by Mary Campisi
“Ramona?”
She looked up from the recipe book, spotted Harry Blacksworth’s larger-than-life presence standing on the other side of the island. “Hello, Harry.”
“Sure smells good in here.” He pointed at the trays of lasagna cooling on the wire racks. “Looks good, too. I’m half tempted to grab a fork and dig in.”
“Would you like me to cut you a slice?”
“Hmm.” His gaze darted to the lasagna, homed in on it. “Hell, yes, but you know Greta would have a lecture ready for me on patience and good manners.”
Ramona’s lips twitched. “She does have a point, Harry. However, I could ‘shave’ the edges a bit and give you a taste?” You’d have thought she’d just offered him chateaubriand from the way his face lit up.
“I’d like that.” He paused, glanced at the recipe book. “And whatever else you’re making today? Save me the scraps.”
She actually laughed, the first time in two days. “I can do that.”
He made his way to the coffee pot, poured a cup. “Sorry you’re working solo today. You and Miriam are a good team.” Harry eyed her a second too long. “You’re a lot alike.”
“Perhaps,” was all she said. Last year she would have denied that claim, but after spending several days in the kitchen with her, trading private moments that had left similar scars, Ramona thought she and Miriam were more alike than different. Of course, she’d never admit it to the woman, but the odd thing was, she doubted it was necessary; Miriam Desantro already knew.
Harry sank onto a barstool, fiddled with his napkin. “So, there’s a reason Miriam’s not here today.”
“Is someone sick? Lily? The grandkids?”
“Nah. They’re fine.” Those blue eyes targeted her. “I talked to Pop and I heard the news about you and Tony.”
Mention of Tony made her stomach churn, her breath catch in her lungs. She did not want to talk about what had happened between them. It was too private, too painful. “Harry, I…”
He held up a hand, his expression gentling. “Hey, you don’t have to tell me about botching up a good thing because you’re afraid to trust the guy. With me and Greta, I didn’t even trust myself, how’s that for screwed up?”
“This is a little different.”
“Not really. Fear’s fear, no matter how you slice it. If Greta hadn’t ended up pregnant, who knows how long it would have taken me to wise up and realize how much I loved her and wanted to be with her.”
Ramona raised a brow. “I don’t think a pregnancy will be an issue.”
That made him laugh, belly-deep and loud. “Guess not.” When the laughter fizzled, he placed both elbows on the counter, his expression serious. “After Pop told me what happened between you and Tony, all I could think about was Greta and me, and how I almost lost her because I was too damn scared to open up and let myself love her. Of course, I was already in love with her, but hell if I’d admit it. What if she hurt me? What if she betrayed me? What if she realized what an undeserving loser I was? She’d leave me then, wouldn’t she? Those damn thoughts drove me crazy, and you know why?” His blue gaze narrowed on her. “Fear. Cold, hard, powerful, like nothing I’d ever felt before. It consumed me; I had to either trust her or shut her out of my life for good.” He sighed, dragged a hand over his face. “The second choice was worse than the first, so I sucked it up and took the plunge. I’m not saying it was an easy decision, but I wasn’t going to lose the only woman I ever loved, and something tells me you’re in the same boat.”
“Not exactly.”
“Why? Because you weren’t gonna have a kid?” He stared at her like he didn’t understand.
“That’s part of it, but Tony and I have a history.” She paused, forced out the next words. “It didn’t end well then, and it isn’t going to end well now.”
“A history, huh? I see. You two hooked up a long time ago. So?”
“So like I said, it didn’t work out.” Why was he being so persistent?
He sighed, threw her a look that said she was being ridiculous. “Are you telling me if Tony walked out of town and you never saw him again, you’d be okay with that? Or worse, if he stayed in town and ended up with somebody else, say that Carlisle woman, you’d be okay with that?” The laugh that followed said he knew her answer even if she didn’t. “Get a mirror and take a look, Ramona. You look like you want to spit at somebody—me or Cynthia Carlisle, maybe both of us—and that says you care…a helluva lot.”
“All right, I care.” She clenched her fists, buried them in the folds of her apron. “It doesn’t change a thing.”
“Says you.” Harry stood, made his way toward her. “Listen, I’ve got no business giving anybody advice, least of all about relationships and marriage. But I do know about making bad choices and living to regret them. Greta is the best thing that ever happened to me, and marrying her is a gift I thank God for every single night. Am I scared of losing her? Hell, yes. I’m petrified something will happen to her. Remember a few years ago when she fell by the pool and ended up in the hospital with a concussion? I friggin’ prayed I could be the one in that hospital bed. And don’t even get me started on the kids and all the ways I’m afraid for them. But fear’s part of the equation when you love someone, and you can either accept it or hide in your shell for the rest of your life.”
Ramona blinked, looked away. Yes, she was afraid. Petrified, actually.
“Do you love the guy?”
She met his gaze, let him see the truth, seconds before she said the words. “With my whole heart.”
“Then take the plunge, Ramona. Do it and don’t look back.”
“It’s not that easy. Tony’s not about to trust me again after what I’ve done.”
His face lit up, his voice turned gentle. “I’ve got a plan that won’t leave any doubt in his mind that you belong together.” A slow smile spread over his face. “Now, are you in?”
Anthony had never been a big fan of Christmas. All the fuss and excitement, the anticipation, the hope, and for what? Was that new gadget honestly going to make the guy happy for longer than five seconds? Okay, five minutes? Maybe he felt that way because he was in the advertising business and knew how to put a spin on a product, or maybe he just didn’t like anybody telling him that this item of clothing or that electronic device was going to bring her pure joy. BS. And if Christmas weren’t bad enough, how about New Year’s and all the resolutions that were stuffed with good intentions and no way to achieve them? Sure, everybody wanted a new body and who didn’t want the perfect biceps, but was it going to happen? No. Of course not.
And he was ticked that for just a second he’d been fool enough to believe anything was possible, even marriage to the only woman he’d ever loved. Yeah, look how that had turned out. Not only had Ramona Casherdon thrown his proposal back in his face, she’d had the audacity to tell him she needed more time, as in it might happen, just not now. Right. How about it was never going to happen? How about he had his eyes wide open and realized she’d never been as committed to the relationship or their future as he’d been? That hurt, but damn if he’d admit it out loud. No way. Once Christmas was over, he’d head back to California and try to forget the disaster this trip had been. The only good thing about it was seeing his family and he couldn’t wait until they opened his gift; round-trip tickets to Hawaii for all of them, including Jeremy Ross Dean.
“Dad? Thanks for coming.” Lucy squeezed his arm as they made their way up the front steps of Harry and Greta Blacksworth’s home. “I know you’re not in the mood, but I’m really glad you’re here.”
He forced a smile. “You know I’m happy I could spend time with you and Teresina. Sometimes, I wish you were her age again.” The smile he gave her this time was natural, filled with emotion. “Where have all the years gone?”
She leaned up, kissed his cheek. “I’ll always be your little girl.”
“Yes, you will.” He cleared his throat, rang the doorbell. “Your grandpa was sure excited
to get here. I give Jeremy credit for bringing Pop and Teresina before the party started.”
“Jeremy doesn’t mind.” Her voice turned soft. “He’s happy to do it.”
Anthony was about to comment on that when the door swung open and Harry Blacksworth stood before them dressed in a red vest, black slacks, and a candy-cane tie. “Merry Christmas to the rest of the Benito clan!” He ushered them in, hugged Lucy and shook Anthony’s hand. “Hand your coats over and come on in. There’s enough food and drink to feed half the town.”
The man might be wealthy and well connected, but he acted like an ordinary guy: greeting people, laughing, singing. Singing? Harry Blacksworth was full of life and damn, but he seemed happy about it. Anthony made his way to the bar where he ordered a scotch and took in the festivities. “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” drifted from one room to another, meshed with the giddiness of the children, and found its way to Anthony, landing right in the middle of his heart. He’d played that song from the first day of December until he boarded the plane bound for New York and Magdalena. Now, he wished he never had to hear it again. He sipped his drink, glanced around the room, and tested his memory. Nate and Christine Desantro, Harry’s wife, Greta, Miriam Desantro... And the kids? Whom did they belong to? He narrowed his gaze on a dark-haired little girl with brilliant blue eyes. Had to be related to Harry. Niece? Daughter? Pop sat in a plush armchair surrounded by more children and adults, with the girl named Lily at his side. He remembered her from last year, remembered how they’d made snow angels together and she’d peeked right into his soul. That memory made him smile. Had she made more angels this year?
Jeremy Ross Dean worked his way toward him, his snowman tie blinking red. “Mr. Benito…I mean, Anthony. How are you, sir?”
“Sir?”
“Sorry.” His face turned as red as the light on his tie. “Sorry. It’s a hard habit to break. The chief, that’s my father, prides himself on our manners.”
Ah. He’d like to meet this chief and expected he would, sooner rather than later…like at an engagement party. “So…you and Lucy worked things out?”
More red splattered his face, crept to his neck. Jeremy nodded and patted his right pants pocket. “I’m going to propose tonight.”
Some people really did find happiness, and Anthony was glad his daughter was one of them. He shook Jeremy’s hand. “Welcome to the family.” The next hour was a blend of chatter, music, laughter, and food. Too much food. Had Ramona made the lasagna? Or baked the sugar cookies? The trays of food made him think of his ex-fiancée. Where was she tonight? Huddled in that bungalow of hers, wearing black, and listening to Perry Como? It might sound pitiful to the casual observer, but if Anthony could wish things different, that’s exactly where he’d want to be. He finished his drink, made his way to the makeshift bar and the two young men in charge of providing “refreshments” for the over-twenty-one crowd. There was nothing quite like a scotch neat to mellow him out and make him forget the life he didn’t have or the woman he’d lost.
Anthony was so busy thinking about Ramona that he didn’t notice how the music grew softer, the chatter lower, until someone called his name. Not just any “someone” but the woman who’d haunted him for years.
“Tony?”
He swung around and there she was, the woman who’d stolen his heart and crushed it more ways than he could count. “Ramona?” He took in the dark hair, loose and flowing about her shoulders, the red lipstick, the matching red dress that hugged her hips and fell to within inches of the patent-leather pumps. Ramona Casherdon in something that wasn’t black? And red, no less? What the hell was going on?
“I—” she paused, licked those red lips “—I want to speak with you.”
What could she possibly say that she hadn’t said the other day? “I think you were pretty clear the last time we talked.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I absolutely was not.”
“Tony,” Harry Blacksworth’s voice filled the room. “Give the woman a chance to speak. It could be important.”
“I agree with Harry, son.” Pop stepped forward, placed his hands on his hips and turned to Ramona. “You sure look fine tonight.” He paused, tossed her a smile. “Real fine, and I hope Tony appreciates that you haven’t dressed up for anybody in a whole lot of years.”
“I like your sparkly earrings,” Lily said. “They’re very pretty.”
Anthony glanced at Ramona’s ears. Sure enough, the gold hoops she always wore were gone, replaced with black-jeweled dangle earrings that glittered under the light. He cleared his throat, ignored the crowd around them, and said, “You look beautiful.” When she lifted a hand to swat away the compliment, he noticed the engagement ring he’d given her. “What…” He dragged his gaze to hers, tried to find answers in those dark eyes.
“I want to marry you, Tony. I want to spend the rest of our lives together, and if that means wearing a ring that belongs on a fashion model and traveling across the ocean, then I’ll do it.” Her eyes misted. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you enough.” She reached out, clasped his hands. “Sorry I didn’t trust us enough.”
Had he heard her right? She wanted to be with him? “You want to marry me?” he asked in case she’d spoken in haste and had already changed her mind. You just never knew about Ramona.
Her red lips pulled into a bright smile. “I want to marry you, Tony.” She squeezed his hands, leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “In fact, I want to marry you tonight.”
“What?” He pulled away, stared at her. “Here? Now?”
“Yes. Right here. Right now.” Ramona faced the group, said in a quiet, firm voice. “And I’d like all of you to witness it.”
Harry Blacksworth laughed. “About time is all I have to say.”
“Are Mr. Anthony and Ms. Ramona getting married?” Lily scrunched up her nose and slid her gaze to Harry.
“Looks like it, Lily girl.” Harry thrust an arm about her shoulders, pulled her close. “Nobody throws a party like your old uncle, do they?” Her blue eyes turned bright as she looked up at him and shook her head. “That’s right. Last year we had a sleepover and this year we’ve got a wedding. Who knows what next year will bring.”
Mimi Pendergrass stepped in minutes later and officiated over the union of Anthony Benito and Ramona Casherdon. Oh, but Anthony had waited so long to call Ramona his wife and it had finally happened. “You know you don’t have to wear the engagement ring,” he said later that evening as they sat on a couch in front of a fireplace. Harry and Greta had several fireplaces in their house, but this one was the largest with the most comfortable couch, perfect for the newlyweds.
“I don’t mind.” Ramona wound her arm through his. “Maybe I’ll save it for special occasions and wear the plain band for every day.”
Anthony traced the thin band on her finger. “I never thought you’d have to buy your own wedding ring.”
She laughed. “Are you worried people will call you a cheapskate?”
That made him laugh, too. “That’s one thing I’ve never been accused of, but next week I’d like to buy you a proper wedding ring.”
Ramona gave him the don’t-start look and followed with, “A ring doesn’t make a marriage, Tony. Not even close.”
His wife had a point. A very good one. Their marriage would be built on love, trust, and second chances, not “things.” He placed a kiss on her cheek and whispered, “Whatever you say, Mrs. Benito.”
She sighed, leaned closer. “Merry Christmas, Tony.”
“Merry Christmas, my love.”
Epilogue
The Christmas season was indeed a magical time that would create memories to look back on for years to come. Bree Kinkaid would have a pile of extra-sweet memories, seeing as that handsome young man, Adam Brandon, stuck a rock the size of an onion on her finger. Wedding bells and happiness coming next year. Maybe there’d be a baby, too, and wouldn’t it be something if it were a boy? Pop would say a few prayers that Bree would have her h
appily-ever-after this time and chances were she had a good shot at it since this partner had brains between his shoulders and a good dose of common sense.
There’d be more couples taking the marriage plunge this year and more babies, too. Nothing like a new baby to give a person a reason to believe in love, hope, and second chances. Look at Lucy and Jeremy Ross Dean. When Pop found his granddaughter in his kitchen a few winters ago, belly the size of a cantaloupe, he could not have imagined her running her own bake shop and engaged to a tall “drink of water” who worshipped the ground her sneakered feet walked on. Just goes to show, you never knew where love would take you.
Speaking of love going in odd directions, how about Tony and Ramona? They were the oddest couple and yet, when they were together, they didn’t seem so odd. In fact, they kind of went together like oil and garlic, basil and tomatoes, wine and cheese. Pop thought about the couples he’d seen come together over the years, some for the long haul, others for a short trek, and it didn’t matter how or why they joined up so long as the commitment was strong and true.
Like Lester and Phyllis. Now that was a couple who might not have had a solid beginning due to hidden agendas and secret identities on Lester’s part, but look at them now. Just back from Niagara Falls with enough pictures to get Pop thinking about going there himself one year. He might just have to convince Lucy and Jeremy Ross Dean that Teresina should see Niagara Falls and her great-grandfather should go with her. Yup, indeed he might.
There was a lot to look forward to this year and the Good Lord willing, Pop would be on this earth to enjoy it. Maybe this would be the year Mimi would finally see her daughter again, and with enough prayers and luck, maybe it would be a happy reunion, built on repairing the relationship and starting over. If anybody could find Mimi’s daughter, it was Lester Conroy and when the man showed up on Pop’s doorstep later that afternoon, Pop figured it had to do with Mimi’s daughter or more pictures of Niagara Falls. He did not anticipate the words or the meaning of what fell out of Lester’s mouth.
