Not Christmas Without You

by Jane Porter

  “Cute,” Alice said, giving Charity a cool smile. “It seems as if you have been working hard on this project for the tree auction.”

  Charity didn’t answer, far too uncomfortable to think of a single thing to say. Rusty sat next to her feet, his big warm body touching her legs.

  Alice continued into the kitchen where she studied the pennant tree skirt. “The gold looks drab with the blue and green,” she said, before glancing up at Charity again and giving her another cool smile. “But I think it’s a very clever idea. It will be fun to see it all come together. I expect Quinn’s memorabilia will raise a significant amount of money. At any rate, I’m planning on bidding it up.” She went to Charity. “But don’t tell Quinn. He hates is when I spend money on him.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t actually be money spent on him, it’s a fund-raiser,” Charity finally said, finding her voice at last. “All money raised will be going to help others.”

  Alice gently pulled apart the pennant skirt and stacked the pennants into a pile. “I’m worried you’re going to get hurt. You seem very sweet. But Quinn’s a complicated man. As much as he wants to belong here, he doesn’t. Ask him some time if you don’t believe me. He feels like an outsider. He doesn’t fit in, and yes, he loves his family, but Montana represents his past, not his future.” She lifted the top pennant and flashed it at Charity. “His home is in Seattle now. Seattle gives him a different identity. He can get lost there, and forget his grief.”

  Alice returned the pennant to the stack and circled the island, studying everything. “This place honestly isn’t what I expected. He built it before we met. It’s like a dream house. Something you’d see in Architectural Digest. Now, I’d expect this from my dad. Dad is all about trying to impress people. I didn’t think Quinn wanted that, and yet when you look at this place you realize he needs people to think he’s doing okay.”

  “He is doing okay,” Charity said quietly.

  “But he’s not. It’s an act. A façade, if you will. Something he projects because it’s what people expect of him. Quinn’s the good Douglas. He’s the positive, nice-guy one. And unfortunately, he has to be that person here in Montana. He has to be that way for all of you… just so you can be okay with what happened on his ranch that day.”

  Charity fought a wave of anger. “That’s not true. No one expects that of him, or wants it from him. People love him because he’s one of us, not because he’s a baseball player, or a survivor from the ranch massacre.”

  “If you say so.” Alice shrugged and pulled out a barstool from the island and sat down. Her thick fur coat fell open and revealed her very slender figure. “I love Quinn. I have loved him from the moment I met him, and he loves me. We’ve had a bumpy few months, but it’s not the first time. We’ll get through this. We always do.”

  “I’m not sure what you want me to say,” Charity said after a moment.

  “Just be careful. As I said, you seem very sweet—”

  “I’m not that sweet.”

  Alice’s lips curved into a hard smile. “Good, because I’m not sweet at all.”

  “I gathered that,” Charity answered calmly, even though she was a panicked mess underneath. She felt foolish and naked and terribly exposed. She didn’t want to be here anymore, but she wasn’t about to let Alice chase her off.

  She went to the dining room table and checked on the strings of lights with the painted ping-pong balls. As she lifted a second string, a little ball fell off and bounced onto the ground. Charity retrieved it and finding her glue, reattached the ball more securely. She could feel Alice’s gaze on her, and it felt like she was burning a hole through her back but Charity refused to rush.

  Quinn had said he and Alice were finished. Quinn had said he was single and available and just because Alice was here, didn’t mean Alice could just take Quinn back.

  “I hope you brought the bobble head dolls,” Charity said, giving Alice a smile. “Because they’ll look adorable on the tree.”

  “If you scratch them, they’ll lose their value.”

  “I won’t, and I’ll be as careful with their boxes as I have been with everything else.” Charity tapped one of the baseball cards in the plastic sleeve. It was from Quinn’s rookie year and he looked like a kid. “I just feel so lucky to have grown up with Quinn,” she said. “We both love Montana so much.”

  “I know what you’re doing,” Alice said, approaching her. Her glance fell onto the rookie card and she studied it a moment before looking up at Charity. “It won’t work. You’re going to lose.”

  “Lose what?” Charity countered. “This is my home. This is where I live. Quinn’s sister McKenna is one of my close friends. Rory, Quinn’s brother, is married to another one of my best friends. Quinn isn’t a baseball player to me. He’s not someone famous. Or someone to parade about, thankful he makes me look good. He’s just Quinn Douglas, and someone I love.”

  Charity slipped all the plastic protected cards into a box, and then topped them with the strings of lights before gathering her purse and coat. “I’ll pick up the things you brought tomorrow. Thanks for hand carrying them out. Have a good night.”

  Rusty Noel followed Charity to the front door and whined as it became clear he wasn’t going with her. She felt terrible about everything and she was just about to fall apart, but she couldn’t do that in here, not with Alice hovering like a hawk.

  Charity juggled her boxes and bags and gave Rusty Noel scratch beneath his chin. “See you soon, Noel,” she whispered, before letting herself out and closing the door.

  It wasn’t until she was in her car on Highway 89 that her calm cracked. She hated leaving Alice in Quinn’s house. She didn’t want Alice anywhere near Quinn but for all Charity knew, Quinn wanted her there.

  For all she knew, Quinn had invited Alice out.

  For all she knew, Quinn hadn’t completely severed ties with Alice, which meant Alice had good reason to be smug.

  Chapter Ten

  She wasn’t picking up.

  At first Quinn thought Charity might just be busy with one of her projects, but as the evening went on and she failed to respond to his calls, or his texts asking her to check in, his unease grew. This silence wasn’t like her. Was she okay? Had something happened? Immediately, he thought of Greg and his worry intensified.

  He didn’t like thinking about what took place on his ranch twenty-one years ago, but of course the violence had affected him. It was why he had a sophisticated security system for the house. The house wasn’t as isolated as the Douglas ranch had been, but there weren’t any close neighbors. No one to keep track of coming and goings.

  Every ten to fifteen minutes he’d glance at his phone to see if a text came in from her. Finally he couldn’t handle it anymore. He went to Rory and told him he had to run home to check on something, but he should be back right away. Rory wasn’t worried. Quinn lived close. Pulling up to his house, Quinn spotted an unfamiliar car in his driveway. He also noticed that Charity’s Subaru was gone.

  A big burgundy hard-sided suitcase stood on the front porch near the door. Quinn recognized the suitcase. Alice had an entire set of luggage like this one. He knew, because he’d bought the set for her last Christmas.

  The fight or flight anxiety began to ease, replaced by dread. Quinn was beginning to get a clear idea of what happened, and it wasn’t good.

  He let himself into the house and spotted the other matching suitcase in the hall. He glanced around, looking for Alice and Rusty.

  He found Alice in the kitchen, opening a bottle of wine. She’d located two glasses from one of the cabinets and flashed him a smile. “Hey, handsome, I wondered when you’d get here.”

  “I’m not staying,” he said. “I’ve got to get back to the Gallaghers.” He frowned as she filled the glasses, thinking the house didn’t feel right. Everything was too quiet. “Where did you get the wine from?”

  “I brought it from home. Your favorite winery,” she said, turning the bottle to show off the labe
l.

  He glanced around again, and then realized why everything felt off. “Where’s Rusty?”

  “Rusty?”

  “My dog.”

  “Why would you get a dog? You’re coming back home soon.” Her lips pursed. “And if you really, really want a dog, we’re going to get a puppy that we pick out together.”

  Quinn couldn’t even answer that, unable to string together sentences that would be polite. He whistled, and then called Rusty’s name.

  Alice handed him a wineglass. “He’s in the laundry room,” she said. “He was scratching at the front door and it was annoying.”

  Quinn set the glass down on the counter harder than he intended. “I don’t know what you’re doing here,” he said tersely, “but you can’t stay.” And then he headed for the laundry room to let Rusty out.

  Alice followed him slowly, wineglass in hand. “It’s almost eight. The nearest town is thirty minutes away. Where do you expect me to go at this time of night?”

  “To the nearest town and it’s not thirty minutes. It’s only twenty minutes to Marietta, and twenty-five to the Graff Hotel which should have plenty of room for you this time of year,” he answered, opening the door. The laundry room was dark. He flipped on the light and Rusty immediately came to him, and pushed his head into Quinn’s hand. Poor dog.

  And then he thought of Charity and his chest grew tighter, and harder, and he could only imagine what she was feeling right now. He turned around and faced Alice. “Why are you here?”

  “I brought out the things you wanted,” she answered, her tone excessively reasonable.

  This was how she liked to play ball. She would act like she was the calm, rational one and he was impractical and unrealistic.

  He ground his teeth together, battling to control his anger. “What did you say to Charity?”

  “I wondered what her name was.”

  “Alice?”

  Her slender shoulder lifted and fell. “Nothing bad and nothing that wasn’t true.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that I love you. And I thought it important she knew.”

  He swore silently, aware that Alice had just turned his relationship with Charity inside out because confidence wasn’t Charity’s strong suit. Greg had done a number on her self-esteem and Alice’s appearance had to have rattled Charity.

  He needed to see her. He needed to do damage control, fast. “I have to go,” he said. “And so do you. I’ll put your suitcases back in your car and you can check in at the Graff, or whatever Marietta hotel you choose, but I strongly encourage you to be on a flight tomorrow because I won’t be seeing you tomorrow, or any other time in the future.”

  “There’s no reason to kick me out, Quinn. This house is huge. There are plenty of bedrooms—”

  “No.”

  “I’m not asking to share a bed with you, baby. I just think it’s silly to send me all that way back to that strange little town—”

  “Alice, stop. You’re not endearing yourself to me. In fact, every word you say just makes everything worse. So you need to go now before I say things I’ll regret.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re manipulative and spoiled and selfish.” He paused, lifted a brow. “Should I go on?”

  “That was harsh,” she whispered.

  “I warned you.”

  “You promised we’d always be friends.”

  “Friends respect each other.” He walked down the hall toward the spacious entry. “Which suitcase has my things in it?”

  “The one outside,” she said, voice low.

  He brought the case in, opened it, and pulled out everything that looked like it belonged to him, and then closed the case, and set it on its wheels next to the other one. “Ready?” he said, curtly.

  “No.” And then she saw his expression and sighed. “Yes. But, Quinn, please don’t be so mad at me. I’m doing what I can to protect us.”

  “But there is no us,” he said firmly. “There hasn’t been an us for years.”

  “We only broke up in July.”

  “I hadn’t been happy for a long time.”

  She knocked away a tear with her knuckled fist. “Are you happy now?”

  “I am. I love her, Alice.”

  “But you’ve only just returned to Montana.”

  “I know, but she’s the one I’ve been waiting for.”

  *

  Charity sat on her bed and played the voice mail messages Quinn had left for her.

  “I went to the house to check on you and discovered Alice there and you gone. It’s not what you think. I do not want her here. She’s no longer at my house. Please call me back.”

  And then, “Charity, why won’t you respond? I know you’re upset but let me explain. We’re supposed to be friends. Friends hear each other out.”

  And then the last, “Charity, it’s almost nine, I’m wrapping up here at the Gallaghers and on my way to Marietta. I’ll be at your house in twenty-five minutes.”

  He’d left that last message over an hour ago, and she’d waited for him to come, but he hadn’t. She’d fixed her hair and changed her clothes and put on fresh makeup so he wouldn’t know she’d been crying, and then he’d been a no show.

  This was exactly why she hadn’t wanted to fall in love. She hadn’t wanted to be hurt and disappointed again. Growing up, her life had been filled with hurt and disappointment. She was tired of being less than, tired of emotions that left her feeling broken.

  Fighting back fresh tears, Charity changed into her pajamas and prepared for bed. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep though. She couldn’t remember when she last felt so miserable.

  The last few weeks had been amazing and she’d felt so much hope and happiness. And fun. With Quinn she’d had fun. And he’d been a friend. They’d talked about so many things and she’d come to trust him. Which was why she’d dared to hope. And dream.

  Her phone rang twenty minutes later. She let it ring another time before picking it up off her bedside table.

  Quinn.

  A lump filled her throat as she looked at his name on her phone.

  For a split second she considered not answering and then realized she was too exhausted to play games. If it was going to end, then let it end cleanly right now. She couldn’t do the back and forth. She couldn’t handle another Greg situation.

  “Hello?” she answered, her voice still rough from her earlier tears.

  “Charity, Noel is missing,” Quinn said bluntly. “That’s why I’m not there. I’ve been out driving Highway 89 and all the back roads, looking for him. I’d hoped to have found him by now, as I didn’t want to worry you, but since I haven’t, I needed to tell you. I don’t know how he got out of the house, and I’m sorry—”

  “I’m going to go look, too,” she said, jumping out bed. “I’ll start driving around Marietta.”

  “I’m on my way to Marietta now. Why don’t I just pick you up? I should be at your house soon.”

  “I’ll be ready,” she said simply, pulling warm clothes on instead.

  They drove for an hour, up and down Main Street, up and down Church, up and down Bramble, up and down every single side street. Nothing. No sign of a big red dog, or any dog, anywhere.

  It was after midnight when Quinn drove Charity back home. They’d refrained from discussing anything personal while searching for Rusty, but now that Quinn was pulling down her street, Charity summoned the courage to broach the other issue very much on her mind. “Alice,” she said quietly.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when she arrived,” he said.

  “It wouldn’t have changed anything,” she answered, trying very hard to keep her emotions under control, “because it doesn’t change the facts.”

  “And just what are those facts?”

  “She claims she’s your girlfriend—”

  “She’s not.”

  “She says she is.”

  “She’s wrong and she deliberately mi
slead you,” he retorted grimly, pulling up in front of her house and shifting into park. “Don’t believe anything she told you.”

  Wasn’t that what Greg had said, too? For her not to believe the gossip? For her to listen to him? And yet Greg had played her, and played her…

  Was Quinn just another Greg?

  Charity closed her eyes and held her breath as she pressed her fingers to her brow bone. Her head thumped. Her heart hurt. She was devastated they hadn’t found Noel and still shaken from her encounter with Alice and confused by everything happening with Quinn. “I don’t want to do this with you right now,” she whispered. “I’m so tired I can’t think straight.”

  “Look at me, Charity,” he said urgently. “There is nothing between Alice and me. I give you my word. I swear—”

  “But she’s here. And she seems pretty certain you two are still a couple, or about to be a couple again.”

  “She’s having a hard time accepting that we’re over.”

  Charity blinked hard, trying to hold back the tears. “Or maybe you’re not really over. Maybe you’re still with her, or meant to be with—”

  “No.”

  “I wish I could believe you,” she said tightly, the air trapped in her lungs. She hadn’t wanted to cry in front of Alice, and now she didn’t want to cry in front of Quinn. She had to cling to a shred of self-respect. “I want to believe you, but my head is mocking my heart, telling me to wise up and see what’s really going on.”

  “Nothing is going on. Charity, I’ve never lied to you. I’ve always been truthful.”

  “Well, with the exception of you being Douglas Quincy.”

  “You’re not innocent there either. You pretended to be Tricia Thorpe, but I’ve never held that against you.”

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him flex a gloved hand against the steering wheel. “I never kept Alice a secret,” he said in a low voice. “From the beginning I told you about her, and shared how it was a relationship that didn’t work. Everything I said was true—”

  “Then why is she here?” The words burst out, sharp and loud. “Why is she staying at your place?”