If Lamar called her tonight, early morning his time, she would tell him that everything would be 100 percent perfect if he were there, and as always, she would assure him that they were getting along just fine. She stepped inside the apartment and pasted her happy grin on her face. Roxanna was playing checkers with Riley at the kitchen table. Tracy was talking ninety miles a minute on a hot pink cell phone. She waved at her.
“Momma, look at this,” Riley said. “I’m winning. I have four kings, and Roxie has only one.” Riley was the spitting image of his father. Big brown eyes, soft, curly hair, and at five, he was already taller than all the children in his kindergarten class.
“Well, I’d say your big sister taught you well.” She dropped her purse on the counter and stood by the table, watching her kids battle it out. “You’re both good. I don’t think I’d have a chance with either of you.”
“Mom, you know you can beat me. I know you let me win,” Roxanna said. “I’m ten, remember?” Charlotte knew that Roxanna, who was tall and lanky, but shaped more like her, would grow into herself, and when she did, watch out. She was a beautiful child. Green eyes and light brown hair, she was the best of her and Lamar. Rhonda had the same green eyes, yet she was a petite little girl. Charlotte knew when these two matured, she’d have to be on high alert. The thought made her smile.
“Hey, I never let you win! You’re just too good for me to beat you. And I do remember your telling me you were ten. I believe you reminded me again this morning, before school.”
They laughed.
Tracy finished her phone call. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. I’ve got homework to do. They ate the mac and cheese I fixed, but I think they’re still hungry.”
Those words went through Charlotte’s heart like a knife.
“I’ll fix something else as soon as I get Rhonda. Thanks so much, Tracy. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” She placed the twenty-dollar bill in Tracy’s hand. “I might run a bit late this week. I’m working on the plantation homes for the holiday parade this year. They’re all decked out for Christmas. I have to make sure the flowers are fresh, and lots of other things, so if I am late, can you stay?” Charlotte wanted to ask how much more it would cost her, but she didn’t.
“Sure, as long as I let Mom know. I can bring my homework with me. We’re having finals now. It sucks big-time.”
Charlotte raised her brows at her language.
“Sorry. I forget they’re little kids sometimes,” Tracy said. “I’ll meet you two at the bus stop tomorrow at three, okay?”
“Yeah!” both kids shouted.
“And bring that lipstick you told me about, too!” Roxanna exclaimed.
“Roxanna! You’re too young for makeup!” Charlotte teased.
Tracy waved and left.
It was after six, and Charlotte needed to bring Rhonda home. “You two sit tight while I get Rhonda.”
They nodded and went back to their game.
Charlotte calculated the time in Kabul. It was about three thirty in the morning there. If Lamar was planning on calling, it would be in the next couple of hours, as he always called her before starting his day. She didn’t know how she was going to manage to find a Christmas tree, make something else for the kids’ dinner, and keep acting as if everything were hunky-dory. Grateful the kids hadn’t asked about the Christmas tree when she’d walked through the door, she thought about putting it off for another day or two, but then she had promised them, and she rarely broke her promises.
She hurried downstairs, hoping she’d get in and out quickly. Lucinda liked to chat, and sometimes it was hard to get away from her. Charlotte understood her need for adult conversation after ten to twelve hours with six children under three, but she could get extremely long-winded.
After tapping on the door, Charlotte heard Lucinda’s “It’s open,” and hoped she didn’t say this to strangers. Inside, it was a madhouse. Four three-year-olds, including Rhonda, were running through the small living room in the midst of a game of tattletale tag. She still wasn’t quite sure what the game was all about, but the little ones seemed to be enjoying themselves.
“Hey, woman, you look like crap.” Lucinda motioned for her to sit. “Take a load off.”
“Thanks. I’d love to, but I promised the kids we’d get a tree tonight and decorate. They’re antsy up there.” She nodded toward the ceiling.
“Well, I can understand that.” Lucinda’s Southern drawl was almost comical. “I ain’t too sure about putting a tree up this year.” She looked at the kids, who hadn’t stopped running through the living room. “Not sure how long it would last.”
Charlotte nodded. “Might not be a bad idea. Maybe you could string some lights in the windows.”
“Yeah, I’ll probably do something. Can’t have all these kiddies here during the holidays without something Christmassy. We’re gonna make ornaments from macaroni this week. You okay with Rhonda using a bit of glue and glitter?”
“She’d love that. Sure. Okay, Rhonda.” She raised her voice over the noise. “It’s time to go home.”
The little girl ran into the kitchen. “Mommy! I’m the biggest tattler!”
The two women laughed.
“That’s a very good thing. Get your backpack now. Your brother and sister are anxious to see you.” Charlotte said this almost every day. Her youngest never tired of hearing it.
“They are?” she asked, her big green eyes as round as marbles.
“You bet,” Charlotte said while Rhonda found her backpack in a pile with several others.
“I’ll bring her tomorrow, around eight, if that’s all right. I need to get an early start.”
Lucinda walked her to the door. “Of course it’s all right. Heck, some of these kids are here at five. Anytime you need to bring her early, just come on up. No extra charge, either,” she said.
“I appreciate that,” Charlotte said. “Times are a bit tough, since Lamar’s check seems to be lost in a pile of paperwork.”
“Ain’t that just like the U.S. government? Send our men into battle and don’t give a good poop about the families waiting at home. You need to run a tab, no worries. I’m happy to take care of this little gal.” She fluffed Rhonda’s hair. “She minds better than any of the other kids.”
“That’s good to hear,” Charlotte said, then added, “Speaking of kids, I’d best get back home. I’ve got two more waiting for their dinner.”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” said Lucinda, waving, then closing the door behind her.
An hour later, Charlotte had made a quick supper of pancakes and scrambled eggs. The kids gobbled their food down quickly; then one by one they placed their plates in the sink, where Charlotte gave them a quick wash. With the last dish rinsed and dried, she tossed the dish towel on the counter. It was now or never.
“I think it’s time for us to get the Christmas tree.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before the three children started clapping and jumping up and down. Their excitement contagious, she found herself actually looking forward to shopping for their tree, even though she detested walking through the neighborhood at this hour, and especially with her children. Remembering her mother’s favorite quote by Theodore Roosevelt, “Do what you can, with what you have, where you are,” she decided to do just that. She just prayed she could find a tree that fit her reduced means.
“Jackets on first,” she said. “It’s going to be colder than a frog tonight.”
“Momma, how can it be colder than a frog?” Rhonda asked. “I don’t wanna touch one, either.”
She laughed. “Oh, sweetie, that’s just a silly old expression my mother used to use.”
“Oh,” Rhonda said, apparently accepting her explanation.
“We’re ready,” Roxanna said, holding their jackets. “I mean, we have to put these on, and then we’re ready.”
Charlotte smiled at her eldest daughter. She was growing up so fast. Sad that Lamar was missing so much of their chil
dren’s lives, she pushed the thought aside. Tonight was not the time for regrets and what-ifs.
“I’ll get my purse,” she said. “Christmas tree, here we come!”
Chapter 5
Sophie inspected herself in the full-length mirror. The deep green Escada pants and matching jacket complemented her dark olive complexion. She wore the two-carat diamond studs Goebel had given her as a pre-Christmas gift.
“I like,” Goebel said when he saw her.
“Really?” Sophie asked, twirling around for show.
“Really. It’s going to be hard for the guests to take their eyes off you. I think all those decorations won’t stand a chance.”
Sophie laughed. “You sure know how to kiss ass, don’t you?” She was joking, and they both knew it.
“I do, and I love every minute of it.”
She stopped and really looked at her husband. Dressed in a black Armani suit and a claret-colored shirt, he looked every bit the man about town. “You know, you look sexy as hell. I think I just might jump your bones again. Soon as we close up shop.” Sophie stepped into his embrace. She’d never felt so safe. So protected. So loved. Having this sweet, dear man was what she lived for.
And the gang, too. They’d started referring to everyone as the gang since the numbers seemed to keep increasing. Sophie relished each and every one of them. Well, maybe relish wasn’t the word she would use to describe Ida, but still, if Ida were missing from their gang, she would be missed. No way in hell would she ever tell her that, of course, but she was willing to bet that the feelings were mutual. She and Ida had continued their love/hate friendship for a bit less than sixty years. Sophie didn’t see it coming to an end just because Ida was a conceited old whore. Nope, she loved messing with her, calling her names and just being a general pain in the ass.
Goebel gazed into her eyes. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”
She stepped away, returning to the mirror to add a deep red lipstick to complete her holiday attire. “You don’t want to know,” she said, rubbing her lips together. “It’s not about you.”
“Then my heart is broken. I want you thinking about me as much as I think about you. You know, dream, fantasize, all that fun stuff.”
She grinned. “Oh, I do that most of the time.”
“Good. Now, I think it’s time we go downstairs, hit the lights, and see what kind of turnout we’ll have.”
“I’ll allow you to escort me downstairs, Mr. Blevins.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Blevins.”
Hand in hand, the two of them walked down the hall to the winding staircase, whose banister was entwined with fresh evergreens and twinkling white lights.
In the formal living room, to which they’d devoted most of their energies, Sophie squealed with delight when she saw that Goebel had turned on all the lights. The candles shimmered, bathing the room with just a light touch of vanilla.
Spying the box of candleholders Abby had given her earlier in the day, she carefully removed them and placed them in the center of the mantel above the main fireplace in the formal living room. She added a tapered silver candle to each, trimmed the wicks, then lit both candles. As an extra precaution, she repositioned the holders as far away from the edge of the mantel as possible. She couldn’t have someone accidentally breaking them.
After taking a step back to admire the antique candleholders, she closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. What she saw was so unexpected that she screamed, “No!”
“Sophie, what’s wrong?” Goebel asked, then wrapped her in his arms. “Are you all right?”
Trembling, Sophie shook her head. Her hands began to shake violently, and her knees weakened. “I need to sit down.”
He guided her to the cream-colored sofa that faced the fireplace.
“No, not in here. The kitchen,” she managed to say.
Goebel scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the kitchen, where he gently placed her in a kitchen chair. “Don’t move.” He grabbed a clean kitchen towel, then ran cold water over it.
“Here. Let me.” He dabbed the damp towel over her face and neck. Sophie’s eyes were closed. “Soph, you okay? You’re starting to scare me.”
Again, she nodded but kept her eyes closed. While Goebel dabbed at her with the towel, she forced herself to calm down. She began taking slow, deep breaths and exhaling, as she’d taught herself. In and out. Finally calm enough, she slowly opened her eyes. When she saw that she really was in the moment in her kitchen, she let out a deep sigh.
Neither spoke. Quietly, they remained seated at the table for the next five minutes. Goebel knew enough not to say anything until she gave the go-ahead. Though this was a bit odd, he trusted her to know what she needed to do.
“It’s that girl I saw today. The one Abby hired to decorate.”
“Okay.” Goebel didn’t want to say too much, didn’t want to distract her from whatever it was she needed to say.
“I need to see her, Goebel. Tonight. I . . . I don’t know exactly why, and it’s scaring the hell out of me. I know I can’t read her, but I should be able to. I just know something is going on with that girl. Maybe even right now. I have to get to her.” Sophie raised her voice. “Let’s forget this Christmas parade tonight. I have to get to Abby’s right now.”
“Meet me in the car in thirty seconds, Sophie.” Though it was a bit of an understatement, Goebel knew time was not on their side now. He raced through the downstairs, turning off lights and blowing out candles. Sophie grabbed her purse and met him in the car.
He cranked the engine, stomped on the gas, and fishtailed out of the drive and onto the main road. Luckily, there wasn’t much traffic, so he pushed the speed limit as much as he dared without endangering them or anyone else who just so happened to be driving on the road.
Five minutes later, Goebel pulled through the gates at Abby’s old plantation house. The drive leading up to the house was lit up with colorful white lights. The oak trees above, decorated with more white lights, created a tunnel-like effect as they slowly followed several other vehicles.
“They must be here for the parade,” Goebel said, stating the obvious.
“Stop! I can run faster than you can drive there. Meet me inside the house.” Sophie tossed her heels on the floor, then jumped out of the car and started running. Goebel wanted to chase after her but realized he was being unreasonable. She knew what she needed to do, and he needed to listen to her.
Impatiently, he followed the cars to an area Abby had reserved for parking. Without bothering to remove the keys from the ignition, he jumped out of the car and ran around to the back of the house and entered through the kitchen.
“Chris, Abby?” he yelled, hoping he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself.
A drone of “oohs” and “aahs” could be heard all the way in the kitchen. He hated to disrupt the holiday-house showing, so he casually, though not at all slowly, made his way to the main room. Several people were gathered about the room in small groups. Abby and Chris were acting as host and hostess, explaining a bit of their home’s history to their visitors.
“And this was also discovered some time ago.” Abby held out the old leather-bound book that Toots had brought over that afternoon.
Before she could explain its contents, Sophie emerged from behind a group. “Abby, I need to speak with you privately. Now.” She turned around, saw Goebel, and motioned for him to follow.
Abby handed the book to Chris, making a hasty apology, then followed them to the kitchen.
“Sophie, this better be a matter of life and death! You just embarrassed the crap out of me in front of those people. I hope you have a good excuse.” Abby was miffed, and that was putting it mildly.
“I’m sorry. There isn’t a lot of time to explain. I need to know where that girl lives, the one that was here today, when I picked up the candleholders. It’s urgent, Abby!” Sophie wasn’t joking. She spoke fast, not caring if she’d embarrassed Abby or not. She wo
uld make it up to her later.
Astonished, Abby asked, “Are you serious?”
“Never been more so in my life. Now, Abby, I need to know right now!” Sophie raised her voice to stress the urgency.
Abby looked dumbfounded. “I’m not sure. She never said, and I never had a reason to ask.”
“Oh, crap! What about the woman she works for? That Blanche, whatever her last name is.”
Taking a deep breath, Abby opened a drawer and took out her address book. “I have her number. I can call and ask, but other than that, I don’t know what else I can do for you. Why? Is this one of your psychic visions?” She thumbed through the pages of her address book, stopping when she found Blanche’s phone number. “Let me use your cell,” she said. Sophie handed her the phone.
She punched in the number, and they all waited, each holding her or his breath. When Abby finally spoke, they all exhaled. “Blanche. Abby Clay. I hate to bother you, but we’ve had a bit of an emergency. I need to talk to Charlotte. Rather, I need her address. We’ve had a problem.”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Abby said. “Yes, her work is fabulous. Of course she agreed to come back tomorrow. Please, Blanche, just give me her address. This is very personal, nothing to do with Christmas decorations. Yes, I’ll hold.” Abby placed her hand over the microphone so as not to be heard, and said to Sophie and Goebel, “This woman is a true bitch. I’m never using her again.”
“Yes, Blanche, I have a pen.” Abby motioned for Sophie to hand her the pen and pad in the drawer. “Yes, I’ve got it. Thanks.” She hit the END button, then tossed the phone to Sophie. “Here is the address. It’s in North Charleston.”
Sophie touched the address and closed her eyes. “Goebel, let’s get over there as fast as we can. Abby, I want you to call Charlotte and tell her I’m coming over. Make up something, but just do it.”
Sophie didn’t wait for an answer. She raced out the door, with Goebel on her heels. In the car, she punched the address into the GPS while Goebel maneuvered through the parked cars. Once they’d made it out to the main road, Goebel put the pedal to the metal, again, trying to drive safely but fast.
Wishes for Christmas Page 12
