by JoAnn Ross
“That was fast, even for this town. Since I struck out only last night.”
He tilted his head. Frowned. “She wasn’t gossiping, Kelli. I just asked her how things were going and it came up.”
Had they been talking about her? Her mother had always liked Cole, who’d spent as much time at the Carpenter house as he had his own home.
“So, anyway,” he said, “I brought you this.” He held out the box, wrapped with white ribbon with Take the Cake written on the top in white raised script.
“You brought me a cupcake?” She could have easily been addicted to the shop’s cupcakes if she weren’t strict about how often she allowed herself to visit.
“I was walking by and the aroma wafting from the place drew me in. I was planning to get a box for the family when I saw this tropical one in the case. The bakery’s owner bills it as tasting like a piña colada.”
“It does.” Which was what had gotten her thinking about Hawaii in the first place.
“After sampling one myself, solely in the interest of making certain she wasn’t engaging in false advertising, I decided she had nailed it. So, I brought you Hawaii in a cupcake.”
Kelli couldn’t quite repress the giddy sense of pleasure that he’d been thinking of her. And had bought her something he knew she’d enjoy. Somehow it was better than a pirate’s trove of jewels.
“Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“Don’t go giving me too much credit, Kels,” he said. “There was more than a little selfishness involved.”
“Oh?” She opened the box and breathed in the scent of rum, coconut, and pineapple. A bright yellow and white paper umbrella had been inserted in the middle of the toasted coconut frosting. Hawaii in a cupcake.
“I was hoping it’d get you to smile at me again. Like old times.” He flashed a grin, the one that was such a surprising contrast to his rugged, almost harshly hewn looks. The one she’d never been able to resist.
Oh no. Kelli felt the moisture stinging at the back of her eyes and lowered her lids, fighting to control her tangled, complex emotions. Then finally she lifted her gaze to his steady, watchful one and gave him the smile he’d been waiting for.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Friends?”
Because it seemed so important to him—and she reminded herself that he could, after all, be going to war, and she’d never forgive herself if he were injured, or worse, killed, thinking she was still angry at him—Kelli lied.
“Friends.”
His shoulders visibly relaxed as he blew out a breath. “Great.” His eyes warmed even further as his gaze skimmed over her face, and for one vivid, heart-stopping second, as they lingered on her mouth, she thought he was going to kiss her.
But, of course, he didn’t. Instead he settled for the kind of quick, safe hug she might have received from one of her own brothers.
“Well.” He flashed a quick, satisfied grin that told her he had, to his mind, fixed things and moved them back to the relationship they’d shared before her flash of temper had blown it up. “I’d better let you get back to work.” He skimmed a finger down her nose. “Enjoy the cupcake.”
Then he turned and began strolling back up the center aisle.
When he turned around halfway to the doors at the rear of the room, her foolishly romantic heart hitched. Her lips parted, ever so slightly.
Waiting.
Wanting.
“Break a leg,” he called back to her.
“I think that’s just for the actors,” she said.
Since he’d already turned away again, her words were directed at his back.
“What’s wrong?” Adèle asked ten minutes later. She might be in her seventies, but her eagle eyes never missed a thing.
“Nothing,” Kelli lied, cursing as she touched up some painting on the backdrop for her class’s play.
“You’ve seemed out of sorts since you arrived.” Zelda looked up from where she’d been going through the music with two volunteer audio/visual students from Shelter Bay High School.
“I’m fine.”
“Then explain the bags beneath your eyes.” The former prima Bolshoi Ballet principal dancer might be somewhere between seventy and a hundred, but she was still as sharp as a stiletto.
“Okay, maybe not exactly fine,” Kelli admitted. “But I will be dandy once tonight’s over. I’ve just been stressed out from the pressure of needing everything to go perfectly.”
Both women laughed at that idea.
“All your actors are five years old, dear,” Adèle pointed out gently. “I doubt you can count on perfection.”
“It’d definitely be a second Christmas miracle,” Zelda agreed.
Which was unfortunately true. And if it had been any other year, Kelli would have admitted that she found the children’s little screwups charming.
But this was not any other year.
“I just want to avoid us trending on Twitter or becoming a worst-ever Christmas play YouTube hit,” she muttered as she dabbed some cadmium-orange paint onto a snowman’s carrot nose.
“Things went very well in dress rehearsal,” Adèle reminded her. “I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”
Easy for her to say.
“You have seemed unusually tense the past few days,” Zelda said thoughtfully. “Maybe going to Hawaii isn’t such a bad idea.”
“That’s off the table.” Kelli moved on to covering up some dings on a red sled filled with presents.
“Oh?” Adèle turned from hanging up the costumes on a wheeled rack. “Are you and Bradford going somewhere else together?”
“I broke up with Brad after the boat parade,” Kelli said.
“I’m sorry,” both women said together.
Kelli shrugged. “It’s been coming. It seemed best just to get it over with so he can take someone else to the New Year’s Eve dance.”
The conversation, which she’d broached on the drive to her house from the boat parade, had been surprisingly drama free. Which either meant that he truly was the nicest guy in the world, or that he might actually have been relieved. Surely she wasn’t the only one who’d never felt sparks?
There had been one little obstacle to get over.
“What about the New Year’s dance?” he’d asked as the wipers steadily swished the rain, which had begun to fall again, from the windshield. “I even rented a tux from Tux and Tails in Newport.”
“I don’t really feel like going this year,” she’d said truthfully. “But I know, off the top of my head, of at least four women who’d jump at the chance to go with you.”
He’d shot her a look. “Seriously?”
She’d nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Who?”
“Laura, from Cut Loose, told me while she was trimming my hair that she finds you hot.” Kelli had begun ticking them off on her fingers as he returned his attention to the road. “So does Jennie, who manages the catering for the Crab Shack, Audrey, from the bakery at the market, and last, but certainly not least, Patty, from school.”
“Patty?” He had visibly perked up at that revelation; then he’d given her another, longer look. “My Patty? From the office?”
“Brad.” Kelli huffed out a breath. “She’s managed the principal’s office for the past two years. Are you telling me you’ve never noticed she has a major thing for you?”
“Seriously?” he’d repeated. In an unconscious gesture, he rubbed his chin, which, while lacking any cleft, was still firm. In many ways, Brad had always reminded Kelli of Robert Redford, from his Sundance Kid days. Unfortunately, she’d always found Paul Newman hotter.
“Seriously,” she’d assured him. “Why do you think she’s always bringing you homemade baked goods?” November apple muffins and pumpkin bread had given way to December gingerbread and snickerdoodles.
“She says she enjoys baking.”
“She enjoys baking for you.” Since the bakefest had begun at the beginning of the school year, Kelli h
ad found it highly unfair that Brad could eat all those carb- and sugar-laden treats without ever gaining a pound. “Trust me on this,” she’d said.
And apparently he had, because she’d received a call from Patty shortly before coming here today to make sure Kelli didn’t have any problem with her accepting the Pelican Elementary School principal’s invitation to the dance. From the excitement in the other woman’s voice, it seemed that she, at least, was going to be having a very merry holiday.
“Well, I’m glad no hearts were broken,” Adèle said briskly. “I have to admit, now that you’re no longer a couple, I’m not surprised. I’m also more than a little relieved.”
“Why?” The older woman had never shown a single sign that she’d had any concerns about Kelli’s love life. Or, more precisely, lack of it.
“Because we never saw any sexual sparks,” Zelda answered first. Having heard stories of Zelda’s many romantic adventures during her days as a prima ballerina for the famed Russian ballet, Kelli figured Zelda knew a lot about the topic.
“Passion is important to a relationship,” Adèle agreed. “Bernard still tells me that he married me for the sex.” Her smile hinted at a lot of truth behind her words.
Although she’d always found the couple incredibly sweet together, that only had Kelli feeling more depressed. How pitiful was it when a woman in her seventies was having a better sex life than you were?
Kelli thought again back to what her brother had said about Cole having hooked up with Marcia last year because he’d been in the desert too long. Well, she’d been living in a sexual Sahara for the past year. No. Longer. Doing some quick math, Kelli realized that she hadn’t had an orgasm that didn’t involve C cells for eighteen months.
“Maybe you do need to get away and recharge your batteries,” Adèle said thoughtfully.
Given where Kelli’s thoughts had just been, she laughed in spite of her mood. Her sour mood had actually worsened since Cole’s attempt to make up. The owner of Take the Cake was incapable of making anything that wasn’t excellent, but knowing that tonight the tropical cupcake would taste like dust, she’d handed it off to one of the high school kids.
“You know, no one in the family’s using the cabin,” Cole’s grandmother mused. “The freezer and pantry are well stocked, and there’s a generator and woodstove in case the power goes off. And mountain snow’s in the forecast, so you might even have that white Christmas you’ve always talked about wanting.”
“That sounds very appealing,” she admitted.
As if sensing an opening, Adèle pressed a little more. “By the time the program’s over tonight, it’d probably be too late to drive all the way up into the mountains.”
“It’d definitely be dangerous, on those twisting roads in the dark, with all the black ice,” Zelda agreed.
Not nearly as dangerous as spending the holiday here in Shelter Bay. Although she’d survived heartache and, to her mind, had come out a stronger, more independent woman, she had come to accept the fact that there was no way she and Cole could return to the easy, comfortable relationship they’d once shared.
Because the truth, as hard as it was to admit, was that she simply couldn’t be around Cole and not want him. Unfortunately, he’d just demonstrated that her romantic feelings were, as they’d always been, one-sided.
“You could leave late morning or early afternoon and still be up there before supper,” Adèle said, breaking into her thoughts. “I remember you enjoying the cabin.”
What she’d mostly enjoyed was being there with Cole.
She pressed her fingers against her temple, where a headache was threatening. “I’d love that,” she said. “Thank you so much.” She hugged the woman she’d always loved as much as her own grandmother.
“Believe me,” Cole’s grandmother said as she hugged Kelli back. “It’s my pleasure.”
As she took her paint jars backstage to put them back into her prop supply kit, Kelli missed seeing Adèle and Zelda bumping fists.
6
After searching behind the stage and in the cafeteria’s kitchen, Adèle found her husband on the floor in the auditorium setting up an extra row of metal folding chairs. Ticket sales had picked up after the boat parade, resulting in a sellout.
“Bernard, you have to run to the Sea Mist. Right now.”
“Now?”
She nodded her gray head. “Now. We need wine.”
He arched a wooly brow. “Don’t tell me those kids have driven you to drink?”
“Ha-ha. I’m not going to drink it, but we need to get it before the restaurant shuts down for the night.”
“Why not the market?”
“Because the Sea Mist serves a higher quality.” It might not be up to the standards of what her son and daughter-in-law had carried at Bon Temps when they’d run the family restaurant, but it was definitely above what the small local market offered. “I’ll call ahead and tell them you’re coming. And get some champagne. The best they carry.”
“Okay.” Fifty-plus years of marriage had taught Bernard that going along with her was often the best way to get along. “Am I allowed to ask why?”
“I just offered Kelli the cabin for the holidays.”
He tilted his head while rubbing the back of his neck. “You do know that Lucien and I already suggested Cole go there? And that he took us up on the idea after the boat parade?”
“Of course I do.” She put her hands on the hips of her green and red plaid wool skirt. “Surely you don’t think I’d send the girl out into the woods all alone? With a major snowstorm in the forecast?”
“Aha.” He flashed a quick grin, catching on to her plan. “That’s downright sneaky.”
“I’m merely helping out two people who are very dear to me get through the holiday blues.”
There was also the fact that she wasn’t getting any younger and thought it high time one of her grandsons provided her with some great-grandbabies to spoil.
“Now, go.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “I need to call the Sea Mist and then I need to get hold of Doris and Dottie down at the Dancing Deer Two.”
“Why them?”
“So they can gather together some decent clothes for the girl.”
Bernard’s gaze moved to the stage, where Kelli was on her knees, using black electrical tape to mark X’s on the polished wooden floor. “I think she looks great.”
“Well, of course she’s always lovely. But she’s wearing another of those silly Christmas sweaters.”
Two days ago, a holiday toy train filled with presents had decorated a red sweater. Yesterday’s was plaid, with a black Scottie dog wearing a red velvet ribbon around its neck. Today’s was even worse.
“It’s Christmas. And the kids seem to like the sweaters,” Bernard said.
“Of course they do,” she huffed with frustration. “They’re five years old.”
Honestly, men could be so clueless. Time was wasting; she couldn’t stand here and explain every little thing to him.
“Since I don’t remember her having such deplorable taste when she was younger, she no doubt bought them to brighten the holidays for her students. Which is a very sweet thing to do . . .
“But think back to when we’d started courting. Would you have ever even thought about tumbling me if I’d been wearing a red sweater with a Christmas tree that lit up?”
This time his grin was slow and, even after all these decades together, had the power to warm her the same way it had when she was an eighteen-year-old bride. “Like the song says, you can’t hide beautiful,” he said, the Louisiana delta drawl that he’d never entirely lost from his voice thickening like warm honey.
“I’d have wanted to tumble you even if you were wearing a burlap sack from Comeaux’s Feed and Seed,” he said. “But if you had been wearing a light-up sweater, I would’ve paid it no heed, because you sure as heck wouldn’t have been wearing it long.”
She felt the color rising in her face. “You shouldn’t ta
lk to me that way in public.”
“Okay,” he said, a bit too agreeably. He lowered his voice and leaned toward her, his lips against her ear. “I’ll wait until we get home to continue this conversation. In private.” He nipped at her lobe. “In bed.”
“Oh, go on with you,” she said, even as her toes curled in that old familiar way. “You have shopping to do, and I have calls to make. On your way home from the Sea Mist, stop by the dress shop. Doris and Dottie will have the gift-wrapped boxes waiting. Then, because I don’t want things to be too obvious, drop them by the Carpenters’ house. It’ll seem more natural for them to be gifts from Kelli’s mother.
“The freezer at the cabin’s already well stocked with meals. While you’re out, pick up some things for a traditional Christmas dinner from the market. Then, right after Kelli’s class finishes their part of the program, you and Lucien can run the things up there and make sure everything will be ready and in place when the two of them arrive tomorrow.”
“If the president had put you in charge of planning military actions back when I was fighting in Korea, Del darlin’, that war would’ve been over and I would’ve been back home in two days.” He brushed her cheek with his lips, snapped a brisk salute, and headed up the aisle.
As Adèle allowed herself the luxury of watching him make his way toward the door at the back of the school cafeteria, she thought, not for the first time, how lucky she’d been to have met this man while home on summer vacation from convent school in New Orleans.
The moment he’d walked into the ice cream parlor—where she’d just bought a strawberry cone—romantically backlit by a late-June sun streaming in the window, the idea of becoming a nun had paled in comparison with marrying the handsome young fisherman and having his babies.
Decades later, Bernard was not only the love of her life, but her very best friend in the entire world.
Her grandson and Kelli were already friends. Or they had been until that boneheaded move he’d pulled last Christmas. Fortunately, he’d escaped a marriage that anyone with the sense God gave a duck could have seen would be declared dead on arrival at the altar.
