Read A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree Online

Authors: Janet Dailey

A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree (11 page)

BOOK: A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree
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“Is it a restaurant?”
“I don’t think so.” She yawned hugely. “Can we talk about this later?”
He didn’t answer. She heard someone call his name. Sam came back on, sounding hurried. “Look, I gotta go. Call me when you wake up all the way. I really want to see you.”
“Okay. Bye.” With a smile, Nicole rolled over and went back to sleep.
It was dark when she woke up again, but not very late. Sharon might even be able to come over tonight. Nicole got out of bed and checked her kitchen shelves for popcorn.
Several boxes in stock. She picked up her cell phone and hit a number on speed dial.
“Hello!”
Sharon was as bouncy as her voice.
“Hi. It’s me, Nicole.”
“Oh my! Haven’t heard from you in a few weeks. Must be big news. I get three guesses.”
“Not that big. But go for it.”
“You’re moving out of that glorified closet. A dream date stood you up. You took a nine-to-five job.”
“None of the above. I met a cowboy.”
Sharon giggled. “You’re kidding, right? Did the rodeo come to Madison Square Garden?”
“No. That happens in spring.”
“Does this buckaroo have a name?”
Nicole didn’t answer the question, just extended an invitation. “Come by at seven. Hot popcorn, extra butter, free refills.”
Sharon whooped. “Real life is better than a movie.”
 
 
Nicole had the love seat, and Sharon was sitting cross-legged in the giant club chair. Her friend was lanky and liked to fold herself up into it. She fiddled with a curl of her brunette hair, fixing her green-eyed gaze on Nicole.
Sharon had calmed down some since they’d spoken on the phone, devouring most of a huge bowl of fresh popcorn while they caught up on every other subject but Sam.
Sharon set the empty bowl down for Nicole’s cat to investigate, watching his whiskers brush delicately against the buttery sides. The cat found a split kernel and ran under the sofa with it in his mouth.
“Go, Whiskeroo. It’s great popcorn.” She leaned back in the club chair. “You really know how to microwave, Nicole.”
“Ah, it’s not that hard.”
Sharon nodded vaguely. “So. Tell me about this cowboy.”
Nicole hesitated for only a second. “His name is Sam Bennett, he comes from Colorado, and he installs Christmas trees.”
“I could jump rope to that.” Sharon rolled her eyes. “But let’s get the facts out of the way. His eye color, height, build, personality?”
Nicole filled her in.
“Now for the good stuff,” Sharon said eagerly. “Your thoughts and feelings. Where you want to go with this. Why you find him attractive—never mind. You told me what he looked like.”
“I just hired him to help me finish the job at Now.”
“Ohhh. You’re the boss. Now, that is interesting. Does he let you make the decisions?”
“You are really annoying sometimes, Sharon, do you know that?”
“Moving right along,” her friend replied cheerfully, “how about his prior relationships? I know all about yours, skip the recap.” Sharon picked up a pillow and tucked it behind her neck, getting comfortable.
“I just met him!” Nicole wailed. “I don’t know much about his background except that he grew up on a ranch.”
“With a moo-moo here and a—”
“Shut
up.
He’s incredibly nice. Way nicer than your average arrogant New York man.”
Sharon adjusted the pillow and dangled her fuzzy-socked feet over the arm of the club chair. “None of them think they’re average. That’s why they’re arrogant. So what does Sam do again? ”
“Right now, he’s doing Christmas installations for a friend’s company.”
“Oh. Not a designer, you mean. But good with his hands. That’s a plus,” Sharon said airily. “So when is he going back to Colorado?”
The question hung in the air between them. Sharon didn’t mean everything she said to be a joke.
“Um, maybe New Year’s Day. He did ask if I’d ever done the Times Square thing on New Year’s Eve. I told him I hated crowds.”
“So much for the date of a lifetime.”
“I do hate crowds, Sharon. You know that.”
Her friend sat up facing forward and crossed her legs again, putting the tips of her fingers together. “Nicole, there are eight million people in New York City. Divided in half, that’s about four million males and four million females. Filter for availability and—”
Nicole made a wry face. “The number comes down to about forty.”
“I wouldn’t go that high. Not in the Verified Single category.”
“Cynic,” Nicole said.
“I’m a realist. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy this cowboy. Just have fun with him. How long has it been?”
“That”—Nicole pointed a finger at her best friend—“is a question I have no intention of answering.
Sharon held up her hands in mock surrender.
Chapter 6
D
ouglas sat at a card table, working on a school project. He traced three different-size circles on a sheet of white craft paper, then cut them out and taped them together to make a snowman.
“This is kid stuff,” he grumbled.
His mother glanced his way. “Last time I looked, you were still a kid. What are those for?”
“Holiday decorations for the class window.”
Amanda looked on admiringly. “Make me one,” she begged.
“Your little sister is impressed.”
That didn’t quite mollify Douglas, but he didn’ t argue.
“Here. He needs a face.” He handed over the snowman and started cutting out another for himself.
Amanda picked one of the crayons scattered on the table and began to draw, concentrating on the task. She was so quiet her big brother hardly noticed her, working on his own, until she held up her artwork for his approval.
He shook his head. “Amanda,” he said patiently, “the small circle is for the face.” He tapped it. “Here. The face always goes on top.”
Amanda frowned as she studied her snowman. The smaller top and middle circles were blank. The bottom circle had four eyes, two above and two below a line for the mouth.
She peered at the snowman her brother had just finished. Then she rotated hers upside down to match it, more or less.
“Okay,” she said with satisfaction. “He looks good now.”
“Good enough.” Douglas was trying not to laugh.
Amanda turned to her mother, who was making dinner in the apartment’s tiny kitchen.
“Mommy!” she announced. “Look what I made!”
Maureen Fulton winked at Douglas and took the paper snowman from her daughter.
“That’s very nice, honey. Let’s put this up right now,” she said. She used a magnet in the middle circle to affix Amanda’s creation to the fridge.
“My snowman has a belly button,” the little girl said happily. She plunked down the crayon and got out of her chair, heading to the low shelf that held her picture books and toys, scrambling up on the couch with a book and Buster.
Douglas looked up as his mother returned to the table. She set down an armful of cookbooks that she’d taken down from a cabinet over the refrigerator and slid into the chair that Amanda had just vacated.
“Are you going to bake?” he asked.
His mother nodded, opening the book on top of the stack. “Why not? Christmas is coming.”
The boy gestured toward the big blue tin of store-bought cookies on the counter. “You don’t have to, Mom. We have those.”
“Uh-huh,” Maureen said absently. “Finish that project and get started on your math worksheets.”
“Later.”
She held up a silencing hand. “No. Right now. And if you really want to know, I was thinking of baking cakes to give away as presents.”
Douglas thought that over while his mother stopped to study a recipe, tapping it with the eraser end of the pencil in her hand.
He read the title of it upside down. “Traditional Plum Pudding with Hard Sauce. How can sauce be hard?”
“It’s just an expression,” his mother explained. She turned the page, murmuring, “Too complicated. And too expensive.”
A silence fell. The boy and his mother avoided each other’s gaze. Douglas set aside the craft materials and got started on a math worksheet. He finished quickly, looking again at his mother.
“Wish I could get a job,” he muttered.
“You have one,” Maureen said quietly. “It’s called homework.”
Douglas got started on another worksheet with story problems and little illustrations.
His mother continued turning pages and spoke again. “I’ll find something. The man at the employment agency said new jobs are posted every day. And I’m applying online too.”
He nodded, reading the first problem on the sheet aloud in a bored voice.
“If Billy charges three dollars an hour to mow a lawn with an area twenty feet by forty feet, how much will he earn if he mows a lawn five times larger? That’s easy. Fifteen.”
He jotted down the answer and drew a handlebar mustache on Billy.
Maureen smiled. “Your teacher might not appreciate the artwork.”
With a scowl, Douglas flipped his pencil over to the eraser end and eliminated the mustache.
“Keep going,” she said. “The first problem is always the easiest.”
“Wish I was Billy,” her son sighed. “There aren’t any lawns to mow in New York City. Maybe I could shovel snow. If we get any.” He raced through the next few problems.
Maureen pondered a recipe and took a minute to answer. “The super does that.”
“Aw, Mom. What if we can’t—”
“Christmas will come the way it always does,” she interrupted him. “So don’t you worry.”
Amanda piped up. “Can we get a pink sparkle tree? Please?”
“We’ll see, honey.”
Douglas lowered his voice. “It’s totally fake, Mom. No pine smell or anything.”
“And no needles to sweep up. I have a coupon for the drugstore where she saw it. Thirty percent off entire purchase.”
“Pink tree, pink tree.” Amanda made up a little song for Buster, bouncing the toy on her lap. “Sparkle sparkle pink tree.”
Douglas gave his mother his best disgusted look. She paid no attention. With a frown on his face, he returned to his homework, racing through the problems. The last one stumped him for a little while. He chewed his pencil and finished.
“I’m done. You can check it.” He slid the worksheet on top of the open cookbook.
Without missing a beat, Maureen reviewed the math problems and his answers. “Very good. Everything’s correct.” She handed back the sheet and ruffled his hair. “Take the garbage to the chute, please. Then you can get ready for bed.”
The boy skipped his usual protests, looking worriedly at his mother, who was absorbed in the next cookbook. “Okay,” was all he said.
He went into the kitchenette and lifted the bag by its drawstrings, carrying it to the door. Douglas unlocked it and opened it, then shot the bolt so it would stay open for his trip down the hall to the chute.
It was several doors down. He dragged the bag, then hoisted it, pulling open the chute to shove it in and wrinkling his nose while he waited for it to fall.
An apartment door at the end of the hall opened and out came a neighbor in a hooded jacket with her fluffy white dog.
“Hey, Douglas,” she called.
“Hi, Julie.” He turned and walked back. “Can I pet Puff?”
“We’re on our way out, but sure.” The young woman with smooth dark hair and laughing eyes let go of the leash. Douglas kneeled, and the friendly little dog ran to him.
She stopped at the Fultons’ door when Douglas’s mother opened it to say hello. Amanda waved to her from the sofa.
“Hi, Maureen,” Julie said. “I haven’t seen you for awhile. How’s everything?”
“Oh, all right,” Maureen replied. “How about you? Ready for Christmas?”
“I haven’t even started shopping and I’m going to my folks’ in Pennsylvania day after tomorrow,” Julie sighed. She pushed the hood of her jacket back, looking a little flushed.
“Are you bringing Puff?” Douglas wanted to know.
“Yes, of course. My grandma loves her—she’s knitting her a candy cane sweater.”
Maureen didn’t miss the disappointed look in the boy’s eyes. The mother of two could read his mind.
“Doug, you can’t take care of Puff for Julie,” she said gently. “Dogs need to be walked at least twice a day, and I can’t leave your sister alone to go with you. And bringing Amanda along is not an option. You know how much she hates to get into her snowsuit.”
“Do I ever,” he said with resignation. “I just want to earn some money for presents and stuff.”
“I’m only going to be gone for a few days. Then Puff and I are coming right back,” Julie responded quickly. “Tell you what. You could take care of my goldfish. I’d pay you a dollar a day.”
“For how long?” Douglas asked.
“Oh, about a month. I’m going to be extra-busy until New Year’s and I might forget to feed him. Goldfish don’t bark, you know.”
Douglas did the arithmetic in his head and seemed to come up short. “Maybe I could walk Puff right after school too. For two dollars.”
“Doug.” His mother’s tone held a faint warning.
“Okay, make it two fifty and that way you’re only paying half for the fish part.”
Julie laughed outright, and Maureen pressed her lips together, fighting a smile.
“Please, Mom. It doesn’t get dark until four. Me and Puff would just go down our street and back. Everyone on the block knows me, and Theo or somebody is always outside.”
“Maybe.”
“It would work,” he insisted. “We have Julie’s key and you’re almost always home.”
“That’s true,” Maureen replied. “But that could change.”
Douglas scratched Puff’s head, letting his mother think it over. “Julie, when did you get a goldfish?”
“Ah—I’m picking it up at the pet store tomorrow. ”
Julie flipped back her hood, looking a little flushed. Douglas didn’t ask why. Julie looked hopefully at Maureen over his head.
His mother finally gave in, glancing down fondly at her son. “Oh, all right. Yes to both. For now. ”
“I won’t ever forget to feed the fish, Jufie,” he said eagerly. “And I’ll jog with Puff so she gets good exercise. Just on the sidewalk,” he reassured his mother.
Julie extended a hand. “You got a deal. Two fifty a day until further notice.”
They shook hands as the little dog wound her leash around Julie’s legs.
“Mom, can I walk out with Julie and Puff right now?” Douglas wanted to know. “For practice.”
Maureen hesitated for a second, then took his jacket and a knit hat from the front closet. “All right. You finished your homework. Here’s some change. You can get a candy bar from the newsstand.”
“Mom, you rock.” It was his highest compliment. He handed the leash to Julie to slip on his jacket and held out a hand for the coins.
Unwound by her mistress, Puff scampered to the head of the stairs and zoomed down, with Julie and Douglas right behind her, both trying to catch hold of the leash.
Once out on the street, Julie made sure the boy was zipped up and got the knit hat on his head. She handed him the leash, and Puff trotted proudly between the two of them as they discussed the care and feeding of goldfish.
It wasn’t long before they reached the newsstand and the Christmas tree lot right in front of it. There were fresh trees resting against the framework of two-by-fours, illuminated by several strings of colored lights.
Uncle Theo was sitting on a metal folding chair by the small trailer, sipping a cup of cocoa. He set it down to greet them with a wave. Douglas stopped, tugging on Julie’s hand.
“Could I stay here with Theo? You can get me a chocolate bar,” he said. “I don’t care what kind. Puff wants to say hi, and I want to look at the Christmas trees.”
The old man extended a thick-gloved hand to the little white dog trying to jump into his lap. “Hello, Julie. Douglas, you’re out late.”
“Candy run,” he said.
Julie accepted the handful of change the boy gave her. “Be right back. Theo, do you want anything? A newspaper?”
“To sit on. Not to read. It’s freezing out here.”
She laughed and went into the newsstand. Douglas inspected the trees in a businesslike way before he found the fir with the crooked branch and checked the price without Theo seeing him.
Puff had made it to the old man’s lap and was curled up inside his heavy jacket.
“Theo, can I set a tree aside?”
“I bet you mean the one you were looking at the other day. The Douglas fir.”
Doug nodded. “Yeah. You have a good memory.”
“Thank you,” Theo rumbled. He peered at him from under shaggy eyebrows. “For how long?”
“I might have to owe you some of the money once I pick it up, but I can pay the whole amount by Christmas Eve for sure. I’m working for Julie—I’m going to walk Puff and feed her goldfish.” Douglas hesitated. “I want the tree to be a surprise. For my mom.”
“You know we close up the lot on Christmas Eve,” Theo reminded him.
Douglas nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I know.”
“All right. We understand each other.” Theo pulled off a thick glove and brought out a SOLD tag from an inside pocket. “Here you go. The tree can stay here until you’re ready to bring it home. I won’t say a word.”
“Thanks!” Douglas hung the tag on a small branch and stepped back to admire the tall fir. “It’s almost as big as the Rockefeller Center tree.”
BOOK: A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree
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