9
Life wasn’t fair. Hadn’t she learned that in the last few years? A future with Judd stood right within her grasp, and she’d tossed it away. Samantha had searched but couldn’t come up with a compromise.
She thought long and hard as she frosted the three tiered cake. All day long, she’d been in The Irish Pub’s kitchen cooking for a catered party scheduled for tonight. She been so distracted thinking about her conversation with Judd—replaying it over and over again in her mind, she hardly noticed her family huddled at the bar talking. When she did and walked over to them, they quickly dispersed.
Was she imagining it, or were they talking about her? Michael and Luke were whispering, their glances flitting in her direction. Any other day, and she’d march right up to them and demand to know what harebrained scheme they were up to. Not today. She didn’t have the energy.
There were enough other problems to deal with. And there was work to do. No matter what her stooge brothers were up to, The Irish Pub would help her keep sanity long after Judd Mason and his boxes departed for France.
Judd. Was she destined to spend the rest of her day dreaming about him? Hair the color of fresh coffee beans, cappuccino eyes. The hard lines of his jaw, his soft lips. His kisses.
“Samantha, I’m speaking to you.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I was, uh, concentrating.”
“I said we’re moving.”
“Come again?” Samantha chuckled as she squeezed the bag of buttercream frosting, creating an elaborate swirl on the side of the cake. “I thought you said you were moving!”
“Samantha, I did say we’re moving.”
“What!” Samantha cried out, her hand slipping and her thumb landing right in the cake.
“Moving dear. Pay attention.”
“Moving where? What do you mean? We who?” She extracted her thumb and grabbed a towel from the counter. Turning, she confronted her mother.
“I’m going to Cleveland to live with Aunt Minnie.”
“Aunt Minnie? Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t stand Aunt Minnie. She makes you break out in hives.”
Her mother continued, undeterred by Sam’s echoing words of disbelief. “Michael is thinking about joining the Merchant Marines.”
“The Merchant Marines? Is that even a real organization?” Samantha finally sputtered. “Besides, Michael gets sea sick. Remember that ferry ride we took when we were on vacation?”
“Yes, well, they have pills for that these days.” She cocked her head and assessed the cake. “Hmm, you’re going to have to make another rosebud. This one is ruined.”
Tossing the towel aside, Samantha tapped the side of her head with her palm and then braced her hands on the stainless steel counter. Okay, okay. This was what her brothers were whispering about.
Some crazy practical joke, and she was feeding right into it. Well, ha-ha. It wasn’t very funny.
“Okay, Mother,” she said, taking a deep and calming breath. “So we are moving. Where are the rest of the family moving?”
“Well, dear, Luke is buying a townhouse in Denver. The school for gifted children there will be perfect for Danny. Kathleen is moving to Boulder to finish her degree, and—”
Samantha fought the urge to scream as she interrupted again. “Wait! Wait a minute. There’s just one flaw in this little plan. Who’s going to run the business?”
“We’re selling the pub.”
“Mother, The Irish Pub has been in the McBride family for three generations. Daddy would have never allowed you to sell this place.”
Mary Margaret turned to face her daughter, reaching out to embrace her. Then she pulled back and looked Samantha in the eye, a no-nonsense expression on her face.
“Your father would never want me to live in the past.” She picked up the knife again. “Samantha, this is not a joke. I’m quite serious.”
“You didn’t even... No one discussed this with me. When did you decide?”
“We had a little family meeting.”
“Without me?” Unconcealed hurt echoed the question. After all the work she’d put into the pub, they didn’t even feel the need consult her?
“Well, dear, it’s this Judd thing.”
“Judd thing? What does Judd have to do with anything?”
“He’s everything to do with this. You’re in love with him.”
Samantha couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This was exactly the kind of thing she expected from Michael and Luke. But her mother? Never! Her mother never interfered. Samantha gulped in air, certain she was going to hyperventilate any moment now.
“Sit down for a moment, Samantha.” Her mother pulled a stool over and gently pushed Sam onto it.
“Dear, you’ve been interfering in our lives for a long time and doing a very nice job, I might add. We’ve decided that we should return the favor.”
Indignant, Samantha cried out, “I do not interfere.”
A snort echoed through the silence. Samantha looked toward the swinging louver doors out to the bar in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of Michael and Luke ducking down out of sight. The rotten eavesdroppers.
“We’ve decided that it’s time for you to move on. Stop living in the past, and quit trying to control tomorrow. I miss Daddy and Kevin too, unbearably at times. We all do. However it’s time for you to get on with your life.”
“Mother, my family is my life.”
“Ah, but Judd is your future. Give the man a chance. We all love Judd, and we know he’d take care of you the way we would.”
Samantha pushed the pastry bag away. “I don’t want to be taken care of.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. You need Judd as much as he needs you. When you find the right man, you leave your family to start your own. The problem is you won’t leave us. I’m afraid we have no choice except to leave you. For your own good, of course.”
They were calling her bluff. Samantha was sure of it. Weren’t they? She stared at her mother, trying to determine what was really going on.
“I can’t believe this. Have you all gone nuts? Am I the only person in this family who thinks this is completely crazy?”
“Samantha, I love you. We all love you. What happens next is up to you.”
She eyed her mother. Apparently she had underestimated the family matriarch.
Big mistake.
“Mother, is this an ultimatum?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” She patted Samantha’s shoulder. “I’d do the same for any of your brothers and sisters. Just think of this as a gentle push out of the nest.”
“Gentle push, my foot. My family just threw me out of the nest.”
Mary Margaret McBride picked up the pastry knife and proceeded to repair the cake herself. “I guess we did.” She chuckled and concentrated on carefully smoothing the frosting. “Cheer up. After all, you know the man with the parachute.”
“Except that I walked away mother. He told me he loved me, and I walked away.” A wave of pure anguish slammed through Samantha.
Her mother stood back to assess her work. “I guess you better go and fix things.”
Samantha moaned, rooted to the spot as her mother put down the knife and sailed gracefully out the swinging doors.
She glanced up at Judd’s window before entering the building. It wouldn’t take him any time to get his few things together. He was probably on his way to France by now.
Someday she’d think back and remember this day and laugh. It started out with the man of her dreams under her bed, right before she kicked him out of her life.
What for? For her family? Her family who was running from her like mice jumping from a sinking ship. Life was not only unfair, it was cruel.
For a moment Samantha contemplated throwing her purse across the room. Instead she gave it a limp toss onto the couch. She couldn’t even muster up the energy to be mad anymore. All she wanted to do was go to bed, cuddle under a mountain of quilts, feel sorry for herself, and sleep. Maybe forever.
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Walking into her bedroom, she swayed forward, prepared to collapse onto the high mattress. With a wave of her arms, she regained her balance and stood in the empty room in complete, numbing silence.
The bed was gone.
She closed her eyes and slowly opened them.
The bed was gone!
She ran around the apartment, checking everything. The computer was still there, the TV, the microwave, the stereo. None of her appliances were missing. Nothing was even out of place. As far as she could tell, the clutter was untouched, the dust undisturbed. Even the Christmas tree and all her presents were in the same place.
Racing back to the bedroom, she pulled open her jewelry box and scanned the meager contents. Everything in place: her antique brooch, the amethyst earrings from her grandmother, and Kevin’s watch.
What kind of burglar would steal a bed and leave everything else? She surveyed the room. How could anyone steal a ten-foot tall bed in broad daylight?
And why?
She considered her options as she stood in the empty bedroom. Call the police? Right. They’d put an APB out on a missing bed?
Someone must have seen something. Maybe someone else was robbed? Running into the hallway, her thoughts raced to her elderly neighbors. Mr. Chung stood next to the mail boxes, a checkerboard apron tied around his waist as he flipped through the mail in his hands.
“Mr. Chung!”
He looked up, a pleased expression on his face.
“Samantha, how are you?” Stuffing the envelopes into his apron pocket, he trailed up the few steps to the landing and moved to his door. “I was just trying out a new recipe. Killer Enchiladas. The secret is in the jalapenos. You want to try some?” He gestured with his hands.
“No, I—”
“You sure? I can give you some to take home.” He pushed open his door. Samantha moved quickly down the stairs and followed him into his apartment.
“Mr. Chung, my apartment’s been robbed. Did you see anything strange around here today? I’m worried about Mrs. Peabody.”
“Robbed? Oh my goodness? Are you sure? What’s missing? Maybe you just misplaced it. It’s been quiet as a tomb here today. Mrs. Peabody is fine. I just saw her. Maudeen did have some company earlier. I gave her my secret recipe for cheese cake. She doesn’t make it as well as I do.” He lowered his voice. “I think she uses two percent milk.”
“Mr. Chung,” Samantha interrupted. “Please, can we talk about cheesecake later?”
“I’m sorry, Samantha. You’re right. I’m not being any help. I think you should go ask Maudeen. She always knows what’s going on. Those hair curlers of hers are like antennae.”
Again refusing the enchiladas, Samantha walked around the corner to Maudeen Cush’s apartment and rang the bell. When no one answered, she pounded on the door.
“It’s open; come in,” Cush chirped.
Samantha cracked the door and warily stepped inside. Cush’s place never failed to be anything less than a sensory overload waiting to happen.
“Mrs. Cush?” She looked around. A large blue and orange lava lamp cast an eerie light in the dark entryway.
“I’m over here, dear.” The cheery voice rang out from across of the room.
Samantha parted a curtain of crystal beads and circled a pink ceramic elephant coffee table and a giant stuffed peacock before heading toward a lacquered Chinese screen. Behind the screen sat Maudeen, working at small desk. Her chubby fingers, decorated with gaudy jeweled stones, danced across a large calculator.
Samantha glanced around for a crystal ball.
“Ah, Samantha.” Maudeen looked up, her face reflecting the same pleased expression as Mr. Chung’s.
Why was everyone so happy today?
“I was hoping you’d be by to tell me when your last day will be. You know, normally I require sixty days’ notice. However, since you’re moving right upstairs, and you’ll be a newlywed, I think I can dispense with that policy.”
Samantha stood in absolute shock. Newlywed?
Newlywed! Who’d told Cush such a tale? First, her mother, then the bed missing, and now this.
A thousand conflicting scenarios raced back and forth, vying for Samantha’s attention. She was sure her head was going to explode. Pivoting on her heel, she turned and marched right out of the apartment and up the stairs to the third floor.
Maudeen’s voice trailed her. “Dear? Are you all right?”
Samantha pummeled on Judd’s door with both hands until it opened.
Judd’s head snapped back in surprise as she stomped past him.
“Samantha? Hello. Where are my manners?” he drawled. “Won’t you come in?” He shoved the door with one sold push of his hand until it slammed shut.
How dare he stand there looking so innocent and so handsome in those jeans and that snug black T-shirt? Made a girl just want to throw herself into his arms and let him make everything all right.
Her brain came to a skidding halt. Stop! The man had probably masterminded this entire plan.
“I presume this is not a social visit,” Judd said.
“I know what you’re up to. Did my brothers help you?” She looked around the apartment. Where would he hide the bed?
Judd scrunched up his face and examined her. “Are you okay?”
“Where is it?”
“Where’s what?” He moved into the kitchen.Samantha followed. With a maddening nonchalance he began removing groceries from sacks on the counter.“You know what. My bed!”
“You bed?” His head jerked up. Setting down a can of soup, he grimaced. “Oh, they didn’t?”
Judd opened a door to the right of the living room. “Yeah, they did.” He sighed and moved out of the way, allowing her entry.
It was her bed, nestled comfortably in a large room with plenty of space to walk around it. Almost as if it belonged there.
“Why did you steal my bed?”
“Look, I got in five, maybe ten minutes ago. I couldn’t have done this.”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Samantha, I’m telling you the truth. This morning the geriatrics came to me with this crazy plan to move your bed. I turned them down. I’ve been gone all afternoon. I got a phone call saying there was a problem with my passport. I had to drive all the way to Denver. As it turns out, it was a wild goose chase.” He paused thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, they probably sent me downtown. Mr. Chung’s brother works for the Customs Department.”
“Then who did this?”
“I told you. The geriatrics.”
“Yes, officer, three elderly people broke into my apartment, dismantled my bed, lugged it up here, and reassembled it in this bedroom.”
“So they got someone else to do it for them. How should I know? Give me a break, Samantha.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Hey, it’s no more unreasonable than thinking I did it.”
“I thought breaking and entering was your specialty.”
“Cheap shot,” he said with a tilt of his head.
“Sorry.” She sighed and looked around the room, at the bed, and then at Judd, once again trying to make sense of it all.
If only beds could talk.
“Samantha, come on.” He reached out and took her hand, pulling her toward the kitchen. Emotionally drained, she let him.
“I got some new beans while I was in the city. Costa Rican. Relax. We’ll have some coffee.”
“Don’t patronize me,” she murmured, knowing that his touch was doing very little to relax her.
“I’m not patronizing you,” he said. “I want to help you. Between us, we can figure this out.”
She raised a brow.
When he released her hand, Samantha wandered around the bare living room.
“Something isn’t right,” she mumbled. She inspected the windows and the floors, unable to pinpoint the problem.
“Here you go. Just the way you like it,” Judd said, coming out of the kitchen. He held a mug out to he
r like a peace offering. “Sugar and cream with just a touch of coffee.”
Unable to help herself, laughter bubbled over. Her eyes met his over the rim of the mug. She was trapped in the longing of his dark gaze. Samantha quickly swallowed and glanced away.
Regret washed over her. Everything had come full circle. Judd’s words taunted her. You never even gave us a chance.
He was right. As usual. Of course, now it was too late.
“Hey, you okay?
When had he moved closer?
Samantha blinked her eyes rapidly. “It’s been such a horrible day. First you. Then my family bails. Now my bed.” She suddenly remembered Maudeen Cush’s comments. “And Cush. What’s with that? She thinks, she thinks.... Maudeen is sure I’m giving up my apartment.”
Judd took the coffee cup from her. Before she realized it, she was in his arms, her cheek resting against his shoulder.
This is home, a voice deep inside her said as his hands stroked her back. Yes, she admitted.
Nestled in his arms, she glanced over his shoulder, her gaze wandering to the wall of the living room
The boxes were gone. They’d already been shipped.
She moved from his embrace. He was really leaving. Heading to France. She’d never see him again. Oh, sure, he’d send her little souvenirs from his travels. Post cards from Holland and Italy. Then one day it would arrive. The letter telling her he was getting married. She’d spend the rest of her days playing pinochle with Maudeen, Mr. Chung, and Mrs. Peabody.
“What’s wrong?” Judd gently pushed the hair away from her face.
Not his touch. She couldn’t bear for him to touch her. She moved from his reach. “I-I...” she stumbled over the words. “I noticed the boxes are gone.”
“The boxes?” He adjusted his glasses. “The boxes? I unpacked.”
“You unpacked?” She practically shouted the words. Unpacked? Was this a thread of hope? If so, she was grabbing on for dear life and never letting go. “Why? Why did you unpack them?” She searched his face.
“So there’d be space for a couch.” He gave her his lopsided grin and took her arm, pulling her over to his computer. “Look. Now there’s room for your computer. Right here, next to mine. His and her computers.”
The Christmas Angel (The McBride Series Book 1) Page 10
