Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (125 page)

“What I remember is the blister you got on your finger because
you weren't careful,” Kent teased his daughter.

“I was so proud of this silly snowman. I was sure I'd make a
career out of wood-burning.”

Danielle gave a saccharine smile. “It's…lovely.” The words rang
empty as her phone chirped and she returned to texting.

“It's terrible,” Sophie said. “In fact, it's downright
ugly.”

“Well, maybe,” Danielle agreed, putting her cell back in her
sweater pocket, “but you were just a kid. I'm surprised you kept it, though. If
it was me I would've tossed it years ago.”

Beth opened her mouth to defend her daughter, then closed it.
No need to get into a useless argument.

“If you think it's ugly, why would you put it on the tree?”
Danielle asked. “I mean, you're right, it really isn't very attractive.” She
stood and retrieved an ornament from the box. “There are some darling ones
here.” She held up one of the felt gingerbread men Beth had sewn the first
Christmas she and Kent were married. “Now this is kind of amateurish, but
it's…nice. By comparison.”

“We put up the wooden snowman,” Beth said, carefully handing
Danielle her cocoa, “because Sophie made it herself. The decorated tree in the
living room is for show. This one is for family, for memories of Christmases
past.”

“Sort of like that Charles Dickens book,” Danielle said. “The
one with the ghosts. And Tiny Tim.”

“Something like that,” Beth murmured as she brought Kent his
hot cocoa.

“Do you have one without any chocolate sprinkles?” Danielle
asked.

“Sure.” Beth retrieved the cup and went back to the kitchen.
She dumped the whipped cream in the sink and added a fresh dollop minus the
chocolate sprinkles.

“Mom sewed those for her and Dad's first Christmas,” Bailey was
telling Danielle when Beth came back.

“The hot chocolate is even better than I remember.” Kent spoke
quickly, breaking into his daughter's reminiscence.

“I make good hot chocolate, too,” Danielle said. “I'm an
excellent cook. I want you to try my macaroni and cheese.”

“Uh, sure.” Kent looked decidedly uncomfortable.

Danielle beamed. “I have a special cooking trick. You start
with the boxed kind and then you just add stuff. My secret is to put ketchup in
the water when I cook the noodles.”

“I'll have to try that myself,” Beth said politely, trying not
to cringe. Difficult as it was, she turned her mind away from Kent and
his…friend. She hated to admit this, but she was jealous of Danielle.

Danielle sneezed once, loudly. So loudly, in fact, that it
startled Beth and Princess, too. The sneeze sounded like a moose in heat—or what
Beth imagined that would sound like.

“Oh, sorry,” Danielle said, clearly embarrassed.

“Bless you,” Sophie said.

Bailey handed Danielle a tissue.

“Thank you.” She noisily blew her nose. “It's that dog,” she
said, pointing an accusing finger at Princess. “I'm allergic to dogs.”

“Oh, you should've said something earlier.” Beth immediately
collected Princess and took her to the kennel outside. Even with Princess out of
the room, there was still Roscoe, sleeping beside the fireplace. While Beth kept
a tidy house, there was bound to be dog hair everywhere. It was the perfect
excuse to send Kent and Danielle on their merry way.

“Beth.”

Kent met her on the back porch as she returned from the kennel.
He kept his hands in his pockets, his arms held close to his body to ward off
the cold. He followed Beth inside, to the laundry room. One of the five
remaining puppies jumped up, balancing his paws against her calf. Beth
automatically reached down and brought him into her arms, resting her cheek
against his soft head.

“Listen,” Kent said. “I hadn't planned to bring Danielle with
me. It's just that—”

“Don't worry about it.”

She carefully put the puppy back on the floor. She attempted to
brush off his apology because her heart was doing crazy things. With the two of
them in such a small space, the atmosphere was intimate, and with both doors
closed it was private. All she needed to do was lean forward ever so slightly
and their lips would meet…

Where did
that
idea come from? She
couldn't give in to the impulse. But it seemed so natural to kiss Kent, to press
her mouth to his. Beth immediately opened the door leading into the house.

Unfortunately, she forgot about the puppies. An open door was
an opportunity and they took it. They shot out of the room as though fleeing a
burning building.

Beth rushed after them and Kent did, too. He trapped one by
falling to his knees and had him back inside the laundry room seconds later.
Beth wasn't nearly as lucky. Seizing their opportunity, the other four dashed in
different directions.

Beth knew the instant one of the puppies made it into the
family room because Danielle let out a squeal. “Get that dog,” she cried,
apparently to one or both of the girls. Her command was followed by another
moose-in-heat sneeze.

Beth hurried into the room. “I'm so sorry,” she said, and she
was. She'd had no intention of freeing the puppies when she'd opened the door.
The truth was she'd completely forgotten they were there.

Bailey grabbed one puppy and Sophie another. Beth scooped up
the third. The last one made a beeline for the Christmas tree and got tangled in
the bottom garland.

“Get those dogs out of here,” Danielle shouted between sneezes.
“Oh, good grief, there's another one. What is this place—a puppy mill?”

“My mother would
never—
”

“It's all right,” Beth said, cutting Bailey off. “Danielle is
understandably upset. I apologize, Danielle. I opened the door without
realizing—”

“You did that on purpose!”

“Danielle,” Kent said, his voice calm and reasonable, unlike
hers. “It was an honest mistake.”

The other woman sank down on the sofa and held a wad of tissues
to her nose before she sneezed three times in quick succession.

“I'm afraid there's dog hair all over the house,” Beth said.
“Maybe it would be best if—”

Danielle held up one hand, stopping her. The other clasped a
tissue to her face. “I have allergy medication. We will not be leaving on my
account.” This last part was said in a muffled voice that nonetheless conveyed
steadfast determination.

Kent sat next to Danielle, who sneezed again.

It wasn't funny; still, Beth couldn't help it—she had to
smother a giggle. Kent caught her eye and knew instantly that she was having
trouble hiding her amusement, and that was when Beth lost it. She started
laughing and tried desperately to hide her laughter by coughing.

“What's so funny?” Danielle demanded.

“Nothing,” Kent said promptly, getting to his feet. “I think,
uh, Beth might have swallowed wrong.”

“This…isn't funny.”

“No, it isn't,” Kent said. He bent down and untangled the last
puppy from the garland on the tree and brought him back to the laundry room.

In the meantime Beth carried Roscoe upstairs and out of harm's
way. Making it through tonight would require a Christmas miracle.

The phone rang as she came down the stairs. Call display told
her it was Bob Beldon. They exchanged Christmas greetings, then he said, “I
heard you're looking for homes for some puppies.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Great. Well, I'm interested in taking one.”

They chatted for a few more minutes and she'd just replaced the
receiver when the phone rang a second time.

“Your mother gets more phone calls than a bookie,” Beth heard
Danielle comment.

Teri Polgar was inquiring about a puppy for her sister,
Christie.

A moment later, another call. This time it was Ted. “How's it
going?” he asked.

“About as well as could be expected.” She'd mentioned casually
that her ex-husband was coming to Cedar Cove for Christmas. Lowering her voice,
she said, “Except that Kent arrived with a…friend.”

“A friend?” Ted sounded perplexed. “I was asking about the
puppies.”

“Oh…the puppies.” She wanted to roll her eyes. Of course he'd
be phoning about the puppies. “Five down and five to go, although I just heard
from someone who's a possibility. And if Bob Beldon takes one too, that'll leave
three.”

“Listen, I know someone else who could be interested. Gloria
Ashton—for her parents,” he said. “Would it be all right if I stopped by later
to say merry Christmas?”

“Sure. That would be nice.” Ted was exactly the balm she
needed. And, if he came over, Kent would see that she hadn't been twiddling her
thumbs for the past three years.

She missed Kent. She missed their life together and it was
killing her that he'd found someone else. The divorce wasn't the end, she
realized now; his remarriage would be. If he married Danielle—and the other
woman had certainly staked her claim on him—it would mean their life together
was over. Really over.

“Who just called?” Bailey asked.

“Bob Beldon. And then Teri Polgar. And Ted.”

“Bob from the B and B?” Kent looked up at her. “Did he want to
speak to me?”

“No, no, he was inquiring about a puppy.”

“Oh, dear,” Danielle murmured and, for good measure, sneezed
again.

Beth had assumed she would've taken one of her allergy pills by
now.

“What did Ted want?” Sophie asked.

“He'll be visiting later.”

Bailey and Sophie seemed gratified by this bit of news. “That's
wonderful,” Sophie said as Bailey nodded. “He's a real sweetheart.”

“Oh?” Kent asked, turning to his daughters for an
explanation.

“Yeah, he reminds me of the vet in those James Herriot books
you read us when we were little,” Bailey told her father.

Ted? James Herriot? What were her girls up to? Beth sent Bailey
a disapproving frown, which her daughter chose to ignore.

They resumed trimming the tree, and when they'd finished, it
didn't look half-bad. With its mismatched ornaments collected over the years, it
had its own homespun charm. There was the wooden snowman Sophie had made at the
age of ten. And a photo of Bailey in the first grade, framed in Popsicle sticks.
Another that resembled a pincushion, which Sophie had made when she was in the
third grade. Beth's gingerbread men. And a few that she and the girls had
constructed through the years with varying degrees of artistic skill.

They stepped back and, hardly aware she was doing it, Beth
stood next to Kent. Delighted with their tree, she glanced up at him and smiled.
He smiled back and their eyes met. Beth had to force herself to look away; when
she did, she saw Danielle watching them both.

The other woman's eyes narrowed, and Beth could tell that
Danielle wasn't pleased. Without making an issue of it, Beth moved away from
Kent.

Searching for something to do, Beth picked up the empty cocoa
mugs and carried them into the kitchen. She was busy placing them in the
dishwasher when Danielle joined her.

“I know what you're doing,” Danielle said without preamble. She
rested her hip against the kitchen counter, crossed her arms and glared at
Beth.

“Putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher?” Beth asked.

“You don't like it that Kent brought me here.”

Beth straightened and leaned against the counter, too, crossing
her own arms. “And what gives you that impression?”

“I saw the way you looked at him just now.”

“Really? And how was that?”

“You're jealous.”

“Am I?” Beth asked, striving to sound anything but jealous.

“You want him back.”

Beth laughed. “In case you've forgotten, I had him for
twenty-three years.”

“And you miss him.”

Beth faked a short laugh. “I don't know what you think you saw,
but let me assure you, you're mistaken.”

“No, I'm not,” Danielle insisted.

Beth looked into the other room to make sure Kent and the girls
couldn't overhear this rather unpleasant conversation. “Well, then, let's agree
to disagree,” she suggested in a low voice, hoping to avoid a pointless
exchange.

“You want him.”

Beth disregarded the comment, turned her back on Danielle and
continued loading the dishwasher.

“You can deny you're jealous all you want, but if you listen to
only one thing, listen to this,” Danielle said tightly. “He told me about the
divorce and how you wanted out of the marriage. You blew it and now you regret
it.”

This was too much. If Danielle thought she was helping… Well,
she wasn't. “Listen,” Beth said, pronouncing each word distinctly. “If you want
Kent, he's all yours. You're welcome to him.” With that she slammed the
dishwasher closed and turned to see Kent standing in the doorway.

Eight

T
he scent of cinnamon and allspice filled
Peggy Beldon's kitchen as she arranged the decorated sugar cookies on colorful
plates lining the counter.

The plates of cookies, toffee and hand-rolled chocolates were
her and Bob's gift to their friends each year. Peggy enjoyed baking and never
more than at Christmas. She began wrapping the plates in red cellophane and
tying the ends with a ribbon. She and Bob delivered the plates on Christmas Eve,
usually late in the afternoon.

Thyme and Tide, their bed-and-breakfast, did fairly well this
time of year and she was grateful that despite a weak economy they continued to
be busy. They already had several reservations for the winter months and the
summer looked promising.