The Christmas Joy Ride (13 page)

His dark eyes twinkled. “I guess I needed an intervention.”

“Well, I'm hugely relieved to hear you're no longer mad.” She suppressed a weary yawn. “I'll sleep better knowing you're not going to have me arrested for trespassing and hauled to jail in the middle of the night.”

“Hardly.” He slowly stood. “Emily was so happy tonight. Well, except for the fact that you left so abruptly. But she'll be relieved to discover you're still here in the morning. You won't leave before seeing her, will you? That would really make me look bad.”

“I won't leave without telling her a proper goodbye. I promise.”

“Will you be warm enough out here? Good for the night?”

“Yes.” She waved a hand. “As you can feel, it's rather toasty.”

“Very cozy and homey.” He reached for the door but didn't open it.

She glanced around the motor home and smiled. “It is kind of sweet.”

“Thanks for hearing me out, Miranda. And no hard feelings, right?”

“No hard feelings,” she assured him.

“And thanks for coming—for the much-needed intervention.”

“No problem.” She watched him. Was he actually stalling?

“And thanks for giving me a second chance.” He grinned. “Don't take this wrong, but I'm glad your RV got a dead battery. Emily will be too. How about joining us for breakfast in the morning?”

“Okay.” She tried not to appear overly excited. “Sounds good.”

“Probably not much before nine though.” He opened the
door, letting a blast of cold air inside. “Since it's Christmas Eve tomorrow, I've decided not to go in to work. And I wouldn't mind sleeping in.”

She nodded eagerly. “You and me both. I've been up since around five this morning. Sleeping in sounds lovely.”

“Well, I'll let you get to bed then.” His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, lighting up his entire face in a way that sent an unexpected yet pleasant shiver down her spine. “Sleep well, Miranda. And thanks again,” he called as he stepped outside, solidly closing the door behind him.

Miranda felt strangely hopeful as she clicked the lock into place. She also felt slightly stunned—as if she should pinch herself. Had that conversation actually happened? Had Marcus really appreciated everything after all? Was his apology really genuine? Or was she simply asleep and enjoying a sweet dream?

M
iranda woke to the sound of her cell phone ringing. Groggily grabbing it up, she unplugged it from the charging cord and croaked out a sleepy hello.

“Hello? Is this Miranda Fortner?”

“Joy!” Miranda exclaimed. “It's so good to hear your voice!”

“Oh, it
is
you. You didn't sound like yourself, dear. Did I wake you?”

Miranda looked at the wall clock to see that it was already 8:30. “Yes, but I should be up by now. I didn't realize it was so late already. This bed in the motor home really is comfortable.”

“Oh, good. I'm so glad you like it. Are you still in Flagstaff? Or did you get out of there before the snow flew? I got worried when I saw the weather on the news this morning. I thought I better find out how you were doing.”

“I'm still here.”

“Oh, dear. I'm sorry about that. Are you completely snowed in at the RV park? I heard they got nearly a foot of snow in places around there.”

Miranda peeked out the window to see that the snow did look rather deep. “Actually, I didn't make it to the RV park yesterday.” She explained about the dead battery.

“Oh, my. I was worried about that battery in the cold weather. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, dear. But you're connected to power now?”

“Yes. I think I should be able to get out of here today. After the roads are plowed, I'll head into town.”

“That's good. Now tell me about the Wheeler family. How did it go with Emily's father?”

Miranda relayed the details of last night's late visit, and Joy was elated. “See, dear, I knew you could manage it just fine. Probably even better than if I'd been there.”

“I don't know about that.” Miranda stretched sleepily. “But I did get an invitation to breakfast. In fact, I should probably get dressed.” She chuckled as she looked down at the silky pajamas she'd borrowed from Joy, then quickly explained about her duffle bag being stolen and how she'd helped herself to Joy's limited wardrobe.

“Oh, my! Well, of course, you just use anything you like in there. Was that all they took? Just your bag?”

“As far as I could see.”

“So . . . did you open the big envelope I gave you yet?”

“I'm sorry, Joy, with all that went on here yesterday, I totally forgot about the envelope. Was there something in it I should've known about? I mean, for the Wheelers?”

“Not exactly. But you didn't lose it, did you?”

“No, of course not.” As Miranda started searching the RV
trying to remember where she'd placed it, she told Joy about how excited Emily had been yesterday. “And the nativity you sent really hit a nerve with Marcus.” She explained about the one he'd had as a child. “It sounded like a real turning point for him when he set it up with Emily.” She opened the cupboard over the driver's seat and spotted the yellow envelope. “Here it is!” she exclaimed happily.

“What?”

“The envelope. I found it.”

“Oh, good. Now don't open it until you hang up.”

“Okay.” Miranda set the envelope down and opened up her laptop. “I have lots of photos to put on the website today. I'll get to it after breakfast. Be sure to check it out.”

“Thank you, dear. I don't know what I would've done without you. Thank you for everything, Miranda.”

“You're more than welcome, Joy. I'm so glad I did this trip with you. It's been really good for me.”

“Well, I do feel bad for you being stranded in Flagstaff . . . and during Christmas too.”

“It's okay. I actually kind of like the town. I saw a bit of it yesterday and really wanted to see more.”

“Oh, that's good.”

“And when the weather is nice enough, I'll deliver the motor home to Phoenix just like I promised. Just let me know where to take it.”

“Uh, yes, we'll see about that.”

“And how are you?” Miranda asked suddenly. “Rick told me you made it safely to Phoenix yesterday, but where are you exactly? The hospital? The assisted living place?”

“I spent last night in the hospital. But I feel perfectly fine and they're releasing me this afternoon. I'll stay with Rick and Cindy during Christmas. They think they're keeping me there
under their watchful eyes until I go in for my surgery.” She chuckled. “But I might have to put my foot down. I'd like to get settled into my new apartment after Christmas. My surgery isn't scheduled until January 8 and I'm not sure I want to spend two weeks in their home.”

They chatted until Joy said her breakfast tray had arrived. “I better eat it while it's hot,” she told Miranda. “After that, well, it's not very palatable. Now you have a nice day, dear. And I do hope that you'll give yourself a break after all your hard work.”

With only fifteen minutes before nine and not a lot to choose from in the way of wardrobe, Miranda put on her jeans and the green velour hoodie she'd worn yesterday. To make up for the lackluster outfit, she decided to spend a little more time on her hair and face. She styled her auburn curls and put on a bit of mascara, a touch of blush, and some lip gloss. Okay, it wasn't a huge improvement, but better than nothing. And really, why was she so concerned with her appearance all of a sudden?

Of course, she knew the answer to that. It all had to do with Marcus . . . and the intense way he had looked at her last night. Oh, she knew she was probably imagining things. But maybe she didn't care.

Now, since it was barely nine and she didn't want to take a chance of waking Marcus up, she decided to check out the envelope that Joy had been so concerned about. She opened it up, dumping the contents onto the sofa. The first piece out was a white envelope that contained a Christmas card. She opened the card and a check slid out. A check written out to her and signed by Joy. But the amount of the check was staggering.

Miranda blinked and, certain she had experienced double vision and added a couple of extra zeroes, she read it again. Then she carefully counted the zeroes, rereading the line where Joy had meticulously written out “ten thousand dollars and no
cents.” Miranda looked at the date on the check. It was dated for two days ago. The day Joy had gone into the Albuquerque hospital.

With trembling hands, Miranda set the check aside and read what Joy had written inside the card.

Dear Miranda,

Before you call me to ask if I've made a mistake, please, read this carefully. The amount on the check is correct. I am not senile or suffering from Alzheimer's. My heart may be weak, but I am perfectly clear in my mind. It is my choice to give you this gift, and I can well afford it. I know you've been hit with hard times recently and it gives me great joy to be able to bless you in this way. Please, do not insult me by questioning this gift.

You have been a huge blessing to me these past few years. And an even greater blessing by going on this somewhat crazy Joy Ride with me. I can never thank you enough. If you've examined the title to the motor home by now, you will also see that I have signed it over to you. Again, this is my choice. A decision I made while of sound mind. Please, accept it as such. Do not question me. And, please, know there are no strings attached. Do with it as you please. Sell it. Live in it. Whatever seems best. It is yours now, dear.

Most of all, I want you to have a very wonderful Christmas, Miranda. You deserve it. I'm sorry I was unable to finish the trip with you, but I am confident you will finish it in a very special way. I thank you for that.

All my love,
Christmas Joy

Miranda had tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked at the RV title, which had indeed been signed over to her.
So much for the mascara
, she thought as she blew her nose. She always knew that Joy was generous, but this was too much. She was tempted to call Joy and tell her this, but then she remembered what Joy had written about not questioning her, not insulting her.

Miranda slid the check and title into her bag and tucked her bag into a closet. After fixing her tear-stained face, she went outside and tromped through the thick snow toward the house. Her suede leather booties were not cut out for this kind of weather, but for the time being they were all she had. She knew it was around 9:15 by now, but the place looked awfully quiet—not to mention very pretty wrapped in the blanket of snow. As she went onto the large covered porch, she decided to just knock quietly, and if no one answered she'd hurry back to the RV. But she'd barely tapped when the door burst open.

“Miranda!” Emily exclaimed happily. “You
are
still here!” She threw her arms around Miranda's waist. “Daddy said your motor home was broken, but I thought he was teasing me.”

“It's not really broken. Just a dead battery.” Miranda ran her hand over Emily's dark brown hair—beautiful, but somewhat messy. “What happened to your pretty long braids?” she asked.

“Camilla's the one who does that. I don't know how to make a braid yet.”

“Oh.” Miranda slipped off her soggy boots, then stood up to peer around the festive-looking house. “Still looks like Christmas in here.”

“Yeah! I was so happy this morning.” Emily pointed to the lit-up tree. “Daddy plugged in the lights before I got up.”

“Nice. And something smells awfully good in here.” Miranda could smell bacon.

Emily tugged Miranda by the hand toward the kitchen. “Daddy's making blueberry pancakes and bacon and eggs. It's our normal Saturday breakfast, but we're having it today.”

Miranda spied Marcus in front of the gas stove. He was wearing a striped chef's apron over blue jeans and a white T-shirt. “Welcome to Daddy's restaurant,” he said as he expertly flipped a pancake, catching it in the pan, then turned to her with a wide grin.

“Impressive,” she said.

“Daddy worked at a pancake house when he was in college,” Emily explained.

“Help yourself to some coffee,” Marcus offered.

“Thanks.” Miranda went over to the coffeemaker and poured a cup, taking a grateful sip. “Good coffee.”

“I made it,” Emily said proudly.

“Really?” Miranda wondered how little Emily was able to do this.

“Daddy taught me how. It's easy.” Emily pointed to a step stool. “I stand on that.”

“You got that table all set, Em?” Marcus held up a plate with a stack of pancakes. “Because we got breakfast now.”

“I just need the napkins,” Emily said, scurrying away.

“She was so thrilled when I told her you were still here,” he said quietly. “I don't think she really believed me.”

Miranda laughed as they all sat down at the sturdy wooden kitchen table. “What a lovely looking breakfast,” she said as Marcus poured them each a glass of orange juice.

“My turn to give thanks,” Emily said as she bowed her head.

Miranda bowed her own head, listening as Emily repeated a simple rhyming prayer, then they all said amen. As they ate what turned out to be a truly delicious breakfast, Miranda felt unexpectedly shy and quiet. Something about this sweet and
intimate setting was getting to her. It was like something out of a storybook, and she really didn't want it to end. Ever.

But eventually the meal was over. Miranda offered to clean up. “It's the least I can do after sharing your lovely meal,” she told Marcus. “Let me help.”

“Okay.” He removed his apron. “You take care of this and I'll go out and shovel some snow. I'll start clearing a path for your motor home to get out. I heard we might get even more snow later this afternoon.”

“More snow!” Emily danced around the kitchen. “I'm going to make a snowman today.”

He put his hand on her head. “Not until you help Miranda with the kitchen, okay?”

She nodded with a bit of reluctance. “Okay.”

“We'll make fast work of it,” Miranda promised as they began to gather the dishes. While Miranda loaded the dishwasher, Emily washed off the table. Miranda was just washing the last frying pan when she noticed something big moving slowly down the road outside. “Is that a snowplow?” she asked Emily.

Emily climbed up on the stool to see out. “Yep,” she confirmed. “It is.”

“So the roads will be clear enough for me to get out of here.”

Emily jumped down from the stool. “Are you going home for Christmas?” she asked.

“Uh . . . no.” Miranda hung the frying pan on the big cast-iron pot rack over the stove, then dried her hands.

“Where are you going then?” Emily asked with natural childlike curiosity.

“To town.”

“Do you live in town?”

“No.”

“Do you have friends in town?”

“Not yet.” Miranda made a stiff smile.

“Huh?”

“Well, I might meet some friends.” Miranda looked out to where Marcus was pushing a big shovel out in front of the RV. Soon she would have no excuse to stick around. And really, what would be the point? She hung up the dish towel and smiled at Emily. “I'd better go get my motor home ready to travel.”