***
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Caroline snarled, peeking out through the velvet curtains in the front of the ballroom. “He’s not even here.”
“It’s tradition,” Jennie said cheerfully. “Now hush—we’re after Mrs. Meriwether and Mr. Poole!”
“Mrs. Phyllis Meriwether and Mr. Harold Poole!” Mr. Cornelius announced from the stage, where he was seated on the plywood “throne” that was brought out of storage every year for the festivities. Though the party had been in full swing for a while, the guests were happy to line up behind the velvet curtains—some more sloppily than others, given their varying states of inebriation—to be presented to the cheers and laughter of everyone assembled. Last would be Matthew and Johnny, wearing crowns made out of construction paper and glitter glue, the honorary royalty of this year’s Fezziwig Ball.
Luckily, the power had come on sometime during the wee hours the night before, and the stage was brightly lit, or the elderly couple might never have made it across. They held hands and waved. Mrs. Meriwether curtsied in front of Mr. and. Mrs. Cornelius before the couple made a beeline to the bar.
“Miss Jennie Snopes and Miss Caroline Bonny!” Mr. Cornelius’s voice boomed.
“We’re on,” Jennie said, grabbing Caroline’s hand.
“I’m going to break my neck in these shoes!” Caroline protested, and then she was off, the pair of them mincing across the room.
An hour ago, when Jennie came over after the parade with a bottle of champagne and a shopping bag full of dresses from her collection, the scarlet gown and high-heeled sandals had somehow seemed like a good idea. So had a shade of lipstick called “Fixin’ to be a Vixen” and the mass of curls Jennie created with a curling iron and half a can of hairspray, even if her hair now barely fit through a doorway.
“I look like a Vegas showgirl,” Caroline muttered.
“They seem to like it,” Jennie pointed out as the audience erupted in thunderous cheers.
As soon as they crossed the stage, Caroline found a seat along the wall, where chairs had been lined up for the elderly guests. She sat down between the eighty-something Larraby sisters to watch the rest of the introductions, giving Jennie a triumphant smile as she rolled her eyes.
As the pairs of guests promenaded by, and the bartenders did a brisk business in mulled wine and Mrs. Cornelius’s signature punch, it took all of Caroline’s focus to pretend that she wasn’t searching for Lance—and that she didn’t care that he hadn’t come. She’d been fooling herself, to think he might give her another chance after the debacle up on the mountain; if he’d ever had any interest in her at all, she’d surely squashed it.
Finally, the only couple left to cross the stage was Matt and Johnny. They waited at the curtain, Matt resplendent in a vintage tuxedo and Johnny looking dazzling in an Italian smoking jacket.
“And finally,” Mr. Cornelius boomed. “It gives this old codger great pleasure to announce—”
“Hang on, Dad,” Johnny interrupted. “There’s one more. A late arrival.”
The curtains parted, and there he was. Lance Carter, wearing a shirt Caroline recognized very well because she had bought it for her brother’s birthday. The tie, too, though it looked better with Lance’s blue eyes than it ever had on Fiver.
She was going to kill her brother—after she thanked him.
“My, my, that young man cleans up nice,” Mrs. Cornelius said appreciatively.
Lance stepped forward uncertainly, and Caroline saw that he was pulling a little red wagon, its contents covered with an old quilt.
“I’m sorry,” Lance said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was going to wait until later, but—“
“But we told him to get his ass out here now,” Matt said, beaming.
“What have you got there, son?” Mr. Cornelius said.
“It’s—well, it’s the Bonny fortune, actually,” Lance said. He pulled the wagon to the center of the room while the crowd murmured in surprise. “Caroline, I thought you might like to do the honors.”
“You found the fortune?” Mr. Cornelius asked. “You dug under the stream?”
“Not exactly,” Lance said. “Ill explain later….”
“Well, get over there, girl!” Juanita Larraby said, jabbing Caroline hard in the side with her surprisingly sharp knuckles. “Don’t make him ask twice!”
Caroline rose unsteadily on her high heels. She felt everyone’s eyes on her as she made her way across the room. Lance offered his hand, giving her a shy smile. Encouraged by the warmth of his touch, she reached for a corner of the quilt and pulled it off.
Underneath were six glass bottles, every one of them a match for the one in Caroline’s kitchen.
“The famous Bonny moonshine,” Lance said softly, as the crowd erupted in confusion, everyone craning to see what was in the wagon. “Half a dozen bottles of liquid gold.”
“Gold,” Caroline whispered, realization dawning on her. “Great-great-great-grandpa’s treasure!”
“You know what this means,” Lance said, merriment in his eyes. “The curse is lifted!”
***
When the buffet had been served, the guests seated with plates piled high, the giant cake rolled out on a cart decorated with red and green bunting, and the Bonny moonshine poured into champagne flutes, Matt and Johnny took the stage for the final toast of the evening. They thanked Mr. and Mrs. Cornelius and the gathered guests, and then they asked Caroline and Lance to stand. They were sharing a table with Mrs. Meriwether and Mr. Poole, along with Jennie and Fiver, and for the last hour they had been holding hands under the table.
“To Lance Carter, finder of the Bonny fortune!” Matt said, raising his glass.
“To Caroline Bonny, breaker of the maiden’s curse!” Johnny added, clinking his glass against Matt's.
All around them, people whooped and cheered and tapped their silverware against their glasses. “They’ll probably keep that up until we kiss,” Lance said.
“Guess we might as well get it over with, then,” Caroline said. And then she gave him a kiss to remember.
***
About Ruby
Ruby Laska grew up in a small town in Arkansas, where her passions included state fairs, Vince Gill, and the local library. A West Coast transplant, she lives and works in Emeryville, California. When not writing sweet love stories with a bit of spice, Ruby loves to explore San Francisco's neighborhoods, stopping in at every shoe store and searching for the perfect cup of joe.
Her books are available on Amazon.
Mountain Song
Mine 'Til Monday
Heartbreak, Tennessee
Along for the Ride
A Man for the Summer
One Silent Night
by Lisa Hughey
Nick and Ally Carpenter split up months ago after years of infertility treatments crushed their marriage and their dreams of children. When the couple reunites for the holidays to make a dying woman happy, can an unexpected miracle show them the way back to love or is it too late?
Chapter One
Christmas Eve, Main Street Diner
Ally Carpenter sat in the worn black Naugahyde booth and fingered a bundle of silverware wrapped in a white paper napkin. Someone had tried to dress it up with a sharp curl of ridged red ribbon.
A Muzak version of “Carol of the Bells” trilled from mounted speakers in muted cheeriness. Faded red and green Christmas lights blinked on and off in the smudged diner window. The waitress, a very young, exhausted-looking, hugely pregnant girl shuffled toward her booth. The girl's light brown hair was restrained in a fun bun except she didn't look like she'd had fun in a very long time.
Ally could relate.
"Coffee?"
"Sure."
The waitress placed the heavy utilitarian ceramic mug on the chipped Formica tabletop and deftly poured the steaming brew with an economy of movement, as if she couldn't spare any extra effort. Then she passed Ally a menu. "One?"
&n
bsp; Ally's stomach curdled into a ball of dread. "Uh, actually I'm waiting for someone." She ignored the feeling and glanced around the empty restaurant. A fierce wave of nostalgia overwhelmed her. This was the diner where she'd worked when she'd been in college and split her time between school, work, skiing, and Nick. Her heart cracked.
It was after 8:30 p.m. on Christmas Eve. The only people in the joint were the waitress, the cook,...and Ally. Everyone else was either at the annual Fezziwig Ball or at home with their families. Now that the Christmas Parade had finished, they gathered around a roaring fire, while kids, hopped up on candy, bounced around anxiously awaiting their visit from Santa. Husbands and wives shared covert smiles, their heads full of secrets and the joy of Christmas.
Snow drifted lazily to the ground and coated the world in a sparkly, shimmery layer of white. The deserted street outside looked like a fairy tale dream land. Except her life hadn't been a fairy tale in far too long.
Ally glanced at the girl's distended stomach and the ache around her heart intensified. She and Nick had longed for children. At first, she'd wanted four. But as their dreams dwindled she'd have settled for just one baby to love. One bundle of squirming child to save her fractured marriage and her broken heart. For her and Nick.
Even as the ache increased, her eyes remained dry. She'd shed her last tear months ago. And now she was just a dried-up husk of a woman. Subsisting, surviving, but not really living.
The bells hanging from the bar of the door jingled as the door blew open on a gust of wind and ushered in the formidable bulk of her soon-to-be-ex. He certainly hadn't lost any weight. Snow dusted his hair and coated his eyelashes. Nick's gaze swept the diner in one assessing glance and then headed straight toward her.
"I'm guessing he's with you." The waitress, whose nametag read Britney, plopped another menu on the opposite side of the booth.
Not anymore. Ally sunk into the booth, attempted to hide behind the dated tabletop. The fertility drugs had altered her body until she'd been bloated and almost unrecognizable. But since her last dose, she'd lost all the weight she'd gained and more. Her clothes hung on her frame. She'd been meaning to get out and buy some smaller outfits. But since the last treatment failed, she'd mostly just worked and taken care of her mother.
Nick slid into the booth across from her and nodded to the waitress. "Can I get a cup of coffee as well?"
"Sure thing. I'll be back in a few minutes to take your order." She deftly poured the steaming brew and then left them alone.
Ally finally faced him. He looked good. His blond hair was a little long. He'd probably forgotten to make his haircut appointment. When they'd been together she'd been the one who reminded him. Now that he was so close, she could see new lines around his striking green eyes and fine tension in the set of his shoulders.
"Hello, Nick."
His mouth tightened. Ally tried not to remember what it felt like to have those lips pressed against hers but as the scent of him—evergreen aftershave and pure man—hit her senses, a fierce longing plowed through her. She'd forgotten just how much she missed him.
"Al." He dumped a packet of sugar in his coffee and stirred with a ting-ting-ting of the cheap metal spoon against the mug, concentrating so intently she began to wonder if he'd say anything else.
Ally cleared her throat. "Thank you for agreeing to this."
"I still think we should tell her the truth." Nick continued to stir the coffee as if his life depended on it and for a moment she wondered if he were nervous. Then she dismissed the idea. Nick didn't get nervous. Ever. He had been, was, the most self-composed man she'd ever met. That quiet confidence, that surety of purpose, was what had originally attracted her to him.
"Mama's dying," she forced the truth out through numb lips.
"I still don't like lying to Janine," Nick confessed.
Ally fingered the handle of the mug and tamped down the urge to yell. She didn't have any more tears but she had enough anger for three people. "I don't want her upset," she said sharply.
Her mother was in the final stages of terminal cancer and had no idea that she and Nick had split. It would break her mother's heart. Mama adored Nick.
"I'm sorry." He reached his hand toward her. His knuckles were bruised and a little swollen as if he'd knocked them against something hard, and his fingers were nicked with cuts. He'd obviously been "hands on" for some of his recent building projects.
His hand hovered halfway across the table before he pulled it back and gripped his own mug like a lifeline.
"Ya'll decide what you want?" The waitress was back.
"Give us another minute." Nick smiled warmly, his gaze shifted to her stomach and his eyes lightened.
She nodded tiredly and waddled toward the counter. Her bare, work roughened hands rubbed at her the dip in her lower back.
"Why don't you go on home?" the cook behind the service window said to the waitress. Ally recognized the cook even though she'd never worked with him. David Wiseman, one of the three brothers who now owned the place, had inherited the diner from Old Man Woods. He pushed through the swinging doors that lead from the kitchen to the dining room.
David looked a lot like Paul Bunyan. Worn, plaid flannel shirttails hung out from beneath his chef's apron. He had on chef's pants, but no funky, no-slip clogs for him. He clomped to the counter in large construction boots.
He was a giant ox, with a black bushy beard, broad shoulders, and a frown that would have been a little scary if the tone of his voice hadn't been so soft.
"I need to finish out my shift," the girl said. Her mouth was set in a stubborn line and watching her, Ally knew she needed the money, but refused to take charity.
"We need to set our stories straight and let her get home." Ally stared at the plastic menu sleeve trimmed in red piping. She focused on the food offerings. A bright green Post-it was slapped on the inside with the announcement, We now have Gluten-Free Buns! Along with free-range chicken, humanely-raised beef, and local organic produce.
Even though the menu hadn't changed in years, the Wiseman brothers sure had stepped up the food quality. Desperately, Ally searched the menu selections for something, anything that didn't sound like it would come right back up.
She'd lost her appetite about the time she'd lost her husband, and these days food was something she forced down rather than the sensory pleasure it used to be.
Nick lifted a hand and the waitress shuffled toward their table. Ally's attention was riveted on the girl's rounded stomach as the hard ball shifted and moved like an alien was getting ready to bust out.
"Ready?" She held the pencil over the little order pad, just like the ones they'd used ten years ago.
"I'll have a tuna melt on rye." Nick closed his menu with a slap and handed it to the girl.
The waitress's fingers were worn and bony as if her body had taken every bit of nutrition and energy and sent it to her baby. Ally's stomach twisted. God, she wasn't going to be able to eat. "Just some wheat toast."
Ally tried to hand over the menu but Nick stopped her. "Add scrambled eggs, two sausage links and a glass of orange juice to her order."
As the waitress walked away, Ally tamped down another swell of resentment. She'd never be able to eat all that. But hadn't that been their pattern while they'd been together? Nick would eat all of his and half of hers. It had become a sore spot when she'd gained so much weight on the fertility drugs, even though she'd actually been eating less.
With every month that they hadn't conceived, she'd become bigger and bigger and more unhappy, while nothing affected Nick. Based on her reaction right now, it was still a sore spot.
Ally shifted in the booth, the final divorce papers crinkled in her coat pocket and reminded her why they were here. Ally pulled out the papers and handed Nick his copy.
"We only need to pretend for two days." Just long enough to satisfy her mother. "Then we can sign and be done."
Nick's lips tightened. "Fine." He tucked the papers into his shirt
pocket.
The legal dissolution of their marriage had been a whole lot easier than the emotional one. Mediation had been a breeze. Neither one of them contested a single point. Her mediator said she'd never seen a couple so easy to work with. Ally didn't have the heart to tell her that they'd fallen into an abyss, so numb that neither wanted to prolong the agony of disappointment.
Ally swallowed down bile and took a sip of coffee. "You've been working on several big projects at work, which is why you haven't been to see her in the last few months."
"I have been working on several big projects."
"See. You aren't even lying."
She couldn't afford to care about his aversion to lying. Her mother was in the final stages of her life. Ally had just taken a leave of absence with the plan to stay with her mother for the rest of her sickness. Everything needed to be about keeping Mama happy and calm.
"Okay." Nick's gaze was firmly fixed on the cook as he quickly completed their order. "And what have you been doing?"
"Work is going well. But I've been coming here every weekend to give my brother a break."
She'd been coming to care for her mother almost every weekend for the past few months. The first month or so her mother hadn't been suspicious, but lately, with no visits from Nick at all, Ally wondered if Mama had caught on that things were not right with her and Nick.
"What?" Nick's attention was suddenly laser-focused on her.
Ally shrugged. If she could have gotten away with not telling him, she would have, but her mother was bound to make a comment about him missing Ally. "Yeah. If you could just be sure to tell her you don't mind because you're so busy, that would be great. She keeps worrying that you're alone on the weekends."
"You come every weekend to see her," he said flatly.
"She's dying, Nick."
"But I thought...."
She knew what he thought. Her mother had been diagnosed right when they split. At first, Ally didn't want to tell her mother that Nick had moved out because positive thinking was critical to getting better. She just figured she would break the news to her mother once she was finished with her treatment and she was healthy again. And initially the doctors thought treatment would be effective. But last month, they had gotten the grim news that her mother wasn't ever going to recover. It was only a matter of time.
Love on Main Street: A Snow Creek Christmas Page 36
