“That would be wonderful.”
His frown deepened. “Did you know she and Hunter are off? At least for the moment. He’s broke and worried about how to support them if they got married, and she insists she’s working so it shouldn’t be a problem. She doesn’t want to wait. But he doesn’t want her to take on his debt from the embezzlement. They’re at an impasse.”
So that was it. “I wondered what was going on. She hasn’t answered my calls. Darn.” Bobbie gave Nate a wan smile. “Isn’t there someone in your arsenal of friends who can fix that?”
“I wish. Let’s celebrate us right now. Come on, I’ll take you to The Rio. Please drive carefully. We have a lot to live for and you’re a bit of a cowgirl behind the wheel.”
She laughed and kissed him soundly. “I love you, Nate. Do you want me to pick you up at work Friday to help decorate the Banker’s Suite, or will you have time? I know you have deadlines.”
“Hunter volunteered to stay and work. I imagine he’d rather put in overtime than have to deal with Sandy. I’ll have to go home and change first, so I’ll drive you.”
“You’re afraid of my driving, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You keep gasping.”
“You keep tailgating and cutting people off. But I adore you.”
“It’s a good thing I adore you, too, or I’d be offended.”
He laughed and climbed into the truck as she ran around to the driver’s side.
* * *
AFTER DINNER, BOBBIE drove Nate to his car, then headed home. Nate returned just after she did, freeing Stella and Bobbie’s father of their babysitting duties. Dennis walked into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway as Bobbie puttered with the teakettle. His blue eyes were wide with anticipation, since she’d shared her plan for the evening with him.
“Well?” he asked.
She threw her arms around him and held him fiercely. “You’re going to get to pay for a wedding, Dad!”
He cheered loudly and lifted her off her feet.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BOBBIE WENT TO Sandy’s Thursday night with a Christmas movie for the girls, a bottle of white zinfandel and a big bag of Cheetos. Sandy did not seem happy to see her.
“I’ve got so much to do before tomorrow.” She pointed to a kitchen table covered with gold stars and several rolls of fishing line. “I have to—”
“I’m here to help,” Bobbie said, trying to push her way in.
Sandy stopped her. “You’re here to talk about Hunter and I don’t want to.”
Bobbie stood her ground. “A year ago when I didn’t want to talk about my fear of dying, you made me do it. You said you’d read that it was important to face it, then put it aside. Well, that’s what you have to do with Hunter. Let’s talk and see if it’s something that can be fixed, and if it can’t, he’s not the only wolf in the forest.”
Sandy blinked. “Wolf in the forest?”
“Fish in the sea is so cliché. Especially in Astoria.”
Sandy rolled her eyes and let her in. The girls jumped up and down when they saw her because she usually brought presents. They were ecstatic with the movie. Sandy went into the living room to start it for them. When she returned, she handed Bobbie a spool of fishing line and a pair of scissors. “I need ten two-foot lengths, ten eighteen-inch lengths and about twenty twelve-inch lengths. We’re going to tie them to the stars and attach them to the Banker’s Suite ceiling.”
Bobbie put the wine in the refrigerator and the Cheetos bag on the counter. She reached for a yardstick on the far side of the table and sat down to work.
“He doesn’t love me,” Sandy said, reaching for a box of plain ornaments in red, green, gold and silver. She applied a sticker to each one. It read “An Old Astoria Christmas.”
“You know that isn’t the problem,” Bobbie scolded gently as she reeled out a length of line. “Are those ornaments table favors?”
“Yes. And how do you know what the problem is?”
“Nate told me.”
She looked indignant. “Hunter told him?”
“Well, of course. He’s entitled to a confidant. He’s as upset as you are. He’s just trying to do the noble thing, Sandy.”
“I know. But if we wait until he can support us without me helping to pay off his old debts, we’ll never be able to be together. What purpose does that serve? He gets to maintain his pride while the girls and I go without a husband and father?”
Bobbie smiled at her patiently. “It isn’t simply pride. He knows you’ve worked hard to take care of the girls on your own, and he doesn’t want you to have to take on his problems.”
Sandy dropped an ornament back on the table and started to cry. “I thought this was going to work,” she wept. “I thought I’d finally found someone who’d be the kind of man I was looking for when I got married the first time.”
“Come on. You’re mad at him because you can’t have your way. That isn’t fair. Give him a little time to come up with a solution.”
“And what would that be that wouldn’t take us into old age?”
“I don’t know, but miracles happen all the time. And it’s the season. Don’t be angry at him for refusing to use you.”
Sandy put both hands over her face and continued to sob. “I just want to love him.”
“Trust is part of loving. Trust him to find a solution and don’t just walk off because you can’t have it all your way.”
Sandy glared at her. “You’re going to Italy and leaving a wonderful man and two of the cutest little boys behind so you can have things your way.”
Bobbie enjoyed being able to deny that. “Actually, I’m not. I’m staying with Nate and we’re getting married.”
Sandy sat a moment in stunned silence, then screamed. Her daughters came running in to see what had happened. Still sobbing, she wrapped Bobbie in a bear hug, then drew the worried girls between them. “I’m so happy for you! Oh, that’s wonderful! But what made you change your mind?”
“Love, I guess. It’s so strong.” Bobbie rubbed that spot in her chest where warmth had invaded the day she’d met Nate, knowing for certain now that it wasn’t radiation burn. “I still want to be a fine artist, want it passionately, but I’ll have to find a way to do that while being a wife and mother.”
“Oh, Bobbie. And the best part is you’ll be nearby. Do you think your dad will move here?” Sandy narrowed her eyes and asked cautiously, “Is there something going on between him and Stella?”
“Friendship, at this point.” Bobbie laughed and hugged her again. “He’s talking about joining Doctors Without Borders and she really likes working for Nate, so while they love being together, I don’t know that anything immediate is going to happen. She plans to visit him in the spring in California.”
Sandy pushed Bobbie gently back to the table. “You get to work again, I’ll open the wine and we can plan your engagement party! I’ll bet Laura will be excited. Anything new with her on the baby front?”
Bobbie reeled out more fishing line and began cutting. “I got a Happy Thanksgiving text from her, but I haven’t heard from her since. She hasn’t even answered my cell phone messages. They’re probably busy with Christmas stuff.”
“Maybe you should call Sean.”
“I will.”
Bobbie attached a length of line to a large gold foil star and held it up to be sure it was the right length. It bobbed and spun and caught the light in a way that portrayed the warmth of the season—the warmth she felt. She couldn’t recall ever being this happy.
* * *
“BOBBIE! GUESS WHAT happened?” Crystal came to wrap her arms around her as their last art class began.
Fernanda distributed large envelopes on which Bobbie had placed Christmas stickers. “When you’re
finished with your ornaments,” she told the class, “put them in here to keep them from getting messy.”
“What happened?” Bobbie asked in a whisper as Fernanda went on to give them instructions about putting their names on the envelopes.
“Santa came!” The little girl’s eyes were enormous, her cheeks pink with excitement. “I didn’t get to see him. And I don’t know why he came early. But he brought dolls for me and my little sister, jackets for us and my mom, and lots and lots of food. And he did something with the furnace, too, ’cause Mom turned it on so we could get warm!”
Bless Nate and his connections, Bobbie thought with a swell of pride and gratitude. “Wow! That’s wonderful.”
“Yeah! And my dad gets to come home for Christmas!”
That was beyond anything she’d hoped for. “Really?”
“Yeah. He has to go back afterward. But he might not have to stay as long as we thought.” She hugged Bobbie again. “He’s going to love my ornaments.”
“Yes, he is!”
The bell rang more than an hour later, announcing the end of school until after the holidays and the final art class. Children ran out of the room yelling their goodbyes and waving at her as they passed. Crystal stopped to give her another hug.
“Bye, guys!” Bobbie shouted back, a little off balance at how disappointed she was that this was the end. But it didn’t have to be, she realized with a sudden burst of excitement. She wasn’t going anywhere. She could teach this class again next fall. Or possibly offer art classes during the year. “Merry Christmas!” she called.
Fernanda helped clean up cookie crumbs and cocoa cups, and put the room back in order. She retrieved her coat and purse, then wrapped her arms around Bobbie. “I’m going to miss you,” she said. She pulled a small gift out of her purse and showed her that the tag with Bobbie’s name was the back side of her husband’s business card.
“If you are staying after all, call Joel. I think you’d be brilliant at art therapy. Merry Christmas.”
Bobbie stood alone for a few minutes in the empty classroom, rain pouring against the windows, and thought about how much she’d enjoyed this time. Art therapy. That was so not where her dreams lay, but she’d loved the sparkle she’d seen in the children when they’d become involved in their projects, and she couldn’t deny it had ignited something in her.
She put a hand to her eyes and drew a deep breath, dizzy with the sudden spin her life had taken. She needed quiet and maybe even solitude to think about Fernanda’s suggestion, but the Christmas season wasn’t the time to hope for that.
She glanced at her watch. There was time to do a little shopping and wrap presents before Nate picked her up tonight. She’d conscripted her father and Stella to help decorate.
By ten that night the Banker’s Suite, a beautiful space to begin with, was a re-creation of Christmas in Old Astoria, as the fund-raiser’s theme promised. Floor-to-ceiling photographs from the nineteenth century had been affixed to foam core and stood up against the walls as though the old downtown had been brought inside. Lights had been inserted in every window in the photos, and Bobbie had led a group of artistic volunteers in adding color to the figures visible in windows and on the street.
Old nets had been strung along the sides with additional photos of the waterfront, and the items to be raffled were placed in front of the shops.
Chunky Christmas garlands stretched from wall to wall, just as they did across Commercial Street, and several old globed streetlamps salvaged from Astoria City Hall’s basement provided lighting. The foil stars Bobbie had worked on at Sandy’s now dangled from the ceiling and twisted gently in the air, catching the light. The atmosphere was touchingly nostalgic.
Everyone stood in a large knot in the middle of the space and gazed around in awed silence until Clarissa said, “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.” Applause and whoops of satisfaction followed.
Then the weary group dispersed. Nate caught Bobbie’s hand. “We’re all going to Mr. Fultano’s for pizza. Okay with you?”
“Sure. Who’s everybody?”
“Your father, Stella, Jerry Gold and his wife, Clarissa, a lot of the crew. But Sandy has to get home to relieve the babysitter.”
“Oh. But she’s worked so hard.” Bobbie turned to see her friend placing the ornament favors on the tables.
“I know. She told Libby she was too tired to party. You can’t fix everything, Bobbie.” Nate put an arm around her, caught her neck in the crook of his elbow and pulled her toward him to kiss her temple. “Come on. You’re okay with anchovies on the pizza, right?”
“I absolutely am not. Or olives. I can pick olives off, but anchovies leave a taste. No anchovies!”
He tightened his grip ever so slightly at her emphatic refusal. “Well,” he said with sudden gravity. “I’m glad I found this out before we got married.”
“You’re telling me anchovies are a deal-breaker?”
“No.” He lowered his head to kiss her lips. “But I guess we have to take them off the reception menu.”
* * *
NATE COULD NOT recall feeling so... He didn’t have a word for it. He had to cultivate that feminine side. A woman would probably have a word for happiness that seemed to color everything, even the things one was usually unhappy about.
But it was all right. He didn’t have to define it; it was wonderful, a life-revelation to simply feel it. And he did every time he looked at Bobbie in the red dress that hugged her tiny waist and small breasts, with the skirt that floated out around her and whispered when she walked.
Holding her in his arms while they danced in this holiday fairyland was exquisite. Her small body nestled comfortably against his and filled him with a sense of possession he knew he could never express aloud. It wasn’t that he wanted to own her, but to protect and indulge her—a thought he knew she’d hate as much as the sense of possession.
“You’re very quiet,” she observed as they swayed to a bluesy Sinatra medley played by a local band. Couples in elegant dress danced around them, many talking and laughing, but some, like him, overtaken with the mood, the ambience and the partner in their arms.
In the middle of the room, Dennis and Stella chatted happily, arms wrapped around each other, smiles on their faces.
Hunter talked and laughed with Jerry Gold and his wife, who were out for the first time since the baby was born—if you didn’t count pizza after decorating the night before—and Sandy danced very decorously with a senior partner in the firm she worked for.
“I’m afraid to speak,” Nate admitted.
“Since when?” Bobbie teased.
“Since I’ve started having possessive thoughts. You’d misunderstand.”
She surprised him by smiling. “No, I wouldn’t. You don’t mean you think of me as chattel, but that your heart wants to own me. Two very different things.”
“How very insightful of you!”
She pretended modesty. “It’s nothing. My father explained it to me.”
That surprised Nate again. “How does he know?”
“Oh, it seems you’ve been looking at me possessively for a long time. Ah! Time for the raffle. I want the winter wardrobe from Clarissa’s! I bought ten tickets!”
They went back to their tables when the music stopped, and Clarissa called Sandy up to draw names from a large basket decorated with a Christmas bow. She held it up so that Sandy couldn’t see inside.
Jerry Gold produced a cobalt-blue scarf, which Clarissa explained represented the winter wardrobe from her store. He then wound it around his throat and threw the long, beaded end over his shoulder with great style. Everyone laughed, then fell silent. Sandy reached up into the basket and handed Clarissa the folded square of paper she’d chosen. Clarissa opened it and read, “Cecelia Moreno!”
Bobbie stared in disbeli
ef, then squealed delightedly. Nate whispered in her ear, “That’s not your name, Bobbie!”
She turned to wrap her arms around his neck. “I know! That’s Crystal’s mom! I bought a few tickets for their family.”
She went to accept, explaining to Clarissa that the winner wasn’t present. Jerry wrapped the blue scarf around Bobbie’s neck and Clarissa handed her a silver-and-black gift certificate.
Item after item was handed out. Bobbie’s father won a barbecue, Jonni jumped up and down over a golden Labrador puppy from a local breeder, a very cheerful older woman with a sequined poinsettia in her hair won one of Nate’s free tax returns. He groaned.
“What?” Bobbie asked.
He winced. “She looks like the type that has her receipts separated into little plastic bags, has no idea where her property tax statement is, and doesn’t remember whether or not she made estimated tax payments. I’m guessing by her gown and the rocks on her fingers that she has considerable income.”
Bobbie swatted his arm. “That’s pessimistic.”
“I’ll lay you odds.”
The announcement of Nate’s name made him stop. Jerry was holding up one of Mike Wallis’s baskets from The Cellar on Tenth. Nate went to claim it. It contained three bottles of wine and a large collection of the gourmet food items stocked at The Cellar.
Bobbie spotted chocolate when he placed his winnings on the table, and reached beneath the elegant cellophane wrapped around the basket.
“Hey!” He caught her hand. “This is mine.”
She smiled coyly. “But isn’t half of everything that’s yours now mine, too? At least the chocolate half?”
He was intoxicated with her playful charm and handed her the chocolate. This did not bode well, he thought, for winning future arguments with her.
Clarissa, Sandy and Jerry continued drawing until almost everything had found a home. The painting was the last item in the raffle. Jerry held it up, and Clarissa made Bobbie stand.
“Oh, no,” she groaned under her breath.
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