Snow Job (15 page)

Karl had already twice refused Elyce’s suggestion that they each buy their own gift and just pretend to be surprised the next morning. Likewise, he vetoed her idea that they tel everyone they were adopting another puppy when they got home, as their joint present.

“Let’s not add more lies to the stack,” Karl said with a lofty sneer that Elyce couldn’t help but resent, even as she acknowledged the wisdom behind his words.

“Can’t we at least set a price limit? Remember last year?”

“Al too wel .”

The previous year, Karl had shocked Elyce by proposing to buy her a new car for Christmas. The shock didn’t stem from any concern about the cost. Karl could certainly afford the car, and Elyce’s own family was hardly so far behind the Nashes financial y that she was uncomfortable with the idea of substantial y priced presents. Elyce’s argument had been that the car was not only too extravagant, but too impersonal. She accused Karl, though indirectly, of attempting to cover up an unwil ingness or inability to select a meaningful gift for her by simply throwing money at the problem.

He had, in the end, given her an espresso machine for Christmas, and she had gone out and bought her little hybrid car in early January.

“No price limit,” Karl insisted. “That’s as bad as overspending. We should each just get a present we think the other person would like. How hard can that be? No stocking stuffers, we can just do one big present each and that wil be it. We’l meet back here in two hours, al right?”

“Okay,” Elyce agreed. She wasn’t absolutely satisfied with the arrangement, but then that seemed to be the pattern that was developing for the week as a whole.

She was startled when Karl leaned down and brushed his lips across hers, lingering just for a moment as if he wanted to see if she might kiss him back. She didn’t, but it was a close thing.

“Two hours,” he said again with a wistful smile, and sauntered away down the snow-patched sidewalk.

One hour and forty-five minutes later, however, Elyce was stil completely at a loss for what to get Karl. She had tried the bookstore, several gift shops, even contemplated buying him a new ski jacket—but he liked his current jacket and real y didn’t need a new one, as he seemed uninterested in skiing as a venue for fashion.

Just when she was considering giving up she thought back to the previous day, and to this morning’s skiing. Karl had been complaining that his boots, several years old now, didn’t seem as responsive as when they were new.

He’d frequently seemed uncomfortable in them, shifting his weight back and forth whenever they were at a stop and sighing with relief when he was final y able to remove them for the afternoon.

Heading quickly down the street, feeling a little excited now that inspiration had struck, Elyce found the custom ski-boot shop she was looking for and emerged a few minutes later with a substantial gift certificate. Karl would have to have his boots fitted after the actual holiday, of course, but at least the gift certificate would be under the tree, and she had found
something
that she knew he would be able to use and enjoy.

With a sense of relief, she arrived at the rendezvous stop and had just enough time to detour for a hot latté before Karl arrived a few minutes later with some store bags in his hands and a windblown look about him. Elyce realized she must look the same. The temperature was already dropping and she was feeling the deep-to-the-bone chil that came from spending too much time outside and not enough time warming up.

Savoring the taste and heat of the drink in her hands, Elyce eyed Karl’s shopping bags with some interest while trying to look nonchalant.

“No peeking,” he said automatical y, and leaned in to kiss her. She was on guard this time, and turned at the last moment so he connected with her cheek. Undeterred, he kissed the sensitive spot at her jawline and traced the tip of his nose over the smal section of ear that her black fleece hat didn’t cover.

With one hand pressed to his chest, the other wrapped firmly around her coffee, Elyce paused a moment too long before pushing him gently but firmly away.

“We need to get back,” she reminded him. “Did you get wrapping stuff, or is there enough at the cabin to wrap whatever you got?”

“There should be enough. Why don’t you have any bags or anything?”

She smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes, I would. Why don’t you have anything?”

“You’l find out tomorrow morning,” she said with a laugh, pushing again at his chest. “Let’s get to the car, I’m freezing.”

Karl had transferred al his bags to one side and now took her free hand, clasping it firmly as he led the way out to the parking lot. It was a little overcast, though not dusk yet, and the Christmas lights on the charming facades of the buildings were twinkling through the gloom, cal ing to mind holidays past, other shopping trips, the joy they had always taken in doing their gift-buying for the family together. Last-minute trips into town had typical y been for fun items, not primary presents, just stocking-stuffers and afterthoughts.

No pressure, because the important shopping was long since done, the gifts wrapped, everything in readiness for Christmas Eve and Christmas morning.

Driving home over the frosted roads, Elyce realized this might wel be her last trip to Breckenridge for the holidays.

She would miss it terribly, this town she had come to associate so strongly with the season. Even on the Anderson family years, they had always managed to work in a trip to the cabin at some point during the holidays.

With an unpleasant twist of reverse homesickness, Elyce thought of going to the Nash cabin for the last time, of having to spend Christmas somewhere else next year, and a wave of sadness swept over her.

“What are you thinking about?” Karl asked, his eyes on the road but stil noticing her silent withdrawal.

“Nothing.” She sniffed. “The holidays. Just different things.”

“You never used to be sad about the holidays. It was our favorite time of year.”

“Yes. It was
our
favorite time of year,” she said, unable to hide a trace of bitterness.

“I see. So, no season of forgiveness from you, I guess?

Just from me, which I guess isn’t quite enough to do it.”

“Forgiveness?” She turned to face him, a look of disbelief marring her even features. “
You
forgiving
me
?

What have I done that needs to be forgiven by you?”

It was Karl’s turn to look incredulous. “What have you done? You not only don’t support my career choice, you leave me over it, move out without even waiting to see how I would approach the job, just…” He sputtered, unable to finish.

“What are you saying, that I abandoned true love over mere principles? They are
my
principles, Karl,
m y
values, and you knew that from the start. What did you think would happen when you chose to go into a business that goes against everything I believe in?”

“I thought you believed in
me
,” he said quietly. “In our marriage, and what we were building together.”

“I did,” she replied, hurt. “I did. But I don’t get how you think I’m the one who deviated from that, I don’t get that at al . And…”

“And what?”

She was reluctant to say it, didn’t know what effect it would have but felt it needed to be said. “And it was never about the sex, you know. Al that isn’t going to change my mind about us, no matter what you seem to think.”

Karl smiled bitterly. “I don’t think that. I know it isn’t about that. But it’s sure as hel making me feel a little better about this week, you know?”

“Now you’re just being mean.” She turned away again, staring out the window at the ranks of trees, each limb bearing a stereotypical puff of snow, another scene of postcard-worthy perfection.

“Another thing that’s just a matter of perspective, I guess. We may have to agree to disagree about it. I’m not stopping, either, so don’t even think that’s a possibility.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you, and I want to be with you. And if sex is al I can get, I’m going to take it while I can, even if that’s selfish. It’s been a long year.”

“I’l sleep on the couch then. I’l use one of the winter sleeping bags.”

Karl’s knuckles whitened on the wheel as his strong jaw clenched visibly. “No, you wil not be sleeping on the couch, Elyce. If you try it, I’l go down there and carry you back up to the room, I swear.”

She stared at him, wondering where this unknown side of him had been lurking during the years of their relationship. “What are you now, a caveman?”

“If that’s what you need to believe. Why, is that an appealing idea?”

“No, it is not an appealing idea. You’re actual y serious, aren’t you?”

“If you don’t like it, just leave. I’l help you pack. I’l go talk to Joan. It’s Christmas Eve, perfect timing to give her the news.”

“You are being such an asshole about this whole thing, I can’t quite believe it.”

“Desperate men do desperate things, Elyce. I want you back. I’ve told you that, and now I’m showing you. I don’t know what else to do.” They had pul ed up the long, winding driveway and paused while the garage door swung open.

Now Karl parked inside the spacious four-car garage with neat, rapid motions, jerking the emergency brake a little harshly at the end of his automatic routine.

“You know exactly what to do,” she contradicted him.

“You just aren’t wil ing to do it.”

“You mean leave the company? Leave my family business, the business I was raised to take over, the work I’ve become passionate about? You’re asking me to abandon my principles for love, Elyce, I don’t see how you feel you’re on a moral high ground here.”

“Your principles apparently involve exploiting the environment, whereas mine involve protecting it, that’s my moral high ground.” She unfastened her seat belt, releasing it but remaining in her seat. Karl stayed too, neither of them particularly eager to go back into the house in their current mood.

“At least I was wil ing to try to work it out,” he said, shaking his head. “You just walked out on it. Al our plans, our home, al that. What did it mean to you, anyway?”

“Everything,” she said instantly, truthful y. “It meant everything.”

“Then why couldn’t you at least try to work out a compromise? If it meant that much?”

She felt exhausted al of a sudden, weary beyond al reason with the state of affairs between the two of them.

Was it real y worth it, al this anger and resentment? Would it real y be so devastating if she were to simply accept Karl’s terms, whatever they were, and go back with him, to the place she stil thought of as home?

Would it real y make the world a worse place?

When she didn’t answer, Karl sighed, sounding disgusted. With her or with himself, Elyce didn’t know. He opened the door to the SUV and reached for his bags, not meeting her eyes.

“Karl, just because I can’t put it into words doesn’t mean I don’t have a reason. Al right? I just…can’t put it into words.”

“You’re a lawyer, Elyce,” Karl pointed out, gathering the bags and sliding from the seat. “Lawyers can put anything into words.”

He left her sitting in the vehicle, accompanied only by the sound of the frame and engine creaking and popping as it cooled rapidly in the freezing garage.

One present. That was al the children were al owed to open on Christmas Eve. It was always the same, always open on Christmas Eve. It was always the same, always just one, and parents were al owed to veto the child’s choice if they saw fit and suggest another gift to unwrap instead. That was part of the price of getting to open something.

Elyce had been raised in a no-presents-until-Christmas-morning household, so it had taken her some time to get used to the idea of actual y opening something the night before. What wouldn’t she have given as a child to be al owed that one sneak preview, that single delicious taste of the delights to come the next morning?

She had decided after a few years of marriage that when she and Karl had children, she would continue the one-present tradition. It would have been hard to talk her own parents into breaking their hard-and-fast rule about that, but since her parents spent Christmas at home in San Francisco, she and Karl would have been able to drive to their house in the morning after spending Christmas Eve in their own home, when it was an Anderson-grandparents year. That they would rotate holidays each year, giving each family equal time, was automatical y assumed by both of them.

Sitting on the couch with her feet pul ed up under her, a blanket tucked snugly over her lap, Elyce sipped at a cup of liberal y whisky-laced eggnog and watched the four members of the next generation as they deliberated solemnly over which present to open.

“Not that one,” Emily said sternly as Reese ran her fingers over a smal ish, oblong box, wrapped lavishly in heavily embossed red and gold paper with a tasseled red bow. Without a word, Reese put the box down—although Elyce noted she placed it careful y where she would have no trouble finding it again the next morning—and moved on around the enormous tree.

Karl had been sitting at the opposite end of the room at the large game table by the bar, perusing Scott’s printed photos with interest. Now he brought some representative samples over to Elyce, who would rather not have looked at them. The guilt she was already feeling needed no spur, and her resentment toward Karl for his part in her current situation was deep enough without any more reminders of the couple they once were, and maybe should stil have been.