Merry Ex-Mas Page 3

She knelt in front of him and rubbed his side. “I promise I’ll be back as soon as he’s gone,” she whispered. “Then I’ll give you a good brushing.”

  Tiny let out a groan and drool dripped from his chin. (Tiny did his share of mess-making, but unlike the other male in this house, he couldn’t help it.)

  She kissed the top of his head, then slipped out the door, guilt riding on her shoulder. Poor Tiny. He felt the unhappy vibes in the house. In his doggy heart did he wonder what he’d done to deserve getting adopted into a broken home? If she’d known this was going to happen she’d never have visited that rescue site.

  There was nothing she could do about that now. She’d make it up to him, somehow. How, exactly, she didn’t know. She hoped she could find someplace to rent that allowed big dogs that drooled and had a tendency to shed. Oh, dear.

  Her Black Friday was getting blacker by the minute. She left the house, punching in Cecily Sterling’s phone number on her cell as she walked.

  Ella and Cecily had been friends since high school. In fact, it was Cecily who had gotten Ella and Jake together. They’d lost touch when Cecily moved to L.A. but had reconnected when she returned to Icicle Falls earlier in the year. Cecily had been shocked to hear about the divorce but she’d been sympathetic and supportive. She had men interested in her, two to be exact, but she was done with men (or so she claimed), which made her the ideal dinner companion.

  “Have you eaten yet?” Ella asked.

  “Nope,” Cecily answered. “I just got in the door.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to go back out the door, would you?”

  “Maybe. What did you have in mind?”

  “I need a place to hang out for a couple of hours. Dinner at Zelda’s?” Even though it was Friday night and the town was packed with tourists gearing up for Saturday shopping, Charlene Albach could always find a table for her friends.

  “Jake’s still home?” Cecily guessed.

  “Yeah,” Ella admitted. This was silly. She couldn’t keep running over to Charley’s restaurant every time Jake was home.

  “I could go for a huckleberry martini,” Cecily said.

  Oh, yes, a huckleberry martini sounded good. Or two. Whatever it took to wash away the image of Jake in his boxers.

  * * *

  Jake slammed a pot on the stove and pulled a can of chili from his side of the cupboard. Canned chili. He might as well have been a bachelor again.

  Oh, yeah. He was.

  He frowned at the can as he secured it to the electric can opener. This sucked. His life sucked. From perfect to puke in less than a year.

  Was there a song in there somewhere? Probably not. He emptied the chili into the pot, along with a can of stewed tomatoes and a can of corn, his own secret recipe.

  Tiny was in the kitchen now and looking expectantly up at him. “Yeah, I know. You like chili, too,” he said to the dog. He opened another can and added that to the pot. “You know this will make you fart.”

  Tiny wagged his tail.

  “Yeah, you’re right. Who cares? We’re guys, it’s what we do.” And they also walked around the house in their boxers.

  Except not anymore, now that he and Ella weren’t together. Walking around in his boxers was no longer allowed. So maybe he should talk to her about leaving her bras hanging out in plain sight when she did the laundry. Did she have any idea how crazy that made him? All it took was one glance at those lacy little cups and he could picture Ella with him in that sleigh bed they’d found at an estate sale, going at it like rabbits.

  He heaved a sigh. How had he gone from happily married to miserably divorced so fast?

  He and Ella were meant to be together. They should’ve gone to counseling, worked things out.

  Aw, heck, they wouldn’t even have needed counseling if he’d explained when she first started singing her version of “Your Cheatin’ Heart,” accusing him of being unfaithful. He’d tried to, but she’d cut him off. Then she’d thrown those pictures down in front of him and he’d been so shocked that his mother-in-law would do something that outrageous, and so offended and just plain pissed…he’d lost it. Wounded pride and anger had escorted him to the edge of the matrimonial cliff and then pushed him off.

  It had been a fast fall and he learned firsthand that once the D word’s been said, there’s nothing else left to say.

  So here he was, broken and miserable. The woman who’d once thought he hung the moon now wanted nothing more to do with him.

  And his chili was burning. He swore and pulled it off the burner. “You’re getting the crusty part,” he informed Tiny. “You don’t care.”

  You don’t care. Ella had thrown those words at him, insisting he sign the divorce papers.

  “I’m not the one who filed for this,” he’d shot back.

  “Just sign it, Jake. Please.”

  When he’d seen those tears in her eyes, he should have pulled her to him and kissed her breathless. Then he should’ve torn up the papers, borrowed some money from Pops and moved them to Nashville. There was someplace he was sure her mother would never have followed. And that was probably what they needed. It could’ve been the two of them rather than the three of them.

  He put his culinary creation in a bowl, gave Tiny the rest and then went back to his room. His room. That sucked, too. This was the guest room. Someday it was supposed to have been the nursery. Now it was his room.

  He sat on the single bed that was six inches too short for him (a garage sale find), and sighed. Here he was, a squatter in his own home. Maybe Lily Swan was right. Maybe he was a loser. Maybe he had no talent. If he’d just admitted it, quit the band and taken a job in the warehouse at Sweet Dreams Chocolates, maybe he and Ella would still be together. There’d have been no groupies, no Jen, no reason to be jealous. Instead, he’d had to dream of a songwriting career and stardom. He’d tried to support his habit (and them) by working in the music shop on Fourth, but then the music shop had gone out of business. He still had a few guitar students but he wasn’t exactly getting rich. In short, these days he was a loser, unable to hang on to his woman and barely able to hang on to his dreams.

  He looked at the dresser and the diamond in Ella’s engagement ring winked at him mockingly. He’d made payments on that for a whole year. Then he’d bummed the rest of the money he needed from Pops, paid it off and asked her to marry him that same night. She’d given him back both the engagement and wedding rings the day she’d shoved the divorce papers in front of him. “I can’t keep them,” she’d said. Just like she couldn’t keep him.

  “No. I gave them to you. Keep them,” he’d insisted.

  Ella loved jewelry and she’d especially loved that engagement ring, but she’d shaken her head and backed away.

  Jake couldn’t bring himself to get rid of either ring. They still meant something to him, even if they didn’t to Ella.

  Damn, he was a walking country song.

  With a growl, he set aside his chili and finished getting dressed. No sense hanging around here any longer. He’d go to the Red Barn. Maybe he’d find some cute chick there who appreciated him and his music.

  Even if he did, he’d look at her and see Ella.

  And that sucked the most of all.

  3

  Charlene Albach, Charley to her friends, surveyed her domain with satisfaction. Six o’clock and all is well.

  Zelda’s restaurant was filled with diners, many of them out-of-towners who’d come up to enjoy a Thanksgiving weekend getaway. Charley had been happy to oblige. She’d hated to miss going to her sister’s in Portland to be with family, but the restaurant was entirely hers now and she simply couldn’t leave. So she’d focused instead on giving other families a spectacular holiday, serving turkey dinner with all the trimmings, including stuffing made from her great-grandmother’s recipe. Well, with a few new twists. That was part of the fun of owning a restaurant. You got to create new recipes, dream up taste sensations that would keep customers coming back for more.

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nbsp; They were sure coming tonight. People had obviously worked up their appetites sledding and spending money in the shops. Tomorrow there’d be more sledding and shopping and more diners crowding into Zelda’s. And that meant more money in the cash register, which was bound to make for a very merry Christmas. This year Charley planned to be extravagant when shopping for her friends. They’d been there for her at every painful bump on the road to unexpectedly single, and she intended to show her thanks in a way that would make Santa proud.

  She had just seated a fortysomething couple with a texting teen in tow when Ella O’Brien and Cecily Sterling came in. “And I thought my shop was crazy,” Ella observed, looking around.

  The scene was a feast for the eyes. People of all ages and sizes, dressed in winter garb, consumed house specials such as salmon baked in golden puff pastry, squash seasoned with curry, baked winter vegetables and wild huckleberry cheesecake. There was plenty to occupy the other senses, too. The tantalizing scent of sage drifted out from the kitchen, encouraging diners to try the special turkey lasagna Charley’s head chef, Harvey, had created, and the clink of silver and hum of voices reminded her that life was good.

  No, better than good. Great. Who needed a man, anyway? Getting free of her louse of a husband had freed up her creativity. The restaurant was better off without him. And so was Charley. Anyway, sex was overrated.

  And if she kept telling herself that, she might begin to believe it.

  “Can you find us a spot?” Cecily asked.

  “I can always find room for a former employee. Are you sure you don’t want to come back to work for me?” Charley added as she led them to her last remaining two-top. “Like now?”

  “Samantha’s keeping me busy enough at Sweet Dreams,” Cecily said with a smile. “I think my restaurant days are over.”

  Just like her matchmaking days, or so Cecily claimed. Sometimes Charley entertained the idea of seeing if Cecily would put on her matchmaker hat one last time and find her a perfect man. But then she remembered there was no such thing, which was probably why Cecily was out of the matchmaking business and helping run her family’s chocolate company instead.

  And there’s a reason you’re single, Charley told herself. Men were a liability, and they had no staying power. Richard, her ex, had proved that.

  Never mind him. You’re having a really successful Black Friday. No need to turn it blue.

  “So, business was good today?” she asked Ella as she handed her friends their menus.

  “We moved a lot of inventory,” Ella said, sounding pleased.

  Hardly surprising. Ella had a gift for creating irresistible displays in her shop. Charley had certainly succumbed to temptation often enough. How could a girl not when a hot top paired with a sweater that begged to be touched called her over, whispering, “Just try us on. Oh, and don’t you love this amazing scarf that’s hanging out with us?”

  Ella herself was a walking ad. Tonight she was dolled up in jeans tucked into brown suede winter boots trimmed with a faux fur, along with a cream-colored cashmere sweater. She’d finished the look with a jaunty red jacket and a beret. It took style to pull off a beret. Ella had style in spades. Hardly surprising, considering who her mother was.

  “That’ll make your mom happy,” Cecily predicted.

  Did anything make Lily Swan happy? Charley could count on one finger the number of times she’d seen the woman smile. Well, really smile. How had such a snobby sour lemon produced such a nice daughter?

  It was one of life’s mysteries, right up there with the mystery of how Charley could have been so dumb as to miss the fact that her husband was conducting an affair right under her nose…with the woman who worked as their hostess, for crying out loud. Somehow, Ariel hadn’t gotten the memo that her hostess duties applied only to paying customers. They did not extend to making your boss’s husband at home in your bed.

  That was past history. Charley returned to the present. “So, you here celebrating?” she asked Ella.

  “More like avoiding,” Cecily suggested, making Ella frown. “Jake’s still home,” she added for Charley’s benefit.

  “I can see this house-sharing thing is working out great,” Charley cracked.

  Ella shrugged. “It won’t be for long. Anyway, he can’t afford a place on his own and I can’t afford my half of the house payment plus rent somewhere else.”

  “Your mom would probably help you.”

  “I know, but I wouldn’t feel right asking her.”

  “I’d have kicked his butt to the curb,” Charley said in no uncertain terms. “Let him stay with one of his band buddies.”

  “Their wives and girlfriends would have been all over that,” Cecily pointed out with a grin.

  “Beggars can’t be choosers,” Charley said. “Neither can cheaters.” Oooh, how she hated men who cheated on their wives!

  “I know he looked as innocent as a man going to the bank in a ski mask, but I still have a hard time picturing Jake cheating on you,” Cecily said to Ella. “It doesn’t seem like him.”

  Good old Cecily, always trying to see the best in people, even when there was no best to see. Although Charley had to admit, Jake had seemed like a nice guy. He and Ella had been Cecily’s first successful match, back when she and Ella were in high school. Going their separate ways for college hadn’t quenched Ella and Jake’s passion, and after graduation had come the big church wedding. Her mother hadn’t approved of Jake, but she gave Ella a wedding fit for a princess. They’d not only been a lovely bride and groom, they’d also seemed like the ideal couple, united for life.

  Well, she and Richard had seemed like the ideal couple, too. Things weren’t always what they appeared.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Ella said stiffly.

  “Good idea,” Charley approved. “Keep this table a heartbreak-free zone.” She caught sight of another couple coming in the door and excused herself to greet them.

  They were somewhere in their thirties. The man was going bald and his woman was no beauty, but the way they looked at each other proved that love was blind. She hung on to his arm like she’d never let him go.

  Charley could remember when she’d held on to Richard like that. Somewhere along the way she’d released her hold....

  She yanked herself back into the present and smiled at the newcomers. “Hi, how are you doing?” As if she had to ask. They were still happily in love.

  “Great,” said the man.

  “Do you have a reservation?” Charley asked.

  He shook his head. “Someone told us this is a good place to eat. How long is the wait?”

  “About twenty minutes, but we’re worth it.” Charley smiled. “If you like, you can wait in the bar and we’ll call you when there’s a table. Try the chocolate kiss,” she told the woman.

  “That sounds good,” the woman said, and squeezed her man’s arm.

  “We’ll wait,” he said, and gave Charley his name.

  Watching them go, she wondered if they’d be happy together for the rest of their lives. Yes, she decided, they would be. And on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary they’d come back to Zelda’s to celebrate. On that pleasant thought she went to help a frazzled-looking Maria clear the corner table.

  * * *

  As Ella and Cecily enjoyed huckleberry martinis while waiting for their food to arrive Cecily took another stab at convincing her friend that she might have made a mistake.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d tried, but Ella had been determined to divorce Jake even though Cecily was sure she was still in love with him. Yes, he wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for Ella—a good guy with a nice family. Easygoing, fun-loving, just what Ella needed to balance the life of perfection her mother expected from her.

  “I know it seems too late now that the divorce is final,” Cecily said, “but I can’t help thinking you should reconsider this. It doesn’t feel right.”

  Ella stared into her martini glass. She looked like she was going to dr
op a few tears into it. “I know you’re famous for those hunches of yours, but this time you’re wrong, Cec. We just aren’t a match. He’s irresponsible. And untrustworthy.”

  “But all you really had were suspicions.”

  “I had more, believe me,” Ella said, and took a giant sip of her martini.

  Jake was such a stand-up guy, Cecily found that hard to believe. What the heck had happened to these two? They’d been madly in love when she moved to L.A., yet by the time she’d moved back home they were done.

  “Well, he’s not really irresponsible,” she defended Jake. “I mean, I know he doesn’t have a normal nine-to-five job, but he has a dream.”

  “You can’t live on dreams.”

  That sounded more like Lily Swan than Ella O’Brien. Ella’s mother had never liked Jake, probably thought he was too much of a redneck for her elegant daughter. Ella had beautiful taste in clothes and decorating, but when it came right down to it, she was a simple, small-town girl, not a New York jet-setter. That was Lily Swan, though. She’d settled in a small town to raise her daughter but she’d always fancied herself a sophisticated woman. Having a son-in-law who was a country musician and who eked out a living teaching guitar and playing in a band didn’t line up with her idea of a successful life.

  Had Lily herself been all that successful? Surely if she’d been a top model she’d have wound up living in London or New York or L.A.—some place other than Icicle Falls. If you asked Cecily, Lily Swan had started believing her own press.

  Not that anyone was asking Cecily, and not that she would’ve said what she thought even if she was asked. And she wouldn’t be saying anything now, except that Ella was miserable and she hated seeing her friend miserable.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It seems to me if you don’t have dreams you’re not really living.” She’d dreamed of coming home and carving out a new life for herself, and so far that was working out pretty well.

  Her new life didn’t include love, though. She’d had enough misery in that department. She had to remind herself of this on a regular basis, every time she saw Luke Goodman, Sweet Dreams’ production manager. She also had to remind herself that sexual attraction did not equal love every time she ran into Todd Black, who owned the Man Cave, the seedy bar at the edge of town.