Coming Home for Christmas

by Fern Michaels

  Hank wanted to confide in Amy, to tell her about Alice’s great escape, but he decided against it because he didn’t want to be disloyal to his sister-in-law. He decided to change the subject. “Are you going to go to Mr. Carpenter’s funeral? I imagine the wake will be this evening. I’m going. I can pick you up if you want.” Assuming Mason would babysit. No need to tell Amy about that either, he thought.

  “I’d like that very much. I was going to order some flowers after I finished stringing the lights. Then you showed up . . .”

  “I guess I came on a little strong. I’m sorry. I’ve been . . .” He was going to say upset with the way things were going, but at the last second finished lamely with, “Upset with Albert’s death. He was special.”

  Amy poured coffee and removed the sticky buns from the oven. She let them cool as she poured juice into her mother’s old jelly glasses. She hated the tremor in her hands.

  “So tell me about you. What do you do in California?” There was horror in his voice when he said, “You aren’t married, are you?”

  Amy grinned. “Not even close. How about you?”

  “I got close, but she left me standing at the altar. Best thing that could have happened to me. ’Course I didn’t think that at the time.”

  Amy blinked, then she said, coolly, “You told me you would wait for me forever. Guess you didn’t mean it, huh?”

  Hank immediately picked up on the chill in Amy’s voice. “I know I meant it at the time. I think by the time I turned twenty-one, I realized you weren’t coming back to Apple Valley. I did try Googling you a while back. Nothing came up. I figured you got married, had a new name, and were living happily amid the orange blossoms and sunshine.” It sounded so stupid even to his own ears, he couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. He gulped at the hot coffee to cover his discomfort.

  Amy’s voice was still cool when she shoved one of the strawberry plates across the table along with two sticky buns and a napkin. “Guess you’re a bachelor then. I thought you would have a bunch of kids by now.”

  Hank frowned. “Why would you think that?” What the hell was going on here?

  Amy shrugged as she sat down. “Well, Ben is married. You’re twins. Twins usually do the same thing. I’m sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have said that. So, how do you like these sticky buns?”

  “Quite good.” They tasted like sawdust.

  “No kidding. I think they taste like cardboard.”

  They looked at each other across the table. They were kids again, sharing a joke. They burst out laughing at the same time. Hank spoke first. “I was going to say they tasted like sawdust, but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I missed you, Mandy. When you left I thought about you every day. Ben used to tease me, said I was in love with you. You know, puppy love.”

  “I was so crazy about you I couldn’t see straight. Back then I believed we would get married after we finished college. I think that’s why I was so upset when Flo took me away. I felt so lost and angry, but I was just a kid. I couldn’t do anything about it. Every day I used to run to the mailbox thinking you’d find out where I was and write me a letter. I wanted to write to you, but I guess I didn’t have the nerve. That might be more than you need or want to know.”

  “No, no, not at all. I was a mess myself after you left. My mom was good about it. She tried her best to explain what she thought happened. Even Ben did his best not to nag me, but he was getting off on it. You know how kids are.”

  “Yeah, I know how kids are. If you’re not busy after we string the lights, I can make you lunch, or, if you like, maybe we could go to Andolino’s for pizza. When I first got here I drove through town. Tony made the best pizza. I’ll buy.”

  “Well, that’s an offer I can’t turn down. Pizza it is, and let me tell you, Tony’s pizza has not changed; it’s every bit as good as it was back when we were kids. His sons run the parlor now. So, are you ready? I’ll meet you at Mr. Carpenter’s. I want to check on . . . on the twins.”

  “Okay, go ahead. I’ll clean up here and meet you on the porch. If you don’t mind, I want to stop and get a big wreath for Mr. Carpenter’s front door. We can order flowers at the same time. You okay with that?”

  Hank shrugged into his jacket. “Absolutely. I just need ten minutes. Damn, I’m glad you came home this year.” He was almost to the door when he turned around and came back. “Hey, if I want to ask you out, you know, dinner or something, should I call you up or what? I don’t have your phone number. I need a phone number. Those tin cans we used to string between the houses aren’t going to work. You know, a date.”

  A date with Hank Anders. That was the stuff dreams were made of. “Sure. It’s 310-200-9999. What’s yours?”

  She wanted his number. Suddenly he felt light-headed. Hank pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed her one of his business cards. He felt a jolt of electricity racing up his arm when his fingers touched hers.

  Amy smiled.

  Hank smiled.

  And then he was gone. Amy sucked in her breath as she danced around the kitchen as the dogs pawed and yapped at her. “You don’t understand, guys. I think I’ve been waiting all my life for what just happened. I am just so happy. So very happy.”

  The dogs yipped and yapped as Amy moved between the table and the dishwasher. When she started to sing “Jingle Bells,” they howled. She laughed as she slipped into her heavy down jacket. “Hey, guys, it’s snowing again!”

  Amy, the dogs behind her, walked across the lawn to the Carpenter property. Hank was nowhere in sight. What was he doing? She looked at her watch. He’d said ten minutes. Now it was more like twenty. She shrugged. If he was blowing her off, then he was blowing her off.

  Hank Anders watched Amy from the front window. His heart was beating so fast, he thought it was going to leap right out of his chest. The minute he’d gotten inside, he collapsed against the door. How was it possible that now, right at this moment, his childhood dream was coming true? He’d been that close. Close enough to kiss her. And not the kind of kiss he’d planted on her lips when they were thirteen years old either.

  Mason, the new nanny, took that moment to enter the foyer. Alarmed, he raced to his employer. “Are you all right, sir?”

  “Mason, my man, I’m about as right as a guy can get. How’s everything going? I’m in love. Are the twins more than you can handle? Did I tell you I’m in love? Did they eat? They’re kind of sloppy. This is such a great feeling. By the way, I found the dog.”

  Mason stared at his new employer. He met all kinds of people in his line of work. “I’m certain Mrs. Anders will be happy to hear that. Perhaps she’s the one you should be telling. I’m happy for you. The boys are fine. They ate ravenously. They’re playing in the family room. They’ve been changed, and I’m considering what to make them for lunch. About dinner . . . is there anything in particular you fancy?”

  Hank gaped at the nanny. What the hell was he saying? “No, no, not Mrs. Anders.” He motioned Mason to join him at the window. “Her. I’m in love with her.”

  Mason pursed his lips and glared at Hank, disapproval in every line in his face. “I see! Then my advice is not to tell Mrs. Anders.”

  “Dammit, no. That’s not . . . I guess I didn’t explain. I’m not the husband or the father of the twins. I’m their uncle. I live in New York. My brother is Mr. Anders. He’s the husband, but he’s in Iraq. I’m just visiting. Don’t worry about dinner. Fix something for yourself. I have to go to a wake this evening. Can you stay past bath time? I’ll pay you extra of course. Did anyone . . . you know . . . call?” Please, oh, please say Alice called.

  Mason looked befuddled. All he could think of to say was, “I see.”

  “You already said that. What is it you see, Mason?”

  “That things in this household are topsy-turvy. Or as my old mum used to say, at sixes and sevens. There were no phone calls. But, your e-mail has been pinging ever since you left. I assume that means you have messages.”

  Al
ice. Alice must have e-mailed again. “So can you babysit this evening?”

  “Of course, sir. I charge twenty-five dollars an hour.”

  “Fine, fine!” Hank said as he leaped over the gates that held the twins prisoner in the family room. Just one big playpen. The minute the boys saw him, they started to cry. Mason was on the job immediately. A second later the boys were laughing and playing peekaboo with their nanny.

  Hank clicked on the e-mail and was chagrined to see it was from his brother, Ben, and directed to Alice. He told himself he had to read the e-mail. Told himself he wasn’t being sneaky. He had to find Alice for the boys’ sake. It was such a sweet e-mail, Hank felt his eyes burn. Ben apologized again and again for not being home for the holidays. He thanked his wife for the recent pictures of the boys she’d sent him. He asked about the tree and who she was going to get to put it up. He said how much he loved her and couldn’t wait to get back to her waiting arms. Then came the clunker that made Hank’s back stiffen. I know you said I shouldn’t do it, but Hank will understand. He won’t hassle us to repay the loan sooner than we’re able. Hank’s my brother. I’d do the same for him. I can see the stress and strain on your face. Photos don’t lie, Alice. I know you’re killing yourself with all you have to do. Start looking for someone to come in to help. With Hank coming for Christmas, he’ll give you the money. This is no time for either one of us to be too proud to ask if we need help. I didn’t get an e-mail from you yesterday or today. I hope nothing is wrong. Write me, honey. I love you. All my love, Ben.

  Hank clicked off the e-mail but saved it. “Mason!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Can I hire you for six months?”

  “I would think so, sir. Contact the agency and arrange it. I need to warn you, I’m in demand. I say that with all due modesty.”

  “Even with the dogs?”

  “I suppose I can get a book on dog training.”

  “Good, good. Okay, I don’t have time right now to call the agency. Will you do it and reserve yourself for the next six months. I’ll . . . what I’ll do is . . . throw in a bonus. Name it and it’s yours,” Hank babbled as he backed out of the door.

  “Very well, sir.”

  A blustery gust of snow flurries slammed Hank in the face the moment he stepped outside. He laughed when he saw Churchill and Miss Sadie trying to catch the elusive flurries.

  “Damn, I’m sorry, Mandy. The twins . . . and then there was an e-mail from Ben I had to read. You hung all the lights! You didn’t need me at all.”

  “Sure I do. I waited for you to plug in the lights. Cross your fingers that they work.”

  Hank inserted the plug. Amy clapped her hands in delight. “I have a package of extra lights. It’s amazing that they still work after all these years. Well, our work here is done. You can carry the ladder back to my house and put it on the back porch. Should I keep the dogs, or do you want to take them to your house?”

  “Yours. The nanny doesn’t have a dog book yet. Yeah, yeah, your house. My car or yours?” Then he remembered Alice said the SUV needed gas. “Yours. Alice said hers is low on gas. I’ll fill it up later, but since I don’t know how much driving we’re going to be doing, let’s use yours.”

  “Okay,” Amy said agreeably.

  Ten minutes later, the snow still swirling and twirling, Hank and Amy settled themselves in the big truck. “Pretty fancy set of wheels,” Hank said. “Is it yours, or is it a rental?”

  “I bought it when I got here. Mom and Dad’s old cars are still in the garage. I didn’t want to take a chance on either one of them. I knew I was going to need a vehicle. I might decide to stay on longer than I originally planned. I might even decide to drive cross-country when it’s time to leave.”

  Leave. She was talking about leaving. Hank felt his loss. Well, he couldn’t let that happen, now could he? “It’s really snowing. Looks like it’s going to keep up. If it does, maybe we could go sledding like we used to. We could pull the twins on the sled. I think our old sleds are still in the attic. You could use Ben’s if you don’t have one.”

  “Sounds like fun. I’m game. But not until I get the house set up for Christmas. You any good at setting up a tree?” She twinkled.

  “The best tree-setter-upper there is. Takes two people, though. Ben and I always did it. It’s the lights that are a killer. The tinsel can drive you nuts. Ben always insisted on hanging one strand at a time. It took all night.”

  “Really? Mom and Dad always did it after I went to bed.

  When I woke up, there was this magnificent tree all lit up, with all the junk I made through my school years. We didn’t have any fancy heirloom ornaments. How wonderful for you,” she said sadly.

  “I didn’t know that, Mandy. What did you do for a tree in California?” Hank asked.

  Amy bit down on her lip. “Flo wasn’t big on cleaning up pine needles in July. She said that’s how long it took to get them out of the house. We always had an artificial tree, and it glittered with shiny ornaments and white lights. The wreath on the door was artificial, too. It got a new red bow every year. We used to go swimming on Christmas Day and have a turkey. I did my best to sleep through the whole season.”

  “I upset you, didn’t I? I’m sorry, Mandy. That wasn’t my intention.” Hank stretched out a hand to pat her arm.

  Amy blinked away tears. “Well, we’ve arrived. Does Karen Powell still own OK Florist?”

  “Yep. She expanded a few years back, added a nursery, and sells outdoor plants as well. Even trees. The parking lot is always full in the spring and summer.”

  A bell tinkled over the door when Amy opened it. She looked around. It was just the way she remembered. New merchandise, but the old beams were still there, with greenery and decorations dangling downward. “It looks like a Wonderland with all the trees. It’s so festive, with all the greenery and red and white Santas. My gosh, I don’t know what to buy. I want a little of everything.”

  “Then let’s get a little of everything,” Hank said happily. Damn, he was getting a large dose of Christmas spirit all of a sudden.

  “Okay, but first I want to order the flowers for Mr. Carpenter so they can deliver them today. How about if I order a large arrangement and put your, Ben’s, and my name on the card?”

  “Sure. Sounds great. Oh, and will you include Ben’s wife, Alice? Just tell me how much our share is.”

  “No problem.”

  Amy walked over to the counter and spoke to the girl behind the computer. She explained what she wanted, signed a card, and handed her a credit card. “I’m going to want a dozen or so of your poinsettias. All red. Shall I pick them out and put them by the door?” The frazzled clerk nodded as she punched in the order.

  Amy and Hank spent the next hour picking out just-right poinsettias, knickknacks, and whatever pleased Amy. The clerk rang everything up while a young boy loaded the cargo hold of the Range Rover. She ripped off a tape and slapped it down on the counter in front of Hank along with Amy’s credit card. “Sign on the X.”

  “No, that’s not my card,” Hank said, picking up the credit card. “Hold on, I’ll get my friend to come in and sign the slip.”

  Hank walked over to the door and tapped on it. Amy turned around and smiled. He held up her credit card and motioned her to come inside. Without meaning to, he looked down at the platinum card in his hand and saw the name Amy Lee. He frowned. Who the hell was Amy Lee? What was Mandy Leigh doing with someone else’s credit card?

  Hank’s stomach crunched into a knot as he stared at his old childhood friend as she walked toward him, a smile on her face. He realized at that moment he didn’t know a thing about Mandy Leigh. All he knew was she was home for the holidays and lived in California. Otherwise, all their conversations were on the generic side. He’d been loose as a goose and opened up and confessed to loving her.

  The name Amy Lee sounded so familiar. Did he know her when they were kids? Was she a client or a client’s wife? N
othing was ringing a bell for him.

  Who the hell was Amy Lee?

  Chapter Six

  It wasn’t until Amy finished her third slice of pizza and drained the last of her root beer float that she realized she’d been doing all the talking. Hank had only eaten one slice of the delicious pizza, and his root beer float was basically untouched. He also had a strange look on his face. Like he wanted to say something or possibly ask her something and didn’t quite know how to go about it. The words “moody” and “sullen” came to mind. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She didn’t need this, no way, no how.

  Maybe he thought she’d spent too much money at OK Florist. He’d commented on her Range Rover, calling it a pricey set of wheels. Maybe he had a thing about women spending money. He’d been fine before they got to the florist, so whatever was wrong had nothing to do with Mr. Carpenter or the dogs. It had to be her. Something about her was suddenly bothering him. She racked her brain to try to recall what she might have said or done that would make him so quiet all of a sudden.

  Well, she certainly wasn’t going to worry about Hank and his moods. She had things to do and places to go. She fished some money out of her pocket and laid it on the table. After all, she’d invited him to lunch, so it was up to her to pay for it.

  Amy got up and slipped into her jacket. The waiter approached and asked if she wanted change. She shook her head. “Are you ready, Hank?” she asked coolly.

  “What?”

  “I asked you if you were ready to leave. We came, we ate, I paid the bill, and now it’s time to leave. Are you ready?”