Angel Lane (32 page)

“He's history, thank God,” Sarah called over her shoulder.

A moment later Jamie could hear the rumble of a male voice
and Sarah saying, “Come on in.” And then she was back in the living room with Josh right behind her.

Okay, this was a setup. Except Josh looked as surprised to see Jamie as she was to see him.

“Sit down,” said Sarah. “I'll make us some coffee.”

“I'll help,” Jamie offered, and started to get up.

“Stay where you are,” Sarah told her. “It doesn't take two people to make coffee.”

She sat back against the couch cushions with a hiccup.

He shook his head at her. “No need to be nervous. I'm not going to hit you. That's not me. Oh, I did hit somebody once.”

Ha! She knew it.

“I popped Lloyd Schmeckel in the nose in fifth grade when I found out he'd caught my sister on the playground and looked down her shirt. Does that count against me?”

If it weren't such a serious subject, she would have smiled.

“When I was a senior my dad caught me drinking with my buddies and grounded me. It was right before the big homecoming game. I was a wide receiver and I was good. Let me tell you, I was mad as hell that I wasn't going to get to show my stuff at homecoming, so mad I punched a hole in my bedroom wall. I worked for my dad every Saturday for the next six months to pay off that temper tantrum.”

“So, you're telling me you don't have a temper?” Right. She'd seen for herself.

“No, I'm telling you I would never raise a hand to anyone, especially a woman.”

“You are three times as big as your daughter. You scared her when you hit that table.”

“You mean I scared you.”

“She was upset.”

“Of course she was. And yes, she was scared—scared she was going to lose her friend, scared I'd be mad at her and disappointed in her, scared she'd get in trouble. But she wasn't scared I would hurt her. Think about it. Did she run from me? Cringe? Would my dad have let me hurt her?”

Jamie chewed her lip, reliving the scene. Lissa had been upset and crying, but she hadn't been even remotely afraid to throw a tantrum or throw herself into her daddy's arms.

“I wish I could convince you to trust me, to take a chance,” Josh said softly.

Deep down, desperately, she wanted to. She wanted a family of her own to wrap presents for at Christmas, to bake with, to hang out with. She wanted to sit in a church pew, not as somebody's friend, but as a proud mom. But, “I can't.” The words barely came out.

“Are you sure? Look, I get that you're scared. I'm scared, too.”

She stared at him, surprised.

“I'm scared that if I finally convince you to go out with me things still won't work out and my girls'll be crushed. I'm scared that if things do work out you'll . . .” He stopped and cleared his throat. “I've already lost one woman I loved. I don't want to lose another. Hell, I'm scared most of the time that I'll screw up with the girls. We're all scared of stuff, Jamie,” he added softly, “but what are you gonna do, curl up in your closet?”

“I have a life,” she informed him. “I have a business.”

“You have a heart, too. What are you going to do with that?”

She didn't know. So she said nothing.

He nodded, his lips pressed together. “Yeah, so I guess there's no room for me in your life or your heart.” He turned his back on her and called, “Hey, Sarah, how about that coffee.”

Awkward silence enveloped the room while they waited for Sarah to reappear. She returned bearing a tray of steaming mugs and a sugar bowl. “You don't take cream in your coffee, right?” she said to Josh.

“Just black is fine. Thanks,” he said, and helped himself to a mug.

Sarah sat down and handed Jamie a mug. Then, careful not to look at her niece, she started stirring sugar into her coffee. Jamie was sure she'd been eavesdropping from the kitchen. “What brings you here, Josh?”

“Actually, I'm meeting someone here in . . .” He checked his watch. “About five minutes.”

“Anyone I know?” asked Sarah.

“One of your baking students. She has something of yours to return to you.”

Sarah looked at him, understanding dawning. “My milk-glass hen.”

“That would be it.”

Sarah sat back and took a deep drink from her mug. “How did you end up involved in this?”

“My daughter had it. She'd traded something for it.”

Sarah's eyebrows shot up. “But she didn't know.”

“She knew. Dad is bringing her to the bakery tomorrow to apologize.”

“Oh, but she didn't take it,” Sarah protested.

“She knew who did and she didn't do anything. I understand that she was worried about losing her friend, but I want her to get in the habit of doing what's right, no matter what.”

“Very wise,” Sarah approved.

The doorbell rang. Josh motioned for Sarah to stay seated and went to let in Damaris. Sarah turned to her niece. “If you let this man get away I am going to have you committed.”

And then Damaris was in the room, her mother standing behind her with her hands resting protectively on the girl's shoulders. So this was the demon child who had driven Sarah nuts. Right now she just looked like a frightened little girl. Her mother wore a coat over a nurse's uniform. Jamie wondered if this was the poor woman's lunch break. Some way to spend your lunch break.

Damaris looked up at her mom as if for assurance and the woman nodded.

“I'm sorry I stole your chicken, Mrs. Goodwin,” Damaris said, holding out the knickknack. “It was wrong.” She began blinking furiously. In spite of her efforts, tears leaked from her eyes.

“Thank you for returning it,” Sarah said. “I appreciate that.”

“Do you hate me?” Damaris asked in a small voice.

Sarah gave her a pitying smile. “I'm sad about what you did, but I don't hate you.”

Damaris burst into tears and covered her face. “I'm so sorry.”

Sarah went to the child and hugged her. “I know. We'll put this behind us, shall we?”

Damaris nodded, still clinging to her. “Can I ever come over again? I promise I won't take anything.”

“Of course you can,” Sarah said, and stroked her hair.

“Thank you,” said her mother, who now had tears in her eyes. “Come on, sweetie, let's go.”

Damaris nodded and followed her mother out of the room, keeping her gaze focused on her feet. Josh saw them out the door.

Jamie expelled a breath and fell back against the couch cushions. “I feel like I'm in a soap opera.”

Now Josh was back. “Thanks, Sarah,” he said. “You probably helped that kid more just now than you'll ever know.”

“Time will tell,” Sarah said.

Then nobody said anything. Sarah was probably busy mulling over this latest encounter with Damaris. What was Josh thinking? Jamie knew what she was thinking: yes, she probably should be committed. She had to be completely insane not to give this man a chance.

“I'd better be going,” Josh said at last, and started for the door.

Sarah stood and walked with him. “Thanks for coming. And for sorting this all out. You're a good man, Josh.”

“I try,” he said.

He did. Jamie wasn't sure she'd ever met a man who seemed to try so hard on so many fronts. Still, she sat rooted to the couch, assessing her sanity, and let him walk out the door.

 

 

 

 

C
hristmas came with just enough white to dust the lawns, leaving Heart Lake residents free to roam back and forth and enjoy the holidays. With the kids and grandkids, Sam's folks, her sister and brother-in-law, and Jamie and Sarah's other niece, Krysten, Sarah's house was full. So was her heart. She basked in the joy of Christmas morning while her granddaughters ripped into presents with excited squeals.

“It's so good to be home,” said her daughter, Stephanie, hugging her.

“Amen to that,” said her son the starving actor, helping himself to another piece of Sarah's Danish puff pastry.

If only she could keep them all here. Forever. There was nothing like family.

But later, after the Armstrongs had arrived, and Lissa and
Mandy had presented her with Martha Stewart's latest Christmas book, she had a sudden epiphany. Family was important, but family was an ever-growing, always changing animal. The more you opened your heart, the bigger it got.

 

“Who's the hunk?” Krysten asked Jamie after dinner as the sisters loaded the dishwasher.

“Just a friend of the family,” said Jamie.

“Hmm. I wouldn't mind getting friendly with him,” said Krysten. “Is he taken?”

It shouldn't have bothered her that her little sister was interested in Josh. “He's a cop.”

“So I guess that means you don't want him. He's not like Grant, is he?”

A montage of Josh scenes flashed through Jamie's mind. She saw him with his daughters, hoisting them onto his shoulders, laughing when he lost at
Sorry
. She saw him kneeling in the snow, changing that woman's tire, saw the picture of him in the newspaper, his arms full of food for the food bank. “No, he's not at all like Grant.” He wasn't!
Well, duh
. “I think he's got someone.”

 

Emma hurried home from her parents' house anxious to check on the new baby. It had been so sweet of Sarah and Jamie to give her a cat for Christmas, and the kitten, which she'd christened Angel, had quickly captured her heart. Most of it, anyway.

“Mommy's home,” she called as she set her grocery bag of presents on the hall floor. A fat little ball of orange and white fur skittered down the hallway, anxious to welcome her. “Have you missed me, sweetie?”

She picked up the kitten and it immediately started purring.

She cuddled it to her and walked into the kitchen. “Are you ready for your Christmas dinner?” Silly question. The new baby was always ready to eat.

She mixed some Kitten Chow with a big spoonful of canned cat food and set the bowl on the floor. “There you go. Eat up.”

Angel crouched in front of the bowl and dug in. “You are such a pretty baby,” Emma informed the kitten as it ate. “Maybe after you're finished we should put on some Christmas music and do some quilting. What do you think of that idea?” It sounded pretty okay to Emma.

Except it was Christmas and she was finishing out the day on a note of okay? Christmas wasn't a time to be alone in an apartment. Maybe she'd go over to Sarah's for a while. They'd be happy to fold her into the crowd.

But no matter how long she stayed, she'd still have to come home alone. “You know what,” she told the kitten. “I think while you're eating, I'll just go check in with Tess.” Now that she had a few pennies to spare, she'd been allowing Tess to spend a little money. Tess had bought a new condo and even hosted a Christmas party. “I should have had a Christmas party this year,” she told the cat. “I have some great friends.”

Fortunately, Angel was just a baby and Emma didn't have to explain about her less than stellar love life.

The doorbell rang. Maybe Jamie was done with Christmas at
Sarah's and had decided to stop by. Emma hurried to the door and opened it.

There stood a man in jeans and a red parka. He wasn't drop-dead gorgeous like Josh Armstrong. In fact, he had all the makings of a geek: glasses, a cheap haircut, skinny legs, which meant that an equally skinny torso lurked beneath that bulky coat. But he had a cute face and a nice smile, and in his gloved hands he was holding . . . “Pye!”

The black cat launched himself from the man's arms, landed on the floor, and ran off down the hall, probably anxious to find something to shred while she stood in the doorway, ready to cry with joy. “Where did you find him?”

“My mom actually found him hiding under the bushes out by the back porch,” said the man. “She volunteers at the animal shelter and she saves every lost cat poster she finds. And every cat,” he added.

“Gosh, I looked for him everywhere. Where did you say you live?”

“Oregon.”

“Oregon?” she stammered.

“But my parents live three blocks over,” he added with a smile. “I'm up visiting for the holidays.”

And probably busy with his family. Oh, well.

He nodded in the general direction of the prodigal. “Your cat's got an interesting name. What's Pye stand for?”

“Pyewacket. I named him after the cat in
Bell, Book, and Candle
.”

“Great name,” he said with an approving nod.

She could have kept him standing there talking for the rest
of the day. But the door was open, and Pye could run away again. And Angel could follow him right out. “I shouldn't keep you there, standing in the cold.”

“Then ask me in,” he suggested.

Tess could wait.

Once inside, her visitor pulled off a glove and held out a hand. “My name's James Stuart.”

As in Jimmy? It had to be a sign.

She shook his hand. It was warm, just like his smile. “I'm Emma Swanson.”

His eyes got big. “Are you the woman with the quilt shop?”

She nodded.

“My mom has bought stuff from you. She's new here. In fact, she was at that fund-raiser at your shop.” He shook his head and smiled. “I'm sorry I missed that. It sounded like something right out of a movie.”

Emma stared at him. “What did you say?”

“Uh, like something out of a movie?”

“That's what I thought you said.” She didn't have to get hit over the head with a cosmic hammer to know what to do next. “How about some eggnog?”

 

The sugar buzz finally wore off and the girls fell asleep in the car on the way home from the Goodwins'. Josh and George carried them into the house and laid them out in their beds, shoes and all. Crystal would probably have insisted they wake up and brush their teeth. Josh just let them sleep.