Sun-Kissed Christmas (Summer) (12 page)

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

Diana sighed. “There was a time when I might have said you were crazy, yes. But a few days ago I became an adoptive mother while wearing a reindeer suit. It’s the people-in-glass-houses syndrome. I no longer feel I am in a position to call anyone crazy.”

“It’ll be okay, Diana. Sarah’s mom could still show up.”

“We haven’t had any more hang-up calls. That was my one hope—that Jennie was just working up her nerve.”

“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. Maybe that will bring her around. Holidays make people all sentimental.”

“Maybe.”

“It could happen.”

“Yeah, and while we’re being optimists, maybe Santa will drop a three-bedroom house down our chimney.”

“We don’t have a chimney,” Summer pointed out.

“You see what I’m up against.”

Summer taped the corners and tied a bow around the stuffed lamb’s box. “You never know, Diana. Christmas is a time for miracles.”

“I cannot believe you are capable of saying things like that out loud.” Diana rolled her eyes. “Next year I’m suspending your Netflix subscription for the month of December. No more Christmas movies for you, girl.”

Under the Big Top

“Who called a few minutes ago, Summer?” Diana asked early the next afternoon. “And why are you staring at the telephone like it’s armed with nuclear warheads?”

“Am not.”

“Are too. That isn’t fear I see on your face?”

“No,” Summer said defensively. “It’s indecision.”

“Call him, Summer,” Marquez advised from the living room, where she was busy shaking gifts to determine their contents.

“That last call was a wrong number, Diana,” Summer said, pointedly ignoring Marquez. “They
wanted a Joe something.”

“Was it a girl?” Diana asked.

“Yeah. But—”

“It could have been Jennie,” Diana whispered, glancing over at her bedroom, where Sarah was napping.

“I don’t think so, Diana,” Summer said gently.

Diana flopped into a kitchen chair dejectedly. “Well, at least your crazy idea is picking up steam. When are Harris and Vera coming?”

“Another hour, probably. Assuming they really come. Thanks, you guys, for all your help setting up the tent.” Summer checked her watch. “I hope they get here before it starts to rain.”

“
I
hope Seth gets around to fixing the roof before it storms,” Diana said. “He only got about a quarter of the shingles replaced before he ran out yesterday.”

“I called our beloved landlord again,” Marquez said. “He said, ‘Screw you and have a merry Christmas.’”

“That would explain our reasonable rent,” Diana said.

Summer gazed out the window and sighed. All day clouds had been rolling in, darkening the sky ominously. “You know, I’ve almost accepted the fact that this Christmas is going to be snowless. But come on, thunderstorms? That’s just adding insult to injury.”

“She’s stalling,” Diana said to Marquez.

“Call him, Summer,” Marquez instructed.

“He’s probably out with Esme, anyway. Doing last minute shopping or something.”

“Call him, Summer,” Diana said softly. “You know you want to.”

“I’m thinking about it, okay?”

Marquez held up a package that had been delivered that morning. “Diana, what do you figure this FedEx package from your mom is? Maybe some matching mother-daughter diamonds? Another gold card?”

Diana shrugged. “Search me.”

“Want me to open it for you?”

“Marquez!” Summer scolded. “It’s only Christmas Eve.”

“I was just trying to eliminate the suspense. Besides, we opened my mom’s cookies.” She shook the box again. “Let me put it this way—how guilty was your mom feeling about missing Christmas?”

“Mallory is immune to guilt. She says it gives her frown lines.” Diana nudged Summer with her foot. “Call him, already.”

“What if the reunion works out great, Summer?” Marquez said. “Austin would want to be here.”

“And every minute he’s here,” Diana added, “is a minute he’s not with Esme.”

Summer picked up the phone, then set it down.
“Let me ask you both something. And I do not want you to laugh. I don’t even want you to slightly smirk. Has a guy ever told either of you that he found your kissing … laughable?”

“Not in so many words,” Diana said, the corners of her mouth twitching.

“Negative on that,” Marquez reported, covering her mouth.

“If a guy did say something along those lines, would you take it as a bad sign?”

Diana took a deep breath. Marquez snorted.

“Call him, Summer,” Diana managed to say.

Summer punched in Austin’s number before she could think of all the reasons not to. By the time Austin answered, she could barely hear her voice over the howls of her roommates.

“Very impressive,” Austin said as he stepped inside the yellow tent a half-hour later. “I like the 1944 calendar. Nice touch.”

“It’s not original, actually. I typeset it on my computer.”

Summer clicked on the iPod speakers in the corner. Soft big band music began to play. “I have the speakers sort of camouflaged by the army blanket,” she said. “Didn’t want the high-tech stuff to spoil the mood.”

“I particularly like the table setting. Candles, mess kits, cans of pork and beans.”

“That’s just for effect, since I couldn’t find any C-rations. I figured Diana and Marquez and I would fix them dinner. If, you know, things go well.” The tent shuddered in the wind, “I hope we’ve got this thing nailed down okay,” Summer said. “It looks like it’s going to be a big storm.”

Austin sat in one of the folding camp chairs Summer had borrowed from a neighbor. “I can’t believe you got Harris and Vera to come. On Christmas Eve, no less. It boggles the mind, Summer.”

“I have Diver to thank for that.” Summer laughed. “It was pretty amazing, Austin. First I called Vera, then Harris. I told them each how I remembered they were into bird-watching and how my brother had discovered this nest of six roseate spoonbills in our yard, and they both completely freaked. I guess for a birder that’s like winning the lottery. I gave them directions, and Harris said he’d be here right away.”

“And Vera?”

“Her I’m not so sure about. The bed-and-breakfast she runs is full, and she had to wait for her manager to get there and take over. She didn’t sound all that sure she could get away.” Summer rubbed her eyes. “God, Austin, what if she doesn’t come?”

“Have faith. You’ve gotten this far with this ridiculous
quest,” he said. “I guess you failed to mention the birds are actually at the wildlife center.”

“A little bit of lying is permissible in the name of true love.”

Austin smiled wistfully. “Is it?”

Summer studied him for a moment, unsure of the meaning of his smile. “Sure. Haven’t you ever lied to Esme?”

“No. I’ve never needed to with her.”

“How about with me? In the old days, I mean?”

Austin didn’t answer.

“So you
have
lied to me?” Summer asked. Her voice was light and teasing, but Austin’s troubled expression made her more than a little curious.

Slowly Austin’s gaze made its way to her. “If I ever did lie—and I’m taking the Fifth on this—it would have been only because I cared about you.”

“Knock knock!” Marquez poked her head in the tent. “Damn, I was hoping I might be interrupting something. I think Harris is driving up! What do we do?”

Summer leapt out of her chair. “Whatever you do, don’t let him near the tent until we’re ready.”

With Austin and Marquez on her heels, Summer ran out to greet Harris as he pulled up. “You found us!” she exclaimed as he parked the car. “I didn’t
expect you to get here so quickly.”

Harris stepped out of the car. “Six spoonbills, my dear. For that, even a law-abiding man breaks the speed limit.”

“Hey, Harris.” Austin shook his great-uncle’s hand.

“Good to see you, my boy.”

“And this is Marquez, one of my roommates,” Summer said. “And that’s Diana on the porch.”

Harris gave a courtly bow. “Three lovely ladies. No wonder you’re visiting, Austin.”

“Well, it wasn’t for the spoonbills.”

“Where are they, anyway?” Harris said. He scanned the area, frowning. “This seems like quite an unlikely place for a nesting site.”

“But then, they’re an unlikely family,” Summer said quickly. “What with being sextuplets and all.”

“Still, spoonbills are found in colonies, usually near mangroves. No, this just doesn’t seem right at all. …”

Summer smiled lamely. “Hey, Christmas is a time for miracles, Harris.”

A car approached, and Summer’s heart skipped a couple of beats. Could it be Vera already?

But it was just Seth, driving up in his grandfather’s station wagon. A ladder was strapped to the top.

“That’s Seth,” Summer told Harris, barely hiding her disappointment. “He’s an old, uh, friend of mine. From Wisconsin.”

Seth jumped out of the car. “Hey, I found some more shingles, can you believe it? Laskin’s Hardware was actually open on Christmas Eve!”

Suddenly he froze, eyes on Austin. “Oh,” he said quietly. “Hey, Austin.”

“Seth.” Austin nodded. “How’ve you been?”

“Not bad.”

Summer cleared her throat. “Seth, this is Harris, Austin’s great-uncle.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Seth shook his hand.

Diana walked over and gave Seth a kiss. “I’m not sure you should do any more work on the roof,” she said. “It’s going to storm soon. You’ll turn into a lightning rod.”

“Relax. I’ll be careful.”

“Speaking of storms,” Harris said, “I should really take a look at these marvelous specimens and be on my way. I don’t want to get stuck in a gully-washer.”

“Specimens?” Seth repeated.

“Birds,” Summer said.

“Not just any birds.” Harris shook a finger at her. “Roseate spoonbills. Why don’t you point me in the right direction, Summer, dear?”

Summer’s heart was doing a nice little reggae number. How long could she stall him? What if Vera didn’t come at all? What if Austin was right and this was the most incredibly stupid idea she’d ever had in her life?

“Why don’t you take a quick tour of the house?” Marquez suggested.

“I’d love to—Marquez, was it? But first things first. I cannot wait another minute to see my spoonbills.”

All eyes were on Summer. She swallowed hard. Suddenly, looking into Harris’s sweet, hopeful eyes, she had the awful feeling that Vera was never going to come. This was not a time for miracles. This was Christmas in Florida, where it never snowed and people put lights on palm trees.

“Harris, the thing is,” Summer said slowly, “the birds aren’t exactly right here.”

“Oh?”

“No, they’re somewhere else,”

“Where, then?” he asked.

“Well, that’s a long story. …”

Austin elbowed her hard. She looked at him. He jerked his head.

Both Summer and Harris turned. An old white Cadillac was coming up the driveway.

“A friend?” Harris inquired.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Summer said, crossing her fingers.

They watched as the car stopped. The front door slowly opened. Out stepped a striking woman, frail but elegant. Her white hair was caught up in a bun.

As she closed the car door her gaze fell on Harris. She stood very still, a quizzical expression on her delicate face.

Harris was frozen for a long moment. At last he took a step toward her. His hand was outstretched, as if he were reaching for a mirage. His fingers were trembling.

Summer felt goose bumps fan out over her body. She realized she wasn’t breathing.

Neither Harris nor Vera moved. Vera’s chin trembled. Summer could see the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over.

Summer watched in terror. The suspense was unbearable. Were those tears of joy or sadness? Was Harris trembling out of happiness or fear?

“Harris?” Vera whispered.

“Vera.”

Silence. Nothing.

No passionate embrace. No movement at all.

She’d blown it.

“Maybe you, uh, would like to … uh, sit … ,” Summer mumbled.

Nothing. No response.

“Harris,” Austin said gently. “The tent. Why don’t you go ahead and talk to Vera there?”

Harris blinked, as if awakened from a trance. He nodded. His expression was grim.

He approached Vera stiffly, arm outstretched.

She hesitated, then took his arm. Together they walked slowly toward the little yellow tent.

Neither said a word.

I’m Dreaming of a Wet Christmas …

Summer gazed dejectedly out the window at the torrential downpour. The little yellow tent was barely visible. “Harris and Vera have been in there two and a half hours,” she said. “I can’t stand it any longer.”

“They must have hit it off or they wouldn’t be sitting in that pathetic tent,” Marquez pointed out. “I’m surprised it hasn’t blown away yet.”

“They could be arguing,” Summer said. “Or waiting out the storm. Or … or crying.”

“Or doing it,” Seth volunteered, earning a ferocious glare from Austin.

“Seth!” Diana scolded. “Keep it G-rated. We have a kid in the house.”

“Where is Sarah, anyway?” Summer asked.

“In my bedroom, reading
Seventeen
. Maybe I should let her open that Dr. Seuss book early. She did ask me when Santa was bringing her mom, and I just didn’t know—” Diana was interrupted by a sharp crack of thunder. “I told her sometimes Santa gets caught in traffic, so it might be a while.”

“Crap. There’s a new leak in the kitchen,” Marquez reported, grabbing the mop. “That makes four total. We’re out of buckets.”

“This is my fault,” Seth said. “If I’d gotten hold of those shingles sooner, I could have fixed more of the roof.”

“Seth,” Summer chided, “you’re not exactly the resident handyman. It’s not your fault we rent from a slumlord.”

Sarah appeared in the bedroom doorway. “It’s raining in the bedroom,” she said softly.

“Wonderful.” Summer groaned. “I swear, it’s so dark out there, it could be night. Is this, like, the worst Christmas in history or what?”

Diver patted her on the back. “No way, Summer.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. It’s the worse Christmas
Eve
in history.”