* * *
AND THAT WAS how she got him. He would gladly take the chance himself, but he couldn’t force it on the boys. He turned his hand to hold hers, looked into her pleading gaze, and hated himself for everything he’d said. Pain burned in his chest.
“I’m sorry.” Tears sprang to his eyes and he fought them down. She came around the table and he pushed back his chair to take her in his lap. They wept together.
“I’m leaving day after tomorrow,” she said, straightening up. He closed his eyes against that fact and she kissed his temple and added quickly, “Dad has Stella and you and the boys to spend the holiday with, and the sooner I’m gone the better.”
“I could go into a few reasons why that isn’t true.”
“Please don’t. My mind’s made up.”
“All right then.” Nate put her on her feet. “Wait right here. I have something for you.” He disappeared into the living room and returned with a large dress box. It was wrapped in signature Tony’s Boutique burgundy and silver. He put it on the table.
“Nate,” she began to protest.
“Just open it,” he said. “I’m on my last reserves of self-control.”
She removed the ribbon, tugged off the lid and dug into the tissue. She pulled out the red wool jacket with the irregular collar and closure that she’d admired the day she’d sketched him on the waterfront. She held it to herself, more tears falling.
“Try it on,” he said. “I want to remember you in it.”
Hands trembling, she slipped into it and fastened the buttons.
She looked beautiful, he thought. It was just the sort of offbeat, eccentric thing to underscore who she was. He would remember her in this kitchen, helping the boys with their sketches, helping him with Thanksgiving dinner, talking, teasing, being everything he’d ever wanted—but apparently couldn’t have.
He reached into the bottom of the box and handed her a five-pound bag of Thundermuck coffee. “That’s the stuff you liked so much the night you helped Sheamus build Bill the Monster.”
She walked into Nate’s arms again, sobbed for several moments, then drew back and looked up at him, misery in her eyes. “I’ll love you forever,” she said.
“Yeah.” He held her close. “Me, too.”
He helped her put the coat back in the box, fitted the coffee into a corner, put the lid on and carried it to the door for her. Then he watched her walk across their driveways with it.
From the living room came soft sounds of laughter. Stella and the boys were decorating the Christmas tree she’d bought with them early that morning.
Nate’s heartbreak drowned out the sounds.
* * *
NATE TOOK THE boys Christmas shopping for Stella and Dennis, to get them out of the house. He explained about Bobbie having to leave, and though he tried to make it sound positive—she was fulfilling a dream, and they might be able to visit her one day—he wasn’t fooling anyone. Sheamus cried and Dylan sank into a mood that reminded Nate of the old days. Getting them out into the rampant Christmas cheer seemed like the best solution, even if it was only temporary.
Sheamus wanted to buy Stella a purse set that included wallet, eyeglass holder, cigarette pouch and makeup bag.
Dylan rolled his eyes. “Shea! She doesn’t smoke and she doesn’t wear glasses. She wouldn’t use half that stuff. What about a woolly hat to keep her warm? Or when she stays overnight with us, she has that ratty brown robe. A new one would be something she could really use.”
Sheamus folded his arms and struck a stubborn pose. “Okay, but I like the wallet.”
“Let’s look at robes,” Nate suggested. “Good idea, Dylan. Then we can get a wallet, too, that isn’t part of a set.”
Both boys agreed that would work.
They decided on pink for Stella’s robe. Nate decided to ignore the gender stereotyping.
The boys were convinced that Dennis would love a dark blue hooded sweatshirt with ASTORIA embroidered on the left side in gold. “’Cause he isn’t from here,” Dylan explained.
“Good point.” Nate paid for the purchase.
“Can we get a TV for Hunter?” Sheamus stopped to watch a colorful, exceptionally clear cartoon on a dozen screens in the electronics section. “’Cause he likes ours so much.”
“That’s too expensive,” Dylan said. He looked up at Nate questioningly, “Isn’t it?”
Nate smiled for the first time since he’d walked into the ladies’ room at the Banker’s Suite last night. A television for Hunter. He liked the idea. And it fit into the plan he’d been considering while the boys were shopping.
He bought a 46” flat screen television, and the fixtures to mount it on the wall. The boys were excited. He paid extra to have it delivered immediately. “We’ll follow the delivery truck to Hunter’s,” he said to the boys, “then we’re all going to go to McDonald’s, okay?”
He became the hero of the hour.
“Why don’t we just deliver it?” Dylan asked.
“Because Hunter’s apartment is on the second floor. You think you can help me carry it up?”
Dylan grinned. “Right. He’s gonna be so surprised!”
When the truck arrived in front of Hunter’s apartment building, Nate parked across the street, and he and the boys followed the deliverymen up the stairs. Hunter came to the door in jeans and a gray sweatshirt, munching on an apple. He looked surprised by the small crowd at his door. His eyes were bloodshot, as though he hadn’t slept well.
Nate led the way into the apartment. “Hey, good morning!” he said. “These two elves and I, and these gentlemen from Santa’s Workshop, represent the Union for Fairness to members of the Rotten List.”
Dylan laughed.
“In the interest of turning you around so that next year you make the Nice list, we’re providing you with a gesture of our faith in you. Where would you like it?”
Hunter frowned as he read the box, “Forty-six-inch LED HDTV.” He turned to them in astonishment. For a minute, Nate was sure Hunter was going to make a suggestion about where to put it that the boys shouldn’t hear, but at the last minute he said instead, “You can’t give me—”
“Pick a spot,” Nate said, “because in a rented place we want to put the screws in only once. Right here where the current TV is?” There was a lot of bare wall and a very small television.
The men went to work. They disconnected and moved the old set and stand aside, then, with a whir of power tools, put up the new one.
“You’ll have to upgrade your cable service,” Nate said. “We can do that at the office on Monday. Come on. We’re going to lunch.”
“What is wrong with you?” Hunter demanded.
Nate ignored him and pointed to the hall closet. “Dylan, get his jacket.”
There was a little satisfaction for Nate in seeing his friend confused and speechless. At the office, he was seldom confused about anything, and always had an answer to the knottiest problem. Hunter reminded him a lot of Ben. He’d saved Nate’s hide a few times since he’d taken over the office.
Nate and the boys led him forcibly out to the car and into the passenger seat.
“People saw you kidnap me, you know,” he told Nate. “You’ll never get away with this. Whatever it is.”
Nate simply smiled, parked at McDonalds, ordered a Happy Meal for Sheamus, then Big Mac meals for the rest of them.
“We were Christmas shopping,” Nate explained to the still perplexed Hunter after they’d eaten, “and the boys thought you should have a television.”
“Thanks, guys.” Hunter sent a smile the boys’ way, clearly still in a stupor. “But you can’t give me such a big item just like that.”
“Why make life more complicated than it has to be? How about dessert?” The boys were already on their feet. N
ate looked at the long line at the counter and saw his chance. “You guys mind going to get it while I talk to Hunter? Four hot fudge sundaes. Hot fudge okay with you?”
Hunter nodded dazedly. The boys ran off to join the line.
Nate pinned his friend with a look. “Okay, here it is. I’ve only got till the boys come back, so don’t interrupt me. I’m giving you the money to pay off the rest of your debts from the embezzlement...hey!”
Hunter glowered and tried to interrupt, but Nate glowered back. “I don’t want the boys to hear me talking about Bobbie moving to Italy, so just let me finish.”
“I thought you were en—”
“Are you not hearing me?”
Hunter sat back. “Sorry. You can explain that later.”
“I’m also going to give you a down payment on a house. So you can call Sandy tonight and tell her you want to talk. You don’t have to tell her how you got this money. It’s a gift from me to you, because I’m just realizing today how cool it is to have people in your life that you can depend on for anything. I’ll transfer funds to your account Monday morning.”
There was silence while they stared at each other.
“Can I speak now?” Hunter asked.
“Depends. What are you going to say?”
“That you’re an idiot and the best friend any man ever had. And much as I want to accept—”
“If you don’t, you’re fired.”
“Like you could do without me.”
“That’s the point. I can’t. We’re coming into year-end and tax season, and I don’t want you moping around because the woman you love is out of your life.” He sighed painfully, and winced a little as it hurt. “It’s just happened to me, and the office won’t be able to function if it happens to both of us.”
Hunter studied him bleakly, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, Nate. Because her friend died?”
“Yeah. Now she’s afraid if something happens to her, the boys will be traumatized for the second time in their lives.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Just tell me you’ll try to work it out with Sandy. Then there’ll be a happy future for one of us.”
“I promise.”
The boys were back with a carry box of sundaes, and the four of them spent the rest of their lunch talking about meeting at Hunter’s for the next football Saturday.
* * *
BOBBIE STOOD IN the middle of Nate’s garage as Stella helped her collect empty boxes. Her father was at home, packing up her books and favorite curios, and a few items from the kitchen to help her get started in a new place. With Sandy’s blessing, she was leaving everything else in the house so that her father could stay and spend the holidays in Astoria.
“I think you’re making a mistake, Bobbie,” Stella said for the fourth time.
“You’ve made that clear.” She gave her a hug. “And I appreciate how you feel, but think! Imagine what it would be like for the boys if they had to—”
Their conversation was interrupted by the sounds of the garage opening. As the door rose, Nate’s car braked to a stop, Bobbie and Stella ensnared in its headlights.
Nate leaned out the window. “What’s going on?”
“Bobbie needs a few more boxes,” Stella said, holding one up. “I’m trying to help.”
He popped the trunk and got out of the car. “Yeah. Dennis called me.” He pulled half a dozen boxes of various sizes out of the car and carried them into the garage. He smiled soberly at Bobbie. “Will that do it, or do you need more?”
“That should take care of it. Thank you.”
She wanted desperately to touch his hand, his arm, but his expression told her to keep her distance. It wasn’t hostile, just pained. They looked into each other’s eyes, communicating all kinds of feelings for which there were no words.
“Dennis and I are going to dinner,” Stella said, looking from one to the other. “Want to come? The two of you can sit on opposite sides of the booth. Or in different booths.”
Nate turned to her. She stopped talking.
“Liberty Cab and Shuttle is picking me up at noon tomorrow,” Bobbie said, trying to sound as though it was a good thing. “I talked to the boys this afternoon and they said you explained everything. Whatever you told them, they don’t seem to hate me. So, thank you.”
Nate nodded. “They have a surprising capacity to deal with what they’re given.”
She wasn’t sure if that was a criticism or not. So she smiled in response. “Stella says you have one wardrobe box in the basement I can have. Is it all right if I come back for it in a while?”
“I’ll bring it over later,” Nate said. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. And sad to realize it shouldn’t matter to her now.
“Thank you,” she said.
* * *
STELLA AND DENNIS had gone to dinner, and the boys were upstairs getting ready for bed when Nate sank into his chair with a brandy and tried to pull himself together.
He still hadn’t recovered from seeing Bobbie in his garage. In the time she’d spent in Astoria, she’d gone from a pixie in grubby clothes to a fresh-faced, beautiful woman with still-short but lustrous hair that he wanted to touch. She’d put on a few extra pounds and they gave her delicate, gamine body some wonderful curves. She’d been gorgeous Saturday night.
And then the sky had fallen.
He sipped at his brandy and reminded himself that he had no right to self-pity. He’d had several months without anger, thanks to her, and now he suspected that even when she was gone, he’d remain free of it. He’d gotten over his own loss, and realized how lucky he was to have the children his brother had left behind. And to have all the memories he’d made with Bobbie.
He felt confident that his connection with her would remain because of his housekeeper and her father. The logistics were a problem now, but Stella and Dennis were too good together to settle for simple friendship. Still, for Nate and Bobbie, being occasional acquaintances might be more difficult than never seeing each other again—if the way Nate had felt in the garage this afternoon was any indication.
Trying to give it all a cheerful spin, he imagined a future where Sheamus was CEO of the Disney Corporation, Dylan was President of the United States and Bobbie’s work was collected internationally. He could be happy in the knowledge that once their lives had all been intertwined.
God. He’d found his feminine side.
“How come you’re still up?” Dylan asked, padding down the stairs in his bare feet. “Don’t you feel good?”
Sheamus followed right behind him in slippers that lit up when he walked. “It’s ’cause Bobbie’s going away,” he said.
Dylan stopped at the bottom of the stairs to roll his eyes impatiently at his brother. “I was trying not to say that.”
Sheamus walked penitently down the rest of the stairs.
“I’m fine,” Nate said, beckoning them to join him in the chair. “I’m sad, but we talked about that, remember? It’s okay to be sad.”
Dylan settled on the arm. “As long as you don’t take it out on other people.”
“Very good,” Nate praised.
Sheamus was about to climb into his lap when he noticed that the tree wasn’t lit. “Can I plug in the lights?”
“Sure.” He could take it.
Sheamus’s pajama-clad bottom squirmed under the tree until it came to life in gaudy splendor. Colors reflected on every ornament and on the crystal garland that spiraled around the branches.
Sheamus ran back to climb into Nate’s lap and lie against his shoulder. “It looks like the trees we used to have,” he said, a little wistfully.
Dylan, too, sounded dreamy. “Yeah. Mom made cookies, like Bobbie does. And she smiled and laughed a lot and sang Christmas carols....
”
“Like Bobbie does,” Sheamus added.
Dylan hooked a casual arm around Nate’s neck and said philosophically, “Pretty soon it won’t hurt as much that Bobbie can’t stay. You’ll find a way to be happy, and...and the love Bobbie has for us and that we have for her will last forever, right? That’s what you told us.”
With his own arm wrapped around Sheamus, Nate enjoyed the luxury of Dylan’s display of affection, and the knowledge that he’d actually listened to what Nate had said. “Did it make you feel better when I told you that?”
“No,” Dylan said, true to his candid style. “It still hurts sometimes, but it’s not as hard to feel happy anymore, and I like the idea that love lasts forever. We’ll always love Mom and Dad, and they’ll always love us.”
“And we love you,” Sheamus said, patting Nate’s chest. “You’re the best uncle anywhere.”
Nate drew a choppy breath.
Dylan sighed in a very adult way. “So Bobbie will still love you even though she has to go away to paint different stuff and you have to stay here.”
Sheamus sat up, obviously feeling argumentative. “I don’t get that. Aren’t people who love each other supposed to be together in the same place? Why doesn’t she want to stay with us?”
“It’s hard to explain,” Nate replied.
“I know why,” Dylan went on in that matter-of-fact way. “I heard her tell you yesterday in the kitchen that if she got cancer again, or if she died of that chemo stuff like her friend did, she was afraid Sheamus and me would be all messed up.”
Nate stared at him, unaware he’d heard that conversation.
As though afraid Nate would question how he’d heard, Dylan explained with a shrug, “I heard her crying, so I listened.”
That was true. “Well...that’s a pretty scary thought, isn’t it? I mean, if Bobbie became your stepmom and she got sick again?”
Dylan shrugged. “I think it’s scarier that she’s going away. I mean, she’s okay now, right? Think of all the cool stuff we could do together. We could help her pick flowers and leaves for her paper. We have a lot of fun when we all eat together, and that time we went for groceries was great.” His voice waned a little. “Even just watching TV and hanging out is fun.” He turned on the arm of Nate’s chair so that he could look at him. “What if we promised not to freak out if she did get sick again?” He focused on Sheamus. “You’d rather have her here, right? Sick or not?”
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