by Jane Porter
They ended up in the dining room. The table had already been set and looked lovely with the linen cloth and fine china.
Whitney pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’m part of his executive team with the publishing group.”
“You used to date, didn’t you?”
Whitney blushed. “Yes. But that was years ago.”
“Didn’t that complicate things?” Callan asked.
Whitney grew hotter under Callan’s scrutiny. “Yes, it did.”
Sage took pity on Whitney. “You’re putting her on the spot, Callan.”
Callan shrugged. “If she can handle Cormac, I’m sure a few questions don’t bother her that much.” She looked at Whitney. “Right?”
Whitney gulped a mouthful of wine. “Right.”
“So how does that work when you sue your ex, who also happens to be your boss?”
“Callan.” Sage gave her youngest sister a pointed look, which Callan chose to ignore.
“At least, I thought Dillon said you’d sued Cormac in a custody battle over the little girl.” Callan smiled blithely. “But I could have misunderstood. To be honest, I don’t know Cormac very well. He’s the mystery Sheenan. He moved away to attend college in California and rarely came back.”
Sage shook her head reprovingly at her baby sister. “Callan has a vested interest in the Sheenans,” she explained.
Whitney glanced from one to the other. “Because their ranch runs adjacent to yours?”
“No.” Sage looked to her sister for permission. Callan shrugged. “We found out a year ago that Callan, and our sister, Dani, have the same biological father as the Sheenans.”
For a moment Whitney didn’t understand.
Callan pushed a dark strand of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Our mom and Bill Sheenan had a long affair,” she said bluntly.
Whitney’s jaw dropped. She stared blankly at Callan, unable to process this. “You’re Cormac’s….”
“Half-sister.” Callan rose. “Anyone else want more wine?”
“Sure,” Whitney mumbled, even though she’d barely touched hers yet.
Talk about a shock.
She was reeling. Cormac’s dad hadn’t just been unfaithful, he’d fathered two girls with a neighbor’s wife?
This wasn’t the sort of revelation she’d expected Thanksgiving weekend but it did give her new insight. No wonder Cormac hadn’t liked coming back to Marietta very often. Growing up, things couldn’t have been all that happy at home.
Chapter Twelve
‡
The Christmas Parade ended at the courthouse with the lighting of the big conifer tree growing in Crawford Park. The tree was as old as the turn-of-the-century courthouse, and looked spectacular covered in big colored lights. Whitney had gone to watch the parade with Eliza and Marshall, viewing it from Crawford Park, but she was finding it hard to feel festive when she kept thinking about the tangled relationships between the Sheenans and Carrigans.
Cormac had never mentioned anything about his father cheating on his mom, but then, that wasn’t the sort of thing that you’d probably want others to know.
She wondered why Callan had shared the information. Had Callan thought it was something Whitney should know?
The crowd began cheering and Whitney saw that Santa was coming, waving to all from his decorated horse-drawn carriage.
Kris looked particularly magnificent today, Whitney thought, waving along with the rest of the crowd. He had a ruddy glow in his cheeks and a sparkle in his bright blue eyes and seemed to be enjoying himself enormously.
Eliza leaned towards Whitney. “He’s a very good Santa, isn’t he?” she said.
“Yes.” Whitney agreed. “I think he’s probably the best one I’ve ever met.”
Still waving to the children ringing the park and streets, Kris stepped from the carriage and headed to the platform that ringed the enormous tree.
The mayor said a few words and then the president of the downtown business association said a few words and then Kris said ho-ho-ho and the tree lights went on and everyone cheered once more. Whitney was clapping, too. It was beautiful.
With the local Girl Scout troop singing carols, kids lined up to say hello to Santa who was still standing in front of the tree, giving out candy canes and hugs.
Whitney was just about to leave with Eliza and Marshall when she spotted Cormac and Daisy in the back of the long line waiting to greet Santa.
Daisy was bouncing on her toes but Cormac looked downright grim. Whitney wondered what was up, and said goodbye to Eliza and Marshall so she could go join Cormac and Daisy.
“Hello,” she said to them, leaning down to hug Daisy. “How was your Thanksgiving? Did you eat lots of turkey?”
Daisy grinned. “No. But I love pumpkin pie.”
“So do I.” As Whitney smiled at her she studied Cormac from the corner of her eyes. He definitely seemed out of sorts about something. “How about you?” she asked him. “Was it a good day?”
“It was fine.”
Even his answer was brusque. “Hmm, not very convincing,” she said. “But I’ll let it slide.”
“Daddy’s a grouch today,” Daisy volunteered. “We were going to go ice skating but there was some problem at work so we didn’t.” Daisy shot Cormac an accusing glance. “But at least we get to see Santa Claus now—” she broke off as she spotted a little girl in line just ahead of them from her preschool class, and they started talking and jumping up and down together chanting “Santa! Santa! Santa!”
Whitney watched Cormac watching Daisy. “Why are you so annoyed?” she whispered to Cormac. “It’s Santa.”
He turned his back to Daisy so she couldn’t hear. “It’s not Santa,” he corrected under his breath. “It’s an old dude in a rented suit. And I’m not a fan, okay?”
“Of all Santas, or just this one?”
“This one. He’s…a little too slick.”
“Slick? He’s not all slick. He’s down to earth and kind and charming—”
“I know you’re a fan. That doesn’t mean I have to be.”
“He really is lovely, Cormac. I’m quite fond of him. Don’t be mean.”
His frown deepened. “I’m not trying to be mean. I just don’t want to see Daisy hurt.”
“Why would she be hurt?”
“Because she believes in Santa’s goodness and all of his magic, certain that he’s going to bring her exactly what she’s asked him for.” He groaned beneath his breath. “And that’s never happened before.”
“What?” she asked, not certain she’d heard him correctly.
“She’s never asked Santa for anything before.”
“Never…ever? Not even when you’d take her to see him for photos and all that?”
He shook his head. “No. She’d just sit there on his lap and get her picture taken. She’d be so serious, barely smiling—” he broke off, brow furrowing, lips compressed.
For a moment he didn’t continue, his pensive gaze fixed on Daisy who was wiggling in line with her friend from preschool, each trying different dance moves. “I just don’t want her hurt. I don’t want her disappointed. She’s finally asked Santa for something…but I don’t know what it is. She won’t tell me. She says Santa knows and Santa’s going to bring it to her. But how can Santa deliver if I don’t know what it is?”
For a split second she thought he was joking—this was ruthless Cormac Sheenan after all—but when his gaze settled on Daisy again and his hard expression softened, Whitney understood.
He didn’t want to let her down. He was genuinely worried about fulfilling Daisy’s Christmas wish.
“Christmas is still weeks away. I’m sure she’ll tell you.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Then I’ll find out for you.”
“You think you could?”
“Of course.”
“How?”
“I’m a girl. We girls love to talk and share secrets.”
*
By the middle of the next week, things were progressing so well at the Crookshank Building that Whitney was able to spend a few days at her desk, focusing on her primary job—the magazines.
She was happy to be back doing what she did best. It was stimulating and yet familiar. After checking in with Jeff, she read reports, Skyped with her team back in Denver, going over the magazine budgets and layouts, talking future issues, and reminding the staff that soon she wouldn’t be there, that everything they were discussing could and would change, and that everyone in the publishing group needed to be prepared for change.
Which made her wonder, who would be taking over her job? Was Jeff in charge of replacing her, or did Cormac have someone in mind?
When Cormac dropped by her office just after lunch on Wednesday, she was on the phone talking with the Senior Editor of Big Sky Bridal and trying to help handle an advertiser problem with the May/June issue before it turned into a full-blown crisis that impacted all of the Sheenan publications.
She waved Cormac into her office and he took a seat across from her and waited while she ended the call.
“Calm under fire,” he said. “You’re good.”
“Don’t say that yet. We will have to see how this resolves.”
“If you’re handling the problem, it’ll work out. It always does.”
“You have such confidence.”
“In you. I don’t think you’ve ever let me down.”
She inhaled hard, feeling a pinch of emotion that she didn’t want to feel. Not here, not while working with him.
“I have a situation, too. I need to jump on a plane to LA today, be there for a meeting in the morning.”
“Go.”
He hesitated. “I’m worried about Daisy. I’m not comfortable having her stay at Trey and McKenna’s yet.”
“What about with Troy and Taylor? I’d think they’d be great with her.”
“Everyone would be wonderful with her. It’s Daisy I’m concerned about. She doesn’t handle change well. She doesn’t need the upheaval.” He hesitated. “Would you be willing to stay with her? She adores you and is comfortable with you, and I know she’d be safe with you.”
Whitney blinked, surprised, not just by the favor, but by his trust. “Of course I’d stay with her.”
“The hotel room service has cleaned the suite already. The bed has fresh sheets—”
“I’m not worried about your sheets.”
He smiled reluctantly. “I’d leave this afternoon. Catch the five o’clock flight out.”
“Would I need to pick Daisy up from preschool?”
He nodded. “She goes to after school care and you’d just sign her out. I’ve already given them your name.”
“You were that confident I’d say yes?”
He shrugged. “You’ve never let me down.”
*
Whitney was woken in the middle of the night by Daisy’s cry. She jumped from bed and stumbled in the dark to Daisy’s roll away, leaning over the bed to comfort Daisy. The little girl’s eyes were closed but she was crying and thrashing, legs and arms restlessly moving.
“Ssssh, it’s okay,” Whitney whispered, rubbing her back, trying to calm her. “It’s okay, Daisy. It’s just a dream.”
She sat by Daisy’s side, rubbing her back until the girl fell back asleep.
It took Whitney much longer to fall asleep again, wondering how often Daisy had bad dreams and how Cormac normally handled them.
*
The next morning when Cormac called to check on Daisy, Whitney asked him about the nightmares.
“Did she have another one last night?” he replied.
“Yes. She was really upset, kicking and fighting.”
He sighed. “This is new. I mean, it’s new since the school incident. She’d never had dreams like this before.”
“Have you tried talking to her about it?”
“She doesn’t want to talk about what happened at school, and she doesn’t seem to remember the dreams the next day. But it’s clearly upsetting.”
“Have you thought about getting her in to see someone? A doctor or counselor?”
“She doesn’t need a shrink.”
“The right person, a child psychologist, for example, would know how to talk to her about it—”
“No. I don’t trust shrinks. They’re in business to make money. And they’ll suggest she take some kind of pill and I’m not going to do that to her.”
“That’s a little bit ignorant.”
“I appreciate that you’re concerned, Whitney,” he retorted sharply, “but she’s my daughter, and I’m not going to have her medicated or confused by some stranger filling her head with stuff. She’s a child. She needs stability and routine, and that’s what I’m determined to give her. So tell her I’ll try my best to get out of here tonight, and hope to be there when she wakes in the morning.”
*
But it began to snow that afternoon, and once it started, it didn’t stop. The snow came down in a blinding white sheet and flights were cancelled. School was even let out early to allow the school bus to get kids home before the roads became too dangerous.
Whitney was happy to spend another night with Daisy. She walked to the school and checked Daisy out and they danced their way from Church Street back to the Graff.
Daisy kept tipping her head back and sticking out her tongue to catch the snowflakes and Whitney laughed as Daisy kept swallowing them going “yum.”
Yum, indeed, Whitney thought, hopping up the hotel steps hand in hand with the four-year-old. This was pretty magical. Daisy’s delight made the world feel sparkly and new.
As the doorman opened the door for them, Daisy tugged on Whitney’s hand. “Let’s go say hi to Santa.”
She brushed stray flakes from Daisy’s nose and cheek. “Is he here? I didn’t think he worked until the evening.”
“He always comes just before dinner time. Is it almost dinner time?”
And then as if magic, he was there, blowing into the hotel with a gust of wind and snow, white gloved hands tucked into his wide black belt, laughing and ho-ho-hoing.
“I told you!” Daisy sang, dashing to fling herself at Kris.
Kris gave her a great big hug back.
Whitney watched them, smiling, wishing childhood could last forever. And then Daisy was skipping back and flashed her candy cane. “He remembers me every time,” she said happily.
“Of course. Santa loves you.”
“I know. And he’s really going to help me with my Christmas wish.”
Daisy had her full attention now. “What have you asked Santa for this year?”
“Oh, I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a secret surprise.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“But if I tell you it won’t be a surprise anymore.”
Whitney watched Kris walk to his big gold chair with children trailing not far behind. “Is it something he will make in his toy workshop?” she asked.
“I can’t tell you,” Daisy said firmly. “It’s a surprise.”
Whitney was beginning to understand Cormac’s concern. “And Santa said he can bring this?”
“He said he’s working on it, so that means yes.”
*
Whitney gave Daisy a bath and got her in warm pajamas and then they colored in Daisy’s Princess Sofia coloring book while waiting for room service to bring up Daisy’s macaroni and cheese.
Having finished her coloring in Sofia’s skirt and shoes, Whitney began doodling in the margins, drawing pictures of miniature Christmas trees and snowmen and snowflakes.
While shading the snowman’s hat, Whitney casually asked Daisy if she ever had bad dreams.
“No,” Daisy said, pausing coloring Sofia’s crown to watch Whitney work on the snowman’s scarf.
“You don’t ever dream bad things?”
“No.” Daisy tilted her head. “Are you going to give him a r
ed scarf?”
“Should I?”
Daisy nodded.
Whitney picked up the red crayon and drew a long scarf that appeared to blow in the wind. “You don’t ever worry about anything?” She asked, adding a little fringe to the scarf.
“No.” Daisy leaned over the table to draw something on the snowman’s face.
“What is that?” Whitney asked, watching the brown crayon scribble over much of the snowman’s round face.
“His pipe and his smoke.”
“Ah. Good call.” Her lips twitched. “You’re a very good drawer, Daisy.”
“I know.” She looked up at Whitney and smiled. “This is fun, huh?”
Whitney smiled back. “It is.”
“Will you always be my god-momma?”
A lump formed in Whitney’s throat. “Always.”
“And we’ll always do fun things like this together?”
Whitney leaned over and kissed Daisy’s nose. “Always.”
*
It was still snowing Friday morning. Whitney pushed aside the blackout curtain in the hotel room to look out on the street. The snow blanketed the town, turning everything a glittering white.
She had a feeling with this much snow, school would either be cancelled or the opening would be delayed.
Whitney climbed back into bed with her phone to check the news. She was in the middle of searching for school closure when Cormac texted her.
No school today, the text read.
He added a moment later. Planes still grounded, Bozeman airport closed.
She answered his text. That’s okay. We’re doing great. No bad dreams last night, either.
He replied with a thumbs up emoji.
She giggled, amused that Cormac Sheenan would resort to an emoji. What was the world coming to?
She answered his emoji with one of her own, sending him a cat that was laughing so hard it cried. She didn’t know why she sent a laughing crying cat. It just felt right.
He answered with a heart. A red heart.
She stared at the red heart for a long time before putting the phone away.
*
After a lazy morning in the room, they headed downstairs for breakfast and then Whitney got a call from Trey Sheenan saying he and McKenna and TJ wanted to take Daisy sledding and Cormac had given them permission. Would Whitney mind if they stopped by the hotel and picked her up?
