Trading Christmas (12 page)

T
he phone rang as Ray and Emily sat by the Christmas tree, both cross-legged, sipping wine and listening to a Christmas concert on the radio.

“Don't answer that,” he warned. “It might be my mother.”

Emily smiled and hopped up to check caller ID. “It's my phone number back in Washington,” she said, picking up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Emily? It's Faith.”

“Oh, Faith,” Emily said, instantly cheered. “It's so good to hear from you.”

“Is everything all right?” her friend asked.

“Everything is positively wonderful.” Emily looked over to where Ray sat with his wineglass.

“It is here, too,” Faith confessed.

“What about Charles?” Emily was sure she hadn't heard her friend correctly. Faith actually sounded happy, but that couldn't be possible, since she was stuck with a Christmas-hating curmudgeon.

“Oh, Emily, Charles has been just
great.
He wasn't in the beginning, but then I realized he's just like everyone else, only a little more intense.”

“Really?”

“Yes. In fact, this morning he went sledding with the Kennedy kids. Thomas talked him into it. He was reluctant at first, but once he got started there was no stopping him.”

“Charles?” Although they'd never met, Emily had heard enough about Ray's brother to find this bit of news truly astonishing.

“Then Charles and I walked downtown and browsed the stores and he bought the cutest little birdhouse for your yard. It's got a snowy roof and a bright-red cardinal on top.”

“
Charles
did that?”

“Yes, and then we had a fabulous lunch. He's working now, or at least that's what he said he was doing, but I think he's taking a nap.”

Emily smiled. This definitely wasn't the man Ray had described. From everything he'd told her, Charles was the classic absentminded professor, as stuffy and staid as they come. And he hated Christmas. Something—or someone—had turned his world upside down, and Emily had a very good idea who that might be.

“Faith,” Emily murmured, “are you interested in Charles? As a man?”

Her friend didn't answer right away. “Define interested.”

“Romantically inclined.”

That caught Ray's notice; he stood and walked over to the phone, sitting down on a nearby stool.

“I don't know.” Faith's answer revealed her indecision. “Well, maybe.” She sounded uncertain, as if she was surprised by her feelings and a little troubled. This relationship must be developing very quickly; Emily could identify with that.

“I think it's wonderful that the two of you are getting along so well.”

“He's not at all the way he first seemed,” Faith told her. “First impressions can be deceptive, don't you think?”

“Of course.”

“But I didn't phone to talk about myself.” Faith seemed even more flustered now. “I just wanted to see how you're doing.”

Emily's gaze drifted to Ray. “Like I said, this is turning out to be a wonderful Christmas.”

Her announcement was followed by a short pause. “Charles's brother is still there?”

“Yes.” Emily didn't elaborate.

“So the two of you are hitting it off?”

“We are. We're getting along really well.”

As if to prove how well, Ray came to stand behind Emily. He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck. Tiny shivers of delight danced down her spine and she closed her eyes, savoring his warmth and attention.

“Have you heard from Heather?” Faith asked.

Emily's eyes flew open. “Not a peep, but I don't expect to since she doesn't have this phone number.”

“I guess she'll call after Christmas,” Faith said.

Emily managed a few words of assent, then changed the subject. “It was so sweet of you to come to Leavenworth for Christmas. I just wish you'd let me know.”

“And ruin the surprise?” Faith teased.

“Just like I surprised Heather.”

Faith laughed softly. “I'll check in with you later. Bye for now.”

“Okay. Talk to you soon.” Emily hung up the phone and sighed as she turned to Ray to explain the call. “As you could tell, that was Faith.”

“What's all this about my brother?”

He released her and Emily leaned against the kitchen counter. “Charles apparently spent the morning sledding with the neighborhood kids.”

Ray shook his head, frowning. “That's impossible. Not Charles. He'd never knowingly choose to be around kids.”

“That's not all. After sledding, the two of them went Christmas shopping—and he bought me a gift. A birdhouse.”

Ray's frown grew puzzled. “This is a joke, right?”

“Not according to Faith.”

“Charles? My
brother,
Charles?”

“The very same. Apparently she tired him out, because he's napping.”

“I've got to meet this friend of yours. She must be a miracle worker.” He paused. “You're sure about all this?”

“That's what Faith told me, and I've never known her to exaggerate.”

“Something must've happened to my brother. Maybe I should call him myself.”

“Don't you think this is a good thing?” Emily asked. “Judging by everything you've said, your brother seems to have a single focus. His work. He wanted to escape Christmas and finish his book.”

Ray nodded, but his expression had started to relax. “It's interesting when you put it that way,” he said thoughtfully.

“How so?”

“It sounds as if you're describing me.”

This surprised Emily. From the beginning, she'd viewed Charles as an introvert, in contrast to Ray, who was personable and outgoing.

“For years now, Christmas has meant nothing but a few extra days off. Every year, I send the obligatory gift to my mother—usually the latest big mystery and maybe a new
coffee-table book with lots of scenic pictures. I attend a few parties, have my assistant mail out greeting cards, make a restaurant reservation for the twenty-fifth. But I haven't felt any real spirit until today. With you.”

Emily's heart warmed at his words.

“I never go for even an hour without thinking about work or publishing. We've spent the entire day together, and I haven't once missed hearing my cell ring.”

Emily had no idea their Christmas-tree adventure had meant so much to him. He'd seemed eager to hear about her homemade decorations and the traditions she had with her daughter. Later she'd felt a bit silly to be talking so much and certain she'd bored him with her endless stories. She was glad she hadn't.

Ray looked away as if he'd said more than he intended. “Are you ready for dinner? What about that Mexican place we passed?”

“I'm starving.” Mexican food sounded divine and the perfect ending to a perfect day.

“Me, too. That's what you get for walking my feet off this afternoon,” he said. “Now you have to feed me.”

After they'd finished putting the final touches on the tree, they'd gone out for a light lunch of pizza and salad, then walked and walked. They'd had no real destination, but enjoyed being out of doors. They'd talked incessantly and Emily was surprised they had so much to discuss. She was a voracious reader and Ray questioned her about her favorite books and authors. Emily had questions of her own about the publishing industry, which fascinated her. She noticed, though, that neither of them talked much about their private lives. Their conversations skirted around their thoughts and feelings, but the more time they spent together, the more they revealed.

F
aith replaced the telephone receiver, and a happy feeling spread through her. What had felt like a disaster a few days earlier now seemed to be working wonderfully well—for her
and
her dearest friend.

As if her thoughts had awakened him, Charles opened the door to the den and stepped out, still yawning.

“Just as I suspected,” Faith teased. “You
were
napping.”

“I intended to revise the first chapter,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes, “but the minute I sat down in that warm, quiet room, I was lost. Thank goodness there's a comfortable sofa in there or I would've fallen asleep with my head on the keyboard.”

Faith had taken more than one nap in Emily's comfortable den, perhaps her favorite room in the house. In the early years, it had been Heather's bedroom, but as she grew up, Heather had wanted more privacy and claimed the room at the top of the stairs. Emily had transformed her daughter's former bed room into a library, with books in every conceivable place.
A desk and computer took up one wall, and the worn leather couch another. A hand-knit afghan was draped over its back for those times when reading led to napping…. She'd spent many a lazy winter afternoon on that couch, Faith recalled.

“What have you been up to?” Charles asked.

“I called Emily in Boston to see how she's doing,” she told him.

Charles poured a mug of coffee. “Is she having any problems?”

“No. In fact, it seems your brother's decided to stay on.”

“Stay on what?”

“In Boston with Emily.”

Charles's eyes widened as he stared at her. “Let me see if I'm hearing you right. My brother didn't return to New York?”

“Nope.” Faith loved the look of absolute shock. She wondered if Ray had shown the same degree of astonishment when he learned how well his brother had adjusted to Leavenworth and being with her.

“Has something happened in New York that I don't know about?” Charles asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Has the city been snowed in or has there been a train strike? That sort of thing?”

“Not that I've heard. I had the radio on earlier and they didn't mention anything. Why?”

“Why? Because my brother is a dyed-in-the-wool workaholic. Nothing keeps him away from his desk.”

“Well, he's taking a few days off to spend with Emily.”

Charles took a sip of coffee, as though he needed time to mull over what she'd told him. “Your friend must be one hell of a woman.”

“She is.” That was the simple truth.

Still distracted, Charles pulled out a kitchen chair and sat
down. He glanced around and seemed to notice for the first time that she'd been busy. “You put up those decorations?”

“I didn't think you'd mind.” She felt a bit uneasy about that now. Emily had a number of Christmas things she hadn't bothered to display this year; she'd obviously taken the rest of them to Boston. Faith had brought a few of her own decorations, as well. While everything was quiet, she'd unpacked the special ones and displayed them throughout the house. The tiny Christmas tree with red velvet bows stood on the mantel, and so did a small manger scene that Heather had loved since childhood. Emily's Christmas teapot, white china with holly decorations, now held pride of place on the kitchen counter.

Charles wandered into the dining room, Faith on his heels. “What's this?” he asked, motioning toward the centerpiece on the dining-room table.

“A cottonball snowman. Heather made it for Emily when she was eight. She was so proud of it, which is why Emily's kept it all these years.”

Charles seemed puzzled, as if he couldn't quite grasp the beauty of the piece. Bells chimed softly from outside and Faith looked out the large picture window to see the horse-drawn sleigh gliding past.

“Charles, let's go for a sleigh ride,” she said impulsively. For Faith, it was a highlight of the first and only Christmas she'd spent in Leavenworth—until now. It was the Christmas following her divorce. The sleigh ride, which she'd taken alone, had comforted her. That, and Emily's friendship, had made a painful Christmas tolerable, even pleasant. Her sleigh ride had shown her that being alone could bring its own contentment, its own pleasures. And spending Christmas Day with Emily and Heather had taught her that friendship could lend value to life.

Charles seemed startled by her invitation, then shook his head. “No, thanks.”

“It's even more fun than sledding,” she coaxed.

Still he declined.

“Well, come and stand in line with me while I wait my turn.”

For a moment she thought he'd refuse, but then he nodded. “As long as the line isn't too long.”

“Okay.”

Dressed in their coats, boots, scarves and gloves, they strolled downtown, walking arm in arm. Night had settled over the small town, and festive activities abounded. The carolers in period costumes were out, standing on street corners singing. The Salvation Army band played Christmas music in the park, as ice skaters circled the frozen pond. Glittering multicolored lights brightened the streets and the town was bustling with shoppers.

Fortunately, the line for the sleigh ride wasn't too long and while she waited, Charles bought them cups of creamy hot chocolate. “I'm so glad I remembered the sleigh ride,” she said, holding her hot chocolate with gloved hands.

“Why's that?” Charles asked.

She shrugged, sipping at her chocolate. “I think I mentioned that I did my student teaching in Leavenworth—that's when I met Emily. Those months were hard on me emotionally. I'd only recently been divorced and I was feeling pretty bad. Before me, no one in my family had ever gotten a divorce.”

“No one?”

“Not in my immediate family. My parents, grandparents and sister were all happily married, and it really hurt my pride to admit that I'd made a mistake. I blamed myself because I hadn't listened when my parents warned me about Douglas.”

“What happened?”

“My husband had a problem—he needed the approval and love of other women. Even now, I believe he loved me to the best of his ability, but Douglas could never be tied to a single woman.”

“I see.”

“I forgave him the first time he was unfaithful, although it nearly killed me, but the second time I knew this would always be a pattern with him. I thought—I hoped that if I got out of the marriage early enough, I'd be all right, but…I wasn't. I'm not.”

Charles moved closer to her, and Faith looked down, tears blurring her eyes. She blinked them away and tried to compose herself, sipping the hot cocoa.

“Why aren't you all right? What do you mean?” he asked.

“I can't trust men anymore. I'm afraid of relationships. Look at me,” she whispered. “Five years later, and I rarely date. All my dreams of marriage and family are gone and—” Resolutely she closed her mouth. What had possessed her to tell him this? “Listen,” she told him, forcing a cheerful note into her voice, “forget I said anything.”

Charles didn't answer right away. “I don't know if I can.”

“Then pretend you have. Otherwise I'm going to feel embarrassed.”

“Why should you?”

She shook her head. She hardly ever mentioned her divorce, not to anyone. Yet here she was, standing in the middle of this vibrant town in the most joyous season of the year, fighting back tears—spilling her heart to a man she hardly knew.

The sleigh glided up to the stop and the bells chimed as the chestnut mare bowed her head. The driver climbed down from his perch and offered Faith his hand. “Just one ticket,” she said, about to give him the money.

“Make that two,” Charles said, paying the driver. Without explaining why he'd changed his mind, he stepped up into the sleigh and settled on the narrow bench next to Faith.

The driver leaped back into the seat and took the reins.

Faith spread the woolen blanket over their laps. “What made you decide to come?” she asked.

He stared at her for a long moment. “I don't know… I just didn't want to leave you.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and held her close. Warmth seeped into her blood. She hadn't realized how cold she was, but now Charles Brewster sat beside her in a one-horse open sleigh, two days before Christmas, and she felt warm, happy…and complete.