Mist on the Meadow (9 page)

“I must have misunderstood. I got the idea
Angela was interested in Wolf? And Derek seems very mature for his
age.

“No,” Marissa repeated. “There will be no
matchmaking for Christmas. Let’s just enjoy the company.”

Max picked up the heavy cake and Marissa
grabbed the stack of dessert plates as they headed back to the
dining room. Everyone did the appropriate oohing and ahhing while
her mother sliced pieces.

Marissa cast a glance at Uncle Balt, who
watched her closely. Had she misinterpreted her impressions? Time
to test that newly discovered part of her brain. She turned her
attention to Wolf, took a deep breath and tried to tune in.
Immediately, her stomach cramped. Hex jumped in her lap and the
cramp eased.

Marissa looked at Uncle Balt again. He smiled
and he gave her a nod. She stroked the cat and squinted at Wolf.
The pictures in his head were vivid.

Christmas. Two little boys, their parents
and their grandmother. Happy. Singing carols around the piano.
Marissa’s parents’ faces superimposed over the faces of two of the
parents in his memories.
Marissa fought the urge to touch him,
to see more.

Marissa focused on Wolf’s face, his eyes
closed while he smiled.

“Wolf, aren’t you going to try the cake?” her
mother asked.

His eyes fluttered open and locked on
Marissa’s. She wondered if he knew she had been inside his head and
a flush rose to heat her face.

“I don’t eat a lot of sweets.” He patted his
stomach. “Trying to watch my weight,” he added with a wink. “It
looks beautiful, though.”

“My mother did the finishing touches,”
Marissa said quietly.

“This time,” her mother said. “But only after
years of watching Marissa. The büche makes such a nice centerpiece,
it’s a shame to have to cut it, but you won’t want to miss how it
tastes. You should try it. One bite.”

Wolf picked up his fork, his eyes locked on
Marissa’s. She squirmed in her seat, uncomfortable under his
scrutiny. Did he know she’d seen his thoughts? He sliced off a bite
and Marissa read a rush of conflicting emotions.

This looks like it’ll cost me an extra hour
on the treadmill.

Hex jumped off her lap and the cramps
tightened. Damn! She was still tuned into him. Marissa doubled over
and the connection was broken. Wolf set the bite down without
tasting it.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Hex clawed my legs when he jumped down,” she
said. “I’ll be fine in a second.” She took a deep breath.

Uncle Balt raised his hands. “Eat. Such a
perfect dessert should not be wasted.”

The family obeyed while Marissa focused her
attention on Wolf. He took a bite, closed his eyes and sighed.

What had Mrs. Prinzel said about her pumpkin
spice muffins? Marissa cast another glance at Uncle Balt, and damn
if he didn’t chuckle.

There had been more comments on the baked
goods this past week than either she or Angela had ever received
before. She’d made those muffins the day after her birthday. Did
this new “super power” impact her baking? Suddenly, Marissa was
anxious to talk to Uncle Balt—alone.

As if her sapphire blue eyes hadn’t already
bewitched him, when Wolf took a bite of her büche, dozens of other
sensory triggers kicked in. Decadent didn’t begin to describe the
taste, or the way one bite made him feel.

Wolf scrolled through a mental Rolodex. Who
could he call to satisfy the craving Marissa’s cake had sparked?
Angela seemed like the type who wouldn’t object to a night of fun
on short notice, and yet that didn’t seem like a good idea. Marissa
was different. Wolf guessed she was not the type for a
one-nighter.

He wanted more than one night with Marissa
Maitland.

The thought struck Wolf by surprise.

He set the fork down on his plate and stared
at his piece of cake.
That’s enough of that.

Wolf wanted to bask in the holiday spirit.
Tomorrow he’d be roaming Harper Manor all alone without even the
cat to keep him company.

He was a stray after all. Day after tomorrow
he wouldn’t be able to claim any family. “How long have you been a
part of the Maitland Christmases?” he asked Angela.

“Since high school graduation. My parents
moved to Phoenix.” She counted on her fingers. “Seven years, I
guess. I do Christmas Eve with the Maitlands and then I have a
flight to Phoenix to see my parents tomorrow.”

“How did they manage to leave you behind when
they moved?” he asked.

“I didn’t want to go. Marissa’s always been
my best friend, so I stayed behind to go to culinary school with
her.” Angela smiled at each of the Maitlands. “You’ve all been very
good to me. Thank you.”

“She’s part of the family,” Marissa’s mother
said. “Is the cake too sweet for you?” She nodded at Wolf’s
plate.

The whole experience was too sweet for him,
but he wanted more. “Not at all, but I’m pretty full from dinner.”
And if he had another bite, he was worried he’d do something
inappropriate, like ask Marissa to go home with him. Forever. A
woman he hardly knew.

Wolf had to clear his head. “Didn’t I see a
piano in the living room? Do you mind if I play some carols? You’ve
shared your traditions with me, may I share mine with you?”

“You play?” Max asked.

He’d hated the lessons after he’d taken up
baseball, but the piano had been one of the only respites he had
after his parents died. “A little,” he said. Wolf pushed away from
the table and walked into the other room, where a book of Christmas
carols was open on the piano.

* * *

“That cake was awesome.” Derek cocked an
eyebrow at Marissa.

“I’m glad you liked it,” she replied. “I
think it’s my turn to do dishes. Mom, why don’t you go enjoy the
music and relax for a while.”

“I’ll do them. You should entertain our
guests. And I’m sure Wolf wouldn’t mind a duet if you want to play,
too.”

Marissa turned her mother and pushed her
shoulders toward the living room. “Go. I’ve got it handled. And if
I don’t, I’ll get Max to help. It’s your turn to enjoy the
company.” Her mother conceded, and Marissa retreated to the
kitchen.

Hex leapt from the floor to the countertop to
Marissa’s shoulders.

“You’re not supposed to jump on the
counters,” she told him, and got a chirp in response. Refrains of
Jesu Joy
filled the house. Wolf wasn’t bad, and yet once her
parents sang along, his notes were less sure.

Max leaned around the door frame. “Do you
need any help?”

“Yes. Keep that sailor out of the kitchen,
will you?” Wolf wasn’t the only one affected by her dessert. She’d
seen the way everyone at the table had started to glow when they’d
eaten it, and she didn’t have the strength to fight off an unwanted
suitor.

Max saluted her and walked away, only to be
replaced by Uncle Balt. “I got the idea you might want to speak
with me,” he said. He shuffled into the kitchen and pulled out a
chair.

Marissa spun around to face him. She checked
to be sure they were alone. “What’s going on with my baking?
Another side-effect?”

“It would seem so.”

“You don’t know?”

“You are the
Kundigerin
,
Liebling
. I’m only here to open your eyes.”

“This is just wrong.” She dipped into the
dishwater and transferred plates and silverware to the
dishwasher.

Uncle Balt raised an eyebrow. “To bring a
little happiness into other lives? A little taste of life?”

Marissa chuckled. “It isn’t right,
influencing someone else’s thoughts or urges.”

“And is that what you did?”

“It sure seemed that way, and you know I
didn’t do it intentionally.”

“So what are you going to do? Stop baking?”
Uncle Balt asked.

Marissa shook her head again and returned to
the dishes. “Why twenty-five? And why spring this on people
unaware? I’m still not convinced these things I’m seeing or feeling
aren’t deductions based on common sense and logic.”

“Convinced? Oh, yes you are,” he replied, and
then he hummed along with the song Wolf was playing. It wasn’t a
Christmas carol.

Marissa shivered and broke out in gooseflesh
as Uncle Balt sang along in a rich baritone voice.

Du, du liegst mir im Herzen
du, du liegst mir im Sinn.
Du, du machst mir viel Schmerzen,
weißt nicht wie gut ich dir bin.
Ja, ja, ja, ja, weißt nicht wie gut ich dir bin.

“He’s quite good, don’t you think?” Uncle
Balt asked.

Yeah, he was good. He fit right in, in fact.
And when he’d tasted her büche, he’d looked at her like she was the
custard filling. Worse, she wanted to be the custard filling.

She could control her urges, tempting as they
were. Marissa grabbed the dish towel and wiped her hands. “I need
some fresh air.” She went to the utility room, shrugged into her
coat and walked through the garage into the falling snow.

With so many Christmas carols to choose from,
why had Wolf chosen a German folksong?

Marissa trudged down the block. The
accumulating snow covered her low-heeled pumps. She should have
stopped to put on her boots. At the end of the block, she looked up
to the tree line in search of a quiet moment.

The air was still. Christmas lights twinkled
against the canvas of the snowy night.
Peace on earth
. Any
other time, the scene around her would have filled her soul, even
without a quiet moment. Not tonight. Tonight, one touch from her
and the snow would melt into hot springs.

Didn’t Uncle Balt tell her she could summon
the quiet moments? “Hello?” she called in a somewhat sarcastic
tone.

“Hello?” Wolf’s voice answered, deep and
seductive.

Marissa spun on her heel. No doubt Uncle Balt
had sent him after her.
And is Wolf supposed to be my Christmas
present, Herr Drosselmeyer?

Marissa forced a smile. “You didn’t have to
stop playing to follow me.”

“Your mother wanted a turn, and your
great-uncle was worried about you.”

Marissa nodded. Confirmation. “Sounds like
Uncle Balt.”

“Beautiful night. Is everything okay?” Wolf
asked.

Nothing was okay. She desperately wanted Wolf
to take her in his arms. To kiss her senseless under the falling
snow. To make her forget the things she’d learned in the last
couple of days since her birthday. To erase the knowledge that
Uncle Balt would soon be dead. Tears welled in her eyes.

Wolf took a step closer and wrapped his arms
around her. “What’s wrong?”

“My great-uncle is dying. This is his last
Christmas with us.” She breathed in Wolf’s scent. Cinnamon swirled
her senses.

“I’m sorry.” The whispered words sent shivers
through her.

“And here, you’ve already lost your
grandmother. I didn’t want to dampen the mood.” She laced her cold
hand into his and his thoughts flowed freely to her. Odd that she
didn’t cramp. He conveyed comfort in the company of family. Desire
simmered beneath the surface. Wolf’s eyes locked on hers and his
tongue briefly wet his lips. She
felt
like custard filling.
And then she saw the darkness, pushed to the back of his thoughts.
He was going to fire his uncle.

“Did your parents drive a blue Buick?” Her
voice sounded far away to her ears.

Wolf started to pull away, but she tightened
her grasp on his hand.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“You need to wait,” she told him.

This time he did pull out of her grasp. “For
what?”

And then her gut tightened. She had to break
the mental link. “You need to talk to your uncle alone before you
go to the board of directors.”

Wolf took a step back. “How do you know about
that?”

“I can’t explain.”

“How do you know my uncle?”

“I don’t.” How much was she allowed to
disclose? Marissa sensed a barrier, and she wasn’t sure if it was
there to stop her from saying too much, or if it came from
Wolf.

“We should get back,” she said.

“You can’t drop something like that on me and
expect me to ignore it.”

Marissa took a measured breath and reached
for his hand. Could she tell him? Uncle Balt said she wasn’t
allowed to disclose her newfound skills. She tried to form the
words, to tell him she was a
Kundigerin
, but the words stuck
in her throat. Instead she said, “I just know. You have no reason
to believe me or trust me.”

Her fingers laced through his once more. The
physical link opened his mind, a host of confused thoughts he
didn’t want to acknowledge and, therefore, didn’t want anyone else
to know. She saw Wolf’s cousin, Chuck with a game controller in his
hand, eyes locked on the television. His Uncle Pete writing checks.
Skid marks on the road. And his grandmother with her arms around a
tall, gangly, younger version of himself.

“I can help you find the information you
need,” she said.

“I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re the
Kundigerin
,” Wolf said.

Marissa managed a smile. “I wish I
could.”

“Hey!” Max’s voice was muted by the falling
snow. “They sent me out to make sure you guys didn’t get lost. It’s
time to open the Christmas Eve presents, and they’re opening your
wine, Wolf.”

Wolf glared at Marissa. “This conversation
isn’t over.”

Wolf followed Marissa into the Maitland’s
garage. Snow melted in her dark red hair.

I wish I could
. She hadn’t denied she
was a
Kundigerin
. There was no “what is a
Kundigerin
?” Why wouldn’t she tell him if it was true?

Mrs. Maitland appeared in the door to the
utility room while they shook the snow off their coats. “You’ve
ruined your shoes,” she said to Marissa.

“They’re not leather,” Marissa told her.
“They’ll be fine.”