“Tell me about your pact with Frank not to have a family.”
Gracie followed her sister’s gaze as she looked off toward the counter where Sandy was refilling the pie rack. The stools were all full, and most of the booths, and it wasn’t even noon. Crisp air swished through the door with each customer.
“He told me when we were dating we’d have a nice home and cars, and not to worry, I’d never have to work or have kids. I told him I wouldn’t mind a job if I could find a decent one. I was waitressing at that greasy spoon near our house at the time. And I said I thought I’d like to have kids someday. But Frank thinks he knows what’s best for me.”
“Haven’t you talked more about it over the years?”
“Whenever I bring it up, Frank says we have a good life with just the two of us, then goes out and buys me some extravagant gift.”
“All that will change when he learns he’s going to be a dad. He’ll forget whatever reasons he didn’t want a family.”
“I’ve known for years I wanted a baby, and I was pretty shook up at first. It will change our lives in many ways.”
“But for the better,” Gracie insisted.
“Yes, and that’s what I’m going to tell him. I spent the morning browsing through infant wear departments and stores, and after seeing those teensy-tiny clothes.” Hope smiled broadly. “I can’t wait.” She crumbled a cracker into her soup and brushed the crumbs from her hands. “Frank will have to want this baby, too, or I’ll have it alone. I can get a job. I took business courses in high school.”
“You’ll be fine. You can move in with me if you need to.”
Hope frowned and twirled her huge diamond engagement ring. “I love Frank.”
And it would be hard for her to be poor again. She wore a black wool dress, and the coat slung over the seat matched it. Frank bought her the best of everything. Hope fell in love with Frank at eighteen. Gracie had been fourteen when she’d first fallen for Merett. If he were interested in marriage, would she be able to keep up with Kirsten as a teenager, let alone a baby son?
“Earth to Auntie.” Hope snapped her fingers in front of Gracie’s eyes.
Jolted from her reverie, she smiled. “Aunt Grace.”
“Heavens to Mergatroyd. You’d better be easier to please than ours was.” Hope rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
“I will be.” Aunt Grace had been difficult, but Gracie was a people-pleaser. Hope wasn’t. “You’re not still sore about the money, are you?”
“I never did care about the money. I was mad I wasn’t the old grouch’s favorite.”
A group of teens with ice skates slung over their shoulders rushed into Sandy’s in a cloud of cold air. Chatting and laughing, they joined a cluster of office workers waiting for booths. By mutual consent, the two sisters rose. Hope paused outside the soda shop to hug Gracie. “Thanks.”
“All I did was listen.”
Hope chuckled and hugged her tighter. “I know.”
* * *
From Sandy’s, Gracie drove to the mall near Indy to return Christmas purchases she’d deemed too expensive. Cashmere and leather for her sisters weren’t in her budget. Neither was an expensive art set for Kirsten.
With several hundred dollars back in her purse, she drove to Ferndale for economy shopping. At Dollar Variety, she bought Faithie practical clothes, and assembled an artist’s set off the shelves for Kirsten. At Granny’s Trash and Treasures, she found a cloisonné locket for Hope, to hold her new baby’s picture, and a paperweight with a tiny newspaper in it for Merett. She was smiling when she passed a woman with a string of little kids. “Marianne Heber!” Gracie stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
Marianne’s handshake was firm, and her smile quick. “Christmas shopping?”
“I overspent, so I returned some things and started again.”
“So you still watch your pennies like the rest of us.” Marianne lowered her lashes. “Will said you’d been keeping him in business buying trees for all your jobs.”
Gracie squeezed Marianne’s hand. “Will has the best trees in town!”
Marianne reined in her youngest child, and shook her head at one tugging on her coattail. “Thanks for asking me to your open house. I’m glad you’re back in town, Gracie.”
She was glad to be back, among old friends.
* * *
It was past five o’clock when Gracie pulled Old Blue up in front of the newspaper office. The star twinkled in the window, and behind that, the Christmas tree sparkled with good cheer. She couldn’t see anyone inside, but the lights were still on. If Merett hadn’t left yet, she’d see if he found her a roofer. He was afraid of commitment, but he’d made strides in regaining his optimism, and she was going to see this thing through. If he could act like they were nothing more than friends, she could, too, even though her heart knew better.
She pushed through the door.
Charlie Bosso was polishing the front counter. “If you’re looking for Mr. Bradmoore, he has someone with him.” A chill swept over Gracie. Was Beryl after him again? “He’s interviewing a reporter. He’s taking on a couple new employees.”
Merett was hiring? Did that mean he had decided to stay? Smiling, she turned to leave.
“He couldn’t get you a roofer until Friday, if that’s what you wanted to talk about. He told Mrs. Rollins he’d tried them all. I couldn’t help overhearing.” Charlie’s ears turned red. “But I’ve been thinking. I could do it tomorrow. I roofed our plumbing store. My dad won’t care if I take time off to help you. Business is slow, anyway.”
Gracie once again thanked God for her decision to move back to Ferndale. “Tell Merett I dropped by, and you’re doing the job, and thanks, Charlie.”
* * *
Five minutes after Gracie walked in the house, Frank called. “Your hearing is scheduled for Friday.”
Gracie clutched her chest. “I’ve invited fifty people to an open house Saturday. I was hoping the hearing would be afterward. What if they shut me down?”
“An open house is a party. Nothing wrong with that.”
“It’s an opportunity to entertain friends, but it’s partly business, Frank. I want guests to buy pieces that I display, and hire me for decorating jobs.”
“You could probably get by with that, unless someone’s out to cause trouble, and turns you in to the commission. In that case, you might be subject to a fine.”
“Cause me trouble?” Gracie moaned loudly into the phone. She didn’t want to operate on the edge of the law, and couldn’t afford a fine.
“Take it easy. You’re not out-of-business at your present location until the commission says so.”
She clutched the receiver tightly. “My next-door neighbor, Margaret Riggs, would testify Special Effects isn’t a nuisance if I need a witness.”
“Not a big help, Grace. Margaret testifies you’re not bothering her, and the complainant says you’re devaluating his or her property.”
“I’m scared, Frank.”
“Listen, Gracie. Your area is zoned, but it’s an old neighborhood, and people used to run bicycle shops in their garages and woodworking businesses in their cellars before there were zoning ordinances. Chances are, some people still do, and either they were granted variances—in which case I should be able to get you one—or you’re not alone in your violation, which should work in your favor. I’ll get to the bottom of this. Relax.”
Easy for him to say. “What time should I be there Friday?”
“Hey, you got things to do getting ready for your party, you don’t have to be there. I’ll represent you. That’s what you’re paying me for.” Frank chuckled. “I’ll call you when it’s over.”
When it’s over. Everything would be over for her if they shut her down. She couldn’t afford to rent a building for Special Effects, so if she couldn’t continue to operate from home, she’d have to close shop. And if she closed shop, she wouldn’t be able meet her mortgage payments and she’d lose the house. No one would b
uy the old Larraby place, even for what she had in it, because of the blankety-blank ghost. So she’d go bankrupt. And then… She’d have her old life back.
She had Charlie to pay. And more repairmen. And Frank, if he was serious about charging her for his services. The sun had almost disappeared when Gracie climbed into Old Blue and drove over to Edge Road. The house where she had grown up needed paint, and the porch sagged. A front window had been replaced with plywood. Gracie’s headlights caught a girl with braids, coming out the door. The child’s coat hem hung, her hands were bare, and her socks flopped down over her tennis shoes. Her mouth was a straight line, her eyes two dark holes burned in her face as she stared at the passing car.
Gracie, heart heavy with empathy and a feeling of helplessness drove straight home. Shutting the door behind her, she turned on the radio. She turned on the lights. Fear closed her throat. Her hands trembled. She’d end up like that again. Dirt poor. Unless something good happened.
Chapter Eleven
Merett stopped by Gracie’s on his way home. Standing at her front door, he rubbed his chin. It was after seven o’clock, and he had a five o’clock shadow, but he wanted to see her. He felt good. Hell, he felt great...about all he’d accomplished at the newspaper office today. The Daily Reporter now had two more employees, and he’d written it into the annual report, along with his plan for increasing circulation. He hoped the board saw it his way about spending the money for a pagination system.
He had it all figured out, if they’d just listen to reason. The improved appearance of the newspaper would help them sell more papers. In addition, the system would increase efficiency so they could take on outside printing jobs and bring in more revenue. Pagination would practically pay for itself. Revenue might not be greater the first year, but by the next, the increase would be sizable.
Grinning, he jabbed Gracie’s doorbell. He hadn’t had time to pick up champagne, but on the way out of the office, he’d noticed they had two snow shovels, and he’d tied a red ribbon around one and brought it along.
Charlie said she had stopped by, so she must be okay with what he’d said last night. His stomach growled, reminding him he’d missed dinner and forgotten to eat lunch. Just like when he was in New York, he’d forgotten everything except work.
“I brought you a present,” he said, hands behind his back. She tried to peek around him, and he shook his head. So she stood back, arms folded, tapped her foot, and grinned.
Realizing he’d overplayed a used shovel, he handed it over, and her grin turned into a smile he thought was forced, but she accepted it graciously.
“Thanks. I needed that.” She set it on the porch again, outside the door, and motioned him inside with a toss of her honey-blonde curls.
“Your house is so brightly lit, I was afraid you had company.”
“Twilight on a winter day can be depressing. Just getting off work?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry to come by so late.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
He didn’t owe her an explanation. He could stay at the newspaper until all hours, and it felt good. Felt good to stay over at the Reporter.
“Merett? Are you okay? You’ve barely said a word, and you keep smiling. You look as if you’ve had an epiphany.”
An epiphany. Was that what it was?
She touched his face. “Merett?”
He lifted her off the floor, laughter spilling from his lips. Hugging her, he buried his face in her hair as he gently set her down. “Next time I’ll bring champagne instead of a shovel.”
She pushed his hair back, and laughed. “I needed a shovel. It’s okay. It’s good to see you happy.”
Gracie was an understanding woman. He started to kiss her, and his stomach grumbled noisily. “And hungry?”
“I have some barbecue in the kitchen. I bought it at the deli, but it’s good. I’ll make you a sandwich.”
He peeled off his coat and hung it on the hall tree. “I said you didn’t always have to feed me, and here I am, mooching again.”
“I like feeding and taking care of people. Are you going to share your revelation while you eat?” She took his arm, cocking her head to study his face. He felt his jaw clench—there was so much uncertainty yet. She traced the outline of his jaw with the side of her hand.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”
He hugged her to his side on the way to the kitchen. While she spooned barbecue onto buns and stuck them in the microwave, he leaned against the door frame. “I hear Charlie Bosso’s going to fix the roof. I’m sorry I couldn’t get someone.”
“Charlie’s fine, and I’m sure he can use the money with new twins to care for.” She set a jar of pickles and bag of potato chips on the table, and leaned over to get beer from the fridge. Her jeans hugged her tightly, showcasing her beautiful rear, and he sighed. She’d looked beautiful last night in the moonlight, lying naked on the bed. And the way she felt…
“What?” Walking slowly toward him, she held the beers behind her back.
Grinning, he decided she looked even better from the front, with her full breasts straining at her clinging pullover.
“You look like the cat that swallowed the canary. What is it?” Setting the beer on the table, she walked closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“This.” He encircled her waist and slid his hands down to squeeze her delectable backside. “And this.” He slid his hands around front to cup her breasts through her shirt. “And the rest of you.”
“Merett. We can’t...”
He lowered his face toward hers, to kiss her. She parted her lips. “Can’t what?” he whispered, pulling her shirt loose from her waistband to slide his hands slowly up her warm back. His hands were still cold from the outside, and she shivered. Or was it desire that made her tremble? “Why can’t we?”
She slid out of his grasp, her face pale except for two red spots high on her cheeks. She straightened her shirt, tucking it in again. “I can’t make love casually, Merett. If you want to be friends, then friends it is. Your other choice wasn’t acceptable. I’d be lying if I said this makes me happy, but that’s the way it is.”
She turned his way again, and her eyes were dark pools of violet caught in bright light. Her hands were trembling, but desire still burned deep in her eyes. He raked his fingers through his hair. “What made you change your mind?”
“I...I thought over what you said, and it didn’t...set right. I don’t make love with friends.”
He didn’t know what she meant. She’d said the word friends two or three times. Was it a matter of semantics? Nothing had changed. And yet, since they’d made love, everything had changed. He wanted her more than ever before. His sigh escaped before he knew it was coming. Maybe she’d clarify things later. “I’ll try to keep my hands off you, but you may have to slap them now and then.”
“Gladly.” Her smile was sunlight after a long winter. If being near her was to be a delicious form of torture, he had the satisfaction of knowing he wouldn’t suffer alone. She wanted to make love as badly as he did.
Gracie reheated the barbecue, and sat down opposite him with a beer. “Frank called a while ago. The commission set my hearing for Friday.”
Two days from now? Had Frank told her he thought someone was out to cause her trouble? Did she suspect Beryl? “Frank sounded confident he could get you an exception.”
“I’m trying to think positive.”
Gracie took a healthy slug of her beer, and it seemed so out of character that Merett chuckled. When he first saw her drink beer, he was surprised, but then he remembered she spent ten years with Sonny. “You’re cute.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Charm will get you nowhere.”
“You really think I’m charming?”
“Stop fishing for compliments.” Gracie tapped his other sandwich. “You said you were starving.”
He was, and she wasn’t about to satisfy his hunger, so food would have to do. He took a b
ite, and found it spicy and sweet, like Gracie. Jerking his mind back to her open house, he had an idea. “Since it may take some time to get your drawing room back in shape, why not hold your party in the parlor? The Christmas tree lends atmosphere.”
“And takes up room. Then there’s the piano. I wouldn’t want it to start playing in front of guests.”
“You could count on Christmas carols.”
“And everyone in town believing my house really is haunted!”
“Maybe I could take something loose inside the piano.”
“No. You might not be able to put it back the same, and it would never play again.”
While he cleaned up his supper things, she stared into space. It seemed odd she liked that piano playing unexpectedly. And it only played Christmas music, which would be disconcerting after December.
“The natural light in the drawing room would show off my displays better, but I guess I will have to switch to the parlor,” she said, sounding resigned. “Unless I can find repairmen who work cheap and fast.”
“Miracle workers are hard to come by.”
Gracie looked at him questioningly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Are you so cheerful because of your epiphany?”
“I’m cheerful because I made a few decisions.” Chuckling, he got himself another beer. “Want a cold one?”
She took a sip of hers and made a face, but shook her head. “I have half left.”
He dumped it out and got her another one. She had as many dabs of food saved in the fridge as before. She took a swallow and smiled. “This does taste better.”
He turned a chair around to straddle it, and told her about his year-end report and plans for the Daily Reporter. When he finished, her eyes shone.
“Does this mean you’re staying?”
He tipped his beer, letting the cold liquid soothe his suddenly dry throat. Did she mean at the newspaper or in Ferndale? “It means I can’t stand to leave the paper in worse shape than when I came.”
Merriest Christmas Ever Page 17
