Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (115 page)

“Him, too.”

The transfer of the house on Eagle Crest was a simple matter of a few signatures and a check. The house was in good shape, especially with the new kitchen. Will was happy to return to his childhood home, and even happier to be helping his mother and Ben. He'd come full circle, he mused. He'd lived in this old house during his childhood, and now he was back. With this move came a sense of rightness, of completion. He'd been away from Cedar Cove for most of his adult life, had faltered and failed. He'd disappointed himself. Moving home had given him a fresh start, a new perspective, a chance to become the man he'd always wanted to be.

Miranda's decision to rent his small apartment might not be the best plan, he thought. Will frowned slightly. He had a real love-hate relationship with his assistant. She was an asset to the gallery and he'd come to rely on her knowledge of art and of the community. Half the time he was convinced she couldn't stand the sight of him. Then she'd do something to throw him off balance—like kissing him. If that wasn't shocking enough, he'd kissed her, too. And enjoyed it.

Miranda Sullivan wasn't like any of the women he'd been attracted to in the past. Including Shirley… In fact, she was their opposite. That confused him, although he tried not to think about it. Sometimes he and Miranda laughed at the same things; sometimes they had lively discussions. Since they were together practically every day, it was understandable that they'd grown comfortable
with each other. They'd developed a mutual respect—and maybe even a fondness.

“You're frowning,” Olivia commented. “Are you worried about Mom?”

“No…I was thinking about Miranda.”

“She's still taking the apartment, isn't she?”

“So she said.”

Her sister eyed him warily. “Then why the frown?”

“No real reason,” he said, dismissing the question. Actually, he'd prefer not to discuss Miranda. It was hard enough to analyze his own feelings about her, let alone explain them to anyone else.

As soon as Charlotte and Ben walked out of the elevator, their mother broke into a huge grin. “I'm so glad you're both here.”

“We arranged this earlier, Mom,” Olivia reminded her as she kissed their mother's cheek. She caught Will's eye. Charlotte would continue to suffer memory lapses. The appointment with the gerontologist was in January. Then they'd know the extent of her memory loss and what, if anything, could be done.

“But I was talking about the singing. There'll be home-baked cookies and old-fashioned wassail.”

“We have the papers for you to sign, too,” Olivia said. “For the sale of the house.”

“Yes, yes, I know, but does that need to be done right away?”

“I'd like to get everything in order. It won't take long, I promise.” Olivia had her briefcase; fortunately, as a lawyer, she was qualified to handle the paperwork.

Charlotte looked at Ben. “I don't want to be late for the singing.”

“Your mother has a lovely voice,” Ben told them, as if they weren't aware of their mother's talent.

His mother had often sung him to sleep, and it was a memory Will would always hold dear.

“The choral group's asked me to join them,” Charlotte said, obviously pleased by the invitation. “We sing at special events, like this Christmas gathering. We also sing at church services every week right here in the complex.”

As promised, it took only a few minutes to sign the necessary papers, which they did in Charlotte and Ben's apartment. When they'd finished, Olivia handed him the house keys.

“So when's moving day for you?” she asked on their way out the door an hour later. They'd stayed for cookies and part of the singing but left during the break. Olivia needed to get home, because she and Jack had a social engagement that evening. And Will was eager to start shifting some of his things over to the house. He wasn't especially happy to be moving in December, but there was no avoiding that. He'd be out of the apartment in time for Miranda to move in January 2.

The gallery was officially closed when Will returned, although Miranda was in the office, going through some invoices.

“How did everything go with Charlotte and Ben?” she asked, looking up from the desk.

“Great. I even got a few cookies out of the deal and listened to some Christmas songs.”

She grinned. “Lucky you.”

“How was the afternoon?”

“Pretty good. Better than we expected.”

“Excellent.” Then, before he could change his mind, he asked, “Would you like to go to dinner?”

She scowled at the question. “You…and me?”

“Why not? I just bought a house. I'm in the mood to celebrate.”

“And Shirley's married.”

At her comment and its implication, Will shook his head. “What does Shirley have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, I suppose, except she's the one you were hot to trot with, not me.”

Will couldn't remember the last time he'd heard that expression and it made him laugh.

“You find that amusing?”

“Frankly, yes.
Hot to trot?
Give me a break.” As her eyes narrowed, he quickly added, “Don't worry, I'm not looking at you as her replacement.”

“I should hope not.”

“The dinner invitation wasn't meant as an insult, Miranda. However, considering your reaction, I withdraw the offer.”

“That's just fine.”

“Good.” The woman continually sent him mixed messages. He feared he was guilty of sending a few of those himself.

“I'll be leaving, then.”

“Yes. Thanks for staying.” He turned his back on her and hung his coat on a peg by the office door. “See you in the morning.”

“Right.” She reached for her coat and purse and was gone.

“Well, so much for that,” Will muttered. It was probably better not to waste time dining out, but he wasn't looking forward to dragging boxes from one residence to another.

Once he'd loaded up his car and driven it over to the house, he spent the next half hour unloading. The house had been professionally cleaned and smelled of pine-scented cleanser. His sister had arranged this on his behalf and Will was grateful.

Standing in the middle of the living room, hands on his hips, he surveyed the home that was so familiar to him. He'd make it his own, he decided, turn it into a place that suited his adult personality.

Walking into the master bedroom that had once belonged to his parents, he had to smile. As a kid a trip into this room usually meant he was due for a walloping by his father. He'd gotten his share of those growing up. Olivia, too, although his father was always much gentler with her than with Will.

He relived other memories as he walked from room to room, feeling a mix of nostalgia and melancholy. This house had been a place of happiness much of the time. His parents had high expectations of him and his sister, but nothing was more important than family. He—

The doorbell chimed, surprising him. He suspected it might be one of the neighbors, coming to check in. No doubt his mother had told everyone in the vicinity that he'd be taking up residence.

He discovered Miranda Sullivan on the porch. She held a bucket of fried chicken in her hand and looked more than a little uncomfortable. “I brought you dinner,” she said, shoving the bucket at him.

“You didn't need to do that.” Her thoughtfulness caught him unawares.

“I know.”

She was about to leave when Will stopped her. “Would you care to join me?”

She hesitated and then nodded. “Sure.”

“I'm afraid I don't have much furniture in the house yet.”

She didn't appear to mind. “I've eaten sitting on the ground more than once in my life.”

“Me, too.” Although Will couldn't remember the last
time. A picnic, probably, and that would've been years ago. He didn't have much interest in that sort of thing.

They sat in front of the gas fireplace. Will turned it on with the flick of a switch. That was a good thing because he doubted he was capable of building a fire. A lot of years had passed since he was a Boy Scout.

The chicken was delicious. Will didn't make a habit of eating fried foods so this was a rare treat. The biscuits were good, too, especially drizzled with honey.

“What prompted this?” he asked, setting a leg bone aside and reaching for a second piece.

“I don't know…. I was halfway home and trying to figure out what I should do for dinner when—”

“When you realized how foolish you'd been to turn down an invitation for a meal with me,” Will finished for her.

“No. I thought about you hauling those boxes to the house by yourself and…” She paused and shook her head. “I probably shouldn't have come.”

“I'm glad you did.” And to his astonishment he meant it. Until the doorbell rang, Will had been wrapped up in memories of his childhood and starkly aware that he was alone. His mother had Ben, plus him and his sister. Olivia had Jack, her two children and a handful of grandkids. The reminder that he was by himself, in his sixties and without a family of his own, had left a hollow ache in the pit of his stomach.

Miranda polished off a piece of chicken and wiped the grease from her hands with a paper napkin.

“I should be completely moved within the next week,” Will said, making small talk.

“So you'll be settled before Christmas.”

“That's the idea. You can start bringing your stuff over to the apartment anytime after that.”

She nodded.

“What about Christmas?” he asked, knowing she didn't have children.

“What about it?”

“What are your plans?”

“I…I'm not sure yet. Shirley and her kids are going to California to be with Larry.” She seemed to be watching him for a reaction.

“That'll be nice for them,” he said carefully. “It'll be their first Christmas together.”

“It will, and I'm pleased for Shirley, really pleased. She found the right man for her and…”

He'd be alone at Christmas. Olivia's family would include him, but much as he loved his sister and Justine and everyone, he couldn't help feeling like an obligatory guest. Uncle Will, who had nowhere else to go.

“And,” Miranda said, interrupting his thoughts, “well, this is totally selfish of me to admit.”

“Oh, go ahead,” Will urged. He'd begun to feel that this impromptu dinner was a turning point in his relationship with Miranda.

“Well, Shirley almost always had me over for Christmas.”

“So you'll be alone this year.”

“I have other friends,” she said defensively.

“Of course you do. But as it happens, I'll be alone, as well.”

“You?” Miranda seemed stunned at the prospect. “What about Olivia?”

“She'll invite me for dinner,” he said. “But I feel like I'm intruding on her family time.” They'd all make an effort to involve him in their activities. Yet it wasn't the same as having a family of his own,
belonging
to some
one. Even during the worst years of his marriage, he'd felt as though he belonged.

“I know what you mean,” Miranda said in a low voice.

She glanced down at the carpet, and Will realized she wasn't just saying that, she really
did
understand how he felt, because she'd experienced the same feeling herself.

“I don't suppose,” he began. “No, never mind.”

“Suppose what?” Miranda asked.

“You're alone. I'm alone.” He paused, waiting for a sharp retort, a negative comment. When he saw none, Will continued. “Would you like to get together here at the house, make dinner together, share Christmas Day?”

“The two of us?” she asked, as if she couldn't quite believe it.

“Well, yes. If you're game, I am, too.”

“Turkey, stuffing, the whole nine yards?”

“Whatever you want.” He'd never been much good in the kitchen but he was willing to give it a try.

She seemed to be mulling over the idea. “I think we could do that,” she finally said.

“Then it's a date. You and me and Christmas.”

“You and me and Christmas,” Miranda said with a smile.

Thirty-Seven

“R
emember, Dad, when we used to string popcorn and put it around the Christmas tree?” Jolene asked, her voice elevated with excitement as she climbed into the front seat of the car.

“I remember that you ate a lot more popcorn than you managed to thread.” Smiling, Bruce slid into the driver's seat and turned on the ignition.

Jolene giggled. “Where are we going to buy the tree?”

“Where else? On Christmas Tree Lane.” That was their tradition. “But first, we're meeting Rachel.”

“We are?” Jolene instantly sobered.

“We invited her, remember?”

“Yeah, sort of. To decorate. But it's always just been the two of us when we went to get the tree.”

Bruce did his best not to show how disappointed he was in her response. “I want her to come with us. Can you deal with that?”

“I guess.” But she let it be known that she wasn't completely happy.

It was times like these that made Bruce want to groan with frustration. Just when it seemed they were making
progress, something would happen to remind him how far they still had to go.

He drove to the terminal, where the foot ferry from Bremerton docked. Rachel had texted him earlier to say she was taking the eleven o'clock ferry. He'd texted back that he'd be there, with Jolene, to pick her up. Then they'd drive to the Christmas tree farm and select their tree. Once they got home, they'd set it up; after that, they'd spend the rest of the afternoon decorating it. As a family.

Jolene had received a special ornament every year since her birth. Stephanie had started that tradition, and he'd continued it. Each year it was those ornaments that Bruce brought up from the basement first. With great ceremony Jolene would place them on the tree.