Once Upon a Winter's Heart (4 page)

“Okay?”
Saundra snapped as she removed her keys from the ignition and opened the door. “Do you think it's
okay
that your father has not said a single word to me today?”

“Well, I—”

“
Okay
that he hasn't even acknowledged that I've left him? Is that supposed to be
okay
?”

“Hey, you're the one who said he wouldn't even notice you were gone, Mom.” Emma suppressed an amused smile. “Looks like you were right.”

“I don't
want
to be right.” Saundra slammed the car door loudly.

“He
knows
you're gone,” Emma reassured her as they went through the mudroom. “He's just waiting until everything is wrapped up today.” She patted her mother's back. “Really, don't you think that's the honorable and mature thing to do?”

Saundra seemed to be considering this as she hung up her coat. “Yes, I suppose you're right.” She opened the door to the big, recently remodeled kitchen. Everything looked noisy and busy as several young people wearing smart black-and-white uniforms scurried back and forth with various dishes and trays in hand.

“Looks like they've got things under control,” Emma observed.

“Looks can be deceiving.” Saundra handed Emma an elegant arrangement of irises and tulips. “Go put these flowers in the dining room for me. And then go make sure the bathrooms look decent. There's no telling how your father left things this morning.” She lowered her voice, whispering in Emma's ear. “He could be planning to sabotage me.”

Emma gave her mother a skeptical look, but saved her response for later. Really, why would her dad sabotage a dinner that was in honor of his own beloved father? She took the bouquet into the dining room, but knowing how picky her mother could be she was unsure of where to set it. After trying it here and there, she finally chose the antique mahogany sideboard. She nestled it behind the shining stacks of dishes and silverware that awaited the guests. Then Emma took a moment to light the white taper candles as well. Shimmering in the silver candlestick holders, they gave the room an old-fashioned elegant feeling that Poppi would've liked…and Nona would appreciate.

Her parents' house was beautiful as usual. Dignified and traditional—pale maple floors throughout, a few well-placed antiques, raw silk drapes, Persian carpets, a cream-colored chenille sofa, and buttery leather chairs. All this with precise spots of elegant color here and there—a handmade vase or embroidered pillow or a piece of modern art. Just enough to infuse life and interest and texture. Pure perfection. And, of course, it had to be perfect because Saundra was an interior designer. She would rather curl up and die than abide in a ho-hum house.

Emma was pleased to see that her dad was not attempting to sabotage his father's memorial dinner. The bathrooms were impeccable. The hand towels looked fresh, and even the toilet paper rolls were full and neatly folded into a triangle—just like a four-star hotel. Emma even checked the large downstairs master suite where her mother sometimes invited guests to toss their coats. The bed was neatly made and everything in its proper place. Her dad might be ignoring his wife, but he was definitely not slacking today.

When she emerged from the bedroom, family and friends were just starting to arrive. Emma took the time to greet them personally, taking coats and things to her parents' room, trying to make everyone feel welcome and at home. And it was pleasant to see people she hadn't spoken with in years, catching up, meeting new spouses and children, hearing their latest news. She kept her personal responses short and calculated, simply stating she was taking a break in her career and sticking around to help her grandmother. Being jobless and homeless at thirty-two felt a bit like failure, and the less they knew about her, the safer she felt.

Emma flitted around, going from guest to guest and helping whenever her mother asked, while also keeping a close eye on Nona, who seemed to be nicely insulated by a couple of older women who were also widows. As Emma refilled the punch bowl, she noticed the man who had captured her attention earlier coming into the house. He was immediately met and greeted by Anne, handing his overcoat to her with a comfortable sort of familiarity. After that, it seemed that Anne was reluctant to let the handsome man out of her sight. She took him around, introducing him to some family members. However, she did not take the time to introduce him to Emma. Trying not to feel snubbed, although this oversight did seem odd, especially if Anne was planning on making him part of the family like their mother had insinuated, Emma decided to take a break from all the noise and chatter by going into the sunroom on the other end of the house.

“Hey, Tristan,” Emma said as she discovered her nephew sitting in the sunroom with a slightly forlorn expression. “What're you doing in here all by yourself?”

“Just thinking…” His young brow furrowed as if something was deeply troubling him.

“About Poppi?”

Tristan nodded with moist-looking dark eyes.

“You miss him?”

He nodded again.

“Me too.” She sat down in the wicker chair next to him, wondering what she might say to make him feel better. “But you do know you'll see him again someday, don't you?”

“Yeah…I know.” He looked down at his hands in his lap.

“And you know that he's still here with us, don't you?”

Tristan looked up with a curious expression. “You mean like a ghost?”

She smiled. “Not really like that.” She reached for his hand, holding it up in the light. “See your hands, Tristan, they remind me of Poppi.”

He stared at his hands. “Really?”

“Yeah. You have those same long fingers.” Now she pointed at his face. “And you have the same coloring as Poppi too. Same deep brown eyes and chestnut hair.”

Tristan frowned. “But Poppi's hair was white.”

“I mean when he was young like you are, Tristan.” She pointed to her own hair. “His hair was a lot like mine—curly too.” She pointed back at him. “And like yours…when he was a young man.”

“Oh…” He nodded like he understood now.

“So looking at you is kind of like seeing Poppi too. I can see him in you.” She smiled. “And that is pretty cool.”

Tristan's lips curled into a smile. “Yeah. That is pretty cool.” Now they tried to think of even more ways they were both like Poppi—everything from loving books and nature walks and Nona's raviolis to feeling shy and socially awkward at times. And Emma realized that her young nephew, who would turn ten in April, really did seem to have some of his great-grandfather's finest qualities…and it was wonderfully reassuring.

Emma and Tristan were laughing
over the time Poppi had surprised Nona by taking her to the airport with the intention of swooping her off to Hawaii for their fiftieth anniversary, only to discover that Nona would have no part in it. “She was scared to death of flying and airplanes,” Emma explained. “Fortunately, Poppi had trip insurance. They went on an ocean cruise instead.”

“Good thing she wasn't scared of boats too,” Tristan said.

“Is this a private party?”

Emma looked up to see Anne's attractive friend standing in the doorway. “No, of course, not,” she told him. “Feel free to join us.” She made a nervous smile—as if he was aware of how she'd been stealthily watching him.

“Thanks…I don't believe we've officially met.”

“Yes…but I think I know who you are,” she confessed.

“I'm Lane Forester. And I know that you're Emma Burcelli.”

“
Aunt
Emma,” Tristan clarified.

“Yes.” Lane sat down on the couch across from them. “Aunt Emma from Seattle. I'm actually surprised our paths haven't crossed before this.”

“Well, I haven't made it home as much as I should've these last couple of years.”

“I know.”

“You know?” She tipped her head to one side.

“Your grandfather mentioned it a time or two…in passing.”

“Oh…” She sighed sadly to think of how she missed being home for last Christmas. “Well, that's going to change now. I'll be staying with Nona for a while…to help out.”

He nodded. “That's good to hear. I was worried for her. She'll be so lost without him.”

“Yes…and she's had some health issues.” She wasn't comfortable with how the conversation seemed to be taking a downward dive—especially after trying to lift Tristan's spirits. “I really liked what you said about Poppi at the memorial service,” she said cheerfully. “It sounded like you knew him pretty well.”

“I felt like I did.”

“Tristan and I were just talking about how much we'll miss him,” she explained. “But I was telling Tristan that Poppi left pieces of himself with us—you know, things we can remember him by.”

“Like my hands.” Tristan held up his hands. “Aunt Emma says they're just like Poppi's.”

Lane nodded. “I think I can see that too.”

“And we have his hair and his eyes,” Tristan continued. “Did you know that Poppi's hair used to be just like mine?”

“I didn't know that. But now that you mention it, I can imagine it.”

“And I'm sure Poppi left some things for you,” Emma told Lane. “Like Hemingway and Dean Martin.”

Lane laughed. “That and a lot more too…I hope.”

“There you are.” Anne came to the entrance of the sunroom now. Positioning herself by the potted palm, she looked sleek and sophisticated in her dark blue satin dress and diamond earrings. She could easily be a guest at a Manhattan cocktail party. Anne shook her finger at Lane. “I was looking all over for you,” she told him. “I thought you'd left here without saying goodbye to me and I was all ready to be vexed with you.”

“I was just getting acquainted with your sister,” he explained. “And we were all reminiscing about your grand­­­­­­­father.”

“Yes. That Poppi—he's going to be missed a lot.” Anne sat down next to Lane on the couch. Gracefully crossing her legs and smiling prettily, she looked so together—from the top of her blonde French twist do down to her elegant black heels. She was such the picture of perfection that Emma suddenly felt awkward and unstylish in her long-sleeved gray knit dress and worn black riding boots. But instead of wilting away like an unwanted wallflower, she decided to stay put and find out more about this Lane Forester. After all, if he was really her future brother-in-law, she owed it to her nephew as well as her sister to check him out.

“So, tell me, what do you do?” Emma asked Lane. “I mean for a living.”

“Lane's the director of KidsPlay,” Anne told her. “He organizes all the extracurricular sports in town. From preschool to middle school, he oversees everything from baseball to soccer to basketball.” She pointed at Tristan now. “Speaking of basketball, Monica's boys were looking for you. They wanted to shoot hoops.”

“Are they already outside?” Tristan asked eagerly.

Anne nodded. “Get your coat, young man.”

Tristan took off like a shot and Anne turned back to Lane, tapping her hand on his knee in a proprietary sort of way. “This guy is also heading up the Big Brothers Big Sisters program in town.” Her smile seemed laced with pride, as if she were partially responsible for Lane's achievements. And maybe she was.

“We just started the BBBS foundation a year ago,” Lane told Emma. “Big Brothers Big Sisters seemed like it could have such a natural link with KidsPlay. I'd noticed there were a lot of young kids in need of some mentoring. I just do what I can to get them together with mentors.”

“That sounds like a win-win for everyone,” Emma told him. “I'm sure this town appreciates a program like that.”

“I'm helping Lane with a special fundraising event this Friday,” Anne said with enthusiasm. “We're hosting a benefit show at the gallery—all the art pieces have been donated by Northwest artists and a hundred percent of the proceeds will go to BBBS.”

“That's fantastic,” Emma told her. “Mom said you're managing the Hummingbird Gallery. I'll bet you're great at it, Anne.”

“It's my dream job,” Anne said.

“This fundraiser is a real boost for Big Brothers Big Sisters. Not just for the funds it'll raise, but for the public awareness too.” Lane smiled at Emma. “You'll come, won't you?”

“Sure, why not.”

“I considered postponing it when Poppi died,” Anne told her. “But we'd already done all the advertising and it would be so expensive to start over.”

“Oh, I'm sure Poppi would understand. He never liked wasting money either. And I know how costly an ad campaign can be. In fact, I wish I'd known about your fundraiser sooner; I might've been able to help.”

“Emma works for a marketing firm in Seattle,” Anne told Lane.

“I
used
to work for one,” Emma clarified. “I quit.”

Anne's fine brows arched. “You quit?”

Emma nodded. “I'm going to stick around and help with Nona for a while.”

“But your career…you gave it up?” Anne looked truly concerned.

“It was time for a change,” Emma explained. “The firm had some problems. I'm really glad to be done with them.”

“Nothing wrong with getting a fresh start,” Lane said optimistically. “That's what I did when I took the KidsPlay job here three years ago. A complete change for me, but I've never regretted it. Never looked back.”

“Really?” Emma felt hopeful.

“Lane used to work for a big software company in Seattle.”

“Oh…” Emma nodded. “I hear that can get old fast.”

He chuckled. “Yeah…it did.”

“Well, if you need any other marketing help for KidsPlay or Big Brothers Big Sisters, just let me know. I'd be happy to help out.”

He grinned. “I will definitely keep that in mind.”

Anne stood and, reaching for Lane's hand, tugged him to his feet. “Now before you actually sneak out without saying goodbye, there's someone I really want you to meet.” She winked at Emma. “You don't mind if I take him away, do you?”

Emma laughed. “I wouldn't dream of trying to stop you.” She watched as Anne, chatting amicably, gracefully guided Lane back into the mainstream of the house. Emma still didn't quite know how Anne did it. Socially skilled, that girl could maneuver her way into and out of almost any situation with total ease and comfort. Emma had not been blessed with those particular skills. And the truth was, she didn't really care either. Flitting around with all the guests today had been exhausting. And schmoozing had always made Emma want to pull her hair out. Anne could have it.

It wasn't until the last of the guests were leaving that Emma realized she was alone in the house with her two silently feuding parents. The widow friends had taken Nona home earlier, and now Emma needed to figure out a way to escape herself.

“I don't have my car here,” she reminded her mom as they were putting the kitchen back to order. “And I'd like to get back to check on Nona. So, if you don't mind finishing up without me, I'll just walk.”

“Walk?” Saundra frowned.

“Yeah. It's barely a mile and I could really use the exercise.”

“But it's so cold out.”

“It's okay. I have my coat and hat and gloves.” Emma pointed out a foot. “And these boots are good for walking.”

“But I'll be ready to go pretty soon.”

“I really want to walk, Mom.” Emma kissed her mom's cheek. “See you later.” Emma left the kitchen and went out to where her dad was straightening things up in the living room. “I'm going now,” she told him. “I don't want Nona to be home alone for too long.”

“Thanks for helping out today.” Her dad hugged her. “I think Poppi would've liked how things went, don't you?”

“Absolutely. And Nona seemed to appreciate it too.”

“Thanks for helping with her, Emma. That takes a load off my mind.”

“I'm happy to.” Emma nodded toward the kitchen. “I hope you and Mom can talk this thing out now that the funeral is behind us.”

He shrugged. “Not sure she wants to talk.”

Emma frowned. “Well, I better go. I don't want Nona thinking she's been abandoned.” As Emma went for her coat, she hoped that her dad wouldn't figure out that she planned to walk to Nona's. She didn't want to give him any excuse to keep avoiding his wife. The sooner she got out of here, the better their chances for talking this thing through.

She hurried out the front door and down the driveway. The afternoon air was cold and crisp, and she hastened her pace in hopes of getting warm. She hadn't walked this route for years. Probably not since high school, and even then she usually rode her bike. But it felt good to walk today—the cool air seemed to help clear her head. She was just at the foot of the hill when she heard a car pull up beside her. To her dismay she realized it was her mom's Cadillac.

“Hop in,” Saundra called out to her.

Emma considered insisting upon walking, but knew how stubborn her mother could be. “Where are you headed?” she asked as she closed the door and reached for the seatbelt.

“Where do you think?”

“Mom,” Emma said in exasperation. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because your father is a total jerk.”

“Did you even try to talk to him?”

“It's pointless, Emma.” Saundra stopped at the stop sign. “And if it's all the same to you I'd rather not talk about it.”

“That's fine with me.” Emma turned to look out the side window.

“I noticed you talking to Lane,” Saundra said lightly. “What do you think of your sister's beau?”

“He seems like a very nice man.”

“Yes. We all like him.”

“How long have they been together?”

“Together?”

“You know, as a couple…how long?”

“Well, I'm not sure they're officially a couple yet.”

“Right…” Emma remembered her mother's concern about Anne's divorce and not rushing into anything. Keeping up appearances.

“Although Valentine's Day is coming up…maybe Lane will ask Anne out.”

“Maybe…” Anne wondered how Tristan would feel about his mother dating someone who wasn't his father. “So…why did Gerard and Anne break up?”

“You know as well as anyone, Emma. Gerard took that job in Florida and Anne didn't want to uproot Tristan.”

“That's never made sense to me. I mean if you love someone…if you're committed to them…wouldn't you stay together through thick and thin? Isn't that what marriage vows are all about? For better or worse, sickness and health, richer or poorer?”

“You've always been such an idealist, Emma.”

“Maybe so…but I don't get why Anne had to be so stubborn about leaving. It seems like she'd like Florida. I mean she loves summer.”

“She'd just started working at the Hummingbird when Gerard got offered the job. And Tristan was doing so well in school. He'd had such a rough time in first grade. Besides that, Anne had just redecorated the condo. I completely understand why Anne didn't want to give up everything to move to Florida.”

“But I thought the Florida job was just going to be temporary,” Emma reminded her. “Just a year or two. I understood that Gerard was being trained by the corporation so that he could work in any insurance agency, including here.”

“Well, he's been there nearly two years already,” Saundra pointed out. “And it doesn't sound like he's coming home anytime soon.”

“That must be hard on Tristan.”

“Yes. But he's still got family and his school and his friends and sports. And did you know that Lane is Tristan's Big Brother? They do something together at least once a week. It's really very sweet.”

“And Lane's been in town for about three years, right?”

“That sounds about right.”

Emma didn't like being suspicious, but she wondered if Lane had anything to do with why Anne had refused to accompany her husband to Florida. Emma had seen the way Anne looked at Lane in the sunroom, the way she'd spoken to him, placed her hands on him…almost as if she was demonstrating ownership. Yes, it probably wouldn't be too long until Tristan's Big Brother became his stepfather. And, really, what was wrong with that?