong about a few things, too. He says we’re not good for each other because he doesn’t want to settle down, but I’m not so sure I want to settle down either right now.”

Patty gasped. “You want a fling?”

“Maybe.”

“So,” Emma said, leaning closer, her eyes bright with excitement, her voice a low whisper. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I know,” Patty said, grabbing Wendy’s hand to make sure she paid attention. “You’re going to really listen when he talks, stop jumping to conclusions and stop comparing him to Greg.”

Wendy winced. “You figured that out.”

“Yes.”

Patty glanced at the clock on the wall. “Two minutes to get to the wheel.” She sighed. “If we had more time I’d give you real advice, because I saw the way he looked at you. For now, just listen—really listen—to what he’s saying and take your cue from that. For God’s sake, don’t push him, but don’t miss the obvious.”

Deciding that was probably the best course of action, Wendy headed for her office. When she arrived, Cullen was rifling through the file cabinets in front of her desk.

“Good morning.”

Without looking away from the files, he said, “Good morning. So, how was Harry this morning?”

Normal conversation. Thank God. This she could handle. “He was great. Happy as a clam. I reminded him to ignore Freddie, and he grinned.”

Cullen shook his head with a chuckle. “Kids. They’re very resilient.”

“I have a feeling Harry has spent a lot of his life accepting things he couldn’t change.”

“Yeah, me, too.” He paused a second then said, “Are you busy today?”

“Just the usual. But my job title is assistant to the president, so if you need me to do something, your work comes first.”

He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “I don’t really have work for you to do. Actually, I have nothing on my calendar today for myself.” He caught her gaze. “So I thought maybe you’d come out with me this afternoon and help me choose a gift for Harry for Christmas.” He paused. “The kid’s had it so rough the past few months that I want to buy him a great gift. Something that makes him feel special.” He paused. “That is, if it’s okay with you.”

She nearly cursed herself for being such a hard case that he worried it might not be okay for him to buy Harry something for Christmas. “Of course you can buy him a gift!”

“And you’ll help me?”

This was her perfect opportunity to fix the mistakes she kept making with him. Away from the office, away from Harry, they could simply be themselves.

“Sure. I’d love to go shopping.”

“I understand there’s a mall—”

Before she nodded in agreement, a thought struck her. She wasn’t the only one who had made some mistakes about Cullen. The employees had been gossiping ever since he arrived and most of what they’d said had been way off base. When they got their big raises in January, she wanted the people in the town to realize Cullen had been the one who saw the problem and rectified it. Since job confidentiality precluded her from telling anyone he, not Mr. McCoy, had instigated the raises, the best way to help everyone figure it out for themselves would be to get him out among the townspeople. Soon they’d see him for the nice guy he was and know he’d been their benefactor.

“The mall’s too impersonal. We should stay in town. There are a few small shops that have some interesting gifts.” She slid onto her desk chair. “You’re very important to Harry. A gift from you should reflect that.”

“I was going to get a dump truck.”

She laughed. “You can buy him a dump truck. But let’s look around town. See what else might strike your fancy.”

He pulled in a breath. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

He turned to go into his office, but she had a second, even better idea. “We could have lunch at the diner first. Kill two birds with one stone.”

He faced her with a scowl. “I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“I usually go back to my hotel—”

“Really?” She swallowed back the surprise of that and added, “That’s quite a drive for lunch. Let me introduce you to the ladies at the diner. They’ll take care of you. Then you won’t have to go so far every day.”

Cullen was suspicious of Wendy’s they’ll take care of you claim until they stepped into the diner. In the years he’d been out of town, it hadn’t changed one iota. Heavy-duty floor tiles in pale brown were flecked with enough colors that they didn’t show the dirt from the foot traffic. Chocolate-brown stools rimmed a beige counter. Booths of the same chocolate color lined three of the walls. Tables filled in the center space.

But what he’d missed most in the years he’d been away, without even realizing he was missing it, was the smell. The scents of chicken, pie, French fries, hamburgers, butter and cinnamon mixed and mingled and wafted through the seating area.

Waitresses in pink uniforms dashed from table to table and into the kitchen. Dodie, the same cashier/hostess who’d manned the cash register when he and his parents had come here to eat on special occasions still stood behind the counter, her pink uniform stretched around her round tummy.

“Well, as I live and breathe! Cullen Barrington.”

“I didn’t think you’d recognize me.”

Dodie batted a hand. “Handsome devil like you? Are you kidding?”

He laughed.

She grinned, but her smile quickly faded. “I heard about your mom. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“How’s your old man?”

“He’s fine. The warm weather agrees with him.”

“Warm weather agrees with all of us.” She peered at Wendy. “And don’t think I don’t see you standing there, missy. How’s that new boy of yours?”

Wendy laughed. “He’s great.”

“You’re going to make him a wonderful mother. You don’t let social services push you around.”

Wendy shook her head. Dodie knew everything. “I won’t.”

“Good. Find yourselves a seat. I’ll send Mercy over to get your orders.”

At the booth, Cullen helped Wendy with her coat and hung it on the hook at the end of the booth along with his topcoat. She slid onto one side, he slid onto the other.

Taking a menu from the holder behind the salt and pepper, she said, “I didn’t realize you knew Dodie.”

He grabbed a menu, too. “Everybody knows Dodie.”

She smiled. “And she knows all of us, too.”

His eyes on the menu, Cullen said, “That’s the one thing about a small town that’s good and bad. Everybody knows everything.”

“I think it works in our favor more than it works against us.”

“Your family didn’t own the town’s major employer.”

“True.” She paused when the waitress came over. Cullen deferred to her and she ordered a salad. He ordered a hot roast beef sandwich.

When the waitress left, she picked up the conversation where it had left off. “So, how was it?”

“Living here?”

She shrugged. “Living here. Living with a mom who was company president.” She frowned. “Why was she the one running the company? The company was founded by your dad’s grandparents. Why didn’t your dad take the job?”

“He didn’t want it. All along he wanted to hire a competent manager, move south and enjoy life.”

“So what happened?”

“He married a local girl. He met my mom his last year in college and it was love at first sight. They kind of got married without really talking about what they wanted out of life.”

Though Wendy and her husband had had a good marriage, it was only because she’d never complained when Greg had totally controlled their lives. “I basically did the same thing.”

“Then you understand my dad’s disappointment when she wouldn’t leave her friends.”

“She wouldn’t leave her friends?”

“She was afraid that an impersonal manager wouldn’t treat the people of the town well.”

Wendy shrugged. “In a way she was right. Mr. McCoy hasn’t given raises in five long years.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t change the fact that my father was miserable. So he hid himself in his work. He started an investment company and grew it until my mom retired.”

Which was why a neighbor had to coach Cullen’s Little League team. His mom felt it her duty to ensure that her friends at the candy factory were treated right, and his dad hid in his work. No wonder Cullen understood Harry’s loneliness.

The waitress came with their drinks and silverware, silently set them on the table and left again.

He nodded at Mercy. “She’s not much of a talker.”

“She’s new. And probably afraid of you.”

He snorted a laugh. “Right.”

“I’m serious. Everybody’s afraid of you or suspicious of why you’re here. I figured out last night that the way everybody treats you oddly is part of why you don’t want to live here.”

“No. I don’t care what the people of the town think of me. I don’t want to live here because I have a life in Miami. A life I love.”

A shiver of caution tripped down her spine, reminding her of how different they were; how they wanted different things out of life. Still, worries like those were irrelevant. She already knew their differences.Yet, she still liked him. A lot. She hadn’t even been slightly attracted to a man in so long it felt wrong not to follow up on what she felt for Cullen. And if that led to an affair, it led to an affair. She wasn’t going to be Miss Goody Two-shoes anymore. But she wouldn’t get her heart broken because she’d go in with her eyes open. No expectations.

“All the same, it wouldn’t hurt you to spend a little time with the people your company supports.”

“Is that what this is all about?” He motioned around the diner. “Getting me out among the people?”

“No. Yes.” She winced. “I think you have a poor opinion of them from your childhood and they have a poor opinion of you since nobody got a raise after you took over.”

“That was Paul’s doing. Once my mom retired, my dad wouldn’t let her even peek at the books, afraid she’d become overinvolved again. Paul was making money for us and we chose to let him do whatever he felt necessary. Now that we know he was a little heavy-handed with the employees, we’re fixing things.”

“You’re fixing things. Everybody thinks the no-raise policy came from your family and you’re the living, breathing person in Barrington getting the blame. You need to get the credit.”

He laughed. “Once again, I don’t need the credit.”

She toyed with her silverware. “Have you ever stopped to think that maybe they need you to take the credit?”

His face twisted in confusion. “How’s that?”

“Just as Harry needs to learn to trust me, these people who depend on you need to know that you’re trustworthy.”

Cullen said nothing.

“Do you want them to spend the rest of their lives wondering if they’ll have a job next year?”

“Why would they think that?”

“The rumor has run rampant for years that no raises means no profits, which means there’s no reason to keep Barrington Candies open.”

“Our profits are fabulous! Why do you think we never sold out when we decided to move away?”

She shrugged. “Everybody felt your family was sentimental.”

“Wow.” He leaned back in his seat. “Nobody ever leaked the numbers?”

She shook her head.

“You’ve seen the financial reports. Are you telling me you’ve never even tried to reassure your friends that everything was fine?”

“Of course I did. I’d say things like, ‘we have nothing to worry about.’ But no one believed me.” She pointed across the table. “You, they’d believe.”

He closed his eyes and puffed out a breath. “I’m really going to have to do this, aren’t I?”

She grinned with delight, her confidence in him blooming. “Yes.”

“Damn. I’m not much on PR.”

“You’ll live.”

He laughed and opened his eyes just as Mercy arrived with their food. After she set the dishes in front of them, Cullen looked up at her with a smile. “Thank you, Mercy.”

She smiled shakily. “You’re welcome, Mr. Barrington.”

“You can call me Cullen.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t call him Cullen. She said, “Okay,” then scurried away.

“How was that?”

“That was a wonderful beginning.”

He picked up his fork and dug into his hot roast beef sandwich. “Just so you know—I’m not doing this to get credit for the raises. I’m doing this so people get comfortable with the idea that their jobs aren’t going away.”

“You won’t be sorry.”

“I’d better not be.”

When they stepped out of the diner, a faint sheen of snow covered the cars parked on Main Street. A light breeze tousled the feathery tinsel wrapped around the streetlights. The silver bells on light poles jingled.

“Where to?”

“We’ve got three choices. Perry’s Toys, Mac’s Hardware or Truffles.”

Cullen nearly laughed at the thought of Mac’s Hardware until he remembered the hardware store had been the best place to buy trains. Then he heard her mention Truffles, the candy store his father half owned. He was a partner with their former neighbor, Jim Edwards, in the store that sold Barrington Candies as well as toys, gifts and greeting cards. Though Cullen had spent many an afternoon trailing behind Jim when he had coached the Little League team, or watching as he arranged toys and candy displays, he hadn’t seen Jim in years.

“Let’s go to Truffles.”

They walked side by side down the sidewalk, passing shops decorated for the holiday with brightly colored lights and tinsel. The airy snow danced around them, as if refusing to fall. The scent of cinnamon and apples wafted from the bakery. He felt the strangest urge to take Wendy’s hand and tuck it in the crook of his elbow, but he knew that wasn’t only silly, it would start tongues wagging. So he kept his distance, but it didn’t feel right. When he was with her he had the oddest urges to protect her from the snow, warm her hands with his own, tell her his deepest, darkest secrets.

All of which were wrong. They were too different to consider their attraction anything more than a potential affair and she wasn’t the kind of woman to have affairs, though he knew she was weakening. The night before he’d seen the light in her eyes. They had chemistry stronger than any he’d ever experienced. It was hard enough for him to resist it. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she didn’t want to?

No. He wasn’t even going to think in that direction. It wasn’t right. She would miss him when he returned to Miami, and be hurt that he hadn’t even considered staying. And he wouldn’t even look back.

When they reached Truffles, he opened the door and a bell jingled.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Edwards,” Wendy called.

Cullen stopped just inside the door, memories of his childhood washing over him. The store didn’t have typical shelves. Instead, three-tiered tables were arranged around the showroom floor. The bottom tier of the first table held short, cuddly elves. The middle tier had slightly taller Santas. The third tier held a tall music box.

Each table was similarly appointed. Short toys, candy boxes or holiday decorations nestled on the first tier. Taller items sat on the second and the tallest on the third.

Red and green ribbons had been entwined with tinsel and looped along the walls. Holly and evergreen accented with fat red velvet-ribbon bows lined the counter.

The curtain separating the showroom from the storage room slid open and Jim stepped behind the counter, wiping his hands on a red-and-green towel. “Good afternoon, Wendy—”

He stopped, peering through the little round glasses on the end of his nose. “Well, Cullen Barrington! Your dad mentioned you’d be in town.”

Cullen stepped over to the counter and shook Jim’s hand. Short and bald, wearing a red plaid work shirt and jeans, Jim looked ten years older than Cullen’s father, though they were the same age. “Nice to see you, Jim.”

“You know the missus will shoot me if I don’t ask you to supper tonight.”

Cullen patted his tummy. “I’m afraid I had a hot roast beef sandwich at the diner.”

Jim laughed. “One day soon then?”

“I’ll call Rosie,” Cullen promised.

Nodding his agreement, Jim said, “So what can I do for you?”

Wendy said, “Cullen would like to buy Harry a Christmas gift.”

“The little boy you brought here the other night?”

She nodded.

Jim brightened, tossed the towel to the counter and came out from behind it. “We have some fabulous gifts for a six-year-old.”

As Jim scurried to the front window display, Cullen watched Wendy’s eyes light up. She was so pretty. So innocent. And darned near as easy to please as Harry.

He thought about the last time he’d been shopping. He’d gone to a boutique in Miami, stepped into a room scented with roses, was given a cup of spicy tea and told what he would buy his latest lady friend. Because it was all the rage. Because it had a price so high he wasn’t told the price. He didn’t see it until he signed his credit-card receipt.

“Here you go.”

Jim pulled an old-fashioned fire truck from the display. “He’ll love this.”

Wendy’s mouth fell open in awe. She spun to face Cullen. “Oh, he will! As we were driving to the office the Saturday I got custody, he told me he wanted to be a fireman.”

“And it’s got a bell,” Cullen said, finding a little string tab and tugging twice to make the bell ring. “I don’t know what it is with that kid and bells but he loves them.”

Wendy laughed. “It’s true. When Harry and I walked here the other night, he did nothing but chatter about the bell on Creamsicle’s collar.”

Cullen stared at her. Mesmerized. Smitten. Her eyes were alight with joy, her cheeks flushed. Her lips plump and kissable. His fingers itched to skim her jaw, tilt her face up for a kiss.

To distract himself, he lifted the little truck to examine it. “It’s not very big.”

Jim chuckled. “It’s a replica of the one we have at the firehouse.”

“It’s a small-town truck?” Cullen peered at it from all angles.

“He’ll love it,” Jim assured him.

“Okay. I’ll take it.” He handed the truck to Jim and turned to walk back to the counter. “And don’t tell me it’s free.”

Scurrying behind the cash register, Jim said, “Not on your life! The same rules apply as when you were a kid. Just because your dad owns half this store, that doesn’t mean you get everything half off.”

Cullen shook his head and turned to Wendy. “My dad had a thing about making me responsible.” The second the words were out of his mouth, he snapped it shut. Why did he constantly confess his secrets to her?

“And yet you survived.”

And why did her response always make him laugh? Make him feel normal, as if his past was just like anybody else’s, riddled with ups and downs that were part of everybody’s growth from child to adult?

Jim rang up the sale, telling Cullen a price that caused his eyes to narrow. “I thought you said there was no discount.”

“There isn’t. That’s the price.”

Handing his credit card across the counter, Cullen glanced around the store, his gaze automatically finding Wendy. Standing by one of the three-tiered tables, she examined a row of Christmas ornaments, all of which she returned to the display. He took in her serviceable gray wool coat, plain white mittens and simple black boots.

He wondered when she’d last spent money on herself and knew it had probably been a long time ago and even then she’d purchased the sensible items. The mittens that matched every coat or jacket. The boots she could wear everywhere.

He’d love to buy her a fancy coat, leather gloves, high-heel boots to be worn only on special occasions. Without any trouble, he could envision her face lighting up when she opened the packages. She wouldn’t fake an “oh” or “ah.” Her surprise would be genuine, her pleasure sincere.

The thought filled him with indescribable warmth that tingled through his bloodstream. Without even closing his eyes he could see them together on Christmas morning. Harry surrounded by wrapping paper. Wendy’s face wreathed in smiles. While he sat on the sofa, one arm stretched leisurely across its back, a cup of coffee in his free hand, enjoying the show taking place in front of a sparkling Christmas tree by the crackling fire in the fireplace.

Disappointment that he couldn’t be around on Christmas Day brought him back to reality, but he stopped it in its tracks. He was an adult, and he knew the truth about life. A person couldn’t have everything he or she wanted. Which was actually good. Because the things we wanted didn’t always turn out to be so wonderful. So it was best to hold back. Not wish. Simply accept that our visions of life were always happier than reality.

Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t surround Harry with presents and buy as many things as he wanted for Wendy. That was, after all, how he lived. From a distance. He’d buy the gifts, envision their joy and imagine it as he sat on his boat, soaking up the sun, fishing with his dad.

That was reality.

He signed his credit-card receipt, took his package and walked over to Wendy. “Ready?”

She smiled and he smiled, though he knew she hadn’t a clue. He would put that smile on her face again on Christmas morning. He might not sit on her sofa and watch, but he would know he had made her smile.

The odd warmth filled him again only this time he recognized it. Contentment. It was as if he’d figured out that the real reason for his trip to Barrington was to meet her and make her happy, and he had zeroed in on how to do it. Finally, finally, he’d figured out why he always had a sense that he was supposed to be around her.

“Ready when you are.”

They stepped out into the cool December afternoon and Wendy automatically turned in the direction of the factory again. Cullen caught her arm. He wouldn’t risk buying something she didn’t want…or even a color she didn’t like or a style she didn’t care for.

“We’re not done yet.”

She glanced up at him. “We’re not?”

But he also couldn’t tell her he was buying her gifts. She’d refuse them before he even had a chance to shop. He had to watch what she paused beside, what she examined, what she sighed over. But he couldn’t do that if she wasn’t in a store. “Let’s spend a little more money on Harry.”

“Why? You bought him exactly what he wants. You don’t need to spend more.”

“I just—”

He stopped. the confused expression on her face banished the warm, fuzzy feeling of contentment. What was he doing? They didn’t really have a relationship. He didn’t really know her. And as for figuring out that the real purpose of him being in Barrington was to buy her gifts—well, that was idiotic. Gifts, like a raise, could be misconstrued, and hadn’t they already had enough trouble because of misunderstandings? She’d warned him off at least twice. He’d warned her off the thought of having a fling the night before. This cat-and-mouse game that continually tried to pull him in was going to get her hurt, and he refused to let that happen.

“No. You’re right.”

They walked the length of Main Street in silence, the snow swirling around them like ballet dancers enjoying the notes of a perfect song, the scents of pies and cookies enticing them, the low hum of sporadic traffic hardly penetrating his consciousness. Try as he might to keep his distance, he was ultra-aware of Wendy. He wanted to take her hand, enjoy the quiet walk.

He always loved his time with her. Always felt happy, normal and wonderful around her. Which was undoubtedly why he yearned for a kiss. The season was romantic. But his feelings around her and for her were new and special. No one had ever made him feel like this and for that reason alone he’d love to explore whatever it was that hummed between them.

That was the real bottom line. The thing that kept nagging at him. He’d never felt this way about anyone and it seemed wrong not to at least enjoy it while it lasted. This happiness might not be permanent, but she wasn’t a child. She was twenty-six. A widow. If she wanted to have a fling, who was he to decide that they shouldn’t?

Maybe if he stopped trying to give her gifts to assuage his hunger and was honest with her, they could have something wonderful for the final two weeks he was here?