Sleigh Bells in Valentine Valley (24 page)

“Ethan, I went to see The Dead Can Sing last night.”

Joe gaped and spoke before Ethan could. “No way! How did you score tickets?”

“No tickets. They were performing at a bar in Aspen. You just have to be of age to attend, and pay the cover.”

She pushed aside any thoughts of Tony and his pickup so she wouldn't blush. She'd never look at that truck the same way again.

Joe and Ethan wore identical frowns, and Kate barely kept from laughing.

She finally put them out of their misery. “You'll both be happy to know that they've agreed to perform at our band festival.”

Immediately, the boys high-fived each other, and Kate's parents exchanged smiles.

“We're trying something else, too, a Christmas cookie bake-off.”

“You mean a competition?” Ethan asked, frowning.

“Yep. And a bake sale, too, which we hope will benefit your school. Aunt Lyndsay wants to get you kids involved.”

“You mean baking?” he asked. “I bet kids would help, since they're going to get to hear bands and stuff.”

“That's a good kid,” Tom said. “Always jumping right in to organize things. Just like your mom. Sometimes being driven is a good thing.”

Ethan looked down at his plate and didn't say anything. Kate was getting more angry than hurt, but she kept a lid on it. And besides, even she didn't want her kid called “driven.” “I think he's a lot more like Tony. He knows how to take it easy.”

Ethan gave a crooked smile but didn't look at her.

She didn't need to remind herself how difficult it was to compete with Tony as a parent—but it wasn't a competition.
Life
wasn't a competition, although she'd been too good at making it so.

Christina smiled tiredly. “There's nothing wrong with a child who's like you, Katie.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Kate hesitated. “Are you sure you're up for the cookie making?”

Christina laughed. “When else are we going to do it? Brooke's wedding is tomorrow afternoon—Christmas Eve, remember?”

“I remember. Okay, let's leave cut-out cookie dough in the fridge as long as possible. Shall I start with the fudge, and Ethan, you can make the Seven Layer Bars, and Joe, how about the Reese Bars? Dad, turn on the Christmas music.”

They spent three hours baking, singing, and laughing. They laughed harder when they accidentally set off the smoke alarm and poor Barney ran upstairs to escape. Kate almost forgot about Ethan's attitude problem until it was time for him to head home.

“Hey, tell your dad to give me a call tonight, okay? We forgot to discuss how we wanted to handle Christmas with you.”

“Well, it's your turn for Christmas morning, isn't it?”

He spoke with a little edge of disrespect, as if she was stupid.

“And to think I can't remember such easy things myself.”

He shrugged.

“Just have him call me. And remember, you're hanging out here while your dad and I are at the wedding.”

“Are you going with Dad?”

She stared at him in surprise. “No. We've just both been invited.”

“Okay, good.”

Joe headed out of the kitchen, and Kate's parents made a big deal out of washing dishes at the sink.

Kate lowered her voice. “Your dad and I are friends, E. If we wanted to go to another friend's wedding together, we could.”

He kept his eyes on the Seven Layer Bars he was putting into a plastic container. “I think you spend too much time together already.”

“Really. Most kids would be happy their parents get along so well.”

He didn't answer for a moment, then looked at his grandparents. “I've got homework, Grandma. Mind if I take off?”

“Sure,” Christina said, drying a spatula. “We'll rope your mom into finishing up with us.”

When Ethan had gone, Kate stared at the back door. Christina came and put an arm around her waist for a quick squeeze.

“Kids don't get any easier,” Christina said quietly.

Kate sighed. “No, and I certainly didn't give you an easy time.”

“You know parenting—it's a life sentence.”

Kate smiled, but it wasn't really funny right about now. “He hasn't been willing to tell me what's bothering him. Any clue?”

“No. At first he seemed so happy to have you here. I wonder if he's upset because the time is approaching when you'll leave?”

Kate frowned. “I hadn't thought of that. You think he's taking my departure out on me early, like he's pushing me away before he gets too used to this?”

She shrugged. “Could be. Teenagers are full of emotions.”

“Okay, you've given me something that I can chew over. Thanks, Mom.” Kate kissed Christina's cheek. “Now go rest! I'll finish putting everything away with Dad.”

It was almost ten o'clock when Kate got home, and she didn't hesitate to call Tony. She collapsed in front of the cold fireplace and drew an afghan over her.

“You still at work?” she asked when Tony answered.

“Yep.”

“Good. I wanted you to know I started talking to Ethan about Christmas, and it didn't go well.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, I know. Mom thinks he might be pushing me away because he knows I'm leaving soon.”

“Could be,” Tony said cautiously.

“But you don't agree?”

“I don't know. Something's different.”

And something was different in Tony's voice, too. What the hell was going on with the men in her life?

She sighed. “Okay, since it's my turn for Christmas morning, are you doing Christmas Eve dinner with your family and E. after the wedding?”

“Yeah, that's the plan.”

“You know, since I have my own place, you could come over Christmas morning when he opens gifts.”

“I don't think so, Kate.”

She blinked at the phone for a moment before putting it back to her ear. “E. must have told you what he told me—that you and I are spending too much time together.”

“No, he didn't,” he said, drawing out the words. “I find that pretty confusing. I'm positive he doesn't know what we've been doing together.”

She felt a blush at memories that momentarily distracted her.

“But I've got to tell you, he was all for finding something to keep you occupied when you first arrived. He was
glad
about you working for me. And suddenly he's not?”

“I don't think it's so sudden,” she said. “It's been coming on for a while now. So I guess it makes sense why you wouldn't come hang with us Christmas morning. But . . . I'll miss you.”

Oh, God, she'd really said that. She held her breath, waiting to see what he'd do.

“That's nice of you to say,” he said awkwardly. “Chef needs me. Talk to you later.”

The phone went dead, and she scrunched her eyes closed and tapped the phone on her forehead a few times.
She was an idiot
. She'd asked him to spend Christmas with her; she'd told him she'd miss him. She was changing the parameters of their ex-sex relationship, and he was pulling back.

Maybe she was the only one whose feelings were changing. Maybe she was the only one who was frightened and nervous and hopeful all at the same time.

Maybe to him she really was only a good lay in a pickup truck.

T
he Christmas Eve wedding of Brooke and Adam took place in her riding arena—and Kate couldn't even imagine that horses ever used it. A hardwood floor covered the dirt, beautiful drapes hid the metal walls, low lighting created romantic ambiance, giant heaters kept everyone warm. With Father Frank from St. John's officiating, the happy couple stood under a gorgeous little gazebo to say their vows. Monica had festooned the gazebo and tables with beautiful displays of bare white branches amidst evergreen boughs, vases filled with glittering pinecones, or candles with berries. Potted poinsettias stood on shelves and tables of different heights behind the gazebo, along with potted evergreen trees twinkling with white lights.

Monica stood at her best friend's side, and both Thalberg brothers stood up for Adam. Along with everyone else, Kate sighed with happiness as the stalwart cowgirl wiped away tears throughout the vows.

Kate didn't sit with Tony, of course, because they weren't a couple to anyone, not even themselves. He and his sister sat with Will on the groom's side, and she sat behind the bridesmaids, Emily and Whitney, and made happy faces at little Olivia whenever she could. The baby dress matched the bridesmaids' Christmas red, and she wore the most adorable poinsettia headband.

It was hard not to look at Tony, hard not to wonder if he was looking at her. This had gotten so complicated—as she'd worried it would. Every so often she'd catch Lyndsay's eye, and they'd smile at each other.

When at last the “You may kiss the bride” announcement was made, there was much cheering and celebrating. After the kiss, Brooke, dressed in a simple white cocktail dress rather than a full wedding gown, grinned at her new husband, then they each folded up their chairs and tucked them under their arms before leading the way down the small aisle to the tables at the far end of the arena, where pillars of candles brightened each table. Laughing, the guests all brought their chairs with them, too.

Kate was assigned to the same table as the widows and Mr. De Luca, and as they were eating dinner prepared by Heather's catering company, Mrs. Thalberg, on Kate's right, chatted on about the plans for the bake sale, and how the middle school was excited that people were interested in raising money for them.

“They need to refurbish the cafeteria,” Mrs. Thalberg said. “And doesn't a bake sale just go hand in hand with that?”

“Emily's goin' to help, too,” Mrs. Palmer said. “She's goin' to open up her bakery kitchen for an hour here and there so kids can sign up to learn to bake to make the treats for the event.”

“Wow, that's really generous of her,” Kate said.

“Ethan is already textin' all the students—he didn't tell you?”

Kate gave a bright smile. “He must have forgotten.”

“Renee offered the boardinghouse for baking lessons,” Mrs. Ludlow said, “but I convinced her we don't have the room, not compared to an industrial kitchen. But of course we'll be there to help.”

“I'd love to come, too. I baked Christmas cookies with my mom last night,” Kate confessed, “but every year she has to walk me through it.”

When Mrs. Palmer and Mrs. Ludlow started discussing what kind of baked goods they should focus on, and Mr. De Luca chimed in with his opinion on Italian cookies, Mrs. Thalberg leaned closer to Kate and said softly, “Maybe you and Tony can come, too.”

Kate glanced at her, trying not to look too curious. “Well, if Ethan wants his parents there, sure.”

“Come, come, Kate, that's not what I'm talking about. You are both very good at secrets, but apparently one of your neighbors saw Tony sneaking into your backyard.”

Kate shot a shocked glance at Mr. De Luca and the other widows, but luckily they weren't paying attention. And it was pretty loud, with all the discussions and the music. “Maybe he saw a burglar.”

“Everyone knows Tony, my dear—and apparently you still know him quite well.”

Kate's face heated up, and she took a quick sip of wine.

Mrs. Thalberg touched her arm gently. “I am not chiding you, Kate, my dear. I am not surprised in the least that with prolonged contact, the two of you would be drawn to each other. Does this mean you will be reuniting?”

“I—I don't know.” Kate glanced swiftly at Tony's table. He was laughing at something his sister had said. He looked so handsome in his suit that she was startled by the sharp ache of need.

“Ah, so it's like that,” Mrs. Thalberg said. “I told Mario that—”

“Mr. De Luca knows?” Kate whispered urgently.

“Who do you think your neighbor told when he saw Mario's own son sneaking around?”

Kate closed her eyes and willed herself not to groan aloud. “He must be so upset. After all I put Tony through nine years ago . . .” Kate bit her lip and finally looked at Mr. De Luca, but he was eating his steak with determination as the other two widows talked.

“Mario knows Tony is an adult, and he certainly remembers how you and Tony felt about each other.”

“Our relationship is not the same, not really.”

“Relationships are never the same, my dear, not from moment to moment, let alone year to year. The two of you have changed, but if you found your way back to each other . . . how wonderful that would be.”

“I . . . I don't know what will happen, Mrs. Thalberg. We don't plan to be together again, not really.”

“But my dear, I look into your eyes, and I think regardless of what you thought weeks ago, things have changed.”

Kate felt the stinging of tears.

“There, there, don't worry—and don't force anything. Just be patient, and though it's a cliché, I'll say what was meant to be, will be. Now go ahead, finish your dinner. You'll need the strength for all the dancing!”

W
hen the dancing began, Tony stood beside the bar and pretended not to notice. He had lots of company—many men only danced because their women liked it. But he didn't have a woman to worry about.

And as if on cue, his gaze went to Kate. She was dancing with his traitor sister. Couldn't Lyndsay have made Kate sit in a corner and talk? But no, he had to watch Kate move in the green dress that only covered one shoulder and showed off her curves and her long, bare legs. Her short blond hair was styled sleekly against her head, making her look exotic.

And as he well remembered from the other night, she could dance.

You're breaking up with her
, he reminded himself, taking another sip of his beer. You'd think he'd have had enough of her by now, but maybe she was like a drug in his system: The more he had, the more he wanted. Time to go cold turkey.

“Tony, you should be on the dance floor.”

Tony smiled as his dad approached. “That's okay, Dad, no date to impress.”

“Well, I know why you didn't bring a date.”

Tony eyed him suspiciously. “Enlighten me, then.”

“Well, you're looking at her. And you never stop, you know.”

“Looking at who?”

Mario sighed heavily. “Kate, of course.”

Tony frowned. “She works for me, Dad. I can't help seeing her.”

Mario rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Am I so blind then, your own father? And Charlie Bombardo saw you sneaking into her house one night through the backyard.”

Tony almost choked on his beer.

Mario patted him on the back. “Secrets never stay secret for long in Valentine Valley. What do you plan to do?”

“We don't have any plans. We're just having fun.”

Mario eyed him. “Will it be fun when Ethan finds out?”

“He won't be finding out, Dad. We're ending it, and she's leaving.”

“Ending it?”

“This hasn't been a relationship, Dad, no commitments, nothing.”

“But she's the girl you've loved your whole life.”

“Not for the last nine years, I haven't,” Tony pointed out patiently.

“Neither of you has remarried in all this time. I think nine years is long enough to show you what you've missed, to show you that you've both changed.”

“Dad, I'm done talking about this.”

“Fine, I've said my piece. Now go dance with her.”

“I'm not dancing with her. That would be—obvious.”

“Because you have feelings for her?”

“Hey, focus on your own love life.”

“That's what I've been doing.”

He playfully elbowed Tony, who winced.

“You and Mrs. Thalberg are official?” Tony asked.

“Well, that's a mighty strong word. We're enjoying each other's company on an exclusive basis.”

“Next thing I know, you'll be moving in with her.”

“Now that I won't do. Can you see me at the boardinghouse?” Mario shuddered. “But you—you have an empty house a certain woman could move right back into.”

“Walking away now.” And Tony did, his dad's chuckles grating on him. After everything Kate had put him through, Tony was shocked his dad thought that miracles happened and they could somehow get back together. That wasn't going to happen.

For the rest of the reception, he avoided the dance floor—and Kate. But he was restless and upset with himself for making decisions because of her, even dancing decisions. He was almost relieved when Brooke and Adam left in a sleigh for a moonlit ride before heading to the bunkhouse for their wedding night. In the morning, they would be off to New Orleans so Adam could show her where he'd lived after leaving the Marines, then the Caribbean.

At last Tony could go home and spend Christmas Eve with his son.

But of course, his dad and sister would be there, too, looking at him knowingly. Damn.

K
ate lay in bed Christmas morning and thought of how magical and romantic it had looked last night when the wedding couple had ridden off in their sleigh festooned with bells and greenery—and tin cans, which hadn't made much of a sound dragging in the snow but had banged against each other merrily.

For the first time in a
long
time, she thought of her own wedding. She'd been pregnant, of course, so they hadn't had time to plan anything elaborate. But it had been summer in Valentine Valley, and though St. John's had been booked solid, they'd been able to exchange vows in front of their family and friends in the Rose Garden, the block that the Four Sisters B&Bs were all stationed around. She remembered the smell of the roses climbing the trellis above them as they'd said their vows. Roses always made her think of Tony, and how he'd looked at her that day, as if his every dream had been coming true. And though she'd had no doubts that she loved him, she remembered mostly being overwhelmed and frightened of the future. She'd only been nineteen years old, and worried she'd derailed every plan for her life.

But Tony had believed in her. Though she'd had a full scholarship, Tony was really the one who'd made it possible for her to go to school and still be a mom. He'd even dropped out himself after a while because he hadn't had a clue what he wanted to major in, and he'd wanted to be with their baby during the day, then work evenings to support them. Those early undergraduate days had been filled with the joy of being together, of furnishing their little apartment with homemade or secondhand things. She'd studied hard, yes, but she'd still loved her life. Law school and worries about Ethan's future had changed everything—had changed their marriage.

At last Kate tired of remembering . . . and worrying and wondering what she should do now, in the present. She got into her bathrobe, started a fire, put on some Christmas music, and actually had to wake Ethan up, first time ever on a Christmas morning. He really was growing up. She drank coffee while he opened his gifts, and of course, the best one was the smartphone she and Tony had decided on.

“Awesome, an iPhone!” he said, looking at the box.

“You know you have to set aside a lot of your babysitting money to contribute to the plan, right?”

“I've already been doing that,” he insisted. “And Dad says next summer I can get a real job. You're okay with that, right?”

She laughed and ruffled his messy hair until he ducked away, but it was an
Aw shucks, I'm too grown up, Mom
duck, rather than something that showed resentment.

“Your dad and I talk about everything. I'm cool with it.”

“Your turn!” he said.

The big box had intrigued her, and inside she found a beautifully made wooden bookshelf that would stand on her desk.

“Ethan, it's incredible! Did you make this?”

He reddened. “With Dad's help, yeah.”

“Thank you. This is the best Christmas present I ever got.”

“Oh, I got you one other thing, though I forgot to wrap it.” He came back from his room and handed her a music book. “Look, it's for the trombone. It has Christmas stuff in it, too.”

“That is a thoughtful gift, E. Thank you. Should I try playing something now?”

“Uh . . . maybe later.”

She laughed.

Ethan continued to look at her, then under the tree. “So . . . you didn't get anything for Dad?”

Though she'd considered and disregarded it, she only said, “No, of course not. What makes you think I would?”

He stood there, hands in the pocket of his flannel sweatpants, looking gawky and uncomfortable.

She patted the sofa beside her. “E., come talk to me. We haven't done enough of that lately.”

He sat down with obvious reluctance and looked at the fire rather than at her.

Gently, she asked, “Why would you think I'd get your dad a present when I haven't since the divorce?”

He shrugged. She said nothing, waiting.

“Because you two are friends now,” he finally said, his voice a grumble. “Or something.”

She didn't try to read anything more into his words than their obvious meaning. In everything she'd ever read about a child's reaction to divorce—and she'd read a lot—the child was almost always desperate for the parents to get back together. But not Ethan. “Why don't you want us to be friends again?”