“I’d always hoped that one day Mary would find it in her heart to forgive me.”
“I did, too.”
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Sarah whispered, resting her head against her husband’s shoulder.
“Why are you apologizing to me?”
“Because you and Greg used to be good friends, too.”
“Oh.”
“Remember how you used to golf together.”
“Yes.”
“I wonder if Greg still plays.”
“I see him out at the club every now and then,” Jake told her.
“Does he speak to you?”
“Yes.”
Sarah was comforted knowing that. “I’m glad.”
“So am I,” her husband said, then kissed her goodnight.
On December twenty-third, Thom’s office was running on a skeleton crew. His secretary was in for half a day and he immediately handed her the assignment of locating every antique store in a hundred-mile radius.
He’d called his father before eight that morning. “Tell me what you know about Mom’s old tea service.”
“Tell you what I know?” he repeated. “It was stolen, remember?”
“I realize that,” Thom said impatiently.
“What makes you ask?”
“I thought I’d buy her a replacement for Christmas.”
“Don’t you think you’re leaving your shopping a little late?”
“Could be.” Thom didn’t feel comfortable sharing what this was really about, but he was going to do whatever he could to replace that damn tea service.
“I think we might have a picture of it somewhere.”
Thom perked up.
“For years your mother looked for a replacement, you know. We hadn’t actually taken a picture of the tea set, but it was in the background of another photograph.”
Thom remembered now. His parents had the photo enlarged in order to get as much detail as possible.
“Do you still have the photograph? Or better yet, the enlargement?”
“I think it might be around here somewhere. I assume you need this ASAP.”
“You got it.”
“Well, I promised to drive your mother out to the Women’s Century Club this morning and then to the grocery store. You’re welcome to stop by the house and look.”
“Where do you figure it might be?”
His father considered that for a moment. “Maybe the bottom drawer of my desk. There are a few old photographs there. That’s my best suggestion.”
“Anyplace else I should look?”
“Your mother’s briefcase. Every once in a while she visits an antique store, but for the most part she’s given up hope. She’s still got her name in with several of the bigger places. If anything even vaguely similar comes in, the stores promised to give her a call.”
“Has she gotten many calls?”
“Only two in all these years,” his father told him. “Both of them excited her so much she could barely sleep until she’d checked them out. They turned out to be completely the wrong style.”
Thom didn’t know if he’d have any better success, but he had to try.
“Good luck, son.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
As soon as he hung up, Thom called Noelle’s cell phone. She answered right away.
“Morning,” he said, warming to the sound of her voice. “I hope you’re free to do a bit of investigating.”
“I am. I canceled out on Mom—told her I was meeting an old friend.”
“Did she ask any questions?”
“No, but I could tell she was disappointed. I do so hope we’re successful.”
“Me, too. Listen, I’ve got news.” Thom told her about the old photograph and what his father had said earlier. He hoped it would encourage Noelle, but she seemed disheartened when she spoke again.
“If your parents searched all these years, what are the chances of us finding a replacement now?”
“We’ll just keep working on it. I’m not giving up, and I’m guessing you feel the same way.”
“I do—of course.”
“Good. How soon before we can meet?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll wait for you at my parents’ place.”
On his way out the door, Thom grabbed the list Martha, his secretary, had compiled and when he read it over, he knew why he paid this woman top dollar. Not only had she given him the name and address of every store in the entire state, she’d also listed their Web sites and any other Internet information.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, then gave her the rest of the day off with pay.
Noelle was already parked outside his parents’ house when Thom arrived. She got out of her car and joined him as he pulled into the driveway.
“Hi,” she said softly.
Thom leaned over and kissed her. “Hi.” The key to the house was under a decorative rock. He unlocked the door and turned off the burglar alarm. Holding Noelle’s hand, he led her into his parents’ home.
Noelle stopped in the entryway and glanced around. It’d been many, many years since she’d walked into this house. It wasn’t really familiar—everything had been redecorated and repainted since she was a little girl—but the place had a comfortable relaxed feel. Big furniture dominated the living room, hand-knit stockings hung on the fireplace and the mantel was decorated with holly. The scent of the fresh Christmas tree filled the air.
“Your mother has a wonderful eye for color and design,” she commented, taking in the bright red bows on the tree and all the red ornaments.
Still holding her hand, Thom led her into his father’s den. The oak rolltop desk sat in the corner, and Thom immediately started searching through the bottom drawer. He found the stack of photographs his father had mentioned and sorted through them with Noelle looking over his shoulder. She leaned against him, and he wondered if she realized how good it felt to have her pressed so close to him. Or how tempting it was to turn and kiss her…
“That’s it,” she cried triumphantly when he flipped past a black-and-white picture. She grabbed it before he had a chance to take a second look. Examining the print, she murmured, “It really was exquisite, wasn’t it?” She passed it back to him.
“It is beautiful,” he said, emphasizing the present tense. Thom wasn’t sure why he insisted on being this optimistic about finding a replacement. He suspected that wanting it so badly had a lot to do with it.
Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out the list Martha had compiled for him.
“Now that we have a picture,” Noelle said, “I’ll go home and scan it into Carley’s computer. Then I’ll send it out to these addresses and see what comes back.”
“Great. But before you do, I’ll get a copy of this photograph and start contacting local dealers. They might be able to steer me in a different direction.”
“Oh, Thom, it’d mean so much to me if we could bring our mothers back together.”
They kissed, and it would’ve been the easiest thing in the world to become immersed in the wonder of having found each other again. Her mouth was warm, soft to the touch. She enticed him, fulfilled him and tempted him beyond any woman he’d ever known or loved. He didn’t know much about her present life. They’d spoken very little of their accomplishments, their friends, their jobs. It wasn’t necessary. Thom knew her. The girl he’d loved in high school had matured into a capable, beautiful and very desirable adult.
“It’s hard to think about anything else when you kiss me,” she whispered.
“It is for me, too.”
Before leaving the Sutton home, Thom put everything back as it was, and remembered to reset the burglar alarm.
After making a photocopy at his office, Thom gave her the original, thinking that would scan best.
“I’ll go back to the house now and plead with Carley to let me on the computer,” she told him.
“Okay, and I’ll see what a little old-fashioned footwork tur
ns up.”
Noelle started to get into her car, then paused. “What’ll happen if we don’t find a replacement before I return to Texas?”
Thom didn’t want to think about that yet. “I don’t know,” he had to admit.
“Want to meet in the park at midnight?” she asked.
Thom chuckled. “I’m a little old to be sneaking around to meet my girlfriend.”
“That didn’t stop you from climbing in my bedroom window last night.”
True, but his need to see her had overwhelmed his caution, not to mention his good sense.
“I love you, Noelle.” There, he’d said it. He’d placed his heart in her hands, to accept or reject.
Tears glistened in her eyes. “I love you, too—I never stopped loving you.”
“Even when you hated me?”
She laughed shakily. “Even then.”
NOELLE McDOWELL’S JOURNAL
December 23
11:00 a.m.
I feel as if I’m on an emotional roller coaster. One moment I’m feeling as low as I can get, and the next I’m soaring into the clouds. Just now, I’m in the cloud phase. Thom found the picture of the tea set! We’re determined to locate one as close to the original as possible. As I said to Thom, I’m hoping for a Christmas miracle. (I never knew I was such a romantic.) Normally I scoff at things like miracles, but that’s what both Thom and I need. We’ve already had one miracle—we have each other back.
Before we parted this morning, Thom said he loved me. I love him, too. l’ve always loved Thom, and that’s what made his deception—or what I believed was his deception—so terribly painful.
Now all we’ve got to do is keep our mothers out of the picture until we can replace the tea service. I know it’s a challenging task, but we’re up to it.
As of right now, we each have our assignments. Carley’s using the computer for ten more minutes and then it’s all mine. My job is to scan in the picture he found at his parents’ house and send it to as many online antique dealers as I can. Thom is off checking local dealers and has some errands to run. We’re going to meet up again later.
I had to cancel a lunch date with Kristen and Jonathan, but my sister understood. She’s excited about Thom and me getting back together. Apparently she’s had more of a hand in this than I realized. I really owe her.
Finding a tea service to replace the one that was stolen is turning out to be even harder than I expected—but we have to try. I believe in miracles. I was a doubter less than a week ago, but now I’m convinced.
Chapter Seven
“How many turkeys did you say we had to buy?”
“Six,” Mary said, checking the list to make sure she was correct. December twenty-third, and the grocery store was a nightmare. The aisles were crowded, and many of the shelves needed restocking. The last thing Mary wanted to do was fight the Christmas rush, but that couldn’t be helped. Next year, she’d leave the filling of these Christmas baskets to someone else.
“Get six bags of potatoes while you’re at it,” she told her husband as they rolled past a stack of ten-pound bags.
“Getting a little bossy, aren’t you?” Greg muttered.
“Sorry, it’s just that there are a hundred other things I’d rather be doing right now.”
“Then you should’ve given the task to Sarah McDowell. Didn’t you tell me she offered?”
Mary didn’t want to hear the other woman’s name. “I don’t trust her to see that it’s done properly.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”
“No.” That should be plain enough. The more she thought about her last encounter with Sarah McDowell, the more she realized how glad she’d be when they’d completed this project. “Being around Sarah has dredged up a whole slew of bad memories,” she informed her husband.
Greg dutifully loaded sixty pounds of potatoes into the cart. As soon as he’d finished, Mary headed down the next aisle.
“My Christmas has been ruined,” she said through gritted teeth.
“How’s that?”
“Greg, don’t be obtuse.” She reached for several cans of evaporated milk and added them to the food piled high in their cart. “I’ve had to deal with her.”
“Yes, but—”
“Never mind,” Mary said, cutting him off. She didn’t expect Greg to understand. Her husband had never really grasped the sense of loss she’d felt when Sarah destroyed their friendship with her deception. The silver tea service was irreplaceable; so was the friendship its disappearance had shattered.
“Hello, Mary.” Jean Cummings, a friend who edited the society page, pulled her cart alongside Mary’s. “Merry Christmas, Greg.”
Her husband had the look of a deer caught in the headlights. He no more knew who Jean was than he would a stranger, although he’d attended numerous social functions with the woman.
“You remember Jean, don’t you?” she said, hoping to prompt his memory.
“Of course,” he lied. “Good to see you again.”
“It looks like you’re feeding a big crowd,” Jean said, surveying the contents of Mary’s cart.
Mary didn’t bother to explain about the Christmas baskets. “Is your family coming for the holidays?” she asked.
“Oh, yes, and yours too, I imagine?”
“Of course.” Mary was eager to get about her business. She didn’t have time to dillydally. As soon as she was finished with the shopping, she could go back to planning her own family’s Christmas dinner. Greg would need to order the fresh Dungeness crabs they always had on Christmas Eve; he could do that while they were here.
“Tell me,” Jean said, leaning close to Mary and talking in a stage whisper. “Am I going to get the scoop on Thom?”
“Thom?” Mary didn’t know what she was talking about.
“I saw him just now in Mendleson’s.”
It was well known that the jeweler specialized in engagement rings.
“Thom’s one of the most eligible bachelors in town. I know plenty of hearts will be broken when he finally chooses a bride.”
Mary was speechless. She’d had lunch with her son on Friday and although he’d hinted, he certainly hadn’t said anything that suggested he was on the verge of proposing. She didn’t even know who he was currently seeing.
“I’m sure Thom would prefer to do his own announcing,” Greg said coolly, answering for Mary.
“Oh, drat,” Jean muttered. “I was hoping you’d let the cat out of the bag.”
“My lips are sealed,” Mary said, recovering. “Have a wonderful Christmas.”
“You, too.” Jean pushed her cart past them.
As soon as the society page editor was out of earshot, Mary gripped her husband’s forearm. “Has Thom spoken to you lately?”
“This morning,” Greg told her. “But he didn’t say anything about getting engaged.”
“Who could it be?” Mary cried, aghast that she was so completely in the dark. As his mother, she should know these things.
“If he was serious about any woman, we’d know.”
Mary wasn’t buying it.
“Let’s not leap to conclusions just because our son happened to walk into a certain jewelry store. I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical reason Thom was in Mendleson’s and I’ll bet it hasn’t got a thing to do with buying an engagement ring.”
“This is all Sarah’s fault,” she murmured.
Her husband looked at her as though she were speaking in a foreign language.
“I mean it, Greg. I’ve been so preoccupied with the whole mess Sarah’s created about these baskets, I haven’t had time to pay attention to my son. Why, just on Friday when we had lunch…” Suddenly disheartened, Mary let her words fade.
“What’s wrong?” Greg asked.
All the combativeness went out of her. “I can’t blame Sarah entirely—I played a role in this, too.”
“What role?”
Once again, she was amazed by her husband’s obli
viousness. “This business with Thom. Now that I think about it, I’m convinced he wanted to talk over his engagement with me, only I was so rattled by the Value-X incident I didn’t give him a chance. Oh, Greg, how could I have been so self-absorbed?”
“What makes you think he was going to tell you he was getting engaged? Why don’t we call and ask him when we get home?” Greg suggested.
“And let him think we’re interfering in his life? We can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
“We’d ruin his surprise, if indeed there is one.”
Greg merely sighed as they wheeled the cart to the checkout counter.
Ten minutes later, once everything was safely inside the trunk, Mary turned to him. “I just don’t know what I’ll do if she’s the one he’s interested in. I couldn’t stand it if he married into that family.”
“I don’t think we need to worry about it,” he told her as they started back to the house. “There’s no evidence whatsoever.”
“He danced with Noelle McDowell!”
“He danced with lots of girls.”
The engine made a coughing sound as they approached the first intersection. “What’s that?” Mary asked.
“It’s time for an oil change,” her husband said. “I’ll have the car looked at after the holidays.”
She nodded. She trusted the upkeep of their vehicles to her husband and immediately put the thought out of her mind. Car troubles were minor in the greater scheme of things.
By the end of the day, when clouds thickened the sky and the cold swept in, fierce and chilling, Thom finally had to admit that replacing the silver tea service wasn’t going to be easy.
He’d tried everything he could think of, called friends and associates who might know where he could find an antique dealer who specialized in silver—anyone who might lead him to his prize. Far more than a gift lay in the balance. It was possible that his and Noelle’s entire future hinged on this.
At seven, after an exhaustive all-day search, he went home. The first thing he did was check his answering machine, hoping to hear from Noelle. Sure enough, the message light was flashing. Without waiting to remove his coat, he pushed the button and grabbed paper and a pen.
On a Snowy Night: The Christmas BasketThe Snow Bride Page 11
