CHAPTER 14
“Look at me, Alan.” Connie twirled in front of the mirror. “Do you think Mr. Rossini will be able to resist me?”
There was a silence, and then she laughed, a light flirtatious giggle. “Alan! You shouldn't say things like that! But you're right. I do look fantastic.”
Connie listened for a moment; then a frown spread across her face. It was clear she didn't like what Alan was saying.
“Do I really have to tell him?” She picked up Alan's picture to stare into his eyes. “I know it's only fair, but . . . what if he says no?”
There was another long silence, and then Connie sighed. “All right, Alan. You win. I know Mr. Rossini's going to be a nice man. It'll be almost like seeing you again. He's got a part of you inside him.”
Connie stepped closer to kiss Alan's picture, her lips brushing lightly against the glass. Then she cast one last look at the mirror and smiled as she went out the door.
* * *
The office had been a madhouse, and Jill was tired when she got off the freeway. Crime rates always rose during the holiday season. The crowded malls brought out the muggers, purse snatchers, and pickpockets in full force. When people were filled with the joy of the season, they sometimes forgot to take the usual precautions. They walked around with open purses, left their credit cards on the counters of stores, and neglected to lock their car doors. Good will toward men translated into easy targets for criminals, and there had been over thirty arrests at the SouthDale Mall last night.
The house looked beautiful as Jill approached it. The curtains were open in the living room, and the lights from the Christmas tree reflected on the fresh blanket of snow outside the window. It looked as if someone had opened the door to scatter handfuls of brightly colored jewels on the snow-covered lawn. It was a lovely sight, but Jill had the real jewel, the one that counted, hanging from the thin, gold chain around her neck, tangible proof that Neil loved her. Last night had been wonderful. Her husband was back. And for the first time in months, she was glad to be coming home to him.
She pulled into the garage and unlocked the door, a smile on her face. “I'm home! Where is everybody?”
“I'm in here,” Helen called out.
Jill hung up her coat, placed her boots on the rug by the door, and hurried to the kitchen. She could smell the ham in the oven, and the scent of apple pie was in the air. “Hi. It smells wonderful in here! Where's Neil?”
“He's resting upstairs.” Helen poured her a cup of coffee and motioned to one of the oak chairs by the round kitchen table. “Sit down, Jill. I have to talk to you.”
Jill pulled out a chair and sat. Helen didn't look happy. “What's wrong?”
“I really hate to do this.” Helen sighed as she, too, sat down. “But I like you, and I just can't ignore what happened today.”
Jill took a deep breath. This sounded serious. “What happened, Helen? Tell me.”
“It's Mr. Bradley. He doesn't have a sister.”
Jill nodded. “That's right, but what does that have to do withâ”
“He lied to me,” Helen interrupted. “When he ordered that pendant for you, he had the jeweler make two. He told me one was for you and the other was for his sister.”
Jill sighed. She should have known last night was too good to be true. But perhaps Neil had given the second pendant to his sister-in-law and Helen had just misunderstood. “Did he tell you his sister's name?”
“No. But he gave it to someone today. Mr. Bradley had a visitor, a woman named Lisa. He said she was his teaching assistant, and I saw him give her the pendant.”
Jill swallowed hard. The pendant was suddenly heavy on her neck, and she reached up to unclasp it. She put it down on the table, then took a deep breath. “There's something else, isn't there?”
“Yes. It's not my place to tell you, but I think you should know. Mr. Bradley took her into the bedroom and locked the door. They didn't come out for two hours.”
“I see.” Jill nodded. “Thank you for telling me, Helen.”
Helen looked worried. “I didn't want to. You were so happy this morning, I wasn't going to say anything. But when I saw him give her the pendant, and they went into
your
bedroomâ”
“I understand,” Jill said. “It's all right, Helen. You did the right thing.”
“That's what I thought, but I've been worrying about it all day. I have to give notice, Jill. I just can't stay and take care of him, now that I know what's going on. I like you too much and I don't think I can be halfway civil to him.”
Jill put a hand over her eyes. Thanks to Neil she'd just lost the best housekeeper and companion they'd ever had. “All right, Helen. I understand. Could you give me time to find someone to replace you?”
“Of course.” Helen reached out to touch Jill's shoulder. “I'll interview people if you want me to. I'm sure I can find someone. And . . . I'm sorry, Jill. I don't want to leave you in a bind, but I just can't stay.”
Jill picked up the pendant and then she rose. “Thank you, Helen. Why don't you take this and give it so someone for Christmas? I . . . I don't want it.”
“But it was expensive!” Helen's eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
Jill nodded. “I'm positive. Consider it a parting gift from Neil and an apology from me for being the one who was blind.”
“All right.” Helen gathered up her things and headed for the door. “I'll see you in the morning, Jill. And I'll get started on those interviews right away.”
The kitchen was silent when Helen had left. Jill sat back down at the table and sipped her lukewarm coffee. How could she have been such a fool? She'd actually believed last night had been a new beginning. She'd been so happy, so eager to trust Neil again. But now she knew the truth. Tears rolled down Jill's cheeks, and she sobbed quietly. Nothing had changed, nothing at all. Neil couldn't be trusted. She'd let him hurt her again.
* * *
“Way to go, Champ!” Willy Rossini's boss punched him on the shoulder. “See that redhead out there in the showroom? She asked for you, personally!”
Willy stood up and glanced out at the showroom. They didn't have regular offices in the dealership, only thin partitions of fiberboard that were barely five feet high and only large enough to hold a small desk with two straight-backed chairs.
“She's a real looker, huh?”
Willy nodded. The redhead was gorgeous and she was standing by the newest model in the showroom, a silver Mercedes loaded with expensive options.
“What are you waiting for, Willy? Get out there and sell her a car!”
“Right.” Willy nodded, again. He was sure he didn't know the redhead. If he'd seen her before, he wouldn't have forgotten her. Perhaps a former client had recommended him and given her his card. He put a welcoming smile on his face and walked onto the showroom floor. “Hello. I'm Willy Rossini. You asked for me?”
The redhead turned, and Willy's breath caught in his throat. She was even more gorgeous up close.
“Hello, Willy.” The redhead smiled. “What time do you get off for dinner?”
Willy tried not to show how surprised he was. “Uh . . . well . . . I can take my break anytime.”
“Good. I don't know this area very well. Is there someplace private where we could meet?”
Willy frowned slightly. The redhead wasn't acting like a client. But if she didn't want to buy a car, what could she possibly want with him? “Well . . . there's the Lamplighter. It's about a mile south of here on the corner.”
“Great!” The redhead smiled again. “I'll leave right now and get us a booth. What do you want to drink?”
Suddenly, Willy had a flash of insight. He'd been top salesman three months running. The redhead must be checking him out for a rival dealership. “Coffee's fine. I have to go back to work.”
“You don't drink then?”
The redhead put a hand on his arm, and Willy went weak in the knees. “Sure, but never on the job. I need a clear head to sell these beautiful babies.”
“Of course you do.” The redhead looked pleased. “I can tell you take your work very seriously. Will it bother you if I have a glass of wine?”
Willy gulped. The redhead's eyes were incredible, a lovely emerald green. “It won't bother me at all.”
“I'll be waiting. Just ask for Cherie White when you come in.”
“Cherie.” Willy breathed out the name and stared after her as she left. What a body! What a smile! What a woman!
“That didn't take long.” Willy's boss came rushing up. “Is she a hot prospect?”
Willy nodded. What else could he do? He didn't want to tell his boss that he was being recruited by another dealership. “She wants me to meet her for dinner. I'll bring some brochures and see what I can do.”
“Take as long as you need.” Willy's boss clapped him on the shoulder. “She smells like money, so go in for the kill!”
Willy was grinning as he headed to his cubicle to pick up some brochures. What his boss didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and the other dealership might pay a lot better. Even if he didn't get the new job, dinner with such a gorgeous babe was something he wouldn't pass up on a bet.
* * *
Doug grinned as he walked through the Christmas tree lot. Carols were blasting from a portable CD player inside the heated kiosk, and he wondered how many times the heavyset blonde manning the counter had been forced to listen to “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” The trees, arranged in bundles according to length, were tied tightly with twine so their frozen branches wouldn't snap off in the cold.
“Can I help you, sir?” A teenage boy emerged from the kiosk. As he hurried to Doug, he zipped up his parka and pulled on heavy gloves.
“I'm looking for a six-foot blue spruce.” Doug smiled at the boy. “I need a fresh tree that hasn't been shaped.”
The boy nodded. “There's a load in the back. It came in last night, but it's not sorted.”
“That's okay.” Doug followed the teenager to the back of the lot, where trees were stacked against a fence. The fence was marked at intervals of one foot with painted lines.
“The green line's six feet.” The boy pointed to a green line that ran along the fence. “If you find one you like, I can tag it for you.”
Doug walked past the trees until he found a blue spruce. “How about this one?”
“I think it's over six feet.” The boy stood the tree next to the fence and nodded. The top was well over the green line. “I can top it for you, but you'll have to pay the seven foot price.”
“That's okay. Turn it around so I can see the back.”
The boy turned the tree while Doug watched. It was difficult to judge a Christmas tree that was tied into a bundle and resembled a carrot, but Doug had learned the hard way. The first year he'd spent in Minnesota, he'd taken home a tree, set it up in the stand, and come into the living room the next morning to find gaping holes where branches should have been. He was much wiser now, and he surveyed the tree carefully to make sure it was uniformly shaped.
“That one's fine. Don't bother to top it though. I'll do it in the morning, when it warms up.”
The boy nodded and looked hopeful. “Do you want me to tie it on top of your car?”
“No. It'll fit inside.” Doug pointed to his ford Explorer, the only extravagance he'd allowed himself since he'd joined the police force. He knew the boy probably worked for tips so he handed him the keys. “Just back it up here, and load it for me. I'll go up to the counter and pay.”
“Yes, sir.”
The boy was grinning as he handed Doug a red tag and raced off to get the Explorer. Doug paid for his tree, declined the opportunity to buy a tree stand, a wreath, or an evergreen garland, and got back to his Explorer just as the boy had finished loading his tree.
“I wrapped it in plastic before I put it in.” The boy turned to Doug. “I didn't want any needles to fall off.”
“Good.” Doug smiled and handed the boy a five-dollar bill.
“Thank you, sir!” The boy's eyes widened as he saw the size of his tip. “When you get it in the stand, drop a couple of aspirin in the water. It'll keep longer that way. Have a great Christmas, and here . . . this is from me.”
Doug smiled as the boy handed him a small package wrapped in brown paper. “Thanks. Merry Christmas to you, too.”
The traffic was heavy as Doug pulled out of the lot, and he didn't get a chance to look at the package the boy had given him until he'd parked in his spot at the apartment building. Then he unwrapped it and pulled out a sprig of mistletoe.
Doug started to grin. Mistletoe was a Christmas tradition. He'd hang it over his doorway, and it would give him license to kiss any woman who came through his door. Of course, the possibility that any woman would ring his bell was very unlikely.
As he carried his tree to the garage elevator and rode up to his floor, Doug found himself wondering if mistletoe was still a Christmas tradition. Kissing a woman just because she was standing under a sprig of mistletoe was probably politically incorrect. It could even be grounds for a sexual harassment suit. Perhaps it would be wiser to dump the mistletoe in his kitchen wastebasket and not take any chances.
“The hell with it! I'm putting it up!” Doug set his tree in the stand, dropped two aspirin in the bowl, and filled it with water. Then he got out his stepladder and tacked the mistletoe over his door.
Five minutes later, Doug was relaxing on the couch, enjoying another Christmas traditionâhot chocolate with a splash of brandy, a drink his family had always enjoyed after they'd brought home their Christmas tree. The room smelled good as the frozen tree began to warm up and its pine fragrance filled the air. He'd trim it tomorrow, with the decorations he'd brought from the ranch in Texas, ornaments that had been on Lake family Christmas trees for three generations. There were the blown-glass strawberries that had belonged to his grandmother, the strings of old-fashioned bubble lights that looked like candles, and the brightly painted elves and other wooden Christmas figures his grandfather had whittled on the porch by the light of a kerosene lantern on quiet summer nights.