Angels in the Snow (2 page)

Judith sighed once more. “I can't promise you a DJ at this late date. But a party and pizza? We can do that, Jenn. I promise. Now, please sit back and put your seat belt on.”

“Yes!” Jennifer exclaimed, throwing herself back onto the seat with an excited squeal. “It'll be the best party
anybody's
ever been to—especially better than Clarisse's.” She subsided after that, focusing on her sparkly pink phone, her thumbs flying. Probably contemplating plans for her party.

As the car headed north to the promise of open spaces and snowy mountains, Charles heaved a relieved sigh. Jennifer was taken care of. Now he only had to worry about Alex and Judith. He glanced at his wife, hoping to coax a smile from her. But she was once again staring out the side window. Frustrated even more, he gritted his teeth. With two stabbing motions he turned the car radio on, then set the search mode in action. When the familiar strains of Bing Crosby singing “White Christmas” came on, he gripped the wheel harder with both hands.

“Anyone want to sing along?” He forced himself to sound jovial. He caught a glimpse of Alex in the rearview mirror, but he realized at once that Alex's bobbing head was not nodding agreement. He was only keeping rhythm with the music plugged into his ears. Naturally. But there had been a time . . .

Charles refused to let himself get maudlin. No doubt every little kid had appeared at least once in a Christmas pageant dressed as an angel or some other appropriate character. Then, just like Alex, they'd turned into incomprehensible teenagers.

Still, the image of Alex dressed in one of his dad's oversized T-shirts and his mother's pale blue robe would not go away. His silver foil wings and halo had wobbled precariously as the trio of angels had scooted onto the stage, and at first he and Judith had feared Alex would forget the words to the song the angels were supposed to lead. But once the music teacher had begun to play the piano, Alex's fearful expression changed. For those few minutes he had been truly angelic, singing at the top of his lungs, louder than anyone else.

“Away in a Manger.” That song was meant to be sung by children, Charles decided with a faint smile. Even little Jennifer, who'd been but four at the time, had begun to sing from her position on her mother's lap.

There had been tears in Judith's eyes that night. Tears of happiness.

What he wouldn't give to see that look in her eyes again.

The vibration of his earpiece pulled him sharply back to the present.

“Montgomery here—Jude, could you turn off the radio?” he asked from the corner of his mouth. “Hello? Yeah, Doug. What gives?”

He shot Judith an encouraging smile as she bent forward to turn off the mellow tones of the Christmas classic, but she didn't meet his gaze. For a moment he lost track of what Doug was saying—something about the delivery of copper piping and one of the unions' positions on imports from the Far East.

“—are you there?” Doug's demand pierced through Charles's preoccupation.

“Yeah, yeah. Uh, just bull your way through, Doug. The union's talking big, but those guys are not about to stand tough. Not with jobs like ours so few and far between these days. And the last thing the union can afford is for its own people to scab. It's all a bluff. Mark my words.”

After he ended the call he glanced again at Judith, but this time she was leaning back against the headrest, her eyes closed. He turned the radio back on, hoping that might spark her interest. But Judith did not respond, and as they sped north through the wintry landscape, past the suburban tracts, then the farms, and on up into the hills beyond, his heart slowly took on the same icy cast as the world outside the big car. He wasn't sure his plan was going to work. And if it didn't . . .

Charles refused to think about that. He was a master at closing a deal. He always had been. He would simply have to rise above his emotions and do whatever it took.

The sky grew grayer. The clouds pressed closer to the earth. On the radio Elvis Presley sang “Blue Christmas.”

With a vicious jab of one finger, Charles silenced the singer mid-sentence. A blue Christmas. He didn't believe in omens, but for that moment, he feared the song might be truly prophetic.

T
he leaden sky stretched north into the mountains, heavy, gray, and threatening. Yet Judith decided it was no more grim than the somber atmosphere in the car. Charles drove in silence. To her relief, he had switched off the radio some time ago. The cheerfulness of the Christmas music had been irritating, as if it were as false as everything else about this trip.

She sighed but deliberately kept her eyes closed. If she appeared to sleep, he wouldn't initiate any conversation. It was cowardly, she knew. But she simply wasn't up to conversation. In the backseat Jennifer had apparently fallen asleep. All that could be heard was the faint hum from Alex's earbuds. She hoped the volume wasn't high enough to damage his hearing.

When the car slowed a bit she automatically opened her eyes. In front of them was a brightly painted van, yellow with a wooden rear bumper and a fringed curtain bobbing in the back window.

“Come on,” Charles muttered, frowning at the slower vehicle. Passing wasn't easy on the two-lane state highway, which twisted and turned around the hills. He edged their car nearer the center line and peered past the van. Three cars zipped by, heading south. Then a fourth. At once he pressed down on the accelerator, and roared past the other vehicle.

“Damn road hogs,” she heard him mutter. Then he glanced at her and caught her watching him. For a long moment their eyes locked, before he had to look back at the road. Then he glanced at her again, a smile firmly in place—his salesman's smile, she realized.

“Not too much farther, Jude. Maybe fifteen miles to Ruddington.”

It was Judith who looked away this time. His determined effort to make everything seem all right suddenly tore at her heart. How could she, who had so much—much more than she'd ever hoped for—still be so unhappy? What was wrong with her?

“We can stop there for groceries,” Charles continued. “We might as well stock up on everything we need. Did you make a list? We'll need soap and shampoo and other basics, not just food. Though God knows, we'll need plenty of that, the way these kids put it away.”

“How would you know how much they eat?”

Judith was sorry for her bitter words as soon as they were said. She had resolved to be as pleasant as possible during their trip together. Her outburst the previous week still haunted her; she had vowed there would be no repeat of it. Yet here she was, sharp and accusing when he was trying so hard.

“Dammit, Judith, that's not fair! You act as though I'm a stranger to my own kids—”

He broke off abruptly when Jennifer shifted in the backseat. He kept his eyes on the road ahead, but Judith saw his knuckles whiten as his hands clenched the steering wheel. Once more her eyes closed and she had to swallow a painful lump in her throat.

“I'm sorry, Charles. That was uncalled for.”

He didn't answer. For the next fifteen miles only the buzz of unidentifiable music leaking from Alex's earbuds broke the hum of the heavy engine—that, and the troubled thoughts tumbling through Judith's head. They passed sixteen more vehicles: a tractor trailer, three pickup trucks, one sports car, two sedans, two vans, and seven SUVs. Did the people in all those cars dread the Christmas holidays as much as she did? Judith wondered. She doubted it.

If only she could explain it to Charles. If only she could explain it to herself. Her husband didn't mistreat her. He'd never raised a hand to her or the children. He was a good provider and he'd never been unfaithful.

Perhaps it would be easier if he had, she thought bitterly. A woman she could fight. A mistress she could deal with. But what chance had she against the very thing that gave Charles his greatest joy? He was a man who thrived on a challenge. A man obsessed with success. And no one could deny that Charles Montgomery was a success. From a nothing business in a spare bedroom he'd developed M.G. Construction into a tremendous conglomerate, flying in the face of economic slumps, recessions, and the near failure of the construction industry a few years ago. He was touted in business magazines, praised by politicians, and even studied at one local business college.

But the success hadn't come without cost. Oh, they lived in a wonderful house now, in the best neighborhood. The children went to the finest private schools, and none of them lacked a thing. But there had still been a price to pay.

The day Charles had announced that Judith no longer needed to work in the office stood out in her mind. A part of her had been pleased. It was difficult working and taking care of an active toddler. When she'd become pregnant again shortly thereafter, Charles's decision had seemed even more logical. But she hadn't wanted to quit working. Not really.

So she'd turned her hand to decorating, at first guided by an interior designer, but later doing all the design, buying, and installation for each of the several homes he constructed for them. One house after another, each one bigger and better than the last, in a finer and more exclusive neighborhood. But it wasn't enough. It kept her busy, but . . .

At one point Charles had even offered to set her up in her own specialty furniture business, with a showroom in one of his developments, and warehouses in an industrial park nearby. But that's not what she'd wanted. Even now, his offer caused an unreasoning spurt of anger in her. He was being generous, but she'd been unable to bear it. Worse, she couldn't even explain why.

So she'd started doing charity work alongside other well-to-do women. But now even that was subject to Charles's manipulations. Was this one's husband/brother/father of any use to M.G., Inc.? Were they politically connected?

She stared blindly out at the scenery. Charles's answers to her complaints were always the same. A huge pearl cluster ring. An amethyst bracelet. Diamond earrings. He was happy and therefore he could not recognize that she was not. He was successful, respected, and very wealthy. What more could a person want?

The answer to that question continued to elude Judith. She was by association also a success, respected and rich. But she wasn't happy, and didn't know how to be.

The worst part was that now, when Charles seemed finally to be noticing her dissatisfaction, she was ready to give up. She hadn't intended to bring up the idea of divorce, but when he'd accused her of complaining about nothing, she'd exploded. Was divorce nothing? she'd yelled.

They'd made up, of course. She'd cried; he'd apologized; and then they'd made love. But the word, once said, wouldn't leave Judith's mind. They'd gone on as normal on the surface, but the idea of divorce had stayed with her.

As they drew nearer their destination, she had to steel herself for the days to come. For the children's sake, she must maintain her calm. For Charles's sake also, for she couldn't begrudge him this appearance of a perfect Christmas, which he wanted so badly.

But what was she to do for herself? For her own sake?

Jennifer woke up as soon as they turned into the packed-gravel parking lot of the Ruddington General Store. Only four other cars were there, and from the looks of the place it was not likely to carry a very large variety of food. What had that banker, Rogers, gotten them into? Judith fumed. First an isolated cabin, and now this ramshackle affair.

“Well, kids,” Charles announced as he turned off the car and twisted to look at the pair, a determined smile on his face. “My money says this place started as a trading post in the wilderness. Maybe there are still beaver skins stacked up for sale.”

“Beaver skins? Ugh! That's disgusting,” Jennifer replied, making a face. She pushed her tangled hair out of her face and stretched.

“Watch it, dork.” Alex shoved her outstretched arm back to her own side of the car. “The only thing disgusting around here is you.”

“You mean
you,
” Jennifer snapped, yanking the earbud wire out of his phone.

Judith gritted her teeth. “Would you two please stop—”

“Shut up, the both of you!” Charles roared. He glowered at his two children. “If this is the way you're going to behave the whole week—” He broke off but Alex seemed determined not to let things lie. As if he'd been nursing his grievances the entire silent journey, he turned a sullen glare on his father.

“If this is the way we're gonna act the whole week, we might as well turn around and go home. Right?”

Judith saw Charles's face darken, but she grabbed his arm before he could react. “Everybody is a little grumpy right now. Let's get out and do our shopping. Do you kids want a soft drink?”

Beneath her hand she could feel his tension, but she tightened her grasp until he looked away from Alex and met her imploring eyes. Then he sighed.