That Christmas Feeling: Silver Bells / The Perfect Holiday / Under the Christmas Tree
Robyn Carr
Sherryl Woods
Debbie Macomber
Perfect for fans of Maeve Binchy' - CandisMistletoe kisses & Christmas wishes!Silver Bells Phillip Lark’s daughter has hatched a plot to find her father a wife and lovely Carrie Weston fits the bill. Will the magic of the holiday season – and Carrie’s wonderful charms – see the single dad finally saying “I do”? The Perfect HolidayCould bachelor Trace Franklin become a groom-to-be by Christmas time? If Savannah Holiday’s aunt Mae has anything to do with it, he will! Fingers crossed for marriage under the mistletoe! Under the Christmas Tree When a box of puppies is found under the town Christmas tree the community call on vet Nathaniel Jensen for help. But it’s his budding romance with Annie McCarty that really has tongues – and tails – wagging!Celebrate Christmas with three stories from your favourite authors
Three Christmas miracles to make winter dreams come true!
That Christmas Feeling
Three heartwarming stories byNew York Timesbestselling authors Debbie Macomber,Sherryl Woods and Robyn Carr
That Christmas Feeling
Silver Bells
Debbie Macomber
The Perfect Holiday
Sherryl Woods
Under the Christmas Tree
Robyn Carr
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Silver Bells
Debbie Macomber
About the Author
DEBBIE MACOMBER is a number one New York Times bestselling author. Her recent books include 44 Cranberry Point, 50 Harbor Way, 6 Rainier Drive and Hannah’s List. She has become a leading voice in women’s fiction worldwide and her work has appeared on every major bestseller list. There are more than one hundred million copies of her books in print. For more information on Debbie and her books, visit www.DebbieMacomber.com.
To Doris LaPort and Teresa Colchado,
who keep my house clean and my life sane.
Dear Friends,
I’m delighted to have Silver Bells included in this volume, along with novellas by Sherryl Woods and Robyn Carr (who just happen to be wonderful friends as well as talented authors).
My wish for you this Christmas is that you’ll have time to relax with a good book or two—hope this is one of them!—and that you and your family receive all the blessings of Christmas.
PS I love hearing from my readers. You can reach me in two ways: either by logging on to my website at www.DebbieMacomber.com and signing the guestbook, or by contacting me at PO Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366, USA.
One
“Dad, you don’t understand.”
“Mackenzie, enough.”
Carrie Weston hurried through the lobby of her apartment complex. “Hold the elevator,” she called, making a dash for the open doors. Her arms were loaded with mail, groceries and decorations for her Christmas tree. It probably wasn’t a good idea to rush, since the two occupants appeared to be at odds—which could make for an awkward elevator ride—but her arms ached and she didn’t want to wait. Lack of patience had always been one of her weaknesses; equally lacking were several other notable virtues.
The man kept the doors from closing. Carrie had noticed him earlier, and so had various other residents. There’d been plenty of speculation about the two latest additions to the apartment complex.
“Thanks,” she said breathlessly. Her eyes met those of the teenager. The girl was around thirteen, Carrie guessed. They’d moved in a couple of weeks earlier, and from the scuttlebutt Carrie had heard, they’d only be staying until construction on their new home was complete.
The elevator doors glided shut, as slowly as ever, but then the people who lived in the brick three-story building off Seattle’s Queen Anne Hill weren’t the type to rush. Carrie was the exception.
“What floor?” the man asked.
Carrie shifted her burdens and managed to slip her mail inside her grocery bag. “Second. Thanks.”
The thirtysomething man sent her a benign smile as he pushed the button. He stared pointedly away from her and the teenager.
“I’m Mackenzie Lark,” the girl said, smiling broadly. The surly tone was gone. “This is my dad, Philip.”
“I’m Carrie Weston.” By balancing the groceries on one knee she was able to offer Mackenzie her hand. “Welcome.”
Philip shook her hand next, his grip firm and solid, his clasp brief. He glared at his daughter as though to say this wasn’t the time for social pleasantries.
“I’ve been wanting to meet you,” Mackenzie continued, ignoring her father. “You look like the only normal person in the entire building.”
Carrie smiled despite her effort not to. “I take it you met Madame Frederick.”
“Is that a real crystal ball?”
“So she claims.” Carrie remembered the first time she’d seen Madame Frederick, who’d stepped into the hallway carrying her crystal ball, predicting everything from the weather to a Nordstrom shoe sale. Carrie hadn’t known what to think. She’d plastered herself against the wall and waited for Madame Frederick to pass. The crystal ball hadn’t unnerved her as much as the green emeralds glued over each eyebrow. She wore a sort of caftan, with billowing yards of colorful material about her arms and hips; it hugged her legs from the knees down. Her long, silver-white hair was arranged in an updo like that of a prom queen straight out of the sixties.
“She’s nice,” Mackenzie remarked. “Even if she’s weird.”
“Have you met Arnold yet?” Carrie asked. He was another of the more eccentric occupants, and one of her favorites.
“Is he the one with all the cats?”
“Arnold’s the weight lifter.”
“The guy who used to work for the circus?”
Carrie nodded, and was about to say more when the elevator came to a bumpy halt and sighed loudly as the doors opened. “It was a pleasure to meet you both,” she said on her way out the door.
“Same here,” Philip muttered, and although he glanced in her direction, Carrie had the impression that he wasn’t really seeing her. She had the distinct notion that if she’d been standing there nude he wouldn’t have noticed or, for that matter, cared.
The doors started to shut when Mackenzie yelled, “Can I come over and talk to you sometime?”
“Sure.” The elevator closed, but not before Carrie heard the girl’s father voice his disapproval. She didn’t know if the two of them were continuing their disagreement, or if this had to do with Mackenzie inviting herself over to visit.
Holding her bags, Carrie had some difficulty unlocking and opening her apartment door without dropping everything. She slammed it closed with one foot and dumped the Christmas ornaments on the sofa, then hauled everything else into her small kitchen.
“You’d been wanting to meet him,” she said aloud. “Now you have.” She hated to admit it, but Philip Lark had been a disappointment. He showed about as much interest in her as he would a loaf of bread in the bakery window. Well, what did she expect? The fact that she expected anything was because she’d listened to Madame Frederick one too many times. The older woman claimed to see Carrie’s future and predicted that, before the end of the year, she’d meet the man of her dreams when he moved into this very building. Yeah, right. She refused to put any credence into that prophecy. Madame Frederick was a sweet, rather strange old lady with a romantic heart.
Carrie pulled out the mail, scanned the envelopes and, except for two Christmas cards and a bill, threw the rest in the garbage. She’d just started to unpack her groceries when there was a knock at the door.
“Hello again,” Mackenzie Lark said cheerfully when Carrie opened the door. The quickness of her return took Carrie by surprise.
“You said I could come see you,” the teenager reminded her.
“Sure, come on in.” Mackenzie walked into the apartment, glanced around admiringly and then collapsed onto the sofa.
“Are you still fighting with your dad?” Carrie asked. She’d had some real go-rounds with her mother before Charlotte married Jason Manning ten years earlier. At the time, Carrie and her mother had been constantly at odds. Carrie knew she was to blame, in part, but she was also aware that her mother had been lonely and unhappy.
Hindsight told her that the root of their problem had been her parents’ divorce. Carrie didn’t remember a lot about her father—her parents had separated when she was four or five. As she grew older, she came to resent that she didn’t have a father, and for reasons that were never clear, she’d blamed her mother.
“Dad doesn’t understand.” Mackenzie lowered her eyes, her mouth turned down.
“About what?” Carrie asked gently.
The girl stood and walked over to the kitchen and watched Carrie put away groceries. She folded her arms on the counter and then rested her chin there. “Everything. We can’t talk without fighting. It’s tough being a teenager.”
“You might find this difficult to believe, but it’s just as difficult raising one,” Carrie said.
Mackenzie sighed. “It didn’t used to be like this with Dad and me. We got along really well. It wasn’t easy when Mom left, but we managed.”
“So your parents are divorced?” Although she didn’t mean to pry, she was definitely curious.
Mackenzie wrinkled her nose. “It was awful when they split.”
“It always is. My parents divorced when I was just a kid. I barely remember my dad.”
“Did you see him very much afterward?”
Carrie shook her head. It had bothered her when she was younger, but she’d made her peace with it as an adult. She’d felt hurt that her father didn’t want to be part of her life, but ultimately she’d decided that was his choice—and his loss.
“I’m spending Christmas with my mom and her new husband.” Mackenzie’s eyes brightened. “I haven’t seen her in almost a year. She’s been busy,” she said. “Mom works for one of the big banks in downtown Seattle and she’s got this really important position and has to travel and it’s hard for her to have me over. Dad’s a systems analyst.”
Carrie heard the pain in Mackenzie’s voice. “You’re fifteen?” she asked, deliberately adding a couple of years to her estimate, remembering how important it was to look older when one was that age.
Mackenzie straightened. “Thirteen, actually.”
Carrie opened a bag of fat-free, cheese-flavored rice cakes and dumped them onto a plate. Mackenzie helped herself to one and Carrie did, as well. They sat across from each other on opposite sides of the kitchen counter.
“You know what I think?” Mackenzie said, her dark eyes intense. “My dad needs a woman.”
The rice cake stuck midway down Carrie’s throat. “A … woman?”
“Yeah, a wife. All he does is work, work, work. It’s like he can forget about my mother if he stays at the office long enough.” She grabbed another rice cake. “Madame Frederick said so, too. And she says he’s going to meet someone, but she couldn’t be any more specific than that.”
“Madame Frederick?”
“She looked into her crystal ball for me and said she saw lots of changes in my future. I wasn’t too happy—except for the part about my dad. There’ve been too many changes already with the move and all. I miss my friends and it’s taking way longer to build the new house than it was supposed to. Originally we were going to be in for Christmas, but now I doubt it’ll be ready before next Thanksgiving. Dad doesn’t seem to mind, but it bugs me. I’m the one who’s going to a strange school and everything.” She frowned, shaking her head. “I want my life back.”
“That’s understandable.”
Mackenzie seemed caught up in a fantasy world of her own. “You know, I think Madame Frederick might’ve stumbled on something here.” Her voice rose with enthusiasm.
“Stumbled on something?” Carrie repeated cautiously.
“You know, about a relationship for my dad. I wonder how I could arrange that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Finding a new wife for my dad.”
“Mackenzie,” Carrie said and laughed nervously. “A daughter can’t arrange that sort of thing.”
“Why not?” She seemed taken aback.
“Well, because marriage is serious. It’s love and commitment between two people. It’s … it’s …”
“The perfect solution,” Mackenzie finished for her. “Dad and I’ve always liked the same things. We’ve always agreed on everything … well, until recently. It makes sense that I should be the one to find him a wife.”
“Mackenzie …”
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, without a pause. “That my dad won’t appreciate my efforts, and you’re probably right. I’ll have to be subtle.”
Carrie laughed. “I can’t believe this,” she whispered. This girl was like a reincarnation of herself eleven years earlier.
“What?” Mackenzie demanded, apparently offended.
“Take my advice and stay out of your father’s love life.”
“Love life?” she echoed. “That’s a joke. He hasn’t got one.”
“He doesn’t want your help,” Carrie said firmly.
“Of course he doesn’t, but that’s beside the point.”
“Mackenzie, if you’re not getting along with your dad now, I hate to think what’ll happen when he discovers what you’re up to. My mother was furious with me when I offered Jason money to take her out and—”
“You were willing to pay someone to date your mother?”
Carrie didn’t realize what she’d said until it was too late. “It was a long time ago,” she murmured, hoping to leave it at that. She should’ve known better. Mackenzie’s eyes grew huge.
“You actually paid someone to date your mother?” she said again.
“Yes, but don’t get any ideas. He refused.” Carrie could see the wheels turning in the girl’s head. “It was a bad idea, and like I said, my mother was really mad at me.”
“Did she ever remarry?”
Carrie nodded.
“Anyone you knew?”
Again she nodded, unwilling to tell her it was the very man she’d tried to bribe.
Mackenzie’s gaze met hers and Carrie looked away. “It was him, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
Mackenzie laughed. “You offered him money to date your mother. He refused, but dated her anyway. That’s great! How long before they got married?”
“Mackenzie, what happened with my mother and Jason is … unusual.”
“How long?” she repeated stubbornly.
“A few months.”
She smiled knowingly. “They’re happy, aren’t they.” It was more of a comment than a question.
“Yes.”
Carrie only hoped she’d find a man who’d make her as truly contented as Jason Manning had made her mother. Despite ten years of marriage and two children, her mother and stepfather behaved like newlyweds. Carrie marveled at the strength of their love. It inspired her and yet in some ways hampered her. She wanted that kind of relationship for herself and wasn’t willing to settle for anything less. Her friends claimed she was too picky, too demanding when it came to men, and she suspected they were right.
“My point exactly,” Mackenzie declared triumphantly. “You knew your mom better than anyone. Who else was more qualified to choose a husband for her? It’s the same with me. I know my dad and he’s in a rut. Something’s got to be done, and Madame Frederick hit the nail on the head. He needs a love interest.”
Carrie’s smile was forced. “Madame Frederick is one of my favorite people, but I think it’s best to take what she says with a grain of salt.”
“Well, a little salt enhances the flavor, right?” Mackenzie added. Excited now, she got to her feet. “What about you?” she asked.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. Would you be willing to date my dad?”
Two
“She’s pretty, isn’t she, Dad?”
Philip Lark glanced up. He sat at the kitchen table, filling out an expense report. His daughter sat across from him, smiling warmly. The way her eyes focused on him told him she was up to something.
“Who?” he asked, wondering if it was wise to inquire.
“Carrie Weston.” At his blank look, she elaborated. “The woman we met in the elevator. We talked this afternoon.” Mackenzie rested her chin in her hands and continued to gaze at him adoringly.
Philip’s eyes reverted to the row of figures on the single sheet. His daughter waited patiently until he was finished. Patience wasn’t a trait he was accustomed to seeing in Mackenzie. She usually complained when he brought work home, acting as though it was a personal affront. He cleared his mind, attempting to remember her question. Oh, yes, she wanted to know what he thought of Carrie Weston. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what the woman looked like. His impression of her remained vague, but he hadn’t found anything to object to.
“You like her, do you?” he asked instead, although he wasn’t convinced that pandering to Mackenzie’s moods was a smart thing to do. She’d been impossible lately. Moody and unreasonable. Okay, okay, he realized the move had been hard on her; it hadn’t been all that easy on him, either. But they’d be here for only six to eight weeks. He’d assumed she was mature enough to handle the situation. Evidently, he’d been wrong.
Mackenzie’s moods weren’t all he’d miscalculated. Philip used to think they were close, but for the past few months she’d been a constant source of frustration.
Overnight his sane, sensible daughter had turned into Sarah Bernhardt—or, more appropriately, Sarah Heartburn! She hadn’t whined this much since she was three. Frankly, Philip didn’t understand it. Even her mother’s defection hadn’t caused this much drama.
“Carrie’s great, really great.”
Philip was pleased Mackenzie had made a new friend, although he would have been more pleased if it was someone closer to her own age. Still, as he kept reminding her, the situation was temporary. Gene Tarkington, a friend of his who owned this apartment building, had offered the furnished two-bedroom rental to him for as long as it’d take to complete construction on his Lake Washington house. The apartment wasn’t the Ritz, but he hadn’t been expecting any luxury digs. Nor, truth be told, had he expected the cavalcade of characters who populated the building, although the woman with the crystal ball looked fairly harmless. And the muscle-bound sixty-year-old who walked around shirtless, carrying hand weights, appeared innocuous, too. He wasn’t as certain about some of the others, but then he didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to form friendships with this group of oddballs.
“Dad,” Mackenzie began in a wistful voice, “have you ever thought of remarrying?”
“No,” he answered emphatically, shocked by the question. He’d made one mistake; he wasn’t willing to risk another. Laura and the twelve years they were together had taught him everything he cared to know about marriage.
“You sound mad.”
“I’m not,” he said, thrusting the expense report back inside his briefcase, “just determined.”
“It’s because of Mom, isn’t it?”
“Why would I want to remarry?” he asked, hoping to put an end to this conversation.
“You might want a son someday.”
“Why would I want a son when I have you?”
She grinned broadly, obviously approving his response. “Madame Frederick looked into her crystal ball and said she sees another woman in your life.”
Philip laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of that. Remarry? Him? He’d rather dine on crushed glass. Wade through an alligator-infested swamp. Or jump off the Space Needle. No, he wasn’t interested in remarrying. Not him. Not in this lifetime.
“Carrie’s a lot like me.”
So this was what the conversation was all about. Carrie and him. Well, he’d put a stop to that right now. “Hey.” He raised his hand, palm out. “I guess I’m a little slow on the uptake here, but the fog is beginning to lift. You’re playing matchmaker with me and this—” person he couldn’t recall a single thing about “—neighbor.”
“Woman, Dad. Carrie’s young, attractive, smart and funny.”
“She is?” He hadn’t noticed that earlier, but then how could he? They’d met for about a minute in the elevator.
“She’s perfect for you.”
“Who says?” As soon as the words left his lips, Philip knew he’d made a strategic error. He’d all but invited an argument.
Mackenzie’s smile blossomed like a rose in the sun. “Madame Frederick, for one. Me for another. Just think about it, Dad. You’re in the prime of your life and all you do is work. You should be enjoying the fruit of your labors.”
“I’m building the house,” he said, wondering where she’d heard that expression.
“Sure, to impress Mom, just so she’ll know what a mistake she made leaving you.”
His daughter’s words brought him up short. Philip sincerely hoped that wasn’t true. He wanted a new home for plenty of reasons, none of which included his ex-wife. Or so he believed.
“Why would your mother care about a home I’m building?”
“Think about it, Dad.”
“I am.”
She shot him a knowing look, one tempered with gentle understanding, which only irritated him further. “Let’s leave Laura out of this, all right?” His feelings for Mackenzie’s mother were long dead. He’d tried to make the marriage work, as God was his witness. Even when he discovered she was having an affair—the first time—he’d been willing to do whatever was necessary to get them back on track. It’d worked for a few years, but for the most part he’d been deluding himself.
The divorce had come well after there was any marriage left to save. He’d berated himself for a long time before, and since. He had his daughter and his dignity, and was grateful for both. The last thing he intended to do at this point was risk that hard-won serenity.
“I want you to ask Carrie out.”
“What?” He couldn’t believe her nerve. “Mackenzie, for heaven’s sake, would you stop? I’m not dating Carrie Westchester or anyone else.”
“It’s Carrie Weston.”
“Her, either.” He stalked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He took one sip, cringed at the bitter taste and dumped the rest in the sink.
“Please? She’s in Apartment 204.”
“No! Case closed! I don’t want to hear another word about this, understand?” He must have added just enough authority to his voice because she didn’t pursue the subject again. Philip was grateful.
The next time he glanced at his daughter, he saw her sitting in the middle of the living room, her arms folded tightly around her. The sour look on her face could have curdled cream.
“Say, why don’t we go out and buy a Christmas tree?” he suggested. Despite what Mackenzie might think, he didn’t enjoy fighting with her.
She turned to stare at him disdainfully and consider his proposal. With what seemed to require an extraordinary amount of effort, she said, “No thanks.”
“Fine, if that’s the way you want to be.”
“I thought you said a Christmas tree would be too much trouble this year.”
It would be, but he was willing to overlook that if it’d take his daughter’s mind off her present topic of interest. “We could put up a small one.” He figured a compromise would go a long distance toward keeping the peace.
“She likes you,” Mackenzie said with a righteous nod.
Philip didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. He pressed his lips together to keep from saying something he’d later regret. Such as … how did this Carrie person know enough about him to either like or dislike him?
“She told me what happened to her when she was about my age,” Mackenzie continued undaunted. “Her parents divorced when she was around five and her mother didn’t date again or anything. She closed herself off from new relationships, just the way you’re doing, so Carrie felt she had to take matters into her own hands. And who could blame her? Not me, that’s for sure.” She paused long enough to draw in a breath. “By the time Carrie was a teenager, her mother had shriveled into this miserable, unhappy shrew.” She stared pointedly at him before saying, “Sort of like what’s happening to you.”
“Come on now!”
“So,” she went on, ignoring his outburst, “Carrie felt she had to do something. She offered to pay this guy to date her mother. Out of her own meager savings from babysitting jobs and walking the neighbor’s dog. She took everything she’d managed to scrape together to pay this man. She told me she would’ve done anything to give her love-starved mother a second chance at happiness.”
Philip restrained himself from rolling his eyes at her melodramatic rendition. All she needed was a violin playing softly in the background. “How noble of her.”
“That’s not the end of the story,” Mackenzie informed him.
“You mean there’s more?”
She paid no attention to his sarcasm. “When her mother found out what she’d done, she was furious with Carrie.”
“I can well imagine.” Philip crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. He glanced at his watch, indicating that there was only so much of this he was willing to listen to and he was already close to his limit.
“But she withstood her mother’s outrage. Knowing she was right, Carrie gladly accepted the two-week restriction her mother placed on her.”
The strains of the violin grew distinctly louder.
“Carrie didn’t pick just any Tom, Dick or Harry for her mother, though. She carefully, thoughtfully surveyed the eligible men around her and chose this really cool guy named James … or something like that. His name isn’t important—what is important is that Carrie knew her mother well enough to choose the perfect man for her. She chose the very best.”
Now his daughter was beginning to sound like a greeting-card commercial. “This story does have a point, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, yes.” Her eyes gleamed with triumph. “Not more than three months later, four at the most, Carrie’s mother married Jason.”
“I thought you said his name was James.”
“I also said his name doesn’t matter. The point is that he married her and they’re both happy.”
“That must have cost her a pretty penny, since Carrie had already paid him everything she’d saved just for that first date.”
“He married her for free.”
“Oh, I see, she was on sale.”
Mackenzie frowned at him. “You’re not funny. Carrie told me that meeting Jason was the best thing that ever happened to her mother. Once a year, on the anniversary of their first date, her mom sends her flowers out of gratitude that her daughter, the very one she’d restricted for two whole weeks, had cared enough to find the man of her dreams.”
As her voice rose victoriously, the violin faded and was replaced with a full choral arrangement of God Bless America. Philip could just about hear it. His daughter was Sarah Heartburn during her finest hour.
“Now,” she said, “will you ask Carrie out? She’s perfect for you, Dad. I know what you like and what you don’t, and you’re gonna like her. She’s really nice and fun.”
“No.” He yawned loudly, covering his mouth.
“I’ve never said anything, but I’d really love to be a big sister, the way Carrie is to her two half brothers.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” The kid was actually beginning to frighten him. Not only was she telling him he should date a woman he’d barely met, now she was talking about them having children together.
“Don’t do it because I asked it of you. Do it for yourself. Do it before your heart turns into a hardened shell and you shrivel up into an old man.”
“Hey, I’m not dead yet. I’ve got a good forty or fifty years left in me.”
“Maybe,” Mackenzie challenged. “If you’re lucky.” With her nose pointed at the ceiling she exited the room with all the flair and drama of an actress walking offstage after the final curtain call.
Grinning to himself, Philip opened his briefcase. He removed a file, then hesitated, frowning. It was one thing to have his daughter carry on like a Shakespearean actress and another for an adult woman to be feeding her this nonsense. While he couldn’t remember much about Ms. Carrie Weston, he did recall that she’d appeared interested in him, judging by the intent way she’d studied him. Perhaps he’d better set the record straight with her. If she intended to use his daughter to get to him, then she was about to learn a thing or two.
He slammed his briefcase shut and marched toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Mackenzie asked, returning—of course—at that very instant.
“To talk to your friend,” he snapped.
“You mean Carrie?” she asked excitedly. “You won’t be sorry, Dad, I promise you. She’s really nice and I know you’ll like her. If you haven’t decided where to take her to dinner, I’d suggest Henry’s, off Broadway. You took me there for my birthday, remember?”
Philip didn’t bother to inform his daughter that inviting Carrie to dinner wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. He walked out the door and nearly collided with the old biddy clutching the crystal ball.
“Good evening, Mr. Lark,” Madame Frederick greeted him with a tranquil smile. She glanced at him and then at the crystal ball and her smile grew wider.
“Keep that thing away from me,” he told her in clear tones. “I don’t want you doing any of that hocus-pocus around my daughter. Understand?”
“As you wish,” she said with great dignity and moved past him. Philip glared at her, then sighed, exasperated. He headed for the stairs, running down to the second floor.
When he reached Carrie Weston’s apartment, he was winded and short-tempered. She answered his knock almost immediately.
“Mr. Lark.” Her eyes widened with the appropriate amount of surprise, as though she’d spent the past five minutes standing in front of a mirror practicing.
“It seems you and I need to talk.”
“Now?” she asked.
“Right now.”
Three
Carrie Weston was lovely, Philip realized. For reasons he didn’t want to analyze, he hadn’t noticed how strikingly attractive she was when they’d met in the elevator. Her eyes were clear blue, almost aquamarine. Intense. Her expression warm and open.
It took him a moment to recall why he’d rushed down here to talk to her. Maybe, just maybe, what Mackenzie had been saying—that he was shriveling up emotionally—contained a grain of truth. The thought sobered him.
“I need to talk to you about Mackenzie,” he stammered out.
“She’s a delightful young lady. I hope I didn’t keep her too long.” Carrie’s words were apologetic as she reached into the hallway closet for her coat.
“It’s about your discussion with her this afternoon.”
“I’m sorry I can’t chat just now. I feed Maria’s cats on Wednesdays and I’m already late.”
It could be a convenient excuse to escape him, but he was determined to see this through. “Do you mind if I tag along?”
She looked mildly surprised, but agreed. “Sure, if you want.” She picked up a ten-pound bag of cat food. Ten pounds? Philip knew the older woman kept a ridiculous number of animals. Gene had complained to him more than once, but the retired schoolteacher had lived in the building for fifteen years and paid her rent on time. Gene tolerated her tendency to adopt cats, but he didn’t like it.
“You might want to get your coat,” she suggested as she locked her apartment.
“My coat?” She seemed to imply that the old lady kept her apartment at subzero temperatures. “All right,” he muttered.
She waited as he hurried up the stairs. Mackenzie leaped to her feet the second he walked in the door. “What’d you say to her?” she demanded.
“Nothing yet.” He yanked his coat off the hanger. “I’m helping her feed some cats.”
The worry left his daughter’s eyes. “Really? That’s almost a date, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think.” He jerked his arms into the jacket sleeves.
“She asked me if I wanted to bake Christmas cookies with her and her two brothers on Saturday. I can, can’t I?”
“We’ll talk about that later.” Carrie Weston was wheedling her way into his daughter’s life. He didn’t like it.
Mackenzie didn’t look pleased but gave a quick nod. Her worried expression returned as he walked out the door.
Philip wasn’t sure why he’d decided to join Carrie. He needed to clarify the situation, but it wasn’t necessary to follow her around with a bag of cat food to do so.
“Maria has a special love for cats,” Carrie explained as they entered the elevator and rode to the ground floor.
“I just don’t feel it’s a good idea for her to be going out alone at night to feed the strays.”
So that was what this was all about—feeding stray cats.
“Maria calls them her homeless babies.”
Philip sure hoped no one at the office heard about this. They stepped outside and his breath formed a small cloud. “How often does she do this?” he asked, walking beside Carrie.
“Every day,” she answered. Half a block later she turned into an almost-dark alley. Carrie had said she didn’t think it was safe for Maria to venture out alone at night. Philip wasn’t convinced it was any less risky for her. He glanced about and saw nothing but a row of green Dumpsters.
They were halfway down the dimly lit alley when he heard the welcoming meow of cats. Carrie removed a cardboard container from a Dumpster and left a large portion of food there. The cats eagerly raced toward it. One tabby wove his way around her feet, his tail slithering about Carrie’s slender calf. Squatting down, she ran her gloved hand down the back side of a large male. “This is Brutus,” she said, “Jim Dandy, Button Nose, Falcon and Queen Bee.”
“You named them?”
“Not me, Maria. They’re her friends. Most have been on their own so long that they’re unable to adapt to any other way of life. Maria’s paid to have them neutered, and she nursed Brutus back to health after he lost an eye in a fight. He was nearly dead when she found him. He let her look after him, but domesticated living wasn’t for Brutus. Actually, I think he’s the one that got Maria started on the care and feeding of the strays. I help out once a week. Arnold and a couple of the others do, too. And we all contribute what we can to the costs of cat food and vet care.”
All this talk about cats was fine, but Philip had other things on his mind. “As I explained earlier, I wanted to talk to you about Mackenzie.”
“Sure.” Carrie gave each of the cats a gentle touch, straightened and started out of the alley.
“She came back from her visit with you spouting some ridiculous idea about the two of us dating,” Philip continued.
Carrie had the good grace to blush, he noted.
“I’m afraid I’m the one who inadvertently put that idea in her head. Mr. Lark, I can’t tell you how embarrassed I am about this. It all started with an innocent conversation about parents. My parents got divorced, as well—”
“When you were four or five, as I recall,” he said. He hated to admit it, but he enjoyed her uneasiness. Knowing Mackenzie, he was well aware of the finesse with which his daughter manipulated conversations. Poor Carrie hadn’t had a chance. “Mackenzie also said you paid a man to date your mother.”
“Oh, dear.” She closed her eyes. “No wonder you wanted to talk to me.” She glanced guiltily in his direction. “Jason was far too honorable to accept my offer.”
“But he did as you asked.”
“Not exactly … Listen, I do apologize. I’d better have another talk with Mackenzie. I’ll try to set the record straight. I was afraid she might do something like this. Actually, I should’ve realized her intent and warned you. But I didn’t think she’d race right upstairs and repeat every word of our conversation.”
“My daughter has a mind of her own. And she’s taken quite a liking to you.” For that, Philip was grateful. Mackenzie needed a positive female role model. Heaven knew her mother had shown little enough interest in her only child. Philip could do nothing to ease the pain of that, and it hurt him to hear Mackenzie make excuses for Laura’s indifference.
As they chatted, Carrie led him into a nearby vacant lot. He learned quite a bit about her in those few minutes. She worked for Microsoft, had lots of family in the area and doted on her two half brothers.
The minute they stepped onto the lot, ten or so stray cats eased out of the shadows. They’d obviously been waiting for Carrie. Talking softly, issuing reassurances and comfort, she distributed the food in a series of aluminum pie plates situated about the area.
“I saw a lot of my teenage self in Mackenzie,” she said when she rejoined him. She looked at him, but didn’t hold his gaze long. “It wasn’t just the fact that my parents were divorced—broken homes were prevalent enough—but I’d been cheated out of more than the ideal family. In some ways I didn’t have a mother, either.”
“Are you trying to say I’m not a good father?” he asked tightly.
“No, no,” she said automatically. “I think I should keep my mouth shut. I do apologize for what happened with Mackenzie. Don’t worry, Mr. Lark, I have no intention of using your daughter to orchestrate a date with you.”
“Do you still want her to come over to bake cookies?” he asked. He’d be in trouble with Mackenzie if she didn’t.
“You don’t mind?”
“Not if you and I are straight about where we stand with each other. I’m not interested in a relationship with you. It’s nothing personal. You’re young and attractive and will make some man very happy one day—it just won’t be me.”
“I wouldn’t … You’re not—” She stopped abruptly and glared up at him. “Rest assured, Mr. Lark, you have nothing to fear from me.”
“Good. As long as we understand each other.”
Carrie removed her gloves and viciously shoved them into her pockets. She hung her coat in the closet and sat down, crossing her arms and her legs. She uncrossed both just as quickly, stood and started pacing. She couldn’t keep still.
Philip Lark actually believed she’d tried to use his daughter to arrange a date with him! Talk about an egomaniac! This guy took the prize as the most conceited, egotistical, vain man she’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. She wouldn’t date him now if he were the last man on the face of the earth.
The phone rang and she frowned at it, then realized she was being ridiculous and picked up the receiver.
“Carrie?” Her name was whispered.
It was her stepfather, Jason Manning. “Yes?” she answered. “Is there a reason you’re whispering?”
“I don’t want your mother to hear me.”
“Oh?” Despite her agitation with Philip Lark she grinned.
“I ordered Charlotte a Christmas gift this afternoon,” he boasted. From years past, Carrie knew buying gifts didn’t come naturally to Jason, since he’d been a confirmed bachelor until he met her mother. The first Christmas after they were married he’d bought Charlotte a bowling ball, season tickets to the Seattle Seahawks and a vacuum cleaner. After that, Carrie had steered him toward more personal things.
“You know how your mother likes to go to garage sales?”
“I’m not likely to forget.” Jason had given her mother a lot of grief over her penchant to shop at yard sales. He liked to joke that Charlotte had found priceless pieces of Tupperware in her search for treasure.
“Well, a friend of mine started a limousine service and I hired him to escort your mother to yard sales on the Saturday of her choice. What do you think?” His voice rose in excitement. “She’ll love it, won’t she?”
“She will.” Carrie couldn’t keep from smiling. “She’ll have the time of her life.”
“I thought so,” he said proudly. “Jeff’s giving me a twenty-percent discount, too.”
“I also think it’s really sweet that you’re taking Mom Christmas shopping in downtown Seattle on Saturday.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the price a man pays to please his wife.” He didn’t sound very enthusiastic.
“Doug and Dillon are coming to stay with me. We’re baking cookies.”
“I can’t believe I’m voluntarily going Christmas shopping. There isn’t another person in the world who could drag me into the city during the busiest shopping season of the year. Your mother’s got to know I love her.”
“She does know.” Carrie had never doubted it, not from the first moment she’d seen her mother and Jason together. Rarely had any two people been more right for each other. While Jason might not be the most romantic man alive—she smiled whenever she recalled the look on her mother’s face when she unwrapped that bowling ball—he was a devoted husband and father.
Jason Manning loved and nurtured Carrie as if she’d been his own child. A teenager couldn’t have asked for a better stepdad. After some of the horror stories she’d heard from other girls in her situation, she appreciated him even more.
She heard a persistent pounding. “There’s someone at my door,” she told Jason.
“I’ll let you go, then,” he said. “Promise me you won’t say anything to your mother.”
“My lips are sealed.” A limo to escort her to garage sales! Carrie smiled. She replaced the receiver and hurried across the living room to answer the door. It’d been a long day and a busy evening; she was hungry, tired and in no mood for company.
“Hi,” Mackenzie said, her eyes wide. “So how’d it go with my dad?”
Carrie frowned.
“That bad, huh?” The girl laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, it’ll get better once he gets used to the idea of dating again.”
“Mackenzie, listen, you and I need to talk about this. Your father’s—”
“Sorry, I can’t talk now. Dad doesn’t know I’m gone, but I just wanted to say don’t be discouraged. All he needs is time.” She beamed her another wide smile. “This is going to be so great! Wait until Jane hears about how I found my dad a wife. Jane’s my best friend. I’ll see you Saturday.” Having said that, she promptly disappeared.
Carrie closed the door and shut her eyes, feeling mildly guilty at what she’d started.
There was an abrupt knock at the door.
“Now what?” she demanded, her patience gone.
Madame Frederick smiled back at her. Arnold, muscles bulging in his upper arms, stood beside her. Both regarded her with open curiosity.
“Has she met him yet?” Arnold asked. “Has she met the man of her dreams—and do you know who it is?”
Madame Frederick’s face glowed. “You can see for yourself.” She lifted her crystal ball and ran her hand over the smooth glass surface. “One look should tell you.” But Carrie couldn’t see anything at all.
Four
A thin layer of flour dusted her small kitchen. Carrie fanned her hand in front of her face in an effort to clear the air. The scent of baking gingerbread men drifted through the apartment, smelling of spices and fun.
Dillon stood on a chair, leaning over the electric mixer, watching intently as it stirred the cookie dough. Doug was at the counter, his sleeves up past his elbows, a rolling pin in his hand. Mackenzie used a spatula to scoop the freshly baked cookies from the baking sheet and placed them on the wire rack to cool.
“Do you think anyone will taste the eggshell?” she asked.
“The recipe said two eggs,” Dillon muttered defensively, “and Carrie said the whole egg. How was I supposed to know she didn’t mean the shell?”
“You just should,” his older brother informed him with more than a hint of righteousness.
“I already said we don’t need to worry about it,” Carrie inserted, hoping to soothe Dillon’s dented ego. She’d gotten most of the shell out and the remainder had been pulverized to the point that it was no longer distinguishable.
Mackenzie rolled her eyes expressively, but it was clear she was enjoying herself. More and more she reminded Carrie of herself eleven years earlier. She’d taken to Doug and Dillon immediately and they were equally enthralled with her. Within an hour they were the best of friends.
“I want to decorate the cookies, too,” Dillon cried, when he saw that Carrie had finished making the frosting.
“You can’t lick the knife,” his older brother remarked snidely. “Not when we’re giving the cookies to other people.”
“There’ll be plenty of frosting for everyone,” Carrie reassured them.
“Who’s going to taste the first gingerbread man?”
The three kids looked at one another. “Dillon should,” Doug said.
“Okay.” Her youngest brother squared his shoulders bravely. “I don’t mind. Besides, Carrie said no one would be able to taste the eggshell, anyway.” He climbed off the chair and reached for a cookie. “Maybe you should put a little frosting on, just in case,” he said to Carrie.
She slathered some across the cookie and handed it back to him. Dillon closed his eyes and opened his mouth while the others waited for the outcome. One bite quickly became another.
“Maybe I should eat two just to make sure,” the six-year-old told her.
Carrie winked and handed her youngest brother a second cookie, also slathered with frosting.
“I better try some, too,” Doug said and grabbed one. He gobbled it up, head first, then nodded. “Not bad,” he mumbled, his mouth full of cookie. “Even without the frosting.”
“We’re saving some for us, aren’t we?” Dillon asked, reaching across the counter for the frosting knife.
“Of course, but I promised a plate to Arnold, Maria and Madame Frederick.”
“Can I frost now?” Dillon asked, pulling the chair closer to the counter where Carrie stood.
“I want to decorate, too.”
“Me, too,” Mackenzie chimed in.
An hour later, Carrie was exhausted. Doug and Dillon finished drying the last of the dishes and threw themselves in front of the television to watch their favorite DVD. Carrie sat on a bar stool, her energy gone, while Mackenzie painstakingly added tiny red cinnamon candies to the cookie faces.
“Dad’s late,” she said with a knowing sigh as she formed a pair of candy lips, “but then he’s always longer than he says he’s going to be. He has no life, you know.” She glanced up from her task to be sure Carrie was paying attention.
“We agreed,” Carrie reminded the girl, wagging her index finger.
“I remember.” Carrie had insisted Mackenzie keep Philip Lark out of the conversation. It seemed drastic, but was necessary, otherwise Mackenzie would use every opportunity to talk about her poor, lonely father, so desperate for female companionship that he was practically shriveling up before her eyes. Carrie could repeat the entire speech, verbatim.
It had taken the better part of two days to convince the girl that Carrie wasn’t romantically interested in Philip, no matter how perfectly matched they appeared to be in Mackenzie’s estimation.
Carrie suspected that Mackenzie was hearing much the same thing from her father. Philip wasn’t thrilled with the idea of his daughter playing matchmaker any more than she was. In the three days since their first meeting, they’d made an effort to avoid seeing or talking to each other. The last thing Mackenzie needed was evidence that her plan was working.
“It’s a real shame,” Mackenzie said, eyeing her carefully. “Madame Frederick agrees with me and so do Arnold and Maria.”
“Enough!” Carrie said, loudly enough to draw the boys’ attention away from the TV screen.
When Mackenzie had finished decorating the last of the cookies, Carrie set them on three plastic plates, covered each with clear wrap and stuck a bright, frilly bow to the top.
“I want to deliver Arnold’s,” Doug told her. The oldest of her brothers had developed an interest in the former weight lifter. Arnold fit the stereotype. From his shiny bald head to his handlebar mustache and bulging muscles, everything about him said circus performer. Sometimes, as a concession to holidays or other special occasions, he even wore red spandex shorts over his blue tights. Doug was entranced.
“Will Maria let me pet her cats?” Dillon wanted to know.
“Of course she will.”
“I guess that leaves me with Madame Frederick,” Mackenzie said, not sounding disappointed. She cast a look toward the kitchen and Carrie guessed she wanted to make sure there’d be enough cookies left to take home to her father. Carrie had already made up a plate for the Larks, and told her so.
“Thanks,” Mackenzie said, her eyes glowing.
All three disappeared, eager to deliver their gifts, and Carrie collapsed on the sofa. She rested her head against the cushion and closed her eyes, enjoying the peace and quiet. It didn’t last long.
Doug barreled back in moments later, followed by Mackenzie. Dillon trailed behind.
“She’s in here,” Carrie heard her brother explain as he entered her apartment. Philip walked with him.
Carrie was immediately aware of how she must look. Flour had dusted more than the kitchen counters. She hadn’t bothered with makeup that morning and had worn her grungiest jeans. She’d hardly ever felt more self-conscious in front of a man. She probably resembled a snowman—snow woman—only not so well dressed.
“Dad!” Mackenzie cried, delighted to see him.
Carrie stood and quickly removed the apron, certain the domestic look distracted from any slight air of sophistication she might still possess. Perhaps it was her imagination, but it seemed Philip’s gaze zeroed in on her.
“I should’ve knocked,” he said, and motioned to Dillon, “but your friend here insisted I come right in.”
“Oh, that’s fine.” Each word seemed to stick to the roof of her mouth like paste. She clasped her hands together, remembering how uneasy her mother had been around Jason those first few times. Carrie had never understood that. Jason was the easiest person in the world to talk to.
Now she understood.
“Mackenzie behaved herself?” Once again the question was directed to Carrie.
“Dad!” Mackenzie burst out. “Way to embarrass me.”
“She was a big help,” Carrie assured him.
“Mom didn’t call, did she?” Mackenzie advanced one step toward her father, her eyes hopeful.
Philip shook his head, and Carrie watched as disappointment settled over the girl. “She’s really busy this time of year,” Mackenzie explained to no one in particular. “I’m not surprised she didn’t call, not with so much else on her mind … and everything.”
Carrie resisted the urge to place her arm around Mackenzie’s shoulders.
“How about a movie?” Philip suggested abruptly. “I can’t remember the last time we went together.”
“Really?” Mackenzie jerked her head up.
“Sure. Any one you want.”
She mentioned the current Disney picture. “Can Doug and Dillon come, too?”
“Sure.” Philip smiled affectionately at his daughter.
“And Carrie?”
“I … couldn’t,” she interjected before Philip could respond.
“Why not?” Doug asked. “You said we’re all done with the cookies. A movie would be fun.”
“You’d be welcome,” Philip surprised her by adding. His eyes held hers and the offer appeared genuine. Apparently he felt that with three young chaperones, there wouldn’t be a problem.
“You’re positive?”
“Of course he is,” Mackenzie said. “My father doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean, isn’t that right, Dad?”
“Right.” He sounded less confident this time.
Carrie was half tempted to let him take the kids on his own but changed her mind. Doug had a point; a movie would be a great way to relax after the hectic activity of the morning.
The five of them would be at the show together—and what could be more innocent? But the moment they entered the theater and had purchased their popcorn, the three kids promptly found seats several rows away from Philip and Carrie.
“But I thought we’d all sit together,” Carrie said, loudly enough for Doug and Dillon to hear. Desperation echoed in her voice.
“That’s for little kids,” six-year-old Dillon turned around to inform her.
With the theater filling up fast, the option of sitting together soon disappeared. Carrie settled uneasily next to Philip. Neither spoke. He didn’t seem any happier about this than she was.
“Do you want some popcorn?” Philip offered, tilting the overflowing bucket in her direction.
“No, thanks,” she whispered, and glanced at her watch, wondering how much longer it would be before the movie started. “I certainly hope you don’t think I arranged this,” she whispered.
“Arranged what?”
“The two of us sitting together.” She’d hate to have him accuse her of anything underhanded, which, given his apparent penchant for casting blame, he was likely to do. On the other hand, she was the one who’d unwittingly put the matchmaking notion in Mackenzie’s head. What a fool she’d been not to realize the impressionable teenager would pick up on the ploy she’d used on her own mother.
“Why would I blame you?” he asked, sounding exasperated.
“Might I remind you of our last conversation?” she said stiffly. “You seemed to think there was some danger of me, uh, seducing you.”
Philip laughed out loud and didn’t look the least bit repentant. “It wasn’t myself I was worried about,” he explained. “I was afraid of Mackenzie making both our lives miserable. If I seemed rude earlier, I apologize, but I was protecting us from the wiles of my headstrong daughter.”
That wasn’t how Carrie remembered it… .
“I’m not going to let my daughter do my courting for me,” he said, as though that explained everything. “Now relax and enjoy the movie.” He tilted the popcorn her way again, and this time Carrie helped herself.
The theater lights dimmed as twenty minutes of previews began.
Somewhat to Carrie’s surprise, she loved the movie, which was an animated feature. She was soon completely immersed in the plot. Philip laughed in all the places she did and whatever tension existed between them melted away with their shared enjoyment.
When the movie ended, Carrie was sorry there wasn’t more. While it was true that she’d enjoyed the story, she also found pleasure sitting with Philip. In fact, she liked him. She’d almost prefer to find something objectionable about him—a nervous habit, a personality trait she disliked, his attitude. Something. Anything that would distract from noticing how attractive he was.
He’d made it as plain as possible that he wasn’t interested in a relationship with her. With anyone, if that was any comfort. It wasn’t. She wanted him to be cold and standoffish, brusque and businesslike. The side of him she’d seen at the movie was laid-back and fun-loving. But she knew Philip hadn’t developed a sudden desire to escort his daughter to the movies. He’d offered because of Mackenzie’s disappointment over her mother’s lack of sensitivity. He loved his daughter and wanted to protect her from the pain only a selfish parent could inflict on a child.
“This was a nice thing you did,” she said as they exited the theater. The kids raced on ahead of them toward the parking lot. “It helped take Mackenzie’s mind off not hearing from her mother.”
“I’m not so sure it was a good idea,” he muttered, dumping the empty popcorn container in the garbage can on their way out the door.
“Why not?”
He turned and stared at her. “Because I find myself liking you.”
Her reaction must have shone in her eyes, because his own narrowed fractionally. “You felt it, too, didn’t you?”
She wanted to lie. But she couldn’t. “Yes,” she whispered.
“I’m not right for you,” he said.
“In other words, I’m wrong for you.”
He didn’t answer her for a long time. “I don’t want to hurt you, Carrie.”
“Don’t worry,” she answered brightly, “I won’t let you.”
Five
What do you think?” Mackenzie proudly held up a crochet hook with a lopsided snowflake dangling from it. “Carrie’s whole tree is decorated with snowflakes she crocheted,” she added. “Her grandma Manning taught her to crochet when she was about my age.” She wound the thread around her index finger and awkwardly manipulated the hook.
“It’s lovely, sweetheart.”
“Mom’ll be pleased, won’t she.” Mackenzie turned the question into a statement, so certain was she of his response.
“She’ll be thrilled.” Philip’s jaw tightened at the mention of Laura. His ex-wife had contacted Mackenzie and arranged a time for their daughter to visit her. Ever since she’d heard from her mother, Mackenzie had been walking five feet off the ground. Philip didn’t know what he’d do if Laura didn’t show. He wouldn’t put it past her, but he prayed she wouldn’t do anything so cruel.
“Carrie’s been great,” Mackenzie continued. “She taught me everything.” She paused long enough to look up at him. “I like her so much, Dad.”
The hint was there and it wasn’t subtle. The problem was that Philip had discovered that his feelings for Carrie were similar to those of his daughter. Although he avoided contact with Carrie, there was no escaping her. Mackenzie brought her name into every conversation, marching her virtues past him, one by one.
Carrie had become a real friend to Mackenzie. It used to be that his daughter moped about the apartment, complaining about missing her friends—although she spent plenty of time on the phone and the Internet with them—and generally making his life miserable. These days, if she wasn’t with Carrie, she was helping Maria with her cats, having tea with Madame Frederick—and having the leaves read—or lifting weights with Arnold.
“I’m going to miss the Christmas party,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s in the community room on Christmas Eve.” She glanced up to be certain he was listening. “Everyone in the building’s invited. Carrie’s going, so is Madame Frederick and just everyone. It’s going to be a blast.” She sighed with heartfelt regret. “But being with Mom is more important than a party. She’s really busy, you know,” Mackenzie said, not for the first time.
“I’m sure she is,” Philip muttered distractedly. He’d forgotten about the Christmas party. He’d received the notice a day or so earlier, and would’ve tossed it if Mackenzie hadn’t gone into ecstasies when she saw it. From her reaction, one would think it was an invitation to the Christmas ball to meet a bachelor prince. As for him, he had better things to do than spend the evening with a group of friendly oddballs—and Carrie.
Philip reached for his car keys and his gym bag. “I’ll only be gone an hour,” he promised.
“It’s okay. It’ll take me that long to finish this.” She looked up. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, putting everything aside and leaping out of the chair as if propelled upward by a loose spring. She ran into her bedroom and returned a moment later with a small white envelope. “It’s for you,” she said, watching him eagerly. “Open it now, okay?”
“Shouldn’t I wait until Christmas?”
“No.” She gestured for him to tear open the envelope.
Inside was a card in the shape of a silver bell.
“Go ahead and read it,” she urged, and would have done so herself if he hadn’t acted promptly. The card was an invitation to lunch at the corner deli. “I’m buying,” she insisted, “to thank you for being a great dad. We’ve had our differences this year and I want you to know that no matter what I say, I’ll always love you.”
“I feel the same way, and I don’t tell you that enough,” he murmured, touched by her words. “I’ll be happy to pay for lunch.”
“No way,” she said. “I’ve saved my allowance and did a few odd jobs for Madame Frederick and Arnold. I can afford it, as long as you don’t order the most expensive thing on the menu.”
“I’ll eat a big breakfast,” he said and kissed her on the cheek before he walked out the door. He pushed the button for the elevator and caught himself grinning. He’d been doing a lot more of that lately. In the beginning he thought moving into the apartment had been a mistake. No longer. The changes in Mackenzie since meeting Carrie had been dramatic.
The elevator arrived and he stepped inside, pushing the button for the lobby. It stopped on the next floor and Carrie entered, carrying a laundry basket. She hesitated when she saw he was the only other occupant.
“I don’t bite,” he assured her.
“That’s what they all say,” she teased back. She reached across him and pushed the button for the basement, then stepped back. The doors closed sluggishly. Finally the elevator started to move, its descent slow and methodical, then it lurched sharply, dropping several feet.
Carrie gasped and staggered against the wall.
Philip maintained his balance by bracing his shoulder against the side. Everything went dark.
“Philip?” Carrie inquired a moment later.
“I’m here.” It was more than dark, it was pitch-black inside. Even straining his eyes, he couldn’t see a thing. “Looks like there’s been a power outage.”
“Oh, dear.” Her voice sounded small.
“Are you afraid of the dark?”
“Of course not,” she returned indignantly. “Well, maybe just a little. Everyone is—I mean, it wouldn’t be unusual under these circumstances to experience some anxiety.”
“Of course,” he agreed politely, putting his gym bag down beside him.
“How long will it take for the power to come back on?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged, although he realized she couldn’t see him. “Give me your hand.”
“Why?” she snapped.
“I thought it would comfort you.”
“Oh. Here,” she murmured, but of course he couldn’t see it. He thrust his arm out and their hands collided. She gripped his like a lifeline tossed over the side of a boat. Her fingers were cold as ice.
“Hey, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“I know that,” she responded defensively.
He wasn’t entirely sure who moved first, but before another moment passed, he had his arm around her and was holding her protectively against him. He’d been thinking about this since the day they’d attended the movie. He hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on the image, but it felt right to have her this close. More right than it should.
Neither spoke. He wasn’t sure why; then again, he knew. For his own part, he didn’t want reality interrupting his fantasy. Under the cover of the dark he could safely lower his guard. Carrie, he suspected, didn’t speak for fear she’d reveal how truly frightened she was. Philip felt her tremble and welcomed the opportunity to bring her closer into his embrace.
“It won’t be long.”
“I hope so,” she whispered back.
Without conscious thought, he wove his fingers into her hair. He loved the softness of it, the fresh, clean scent. He tried to concentrate on other things and found that he couldn’t.
“Maybe we should talk,” she suggested. “You know, to help pass the time.”
“What do you want to talk about?” He could feel her breath against the side of his neck. Wistful and provocative. In that instant Philip knew he was going to kiss her. He was motivated by two equally strong impulses—need and curiosity. It’d been a long time since he’d held a woman. For longer than he wanted to remember, he’d kept any hint of desire tightly in check. He’d rather live a life of celibacy than risk another failed marriage.
He would’ve ended their embrace then and there if Carrie had offered any resistance. She didn’t. Her lips were moist and warm. Welcoming. He moaned softly and she did, too.
“I thought you wanted to talk,” she whispered.
“Later,” he promised and kissed her again.
At first their kisses were light, intriguing, seductive. This wouldn’t be happening if they weren’t trapped in a dark elevator, Philip assured himself. He felt he should explain that, but couldn’t stop kissing her long enough to form the words.
“Philip …”
He responded by brushing his moist lips against hers. His gut wrenched with sheer excitement at what they were doing.
Carrie wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging tightly. He eased her against the wall, kissing her ravenously.
That was when the lights came back on.
They both froze. It was as if they stood on a stage behind a curtain that was about to be raised, revealing them to a waiting audience.
But the electricity flashed off as quickly as it had come on.
Philip plastered himself against the wall, his hands loose at his sides as he struggled to deal with what they’d been doing. He wasn’t a kid anymore, but he’d behaved like one—like a love-starved seventeen-year-old boy.
For the first time since his divorce, Philip felt the defenses around his heart begin to crack. The barriers had been fortified by his bitterness, by resentment, by fear. This—falling in love with Carrie—wasn’t what he wanted. After the divorce, he’d vowed not to get involved again. Carrie was young and sweet and deserved a man who came without emotional scars and a child in tow.
He was grateful that the electricity hadn’t returned; he needed these few additional minutes to compose himself.
“Are you all right?” he asked, when he could speak without betraying what he felt.
“I’m fine.” Her voice contradicted her words. She sounded anything but.
He thought of apologizing, but he couldn’t make himself say the words, afraid she’d guess the effect she’d had on him.
“You can’t blame a guy for taking advantage of the dark, can you?” he asked, callously and deliberately making light of the exchange.
The electricity returned at precisely that moment. He squinted against the bright light. Carrie stood with her back against the wall opposite him, her fingers fanned out against the panel, her eyes stricken. The laundry basket rested in the far corner where she’d dropped it, clothing tumbled all around.
“Is that all this was to you?” she asked in a hurt whisper.
“Sure,” he responded with a careless shrug. “Is it supposed to mean anything more?”
Before she could answer, the elevator stopped at the lobby floor and the doors opened. Philip was grateful for the chance to escape.
“Obviously not,” she answered, but her eyes went blank and she stared past him. Then she leaned over and stabbed the basement button again. She crouched down to collect her laundry as he stepped out, clutching his gym bag.
He felt guilty and sad. He hadn’t meant to hurt Carrie. She’d touched Mackenzie’s life and his with her generosity of spirit.
Philip cursed himself for the fool he was.
“Go after her,” a voice behind him advised.
Irritated, he turned to find Maria and Madame Frederick standing behind him.
“She’s a good woman,” Maria said, holding a fat calico cat on her arm, stroking its fur. “You won’t find another like her.”
“You could do worse.” Madame Frederick chuckled. “The fact is, you already have.”
“Would you two kindly stay out of my affairs?”
Both women looked taken aback by his gruff, cold response to their friendly advice.
“How rude!” the retired schoolteacher exclaimed.
“Never mind, dearie. Some men need more help than we can give them.” Madame Frederick’s words were pointed.
Disgusted with the two busybodies, and even more so with himself, Philip hurried out of the apartment building, determined that, from here on out, he was taking the stairs. Without exception.
Six
“Did I ever tell you about Randolf?” Madame Frederick asked as she poured Carrie a cup of tea the next Saturday morning. “We met when I was a girl. All right, I was twenty, but a naive twenty. I knew the moment our eyes met that I should fear for my virtue.” She paused, her hand holding the lid of the teapot in place, her eyes caught in the loving memory of forty years past. Laughing softly, she continued. “We were married within a week of meeting. We both knew we were meant to be together. It was useless to fight fate.”
“He was your husband?” Although Madame Frederick had obviously loved him deeply, she rarely talked about her marriage.
“Yes.” She sighed. “The man who stole my heart. We had thirty happy years together. We fought like cats and dogs and we loved each other. Oh, how we loved each other. One look from that man could curl my toes. He could say to me with one glance what would take three hundred pages in a book.”
Carrie added sugar to her tea and stirred. Her hand trembled slightly as her mind drifted back to the kisses she’d shared with Philip in the elevator. She’d taken the stairs ever since. She’d been kissed before, plenty of times, but it had never felt like it had with Philip. What unsettled her was how perfectly she understood what her neighbor was saying about Randolf.
“I didn’t remarry after he died,” Madame Frederick said as she slipped into the chair next to Carrie. “My heart wouldn’t let me.” She reached for her teacup. “Not many women are as fortunate as I am to have found a love so great, and at such a tender age.”
Carrie sipped her tea and struggled to concentrate on Madame Frederick’s words, although her thoughts were on Philip—and his kisses. She wanted to push the memories out of her mind, but they refused to leave.
“I wanted to give you your Christmas present early,” Madame Frederick announced and set a small, wrapped package in her lap.
“I have something for you, too, but I was going to wait until Christmas.”
“I want you to open yours now.”
The older woman watched as Carrie untied the gold ribbon and peeled away the paper. Inside the box was a small glass bowl filled with dried herbs and flowers. Despite the cellophane covering, she could smell the concoction. Potpourri? The scent reminded her a bit of sage.
“It’s a fertility potion,” Madame Frederick explained.
“Fertility!” Carrie nearly dropped the delicate bowl.
“Brew these leaves as a tea and—”
“Madame Frederick, I have no intention of getting pregnant anytime soon!”
The woman smiled and said nothing.
“I appreciate the gesture, really I do.” She didn’t want her friend to think she wasn’t grateful, but she had no plans to have a child within the foreseeable future. “I’m sure that at some point down the road I’ll be brewing up this potion of yours.” She took another drink of her tea and caught sight of the time. “Oh, dear,” she said, rising quickly to her feet. “I’m supposed to be somewhere in five minutes.” Mackenzie had generously offered to buy her lunch as a Christmas gift. Philip’s daughter had written the invitation on a lovely card shaped like a silver bell.
“Thank you again, Madame Frederick,” she said, downing the last of the tea. She carefully tucked the unwrapped Christmas gift in her purse and reached for her coat.
“Come and visit me again soon,” Madame Frederick said.
“I will,” Carrie promised. She enjoyed her time with her neighbor, although she generally didn’t understand how Madame chose their topics of conversation. Her reminiscences about her long-dead husband had seemed a bit odd, especially the comment about fearing for her virtue. It was almost as if Madame Frederick knew what she and Philip had been doing in the darkened elevator. Her cheeks went red as she remembered the way she’d responded to him. There was no telling what might have happened had the lights not come on when they did.
Carrie hurried out of the apartment and down the wind-blown street to the deli on the corner. It was lovely of Mackenzie to ask her to lunch and to create such a special invitation.
The deli, a neighborhood favorite, was busy. Inside, she was greeted by a variety of mouthwatering smells. Patrons lined up next to a glass counter that displayed sliced meats, cheeses and tempting salads. The refrigerator case was decorated with a plastic swag of evergreen, dotted with tiny red berries.
“Over here!” Carrie heard Mackenzie’s shout and glanced across the room to see the teenager on her feet, waving. The kid had been smart enough to claim a table, otherwise they might’ve ended up having to wait.
Carrie gestured back and made her way between the tables and chairs to meet her. Not until she reached the back of the room did she realize that Mackenzie wasn’t alone.
Philip sat with his daughter. His eyes revealed his shock at seeing Carrie there, as well.
“Oh, good, I was afraid you were going to be late,” Mackenzie said, handing her a menu. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll get in line and order it.”
Briefly Carrie toyed with the idea of canceling, but that would’ve disappointed Mackenzie, which she didn’t want to do. Philip had apparently reached the same conclusion.
“Remember I’m on a limited budget,” Mackenzie reminded them, speaking loudly to be heard over the hustle and bustle of the deli. “But you don’t have to order peanut butter and jelly, either.”
“I’ll take a pastrami on whole wheat, hold the pickle, extra mustard.”
Carrie set her menu aside. “Make that two.”
“You like pastrami, too?” Mackenzie asked, making it sound incredible that two people actually found the same kind of sandwich to their liking.
“You’d better go line up,” Philip advised his daughter.
“Okay, I’ll be back before you know it.” She smiled before she left, expertly weaving between tables.
Carrie unwound the wool scarf from her neck and removed her jacket. She could be adult about this. While it was true that they hadn’t expected to run into each other, she could cope.
The noise around them was almost deafening, but the silence between them seemed louder. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she said, “It’s very sweet of Mackenzie to do this.”
“Don’t be fooled,” he returned gruffly. “Mackenzie knew exactly what she was doing.”
“And what was that?” Carrie hated to be defensive, but she didn’t like his tone or his implication.
“She set this up so you and I would be forced to spend time together.”
He made it sound like a fate worse than high taxes. “Come on, Philip, I’m not such a terrible person.”
“As far as I’m concerned, that’s the problem.”
His words lifted her spirits. She took a bread stick from the tall glass in the middle of the table and broke it in half. “Are you suggesting I actually tempt you?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t go that far, so don’t flatter yourself.”
“I’m not.” She knew a bluff when she heard one. “If anyone should be flattered it’s you. First, I’m at least eight years younger than you, with endless possibilities when it comes to finding myself a man. What makes you think I’d be interested in an ill-tempered, unfriendly, almost middle-aged grump?”
He blinked. “Ouch.”
“Two can play that game, Philip.”
“What game?”
“I almost believed you, you know. You were taking advantage of the dark? Really, you might’ve been a bit more original.”
His eyes narrowed.
“But no one’s that good an actor. You’re attracted to me, but you’re scared to let go of the rein you’ve got on your emotions. I’m not sure what your problem is, but my guess is that it has to do with your divorce. So be it. If you’re content to spend the rest of your days alone, far be it from me to stop you.” She took a bite of the bread stick, chomping down hard.
Mackenzie had their order. She carried the tray above her head as she reversed her previous journey among the tables. Her eyes were bright with excitement when she rejoined them.
She handed one thick ceramic plate to Carrie. “Pastrami on whole wheat, no pickle and extra mustard.”
“Perfect,” Carrie said, taking the plate from her. She was grateful Mackenzie had returned when she did, unsure she could continue her own bluff much longer. As it was, Philip had no opportunity to challenge her statement, which was exactly the way she wanted it.
Mackenzie distributed the rest of the sandwiches, set the tray aside and flopped down in the seat between Carrie and Philip. “Don’t you just love the holidays?” she asked before biting into her sandwich.
Philip’s eyes locked with Carrie’s. “Sure do,” he said, but Carrie saw that he was gritting his teeth.
From the way Philip tore into the sandwich, anyone would think he hadn’t eaten in a week. It was as though they were taking part in a contest to see who’d finish first.
Philip won. The minute he swallowed the last bite, he stood, thanked his daughter and excused himself.
“He’s going back to work,” Mackenzie explained sadly as she watched her father leave. “He’s always going back to the office.”
“Inviting us both to lunch was very thoughtful of you,”
Carrie said, “but your father seems to think you asked us to suit your own purposes.”
Mackenzie lowered her gaze. “All right, I did, but is that such a bad thing? I like you better than anyone. It’s clear that my dad’s never going to get married again without my help. My parents have been divorced for three years now and he’s never even gone out on a real date.”
“Mackenzie, your father needs time.”
“Time? He’s had more than enough time! He can’t keep going through life like this. He’s put everything on hold while he tries to forget what my mother did. I want him to marry you.”
“Mackenzie!” Carrie exhaled sharply. She couldn’t allow the girl to believe that dealing with human emotions was this simple. “I can’t marry your father just because you want me to.”
“Don’t you like him?”
“Yes, I do, very much, but there’s so much more to marriage than me liking your father.”
“But he cares about you. I know he does, only he’s afraid to let it show.”
Carrie had already guessed as much, but that could be because she wanted to believe it so badly.
“My mom is really pretty,” Mackenzie said, and she lowered her gaze to her hands, which clutched a paper napkin. “I think she might’ve been disappointed that I look more like my dad’s side of the family than hers. She’s never said anything, but I had the feeling maybe she would’ve stayed married to my dad if I’d been prettier.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true.” Carrie’s heart ached at the pain she heard in the girl’s voice. “I used to feel those kinds of things, too. My dad never wanted anything to do with me. He never wrote or sent me a birthday gift or remembered me at Christmas, and I was convinced it was something I must have done.”
Mackenzie raised her eyes. “But you were a little kid when your parents divorced.”
“It didn’t matter. I felt that somehow I was the one to blame. But it didn’t have anything to do with me. And your parents didn’t divorce because you took after your father’s side of the family. Your parents’ problems had nothing to do with you.”
Mackenzie didn’t say anything for a long moment. “This is why I want you to marry my dad. You make me feel better. In the past couple weeks you’ve been more of a mom to me than my real mother ever was.”
Carrie reached out and silently squeezed Mackenzie’s hand.
The girl squeezed back. “I didn’t mention it last Saturday, but that was the first time I’ve ever baked homemade cookies. Dad helped me bake a cake once, but it came in a box.”
Carrie had suspected as much.
“I like the way we can sit down and talk. You seem to understand what’s in my heart,” Mackenzie murmured. “I’m probably the only girl in my school who knows how to crochet, even though all I can do is those snowflakes. You taught me that. The house is going to be finished soon, and Dad and I are going to move away. I’m afraid that if you don’t marry my dad, I’ll never see you again. Won’t you please, please marry my dad?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Carrie whispered and wrapped her arm around the girl’s neck. She leaned forward, resting her forehead on Mackenzie’s head. “It isn’t as simple as that. Couldn’t I just be your friend?”
Mackenzie sniffled and nodded. “Will you come visit me when we move?”
“You bet.”
“But Madame Frederick says my dad’s going to meet someone and—”
Carrie groaned inwardly. “Madame Frederick means well, and she’s a dear, dear person, but I’m going to tell you something that’s just between you and me.”
“Okay.” Mackenzie stared at her intently.
“Madame Frederick can’t really see anything in that crystal ball of hers.”
“But—”
“I know. She says what she thinks should happen or what she hopes will happen, and in doing so puts the idea in people’s minds. If her predictions come true, it’s because those people have steered the course of their lives in the direction she pointed.”
“But she seems so sure of things.”
“Her confidence is all part of the act.”
“In other words,” Mackenzie said after a thoughtful moment, “I shouldn’t believe anything she tells me.”
Seven
If Carrie hadn’t seen it with her own eyes—and dozens of times at that—she wouldn’t have believed any two boys could be so much like their father. Doug and Dillon sat on the sofa next to Jason, watching the Seahawks football game. Three pairs of feet, each clothed in white socks, were braced on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles. Jason had the remote control at his side, a bowl of popcorn in his lap. Each one of his sons held a smaller bowl. So intent were they on the hotly contested play-off game that they gave Carrie little more than a hurried nod of acknowledgment.
The sight of Jason with his sons never ceased to amaze her. The boys were all Manning, too. Smaller versions of their father in both looks and temperament.
Carrie found her mother in the kitchen, whipping up a batch of fudge for the Manning family pre-Christmas get-together. “Carrie, this is a pleasant surprise.” Charlotte’s face relaxed into a smile when she saw her daughter.
“I came for some motherly advice,” Carrie admitted, seeing no need to tiptoe around the reason for her impromptu visit. She’d left Mackenzie less than an hour before and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about their conversation, or about Philip’s reaction to her being there. It was as though he couldn’t escape fast enough.
“What’s up?” Charlotte stirred the melted chocolate.
Carrie pulled a padded stool over to the countertop where her mother was working. “I’m afraid I’m falling in love.”
“Afraid?”
“Yes.” She’d purposely chosen that word. That was exactly the way she felt about it.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your friend Mackenzie, would it?”
Carrie nodded, surprised her mother even knew about the thirteen-year-old girl. But the boys must have said something. “Do you remember how it was when you first started dating Jason?” she asked.
Her mother paused and a hint of a smile lifted the edges of her mouth. “I’m not likely to forget. I wasn’t sure I wanted anything to do with the man, while you were busy inventing excuses to throw us together.”
“You really weren’t interested in him at first?”
Charlotte chuckled softly. “That’s putting it mildly, but gradually he won me over. He was endlessly patient… .”
Carrie realized there was a lot more that her mother wasn’t telling her. She’d long suspected that in the early days, her mother’s relationship with Jason had been anything but smooth.
Charlotte resumed stirring. “As I said, his patience won me over. His patience and his drop-dead kisses,” she amended. “If ever a man had a talent for kissing, it’s your stepfather.” She grinned shyly and looked away.
“Philip has the same gift,” Carrie whispered, feeling a bit shy about sharing this aspect of their relationship with her mother.
Charlotte didn’t say anything for a long moment. “So you’ve been seeing Mackenzie’s father.”
“Not as much as I’d like,” she said. “He’s been divorced for three years and according to Mackenzie he hasn’t gone out on a single date.” She assumed that well-meaning friends had tried to set him up. His own daughter had made the effort, too. With Carrie.
“So he comes with a load of emotional trauma. Has he ever talked about what went wrong in his marriage?”
“No.” Carrie hated to admit how little time they’d spent together. Feeding Maria’s homeless cats was as close as they’d come to an actual date. She wasn’t sure how to measure the time in the elevator. Although she’d managed to make him think his callous attitude afterward hadn’t fooled her, in truth she didn’t know what his reaction had been.
“You’re afraid he’s coming to mean more to you than is sensible, after so short an acquaintance.”
“Exactly. But, Mom, he’s constantly on my mind. I go to bed at night, close my eyes and he’s there. I get up in the morning and take the bus to the office and all I can think about is him.”
“He’s attracted to you?”
“I think so… . I don’t know anymore. My guess is that he is, but he’s fighting it. He doesn’t want to care for me. He’d rather I lived across the city—or the country—than in the same building with him. We try to avoid each other—we probably wouldn’t see each other at all if it wasn’t for Mackenzie. The girl’s made it her mission in life to make sure we do.”
Charlotte dumped the warm fudge into a buttered cookie sheet. “This is beginning to sound familiar.”
“In what way?”
Charlotte giggled. “Oh, Carrie, how soon you forget. You’re the one who pushed, pulled and shoved me into a relationship with Jason. It would’ve been horrible if he was a different kind of man. But he was patient and nonthreatening. Like Philip, I came into the relationship with more than my share of emotional trauma. But he was exactly the man I needed. You’ve always been a sensitive, intuitive child. Out of all the men you might have picked for me, you chose the one man who possessed the qualities I needed most.” She reached over and stroked the side of Carrie’s face, her expression warm and tender. “In my heart of hearts, I’m confident you’ve done the same thing for yourself. Philip needs you just as much as I needed Jason. Be patient with him, Carrie. Your heart—and your ego—may take a few jabs before this is finished. Be prepared for that, but don’t be afraid to love him. Mackenzie, too. I promise you, it’ll be worth the wait.”
How wise her mother was, Carrie mused as she left the family home. How wise and wonderful. Not for the first time, Carrie was grateful for a mother she could talk to, a mother she could confide in, a mother who didn’t judge, but listened and advised.
“What are you doing here?” Gene Tarkington asked, stepping into Philip’s office. He leaned against the doorjamb, striking a relaxed pose. The entire floor was empty. Row upon row of desks stretched across the floor outside his office.
“I thought I’d come in and run these figures one last time,” Philip murmured, staring at the computer screen. Although he considered Gene one of his best friends, he’d prefer to be alone just then.
“Hey, buddy, it’s almost Christmas. Haven’t you got anything better to do than stop by the office?”
“What about you?” Philip challenged. He wasn’t the only workaholic in this company.
“I came to get some papers and saw the light on in your office. I thought you were having lunch with Mackenzie this afternoon. A little father-daughter tête-à-tête. That kid’s a real sweetheart.”
“We had our lunch,” Philip muttered, “but it turns out I wasn’t the only one Mackenzie invited.”
“You mean she brought along that neighbor friend of yours? The woman who works for Microsoft?”
“That’s her.” Philip frowned anew, remembering how upset he’d been when he discovered what Mackenzie had done. From the way she’d acted, he should’ve guessed she’d try something like this. What distressed him even more was the way his heart had responded when Carrie walked into the deli. The joy and excitement he’d felt …
But he didn’t want to feel these things for her. It’d taken effort to steel himself against those very emotions. He’d been burned once, badly enough to know better than to play with fire. Carrie Weston wasn’t some little innocent, either. Every time he was with her, he felt as if he was holding a book of matches.
“Mackenzie’s pretty levelheaded. What have you got against this neighbor woman? She’s not ugly, is she?”
“No.” He recalled what a shock it was when he realized how lovely Carrie was.
“If you want my opinion, I’d say count your blessings. Generally, the divorced guys I know would welcome a woman their daughters like. Remember what happened to Cal? His daughter and second wife hate each other.
Any time they’re out together, Cal has to keep them from coming to blows.”
“I’m not Cal.”
“It seems to me that if your daughter’s that keen on this neighbor, you should take the time to find out what she likes so much. I’m no expert on women or romance, but—”
“My thoughts exactly,” Philip said pointedly. He’d come to the office to escape Carrie, not to have her name thrown in his face. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do.”
Gene rubbed the side of his face. “I doubt that. But I hate to see you wasting time in this office when Christmas is only a few days away. If you want to hide, there are better places than here.”
Although Gene’s tone was friendly enough, the words made Philip’s jaw tighten. It was all he could do to keep from blaming his friend for his troubles. Gene owned the apartment complex, and it was because of him that Philip and Mackenzie were living there.
“Well, I’ve got to get back to the car. Marilyn’s waiting. You know how it is the last weekend before Christmas. The malls are a madhouse and naturally my wife thinks this is the perfect time to finish the shopping. She wouldn’t dream of going alone. I told her there should be a Husband of the Year award in this for me,” he said, and chuckled. “But she promised me another kind of reward.” From the contented, anticipatory look on his friend’s face, one would think Gene was headed for the final game of the World Series, not a shopping mall.
“See you later,” Philip said.
“Later,” Gene returned. “Just promise me you won’t stay here long.”
“I won’t.”
Gene left, and the office had never seemed emptier.
The place seemed to echo with loneliness, a constant reminder that Philip was by himself. His friend was right; it was almost Christmas, yet he was at the office hiding. While Gene was out fighting the Christmas crowds with his wife, Philip had crept in here, the way he always did whenever life threatened to offer him something he couldn’t handle. Even a gift.
Because that was what Gene had more or less told him Carrie was. A woman Mackenzie not only liked, but championed. Like Gene, lots of guys would advise him to count his blessings. But instead of thanking his daughter for lunch, he’d chastised her for using it as an opportunity to get him together with Carrie.
Carrie.
Every time he thought of her, a chill raced through his blood. No, that wasn’t it. His blood didn’t go cold, it heated up. Carrie was charming, generous, delightful, kind—and more of a mother to his daughter than her own had ever been.
Philip rolled his chair away from his desk, stood and walked over to the large picture window. The view of downtown Seattle and Puget Sound was spectacular from his twentieth-story viewpoint. Breathtaking. The waterfront, the ferry dock, Pike Place Market, all alive with activity. Philip couldn’t count the number of times he’d stood exactly where he was now and looked out and seen nothing, felt nothing.
He went back to his desk and turned off his computer, feeling more confused than when he’d arrived. It was a sad day, he thought wryly, when he was reduced to accepting his thirteen-year-old daughter’s advice, but in this case, Mackenzie was right. She’d told him to get a life. Instead, Philip had dug himself deeper into his rut, fearing that any life he got would include putting the past behind him. It wasn’t that the past held any allure for him. The reverse, in fact. He’d married too young, unwisely. He was terrified of repeating the same mistake. Terrified of what that would do to him—and Mackenzie.
Locking up, Philip went back to the apartment building. He parked in the garage across the street and was just walking toward the entrance when he saw Carrie. There was a natural buoyancy to her step, a joy that radiated from inside her. He sometimes wondered what she had to be so happy about. That no longer concerned him, because he wanted whatever it was.
“Carrie!” Unsure what he’d say when he caught up with her, Philip hurried across the street.
Carrie paused midway up the steps and turned around. Some of the happiness left her eyes when she saw him. She waited until he’d reached her before she spoke. “I had no idea Mackenzie had invited us both to lunch,” she told him.
“I know that,” he said, regretting his angry mood earlier.
“You do?”
Every time he saw her it was a shock to realize how beautiful she was. Her intense blue eyes cut straight through him. “I was wondering … I know it’s last-minute and you’ve probably got other plans, but …” He paused. “Would you go Christmas shopping with me?” He was afraid that if he invited her to dinner or a movie she’d turn him down and he wouldn’t blame her. “For Mackenzie,” he said, adding incentive. “I could do with a few suggestions.”
His invitation had apparently taken her by surprise because she frowned at him before asking, “When?”
“Is now convenient?” he asked hopefully. He was as crazy as his friend Gene to even consider going shopping today.
“Now,” she repeated, then smiled, that soft, sweet smile of hers. “Okay.”
Okay. It was crazy how one small word could produce such exhilaration. If this were the theater, he’d break into song about now. A Christmas carol maybe—something like “Joy to the World.”
She walked down the three or four steps to join him on the sidewalk. That little bounce of hers was back. The bounce that said she was glad to be alive and glad to be with him.
He was the one who should be grateful, Philip thought. He tucked her arm in his and led her back to the parking garage.
Life was good. It had been a long time since he’d believed that, but he did now.
Eight
A few hours earlier, Carrie had been telling her mother that she barely knew Philip Lark and now she doubted there was any man she knew better. They sat in an Italian restaurant, Christmas packages around their feet, and talked until it seemed there was nothing more to say. Their dinner dishes had long since been removed and Philip poured the last of the red wine into her goblet.
The room swayed gently from side to side, but her light-headedness wasn’t due to the pinot noir. Philip was the reason. He’d told her things she’d felt it would take him months if not years to reveal. He’d spoken of his marriage and his feelings about fatherhood. She listened, a lump in her throat, as he heaped the blame for the failure of his marriage on his own shoulders. She doubted very much that he was entirely responsible, but she admired his gallantry.
“You’re friends with Laura?” she asked at one point.
“Yes. Beyond anything else, she’s Mackenzie’s mother. I made mistakes in this marriage, but my daughter wasn’t one of them. I’ll always be grateful to my ex-wife for Mackenzie.”
Tears formed in the corners of Carrie’s eyes at the sincerity with which he spoke. How easy it would be for him to blame his ex-wife for all their problems. Carrie was sympathetic to his side, and knew from things Mackenzie had told her that Laura wasn’t exactly a loving or attentive mother. Carrie suspected she hadn’t been much of a wife, either.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Philip asked unexpectedly.
“Sunday.” Carrie propped her elbows on the white linen tablecloth. “The Mannings are getting together. Mom and I married into this large, wonderful family. Jason has four brothers and sisters. There are so many grandchildren these days it’s difficult to keep track of who belongs to whom. Why don’t you and Mackenzie come along and meet everyone?” Carrie couldn’t believe she’d impulsively tossed out the invitation. While she did want him to attend, there’d certainly be speculation… .
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. Just … Never mind,” she said, stopping herself. Her gaze held his. “It would mean a great deal to me if you’d come.”
“Then we will.” He reached for her hand with both of his.
Philip had given up the effort of remembering everyone’s names. He’d cataloged the first ten or so relatives Carrie had introduced him to, but the others became lost in the maze.
Mackenzie had disappeared almost the minute they arrived. Doug and Dillon had greeted him cheerfully and then quickly vanished with his daughter. Holding a cup of eggnog, Philip found himself a quiet corner.
From this vantage point, he watched Carrie interact with her family. His eyes followed her as she moved across the room, apparently to find her mother so she could introduce her parents to Philip. He couldn’t take his eyes off Carrie. Her face was flushed with happiness, her eyes glowing with excitement. She’d married into this family, but it was clear they thought of her as one of their own.
“Do you mind if I join you?” a woman unexpectedly asked him.
“Please do.” He stood to offer her his seat.
“No, no. Sit down, please. I can only stay a moment. You’re Philip, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Philip Lark.” The dark-haired beauty had to be Carrie’s mother. “You’re Charlotte Manning?”
“How perceptive of you. Yes.” She held out her hand, which he shook.
He was astonished that he hadn’t recognized the resemblance sooner. Charlotte and Carrie had the same intense blue eyes, the same joyous energy and a gentleness of spirit that was unmistakable.
They spoke for a few minutes about unimportant matters. Small talk. Although Philip had the impression he was being checked out, he also had the feeling that he’d passed muster. He liked Charlotte, which made sense, since he definitely liked Carrie.
“So this is Carrie’s young man.” Charlotte’s husband, Jason Manning, joined his wife and slipped his arm around her waist. “Welcome. Where’s Carrie? She’s left you to fend for yourself?”
“I gather she went in search of you two.”
The three of them spoke for a while before Jason glanced over his shoulder and called out, “Paul, come and meet Carrie’s friend.”
Soon a large group had gathered around Philip, more faces than he could ever remember. He stood and shook hands with Carrie’s two uncles. Once again he felt their scrutiny.
Soon a loud, “Ho, ho, ho,” could be heard in the background. Jason’s father had donned a Santa suit and now paraded into the room, a bag of gifts swung over his shoulder. The children let out cries of glee and crowded around Santa.
Philip was grateful that everyone had begun to watch the scene taking place with Santa Claus. He sat down in his chair again and relaxed, grateful not to be the center of attention. Soon Carrie was with him. She sat on the arm and cast him an apologetic look.
“Sorry, I got sidetracked.”
“So I saw.” He patted her hand. “I met your stepfather and two uncles.”
“Aren’t they great?” Her eyes gleamed with pride.
“I need a degree in math to keep track of who’s married to whom.”
“Don’t worry, it’ll come. Be thankful not everyone’s here.”
“You mean there are even more?”
Carrie grinned and nodded. “Taylor and Christy both live in Montana. Between them they have six children.”
“My goodness.” Adding ten more names to his list would have overwhelmed him. “Mackenzie certainly seems to fit right in.”
“Doug and Dillon think she’s the best thing since cookie-dough ice cream. Knowing her gives them the edge over their cousins.”
While the youngsters gathered around their grandfather in his red suit, Mackenzie made her way toward him and Carrie. Philip understood. At thirteen she was too old to mingle with the kids who believed in Santa Claus, and too young not to be caught up in the excitement, even though Santa wouldn’t have a gift for her.
“Are you having fun?” Philip whispered when she sat down on the chair’s other arm, across from Carrie.
“This is so great,” she whispered. “I didn’t know families could get this big. Everyone’s so friendly.”
Santa dug deep into his bag, produced a package and called out the name. Doug leaped to his feet and raced forward as if he had only a limited amount of time to collect his prize.
Santa reached inside his bag again and removed another gift. “What’s this?” he asked, lowering his glasses to read the tag. “This is for someone named Mackenzie Lark. I do hope Mrs. Claus didn’t mix up the gifts with those of another family.”
“Mackenzie’s here!” Dillon shouted. He stood and pointed toward Philip and Carrie.
“Me?” Mackenzie slid off the chair. “There’s a gift in there for me?”
“If your name’s Mackenzie, then I’d say this present is for you.”
His daughter didn’t need a second invitation. She hurried over to Santa, as eager as Doug had been.
Philip’s questioning gaze sought out Carrie’s. “I’m sure my mother’s responsible for this,” she told him.
“I met her,” he said. “We talked briefly.”
Carrie’s eyes widened. “What did she have to say?”
“She was very pleasant. It was your stepfather who put the fear of God into me.”
“Jason? Oh, dear. Listen, whatever he said, disregard it. He means well and I love him to death, but half the time he’s thinking about sports statistics and he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
Philip smiled. He’d never seen Carrie more unnerved. Even when they were trapped in the elevator, she’d displayed more composure than this.
“Carrie, good grief, what do you think he said?”
She clamped her mouth shut. “I—I’m not sure, but it would be just like him to suggest you take the plunge and marry me.”
“Oh, that, well …”
“Are you telling me he actually—”
Philip had to make an effort not to laugh out loud. “He didn’t, so don’t worry about it.”
Mackenzie had claimed her gift and was walking back, clutching the package in both hands.
“You can open it,” Carrie assured her.
“Now?” She tore into the wrapping as though she couldn’t wait a second longer. Inside was an elegant vanity mirror with a brush and comb set. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, holding the brush and comb against her. “I’ve always wanted one of these sets. It’s so … so feminine.”
“How’d your family know?” Philip asked. He’d never have thought to buy something like this for his daughter.
“I have one,” Carrie whispered. “She’s used it a number of times.”
“Oh.” More and more he felt inadequate when it came to understanding his daughter. She was in that awkward stage, and it was difficult to know exactly where her interests lay. Half the time she talked about wanting a horse and ballet lessons; the rest of the time she listened to music he’d never heard before and gossiped about celebrities who seemed completely irrelevant to him. Part girl, part woman, Mackenzie traveled uneasily from one desire to the next. It wasn’t just her interests that confused him, either. One minute she’d be her lighthearted self and the next she’d be in tears over something he considered trivial. He wished Laura had taken more interest in her. Often he felt at a loss in dealing with Mackenzie’s frequent mood swings.
Philip had enjoyed himself, but he was exhausted and felt relieved when the party ended. He thanked the elder Mannings for having him and Mackenzie.
“You’re welcome anytime,” Elizabeth Manning said, clasping his hand between both of her own. In what seemed an impulsive gesture, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “You’d be a welcome addition to our family,” she whispered in his ear. “Just promise me one thing?”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“I want a nice, big wedding,” she said, this time loudly enough for half the room to hear.
Philip heard a murmur of approval behind him. “Ah …”
“Thanks again, Grandma,” Carrie said, saving him from having to come up with a response.
Carrie hugged the older couple and led the way outside. Jason, Charlotte, Doug and Dillon followed them to the driveway for a second round of hugs and farewells. This had to be one of the most outwardly affectionate families Philip had ever met, but it didn’t bother him. The opposite, in fact. He liked everything about them. These were good people, hardworking and family-oriented. He’d never seen himself in that light, although it was what he wanted to be. However, neither he nor Laura had been raised that way.
They sang Christmas carols on the drive home. Carrie’s voice blended smoothly with that of his daughter. His own was a bit rough from disuse and slightly off-key, but no one seemed to mind, least of all Mackenzie, whose happiness spilled over like fizz in a soda bottle. He parked in the garage and they walked across the street to the apartment building, still laughing and chattering excitedly.
“I had a wonderful time,” his daughter told Carrie, hugging her close as they waited for the elevator.
“I did, too.”
“I’m so glad your family get-together was tonight instead of tomorrow. I’ll be with my mother, you know.”
“I do,” Carrie said. “You’ll miss the party here, but I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Do you think Madame Frederick will made a prediction for me, even if I’m not there?”
“I’m sure she will,” Carrie answered.
“She’ll have to make one for me in absentia, as well,” Philip said.
“You aren’t coming?” This news appeared to catch Carrie by surprise. She’d asked him about the Christmas party earlier and he’d managed to avoid answering one way or the other.
“No,” he said, pushing the button to close the elevator door.
“But I thought … I hoped …” Her disappointment was evident.
Philip didn’t want to say anything negative, but as far as he was concerned, the majority of people living in the building complex were oddballs and eccentrics. He didn’t have anything against them, but he didn’t want to socialize with them, either.
“Talk him into it,” Mackenzie said when the elevator stopped on Carrie’s floor.
He wished now that he hadn’t said anything. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Carrie asked.
What he’d like was time alone with Carrie.
“Sure he would,” Mackenzie answered for him, and shoved him out of the elevator. The doors closed before he could respond.
“I guess I would,” he said, chuckling.
Carrie’s eyes shyly met his. “I was hoping you would.”
She unlocked her door and walked inside, but he stopped her from turning on the light. With his hand at her shoulder, he guided her into his arms. “I’ve been waiting for this all night,” he whispered and claimed her lips.
He meant it to be a soft, gentle kiss. One that would tell her he’d enjoyed her company, enjoyed their evening together. But the minute his mouth settled over hers he experienced a desire so strong it was all he could do to keep it in check. No woman had ever affected him like this. He wove his fingers into her hair and tilted her head to one side in order to deepen their kisses.
She groaned softly. Then again, it could be the sound of his own pleasure that rang in his ears. The hot, breathless kisses went on. And on …
“Why won’t you come to the party tomorrow night?” she asked minutes later.
The building’s Christmas party was the last thing on Philip’s mind. He led her through the darkened living room, sat down and drew her into his lap. “Let’s talk about that later, all right?” He didn’t give her time to say anything, but directed her lips back to his.
“Why later?” She nibbled the side of his neck, sending delicious shivers down his back.
“I’m not sure I trust Madame Frederick.”
She laughed and he felt her breath against his skin. “She’s completely harmless.”
“So they say.” He placed his hands on either side of her face and brought her lips down to meet his again. The kiss was long and deep, and it left him breathless.
“The people in this building are a bunch of oddballs. Half of them are candidates for the loony bin,” he said when he’d recovered sufficiently to speak.
Carrie stiffened in his arms. “You’re talking about my friends.”
“No offense,” he said. But surely she recognized the truth when she heard it.
Carrie squirmed out of his lap and stood in front of him. “I live in this apartment complex. Is that how you think about me?”
“No.” He sighed. “If it means so much to you, I’ll attend this ridiculous party.”
“No, thanks,” she muttered. “I wouldn’t want you to do me any favors.”
From her tone of voice, Philip realized he’d managed to offend her, which he regretted. Yesterday’s conversation with Gene had made him understand that she was a blessing in his life. A gift.
A gift he wanted to accept …
“Carrie, I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn.”
“Is that what you really think of us, Philip?” she asked, her voice uncertain.
He didn’t respond right away, afraid anything more he said would only make things worse.
“That’s answer enough. I’m tired… . I’d like you to leave now.”
“Carrie, for heaven’s sake, be reasonable.”
She stalked over to the door and opened it, sending a harsh shaft of light across his face. Philip squinted and did as she asked. “We’ll talk about this later, all right?”
“Sure,” she said in a sarcastic murmur.
Rather than wait for the elevator, Philip took the stairs to his apartment a floor above Carrie’s. He’d discuss this with Mackenzie, get her advice on how to handle it. Ironic that he was turning to his thirteen-year-old daughter for help with the very situation she’d engineered… .
The apartment was dark and silent when he entered. He switched on the light and walked down the hall to Mackenzie’s bedroom. Her bed was slightly mussed as if she’d sat on it.
“Mackenzie!” he called.
No response.
He checked the other rooms and found a note from her on the kitchen table.
Dad,
Mom left me a message. She said she wouldn’t be coming for me, after all, and that I couldn’t spend the holidays with her. I guess I should’ve known she’d be too busy for me. She has time for everything else but me. I need some time alone to think.
Mackenzie
Nine
Carrie didn’t understand why Philip’s comment about Madame Frederick and the others had distressed her so much. While it was true they were her friends, she couldn’t deny that they were all a bit weird. But they were also affectionate, warmhearted people and it hurt to have Philip dismiss them with such carelessness. She was still figuring out her feelings when there was a knock at the door. Whoever it was seemed impatient, because there was another knock immediately afterward.
“Just a moment,” she called out.
To her surprise it was Philip. “Have you seen Mackenzie?” he demanded.
“Not since we returned from the party.”
He exhaled and rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “Her mother left a message for her saying she won’t be bringing Mackenzie to her place for Christmas after all,” he explained.
Carrie saw a muscle beside his jaw jerk with the effort it took to control his anger.
“She was looking forward to spending Christmas with Laura,” he continued. “It was all Mackenzie could talk about.”
Carrie knew that. She’d spent time with the girl, discussing her hairstyle and wardrobe for the impending visit. Mackenzie had wanted everything to be perfect for her mother. She’d wanted to impress Laura with how grown-up she was, how stylish. She’d wanted to make herself as attractive as possible, hoping her mother would notice and approve.
“Mackenzie wrote me a note that said she needed time alone.” He checked his watch, something Carrie knew he’d probably done every five minutes since discovering the note. “That was an hour ago. Where on earth would she go?”
“I don’t know,” Carrie whispered. Her heart constricted as she imagined the pain the girl must be suffering. These few days with Laura had meant so much to Mackenzie.
“I thought maybe she’d come to you.” He shook his head. “I’ve tried her cell, but it’s off. I’ve called her girlfriends, but none of them have heard from her. Now I don’t know where to look. Think, Carrie.”
“She probably doesn’t want to be around people just yet,” she murmured, trying to clear her head of worry and fear in order to be of help.
Philip nodded. “Do you think she went for a walk? Alone in the dark?” He cringed as he said the words.
“I’ll go out with you to look.”
His eyes told her he was grateful. Carrie grabbed her coat and purse, and they both rushed out of the building.
Soon after she’d graduated from high school, when Carrie was eighteen, she’d decided to seek out her father. It had been a mistake. He’d seemed to think she wanted something from him, and in retrospect, she knew she had. She’d wanted him to love her, wanted him to tell her how proud he was of the woman she’d become. It had taken her the better part of a year to realize that Tom Weston was selfish and immature and incapable of giving her anything. Even his approval.
In the five years she’d known Jason Manning, at that point, he’d been far more of a father than her biological one would ever know how to be. She hadn’t had any contact with Tom Weston since. It had hurt that the man responsible for her birth wanted nothing to do with her, but after a few months she’d accepted his decision. If anything, she appreciated his honesty, hurtful as it’d been at the time.
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