Cornelia Fairchild appeared distracted. It also seemed as if she’d barely been listening to her older girls’ indignant assertions. As she rose, it appeared as clear as her disquiet that something was gnawing at her in the moments before she began to pace.
Whatever she was thinking had her looking oddly guilty as she toyed with the gold pendant at her throat.
Georgie seemed to notice her strange expression, too, as she offered Tommi a glass of wine.
“No, thanks,” Tommi murmured. Uneasily conscious of the way her sister’s brow lifted at that refusal, just as conscious of the little life she nurtured inside her, she watched their mother turn to them all.
“I’m afraid some of this may be my fault.” Looking from one daughter to the next, that guilt seemed to compound itself. “Harry is so delighted with his daughters-in-law and all his grandchildren. And his sons have seemed so much happier now that they’ve all settled down,” she prefaced. “I just happened to mention in passing how nice it would be for you girls to find good husbands and give me grandchildren, too. But I certainly never thought he’d take the matter into his hands himself,” she hurried to defend. “And you have to know that I absolutely do not condone his methods.”
Having barreled right over the admission of what Tommi had already suspected, the guilt in her still lovely features moved directly to irritation.
“You all know I thought it unconscionable the way he manipulated his boys into getting married. You know I told him as much, too. I even thought I’d made it quite clear that the end did not justify his means. Just because his sons happened to find lovely girls they adore didn’t change the fact that what he did to get them to do his bidding was just plain wrong.”
Graceful despite her fury, she accepted the goblet Bobbie handed her. “Bribing men to date my daughters. How dare he.”
Like a regal lioness protecting her cubs, she looked to the most recently offended of her den. “I’ll take care of this, Tommi,” she assured her. “You can be quite certain I’ll have my say about how completely unacceptable his actions are. I have no idea how that man’s mind works. Believe me, I’ve tried for years to figure it out. When it comes to relationships, the man hasn’t the sense God gave a goat. He plays around with your lives and those of his sons, but does nothing to fix his own. I’ve waited long enough for him to notice I exist,” she insisted. “The next time that nice golf pro at the club asks me out, I’m going.”
Everyone but Tommi was taking a sip of what she knew was a superb Brunello. At the seismic shift in their mother’s irritation, three sets of eyes widened over rims of crystal. Tommi simply stared in disbelief.
All three of her sisters nearly choked on their wine as their mother finally took a sip of hers.
Since she was the only one who could speak at the moment, Tommi voiced what the others could not.
“You have a thing for Uncle Harry?”
Though her daughters were gaping at her, Cornelia appeared only mildly nonplussed. “Had. Possibly,” she admitted, minimizing. “It doesn’t matter now. As I said, I’ll take care of what he did with the two of you,” she continued, with a nod to her youngest daughters. “Since that’s resolved, let’s just enjoy being together. Someone mentioned a toast. I believe being together is reason enough for one.”
When their mother didn’t wish to discuss something, she simply…didn’t. Having tacitly declared the subject of Uncle Harry off limits, the golf pro she’d mentioned apparently wasn’t available for discussion, either.
She’d already lifted her glass. “To my girls.”
“To the Fairchild women,” said Frankie, only to notice that one of her sisters didn’t have anything to raise. “Wait! Tommi needs a glass of wine.”
Tommi ducked behind the bar. Not wanting to attract undue attention, she reached under the lower work surface for a tumbler. “I’ll just get some water.”
Beside her, she saw Georgie’s questioning frown return. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You love good wines.”
“Don’t you feel well?” Bobbie echoed.
“I’m fine. I’m just…”
I’m just not in the mood for it, she’d started to reply.
“Just tell them,” Max had said. “It’ll be like dropping a hundred-pound weight.”
“Pregnant.”
With her sisters collectively focused on her, and her mother slowly setting her glass on the table, she now knew this moment wasn’t as bad as she’d dreaded.
It was worse.
For a half dozen seconds, the only sound Tommi could hear was the beat of her heart behind her eardrums. Her quiet announcement had produced the same momentarily silencing effect as their mother’s admission about their Uncle Harry.
“Pregnant?” Frankie blinked in disbelief. “But you’re not even in a relationship!” She hesitated. “Are you?”
Tommi wasn’t sure how to answer that. What she and Max shared was too fragile to be defined. After all he’d done for her, after the night they’d shared, she knew only that she wanted—needed—him to be part of her life. Explaining that would only confuse the issue, though. That wasn’t the relationship her sister was asking about.
Rolling her eyes, Georgie cut into her awkward silence.
“Oh, Tommi.” Georgie always knew exactly what she wanted. She also managed to never let anything stand in her way of reaching whatever that objective was. As Tommi had feared, her hugely accomplished sibling wasted no time voicing disappointment in her apparent lack of that ability. “What are you going to do with a baby? You barely have this place established. How are you going to keep it up with a child? Are you getting married?”
“Who are you seeing?” Frankie asked, still wanting to know what they’d all apparently missed. “I didn’t think you even had time to date.”
Before Tommi could even begin to answer the assault of questions, Bobbie rose with the scrape of stool legs against the hardwood floor.
“Ohmygosh, Tommi,” she said, wrapping her in a hug. “Oh, wow.” Excitement vied with the concern in her voice. “You’re going to be the best mom ever. You know that, don’t you?” She held her back, looked to Tommi’s middle, looked back up. “How far along are you?”
Her sister’s faith in her was totally daunting. Tommi just wanted to do the best she could. “Four months.”
Her eyes widened. “Why didn’t you tell me? You’re not even showing! Is it okay? Are you?”
Tommi hugged her back. With her oldest sister looking on with another eye roll, she felt eternally grateful for the support. She also let her first question go. Until Bobbie’s life had fallen into place the past few weeks, her little sister had always seemed to have enough problems of her own. As protective as Tommi had always felt of her, it hadn’t seemed fair to have her youngest sibling worrying about her, too.
“The baby and I are fine. Really.” Placing her hand over her belly to show how little loose fabric there actually was, she gave a shrug. “There’s more here than you think.
“And no,” she said to Georgie, painfully aware of her censure. “I’m not getting married.” Needing to move, Tommi picked up the wine bottle, poured the last few drops into her uncomfortably silent mom’s glass. “The father is out of the picture. He’s left the country, actually. Which is totally fine,” she assured them all. “He was a…mistake,” she admitted, seeing no need to elaborate. “As far as I’m concerned, this child is no one’s but mine.”
The sisterly concern in Georgie surfaced right along with her pragmatism. “That sounds fine,” she assured her. “The only thing worse than being married would be marrying the wrong man. But he has a financial obligation to that child. We can’t let men just walk away from their responsibilities. Too many women do, you know? You need to assert yourself here, Tommi. At the very least, make whoever he is pay support.”
“Absolutely.” Frankie dug into the bar mix. “If you don’t want anything to do with the guy, I’m behind you a hundred and fifty percent. But educations
are expensive. And day care,” she added, getting to what came first. “You need good day care to get into good schools.”
While Frankie had echoed their mother’s philosophy, Georgie had sounded just like Max.
Tommi turned on her heel.
“Where are you going?” Georgie wanted to know.
“To get Frankie something to eat. She missed dinner.”
“We could go after him,” she could hear Frankie saying. Her voice rose. “What country did he go to?” she called as Tommi disappeared through the open kitchen doors.
“It doesn’t matter,” she called back, grabbing a plate from the rack.
Frankie remained undeterred. “We can find out and go after him,” she insisted, but whatever else she said was lost as Tommi took the chill off leftover chicken confit for her, heated bread in the microwave and put together a plate of pâté and brie for the rest of them.
“Still taking care of your sisters?”
Her mom’s quiet voice drifted over the muffled sounds of her two oldest siblings speculating, debating and otherwise deciding her options. Bobbie, as usual, wisely stayed out of the debate.
Glancing over her shoulder at her mom, Tommi gave her a strained little shrug. “Frankie should eat. I thought everyone else might like something, too.”
She returned to her task. It was easier than looking at all the disappointment she’d known she’d see in her mom’s eyes.
The concern so apparent there didn’t make her feel any better.
“You know, Tommi,” her mom began, folding the napkin over the basket of warm bread, “if you’re already four months along it’s apparent this happened before I made that remark to Harry. And I can’t imagine that you’d have said anything to him before you told us, so his trying to get you married is just coincidental.
“All that aside, I’m not going to ask you for any details,” she assured her. “You’re a grown woman and I’m sure you have your reasons for not wanting to discuss the father. That’s not my concern right now, anyway.
“I haven’t always agreed with the choices you’ve made,” she admitted, reminding Tommi all over again of how upset she’d been when Tommi had applied to culinary school instead of to university, “but I need you to know that this truly isn’t what I wanted for you.
“I’m not talking about your bistro.” She touched Tommi’s arm to keep her from turning away. “I know you love doing what you do. If this makes you happy and you can take care of yourself doing it, then that’s really all that matters to me. What worries me is how you’ll take care of yourself. And a baby. I raised the four of you without any help after your father died. I know how hard it is to do this on your own. So, what I need to know now is how you’ll keep up. Most of the time, you work sixteen hours a day. Your reviews are wonderful. And I’m so proud of you for that. But I also know you haven’t taken a vacation in three years. You can’t keep up that pace now. You need more help.”
For the first time in the last few months, Tommi actually felt some of the burden she’d carried lift from her shoulders.
Thanks to Max, this was the easy part.
“Everything here is under control, Mom.” She offered the assurance with a sort of certainty she hadn’t felt in a very long time. “I’ve already hired a new sous chef. He starts next month,” she told her, looking back to the plate she prepared. “I worked with him and his wife in culinary school. She’s a pastry chef. She may be coming to work for me, too.
“I’m expanding the bistro into the space next door,” she continued, tucking a few cornichons next to the pâté. “Since that will more than double my seating, I’ll be hiring even more help.”
Surprise tempered concern. “You can do that? Expand, I mean?”
“Yeah, Mom.” She looked up with a small smile. “I can. I’ve taken on a partner who even wants to franchise my concept. That’s at least a year or so away. But it’s in my plans. As for raising this baby on my own, I know it won’t be easy. But I have an excellent example to follow.
“So you know what?” she asked, watching her compliment sink in. “We’re just going to look at the bright side. You wanted grandchildren. Between mine and Bobbie’s new stepchildren, you’ll soon have three of them. And for what it’s worth,” she added, her throat going a little tight at the sheen of tears her mom blinked back with a smile, “I’m sure certain of my sisters will be more than happy to let me know if I’m doing something wrong.”
“I only mention problems,” claimed Georgie, clearly having overheard as she walked in, “because I want what’s best for you. You know I’ll support you any way I can. But do you think expanding right now is a good idea? Shouldn’t you be getting more rest instead of taking on such a big project?”
“Expanding what?” Frankie asked, in search of whatever her sister the chef was conjuring up for her.
Bobbie poked her head through the doorway. “I’m pouring you sparkling water. Okay?”
Telling Bobbie that would be great, she handed Frankie the bowl of confit she’d prepared and Georgie the bread. Picking up the appetizer plate herself, she ushered them all back out to where Bobbie took over the back of the bar.
As it tended to do when they were together, conversation bounced all over the place. But as it jumped from the expansion of her bistro to the need for baby furnishings, which led to her mentioning her move to the bigger apartment, then on to the plans for Bobbie’s wedding right after Christmas, Tommi found herself still listening for the ring of the phone.
It was because of Max that she’d been able to assure her family that she did, indeed, have everything under control. Thanks to him, too, she was actually feeling the first flickers of excitement over the changes she was about to make. The expansion suddenly seemed more daring than daunting. Except for when it came to food, she’d never felt daring in her life.
Because of him, she was now thinking outside the little box she lived in. She would be making changes she’d mentally fought, but which would allow her to expand in the culinary world she loved. There was something exciting about that growth; something she could actually feel in her smile. Or maybe her smile came more easily now because, for the first time, too, she could feel excitement mingling with her lengthening list of anxieties about all the ways she could mess up a child.
Yet, “under control” was not how she felt when it came to Max himself. She seemed to have no power over how important he’d become to her. But no matter how she felt about him, she had the awful feeling he might never be able to love her back.
Chapter Eleven
Max had spent the first of the week in Chicago straightening out a client’s zoning problem during the day, and evenings with their office manager discussing personnel options for New York. Just because Scott didn’t care to be involved in an expansion didn’t mean Max wasn’t going to proceed. Ninety percent of the company’s growth wouldn’t have happened if he’d let Scott dictate its direction.
The leasing agent in New York had two new office spaces for him to check out. Having left Chicago for his meeting in San Jose, and only now returning to Seattle, he greeted Margie with a preoccupied smile and the request to get him on a morning flight to LaGuardia. He’d just left her desk when he walked into his office to find the L&C file for Tommi’s bistro on his chair with a note from Scott.
His partner had written the note on a sheet from a yellow legal pad and clipped it to the front. Behind it were the two copies of the unsigned agreement from the envelope Max had thrown into the file when he’d grabbed what he’d needed to take with him last Monday.
Anyone reading the message would think it nothing more than a communication between the two partners. Max, however, didn’t miss an iota of the sarcasm, resentment and revenge in the man’s bold scrawl.
Nice work. Really appreciate the way you handled things with Tommi Fairchild. I repaid the favor. She knows what kind of returns you’re after.
A quick call to Scott’s secretary revealed that he had already left
for the weekend. For Aspen.
A call to his BlackBerry went to voice mail.
Max hung up his desk phone.
His frustration with his partner had moved to something infinitely less benign when he’d come up against Scott’s apathy and lack of conscience last week. His disgust with the man now rose with his latest offenses—not the least of which was that the guy had gone through his office. That file had been in his bottom desk drawer.
There was only one thing that concerned Max at the moment, though. Yet he really didn’t want the jerk’s take on how Tommi had reacted to whatever it was he’d said to her.
He’d find out for himself.
He needed to see her, anyway.
At the heavy double knock on the bistro’s back door, Tommi’s glance flew to the security monitor near the wall clock. Within seconds of recognizing Max’s image on the screen, she’d darted across the kitchen and pushed the door open.
Knowing he was due back, she’d felt as if she’d been holding her breath since dawn.
“Hi,” she said, her smile cautious.
“Hi, yourself.”
His features were as guarded as his voice as he stepped into the warmth of the narrow space. Closing out the rain as she backed up, he looked straight to where the lights beyond the kitchen doors had been turned off for the afternoon, then to the ovens filling the room with aromas savory and sweet.
His jaw was working as his glance finally settled on her.
“Is anyone else here?”
She gave a quick shake of her head. “Alaina just left. The Olsons aren’t due for another hour.”
Raindrops clung to his dark hair, beaded on the wide shoulders of his open overcoat. She wanted nothing more than to have him walk up to her and wrap her in his arms. But that wasn’t what he seemed to have in mind as he took off his coat and tossed it over a stool a few feet away.
Muscle-knotting tension radiated from him in waves, grazing nerves already jumpy just seeing him again. That agitation seemed to be doing battle with something far less definable as he carefully searched her face.
Once Upon a Christmas Eve Page 17
