That didn’t stop her from freshening up and putting on mascara and lip gloss and perfume.
By the time Tim walked through her front door, her hormones were heating up right along with the hot chocolate on the stove. The man just stirred her up with those broad shoulders and that deep, rumbling voice of his.
But as they settled at her kitchen table with hot chocolate spiced with cinnamon and some of Sienna’s cookies, it was his smile and the kindness in his eyes that made her want to know more about him, got her wondering if, perhaps, just maybe this man was different from the losers who’d paraded through her life.
Leo was certainly taken with him, happy to show him his favorite Matchbox cars and his Lego creations. Tim appeared to have all the patience in the world, listening and nodding and agreeing that, yes, trucks were the best of all.
Finally, deciding that Tim had endured enough of the toy talk, Sienna relocated her son to the living room and put on Cars for him.
“He’s a nice kid,” Tim said when she returned to the kitchen.
“He’s great,” Sienna said. “He has his challenges,” she added. Better to point out relationship land mines right off. Then Tim Richmond could run away and she and Leo wouldn’t have to be disappointed down the road.
“Don’t we all?” he said easily and took a sip of his cocoa. “This is good.”
“Thanks.” She almost wanted to add, Did you understand what I just told you?
“Is his dad in the picture?”
Sienna shook her head. “To his shame, he’s not.” And to her shame as well, since she’d chosen a weak man.
“Some guys can’t handle challenges.”
“And some guys are just plain selfish,” Sienna said, not willing to let Leo’s dad off the hook so easily.
“So, what’s the deal with your boy?”
He had heard. “He’s just a little slow.”
“Yeah? How? He seems fine.”
“On the surface, yes. But in school he’s way behind other kids his age. He has trouble with simple chores. It’s not like he can’t learn at all. It’s just, well...” How to explain this? It was difficult.
“Have you always known?”
Sienna shook her head. “We thought he was fine when he was a baby, a little behind with his milestones, but nothing huge. Everyone kept telling me not to worry, that kids all develop at different rates. Of course, after a while it became obvious he had some problems. Once we had him tested...”
“Don’t tell me. That’s when the ex became the ex?”
“You guessed it,” she said bitterly. “Leo has trouble paying attention and he struggles with a lot of reading and math concepts, but he’s the sweetest boy you’ll ever meet. He likes people and he can hit a baseball for miles.”
“I heard about that,” Tim said with a smile.
“That wasn’t Leo,” Sienna said hotly, “even though he got blamed for it.”
“But you paid for it.”
“It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
“Tough being a single parent,” Tim observed.
“It can be difficult,” she agreed. “What about you? Do you have kids? An ex?”
“Yes to both. I see the girls most weekends, unless Erica has plans, which she did this weekend,” he added, looking none too happy about it.
“You’re pretty accommodating,” Sienna observed.
He shrugged. “No point in fighting. I learned that early on.” He sipped his hot chocolate. “So, tell me about this ugly-tree project.”
Okay, change-the-subject time. Good idea. “Well, I was at this party.” She went on to explain about Muriel’s tree and the pact the women had made to try to see the best in those difficult people in their lives.
“There’s something to be said for that,” Tim said when she’d finished. “Although I can see how it would be hard in my uncle’s case.”
“Hard? How about impossible?”
“He wasn’t always such a grumpy old bastard. I didn’t see much of him when I was a kid. He was always too busy working. But I can remember a Christmas when I was little. He came to some big family gathering and cracked us up, showing us how to make a spoon stick to your nose.” Sienna cocked an eyebrow and he demonstrated, balancing the spoon on the tip of his nose.
“Now, that’s true talent,” she mocked.
“We thought it was cool. And we all thought he was pretty cool. Of course, that didn’t last...”
“What changed?”
“A lot of stuff. According to my mom, Uncle Bob was once a pretty nice guy. The family lived in West Virginia. They didn’t have a lot of money growing up. He and Mom lost their mom early. And Grandpa, well, he was a coal miner. He didn’t last long, either. Almost lived to see Mom graduate from high school, missed it by six months.”
“Your poor mom.”
Not having your parents in your life, what would that be like? Sienna didn’t want to even try to imagine. Her parents had always been there for her, especially after things went sour with Carlos—helping her with legal expenses, watching Leo after school while she worked. Even long-distance, they remained a big part of her life and her mom was her best friend.
“Mom had it rough,” Tim said, “but not as rough as she’d have had it if Uncle Bob hadn’t been there for her. He was ten years older than her, and he pretty much raised her after Grandma died.”
“Wasn’t there anyone else?”
“The other grandparents weren’t much help. Grandpa Olsen had lung cancer and Grandma was busy trying to keep him alive and keep their two sons out of jail.”
“Jail?”
“It wasn’t a good environment. Who knows what Mom’s life would have been if Uncle Bob hadn’t moved them away.”
“Amazing,” Sienna said, still trying to match the Bob Cratchett she was hearing about with the one she knew. “What on earth happened to him?”
Tim shrugged. “Life.”
“I guess,” she said dubiously. “But he started out so...noble.”
“And ambitious. Uncle Bob was determined not to be poor. I don’t know how he managed it, but he somehow scraped together enough money to move himself and Mom out to the West Coast. He eventually bought into a small business with a friend making some kinds of widgets. After a few years they sold the company and he bought another. Built that company up and made a profit. And while he was doing all this, he managed to make sure his baby sister got an education. When Uncle Bob moved out to Washington, he brought Mom along with him. She met my dad and they got married, wound up here, had my sister and me. Uncle Bob stayed in Seattle and just kept working.”
“So he never married.”
“Oh, that’s coming. He found a woman he loved. Her name was Gilda and he was crazy about her. But he was also addicted to making money and couldn’t seem to find a balance between working and playing. I think he was so set on making sure he’d never be poor that he was afraid to let up on the throttle. Anyway, Gilda got tired of waiting for him to make time for her and found someone else, so he kept working and became less and less social. It frustrated Mom that he always had an excuse for why he couldn’t come for Christmas or family weddings. You never saw the guy.”
“Not too hard to figure out why,” Sienna observed.
“Yeah, I’m sure he didn’t want to hang around and watch families having fun or someone getting hitched when he’d blown his chance. He always sent a present, though.”
So, once upon a time Bob Cratchett had been kind. “That’s such a sad story.”
“It gets sadder. Gilda’s husband died twenty years later and she contacted him. They wound up getting married and it looked like he was going to get a second chance. They had a big bash in the Grand Ballroom at the Westin in Seattle, went off to the Caribbean for a honeymoon.
The whole nine yards.”
But Cratchett was alone now. “Did she leave him?”
Tim nodded. “Yeah, you could say that. She had lupus, but he was sure with all his money he could cure her. He spent a fortune, first on medical bills and procedures, then on trying to keep her happy—cruises, trips to Hawaii. You name it. Toward the end he moved her up here to the mountains, figuring the scenery and fresh air would be good for her. He was the first one to build on this street, as a matter of fact. He still owns those two empty lots in back of his place and one of the buildings downtown.”
A regular Icicle Falls land baron.
“Aunt Gilda loved the house but she didn’t live that long to enjoy it. She died of complications from the disease.”
Sienna’s resentment toward Cratchett melted. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah, it was. After she died, he became bitter. We tried to get him to come to family gatherings but he wouldn’t. He didn’t even come to my mom’s funeral when she died last year,” Tim added, and Sienna could hear the disappointment in his voice. “Sent a huge arrangement of flowers and donated money in her name to World Vision, but no personal appearance. Anyway, my sister and I promised my mom that we’d look after the old guy. Now with her gone and my sister in Idaho, it looks like I inherited Uncle Bob by default.”
“Lucky you.”
He gave a rueful smile. “Yeah, lucky me. I’ve got kids, an orchard to tend and an old coot to watch over. And yes, he is a pain in the neck. He’s got no purpose, no one to care about. All he has is his money—what’s left of it—a condo in Seattle and a time-share in Mexico, neither of which he ever uses. No one to enjoy any of it with.”
“No wonder he’s so grumpy,” Sienna said.
“I’ve tried to convince him to move into a retirement home, but no go. So, I’m afraid you’re stuck living next to him.”
“It looks that way,” Sienna agreed. “But maybe I’ll be able to be a little more patient with him, knowing his past.”
Tim shook his head. “Don’t be too easy on the guy. Shit happens to everyone. It’s no excuse for being rude.”
“Hey, I’m trying to give him an out.”
“He’d try the patience of a saint.” Tim downed the rest of his hot chocolate. “I’d better get going. I’ve got some paperwork waiting for me.”
She held up the plate of cookies. “One for the road?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He took one and stood, grabbing his coat. “Thanks for being such a good neighbor to the old guy. I can’t make any promises that he’ll change, but I’ll try to compensate for him. If you need anything fixed around here, I’m pretty good with my hands.”
She wouldn’t mind seeing just how good he was with his hands. Tim Richmond appeared to be a great guy.
But then, so had Carlos when she’d first met him. People often put up masks, hiding their real selves. A man didn’t wind up divorced for no reason. Not even a Tim Richmond.
* * *
Muriel awoke to find she had more updates from Dot and Arnie waiting on her phone. Dot had sent a picture of the two of them seated at a table spread with fine china and crystal, enjoying their dinner. Dot was wearing a low-cut red dress that showed off what little cleavage—and wrinkled, at that—she had. Arnie sat next to her, wearing a blue sweater.
Talked Arnie into getting this sweater. I think he looks great.
He did look cute. And happy. He had his arm over the back of Dot’s chair and their heads were tilted together as if they were a couple.
Muriel frowned at the picture. She texted back, I just got Arnie a blue sweater for Christmas.
Okay, she was being small. But a man can’t have too many sweaters, she added.
He could certainly have too many female friends, though, and if you asked Muriel, Dot made one too many.
What a bad attitude. “Shame on you,” she scolded herself. And really, to get irritated over something as silly as a sweater. Or a growing friendship.
Disgusted with herself, she went online and began to search for another gift she could give her old friend, something more unique than a sweater. At last she found it. Whiskey flasks were all the rage and the silver one she ordered for him was bound to be a hit. Not that Arnie was a big drinker but he did like his Jack Daniel’s before dinner. She placed the order, then toasted a bagel for breakfast, feeling very pleased with herself.
Until her cell phone announced a new text. This time it was from Arnie and came complete with a picture of the whiskey flask Dot had bought him. Nooo.
I may have to start drinking more, he wrote.
At the rate things were going, Muriel would soon be drinking more herself.
Chapter Nine
When we decorate and bake, we’re not just making something pretty or delicious, we’re making memories.
—Muriel Sterling, A Guide to Happy Holidays
It seemed Tim had barely left before Leo began asking when they were going to get their tree. “You promised,” he reminded Sienna.
“Yes, I said we’d get it this weekend.” Weekend meant Sunday as well as Saturday, and if they waited until Sunday, they could get Tito to haul it in and set it up when he and Rita and the baby came over for dinner.
“Is it the weekend? I don’t have school.”
“Yes, it’s the weekend. But we’ll get our tree tomorrow.”
“Why can’t we get it today?”
“Because getting a tree is a lot of work.”
“I’ll help,” Leo offered.
The sky was blue and the sun was out. The snowplow was grinding its way down the street, so she couldn’t use the excuse of not wanting to drive in the snow, and Leo was looking at her eagerly. She didn’t have any big plans for the rest of the day. Well, why not? It would be fun.
When they’d lived in LA, she’d had an artificial tree, but she’d left it behind, knowing that once they were living in Icicle Falls, she’d want a real one—a big, bushy tree that brought the fragrance of the great outdoors into her house. After all, what was the point of living in the mountains if you didn’t have a real tree?
The point, she quickly realized, was that you didn’t have to lug the monster home. Of course, once they were at the tree lot, Leo had picked a tree on steroids. She watched with trepidation as the tree lot attendants heaved it onto her car roof and secured it with ropes. She could almost hear the car groan. How was she going to manage to get this hernia maker off when they got back to the house? Meanwhile, speakers hovering over the lot blasted out a Christmas song telling her that she needed a little Christmas. Looking at what she’d just purchased, she began to suspect she’d gotten a little too much Christmas.
Taking the tree off the car once they were back in the driveway proved to be every bit as difficult as she’d imagined, the holiday version of going to the gym. No, going to the gym was easier. You had handheld weights you could control. This thing was uncontrollable. Had it grown another three feet between the car lot and her house? Paul Bunyan would have had a struggle with it.
Leo got whacked in the face with a branch while they were freeing the car and sent up a howl.
“You’re all right,” she assured him. “No blood.”
“It hurt,” he said, glaring at the tree.
“It’s okay. Once we get it in the house and all decorated, it will be worth all the effort.”
But how were they going to get it in? “If I pick up the trunk, can you lift its top?”
He scowled. “No.”
“Well, let’s try. Remember, you wanted a nice big tree.”
Leo made a half-hearted effort to lift his end of the tree, then dropped it. “It’s heavy.”
This had been a mistake.
“Okay, stand back.” She’d have to get in touch with her inner Hercules and drag t
he tree into the house.
Or they could wait until the next day when Tito would be around to help. “I tell you what,” she said to Leo. “Let’s wait until tomorrow when Tío Tito and Tía Rita can help us put up our tree.”
“No, you said tonight,” Leo protested.
“I said we’d go get the tree. We got it.”
“Please, Mamacita,” he begged. “Okay, I’ll help.” Reinvigorated, he grabbed a branch and gave a tug. Of course, the thing barely budged.
But he kept trying, so she had to reward his efforts. “Okay, you push and I’ll pull. Let’s see if, together, we can get it in.”
Dragging the thing inside was like trying to wrestle a dragon through a keyhole. She grunted and groaned, sweated and strained, Leo joining in with exaggerated grunts of his own. Soon she was swearing under her breath. The tree did its best not to cooperate, moving inch by inch and shedding fir needles right and left. This was the tree equivalent of giving birth.
But, like giving birth, you couldn’t stop halfway through the process. She gave a determined tug and the tree gave in and inched forward. Another mighty pull fueled by a grunt, and it burst through the door, pushing her off balance and sending her toppling backward. Not content to take her out, it also sent the vase from her hall table crashing to the floor.
“Mama?” Leo called from the other side of the door. The tree’s fat butt hid him from sight, making him only a disembodied voice.
“I’m fine,” she said, getting back up. Having fun now. Having a real holly jolly Christmas.
Getting the tree into the living room wasn’t any easier. Not content with scratching and scraping her face, it also attacked the nativity set that had been on top of the bookshelf. With one sweep of its fat boughs, it took out the shepherds and decapitated a wise man. At least the holy family was all in one piece.
At last the stupid thing was finally in the living room, lying on the floor, ready to be set up. But before tackling that task, Sienna moved every breakable far from its reach.
“Okay, Leo, now you hold the tree stand while I put the tree in it. Can you do that?”
Christmas in Icicle Falls Page 12
