Once Upon a Winter's Heart (11 page)

Lane nodded, looking at his nearly empty wine cup. “Poppi always saw the glass half full…even when it looked like this.” He finished his wine and stood. “I guess we better get this place cleaned up so you can go home, Emma.”

She didn't want to go home. However, she knew she couldn't say that. Especially after her conversation with Anne yesterday. And the memory of those red roses and Anne saying how much Tristan loved Lane and how Anne expected their relationship to rise to the next level soon…perhaps by Valentine's Day. “Yes.” Emma stood and continued gathering things up, wiping down the table, and soon she was turning off lights and they went outside and she locked the door.

“No ice escapades tonight,” Lane said a bit sadly.

She peered up at the sky. “It's clear as can be.”

He looked up too.
“
When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine, that's amore!
”
She laughed to hear the words to the old Dean Martin song and joining with him, she sang as he walked her to her car. “Goodnight, Emma,” he said warmly.

As she tried to say goodnight, a lump filled her throat as if she were about to break into tears, which seemed totally silly. And so she simply waved and got into her car.

The next morning,
Emma's dad showed up at eleven for what he said was the final cooking lesson, although Nona disagreed. “Tomorrow's the big night,” he told Emma as the three of them stood in the kitchen, watching as he carefully cut out raviolis. He was trying to increase his repertoire.

“Big night for what?” Emma asked.

“He's going to kidnap your mother from work tomorrow,” Nona explained.

“And I'll take her home with me and cook spaghetti and meatballs,” he told Emma. “Do you think it'll work?”

She suddenly remembered what Lane had said at the men's book group. “I think it could work, Dad. After all, every woman has a phantom in her closet.”

“
What
?” Rob and Nona said simultaneously.

She laughed. “Everyone wants to be loved fully and completely, and I'm sure that's all Mom wants too.”

“How better to love than with spaghetti and meatballs,” Nona concluded. “As long as you make it with good Italian sausage and ground veal and minced garlic and sweet onions.” She smacked her lips. “And sun-dried tomatoes and virgin olive oil and red wine and lots of fresh basil and oregano.”

“Sorry I can't stick around and sample your cooking lessons today,” Emma said, “but I am needed at the bookstore.”

As she walked to town she wished she'd taken the time to talk to her dad about the situation with Lane…and Anne's recent heart-to-heart. But she didn't really want to have that conversation in front of Nona, because she didn't want her to feel stressed that there was any trouble between the two sisters. Nona used to warn them whenever they would bicker as girls that “bad blood between sisters was the worst thing that could happen to a family.” Emma didn't want Nona worrying about that now.

The bookstore was fairly quiet in the afternoon, but with Virginia gone again, spending a couple hours with her ailing mother-in-law, Cindy and Emma managed to stay busy enough. And when Tristan showed up after school, Emma asked him if had homework, and he claimed that he didn't. “So have you done your valentines to give out at school yet? Did your teacher give you a class list?”

“Yeah…but that's girl stuff,” he proclaimed.

“Really?
”
She peered curiously down at him. “So you don't like it when you get valentines? You'd rather no one gave you any?”

“Well…” His brow creased.

“Because if you don't give anyone a valentine, it seems selfish to expect them to give you any. But it might be embarrassing to be the only kid in your class who doesn't get a single valentine next Tuesday.”

Now his eyes got wider. “Well, I guess maybe I should give out valentines too,” he admitted.

“And we did have a nice selection over there. Although a lot of kids from your school have been buying them lately, so it might be getting limited.” She pointed to the table. “Why don't you pick some out and you can sit down and work on them in the lounge. Need some cocoa to go with the job?”

He nodded eagerly, hurrying over to peruse the various boxes and packets of cards. And before long, he was hard at work, with his list spread out in front of them, carefully writing them out.

At five o'clock, she and Tristan went home and, thanks to her dad's cooking lesson that morning, they had leftover raviolis for dinner. Naturally, Saundra assumed that Nona and Emma had made them earlier, and no one said anything different. Still, Emma couldn't help but be amused to think that her mother would be kidnapped to her own home tomorrow night…and to her husband's cooking. Emma had been praying that it would go well. Not just because she and Nona were weary of having Saundra living here, but because she knew her parents belonged together. She just wished they knew it too.

“Time to go home,” she told Tristan after they finished cleaning up the dinner dishes. “Gather up your stuff.” Soon they were on their way, and she could tell by how quiet he was that Tristan was either tired or worried.

“You okay?” she finally asked as they walked up to the steps to the condo.

“Yeah…” He said a bit sadly.

“Really? You don't sound okay to me.” She waited as he fumbled to find his key in his backpack and then unlock and open the door. “You sound like something is bothering you,” she said as they went inside.

He shrugged, dumping his backpack and then his jacket onto the floor.

She kneeled down and looked into his face. “Did I do something to offend you?” she asked with concern.

He shook his head. “No. It's not you, Aunt Emma.”

“What is it?”

“I…uh…I miss my dad.”

“Oh.” She nodded, slowly standing. Then, placing a hand on his shoulder, she walked him to the living room. “Want to talk about it?” She sat down on the sectional and he sat down beside her, fidgeting with a hole in the knee of his jeans.

“Dad called me a couple days ago,” he began.

“Uh-huh?”

“He just wanted to talk and stuff.”

“What do you guys talk about?”

“He asks me about school and playing basketball. Just regular stuff.”

“Do you enjoy talking to him?”

“Yeah.” He nodded eagerly.

“But it makes you miss him?”

He let out a long sigh. “Mom doesn't like it when he calls. She got mad at him last time.”

“Why did she get mad at him?”

“For talking too long.”

“Oh…”

“She said from now on we can only talk for ten minutes.”

“Oh…” Emma grimaced.

“And that makes me miss him even more.”

“Do you want to talk to him right now?” Emma asked.

“Yeah!” he said hopefully.

She pulled her cell phone from her purse. “You know his number?”

“Sure.”

“Well, go for it. I won't tell if you don't tell.” She handed him the phone. “But you have to promise to end the conversation by your bedtime, okay?”

“Okay!” He was already dialing her phone.

Emma knew she was probably overstepping one of Anne's boundaries, but she didn't care. After all, Anne had entrusted Tristan to her care, hadn't she? She hadn't given any real instructions. What was wrong with Tristan speaking to his dad?

Emma picked up a slick fashion magazine and leaned back into the sectional, absently flipping through it until she got tired of seeing one expensive ad after another—all seemed to be for diamonds or chocolate or vodka or beauty products. She looked at the front to see it was a February edition. Or course, the magazine was capitalizing on Valentine's Day. She set the magazine down, listening to the lilting sound of Tristan's voice as he chatted with his dad. He was telling him about how Aunt Emma made him do his valentines today. But she could tell that he wasn't really mad about it.

Finally, she realized that it really was close to his bedtime and he hadn't even put on his pajamas or brushed his teeth. She went into his room and pointed to her watch. “Sorry, Trist, but time's up.”

“I gotta go now, Dad. Yeah, that's Aunt Emma. Wanna talk to her?” He told his dad goodnight and that he loved him then handed the phone back to Emma.

“Hey, Gerard,” she said in a friendly tone. “How are you doing?”

“Great, thanks. The job is really working out. It won't be long until I can get a transfer.”

“Really? Do you think you could move back here?”

“I hope so. I won't know until June.”

“Oh, Gerard, that would be wonderful.”

“I'm glad you think so. I wish your sister felt the same.”

“Oh…well, Tristan would sure be glad to know this. Have you told him?”

“I hate getting his hopes up. He's already counting the days until spring break.”

“I know. That's so cool you're taking him to Disney World.”

“I wish Anne would come with him. I don't really like the idea of him flying all that way alone. And I told her that there'd be no strings attached. She could stay in a hotel and do her own thing and enjoy some Florida sunshine while Tristan stays with me.”

“That sounds like a great offer. Anne loves the sun.”

“Yeah…but she refuses to come.”

“I know.”

“Any chance you could talk her into thinking about it?”

“I doubt it.” She walked through the kitchen, running her hand over the sleek cold granite countertop.

“So you think she's really finished with me then?”

“I don't know, Gerard. To be honest, I don't really get it.”

“No…I don't expect you do. Sorry, Emma, I shouldn't trouble you with my problems.”

“That's okay, really. If I could do anything to help, I would.”

“And if you had any suggestions, you'd let me know?”

“Absolutely.”

“The roses obviously didn't work.”

“Roses?” She looked at the dining room table, staring at the red roses, which were starting to wilt.

“Yeah. Dumb idea. I sent her two dozen red roses on the anniversary of our first date back in high school. She never even acknowledged them. Probably threw them in the trash. I almost asked Tristan, but didn't want to make him feel bad.”

“Actually, she kept the roses, Gerard.”

“She did?” His voice brightened.

“Yeah…they're on her dining room table right now.”

“Hmm…maybe there's hope.”

“I don't know, Gerard. But if it's any consolation, I've been praying for you two to get back together. I know that's what Tristan wants too.”

“Thanks, Emma. You're a rock. And thanks for letting Tristan call me on your phone too. I know that Anne has limited our calls to ten minutes. The judge wouldn't agree with that, but again…I don't want to rock her boat.”

“I told Tristan I wouldn't mention this call to his mom.”

“I get ya. Thanks.”

They said goodbye, and Emma went over to the roses that had supposedly been from Lane. Oh, maybe Anne hadn't said as much, but she had certainly insinuated it. And, seeing the dark red petals on the table, she no longer felt guilty for overstepping any boundaries with her sister. Not when it came to Lane Forester anyway.

Maybe this was childishness on her part, or maybe she was stooping down to Anne's level, but Emma was fed up. Of course, she was well aware that her baby sister had always been a master of manipulation. Whether it was by batting those big blue eyes or stomping her little size six feet, Anne knew how to get what she wanted. She'd been doing it all her life. And maybe it was about time Emma put a stop to allowing her little sister to work her.

The next afternoon Lane came down into the bookstore. At first Emma thought he was just passing through, but then she noticed he appeared to be looking for something on the Valentine's Day table.

“Can I help you?” she asked cheerfully.

“Oh, Emma, I didn't see you there.” He set down a leather-bound gift edition of
Pride and Prejudice
and smiled at her.

“Looking for a valentine for someone?” she asked. Suddenly she wondered if he was picking out something for her sister. And if he was, wouldn't she feel foolish for asking to help? Perhaps she should just leave.

“As a matter of fact, I am.” He looked directly into her eyes.

“Well, as you can see, we have an assortment of gift suggestions.” She knew her voice sounded overly formal and businesslike, but she couldn't help herself.

“I know. That's why I came here. I need something really special.”

“Well, a good book and a good box of chocolates can be pretty special.”

“These leather-bound Austen books are very nice.” He picked up
Emma
. “Particularly this title.”

She laughed nervously. “Yes, well, that's an exceptional Austen book. Many think it was her best.”

He nodded. “I'd be inclined to agree.”

“You've read it?”

“Sure. Poppi encouraged me to sample Jane Austen along with all the other classics.”

“My mother loves Jane Austen,” she confided. “Anne and I were both named after Austen characters.”

He nodded. “Poppi mentioned that to me once.” He tucked the book under his arm. “And which chocolates go best with this particular title?”

She frowned down at the chocolates. “I don't know. It depends on who you're buying them for. Some people like dark chocolate. Some like light. And some even like white.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not me.”

He chuckled. “Me neither.”

“I think this box looks like a good one.” She pointed to the most expensive box of chocolates. “Although it's mostly dark chocolate and someone like my sister would be disappointed because she hates dark chocolate.”

He picked up the box. “That looks perfect.”

Now Emma felt a small rush of hope going through her.

“I saw the sign on the door saying that you ship Valentine's gifts, but today is the deadline for getting them there in time.”

“That's right.” She nodded, feeling idiotic again. Had she really assumed the book and chocolates were for her? What was wrong with her? “Want me to wrap it and get it ready for shipping?” she asked. “UPS picks up in about an hour.”

“Yes. You get it started while I pick out a card.”

“Certainly,” she said in her formal tone again. “I'll get right to it.” Feeling like a romantic fool, she walked over to the register, where she carefully wrapped the book and chocolates in pink tissue paper, topped by a pretty foil paper with red and pink hearts. She also took the time to put a ribbon around it, carefully curling it. She was just finishing up when Lane came with a card.

“That looks pretty,” he said as she rang up the purchases. “My mom is going to love it.”

“It's for your mom?” she said wistfully. “How sweet.”

He locked eyes with her. “Yeah, I think she'll like it. Especially the book title.”