One Imperfect Christmas (21 page)

“Oh, Mom, you've
got
to have dessert.” Lissa reached for the small dessert menu tucked beneath a vase of fragrant pink roses.

Natalie laid a hand on her stomach, which pressed painfully against the waistband of her slacks. “Not possible. I couldn't force down one more bite.”

“At least have a cappuccino with me.” Daniel signaled the server.

The flirting waiter was not to be deterred. Gaze locked with Lissa's, his accent heavy on the Italiano, he said, “But your dining experience would be grievously incomplete without at least a small serving of Adamo's world-famous tiramisu.”

Natalie doubted the guy even knew what the word
grievously
meant. In fact, she seriously doubted he was even Italian. Maybe she should order dessert just to get the guy to go away and take his leering eyes off Lissa.

She slapped her hand on the table. “Okay, you talked us into it. But just one, with three forks.”

It turned out to be the richest melt-in-your-mouth tiramisu Natalie had ever tasted—even better than she remembered. As they lingered over their decaf cappuccinos and a hot chocolate for Lissa, Natalie succumbed to another stream of memories—other evenings with Daniel … long-ago times of courtship and sharing dreams and heart-to-heart talks. Each moment shimmered in and out of focus like the frames of a treasured home movie.

In the flickering lamplight, she caught the hopeful sparkle in Lissa's blue eyes as her gaze danced back and forth between her parents. A sad emptiness crept into Natalie's heart, edging out the sweet recollections. She stiffened. She couldn't let this fantasy continue.

“It's late. We should be going.” Crumpling her napkin beside her cup and saucer, she scanned the dining area for their server. When she caught his attention, she signaled for the bill and twisted around to retrieve her shoulder bag from the back of her chair.

“My treat.” Daniel placed a restraining hand on her arm.

Warmth shot through her at his touch. She closed her mind to the sensation, the memories. “No, I insist. Separate checks, please.” Nervously, she rummaged through her purse. “And I'll get Lissa's.”

“Put your money away.” Daniel cocked his hip to retrieve his wallet. “I said it's my treat.”

“And I said no. I can pay my own way.”

She should have known the pleasant evening was too good to last. After a record two hours of civility, they'd resorted to the inevitable arguing. Fingers taut with rage, she pulled out some cash and shoved it at Daniel. “Here, this should cover it.”

As the server handed Daniel the bill, Mr. Adamo, the owner, sauntered over. “Good evening. So glad to see you and your family, Mrs. Pearce.” He gave a slight bow. “I wanted to personally thank you for your delightfully creative talents in designing our new menu. Everyone agrees, it is absolutely exquisite.”

Natalie shoved the anger to another part of her brain and gave Mr. Adamo a self-conscious smile. “I'm so glad you're happy with my work. It's always a pleasure doing business with you.”

A thoughtful look came over the man's face. He chuckled softly. “The horse and rider, an amazing touch of inspiration for the watermark. How did you know?”

Natalie gave him a blank stare. “Horse and rider?”

“Yes. In the Old Country my family raised horses. We were very proud of our championship bloodlines. I was once a skilled rider myself and even came close to qualifying for the Olympics.”

Lissa's jaw dropped. “That's wild. I had no idea.”

Mr. Adamo lifted his hands and shrugged. “Of course, it was so long ago that I did not think anyone here even knew of it.”

An eerie sense of doom tightened the muscles behind Natalie's skull. “May … may I see one of your menus again?”

“But of course.” Mr. Adamo snatched one from the hands of a server on his way through the dining room. He held the burgundy folder to the light, opening it to show Natalie the inside cover.

Her mouth fell open in stunned shock. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it right away. On the other hand, she'd been entirely focused on making it through the evening with Daniel without losing what little composure she'd managed to cling to.

Now she saw it clearly: the profile of a dressage rider on his stately Hanoverian mount, a full-page maroon watermark on a parchment background.

“Striking, isn't it?” Mr. Adamo peered over her shoulder.

“Um-hmm.” Natalie almost choked.

She knew with absolute certainty she'd used a grape-arbor graphic for the watermark, exactly as Mr. Adamo had requested. She wasn't sure she could survive until Monday to check her computer files. Either she had gone completely crazy, or someone had been breaking into her computer and redoing the copy before Jeff received it for printing.

But how?
Not even Jeff or Deannie had password access to her computer. She'd developed a unique system for file security and never wrote down her passwords.

If she ruled out the likelihood of a computer break-in, losing her mind was the only other explanation, and the way she felt, it seemed a distinct possibility. At least this time the client was pleased with the “mistake.”

Horses, paintbrushes, watercolors, her mother—the images intertwined in Natalie's mind like tangled Christmas-tree lights as Daniel drove to her apartment.

I've been working too hard—way too hard.

She made up her mind to shove the printing business and all the bizarre errors aside … at least for one day. Tomorrow she and Lissa would do something fun together. If Lissa wasn't interested in horseback riding, then they'd go to a movie or drive up the highway to the regional shopping mall. The outing would do them both good and give them a much-needed opportunity to reconnect.

Thoughts of riding brought to mind the therapeutic riding center and Natalie's indecision about donating Windy to the program. The idea of giving away her precious mare raised a lump in her throat, but she knew it was for the best. If she had trouble making time for her own daughter anymore, she certainly didn't have time for a horse.

At the sound of the telephone, Deannie muted the TV and glanced at the clock. Almost midnight. And she'd just gotten to the good part of a romantic movie. Who'd be calling so late? She drew her knees up under her purple fleece robe and reached for the phone.

When she recognized the familiar name on the Caller ID, an involuntary shiver coursed through her. “Hey, Lissa. It's late. What's up?”

“I think we're getting her attention.” Natalie's daughter spoke just above a whisper.

Deannie gripped the phone. “It's about time. But I think she's getting suspicious of me. I can't afford to lose this job. How much longer do you think it's going to take?”

“Not long, I hope. A few more lucky breaks like tonight, and we should have her right where we want her.”

Deannie sat forward, nerves tingling. “What happened?”

Lissa chuckled. “Remember the Adamo's menu?”

“Yeah. But I thought we'd blown that one.” Deannie twisted a curl around her finger, remembering. Natalie had stayed home from work with the flu the day Deannie's uncle printed the menus. Alan delivered them to the restaurant before anyone at the office realized the copy had been changed. Deannie thought sure Mr. Adamo would eventually call to point out the mistake, but he never did.

“Well, she had dinner at Adamo's tonight,” Lissa stated. “And you won't believe this, but she never even noticed the menu looked different until Mr. Adamo personally showed her the horse and rider. And get this.” She allowed a dramatic pause. “He
thanked
her for her 'amazing touch of inspiration.'”

“
All right!
Was she totally undone?”

“She turned so white, I was afraid someone was going to have to carry her out.”

“Yes!” Deannie released a high-pitched squeak and pounded her knee with a fist. “It worked after all!”

“Did you have any clue the Adamos were horse people? You're the one who suggested switching to a horse graphic.”

“Actually, I did a bit of research.” Deannie allowed a touch of self-satisfaction to creep into her voice. “You can find out an awful lot on the Web. I just looked up 'Adamo' and 'Italy,' and I came across this whole genealogical site with tons of information about their family history.”

“Yeah, but that was risky, suggesting a graphic he might actually approve of.”

Deannie sank luxuriously into the chair cushions. “That's part of the brilliance of the plan. She was thrown totally off balance, right? A lot worse than if he'd been mad about it.”

“You are too clever, girl. Your uncle will beg you to join the business when he realizes what you can do.”

“I only hope you're right.” The familiar doubts dimmed her enthusiasm. She took a deep breath and forced herself to ignore them. “Okay, so what's our next move?”

“Just keep doing what we've been doing. You downloaded the latest file I sent you?”

“Yep, got it when I checked my email after work. Everything's ready for Monday morning.” Deannie reached for the computer disk next to the phone.

“Great. But remember, one step at a time. Use the stuff only if she doesn't give you a choice.”

“Gotcha.”

“Good. Once Mom loses her job, she'll have to get back together with Dad.”

14

T
he microwave beeped, and Lissa popped open the door, releasing the aroma of maple-cinnamon oatmeal into Natalie's kitchen. Lissa set the bowl on the counter and retrieved the milk carton from the refrigerator. “I think we should go to church, Mom.”

Natalie's hand froze halfway to the coffeemaker. “Oh, honey … ” Cringing inwardly, she set her cup under the spigot, pressed the start button, and let the gurgling sounds fill up the strained silence while she framed her excuse. “I've had such an exhausting week. I don't think I have the energy.”

“Give me a break. Just last night you were trying to talk me into going horseback riding today.” Lissa waltzed to the table, her voice taking on a mocking, sing-song lilt. “If you're too tired for church, you're too tired for riding.”

Natalie sank into a birchwood chair across from her daughter and took a careful sip of the Irish cream-flavored brew. “You don't understand. Sometimes church seems … confining, in an obligatory sort of way. Horseback riding makes me feel free, alive, re-energized.” Okay, so it sounded New Age-y. And very, very lame. She could tell by Lissa's classic eye roll that she wasn't buying it.

“Give it up, Mom. I bet you haven't been on a horse in months.” Lissa took a bite of oatmeal. “And it's probably been almost as long since you've been to church.”

“It's hard, Lissa.” Natalie shook her head. “I just don't feel comfortable in church anymore.”

“If you're worried about running into Dad, he's been going to early service for a long time now.”

Daniel.
Natalie's stomach did a flip-flop. Like she needed to be reminded of all the feelings the dinner at Adamo's had conjured up.

“And anyway, Mom, you've got to stop avoiding him. Didn't you have a good time last night? Wasn't it great, all of us being together like a family again?”

“Sure it was, but … oh, Lissa, you're not making this easy.”