Blue Jeans and a Badge (18 page)

And as far as the eye could see, it was all good.

Two Years Later

L
uce O'Donnaugh lifted a beautiful handblown glass pitcher of homemade eggnog from the counter and poured its contents into matching green and red handblown glasses. Filled with the delicious scents of turkeys roasting, pies baking and corn roasting, along with the sounds of pans clanging, silverware clinking and mixers buzzing, Gramma Santander's kitchen was humming with activity.

“Hey, Luce, hurry up with that eggnog!” someone shouted from the packed living room. “We need refills in here!”

The annual family Christmas party was in full swing, and the whole clan was in attendance, loud and boisterous and demanding as usual. But Luce loved every one of them and wouldn't trade them for the world.

“Keep your pants on!” she shouted back. “I'm coming!” She finished pouring, and loaded the glasses on a tray, shoot
ing a glance at the dark-haired toddler weaving between the legs of the women as they cooked and prepared. He was hanging on to skirts, accepting kisses and pats on the head and stealing any cookie or other morsel that happened to fall within reach.

“You going to behave yourself, sport?” she called to him.

His big blue eyes looked up at her and widened innocently. He was so cute, that look never failed to melt her heart completely. He nodded, stuffing a wreath-shaped cookie in his mouth.

“Mamama,” he said around it, finishing the job on her heart. He tipped precariously with the effort of standing, eating and talking at the same time. A hand reached out to steady him and he toddled off, oblivious to the near spill, no doubt in search of more goodies to plunder.

She exchanged a motherly grin with Lettie, the rescuer. “You go,” Lettie said. “We'll make sure Petey doesn't get into trouble.”

“Right.” That would be the day. Even at the tender age of fifteen months, Petey was the terror of the Santanders. A real chip off the old block, everyone said. Luce just couldn't understand why everyone winked at Philip when they said it.

Grabbing the tray of eggnog, she hurried to the living room.

Christmas music was playing festively and like the rest of the house the living room was decorated to within an inch of its life with holly and juniper boughs and mistletoe. And of course Santas. Everywhere the laughing face of the big man in red smiled back at Luce.

“There you are!” one of her many new cousins shouted over the racket, helping her with the full glasses, which disappeared within seconds. But not before she managed to snag the last one for herself.

“Hey, no fair!” Anna Hidalgo declared, frowning at the empty tray.

Luce handed her the tray with a flourish. “Your turn,” she said with a grin.

Anna rolled her eyes good-naturedly and headed for the kitchen. “Sheesh,” she said. “Next year I'm hiring waiters.”

“Good idea!” Luce called after her.

She was happy Anna was fitting in so well here. After her father had been found guilty of three counts of murder and sent to prison with a lifetime sentence, she'd had a rough time of it. At Philip's urging, Luce had reached out to her, adopting his philosophy of letting the past go and concentrating on the future. The board of directors at Hidalgo Industries had been more than surprised when Luce had signed over all her shares to Anna after the estate settlement, in effect forcing them to keep her on as CEO in Donald's place. Luce had no desire to take what Anna had spent her life earning. She had more than enough success with her new P.I. business. Besides, she'd rather have her family. It had taken a while, but Anna had come around. Despite the difficulties, they'd become good friends. Once that happened, the rest of the Hidalgo family had also accepted her with open arms.

Taking a sip of her drink, she looked around the crowded room. Where was that husband of hers?

She wandered among the drifts of people chatting and munching on Christmas snacks, stopping to catch up with some of the folks she hadn't seen since last year's party.

“Darling! There you are!” Daphne Montgomery said, slipping an arm around her. “Your son is wreaking havoc in the kitchen,” she informed her with a smirk.

Luce sighed wryly. “It's all Betsy's fault. She lets him run wild through the Slipper when she baby-sits. He thinks he owns every kitchen on the planet.”

“Well,” her mother said straight-faced, “if you're lucky he might learn to cook. Someone in the family should, you know.”

Luce made a face at her. “Philip and I are working on it. Together.”

“Sort of an encounter thing, eh?”

“Mom, this is New Mexico, not California.” Her mother
was still getting used to the ways of the West. Quite a difference from St. Louis. But Daphne was flourishing ever since since she and Luce's dad had moved to a small adobe house outside of Taos. She'd even taken up weaving. Her dad, of course, loved the hunting. And he and Philip regularly took Petey out fishing.

“I imagine you're finding all sorts of ingenious ways to use whipped cream in your cooking encounters,” Daphne suggested blandly. Her mom was so bad.

“Mom!”

“Did I hear something about whipped cream?” her dad asked, coming up and giving each of them a kiss on the cheek.

Luce groaned and bussed him back, then slipped away while Daphne had his attention. Definitely too much information.

She looked around again for Philip, who was nowhere to be found. Maybe he'd gone outside. Setting down her glass, she strolled over to the French doors overlooking the courtyard patio and checked there. It was deserted except for Ted and Betsy, who were sitting on a bench together holding hands. There would be wedding bells for those two soon, Luce thought with satisfaction. About time. Ten years was way too long to beat around the bush.

Craving the touch of her own husband, she made her way to the door leading to the far end of the long front foyer. Maybe he was out there. Sometimes the large gatherings got as overwhelming for him as they did for her. She peeked around the corner. And her heart swelled at what she saw.

In the middle of the foyer was Philip, dressed in a red plush suit with a pillow under his belt and a toddler perched on his shoulders. Love for the two flooded through her whole being.

Philip stood in front of the portrait of Grandpa Santa, holding Petey's hands as he straddled his broad shoulders, talking softly to his son as they both looked up at the painting. Father and son looked so much alike her breath caught.

She stepped quietly out into the foyer, watching them as her heart slowly filled to overflowing.

Her men.

She must have made a sound, because as one, they turned to her, faces smiling, eyes sparkling with the light of love.

Tears crested her lashes at the sight.

Her family.

Petey let go and reached out for her, his little arms waving as they eluded Philip's grasp. “Mamamama!” he shouted.

Philip swung him down onto one well-padded hip, opening the other arm to her as she went to him. She rushed into her husband's loving embrace, hugging him with one arm and their baby boy with the other.

“I was looking everywhere. I thought I'd never find you.” She sighed, breathing in the enchanting blend of aftershave and baby powder that spiced the air around them. She'd never smelled anything more wonderful.

“I'm right here,” he assured her with a kiss. “I'll always be right here.”

“I know,” she said, smiling up at him. And she did. He'd always be there for her and Petey, and their other children as the years went by. Of that, she had no doubt. He was her hero, her friend, her lover, her husband. “And I'm the luckiest woman in the world.”