Christmas On Nutcracker Court (20 page)

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Authors: Judy Duarte

BOOK: Christmas On Nutcracker Court
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“It's your book, but as a reader, I think cutting Priscilla is a big mistake.”
She might be a reader, but she was also a female. What would a man say?
Still, Max could hardly complain about an opinion he'd asked to hear. And he'd wanted a female perspective.
Carly leaned forward and placed her elbows on the table. “Listen, Max. You're a good writer. But just because Logan has trouble dealing with his feelings doesn't mean you have to cut out the one person in the world who will make him look deep within himself.”
“What are you? A closet novelist?”
“No, I just love to read. And English was my favorite subject in school. If I'd gone to college, instead of getting married, I might have ended up teaching literature at Fairbrook High.”
Before he could respond, the waiter brought their food.
Carly thanked the guy.
Max did, too, but as he reached for a fish taco and took a bite, he noticed that Carly bowed her head and said a silent prayer.
He hadn't realized she was one of those religious types. Of course, she hadn't preached at him or anything.
Still, what she'd said about Priscilla making Logan reach deep inside of himself made Max wonder if Carly might be a little more helpful than he'd thought.
What if she read the entire manuscript—or at least, everything leading up until this scene? Would she feel differently about Priscilla?
He took a second bite of his taco, then while he was chewing and swallowing, decided to go for it. “I don't suppose you'd want to take a look at all of it, would you?”
“Your book?”
“I could e-mail it to you. Or if you'd rather have a hard copy, I could print it out and deliver it to you.”
She merely looked at him from across the table, her spoon lifted and full of soup.
“Of course, I'd pay you,” he added. “I wouldn't ask you to spend your time reading and critiquing for free.”
She lowered her spoon without taking a bite. “You know, if things weren't so tough for me financially right now, I'd tell you that I'd do it as a favor—and for fun.”
Money talked, he decided. Didn't it always? But he found himself grinning and feeling somewhat relieved.
“Would two hundred dollars help?” he asked. “You wouldn't need to do a full-on line edit or anything. Just read the first three hundred pages and tell me what you think.”
“About Priscilla?”
Mostly, yes. He thought the other characters were spot-on. But he said, “Just let me know how you feel about the story—the characters, the conflict, the plot, or whatever.”
“Okay. I can do that. And an extra two hundred dollars would help a lot.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“But you'd better snail mail it to me or drop it off at the house. I had to eliminate my Internet server.”
“No problem. I'll get it to you.” He picked up his fork, then realized she'd done more than he'd asked her to do, and now he owed her one.
“So what's going on with Josh?” he asked.
She swallowed, then picked up her napkin and blotted her lips. For some reason, just watching her and waiting for her to speak kicked up his pulse rate a notch.
“I'm not sure,” she said. “He's been so introspective lately. And he's resentful that I depend on him to help out in so many ways. But things are really tight these days. I really shouldn't have rented the house we're in, but I was determined to raise the kids in a nice neighborhood and to make sure they attended a good school. And that's why I'm having so much trouble now. I'm overextended.”
“Because of the rent?”
“And a few other unexpected expenses over the past few months. I probably should have rented one of the apartments on the other side of town. The utility bills would have been a lot less.” She inhaled, then blew out a troubled sigh. “But then the boys wouldn't have had a yard to play in.”
“So why don't you move?”
“I'm afraid I'm going to have to. I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I fell behind on the rent, and I'm not sure how long I can convince my landlord not to start the eviction process—if he hasn't already.”
“A lot of kids have to grow up in apartments,” Max said, thinking she shouldn't have gotten a place she couldn't afford. But she seemed to know that now, so there was no reason to make her feel worse.
She reached for a slice of bread. “You're right. When my dad died, my mother and I had to live in an apartment for a couple of years. It really wasn't so bad. We had nice neighbors, and we were happy.”
“Kids are pretty adaptable. They usually make friends anywhere.”
“That's true. I stayed indoors a lot, though. So I didn't have many friends in the complex to lead me astray.”
“Why'd you stay inside?”
“I did my homework, cooked dinner for my mom, and spent my free time reading. But most boys would rather play outside if they had a chance, wouldn't they?”
Max hadn't thought about his boyhood in ages, but if he'd grown up on Nutcracker Court, he would have spent all of his free time down in the canyon. But that didn't mean he wouldn't have made the best of living in an apartment complex. “Like I said, kids will find out how to have fun no matter where they are.”
“I hope so.”
They returned to their respective meals for a while, then she looked up and wrapped her gaze around his, nearly choking the breath out of him. “I really wish I could afford day care. I hate that Josh has to look out for his brother—and that I don't get home until after dark sometimes.”
“If you moved into an apartment, would you be able to afford the cost of a sitter?”
“Maybe. When we first moved into the house, I lucked out. There was an older woman who lived next door to us, and she really took a liking to the boys. She didn't have children, and she used to dote on them and do grandmotherly things.”
Max didn't know any of his grandparents. “What kind of things did she do?”
“She used to make them cookies and color with Mikey. She'd play board games with them, too.” Carly shrugged, breaking eye contact for a moment. “I miss her. She was a special lady. And Josh was a lot happier back then.”
“What happened? Why isn't she helping out now?”
“She lost her husband about six months ago and moved in with her sister to make ends meet.” Carly shrugged a single shoulder, then gave him a wistful smile. “It would be nice to find someone else to at least watch Mikey. That way Josh could have some time to himself.”
It seemed reasonable, so Max didn't comment. Yet even his silence seemed to speak to her.
“What?”
she asked.
“I didn't say anything.”
“You didn't have to. But I know you were thinking something.”
She might be attractive, but she was still a typical woman—always trying to read into everything.
“Do you think Josh should have more time to himself?” she asked.
“How old is he?”
“He'll be thirteen next March.”
Max didn't know what to tell her. A lot of kids had adult responsibilities and played active roles in their family. And the way he saw it, the kids were all the better for it.
It was clear that Carly was really struggling, though. And not just financially. Raising boys must be tough for a single mother, and he sympathized. But there wasn't much he could do about it. He certainly couldn't offer to babysit whenever she worked.
When would he write? The noise and commotion alone would drive him up a wall.
He took another bite of his taco, filling his mouth so he wouldn't say—or
offer
—anything stupid. Yet as he chewed, he realized he owed her something more, although he wasn't sure what.
“I could talk to your son,” he finally said. “Maybe he'll tell me what's bothering him.”
She looked up, and hope sparked in her eyes, making the green even brighter. “I'd really appreciate it if you would. Maybe I could fix dinner for you one evening this week, and you could come over and talk to him at our house. You can even bring your dog. The boys have really taken a liking to him.”
His first impulse was to decline dinner. Max never had been very family oriented. He was a lot like Logan in that way.
Maybe that was why he understood his protagonist so well. But if Carly was going to read his manuscript and offer some suggestions, then it wouldn't hurt for him to bend just a little.
Max owed her that much.
At least, that was the excuse he gave himself for accepting her invitation to have dinner with her and the kids on Thursday night.
Chapter 12
It was Thursday again, and Susan was on her way to Nutcracker Court to meet the Lils and Maggie for coffee, but she wasn't going empty-handed.
This time, however, she wasn't taking food, like she'd done on Tuesday, when one of her neighbors had given her a homemade fruitcake. Since Susan had never really liked that particular holiday goodie—and wouldn't be able to eat the whole thing by herself, even if she had—she'd taken it to Grant.
He'd been a little surprised by her unexpected visit, but he'd smiled, taken the cake, and thanked her.
Now she was back, bearing yet another gift—this one was a lot more practical for a busy man like him.
While out shopping yesterday, she'd found a darling little snowman he could put in his front yard. It had the sweetest little face, and when it was turned on, it lit up and waved at passersby.
She'd also picked up a lush poinsettia plant for his front porch, although she'd left it in her car since she couldn't carry everything at once. Hopefully, he wouldn't think it was presumptuous of her to give them to him, and if he insisted upon paying for it, so be it. But either way, he really needed a little holiday cheer.
Before leaving her house, she'd put on her nicest pair of black slacks, a cream-colored turtleneck sweater, and topped it off with a red Christmas vest. Then she'd carefully applied her makeup and sprayed on a dab of her favorite perfume.
And now here she was, standing on Grant's stoop, ringing his bell.
When he answered the door, he was barefoot and wearing a wet suit, as if he was just going to pack up his surfboard and head to the beach, which she thought was rather odd on a chilly day like this. Yet even more amazing was the way the black, rubbery material molded over every perfect muscle in his body, reminding her that he was much more than a pretty face.
As he glanced at the life-sized snowman made of lights and tubing, his jaw dropped a little more, and she wasn't sure who was more surprised to see the other—him or her.
“I hope you don't mind,” she said, “but I saw this cute little guy and thought he'd look great on your lawn for the Christmas season. So I picked it up for you—as a gift.”
“That was thoughtful, but I hate to have you spending your money on something I probably won't use. Maybe you should put it on your lawn instead.”
She laughed. “Actually, I found it at a buy-one-get-one-free sale, so I picked up two. So yours didn't cost a dime.”
If she hadn't been holding on to the snowman with both hands, she would have put one behind her back and crossed her fingers to ward off any bad luck from stretching the truth, since there hadn't been any such sale, and she'd actually paid almost thirty dollars for it.
“Why me?” he asked.
Because she wanted him to notice her and to realize how nice it would be to have a woman in his life who would look out for him. But she wasn't about to admit that.
Instead, she smiled. “I know how busy you must be at this time of the year, and I wanted to make it easy on you. Besides, everyone else on this street has already decorated their houses.”
“Max hasn't.”
Her mother would have said, “If Max jumped off a cliff, would you do it, too?” And for some silly reason—a rush of girlish excitement, probably—she found herself repeating the question to Grant.
“That's not the same thing,” he said.
“No, it isn't. I'm sorry, I couldn't help teasing a little.” She extended her arms, handing him the snowman. “Please take it.”
“I'm really not big on holiday decorations,” he said, “or splurging on energy bills.”
“You don't have to worry about that. It's battery-operated.”
Silence stretched between them, then he relented and took the snowman from her. “Thank you. I guess it'll keep the neighbors from complaining.”
His appreciation warmed her heart, and she hoped that they were becoming . . . Well, becoming friends would be a nice start.
She thought she detected a slight smile on his face, as he placed the snowman inside his house, and it pleased her to know that her gift had been so well received. In fact, she'd forgotten to mention the poinsettia that was still in her car.
But maybe it was best if she gave the plant to Max instead. It wouldn't hurt to become friends with him, too.
Of course, Max was probably sleeping or holed up in his office, so he might not answer the door, but she could always leave it on his porch. If she let Maggie know what she'd done, he'd eventually find out who'd been thinking of him.
After Grant thanked Susan again and shut the door, she headed for her car to get the plant, just as Lynette arrived.
So she left the plant right where it was and greeted her friend.
“Don't you look nice,” Lynette said, as she closed her car door. “Is that a new vest?”
“No, I've had it a couple of years.”
“Well, it's really cute.” Lynette smiled, then asked, “Did I see you coming from Grant's house?”
“Yes, you did. I gave him a Christmas decoration he could use in his front yard.”
“Did he take it?”
“Yes, although, for a moment, I thought he was going to refuse it.” Susan couldn't help grinning as she imagined her gift being put to use. “It's so cute. It lights up and waves at passersby.”
“That doesn't seem like the kind of thing a bachelor would want in his yard, but then again, maybe he's thinking about children and family this time of year.”
“Do you think?” Susan brightened. She certainly hoped that was true. And if it was, it was a good sign.
Before they could make their way to Helen's front door, Rosa pulled up and parked behind Lynette.
“Oh, good,” Susan said. “I'm so glad she could make it. We don't see her very much anymore. Maybe, now that there are four of us, we can talk Maggie into joining us for a few hands of poker.”
“That would be fun.”
Susan and Lynette waited for Rosa to get out of the car, and when she did, they headed up the sidewalk together.
“We're so happy to see you,” Lynette told Rosa. “It's not the same when you're not here. It's nice that Carlos let you come today.”
Rosa, who moved with a limp, slowed her steps. “Actually, I told him not to make any more plans for me on Thursdays.”
“That's great.” Susan and the other Lils had been worried about her for the past several months. “I'm so proud of you.”
“In fact,” Rosa said, as they neared Helen's porch, “Carlos and I had words earlier this morning. I've always been pretty passive, but ever since the other night, when we got home from a meeting at the church, I started speaking my own mind.”
“I'm glad to hear you're finally standing up to him for a change.” The minute Susan's response left her lips, she regretted them. “I'm sorry, Rosa. I didn't mean for it to sound that way. It's not that I think Carlos controls your every move, it's just that—”
“I know what you mean.” Rosa, who was the first to reach the door, rang the bell. “We had a little disagreement about that Laughlin trip over breakfast. He thought that three or four days was entirely too long for me to be away, but I told him under no uncertain terms that I was going with my friends and would stay for the duration of the trip. Then I blocked out that weekend on his calendar, just to be sure he didn't plan anything for me.”
Maggie opened the door and, with a smile that lit her intensive blue eyes, welcomed them into the house.
As Susan stepped into the cozy living room, with the familiar furniture and the Pritchard family photos adorning the mantel, Susan was reminded of the one Lil who was still missing.
“Have you heard from Helen?” she asked Maggie.
“No, I haven't. I'm sure she's having too much fun to contact any of us.”
“Hopefully, she'll find time to send an e-mail,” Lynette said. “I hear those phone calls from the cruise ship can be very expensive.”
Lynette, who'd been left way more money than she knew what to do with, could be frugal to a fault, but Susan wouldn't hold that against her.
As Maggie led them into the kitchen, the aroma of fresh-perked coffee grew stronger until it filled the air. And Susan, for one, was looking forward to chatting over a cup of java with her closest friends—and with Maggie, of course.
Ten minutes later, they were seated around the kitchen table, sipping coffee and eating slices of pumpkin bread Maggie had baked earlier that morning.
“Have any of you decided how you're going to use your money to bless someone else this Christmas?” Maggie asked.
“We're not planning to spend very much of it,” Lynette reminded her.
“We're still going to Laughlin,” Rosa added. “I've already put my foot down with Carlos, which I rarely do. So I'd hate to have to back down. . . .”
Susan reached over and patted Rosa's hand. “You're not going to have to give in to him. We've already committed to that trip.”
“It's not that we can't spare a little money, though.” Lynette cut another piece of pumpkin bread with her fork. “We probably have five thousand dollars or more saved, which is more than we're going to need.”
“Oh, it's not that much,” Susan said, as she reached for her oversized purse, glad she'd thought to bring the money with her today, and dug out the yellow manila envelope that held the cash they'd been setting aside for the past two years. “If you wait a minute, I can tell you the exact amount.”
Susan ran her finger down the front of the bulging package, where she'd listed dates, amounts, and a running total, until she found the bottom line. “Here it is. We have two thousand, six hundred, and forty-four dollars.”
“That can't be right.” Lynette reached for the envelope, almost snatching it out of Susan's hands. “Let me see that list.”
“What's the matter?” Susan asked her. “Don't you
trust
me?”
“Of course, I do. You're as honest as Abe Lincoln himself, which is why we let you hold on to the money in the first place. But remember that day you had your checking account all screwed up and needed me to help you figure out what went wrong?” Lynette smiled, as if trying to soften her words. “You have a tendency to transpose the numbers, Suze.”
The truth and the patronizing way in which Lynette had said it, struck a hard blow, reminding Susan of the dyslexia she'd battled all of her life—the embarrassment, the shame, the frustration.
Lynette stopped her scan of the numbers long enough to say, “I'm sorry, Suze. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It's just that I know we have more money than that. I've been keeping a mental tally, and it has to be at least five thousand, if not more.”
The apology, which was undoubtedly meant to soothe her feelings, fell short of the mark, and Susan crossed her arms over her chest. “It's all inside the envelope, every last dollar.”
“I'm sure it is.” Lynette tossed another smile Susan's way, which didn't work any better than the last at making up for her remark. Then she went back to scanning the numbers. “Uh-oh. Here's a nineteen instead of a ninety-one.”
Susan's cheeks flushed warm with embarrassment. “Maybe you should forget the math and my notes on the front, Lynette. Just take it out of the envelope and count it.”
“All right, I will.” Lynette, who Susan imagined was only too happy to get her tight little paws on the cash, dumped it on the table and proceeded to add it up.
The fact that she'd been right, that they'd had more money than Susan had thought, didn't matter one little bit. Not while she was still stinging from the comments made.
A part of her wanted to retaliate by bringing up the fact that the only one focused on the money was Lynette, who'd always been tightfisted in spite of having a slew of it herself.
No wonder she'd been keeping a mental note of all their winnings.
Finally Lynette looked up and smiled—a little too smugly. “We have over six thousand dollars.”
“And more than enough for that trip to Laughlin,” Maggie said. “Have you given any thought to ways in which you can give to those in need this Christmas?”
“We don't have to give money,” Lynette said. “Right? Giving of our time helps.”
Susan gave a little
humph,
reminded again of Lynette's tightfisted flaw, which wasn't one she'd been born with, like a learning disability. Rather it was one that had developed over time and nurtured by selfishness.
“It's true that you don't have to spend money in order to help others,” Maggie agreed, “but if you run across someone who has a real need, I hope you'll be generous.”

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