The Snow Globe Page 2

  Allison pointed to the bubble-wrapped snow globe the shop owner was slipping into a bag. “Did you get something cool?”

  Kiley could feel a blush race across her face. She’d almost backed out of this weekend with her two best friends, claiming to be too broke, and now here she was spending a fortune on something her common sense insisted she didn’t need. “He gave me a deal,” she explained.

  Allison smiled at her. “It’s okay, Kiles. After all you’ve been through you deserve a treat.”

  “It’s more than a treat,” insisted Kiley. It was…well, she wasn’t sure. She only knew it was somehow meant for her.

  Suzanne had finished her quick tour of the store and now she joined them at the counter. “I’m hungry. Anybody ready for lunch?”

  Allison nodded and followed Suzanne to the door and Kiley thanked the shop owner and hurried after them.

  “I can’t believe you found something in that musty old place,” said Suzanne as they started for their favorite restaurant.

  “Wait till you see it,” said Kiley.

  “Okay, I’m dying of curiosity,” said Allison after they were seated inside the Chanterelle and had ordered the soup of the day and some of the restaurant’s herbed bread. “Let’s see your bargain.”

  Kiley pulled out her purchase and told them its legend.

  The waiter arrived with a basket of warm bread. Allison started to reach for it, but then, true to her resolve to not get carried away with the carbs, picked up the snow globe instead and jiggled it. All three women watched the tiny snowflakes drift around the little angel. “It is lovely,” Allison murmured as she set it on the table.

  “But what a bunch of bull,” Suzanne said. Her cell phone rang and she reached into her purse.

  Allison frowned. “I thought you turned that off.”

  “I had to make a call,” Suzanne said defensively. Suzanne always had to make a call. If not to check in on her five-year-old daughter, Bryn, then to see how things were going with her latest real estate deal.

  Like Kiley, Suzanne had come close to canceling on their weekend. Money wasn’t a problem for her, but her busy schedule was the sworn enemy of girlfriend time. It happened a lot lately and Allison had finally put her foot down, insisting they all go so they could recharge and reconnect.

  Allison’s frown grew deeper when she realized Suzanne was talking to the agent she partnered with at Dreamscape Realty.

  Getting the message, Suzanne finished her business quickly. “There. Done,” she announced.

  “Prove it and turn off your cell,” Allison commanded.

  Suzanne practically paled. “I can’t. What if there’s an emergency?”

  “At home? Guy can handle it,” Allison said.

  “I know. I meant at work.”

  “That’s why you have Julie,” Kiley reminded her.

  Suz turned off her phone with a frown.

  Allison smiled, happy to have won the battle. “We need this, and it’s not a getaway if you’re not getting away.”

  “Fine,” said Suzanne, “but tonight I’m checking my messages.” She picked up Kiley’s snow globe and examined it. “This is kind of cool,” she admitted.

  “And who knows,” added Allison, “maybe it will bring something great into your life this holiday season.”

  Kiley sighed. “I almost wish I could climb into it and stay. At least until after Thanksgiving.” Then she wouldn’t have to face her unfaithful boyfriend and her sister the traitor.

  “I’d join you in a heartbeat,” Allison said with a sigh. “I’d put my grandma in there, too. Gosh, I hate to face the holidays without her.”

  “You’ll get through them,” Suzanne assured her.

  Kiley took the snow globe back and studied it. “What is it about these things that makes you wish you could live in one?”

  “Escape,” said Suzanne. The waiter set steaming bowls of mushroom soup in front of them and she inhaled deeply and smiled. “Everyone has times when they don’t like their life.”

  “Like every time I have to hang out with my family,” Allison said with a shake of her head.

  Kiley could understand Allison wanting to escape. She had seen just enough of her friend’s family to know she didn’t want to see any more. Well, except for Allison’s grandma. But Suz? That seemed hard to believe.

  “Maybe that’s why we love things like this,” Allison mused. “They give us hope that our lives can be different, better.”

  The little snow globe would have to work pretty hard to get Kiley to that point. But, hey, she still believed in miracles.

  Two

  It would be a miracle if she didn’t throttle her younger sister, Kiley decided, as she got ready to drive over to her parents’ house on Thanksgiving Day. Well, she’d just avoid the traitor. And the two-timer. She had plenty of other people to focus on: Mom and Dad, her older brother, Corey, and his wife, Tara, and their four-year-old twins, Beau and Christopher, and her aunt and uncle and the cousins. She would simply pretend her sister didn’t exist.

  It was difficult to pretend Gwinnie didn’t exist, though, when she did such a good job of grabbing the spotlight. Today she would show up in tight jeans and a sweater with a low V-neck, and she’d wear her long fake-blond hair down so she could flip it back over her shoulder on a regular basis. Kiley could do the hair flip thing, too. Only her hair wasn’t blond so obviously it didn’t have the same effect. Why hadn’t Jeremy told her he preferred blondes? Or maybe it was that he preferred former cheerleaders to runners. Or maybe he didn’t know what he wanted besides showing up and ruining her Thanksgiving.

  “If you need to skip this year, everyone will understand,” Mom had said. She’d phoned Kiley when Gwinnie arrived with Jeremy in tow. “I’m so sorry,” Mom had added. “I never dreamed your sister would be so thoughtless. And Jeremy, I don’t even know what to do with him.”

  Kiley could think of a couple of things, but none were anything a girl should say to her mother. “I’m coming,” she’d said between gritted teeth. Those two had ruined her Halloween. She wasn’t going to let them ruin her Thanksgiving, too.

  She teamed her hottest sweater (red—men loved red, right?) with black pants and slipped into her sexy black heels. That would show him what he lost. She also packed her tennis shoes and sweats because she would be expected to participate in the annual post-dinner football game at the East Queen Anne playground: touch football, two hands anywhere—a rule the guys had established once they all started getting girlfriends.

  The thought of seeing Jeremy putting his hands all over Gwinnie made Kiley’s stomach clench. That won’t happen, she told herself. Gwinnie had been opting out on football since two Thanksgivings ago when she fell and wrenched her knee. She had milked that injury for all it was worth, letting the cousins carry her to the car, taking over Dad’s easy chair in the living room with an ice pack and occasionally whimpering to make sure she got waited on hand and foot the rest of the day. Not that Kiley had complained. She’d felt bad for Gwinnie and had done her share of the waiting. After all, she loved her little sister. Or had. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  Of course you love her, she reminded herself, as she stood in front of the bedroom mirror for one last check. Okay, so Kiley had hazel eyes, not blue. And so her nose was a little long. She still wasn’t an arf-arf, and she was a good person. She was not the problem. Neither was Gwinnie. It was Jeremy. He was the one who had done the dumping. He was the one who had chased after someone else.

  But Gwinnie didn’t have to let him catch her.

  That was love for you. It trampled everything in its path, even sisters.

  She looked to where the snow globe sat on her dresser. Nothing had changed inside it. The little angel still stood duty in the Alpine village, guarding the toyshop.

  Kiley shook her head in disgust. What had you expected to see in there, Jeremy on bended knee in front of you, begging you to take him back?

  That was not going to happen. He wouldn’t beg
and she wouldn’t take him back even if he did. She ran a finger over the snow globe. “I know I’m not widowed like Otto, but I could sure use some help.” She picked it up and gave it a shake. Snow swirled and then settled on the cobblestone street. The scene remained the same.

  She returned it to the dresser with a sigh. If this were a movie the angel would pop out of its glass cage and wrap her safely in those gold-tipped wings or she would get pulled right into that idyllic scene and meet Prince Charming. But she was no Disney princess and she had Thanksgiving dinner to get to.

  She climbed into her Honda and drove under a grumpy gray Seattle sky from her two-bedroom condo on Kinnear to her parents’ brick Tudor on the other side of Queen Anne Hill. Halfway there Amanda Overmyer came on the radio, belting “I Hate Myself for Loving You,” and Kiley shut her off with a growl.

  She arrived to find an army of vehicles already lined up along the parking strip and across the street, everything from SUVs to a Prius, telling her that she was the last one to arrive.

  She winced at the sight of Jeremy’s secondhand BMW. He had probably been the first one through the door. Dad would have let him in with a grunt and then left it to Gwinnie to entertain him. Dad’s observation on the situation: “The dumb kid doesn’t know what he wants.”

  Mom, ever the peacemaker, would be nice to him. After all, she had to. He was likely still going to be her son-in-law. Her take on the situation? “Obviously, he wasn’t the right one for you, sweetie, and that means someone better is right around the corner. Meanwhile, keep the ring.” Kiley had, and she’d sold it on eBay. So at least she wouldn’t have to worry about condo payments for a couple of months. Not much of a silver lining, but it was something. As for the “someone better” waiting around the corner, sometimes Kiley wondered how far away that corner was or if it was even in the same city.

  She took a deep breath. Then she gathered her purse, her football clothes, and the grocery bag with the punch makings she’d brought, and left the safe cocoon of her car.

  Although her parents had done some renovating after they bought the house in the eighties, they had kept intact its best features—the old stone fireplace, the hardwood floors, and the arched doorways. Mom wasn’t much of a gardener, but she’d fallen in love with the little rose garden in the corner of the front yard and had done her best to keep the roses healthy. Another one of the things she’d insisted on keeping was the enormous monkey tree that grew near the front walk. “It has character,” she maintained. That it did—an evil character. The thing was the size of a small skyscraper and needed to be trimmed. Its prickly branches reached for Kiley as she made her way up the walk.

  The front door was unlocked, and as Kiley let herself in the aroma of roasting turkey and the sound of a football game on TV greeted her along with raucous male laughter punctuated by the high-pitched squeals of a child. She rounded the front hall corner in time to see her burly cousin Mark tossing her four-year-old-nephew Beau into the air. The child’s brown curls bounced and he let out a fresh shriek. If Beau was having this much fun it meant his twin Christopher couldn’t be far behind. Sure enough, Beau’s mirror image charged into the living room from the other direction and latched onto Mark’s legs. Her other cousin, Zach, who was equally muscled, pried him off and sent him in the air, too. Meanwhile, Pansy, her parents’ toy poodle, added to the confusion by yapping at them all.

  Next to her Uncle Al, her brother Corey sprawled on the couch, a freckle-faced giant, grinning complacently while his cousins tossed the boys around like nerf footballs. Dad was being one with his easy chair, happily tolerating the abuse of his only grandchildren. And there, on a chair in the other corner of the room, sat Jeremy, resplendent in holiday casual clothes and acting as if he still belonged here. Which he did. Which made her stomach clench again.

  Kiley was wondering if she was going to cry when Corey happened to glance her way and see her standing in the doorway. “Hey Road Runner,” he called. “About time you got here.”

  Road Runner. It had been her nickname since she took up track in high school.

  “Hi, Super Jock,” she shot back. Her brother was now a football coach at a small high school in eastern Washington and she didn’t get to see him nearly as often as she’d have liked. He still looked fit enough to get on the field and mow down a quarterback. When he first heard about the breakup he’d called and offered to crush Jeremy for her, adding, “Gwinnie can always find another idiot.”

  The sight of her made the idiot squirm in his seat. A bigger woman would have felt bad for him, Kiley supposed.

  “Hey, Kiles,” said Mark. He set Beau down and came to scoop her up in a bear hug. “You’re lookin’ good.”

  She couldn’t resist stealing a glance in Jeremy’s direction. Did he think she was looking good? Did he wonder what the heck he’d been thinking when he dumped her?

  He was licking his lips, running a finger along the collar of his Polo shirt as if his neck was being squeezed by an invisible necktie. He nodded in her direction and gave her an uncertain smile. She ignored it, hugging each of her little nephews, who had started clamoring for her attention. She kissed her father on the top of his head, waved at her other cousin and her uncle, and then left to deliver the punch makings to the kitchen. There. That had been easy.

  Except Jeremy was only one half of the traitor team. Gwinnie still waited in the kitchen.

  Kiley took a deep breath. You can do this. She forced herself to walk through the dining room to the kitchen and run the next gauntlet. Grandma was still in charge of the gravy and stood at the stainless-steel stove, wearing her favorite slacks with the elastic waistband and a floral blouse, wiping her brow and stirring while Mom checked on her famous pumpkin rolls.

  At Mom’s state-of-the-art refrigerator, Kiley’s sister-in-law, Tara, six months pregnant, paused in the middle of handing a huge bowl of fruit salad to Aunt Marion, gaping at Kiley as if uncertain where to place her family loyalties.

  And, speaking of loyalties, there at the sink, whipping cream so she would have an excuse to continually dip her fingers in the bowl and sample, stood Gwinnie, dressed in jeans and the low-cut sweater Kiley had predicted she’d be wearing. Blond, blue-eyed, and beautiful—every man’s dream.

  Kiley narrowed her eyes and marched into the kitchen with murder in her heart.

  Three

  The only thing that saved Gwinnie from annihilation was Mom looking up from the oven and beaming lovingly at Kiley, saying, “Hello, sweetie.” She took out the baking sheet with the rolls and then hurried forward to kiss Kiley, cutting off access to Gwinnie the traitor. Mom was obviously psychic and knew what Kiley was contemplating.

  Or maybe she’s simply glad to see you, Kiley told herself, and hugged her mother. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “It’s okay.” Mom planted a kiss on her cheek. “We’re just glad you’re here.”

  Kiley wished she could say the same thing. Normally, the smell of roasting turkey set her mouth watering with anticipation, and the sight of her family filled her with joy. Today the smells and sights of the holiday were wasted on her.

  She forced a smile and gave her sister-in-law a wave and a hi. Poor Tara. She was trying, like Switzerland, to remain neutral.

  “You’re just in time to help get food on the table,” said Kiley’s aunt, stopping to kiss her before proceeding on to the dining room with the fruit salad.

  Kiley went to where Grandma stood at the stove and kissed her wrinkled cheek. Grandma studied her carefully. “How are you?”

  What a loaded question! “I’m fine,” she told both Grandma and herself. She’d be even finer once this day was over.

  “Hi, Kiles,” said a deliberately perky voice.

  She turned with a frown to see Gwinnie, wearing a false smile, determined to act as if nothing was wrong.

  A montage of scenes raced through Kiley’s mind: she and Gwinnie wrapping a loop of elastic around chair legs and playing Chinese jump rope; Gwinnie asking Kiley to teach
her how to make gum wrapper braids, and then hair braids; the two of them sprawled on the couch watching a late-night horror movie. The memories weren’t enough to heal the hurt. In fact, they only inspired her to contemplate snatching the electric mixer and tangling its beaters in Gwinnie’s hair.

  “Hi, Gwinnie.” She managed to get the words out, but she just couldn’t add any warmth to them.

  Gwinnie frowned and returned her attention to the whipping cream.

  Kiley sighed inwardly and set her bag of goodies on the table next to where the punch bowl sat waiting. “I guess I’d better make this punch and take it out to the dining room,” she muttered and got to work.

  The kitchen went back to its busy buzz with the women putting finishing touches on the many dishes bound for the table and talk centered on the tasks at hand—“Do we have another serving spoon somewhere?”…“I think the gravy’s ready.”…“Gwinnie, stop whipping that cream before you turn it to butter.”

  This last comment came from Grandma, who was looking at her granddaughter with irritation.

  Once upon a time—like last year, even—Gwinnie would have offered a beater to Kiley to lick. Today, she simply removed the beaters and laid them in the sink, then retreated to the fridge to put away the whipping cream for later when the pumpkin pie made its appearance.

  Fine. Kiley didn’t want to lick the beater anyway. She took the bowl of baby peas her mother handed her along with the mashed potatoes and went to the dining room.

  “While you’re at it, tell the men we’re ready to eat,” said Mom.

  It didn’t take more than one announcement to bring the men to the table. “This looks great,” said Kiley’s father, beaming with satisfaction at the feast laid before them, the fine china and crystal, and the cornucopia centerpiece. “You’ve outdone yourself this year, love,” he told Mom as everyone settled in.