Three Christmas Wishes Page 11

  She could feel herself blushing.

  Oh, brother, Marvella said in disgust. Who’s buttering up whom? Marvella needed to go away.

  “So, your landlady never told me your last name. What is it?”

  “Bijou. It’s French. My great-great-grandparents were from France.”

  Ooh, la, la, mocked Marvella.

  Scram or I’m going to find a new heroine for my next book.

  That silenced her.

  “Sexy name you’ve got,” said Ben Fordham.

  She shrugged. “What’s in a name?” The name itself meant jewel, but as far as she knew, none of her ancestors had owned much in the way of jewels. Or anything else, for that matter.

  “A rose by any other name?”

  “You know Shakespeare?”

  “That’s a pretty famous quote. Anyway, just because I like to swing a hammer it doesn’t mean I don’t have an education,” Ben said. “Or a brain.”

  How about a heart? She bit her lip. This was not the time to plead her case. She hadn’t had a chance to butter him up yet. Butter him up, ha! So far she’d ruined dinner and almost killed him from smoke inhalation.

  Okay, she needed to start buttering. “I like your name. It’s...solid, dependable.”

  “That’s what my mom says.”

  “Do your parents live around here?”

  “My mom lives in town. My dad’s not in the picture.”

  She’d grown up with the security of happily married parents. She hated to think what it would be like not having that. “I’m sorry.”

  He set his empty glass on the coffee table. “Don’t be. We’ve been okay. I had an uncle who stepped in. What about you? Wait. Don’t tell me. Your parents are happily married.”

  “For thirty-four years.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “I guess it can be done. I’ve never found anyone I thought I could do it with.”

  “Maybe you’ve looked in the wrong places.”

  “Maybe,” he conceded.

  She was about to suggest that surely there were lots of women who wouldn’t mind spending their lives with him—something she’d say just to flatter him, of course—when the doorbell rang.

  “Looks like our pizza’s here,” he said and started for the door.

  “Let me pay,” she said, trying to hurry across the room on the shoes of death.

  “I’ve got it.”

  So she stood in the middle of the living room and watched as he paid for dinner. So much for softening him up with a great meal. But hey, she had salad. And there was still dessert.

  They ate at the dining room table and she got him talking about all the houses he’d restored and flipped. He obviously loved what he did. “And I promise I’ll make this one nice,” he finished.

  “Please don’t get rid of the brick around the fireplace,” she begged. “I hate those modern fireplaces and it wouldn’t fit the house.”

  “Agreed,” he said. Then smiled. Wow, what a smile.

  Never mind his smile. Get him to promise to sell it to you.

  Oh, yeah. That. “And you are going to sell it to me, right?”

  He suddenly became very fixed on the last of the salad on his plate. “Your landlady said you were having trouble getting the money together.”

  “She didn’t give me enough time. I can.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to help you out,” he said.

  “Well, then, there you go,” she said cheerily.

  “I can’t afford to give the house away once I’ve made the improvements. I have business expenses, obligations.”

  What kind of obligations? None of her business. “I’m sure we can figure something out,” she said.

  Now would be a good time for dessert. Mom was a big believer in the power of sugar. “Always leave a good taste in their mouths,” she liked to say.

  “How about some dessert?” Noel asked.

  “Thanks.”

  She went into the kitchen and took a deep, restorative breath. This was going well now. He was softening. Sort of. Some cheesecake, some more flattery.

  The kitchen was feeling downright arctic. She shut the back door and cut two pieces of cheesecake, a small one for her and a generous slice for him. Then she went back to the dining room, caught the heel of her killer shoes on the area rug and began the dance of the dodo. He jumped up to steady her just as she pitched forward, smearing his shirt with eggnog cheesecake. Two plates’ worth.

  “Oh, no. I’m so sorry.” That was the third time... She grabbed a napkin and tried to help him wipe it off.

  “Don’t worry. It could happen to anyone.”

  “Things like this never happened to me before,” she said. “It’s the shoes.” The shoes from hell. Sexy as they were, they’d done nothing for her image tonight. Or her sense of balance.

  He nodded and smiled at her as if she was deranged. “You know, it’s getting late. I should get going.”

  “We haven’t even talked about improvements,” she protested. Like he wanted to stroll around the house with cheesecake on his shirt! Could this evening have gone any worse?

  “Next time.”

  Would there even be a next time? She doubted it. She kicked off the stupid shoes. It was all she could do not to pick them up and hurl them across the room. “I could wash your shirt for you,” she said.

  “That’s okay. Really.”

  She couldn’t blame him for turning down her offer. The way the evening had gone, he probably figured she’d shrink it. “My life is never like this.” In fact, it had been going great until Ben Fordham came along. Sort of great, anyway. Well, not that great. But he’d definitely made it worse.

  “We all have bad days,” he said. And then he smiled. A genuine, I-could-learn-to-like-you smile. “You’ve got a good heart, Noel Bijou.”

  So she had managed to butter him up a little. “How about you, Ben Fordham? Have you got a good heart?”

  The smile switched from easy to uncomfortable. “I like to think so.”

  “I hope so,” she said softly.

  Now things were feeling distinctly uncomfortable here in her little living room. She’d had such plans for this night: a nice dinner, a fire in the fireplace...

  Yeah, well, you had a fire in the kitchen.

  Great. Marvella was back. Get lost, Noel told her.

  Ben walked to the door and she walked with him—so much easier without the red stilettos. She took his coat out of the closet and handed it to him. “This wasn’t quite how I envisioned the evening,” she confessed as he put it on.

  Now the genuine smile was back. “It’s been...interesting.”

  “I’d offer to send some cheesecake home with you, but so far your pants are still clean.”

  That made him chuckle. “We’ll try again.”

  Would they? Okay, that had to mean she’d made some sort of progress. She nodded.

  “Thanks for, uh, everything,” he said then slipped out the door.

  She watched from the living room window as he went down the front walk to his truck. Maybe the evening hadn’t been a total bust.

  Yes, it was, Marvella whispered. He’s going to gouge you. You’d better write like the wind and hope you get a new contract or we’re going to be homeless.

  No, they weren’t. Of course she’d get a new contract. And she and Ben Fordham would find a way to make a deal.

  All brave talk. She went back to the kitchen and cut herself a very large wedge of cheesecake. It didn’t help.

  Riley called the next morning to check in on her. “How’d it go last night?”

  “I set off the smoke alarm, socked him in the nose, hit him with a broom and dumped cheesecake on him.”

  There was a long moment of silenc
e while her friend took in the whopping disaster that had been her night. “Uh, how did you set off the smoke alarm?”

  “Broiling steaks.”

  “And the nose?”

  “Reaching for a hot pad.”

  Riley moved on to Disaster Number Three. “The broom?”

  “Trying to shut up the smoke detector. Then I got him later with the cheesecake when I tripped. It was awful.”

  “I’m sorry your evening sucked.”

  “There’s an understatement. He said we’d get together again, but he was probably just being polite.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe he really likes you.”

  Good old Riley, always trying to be positive. “And maybe he’s a masochist, although I doubt it. I should give up on getting the house.”

  “Don’t do that. Remember what Santa said,” Riley urged her in a lame effort to cheer her up.

  “If I ever see him again I’m going to rip off his beard and burn it,” Noel muttered. Okay, she’d been spending way too much time with Marvella. She was starting to get violent. Anyway, she’d burned enough stuff.

  “Things will work out,” Riley said.

  Noel was beginning to have serious doubts about that so she changed the subject. “That’s enough about me. How’s Jo doing?”

  “Coming home from the hospital today. I’m going to go see her later. Want to come?”

  “Sure.” Focusing on her friend’s happiness beat focusing on her own unhappiness.

  Riley picked her up later that afternoon and on their way to Jo’s house filled Noel in on her Friday-night adventure. “My only consolation is that it wasn’t in the paper today so I think I dodged that bullet.”

  “There you go. Every cloud has a silver lining,” Noel said.

  Riley sighed. “I guess.”

  At least Jo was happy. And the baby was beautiful. Holding the precious bundle, Noel felt a twinge of jealousy—yes, she wanted one of these—but she suppressed it with a reminder that Jo had waited a long time for her happy ending. After three years of trying, which included a miscarriage, she finally had her perfect little man.

  Santa had gotten it right for one of them, anyway, Noel concluded later that night when she settled in with a holiday romance novel and a mug of tea. However, she wasn’t holding out much hope that he’d come through for her.

  You should never listen to fictional characters, Marvella said.

  “Oh, shut up,” Noel growled.

  What she needed was a plan B. She was creative. She should be able to search around in her brain and find one somewhere. Where was that pesky plan B hiding?

  Who knew? She went in search of more cheesecake.

  Chapter Nine

  “Jo, I know you’re on maternity leave but this is an emergency.”

  Every event that required a nice outfit was an emergency with Alisha Walsh. Jo had seen the caller ID and known she shouldn’t take the call. Why didn’t she ever listen to herself?

  “Alisha, I just gave birth four days ago. I’m a little busy.” What time was it, anyway? Good Lord. 7:00 a.m. on a Monday. Alisha should be put on phone restriction.

  “Oh, you had your girl?”

  Jo flopped over on her back and covered her eyes. “Actually, we had a boy.”

  “Boys,” Alisha said with a snort. “They just grow up to be men.”

  Alisha was recently divorced and somewhat prejudiced at the moment. “Well, mine’s going to grow up to be wonderful.”

  “He’ll be a good dresser, that’s for sure. And speaking of dressing...”

  Here they went again. Jo liked Alisha. She was one of her top customers and fun to shop with. But honestly, Alisha had no boundaries. The fact that she was calling on a Monday morning before the stores were even open and half the town hadn’t had their morning coffee yet was proof. “Unless you’re meeting the president—”

  “I am,” Alisha interrupted.

  “What?”

  “I’m going to a dinner party at La Rive Gauche Paris this weekend and the president of the company will be there. I have nothing to wear.”

  Jo knew that wasn’t true. Alisha’s closet was packed with clothes. She’d picked out half of them.

  “You have to come help me. Can’t you get away for a couple of hours today?”

  “Today?”

  Alisha obviously sensed the raised eyebrow. “Okay, later this week, after you’ve had time to recover.”

  Jo had been up twice in the night with the baby. She was exhausted, cranky and her nipples were raw meat. Recovery was a ways off. And not for a thousand bucks would she take her newborn to that germy mall.

  Of course, Mom would be happy to watch little Mikey, but she and Grammy had been over all day Sunday, cleaning and cooking and changing diapers. Mom needed a break, too. Anyway, Jo didn’t want to leave her sweet new baby and she didn’t want to miss out on the possible opportunity for an afternoon nap just so Alisha could look hot at her company’s office party.

  “Sorry, but you’re on your own. And you should be fine. We found you that great black dress last month.”

  “Black is so boring,” Alisha whined.

  “Okay then, wear the dress with the silver sequined skirt. You can pair it with the black tuxedo jacket from last year and some rhinestone earrings and you’ll look a thousand percent hot.”

  “The jacket, I didn’t think of that. Thanks, Jo.”

  “You’re welcome,” Jo said and rolled over to catch a few more Zs.

  That lasted about two minutes. The phone rang again. This time it was Riley. “This better be good,” Jo groaned. “I’m sleep-deprived.”

  “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry. It’s just that...I’m in the paper,” she finished on a wail.

  Jo rubbed her gritty eyes and sat up. “Why are you in the paper?”

  “Remember the reporter who showed up when I ran into Emily?”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Uh-oh is right. There are pictures and everything and it’s captioned Ex-Bride Runs into Bride-to-be.”

  Pretty clever. Jo wisely kept that thought to herself. “It’s not on the first page, is it? If it’s not on the first page, hardly anyone will notice.”

  “It might as well be. It’s in the Whispers section. Everyone reads that.”

  All the soft news and gossip about what had happened over the weekend went in that section. Riley wasn’t kidding. Everyone in town read it.

  Jo tried a new tack. “Nobody’ll care. Who reads the paper anymore, anyway?” Except the Whispers section. Poor Riles.

  “It’s on the Chronicle’s website, too. I checked.”

  “As long as it’s not plastered all over Facebook and Twitter you’ll be fine.” But it was only a matter of time until that happened. Ugh.

  “I can’t believe this,” Riley continued. “Things were already bad enough. I don’t need to be the joke of Whispering Pines.”

  “You’re not a joke,” Jo said firmly. “Sean’s the joke.”

  “No one’s laughing at him,” Riley said in a small voice.

  “No one’s laughing at you, either, sis.” And if anyone did, she and Harold would beat ’em up. “Trust me. You’re going to be fine.”

  “It’s just that this is the cherry on the poop cupcake.” Riley began wailing again. “Everyone’s going to know.”

  “Everyone already knew.”

  “Not about this. It’s all there, Emily accusing me of trying to take her out because Sean dumped me for her, the fact that she was going to be my bridesmaid...”

  “This will blow over. Laugh it off.”

  “Ha, ha, ha,” Riley said bitterly.

  “You’re going to be okay, Riles. You really are. This is a bump in the road.”

  “A b
ig bump.”

  “Nothing you can’t get over.”

  Riley heaved a sigh. “Thanks, sis.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, go to work and let me go to sleep. Okay?”

  “Gotcha. Pleasant dreams.”

  In the bassinet next to her she heard the little snufflings and stirrings of the new man in her life. Here it comes. Brace for it, boobs.

  Sure enough, a moment later Mikey was exercising those healthy lungs of his. Sleep would have to wait. Jo stumbled out of bed and looked through sleepy eyes at her beautiful infant. She’d known babies took work but she hadn’t known as much as she thought she did.

  “It’s okay,” she crooned as she picked him up. “You’re worth it.” She continued to talk to him as she changed his diaper. “I’m sorry your daddy isn’t here to hold you. Or help with diaper changes. Or maybe do the dishes. Or anything. But, you see, he’s off saving the world.”

  Once upon a time he’d told Jo she was his world. That had been eight years ago, when they first got married. They’d been really young. She’d believed him.

  Actually, she hadn’t minded being a navy wife. At first. She’d been proud of his service, and when he was gone she’d filled the lonely months hanging out with her family and friends. Over the last few years she’d finished up school at Olympic College and started her business as a style consultant. She’d had more than enough to do. But usually about two weeks before it was time for Mike to return home, the days and hours of missing him would start weighing on her and she’d get antsy. And, yes, a little resentful. During this last tour of duty, she’d been more than a little resentful. They were finally starting a family and where was he? Who knew? Certainly not a lowly navy wife.

  “What he does is important,” she explained to both herself and Mikey. “But he has you now. And if he wants to keep me...well, we won’t bother you with grown-up worries.” That would be a bad habit to begin. “Your daddy and I will work things out. Not to worry, little one.”

  The only thing Little One was worried about was his next meal and he was getting very angry about the amount of time his mother was taking to deliver it. She settled back on the bed with him and he latched on, making Jo clench her teeth.

  She blew out a breath. “Don’t worry. We’ll get the hang of this. I won’t let you down.”