by Donna Fasano
“Well, look at you! An international meal. It’s perfect.” Sara offered Heather a wide smile. Then Sara turned her attention to Daniel. “Have you eaten? Everything I’ve tried is delicious.”
He nodded and smiled, giving himself time to find his tongue.
“I had some soup before you arrived,” he said. “And more than my share of those maple cookies, I’m sure.” He lifted his mug. His arms felt lanky, disjointed, as if they didn’t belong to him. “The apple cider is really good. Have you tried it?”
He pressed his lips together, grinding his jaw. Every sip he enjoyed was like a guitar pick, twanging the taut strings of guilt inside him. He shouldn’t be having a good time. He shouldn’t be noticing how the fabric of Heather’s dress hugged her curves. He shouldn’t be participating in pleasantries. It wasn’t fair to Mia.
He wanted to bolt, but he forced himself to remain in his seat. This was important to Heather, he reminded himself. Just a little longer and he could retreat upstairs.
“I forgot about the cider, Sara.” Heather pointed to the table set up near the bay window. “That’s a good, old Colonial American recipe. I’ve put it in a crock pot to keep it warm.”
Sara was one of Heather’s best friends. She ran the bakery downstairs that was aptly named Sara’s Sweet Shop, and Daniel had gone down a time or two. The molasses cookies she offered for sale were especially good with a cup of hot tea on cold winter afternoons.
“I think I’ll have some cider.” Sara skirted the wing chair as she crossed the room.
“Help yourself,” Heather told her. “There’s wine there, if you’d rather have something stronger.”
“Cider sounds good, thanks.” Then she called out, “Landon, come have some cider.”
Landon Richards was Sara’s significant other. He did odd jobs at the B&B. Nearly every time Daniel had seen the man around the house, Landon was usually carrying a toolbox or plumber’s tape or paint brushes.
“Be there in a sec,” Landon answered from the dining room. “Having a second helping of this salad.”
“Poor man,” Sara told them, ladling fragrant cider into a cup. “He’s been delivering meals to the elderly all day. He’s volunteering for Meals On Wheels. He had so many people to see, he didn’t get a chance to stop for lunch.” She inhaled the steam rising from her cup and then took a sip. “Mmmm. So good.” Sara cradled the cup between her palms. “I hope Cathy’s okay. She should have been here by now.”
“I haven’t heard from her all day,” Heather said. “But then I’ve been busy.”
The front door opened out in the foyer and Heather and Sara grinned at each other.
“Speak of the devil,” Heather said.
“Yoo-hoo!” A huge puff of chilled air rolled into the room along with Cathy’s greeting. She appeared in the doorway of the living room, her arms laden with brightly wrapped packages. “Can someone help me, please?”
Heather rushed forward.
“I met a family out on the boardwalk, Heather,” Cathy said, her tone hushed, her words swift. “The little girl loves The Loon. I invited them to come inside and warm up. I knew you’d have a fire going. I hope it’s not a prob—”
“Are you kidding me?” Heather brushed aside Cathy’s concern with a wide, warm smile. “More people means more fun.”
In an instant, Daniel’s ambivalence grew to monster proportions. Heather was certainly enjoying this unexpected surprise; he just hoped he could find the right moment to make good his escape.
A little girl of about nine or ten came into the room. Pale and delicate looking, her dark eyes seemed abnormally large. It took a second or two for Daniel to figure out why…
Her head was bald and as glossy as a polished pearl. Obvious signs of harsh medical treatment. For cancer. Her parents followed her from the foyer, but Daniel’s attention remained riveted to the child. Her gaze latched onto the tinseled tree and she gasped softly in wonder.
“It’s beautiful.” As if in a sleep-walker trance, she ambled over to the tree, coming to a halt mere inches from the glowing silver.
Daniel took a moment to look toward Heather. Her blue eyes glistened with moisture and her smile had faded. Then he glanced at Cathy and Sara, and saw that both women tried valiantly to mask the tender sympathy that nearly overwhelmed them.
The girl was sick, that much was evident. Her veins showed blue beneath her milky skin where it was thinnest, her neck, her temples, her scalp, and crescent-moon-shaped shadows stained the area beneath her huge eyes. Even her supraorbital arch looked oddly accentuated as whatever medical treatment she was enduring had robbed her of her eyebrows.
Cancer could wreak havoc on the human body, and to see someone so young having to deal with such a serious illness… Daniel felt a knot rise in his throat. It was woefully tragic.
Her mother followed close on her heels and squatted down next to her. “I’ve never seen anything quite as pretty.”
“Everyone,” Cathy said after clearing her throat, “this is my new friend, Izzie. This is her mom and dad, and I invited them in for some apple cider by the fire so they can warm up a bit. It is cold out there tonight.”
Introductions were made, and Daniel watched Heather’s face light up when she learned just how much Izzie loved The Lonely Loon.
“It’s my very favorite place on the boardwalk.” She darted a quick smile at her dad, and together they said, “During winter.”
The two of them laughed.
Aaron, Izzie’s father, explained, “Her summer favorite is the arcade.”
Her mom, Christy, just stood there, beaming.
“Mine too!” Heather reached out and touched Izzie’s shoulder affectionately. “I like skee-ball. How about you?”
“Air hockey.”
“Now you’re talking,” Sara chimed in. “I am an air hockey champion.”
Cathy handed Izzie a cup of cider. “I like the shooting gallery, myself.”
“Oh, that’s fun, too,” Izzie said.
“There’s food in the dining room,” Heather said. “Are you hungry?”
Watching the women fawn over the child caused a walnut-sized lump to form in Daniel’s throat. At the same time, Izzie’s dark, haunting eyes reminded him so keenly of Mia that he felt as if an army of termites had taken up residence under his skin. The need to squirm made it nearly impossible for him to sit still.
Sara passed around a plate of cookies she’d brought in from the dining room. Landon joined the group and another round of introductions ensued. Silent Night played from the speakers, and Izzie began to softly sing. One by one, the adults joined her… all of them except Daniel. He didn’t trust his voice not to crack like cheap glass.
What are you doing tonight, Mia? Are you laughing? Eating cookies? Opening gifts? Singing carols?
The questions whispered through his mind like a sharp, salty breeze rolling through dune grass.
Who are you with? Where are you, sweetheart?
The song ended, and he felt the sheen of sweat that had broken out across his forehead and upper lip. The party guests mingled and laughed as yet another jazzy Christmas tune began to play in the background. Surely, he’d made a polite showing. Heather was busy enough with her other guests that she wouldn’t be offended if he were to slip away.
He placed his hands firmly on his knees and had every intention of rising, but then Izzie was suddenly standing in front of him.
“Is it okay if I sit down for a while?”
“Of course it’s okay.” Even though there was plenty of room, he slid over an inch or two to make her feel welcome.
She settled on the sofa, not on the other end but in the center, right next to him. She smiled up at him.
“You look sad.”
Her innocent honesty stunned him.
“I am a little,” he confessed. “You see, I’m missing someone. Someone special.”
She nodded her bald head. “Yeah, me too. I miss my mom really bad.”
Daniel co
uldn’t keep the frown from planting itself on his forehead. He glanced over at the adults he’d assumed were Izzie’s parents.
“Oh, she’s not my mom,” Izzie said quietly. “She’s a stand in. She’s a nurse at the hospital where I get my treatments.”
His frown deepened, and although his curiosity urged him to ask Izzie what she’d meant about the woman being a “stand in,” he remained silent. As a writer, he talked to people in order to learn about their jobs, their personal expertise, their life adventures, and more often than not, he ended up incorporating the knowledge and experiences into his works of fiction. He’d learned over the years to keep his mouth shut as much as possible. It was a rule that, when followed, warranted the greatest amount of information.
He hoped his nod would encourage her to continue to elaborate.
“Hey,” Izzie said softly, “do you think it’s wrong for me to wish for Santa to make my daddy and Christy get married?”
Daniel’s frown disappeared as his eyebrows arched high. This kid offered one surprise after another. He licked his lips and cleared his throat to give himself a few seconds to think about how he should respond.
“Well…” he began. He looked at Izzie’s father then back at Izzie. Rather than answer her question, Daniel asked one of his own.
“That’s on your wish list for Santa?”
“It’s not actually written down,” she admitted. “Yet.” She grinned. “I didn’t know if Daddy could find anyone to come with us to Ocean City.”
“I see.” But he really didn’t.
“I do have a list in my journal. I have it memorized. Wanna hear?”
The excitement sparkling in her brown eyes was contagious.
“Absolutely. I’d love to hear.”
“I’m asking Santa for all the things that make a perfect Christmas,” she said. “And I think I just might get them. I want a tree with pretty lights. We already got one of those. And Christmas carols. We just sung one.” She ticked the items off on her fingers. “I want to have my picture taken with Santa. I want lots of cookies. And presents. And snow.” She took a moment to look up at him. “I really want snow. And a make-believe mommy. That’s what Christy is doing. Standing in for my mommy ‘cause my mommy died a long time ago.”
Izzie studied his face for a moment. “A family is just better with a mommy and a daddy, don’t you think?”
Her query was both pointed and poignant, and he knew exactly what she meant.
The more the child revealed, the more questions formed in Daniel’s head. And the more his heart felt like it was being squeezed by a huge fist. Life had dealt this poor little girl more than her share of tragedy.
Just like his Mia.
Hot tears burned his eyes. He swallowed around the lump that had now taken up residence in his throat and forcibly blinked away his tears. He refused to surrender to despair. Mia would be found. She would be brought home to him. He had to hold onto those thoughts or he risked losing his sanity completely.
His voice was raspy when he told Izzie, “I hope Santa brings you the perfect Christmas you’re looking for.”
The little girl smiled, suddenly looking as weary as he felt.
“Thanks, mister.”
Chapter Three
“Happy New Year!” Heather, Sara, and Cathy shouted the three words boisterously along with hoots and hollers and laughter. It didn’t matter that they were standing in the narrow alley behind The Lonely Loon. Nor did it matter that midnight had come and gone, and that they were old enough to know better than to act like half raised heathens. But the rum runners they’d enjoyed at Seacrets had removed every ounce of their caring.
The nightclub had been loud and crowded and full of energy that could only be described as happy, vivacious, and totally infectious.
“Wow, I needed this!” Heather pulled Sara and Cathy to her and wrapped her arms around them for a group hug. “You have no idea.”
“Oh, I think we do,” Sara said, laughing.
Heather hugged them tight. “Thanks for dropping me off.”
Cathy cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Thanks, Landon.”
Heather leaned away from Cathy. “Hey, that’s my hearing you’re ruining there.”
Sara’s Landon had acted as their designated driver for the evening. He waited in the car out on the street for Sara and Cathy, keeping the engine humming and the heater running.
“He’s been such a good sport tonight,” Sara murmured. “He needs a special wish.”
Without hesitation, all three of them turned toward the street and shouted, “Happy New Year, Landon!”
Then Cathy murmured, “Sara, you’ll give him something special when you get home, right? We want him to know how much we appreciate his services.”
“You can bet your sweet bippy, I will,” Sara promised.
“Bippy?” Heather asked, her head a little dizzy, her heart very happy. “I haven’t heard that word in decades. What the hell is a bippy, anyway?”
“It’s an unspecified part of the anatomy,” Cathy said.
Heather and Sara both turned their heads slowly and looked at Cathy as if she’d grown a third eye in the center of her forehead.
“What?” Cathy threw her shoulders back. “Hey, I watch Jeopardy, you know!”
Sara snickered, and then all three of them laughed so hard Cathy snorted, and that made them laugh all over again.
A dog barked, and a light flickered on in a window of one of the neighboring buildings.
“Shhh. Quiet.” Even though she continued to chuckle, Heather lifted her hands, trying to quell the humor that glittered and flared between them like sparklers.
“Yes, we should tone it down.” Sara shifted her pretty silver clutch to her other hand.
Cathy nodded. “The last thing we need is to get arrested for disturbing the peace.”
But then their mischievous gazes met, and danced.
“That might be the perfect way to ring in the New Year.”
“Cathy, as fun as that sounds, we can’t ask Landon to bail us out of jail.” Sara shook her head. “He would not be amused.”
Movement at the corner of the house made them all go quiet. When the man stepped into the moonlight, Heather could see it was Daniel. He walked toward the back door of the B&B, his head bent, his shoulders hunched against the night chill, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.
“Speaking of not being amused…” Heather let the rest of the thought trail as she stared toward the shadows that obscured the back door from her view.
“Oh, nothing could amuse that man,” Cathy chimed in. “He’s a real grump that Daniel Atwell is.”
“Maybe he went out, after all,” Sara offered brightly. Sara’s glass was almost always half-full. “To a pub or something.”
“No way.” Cathy swiped her hand through the air for emphasis. “That one is allergic to people. And celebrations. And fun of any kind.”
“Come on now,” Heather chided. “He’s not that bad.”
Cathy crossed her arms, her mouth twisting into a stubborn purse.
“As much as I hate to do it, I think I have to agree with Cath on this one,” Sara said. “What kind of man doesn’t celebrate the holidays? I mean, he sat in the corner at the Christmas Eve party, barely speaking to anyone. Then he disappeared without a word. And you said he turned down your invitation to go out tonight.”
“He did, yes.” Heather’s chin dipped when she nodded slowly. “But you know how that goes.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Some people just aren’t… sociable. That doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with him. He’s a perfectly nice man.”
“Once again,” Cathy said, “you’re being too kind, Heather. ‘Not sociable’ doesn’t even touch the surface with him. You’ve said so yourself. He barely comes out of his room. He lives like a hermit.”
The magnitude of sympathy that welled up inside Heather surprised her. She loved her friends dearly, but she couldn’t he
lp feeling they were being just a little unfair.
“I did not use the word hermit. He does come down for breakfast,” she told them. “He’s been to the café once or twice, Cathy. And the sweet shop, too. I know he has because he always leaves me a few cookies on the kitchen table.” As an afterthought, she added, “And he takes walks.” Then she murmured, “Lots of walks.”
“Alone,” Sara pointed out. “He’s always so alone. And miserable. At least, that’s what it looks like. It’s just not normal.”
“He does have a job to do.” Heather could hear the defensiveness in her voice and it made her uncomfortable. “He’s focused on his work.”
“Oh, just stop it already,” Cathy said. “He’s writing a book. How hard can that be?”
“You, my dear…” Heather arched a brow at Cathy “…are drunk.”
“Speaking of writing a book…” Sara grinned unabashedly. “I’m thinking of putting together a cookbook.”
Heather was relieved to have a change of subject, and she and Cathy both happily encouraged Sara to tell them more.
“I’m thinking of calling it Patty Cake and Cupcakes. It’ll focus on desserts, of course.”
Looking at Sara’s wide-eyed, smiling face, Heather loved seeing her friend radiating with so much joy. Landon had made an amazing change in her life.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Cathy said. “Why haven’t you said something? We could have batted around ideas.”
Sara averted her gaze, but only for a split second. She reached to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, lifting her eyes first to Cathy, and then to Heather.
That one, quick moment of hesitation was all it took to start Heather’s mind spinning. “Wait a minute,” she murmured. “Sara…? Patty Cake?”
Cathy gasped. “Are you pregnant?”
Clearly panicked, Sara shook her head. “No. No. I didn’t say that. Did I say that?”
Heather squinted and her tone was tinged with slight accusation as she said, “You know, now that I think about it, you didn’t have a single rum runner tonight. I bought the first round and Cathy ended up drinking yours.”
