Trading Christmas Page 8

  “Santa and his elves have left?” he asked. “Why were they wearing those outfits, anyway?” He sounded both curious and a touch sardonic.

  “Oh—we went to a rest stop and they got changed. We decided it would be part of Emily’s Christmas surprise.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Faith avoided eye contact.

  “What about you? You’re leaving today, too—aren’t you?”

  Faith raised her index finger and swallowed. “There’s…a small problem.”

  “How small?”

  “Well, actually it’s a rather large one.” She told him how much it would cost to change her flight. “How much?” He sounded as appalled as she was.

  “The way it was explained to me is that this would be a new ticket. But the representative said that even if I was willing to pay the change fee, it was unlikely he could find me a seat. I could fly standby, but he told me there are hardly ever any standby seats at this time of year.” Faith knew she was giving him more information than necessary, but it was critical that he understand her position.

  Charles sighed as if this was too much to take in all at once. “Summarize, please,” he snapped—as if she was some freshman in one of his classes, she thought resentfully. “Where does that leave you?”

  “Well…I have a rental car…or rather I did until Sam and the dwarfs needed it, so I ended up giving it to them.” Again she explained far more than necessary, ending with the tale of the troupe’s appearances at hospitals and nursing homes.

  “So, you’re saying they’ve left with the one and only van?”

  She nodded. “I have calls into several rental agencies now, and they’re all looking for a car for me. But rest assured that once I do have a vehicle, I’ll be out of here.”

  “Where will you go?”

  She didn’t have many options there, either. “Back to California.”

  Charles had the good grace to look concerned. “You’d be driving at this time of year and in this weather?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  He sighed, turned abruptly and walked into the kitchen. “Let me think about this. There’s got to be a solution that’d suit both of us.”

  She was glad he seemed to think there were other options, because she couldn’t think of any. The one obvious solution—that she simply stay—was as unpalatable to her as it no doubt was to him.

  After a few minutes, Charles returned to the den and closed the door. Apparently he hadn’t come up with any creative ideas.

  Faith’s stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. Checking out the refrigerator, she found eggs, cheese and a few vegetables. She whipped up two omelets, then timidly knocked at the den door.

  At Charles’s gruff reply, she creaked open the door just enough to peer inside. “I made breakfast if you’re interested.”

  “Breakfast? Oh. Yeah, sure.”

  She didn’t need to ask him twice. Maybe half a minute later, Charles joined her at the table. He stared down at his plate, eyes widening as if this was the most delicious meal he’d seen in years.

  He sat down and sampled the omelet. “You cook like this all the time?”

  Faith wasn’t sure what he was asking. “I know my way around a kitchen, if that’s what you mean,” she said cautiously.

  “Every meal?”

  “Not always, but I do enjoy cooking.”

  He ate several more bites, pausing between each one, a blissful expression on his face. “You’d be willing to leave me alone to do my work?”

  “If that’s a question, I suppose I could manage to keep out of your way.” She’d begun to feel hopeful—maybe they could compromise.

  He studied her narrowly, as if to gauge the truth of her words. “In that case you can stay. You prepare the meals, make yourself scarce, and we’ll both cope with this as well as we can. Agreed?”

  Faith doubted he knew how gruff and unfriendly he sounded. However… “I could do that.”

  “Good. I’m here to work. The last thing I’m interested in is Christmas or any of the festivities that seem to have taken over this town. Tell me, are these people crazy? No, don’t answer that. Just leave me alone—except for meals, of course.”

  “Fine.”

  “I want nothing to do with Christmas. Got that?”

  “Yes.”

  She had no idea what kind of work he was doing, but she’d gladly keep her distance. As for the Christmas part, he’d certainly made his point and she didn’t need to hear it again.

  “I’ll probably have my meals in the den.”

  “Fine,” she said again. As far as she was concerned, the less she had to do with him, the better.

  Charles set his fork next to his plate and seemed to be waiting for something more from her.

  “I’m willing to make the best of this situation if you are,” she finally said. Neither was to blame. They were the victims of a set of unfortunate circumstances.

  He nodded solemnly as if to seal their agreement. Then he pushed away from the table and stood. “I will tell you that this is one of the best omelets I’ve had in years.”

  She smiled, pleased to hear it. “Thank you.” Then she hopped up from the table, taking her plate and cup. “What time would you like lunch?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you know when it’s ready. Fair enough?”

  “Certainly.” He sounded distracted and eager to get back to his work.

  “I’ll pick up the groceries,” she offered. “It’s the least I can do.”

  His eyes brightened. “That would be appreciated. Just be careful of the goat.”

  “The goat?”

  “Never mind,” he muttered and returned to the den.

  THIRTEEN

  Bernice Brewster slept well for the first time in three days. At her age, she shouldn’t be worrying about her adult children, but Charles was a concern. For that matter, so was Rayburn. Thankfully her older son had taken her apprehensions to heart and traveled to Boston to check on his younger brother.

  Naturally there was a perfectly logical explanation as to why a woman had answered Charles’s phone. She should’ve realized her sensible son wouldn’t have some stray woman in the house. Charles was far too intelligent to be taken in by a gold digger. Granted, she’d like nothing better than to see him with the right woman—but there’d be nothing worse than seeing him with the wrong one. Like that Monica. Well, she was a fool and didn’t deserve Charles.

  Fortunately, Bernice now had the phone number in Washington State where Charles could be reached. She leaned to ward the telephone and dialed.

  One ring. Two.

  “Hello,” a female voice answered.

  “Hello,” Bernice responded, a little uncertainly. She must have written the number down incorrectly. There was only one way to find out and that was to ask. “This phone number was given to me by Emily Springer. Is Charles Brewster there?”

  The woman hesitated. “Yes, but he’s unavailable at the moment.”

  Bernice swallowed a gasp and before she could think better of it, slammed down the telephone. Dear heaven, what was happening? Feeling light-headed, she waited until her pounding heart had settled down before she tried to call Rayburn at his apartment. She wanted to know what was going on and she wanted to know right this minute.

  When Rayburn didn’t answer, she tried his office and learned he was still in Boston.

  “Why?” she demanded of his assistant. “Why is he still in Boston?”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Brewster,” the young woman said politely. “Mr. Brewster phoned the office this morning and that’s what he said.”

  “He has his cell phone?” Of course he did, because he’d called her on it the night before.

  “I believe he does.”

  Bernice carefully punched out the cell number and waited. The phone rang four times before her son answered. “Ray Brewster.”

  “Rayburn,” she gasped,
overwhelmed by her children’s odd behavior. His greeting had sounded far too friendly, as if he’d been laughing. Well, this was no laughing matter!

  “Mother.” The sound of her voice sobered him up fast enough, she noticed. Something very suspicious was going on. “Where are you?” she demanded.

  “I’m forty-three years old. I no longer need to check in with you.”

  How dared he speak to her in that tone! She was about to say so when Rayburn chuckled.

  “If you must know, I’m in Boston at Charles’s condo.”

  “There’s a woman there.”

  “I already know that, Mother.”

  Bernice gasped. “You spent the night with her?”

  “I was in the same condo, not that it’s any of your business.”

  Bernice pulled out her lace-edged hankie and clenched it tightly. “I…I have no idea where your father and I went wrong that both my sons—”

  “Mother, take a deep breath and start over.”

  Bernice tried, she honestly tried, but her heart was pounding and her head spinning. “I phoned the number you gave me and…another woman answered.”

  “A woman? Are you sure you had the right number?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I asked and she said Charles was unavailable.”

  “Hold on, let me ask Emily who it might be.”

  Emily, was it? “I see you’re on a first-name basis with this—this house-stealer.”

  To her chagrin, Rayburn laughed. “Honestly, Mother, I think you missed your calling. You should’ve been on the stage.”

  Her husband used to make the same claim, and while she did have a good stage presence, she suspected Rayburn didn’t mean it as a compliment.

  Bernice could hear him in the background, but hard as she pressed her ear against the receiver, she couldn’t make out what was being said.

  “Emily says she doesn’t have a clue who would be answering the phone at her place. She’ll call later and find out if you wish.”

  “If I wish?” Bernice repeated.

  “All right, I’ll get back to you.”

  Her son was about to hang up, but she still had more to say. “Rayburn,” she shouted. “You behave yourself with this woman, understand?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  The phone line went dead.

  “A woman answered?” Emily repeated after Ray ended the conversation with his mother. “Now, that’s interesting.”

  “Who do you think it might be?”

  Emily shrugged. “Don’t know, but it’ll be easy enough to find out.” She went to the telephone and punched out her own number in Washington State.

  The line was picked up almost right away. “Hello.”

  “Faith?” Emily shrieked. “Faith? Is it really you?”

  “Emily?”

  They both started talking at once, blurting out questions and answers, then each explained in turn. Even then, it took Emily a few moments to discern what had actually happened.

  “Oh, no! You came to spend Christmas with me and I’m not there.”

  “You went to Boston to be with Heather and now she’s in Florida?”

  “Yes, but I can’t think about it, otherwise I’ll get too upset.”

  Faith was sympathetic. “I felt so badly for the way I brushed off your disappointment.”

  “And now you’re trapped in Leavenworth.”

  “There are worse places to be this time of year,” Faith said. She seemed to be in a good frame of mind. “Charles and I have reached an agreement,” she went on to say. “I’m staying until after Christmas, and in exchange, I’ll keep out of his way and cook his meals.”

  While her friend put a positive slant on the situation, Emily realized Faith had to be miserable. Alone—or virtually alone—at Christmas.

  “What about you?” Faith asked.

  “I’m stuck in Boston, but it’s really a lovely town.” Still, none of that mattered now. “Oh, Faith, what a good friend you are to go to all this trouble for me.”

  “Well, I tried.”

  Emily wanted to weep. Despite everything, it seemed she was destined to spend the holidays by herself. Still, she’d had a wonderful evening with Ray and felt attractive and carefree in a way she hadn’t in years.

  They talked for several minutes longer, making plans to call each other again. When she finished, Emily replaced the receiver and looked over at Ray, smiling.

  “I take it she’s someone you know?”

  Emily told him what had happened. “I was lucky I caught her. Faith was on her way outside to go sledding with the neighbor kids. She’s so good with children.”

  “Faith sounds like a fun-loving person.”

  “She is.”

  “She’s staying, then?”

  Emily nodded. “She and Charles have worked out a compromise.” Emily felt guilty about the whole mess. Poor Charles. All he wanted was to escape Christmas and have time to work without interruption. But, between Faith and the Kennedy children, Emily figured the poor man wouldn’t have a moment’s peace.

  Ray drank the rest of his coffee and set his mug aside. “I guess I’d better head back to New York.”

  Emily knew it was too much to hope that he’d stay on. “I can’t let you go without breakfast,” she said brightly.

  Ray seemed almost relieved at being given an excuse to linger. “Are you sure I’m not disrupting your plans?”

  “Plans? What plans? I’m here for another week and I don’t know a soul in town.” She opened the cupboard, looking for ideas, and found an old-fashioned waffle iron. She brought it down, oiled it and plugged it in.

  “I wondered what happened to Mom’s old waffle iron,” Ray said as he leaned against the counter. He watched Emily assemble ingredients.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  She shrugged as she cracked an egg against the side of the bowl. “Not really… The truth is, I’m just delaying the inevitable.” It probably wasn’t polite to be this truthful, but she was beyond pretense. The minute Ray walked out that door, she’d be alone again and she’d enjoyed his company.

  “Actually, I’m not hungry, either.”

  “You aren’t?” The question came out in a rushed whisper.

  Ray shook his head. “I was looking for an excuse to stay.”

  He and Emily exchanged a grin.

  “Do we actually need an excuse?” he asked.

  Emily didn’t know how to answer or even if she should. “Do you have to go back to New York?”

  “At the moment I can’t think of a single compelling reason.”

  “Would you be interested in staying in Boston for Christmas? With me?” Normally she wasn’t this direct, but she had little to lose and so much to gain.

  “I can’t imagine anyone I’d rather spend Christmas with.”

  FOURTEEN

  On a mission now, Faith walked down Main Street in Leavenworth and headed for her favorite grocery. Even after a number of years away, she was astonished by the number of people who remembered her. Five years earlier, she’d done her student teaching in Leavenworth and worked in Emily’s classroom.

  Newly divorced, emotionally fragile and struggling to pick up the pieces of her life, she’d come to this out-of-the-way community. The town had welcomed her, and with Emily as her friend, she’d learned that life does continue.

  The three months she’d spent with Emily had been like a reprieve for Faith, providing a much-needed escape from her badly bungled life. Once her student teaching was completed, she’d moved back to Seattle and soon afterward graduated with her master’s degree in education. Diploma in hand, she’d gone to California to be closer to family.

  Although she’d moved away from Leavenworth, Faith had stayed in contact with Emily. Their friendship had continued to grow, despite the physical distance between them and the difference in their ages. In fact, Faith felt she could talk to Emily in ways she couldn’t talk to her mother. They were colleagues, but not only that, they’d both experience
d the loss of a marriage, albeit for very different reasons and in very different ways.

  They made a point of getting together every summer. Usually they met in Seattle or California. The long-distance aspect of the relationship hadn’t been a hindrance.

  Faith’s family and friends were important to her; romance, though, was another matter. She was rather frightened of it. Her marriage had burned her and while she’d like to be settled and married with children, that didn’t seem likely now.

  As she walked through town, Faith waved at people she recognized. Some immediately waved back; one woman stopped and stared as if she had yet to place her. The living Nativity wasn’t scheduled until the afternoon, so she was safe from the goat Charles had mentioned. She’d figured out that the infamous Clara Belle—she remembered Emily’s hilarious story about a farm visit with her kindergarten class—had to be the goat in question.

  Thinking of Charles made her smile. He was an interesting character. If he hadn’t already told her, she would’ve guessed he was an academic. He fit the stereotype of the absentminded professor perfectly—a researcher who became so absorbed in his work, he needed someone to tell him when and where he needed to be.

  He did have a heart, though. Otherwise she’d probably be hitchhiking back to California by now. As long as she made herself invisible, they would manage.

  Once inside the store, she got a grocery cart and wandered aimlessly down the aisle, seeking inspiration for dinner. She decided on baked green peppers stuffed with a rice, tomato soup and ground beef mixture. The recipe was her mother’s but Faith rarely made it. Cooking for one was a chore and it was often easier to pick up something on the way home from school. Fresh cranberries were on sale, so she grabbed a pack age of those, although she hadn’t decided what to do with them. It seemed a Christmassy thing to buy. She’d find a use for them later.

  She’d come up with menus for the rest of the week this afternoon, and write a more complete grocery list then.