Sleigh Bells in Valentine Valley (5 page)

She'd told him it would change everything, that she was scared, that everyone would be upset with them—and weren't they too young to be parents? But Tony, as usual, had been so calm, so sure it would all work out. He'd been at her side, ready to get married—when she'd been dazed and frightened and worried about how she could be a mom and study at the same time. Though she'd been right in her fears, she'd never regretted the choice, and she loved Ethan more than she'd imagined possible.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward to join Tony and Ethan's conversation—the three of them together was such a rarity—but Ethan just gave her a quick nod, waved at a cousin, and left, Barney at his heels. She watched them walk away.

She wasn't sure what her expression showed, but Tony cleared his throat and said, “The kids are having a pool tournament in the basement. It's nothing personal.”

She sighed. “I'm telling myself that a lot lately.”

She caught Jim's frown as he passed, and he paused, saying, “Is everything okay?”

But he was looking pointedly at Tony—as if Tony had been the cause of her bad mood.

“Of course everything's okay,” she hastened to assure Jim, surprised and touched at his protectiveness.

Tony lifted his beer toward Jim as if in a toast. Jim nodded, but he wasn't exactly smiling as he moved away.

“Sorry,” Kate said awkwardly.

Tony shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry about. At least Jim and I speak to each other since the divorce—unlike you and my sister,” he reminded her mildly.

She winced, but she didn't want to talk about Lyndsay. “I'd like to hang out with Ethan more while I'm here, but I'm getting the impression he'd rather things didn't change.”

“I don't know about that. He's not rigidly fixed on a schedule.”

“Unlike me?” she countered.

He sighed. “I didn't say that.”

“No, you didn't,” she said with her own sigh. “Don't mind me, I'm not feeling like myself.”

He nodded, dipped a cracker in the artichoke dip, and pointed it at her. “It's not just you, you know. Ethan's pulling back from me, too. When we go snowboarding, he usually goes off with friends and leaves his old man to fend for himself.”

She reluctantly smiled, looking at Tony out of the corner of her eye.
Old man?
He was self-deprecating, but to her, his looks had only improved with “age.” There was strength, masculinity, and confidence to Tony that always made female heads turn. Even after all these years, she wasn't immune to it. He had prominent brows and a square jaw that seemed all manly, not to mention a mouth that—

Enough of that
. “Do you remember when Ethan was three, and he wandered away from us at the park?”

Tony gave an exaggerated shudder. “How could I forget? He wanted to play on the swings but didn't bother to tell us. Those were the worst five minutes of my life, as we ran around the pond and looked for little footprints at the water's edge.”

“Mine, too.” They'd had other bad moments, like when Ethan had broken his arm snowboarding, but nothing compared to that moment of terror when they'd looked into each other's frightened eyes and thought they'd lost the heart of their family.

She'd let her family go not a year later, she thought starkly, sadly. She met Tony's eyes, and with an unspoken agreement, they moved off in different directions.

Tony told himself he felt relieved to get away from Kate—it was unsettling to spend time with her, after nine years of passing Ethan from car to car on weekends. What he most noticed was how he had to fight an incredible feeling of sadness, mixed in with a lingering trace of anger he just couldn't let go of. Every time he thought he'd put the past behind him, something happened to make him realize he might as well be stuck there.

He munched on shrimp and pretended he was listening to conversations around him, but he was really watching Kate. He wondered if part of his anger was a lack of forgiveness. He'd once thought her career had been more important to her than their marriage, but he wasn't so certain of that now. His own parents had struggled for years to have children, and his mom had died of cancer when he was only ten. He knew life had to be enjoyed each moment for the precious gift it was. That's why the miracle of Ethan, though unintended, had been so easy for him to accept and appreciate, whereas for Kate, their baby had changed her carefully planned life. Life wasn't about schedules, but she hadn't seen that. She hadn't been there when Ethan had cried for his mom—

And then he took a step back from the anger he thought he'd buried. To be honest, Ethan had probably cried for him on the weekends, too.

Just when the turkey was coming out of the oven and Tom Fenelli was preparing to carve it with elaborate ceremony, the front door opened again and Tony saw two of the widows enter, with his dad following behind. He felt a moment of relief. It wasn't as if he'd been in a wilderness of enemies, but seeing his father put him back in the holiday mood, especially after his sister had chickened out.

Kate hadn't chickened out. She'd come home and faced everyone with her work problems, the job that had defined her life. She might have been humiliated and furious, but she was taking the questions and sidelong glances. He had to give her credit for that.

“Hey, Dad,” he said, giving the old man a hug.

His father, Mario, was tall, and bald above a gray fringe of hair, with a working man's belly and the big shoulders of his plumbing profession. Though he was semiretired now, he'd always had his own business, so when Tony's mom had died, Mario had been able to schedule his appointments around his kids' school activities. He'd attended every one of Tony's football and hockey games, each of Lyndsay's marching band competitions. He'd even served on the PTA. They hadn't had a big house or lots of money, but they'd been happy, and Tony had learned to take things as they came, with the patience his older parents had shown him.

Mario grinned at him, even as Tony greeted Mrs. Thalberg and Mrs. Palmer. Mrs. Ludlow was having dinner with her own family—not at the White House this year, though they'd all hoped. Mrs. Ludlow's granddaughter had married the son of President Torres just last May in Valentine Valley, but the president was traveling this November.

Kate came over to take their coats. “Hello, everyone.” She smiled a bit cautiously at Mario. “Mr. De Luca, Happy Thanksgiving.”

Tony's dad returned her smile. “Thanks. You, too, Kate.”

Kate turned to the ladies. “Let me show you where the appetizers are. How was Thanksgiving lunch at the Silver Creek Ranch?”

When she moved away, the widows chattering as they trailed behind her, Mario took the beer Tony offered and spoke softly.

“I didn't know she was coming.”

“I thought Lyndsay would run to you with the news.”

“Nope.” Mario frowned. “Where is my baby girl?”

“Not here. Said she was ‘under the weather,'” Tony said, emphasizing his sister's excuse.

Mario sighed. “Subtle, isn't she? I would have thought that if you were fine having Thanksgiving dinner with your ex-wife, your sister should be, too.”

Tony shrugged. “I guess a girlfriend bond is even more sacred. Break it and . . .” He ran a finger across his neck.

With a chuckle, Mario said, “You're a good boy, Tony. All these years, you've never made it hard for Ethan to be with his mom.”

“And she's done the same for me, remember. And I like the Fenellis. They're a great family.” After the divorce, he'd thought he'd lose them as his second family, but that hadn't happened. He was still like another son to Tom and Christina, and eventually, even Kate's brothers had recovered enough from their defensiveness to treat him as they always had. Obviously Jim, being the eldest, was still keeping an eye on his little sister.

How they found places to sit for all of their guests, Tony never knew. He ended up on the couch with a tray table in front of him, along with a lot of cousins. Ethan had invited him to a table, but he hadn't wanted to make waves with Kate there. To his surprise, even she avoided the main table and was sitting cross-legged on a pillow near the big fireplace, her plate in her lap, Barney waiting patiently beside her. The dog knew a sucker when he saw one. More than once, Tony found himself glancing at her, at ease in a loose sweater, skinny jeans, and polka-dotted socks, a scarf looped around her neck. She looked happy and carefree, chatting with her brother's wife, but he knew how good she was at disguising her feelings—she was a lawyer after all, and a good one.

A toddler crawled into her lap, almost upsetting her plate, but she positively beamed her happiness, bringing him up onto her knee and blowing kisses deep into his neck until he giggled.

The flash of memory caught him by surprise, and he suddenly saw a much younger Kate in their tiny apartment, bent over her school books, as always. About to leave for his bartending job, he hadn't been able to get Ethan to bed on time. The little boy had been crying when Kate had picked him up. Though she'd obviously felt frustrated, the look on her face had been just as happy, just as full of love as he saw now. Long-ago Kate had looked at him over Ethan's head, her expression one of sorrow and worry. He'd known that they couldn't go on much longer the way they were.

After dinner, Ethan invited him to play Xbox with him and Kate on the basement TV; Tony almost turned them down. He knew it was their thing, and the thought of all those educational puzzles and mazes didn't exactly interest him, but he didn't want to disappoint his son. To his surprise, Kate and Ethan were playing Diablo, and she was killing demons from hell like a pro. She was almost at the kid's level, and Tony couldn't hide his shock.

She eyed him, her amusement tinged with triumph. “You knew we played Xbox together.”

“Yeah, but I thought . . . I don't know.”

Kate elbowed her son. “Guess you didn't want to confess to your dad how often I kicked your butt.”

Ethan winced. “Mom, come on,” he said in a low voice, looking around at his amused cousins.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, taken aback, but not exactly upset.

Violent video games, Tony mused. Should he play the offended parent? Naw, the kid was thirteen.

She'd changed a little bit, he realized, then kicked himself for imagining she'd stayed the same for nine years. Her life wasn't all about school and studying, as it had seemed during their marriage. Kate was a different person, who could let loose with silly games or tell off her bosses instead of toeing the company line.

And suddenly he realized he had to be very careful. He wasn't going to get caught up in her again, not after everything that had happened, everything she'd done to ruin their marriage—to hurt him. He wasn't going to become friends with her—there were walls he'd built to protect himself when he was twenty-four, and he was going to reinforce them.

While Kate played another game with Ethan, Tony went to look for the bathroom. The first-floor one was occupied, so he headed upstairs. When he heard his name called as he passed one of the bedrooms, he ducked his head in and found Kate's three oldest brothers in their mom's office and craft room, where fabric drooped from a sewing machine to the floor.

“Tony, come on in and shut the door,” Jim said.

Considering Jim had been suspicious of him just a few hours ago, Tony was surprised, but he did as he was asked. He put his hands in his jeans pockets and regarded the Fenelli brothers.

“So what did Kate tell you about her law firm problems?” Walt asked.

Tony frowned, feeling wary. “Is this a trap?”

“A trap? Hell no,” Dave said. “We're just worried about our sister. This job has been really important to her—you know that better than anyone.”

Tony let his faint smile return, but he was starting to feel cornered.

“So she tells us she's on sabbatical,” Jim said, “that she disagreed with the senior partners, and they wanted her to ‘think'—whatever that means. Is that what she told you?”

“Pretty much.” But Tony realized she'd told him more than her family, about an undocumented client report that couldn't go to the FDA, and how the partners wanted to bury it, worried that she'd scare away their clients with her nosiness. There was a lot more involved than just thinking things over. She obviously had to decide who she had a duty to—the public, her client, or the senior partners. But if Kate thought her family didn't need the details, it wasn't up to him to provide them.

“‘Pretty much'?” David echoed suspiciously. “That's all you got?”

“Look, don't you think you guys should be talking to Kate about this if you're so worried? It's not like she's your little sister on the playground anymore.”

“Well, since she hung out with you on the playground, it's pretty obvious we didn't do such a good job protecting her before,” Jim said with faint sarcasm.

Walt and Dave eyed their brother in surprise.

“Now, Jim,” Walt began, “aren't you going back a little far into history?”

Tony didn't say anything; he just rocked once on his heels and thought with longing about the beer he'd left downstairs.

“Yeah,” Jim said grudgingly. “Sorry.”

“I have a sister,” Tony said. “I get it. But I don't understand what you want here. Either ask Kate for details or live with what she told you. Me—I don't want any details. She doesn't owe me any.” But she'd supplied them anyway, which made him feel uneasy. Why him? “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need the bathroom, and then another beer.”

Dave smiled at him knowingly. “Been kind of a long day for you, Tony?”

“Something like that.”

W
hen the last guests—including three of Kate's brothers—had departed, she leaned back against the door and blew her bangs out of her eyes. On the boot tray and wet rugs next to the door were two pairs of boots that didn't look like Joe's or her parents'. Someone would have cold, wet feet when they got home.

Even Ethan had gone back to Tony's before she had had a chance to ask about the weekend. He was always with her on weekends, their special time together. Even the car trips, which she'd first worried would make him hate being with her, had turned into their special time together. They played games and sang songs, and Ethan reveled in seeing if he could find questions about the world to stump her.

Would he still think those car trips were worth it when he was seventeen and missing out on high school parties?

She couldn't let herself think about that now. She was in Valentine Valley for who knew how long, and Ethan had his own bedroom right next door. It seemed crazy to keep him with her, but . . .

With determination, she went back into the kitchen and found her dad sorting leftovers into plastic containers, Joe still eating two pieces of pie at once, Barney looking starved at his side, and her mom unloading newly clean dishes from the dishwasher. Kate helped her mom with the plates, then started loading the third dirty batch of the day.

Christina eyed her. “So . . . was Thanksgiving better or worse than you expected?”

Kate grinned tiredly, then patted her stomach. “I had too much pie. I'm having a food baby, I think.”

Christina laughed. “Well, if that's the worst of it, count yourself lucky.”

“It was okay. Kind of strange with Tony here, if that's what you're asking. Probably not strange for you, of course, considering he lives next door.”

Her mom glanced over her shoulder at Tom and Joe, who'd begun to fold chairs and line them up near the basement door. She lowered her voice. “Did it bother you when he bought the Parsons' old house? You never wanted to talk about it.”

“His decision made perfect sense, and believe me, I admire how fair he is about Ethan, everything he does to make things easy for him. Did it bother
you
when he moved next door?” she teased.

Christina's smile faded. “I won't assign blame for your failed marriage, but I'll admit it was hard seeing him all the time at first, knowing how hurt you were, knowing that you were alone in Denver, without your family, and he was here.”

“Those were my choices, Mom,” Kate said quietly.

“I made peace with that, peace with Tony. Ethan is more important than any of us. And obviously you've both done an excellent job with him.”

“Both of us? What about all of you? The widows? Everyone has helped raise him—the whole ‘it takes a village' idea, you know.”

“I appreciate that, of course.” After adding detergent, Christina closed and started the dishwasher, then leaned her hip against the counter. “So what's going on with your custody arrangement this holiday weekend?”

“You went right to what I was thinking,” Kate said ruefully, then sighed. “You know me too well, Mom. It's Tony's holiday, and I wasn't supposed to be here. It doesn't seem fair to change things at the last minute.” She gave a lopsided grin. “And can't you hear the conversation now? ‘Ethan, have a sleepover at Grandma's with me.' Yeah, he's not too cool for that at all.”

“If you miss him and want to be with him, he'll appreciate that.”

“Someday,” Kate clarified.

Christina smiled. “Okay, someday.”

“I guess I'll wait to see what happens. I—I don't even know how long I'll stay, after all.”

As her mom covered a pie with foil, she glanced at Kate with somber eyes. “I've already told you you can stay as long as you want. Why go back to your empty condo? You can see Ethan every day while you're on vacation.”

“I'm not on vacation, Mom,” she said, bitterness coloring her voice. “I'm being exiled for standing up for my beliefs.”

“Well, you haven't exactly explained . . .”

“I know, and I'm sorry.”
But I told Tony
. “I'll tell you what I can, soon, I promise. But right now, I just want to forget about it.”

“Then stay here, where we can distract you.” Christina took her daughter's hand and squeezed it. “Unless you have a boyfriend you haven't mentioned, of course.”

“Subtle, Mom. No, no boyfriend to speak of. I date, of course.”

“Naturally. You're beautiful.”

That made Kate laugh aloud. It was good not to take herself seriously. And her mom was right—she needed to be distracted.

W
hen they got home, Ethan ran upstairs to his computer and Tony walked into his kitchen, only to find his sister at the kitchen table.

“I didn't see your car,” he said warily.

“I parked down the block. Any leftover pie?”

Frowning, he handed over several containers, and she spread them out on the table eagerly.

Lyndsay was a year younger than he was, with brown hair she kept highlighted because she said it made her look younger. She was hardly old at thirty-two, but he'd sensed her restlessness lately and didn't want to rile her up by contradicting her. She'd spent her life wanting to be a teacher, and she now taught math at Valentine Valley Middle School. There was a boyfriend, of course—she never went long without a guy, one at a time—and he mostly approved of her choices. But none of them had been long-term guys, and Tony was starting to wonder if that was more her fault or the men's.

“You look remarkably better,” he said dryly, sitting down opposite her and reaching for a fork. “Not sick very long?”

“Nope.” She slid a container of pecan pie toward her, then pushed his fork out of the way with her own. “Hey, you already had some.”

He swiped a forkful anyway. It could have ended up a tussle over the food, but she too easily backed down.

“Ethan missed you,” he said.

She made a face. “That was unfair.”

“But true. Dad, too. And me.”

“Next you'll be saying Kate missed me.”

“She asked about you, seemed disappointed you weren't coming.”

She eyed him skeptically. “You're lying.”

“I'm not. It's been nine years since the divorce, Lyndsay.”

“And yet you still had to spend Thanksgiving with her.”

“We'll always be connected through Ethan. It was awkward, but we managed. You could have done the same.”

Lyndsay leaned over her pie. “Look, it's not like I spend my days ruminating over what she did to our family.”

“Wow, that's a broad stroke.”

She ignored him. “But . . . we haven't talked in a lot of years, and I just wouldn't know what to say. I was thinking of Ethan by not going. Why would he want to see his mom and his favorite aunt at odds?”

“I won't tell Diana you called yourself that,” he said, his smile temporary. “Look, you lied to me about why you wouldn't go instead of just saying the truth. Which means it's obviously a bigger deal to you than you let on. Why?”

She took a bite of pie and chewed it slowly, not meeting his eyes. He waited.

With a sigh, she said, “I don't know. I don't know about a lot of things anymore.”

“Then why don't you talk to me?”

“Donning your bartender hat?” she asked with faint sarcasm.

“Donning my big-brother hat.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I'm just not . . . happy. I thought I'd be happier in my thirties, with a good job and a steady guy and maybe kids.”

“Your thirties have barely begun,” he said gently.

“Stop acting so perfect,” she grumbled, forking the pie but not eating.

“Stop ruining my pecan pie.” He pulled the container back. “And you know I'm not perfect. I'm trying to make the best of things, which you usually do, too. You're just having a bad day.”

She reached across the table with her fork, and after some sleight of hand, he let her stab a piece.

“And you do have a good job,” he reminded her.

She shrugged.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he said, reacting to her dismissive gesture. “You wanted to be a teacher, and you made your dream come true.”

“It isn't what I thought it'd be. But I really don't want to talk about it.”

“Lyndsay—”

“So how did your Thanksgiving go?” she asked, after swallowing a bite.

He shrugged. “Pretty good. Kate and I talked a bit, mostly about Ethan. Did you know, all this time she's been playing video games with Ethan, I thought they were educational—you know her focus on school—but she's been killing demons. She beats him sometimes, too.”

Lyndsay eyed him. “And this is earth-shattering because . . .”

“I didn't say that. It was just surprising. And a reminder that we all change.”

Lyndsay groaned. “You're sounding like a self-help book.”

“Bartender class.”

She tossed a napkin at him.

K
ate woke up Friday morning when Barney jumped up into her bed for a cuddle then curled himself into the bend behind her knees. Outside the window, she could see the deep blue Colorado sky, no snow clouds in sight. She thought she could smell coffee, but she didn't hear a sound. Taking a deep breath, she tried to force herself to feel peaceful, but it wasn't happening. This was the first non-holiday weekday she'd had nothing to do in . . . forever.

This was obviously proof she needed to take more vacation time. If she had, she'd at least have had some practice. But her parents had never taken many vacations while building their business, so she came by her work ethic naturally. She could exercise more, of course, maybe get Ethan to teach her to snowboard. She could Christmas shop; her mom had told her that Josh Thalberg had married the owner of the new lingerie store, Leather and Lace. And she could read, something she hadn't done much of in a long time.

What she wouldn't have to do was drive hours to see Ethan. She could walk next door—not that she'd be doing much of that. She'd call him. Easier on everyone.

Not for the first time she felt like a noncustodial parent, and it was an awkward, guilt-inducing feeling. It was so easy, as a woman, to blame herself for not being able to do more.

So she went running, did some more post-Thanksgiving cleaning, checked her almost empty e-mail inbox—had the firm taken her off the loop already, or was it simply the holiday?—then had lunch at Carmina's Cucina. Her parents were thrilled to see her (as if they hadn't just shared breakfast that morning). She oohed over a new cluster of canvases depicting spices, recently hung on the wall, met a new employee, and teased Walt by following him around as he managed the restaurant. He was by turns grumpy and good-natured. Didn't he realize that if she'd come into the business, too, there might not have been enough work for them both? Hell, even Jim had gone his own way—but the family saw a restaurant in Aspen as an extension of Carmina's. Surprisingly, Walt invited her to Valentine Valley's traditional tree-lighting ceremony at town hall with his family that night. She found herself wondering eagerly if Ethan would join her, and when she called, he agreed without too much hesitation.

“Can I bring a friend?”

“Sure,” she said brightly, hung up, then resisted a pout at having to share him. He was thirteen, she kept reminding herself.

She spent a few hours and a hundred bucks at the Open Book, browsing the shelves on two floors of a nineteenth-century brick building. She relaxed in an overstuffed chair as she read, and even bought a few Christmas gifts. She'd have lots of time for Christmas shopping, she realized, and tried to feel some enthusiasm. She wasn't used to her hours dragging. She could only imagine how she'd feel next week, when her law firm was open again and her clients were being told they'd been assigned a new lawyer. Dread and frustration were warring inside her, and she actually found herself looking forward to the tree-lighting.

That evening, Ethan came over so they could walk to the town hall together, Barney moving almost briskly in front of them in his excitement. They cut over to Main Street, where the old-fashioned lampposts were wrapped in greenery. There were single candles in most of the second-story windows, along with wreaths; candles lined the paths to some shop doors. Kate heard sleigh bells and turned in surprise, because how could there be a sleigh on Main Street? A horse and wagon with
SILVER CREEK RANCH
on the side drove by, the reins held by a wizened old man, who was all bundled up. A couple dozen tourists sat on the benches inside, their faces reflecting the Christmas lights.

Kate and Ethan walked the few blocks west toward town hall, enjoying the Victorian carolers strolling about in costume. She kept pointing out the characters—someone in a Tiny Tim costume complete with crutch, ladies corseted into gorgeous gowns, men in top hats with long, bushy sideburns—until Ethan finally said with exasperation, “Mom, they do this every year. So does Vail.”

“Oh. Well, I'm enjoying it,” she added in a more subdued tone, tugging on Barney's leash to keep him from sniffing under Victorian skirts.

“Then you can enjoy this stuff every weekend, because they've been going all out for Christmas the last few years. There's even a Christmas market over in Silver Creek Park, all these decorated wooden huts with stuff for sale. I know we don't have a big Christmas skating show like they do in Vail, but we're doing okay.”

He grinned at her and she grinned back, knowing he was trying to make her feel better.

“I'll buy you some roasted chestnuts,” he said. “I tried 'em a couple years ago—not bad.”

While they blew on their chestnuts and tried not to burn their tongues, Kate saw other booths selling hot chocolate, spiced cider, pretzels, and Christmas cookies. There were lots of people enjoying the evening, streaming in from the side streets—Bessie Street, Clara, and Mabel, all nineteenth-century names reminding people of the past. She heard ladies in three-part harmony and, to her surprise, saw the widows perched on stools outside the massive stone façade of the Hotel Colorado. They were seated beneath one of the arched columns, surrounded by poinsettia plants in the snow. They, too, were clothed in nineteenth-century dresses, shawls, and bonnets, but it was the perfect blending of their voices that brought Kate to a halt, made her breath catch at the haunting beauty of “Silent Night.”