Coming Home for Christmas (5 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Coming Home for Christmas
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It suddenly dawned on him that the house was very quiet except for childish laughter wafting down the stairs. Even Miss Sadie, her head tilted to the side, was aware of the sudden silence. A minute later Mason was walking down the steps, a twin in each arm. The little twits were gooing and laughing and tweaking the man's nose. How was that possible? He'd turned himself inside out to please them, and all they did was pinch, cry, and fight him every step of the way. Obviously, he didn't have the touch. The right touch.
“I have to go out,” Hank said. He was stunned at his belligerent tone.
“I'd put on some shoes if I were you, Mr. Anders. It's freezing outside.”
“I don't know how that's going to work, Mason. I broke my big toe.” If he hoped for sympathy, he wasn't getting any from this guy.
“Soak it in Epsom salts,” Mason said without missing a beat. “When will you return, sir? By the way, is there a lady of the house?”
“When I'm done doing what I have to do is when I'll be back. I can't give you a specific time. There is a lady of the house but not right now. She's . . . well, what she is . . . she isn't here.”
“I see. And you're in charge temporarily, is that it?”
“No, no, I'm not in charge. Well, I am, but I'm not. I know that doesn't make a whole lot of sense but . . . you, Mason,
are in charge.
”
“Very well, sir.”
“Call me Hank.”
“I can't do that, sir. You're my employer. The company frowns on familiarity. Will there be anything else before I feed these little angels?”
“Nope, that's it. See ya, Mason.”
Shoes on, his toe throbbing, Hank dressed and left the house. His game plan was to ride around the neighborhood to look for Churchill before doing anything else. He'd start first by warming up the SUV and brushing the snow off the windshield. He turned around when he heard banging sounds coming from Albert Carpenter's house. Someone on a ladder was banging with a hammer and stringing lights, and who was it standing next to the ladder but Churchill!
“Hey!” he shouted.
A female voice responded, “Hey, yourself!”
“Do you need any help, other than my dog?”
“Your dog! This is your dog! I don't think so! He's mine now. Possession is nine-tenths of the law. I walked him. I fed him. And he slept at my house last night. That means he's mine. It was freezing out last night. He could have died out there. You just try and get him back and I'll . . . I'll . . .” The hammer drove a nail into the post with deadly precision.
“That's private property. What do you think you're doing anyway? Mr. Carpenter died yesterday.”
“I know he died. God rest his soul. I'm hanging Christmas lights. What's it look like I'm doing? Furthermore, it's none of your damn business what I'm doing. Don't even think about stealing this dog from me. Just try calling him. I betcha five bucks he will ignore you.”
Hank felt befuddled. That was a sucker bet if he ever heard one. Who was this person? She had yet to turn around, and she was bundled up like Nanook of the North.
His toe throbbing like a bongo drum, Hank whistled for the dog. Churchill ignored him. He called him by name. Churchill ignored him. He called out, “Good boy, come on now, I'll give you a treat.” Churchill plopped down and put his head between his paws.
“I'll take that five dollars now.”
It was like a lightbulb went off in Hank's head. “I know who you are. You're that know-it-all who brought Churchill back last night when I was giving the twins a bath.”
Amy banged in another nail with the same deadly precision. “Wow! You figured it out. Guess you have a brain after all. He's mine, and he's staying with me.”
“You're trespassing, you know. The old guy just passed, and you're hanging Christmas lights on his house. That makes you some kind of ghoul in my opinion. I wonder what the cops will do if I call them. I want my damn dog, and I want him now.”
“Why don't you try taking him and see how far you get.” The hammer swung again. The sound was so loud, Hank winced. “Go ahead, call the police. I'm just being a good neighbor. I know for a fact that Mr. Carpenter always had Christmas lights. In his later years he probably had someone do it for him. And just for the record, these are my lights. I didn't steal them, nor did I break into Mr. Carpenter's house in case that's the next thing you're going to say. Furthermore, you . . .you . . . buffoon, don't you think it's a little strange that a woman is doing this when someone of your . . . ilk should be doing it? Go bother somebody else. I'm busy.”
Buffoon. Someone of my ilk.
What the hell did that mean? His toe was throbbing so bad he wanted to bang it on the porch railing. Anger at his circumstances rippled through him. “Listen to me, you . . . you dog snatcher, I want my dog, and I want him
now.
He's a boy dog. Why'd you put that stupid red ribbon with a bell on him?”
The voice that retaliated was syrupy sweet. “It's like this, you clown. The bell lets me know where he is. This is the Christmas season, and red goes with the silver bell. For the last time, I did not snatch your dog. He came to me. He doesn't even like you. I can tell. Look at him, he's petrified of you. That's pretty bad when a dog doesn't like his owner. Did you abuse this poor animal?”
Outrage rivered through Hank at the accusation. Hank bent over to peer at the golden dog, who growled. “I would never harm an animal. I might have been a little sharp with him when he deliberately lifted his leg on a chair. He pees a flood. It took two towels to clean it up. He jumps the fence. I didn't know he could do that until this morning.”
The voice was still syrupy sweet. “And I suppose you think I'm going to believe that . . . that ridiculous story. Let's get real here.”
Hank was at his wit's end. His toe was killing him. “Are you always this nasty so early in the morning, or were you born this way?”
Four things happened at that precise moment before Amy could respond. Mason opened the front door to get the newspaper, Miss Sadie beelined out the door and ran at the speed of light to the Carpenter front porch, at which point Churchill leaped up to greet his new best friend and toppled the ladder. The know-it-all slipped and fell.
“Oh, shit!”
“Oh, shit, is right,” Nanook of the North said as she rolled over in her down coat to survey the damage. Somehow or other the two dogs were now tangled in the string of Christmas lights that were twinkling off and on.
Churchill growled, his ears going flat against his head, a sure sign that he was perturbed at something.
Hank took that moment to stare at the woman on the floor, who was laughing hysterically. So this is what she looks like. Something teased at his memory then, something he couldn't put his finger on. She was so pretty it took his breath away. And she had the nicest laugh he'd ever heard in his life. He knew that laugh. Or he remembered it from somewhere. The question was where? “Do I know you?”
Amy was on her feet when she looked up at her old childhood friend. “I don't know, do you?” She bent down then to try to untangle the string of lights the dogs were bent on chewing.
Hank wondered if a buffoon-slash-clown would do what he was doing, which was holding out his hand. “Hank Anders. I'm visiting next door for the holidays.”
Amy stopped what she was doing, stood up straight, and looked him dead in the eye, hoping she wasn't giving away the delicious feeling coursing through her. “Mandy Leigh. It's been a long time, Hank.” She crushed his hand in hers and saw that he tried not to wince.
“Mandy! It is you! Well, damn! In my wildest dreams I never thought we'd meet up again. You broke my heart when you moved away. I wanted to write you a hundred times, but no one knew where your aunt took you. California, we all thought.”
“That's right, California,” Amy said. “I've lived there ever since.”
“Mom said your aunt Flo was a world traveler. We just assumed. . . no one ever came back. I thought the house was sold. Hell, I don't know what I thought. Look, I'm sorry about . . . about calling you names. This . . . it's a long sad story. Can we go for coffee or something? God, you're beautiful! You look just like I remember.”
Amy laughed. “Is this where I'm supposed to say you're handsome?”
“Wouldn't hurt. Mom always said I was good-looking. So, can we do the coffee? I'll help you with the lights when we get back.”
“Why not?” Why not indeed. Oh, be still my heart, Amy said to herself as she tidied up the porch, then replied, “Let's go to my house. I can make coffee, and I have some sticky buns. The kind Mom used to make when we were little.”
As they walked toward the Leigh house, a light snow started to fall to the dogs' delight.
“Then you aren't mad at me?”
“Nah. I was just venting. I've been upset about Mr. Carpenter's passing. He was so good to us kids growing up. It's always especially sad when a person dies during the Christmas season. That's why I wanted to string up the lights. He used to love Christmas. Remember how we always made him a present?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I remember,” Hank said softly. “I remember everything about that time. You really did break my heart, you know. By the way, Miss Sadie, the little fur ball, belonged to Mr. Carpenter. Ben gave the dog to him after his wife died. Churchill is Ben's dog. You're probably right about him not liking me. I was more or less thrust on him out of the blue. I might remind him of Ben. By the way, Ben is in Iraq.”
“Sounds like you and I have a lot of catching up to do,” Amy said, opening the front door of her house.
And he has no clue that I'm a movie star.
How wonderful was that? Pretty damn wonderful, she decided.
Chapter Five
Amy felt like she was walking on legs of Jell-O as she shed her outerwear on the way to the kitchen. Hank wasn't married. He was right behind her. In her very own kitchen. And he looked every bit as good as she dreamed. He was here. She was going to make him coffee and sticky buns. How good could life get? But the absolute best was, he had no clue that she was a movie star. A mighty sigh escaped her. She whirled around, not realizing how close he was. They literally butted shoulders. She looked into dark brown eyes that she remembered so well. She could smell minty toothpaste. In a liquid flash she could see something in his eyes, the same thing she was feeling. He blinked. She blinked, then Churchill broke the moment by jumping between them. Flustered, Amy backed away, and Hank sat down on one of the old wooden kitchen chairs.
The exquisite moment was gone. Hopefully it would return at some point.
Amy reminded herself that she was an actress. She could carry this off until she saw which way the romantic wind was blowing. “You know, Hank, I can make you a full breakfast if you like, or we can go with the sticky buns and coffee. Your call.”
Hank looked up at the stunning woman towering over him.
He wanted to reach out and grab her. The old Mandy would have smacked him for taking such liberties. He'd almost kissed her. And his heart and his eyes told him she would have been receptive to the kiss. This was a new Mandy. Maybe he should step back and not be so . . . pushy.
Pushy?
He cleared his throat. His voice sounded like a nest of frogs had settled in his throat. “Whatever is easiest. Let's just talk.”
“Great! Then it's sticky buns, juice, and coffee.” As Amy prepared the coffee and turned on the oven, she threw questions at Hank. “So bring me up to date. Do you come home here to Apple Valley every Christmas? This is my first time back.” Was her voice too breathless, too giddy-sounding? Maybe she should be more cool, a little aloof, instead of this flighty person she'd suddenly become.
As Hank talked, Amy set the table with her mother's old dishes. Plain white crockery with huge red strawberries in the middle. Her mother had had a passion for strawberries for some reason. Everything in the kitchen had to do with strawberries: the cookie jar, the canister set, even the place mats were in the shape of strawberries.
“I remember these dishes. Your mom always served us cookies and sandwiches on them. You always said if you had to eat something you didn't like it made it okay because the dish was so pretty.”
Amy stopped what she was doing. “You remember that!”
“Well, yeah. I guess I considered it an important thing in my life at the time. I don't have one bad memory of growing up here in Apple Valley. Ben doesn't either. You never said good-bye,” Hank blurted.
Amy turned around as she fiddled with the pot holder in her hand. “Flo . . . Flo whisked me out of here so fast I didn't know what happened. I guess she thought I might . . . I don't know what she thought. I used to cry myself to sleep. I wanted to come back so bad, but there was nothing to come back to.”
“Do you like living in the land of perpetual sunshine?”
“Yes and no. I really miss the change of seasons. I love autumn, and I even like winter. The holidays here in Apple Valley are my greatest memory. How about you?”
“I live and work in New York. I'm an engineer, have my own business. I have nine employees, and we're doing pretty well. New York isn't that far away from Apple Valley. I came home once a month up until my parents died. Then Ben and Alice took over the house, and I came less and less. But I always came back for the holidays. Ben's in Iraq. He's a major in the army. He was supposed to be home by now, but they extended his stay over there. He's getting out when his twenty years are up. He has another ten years to go. Alice is . . . upset. She was so sure Ben would be home for Christmas. The last time he saw the twins they had just been born. The Army allowed him to come home on compassionate leave just before Christmas, when they were born. They're toddling around now, and they
have teeth.
” This last was said with so much amazement, Amy burst out laughing.
Hank wanted to confide in Amy, to tell her about Alice's great escape, but he decided against it because he didn't want to be disloyal to his sister-in-law. He decided to change the subject. “Are you going to go to Mr. Carpenter's funeral? I imagine the wake will be this evening. I'm going. I can pick you up if you want.” Assuming Mason would babysit. No need to tell Amy about that either, he thought.
“I'd like that very much. I was going to order some flowers after I finished stringing the lights. Then you showed up . . .”
“I guess I came on a little strong. I'm sorry. I've been . . .” He was going to say upset with the way things were going, but at the last second finished lamely with, “Upset with Albert's death. He was special.”
Amy poured coffee and removed the sticky buns from the oven. She let them cool as she poured juice into her mother's old jelly glasses. She hated the tremor in her hands.
“So tell me about you. What do you do in California?” There was horror in his voice when he said, “You aren't married, are you?”
Amy grinned. “Not even close. How about you?”
“I got close, but she left me standing at the altar. Best thing that could have happened to me. 'Course I didn't think that at the time.”
Amy blinked, then she said, coolly, “You told me you would wait for me forever. Guess you didn't mean it, huh?”
Hank immediately picked up on the chill in Amy's voice. “I know I meant it at the time. I think by the time I turned twenty-one, I realized you weren't coming back to Apple Valley. I did try Googling you a while back. Nothing came up. I figured you got married, had a new name, and were living happily amid the orange blossoms and sunshine.” It sounded so stupid even to his own ears, he couldn't imagine what she was thinking. He gulped at the hot coffee to cover his discomfort.
Amy's voice was still cool when she shoved one of the strawberry plates across the table along with two sticky buns and a napkin. “Guess you're a bachelor then. I thought you would have a bunch of kids by now.”
Hank frowned. “Why would you think that?” What the hell was going on here?
Amy shrugged as she sat down. “Well, Ben is married. You're twins. Twins usually do the same thing. I'm sorry, I guess I shouldn't have said that. So, how do you like these sticky buns?”
“Quite good.” They tasted like sawdust.
“No kidding. I think they taste like cardboard.”
They looked at each other across the table. They were kids again, sharing a joke. They burst out laughing at the same time. Hank spoke first. “I was going to say they tasted like sawdust, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I missed you, Mandy. When you left I thought about you every day. Ben used to tease me, said I was in love with you. You know, puppy love.”
“I was so crazy about you I couldn't see straight. Back then I believed we would get married after we finished college. I think that's why I was so upset when Flo took me away. I felt so lost and angry, but I was just a kid. I couldn't do anything about it. Every day I used to run to the mailbox thinking you'd find out where I was and write me a letter. I wanted to write to you, but I guess I didn't have the nerve. That might be more than you need or want to know.”
“No, no, not at all. I was a mess myself after you left. My mom was good about it. She tried her best to explain what she thought happened. Even Ben did his best not to nag me, but he was getting off on it. You know how kids are.”
“Yeah, I know how kids are. If you're not busy after we string the lights, I can make you lunch, or, if you like, maybe we could go to Andolino's for pizza. When I first got here I drove through town. Tony made the best pizza. I'll buy.”
“Well, that's an offer I can't turn down. Pizza it is, and let me tell you, Tony's pizza has not changed; it's every bit as good as it was back when we were kids. His sons run the parlor now. So, are you ready? I'll meet you at Mr. Carpenter's. I want to check on . . . on the twins.”
“Okay, go ahead. I'll clean up here and meet you on the porch. If you don't mind, I want to stop and get a big wreath for Mr. Carpenter's front door. We can order flowers at the same time. You okay with that?”
Hank shrugged into his jacket. “Absolutely. I just need ten minutes. Damn, I'm glad you came home this year.” He was almost to the door when he turned around and came back. “Hey, if I want to ask you out, you know, dinner or something, should I call you up or what? I don't have your phone number. I need a phone number. Those tin cans we used to string between the houses aren't going to work. You know, a date.”
A date with Hank Anders. That was the stuff dreams were made of. “Sure. It's 310-200-9999. What's yours?”
She wanted his number. Suddenly he felt light-headed. Hank pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed her one of his business cards. He felt a jolt of electricity racing up his arm when his fingers touched hers.
Amy smiled.
Hank smiled.
And then he was gone. Amy sucked in her breath as she danced around the kitchen as the dogs pawed and yapped at her. “You don't understand, guys. I think I've been waiting all my life for what just happened. I am just so happy. So very happy.”
The dogs yipped and yapped as Amy moved between the table and the dishwasher. When she started to sing “Jingle Bells,” they howled. She laughed as she slipped into her heavy down jacket. “Hey, guys, it's snowing again!”
Amy, the dogs behind her, walked across the lawn to the Carpenter property. Hank was nowhere in sight. What was he doing? She looked at her watch. He'd said ten minutes. Now it was more like twenty. She shrugged. If he was blowing her off, then he was blowing her off.
Hank Anders watched Amy from the front window. His heart was beating so fast, he thought it was going to leap right out of his chest. The minute he'd gotten inside, he collapsed against the door. How was it possible that now, right at this moment, his childhood dream was coming true? He'd been
that
close. Close enough to kiss her. And not the kind of kiss he'd planted on her lips when they were thirteen years old either.
Mason, the new nanny, took that moment to enter the foyer. Alarmed, he raced to his employer. “Are you all right, sir?”
“Mason, my man, I'm about as right as a guy can get. How's everything going? I'm in love. Are the twins more than you can handle? Did I tell you I'm in love? Did they eat? They're kind of sloppy. This is such a great feeling. By the way, I found the dog.”
Mason stared at his new employer. He met all kinds of people in his line of work. “I'm certain Mrs. Anders will be happy to hear that. Perhaps she's the one you should be telling. I'm happy for you. The boys are fine. They ate ravenously. They're playing in the family room. They've been changed, and I'm considering what to make them for lunch. About dinner . . . is there anything in particular you fancy?”
Hank gaped at the nanny. What the hell was he saying? “No, no, not Mrs. Anders.” He motioned Mason to join him at the window. “Her. I'm in love with her.”
Mason pursed his lips and glared at Hank, disapproval in every line in his face. “I see! Then my advice is
not
to tell Mrs. Anders.”
“Dammit, no. That's not . . . I guess I didn't explain. I'm not the husband or the father of the twins. I'm their uncle. I live in New York. My brother is Mr. Anders. He's the husband, but he's in Iraq. I'm just visiting. Don't worry about dinner. Fix something for yourself. I have to go to a wake this evening. Can you stay past bath time? I'll pay you extra of course. Did anyone . . . you know . . . call?” Please, oh, please say Alice called.
Mason looked befuddled. All he could think of to say was, “I see.”
“You already said that. What is it you see, Mason?”
“That things in this household are topsy-turvy. Or as my old mum used to say, at sixes and sevens. There were no phone calls. But, your e-mail has been pinging ever since you left. I assume that means you have messages.”
Alice. Alice must have e-mailed again. “So can you babysit this evening?”
“Of course, sir. I charge twenty-five dollars an hour.”
“Fine, fine!” Hank said as he leaped over the gates that held the twins prisoner in the family room. Just one big playpen. The minute the boys saw him, they started to cry. Mason was on the job immediately. A second later the boys were laughing and playing peekaboo with their nanny.
Hank clicked on the e-mail and was chagrined to see it was from his brother, Ben, and directed to Alice. He told himself he had to read the e-mail. Told himself he wasn't being sneaky. He had to find Alice for the boys' sake. It was such a sweet e-mail, Hank felt his eyes burn. Ben apologized again and again for not being home for the holidays. He thanked his wife for the recent pictures of the boys she'd sent him. He asked about the tree and who she was going to get to put it up. He said how much he loved her and couldn't wait to get back to her waiting arms. Then came the clunker that made Hank's back stiffen.
I know you said I shouldn't do it, but Hank will understand. He won't hassle us to repay the loan sooner than we're able. Hank's my brother. I'd do the same for him. I can see the stress and strain on your face. Photos don't lie, Alice. I know you're killing yourself with all you have to do. Start looking for someone to come in to help. With Hank coming for Christmas, he'll give you the money. This is no time for either one of us to be too proud to ask if we need help. I didn't get an e-mail from you yesterday or today. I hope nothing is wrong. Write me, honey. I love you. All my love, Ben.

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