Mark ate, but he really didn't taste anything after that point. He was too wrapped up in her story, which he realized was a clever mix of fact and fantasy. She made it sound so real he could almost picture her sneaking up on the man in red, who had been distributing packages wrapped in the same paper her mother had used.
"What did he say?" Maya asked.
"He took me on his knee—just like the store Santa does, and said, 'Alexandra—' he knew my name '—your parents and I work together. You write me a letter with what you want and I make sure they have the means to get things. But only we know about your secret wish."
Maya and Braden both sat forward. "What was it?"
"A pogo stick." Blushing, she hastily looked at Mark then explained, "I wanted one so badly, but I didn't tell anybody because I was afraid I'd look funny bouncing around. I was kinda chubby back then, and I thought everybody would make fun of me."
Aw... Mark thought his heart might break in half on her behalf.
Maya looked at Braden a moment then said, "Braden wants to know if he brought you one."
"Next time, let him ask," Alexa gently reprimanded. "But the answer is yes. The next morning after we were all done opening presents, my dad said, 'Wait. What's this? An unwrapped box, but there's a name on it. To Alexa, from Santa."'
Maya clapped. "A pogo stick. And you bounced around on it."
"You're right. I did. And my cousins laughed. One of them said, 'Ha. Ha. That's not something you see every day—a hippo on a stick."'
Braden and Maya exchanged some kind of silent communication then both dug into their food. As Alexa finished off the last of her Creole shrimp, she gave Mark a very self-satisfied look. He silently applauded her. She'd neatly put the question of Santa's identity aside for another year, plus she'd given the children back a little magic of the holiday. If he hadn't loved her before, this evening would have sealed his fate.
Later, as they followed Braden and Maya through the dessert queue, Mark said, “Good save back there. Didn't really happen though, right?"
She gave him a shocked look. "Of course it did. Many, many years later, I found out that I'd accidentally bumped into Uncle Claude that night. It had been his turn to play Santa for several Rom families, and he'd been so upset by my tearful admission that he came back later with the pogo stick he'd bought for Gregor. He was afraid I'd figure out the truth if he left it wrapped in the paper my aunt was using that year, so he unwrapped it and scribbled my name on the box." Mark started laughing, but quickly sobered when the children gave him a suspicious look. "Poor Greg. Did he ever find out?"
Alexa, with a twinkle in her eyes, shook her head. "Never. And don't you tell him. He's been through enough disappointment in his life lately."
Over crème brûlée, chocolate torte and apple pie, he asked her to explain her comment about her cousin. The children were standing a few feet away taking turns darting back and forth under a rope partition. Their bowls of mostly melted ice cream that had been laden with M&M's looked like confetti soup.
"MaryAnn, Greg's wife, had a nervous breakdown about six months ago. She'd been depressed after her father died, and then her mother sold everything and moved to Hawaii. Not long after that, Gregor lost his job and got picked up for some stupid infraction. She was working for Charles Harmon at the time and saw a way to make some money by blackmailing him."
Mark had heard that part of the story from Zeke. "Not a good idea. He's a very bad man."
"We all found out how bad, but poor MaryAnn was certain her family would be better off without her. She went to our houseboat to end it all, but Nick—going on a hunch Grace had—got there in time." She sighed. "You know Grace—has to be involved in everybody's business." She said it in a way that told him how much she loved her sister.
"Unfortunately, MaryAnn wound up shooting Grace— accidentally, of course. Rob, my new brother-in-law, argued in her defense and made a deal with the prosecutor, so MaryAnn got the help she needed instead of going to jail."
"How is she now? Not living at home, I gather."
"Not yet, but Gregor is hopeful she'll be back by Christmas."
Tracey had admitted herself into a treatment center a few months before she'd died. Mark had hoped and prayed the treatment would get her off drugs. For a short time, he'd actually believed her when she'd said she was clean. But then he'd got the call from Tracey's neighbor telling him Odessa had shown up claiming Tracey was dead.
"Luca seems like a great kid. I hope things work out."
He spotted a waiter giving the children an unhappy look, so he wiped his lips with his napkin and said, "Should we go? The natives are getting restless."
Alexa nodded. "Aye, Captain, juvenile meltdown quickly approaching Mach speed. We're gonna lose 'em," she said with a Star Trek impersonation.
Mark just shook his head.
As they headed to the door, the children holding hands between them, Alexa said, "Seriously, Mark, thanks for this. I'd planned to pay, you know."
He shook his head. "My pleasure. I mean that. Evenings tend to get bit long with a couple of bachelors hanging out." Especially when one half of the odd couple doesn't talk.
She smiled as if hearing his unspoken qualifier and softly said, "He will."
Her conviction made him want to believe—in Braden and in Santa. He'd been several years younger than Maya when he'd learned the truth about Christmas. No matter how good you tried to be, you could never be good enough. Not with a dad like his.
Christmas and New Year's had never been his favorite time of year. Depressing memories crowded out the few good ones he'd made with Alexa. The night he and Tracey had got together was after a drinking binge of comparing worst-holiday stories. Not that that excused what he'd done, but the memory gave him one more reason to hate the holidays.
“Good thing we brought two cars," Alexa said, drawing him back to the present. "I see two kids who are going to be asleep by the time we leave the parking lot."
He agreed and bent down to pick up Maya when the child stumbled and nearly fell as they approached the exit. "Are you taking her home or back to Yetta's house?"
"Home. She'll sleep better in her own bed. I'll just curl up on Kate's couch and read until her mother gets there."
The night wind held a bite, and they didn't speak again until they reached their cars. Mark had driven his sedan instead of the pickup truck. The car had been Tracey's. Odessa still claimed she should have inherited it, but since Mark had been the one to pay for it and since his name was still on the registration, he'd kept it.
He helped Maya into Alexa 's car then made sure Braden 's seat belt was fastened. He and Alexa were standing between the two cars, shivering. He wasn't sure what to say.
"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but apparently changed her mind and nodded. "Yeah. Tomorrow."
Alexa had been right about one thing—Maya was asleep before they were a mile down the road. This meant Alexa had to make the long drive to the Lakes, a high-end development northeast of Henderson, in silence. With only her thoughts to occupy her.
Thoughts like... What the heck is wrong with me? Socializing with a single father whose child went to her school was bad enough, but when that father was the man who'd broken her heart, the situation was untenable. She probably needed her head examined.
"Maybe I should go visit MaryAnn and see if her shrink could spare a minute or two for me," she mumbled under her breath.
Not that she hadn't had a wonderful time tonight. Mark had managed to keep the conversation going without excluding the kids. She hadn't met a lot of men who bothered to do that. When children were around, some men tended to talk down to them or ignore them.
How did he learn to be such a good parent when he'd had such a poor role model?
The question was still on her mind three hours later when Kate arrived home. "You're early. Quiet night at Romantique?"
Kate looked up around the door of the
fridge. "Hi. Want some juice?"
Alexa shook her head. "No, thanks, but Liz would be proud seeing you pick OJ over soda."
"Yeah, I got tired of her nagging," Kate said, pouring the pulpy liquid into a glass. "Turns out my husband is something of a health nut, too, but he's from California so what can you expect?"
She took a long drink then let out a sigh. "Actually, we were packed on the main floor and had two parties in the private rooms. This is the first year I've had businesses book their staff parties mid-week." She polished off the juice then said, "Fortunately, we've added a couple of people to the crew. Our new hostess is nowhere near as outgoing and charming as Grace, but she kept things moving pretty well."
"Grace really misses her old job."
Kate nodded. "I know. It was just like old times when she filled in last weekend. I was a little leery about suggesting the idea to Jo. I was afraid she might feel weird since Grace used to be Jo's employer. But my mother-in-law is amazing. Totally fine with it. We had a blast."
'That's good."
Kate nodded, her mop of curls bouncing. Even from across the room, Alexa could smell the scents of the kitchen that clung to her sister's checkered pants and white chef's shirt.
"Maya's in bed."
"Thanks. You didn't have to bring her home, but I appreciate it. A lot. I hate coming in to a dark house when Rob is gone. Funny how quickly you get fixed in a routine." Alexa couldn't prevent a little stab of envy. Her house would be black and cold when she got home. If not for Tracey—
She pushed the thought away, but some telling hint must have shown on her face because Kate said, "Let's sit at the breakfast nook. I want to hear about tonight and, more importantly, what's going on with you and Mark? When Mom called to get permission for you to take Maya to dinner, I nearly dropped a pan of lasagna."
"It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Mom was supposed to join us but suddenly remembered a date with Zeke."
Kate looked thoughtful. "Sounds as if she's playing matchmaker, but that seems unlikely given what happened between you two. You're not.. .um, dating him, are you?"
"Two kids don't make for a terribly romantic meal," Alexa said, sidestepping the question.
Kate's chuckle got lost in a yawn. "Very true."
Neither spoke for a minute or two, then Kate said, "Alexa, you know I'm not the prying kind, but if you ever want to talk about what's going on in your life, I'd be happy to listen. We've both had our share of heartbreak, and I'm living proof that good things happen if you hang in there."
Alexa smiled. "For a minute there I thought you were going to say you were living proof that prophecies come true."
"There were times when I was convinced that Mom had copied mine off a fortune cookie, but then Rob and Ian both showed up in my life and I realized I really did have to fix the past before I could move forward." She sighed as if glad to have all of that controversy behind her, then asked, "What's yours again? I swear my brain is mushy from inhaling too much oregano."
Alexa laughed and stood up. "You're just tired. Go to bed. We'll talk later. I'm going home. I need to get some sleep, too. Nothing like two dozen kids wired on holiday hype to wear you down in a hurry."
She gave her sister a hug then left. She'd planned to talk about Mark—get Kate's take on the subject, but at the last minute she'd changed her mind. Tempting though it was to think that maybe she and Mark had a chance at a do-over, the hard reality was too much had changed in their lives.
I have a plan and I need to stick to it.
If she survived the holidays—and more importantly, if she made it through a period without pain—she would set her plan in motion. She didn't need Mark—or any man—in her life to do that.
Chapter 12
"I'm curious about something, Mark. Why'd you change jobs? I thought you liked being a cop."
Nearly a week had passed since their dinner out with the kids. Mark had continued to show up at the Hippo each afternoon a couple of hours before Braden arrived. At the moment, he was assembling cardboard boxes that the children would decorate and use for the plaster of Paris handprint wall-hanging that they'd spent three art classes making and painting.
"Parts of the job were great, but dealing with the public can get old. A fire doesn't talk back," he quipped, looking up from the lid he'd just finished folding. He dropped it on the box he'd completed moments earlier then picked up another flat piece of cardboard. "Tracey was afraid she'd get passed over for advancement if we were in the same department. So, I took the test, passed it without a problem and made the switch."
His broad shoulders lifted and fell in a careless shrug. ''Turned out to be the right move."
Alexa was at her desk sealing past-due invoices in envelopes that she would personally hand to the parents after school. The process made her feel like a grinch, but late charges were a part of doing business—even at the holidays. "I'm glad to hear that. I was afraid my dad might have influenced your decision. He gave you a lot of grief about being in Metro."
Mark chuckled. “That he did. Good ol' Kingston...never met a cop he didn't hate."
"He wasn't quite that bad, and in your case, part of his attitude came from the fact that you wanted to marry his daughter."
He smiled at her in a way that made her wish she could turn back the hands of the clock. Kingston would have liked the man Mark had become—she was sure of it.
"Actually, my old man was the reason I chose law enforcement in the first place. I wanted to prove to him that I could make something of my life, and being a cop seemed like the furthest opposite of his life as possible."
"Yeah, I remember you being pretty gung-ho when we were dating."
"Gung-ho? That's an understatement. I was intensely focused on my career at the time."
"I didn't mean it as a criticism."
"I know. You're too polite. But even if Tracey hadn't pushed me to change jobs, I would have been looking for something different after Braden was born. I discovered that I liked being a dad and the fire department offered better hours."
"Ah, good point. Was it tough to make the transition?"
"My friends in the force thought I was nuts, but Zeke was in my corner. I think he pulled a few strings to get me into the arson unit."
"It occurred to me that you might not be a suspect if you were still working at Metro."
He shook his head. "Wouldn't have changed anything. The minute my name came up, the detectives on the case had to follow through. I wouldn't have done anything differently if it was my case. Unfortunately, I don't have an alibi for that night. After my shift was over, I went home, ate dinner, watched some TV and went to bed. Like usual. I called Tracey's to talk to Braden, but there wasn't any answer. I figured Tracey was screening her calls and avoiding me because of something that had happened earlier in the week."
"What happened?"
He frowned. "A friend who works in the Clark County High Density Drug Trafficking Area told me Tracey's name had shown up during surveillance of a particularly notorious part of town. Lots of drug traffic. No arrests were made, but photos were taken, and Tracey was easy to spot since she used to be a cop."
"What did she say when you confronted her?"
"The usual. That she'd been there looking for a friend who was having a hard time staying clean. She was adamant that she hadn't done drugs in two months." He looked down. "In hindsight it sounds naive on my part, but I believed her. She actually seemed to be getting her act together."
Neither spoke for a minute, then Mark said, "Meth is bad stuff. Fairly easy to make, although volatile as hell. A lot of the street meth in this area comes from super labs in Mexico, but we see our share of ‘methmaticians’ here, too."
Alexa started to ask about the friend Tracey had claimed to be looking for when Mark's cell phone rang. He looked at the number on the display and groaned. "Odessa. The woman is totally whacked. She thinks if l go to jail she'll get custody of Braden, but I’ll be damned if I let that happen. She rui
ned one kid and she's never going to get her hands on my son."
Alexa had never heard him speak as harshly, not even when he talked about his father.
Mark pocketed the phone then stood up. "Where do you want these? I'd better get out to the bus. I wouldn't put it past Odessa to abduct Braden if she saw her chance."
"Does she know that he's going to school here?"
Mark shook his head. "I don't think so, but the woman is surprisingly resourceful for a habitual drug user. She found out about my suspension almost before I did." His expression turned dark. 'Tracey still had a few friends on the force when she died. I have a feeling someone is feeding Odessa information."
Alexa made a mental note to remind her staff that Braden was never to be released to anyone but his father. This Odessa woman sounded like someone Alexa didn't want to meet.
She finished sealing the envelopes and pushed back her chair to stand up. A pain jabbed her in the left side midway between her pelvis and ribs, making her cry out softly. She was anticipating the arrival of her first regular period since stopping the pill with mixed emotions. Getting back onto a normal cycle would be good—as long as the horrific pain she remembered from before didn't return, too.
"Rita? Will you keep an eye on things a minute? I need something from my room."
Her second-in-charge nodded and returned her attention to helping the five children at her table work on their number skills.
Alexa pressed her fingers beneath the waistband of her jeans. No swelling that she could detect, but the area was tender. Just typical PMS, she told herself.
She took a couple of over-the-counter painkillers and returned to the classroom. Even before she stepped from the hallway to the main room, she could tell something had changed. The energy in the room fairly crackled.
Hurrying, she looked around. Rita and her group of students were at the front window looking out, along with both of her other aides. "What's happening?"
"Two police cars just pulled up," Rita said.
Alexa didn't bother with the window. She raced to the door, grabbing her wool sweater from the back of her desk chair. Before she'd taken two steps toward the gate, a third car pulled into the cul-de-sac. Zeke.
A Match Made In Vegas Page 10
