Marshall DeSalvo, Emily’s husband, was older than Lexi remembered, but she hadn’t seen him recently.
Maybe living with Emily had taken it out of him, she thought with a smirk.
While she’d been waiting, Lexi’s aunt had rearranged the furniture so that a comfortable wing chair was facing the fireplace. Never mind that it destroyed the conversational grouping.
“Good. That will be acceptable.” Marshall scanned the room like a Secret Service agent, then licked his finger and held it up while he walked in a circle. “Draft in the southeast quadrant,” he said.
“I’ll sit there,” Carolyn said quickly.
Without acknowledging this bit of maternal sacrifice, Marshall walked toward Lexi and stared at the tray she still held. “No milk products. They clog the voice.” He walked on.
“And your mother says she’s entertained singers.” Shaking her head, Carolyn followed her son-in-law.
“I guess eggnog’s out, then.” Lexi looked down at the tray and popped a cracker into her mouth. A clogged voice might keep her from saying something she regretted.
Lexi had just set the tray down when there was a commotion in the entryway.
“This way, darling.”
“We’ve got you set up in here, Em.”
“Daddy, I’m hungry.”
“There’s no video in here. You said we could watch our movie.”
“You didn’t bring that mermaid one, did you?”
“It’s my favorite! Daddy said we could watch it!”
“Marshall, the children,” said a pampered feminine voice.
“Derek, let your sister watch The Little Mermaid, then you can watch Mutant Martian Ninjas Attack Seattle .”
Lexi backed up just as a crowd of people clothed in velvet, lace and red plaid, boiled into the room.
At the center, scarf wrapped around her throat, was a dainty blonde dressed in celestial blue.
Emily DeSalvo and her entourage had arrived.
Fascinated, Lexi watched as Emily was arranged by the fire, with her pouting, but well-behaved children following in her wake.
“Hi, Emily,” she said, walking over to her cousin.
Emily silently pressed her throat, but acknowledged Lexi with a regal nod.
Aunt Carolyn handed her Emily’s scarf.
Marshall handed her a silver thermos with Emily’s monogram. “This is Emily’s special vitamin drink. It should be served warm.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think there’s enough here for everybody,” Lexi said.
Marshall only blinked.
“Kidding. I’ll just...” She motioned toward the kitchen as she backed away.
She was passing through the entryway just as a shadow appeared at the door. Not tall enough for Spencer, Lexi thought as the bell rang.
A woman with hair as black as her own stood here. “I’m Dr. Tracey, here for Gretchen Jordan.”
“Come in,” Lexi said. “I’m her sister, Lexi. You should know that we’re telling people you’re her friend.”
“Of course I’m her friend—in a professional capacity.”
“Dr. Traceeeeeeey!”
The last syllable of the doctor’s name became a scream as Gretchen launched herself down the stairs. “I can’t do it without you!”
There was a sudden silence from the living room.
Dr. Tracey moved to the stairs and ushered Gretchen back up them. “Gretchen, have you been in your room all morning?”
“I tried, I really tried.” Gretchen began to sob.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Lexi got more presents than I did!”
“And how did that make you feel?”
“Excuse me,” Lexi called after them. “So what if I got an extra pair of socks? You got diamond ear studs!”
Becoming aware of her audience, Lexi turned and smiled, showing lots of teeth. “I’ll go see how dinner’s coming.”
As she passed the door to the den, she heard the faint sounds of the football game her father and Uncle Ben were watching. That would soon be replaced by The Little Mermaid, Lexi bet.
The instant Lexi walked into the kitchen, she knew something was wrong. A strong burnt electrical smell hung in the air. The last time she’d smelled burnt wiring had ended with an embarrassing trip to the Rocky Falls after-hours emergency clinic.
Lexi’s mother was trying to counter the odor with cinnamon spray potpourri. “I fried the blender,” she said, visibly fighting for calm. “We were supposed to have salmon mousse for the first course.”
“So the mousse will be a little chunky.”
“But it’s supposed to set for four hours. I don’t have four hours.”
“Then pour it into bowls and call it salmon soup.”
“Do you think they’ll know?”
Lexi shook her head.
Catherine relaxed. “You’ll have to reset the table. I didn’t put out bowls.”
“Not a problem.”
The next two hours raced by before Lexi could begin to worry if Spencer would show up, or if she even wanted him to.
Things were not going well.
At Dr. Tracey’s urging, Gretchen came into the kitchen so she could fully experience Christmas, but she was more trouble than help. Lexi finally let Gretchen sit at the table and decorate sugar cookies while Dr. Tracey discussed the meaning of her color choices with her.
Their mother had planned a far too ambitious menu, especially for someone who wasn’t used to cooking. Throughout, a blue haze hung in the air because the fat from the roasting goose splattered and burned the inside of the oven.
Aunt Carolyn periodically drifted back to complain that the “heavy air” couldn’t be good for Emily’s throat, and was shooed away.
And it wasn’t that they were ever unaware of the goose. It was that they’d become desensitized to the burning smell, and they’d turned off the smoke alarm.
“Catherine, darling?” Lexi’s father ventured to stick his head in the kitchen. “Is everything quite all right?”
“Quite.”
“Then you intend to have smoke pouring out the oven vents?”
“It’s just a little grease from the—” She gasped.
Smoke rolled out the oven vents where it collected in a blue cloud near the ceiling and drifted toward the exhaust fans.
Lexi’s mother whimpered as she jerked open the oven and was enveloped in a cloud of smoke. It was several minutes before they could see inside to remove the goose. Catherine took one look and staggered backward, clutching her heart.
It was left to Lexi to reach in and remove the shrunken, blackened carcass.
“It is not your failure. It is the goose’s failure,” intoned Dr. Tracey, already by Catherine’s side.
Lexi noticed the change in pitch from the rattling pudding steamer an instant before the others. “Mom, the steamer doesn’t sound—”
With a loud retort, the lid to the pudding steamer blew off with such force that it hit the ceiling, sprinkling pieces of plaster over the range and into the salmon mousse soup. Then the lid landed in the soup, splashing it over the counter and floor.
Catherine moaned. “What am I going to do? What am I going to do?” she repeated over and over again.
“Uh, hello in there?” It was Uncle Ben. “I’ve got a young man here who says he’s come for Christmas dinner.”
Through the haze, looking like the white knight he was, stood Spencer Price.
And in his arms was a smoked turkey.
9
WHEN SPENCER DROVE UP to Lexi’s parents’ home, he’d very nearly kept going right around the circular driveway, but he’d given his word he’d be here.
Besides, after trying to avoid thinking of her for days he was ready to see her again. More than ready.
And then he’d seen her house. Normally, wealth no longer intimidated him. Constantly canvassing for money for his projects among the politically and corporately powerful had desensitized him.
; It had been a long time since his background had betrayed him, but he couldn’t help being a little intimidated by this place. It screamed money. He was surprised the wreath on the front door wasn’t made of dollar bills.
He mentally compared it to the humble ranch-style house outside Dallas where he’d spent the night. He hadn’t lived with Ma and Pa McKinney the longest, but they’d been his last set of foster parents, the ones who’d helped him fill out the forms for boarding school, and he considered their place as close to a home as he had.
It was just the comparison to this house, he thought, shaking off his momentary reservations. Although he did wish Lexi hadn’t talked him into bringing a turkey.
Too late now. Fortunately, he’d also brought a bottle of port from a Texas winery he enjoyed introducing people to.
He got out of the car, opened the trunk and stared at the white foam ice chest. What were these people going to do with a smoked turkey? He almost left it in the car, but at the last moment, he pulled the plastic sack out of the cooler, grabbed the port and slammed the trunk before he could change his mind.
At the bottom of the steps, he smelled smoke. At that moment, the front door opened and a white-haired man he didn’t recognize propped it back with a gold angel.
“Hello,” Spencer said, climbing the steps. “I’m Spencer Price—a friend of Lex—uh, Alexandra’s. She invited me for dinner.”
The man straightened. “Well, I don’t know about the dinner prospects, but Alexandra’s dad makes a mean eggnog.” He held out his hand when Spencer reached the top of the stairs. “I’m Ben Willman, her uncle.”
Spencer had to transfer the turkey to his other hand in order to shake Lexi’s uncle’s. He sincerely hoped the man couldn’t tell what was in the sack.
Through the open door, Spencer saw a house that looked like it had been decorated by Martha Stewart, except for the haze.
“I believe they’re all back in the kitchen.” Mr. Willman gestured for Spencer to follow him. “There’s been some commotion.”
The smoke became thicker, the closer Spencer got to the kitchen. He could hear Lexi’s mother saying, “What am I going to do?” over and over.
Lexi’s uncle stopped in the doorway. “Uh, hello in there? I’ve got a young man who says he’s come for Christmas dinner.”
“Spencer!” Lexi’s face glowed with such joy and relief that he was momentarily stopped by it. No wonder she’d stayed in his thoughts.
She set a blackened roasting pan on the kitchen butcher block island and walked over to him. “You’re here!”
“Yes. Merry Christmas.” He nodded to the charred lump in the pan. “Is that the goose?”
“It was, but we may have to call in the carbondating experts to make sure.”
Spencer was stunned. She’d deliberately burned the goose so he’d look good with his turkey gift. That took guts.
She nodded to the sack he held. “Is that, I fervently hope, a smoked turkey?”
He nodded and opened the sack, thinking how close he’d come to not bringing a turkey at all.
Closing her eyes, she exhaled. “Thank you,” she whispered. Turning, she said, “Mom, look what Spencer brought us. A smoked turkey! How about that?”
Mrs. Jordan stared, and tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Dr. Price, you’ve saved Christmas!”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Spencer looked around the kitchen. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of other...food.” Some of which was dripping down the wall behind the stove.
“Mom, the turkey is fully cooked, so all we have to do is heat it. By the time it’s hot, we’ll have the rest of dinner ready to serve.” Lexi was already unwrapping the bird, but her mother stopped her.
“It’s so smoky in here. Why don’t you show Spencer—may I call you Spencer?”
He nodded.
“Show Spencer the gardens until the smoke clears.”
“But there’s the, uh...” Lexi glanced toward the stove which her father had just turned off.
It was splattered with pink goo.
“Please.” Her mother made shooing motions. “Lawrence, will you be a dear and freshen the stove?”
Lexi gestured to the back door. “Let’s go this way. The backyard has a great view of the falls.”
Avoiding splatters of pink on the floor, Spencer followed Lexi toward two dark-haired women who’d been decorating cookies.
At first Spencer thought she wasn’t going to stop, but she did. “Spencer, this is my sister, Gretchen, and her friend—”
“Dr. Tracey is my therapist,” interrupted Gretchen. She looked at Lexi. “I’m not ashamed of it. It’s important, and I don’t keep important secrets from family members.” She turned her head away.
Beside him, Spencer felt Lexi tense.
The therapist looked at him. “Gretchen heard you addressed as Dr. Price.”
“I’m an engineer,” he explained.
She dismissed him with a flick of her eyes and turned back to Lexi’s sister. “You see? Your family didn’t bring in another doctor for you.”
Still sullen, Gretchen glared at him, and Spencer got the distinct impression that she would have preferred that he’d been another therapist. This was one high-maintenance woman.
“Gretchen, the world doesn’t revolve around you, you know,” Lexi burst out.
Her comment didn’t go over well with Dr. What’s-her-name.
Or with the sister. “If he’s not a doctor, then he’s your boyfriend.”
Lexi just looked at her.
“Gretchen is feeling excluded since you didn’t confide in her,” Dr. Tracey explained in a quietly professional voice, which Spencer knew was supposed to soothe, but he’d always found such a voice irritatingly patronizing.
“Confide what?” Lexi asked.
“About your boyfriend.”
“We haven’t been dating long,” Spencer said.
“Long enough for you to come to our family Christmas dinner,” Gretchen said accusingly. “Today is Christmas. It’s supposed to be for our family.”
“Just because you’re in therapy doesn’t mean you get to be rude!” Lexi told her. “Come on, Spencer.”
“I’m only expressing my feelings.”
“Gretchen,” began Dr. Tracey.
“He doesn’t belong here!” she said.
Lexi’s sister couldn’t possibly know his circumstances, but that didn’t make the sting any less painful. “Your parents were very kind to invite me,” Spencer said as evenly as he could. The woman was in therapy. She didn’t need him to unload on her, but he couldn’t resist adding, “You’re very lucky that you have a family you can be with today. Some people don’t.”
He was conscious of Lexi’s questioning look, but didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he headed out the back door before he said something that would set Gretchen off again.
“I’m sorry,” Lexi said as soon as she caught up with him on the patio. “I swear, with Gretchen anything you say is going to be twisted and used against you.”
He stared out at the falls. “Don’t worry about it.”
She was silent for a moment. “I think you’ve suffered at my hands enough. Gretchen obviously upset you, and you’ve more than fulfilled your part of our agreement. Go on home, have a Merry Christmas and I’ll make up an excuse to tell my parents.”
He was going to have to explain. He glanced at her, then back out at the falls. From this angle, he couldn’t see the research building, but wished he could. It would be a comforting reminder of how far he’d come in his life. “I grew up in foster homes,” he said abruptly.
“Did you?”
“I just said I did,” he snapped.
“From the way you spoke, I couldn’t tell what kind of a response you wanted from me.”
“An honest one.”
“Then, honestly, I wish you’d tell me about it. But in spite of the fact that you brought up the subject, you seem very touchy. Is that honest enough for you?”
“Maybe
a little too honest,” he grumbled.
She pointed back to the kitchen. “My family and all its foibles is on full and glorious display back there, but I don’t know anything about yours.”
“No father, mother an alcoholic, grandmother couldn’t take me in. That’s it.”
He hadn’t wanted sympathy, and he didn’t get it. He got a toss of her head and an irritated look.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“I am talking about it! There’s nothing more to say.”
“There’s plenty more to say, but I’m not going to dig it out of you. If you want to tell me, you’ll tell me.” She walked to the edge of the patio.
He stared after her. This wasn’t the way the conversation was supposed to go. “Lexi?”
She looked back.
“I...don’t tell people about it. There have been times when my background has worked against me.” He managed a smile. “It’s hard to know where to start.”
“I think your experience would impress people,” she said at last. “You obviously had to work very hard to get where you are.”
The breeze picked up, lifting her hair and tossing it across her face. She tucked the strands behind her ears. “That’s your cue to tell me how you did manage to become head of a research team.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t have that as my actual goal in life. All I wanted was a normal, stable environment. Don’t get me wrong. I stayed with good people, but we all knew it was only temporary. Then I saw these old movies on television—the foreign ones where the men wore their school ties. It didn’t matter what any of them did as adults, the others would support them because they’d gone to the same school. They lived there—all the time.”
“That’s boarding school.”
He nodded. “I kept having to change schools because I was moved around so much, so I figured if I lived at the school, I might have some stability.”
Lexi rubbed her arms. “That was really smart of you.”
“Yeah, well a couple of things were against me.” Spencer had been so caught up in what he’d been saying that he hadn’t considered that Lexi had come outside in just a dress and apron.
He shrugged out of his fleece-lined jacket and put it over her shoulders. She snuggled into it and he knew that next time he wore it, he’d be able to smell faint traces of her perfume.
Mr. December Page 13
