Thursday, December 8
Sally woke the following morning with a start. Oh, no. The boy Toby was at it again, his voice as clear and sharp as if he were in the same room with her. His high, shrill voice had been the last thing she heard before falling asleep.
Now Angel’s voice was heard gently scolding her grandson for disturbing the guests, but the damage had already been done.
Sally moved her hand from under the covers and reached for her cell phone, charging on the bed stand. It was nearly seven a.m.
As much as she was tempted to stay beneath the warm quilt, she needed to check on her car. She was also anxious to see her grandmother. Planting her feet onto the cold wood floor, she reached for the complimentary terry-cloth robe at the foot of the canopied bed. What time did the local repair shop open? Maybe she could get the auto club to pick her up on the way to her car.
The showerhead attached to the claw-footed bathtub released a thin stream of water, but it was hot. Wrapping herself in a large fluffy towel, she wiped the steam off the mirror over the pedestal sink and stared at herself. She still couldn’t believe bumping into Rick after all this time.
She’d convinced herself she was over him. Now she didn’t know what to think. Something about him made her feel like a giddy schoolgirl again with her first crush. Since leaving Oregon, none of the relationships with other men had gone anywhere. Because she still had feelings for Rick? Was that it?
No, no, mustn’t go there. Last night she was tired and not thinking straight. Today she felt more like her old self—the woman who had for nearly six years headed the art department for Home and Family magazine. She now hoped to land a more lucrative job at a major movie studio. Of course, she may have blown it when she told the serious-faced interviewer that her greatest weakness was crying at movies with happy endings. Sighing, she moved away from the sink. Since the studio specialized in horror movies, the mention of happy endings probably didn’t work in her favor.
After dressing in the same long skirt and knitted top she’d worn yesterday and running a brush through her hair, she dabbed on lipstick and a touch of mascara. Though it was still early, she checked her phone on the outside chance she’d missed a call while in the shower. She’d hoped the studio would have made a decision by now, but maybe they were waiting till the first of the year. Or maybe they’d found someone who didn’t fall apart at the sight of a chain saw.
Moments later she walked out of the room and into the hall. Toby looked happy to see her. “Grandma said I could start rehearsing again when you got up.”
She waved her hand. “Go for it.”
He didn’t need a second invitation. Leaning over the balcony, he yelled, “GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST . . .” He stopped reciting to call to her, “Miss Cartwright, can you hear me?”
“Oh, yes, I can hear you, Toby. Loud and clear,” she said, descending the stairs.
Rick was already seated at the table when she entered the dining room. Any hope that today she would be better able to control her emotions went out the window the moment she set eyes on him. Even more unsettling was the fact that his ring finger was bare.
Not that it meant anything. A lot of married men didn’t wear wedding rings.
Hesitating at the doorway, she toyed with a bangle at her wrist and tried to remember why the two of them had broken up. Unfortunately, her mind went blank.
He folded his paper and set it aside. “’Morning,” he said. “You’re up early.”
“Hard to sleep through all the tidings of great joy,” she said, lightly.
He chuckled. “Don’t know about you, but I practically have Toby’s part memorized. I could be his stand-in.”
Angel walked in and greeted her with a smile. Her Christmas-print dress made her look like a wrapped present. “What can I get you for breakfast?”
“Just some yogurt would be fine. And coffee.”
Sally barely had time to take her seat opposite Rick and rearrange the silverware before Angel reappeared with a bowl of strawberry yogurt and a dish of cantaloupe.
“Thank you,” Sally said, reaching for a spoon.
“Is that all you’re eating?” Rick asked when they were alone again.
All? It was at least twice as much as she usually ate for breakfast. She glanced at his plate, piled high with bacon, eggs, bacon, hash browns, and more bacon.
As if their plates were a reminder of the differences that had drawn them apart, their gazes clashed and held for a moment before they both looked away.
Fortunately, there was a lot to look at. The dining room was decked out in enough Christmas splendor to make a great magazine cover. Garlands of greenery hung from the crystal chandelier. Holly and poinsettias decorated the dining room table. Even the pictures on the walls and the large mirror over the buffet were draped with silver strands of tinsel.
From the parlor came the sound of Toby’s voice. The heavenly host was alive and well.
Fork in hand, Rick watched her fill her cup, eyebrows raised. “Since when did you start drinking coffee?”
“Since it was declared healthy for you.”
He stabbed his fork into his hash browns. “One day they’ll declare bacon healthy. Mark my words.”
“I hope for your sake they do,” she said. Come to think of it, they never could agree on what to eat. Or where to dine. Their relationship might have had a better chance of working had they avoided meals.
For the next few minutes only Toby’s voice broke the silence. Then suddenly Rick chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Toby’s heavenly host reminds me of something. Remember the time you got your ponytail caught in your wings?”
“You should talk.” She stabbed a piece of melon with her fork. “You were so embarrassed at being an angel, you told everyone you were a mangel.”
His eyes lit with humor. “I thought that was the word for male angel. I didn’t know mangel was a sugar beet.” He shook his fork. “At least I didn’t get into a fight on stage.”
She groaned inwardly. He would have to bring that up. It happened the year she played Mary and Jerry what’s-his-name played Joseph. “That’s because Jerry insisted baby Jesus was a girl,” she said defensively.
“A likely story.” He took a sip of coffee. “Remember the time Billy Reynolds dropped his candle and set fire to the stage curtains?”
The memories kept coming and so did the laughter. It was like old times again, before their differences got in the way. Remembering how it all ended, she felt an old familiar ache. It seemed like they couldn’t agree on anything. She hated the blow-’em-up movies he picked. He had no patience for the kiss-and-sob films she favored. She liked soft rock, and his music of choice was country. But the main source of conflict was his family business. When she looked at a tree, she saw no less than a miracle. In contrast, Rick judged a tree by how many board feet it produced.
Angel breezed into the dining room with another pot of coffee. “You two sound like you’re having a good time.”
Sally met Rick’s gaze and felt her cheeks grow warm. “We were just talking about some of the Christmas pageants in the past.”
Angel looked interested. “I take it you two have known each other for a while.”
“We met in first grade,” Sally said, “but we didn’t become—” she searched for the right word— “friends until high school.”
“You mean you were high school sweethearts?” Angel’s gaze Ping-Ponged between them, seemingly unaware of the sudden tension in the air.
Sally swallowed hard. Angel sure didn’t mince words. She glanced at Rick who looked as uncomfortable as she was. “Yes,” she said, keeping her voice light. “Just like the mismatched couple in the movie Pretty in Pink.”
Angel refilled Sally’s cup. “Now, isn’t that nice.”
Sally stared into her empty bowl. She’d tried for nearly ten years to forget Rick, but now knew how much she’d failed. How do you forget someone who shares so much of your history?
Toby’s shrill voice floated into the dining room, interrupting Sally’s thoughts. “AND THERE WERE SHEPHERDS LIVING OUT IN THE FIELDS . . .”
Rick took the opportunity to make his escape. “No more coffee for me,” he said before standing and turning to Sally. “I called the highway patrol and the road is clear. I’ll be happy to drive you to your car. I’ve got jump cables. It could just be the battery.”
She hesitated. Alone with Rick in a car? Her stomach tightened. Not good. “Thank you, Rick,” she said after a beat, but only because she couldn’t think of a graceful way to turn down his offer. “That would be a big help.”
He grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. “I’ll go warm up the car. Meet me outside when you’re ready.”
He left the room and Angel called after him, “Don’t let the cat out.” She turned her attention back to Sally. “More coffee, Miss Cartwright?”
“No, I’ve had enough, thank you. And please call me Sally.”
“Sally, huh? Like that heroine in the movie”—Angel snapped her fingers as if the title were on the tip of her tongue—“Sally and Harry something.”
“When Harry Met Sally,” Sally said. Angel hardly knew her but already she’d picked up on her movie obsession.
“Is that who you were named after?” Angel asked.
The idea of her no-nonsense mother naming her after a fictitious character in a romantic comedy made Sally laugh. “I was named after an aunt.”
“Aunt or not, you remind me of the Meg Ryan character with your blond hair and all.” Angel reached for Sally’s empty bowls. “Hope Toby wasn’t a bother.”
“Not at all,” Sally said. “It’s nice seeing someone so young take his responsibilities seriously.”
“That he does,” Angel said, with a note of pride. “His teacher told him he had to speak up loud and clear because they’re videotaping. His dad’s in Colorado and Mrs. Greenwell promised to send him a CD. Toby is determined his father hear every word.”
Sally felt a pang. She remembered the day her father walked out of her life. It was the year she played the part of an angel. Dressed in her white gown and angel wings, she stood on her toes looking out at the audience and hoping against hope her father had come to see her.
“Why is Toby’s father in Colorado?” Sally asked.
“Lost his job at the mill beginning of the year and hasn’t been able to find another one. He’s hoping to find work, but the lumber mills in Colorado seem to be having the same problems they have here.” She shrugged. “So far no luck.”
Reminded that she was also jobless at the moment, Sally laid her napkin on the table and stood. At least she didn’t have a family to support. “I’d better go. Rick is waiting.”
She thanked Angel and paid for the night’s lodging. With a wave at Toby—still hanging over the second-floor railing airing his lungs—she tugged on her knitted hat and dashed out the front door. Her ears were still ringing when she met Rick at the bottom of the drive.