“Yes, I want elf earrings!” Hannah crowed. “Bring Mommy some, too.”
“Do you think Mommy would like elf earrings for Christmas? What about some other kind of earrings?” Rob asked, looking over their daughter’s head at Ivy.
“Maybe Santa will bring Mommy a new boyfriend for Christmas,” Ivy said sweetly. “One who gets her diamond earrings.”
Rob’s smile fell away. “Did you meet someone at that wedding?”
Was he just a little jealous? Oh, how she’d love to serve him a holiday helping of what he’d given her, even if it was only a small one. “Maybe.” And maybe that someone was gay, but Rob didn’t need to know that.
“Mommy doesn’t have a boyfriend, Daddy. She has you,” Hannah said. “Are you gonna stay with us tonight?”
“No,” Ivy said, and it came out sounding snippy. “You know Daddy has someplace else to stay.”
Hannah’s mouth turned down at the corners. “I want him to stay with us. Why can’t you stay here with us, Daddy?”
Rob was still looking at Ivy as if she could, somehow, provide the perfect answer. She had all kinds of answers, none of them perfect. And she sure wasn’t going to help Rob with this question. She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Well, honey, sometimes mommies and daddies don’t end up staying together.”
Because the daddies are immature jerks suffering from Peter Pan syndrome.
“Why?”
“Yes, do tell her why,” Ivy said, and turned to take cookies out of the oven.
He sighed. “Sometimes daddies are dumb.”
Ivy paused in the middle of placing her cookies on the cooling rack. Well, here was a first.
“Daddy, are you dumb?” Hannah asked, incredulous.
“Afraid so. Hey, there’s our first batch of cookies. Think Mommy will let us sample one?” And that was the end of that conversation.
But not the end of the thoughts it had triggered. Did Rob regret leaving? No, probably not, not when he was moving on with a new woman. But then why say something like that? Did he want to get back together? Would she take him back if he did?
When the mountains all fell in and Icicle Falls became a desert.
After an hour the baking was done. Robbie had crumbs all over himself and frosting on his face and in his hair, and Hannah was covered in almost as much frosting as the cookies were. Rob stayed and helped Ivy bathe them and put them to bed. Watching him kneel by Hannah’s bed, listening as she said her prayers, tugged at Ivy’s heart and that made her want to whack him with her rolling pin. “God bless Mommy and Daddy and Opa and Oma and Aunt Deirdre and Grandma and Grandpa B. and Robbie and Gizmo and the elves and Santa and Missy and Lala and Carlos, even though he called me a baby. And please let Daddy come home to stay. Amen.”
“Amen,” said Rob.
Ivy kept quiet.
He followed her downstairs and into the kitchen, where she got busy stacking mixing bowls in the sink. He began rinsing them and loading them in the dishwasher.
“You don’t have to help with this,” she said.
“I helped make the mess. I should help clean it up.”
She sighed, thinking about the big mess he’d made of their family.
“Ive, did you meet someone at the wedding?”
“Is that any of your business?”
“No, it’s not.” He leaned on the counter and studied her as she wiped down the table.
She could feel her cheeks heating up. “Why are you asking?”
“No reason,” he said, and went back to loading dishes. Then, “I broke up with Melody.”
Ivy stopped her scrubbing, frozen in place. Okay, so what? She got busy again, pushing the sponge around the table hard enough to take off the finish. “When?”
“Thanksgiving weekend.”
“Why, did you find out she can’t make pumpkin pie?”
“I found out I made a mistake.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I just thought you should know.”
“I don’t care one way or the other.” Liar, liar, Christmas stocking on fire.
“Don’t you? Not at all?”
“Why should I, Rob? You broke my heart.”
He dropped his gaze. “I wish I hadn’t. I just...”
“Oh, let’s not go over that again,” she said irritably.
“Sometimes I wonder...”
She stopped her scrubbing and frowned at him. “What?”
“Never mind.”
“No, what were you going to say?”
“Okay, sometimes I wonder what I was thinking when I left.”
“We know what you were thinking. You told me what you were thinking.”
“I was thinking stupid, okay?” They stood there for a moment, having their own silent night.
Then she broke the silence. “I’d take you back if...”
He looked at her hopefully. “Yeah?”
“If I was brain-dead. But since I’m not, that isn’t happening, so I hope you weren’t counting on some miraculous Christmas reconciliation.” She’d landed a nice blow to his pride, and she watched in satisfaction as the muscle in his jaw twitched while he fought off disappointment and humiliation.
“I don’t blame you,” he said. “I don’t deserve another chance.”
“You’re right, you don’t. You hurt me, Rob. You violated a sacred trust.”
“I know. But I thought maybe, for the kids’ sake...”
“Don’t you dare bring the kids into this,” she snarled. “Were you thinking of the kids when you walked out?”
“No,” he said miserably. “I was only thinking of myself. I admit that. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”
“And you’re just now realizing this? Funny how that coincides with dumping the hot girlfriend.”
“I broke up with her because I realized it was all wrong!”
Like what he’d done to her. “Well, too late. Too, too late. And speaking of late, isn’t it time you went home?”
“Yeah, I guess it is,” he said, his voice filled with anger. As if he had any right to be angry!
“Good.” She returned to viciously scrubbing the table.
She kept scrubbing until the front door shut. Then she sat down at the table and cried. Oh, yeah, she’d sure made memories tonight.
Chapter Nine
It’s especially important at this time of year to reach out to those in need of love.
—Muriel Sterling, Making the Holidays Bright: How to Have a Perfect Christmas
On Wednesday Tilda stopped at the hardware store on her way home from work to pick up some candy canes for her front walk. Somewhere between the candy canes and the checkout she caught a bad case of keeping up with the Joneses. (Or, in her case, the Donaldsons, the Welkys, the Gordons, Ivy Bohn and even Mrs. Walters. Not to mention all the other neighbors who were putting her to shame.)
Lights. She needed lights. She couldn’t not have lights. Sitting in darkness amid all those happy, sparkly houses made her place resemble a haunted house. She liked the white icicle ones. Those would look good strung along her roofline. Hopefully the gutters wouldn’t come crashing down once she’d strung them. Did you string lights on gutters? Nah. Under them? She had no idea. Well, she’d figure it out.
And hey, look at this—an animated T. rex wearing a Santa hat and holding a gold box wrapped with red ribbon. It was so tacky. And so funny. And no one on the street had a T. rex. Santas, crèches, reindeer, trains and angels, but no Christmas dinosaurs. This guy was one of a kind, the only one in the store and he was already marked down twenty percent.
“Nobody wants you, huh?” she said, picking him up. “Well, you can come home with me.” He beat a blow-up Santa all
to heck. Okay, icicles, candy canes and Mr. T. That should do it. Although she should put some colored lights around the windows or on the bushes.
Wait a minute. What was she thinking? Did she really want to be an Ivy Bohn or Maddy Donaldson? But there was probably no chance of that, considering what she’d just picked up for her yard. She decided to stop with what she had. “Buying candy canes?” the store owner greeted her. “You must be our new neighbor.”
“I am,” Tilda said. “And you must be...”
“Alan Donaldson. I think you’ve met my wife.”
Oh, yes, the Queen of Christmas. “I have,” Tilda said. “Thanks for the wine.”
“The least we could do, since you’re buying candy canes from us,” he joked. “And boy, we’ve had a run on them today.”
She’d noticed. There hadn’t been many left. Woe to anyone else in Icicle Falls who wanted to decorate with giant candies.
“One of our local construction guys was in here buying up a bunch.” Alan’s expression was slightly puzzled. “I thought he lived in an apartment.”
Construction guy? Nah, couldn’t be. What would he want with candy canes?
“Anyway, looks like we’ll have to try and order some more.”
“I would imagine everyone’s gotten their decorations by now,” Tilda said. Except her, the newcomer.
“Pretty much. But it’s always good to have extras on hand, in case some get broken.”
“Or vandalized?”
He nodded. “That, too. I suspect that was a one-time deal, but you never know.”
“You’re probably right. We don’t have a lot of vandalism this time of year. Too cold.”
He smiled at that. “Almost too cold to be putting up outdoor decorations. I hope you’ll have some help.”
“I can handle it,” she said.
“I’m sure you can,” he agreed, and finished ringing her up.
Yikes. That much for a bunch of electricity-sucking...stuff? Oh, well, ’twas the season. She took out her credit card and swiped it through the gotcha machine. Okay, now she was committed. Or should be committed.
As she approached her driveway, she saw a familiar truck parked at the curb and her headlights shone on...whoa, what was this? The frozen ground along her front walk had been pickaxed to death and lighted candy canes had been planted, a dozen altogether, the same number as she’d just purchased. A ladder leaned against her house and on that ladder stood a man in jeans and a parka, hanging colored lights. Devon Black.
With a scowl she pulled into the driveway and got out, marching over to where Mr. Fix-It was hard at work. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He smiled down at her. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
“You’re trespassing.”
“No, I’m surprising you.”
“Well, it’s not a good surprise.” She pointed at her Jeep. “I just spent a small fortune on stuff for my house.”
He went back to desecrating her roofline with multicolored bulbs. “You can always return it.”
“I don’t want to return it. I don’t want friggin’ colored lights. I want icicles and that’s what I bought.”
He shrugged and started taking down the colored bulbs. “Okay, fine. We’ll put up icicles.”
“There’s no we here,” she informed him.
He stared down at her, his easy smile missing. “No. There’s only a you, and not a very nice version if you wanna know the truth,” he said, unhooking some more lights.
“I have no nice version,” she snapped. Hmm. Did she really mean that? “Damn it all, Black, I don’t need people coming around and hanging my lights for me. I can do it myself. I’m a big girl.”
The smile was back. “In all the right places.”
She pointed a finger at him. “Watch it.”
“Come on, Tilda, lighten up and let somebody do something nice for you.”
“I would if he didn’t have ulterior motives.”
“All men have ulterior motives. Look, if you want icicles, I’ll put up your icicles.”
Actually, the colored lights did look pretty. “Never mind,” she said. “You’ve already started with those. You might as well finish.”
He shook his head and went back to hanging lights. “Thanks for the appreciation. And don’t say you didn’t want the candy canes. You can’t live here and not put ’em somewhere. Anyway, breaking up that ground was a son of a bitch. Did you want to do that?”
No, but she didn’t want to be in Devon Black’s debt, either. “I’m not helpless, you know.”
He frowned at her. “What is it with you? Most women would be happy to have somebody lend a hand.”
“I’m not most women.”
“You got that right. Most women have a heart.”
“Hey, I’ve got a heart.”
“Where, buried under the house?”
“Oh, ha, ha,” she said grumpily. “Just remember that no one asked you to come here and hang colored lights all over my place.”
“Yeah, ’cause God forbid you’d ever ask anybody for anything. What’s it like to be perfect?”
It took a lot to rattle Tilda and she could always give as good as she got, but there was something about Devon Black that made her want to stamp her feet. She resisted the temptation and marched over to the car, pulling out her candy canes. Then she dumped them in the back of Devon’s truck. He could return them and get a refund. She’d pay him for the colored lights, and then they’d be even.
“What are you doing now?” he called from the ladder.
“I’m giving you the candy canes I just bought.”
“So that’s why you’re mad.”
Dumb as a box of toadstools. “No, that’s not why. Anyway, you can return mine and get your money back. I’ll pay you for the lights you’re putting up.”
“Fine,” he said irritably, “if it’ll make you feel better.”
“It will,” she said, and took out Mr. T.
“I didn’t know you had a twin,” Mr. Helpful said from his ladder top.
“He was looking for a Neanderthal and heard you were over here,” she retorted.
Setting up her Christmas dino took exactly five minutes. After that there was nothing left to do but stand out in the cold and watch Devon freezing his hindquarters off or go inside and stay warm while he was freezing his hindquarters off.
Okay, there was one more option. She could play nice. She went into the house and dug out her box of packaged cocoa from the kitchen cupboard, then heated the water in the electric teapot her mom had given her. In a minute she had hot cocoa. There. She could be gracious.
She went outside to deliver it and found him coming down the ladder. In silence. He folded it up. In silence. And took it to the truck. In silence.
“Okay,” she called after him. “I’m a bitch. So sue me.”
“I might,” he called back, not turning to look at her.
“But first have some cocoa.”
That did get him to turn his head.
She held up the cup. “Peace offering.”
He walked back to her, although he was careful not to smile. “You know, you and T. rex have a lot in common.”
She handed over the mug. “I know. We’re both cute.”
“That wasn’t what I was thinking.”
So she’d almost taken his head off. He’d had it coming. Still... “It was kind of you to hang my lights.”
“And put in your candy canes,” he reminded her.
“Them, too. Although I could have done it myself.”
“You don’t need a man for anything, do you?”
“I never said that.”
He grunted and took a sip of cocoa. “Where’s the marshmallows?”
&n
bsp; “I don’t have any. Don’t get picky.”
He did smile at that. “Let me take a guess here—you don’t do stuff in the kitchen.”
“I can do stuff in the kitchen.”
“Yeah? What?”
“I can make chocolate chip cookies.” Her one claim to fame.
His smile grew. “Prove it.”
“I’m out of chocolate chips.”
“I’ll go buy some.”
“Drink your cocoa and go home.”
“I knew you were lying.”
“I am not. I can make cookies.”
He handed her the cocoa. “I’ll be back.”
“Oh, come on. Just because you strung up some lights.”
“And busted my back getting those candy canes in the ground,” he added, walking to his truck.
“This is not the beginning of a beautiful friendship!”
He acknowledged her warning with a wave, then climbed in his truck and varoomed off down the street. He was probably going to speed.
With a frown she went back inside the house. Darn it all. She’d wanted to get her lights up, relax and play some video games, eat some canned chili and her leftovers from the Safeway deli. Now, instead, she had uninvited company coming and she was going to have to bake cookies.
Might be kind of fun, came the traitorous thought, obviously planted in her brain by her neglected hormones.
Oh, no, it wouldn’t. Well, okay, maybe it would, but she didn’t want to have fun with Devon Black. She didn’t want to do anything with Devon Black. He was cocky and irresponsible and not at all what she was looking for. When he came back she’d tell him as much. Meanwhile, though, she’d get out of her lady-cop clothes.
And when she did, lo and behold, there was the black thong and matching lacy black bra, reminding her that she was a woman and she wanted a man in her life.
Not him!
She pulled on jeans and a black T-shirt. All right. Nothing in that outfit to say Welcome Back.
Christmas on Candy Cane Lane Page 13
