Christmas Dinner (Crimson Romance) (11 page)

“Son of an elf!”

She bent down and wiped the splattered batter with a washcloth. She was still fuming from earlier. Had Brad knocked Melanie up shortly after he’d broken up with her? Had he met Melanie while they were dating? What if he broke up with her that night two years ago to be with Melanie?

She wasn’t in love with Brad anymore, but hearing the news that he’d fathered a baby shortly after they’d broken up delivered a fresh blow to her ego. How could she have been so wrong about him and what they meant to each other? She had picked up and relocated to a different part of the country to get over him, whereas he’d quickly moved on and was now a father—of two.

“Hey, honey.” Her mother scurried in, interrupting Amanda’s thoughts. She had on a black parka and bright red scarf. She must be heading out to make her deliveries.

“So where is this love child?” Amanda smoothed the apron she had put on. She now realized the child stocking hanging from the mantle was for their son—who she assumed was named Max. He must have been upstairs sound asleep since it was so late when they got in.

“Amanda!” Her mother shot her a disapproving look. “Someone might hear you.”

“I just find it odd that the baby isn’t here.”

“I believe they went to visit Melanie’s mother earlier this morning. She’s in the nursing home on Route 54. She has stage four cancer.”

“Oh.” Amanda stared at her feet. “I’m sorry. Look, I don’t mean to be hard on Brad or Melanie. I know they’re going through a hard time with the fire and all. I’m just frustrated by all the secrecy.”

“We just thought the news would upset you. You haven’t been home in two years. We wanted to spare your feelings. That’s all.”

“But I was going to find out this weekend? Or were you going to lock them all upstairs?”

“We were planning on telling you as soon as you arrived last night, but then your sister went into labor.”

“Still, I’m a grown woman. You should have told me before this. I could have handled it.” She picked up the wooden spoon and went back to stirring the batter. This time without the death grip. “Besides, I have a boyfriend.”

Her mother beamed. She walked over and brushed Amanda’s bangs out of her eyes. A motherly habit she never could break. “We’re all looking forward to getting to know Tate this weekend.”

“I am too.”

Her mother raised her eyebrow.

“I mean I’m looking forward to
your
getting to know him. I already know him.” That explanation seemed enough to erase the confused look from her mother’s face.

Amanda bit her lip. Outside of work, there wasn’t much she knew about Tate except he had horrible taste in music and wore ridiculous sweaters, but he also knew how to deliver one amazing, knock-your-socks-off kiss on demand.

Her mother grabbed her car keys from the counter. “I was thinking that after you finish with the cookies you could take your grandmother over to the hospital to visit with Quinn and the baby?” She turned to leave the kitchen. “If that’s okay?”

Amanda followed her to the living room. “You don’t need me to deliver any ornaments and cookies?”

“No, I think the volunteers have it covered. Perhaps you and Tate could take the afternoon off and spend some time together.” Her mother walked over to Grandma Turner who was watching television in her rocking chair.

“Mom,” she said over the TV. “Amanda is going to bake Christmas cookies this morning and then take you to see Quinn and the baby. Let her know if you need anything.”

“You don’t need to shout.” Grandma Turner peered up from her rocking chair. “Where is that young gentleman Amanda brought home with her? I want to see him, too.”

“He’s helping Jack and Alex this morning. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know Tate this weekend. As will we all.” She turned toward Amanda. “I’m going to stop by the mall and buy Tate a gift to open tomorrow. Is there anything he needs?”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. We’re not doing gifts this year.”

“You’re not?”

“We’re saving up for a vacation. A long one—” Amanda added, “to Africa.”

“Really?” Her mother shot her another skeptical look. “Well, you know it’s tradition to open gifts before Christmas dinner. I’ll just pick up something. What does he like?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what he likes?”

Amanda smiled wryly. Leave it to her mother to question the relationship. “He likes Christmas sweaters. Tacky ones.”

Her mother patted her arm. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She kissed her on her cheek and disappeared out the door.

Amanda returned to the kitchen and went back to her baking. She didn’t like lying to her family about Tate, but her pride was still holding the truth hostage.

She wondered if he was enjoying his time with her dad. She hoped Alex had put a moratorium on tormenting him.

Her grandmother appeared in the doorway. She walked slowly with her cane into the kitchen. Her knee always gave her trouble.

“Here, Grandma, let me help you.” She took her grandmother’s arm and helped her to a small table with two chairs. It overlooked the front hill. “See you’ve got your sweater on,” she teased and gave it a gentle tug.

“Oh, yes. Your mom had it ready for me shortly after Thanksgiving. Come to think of it, I think she gave it to me on Thanksgiving.” She chuckled. “Think today is important to her?”

“Pretty sure it’s up there with birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, and new grandbabies.” Amanda handed her a spoon with a dollop of batter. “Can you try this for me?”

Her grandmother popped the spoon into her mouth. “Perfect. Just the right amount of eggnog. Brenda puts way too much in her batches.”

“Brenda knows the secret ingredient already? She’s not even a Turner yet. Wow, Mom is really relaxing the rules.” She grabbed the rolling pin and began rolling out the white dough. “She even told Tate this morning, but I thought that was only because he guessed it.”

“Well, here we are. Another Christmas.” Her grandmother peered out the window. “You know, your grandfather proposed to me during Christmas dinner.”

Amanda picked up a cookie cutter in the shape of a snowman and massaged it into the soft dough, pressing the cutter with her fingertips. She had heard this story many times, but it never got old. She also loved when her grandmother went all nostalgic and talked about her grandfather.

“He had just come home from the war on account of his injured leg. That day didn’t start out so well, and I thought it was going to be the worst Christmas ever. Before your grandfather left, he asked me to look after his dog, Charlie. His parents were much older than mine, and he felt that the pup would be better off with my family.”

“My dad, your great grandfather, loved that collie from day one. They were inseparable. They would spend hours outside doing farm chores or sitting on the back porch. Well, that Christmas, we had the worst weather. Your grandfather had been gone over a year. The infamous blizzard of ’40 blew in on Christmas Eve and continued throughout most of Christmas day.

She peered out the window. Amanda followed her gaze to the snowy lawn. It would be another white Christmas—though, thankfully, not a blizzard.

Amanda’s grandmother continued. “Oh, heavens, what a storm that was. Well, on Christmas Eve morning, Charlie stood at the back door and started barking something fierce. He was such a quiet dog. We couldn’t figure out what the devil had wound him up.”

My brother opened the back door to see what all the commotion was about, and . . . bam!” She slapped her hands together. “The dog took off down the front lawn and into the woods.”

“Oh, no! Grandpa’s dog ran away. I always forget this part. Did he come back?” She continued to meticulously cut out cookie dough using an assortment of holiday cookie cutters.

“We searched for him all morning. No sign whatsoever. We thought he was lost in the woods and would freeze to death. I didn’t know what I was going to tell your grandfather.”

“Poor Charlie.”

“By dinner time, the snow had subsided but still no dog. None of us were in the mood to celebrate. I remember saying a short prayer at dinner, asking God to bring your grandfather and Charlie safely home to us.”

Amanda took a seat across from her grandmother and propped up one elbow, resting her chin in her hand. She knew the ending but played along. “That’s awful about Charlie, but you must have been so worried that you might never see Grandpa again.”

“Oh, I was. When he first went overseas, I didn’t doubt for a second that he would come home. But as the war continued, well, you start to lose faith. I would go weeks without a letter. Communication back then was not as good as it is today. No e-mail.” She snickered.

“Can’t imagine a life without e-mail. So what happened?” Amanda stood up, went back to the kitchen island and began to dunk the cutouts into the cold and thick eggnog mixture. The final touch to her mother’s secret sugar cookies. She knew the happy ending was coming.

“Shortly after we started eating, we heard a loud bark followed by people singing outside. My dad opened the front door and there stood our neighbors on our lawn singing Christmas carols. I looked out and by golly, in the middle of the small crowd was your grandfather carrying a four foot Christmas tree. Next to him was Charlie!”

Amanda smiled. Here it was. She knew what happened next as if she had been there and personally witnessed it.

“He was my present that year. He set the tree in the snow, grabbed my hand, and got down on one knee.”

“Grandma, that is such a sweet story. How did they find Charlie again?”

“The day that he left, that dog knew your grandfather was coming home. We just knew it. I think animals have a sense about these things. When he took off, he headed for your grandfather’s house, which was about five miles away. Charlie was waiting for him on the front porch steps when he and his parents arrived home from the train station.

“That’s right. I remember that part. I just love that your love story is the foundation of our family business.”

“The holidays were so special to us that we wanted to make our living doing something that would let us experience the magic of Christmas the entire year.”

Amanda sighed. “I hope my love story someday is as sweet as yours.” She gathered the dirty mixing bowls and brought them over to the sink.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you in love now with that handsome man you brought home?”

“Yes. I . . . um . . . I guess I am,” she stammered. “Tate’s great. We’re great. I just mean . . . Let’s just say I don’t think Christmas dinner this year is going to have the same storybook ending for us that it did for Grandpa and you.” She placed the two cookie sheets in the oven and set the timer. “We’re way too practical, and Tate’s not much of a romantic.”

“Nonsense, dear. You just need to open your beautiful, green eyes and have a little faith in the one you chose for you.”

Tate left the two-story red brick nursing home and headed for Jack’s truck. They had just delivered a tree for the facility’s annual Christmas Eve party. Tate chuckled. He had personal invitations to attend from at least ten silver-haired women who had watched him bring in the tree.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the frigid air. Being in Upstate New York brought back so many memories of his father before he died. Then three years later, his mother passed away. He instinctively reached into his coat pocket, feeling around for his lucky charm. He’d need it today.

“Oh, that’s right. I gave it to Amanda,” he said out loud. He wondered how her morning was going. It had only been two hours, but he already missed her. He wanted to tell her everything. He’d start with his past and end with how much he cared for her.

He glanced up at the rolling, snow-covered hills. It felt like another lifetime since he had been here last. He hadn’t had the courage to return and face those painful memories. Until now.

His thoughts drifted to Kristen Bailey and her daughters. Chloe was so full of hope for tonight. If Santa didn’t come, she may feel the same sadness that he felt so many years ago on this very day.

“She won’t be disappointed. Not if I can help it.” He had an idea.

“Who won’t be disappointed?” Melanie pushed a stroller up to Tate.

“Melanie! Hey.” He looked down at the sleeping baby in the stroller and cocked an eyebrow. “Weren’t you just . . .” He pointed to her stomach.

Melanie rubbed her belly and laughed. “Still pregnant. This is my son, Max. He’s tuckered out. We’ve been visiting with my mother.” She pointed to the nursing home.

“We just delivered a tree there.” He mentally did the math. If Brad was little Max’s daddy, well that could make things even more awkward between Amanda and her ex-boyfriend.

“So, Tate, it’s been driving me absolutely crazy, but I think I know why you look so familiar. We went to the same summer camp on Keuka Lake.” She grinned. “You’re the Tate Ryan who taught me how to kiss.”

Tate scuffed his boot on the snow. “The one and the same.”

She laughed. “Wow! What a small world, huh?”

“Indeed.”

“I remember you had moved away that winter but came back for summer camp, right?”

“You have a good memory. We moved to South Carolina on Christmas Eve. My mom sent me back up here that summer while she was going through chemo.”

“I remember your mom was very sick. Did she pass?”

“When I was sixteen.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks. I have some great memories of both parents here. It’s nice to be back. We didn’t even live here a year, but it really felt like home.” Probably because it was the last place they were together as a family.

He glanced at his watch. If he was going to go through with his Operation Santa plan for Chloe and Danielle, he’d need some help. “Hey, what are you and Brad doing this afternoon?”

A few minutes later, Tate wrapped up his conversation with Melanie and entered his number into her phone. He didn’t notice that Alex had approached them until he heard him speak.

“Hi, Melanie.” Alex ignored Tate. “Where’s Brad?”

“Hey, Alex. He’s helping my mother put up lights in her room. She loves how they twinkle.”