Mist on the Meadow (8 page)

It didn’t feel much like Christmas this
year.

Wolf stared at the decanter of scotch. Truth
be told, he didn’t like the stuff. He shook his head. What he
wanted was a cup of eggnog.

And his grandmother.

A tear escaped the corner of his eye and he
hastily wiped it away. Wolf’s little sister used to skip around the
house while she sang Christmas carols. Even when she was in high
school. She’d never grown into that “too cool” phase. She’d never
had the chance.

Another tear slid down his face, unchecked.
He missed his mother’s sweet smile, her generous heart. He missed
the way his father cheered at his baseball games.
I’m proud of
you
, he’d say,
but you need something to fall back on.
He’d always intended for Wolf to take his place at Harper
Electronics.

“The company’s on the disabled list,” he
whispered. Wolf shook his head. “I won’t let him destroy everything
you built.”

Somewhere down the hall, a radio played
Christmas carols. Christmas Eve at Harper Electronics.

Most people took Christmas week off, and the
board of directors had not been happy when Wolf scheduled a meeting
for the day after Christmas. He’d insisted, with reminders of the
upcoming year-end audit and allusions to dismal business
results.

They didn’t know about the fraud audit.

Wolf walked away from his computer and stared
out the window overlooking Chicago’s Magnificent Mile where
shoppers searched out last-minute gifts.

He didn’t have anyone to buy for this year,
unless you counted Ralph, and it had been difficult enough to get
Ralph to accept the gifts Wolf’s grandmother had wanted him to
have.

He should probably bring something with him
to the Maitlands. If he decided to go.

Wolf shook his head. Hadn’t he already talked
himself out of the invitation?
Dinner’s at five.
He looked
at the clock on his desk. Five minutes past three. It wouldn’t hurt
to pick something up. Just in case. A bottle of wine? A dessert?
No, Marissa had desserts at the café. There would probably be an
abundance of desserts.
And eggnog?
he wondered.

Wolf hated to shop, and Christmas was the
worst. He could send one of the secretaries out, if one was still
there. A glance through his open door showed him a ghost town.

Three-ten. In order to ensure he’d make it to
Blue Lake by five, he’d have to leave the city now. Traffic was
unpredictable, and if the snow started, it would be even
slower.

What’s it going to be, Harper?

“I’m not sitting alone in that empty house on
Christmas Eve,” he said out loud. Decision made. Wolf grabbed his
coat and breezed out of the office. In the elevator, he slipped
into his coat, the last button fastened as the doors opened to the
lobby.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Harper,” the guard at
the security station called after him.

Wolf nodded in response and pushed through
the revolving doors.

Lights twinkled along the wide streets and
music blared through loud speakers attached to light poles. The
gray sky held the promise of more snow. The roads would be a
nightmare once the weather changed. Wolf hesitated. He could buy
his host a gift closer to Blue Lake and beat the snow. With a
resigned sigh, he decided. Ten minutes wouldn’t make much
difference, and there was no guarantee the stores would still be
open when he got to Blue Lake. Better to stop now.

He walked the two blocks and shouldered his
way into the crowded wine shop. Traditional Christmas dinner.
Turkey? Ham? Wolf picked up a bottle of Liebfraumlich, then
considered a Zinfandel. No, he’d stick with his gut instinct.

Wolf picked up a second bottle of
Liebfraumilch and headed for the cash register.

Even as he steered onto the expressway ten
minutes later, he wondered how he’d talked himself into Christmas
dinner with strangers. Marissa’s business partner had said they
made room for strays. Hard to think of himself as a stray, but he
would be in similar company.

Christmas dinner with family, even someone
else’s, sparked memories of all the happy years.
Before.
His
grandmother’s table filled with food. Hanging out with his older
cousin, Chuck, when he still though Chuck was cool, before Chuck
turned into a blimp. Singing Christmas carols around the piano. And
when the presents had been opened, Uncle Pete would brew the glogg
and dramatically light a match to the alcohol to pronounce it done
before he’d hand out glasses of the hot brew.

Wolf hadn’t been old enough to drink the
glogg back then, but his nose twitched in memory of the spicy
aroma.

A car blared its horn and Wolf straightened
to attention. The rush hour traffic crawled out of the city.

Uncle Pete hadn’t made glogg
after
.
After the accident, Uncle Pete barely acknowledged Wolf’s
existence, as if he’d wished Wolf had been in the car with the rest
of his family. When Wolf had become old enough to claim his share
of the family business, Uncle Pete fought him every step of the
way. No surprise, once Wolf discovered how Uncle Pete managed the
company.

He was still family, and in spite of the last
eleven years of animosity, Wolf warred with himself over the
potential scandal, scandal his grandmother had taught him to
avoid.

Wolf wouldn’t have survived without his
grandmother. He hoped she’d understand what he planned to do.

The clock showed quarter to five. His stop at
the liquor store hadn’t taken as long as he’d thought it might. He
was making good time. The GPS showed he was five minutes away from
the Maitland’s, but the GPS was always optimistic. Last chance to
back out.

Day after tomorrow he would alienate all the
family he had left. Might as well get used to being a stray.

* * *

Marissa helped her mother transfer dinner
from cooking dishes into serving dishes while the rest of the
family entertained their guests in the family room. Uncle Balt had
taken particular interest in Derek, the sailor they’d invited from
the Great Lakes Naval Base.

Derek’s face was baby smooth, as if he didn’t
yet have to shave every day. The sailors at the naval station were
generally fresh out of high school, but he didn’t look quite that
young. His hair was close-cropped, little more than brown stubble
on his head, and he had smiling brown eyes. His service uniform
didn’t have a rating on the shoulder, so he hadn’t yet advanced to
a higher pay grade. Likely early twenties, then, but definitely
younger than she was. If she didn’t know better, she’d suspect
Uncle Balt of interviewing a prospective husband for her, the same
way he’d seemed to each Christmas in the years since she’d
graduated from college.

But she knew better.

Marissa pulled the green bean casserole from
the oven and placed the glass dish into a serving basket. She
paused to close her eyes and turned her thoughts to Wolf Harper.
Had he made up his mind?
Cramp.

“Tired?” her mother asked.

Marissa opened her eyes and smiled. “A
little.”

“Do you think Wolf Harper will show up?”
Funny how her mother sensed her thoughts. “It was nice of you to
ask him, but he might prefer to spend the holiday with the rest of
his family after Gerda’s death, you know.”

“There seem to be bad feelings with the rest
of the family,” Marissa said. “But people usually set that aside
for the holidays, wouldn’t you think?” She shook her head. “I’m not
sure if he’ll come.”

Her mother picked up the cranberry relish and
the dinner rolls and headed to the dining room. “I’m not holding
dinner for him. No sense in spoiling a perfect meal.” She smiled
and nudged Marissa on the way by. “Dinner, everyone,” she called
out from the dining room.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Marissa drew
a deep breath and smelled cinnamon. Wolf had decided.

Her father answered the door. “Wolf?”

“And you must be Mr. Maitland.”

“You’re just in time,” he said as he shook
Wolf’s hand and took his coat.

“Thank you for having me.”

“Is that wine?” Max pointed to the bag in
Wolf’s hand.

“Yes. I hope that’s okay?”

Marissa’s mother sailed back to the kitchen.
“That’s lovely,” she called over her shoulder. “Thank you, but you
know you didn’t have to. We’re happy you could join us. Stuart, can
you introduce Wolf around?”

Marissa’s father led him into the dining
room. “Looks like it’s starting to snow again, eh?”

“Yes sir.”

Her father introduced the guests as they
filed past. “My son, Max. I understand you’ve already met Uncle
Balt. This is Derek from the naval base. We invite a sailor in for
Christmas dinner. It’s our way of saying thank you to the men and
women serving our country who are unable to return home for the
holidays, a tradition we started when the kids were little.”

Wolf shook Derek’s hand. “Wolf Harper. Nice
to meet you, and thank you for your service.”

Derek nodded, as if he wasn’t sure how to
respond. Marissa guessed he hadn’t seen active duty yet.

“And I understand you already met Angela,
too,” her father finished.

Wolf nodded. “Nice to see you again.”

Marissa’s father retreated to hang up Wolf’s
coat and Uncle Balt, his oxygen tank strapped over his shoulder,
directed everyone to their seats.

Marissa followed her mother out of the
kitchen with the last of the dishes. Uncle Balt sat with Wolf and
Derek on one side of the table. Angela sat opposite Derek, with Max
across from Uncle Balt. That left Marissa directly across from
Wolf, a not too subtle attempt to encourage dinner conversation.
Her parents sat at either end of the table.

She reached past Uncle Balt to set down the
au gratin potatoes and whispered in his ear. “You didn’t need to
bother.”

Uncle Balt patted her hand. “Never hurts to
help things along.”

No sooner had Marissa taken her seat than
Hex’s paws tested her leg. He jumped to her lap beneath the table,
where he settled and purred loudly.

Max scanned the floor. “Where is that coming
from?”

Marissa dropped a hand under the table to
stroke Hex’s soft fur.

“How’s the little bugger doing?” Wolf asked.
“I’m not what you’d call a cat lover, but it is awfully quiet
without him wandering around the house.”

Marissa smiled. “He’s a lot of fun. You
haven’t changed your mind?”

“I don’t think he’d go,” Angela said. “That
cat is like Velcro with you, Marissa.”

“He should be with someone who appreciates
him,” Wolf said. “Sounds like a perfect fit, you and little
Hexeri.”

“Yes, indeed,” Uncle Balt added. “A perfect
fit. What a wonderful coincidence to bump into you at the
café.”

“Not the word I would have chosen,” Marissa
mumbled.

“What was that?” Max nudged her elbow.

“Coincidence,” Marissa repeated. She stabbed
a piece of ham and passed the dish. “Were you able to get your
headlight fixed?” she asked Wolf.

“What happened to your headlight?” Derek
asked.

“He rear-ended Marissa’s car,” Angela
replied.

Derek laughed. “And you still scored an
invitation to dinner? Which is great, by the way. Thanks again,
Mrs. Maitland. Mr. Maitland.”

Wolf chuckled. “I’m still wondering about
that myself, and I second the sentiment. Excellent food. Thank you
for inviting me.” He smiled at Marissa. “Yes, I’ve had the
headlight replaced.”

Angela took over the conversation. She coaxed
Derek’s family history from him and found out all about Max’s
classes at the university and how he spent his free time. Simple
social graces came easily to Angela, the same graces that Marissa
struggled with. Marissa was secretly pleased that even though
Angela invoked her female wiles and batted her eyelashes, she
wasn’t able to get Wolf to open up.

Hex worked his paws against Marissa’s
legs.

Derek asked about the café. Finally, a topic
of conversation Marissa was confident with. Angela deferred to her
with remarks on Marissa’s business sense and skills in the
kitchen.

Marissa was mid-stream with her ideas to put
tables on the sidewalk in front of the café during the warmer
seasons when Max got up from his seat to help their mother clear
dishes.

“Am I rambling?” Marissa asked.

“No,” her mother reassured her. “I’m sure
Derek is interested in hearing your ideas, but since I already know
your plans, I thought I might clear the table so everyone could
have a piece of the beautiful büche you made for dessert.”

“Büche?” Wolf asked.

“Büche du noel,” Angela said. “It’s
fabulously decadent sponge cake rolled up with rum custard and
frosted with fudge icing, decorated to look like a Yule log. One of
Marissa’s specialties, and it is to die for.”

“My mouth is watering already,” Derek
said.

Marissa blinked twice. Derek was a rapt
audience. While she was flattered, she wondered if his attention
went beyond interest in the café. Derek wasn’t the one she wanted
to impress. Marissa gently nudged Hex off her lap and pushed away
from the table. “I’d better make sure they don’t drop the
cake.”

Her mother looked up when Marissa appeared
beside her. “I was just putting the meringue mushrooms beside the
log. Did you want to show it off? I’m happy to defer to the
professional.”

“The cake looks beautiful. Got most of my
skills from you in the first place.” She wrapped an arm across her
mother’s shoulder and gave her a quick squeeze.

Her mother scattered the green coconut
“grass” around the edges of the cake and rearranged the
mushroom-shaped confections. “I’m glad Wolf could make it. And
Derek certainly seems to be interested in you.”

“Stop,” Marissa said. “Derek can’t be more
than 21. There’s a big gap between 21 and 25, especially for
men.”