A Carol Christmas (22 page)

“You went to see him?” Mr. Winkler made it sound like she’d just committed a crime.

She set his bowl in front of him. “I took the girls.”

Mr. Winkler looked at her suspiciously.

“He is my ex, Bill. He called here wanting us to come see him.”

“My ex went to the hospital with appendicitis. I repainted the house ,” said Mr. Winkler. He spooned chowder into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully.

Keira and I exchanged looks. I turned back to see Mom giving me one of those one-more-word-and-you-die looks. I don’t know what her problem was. I was only protecting her from herself. The last thing she needed was to start dating Mr. Winkler. He didn’t have a funny bone in his body that I could see. He and Mom had nothing in common except loneliness.

He slurped down the last of his chowder and Mom asked, “How about some coffee, Bill?”

“I could go for a cup.”

If you asked me, he could go. Period. No one asked me, though.

Mom got Wee Willie some coffee, then they retreated to the living room to look at the tree and probably talk about window repair.

“What a snore,” Keira said as soon as they were gone.

I shook my head. “I don’t know why she’s encouraging him.”

“I do. She wants to make sure she’s still got it and someone wants it.” Keira shook her head in disgust. “I’m not sure Winkler counts as a someone, though. It’s weird who people will date.”

I thought of her and Gabe.
Ask your sister why we broke up
.

“Yeah, it is,” I said slowly. “Take you and Gabe, for instance.”

Keira looked at me warily. “You’re not going to drag that out, are you?”

“So, why did you date him? Some kind of sibling rivalry thing?”

Keira rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.”

“Then why?”

“Because he happens to be a nice guy and the hottest one in Carol. Next to Spencer, of course,” she quickly corrected herself.

“And because he was mine,” I said. Suddenly I was as irritated as if it all just happened yesterday.

“He wasn’t yours at the time. Geez, Andie, give it a rest.”

“Why did you break up?” I demanded.

“Ask Gabe if you want to know,” she said in a surly voice.

“He said to ask you. I know why you dated him, just to get back at me because that dweeb we met at the lake the summer before went for me instead of you.”

“That’s not true!” Keira cried, stung.

“It was really a petty thing to do, Keir,” I said. I felt stuffed with emotion. I picked up my bowl and went to the sink. “I never deliberately dated someone to hurt you.”

“Well, neither did I,” she said and followed me. She set her bowl in the sink and I washed it and put it in the dishwasher along with mine.

“Right.”

“And I thought you didn’t care about him anymore.”

“I didn’t. I don’t.”

“Then why are you bringing this up?”

I turned and faced her. “Because I need to know. I’m sick of Gabe’s man of mystery game and I want to know why you guys broke up.”

She scowled. “Okay, fine. If you must know, I’ll tell you. I broke up with him because I didn’t need to be Shadow Girl.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means? I didn’t want to live in your shadow. That Christmas you came home when Gabe and I were dating? Well, guess whose name he said when he kissed me. I’ll give you a hint. It wasn’t Rumplestiltskin.” My jaw came unhinged. I had to be hearing wrong. “What?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. He kissed me and said your name. There, are you happy now?”

Chapter Sixteen

I stared at my sister. I had to have heard wrong. “He what?”

“He’s always wanted you. Why do you think he’s still single?”

Her question threw me. I concentrated on shutting the dishwasher. “He’s been busy with his career, just like me.”
But he kissed my sister and said my name
. The thought sent a little wave of excitement rolling over me. I told myself to stop being so silly, but I could tell by my zippy heartbeat that I wasn’t listening to me.

“A hunk like Gabe Knightly doesn’t stay single just because he’s building a career,” Keira continued. “He hasn’t had a steady relationship since you guys broke up. And I can see why,” she added in a mutter. “Who wants to be called by some other woman’s name when she’s getting kissed? By the way, if you ever tell that to anyone I’ll kill you.”

I looked out the kitchen window at the drizzling rain, trying to make sense of what my sister was saying. It put Gabe’s serial dating in a whole new light. If she was right. “Oh, that’s ridiculous,” I decided, and commanded my heart to slow down.

“Well, you tell me why he hasn’t gotten serious with anyone. And tell me why he keeps hanging around here, even when we’re not looking at houses.”

“So, whose idea was the team house hunting?”

Keira shrugged. “I told him you were coming home for Christmas and he suggested you might like to come house hunting with us.”

“So, you hatched that little plan between the two of you. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Well,” she hedged.

“So much for the really wanting me to come with you line,” I said in disgust.

“I did.”

“You just wanted to play matchmaker.”

“So, what’s wrong with that?” She looked earnestly at me. “Gabe really is a sweet guy. Whatever you broke up over in high school, it was a long time ago. You should give him another chance.”

I suddenly didn’t know what to think. Gabe had never settled into a permanent relationship with anyone. Neither had I. And every time I saw him my estrogen level spiked.

Still. “What’s the point? I’m in New York, he’s out here.” “Lots of people have bicoastal relationships.”

She had a point there.

“Although I don’t know how they manage.”

She had a point there too.

“It’s hard enough to have a good relationship on the same coast, in the same town.”

I suddenly got the impression we weren’t talking about me and Gabe anymore. And that was a red-flag statement if ever I heard one. Not that I’m an expert on relationships, but counseling Camilla through three breakups in one year had given me some insight.

I turned to look at Keira. “Is everything okay with you and Spencer?”

She gave a little shake of the head. “Oh, yeah.” Interesting. Mismatched words and body language. “Yeah?” I pushed.

“Well, except for the fact that he refuses to make an offer on the one house I really want.” She frowned. “That man can be so stubborn. And selfish.”

Uh-oh. This didn’t bode well for the new year. “Are you sure you guys are a match?” I asked.

“Of course we are. We like the same kind of music, the same kind of movies.”

“And you have the same philosophy of life, the same goals for the future,” I suggested.

“Of course we have the same goals. We’re going to get married and get a house. If Spencer will let go of his wallet,” she added. “He’s so tight with money. I mean, what’s he saving it for, his old age?”

“Possibly.” My sister was a high-maintenance woman. Spencer was going to have a hard time maintaining her.

They obviously had different philosophies when it came to money. There might be all kinds of other areas where they weren’t compatible. She really hadn’t been going out with him all that long. Maybe they should slow down.

I laid a hand on her arm. “You don’t have to marry him, you know.”

She looked at me like I was nuts. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because maybe you guys aren’t really a match.”

“Of course we are. I can’t believe you just said that.”

I couldn’t either, but since I had I forced myself to plunge on. “You don’t want to end up like Mom and Dad do you? If you’re having any doubts you should slow down.”

“I’m not having any doubts.”

She didn’t need to. I was having them for her. “It sounds to me like you are.”

“Then I guess you need to get your hearing checked. Not all of us are paranoid when it comes to men, you know.” She moved out of touching range. “Geez, Andie. I’m beginning to wonder why we all wanted you to come home for Christmas. You’re a real pain,” she added as a parting shot, then left me alone in the kitchen.

I grabbed a mug from the cupboard and filled it with water. “I am not the pain,” I muttered as I stuck it in the microwave. “That definition would go to everyone around me.”

Boy, if that wasn’t the truth. My dad was trying to mow down trees with his sports car, Gabe was taking me out then bringing me home before we even had a date … or whatever that little car ride had been. My sister was passing out insults like candy canes. What was I doing here? I’d jumped off my career track for this?

The microwave beeped at me and I took out the mug and dunked a tea bag in it. Sugar plum tea. Sugar plum fairies. Visions of sugar plums. Ha! I should be so lucky. The only visions that would dance through my head tonight would be those of me and Gabe squabbling in front of his car, or Keira flouncing out of the kitchen after telling me how so not worth a plane ticket I was.
Merry Christmas, Andie
.

I took my cup of tea and went to my room to read. I was well into my mystery novel now, and at the moment reading about mayhem and dead bodies looked a whole lot better than dealing with my family. Whoever said truth is stranger than fiction must have plucked that pearl of wisdom from a branch of the Hartwell family tree.

Hang in there, I told myself, it’s almost Christmas. Then you’ll have done your family duty thing and you can leave, go back to NYC, and get your life back.

Spencer joined the family for dinner that night, giving me a chance to carefully observe him and Keira. They were not at their best. She was pouting over the house stalemate, and Spencer was dealing with it by ignoring her.

“Great pot roast, Janelle,” he said to Mom.

It seemed funny to hear someone my age calling my mother by her first name. All of our friends had and still did call her Mrs. H. Spencer didn’t quite strike me as a Mrs. H. kind of guy, though. And maybe he felt funny calling her Mom when he and Keira weren’t married yet.

“Thank you, Spencer,” Mom said. “How about some more potatoes?”

“Sure,” he said, and took the bowl of mashed spuds.

Keira looked at him like a disapproving personal trainer. “Seconds on carbs? I thought you were trying to cut back.”

Spencer did have a bit of belly hanging over his belt. Obviously, Keira hadn’t gotten him to the gym yet.

“I don’t want to insult your mother’s cooking,” he said and piled a mountain of mashed potatoes on his plate.

Keira looked on in disgust.

Mom, CEO of Man Haters, Inc., rushed to Spencer’s defense. “Potatoes are good for you. They’re high in potassium.”

“That’s the skins,” Keira said, and there’s no skin in these.”

Mom shrugged. “I think these modem health experts are a little wacko. People have been eating potatoes for centuries.”

“You’re absolutely right, Janelle,” said Spencer, and plopped on another helping. “Anyway, it’s the holidays.” He patted his stomach. “I’ll take this off in January.”

“Well, I hope so,” Keira told him. “You want to be able to fit in your tux.”

He gave her a condescending smile. “That’s a few months away, so I don’t think it’s going to be a problem.”

Ah, what a pair of lovebirds.

“So, Spencer, are we going to see you Christmas day?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll spend Christmas Eve with my folks. Then I’ll come here Christmas Day so Keira can count my carbs,” he added.

“Cute,” she said sourly.

I could already envision a real merry Christmas if Keira and Spencer didn’t get this house thing resolved tonight. There we’d be, dodging bullets as we tried to pull our presents out from under the tree.

After dinner the happy couple left to drive around and look at Christmas lights.

“How did they ever get together?” I said to Mom.

She shrugged. “Hormones. It happens to the best of us.”

Another shining testimonial for the holy state of matrimony.

I passed on Mom’s offer of
First Wives Club
on DVD and went back to my book.

Christmas Eve was a quiet day, with no trauma, no scenes. As I helped Mom make stuffing and cranberry salad and ambrosia for our holiday feast the following day, I couldn’t help feeling like someone in a Florida mobile home at hurricane season, just waiting for the wind to start whipping up. The calm before the storm.

I decided I was being paranoid. Even my family could only wreak so much havoc. Between Ben’s window stunt followed by his street-sweeping tree incident, not to mention Dad’s car crash, surely we’d sucked all the insanity out of the air that we possibly could. Still, I couldn’t shake that feeling.

At 5, Keira went to pick up Grandma, who was joining us for dinner, then coming to the Christmas Eve service. Aunt Chloe blew in shortly after Keira took off.

I took one look at her and that uneasy feeling grew stronger. “How do I look?” she asked.

She looked scary. She had paired a flared Christmas red knit dress that half a dozen elves could camp under with clashing blood red boots. Even I, who was not an artist, understood how the color palette worked. Had my aunt been struck with blindness when she went into her closet? No, I decided. Madness. Only a crazy person would wear a hat like that in public.

Mom was staring at her in horror. “What is that on your head?”

Good question. I’d never seen anything like it, not even in a costume shop. The hat was a high, green felted cone with little plastic pears nestled in corsages of gold netting and feathers. A huge, white bird with a tail that swooped down to her shoulders sat halfway up it.

The thought of being seen in public with her made me feel queasy. If I ran into someone I knew how could I introduce her?
This is my aunt. She’s adopted
.

“It’s an original design,” said Aunt Chloe. “I made this hat specially for Christmas.”

“It looks like you made it for Halloween,” said Mom, unafraid to speak what was on everyone’s mind.

Aunt Chloe regarded her with disgust. “Really, Jannie, you have no imagination.”

“I have plenty of imagination, and I’m already imagining what people will say when they see you in that thing.”