Christmas On Nutcracker Court (7 page)

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Authors: Judy Duarte

BOOK: Christmas On Nutcracker Court
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Her arms loosened, then slowly dropped to her sides, and the tension left her face. “Do you know who the older boy is?”
“No, but he looked to be a couple of years older than your son and about forty pounds heavier.”
“Does he live around here?” she asked.
“I have no idea. I work nights and sleep days.” Max combed his hand through his hair. “At least, I
try
to sleep days.”
She bit down on her bottom lip, then softened. “I'm sorry. It's just that I . . .”
Those spring-green eyes grew watery, but she managed to blink back the tears.
Max was grateful they hadn't overflowed and spilled down her cheeks. He'd never been patient when a woman started crying. He'd seen plenty of them do that when he'd been a probation officer, both female defendants or the wives and girlfriends of the men. And he'd learned to draw back and be tough. But as hardened—and skeptical—as he'd become on the job, he found himself really waffling now.
Finally, when she seemed to have pulled herself together, she blew out a weary breath. “I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions. I'm a single mother trying to raise two boys. And it hasn't been easy.”
Max imagined it was difficult. His own mother had worked two jobs to support him and his brother.
“Josh has always been up front with me in the past, so I'm not used to him clamming up.” She looked at him with those big green eyes again, drawing him into her troubles in spite of his resolve to mind his own business. “Do you have any idea why he wouldn't want to tell me about getting in a fight?”
“He might be afraid of repercussions from the older boy. And he might want to handle the problem on his own without hiding behind his mother's skirts. As little boys turn into big boys, they start drawing away from their moms.”
That's what Max had done, and so had his brother.
As Mrs. Westbrook—Carly—looked up at him, her gaze clung to his as though he held all the answers. But that couldn't be further from the truth.
Rather than risk getting soft or any more involved than he was already, he circled the wagons around any compassion that swirled in his chest and slipped into probation-officer mode. “If I see that older boy around here again, I'll try to identify him for you. I don't like bullies.”
She nodded. “Thank you. And again, I'm sorry for accusing you of hurting my son. It's just that . . .”
“You're a mother. And you care about your kids.”
In spite of her earlier efforts, a single tear slipped down her cheek.
Aw, man. Don't do that,
he wanted to tell her.
He probably ought to run through his mental Rolodex of social service organizations that might be able to help her, but he just stood there until she thanked him, then turned and walked away.
Instead of closing the door and retreating to the privacy of his home, he watched her get into her car, feeling a bit guilty and not at all sure why.
Chapter 4
As storm clouds rolled in from the northwest, shading the midday sun, Susan parked her car along the curb in front of Helen's house, a pale green Victorian with white trim.
Before leaving home, she'd carefully styled her hair and applied her makeup, something that had become a daily habit since Hank had passed away.
Not that she'd let herself go before. But these days she took extra care, especially when she was headed for Nutcracker Court. A couple of Helen's neighbors were eligible bachelors, and Susan wanted to be ready for a chance meeting with one or the other.
Both men were nice-looking and in the right age range, but more importantly, they each worked from home, which was an even bigger plus. Susan had once been married to a workaholic who'd spent most of his waking hours at the office, so she found a little detail like that to be especially appealing.
But that didn't mean she hadn't been happily married to Hank. They'd had their share of good times and had made some special memories.
Of course, there'd been the typical squabbles, slammed doors, and cold shoulders, too, but they'd loved each other and had been faithful to their vows.
And there was a lot to say for that.
Her only real complaint had been Hank's overwhelming drive to be the best at everything he did. That and the fact that he hadn't wanted to start a family until it was too late.
But Susan planned to remedy that—God willing. All she needed to do was find the right man. So the hunt was on.
Hunt?
She scoffed at the poor word choice.
Just last Thursday, when she'd finally mentioned that she was interested in dating, Lynette had made a joke about Susan being on a manhunt. Susan had chuckled right along with her poker buddies, but the comment had rubbed her the wrong way.
It wasn't as though she was desperate and would throw herself at the first man to toss a smile her way. She was going to be very careful when it came to choosing a second husband.
In fact, she'd compiled a list of qualities she was looking for in a mate. And some of them were non-negotiable, like honesty, financial security, a kind and loving heart, and the desire to father a child or two.
That was also why she wanted to get to know Max Tolliver and Grant Barrows a little better. She'd like to see if either of them was worth pursuing. And she wouldn't know that unless she had an opportunity to chat with them.
So, as she climbed out of her white Honda Civic, her thoughts weren't on Helen's cousin, Maggie. Instead, they were on the men who lived nearby.
There were some notable differences between the two, particularly in looks. Max had dark hair and an olive complexion, which suggested he had some Latin blood—Italian maybe, or Spanish. He was also tall and solid, with a build that suggested he worked out regularly.
On the other hand, Grant was several inches shorter, a little more slender, and as fair as Max was dark. His light brown hair appeared to be sun-streaked, even in the winter months. Whenever she spotted him out in his yard, she was reminded of a typical Southern California surfer, albeit one who was a little older than most. Of course, that could also be due to his wardrobe, which seemed to be limited to Hawaiian-style shirts, board shorts, and sandals.
Either way, she'd made up her mind to instigate a conversation with whichever man she spotted first.
As she slid out of the driver's seat and closed the door, she noticed that Max's blinds were drawn tight. She suspected that he might be asleep or hard at work on the novel he was writing. He was a bit of a recluse, she'd been told. But she loved books and thought it might be interesting to date an author.
Especially one with such soulful brown eyes—the pensive kind that weren't easy to read.
A couple of weeks ago, Max had been outside walking his dog when Susan had arrived to play poker. She'd offered him a shy smile, and when he'd smiled back, a little zing had rippled through her veins.
But since it didn't appear likely that she would run into him again this afternoon, she glanced over her shoulder at the house across the street, the home Grant Barrows had recently renovated. The project, which had included all new landscaping in the front and back, must have cost a small fortune, but from what Helen had said, the man was loaded.
Susan wasn't exactly sure what Grant did for a living, and neither was Helen, but they both agreed that he must be very successful.
After circling the car and opening up the passenger side, she removed the three-layer cake she'd made early this morning. Then she used her hip to shut the door.
She took a moment to admire her carefully frosted handiwork, knowing that it was sure to impress Helen's cousin, Maggie. And even Lynette, who was on a constant diet to maintain her Barbie-doll shape, wouldn't be able to resist a slice.
Before heading to the door, she took one last gander at Max's house, hoping he'd open the shades or step out onto the porch. But no such luck.
Maybe on her next visit she would bring a double batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies and deliver a plate to each of the bachelors. An unexpected gift like that would be a great icebreaker and was sure to set off a conversation.
With a solid clever game plan simmering in her mind, she headed up Helen's walkway, her steps light, her heart hopeful. When she reached the stoop, she shifted the cake plate to one hand and rang the bell with the other.
Moments later, a fortysomething blonde opened the door wearing a pair of black slacks and a pale blue blouse.
“You must be Maggie,” she told the woman. “My name is Susan. I'm a friend of Helen's—and one of the Diamond Lils.”
Cousin Maggie broke into a smile that nearly lit the entry. And as her gaze lit upon the dessert in Susan's hands, her sky-blue eyes widened. “Oh, my. Would you look at that?”
“It's my mango-coconut cake. And you haven't seen anything yet. Wait until you actually take a bite.”
“Please,” Maggie said, opening up the screen door. “Come inside. I'll put on some water for tea. Or would you rather have coffee?”
“I'll have whatever you're having,” Susan said.
“Then tea it is.”
Minutes later, Susan was seated at the kitchen table, an antique made of oak. Maggie removed the pot of rhododendron that had been the centerpiece and replaced it with the mango-coconut cake.
“Helen mentioned that her friends, the Diamond Lils, might stop by,” Maggie said, as she set the lush potted plant on the countertop. “And that you were dear friends.”
“We've grown very close over the years,” Susan said.
Maggie filled Helen's red teakettle with water, placed it on the stove, then turned on the flame. “Why do you call yourselves the Diamond Lils?”
Susan was a little surprised that Helen had mentioned them, but hadn't gone into detail. “I'm not sure who came up with the name first, but because of our weekly poker games, it seemed to fit. And it just stuck.”
“Weekly poker games?” Maggie's movement stilled, and she cocked her head to the side. “Do you play for money?”
Was Maggie a prude about gambling and that sort of thing? If so, it seemed odd that Helen would ask the Diamond Lils to befriend her.
Either way, Susan wasn't going to lie. “Having a little wager on the table makes it a lot more fun. But we don't play for high stakes.”
Maggie nodded, as though she understood. Then she removed two china cups and saucers from the cupboard and placed them on the table.
“In fact,” Susan added, “each week, we save a portion of the kitty to use for something special.”
Maggie's eyes brightened. “That's really nice. I'm sure there are a lot of worthwhile charities that can use some extra money, especially at this time of year.”
“You're probably right,” Susan said. “But we already have the fund earmarked for a trip to Laughlin. There's going to be a big poker tournament on the fifteenth of January that's part of a reality television show.”
“What if you're not chosen to take part?”
“Oh, but we were. Helen sent in our application, and someone from the show came here a couple of weeks ago to interview us. And we're in.” Susan tried to contain her excitement, but wasn't having much luck. “We're going to travel to Laughlin in style, too. Rosa's nephew works for a limousine company, and he's going to get us a special rate and drive us there. We'll stay at a nice hotel, eat at the best restaurants, see a couple of shows, and maybe even visit a spa.”
They planned to play the slots, too, although Susan decided not to mention that.
“Wow,” Maggie said, no longer giving off those anti-gambling vibes. “It sounds like a great trip.”
“Doesn't it?” Susan burst into a smile. “We even ordered matching T-shirts for us to wear. They're red and have a sparkly decal on the front that says
THE DIAMOND LILS
.”
As Maggie placed the sugar bowl, a jar of honey, and teaspoons on the table, Susan had a second thought and added, “In spite of our weekly games and the upcoming tournament, we're not big-time gamblers. We only play for an hour or so on Thursdays, then we end our afternoons by having dessert and socializing.”
“The wrap-up part would be the most enjoyable to me,” Maggie said, as she took a seat across from Susan. “I suppose that's because I've never really liked playing cards or board games.”
“We'd be happy to give you some lessons. It really isn't hard to learn. And you might be surprised at how much you'd enjoy it.”
“I don't know about that.” Maggie tossed her a dimpled grin. “But I wouldn't mind fixing lunch for your group on Thursday and watching you play.”
“That's a really nice offer. And I know that I'm not just speaking for myself when I say that we'd really appreciate it.”
“Good, because I don't know anyone in Fairbrook yet, and it'll be a lonely three weeks if I just hole up in Helen's house—no matter how cozy it is.”
“We're a great group. I'm sure you'll fit right in.”
“I'm sure I will.” Maggie pushed back her chair, stood, and went to the pantry. Then she opened the door and peered inside as if making a mental grocery list. “I make a great vegetarian lasagna. Do you think something like that would go over well?”
“I'm sure it will.”
“Does anyone have food allergies?”
“Not that I know of, although Lynette is always dieting. But she rarely turns down anything tasty, so don't worry about her.”
Maggie leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms. “I'm looking forward to meeting the others. What are they like?”
“Actually, you may be surprised, but other than friendship, we have very little in common. To begin with, we're not the same age. Rosa Alvarado is sixty-two. Helen, as you know, is fifty-six. I'm forty-five, and Lynnette Tidball, who's only thirty-two, is the baby of the group.” Susan studied the delicate pink rose and trellis pattern on Helen's china cup for a beat, then added, “Of course, Lynette used to be married to an older man, so she's probably more comfortable with our age differences than most women in their early thirties.”
“Used to be married? What happened?”
“He passed away the summer before last.”
Maggie seemed to think on that a bit, then asked, “How much older was he?”
“He was in his late fifties and nearly twice her age, but he
adored
her. And he was as rich as all get-out.”
“Did she love him?”
“I know why you'd wonder about that, but I'm sure she did. For one thing, she hasn't remarried. And for a young woman, two years is a very long time to be alone.”
It was a long time for a woman Susan's age to remain single, too, but she didn't mention that. Instead, she leaned back in her chair. “By the way, I invited both Lynette and Rosa to join us this afternoon, so you'll get to meet them and see for yourself.”
“Should I put on a pot of coffee, too?” Maggie asked.
“Tea will be fine.”
As Maggie returned to the cupboard and began removing two more cups and saucers from the shelf, Susan thought about the women who were no longer a part of their weekly poker group. They'd each brought something different to the table on Thursdays, and she'd been sad to see them go.
“There used to be sixteen of us,” she said, not sure that it would matter to Maggie.
“What happened? Why did so many leave the group?”
“Oh, various reasons—disability, death, a new marriage, and a move out of state.”
“That's too bad,” Maggie said. “It's never easy to lose a friend.”

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