Christmas in Good Hope (A Good Hope Novel Book 1) (24 page)

After seeking out Ami’s dad and offering his congratulations, Beck made the rounds. He was pleased to hear so many say that they loved that he’d started serving desserts from Ami’s bakery. He made a mental note to discuss with Ami the possibility of continuing that practice after the holidays.

Several people commented on how nice his home had looked for the tour. He didn’t have the heart to tell them the downstairs furniture had been borrowed and the movers had stopped by today to pick it up. The house seemed more cold and empty than ever before. Renovating and furnishing those rooms would go to the top of his to-do list for spring.

“Ho-ho-ho. Merry Christmas.” Floyd Lawson strode up and clapped Beck on the back.

“Merry Christmas to you, Santa.” Beck lowered his voice on the last word in deference to any children who might be nearby.

The movers had still been there when Floyd had stopped by to load up the gifts he and Ami had wrapped and stored. Somehow they’d managed to fit them all into Floyd’s red sleigh,
er, his 1980s-era Dodge maxi van
. The jolly fat man and his “elves” planned to dress up and deliver the presents to Giving Tree recipients on Christmas Eve.

As Beck watched the man drive away, he felt proud of the part he and Ami had played in the event.

Speaking of Ami . . .

He caught her eye and smiled when she hurried over. “Crisis averted?”

“One of them, anyway. The punch bowls are now full.”

The heavy sigh that punctuated the words had Beck furrowing his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“Anita has embraced the hostess role and is running with it.”

He searched her face, knowing how she felt about the woman. “Is that not okay?”

Another sigh. “Dad seems happy. That’s what matters. And she did make him a fabulous cake.”

“I’m partial to the cupcakes.”

She chuckled. “I think you’re a teeny bit prejudiced.”

“Damn right I am.” He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

When she rested her head against his shoulder and he felt her relax, Beck experienced a surge of satisfaction. One day she would accept that he’d always be there for her to lean on.

“It’s a good crowd.” He pulled his brows together when he saw who was standing next to Jeremy Rakes. “You invited Eliza?”

“She must have come with Jeremy.” Ami shrugged. “It’s fine. She—”

Before Ami could finish, Fin hurried over. She gripped her sister’s arm and smiled apologetically at Beck.

“I-Need-a-Man is insisting on cutting the cake. Now.” Fin’s eyes flashed green fire. “We all decided to cut it at five, after Dad makes a brief speech and thanks everyone for coming. There are cupcakes out, so I’m not sure what her problem is, why she’s wanting to rush the cake cutting.”

Beck had a feeling that he knew exactly why the woman was so eager. “Too many people are talking about Ami’s amazing cupcakes.”

Ami rolled her eyes. “I’ll speak with her.” She turned back to Beck. “Catch me later?”

“Count on it.”

Instead of leaving, Ami rose and pressed her mouth against his for a brief, sweet kiss. Then she hurried off to avert another crisis.

To Beck’s surprise, Fin lingered behind and pinned him with her gaze.

“It’s obvious my sister really likes you. Hurt her and you’ll deal with me.” The bright smile she flashed him was at odds with the warning glint in her eyes. “Chat later.”

Beck grinned and, shaking his head at the sisters Bloom, he strolled across the room to get some punch.

Despite Anita’s obvious desire to get her way and run the show, Ami had convinced the woman to back off on cutting the cake. The outcome of that discussion had been up in the air until her father had strolled up and mentioned how nice it was seeing two of his favorite women working together.

The piranha had smiled and agreed to wait. Though her father tended to prefer smaller, more intimate affairs, he appeared to be enjoying the afternoon’s festivities. Part of his ease had to be because this was a party made up entirely of friends.

Except for Eliza.

Ami had kept tabs on the executive director of the Cherries since Beck had pointed her out. She’d watched Jeremy leave Eliza to saunter over to the table holding the punch and the wine, close enough for Fin to get a good look at him but not approaching her directly.

Fin, who’d been laughing with Clay Chapin, seemed oblivious to everyone else in the room, including Jeremy. That total concentration had always been part of Fin’s charm; when she spoke to you, she focused solely on you, as if you were the most important person in her world.

Jeremy eventually returned to Eliza’s side but appeared unable to keep his gaze off Fin. As if feeling the contact, Fin would shift and glance around before returning to whatever conversation she was having at the time.

Ami breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Lindsay approach Eliza. But Lindsay only paused briefly and shook her head when Eliza’s hand closed around her arm. The floral designer pointed toward where Fin stood motioning to her.

Lindsay had barely left when the couple headed in Ami’s direction, Jeremy with an easy smile and loping gait, Eliza with lips puckered and her back ramrod straight.

Seconds before the couple reached her, Fin rushed to Ami, her gaze fully riveted on her sister.

“Lindsay promised to keep her mother calm,” her sister announced, her pretty face flushed, “but I swear to God, if I-Need-a-Man gives me one more order, I’m going to—”

Abruptly, Fin stopped midrant. She smiled brightly at Jeremy and Eliza. “Oh, hello.”

Though Eliza was stunning in a wrap dress of off-white with boots the same shade of blue as the threads in the dress, Jeremy couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Fin.

After a few tortured seconds of strained conversation about the “delicious” cupcakes and cookies, Fin placed a hand on Ami’s arm. “I was just telling Marigold a moment ago that I’m glad I didn’t stay in Good Hope. Ami is such a fabulous baker that I’d be eating sweets all the time. By now, I’d probably weigh a ton and you’d be rolling me out the door.”

Jeremy’s approving gaze lingered on her lithe figure. “You’re even more beautiful than you were in high school.”

“Have you had your eyes checked lately, Mr. Rakes?” Fin teased even as she preened, obviously pleased by the compliment.

His gaze locked with Fin’s and that spark, that curious energy that surged whenever they were together, returned. “Just keeping it real, Finley.”

Way back when, Finley had been his pet name for her. Only he had been allowed to use it.

Because she felt as if she were intruding on a private moment, Ami shifted her gaze. One look at Eliza told her she wasn’t the only one aware of the connection.

Ami knew she needed to defuse the situation immediately. “Eliza, isn’t it nice that Jeremy and Fin have remained friends?”

Eliza sneered. “I’m sick of the way everyone in this town thinks the Bloom sisters are perfect.”

Confused by the vehemence and the comment, Ami blinked, then spoke lightly. “No one is perfect. Not my sisters.” She added a little laugh. “Certainly not me.”

“You’re right about that.”

The coldness that filled Eliza’s almond-shaped eyes had Ami bracing for impact.

“I wonder what everyone here would say if they knew you were drunk when you wrecked that car and nearly killed Lindsay.”

C
hapter
T
wenty-
F
our

Eliza, former drama club president, had a voice that carried to the back row. It didn’t fail her now. The accusation filled the room and conversation immediately halted.

Everyone turned to stare.

Eliza smirked, then once again projected her voice to the rafters. “I bet that wasn’t the first time Ami drove after drinking, either. It was just the first time she hurt someone. Too bad it was her friend and not herself.”

“Stop it.” Lindsay quickly moved forward through the crowd. “I’ve never blamed Ami. That deer could have walked out in front of any car.”

“You nearly died.” Eliza’s voice shook. “You were in a coma. I didn’t know whether you were going to make it. Even when you regained consciousness, you had to fight to walk again. It broke my heart to see you struggle like that. And your face . . .”

A sudden sheen of tears appeared in Eliza’s eyes, but the Cherries’ executive director quickly blinked them back.

“The accident wasn’t Ami’s fault,” Lindsay insisted.

“Why does she ride her bike and walk everywhere unless she knows she’s guilty?” Eliza shifted her venomous gaze to Ami. “Lindsay may have forgiven you. I never will.”

Ami’s heart pounded so hard she felt lightheaded. She glanced around and caught Beck’s eye from across the room. The expression on his face was everything she feared. The shock and the disbelief. Next would come the condemnation. She couldn’t bear to see that in his eyes. She looked away.

“Eliza Shaw. I’m asking you to leave my home.” Ami’s father spoke in the firm, no-nonsense tone he’d successfully used to control unruly students for thirty-five years.

Anita stood beside him, a look of horror on her face. She leveled a glance at Ami. If looks could kill, Ami would be six feet under. “You were
drunk
?”

Her voice cracked with outrage.

Ami supposed she could deny it. But the secret had become a burden she no longer wished to carry. She gave a jerky nod. Then, because Anita’s piercing gaze seemed to demand more, Ami took a shaky breath and found her voice.

“I had a wine cooler at the fish boil.” Ami paused and swallowed hard. “There was also punch there—”

“Which everyone knew had been spiked with grain alcohol,” Eliza interrupted. “Don’t bother denying you drank that, too, because I saw you. I’ve only kept quiet all these years because Lindsay made me promise. But no more. Everyone needs to know what you’re really like.”

“I had a few sips of the punch. I was told there was some champagne in it, but it was really strong, so I didn’t have much. But what I did have may have been enough to slow my reflexes.” Ami took a deep breath and met Anita’s eyes. “I’m very sorry your daughter was hurt.”

“Not simply hurt,
scarred
for life.” Anita stepped forward, dark eyes flashing, index finger jabbing the air. “Because of you.”

Her finger would have made contact if Steve hadn’t taken Anita’s arm and pulled her back.

Without missing a beat, the woman whirled to face her daughter. “Why didn’t you tell me she was drunk? She should have been charged, made to pay. I—”

“I’d had a wine cooler, too, Mom. And some punch. All the kids were drinking that night.” Lindsay turned to Eliza. “And Ami wasn’t drunk. She didn’t like the spiked punch any more than I did. It tasted foul. At the most she had two or three sips.”

Eliza lifted her chin, opened her mouth, then shut it.

An awkward silence descended over the room.

Ami’s heart pounded so hard it made her dizzy. She knew she should probably say something more, but her brain seemed incapable of forming the words.

“It’s time to cut the cake.” Prim stepped forward, a serene look on her face. Being the mother of twins had obviously taught her how to control her emotions in a crisis. “Anita, will you do the honors?”

Anita took the glass of wine from Steve’s hands and downed the contents. After inhaling deeply and releasing her breath several times, she appeared calmer. She even managed to force a faux smile. “Of course.”

Steve cast Anita a wary glance as she bustled off.

“We’ve got plenty of food and drink, and the cake is being cut,” Steve Bloom announced in a loud voice filled with strain. He cleared his throat. “Knowing Anita, it will taste every bit as good as it looks. Which means it will go fast. You better get in line now if you want a piece.”

Fin now flanked one of Ami’s sides and Marigold flanked the other. The three sisters watched Primrose take Eliza’s arm, obviously suggesting once again that it was time for her to leave.

Eliza stared unblinking at Ami for several seconds before jerking her arm from Prim’s grasp and striding out the door.

Gathering her courage, Ami searched the room for Beck.

He was gone.

A murmur rippled through those who’d remained in the living room.

“Everyone.” Prim clapped her hands. “Final warning. Grab yourself a piece of cake before I turn my boys loose on it.”

Nervous laughter rippled through the crowd as the rest of the guests moved to join the line snaking around the cake table. On their way, many stopped to offer Ami a supportive word.

Even as her heart was breaking, she forced a smile. This was her father’s celebration and she certainly didn’t want to add to the drama by running off, weeping. She would stay strong and get through the evening.

Ami had to admit that when she saw Katie Ruth—gossip columnist to the Good Hope community—headed in her direction, she briefly considered bolting.

But as her high school classmate drew close, Ami saw only sympathy in the woman’s gaze.

Katie Ruth placed a hand on Ami’s arm and looked her straight in the eye. “I want you to know I won’t be mentioning anything Eliza said in my column.”

“Driving after drinking was stupid.”

“Yes, it is,” Katie Ruth agreed. “But you were young and didn’t realize the spiked punch was that strong.”

Ami lifted her chin. “That’s no excuse.”

The former high school cheerleader’s gaze softened. “Ami, you ran into a bad batch of spiked punch and had a deer run in front of your car.”

Ami thought of the woman who’d killed Beck’s wife and baby. While not legally drunk, she’d been impaired. It was so easy to think an accident would never happen to you. Ami and Nina Holbrook knew differently.

“You often have people write guest columns.” Ami spoke slowly as an idea began to form.

Clearly puzzled by the shift in the conversation, Katie Ruth pulled her brows together. “Now and then.”

“I’d like to do a small piece. Is there room tomorrow?”

Katie Ruth grimaced. “Tomorrow is the day I list all the events happening in the area on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, so the issue is pretty full.”

“Please.”

The pretty blond’s gaze searched Ami’s face. “If you keep it short and have it to me by eight a.m., I’ll fit it in.”

Ami took Katie Ruth’s hand and gave it a heartfelt squeeze. “Thank you.”

The
Open Door
editor shifted from one foot to the other. “Is everything okay between you and Beck? I saw him leave.”

“We’re good.” Actually, Ami had no idea what Beck was thinking
or
feeling. While she was glad to have no more secrets between them, the fact that he’d walked out seemed an ominous sign.

But she couldn’t think of Beck now. She had a party to get through first.

Her lips lifted in a humorless smile as she recalled Marigold’s comment about not knowing what was around a curve until you made the turn.

Well, Ami had made the turn and found herself on an emotional roller coaster ride. There had been horror, then a surprising sense of relief when her long-held secret had been revealed. And when she’d confessed and taken full responsibility for her actions, the heavy weight of shame and guilt she’d carried for over a decade had lifted from her shoulders.

While Ami was wise enough to know she couldn’t undo the past, she would fully embrace the gift of Lindsay’s forgiveness and move on, knowing she was strong enough now to face anything.

Except a life without the man she loved.

Beck parked his vehicle in the carriage house but couldn’t make himself go inside the house that held so many memories of Ami. Not when his thoughts of her were in such turmoil.

He locked the carriage house and started walking. Ten minutes later he stood outside the Flying Crane. Music spilled from the bar out onto the street and lights from the empty outdoor seating area illuminated the bay.

Squaring his shoulders, Beck shoved open the door and stepped inside. The music quickly became a pulsing beat in his head.

This was a mistake.
How could he even think when surrounded by such noise? Even as he was tempted to leave, he made his way to the curved mahogany bar and ordered a beer.

Right now,
not
thinking sounded pretty darn good.

“Beck.” Tucking an empty drink tray under her arm, a petite brunette with wavy hair and big brown eyes hurried up to him.

The woman, dressed in the familiar T-shirt and short skirt uniform of the Flying Crane, looked familiar. It took him only a second to place her.

“Izzie Deshler,” he said, recognizing the talented painter who’d done such a great job on his walls. “I thought you’d be painting murals, not serving drinks.”

“Have to pay the bills.” She lifted a thin shoulder in a semblance of a shrug. Her gaze searched his face. “Is everything okay?”

For her to ask, Beck figured he must look as bad as he felt. He gestured to the seat beside him. “I’ve been better.”

“I hear ya.” She glanced at the bartender, signaled she was taking a ten-minute break, then confiscated the empty stool beside him. “Holidays can be difficult.”

Before she could say more, the bartender, a burly young man with a shaved head and a sleeve of tattoos on one arm, placed a beer in front of Beck and a glass of water in front of Izzie.

“Are you staying in town for the holidays?” she asked when the silence lengthened.

“I am.” He took a long drink of the beer he didn’t really want. “How about you?”

“No time—or money—to go anywhere.” She swiped the condensation off the side of her glass with a long, artistic finger. “My only day off this week is Christmas. That’s only because the bar, as well as the rest of the businesses in town, is closed that day.”

“If you’re looking for companionship and food on Christmas, stop by the café.” Beck swiveled on the stool to face her. “I’m keeping Muddy Boots open. We’ll be serving a free Christmas meal for anyone without a place to go on the holiday.”

A light flared in Izzie’s gold-brown eyes. “That’s nice of you.”

“I’m a nice guy,” Beck joked, then immediately sobered, thinking how he’d walked out on Ami at the party. He shoved the thought aside and refocused on Izzie. “If you come, you better be prepared. When people find out you’re the artist who did the mural and the wall, you’ll be fielding all sorts of questions.”

She sipped her water. “Positive? Or negative?”

“All positive.” Beck realized suddenly he should have been passing along the nice things customers had said about her work. And he should have made use of the stack of business cards she’d given him.

After all, neighbors helping neighbors was the Good Hope way.

“Max Brody—my accountant—has an office that definitely needs help from someone with your flair.” Beck grimaced, thinking of Max’s boring white walls. “He’ll be calling you after Christmas.”

Just because Beck hadn’t made any referrals before didn’t mean he couldn’t now. After all, it was never too late to do the right thing.

“Thanks. I appreciate any business you can send my way.” Izzie gestured to some strangers sitting at a four-top, enjoying a heaping plate of nachos. “I’m always telling out-of-towners to check out Muddy Boots.”

Beck stayed until her break was over. He used the time to collect his thoughts, to make sense of what he’d discovered this evening.

About Ami.

About himself.

She’d kept the fact that she’d been drinking before her accident from him. Why had she been so reticent to share that part of her history?