The Twelve Dates of Christmas

by Susan Meier

  He coughed. That was exactly why he wanted to buy her a fur. “You seem so sure.”

  “People are transparent. But none of this is actually my point.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “My mother doesn’t have a diamond necklace.”

  “You think your dad doesn’t love her or doesn’t appreciate her?”

  “I think he doesn’t have hundreds of thousands to millions of dollars to spend on jewelry.”

  Ricky stopped dancing. Confused, he said, “Everybody here does.”

  “Which is the conclusion of my point.” She nudged him to start dancing again. “My parents have lots of money. But they’re not in this class.”

  He frowned, not quite understanding what she was getting at. “So?”

  “So maybe that’s why they were so mad that I embarrassed them.”

  He thought back to his beginnings in New York City society. He remembered renting a tux because he didn’t own one and hiring a limo with a driver. He hadn’t done it for the sake of impressing anyone. He simply wanted to fit in. Not look like an upstart. Not look like somebody who didn’t belong. If Eloise’s parents were image conscious, her embarrassing them might have shaken them more than normal people. That is, if they thought more of their station in society than their daughter. And it appeared they did.

  “Maybe.”

  “The few times we came to New York City for Christmas events, they were extremely clear with me and my older brother that we shouldn’t do anything to embarrass them.”

  He frowned, catching her gaze. “Where is all this coming from?”

  She shrugged. “I did some thinking today. Came to some conclusions.”

  A happy thought filled him with hope. He might not have found her a job, but maybe being with him had caused her to see some things about her life, things that might help her stop being so sad.

  “So the past couple of weeks with my friends has been good for you?”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  He twirled them around. “Of course it matters. You miss your parents. You’re trying to figure it out because you’re trying to find an angle or reason to go home.”

  She glanced away. “I don’t think so.”

  He desperately wanted her to be able to go home, to have the acceptance she needed. Not just to make sure she got something from their deal, but because no one should be alone for Christmas. Especially not somebody so pretty and so nice.

  He waited a second, then said, “What would you have to do to be able to go home?”

  She smiled devilishly. “Buy my mom a diamond necklace?”

  He huffed out a sigh. “I’m being serious here.”

  “I don’t think I can go home.”

  He glanced down. “Why not?”

  She looked away for a few seconds, then caught his gaze again. “I’ve found more love and acceptance with Olivia and Laura Beth than I ever had with my parents. And with their acceptance I realized how dysfunctional my own family is.”

  He thought about how he hadn’t been home in nearly two years. Didn’t call. Didn’t take his mother’s calls. Because everything about his family reminded him of Blake.

  “Everybody’s family is dysfunctional to a degree.”

  “Not like this. My parents don’t know how to love. Even though it hurts to have no one, sometimes a person is better off being alone than living around people who only use them.”

  Or sometimes a person is better off being alone than being with people who only revive their sorrow.

  “Maybe.”

  “Okay, here’s the best example. My parents would love to see me with you. They’d use that like a stepladder. They’d treat me like royalty to get to you. And then they’d use you for introductions or insider information or whatever they thought they could get. But when you and I stopped seeing each other, they’d put me back on a shelf again. Like something they pulled out when they needed it.” She shook her head. “As a kid, when they’d put me back on the shelf, I’d jump through hoops to get their attention, their affection. I’d do well in school or volunteer to work for a very visible charity. Sometimes they’d pat me on the head, but most of the time they’d ignore me. Even in their home, at their dinner table, I was alone. Lonely. I don’t want to go back to that.”

  He wouldn’t either. No matter how much he stayed away, he knew the second he came home, his family would smother him with love.

  Familiar sadness for her filled him, but he stopped it from totally taking over. She’d figured all this out on her own, clearly come to terms with it. She was a strong woman. A unique, wonderful person. No one needed to pity her. He might wish he could help her, but he would never, ever feel sorry for her.

  The band took a break, and Ricky and Eloise walked back to the table. Tucker and Olivia leaned in together, as if they were telling secrets. But Olivia’s face was pinched and Tucker’s brow had furrowed.

  Ricky tensed.

  Eloise walked over and stooped beside Olivia’s chair. “Wanna tell me what’s going on here?”

  Close enough to hear and not wanting to look overly interested in case it was a lover’s quarrel, Ricky took his seat.

  Tucker said, “We think Olivia might be in labor.”

  Eloise gasped. “And she flew? You let her get on an airplane this close to her due date?”

  “She’s not due for another month. Her doctor said it was fine.”

  Olivia panted out a breath. “Seriously. I’m not due for a month. This might not be labor. Everybody said it was fine for me to fly.”

  Eloise sighed. “It might have been fine for you to fly, but you’re not fine now.” She reached across the table, grabbed her small handbag, retrieved her phone and dialed 911. “This is Eloise Vaughn. I’m at the Ritz with a woman who is in labor.”

  Olivia said, “Really Eloise, that’s not necessary.... Oh my God!”

  Tucker stiffened. “What?”

  Olivia caught Eloise’s hand. “Tell them to hurry.”

  When Eloise finished the call, Olivia squeezed her fingers. “If it’s possible, I want to get down to the lobby.”

  Eloise gaped at her. “The lobby?”

  “I don’t want to make a scene. Get me downstairs, hide me somewhere. I don’t want anybody to see if my water breaks or hear me if I scream.”

  There wasn’t a woman in the world who wouldn’t understand that and Eloise couldn’t refuse. “Can you walk?”

  Olivia nodded.

  She motioned for Ricky to come over to them. “Tucker’s going to help Olivia to the door. You and I are going to walk behind them just in case.”

  Ricky nodded, but memory after memory of Blake’s birth tumbled through him. He hadn’t been in love with Blake’s mother. Basically, they’d been nightclub friends who’d slept together, and she ended up pregnant. He hadn’t gone to birthing classes, didn’t really want to be in the delivery room—and he hadn’t been—but he’d gone to the hospital when Blake was born. The same hospital where his son had ultimately died. And that was probably the same hospital Tucker would direct Olivia to, if only because, like Ricky, he was on their board of directors.

  Eloise caught his arm and pulled him in step behind Tucker and Olivia. “Get with the program, slick.”

  He shook himself out of his reverie. If this were anybody but Tucker and Olivia, the torrent of memories assaulting him right now would have frozen him solid.

  But when Olivia’s steps faltered, he was right behind her, ready to catch her.

  * * *

  Ricky’s limo pulled onto the emergency entrance ramp behind the ambulance with Olivia and Tucker inside. Eloise leaped out the second the car stopped.

  She was at the door of the ambulance as they pulled the gurney off and Tucke
r jumped down.

  The pair, Olivia’s best friend and her husband, hustled with Olivia into the emergency room.

  Ricky held back. Everything inside him told him to leave. Too many bad memories were associated with this hospital. Yet he couldn’t seem to get his mouth to form the words to tell Norman to go. His best friend’s baby was coming early. Olivia’s life could be in jeopardy.

  And Eloise was upset. She might have taken control, but he’d felt her vibrating with fear through the entire drive over. He could not leave her.

  He slid out of the limo, leaned inside his still open back door and sent Norman home. Blake had taken nineteen hours to make his appearance. Tucker and Olivia’s child could take as long or longer.

  He ambled into the emergency room, gave his name at the desk and flashed his ID as a member of the board. “I want to be apprised of Olivia Engle’s condition every step of the way.”

  The receptionist shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir. But our privacy policy prevents that unless you’re family.” She gave him a hopeful look, clearly not wanting to get into a battle of wills with a hospital director.

  Tucking his key card into his jacket pocket, he put her out of her misery. “Check with Mr. Engle. He’ll tell you it’s okay.”

  She walked away, and, a few minutes later, she returned and told him that Olivia had been taken upstairs to the maternity ward.

  Haunted, afraid to go back to the part of the hospital that had the good memories, memories of Blake being born, of holding his son for the first time, of wrapping the tiny, squiggly bundle in a blanket before securing him in his car seat, Ricky took his time walking to the elevator and then down the long cool corridor to the waiting room of the maternity ward.

  An hour went by. He sat. He paced. He sat some more, elbows on his knees, hands dropped between his legs. Eventually, he stood, untied his tie, undid the first two buttons of his shirt and walked to the intensive care unit in the children’s ward, where he stood by the window and stared at the empty cribs.

  If he closed his eyes, he could see his son bandaged and bruised, an IV locked into his hand, his little chest barely rising and falling as a ventilator did his breathing for him.

  Tears filled his eyes, reviving his shame. Then he realized Tucker’s baby might be too small, too weak, and the newest member of the happy Engle family might spend his or her first days or weeks or even a year in the same crib as Blake.

  His shame morphed into fear. Real fear that Tucker and Olivia might face the devastation of losing a child. He could feel every bit of sorrow that would overwhelm them and cursed. That shouldn’t happen to anyone. But Olivia and Tucker? They were special. They didn’t deserve this.

  The rustle of skirts interrupted the quiet, and he turned to see Eloise walking down the hall.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He frowned. “This is a private ward. How’d you get in here?”

  She showed him a key card. “Tucker gave me this and said to find you. How did you get in here?”

  He pulled the key card just like Tucker’s from his tuxedo jacket pocket.

  “Wow. You two must be some big-time donors.”

  “We’re on the board.” He sucked in a breath. “How’s Olivia?”

  She winced. “Not in labor. The doctor’s keeping her overnight just to be sure, but she’s fine.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief, so glad Tucker and Olivia’s baby would be okay that for several seconds he couldn’t function. Finally, he ran his hand across the back of his neck and forced his muscles and brain to relax. “That’s good.”

  She looked around. “It’s so quiet here.”

  “That’s normal in the children’s ICU.”

  He expected a question or two. She’d earned the right to ask them. He felt her curiosity like a living, breathing thing. Still, she said nothing.

  His respect for her grew. He’d told her he didn’t want her to know his past, his pain, because he didn’t want her to treat him any differently—or, worse, to pity him. And if the casual way she behaved around him was anything to go by, she hadn’t looked him up on the internet and hadn’t asked his friends for information.

  It boggled his mind that she hadn’t investigated him. If the tables were turned, he would have been driven crazy until he gave in to his curiosity, but he would have given in. She’d been a rock. She was probably the most trustworthy person on the planet.

  “Good evening, Mr. Langley.” Regina walked up to them, giving Eloise a quick once-over. “And who is this?”

  He looked from Regina to Eloise, who met his gaze with as much curiosity about how he’d answer as Regina had.

  Their gazes locked. She’d gone to all his parties with him, always kept up the charade and always looked pretty for him, even though it probably meant working like a Christmas elf to get that party’s dress altered. He’d refused to tell her his secrets and she’d accepted it.

  He couldn’t think of her as nothing but a fake date anymore. He might not be her real boyfriend, but she was more than a partner in a charade.

  He caught her hand and squeezed it. “She’s a friend.”

  Eloise smiled.

  Regina said, “Well, it’s quiet up here tonight. Stay as long as you like.”

  It didn’t seem right to stand with Eloise at the window to the room where his son had died. He didn’t want her to see his grief. Plus, with Olivia fine and the baby out of danger, there was no reason to stay.

  “Actually, we were just on our way out.”

  “Good night then.”

  “Good night, Regina.” He directed Eloise to the elevator. “I sent Norman home. We’re going to have to get a taxi.”

  “A taxi! Do you know how expensive taxis are?”

  He laughed, then realized that’s exactly what she’d intended for him to do. But the sights and the sounds of the hospital kept him grounded in reality, and he suddenly felt guilty for those three seconds of happiness.

  No matter how much Eloise lifted his spirits, in his heart he knew he didn’t deserve to be whole.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ELOISE ROLLED OVER in bed the next morning, not able to get herself to crawl out and face the day.

  She wasn’t the kind to overthink things, but why would someone choose to wait in the intensive care unit of the children’s ward instead of the maternity waiting room?

  She let the obvious reasons flit through her brain. Maybe Ricky had spent time there himself as a child. Or maybe one of his siblings had. Or maybe he’d had a child who’d been there. Maybe a child born prematurely, as Tucker and Olivia’s child had almost been the night before.

  The last one made so much sense that new scenarios began rolling through her head. Scary scenarios. Things his friends’ wives would call a tragedy. Things she had no basis to believe. Things that had no grounding in reality.

  With a growl, she shoved off the covers, climbed out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen. Laura Beth already sat at the little round table, drinking tea.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey. You’re up early for someone who was at a party last night.”

  She walked to the counter and started making a pot of coffee. “We took Olivia to the hospital.”

  Laura Beth gasped. “Last night? Is she okay?”

  “False labor. She’s fine. Baby’s fine.”

  “But...”

  She faced Laura Beth. “But what?”

  “There’s but in your voice. Like there’s a catch. She’s fine but she’s on bed rest or something. What’s the catch?”

  “There is none. It was just false labor. She’s really fine.” She bit her lower lip. “But my fake date did something that puzzled me.”

  “What?”

  “He waited in the children’s ICU instead of the mater
nity waiting room.”

  “Maybe he thought something would be wrong with the baby, so he waited there.”

  She gasped and closed her eyes. Of course. That made so much more sense. His choice of waiting place wasn’t about him but Olivia’s baby.

  Unfortunately, by the time she walked to the table and sat, she’d poked a hole in that theory. “Isn’t there a neonatal ICU? One just for newborns?”

  Laura Beth shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know much about hospitals, but there may be a special ICU for newborns.”

  Confused again, Eloise sucked in a breath. “Well, he’s also on the hospital board, so maybe he was just looking around, checking on things.” She thought of the nurse who’d talked to him and grimaced. “No. That’s not it either. A nurse came up to him. She acted as if she knows him.”

  “If he’s on the board, of course she knows him.”

  She shook her head. “No. This was more like she knew him personally.”

  Laura Beth winced. “Was she young and pretty?”

  “Middle-aged but very pretty. Still, it wasn’t that. The way she reacted to him was more like she was accustomed to seeing him.” She tried to remember their conversation. “She said stay as long as you like...as if he’d been in the ward before, staring into that ICU room.”

  Picking up her empty cup, Laura Beth rose from the table. “I think you’re making more out of this than you should because you’re trying to figure out the ‘tragedy’ those dinner party wives told you about.” She shook her head. “Think it through. His friend’s wife was in the hospital, maybe in early labor. That about stopped my heart. So I’m sure it scared him too. He might have simply gone to the children’s ICU not remembering there’d be a NICU.”

  She frowned. “Maybe.” Her brain could accept that, but her heart disagreed. There was something about the way he stood in front of that window, staring inside.

  Her disappointment rattled through her. He’d called her his friend the night before. Yet, here she sat, trying to guess what had happened in his life because he didn’t trust her enough to tell her.