A few more days with her. That’s all he had. All he and the girls had.
Whit could rack his brain from here to Poughkeepsie. But he had no idea how he could make all that come together in such a short time.
* * *
When Whit showed up to drop off the girls, he came to the door with them.
She greeted the crew with a big smile. “You want some coffee, Whit?” she asked, and it looked as if he was about to answer, but then he just stood there and looked at her.
And she looked back.
It happened again, just like last night. No one had ever made her feel beautiful—because she wasn’t. But Whit made her feel treasured that way.
And no one had ever made her feel unforgettable—because all her life, from parents to boyfriends to George, she’d apparently been easy to forget.
Whit was the only one who evoked entirely different emotions. It was the way he looked at her. The way her life seemed different, the way she felt differently, the way the whole world suddenly, softly hushed, when he was close.
For a few seconds, anyway.
“Dad. What’s wrong with you? You’re looking weird.”
“You’re not sick, are you? Because it’s Christmas Eve.”
“And you’re supposed to leave so we can bake stuff with Rosemary.”
“So you need to go, Dad.”
Whit fought to get a word in. To her. “I’m feeling extremely unwanted.”
He shouldn’t. She could have thrown herself at him right then and there. “Something tells me you’ll survive a few hours of peace and quiet.”
“Go, Dad,” Pepper said with an eleven-year-old’s complete lack of interest in his feelings.
“Yeah. We love you, Dad. But go.” Lilly swooped up to give him a kiss, then pelted into the living room.
Shoes tumbled near the doorway. Hot pink jackets hurled onto chairs. Scarves snaked en route to the kitchen. Whit shook his head. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“You’ll come back to save me, won’t you?”
“You know I will.”
She didn’t know any such thing. Growing up, she’d never expected to be saved. As an adult, she’d saved herself. She was no fragile princess, and she never wanted to be...but somehow Whit’s words sent a silver tingle up her spine.
Even her most fragile orchids found a way to survive in the wild. She never thought of herself as fragile...but she did think of herself as a survivor. She always had been.
Now, though, watching him drive off in his SUV, she didn’t feel so tough. She wasn’t sure if anything could be right after he was gone.
“Rosemary!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming. And I hope you guys are ready to make a huge mess, because we’re about to take out the whole darn kitchen.”
“I’m always ready to make messes,” Pepper promised.
“The first part of this is just to make a plain old white cake. That’s easy enough...you two can take that on, right?”
“Yeah. We know how to do cakes. I do the measuring,” Lilly said, “and Pepper does the mixing. And we both get a beater to lick. And we usually fight over the bowl, but you can have the bowl this time.”
Rosemary chuckled. “I can see where your priorities are. Licking the batter is more important than the finished result.” She’d already gotten out bowls and pans and measuring devices. “I don’t know where this recipe came from. It just always seemed passed on in the family. We’ve been doing it so long I could probably do it in my sleep...but it’ll be a lot more fun with you two.”
It was. Licking the cake batter was all good. Then, when the cake came out and while it was still warm, both girls poked holes in the top of a cake with a fork. Rosemary mixed the cream of coconut with the condensed milk and poured it over the whole cake. “We’ll make the frosting in a little bit, but first the cake has to cool. So we’re moving on to the Christmas coffee cake.”
That recipe was more complicated, including butter and sugar and eggs and orange juice and vanilla and blueberry pie filling and cinnamon and a bunch of other magic ingredients. In no time, the counters were crammed with dripping measuring devices and spoons and various size bowls.
“Wow, Rosemary. You really can make a mess.”
“Thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time.”
The girls giggled.
“Hey, you two. Do you have some grandmas and grandpas? Where are they? Do you ever spend holidays with them?”
‘Well,” Pepper said, “on Mom’s side, she was an only child. That’s why she was spoiled, she was always telling us. And she liked being spoiled. Anyway, Grandfather died when I was just a kid.”
“I was just a kid, too,” Lilly reminded her, in the tone of the long-suffering.
“Anyway, we didn’t know him much. But Grandmother used to be with us all the time. She lived in Charleston, too. But something happened to her. We weren’t supposed to know, but Mom was on the phone all the time because there were so many calls about Grandma.”
“She walked downtown in Charleston without her clothes on in the middle of the night,” Pepper piped in. “And that was the end. She had to go to this place.”
“I heard Mom tell Dad that Grandmother was too young to have Alzheimer’s. But I guess some people get it younger. Anyway, we have to go see her every once in a while.” Lilly added honestly, “It’s not like we don’t love her. But she’s not like herself anymore. And the whole place is scary.”
“Scary how?” Rosemary asked.
“Well, she doesn’t know us. At all. Or Dad. Or anyone else. Like she was knitting this sweater, only it wasn’t a sweater. It just kept getting longer and longer until it was taller than Dad. She didn’t know.”
“And she’d start singing all of a sudden.”
“And she said the f-word. You have to understand, Grandmother would never, ever, ever say the f-word. Or use any other bad language. So it’s like she’s not really our grandmother anymore.”
“Dad said we have to visit her sometimes anyway. So we do,” Lilly said. “I’m just saying, we both get creeped out when we go there.” She raised suddenly stricken eyes. “Does that sound mean, Rosemary?”
“I think it sounds honest. You already know she can’t help what’s happening to her. It’s sad.” Rosemary aimed for a more cheerful note. “So how about your dad’s mom and dad?”
“Oh, they’re awesome. They just don’t live here. They live around Seattle. They fly to see us a couple times a year. And Dad lets us fly there a couple times of year. Gramps is cool. He has horses and everything, lets us ride whenever we want. And Gram does pet therapy stuff. Like she raises dogs and cats—and sometimes the horses—to help out kids. Not sick kids. More like kids in trouble with the law. Tough kids who are always in trouble. But...oh, no. Oh, no, oh, no. Rosemary, I’m so sorry!”
Rosemary saw the pan slipping. Lilly had just poured the pie filling on top of the batter. The whole messy recipe was almost done—but neither girl could stand still for long; they had too much energy. The pan slipped when Pepper darted toward the sink...and down it went, with a crash and a spatter, upside down on the kitchen floor.
To Rosemary’s shock, Pepper burst into tears...and Lilly looked ready to. Both lifted stricken faces to her. Both looked more upset than if they’d just lost a best friend.
“Good grief. What’s all this? It’s just a spill, you guys. So it’s a pain to clean up, but that’s all. It’s nothing to be upset about. Pepper...” She crouched on the floor where Pepper had sunk down. “Honey, there’s no reason to cry.”
“There is. I ruined it.”
“Well, yeah, I don’t suspect we’ll be able to eat it off the floor. But I’m pretty sure I’ve got the ingredients to make another one. Or we’ll make some
thing else.”
“I still ruined Christmas Eve. I always ruin things. I was trying to do everything right. And now I broke the dish and made a mess and—”
“Honey, the glass dish is just a glass dish. Next time I’m there, I’ll get a new one at Walmart.”
Pepper hiccupped. “It’s not like your greatgrandma’s or something like that? Like an heirloom or like it cost a zillion dollars or couldn’t be replaced?”
Rosemary frowned, disbelieving Pepper’s tears and fears both. “Pepper. Lilly. To begin with, this is a cottage. It’s a place for people to put their feet up, relax, enjoy nature and life and people and family. There’s no dish or plate here that’s expensive. Never will be.”
“You’re positive?” Pepper lifted her face for a second time to have her tears mopped up by Rosemary.
“Absolutely. I’m also positive that I don’t even want to own things that I have to worry about. So this is just a big old nothing. Except for cleaning it up. We have to do that.”
“I’ll do it all,” Pepper said immediately.
“That sounds good.” Lilly had long quit looking so fearful, although she’d sat down on the kitchen floor with the other two.
“Nah,” Rosemary said. “If we all help, the mess’ll be cleared away in two shakes.”
“That’s what Dad always says. Two shakes. He means really fast.”
“All right, then.” Rosemary looked at both of them, wondering who was more shook up, her or the girls. The burst of tears had seemed to come from nowhere. So had...fear. “Look. How about a hug to get us all back on track again?”
They glommed on to her faster than spit on an envelope. She’d seen Whit hug them. Hugs were so clearly part of their lives...and part of hers. Her brothers were major rib-busters, especially with her. But this was different. This was two eleven-year-old girls who flew into her arms and took her unconditional loving hug for granted—and offered the same kind back to her.
Hell’s bells, the two of them almost brought tears to her eyes.
The mess was cleaned up—or cleaned up good enough. A new coffee cake was made. About then, they claimed they were starving for lunch, and because Rosemary hadn’t completely forgotten about being a kid, she made mac and cheese—with extra cheese and French-fried onions.
Whit would likely show up at any time, but he wasn’t here yet. “Okay, guys, the last thing we need to do is set the table for tomorrow.”
Truthfully she’d never planned any such thing, but after the tear burst, she wanted to do something to boost Pepper’s confidence. And Lilly’s, too.
It was easy to see she’d made a good choice when the girls immediately shared worried glances.
“Here’s the thing,” she said calmly. “I’ll finish cleaning up the kitchen. You two take charge of the table. We need the obvious—five of everything, plates, silverware, napkins, dessert plates. Oh, and glasses. Sound easy so far?”
“Is any of that good stuff?” Lilly asked bravely. “I mean, I know you said you don’t have stuff that can’t be replaced. But all the same, if we dropped, say, a glass, would it cost a whole lot?”
“Nope. Not that I’d care if you did. Putting out the dishes is the boring part, anyway. There’s a linen closet—I’ll show you where. There should be a bunch of holiday place mats. Pick out whatever you like.”
“You mean, no matter what’s there?”
“Yup. There’s no fancy white linen in there...not for that old oak table. But there should be lots of place mats. And then in the middle of the table, we need some kind of decoration.”
“Like what?” Pepper said warily.
“Well...I’ll give you a bunch of things. Pine boughs. Red ribbon. A strip of red plaid fabric. The oranges poked with cloves. Some old, old salt cellars...that you might fill with almond or vanilla or cinnamon. Whatever you think would smell Christmasy. Just play with it, you know? And you can add anything you can think of.”
“Like some pine cones from outside?” Lilly asked.
“Exactly. You’re getting the picture. Whatever you two think would look nice. Or fun. Or pretty. Or whatever else rings your chimes.”
You’d think she’d given them gold. Pepper dealt out the plates faster than a deck of cards. Lilly set the silverware and napkins just so. Then came the table decoration...and they fussed for more than a half hour, with ribbon and sprigs of pine and salt cellars they filled with spices. Then they took a look, and started all over.
Pepper came first into the kitchen. “Do you have any marshmallows? Big’s better but even little marshmallows would be okay.”
“I think so. Let me look.”
After that, Lilly asked for toothpicks...and peppercorns. Then they fussed with the table all over again. Lilly climbed on the table in her stocking feet, and used ribbon to tie a handful of the clove-studded oranges from the wagon chandelier.
A bunch of the marshmallows disappeared—Rosemary expected they went directly inside tummies—but the rest were turned into toothpick snowmen with peppercorns for eyes. Lilly was still fussing when Pepper, finally bored, ambled into the kitchen and plopped on a stool.
“This was way fun,” she told Rosemary.
“For me, too. You thirsty?”
“Yeah. Dying of thirst.”
“Cider?” Lilly wanted some, too, but she wasn’t finished with her Christmas table centerpiece. Pepper hung in the kitchen, sipping cider, not saying anything...but there was something in her eyes that Rosemary noticed.
“My dad’s due pretty soon, isn’t he?”
“Actually, he’s overdue. But I think he was afraid of getting stuck with dishes, so he might be deliberately a little on the late side.”
She thought Pepper might laugh, but she just propped her elbows on the counter and hooked her chin in her palm. “Rosemary?”
“What, hon?” She tried to make her voice casual.
“Sometimes it really bothers me. That most of my memories of my mom are of her yelling at me. It’s not that we didn’t have good times, but most of the great times I remember were all with my dad.”
Rosemary didn’t know what to say or how to react. “Maybe your mom tended to yell when she was under a lot of stress?”
“But she didn’t yell at Lilly that I can remember. I think sometimes...” Pepper said hesitantly, “that Mom didn’t like me.”
Cripes. The kid was breaking her heart. “You know what?” Rosemary said, but the phrase was just a stall.
“What?”
Rosemary gulped. “I think, maybe, that parents try so hard to make their kids safe, to teach them lessons and values that will help them in life. So sometimes it could seem like they’re yelling too much. Or being mean. Or being critical. When all they’re trying to do is be good parents.”
Pepper stewed on that for a while. “So. Did your parents yell at you?”
“My parents weren’t around enough to do much yelling,” Rosemary said honestly.
“Well. I wish my mom had been more like you,” Pepper said, and looked as if she was about to say something else, when Lilly yelled from the other room.
“Dad’s back! He’s just driving up!”
When Pepper took off for the front door, Rosemary let out a long, uneasy breath. Pepper’s words punched every worry button. She never wanted the girls to think she could replace their mom—or that she wanted to take their mother’s place.
She just never dreamed that either of the girls could form an attachment to her so quickly.
Or that she could feel a deep love for both of them, just as fast.
The icing on the worry was Whit. They’d made extraordinary love last night. But to presume that intimacy meant love or potential commitment or a future together was downright crazy. And unfair. To him. To his daughters.
Whatever t
hey did together was about Christmas. Nothing else. Just Christmas. She damn well better keep that in mind.
And then she heard his voice in the living room, and felt her heart thump like a foolish puppy dog’s tail.
Chapter Ten
Whit pushed off his boots at the door, then shed his jacket. His daughters gamboled toward him as if he were their favorite horse and they could both climb on.
“Where have you been, Dad!”
“Hey. You two sent me out with a job to do. It took a while. I’m exhausted.”
Both girls giggled. “Dad, when you have to shop, you’re exhausted before you even walk in the first store.”
The twins couldn’t be more bright-eyed and happy, but right off, he could see Rosemary was avoiding his eyes. His naked tigress from last night had disappeared. Her red sweatshirt was Christmasy; her socks had Santas. But she was hanging back in the doorway, her posture careful.
“Wow. Looks like you three have been busy.” He said, looking at the pretty table.
“You think? Rosemary let us do it. Make up our own centerpiece and all.” Lilly swallowed a gulp. “It wasn’t like Mom would have done it—”
“It’s terrific. Really pretty.” Whit squeezed his daughter’s shoulders. “You’ve got a great eye for balance.”
“You think so?”
“I think so, too,” Rosemary said immediately. “The girls have been going nonstop. Ask them. I’ve been working them both to the bone.”
“No, she hasn’t!” Pepper immediately defended her. “We made coconut cake for dessert tomorrow. And a fancy coffee cake for tomorrow morning.”
“As you can tell,” Rosemary deadpanned, “we concentrated only on the important food groups.”
“I figured that ahead of time. The list you gave me was for all the dull stuff—like the twelve-pound ham in the back of the car.”
“Which you get to stud with more cloves, Dad!”
“Not that! Anything but that!”
“And tomorrow,” Rosemary added, “if you’re really, really good, we’ll let you peel potatoes.”
Mackinnon 03 - The Bonus Mom Page 13
