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Authors: Judy Duarte

BOOK: Christmas On Nutcracker Court
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Okay then. Who did Lynette know that might fit the bill? These days, she didn't run in the same circles as she had when Peter was alive, but that was because his presence had ensured that she would fit in. So she'd have to give it some thought.
Of course, Helen lived next door to a couple of bachelors. Lynette wasn't sure if either or both of them were dating anyone—or if they liked kids. But she could certainly find out.
When Carly disconnected the line, her brow was furrowed. Worry weighed on her expression, yet she managed a smile. “I'm sorry about the interruption.”
Lynette glanced up from the magazine she was pretending to read. “Excuse me?”
“I didn't mean to make you wait. Let's get you under some heat.”
“All right.” Lynette folded the magazine, using her finger to mark the page she hadn't read and had no intention of turning back to. Then she followed Carly to one of the dryers that lined the side wall.
“By the way,” she said to the hairdresser. “Would you be interested in meeting a nice guy?”
“You've got to be kidding.”
“Not at all. You're single, pretty, and have a good personality. And I have a feeling that you could really use a man in your life—especially in the evenings, after the kids go to bed.”
Carly seemed to give the idea some thought, then slowly shook her head. “Honestly, I can't even think about dating, no matter how appealing it might be to have some adult companionship and to have access to a male perspective when it comes to dealing with my boys these days. My jobs and the kids keep me too busy. And even if I did have time for romance or a relationship, I'm afraid I've got too much excess baggage for a man to deal with.”
If anyone had excess baggage, it had been Lynette when she'd first met Peter. But that hadn't stopped him, and now she was living on the right side of the tracks and had everything she'd ever wanted—except for the man who'd turned her life around.
“Would you at least be willing to meet a nice guy?” Lynette asked, as she took a seat under the dryer. “One who likes kids and who has a solid job and money in the bank?”
Again Carly paused, her hand resting on the dials that controlled the heat and the time. “It sounds as though you have someone in mind.”
Well, not yet. Lynette still had some footwork to do and some men to check out. But she kept that little detail to herself and stretched the truth. “Yes, I do.”
Carly seemed to ponder Lynette's little white lie—weakening maybe? Then she said, “But you're single, too. Why don't you go out with him?”
Because when Lynette left home at eighteen, she got caught up in a disastrous relationship with a sweet-talking high school dropout who turned out to be way too much like her father. Then, after watching a television documentary about the dynamics of domestic violence and the cycle of abuse, she'd realized that she was probably one of the women who would always be attracted to the wrong kind of man.
And while she watched her share of chick flicks and enjoyed an occasional romance novel, she didn't think that one of those happily-ever-afters was in the cards for her. So to make sure that history wouldn't repeat itself, she'd decided to date for security, rather than love.
And it had worked for her.
But instead of offering a confession, she tossed her hairdresser a breezy smile. “Because I'll never find another man like Peter, and even if I did, I'm not ready to date yet.”
That seemed to appease Carly, who said, “I don't know, Lynette. I'm probably not ready yet, either.”
Then she turned on the dryer, leaving Lynette to think about ways she could help make her hairdresser's life a little easier.
And her Christmas a little brighter.
 
 
On Wednesday evening, while Susan was adding chocolate chips to a triple batch of cookie dough to take to Helen's the next day, her phone rang.
She wiped her hands on a damp kitchen towel, then answered.
“Hi, Susan. How's everything going?” It was Barbie Lawson, her former sister-in-law.
“I'm fine. How about you?”
“Great.”
“And your parents?” Susan asked.
“Dad's been having some trouble with his new blood pressure meds, but other than that, they're both well.”
“I'm glad to hear it.” Susan had spent a lot of time with Hank's family after the funeral, but as the grief began to lift, staying alone hadn't been so overwhelming. And she'd turned to the Lils for support. But she really needed to make an effort to see Stan and Donna Ferris soon.
“I called to invite you to the annual Christmas party at Lydia's House,” Barbie said. “I know you've never gone with us before, but something tells me that was because Hank never felt comfortable there.”
“He always blamed it on work,” Susan said, “but you're probably right. I hadn't realized it at the time, but I've done some thinking about that lately.”
“We'd love to include you this year, if you'd be okay with it.”
Susan had never really given the annual Christmas party that much thought. She'd just gone along with Hank's decision to stay home.
“You'll be surprised at how much fun it is,” Barbie said. “They have games, a gift exchange, and refreshments. Then Santa makes a showing.”
Susan glanced at her nearly empty calendar, which hung on the wall near the phone. “I always get a little busy this time of year.”
“I know what you mean. But the party at Lydia's House has become the highlight of the season for us, mostly because Ronnie gets so excited.” Barbie paused a beat, then added, “All the kids do. It's so sweet.”
The thought of children and Christmas had always tugged at Susan's heartstrings. But the “kids” Barbie was talking about were developmentally challenged adults and nothing like the ones she'd imagined opening presents under her tree.
Still, she'd never had any personal qualms about joining the Ferris family at Lydia's House. And Barbie was right. The decision to send a check instead of visiting in person had been Hank's decision. Yet she still felt a little apprehensive, and she wasn't sure why.
“This Christmas will probably be difficult for you,” Barbie added. “But I think you'll really like the party. And you'll probably feel great on the way home. The kids begin decorating the place weeks before, and they're so excited to have their friends and families join in the fun. The holiday spirit is really contagious.”
Barbie made it sound like something Susan might enjoy doing, although she still felt leery about committing.
“I really hope you'll go with us. Honestly, you'll probably find your attendance at the party a much bigger blessing to you than it is to the kids.”
The word “blessing” brought Maggie's treasure chest story to mind, and Susan wondered if Barbie was right. Would she be glad she went? Would she really be blessed by it?
Deciding to give it a try in spite of her reservations, she asked, “What should I wear?”
“Something Christmas-y. Dad usually wears a battery-operated Santa Claus hat that lights up and a pair of green polka-dot suspenders.”
Susan had a red silk vest with a Christmas tree appliqué on the front. And snowman earrings.
“What day did you say it was?” Susan asked.
“I don't think I did.” Barbie chuckled. “It's at two o'clock on Christmas Eve and runs until about four. Are you free?”
Susan didn't even have to check the calendar. Other than her Thursdays with the Lils, she didn't have anything planned the entire month. “Sure, I'm free. I'll meet you there.”
“I don't mind picking you up.”
Agreeing to go was one thing, but Susan didn't want to ride with anyone. What if the party wasn't as much fun as Barbie seemed to think it was? And what if she wanted to cut out early?
“I've got another function to attend that day,” she lied. “It really would be best if we drove separately.”
“All right then. You won't be sorry. I promise.”
Susan was already a little uneasy about the commitment, and after they said good-bye and the call ended, she tried to come up with a reason for it.
Maybe it was because she was subconsciously pulling away from her former in-laws so she would be free to marry another man and bond with his family. It made sense, although she feared it was more than that.
Either way, she wasn't going to contemplate it now. Instead, she went back to work on the cookies she planned to deliver to Max Tolliver and Grant Barrows tomorrow afternoon, sure they'd do the trick and at least open up some possibilities.
After all, she couldn't very well start thinking about wedding bells until she picked out her future husband.
Chapter 6
On Wednesday morning, while new storm clouds gathered overhead and threatened to rain on Fairbrook once again, Rosa Alvarado made her way across the soup kitchen to the industrial-size stove that had been donated by one of the wealthy members of Parkside Community Church.
The soup kitchen, a ministry that provided free meals to the homeless, and to low-income families and seniors, was located in a modular building at the back of the church grounds.
Normally, Rosa didn't help out on Wednesdays, but when Carlos, her husband, had heard that Dawn and Joe Randolph, the directors of the kitchen, were taking a family vacation, he volunteered to cover for them. So that, of course, meant that Rosa would be doing the cooking for the next six days straight.
Today she was making spaghetti, buttered green beans, and garlic bread. Dessert would be chocolate pound cake, which was already cooling on racks near the sink.
As she peered into the five-gallon pot of water she'd placed on the stove earlier, she saw that it was now boiling, so she added the pasta. Then she checked the meat, which was in another pan. The scent of tomatoes, basil, and garlic were coming together as the sauce simmered nicely, so she turned down the burner. But as she did so, she felt another hot flash coming on.
At sixty-two, she'd already gone through menopause, so having those annoying flushes start up again seemed odd—and unfair.
There could, of course, be something other than hormones causing them, but she hadn't gotten around to making an appointment to see the doctor yet. Her calendar was pretty full this month, so she wasn't sure when she'd find the time—certainly not in the next six days.
As the discomfort intensified, she fanned herself with a fluttery hand, which wasn't very effective, and sighed.
Earlier this morning, Pastor Craig had stopped by and turned on the heater, saying the weatherman was predicting both rain and hail by midafternoon.
Trouble was, the thermostat only read 71, yet it felt like an oven in here. If she'd been at home, she would have changed out of her winter clothes and into something summery. But since that wasn't an option, she considered going out on the back porch until she cooled off.
But even if she could blame those pesky hot flashes on age and hormones, she didn't know what was causing the occasional flutters and rumbles in her chest.
Nerves, she supposed, and good, old-fashioned stress.
Her hands had been a little shaky lately, especially this morning. But she'd also had three cups of coffee at breakfast, which probably explained why. She really ought to switch to drinking only decaf, but she'd sure been dragging lately, and without the caffeine, she'd probably be curled up in the corner right now, taking a nap.
“How's it going?” her husband of almost forty years asked as he slipped up behind her and peered over her shoulder and into the pan. “Need someone to taste the meat sauce for you?”
Rosa couldn't help but smile. Carlos loved her cooking, which was why he was about fifty pounds overweight. And since she did her best to prepare the meals and treats he enjoyed the most, she'd nearly gained the same amount.
Trouble was, she'd put on half of it over the past few months. But she blamed that on her bad knees, which made moving around difficult and exercise nearly impossible.
Carlos opened a drawer and pulled out a spoon, but before he could scoop up any sauce to taste, Pastor Craig entered the kitchen with a woman in her mid to late forties.
“Good news,” the minister said. “I've got another volunteer to help you out while the Randolphs are in Hawaii.”
Rosa and Carlos both turned to greet the woman, whom Craig referred to as Mary-Margaret Di Angelo.
After introductions were made all the way around, the blonde asked them to call her Maggie.
At that, Rosa cocked her head to the side, causing a drop of perspiration to dribble down her temple and onto her cheek. She swiped it away with the back of her hand and asked, “Are you related to Helen Pritchard?”
“Yes, I'm her cousin.”
“I thought your name sounded familiar.” Rosa wiped her damp hand on her apron before reaching out to greet Maggie with a handshake and a grin. “Helen's a friend of mine. She mentioned that you'd be house-sitting while she was gone. In fact, I was supposed to stop by with Lynette and Susan yesterday, but I wasn't able to join you.”
“Oh, yes. You're
that
Rosa—and one of the Lils.” Maggie's grip was warm and solid. “I'm glad we finally have a chance to meet.”
Rosa was, too. “Are you planning to help us in the soup kitchen today?”
“I
can,
” Maggie said. “Do you need me?”
Rosa was about to say yes, when Carlos chimed in. “We've got things under control. But if you'd like to stay, we can probably find something for you to do.”
If Rosa didn't love that man, she'd clobber him with the first kitchen utensil or appliance she could get her hands on. Carlos might have everything under control, but she was ready to drop in her tracks.
“Maggie,” the associate minister said, “Carlos and Rosa deserve a special place in Heaven for all the charities they support both financially and with their time. If the church or the community has any kind of a need, you can count on the Alvarados to step up to the plate.”
Carlos placed a hand on Rosa's shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “We do what we can, don't we, honey?”
“I'm not sure where they find the hours in a day,” Pastor Craig added. “They also own the coffee shop on First Avenue, which is usually buzzing with customers.”
“Actually,” Carlos said, “our son runs it now. Rosa and I are pretty much retired these days.”
That might be true, but thanks to Carlos and his insistence upon volunteering them both for every charity known to God and man, Rosa worked harder now than she ever had before.
Of course, she merely smiled in agreement. How did a wife complain about a good-hearted husband like Carlos? Or tell a man of God that she was too tuckered out to cook for thirty-five to forty hungry people, let alone to clean up afterward?
“You've both been a real blessing to Parkside Community Church,” Pastor Craig said. “I don't know what we'd do without you.”
Carlos stood tall, and his chest puffed out just a tad. “Thanks, Pastor. Rosa and I believe people should leave the world a little better than the way they found it.”
He had a point, she supposed. But she was ready to let someone else volunteer for a while. What she wouldn't do to have a full day to herself.
Of course, she had that big weekend trip to Laughlin planned in January. She hadn't told Carlos yet, but he was going to have to get by without her while she was gone.
“Carlos,” Pastor Craig said, “there's a leak in the men's room. Would you mind taking a look at it for me? I want to know if it's going to be an easy fix or if I should call a plumber to take care of it.”
Carlos set the unused spoon on the counter, then followed Pastor Craig, leaving Maggie and Rosa alone.
Using the time without the men to her advantage, Rosa shifted her weight to ease the pressure on her bad knee and said, “I'd love to have your help today, unless you have other plans.”
“The only thing I need to do is to stop by the market and pick up a few things. I'm making lunch tomorrow for the Lils. Will you be able to join us at Helen's?”
“I'm afraid not.” Rosa tried to shake off her disappointment. “I've got to work here again tomorrow.”
“Well, there's always next week,” Maggie said.
“Yes, you're right. The Randolphs are returning on Wednesday, so as long as my husband doesn't line up something else for us to do, I'll be at Helen's next Thursday.” Rosa chuckled, trying to make light of it, hoping she had.
“Doesn't your husband know that you already have a commitment that day?” Maggie asked.
“He should. I've been a Diamond Lil for almost ten years, but I've had to miss more poker games lately than I'd like to because he seems to think doing for others is more important than socializing with my friends.” Rosa supposed his do-unto-others attitude was right, which was why she never complained.
The Lils often urged her to stand up to Carlos and refuse to help him on Thursdays, but she had reason to believe he needed the outlet his volunteerism provided him. Besides, he always chose good causes.
Rosa expected Helen's cousin to voice a similar thought. Instead Maggie said, “That's too bad.”
“I really can't get mad at him for trying to help out those who are less fortunate than we are. It's not like he's asking me to do something selfish.” The ache in Rosa's knee began to throb, and she stepped away from the stove. “Excuse me, but I've got to sit down for a minute.”
“No problem. Is there something I can do to help?”
“Not at the moment. But as soon as the pasta is tender you can help me drain the water and add the spaghetti to the sauce.” Rosa took a seat on the stool near the counter, stroked her knee, and slowly shook her head. “Boy, I'll tell you, old age is for the birds.”
“Maybe you need a vacation,” Maggie said.
“I'm sure I do.” Again, she forced a chuckle, hoping Maggie didn't notice how hollow it sounded.
 
 
The first light drops of rain misted Josh's face, as he and Mikey walked along the Bushman Trail, their steps slowed down by the clumps of mud on the soles of their shoes.
The teachers had some kind of meeting this afternoon, so the kids had gotten out of school at noon.
“I hope we don't get in trouble,” Mikey said. “You're supposed to be grounded.”
“Mom said that I wasn't supposed to leave the house after we got home from school, and we haven't gotten home yet, have we?”
“No, but—”
“Whose fault is this anyway?” Josh asked, reminding his little brother why they hadn't gone straight home.
“I guess it's mine. I'm sorry, Josh. I didn't mean to leave that arrowhead out here.”
“You shouldn't have had it in the first place. It was mine, not yours.”
And Josh had a report on the Plains Indians due on Monday. He also had to get up in front of the whole class and show them his project, which he was still working on. But he couldn't finish it without that arrowhead.
“So where did you leave it?” he asked his brother.
“By the stream. On a flat rock.”
Josh gritted his teeth and shook his head. He still had no idea why Mikey would bring that arrowhead down to the Bushman Trail, but that was a little kid for you—doing dumb things without thinking.
Coming down to the canyon before going home was kind of dumb, too, he supposed. If his mom found out, she wouldn't be happy about it. But the way Josh saw it, he had no other choice, other than to get a bad grade in social studies.
Besides, they weren't going very far—and they'd stick super close to the houses on Canyon Drive. No way would he risk running into Ross or getting near Mr. Tolliver's house. And once they got what they were looking for, they'd be home before their mom was the wiser.
Of course, their shoes were going to be a dead giveaway. But he had that all figured out. They would use the hose in the backyard to wash off most of the mud, then they'd throw their shoes in the washer and then the dryer before their mother even got off work.
“This is as far as we went the other day,” Josh said, stopping in his tracks and turning to face his brother. “So where is it?”
“I
told
you. On a rock by the stream.”
The stream ran along the entire bottom of the canyon and went all the way to the beach. It was also lined with rocks on both sides. So Josh rolled his eyes. “What kind of clue is that?”
“It's gotta be here somewhere. The rock was really flat on top, like a pancake. We probably already passed it. Come on, I'll find it.” Retracing their steps, Mikey took the lead, which didn't happen very often. Josh figured he must have forgotten how scared he usually got when they came down here.
Or maybe he was finally growing up.
But ten minutes later, after passing the same old empty beer can about a hundred times, Mikey finally gave up. “Maybe someone found it. Or the rain washed it away.”
Great. That was all Josh needed. He slapped his hands on his hips, ready to let Mikey know how mad he was, when he heard twigs snap and a series of thumps.
Turning to the sound, he spotted Hemingway loping toward them.
“Uh-oh,” he said. “Guess who's loose again.”
“Hey, boy.” Mikey was the first to greet the dog, dropping to one knee and rubbing its wooly head. “How'd you get out this time?”

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