On Christmas Eve

by Thomas Kinkade

  Lucy wished she could give the girl even more—a stable, permanent home with their family. But she could see that this last twist in Zoey’s story had set them back. Maybe irrevocably.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  BETTY WAS DRESSED AND READY FOR THE NEW YEAR’S EVE party well before six. She sat in the living room waiting for Nathan, distracting herself with a magazine. But she couldn’t sit still and crossed over to the window every once in a while to look outside for his truck. She was glad Brian had gone down to Concord earlier to help Tina’s family prepare for the gathering.

  She had told Brian she might bring a date to the party, but she wasn’t sure. Brian didn’t ask any questions, though the look in his eyes said it all. Wasn’t this occasion too important to be left so open-ended? And it was New Year’s Eve besides, when everyone seemed to be paired off like geese.

  The clock on the mantel chimed the hour. It was definitely six. She waited a few more minutes, returning to the magazine but barely seeing a word of print. She could hear every sound in the empty house. The waiting was unnerving. She rose from her chair with a sigh and decided it was time to go.

  Nathan wasn’t coming. If he was just running late, wouldn’t he have called? Yes, he would have, and now she just had to face the harsh truth and get going herself, or she would be late for her son’s big night.

  Betty caught a glimpse of her reflection in the hallway mirror. She’d had her hair done, had a manicure, and had taken special pains with her makeup. She hoped she wasn’t going to start crying now and make a big mess.

  She wasn’t really mad at Nathan. She’d given him a choice, understanding that he was in a bad place right now. But if she ended up getting raccoon eyes tonight on top of everything . . . well, then she’d really be annoyed with him.

  Betty sniffed and dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue. A sharp knock sounded on the door and she turned, not quite letting herself believe it was Nathan. Her neighbors were having a party. Maybe they were just coming by to borrow something.

  She pulled open the door, trying hard not to get her hopes up.

  But there he stood, looking so handsome she hardly recognized him. He’d had a haircut and a shave and seemed so polished and groomed, he practically . . . glowed.

  He smiled at her and ducked his head. “What a look. Did you give up on me?”

  “Actually . . . yes, I did.”

  “Professional hazard. Santa always has to keep ’em guessing.”

  “Very funny,” she said. She did feel a little mad at him, she realized. But when he met her glance and smiled into her eyes, she felt her heart fill up with gladness and a sweet peaceful feeling, so that there was no room for any other emotion.

  “I got the suit,” he reported, stepping back for Betty’s appraisal. “The salesman helped me pick out the shirt and tie.”

  Betty looked him over from head to toe. The well-cut navy blue suit had been matched with a light blue shirt and a burgundy silk patterned tie.

  “That salesman has good taste,” she said decidedly. “And you look pretty good in real clothes.”

  “Thanks. So do you.” She felt herself practically blush as he looked over her outfit, a black velvet gown that draped gracefully to the floor. She had added only hanging diamond drop earrings and a necklace with a single teardrop diamond pendant.

  “It’s not too much, is it?” she asked nervously. She had wondered about this dress when she put it on. She didn’t want to be overdressed and embarrass her son.

  “You’ll be the most beautiful woman there. But I already knew that.”

  Betty just smiled. His compliment did make her feel beautiful and confident. Ready to take on any challenges the night might bring.

  “I knew there was a good reason I invited you,” she said quietly.

  Nathan just laughed. “Shall we go? I think we’ll just make it in time.” He took her coat and held it out so that she could slip it on. Betty grabbed her small silk handbag and they left the house.

  They drove out of town and soon reached the highway, heading south toward Concord. On the ride down Nathan told her that since her visit he had spoken to both the Pipers and Reverend Ben, and had even made it to his desk for a few hours.

  Betty found that news encouraging. Nathan’s tone was light, but Betty sensed how hard it truly was to surface from his deep well of sadness. Which made her appreciate his presence even more.

  The drive passed quickly and they soon found themselves in Concord, a beautiful village about forty minutes outside of Boston. “I haven’t been here in ages,” Nathan said as they drove through the village center and passed the famous Concord Inn.

  The Carvers lived in a grand old colonial with a long, columned porch across the facade. The house was set on a large plot of sloping property, and they drove up a circular driveway to the front entrance. With a wreath and a glowing candle in every window, the house looked to Betty like a painting on a Christmas card.

  “Wow,” Nathan said quietly. “Quite a house.”

  Betty glanced in the front windows as Nathan found a parking spot. “And it looks like quite a party.”

  They entered the front door and were greeted in the large foyer by waitstaff, who took their coats and handed them each a glass of champagne.

  As they made their way to the crowded living room and Betty looked for the happy couple, she couldn’t help feeling nervous.

  Nathan must have sensed it. He took her hand and tucked it around his arm. “They’re going to love you, Betty. Don’t worry.”

  She smiled up at him, realizing again that she’d made the right choice.

  Brian suddenly appeared at her side. “Hey, Mom. There you are. Right on time.”

  Betty gave her son a quick kiss on the cheek, then turned to Nathan. “Brian, I’d like to introduce you to my friend Nathan.”

  “Great to meet you, Brian. Congratulations.” Nathan smiled warmly as he shook Brian’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you and your wonderful fiancée.”

  “Where is Tina?” Betty asked, looking around.

  “Over there, with her parents. They’re dying to meet you, Mom.” Brian led Betty over to the Carvers. They were a very attractive couple, Betty thought. Tina’s father was tall, with dark hair touched with silver. Her mother was petite, like Tina, and had the same large dark eyes and cameo features. She wore a long, elegant champagne-colored satin dress.

  “You must be Brian’s mother. We’re so happy to meet you.” Mrs. Carver greeted Betty with a warm smile, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m Samantha, and this is my husband, Doug. Welcome.”

  Doug leaned forward and eagerly shook her hand. “Thanks so much for coming. It’s such a happy occasion. What an amazing way to celebrate the New Year.”

  “Absolutely,” Betty agreed. “I couldn’t be happier.”

  “Brian’s told us so much about you, I feel as if we’re already good friends,” Samantha said.

  Tina’s mother had such a warm way about her, Betty liked her already. “I know we will be,” Betty promised.

  Betty had been so focused on the Carvers, she’d totally forgotten to introduce Nathan. She glanced at him and could see he didn’t mind. His smile told her he was even a bit amused. “Oh . . . my goodness. You must be wondering about this handsome man standing here so patiently.”

  “I’m her bodyguard,” Nathan said seriously. “The catering business can get dangerous. All those secret recipes.”

  The Carvers glanced at each other, then laughed.

  Betty shook her head but had to laugh, too. “This is Nathan Daley, my . . . my friend. He’s a writer.”

  Doug Carver leaned over, looking very interested. “Your name sounds familiar. Didn’t you interview Robert Parker a while back?” he asked, mentioning the famous Boston-based mystery writer. Nathan nodded, but before he could answer, Samantha was saying, “You must meet a lot of interesting people. Have you interviewed any famous actors?”

  There were more qu
estions and more recognition of articles Nathan had written for the Boston Globe and national magazines. Betty suddenly felt as if she were with a celebrity. How ironic, since her only qualm about dating him had been this situation exactly—when sooner or later at a cocktail party, people ask what you do for a living. Why had she wasted so much time worrying about that? Betty was suddenly reminded of a famous comment by Mark Twain: “Some of the worst things in my life never happened.”

  Tina and Brian came by, and there were more happy introductions and some talk about the wedding. When the couple drifted off to greet more guests, Samantha turned to Betty and sighed.

  “It’s hard to believe my little girl is getting married. Seems like it was only yesterday when she was running outside to play or needed help with her homework.”

  “Oh, I know what you mean. It’s gone so fast. Too fast.” Betty turned to her with a wistful smile. “But I know that Brian couldn’t have found a lovelier girl. Tina’s just terrific. He’s very, very lucky.”

  “Thank you, Betty. We feel the same way about Brian. You must be very proud of him.”

  “I am,” Betty admitted, glancing over at the happy couple. “I really am.”

  Samantha Carver was soon drawn away by other guests. Betty felt relieved to retreat out of the spotlight for a few moments. Waiters and waitresses passed hors d’oeuvres on silver platters and tall crystal glasses of champagne. On the far side of the room, a four-piece band played jazz standards, and a space had been cleared in the room for dancing.

  Nathan, who had been talking to Doug Carver, returned to her side. “Sorry to leave you for so long. He wanted to hear all about the famous athletes I’ve interviewed. He’s a big sports fan.”

  “Looks like he’s one of your fans now, too,” Betty teased him. Nathan just smiled. “How are you holding up? Are those comfortable shoes?” He glanced down at her sleek black silk heels.

  “Very, thank you. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, they’re lovely shoes but they don’t look very comfortable. I mean, if someone wanted to ask you to dance.”

  “Let someone ask me and he’ll find out,” Betty replied.

  Moments later, they were out on the small dance floor alongside several other couples.

  Betty couldn’t recognize the song—though she knew it was a famous one—partly because she was distracted by Nathan’s nearness. They danced together, his hand on her waist and her hand around his shoulder. He was a very good dancer, and Betty felt relaxed and happy in his arms. There was something about being with him that felt so familiar and at the same time so exciting. Was it the same for him? she wondered.

  The music stopped. She tipped her head back to look up at Nathan’s face and try to read his expression. He smiled down at her and seemed about to say something when they both suddenly became aware of somebody nearby.

  Betty turned to see her ex-husband, Ted, standing right beside her. “Hello, Betty. May I have this dance?” he asked politely.

  “Ted . . . Why . . . When did you get here?” Betty had looked for him and his wife. She had been both relieved not to see them—and concerned for Brian. She knew he wanted his father there.

  “Just a few minutes ago,” Ted replied. “We were stuck on the highway behind a fender bender. So, may I have this dance?” he added, glancing at Nathan this time.

  Nathan met her eyes a moment, as if to say, Is this the guy? He’s even more of a jerk than I thought.

  Betty looked back, saying, Yes, I know. But I’d better dance with him. It’s just easier that way.

  Nathan slowly parted from Betty and stepped back. “Enjoy.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take her for a quick spin and bring her back, safe and sound.”

  Betty nearly rolled her eyes at his condescending tone. The way he talked about her, as if he were borrowing a lawn mower. She was so glad they weren’t married anymore.

  Ted took his place and Betty placed her hand on his shoulder, feeling stiff and awkward.

  “You look great, Betty,” he said sincerely. “The catering business must agree with you. Or something does,” he added, glancing again at Nathan.

  “The business is doing well,” Betty said, wanting to keep the conversation impersonal. “We’ve been very lucky. How about you? How’s everything? How’s your family?” She’d nearly said new family, but caught herself just in time.

  “Everyone is great. The kids are growing up so quickly. And now our little Brian is getting married. Can you believe it?”

  Betty knew what he meant. Here was some common ground between them. “No, I can’t,” she said honestly. “I’m still in shock. They want to get married this coming summer. That will give me at least a few months to get used to the idea.”

  “I don’t know if that will be long enough for me. But I guess we weren’t much older when we got married, were we?”

  “We were younger, Ted. I wasn’t even finished with college,” she reminded him.

  “Yes, I remember now.” He was silent a moment. Betty shuffled her feet, trying to follow him. He’d never been a very good dancer. “We were young, too young maybe to make that decision,” he admitted. “We may not have been a great success at being married, but we did a great job raising our boy. I’m very proud of him.”

  “So am I,” Betty agreed. “And you were a good father,” she added, feeling magnanimous.

  “You were a very good mother,” he said, surprising her. “You always put Brian’s happiness first. I hope he appreciates that.”

  “He does,” Betty said. “We’ve had some good talks. He’s a real adult now, Ted. He’s ready to start his own life, hard as that might be for us to believe. He’s going to do fine.”

  “And he’ll always have us there in the wings, to help him out if he hits a rough spot.”

  “Not if. More like when,” she said knowingly. There were always challenges and rough spots in any life. Despite the fact that his family had broken up, Brian knew he still had two loving parents who would always help him.

  “So who’s your date?” Ted asked. “I don’t think he liked the way I cut in,” he added with a chuckle.

  Betty had to agree. Nathan had been a gentleman about it, but it had definitely rubbed him the wrong way. “His name is Nathan Daley. He’s a friend.”

  “A friend? Really?” Ted sounded like he didn’t quite believe that. “What does he do for a living?”

  “He’s a writer. He’s written a lot of articles for the Globe and magazines.”

  Ted glanced down at her, looking impressed. “A writer? Interesting. . . . So he’s just a friend? It looks more serious than that.” His voice had that “I’ve known you a long time, Betty” tone that usually irritated her. Mostly because he had known her a long time and was often right with his suspicions. This time, however, she didn’t feel irritated at all.

  “We only met about a month ago,” she said. “But I guess it does feel serious—or as if it could be.”

  “I hope it works out for you,” Ted told her. “You deserve to be happy, Betty. And I hope he deserves you.”

  “Thank you, Ted,” she said simply.

  The song soon ended, and they parted with more kind words. This was another encounter Betty had been dreading, but she had vaulted that bar with ease, she thought.

  All in all, this was easily turning out to be the best New Year’s Eve outing she could remember. And it wasn’t even nine o’clock.

  LUCY GOT HOME FROM THE HOSPITAL A LITTLE BEFORE NINE. CHARLIE had called her fifteen minutes earlier to say that the bowling was a big success, and he was on his way home with the kids and the pizza.

  She came through the front door and walked back to the kitchen, turning lights on as she went through the dark rooms. She pulled off her jacket, thinking she should make a salad. She and Zoey were the only ones who would eat it, but at least something green would be on the table. She wondered if Zoey had liked bowling. Charlie hadn’t said one way or the other. Well, at least she’d tried and probably had so
me fun with the boys. As Lucy started setting the table, she heard Charlie and the kids coming in the side door.

  “Hi, guys. How did the bowling go?” Lucy called out to them.

  “Just fine. It was pretty crowded there,” Charlie reported as he walked in.

  “Did Zoey like it?” Lucy asked, turning to glance at him.

  “Zoey? She didn’t come with us. She told me she was tired and wanted to stay home.” Charlie put the pizza boxes down on the stove and gave Lucy a puzzled look.

  “Really? The house was dark when I came in.” And so quiet and empty feeling. A wave of unease washed over Lucy, but she tried to stay calm. “Maybe she’s upstairs, having a nap. I’ll go see.”

  Lucy left the kitchen and headed to the staircase. “Zoey? Are you up there?” she called. She paused, listening for an answer as she climbed the first flight. “We’re all home now. We’re about to have dinner.”

  She stood on the second-floor landing, looking up. The door to Zoey’s room was open, but the room was dark. Lucy felt a knot of dread in her stomach. She started up the steps toward the dark room. “Zoey?” she called softly. “Are you sleeping?”

  Finally, she reached the doorway. The curtains and shades had been left open, and pale light from the street streamed in through the windows. The bed was empty. So was the bathroom.

  Lucy turned on the small lamp on the bedside table. The room looked empty, deserted. Some pictures Zoey had hung on the walls were gone—along with all her makeup and the hair clips that were always scattered on the dresser top. Lucy felt sick to her stomach, but she forced herself to open a few drawers in the dresser and pull open the closet door.