I'll Be Home for Christmas Read online

  “In what way?”

  Charlotte giggled. “Oh, Carrie, how soon you forget. You’re the one who pushed, pulled and shoved me into a relationship with Jason. It would’ve been horrible if he was a different kind of man. But he was patient and nonthreatening. Like Philip, I came into the relationship with more than my share of emotional trauma. But he was exactly the man I needed. You’ve always been a sensitive, intuitive child. Out of all the men you might have picked for me, you chose the one man who possessed the qualities I needed most.” She reached over and stroked the side of Carrie’s face, her expression warm and tender. “In my heart of hearts, I’m confident you’ve done the same thing for yourself. Philip needs you just as much as I needed Jason. Be patient with him, Carrie. Your heart—and your ego—may take a few jabs before this is finished. Be prepared for that, but don’t be afraid to love him. Mackenzie, too. I promise you, it’ll be worth the wait.”

  How wise her mother was, Carrie mused as she left the family home. How wise and wonderful. Not for the first time, Carrie was grateful for a mother she could talk to, a mother she could confide in, a mother who didn’t judge, but listened and advised.

  * * *

  “What are you doing here?” Gene Tarkington asked, stepping into Philip’s office. He leaned against the doorjamb, striking a relaxed pose. The entire floor was empty. Row upon row of desks stretched across the floor outside his office.

  “I thought I’d come in and run these figures one last time,” Philip murmured, staring at the computer screen. Although he considered Gene one of his best friends, he’d prefer to be alone just then.

  “Hey, buddy, it’s almost Christmas. Haven’t you got anything better to do than stop by the office?”

  “What about you?” Philip challenged. He wasn’t the only workaholic in this company.

  “I came to get some papers and saw the light on in your office. I thought you were having lunch with Mackenzie this afternoon. A little father-daughter tête-à-tête. That kid’s a real sweetheart.”

  “We had our lunch,” Philip muttered, “but it turns out I wasn’t the only one Mackenzie invited.”

  “You mean she brought along that neighbor friend of yours? The woman who works for Microsoft?”

  “That’s her.” Philip frowned anew, remembering how upset he’d been when he discovered what Mackenzie had done. From the way she’d acted, he should’ve guessed she’d try something like this. What distressed him even more was the way his heart had responded when Carrie walked into the deli. The joy and excitement he’d felt...

  But he didn’t want to feel these things for her. It’d taken effort to steel himself against those very emotions. He’d been burned once, badly enough to know better than to play with fire. Carrie Weston wasn’t some little innocent, either. Every time he was with her, he felt as if he was holding a book of matches.

  “Mackenzie’s pretty levelheaded. What have you got against this neighbor woman? She’s not ugly, is she?”

  “No.” He recalled what a shock it was when he realized how lovely Carrie was.

  “If you want my opinion, I’d say count your blessings. Generally, the divorced guys I know would welcome a woman their daughters like. Remember what happened to Cal? His daughter and second wife hate each other. Any time they’re out together, Cal has to keep them from coming to blows.”

  “I’m not Cal.”

  “It seems to me that if your daughter’s that keen on this neighbor, you should take the time to find out what she likes so much. I’m no expert on women or romance, but—”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Philip said pointedly. He’d come to the office to escape Carrie, not to have her name thrown in his face. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do.”

  Gene rubbed the side of his face. “I doubt that. But I hate to see you wasting time in this office when Christmas is only a few days away. If you want to hide, there are better places than here.”

  Although Gene’s tone was friendly enough, the words made Philip’s jaw tighten. It was all he could do to keep from blaming his friend for his troubles. Gene owned the apartment complex, and it was because of him that Philip and Mackenzie were living there.

  “Well, I’ve got to get back to the car. Marilyn’s waiting. You know how it is the last weekend before Christmas. The malls are a madhouse and naturally my wife thinks this is the perfect time to finish the shopping. She wouldn’t dream of going alone. I told her there should be a Husband of the Year award in this for me,” he said, and chuckled. “But she promised me another kind of reward.” From the contented, anticipatory look on his friend’s face, one would think Gene was headed for the final game of the World Series, not a shopping mall.

  “See you later,” Philip said.

  “Later,” Gene returned. “Just promise me you won’t stay here long.”

  “I won’t.”

  Gene left, and the office had never seemed emptier. The place seemed to echo with loneliness, a constant reminder that Philip was by himself. His friend was right; it was almost Christmas, yet he was at the office hiding. While Gene was out fighting the Christmas crowds with his wife, Philip had crept in here, the way he always did whenever life threatened to offer him something he couldn’t handle. Even a gift.

  Because that was what Gene had more or less told him Carrie was. A woman Mackenzie not only liked, but championed. Like Gene, lots of guys would advise him to count his blessings. But instead of thanking his daughter for lunch, he’d chastised her for using it as an opportunity to get him together with Carrie.

  Carrie.

  Every time he thought of her, a chill raced through his blood. No, that wasn’t it. His blood didn’t go cold, it heated up. Carrie was charming, generous, delightful, kind—and more of a mother to his daughter than her own had ever been.

  Philip rolled his chair away from his desk, stood and walked over to the large picture window. The view of downtown Seattle and Puget Sound was spectacular from his twentieth-story viewpoint. Breathtaking. The waterfront, the ferry dock, Pike Place Market, all alive with activity. Philip couldn’t count the number of times he’d stood exactly where he was now and looked out and seen nothing, felt nothing.

  He went back to his desk and turned off his computer, feeling more confused than when he’d arrived. It was a sad day, he thought wryly, when he was reduced to accepting his thirteen-year-old daughter’s advice, but in this case, Mackenzie was right. She’d told him to get a life. Instead, Philip had dug himself deeper into his rut, fearing that any life he got would include putting the past behind him. It wasn’t that the past held any allure for him. The reverse, in fact. He’d married too young, unwisely. He was terrified of repeating the same mistake. Terrified of what that would do to him—and Mackenzie.

  Locking up, Philip went back to the apartment building. He parked in the garage across the street and was just walking toward the entrance when he saw Carrie. There was a natural buoyancy to her step, a joy that radiated from inside her. He sometimes wondered what she had to be so happy about. That no longer concerned him, because he wanted whatever it was.

  “Carrie!” Unsure what he’d say when he caught up with her, Philip hurried across the street.

  Carrie paused midway up the steps and turned around. Some of the happiness left her eyes when she saw him. She waited until he’d reached her before she spoke. “I had no idea Mackenzie had invited us both to lunch,” she told him.

  “I know that,” he said, regretting his angry mood earlier.

  “You do?”

  Every time he saw her it was a shock to realize how beautiful she was. Her intense blue eyes cut straight through him. “I was wondering... I know it’s last-minute and you’ve probably got other plans, but...” He paused. “Would you go Christmas shopping with me?” He was afraid that if he invited her to dinner or a movie she’d turn him down and he would
n’t blame her. “For Mackenzie,” he said, adding incentive. “I could do with a few suggestions.”

  His invitation had apparently taken her by surprise because she frowned at him before asking, “When?”

  “Is now convenient?” he asked hopefully. He was as crazy as his friend Gene to even consider going shopping today.

  “Now,” she repeated, then smiled, that soft, sweet smile of hers. “Okay.”

  Okay. It was crazy how one small word could produce such exhilaration. If this were the theater, he’d break into song about now. A Christmas carol maybe—something like “Joy to the World.”

  She walked down the three or four steps to join him on the sidewalk. That little bounce of hers was back. The bounce that said she was glad to be alive and glad to be with him.

  He was the one who should be grateful, Philip thought. He tucked her arm in his and led her back to the parking garage.

  Life was good. It had been a long time since he’d believed that, but he did now.

  Eight

  A few hours earlier, Carrie had been telling her mother that she barely knew Philip Lark and now she doubted there was any man she knew better. They sat in an Italian restaurant, Christmas packages around their feet, and talked until it seemed there was nothing more to say. Their dinner dishes had long since been removed and Philip poured the last of the red wine into her goblet.

  The room swayed gently from side to side, but her light-headedness wasn’t due to the pinot noir. Philip was the reason. He’d told her things she’d felt it would take him months if not years to reveal. He’d spoken of his marriage and his feelings about fatherhood. She listened, a lump in her throat, as he heaped the blame for the failure of his marriage on his own shoulders. She doubted very much that he was entirely responsible, but she admired his gallantry.

  “You’re friends with Laura?” she asked at one point.

  “Yes. Beyond anything else, she’s Mackenzie’s mother. I made mistakes in this marriage, but my daughter wasn’t one of them. I’ll always be grateful to my ex-wife for Mackenzie.”

  Tears formed in the corners of Carrie’s eyes at the sincerity with which he spoke. How easy it would be for him to blame his ex-wife for all their problems. Carrie was sympathetic to his side, and knew from things Mackenzie had told her that Laura wasn’t exactly a loving or attentive mother. Carrie suspected she hadn’t been much of a wife, either.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?” Philip asked unexpectedly.

  “Sunday.” Carrie propped her elbows on the white linen tablecloth. “The Mannings are getting together. Mom and I married into this large, wonderful family. Jason has four brothers and sisters. There are so many grandchildren these days it’s difficult to keep track of who belongs to whom. Why don’t you and Mackenzie come along and meet everyone?” Carrie couldn’t believe she’d impulsively tossed out the invitation. While she did want him to attend, there’d certainly be speculation...

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. Just... Never mind,” she said, stopping herself. Her gaze held his. “It would mean a great deal to me if you’d come.”

  “Then we will.” He reached for her hand with both of his.

  * * *

  Philip had given up the effort of remembering everyone’s names. He’d cataloged the first ten or so relatives Carrie had introduced him to, but the others became lost in the maze.

  Mackenzie had disappeared almost the minute they arrived. Doug and Dillon had greeted him cheerfully and then quickly vanished with his daughter. Holding a cup of eggnog, Philip found himself a quiet corner.

  From this vantage point, he watched Carrie interact with her family. His eyes followed her as she moved across the room, apparently to find her mother so she could introduce her parents to Philip. He couldn’t take his eyes off Carrie. Her face was flushed with happiness, her eyes glowing with excitement. She’d married into this family, but it was clear they thought of her as one of their own.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” a woman unexpectedly asked him.

  “Please do.” He stood to offer her his seat.

  “No, no. Sit down, please. I can only stay a moment. You’re Philip, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. Philip Lark.” The dark-haired beauty had to be Carrie’s mother. “You’re Charlotte Manning?”

  “How perceptive of you. Yes.” She held out her hand, which he shook.

  He was astonished that he hadn’t recognized the resemblance sooner. Charlotte and Carrie had the same intense blue eyes, the same joyous energy and a gentleness of spirit that was unmistakable.

  They spoke for a few minutes about unimportant matters. Small talk. Although Philip had the impression he was being checked out, he also had the feeling that he’d passed muster. He liked Charlotte, which made sense, since he definitely liked Carrie.

  “So this is Carrie’s young man.” Charlotte’s husband, Jason Manning, joined his wife and slipped his arm around her waist. “Welcome. Where’s Carrie? She’s left you to fend for yourself?”

  “I gather she went in search of you two.”

  The three of them spoke for a while before Jason glanced over his shoulder and called out, “Paul, come and meet Carrie’s friend.”

  Soon a large group had gathered around Philip, more faces than he could ever remember. He stood and shook hands with Carrie’s two uncles. Once again he felt their scrutiny.

  Soon a loud, “Ho, ho, ho,” could be heard in the background. Jason’s father had donned a Santa suit and now paraded into the room, a bag of gifts swung over his shoulder. The children let out cries of glee and crowded around Santa.

  Philip was grateful that everyone had begun to watch the scene taking place with Santa Claus. He sat down in his chair again and relaxed, grateful not to be the center of attention. Soon Carrie was with him. She sat on the arm and cast him an apologetic look.

  “Sorry, I got sidetracked.”

  “So I saw.” He patted her hand. “I met your stepfather and two uncles.”

  “Aren’t they great?” Her eyes gleamed with pride.

  “I need a degree in math to keep track of who’s married to whom.”

  “Don’t worry, it’ll come. Be thankful not everyone’s here.”

  “You mean there are even more?”

  Carrie grinned and nodded. “Taylor and Christy both live in Montana. Between them they have six children.”

  “My goodness.” Adding ten more names to his list would have overwhelmed him. “Mackenzie certainly seems to fit right in.”

  “Doug and Dillon think she’s the best thing since cookie-dough ice cream. Knowing her gives them the edge over their cousins.”

  While the youngsters gathered around their grandfather in his red suit, Mackenzie made her way toward him and Carrie. Philip understood. At thirteen she was too old to mingle with the kids who believed in Santa Claus, and too young not to be caught up in the excitement, even though Santa wouldn’t have a gift for her.

  “Are you having fun?” Philip whispered when she sat down on the chair’s other arm, across from Carrie.

  “This is so great,” she whispered. “I didn’t know families could get this big. Everyone’s so friendly.”

  Santa dug deep into his bag, produced a package and called out the name. Doug leaped to his feet and raced forward as if he had only a limited amount of time to collect his prize.

  Santa reached inside his bag again and removed another gift. “What’s this?” he asked, lowering his glasses to read the tag. “This is for someone named Mackenzie Lark. I do hope Mrs. Claus didn’t mix up the gifts with those of another family.”

  “Mackenzie’s here!” Dillon shouted. He stood and pointed toward Philip and Carrie.

  “Me?” Mackenzie slid off the chair. “There’s a gift in there for me?”

 
; “If your name’s Mackenzie, then I’d say this present is for you.”

  His daughter didn’t need a second invitation. She hurried over to Santa, as eager as Doug had been.

  Philip’s questioning gaze sought out Carrie’s. “I’m sure my mother’s responsible for this,” she told him.

  “I met her,” he said. “We talked briefly.”

  Carrie’s eyes widened. “What did she have to say?”

  “She was very pleasant. It was your stepfather who put the fear of God into me.”

  “Jason? Oh, dear. Listen, whatever he said, disregard it. He means well and I love him to death, but half the time he’s thinking about sports statistics and he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

  Philip smiled. He’d never seen Carrie more unnerved. Even when they were trapped in the elevator, she’d displayed more composure than this.

  “Carrie, good grief, what do you think he said?”

  She clamped her mouth shut. “I—I’m not sure, but it would be just like him to suggest you take the plunge and marry me.”

  “Oh, that, well...”

  “Are you telling me he actually—”

  Philip had to make an effort not to laugh out loud. “He didn’t, so don’t worry about it.”

  Mackenzie had claimed her gift and was walking back, clutching the package in both hands.

  “You can open it,” Carrie assured her.

  “Now?” She tore into the wrapping as though she couldn’t wait a second longer. Inside was an elegant vanity mirror with a brush and comb set. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, holding the brush and comb against her. “I’ve always wanted one of these sets. It’s so...so feminine.”

  “How’d your family know?” Philip asked. He’d never have thought to buy something like this for his daughter.

  “I have one,” Carrie whispered. “She’s used it a number of times.”

  “Oh.” More and more he felt inadequate when it came to understanding his daughter. She was in that awkward stage, and it was difficult to know exactly where her interests lay. Half the time she talked about wanting a horse and ballet lessons; the rest of the time she listened to music he’d never heard before and gossiped about celebrities who seemed completely irrelevant to him. Part girl, part woman, Mackenzie traveled uneasily from one desire to the next. It wasn’t just her interests that confused him, either. One minute she’d be her lighthearted self and the next she’d be in tears over something he considered trivial. He wished Laura had taken more interest in her. Often he felt at a loss in dealing with Mackenzie’s frequent mood swings.