“You must be mighty selective,” Donna said, “which is a good thing, because I’m certain that men will be lining up outside your restaurant just to get in and have a peek at you.”
Starla felt her cheeks warm.
“You’re embarrassing her,” Marian said from the sink.
Donna finished brushing butter on a pan of rolls and slid them into the built-in oven. She moved over to where Starla stood at the cooktop. “Did I embarrass you? Jacob claims my mouth engages before my brain. I’m sorry.”
Starla shrugged. “That’s okay.”
“I didn’t mean any insult. I’d give anything to look half as good as you.”
“I don’t know what to say to that,” Starla replied.
“Tell her to clam up while she’s ahead,” Robyn said.
They all laughed then and at the sound of Craig shouting for help, Robyn shot toward the door. “I’ll bet one of mine has him in a headlock.”
Starla’s roast was a smashing success, along with the sweet potato soufflé she whipped together at the last minute. Both were complementary to Marian’s turkey and stuffing, Donna’s gelatin salad, and Robyn’s green bean casserole.
Marian produced pumpkin and pecan pies along with a chocolate cream for the kids.
After dinner, Charlie helped his mom with the dishes, washing while she put away leftovers. Starla tried to help, but Charlie shooed her off. She was soon embroiled in an enthusiastic game of Monopoly with all five boys.
Meredith napped with her head in her aunt Robyn’s lap. Starla watched as the young woman repeatedly threaded her fingers through Meredith’s dark hair. Robyn glanced up. “I always wanted one of these,” she said with a smile.
Charlie walked out of the kitchen just then. “You can borrow mine anytime you like.”
He stood behind Craig and placed his hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Who’s winning? Andrew, is that you with all the houses on Boardwalk and Park Place?”
Andrew nodded.
“If I land there once more, I’m done for,” Starla told him.
On the next roll of the die, she did just that and gave all her money and property to Andrew before bowing out of the game.
Charlie found an open spot on one of the sofas and gestured for Starla to sit beside him. She wished she could lean into him, snuggle into his embrace or reach for his hand. Not touching him made her feel strangely empty.
Sean was talking about a situation at his job at an insurance company. Before long, the conversation shifted and he started telling tales about his brothers while they were growing up.
“Tell the one about when you hit Jacob’s head through the tent with the baseball bat,” Lance said. The boys had ended their game and came in to join the adults.
Without prompting, Sean got up as though he were about to give a performance. Starla knew why once she saw the moves that went along with his storytelling.
“I was walking along swinging my bat and saw the lump sticking out the back of the tent,” Sean said, pretending he had a bat in his hand and swinging at the air. “I just gave it a whack.” To emphasize that word, he made a hitting motion with the invisible bat. “Mom screamed.”
The others chuckled.
“I shot inside the tent and there was Jacob, knocked out cold. Mom didn’t know what was wrong with him, but I did.”
The boys all laughed and Jacob said, “Yeah, real funny.”
Starla couldn’t resist joining the laughter. Listening to their stories and jokes, she envied them their sense of family and their shared memories. They were close-knit, but not exclusive, because she was treated as a part of them. They held to tradition, but weren’t too rigid to accept a guest and make her welcome.
Afternoon stretched into evening and the feelings of acceptance and companionship only grew stronger. By the time night fell and Charlie’s brothers and their families gathered gifts and coats and prepared to leave, Starla felt a loss at seeing them go.
After much kissing and hugging, they settled into their vehicles and Starla stood in the cold on the porch with Charlie and his parents, waving as everyone drove away. Charlie held Meredith in his arms and carried her back into the house. “We’d better get our things together, too.”
Starla picked up a coffee mug and tray and carried them to the kitchen. Marian was wiping her eyes with her apron when Starla set the tray on the counter.
“Sorry,” Charlie’s mom said, flattening her apron over her waist. “I get a little weepy when everyone leaves. Having all the kids here reminds me of when mine were all at home. I miss my Kendra all the time, but terribly on days like this.”
Starla didn’t know what to say to comfort her. “She must have been very special.”
Marian nodded. “She was our little darling, just like Meredith is now, doted upon, what with three brothers. But she never acted spoiled or took advantage of her position.”
“Do you mind me asking how she died?”
“I’m glad to talk about her. People outside the family act like they don’t want to bring up the subject around me for fear I’ll go to pieces or something. And Charlie won’t talk about her.”
Starla nodded.
“She was killed in an auto accident on her way back from town. She’d just gone for groceries. Meredith was with me that day, thankfully. A truck crossed the center line and hit her head-on. She was killed instantly.”
“That must be a small comfort.”
Marian wiped her eyes again. “Thank you for asking about her.”
It felt natural to take her hand. “You have a wonderful family.”
Marian nodded. “Yes. I do.” She smiled through her tears, then collected herself. “So, you’ll be leaving tomorrow, dear?”
Starla’s heart dipped at the reminder. “Yes. The tow truck is coming sometime in the morning. We should be on the road by noon at least.”
“Well, it was a pleasure to have you here with us for Christmas,” Marian told her and squeezed Starla’s hand. “I’m so glad we got to meet you.”
Starla gave her an impulsive hug. “I’m glad, too.”
“Now, you know,” Marian said, straightening and leading her back to the living room, “if you’re ever through this way again, you have to stop by and see us.”
Starla couldn’t imagine a reason for her to be this way again, but she appreciated the woman’s sincerity.
“I’ll email you those pictures.”
“Thanks.”
Charlie was waiting for her. Meredith hugged her grandparents, and the couple waved from the porch as Charlie drove them away.
Sitting in the passenger seat of the Cherokee, a feeling of loss and sadness swept over Starla so strongly that she fought back tears of her own and wondered if Marian was crying again.
Meredith kept up a constant chatter from the backseat, and Charlie replied occasionally. Starla thought of the gifts she’d received that day and knew she would treasure them as part of the memory of her stay with Charlie.
The log home welcomed them with the twinkling multicolored lights of the Christmas tree blinking in the great-room window. Charlie hit the garage door opener and pulled inside. Starla felt as though she was coming home.
But she was merely a visitor. And she’d be gone tomorrow.
“Can I take a bath in your tub with my new bubbles?” Meredith asked.
“Sure, then it’s bedtime,” her father said.
Starla put away the dishes she’d taken and watched the news while Charlie gave Meredith a bath. Cheeks pink and skin smelling like bubble gum, Meredith padded out in her new Tinkerbell pajamas to give Starla a good-night hug.
“Night, sweetie,” Starla said.
“This was the bestest Christmas,” Meredith said. “Thank you for the Barbie.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for the chest you made me.”
“You can put your jew-lery in it and then when you get out your rings and stuff, you will memember us.”
“I certainly will.” Starla hugged her, wondering how people could bear it when they were separated from a child of their own through loss or divorce. Meredith wasn’t her own and she was already feeling the deprivation.
She urged Meredith toward her room. “Sweet dreams.”
Several minutes passed and she knew Charlie was reading a bedtime story. When he came out, he looked tired.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
He nodded.
“You have a great family. I had a really nice time today.”
He took a seat beside her. “They liked you.”
When Charlie moved his arm behind her shoulder, she was grateful to snuggle into his strength and warmth and feel the connection between them. I’m going to miss you, Charlie. I’m going to miss this closeness and the way you hold me and kiss me. I’m going to miss our talks and the way you smile and make me laugh. I’m going to miss everything about you and the new world I discovered here this Christmas.
He picked up the remote and aimed it at the TV. “You watching this?”
She shook her head.
He jabbed the off button, sending the room into silence, and tossed the remote on the other end of the sofa.
This was it. Tonight was their goodbye, because tomorrow, when she carried out her things and made polite farewells, when the tow truck came for her, Meredith would be with them.
When Charlie lowered his head, she wrapped her arm around his neck and met his kiss.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE NEXT MORNING Starla stood in the cold and squinted down the highway, a narrow stretch of ribbon in the three feet of snow that blanketed the countryside.
She’d carried her belongings to the Silver Angel, straightened the interior of the cab and retrieved her clipboard, fastening it to its holder on the dash. As she worked in the tilted cab, a speck of disappointment inched its way into her thoughts, but she dusted it away.
No use making herself miserable. No use dragging the whole thing out. She was an adult and she’d entered into a brief friendship with Charlie knowing exactly what she was doing, and choosing to do it because she wanted to.
The feelings that had crept in, feelings for Meredith, feelings for Charlie...that part had been unintentional and not of her own choice. But she’d known all along that she’d be leaving, and she was prepared for it when the rumble of a diesel engine reached her. In the distance, the enormous rig barreled down the highway.
Charlie had stayed with Meredith, so she trudged back to the house through the path in the snow, seeing tracks everywhere, prints of deer and rabbits, prints they’d made themselves when they’d traveled to the truck and across the yard on their search for a Christmas tree. Another snow or a few warm days and that evidence of her visit would be gone, too.
The lights on the tree twinkled from the window, raising memories best left buried. She opened the door and called in, “The truck’s here! I’ll be leaving as soon as he gets the Silver Angel out and hooked up.”
Charlie bundled Meredith in her coat and hat and, after shrugging into his, carried his daughter outside.
“Can we see you driving your truck?” Meredith asked.
“I’m afraid not. The tow truck has to take it to a garage where the fuel can warm up before the engine will start. I’ll be riding there with the driver.”
“Maybe you can come back and see us,” Meredith said.
Starla avoided Charlie’s eyes, but looking into Meredith’s was nearly as disturbing. “Maybe,” she said lamely.
Meredith leaned forward and Starla hugged her. At the same time, Charlie’s hand pressed the back of Starla’s coat, tugging her toward them in a concealed embrace.
The enormous truck rumbled to a stop and the air brakes hissed. The driver got out.
“I had a wonderful Christmas with you,” Starla said. “Thanks for everything.”
Charlie’s dark eyes hid his feelings, if there were any. Meredith stuck a finger in her mouth as though she was going to cry. Starla gave them a last trembling smile and walked toward the driver.
He had moved to the back of his rig where he was unrolling chain from a spool. It took a good thirty minutes to get the Silver Angel on the road and securely hooked up for the tow to the garage. Charlie had taken Meredith back into the house and now he stepped out, his coat collar up around his neck. He raised a hand.
Seated in the passenger seat of the tow truck, Starla returned the gesture in a final goodbye. The wind ruffled Charlie’s hair.
The driver released the brake and put the truck in gear. Within seconds they were on the highway, big wheels turning, carrying them away from Elmwood.
The CB radio squawked and a male voice spoke over the static, reporting a radar trap. The driver turned on his stereo, and a Garth Brooks song filled the cab. Starla had been in similar scenes so many times this felt like second nature. Everything was returning to normal—or would be as soon as she got the Silver Angel running, dropped this load in Nashville and returned the truck to her dad. She glanced in the rearview mirror and assured herself the truck was secure.
Getting her cell phone out of her bag, she called her restaurant’s number. Geri answered the phone. “Hey, girlfriend.”
“Starla! The tables and chairs are here! They’re gorgeous! Wait till you see.”
She’d missed the delivery, but compared to others, the disappointment was an easy one to absorb. “It will be good to get back. I’m on the road now.”
Already her Christmas with the McGraws was in the past.
* * *
STARLA SAT AT her desk in her office at the Hidden Treasure, her seafood grill in Beachtree, Maine, sifting through the mail and faxes that had arrived that day.
She paused, holding a fax from a prominent reviewer in Augusta, and read it over.
Definitely a hidden treasure, located in an out-of-the-way warehouse district, this is the quintessential seafood and steak house in the area. Upscale, sophisticated, yet warm and cozy with a blackboard menu that changes daily. Staples you won’t want to miss are the superb oysters, clam chowder, lobster bisque and tuna tartar. The pan-fried crab cakes are to die for, and the nut-crusted trout with ginger orange butter is a taste sensation. The excellent wine selection, comfortable atmosphere and friendly service are reason enough to make the drive. Simply the best seafood on the East Coast.
Making note of the newspaper in which the review was printed, she made a quick phone call, asking the acquaintance who sent her the fax to mail her the original article. She would frame the piece for the restaurant wall.
Taking the fax sheet, she carried it to her bulletin board and tacked it beside a colorful picture torn from a Barbie coloring book. She should be euphoric about the review. One of the most influential food critics on the coast had given her restaurant five stars.
Starla raised her hand and touched the colored picture beside it, remembering the little girl who had given it to her two months ago.
It was now the end of February.
Her vision blurred as she stared at the coloring. A now-familiar ache opened in her chest, and she placed her hand over it as though the pain was a tangible reminder she somehow appreciated.
On the pushpin holding the page was a pink plastic ring. Starla slipped it on her finger, and the familiar ache in her heart was like a bruise.
Her life had gone back to normal in the days and weeks after Christmas. She’d had the stitches removed from her forehead, and a faint pink scar was the only visible reminder of those few life-changing days. That and this picture...the ring...and a carved wooden box that sat on her dresser at home, drawing her attentio
n and her touch every morning and evening.
Such a pitifully slim collection of mementos. No pictures except those developed on her heart. Marian had emailed her a few times, twice attaching photos. Starla had downloaded and saved them, but she’d never opened the snapshots. She knew what they were and she wouldn’t subject herself to the pain of seeing them.
Sometimes she’d be working and glance up to see a dark-haired man entering the restaurant. At each instance her heart stopped. A hundred times she’d imagined Charlie finding her here, so the appearance of someone who resembled him nurtured that fantasy. But the man would turn so she could see his face, or a woman would walk up beside him, and the illusion burst.
Never Charlie. It would never be Charlie. She was foolish to allow the dream to perpetuate. Charlie had loved his wife, and no one would replace her.
Starla had never for a moment felt a lack of respect from him; to the contrary, he was almost reverent in his regard and treatment of her. What they had shared was mutual attraction and appreciation. But Charlie held part of himself in reserve. That part which had been only for his wife.
Starla admired him for his devotion. He was a man of integrity and sincere dedication. Kendra had been fortunate to have been loved by him, and Starla often wondered if the woman had appreciated the treasure she’d held: Charlie’s heart.
“Starla, that’s fantastic!”
She hadn’t heard Geri come up behind her. When she turned, her pert-faced assistant manager was grinning ear to ear.
“Peter Austin gave us five stars! Oh my! We’ve arrived!” She jumped up and down and impetuously hugged Starla.
“Yes, can you believe it?”
“I can, yes I can!” Geri released her. “We’ve worked so hard for this—you’ve worked so hard. Oh, Starla, what a triumph! Did you call your dad?”
“No, not yet. I just got the fax.”
“Make me copies, so I can show everyone.”
Starla removed the thumbtack, placed the paper in the copier and ran off half a dozen duplicates.
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