An hour with a shop vacuum wasn’t Mandy’s idea of an oh holy night and a quiet stable in Bethlehem.
So far Christmas Day had been nothing but trouble.
Cart had managed one kiss. Angel gave a hug.
But considering Mandy had buried her father just before Thanksgiving, then gone back to LA to an empty apartment, honestly, Christmas was a big improvement.
She vacuumed up all the water she could get. Then she went over the damp spot on the carpet with a stack of old towels and wiped the furniture that’d gotten wet—thank heavens it hadn’t reached the bed. Finally, she set a fan to blow through the room. The heat was humming along and the biggest relief was that no damage was done to their guests’ belongings.
The room would be dried out and ready for them by tonight.
There was no teatime on Christmas. Everyone in the inn had family plans and wouldn’t be back until late.
It made Mandy’s throat ache to know she’d spend this day alone.
She swung open the kitchen door and stumbled to a halt.
“What’s going on?”
Mannheim Steamroller’s “Deck the Halls” played quietly in the background.
Cart saw her and came to a sudden stop. “I thought you were catching a plane.”
He must’ve come and gone from the back door or he’d’ve seen her car.
“I phoned the office to tell them I’d be here for the holidays.” She wanted to spend the day without worrying about catching a plane and making it into the office on Monday morning. There would only be a skeleton staff. It was a work holiday. She rarely took those available days, but this year she would.
“Well, okay, good.” He sounded cheerful, but there was no humor in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re giving the inn a little more time.”
It made her think of that odd comment he’d made about her not being the first woman to leave town. Or to pick city life over him. Had he said that or was she remembering it differently because it suited her?
She really ought to talk to the man. But her decision about the inn should be for herself and have nothing to do with him. She had to remind herself of that.
Mandy glanced at the big oven with multiple narrow racks. “What’s baking?”
“Angel made enough coffee cake for tomorrow’s breakfast. She left me here to make sure it didn’t burn.”
The whole kitchen smelled wonderful from the spices and warm, fresh cake.
“We could have done this tomorrow morning. I wonder why she started it now when she was so short of time? I wish she’d have let me bake this. All this cooking, it’s like some kind of muscle memory. I can handle things in here with almost no thought. It leaves me to enjoy the wonderful aroma.”
“You’re remembering what’s so special about this place, aren’t you, Mandy?” Cart asked.
“I’m remembering a lot of things.” And she’d spent last night remembering more. There was a long silence; then Mandy asked quietly, “Was I really wrong all these years? Was Dad testing me? Did he want me to demand a place here at the Star Inn and, because I didn’t, I hurt him?”
Now it was Cart’s turn to be quiet. At last he said, “I don’t know what your dad said to you, Mandy. I don’t know how he expressed himself. But somehow he made you believe he didn’t want you here, or rather that he couldn’t afford to support you with the inn. I’m not going to say you were wrong, because I can tell he hurt you. Maybe it’s best to believe he thought giving you a chance to spread your wings was right; that’s the best way we can look at this.”
“Dad said he didn’t want me back here and it never occurred to me to defy him. I could have just hopped on a plane and shown up at the back door. Why didn’t I?”
“Because he convinced you that you weren’t wanted.”
“No, I th-think . . . This is hard to say. . . .” She twisted her fingers together in front of her and forced the words out in a rush. “I think it was because I was so hurt over you getting married.”
“But I didn’t. How could I—”
“No, let me finish.” She held up a staying hand and looked at him, hoping he’d listen and be willing to talk honestly. “You said to me once that I never came back, not even to see an old friend, but that goes two ways, Cart. You never came to find me, either. I admit I had some . . . notions about you back then, and when Dad said you were taken it hurt. Then Dad added that he couldn’t afford a partner and that hurt. Then I applied for a job and got a good one, and they wanted me to start immediately after graduation. I should have come back—at least for holidays. But I really felt unwanted and unneeded here, and I never got so much as a phone call from you asking how I was doing. So it wasn’t just me.”
Cart came up and put both hands on her shoulders. “You’re right. And now I’m going to admit the same thing you did. When your dad said you weren’t coming back I was hurt. We’d never had a true romance, but you were one of my best friends and I had some notions about you, too. I didn’t want to hold you here when you needed to go to college, and I thought we had our whole lives to discover what there was between us.”
“And then I didn’t come home.”
“I felt like the discovery was made—by you—that you wanted a different life. I thought when you didn’t come home I had your answer.”
“And you weren’t interested enough to come and find me.”
“You know what? You’re right.” Cart pulled her toward him. “I did fail you. I let you go without a fight.”
“You said something about another woman. What did you mean?”
Those words sent him backing up. His hands off her. Every move a rejection.
“I was just mad. I didn’t mean anything.”
Mandy looked at him, her eyes steady on his. “Haven’t we done this long enough? Haven’t we been less than honest with each other and denied any feelings for each other long enough? How about some truth? How about all the truth?”
He opened his mouth and a buzzer went off.
And as he looked at the oven, his expression seemed eager, as if he was glad for the excuse to not talk. He headed toward the oven and swung down the door.
“The last pans of coffee cake are done.”
Mandy wondered if they were done, too.