Christmas Dinner (Crimson Romance) (19 page)

“You want to go in there?” Had her grandmother lost her mind? “Grandma, I can’t see two feet in front of me. I know you’re used to this, but I won’t know where I’m going. I nearly trampled your cat earlier.”

“Don’t worry. We’re going in together.” Betty took Amanda’s arm and guided her slowly. Cool mist hit Amanda’s face as she tried to focus her eyes.

“Where are we?” She could make out the outline of an apartment building. Turning around, she could no longer see her grandparents’ house.

“I don’t understand. When did they build an apartment complex behind your . . .” Her voice trailed. She took a step backward and rubbed her eyes. Were they playing a joke on her or was that Tate sitting on the front steps? She frowned as Lacy joined him. “I don’t think I want to see any more.”

“I see you recognize where we are?” Betty asked.

“I don’t know how this could even be possible, but we’re in front of my assistant’s apartment building. What we’re watching happened two days ago.”

“You are correct.”

“Grandma, I don’t understand. Can they see us?”

“No. They can’t hear us either. Let’s listen.”

Amanda crossed her arms around her. “Yeah, this should be good,” she said coolly.

“Hi,” Tate said to Lacy, moving over for her to join him on the stairs.

“Hi,” Lacy said, taking a seat.

“Some year, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s one way to describe it.”

Amanda walked over and stood in front of them. “Worst year of my life."

“Dear, they can’t hear you,” Betty interjected. “Just listen.”

Tate continued to speak to Lacy. “Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

“I do.” Lacy giggled, in a
Tate, you’re such a hopeless romantic
kind of way.” She tugged on his suit. “You know, eventually you’re going to have to tell her the truth.”

“What truth?” Amanda said.

Tate smiled at Lacy. “I know. I think I’ve got it all planned out. I’m going tell her this weekend, just before Christmas dinner.” He chuckled. “I just need to get her to invite me home first.”

“Well, if I know you, you’ll think of something. Happy holidays, Tate. I hope you get your Christmas wish.” They hugged.

The embrace that Amanda had walked out on. She glanced at her grandmother. “So am I to understand he came up with this idea because he has feelings for me? Since when?”

Her Grandma nodded. “I think we need to go further back in your story for you to understand his motivations.”

“Story?”

“Your love story.”

“With Tate? It’s not that long, and it’s over.” Amanda followed her grandmother back into the mist. “And I’d hardly call it love. More like a stupid and temporary lapse in judgment.”

They left the apartment building and were deep into the fog once again. She strained her eyes, making out a gas station and a highway. “Where are we now?”

“Shhh . . . You always were the grandchild who asked the most questions. Probably why you became an anchor.”

“You know I’m a journalist?”

“Sure do. Pretty good one. Glad you finally busted that crooked mayor of yours. Now just watch and listen. It’s very important that you listen to this conversation.”

“Fine.” At least her grandmother wasn’t telling her to open her eyes like her other grandmother had. “Wait. Is that the gas station on Main Street in Hammondsport?” She saw her dad talking to a strange woman. They were both pumping gas. He looked different. So much younger . . .

She gasped as her gaze shifted to her father’s truck and the young girl inside. “That’s me? How was her grandmother able to take her back in time like this, and what did this memory have to do with Tate?

“Do you remember what happens next?” Her grandmother gently put her hand on Amanda’s shoulder.

“I’m about to follow that boy into the store.”

Betty nodded.

They watched as the little girl got out of the truck and bounced inside. She bent down and picked up something from the ground.

“I picked up a ten-dollar bill. This is the night our cookie tradition started.” She watched the little girl approach the boy inside and hand him the money. A few minutes went by. Young Amanda followed the boy out and then went to the truck. There she took out a box and ran over to the station wagon.

Amanda knew exactly what was going to happen next. “I’m going to come back to the truck, and Dad’s going to tell me to let them know there’s eggnog in the cookies. I learned the secret ingredient that night.”

The little girl tapped on the window of the boy’s car with her small hand. Amanda listened.

“Tate, where are you manners? Honestly. Roll down your window,” the woman ordered.

Amanda watched as her younger self relayed the information her father told her and then proceeded to kiss the boy on the lips. She walked over and peered into the car at the young boy. He had short brown hair and blue eyes. “Tate was the boy?”

Betty nodded.

“Then the woman in the car has to be his mother.”

“They were headed out of town that night. It was a rough time for both of them. Mr. Ryan had recently passed away.”

“He was the first boy I ever kissed. I don’t even know why I did it. It was just an impulse. I felt so connected to him that night. I felt his pain.” She stared at her grandmother. “This doesn’t make sense. Has he known all this time that I was the little girl?”

“I need to go in and check on the lasagna, but your grandfather is back and excited to see you.”

The house appeared through the fog. She turned around, but her grandmother was gone. How did she do that? Directly in front of Amanda on the back porch was her Grandpa Bruce Thompson.

She ran and climbed the stairs, flinging her arms around the frail man. “Grandpa! Is it really you?” She held him tightly.

“Didn’t remember what I looked like, did you?” He laughed and patted her arms. “It has been awhile. So, I take it Betty showed you the first time you met Tate.”

Her eyes widened. “You know him, too? How did you both know it was the first time? I didn’t even know.”

Bruce winked. “I’ll explain everything, but you need to follow me. There’s another scene just over the hill that you have to see.” He grabbed her hand and winked. “You’re gonna like this one.”

Amanda followed her Grandpa Thompson back into the mist.
Scene
? What twisted version of
A Christmas Carol
was this?

She stepped down onto a rickety wooden step. The steps were attached to a worn-looking trailer. “I know where we are. This is Kristen Bailey’s home. I climbed these steps last night. I had dinner with Kristen and her girls.”

Grandpa Thompson opened the door and held it out, motioning with his hand for her to walk through. Inside, Tate was talking to the girls beside the tree. He had on the Santa suit. Amanda and Alex sat on the couch.

“I suspect your grandmother told you that they can’t see or hear us.”

“She did.” She watched herself laughing with her brother. “This happened last night. I couldn’t hear what Tate was saying to the girls.”

“Well, now’s your chance. Go take a seat.” He motioned for Amanda to sit on the floor.

She walked over to the Christmas tree and crouched behind Chloe and Danielle. They were hanging on Tate’s every word.

“Yummm.” Tate took a bite of the cookie and handed another one to Melanie. “For the baby.” He winked.

Turning to Chloe and Danielle he said, “Many years ago on Christmas Eve, a little girl, just a few years older than the both of you, gave me a box that had these same cookies in it. That one simple act of kindness changed my life.”

“How so?” Melanie asked, taking a bite.

“I had nothing left to believe in. My dad had just . . .” He paused, looking at Chloe and Danielle. “Gone on a trip. But the girl came along and simply cared enough to make sure I still believed in Santa.” He stopped and corrected himself. “Believed in
me
. I didn’t know it then, but I met my true love that day.” He glanced over at the couch and winked.

Amanda covered her mouth in surprise. “Oh my gosh. Tate knew I was the girl.”

“Appears he did.”

“But how?”

“He remembered your name and tracked you down years ago. Apparently, you were the only ten-year-old in town that year named Amanda.”

“Why didn’t he ever say anything?”

“It’s hard for Tate to let people in, but there was one person he confided in. Let’s go see what he told her.” He put out his hand and helped her up.

She took it, still watching Tate laugh with the girls. “And he loves me. He was trying to tell me last night.”

“I know. We saw.”

“Grandpa, what have I done?”

“Nothing that can’t be undone.” He smiled reassuringly. “This time.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.” Bruce led his granddaughter out the door.

Amanda could hear the sounds of waves crashing. Her boots sank deep into the ground. “Is this sand? Are we at the beach?” She turned back to see a familiar boardwalk behind her. “I know exactly where we are. This is the beach near my condo in Wilmington.”

Ahead of her, she saw Tate sitting on a blue bench with an attractive older woman who wore a navy blue jogging suit. “Great, another fan,” she said sarcastically.

“Sorry?” her grandfather asked.

“Nothing.” She forced a smile. “I know the drill. Shut up and listen.”

The woman handed Tate a cup of coffee and a donut. “Here.” She set a napkin on his lap. “I thought you could use some fuel.”

“Thanks, Aunt Bridgette. I’m starving.” He set the items to his side, stood, and took off his jacket and royal blue tie. “Don’t want to get this all over me. I’m doing camera tests later on.”

“You’re so conscientious. Your mom and dad would’ve been so proud of you.”

Tate nodded. “This is going to sound funny, but do you want to hear the reason I became an anchor?”

“Why?”

“Because of a girl I met when I was thirteen. I kept tabs on her and found out she was studying broadcast journalism in college. I didn’t even think twice about what I was going to do with my life.”

“Really?” The older woman raised her eyebrow. “So you chose your career path because of a girl?”

“I guess I did.” He laughed and took a sip of his coffee. “I hope it wasn’t a mistake.”

“Are you friends with this woman?”

“No. I only saw her that one time. We’ve never met officially, but we’re going to today.”

“She lives here? What a coincidence. Well, if I know you, she’s not going to know what hit her.”

Tate cracked his knuckles. “I can’t believe how nervous I am.”

Amanda followed his gaze past the boardwalk. A city bus turned the corner onto the street.

“Shoot. I’ve lost track of time, Aunt Bridgette.” He grabbed his jacket from the bench. “That’s my bus.”

“Don’t forget your tie.” She handed it to him. “Good luck on your interview. We’ll see you tonight for dinner?”

“You bet. I’m picking up my new Jeep later this afternoon. We’ll take it for a spin.”

Amanda watched Tate as he raced for the bus, his coat and tie in hand. She smiled, remembering him piecing on that very same suit while sitting next to her that morning. She had no doubt that she was sitting on that very bus. “Grandpa, he finally found me that day.”

“Yes, he did. And in a way, I think he found himself. You’ve been his inspiration for quite some time.”

“Then why do we fight like we do? Just this week he sabotaged my story—” She paused. “Well, I thought he did.”

“We suspect he’s been a little overwhelmed by the situation and afraid of this inexplicable pull he has to you. We’re sure he didn’t want to come across as a stalker.”

She let her boots sink further into the sand. “Well, I wish he would’ve had the courage to reveal himself a long time ago. We’ve done a lot of fighting this year.”

Bruce reached for her arm. “Shall we?” He guided her slowly down the boardwalk, but it was no longer the familiar wooden walkway.

They were inside a building. “Looks like you have a visitor over there.” He pointed to a red bench where another old man sat, holding a small Christmas tree. A collie lay at his feet.

“Grandpa Turner!” Amanda ran over to the bench.

“Amanda.” Grandpa Jim Turner stood and embraced her. “You gave Betty, Bruce, and me quite the scare. Come sit with me.” He motioned for her to join him on the bench.

The bench was familiar. “I think I sat on this exact same bench just yesterday. Are we at the hospital?”

Both men nodded.

“I met this man named George. We chatted for a bit.” She glanced up at Bruce. “He told me to tell you that he and Mary said hi.”

“Aw, George. He and Mary do such great work for us down there.”

“Down there?” Amanda asked.

“I’m going to leave you two to catch up,” Bruce said and headed into the fog.

Why did her grandparents keep disappearing like that? They’d have to tell her what was going on eventually, wouldn’t they?

She bent down and petted the tan collie. “Is this Charlie? Grandma Turner told the story yesterday all about how you proposed to her with a Christmas tree. Pretty romantic,” she teased.

“Yes, your grandmother could never turn down a good man with a nice trunk,” he chuckled.

She giggled. Her Grandpa Turner had always been a dirty old man. “So I’m going to assume you know Tate, too?”

“Fine young man. A bit of a putz, though.”

“I know, right?” She nodded. Finally, someone who saw Tate like she did. Leaning back on the bench, she looked around. They were definitely on the first floor of the hospital. “Okay, so if we’re going with the
Christmas Carol
theme, I’ve seen Tate’s and my past. Will you be showing me our present or future?”

Her grandfather stood and motioned for her to follow him. They walked down a long hallway and turned into a white, sterile room. The fog was even inside the hospital, making it difficult to see where they were going. Her grandpa led them to a room and opened the door.

She froze in horror.

Her family and Tate were huddled around a bed. There was a body hooked up to an IV machine. “Oh my God. Is that me in the bed?”

“Afraid so, pumpkin.” Grandpa Turner walked over and placed his hands on her Grandmother Turner’s shoulders. Her grandmother reached up into the air, touching the exact spot where his hands were. “I’ve been practicing that move with her for years. I think she finally senses that I’m always with her.”