Hometown Series Box Set
Page 94
“That’s right, I’m bringing a friend, and we’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
The voice on the phone murmured on as Gloria put her hand on her chest and mouthed the word ‘me?’
“See you th—then. Bye, Mom,” he said, moving to stand between Gloria and the front door. “Love you too,” he added before poking the off button.
Gloria propped one hand on her hip. “I knew I was imposing.”
Ned sighed and rammed his fingers through his still damp hair. “Yeah, well I f—forgot all about my family d—dinner. Wishful thinking maybe.”
“Don’t be like that,” she admonished. “You don’t know how lucky you are to have such a big, wonderful family.”
“I know,” he grumbled, feeling like a heel. Once again, as if it were written in his stars, he’d botched everything with her. “Will you g—go with me? I can’t promise it won’t be complete m—mayhem.”
She bit her bottom lip and brushed at her bangs. “I usually cook for Fergus, but he’s got leftovers…”
Ned waited, his eyes bright with hope. Spending an evening with his noisy and boisterous brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews, as well as his mother’s probing questions, would be worth it, if she’d be there too.
“I’ll go,” she announced, a smile spreading across her face.
“That’s great. We don’t have much time though, do you need to go home first?” he asked, pocketing his cell phone and reaching for his car keys on the end table.
“No, I can call Fergus.” She hesitated, biting at the corner of her bottom lip. Once she had his full attention, she offered a little grin. “But… I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I didn’t tell you that you smell funny.”
* * *
Gloria leaned back in her chair, watching in pleasure as Ned’s family all talked at once. As his father carved the turkey, the family chatted and reached for food, two little ones tussled over who’s fork was whose, one of Ned’s brothers was telling a story about his day, and his mother was busy pouring drinks. Three sisters laughed at a joke, and a huge Christmas tree blinked in the background. Cheerful Christmas carols played from unseen speakers, adding to the atmosphere.
Everyone but Ned’s mother had been surprised to see her, but no one had said a word other than greetings, welcoming her to dinner. She’d felt immediately accepted as her coat was taken and she was hustled to the table and seated next to Ned.
What a crazy twist, she thought with a smile. A quiet evening at home writing out her last few Christmas cards had been her plan, and then everything had changed. Turning to sneak a look at Ned, she had to hide a chuckle. He’d been so flustered back at his house. Her grin faded. The whole thing had been a little confusing, to be honest. Sometimes she got such mixed signals from him.
One of Ned’s young nieces, Sadie, spilled her water and several adults jumped up to help. The overall hub-bub of the gathering was heartwarming to Gloria, even though mishaps occurred. Like the sippy-cup incident at Nadine’s. She tossed Ned another glance, catching him watching her, so she offered him a warm grin. Immediately though, she was caught off guard by the look in his eye. Her man reading skills were in poor shape, she lamented, because she had no idea what he was thinking. She only knew that she valued his friendship more than anything the last few weeks. But with the pageant tomorrow, working with him would come to an end. The fact hurt more than she’d thought it would. He’d been such a good friend, so it was only natural to miss his kindness and support, she supposed.
Ned slipped his arm around the back of her chair, and it felt warm, tender. Whatever his intentions were, he meant her no harm. She was sure of that.
The letters under her pillow came to mind, causing her to frown down at her plate. Who was that man and what did he mean to her? Would the letters come to an end after Christmas as well? She certainly hoped not. She’d come to hope for more, the anticipation of them was so sweet. No man had ever been so romantic, so charming, so eloquent, in his desire to share his feelings.
“You okay?” Ned asked, picking up on her thoughts.
She looked up, searching his face. He was very striking with his strong jaw, wavy mass of hair, and easy grin. His fine physique certainly didn’t hurt either. But he was Ned. The deputy. Solid and true; kind and thoughtful. And his stutter… she smiled at him, tenderness showing through. His tripped-up words were the thing that made him seem human, accessible. The women in town made it a game to get him to speak, waiting to hear the stutter, giggling and recounting to each other how adorable he was. Suddenly being here with him felt muddled and confusing.
Unsure where she stood with him, her smile slipped.
“We can leave if this is too much for you,” he said, concern marring his brow.
“I’m fine,” she assured. “And hungry,” she added for good measure.
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Now pass those potatoes.”
* * *
Once the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher and the pans put to soak, the noisy, rambunctious family settled onto sofas, chairs, and rockers around the fireplace. Babies piled onto laps and children sprawled on the rug in front of the fire.
Multicolored lights from the tree, a fire on the hearth, and candles on the mantel offered a cozy, sparkling glow to the room.
Gloria couldn’t imagine a more perfect Christmas setting. Ned had been ready to leave the second they finished eating, but when one of the children mentioned stories came after dinner, she’d asked Ned if they could stay. Once he saw how interested she was, he’d given in, but not without obvious chagrin.
“Grandma, Grandma,” called one of Ned’s nieces, fighting for attention over the ruckus. “Tell us the story about when your grandpa took your grandma out for a date in a one-horse open sleigh!”
“Yeah,” five-year-old Tommy piped up. “And when he cracked the whip, it caught her fancy glasses and threw them out in the road.”
“No,” little Sadie called even louder. “Tell the one about the cat jumping out of the Christmas tree and scaring Grandpa.” The little girl turned to Gloria, her face filled with excitement. “That’s my favorite one.”
“I can see why.” Gloria nodded, charmed to the core.
“Grandma, tell the one about your first Christmas with Grandpa! That’s a good one,” offered six-year-old Rose, her eyes glowing.
Gloria glanced up at Ned, pressed in next to her on the crowded sofa. He rolled his eyes, clearly not appreciating the scene. She laughed. “Yes, tell that one,” she called out along with the children.
Ned’s mother raised her hands to shush the group. “Okay, I’ll tell it,” she agreed. “But everyone has to shush.” The commotion died down to a dull buzz of sniffles and fussing babies, so she looked around the group, meeting each child’s eyes, setting the tone for her story. “This was clear back in nineteen eighty-eight, she began, when Geni was a tiny baby, only three weeks old.”
Ned’s oldest sister stood and took a bow.
“And you’d only been married since Valentine’s Day,” Rose chimed in. “Isn’t that right?”
“That’s right.” Ned’s mother smiled. “It was our first Christmas as husband and wife.”
“Then what? What’s next, Grandma?” four-year-old Teddy cried, his eyes wide.
“Well,” she began. “We didn’t have much money because your grandpa was going to college. We couldn’t afford presents. We were just happy to be together.”
“No presents?” cried Teddy.
“I’m happy we’re together,” Rose said, looking to her mother for confirmation. Ned’s sister smiled and held one finger to her lips.
“But your grandpa was a sly one,” Ned’s mother said, keeping the story on track. “And he knew I loved a beautiful new piano song I’d heard at my friend’s house. The name of the tune was Christofori’s Dream, by a man named David Lanz.”
“He knew you loved it, didn’t he!” called out Sadie. “Cuz you like music.”
“Grandpa worked at the factory?” Tommy asked.
But Ned’s mother continued without answering. “I’d been baking all afternoon so we could have a nice Christmas Eve dinner, and your grandpa came right into the kitchen and gave me a big hug.”
“Did you drop your spoon?” Teddy asked.
“She didn’t have no spoon, stupid,” Tommy snapped, giving him a dirty look.
“You don’t know,” Teddy grumbled.
She chuckled but kept going. “He kissed me, and then he pulled a small gift from his pocket.”
“It was the song!” Rose cried, clasping her hands to her chest.
“Shhhhh,” said Sadie.
“That’s right,” the older woman said with a grin. “He’d searched and searched to find a store that was open late, so he could buy me the cassette tape for Christmas.”
“A cassette tape?” seven-year-old Sam asked, scrunching his face.
“It’s an old-fashioned kind of music.” Sadie educated her cousin. “I saw one once.”
“Me too.” Ned chuckled, causing Gloria to laugh.
Sadie jumped up and went to her grandmother. “Were you so happy Grandma?”
“Yes, I was happy, but I was also sad.”
“I know why,” Rose said to Gloria. “She was sad because—”
Sadie whirled around. “Don’t tell it!”
“Go sit down, dear,” Ned’s mother told Sadie. “Let me finish.” Once all the children settled down, she started again. “I was sad because I didn’t have the tape player anymore.”
“A tape player takes the music off the cassette so you can hear it, like an iPod, but big.” Sadie told Sam and Teddy, holding her hand out wide. “And back then you had to have two cassette players in one machine.” She turned to her mother for reassurance. “Isn’t that right, Mom?”
Ned’s sister nodded, her love for her little daughter clear in her eyes.
“Tell us why you didn’t have the tape player, Grandma,” Rose said, unable to wait another minute.
“Well, that’s the catch,” her grandmother said. “I’d traded it for a gift for your grandpa.”
“What did you get Grandpa?” Sam said.
“Yeah, what was it?” Teddy joined in.
Ned’s mother paused, tossing a gentle smile toward her husband. Ned’s father, who’d been quiet most of the evening, gave her a wink in return.
“I’d traded the player for a set of sockets he’d been wanting from the thrift store.”
“Did he like them?” Sadie asked.
“Yes, he liked them,” Ned’s mother assured the child, “but he was sad too.”
“Tell us, Grandma. Tell us why he was sad!” Rose begged.
“He was sad because he’d sold the ratchet to his friend, just that morning, so he could buy the music,” she explained.
“Grandpa had a rocket?” Tommy said, staring at his grandfather with newfound respect.
Gloria’s eyes filled with tears as she looked up at Ned. “Like the gift of the Magi,” she whispered.
Rose, understanding part of the story for the first time, spoke up. “He must have been mad at you for getting rid of the tape player, since he sold his rocket to get the music.”
“He wasn’t mad,” Ned’s mother assured the little girl. “And it wasn’t a rocket. It was sockets and a ratchet, a tool, like a screwdriver. He was mostly just hungry.”
Everyone laughed, except for Tommy. “Oh…” the little boy said, crestfallen.
“Did Grandpa eat then?” Teddy asked. “I could eat again.”
The little boy’s father chuckled.
Ned’s mother shook her head. “He went next door and borrowed a boom box.”
“A boom box?” Tommy cried, jumping up. “What’s a boom box?”
“Shush now,” his mother insisted. “Sit down, I’ll tell you later.”
The little boy frowned but sat once again on the rug.
The older woman’s eyes got dreamy as she continued the story. “That was the first time we’d been alone together, having quiet time, since the baby was born.” She turned to Gloria. “I’d had a difficult pregnancy. I’d been quite sick, stuck in bed for months on end.”
Gloria nodded, falling headfirst into the vision of Ned’s parents as a handsome young couple, snuggled together by their sparse Christmas tree with the beautiful music box tones of the song playing in the background, and their tiny baby sleeping peacefully in a basket next to them.
Ned’s mother sniffed, clearly emotional. “It was very romantic.”
Gloria nodded, her throat choked with a lump. She glanced again at Ned, wondering if he appreciated his family, spread before them.
Ned’s mother sniffed one more time, then stood, brushing off the front of her jeans. “So, who needs a treat to take home?” she asked, causing the noise level to double.
The children ran to follow their grandma as their parents collected coats, hats and diaper bags. Ned slipped his arm around Gloria’s shoulders, giving her a squeeze, and she knew one thing for sure. She was very thankful to have Ned for a friend, and she would never forget this enchanting evening.
Chapter Thirteen
Morning dawned bright, with white light streaming in Gloria’s bedroom window. The second her brain cleared enough to know what day it was, she sprang from the bed. Hopping on one foot on the cold floor, she hurried to poke her arms into her thick bathrobe, then tug on slippers.
All her tasks were done. Toys and gifts and had been delivered, and her baking was finished, wrapped and ready for the sale. She had only a few cards left to deliver, and she was ready for Christmas!
Hurrying to the kitchen, drawn to the warmth of the space heater, Gloria smiled to see Fergus sitting at the table sipping coffee as he read the newspaper.
“Mornin’, dear,” he croaked, then cleared his throat to try again. “How did you sleep?”
“Like a baby,” she said, rinsing the teakettle. “It’s Christmas Eve! Can you believe it?” she exclaimed, plopping the teapot onto the burner. Carefully she lit the fire and adjusted the flame, then turned to the old man with her eyes dancing. “The pageant is tonight!”
“I know.” He chuckled. “Nobody can talk ‘bout anything else.”
She laughed, feeling as excited as a child. “I’m so nervous. I hope it goes well.”
“Well,” he said, folding his paper then pushing away from the table. “You young folks have worked real hard, so I’m sure it’ll be fabulous.” The old man grinned up at her, his hunched back looking frailer than ever.
“Did you eat breakfast?” she asked in concern, berating herself for neglecting his meals the last few days.
“Not yet, but you don’t worry none. I’m sure you’ve got things to do.”
Snagging his elbow as he shuffled past, Gloria enveloped him in a hug. “Nothing is more important than you, Grandpa.”
When she pulled away the old man sniffed and mumbled, but continued toward the bathroom.
The teakettle whistled, starting as a whisper then rising to a full steam shriek, as she hurried to scoop coffee grounds into the French press. With her thoughts consumed by the day ahead, she turned off the burner and snatched up the kettle, snuffing its whine. Working in a fog of dreams, she poured boiling water over the grounds, then put the lid on the press.
Not able to wait another moment, she checked to be sure Fergus was in the bathroom, then hurried to the front door, throwing it open. Seeing nothing on the porch, she hurried to the back door to check the stoop. She pushed at the sleeping dogs with her slipper-clad foot, but still nothing.
“It’s on the table!” the old man called from behind the bathroom door.
Embarrassed to be caught, Gloria returned to the kitchen. Sure enough, an envelope sat propped up against the salt and p
epper shakers. Excitedly, she tore it open. Normally she opened the letters carefully, but it was almost Christmas, she reasoned, she could tear wrapping if she wanted to, right?
Savoring the moment, she slowed and took a deep breath. Instead of pulling out the letter, she tucked it into her bathrobe, next to her heart, and returned to the press. Slowly she pushed down the plunger, watching as the brew rose to the top. Once all the grounds were pushed to the bottom of the press, she reached for her favorite Christmas mug and filled it half way with steaming, fragment coffee. It was all she could do to take the time to stir in creamer and sugar before pulling out her letter.
The now familiar script didn’t let her down. It read:
A kiss, when all is said, what is it?
…a rosy dot placed on the “i” in Loving.
‘Tis a secret told to the mouth instead of the ear.
Tonight, the secret will be revealed.
What a lovely, cryptic note, she thought, stirring her coffee absently. Once again, it was a passage from Cyrano, making it all the more romantic. But then her eyes widened in surprise, and she plopped one elbow on the table and dropped her chin into her hand. “The secret will be revealed, tonight?” It read as if she’d be meeting him.
The thought left her feeling strange and unsure, instead of thrilled and eager. Here she’d been looking forward to meeting the man, and now… She lifted her cup for a sip of coffee. How is this whole thing going to work out, she wondered for the hundredth time.
She was more than a bit broken-hearted knowing that the letters would end, that was for sure. They were such a sweet surprise, something to look forward to. A lovely romantic distraction.
Pulling another long sip from her cup, she stared at the letter lying on the table. The only solution to this whole situation was to meet the man, of course. She frowned. But, how could anyone ever live up to the romantic prince charming she’d made the author out to be?
Musical notes drifted out from her bedroom, interrupting her thoughts, and she plunked her mug on the table and hurried to her bedroom. Patting the bed, then sticking her arm up under the covers looking for her phone, she finally found it. Holding it up, and she could see that Tara was calling. With a smile, she touched the answer button. “Good morning, Tara,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Happy Christmas Eve!”