“Let’s keep that tradition alive,” Bebe laughed. “Are you anti-monogamy? Too career-focused with your cookie enterprise. Did the love of your life break your heart and you can’t seem to imagine falling in love with anyone else?”
“Don’t pry mom,” Milo scolded but she waved him off and Frieda faced the question head-on. Maybe it was the vulnerability everyone else had shown, or the kindness, but she felt like her guard was down. It helped to know these people would all return to being strangers in a few days, so she didn’t have much to lose.
“I actually just got out of a relationship,” she explained. “We were together for three years, and it wasn’t really going anywhere. Well, not anywhere particularly good. He was a nice enough guy but I looked up one day and realized we were just roommates.”
“Sound familiar Milo?” Bebe asked cocking a perfectly penciled eyebrow up at her son. “I think I’d put the last two relationships of yours in that category.”
“If you’d stop setting me up with all daughters of your bridge club friends, maybe I’d find a woman worth hanging around for.” He gave her a playful smile as Griff walked by and poked at the fire in the fireplace.
“Maybe we should all turn in,” he announced in a fatherly way that was far more an order than a suggestion.
Melony tousled the sandy hair of one of her sons whose piercing blue eyes were sagging from the weight of exhaustion. “The boys are just going to bunk with me. They don’t want to do the camp out in the living room thing tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”
“I’ll stay down here until the fire burns out,” Milo offered, accepting the kiss on his cheek from his mother.
“You don’t look too tired Frieda,” Bebe assessed. “Maybe you’d be kind enough to keep Milo company down here?”
“Bebe,” Griff called, already halfway up the stairs. “Don’t meddle. Has it ever once worked out when you do?”
“I seem to remember orchestrating our first date pretty meticulously. So well, in fact, you didn’t even realize you were on a date until I told you. And look at us now, thirty-six years later. How’s that for meddling?” She winked at Frieda as she disappeared up the stairs, whispering something to her husband.
“You must be shell-shocked,” Milo said apologetically. “The Tuckers do everything big. Especially holidays. We can come on a little strong sometimes but we mean well.”
“I’m pretty jealous,” she laughed. “I expected by this time of night I’d have been bombarded with questions about why my boyfriend isn’t with me, or why I’m still baking cookies for just a few small farmer’s markets. It’s nice to see a family that’s not so dysfunctional.”
“We’re plenty dysfunctional, trust me. We have our troubles like anyone else. But things have been rough lately and this holiday is really important to us. We all want it to be special.”
“Then I really shouldn’t be here,” Frieda said, covering her face with her hand.
“I think you being here makes it more special,” Milo started, then righted himself as he turned his gaze away from her and toward the fire. “I mean who’s not going to remember the squatter who crashed our vacation cottage?”
“I have the same confirmation email as your dad,” she protested, slapping a hand to his solid chest. “I am not a squatter.”
“Well it’s our story to retell years from now and the Tuckers tend to embellish. I’ll be sure to remember your smile though. It’s really pretty.”
“You’re as smooth as your mother,” Frieda said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll admit though, it’s better than sitting here alone. I really thought I’d be stuck here for the next four days, watching sad holiday movies and drinking every drop of wine in the house.”
Milo rose, grabbed the bottle she’d opened earlier and two glasses from the kitchen. He pulled the remote out of the drawer in the end table and turned the television on. “I don’t think that’s a bad plan at all,” he said, flashing his dimple as he filled their glasses. Tuning the television to the classic movie channel, they both chuckled when a sappy old Christmas film began to play.
“Not a bad plan at all,” she agreed, clinking her glass to his. Things kept changing so quickly which Frieda normally hated, but for once they seemed to be changing for the better.
Chapter Three
“At least someone camped out in the living room,” Bebe said, as she stared down at Milo and Frieda, her arms crossed over her chest. The look on her face was stern but melted away quickly.
After a bottle of wine and movie marathon, the two had fallen asleep on either end of the long couch, curled up and barely touching each other. But still, for some reason, to Frieda it felt scandalous. She popped up quickly and straightened her sweater.
“Good morning,” Griff said in his husky voice. “I’d uncross those arms Bebe, you started this.”
She hummed and shot a funny look at her husband as she let her arms fall. “Tucker family breakfast begins now,” she called over her shoulder. “Everyone in the kitchen.”
The entire family lined up, military style, in the rather moderately sized kitchen. Frieda stood stiffly, unsure of what to expect. Bebe took a wooden spoon and pointed at each of them as she barked out orders. “Bacon and sausage. Eggs. Pancake mixing. Pancake flipping. Toast. Fruit bowls. Beverages. Condiments. Go.”
Everyone, in a flurry of excitement, began racing around the kitchen like crazy. “Why are you moving so fast?” Frieda asked, worried someone was going to get hurt.”
“We are trying to beat last year’s time,” Melony explained, pulling her long blonde hair into a ponytail and slipping an apron on. “Don’t slow us down, we’ll never let you off the hook for it.”
“She gave you beverages,” Milo reminded her. “You can handle that. Juice, milk, coffee, tea. All on the table with the right cups. Hurry, hurry, hurry.” He grabbed two dozen eggs from the fridge and balanced them, a bowl, and a whisk in his hands as she made room on the counter.
“Griff you’d better not cut your finger dicing that fruit again this year. That cost us precious time.” Bebe was looking down at her watch as she checked all their progress.
Griff huffed as he lay the watermelon chunks on the cutting board. “That was 1997. Are you going to bring that up every single year? I almost lost my finger. I got twenty-two stitches.”
“Right,” Bebe agreed. “Oh, it was hardly bigger than a paper cut. Just be glad you finished your job before you ran off to the hospital.”
“Where are the mugs?” Frieda asked with all the urgency of a battlefield medic.
“There,” Kip said, pointing at a cabinet. He quickly tossed toast over to his wife Julie who was ready to butter or jelly them. A second later he was throwing more bread in and slamming the button on the toaster down.
There was a moment when Frieda – balancing eight mugs in her arms – thought that these people might all be insane. And maybe the insanity was contagious. Or, she took a breath and considered, maybe they just didn’t take themselves so seriously. Maybe this was all good fun. And that was contagious too.
The commotion continued as people brought hot plates of food over to the table. “Sit,” Bebe ordered as she stared at her watch and waved wildly at everyone. Milo grabbed Frieda’s hand and pulled her on to the bench seat with him. Melony came flying into her seat with a two foot high stack of pancakes on a tray. The boys had syrup and extra butter and powdered sugar in their hands as they sat. Bebe was the last one to take her seat as she hit the button on her watch dramatically.
“Well, I have to say, I’m surprised.” She eyed them all with a poker face. “I honestly didn’t think we’d ever beat that year in Florida when Kip brought his buddy who was a chef. But here we are, eleven minutes fifty-four seconds. You should all be very proud of yourselves.”
Bebe blinked hard a few times and Frieda assumed she was doing it for effect, but no one around the table was laughing.
“You all right mom?” Melony asked, reaching her hand out and covering her m
other’s gently.
“Some water please,” Bebe said, her voice a little shaky. “I’m just a bit thirsty.”
Milo shot to his feet and grabbed the pitcher of water and filled her glass. “Did you want to go lay down mom?”
“No,” she said, after a long sip of water. “I want to eat my record-breaking breakfast. Now tell me, what did you two do that made you too tired to get to your own rooms last night?”
Frieda choked on her bite of eggs and felt her face burning with embarrassment as Milo answered.
“We watched old movies and drank too much wine,” he shrugged. “But obviously we got enough sleep to break the breakfast record.”
Griff, who still had a look of concern on his face spoke up. “After this Milo and Kip, you boys bring the tree in. The decorations are in the back of my SUV in a bin. We’ll get that tree trimmed and then take it easy.” His eyes were fixed on his wife as he suggested the break.
“Yes,” she agreed with a what seemed like a pained smile. “That sounds good. But I’ll need Milo and Frieda to go in to town and pick up some baked goods. There’s a bake sale going on and I want to make sure we show our support. The Tuckers travel somewhere new every holiday season and we always make sure to enjoy the local flair.”
“I know about the bake sale,” Frieda cut in. “I was going to make a batch of my cookies and donate them.”
“Lovely,” Bebe smiled. “I think Niles, the owner of the house, said it’s to raise funds for the library. We’ll decorate the tree. You bake those cookies then I’ll send you two down to pick up some other sweets for our dinner tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Milo said, pushing his now empty plate away from him and nodding at Kip. “Let’s go grab the tree off the top of the car and get it set up.”
They both hopped up and slid their boots on. When the door closed behind them Bebe clearly saw an opportunity.
“He’s such a good boy,” she said, like she was making a sales pitch. “Very dedicated to his family. A hard worker.”
“Kip?” Frieda asked, knowing full well that wasn’t who Bebe was talking about.
Griff pointed at her with a fork full of eggs. “Oh, she’s good. You might have met your match on this one Bebe.”
“Maybe,” Bebe grinned. “But more importantly I’m wondering if Milo has.”
Chapter Four
“That was fun,” Frieda said as she and Milo strolled down the street with a batch of her cookies in hand. “I haven’t decorated a tree like that in a long time. My sister hires a company to come decorate their house and my brother doesn’t put a tree up because it scares his dogs. My folks stopped putting one up a few years ago when it seemed impossible for us all to get together on Christmas anymore.”
“You planned this year?” Milo asked, and Frieda felt shock waves when his elbow would brush hers. Childish yes, but she couldn’t stop the feeling.
“I did,” Frieda sighed. “And it’s not like my sister planned to be on bedrest. And my mother and father really do help her out a lot with the kids so I understand that. My brother is one of the busiest people I know. It would be crazy for him and his family to come all this way to just hang with me. He told me to fly to his house instead but I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story,” Frieda admitted as her heart tightened. She remembered Milo would only be in her life another couple of days at best. It couldn’t hurt to tell him the truth. “It’s embarrassing.”
“The Tuckers love embarrassing long stories.”
“My car is full of all my stuff,” she admitted. “I live in Georgia with my ex – well he wasn’t my ex but now he is. He bailed on this trip too, and I gave him an ultimatum that I knew he’d turn down. I was kind of hoping he would. So I packed up all my stuff and I was going to tell my parents that I would follow them back up to New York and hopefully live with them a while. I knew it would be hell. My brother would tell me I’d blown my shot at the cookie business and now I was living at home. He’d tell me it was now or never. My sister would remind me how empty my life is without kids. But I was willing to suck all that up and try to have a nice Christmas followed by a journey home with my tail between my legs.”
“And now that they didn’t come? Where does that leave you?” Milo sounded genuinely worried as she tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“I’m really resilient,” Frieda replied, forcing her voice to sound breezy. “I’ll just call them when our rental is over and find out when they’re going home. I’ve got some leads on some places that would be interested in selling my cookies, or maybe I’ll just finally give in and give it all over to my brother. He’ll make sure I get a cut and I’m well taken care of.”
“No,” Milo said, spinning in front of her so she was forced to stop abruptly. “You can’t do that. I mean if you want to you should, but don’t make a decision just because your back is against the wall. That’s never a good time to do something drastic.”
“Good advice in theory,” she sighed, rebalancing the plate of cookies in her hands. “But sometimes you’re out of options.”
Milo twisted his mouth up thoughtfully as though some kind of magical answer would come to him and all her problems would be solved. “Just give it a couple more days. Enjoy this bizarre Christmas with the Tuckers. Maybe something will work out.”
“Maybe,” she shrugged, knowing better than to waste any time hoping. But right now, with him standing there in front of her, she was willing to at least suspend reality for a few days.
“How many pies can you carry?” he asked, looking her over appraisingly. “Mom said we need to spend $100 for the library.”
“We should have brought a wheelbarrow.” Frieda kicked at a couple stones as they strolled casually the rest of the way. Indigo Bay was beautiful. It had been as post card perfect as it seemed when she picked it for the family months ago. Though a tourist town, it still felt quaint and homey. Cute shops lined the street, and everything was decorated with a combination of Christmas and beachy décor. Perched right on the Atlantic, the entire town was filled with the sights, sounds, and smells of the ocean.
“Sorry I gushed on about my drama,” Frieda apologized as Milo’s arm brushed hers again. “I wasn’t trying to make things all heavy.”
“Have you not picked up on the drama with the Tucker family yet?” Milo asked, breathing out a grieved sigh. “We know heavy.”
“I had the feeling something might be up with your mother but I didn’t want to pry.”
Milo stopped, leaned himself against the brick wall of one of the buildings that lined Main Street and dropped his head down. “You might as well know. I’m sure it’ll come out at some point over the next four days and I don’t want you to feel blindsided. My mother is a cancer survivor; she’s been in remission for six years. She fought that disease with grace and grit.”
“She was in remission,” Frieda said, leaning against the wall as well and pressing her shoulder on his arm.
“It’s back.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sure she’ll fight it just as hard this time.”
“She will, but there’s something different about fighting it a second time. Different for all of us. We know now exactly what it does, how hard it is. We know how many people she had treatment with the first time who didn’t survive. You’re naïve the first time around.”
“I bet,” Frieda said, wishing some divine intervention would bring her the right words. “When does she start treatment?”
“It should have been a week ago but she wanted to get through the holidays without feeling sick. We’re all going to stay upbeat and happy but it’s hard, it’s like it’s always just lurking around the corner.”
“You said you were going to move back home. Did you mean it?”
“I work for a travel company. My job basically consists of going around the world and giving feedback to big resorts about what they are doing right and what they need to improve. I’ve always sai
d, one day I’m going to find a destination and stay there. Make it home. But nothing has ever really felt like home. My sister has her hands full with the kids, I want to make sure I’m around for my mom and dad this time. I’ve got the option at work to stay home and write for the blog instead. I’m going to do that for a while.”
“You’ve got some big changes in your life too.”
“But I’m ready for them. I’m not doing it just because I feel out of options. I really feel like the time is right to come home. You should do what feels right to you.”
“I will,” Frieda agreed, wondering when she’d figure out how to turn up the volume of the little voice that’s meant to direct you toward the correct next step. “Your mom is going to be wondering what’s taking us so long.”
“No she won’t,” Milo laughed. “She’s going to be picking out the floral arrangements for our engagement party. Even when she’s sick she can’t help but play matchmaker. She had us paired up from the moment you said you were single. Actually,” he smirked as he thought it over, “She wouldn’t have let that stop her either.”
“She does this to you all the time?” Frieda asked, feeling a misguided pang of jealousy as she imagined a parade of women in his life.
“She tries, but I normally shut it down pretty quickly. I tell her I’m not interested.”
“Have you told her that yet?”
“No.” He pushed off the wall and started walking again, a few paces ahead so she couldn’t catch his expression. “I never lie to my mother.”
Chapter Five
Knowing Bebe was sick didn’t change a thing. The family spent the next two days marching happily through their Christmas countdown. The nights, at least for Milo and Frieda, were spent in front of the fire, wine in hand, discussing everything. Childhood. First kisses. Disastrous dates. Biggest regrets. The conversations flowed as easy as a river and last night when they fell asleep on the couch their hands were tangled together affectionately.
Sweet Holiday Traditions (Indigo Bay Sweet Romance Series) Page 2
