A Family Under the Christmas Tree (5 page)

After bathing Riggs and herself, Sophie tried her dad's cell and her parents' house phone, but only got the answering machines. She left a message so they'd know she'd returned the call.

She plopped down on a bar stool to wait for David to bring Troy over. She had to admit that at first the idea had scared her. What did she know about kids? But then she'd looked into David's eyes and saw how much he needed a break, and all her reservations went out the proverbial window.

“It won't work, you know.” Sophie rested her elbow on the counter, her chin in her palm, and watched Grandma wheeling herself around the kitchen. She was gathering baking supplies and piling them on the dining room table.

“What won't?”

“You trying to fix me up with David.”

The affronted look on Grandma's face was almost believable. “Why ever would you think I was trying to do that?”

She snickered. “It's not like you're being very subtle.”

“Bah.” Grandma took a set of measuring spoons out of a drawer and set them on the counter. “What's wrong with hoping you'll find a nice young man and settle down?”

She arched an eyebrow. “I don't want to settle down.”

“But you can't spend your whole life traveling the world. Alone.” Grandma pushed the chair to the refrigerator. She pulled the door open slightly, but the chair prevented her from getting inside.

Sophie hopped off the stool and went to help her. “Why not?”

Grandma backed up the wheelchair. “Because one day you'll wake up old and lonely.”

Heart aching, Sophie hugged her grandma. “Oh, Grams. I'm sorry.”

She patted Grandma's back.

“I miss your grandfather so much, but I have never regretted the life we shared,” Grandma said. “I just want you to have that. To know what it is to be loved by someone so completely.”

Sophie felt a pang deep inside. She straightened. “I've tried. It didn't go so well.”

“Those were boys. You need a man.” Grandma wagged her eyebrows. “Don't you think David is handsome?”

Yes. But she wouldn't admit it out loud. “Grandma, you're impossible.”

“Says you. I knew the minute I met David that you and he would be a good match.”

Sophie groaned. “I knew it. You could've managed without me.”

Grandma shook her head. “That's not totally true. I can't walk, after all. I'm stuck in this chair. How would I get ready for Christmas like this? I did want your help, and I like having you here. I couldn't travel to visit your parents this year. I didn't want to be alone, and I knew you might not go home for Christmas, so . . .”

Sophie hugged her grandma tight. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” Grandma spun and headed to the pantry. “I know I have a tub of cookie cutters in here.”

“What did you need out of the fridge?” Sophie asked.

“
Butter and eggs.” She returned with a large, round plastic tub full of metal cookie cutters in various shapes.

“Will you teach me to make your persimmon cookies while I'm here?” One of her favorite treats from Christmases past was the persimmon cookies Grandma would send to California. Her brothers never cared for them, much to Sophie's delight. That meant she got to eat them all.

“I haven't made persimmon cookies in ages.” Grandma's eyes crinkled at the corners. “They would make a lovely dessert for Friday night.”

Sophie cocked her head. “Friday night?”

“Didn't I mention I've invited Simon to dinner?” Grandma smoothed a lock of silvery hair behind her ear. “He'd like to meet you.”

Hmmm. Okay. “No, you didn't mention it, but that would be nice. What else should we serve?”

“Simon's not fussy when it comes to food,” Grams assured her with a grin.

Sophie's eyebrows rose. “Really? So you and he have been seeing each other for a while then?”

“What?” Grandma's eyes grew round. “Oh, no. We're not
seeing
each other. I couldn't . . . I mean, I'm not.”

Nearly bursting with delight at the thought of her grandma no longer “waking up old and alone,” as she put it, Sophie reached over to pat Grandma's hand and said, “Yes, you could, Grams.”

Grandma's free hand went to her throat and her complexion paled. “It's not like that. We're only friends. We serve on the same committees at church and I only know his eating habits because we have a potluck every Sunday night. The man eats anything and everything. He says it's because he eats frozen dinners the rest of the week.” Her face softened. “Poor man.”

Sophie's
mouth twitched with a smile. Grandma protested just a tad too enthusiastically. And that wasn't pity in her eyes. She cared for this man. “Does he have any family close by?”

“No. His only son's family lives in another state. We have that in common.” Grandma averted her gaze, but not before Sophie saw the flash of pain in her eyes.

Sophie winced. Now that she was aware of Grandma's loneliness, Sophie was determined to make sure her parents and siblings knew as well. She made a mental note to call home tonight before she went to sleep. “I look forward to meeting Simon,” she said. “We could make your sour cream enchiladas.”

Her mouth watered even as she said the words. Though her mother had attempted on numerous occasions to replicate Grandma's recipe, they never tasted the same. After a while, her mother gave up cooking altogether and left meal preparation to Mrs. Lanohan, the housekeeper.

Sophie's stomach grumbled. It was past time for lunch. “After we make cookies I'll go to the grocery store. I could bring back a roasted chicken for dinner tonight.”

She often grabbed food on the go when she was at her small studio apartment in Burbank, and roasted chicken was one of her favorites. Not that she'd been home for more than a day or two in the past few months. Her photography had finally gained some recognition, and clients had been coming out of the woodwork to hire her and her camera. Like this skiwear company. Every time she thought about it, she got excited.

“The groceries can wait until tomorrow,” Grandma said. “Check the meat drawer. There's steak and chicken that need to be cooked, as well as some vegetables. And there's basmati rice in the cupboard. But first we need lunch. PB and J?”

“Yes. I haven't had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich since I was a kid.”
After rooting around in the pantry for a jar of peanut butter and raspberry jelly, she made them each a thick sandwich on whole wheat bread. The sweet and salty flavors made her long for those childhood summer days she'd spent with her grandparents. Lazy, carefree days. Grandpa would make fresh lemonade to go with their lunch and they'd go out into the backyard to enjoy the temperate sunshine.

Just as they were finishing up their lunch, a sharp rap at the door drew her attention. Riggs jumped up from his cushy bed beneath the front window and loped to the door.

“You answer the door while I clear the table,” Grandma said, balancing their plates on her lap.

“I can get them, Grams,” Sophie protested.

Grandma waved her away.

Riggs barked once and threw a glance over his shoulder at her.

Really? The dog was impatient? “I'm coming.”

Giving the pup a wry shake of her head, Sophie unlocked the bolt and opened the door to find a freshly washed Troy and David standing there.

“Hello,” she said.

Riggs ran toward Troy, nearly knocking the child off his feet. Troy knelt down to hug the dog. Not a speck of mud remained in the layers of Troy's dark hair. His clothes were clean but baggy, as if the child had lost some weight.

Empathy squeezed her insides. The child's world had been turned inside out by his parents' tragic deaths. No doubt he was struggling to eat and sleep, and if his actions today were any indications, he was struggling to adjust to his new life with his uncle.

She was glad to see Troy taking comfort from Riggs. She wondered . . . when she left, maybe Troy would take Riggs?

Her gaze bounced to David. Her stomach muscles tightened at
the sight of his damp, slicked back hair, his strong jaw shadowed with just enough stubble to be fashionable but not scruffy. He was so handsome in his khakis, navy peacoat, and loafers. He just needed a red scarf wrapped around his neck and a jaunty driver hat on his head. She could see the image on the pages of a fashion catalog.

“Reporting for cookie making.” His steel gray eyes roamed over her, from her loose hair to her sock-clad feet. The appreciation in his eyes left her feeling a bit tongue-tied.

“Wonderful.” Self-consciously, she tugged at the hem of her lightweight wool shirt, making sure it hadn't ridden up over the top of her jeans. Where were her manners? She stepped back. “Please come in.”

David ushered Troy inside so Sophie could shut the door. Riggs moved into the living room and Troy followed.

“Troy, so good to see you.” Grandma opened her arms for a quick hug. Troy went easily into her arms. “Look how handsome you are all spiffed up.”

“How is he?” Sophie asked David in a hushed voice.

“Calmer,” David admitted as he tracked Troy with his gaze. “It's been a rough six months.”

“I can only imagine,” she whispered. “Both of your lives have been derailed.”

He ran a hand over his jaw. “We've definitely been set on a different path.”

She liked his optimistic outlook. “It can't be easy becoming a parent in the blink of an eye.”

“It hasn't been,” he admitted. “Thankfully, your grandmother has been here to offer advice and support.”

“That is a blessing,” she said. “Learning to parent on the fly has to be difficult. Most people have months to plan and prepare.
I admire you for taking Troy into your home.” She ached with sympathy for all they'd endured.

“Thank you.” He met her eyes, his gaze boring into her as if he could see all the way to the secret places she kept hidden from the world. It was a dizzying sensation.

“I appreciated the help this morning,” he said in a quiet tone. His words rippled over her like warm honey.

“What are neighbors for?” she quipped, hoping to lighten the tension that had suddenly sprung up between them.

“Right.” Something in his tone made her think he was ill at ease.

She studied him closely. “Having second thoughts about leaving him with us?”

He cringed. “It's just that he can be a handful.”

She followed his gaze to where Grandma was showing Troy the baking supplies. “You don't have to worry. Between the two of us we can handle him for a few hours.” She hoped.

He took her hand. Warmth raced up her arm. “I do appreciate this. I'll pay you back.”

She squeezed his hand and tugged him to the front door. “You don't owe us a thing. This will be fun for Grams.” She opened the door. “Now, go get some work done.”

“Are they finished yet?” Troy hunched in front of the oven to watch the last batch of cookies turn golden on the cookie sheet.

Sophie glanced at the timer. “Two more minutes.” She brushed her fingers through his hair, dislodging a few stray, colorful sprinkles. “We may not get to decorate these. Your uncle should be here any second.”

She'd
been saying that for the past thirty minutes. In the past two hours, they'd made four batches of sugar cookies, using every single cookie cutter in Grandma's tub. There was frosting on the walls. A light dusting of flour coated the kitchen's hardwood floor. But Grandma was having a blast. And so was she.

Troy was a delight. He made the time fly by with his chatter and laughter. He had so many questions. And he was smart and imaginative, too. Not once had he thrown any sort of tantrum or quibbled when Grandma or Sophie had corrected him—not even when they'd told him not to put frosting on Riggs's food.

Except it was past the time for David to return. Sophie hoped nothing had happened to him. She'd found the number he left and called his cell. After three rings it went to voice mail. Hmmm. Had he fallen asleep? She'd give him another half hour, then she'd go over there.