All or Nothing (39 page)

Gran took a sip of her tea. “That little girl grew up and her grandparents came to love her more and more with every passing year. And the money in that account, through the miracle of compound interest and that grandfather's contributions, grew as surely as the little girl did. When she was eighteen, he changed the name on the account to make it hers and only left himself with the ability to deposit.”

Gran sighed and looked around the room at the rapt faces of her family. Jen looked too, and her heart clenched at the affection in their expressions. Her mother's kitchen was a good place to be.

She hoped with sudden ferocity that she would have her own kitchen one day, adjacent to her knitting store, and that people would feel as welcome there as they did here.

“Because he was the kind of man who took care of things quietly—” Gran said. “—he never said anything, either to the little girl who had become a woman or to his own daughter. When he was ill at the end, he made me promise to tell you, Jen, about your money when the time was right.” Gran looked into her teacup and blinked back a tear. “But I never knew when that time was, because for a long time after he was gone, I couldn't even think about finishing things he had started. I couldn't really think of being without him, even though I was. Finding a time was the last thing on my mind.”

Jen got up and went to sit beside her grandmother. The older woman held fast to Jen's fingers, her own hand shaped by time and experience, her grip strong. “He would have been so proud of you. He was proud of you always, but if he could see you now, well...”

“He can see her now, Mom,” Natalie said softly. “Can't you feel that Dad's here with us?”

“Don't you go talking your strange nonsense with me now,” Gran said with affection and the two women smiled at each other in the glow of the red paper lanterns.

Gran squeezed Jen's hand. “He told me, Patrick did, that I would know the right moment to tell you about this. I thought that a lot of nonsense, if you must know, the kind of nonsense your mother tends to talk...“

“So, you see? I came by it honestly,” Natalie joked.

Gran harrumphed. “Last week, Natalie told me about your going back to finish your degree in January and it occurred to me that you might need a little bit of money. I knew that this must be the very moment that Patrick had told me about.”

Gran swallowed. “And when I told Natalie, she told me about the medical bills, and your student loan.” She looked up at Jen, her eyes bright. “I had no idea, my dear. I suppose I am a silly old woman, but I didn't realize that it was so expensive to go to college. I never even finished high school myself. And I had no idea how much medical care costs when you have no insurance.” She tightened her grip on Jen's fingers. “I'm very sorry that I didn't give this to you sooner, dear. I feel as if I failed you.”

“Of course, you didn't,” Jen protested, bending to kiss her grandmother's cheek.

“I could have set your mind at ease sooner.”

“You did. You were there with me. I couldn't have gotten through it without you.”

And it was true. The power of her family's love had been the one constant in Jen's battle with cancer, the one force that she had been able to rely upon. They had all been there. They had taken turns driving her to treatments, they had sat up with her when she was ill, they had held her hand and given her the strength to keep fighting on those days when it didn't seem there was a lot of point. Without them, she knew that she might have given up the battle. She looked around the room and wished that she had knit more for them, had knit gifts for them sooner, had somehow shown the magnitude of her love for them with wool and needles and time.

Gran held fast to her hand. “I know what it is, dear, to have nothing but love to offer a man who has a great deal more than that to his credit. I want you to be able to start fresh with Zach, to not have the past trailing along behind you. Go and look properly at that statement.”

In the light over the stove, Jen looked at the balance on the statement and nearly choked. It was a lot of money, enough to pay all of her bills and change left to pay for her remaining tuition and books. She would be able to finish her degree and start fresh.

She looked at her family with astonishment. “We should share it,” she began but they interrupted her as one.

“You need the break, Jen,” M.B. said firmly.

“It was always for you,” Gran insisted.

“Your father left you nothing but his name,” Natalie said softly. “Cin's father paid her tuition. M.B.'s father took him on vacations in the summers. Pluto's father has always encouraged his music.”

“And he still puts me up when I'm in New York,” Pluto added.

“We need to take care of you ourselves,” Natalie said. “Although that wasn't my expectation in the first place, that's how it worked out.”

Gran reached up and kissed Jen's cheek. “On the other hand, it means you're all ours.”

Jen, all choked up with tears, couldn't think of anything better than being part of her weird and wonderful family. She hugged them all and knew a relief that went beyond financial concerns.

Her knitting shop dream seemed suddenly a lot less insane than it had just a week before.

* * *

Christmas Day was sunny and cold. Zach, to his surprise, felt a bit of anticipation mingled with the dread he'd been fighting since agreeing to go to Grey Gables.

Maybe that was because he was going to see Jen again.

Maybe that was the only good thing about the day ahead.

He had good news himself—on the adult front—but that wasn't why he wanted to see her so much. He picked Jen up, right on time, and she was waiting for him, almost as if she was anxious to see him too.

She was wearing a vintage suit, black and camel, with a silk scarf at her neck and only the barest dash of lipstick. She looked both retro and modern, feminine and austere. Her smile of welcome made everything in him turn hot, then cold.

“You look great,” he said as he took the white poinsettia from her. It was wrapped with a plaid ribbon, and was clearly a hostess gift. He thought it was a good choice for Leslie. “Very Coco Chanel.”

Jen's smile broadened, lighting her face. “When in doubt, go classic. You didn't give me a dress code so I guessed.” She fussed a bit with the cellophane over the plant and the plaid red bow around the package. “Is this all right?”

“Perfect. Leslie likes poinsettias.” Zach arched a brow. “Independent of them being the result of virtual slave labor and excessive pesticide use in the third world.”

“And unnecessary air transport,” Jen reminded him with a smile. She sobered as she straightened his tie. “You look nice,” she said, and he knew that wasn't really what she wanted to say. “I'm sorry that my family was so awful to you.”

Zach shrugged. “They're protective of you and there's nothing wrong with that.” He winked at her. “Besides, I'm getting my own back today.”

“From what you've said, your family sound like a pack of ogres.”

“Maybe they'll be on good behavior for the holiday,” he said and opened the door.

“Then why don't you look as if you believe that?”

Roxie barked with enthusiasm, jamming her head through the gap between the front seat and the door frame so that she could greet Jen, and spared him from answering. “No slobbering,” Zach said, to no discernible effect in Roxie's behavior.

Jen laughed and patted the dog, admired the big red bow around her neck, then coaxed the dog back into the back seat with an ease Zach could only envy.

Although her feat had something to do with the dog toy she produced from her purse for Roxie. Roxie settled onto the back seat to chew her Christmas present with gusto.

“Cheap trick,” Zach said.

“It worked, didn't it?”

Zach had to give her points for that.

“You'd better give me the plant here,” Jen said. “I think it might be too cold for it in the trunk.”

“Roxie really wants to be your dog,” Zach said after he passed Jen the plant. “Just snap your fingers and she'll run home with you.”

“I'd never tempt her to leave you alone,” Jen teased. She glanced over her shoulder. “Are your presents in the trunk?”

“No. They decided on a lottery to keep things simple.” Zach produced a small wrapped box from his suit pocket. “I only have the one.”

Jen seemed perplexed. “No food contribution?”

Zach shrugged. “Unauthorized additions to the menu are frowned upon.” He regretted his words immediately, because Jen looked more uncertain about her attendance today. “They aren't so bad,” he said as he pulled out from the curb. “At least, they have better PR recently.”

“That's not very reassuring.”

“It's the best I can do.”

She turned and he felt her watching him. “You don't really want to go, do you?”

“I'd rather be drawn and quartered. Come to think of it, Leslie's a medieval scholar. Maybe that's the entertainment she has planned for the day and they're all being nice just to sucker me in.”

Jen chewed on her lip and studied him for a while, and he wondered how much of his reluctance over this trip she could see.

“Just tell me: are we still engaged or not?” she finally asked. “And when is the wedding? Or is there to be one?”

Zach nodded. “Good plan. Let's get our story straight. The problem is that we never did that trip to Tiffany...”

“And we aren't going to,” Jen said firmly. Zach refused to think about what her attitude meant.

Maybe it was just about the flight to New York.

Maybe she still thought he wasn't the kind of guy a woman should marry. That was a more annoying prospect than Zach thought it should have been. He focused instead on the problem at hand.

“So, let's say that given our dispute about the kind of ring you'll be wearing for the rest of your life,” Zach said, making up the story as he went, “we've decided to delay the wedding arrangements.”

“You could say that the church was already booked.”

Zach shook his head. “My mother would know, or she would find out. Let's keep it simple and blame our own indecision.”

Jen, to his surprise, didn't seem to be happy with this scheme.

“What's wrong with that?” he asked.

“It sounds like something you would do, but not like something I would do. I like to have a plan.”

“But they don't know you.”

“Aren't they supposed to think that I'm good for you?”

“Well, I don't know. According to the original scheme, we should be trying to make them hate you, the way you wanted your family to hate me.”

“But they didn't hate you.”

“And I don't think my family will hate you either.”

“So, why are we doing this at all?”

Zach knew his line was that Jen owed him, but that wasn't the reason that he wanted her to come to Christmas dinner. It wasn't because Maralys had managed to corner them on this, either.

He frowned as he negotiated the exchange to the highway, then decided to go with the truth. “Because I don't want to go at all, but I know that I should. I'm still new at this being-an-adult thing, and am enough of a chicken that I want you to be with me for this.”

She regarded him with a twinkle in her eye. “And the fact that you could talk me into it by talking about me owing you was just a bonus.”

“Maybe the ends justify the means.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I suppose it's not much incentive that you'll get a good turkey dinner for your efforts.”

“I love turkey dinner,” Jen admitted. “You might be surprised what I'd do for a good homemade turkey dinner.”

“There's a tempting opening. Does the appeal diminish if I tell you that it will probably be catered?”

Jen turned to look at him in her surprise. “A catered Christmas dinner? Your family doesn't cook it themselves?”

Zach decided not to tell her about his mother's history of excessive alcoholic consumption on holidays and his father's criticism of everything in his house that fell less of perfection. She'd likely get out of the car and run if he did.

Hell, he might get out of the car and run if he thought too much about the fact that he was driving straight toward the place he most wanted to avoid. “They used to, but decided it would be easier to just order it in.”

“That's not all of the truth.”

“It's as much as I'm going to give you right now.”

Jen watched him carefully. “You're serious about the catering.”

“I am.”

“Isn't part of a holiday working together to create a meal and then sharing it?”

“Maybe in some places. Coxwell holiday celebrations are endurance tests.”

“No wonder you dread it,” Jen said softly.

“Sorry.” Zach put his hand over hers for a moment, feeling like a total jerk. “I shouldn't have asked you to come.”

“Do you want me to be there?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.

“Because you're a big chicken?”

“Pretty much.”

Jen turned her hand so that their fingers entwined. “Then I'm glad to be going with you. Maybe it won't be as bad as you expect.”

“Maybe not,” Zach acknowledged, but he didn't believe it for a minute.

He took the back road toward Rosemount and changed the subject, telling Jen about his various adventures growing up here. He wondered just who he was trying to cajole into approaching the festivities with an open mind.

They passed Mary Lake and he told her about teaching his younger sister to drive. He told the story of how he had taken Phil out on the frozen lake to show her how to turn donuts on the ice, and mimicked how Phil had shrieked when he had first driven the car on to the ice. Jen laughed. He told her about his recent deal with Phil's husband, Nick, to not teach their young son to drive when it came time, and she laughed harder.