The Perfect Christmas (10 page)

C
assie couldn’t swallow a single bite as she carefully studied her guests enjoying their turkey with all the trimmings. Every time she saw a forkful of stuffing heading toward someone’s mouth she had to restrain herself from leaping to her feet and yanking it away.

Simon revealed no such concern. Mrs. Mullinex had him engaged in a lengthy conversation. Judging by the attention he paid her, anyone would think she was the wittiest, prettiest woman on the face of the earth. Every once in a while, the older woman released a girlish trill that sounded, to Cassie’s somewhat jaundiced ear, like a songbird strangling on too much seed.

“Mighty fine dinner,” Bob told Cassie, eyeing her with far more appreciation than his meal.

“Thank you.” She quickly looked away and offered Mr. Oliver more beans. More salad. More anything.

“Do you always cook like this?” Mr. Oliver asked. Before she could answer, he continued. “You probably have plenty of leftovers. No need to let ’em go to waste.”

“That’d be a shame,” Bob threw in. “I’d be happy to come over and help you finish them a few times a week.”

Cassie felt it was important to set
him
straight right away. “Since I work and there’s only me to cook for, I generally don’t go to this much trouble.”
Generally—like never!

Bob glanced at Mr. Oliver, whose plate was heaped high with large portions of mashed potatoes and gravy. “I thought you said you were watching your weight?”

“Low-carb’s the only way to go.” He reached across the table for the butter, which he slathered on a roll.

“Cassie, dear,” Mrs. Mullinex said in the same high-pitched bird voice she’d used since meeting Simon. “It’s been such a long time since I made gravy. Does yours always have these lumps in it?”

Cassie stiffened her shoulders at the frightening thought that the ring might have slipped into the gravy. Then she realized her neighbor was denigrating her gravy-making skills, although she wasn’t sure why. Her gravy was flawless, and if there were any lumps, which there weren’t, it was a fluke. “No, I added them for your benefit,” she answered in an equally saccharine voice.

Simon’s gaze narrowed.

“Oh.” Mrs. Mullinex blinked as if gauging whether or not to be offended.

“I’m joking, Mrs. Mullinex,” Cassie said, feeling slightly guilty. “I apologize if there are lumps in the gravy.”

“You can put lumps in my gravy anytime you want,” Bob told her. He winked at her, then jiggled his eyebrows. Disgusting! The man was old enough to be her father.

“I believe I’ll have some more of that stuffing,” Simon said.

Cassie sprang from her chair and grabbed hold of the bowl. “I was going to take it back to the kitchen.”

“Gimme that when you’re finished,” Mr. Oliver said, grinning broadly.

“Ah…” Cassie looked helplessly at Simon, who gently pried the bowl from her hands. “I’m not sure there’s enough.”

“There’s plenty for everyone,” Simon said and took a huge spoonful before passing it across the table to Mr. Oliver. “Let me hand it around.”

“Doesn’t anyone want to save room for pie?” Cassie asked brightly. She described each one, highlighting the fine qualities of the apple, pumpkin and pecan fillings.

“I don’t know if I dare,” Mrs. Mullinex trilled. “One must watch one’s waistline.” She paused, gazing around as if waiting for someone to tell her she needn’t worry about such things.

Cassie volunteered in the hope that if her neighbor accepted the pie, she’d skip the extra stuffing, which,
to her horror, was being passed around the table. “Why, Mrs. Mullinex, you have a very good figure.”

“Pleasingly plump,” Bob seconded.

The smile faded from the other woman’s face. “Plump?”

“
Pleasingly
plump,” Cassie said. “That’s another way of saying—”

“I’m fat,” Mrs. Mullinex cut in, frowning now.

“I like to be direct,” Mr. Oliver said, glaring at the older woman. “Plump is plump, no matter how you try to fancy it up.”

“Leave it to you to insult me, Harry,” she snapped.

“You always were quick to take offense,” Mr. Oliver snapped back. “A man makes a simple comment and you jump all over him and ruin a perfectly fine friendship.”

“Ah…” Cassie raised her index finger, trying to get a comment in before the confrontation broke into a full-fledged argument.

“I don’t know how anyone could even imply that you’re overweight,” Simon said, pouring everyone a little more wine.

Cassie managed a smile at his smooth handling of what was rapidly becoming an awkward situation. It also gave her an opportunity to make off with the stuffing unobserved.

“I’ll put on a pot of coffee,” Cassie said, jumping up from the table. She grabbed the stuffing bowl and practically ran into the kitchen, convinced she was about to have a nervous breakdown. Once inside, she leaned
against the wall and breathed deeply, wanting nothing more than this dinner to be over.

When she returned, Simon had collected the dinner plates. Cassie reached for the gravy boat and stared down at it. Lumps, indeed! She couldn’t find a single one!

Thankfully, after coffee and dessert, Cassie started to relax. Again Mrs. Mullinex damned her with faint praise regarding the pie, but by then Cassie didn’t care. Besides, she had to agree—the apples were unevenly sliced.

“Don’t you have anything good to say?” Mr. Oliver muttered. “I thought the pies were great. All of ’em.”

“Excellent meal,” Bob told her and tried to take her hand.

Cassie snatched it away before he had the chance. As far as she was concerned, the man should be arrested.

“I’ll have you know,
Mr.
Oliver, I’ve paid Cassie several compliments,” Mrs. Mullinex said righteously.

If that was the case, they’d flown right over Cassie’s head.

By the time she saw her last neighbor to the door, Cassie was exhausted. As soon as Bob left—with obvious reluctance—she collapsed into a chair.

“You look a bit out of sorts,” Simon commented.

“You think?” The man had mastered the art of understatement.

He grinned and sat on the sofa across from her.

“Actually, the meal went well.”

“You have got to be kidding. It was a disaster!”

“You’re being too hard on yourself. You did an admi
rable job, and while it might not seem that your neighbors fully appreciated what you did, I believe they had an enjoyable afternoon.”

She gave him a weak smile. “I don’t know if I should be glad the ring didn’t show up or not.”

“Is it valuable?”

“Not really. I bought it in Hawaii a few years back. I hate to lose it, though.” She raised her shoulders in a shrug. “But if it hasn’t turned up by now, I doubt it ever will. For all I know, it might be in Mr. Oliver’s digestive system.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“What makes you say that?”

Reaching inside his suit pocket, Simon pulled out the ring, displaying it proudly between index finger and thumb. “Is this the ring you misplaced?”

Speechless, all Cassie could do was stare at him. Once the shock wore off, she lunged forward and grabbed the ring. “You’re telling me you found it?”

“I did.”

“Where?”

“On the kitchen counter. You must’ve taken it off and forgotten. I tried to get your attention in the kitchen and then at dinner but you ignored me.”

“I didn’t take it off.” Cassie would’ve remembered that.

“Then it must have fallen off before you stuffed the turkey.”

Cassie held the ring in one cupped hand, her relief overwhelming. Then, slowly, her suspicions started to rise. “Exactly when did you find this?”

“Just before Phyllis came into the kitchen. As I said, I tried to tell you but you were too flustered to notice.”

“Phyllis?” she echoed. “Mrs. Mullinex is now Phyllis to you?”

“She’s a delightful mature woman.”

“Hmm. Then again, she isn’t stealing
your
newspapers.”

“I suggest you purchase her a subscription for Christmas.”

“I’ll think about it,” Cassie muttered. Then, remembering the ring, she glared at him. “That was cruel and unusual punishment, letting me worry that someone was going to swallow this ring.”

“I
tried
to tell you I’d found it,” Simon said in his own defense. “Why else do you think I was passing the stuffing around?”

Well, there was that. “I’m too tired to argue with you.” She stretched her legs out and let her hands dangle at her sides. Unable to prevent it, she yawned.

Taking that as his cue to leave, Simon stood. “I’d better go.”

Cassie realized with a start that she wanted him to stay. “Don’t go yet,” she urged.

“Do you want help with the cleanup?”

“No.”

“A drink or more coffee?”

She shook her head. “There’s a football game on,” she said.

Cassie could see he was tempted. Smiling up at him, she hoped that was enough incentive to get him to change his mind.

“I should get home,” he finally said.

“Why?”

“I just should. And don’t forget I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” he reminded her. “Tomorrow?”

“In my office. Late afternoon.”

She couldn’t recall an appointment, but if they had one, she’d certainly keep it.

“John will be there.”

Oh, my goodness. Cassie had forgotten she was supposed to meet John. “Cancel it,” she said hurriedly.

Simon frowned.

“I’m not ready to meet John.”

“You’ve completed your three tasks to my satisfaction. I don’t understand why you’re hesitating. You’ve worked hard and waited for quite a while, and so has John. I hate to disappoint him.”

Cassie’s head was spinning with doubt and fear. “I need to talk to you first.”

“Talk to me now,” he said, none too patiently.

“I can’t—I’m tired, and besides, I…I need to think.”

He continued to frown, and she could see he wasn’t happy with her. He left soon after.

Cassie sat on the sofa for at least an hour, trying to make sense of her relationship with Simon. Her feelings for him and her original expectations of John were scrambled in her mind. Eventually, when her whole life felt like a hopeless tangle, she called Angie.

Thankfully her friend was home.

“I need help,” Cassie whispered.

“Cassie?” Angie said. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve done something foolish.”

“What?”

She said the words out loud for the very first time. “I’ve fallen in love with Simon.”

B
y the time Cassie reached Simon’s office, she’d worked everything out. She’d rehearsed her speech all day. Her one hope was that Simon would own up to the fact that he shared her feelings.

His assistant greeted her warmly. “Hello, Ms. Beaumont. It’s good to see you again.”

“You, too, Ms. Snelling. Oh, nice tree.”

That was the extent of the Christmas decorating in Simon’s office—a small Norfolk pine on the credenza, draped with tiny white lights. Simple, classy, elegant.

Given her previous experiences visiting his office, Cassie automatically took a seat and picked up a magazine.

“Dr. Dodson will see you now.”

“Already?”

“Yes, he told me I was to bring you into his office as soon as you arrived.”

Cassie set the magazine aside and stood. It was now or never. The only thing left to do was forge ahead and pray they could discuss this with openness and honesty.

Ms. Snelling held the door for her. “Ms. Beaumont,” she said, announcing Cassie.

As he had at their first meeting, Simon sat behind his desk, studying a periodical. He glanced up, acknowledging her with a nod, then resumed reading.

Cassie took a seat, crossed her legs, uncrossed them, then folded her hands as she waited. She knew Simon now and was familiar with his ways.

When he did finally look up, Cassie could see that he was on edge. She wondered if he’d managed to sleep after he’d left her apartment and suspected he’d tossed and turned, the same as she had.

“You said you wanted to speak to me.” His voice was expressionless.

“Yes, please.”

He checked his watch. “You have ten minutes.”

That dictatorial approach didn’t fool her. He wasn’t going to intimidate her, nor was he going to scare her into being silent.

“Ten minutes,” she said softly. “I doubt it’ll take that long.”

He leaned back and Cassie leaned forward. “If you’ll recall, it was my friend Angie who suggested I make an appointment with you.”

He indicated with a slight nod that he remembered.

“You turned her down, right?”

“Yes.” He sounded bored. “You know very well I did.”

“For an excellent reason,” she said, “as you and I are both aware.”

He checked his watch again, as if to point out that the minutes were ticking away.

“Even though you rejected her, Angie thought highly enough of your skills as a matchmaker to recommend you to me.”

“I know my business, Cassie.”

“You won’t get any argument from me.” She grinned and looked down at her hands, surprised by how calm and controlled she sounded. While her heart continued to beat at an accelerated rate, she remained outwardly collected. “At first I thought the idea of those three tasks was ridiculous, but I complied. In fact, I was willing to do just about anything to prove my value as a wife.”

Once more he glanced at his watch.

“I understand now why you chose the tasks you did. Each one served a specific purpose. You knew all the facts I could list on a sheet of paper, and as a psychologist you could discern a great deal from that, but you didn’t know the real me.” She’d given much thought to his motives. “You didn’t know my heart.”

“Yes, well…”

“You wanted to find out how I interact with strangers as a volunteer. You wanted to see how well I deal
with children and then you were interested in my homemaking skills.”

“Practical aspects of any good marriage. But these tasks also told me that you have compassion and flexibility and a sense of humor.”

She bowed her head to hide her pleasure at his words.

“John is looking for a woman who’s willing to have children with him. A woman who enjoys socializing and wants to be part of a community. You are all those things.”

He’d introduced the subject of John, so she’d better get that out of the way right now. “Oh, yes. John, the match you chose on my behalf. I do hope you cancelled the appointment.”

“Per your request I did. However, I feel you should know John was extremely disappointed, as I expected he would be.”

“I would’ve been, too, if I’d been waiting to meet my perfect match. Or as you’d probably say, my most
suitable
match,” she said with a grin.

“And you aren’t?” Simon challenged.

“No, unfortunately I’ve already made his acquaintance.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed. “Before you say anything else, I want you to think this through very carefully.”

“I have,” she said.

“I beg to differ.” Simon spoke in the same unfriendly tones she’d heard at the beginning of their relationship.

“I brought up Angie’s name for a specific reason. You knew after reading her answers to your question
naire, and during your initial meeting, that she was in love with someone else.” She paused. “As I told you on Saturday, that someone happens to be my brother. As I also told you, I was impressed by your insight in recognizing her feelings for Shawn so easily.”

“As I’ve repeatedly said, I’m good at my job.”

“You knew it would be wrong to introduce her to another man when she loved my brother.”

“Yes.”

“It would be just as wrong to introduce me to John when I’m in love with…you.”

Simon briefly closed his eyes, then stood. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Don’t do this, Cassie. I’m off-limits.”

“I can’t keep still. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

He reclaimed his seat. Looking exasperated, he informed her, “This happens far more often than you realize. I’ve lost count of the number of women who believe they’ve fallen in love with me.”

“I’m sure that’s true.” Simon was an attractive man. He had a strong sensual appeal and would turn heads wherever he went. She didn’t assume for an instant that she was the only woman ever to fall for him.

“The thing you seem to forget is that you’ve paid thirty thousand dollars to meet the man I’ve chosen as your match.”

Cassie hadn’t forgotten.

“I held up my part of the bargain,” he said.

“Yes, you did.”

“I’ve deposited the check and it’s cleared your bank.”

She nodded.

“If you voluntarily decide not to meet your match, you should know there’ll be no refund.”

“I didn’t think there would be.”

“If you walk away now, without meeting John, you’ll forfeit your money.” He said it again, as if he felt it necessary to remind her of what was at risk.

“I’m aware of that.”

“It would be foolish for you to do this.”

“I’ve been called a fool for lesser things,” she said calmly.

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be an unreasonable woman.”

“Really?” She smiled, just a little.

He looked pointedly at his watch. “Your time’s about up. Is there anything else you’d care to say…in closing?”

This last part was said with emphasis, as though he was eager to usher her out the door.

“I’m almost finished,” she told him.

He sighed.

“I’m not telling you how I feel so you can laugh at me, Simon.”

His gaze held hers. “I would never do that,” he said, then added, “any more than I did with the other women.”

She tried to disguise a smile. “Nor do I wish to be humiliated.”

He agreed with a nod.

“I have reason to believe you share my feelings.”

“You—”

“Do you kiss other female clients?” she asked, interrupting him.

He was silent.

“I didn’t think so. How many have you taken to your home?”

“None,” he admitted from between clenched teeth.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. To her relief, he was being honest.

“I’ve never had a woman…a client break down in tears and turn to me for comfort. Yes, I stepped over the line. I regretted it immediately and, if you recall, I apologized.”

“You did.”

“I realized it was a mistake to allow any client access to my personal life after you showed up at my home later with the soup. I should never have invited you inside.”

“Why did you?”

He refused to meet her eyes. “I’d been ill for several days and my resistance was weak.”

“Resistance to me?”

“No,” he countered sharply, “resistance to impropriety.”

“Ah.” So that was the excuse he’d chosen.

“Afterward, I was afraid you might have read more into that evening than was warranted, and I see now that you have. I’m sorry I didn’t address the subject earlier. I wish I had. As I feared, you’ve got the wrong impression.”

“I see.”

“It would be best if we could forget that evening entirely, put it out of our minds.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t forget that night. I can’t make myself regret it, either. It was after our evening together that I knew, Simon. I’d fallen in love with you.”

Simon met her look unflinchingly and yielded no emotion. “Please don’t continue. This is embarrassing for you
and
for me.”

“I have one other comment,” she said, striving to remain unemotional. “Actually, it’s more of a question than a comment.”

“Then out with it, and let this matter be laid to rest.”

She thanked him with a brief nod. “I can accept that a distraught female weeping on your shoulder might have caused you to offer comfort in a way you normally wouldn’t.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your understanding.”

“I can even accept the fact that your resistance was low when I dropped by your home that evening.”

Once more he nodded.

“But how do you account for the way you kissed me on Sunday?”

“Sunday?” he repeated. The color seemed to drain from his face.

“Can you tell me what prompted that kiss?” she asked.

He didn’t answer for a long moment. “I have no excuse,” he finally said.

“I’m not looking for excuses, Simon, I’m looking for honesty. It hasn’t been easy to lay out my heart for you. If I’ve misread the situation, then I apologize. In
that case, I’ll walk out your door right now and you’ll never hear from me again.”

“That would…be a shame.”

“Yes, it would,” she agreed, hope seeping in for the first time since she’d entered his office.

“You’ve paid me a lot of money and I’d feel bad if you allowed this opportunity to slip by. John is awaiting an introduction, and I hate to disappoint him.”

Cassie closed her eyes, struggling to hold on to her poise. After a moment, she opened them and met his look head-on. “I’m not meeting John or any other man you deem the right mate for me. Or my ‘suitable’ mate or whatever word you want to use. I’ve already found him and it’s you.”

Simon didn’t acknowledge that comment in any way.

“
Have
I misread your feelings, Simon?” she asked softly.

He refused to answer.

Reluctantly she stood; she’d gone past her allotted ten minutes. “I won’t embarrass you further—or myself for that matter. But before I go, I have one simple request.”

“Fine,” he said tersely.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me. Do that and I’ll leave and never trouble you again.”

“I’m not playing word games with you, Cassie.”

“This isn’t a game. It’s my life, my future—our future.”

He squinted up at the ceiling. “Why do women have such a flair for the dramatic? I suppose you’re going to spend the rest of your life pining away for me.”

“No, I won’t,” she told him. “I love you and it’s up to you to accept or reject that love. It’ll hurt me, but I know I’ll get over you in time. In every likelihood I’ll marry someone else one day and perhaps even have children. Rest assured that if you reject me, I won’t leap off a bridge.”

“That’s a relief.”

She moved away from the chair, her heart pounding so hard she was astonished it didn’t echo through the room. She gave him ample opportunity to stop her.

He didn’t.

With her hand on the door, she turned back to look at Simon one last time. He sat at his desk, reading. She wasn’t fooled. He might not admit it, but he loved her.

“Merry Christmas, Simon.”

He glanced up and his eyes flared as though he was surprised to see her still in the room. “Oh. Merry Christmas.”

“Goodbye.”

She didn’t wait for a response. Head held high, she marched out the door. Once on the other side, she closed her eyes, almost collapsing to the floor as a wave of deep loss hit her.

Ms. Snelling’s chair scraped as she stood. “Oh, dear. Are you all right, Ms. Beaumont? You look like you’re about to faint.”

“I—I’m okay,” she stammered. “Thank you…?.” she added politely.

It was exactly as Cassie had feared. Simon Dodson, professional matchmaker, was an expert at finding love for everyone except himself.