It Really IS a Wonderful Life: The Snowflake Falls but Hearts in Love Keep a Home Warm All Year Long (21 page)

“Why would Jamey do that?”

Sherrie leaned forward. “Do I have to spell it out for you? Mr. Sullivan is in love with you. I think it’s too bad you don’t feel the same way.”

Dorie exploded into sobs. “I do, Sherrie.”

“Why did you let him go?”

Exactly!
She’d played the martyr and lost.

***

Dorie packed up what few items she’d move to her new office, called the point of sale tech, and said a final farewell to Sherrie. With nothing else left to do, she went home. Since she had a whole two hours before she had to pick up the kids, she decided now might be a good time to  decorate.

The bulky cardboard box clunked as she pushed, pulled, and yanked it down the steps. The last time she’d used these decorations, Emma was a baby and Devon had come home on leave. Tomorrow she’d shop for new ornaments and spend time baking Christmas cookies. “Lord, help me make this holiday special.” Dorie slipped in a Christmas CD to help her get in the mood, then set up the artificial tree, shaped the bent limbs, put on the lights, placed ornaments onto the tree’s waiting arms, and crowned the top with a fabric angel. She took another swig of coffee and savored her work for a few minutes before leaving to pick up Josh and Emma.

She put on her coat and headed toward the door before she remembered Boomer. He slept soundly under the tree. He lifted his head up as if waiting for the banishment into the cellar. She didn’t have the heart. “Behave.”

He yipped, then put his head back down on his paws.

***

“Awesome!” Josh and Emma ran toward the tree. Boomer wagged his tail in sync with their excitement. After a few searches for their personal ornaments, Josh plopped on the floor and turned on the television. “What’s for supper, Mom?”

Dorie’s mother planned her monthly menus with the same intensity as Daddy mapped vacations. Where was the fun in that? She opened the refrigerator and waited for something to jump out and say, “Cook me.” Since nothing did, she resorted to an alternate plan. “Who’s up for Chinese?”

Josh whooped through the living room. “Me.”

“Me too,” Emma said.

“Me three. Boomer, this time to the cellar.”

Dorie pulled at his collar and his head drooped.

Josh put both arms around him. “Can’t he come with us?”

“It’ll be too cold in the car.” She stared at Boomer. “Well, he does like napping under the tree, and he behaved himself very well while I went to get you. Guess we could let him try it again.”

Emma held up Mr. Bear, and a piece of stuffing fell from the rip in his leg. “What about Mr. Bear?”

Dorie sighed. “Okay, Mr. Bear can come.” She turned back around to Boomer, lifted his chin, and rubbed her face against his silky fur. “Will you be a good dog while we’re in the restaurant?” Boomer yipped, then curled up into a ball.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

***

The Peking Buffet bustled for a Thursday evening. Emma stopped to examine the fish tank and pointed out each variety to Mr. Bear.

“Oh, man. Do we have to do this every time she comes in here?” Josh said. “I’m hungry.”

“I’ll try to hurry her up. Come on, Emma. We can show the fish to Mr. Bear later.”

“’Kay.”

Dorie glanced toward the buffet, surprised to see Susan and Gabe holding hands as they approached the displays.

Maybe they won’t notice
. Dorie turned Emma around and headed toward an empty booth.

“Dorie! Hi.” Susan rushed up, the bling so big it would double as a lantern.

“Congratulations. My, that’s gorgeous!”

“I know it’s sudden, but Gabe and I have known each other for a lifetime.” Susan whispered something to Gabe, then turned back toward Dorie. “Why don’t you and the kids join us?”

Before Dorie could politely refuse, Emma took Susan’s hand and Josh followed, leaving Gabe and Dorie to trail behind.

“I have to thank you for dumping me, Dorie,” he said. “If you hadn’t, I’d have missed falling in love with Susan.”

“Appears everything worked out for the best.”

Best for Gabe, Susan, JJ, and Jamey. But didn’t Dorie Fitzgerald deserve happiness too?

“I’ve come to realize that God often places the best things in plain sight—like Susan and me?” Gabe said.

Dorie gave him a quick hug. “I’m happy for you both.”

Dorie was pleased to see Gillian at Gabe and Susan’s table. After greetings, the group made their way to the buffets. When they returned to the table, Dorie sat next to Gillian. “So, there’ll be a wedding soon?”

“In April,” Susan said. “May I have Emma as flower girl?”

No, you may not.
“I’ll think about it and let you know.”

“That would be great, Dorie,” Gabe said. “My nephew’s going to be the ring bearer. He’s about Emma’s age, so they’ll look cute together. Jamey agreed to be my best man.”

Jamey
.

Regret caught in Dorie’s throat. Everyone else had moved on with their lives while hers had become a sentence without a period. “How’s Jamey doing?”

Gillian wiped duck sauce from her lips. “Quite well. The play is a huge success.” She paused. “How do you like working for Branson Harwood?”

“I’m reserving judgment for now.”

Gabe frowned. “I don’t blame Jamey for wanting to give this Broadway thing a shot, but it’s too bad he sold Sullivan Enterprises. I hate to think of Harwood getting it all.”

Gillian scribbled on a clean paper napkin. “Jamey asked how you were doing. Here’s his e-mail address in case you’d like to send him a note.”

Not likely. Dorie slipped the napkin into her purse. “Thanks.”

Before Dorie could stop her, Emma stood on her chair and reached across the table for a napkin, perhaps to make her own scribbles, knocking her plate of chicken and broccoli onto Mr. Bear’s lap. She heaved a tearful sigh. “Mommy, Mr. Bear is all gooky.”

“It’s all right, Emma.” Dorie took her into a compassionate hug, and soon her sighs ebbed. “Let’s go get you and Mr. Bear cleaned up. Okay?”

“’Kay.”

Susan put down her napkin. “I’ll help.” Once in the ladies’ room, she ripped off a handful of paper towels, then dabbed Emma’s drenched tee. “You know, Dorie, you did the right thing by both Gabe and Jamey. I hope you believe that.”

How could she? Susan would marry Gabe, Jamey would be a Broadway star, and what did Dorie have? A broccoli-lapped teddy bear and a hated office anyone else would die for.

***

Emma and Josh fell asleep nearly as soon as their heads hit the pillows. Boomer paced the upstairs hall and finally opted for Emma’s room. He nudged Mr. Bear to the floor and curled into a ball at the foot of Emma’s bed. She’d start giving Boomer more freedom, not imprison him in the cellar quite so much.

Once downstairs, Dorie picked up the paper and kicked up the recliner. Her second article on the Midville Players stared back at her. She should save it for Josh’s scrapbook. She reached into her purse for the child’s scissors she kept for emergencies.

She pulled out Gillian’s napkin with Jamey’s e-mail address. Should she send him a note? Congratulations were in order and Dorie had once valued his friendship. Why completely shut him out of her life?

She drummed her fingers, forming a message in her mind. Finally, she keyed in her thoughts.

Congratulations on landing the role. I wish you all the best.

Too cold.
Better to soften it a little.

I’m sorry things ended the way they did. Dorie.

She hit
send
.

Chapter Thirty-two

Dorie managed to guzzle a few gulps of coffee between breakfast and running through the house searching for mittens, while flashes of last night’s dinner with Gabe and Susan ran through her mind. “Lord, help me be happy for them, as well as JJ and Natasha.”

Josh tapped her on the shoulder. “Mom, don’t forget I’m supposed to bring cookies for the class party today.”

Giving up the quest for Emma’s mittens, she loaded the kids into the car and made a quick stop at the market, where she picked up new mittens for Emma and boxed cookies for Josh’s party. The store’s coffee dispenser caught her gaze as she headed for the checkout, but with her propensity for spills, she might ruin her new blazer.

Caffeine-deprived, she dropped off Josh and Emma and arrived for work ten minutes early. The thought of going all day without a second cup held no appeal. Nor did she have any inkling as to Hardwood’s rules regarding coffee breaks. She should have read the employee handbook his assistant had given her. That would be the first thing on her agenda after the kids went to bed tonight.

At this point, she’d settle for vending coffee. Unfortunately, the building didn’t have a single machine. As she entered her office from the exterior hall, Branson stood in their adjoining doorway, carrying a tray, the aroma unmistakably Starbuck’s mocha latte.

As she reached for her coffee, she noticed the bags under Branson’s eyes. He wore the same suit as yesterday, wrinkled as if he’d slept in it. His phone rang, “Excuse me,” he said as he strode into his office, leaving the door ajar. For a man who paid such close attention to detail, why couldn’t he remember to shut the door? She didn’t want to eavesdrop, but Branson’s baritone vibrato carried clearly from his office to hers. “Constance? Why are you calling me here?”

He slammed the door between the two offices. Were the rumors true?

Pray for Branson. Pray for his family. He’s lost his way. He is still my child, and I love him.

As Dorie breathed a prayer for her boss, she powered up her desktop, then inserted the flash drive from her office at Bargains Galore. At the least, she’d pretend to be busy until the point of sale tech arrived this afternoon.

Branson knocked once before he reopened the door. “I’m sorry. I have this thing about closed doors. I’m a tad claustrophobic—I’m a Gulf War vet. Will it bother you if I leave this adjoining door open?”

Get over yourself, Dorie. See? This door thing has nothing to do with you. Simply a phobia
. “No problem.”

“I’m sorry you overheard my conversation with Constance. It’s not what you think.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

Branson loosened his tie. “I love my wife. I never technically cheated on her. Constance and I were … inappropriately involved. It’s over now. She and I decided to end things before we did something we’d both regret. My wife kicked me out of the house last night. She doesn’t believe we ended things and that nothing happened between Constance and me.”

“I’m not certain I should hear this.”

Branson slumped into the couch. “My father said you’re a Christian. Do you think you could say a prayer for my family? I don’t want to lose them.”

“Are you a Christian?”

“No. My father is, and it changed him. He started going to church after Jamey Sullivan saved his life. I want to believe, but how could God love someone like me? If I listed my sins, it’d make
War and Peace
look like a short story.”

How could she help him through his crisis of faith when she didn’t understand her own?
I need help here, Lord. I don’t know what to say to this man.

“Mr. Harwood, I’m not very knowledgeable about the Bible, but I believe God takes us where we are, then does the cleaning up part.”

“Dad explained the whole salvation thing to me lots of times. Seems like there has to be a catch.”

“Catch?”

“I’m used to contracts and I’m usually the one setting the terms. Now my whole life is out of control. I can’t stand this helpless feeling.”

“Could it be that, like a good businessman, you want to know your options?”

Branson laughed. “Right you are.”

“What I know about religion wouldn’t fill a thimble. However, faith isn’t knowledge. It’s taking what God offers and claiming it as truth.”

“Sounds like you’ve had your doubts too.”

“Plenty.”

Should she reveal so much? Wouldn’t that give Branson an unfair advantage? She still didn’t trust him.

Be truthful.

Okay, Lord.

She plunged ahead. “I think God gives wisdom, strength, and courage as the day requires. When my husband died, I couldn’t sense God anywhere. Later, I realized I’d built my beliefs on hearsay, not on personal experience. Now that I’ve finally let God in, the confusion is seeping out.”

Branson leaned forward. “Then maybe there’s hope for me.”

And me too?

Chapter Thirty-three

Was it her earlier conversation with Branson or opening night jitters that made her stomach flip-flop? Dorie put on her coat as Mom came in from the kitchen.

“Emma keeps asking whether it’s time to go see your play yet.”

Dorie helped Emma with her coat. “You’re going to Grandma and Grandpa’s house first before you come see the play.”

“Mr. Bear wants to stay home tonight. He’s in my room taking a nap.”

It’s hard to let go of things we love, isn’t it, Emma?
“That’s a good idea. I’ll see you after the play. Okay?”

“’Kay.” Emma took her grandmother’s outstretched hand, bravely leaving her greatest love behind.

“Ready!” Josh jumped the last five steps, pitched forward, and tumbled into the living room.

Dorie caught her breath, glad to hear him laugh. Another catastrophe averted. “I’ve told you a dozen times today not to jump from the steps. It’s dangerous. I don’t want you to learn the hard way.”

“What’s the hard way, Mom?”

“Breaking a leg.”

“Oh, man.”

Patience leaped out the window. She grabbed Josh’s arm and stooped to meet him eye to eye. “Stop jumping off the steps.”

“OKAY!”

“And don’t give me any more lip, or there’s no television tomorrow.”

“Sorry.”

“I know you’re excited about tonight. I am too, but that’s no excuse for bad behavior.” Dorie’s stomach took up residence in her throat. “Don’t be nervous, sweetie. You’re going to do great. You know your lines perfectly. Everybody feels nervous on opening night.”

Josh pulled his coat from the hanger as if sleep walking. “Mom, is Jamey nervous on Broad Street?”