Kirsten tipped her head sideways to think, and then nodded. “She can use it again next year anyway. What else are you buying her?”
“I haven’t decided. Maybe I’ll get some ideas when you and I go shopping.” Merett picked his daughter up and carried her to bed. Laying her down gently, he pulled the covers up to her chin. “I’ll take you one night next week.”
“Why don’t you take a whole day off, and take me Friday when we’re going to The Nutcracker at night?”
“Okay, it’s a date. Friday, I’m yours from breakfast to bedtime.”
Giggling, she hugged him happily. “You’re the bestest, Daddy.”
If Merett took the job in New York, Kirsten would have to come. He couldn’t get along without her. He’d purposely dodged her question about Tom’s visit, but looking in to find her sleeping peacefully a little later, he knew he’d done the right thing. Now, if he could just do the right thing about Tom’s offer.
* * *
When Gracie opened the door to Merett on Sunday evening, she was deathly pale, her eyes red, her face blotched. She looked so stricken that he drew her into his arms and held her close. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
“Faithie’s gone,” Gracie whispered. “Again.”
Clenching his fists against Gracie’s back, Merett wished he could meet the sister who kept hurting her.
“I just couldn’t keep my big mouth shut. At breakfast, I mentioned the R-word. When I got back from church…she wouldn’t go…she was gone.”
“The R word?”
“Responsibility. She says I preach it, but I was only trying to help when I suggested she choose a career route and enroll in a couple of college classes on the IUPUI campus in Indy. I told her she’d have to find a part-time job, but if she did that, she could stay here with me rent-free. She didn’t argue, so I was feeling good when I said, ‘I’m glad you’re ready to accept responsibility.’ But when I came home, eager to cook her Sunday dinner, she’d gone. No note. Just a smiling face drawn on my bathroom mirror with toothpaste.”
Merett brushed Gracie’s tears away. “Faith couldn’t have been too upset if the face was smiling.”
“You just don’t understand, do you?” In one fluid movement, Gracie swept her coat off the hall tree and slipped her arms into the sleeves. “Let’s go see those Christmas lights.”
Merett had been seeking out the brightest and best Christmas displays for the past week. Gracie had been so busy, he knew she hadn’t gotten out at night, and he’d been eager to see her excitement, but she seemed unimpressed.
She sat close to the door, and he wished she’d move closer to him. He reached for her hand and held it on the seat between them. She didn’t respond. Her hand lay loosely in his as she stared straight ahead. Merett turned to study her profile in the moonlight. Even tightlipped, she was beautiful. Her hair fanned out around her face like a halo. Her lashes formed feathery arcs over her eyes. He wished she’d talk to him. Faith didn’t seem like a safe subject. “Is Hope relieved Frank wants the baby?”
Gracie nodded.
Her sister was off the hook with her husband, and Gracie was going to be an aunt. So why didn’t that thrill her? Merett pointed out the first outstanding display he’d discovered, a spreading nativity scene lit with soft blue and white lights. She murmured approval. The next display was gaudy. A scene with hundreds of lights, it featured Mr. and Mrs. Claus surrounded by drummers and elves, prancing reindeer, and a train that circled the whole thing while music poured from loudspeakers at mega-decibels. Gracie shook her head. “Some people don’t know when to stop.”
Her approval and disapproval were both understated. “Want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She turned her head to gaze out the window.
He nodded slowly. Tom’s offer was like holding a ball of twine, and searching for a loose end, something to grab onto. Until he did, Merett couldn’t talk about it. That must be the way Gracie felt about Faith.
Given Gracie’s lack of enthusiasm for Christmas displays, he hoped she’d like his plans for dinner at the Ferndale Country Club. Dad said the decorations she’d done were outstanding, “a feather in her cap, certain to bring her more business.” And she’d met many of the people who might be dining there at her Open House, so he’d planned it as a special treat.
Merett’s parents had belonged to the club all his life, and they’d eaten there frequently when he was growing up. This was his first time since coming back to Ferndale, so it was a positive move for him as well.
When he swung the Jeep into the club’s parking lot, Gracie gave him her full attention for the first time that night. Wide-eyed, she stared at him, her jaw slack. “I made dinner reservations,” he said. “I hope that’s okay.”
She nodded mutely.
The dining room was crowded, but the maître d’ promptly led them to a circular banquette near the big stone fireplace. Round-faced and pleasant, he was new since Merett had last been there. “Nice to see you, Mr. Bradmoore. Your father’s been promising you’d come in.”
Left alone with Gracie, Merett marveled at the miracles she had wrought in the room. White ostrich plume snow lay in soft glittering piles, and a crescent moon hung against an ebony sky. A sleigh, with a midnight blue velvet robe, overflowed with gifts wrapped in shining gold, silver, and white. Blue spotlights lit the moon and stars. “It’s breathtaking.”
Seeing Gracie flush with pleasure and smile, he took advantage of the moment. Singing the first line of “Blue Moon” softly into her ear, he slid closer on the upholstered seat.
“We’re not alone.”
“I don’t see anyone but you,” he whispered.
Smiling, she looked up at him. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”
Merett tried serenading her with a line from “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.”
He loved her golden laughter. Her hand felt cool and velvety in his. She smelled like wintry air and summer honeysuckle. A candle in a faceted crystal holder cast patterns on the pale blue cloth. Waiters moved about on soft-soled shoes. One brought their wine and left. Everything was perfect.
Candlelight flickered in Gracie’s velvet eyes. The firelight shone on her curls, turning them to gold. If he were an artist, he’d try to capture her image as she looked tonight. He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her closer. “You are incredibly lovely.”
She smiled fleetingly. Her full lower lip quivered. She had a sensual mouth, soft and warm, and so inviting. Like the rest of her. He firmed his leg against hers under the table. She moved away. Merett sighed. “Is something bothering you that you’re not telling me?”
“It’s nothing. Just Faith leaving.”
Seconds passed. Merett took a bite of his steak. It was the best he’d ever tasted. He took another. He should have come to the Club sooner. He hadn’t wanted to see familiar faces. He hadn’t wanted people to see him, actually. He’d been hiding. Now, it felt good to see people. Now that he might be leaving?
“How was your visit with Tom yesterday?”
It was as if she’d read his mind. Or perhaps that was what had been on her mind all evening. Merett’s juicy steak suddenly tasted like aged leather. He’d hoped to make the evening one to remember and to avoid this discussion. Tom and New York were a topic better left untouched, until Merett knew what he was going to do. “It’s always good to see old friends.”
Gracie wound and unwound linguini on her fork. “Why did he come to Ferndale?”
“To visit. Talk. I asked his opinion on my plans for improving the Reporter and increasing circulation.”
“Did he think your ideas were good?” Her voice was eager.
Merett trained his gaze on his plate. He couldn’t get her hopes up, couldn’t lie to her. Although it would have been a helluva lot easier. “Tom thought he had better ideas.”
“Better than pagination?” Gracie touched his arm, and he dared a glance at her. “Is it something you think will work fo
r you?” Her eyes glowed with hope, but her lower lip trembled again.
He pushed his plate away regretfully. Half a steak wasted. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “What Tom proposed is a whole different ball game.”
Gracie clanked down her fork. “He still wants you to move to New York, doesn’t he?”
“That and more.” Merett didn’t like the taste of bitterness in his mouth. He didn’t like the idea of hurting someone he cared deeply about. But she had a right to know, and he needed to know what she thought. “I’d made up my mind to improve the Reporter, make a real go of it.” A smile twitched his lips. “At first, I just wanted to succeed at something. Then, I thought I’d like to remain at the helm, and see how it went. And maybe even, stay permanently.” The thought crystallized into words without ever taking shape in his head.
“But?” Gracie prodded.
Merett turned to her, and she lifted her napkin to her mouth with shaky hands. She’d lost Faith again. Could he tell her she might lose him? “Tom made me an offer I’d be a fool to refuse.”
Gracie stiffened her spine, and toyed with her glass. He slipped an arm around her and hugged her to his side, needing to feel her closeness. She leaned away from him. “Tell me the rest.”
He lifted his glass and took a sip of wine without tasting it. “Tom came to me with an offer from Dixon-Pope Newspapers to buy the Daily Reporter.” Gracie made a strangled sound, but now that he’d started, Merett had to go on. “They’re offering a fabulous price, and he still wants me to work for him. So I could move to New York and start over again, pretty well-fixed.”
Gracie stared into the fire. “Just what you’ve always wanted.”
“I haven’t said yes.”
“You haven’t said no.”
“It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, Gracie. It deserves full consideration.”
She turned on him, eyes blazing, voice wrung with anguish. “How could you even consider handing over the Reporter to a stranger? A conglomerate like Dixon-Pope would send someone in here to run the paper who doesn’t care a fig who’s born or who dies. Someone who doesn’t know or care about the town. A stranger.”
Merett defended himself. “They might hire a local as editor.”
“Who?” Gracie spat the word at him. “Who else in this town, besides you, knows anything about running a newspaper, Merett?”
“What would you do if someone offered you close to a million dollars for your business?”
Her gasp was barely audible, but it felt like something of a victory, and Merett poured himself more wine. She held her hand over the top of her glass. “None for me, thanks.”
He had a feeling those words referred to more than wine, but he persisted. “Would you say ‘no’ without thinking twice?”
“If a big business made the offer, yes. A small town is the place for small businesses. As you so recently stated, in your eloquent editorial.”
“I meant what I said.”
“Did you? Or were you just playing hero? Coming to my rescue once again?”
He felt like she’d slapped him. He had never come to her rescue without the purest intentions. Besides, he thought she liked seeing him as a hero. They both stared into their wine glasses. Seconds ticked away like minutes. Two minutes felt like two hours. He felt torn a thousand ways. He’d begun to acquire new dreams, but the old dreams still lingered. He could prove himself the way he’d longed to, the way he’d promised himself he would.
Tom would advance him if he worked hard. And he could find an apartment close to a park where Kirsten could take the riding lessons she wanted. He’d find her a different school, and let her play basketball.
“Go.” The word exploded softly from Gracie’s lips.
Startled from his daydreams, he stared at her. She couldn’t have said what he thought she did.
“Go. Your eyes are shining. You’re smiling. If this is what you want, there’s no choice.”
“I’m of two minds, and can see both ways. The dream I’ve had for years. Me, the big city reporter writing big stories. Or me, a small town guy again, making my small paper a big success.” He laid his hand over hers. “I’d begun to think about spending a lot of time with a very special woman.”
“But quit when big bucks were dangled before your eyes.”
“It’s not just the money, and I didn’t quit thinking about us, but I did begin looking back.” Sighing, he lifted his glass to stare into the deep burgundy liquid. He wasn’t sure he was making a lot of sense. “Gracie, have you ever wanted to live in New York?”
She stared at him. “Why are you asking?”
He needed to know. “Have you?”
“Maybe a thousand years ago when I was young.”
“That’s right, you’re going to be thirty soon.”
She traced the lip of her glass with her fingertip.
“Would you even consider it?” He didn’t know why he was pressing her.
“What’s this all about, Merett?” She narrowed her eyes on him.
“I’d like to make the trip, check things out, and thought you might come along.” Once again, he surprised himself with his words, but once he’d said them, he was eager for her to go. “You’d love New York at Christmas time. The lights are breathtaking.”
“I have a business to run.” She wiped her mouth. “This decision is yours. If you go, you need to go alone.”
He didn’t want to go to New York alone. “Gracie?”
She raised her head to look at him. He bent his to capture her soft lips. They tasted like wine, and he flicked his tongue across them. “Merett,” she said, planting a hand in the middle of his chest. “No.”
Moving away from her, he tried not to show how wounded he felt. He looked around, and was glad not to see anyone watching. “See anybody you know? Some of your guests from yesterday?”
Gracie seemed startled by his question, but glanced around the crowded dining room. “The mayor is sitting in the other corner with his back to us, and there’s…” She clamped her napkin over her lips.
Spotting Beryl Marcum, Merett groaned. Beryl was with a bearded blond man who caught hold of her hand as she rose from the table. Patting his cheek, she pulled free and headed for the ladies’ room. Black-sheathed hips swaying, fox stole dangling from one shoulder, she spotted Merett watching, and blew him a kiss as she opened the door.
“That…bitch,” Merett sputtered.
“She wants you,” Gracie said flatly.
He told her about Beryl taking a chance on ruining her aunt’s seamstress business to hurt Special Effects. “Add phoning your neighbors, and she’s even lower than I expected. I hope someone told her they showed up at your party, anyway.”
Gracie stood quickly. “I’m going to talk to her.”
Unbelieving, Merett stared after the gentle woman he’d come to care so much about.
* * *
Gracie’s stomach clenched with anger, but crossing the room full of elegantly-dressed diners, her fingers itched to smooth her flyaway curls. If Merett had told her they were coming here, she’d have piled her hair up. Surreptitiously smoothing her dress, she was glad she’d worn the black sheath. She’d chosen it for the color, black for depression, and it still suited her mood, but the dress was both conservative and classy.
She’d expected Merett to leave, and yet, she’d been unprepared. Was she a fool to tell him to go? Could she have done anything else, knowing he would never be satisfied otherwise?
Gracie was three steps from the powder room when Harland Hamilton stepped out from behind a potted palm. “Grace. You can’t imagine the raves I’ve heard concerning this room.” With an extravagant wave of his hand, the club’s president smiled broadly. “You did a marvelous job decorating.”
She thanked him, but her pleasure was dimmed by the task she’d set herself. After Beryl tried to sabotage her party and her business, Gracie had to stand up for her rights.
Harland stood between her and the door. “Your
work became the topic of discussion at the latest board meeting, and we voted unanimously to have you decorate for our annual Valentine’s Day Sweetheart Dance. Are you available, dear?”
“I’d be delighted.”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll inform the chairperson of the affair that she won’t have to worry about decorations. I just saw Beryl enter the ladies’ room, and I’ll catch her when she comes out.” Harland kissed Gracie on the cheek. “I’ll give the board your okay, and you can stop by any day to sign the contract.”
Victory tasted so sweet, Gracie shoved through the door, empowered.
Beryl met her gaze in the mirror, and raised one arched brow.
“Why?” Gracie asked. It was a simple question. One Beryl understood.
“You belong on Edge Road. Not at the Ferndale Country Club. Not in the Larraby home, even if it is haunted.” Beryl’s laughter was cold. “And not with Merett Bradmoore. You can rise only so high before someone puts you back in your place. I appointed myself the mission. Simply because I enjoyed it.”
She pushed through the door, chuckling deep in her throat.
Gracie gave Harland one minute to tell her his news, and then exited just in time to see Beryl’s face turn purple. Flashing her old high school enemy a smile, Gracie’s revenge became even sweeter. Even the high-and-mighty, cold and vicious, could be knocked down a peg or two.
Gracie crossed the room in long strides, to Merett Bradmoore. Sliding in close to him, she whispered, “Kiss me.” His emerald eyes widened in surprise, but he bent his mouth to hers. Thinking of Beryl, Gracie smiled against his lips, but as his kiss deepened, Gracie forgot everything and everyone else.
* * *
When Merett walked Gracie to her front door, and stopped, she turned to him fearfully. Her victory with Beryl seemed small compared to her loss of the man she loved. Even though she was angry he’d consider selling the Reporter, she longed to be held, kissed. She longed to throw caution to the winds, and make love with him throughout the night. She was shameless, but it might be her last chance. She touched his cheek.
Merriest Christmas Ever Page 21
