Mistletoe on Main Street (series t/k)

by Olivia Miles

  But then, she wouldn’t have had Sophie.

  “Guess you guys were meant to be,” Grace said, but something in her tone made Jane pause. It was less of an observation than a question.

  When Jane only responded with a mild shrug, Grace continued, her eyes turning wistful. “First love,” she said, her voice drifting low, barely audible.

  Jane narrowed her gaze. “I often wonder how many first loves even make it for the long haul. When you’re young and naïve, you don’t realize what the world has in store for you, you know? You think that nothing else matters so long as you’re with him, that your love won’t fade, that it will get you through anything.” She scowled.

  Grace turned to her, frowning. “Is everything okay?”

  Jane’s pulse skipped. She could feel her body heat rise. She’d broken a promise to herself, letting her emotions get the better of her. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Her voice hitched, but she maintained an even expression.

  Grace clearly wasn’t buying it. “Because if it isn’t, you can tell me, you know,” she said. “I’m your sister. That’s what I’m here for.”

  Jane gave a nervous chuckle, cutting the air with her hand to show how silly the conversation was, but her chest felt like it was being wrung through a vise. She could tell her, right now. She could finally open the floodgates, cry on someone’s shoulder. But she couldn’t. She had kept it inside for so long that she was no longer certain what would happen when she released it—somehow saying it aloud made it real. A fact. Not just a silly notion in her head.

  Her husband was having an affair.

  Grace could never understand, not any more than Anna. Neither of her sisters had been married, or had a child. Anna had never even been in love as far as she knew, and Grace—well, Grace was clearly incapable of commitment. When things didn’t suit her exactly as she wanted, she fled. She didn’t know the first thing about compromise. Sacrifice. What it took to keep a family together.

  She knew what her sisters would say. What they would tell her to do. And she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She… didn’t want it to come to that. The D word.

  Even if deep down she knew it probably should.

  “Everything’s fine,” Jane said, trying to look perplexed. Switching gears, she said, “Besides, it’s really me who should be asking you if everything is okay. You were really quiet in the car on the way over here.”

  Grace turned her attention from the photograph, her shoulders deflating on a sigh. “I saw Luke last night.”

  Aha. Jane gave her an encouraging smile and tipped her head in the direction of the kitchen. “Let’s have something warm to drink and chat.”

  Grace smiled. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jane. Mom’s in her own world and Anna…”

  “Anna is just being Anna?” Jane arched a brow and opened a cabinet, searching for her peppermint tea leaves.

  “I guess so,” Grace said slowly, “but I feel like something else is going on with her. She’s always been focused and busy, but now she seems… detached. I don’t even think she’s very happy to see me.” Grace chuckled softly but Jane could detect the undertone of pain.

  “Don’t worry about Anna,” she said gently, sliding into a bar stool at the kitchen island. “She’ll come around. She’s dealing with the loss in her own way. I think it’s harder on everyone at Christmas.”

  “Tell me about it,” Grace muttered. She listlessly stirred some sugar into her tea.

  Grateful for an excuse not to think about her crumbling marriage, Jane asked, “What’s going on with you and Luke?”

  Grace’s eyes flew open as she met her gaze. “Luke? There’s nothing going on with Luke and me. I… saw him. Again,” she added.

  Jane pinched her lips, hiding a smile. For someone who insisted there was nothing going on, it sure seemed like there was a lot not being said. “You know he’ll be at the pageant tonight, too. I hope you’re okay with that.”

  She watched as her sister tried to put on a show of surprise, perhaps even disappointment. “Oh, yeah… Anna told me.” She shrugged. “That’s fine, I guess.”

  Jane nodded, hiding her upturned mouth behind the rim of her cup. “He’s great with the kids,” she continued. “He was voted Teacher of the Year three years in a row. You know he’s the principal now, right?”

  Grace took a great interest in picking up her mug, taking a sip. “Oh,” was all she said.

  “This is his second year, but I get the feeling he misses being in the classroom.”

  Grace’s eyebrows drew to a point. “You talk with him?”

  Jane shook her head. “Idle gossip.”

  There was a lot of gossip about Luke these days. He was considered a real catch in a town like this, with his good looks and thoughtful personality. With the money Luke inherited from his father’s investment stakes in three local ski resorts, he could have had any career in the world, and here he was, a teacher-turned-principal at the same elementary school he had attended. Lots of the single women in town found this swoon-worthy, but Jane knew Luke’s career path, and specifically the location, had only served to infuriate Grace.

  Grace had always wanted something more for herself. Something glamorous. And she’d found it.

  Jane stared into her steaming tea. Where would life have brought her if she had opted for something more glamorous herself, she wondered. Would she have ever made it as a dancer? Or would she have failed and ended up right where she began?

  She guessed she’d never know.

  Grace inhaled audibly and Jane gauged her sister’s mood, wondering how far she could push her. It seemed that Grace was determined to feign nonchalance, but Jane knew better. Luke was not easily forgotten.

  When she was younger, Luke was like the cool big brother she’d never had—it had been a loss to her when he was no longer a part of their lives. No one in the family would admit it, making a silent allegiance not to speculate or question, but they’d all secretly wished that Grace would smooth things over, bring Luke back into their lives again. Instead, they had quietly drifted away, watching from a distance as he moved on with his life.

  “His father would have been proud,” Jane said, thinking of Mr. Hastings, who had died in a car accident when she was only a bit older than Sophie. She could barely remember him, but Rosemary Hastings (or Madame Hastings, as she liked to go by during class time) always spoke of him fondly after her ballet class was over. Jane was often the last to leave the studio, desperate for five more minutes at the barre, and so she alone would accompany Madame Hastings out of the building, out into the cool evening air, often accepting a ride home if it was too dark or rainy to ride her bike. She knew from the stories Luke’s mother told, from the faraway gleam in her eye, that his father had been a good man. Just like her own.

  “Dad would have been proud, too,” she added, knowing how close he and Luke had been.

  A wave of exasperation crossed Grace’s face. “What are you getting at, Jane?”

  Jane frowned. “Nothing,” she said, backtracking. She had gone too far. Pushed a sensitive subject. She should have known Grace would react this way. After all, up until yesterday Luke’s name was still off-limits. He was not to be discussed in Grace’s presence. Ever. Her reaction now was proof of what happened if they broke that promise. “I’m sorry. You brought him up, so I figured it was okay to talk about him.”

  Grace relaxed her stance. “No, I’m sorry. It’s my problem, not yours.” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Grace eyed her. “I mean, do you know… has he dated anyone since…” She stopped herself, and straightened her back. “Forget it. I don’t know why I asked.”

  Jane hesitated. “He keeps to himself,” she said matter-of-factly, and Grace pursed her lips, seeming satisfied with the response.

  Jane set her empty tea mug on the counter and stood, pushing back her chair and crossing to the pantry to retrieve the i
ngredients for the cookies. She’d been promising Sophie all day that they’d decorate sugar cut-out cookies, and she wasn’t about to go back on her word. Right now, all she could offer her daughter were the small, simple things. The rest was out of her control.

  The phone at the far end of the room rang, reverberating off the hushed kitchen walls, and Jane gasped, wondering if… She darted her gaze to her sister, who was peering at her, confusion folding her soft features. “Are you going to get that?” she asked.

  “What?” Jane said. She stared at the phone. Her pulse kicked with each trill. “Sure, of course.”

  She lifted her chin and crossed the room with a stride more confident than she felt, answering on what she knew to be the last ring. “Hello?” she said briskly, folding her free arm tight across her waist as she leaned back against the wall.

  It was Adam. “Hey.”

  “Oh, hello,” she said brightly. Fake it ’til you make it. That was her motto these days, even if it did make her feel like a silly, stupid fool. She gritted her teeth bitterly, drifting her eyes away from Grace’s curious stare. “How’s work going?”

  “What?” Adam grumbled. There was a ruffling of papers. He sounded distracted. Uninterested. And she was beginning to feel desperate. “I was calling about tonight. I have to work late, so don’t wait up for me.”

  Her heart sank. She could feel the blood rushing in her veins. She willed her voice to remain steady, calm. “Okay. Sophie has her pageant tonight.” Her voice was shrill, even to her own ears.

  She wished Grace would stop watching her.

  “That’s tonight?” Adam repeated. “Oh, crap.”

  Jane bit down on her lip. She motioned to Grace to check on Sophie, hoping that her daughter’s ears wouldn’t perk up at the thought of her father on the phone, that she wouldn’t overhear something she shouldn’t. She waited with a pounding heart until Grace exited the kitchen, and then crossed the room quickly, shutting herself inside the pantry.

  “Yes, that’s tonight, Adam,” she hissed. “I reminded you last night.”

  “No, you didn’t,” he accused, and Jane felt her blood pressure soar.

  “Yes,” she said flatly. “I did.”

  “I must not have heard,” he replied.

  Jane narrowed her eyes. More like you must not have been listening, she thought bitterly. It was happening more and more, no matter how hard she tried to fight it. He’d walk through the door at whatever hour he deigned to come home, mutter a greeting, and walk past her, leaving her standing in shock, mouth open expectantly, feeling like she didn’t even exist. She tried to brush it off, wear him down, volunteer information about her day, tell him something funny that Sophie had said that morning, and sometimes she got a little smile, a hint of an acknowledgment, but more often than not, he said nothing, not even meeting her eye.

  She pressed her hand over her face. Her husband did not see her anymore. What was she even holding on to?

  Don’t say anything you’ll regret, she reminded herself. “Well, it starts at six,” she said.

  “Six!”

  What else did he have to do at six, she wondered. Dinner two towns over at a hotel restaurant with his mistress? She’d seen the receipts, the credit card statements. When they arrived in the mail, she pored over them, her hands trembling as her eyes scanned the list. It was her only way of knowing it was still going on. Her only way of feeling remotely in control of her reality.

  It amazed her that he still let her pay the bills. That he thought she was so blind, so trusting, so stupid, that she would buy his lies about these client meetings. “Client meeting tonight?” she inquired, bracing herself.

  “I guess I can see if I can change it,” he muttered.

  Jane clenched her hand tighter around the receiver. “Well, I’m sure it will mean a lot to Sophie to have you there.”

  “Of course,” he said, his tone softening, and for one, daring second, Jane felt her spirits rise. She held her breath, wondering if he had a change of heart, if the thought of sitting side by side, watching their daughter perform in the preschool chorus warmed him to her, made him remember the woman he had fallen in love with, the woman who had given him the child he loved so dearly. “I would never want to disappoint Sophie.”

  And me? Jane knew it was silly, immature, but she couldn’t help it. How could he care so much for their child and so little for her? She hadn’t cheated. She hadn’t lied. She had done exactly what she had promised to do. And it wasn’t enough.

  She blinked back the hot tears that blurred her vision. “So, I’ll see you tonight, then.”

  “Don’t bother waiting for me,” he informed her. “I’ll come straight to the school from the office.” His words translated into the usual: he would arrive on his terms, his schedule. He would do what was convenient for him.

  A flash of anger burst through her core, quickly drying her self-pitying tears. How could she care about a man like this? A man who never stopped to show her consideration, who didn’t ever think about her plans, her feelings? Why would she even want a life with this man? A man who cheated on her, lied to her, and looked straight through her?

  She knew the reason why: Sophie.

  She wanted to give her child a family. Adam may have stopped trying, so now she would have to fight for both of them. For all three of them.

  She hung up the phone and set it on a shelf next to a box of oatmeal, letting out a long, shaky breath. She pressed her palms against her eyes, enjoying the brief indulgence of hiding in the self-inflicted darkness, escaping her harsh reality for a second more. Get a grip, get a grip.

  Right. She counted to three and then released her hands, squared her shoulders, and pushed open the pantry door.

  Grace and Sophie were standing in the kitchen, staring at her with bewildered expressions. With all the happiness she could muster, Jane plastered a toothy grin on her face. “So!” she exclaimed, rubbing her hands together with excitement. “Who’s ready to make some cookies?”

  CHAPTER

  13

  Grace discreetly scanned the dimly lit auditorium of the Briar Creek Grade School, her heart drumming in her chest. She scoffed at her own nonsense and turned her attention back to her mother, who had accompanied her this evening. From across the mass of people, Grace caught the flicker of a familiar face, the wave of a hand. “There’s Anna,” she said, quickening her step.

  She wanted to get to her seat and stay there. She’d already noticed more than a few people she recognized—they’d be curious to know how long she was in town, what she had been up to, if she knew about Luke being single again… She smiled politely at the people she recognized as she shuffled into her row and collapsed into one of the empty chairs Anna had covered with her scarf, coat, and handbag.

  See, this is what Luke had never understood. In Briar Creek everyone knew everybody else. They knew your business. They married people they had seen in diapers. It was the same recycled life over and over again. He didn’t mind that; instead, he took comfort in it. But she… Well, she didn’t know what she wanted anymore.

  There was a time when she thought that big-city life was a necessity, that her soul would shrivel up and die without the exhilaration. Yet all it took was ten minutes of Luke’s presence to leave her wavering.

  “Is Jane sitting with us?” she asked as she shrugged out of her coat. She purposefully omitted mentioning Adam, waiting instead to see if Anna might shed some light.

  “I haven’t seen her yet,” Anna said, giving a cursory glance to the back of the room.

  Grace craned her neck to look for them and then, catching the heated stare of Mrs. Hastings, she whipped around. She felt herself blanch as her pulse began to race.

  “Is everything okay?” Anna asked, bemused.

  “What?” Grace frowned. Her chest heaved with each breath; her neck felt sweaty, slick. She unraveled her scarf—Luke’s scarf—and tucked it into her lap guiltily. She’d only brought it so she could return it to him, but the
night was colder than she’d expected and so she’d innocently tied it on. There was no denying that Rosemary Hastings recognized its origin. “Everything is fine. Just fine.” She opened the program and pretended to become immediately engrossed.

  Mrs. Hastings. Luke’s mother. What must she think of her! Rationally, she knew that Mrs. Hastings would harbor no hard feelings—after all, Luke had moved on with his life after their breakup, married, settled down. People broke up all the time; surely she understood that. Five years had passed; she wouldn’t still be caught up with Luke’s broken heart over the woman he hadn’t married. That would be ridiculous, preposterous!

  And honestly, Grace convinced herself, it was Luke who had decided they were truly finished for good.

  She kept her head low, feeling the flush of heat creep its way up her neck. It was absurd, she knew. She was nearly thirty years old now; she was an adult. She had moved on, as had Luke. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be able to walk over to Mrs. Hastings and greet her with a warm smile, catch up on things at the ballet studio, and ask about her daughters, Luke’s sisters.

  Oh my God, are they here, too?

  Grace pressed her palm against her stomach in an effort to settle it. This was craziness. She had successfully avoided Kara and Molly at Mark’s party. If they were searching for a confrontation, she would have faced it last night. Besides, she and Luke were a thing of the past. Of course Luke’s family would be happy to see her, as she was them… sort of.

  No matter how many ways she looked at it, she couldn’t fight the resounding feeling that she had let them down. All of them. Luke’s family. Hers. Luke and Grace, Grace and Luke. They were… a thing. A fixture. A given. No one expected them to break up, to live separate lives. They were supposed to carry on as they always had: together, right here in Briar Creek.