Sleigh Bells in Valentine Valley (4 page)

Ethan looked between them all, his expression curious. “Mom, you played with the guys?”

“Sure I did. After I was knocked over, your poor dad insisted on carrying me all the way to the pickup, like I'd broken a foot.”

Tony's lips pressed together in a line, and she hoped he was restraining a smile rather than a frown. She remembered feeling safe and loved because of his concern. And being held in his arms always left her breathless—at least it had in those early days. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing, because he looked away, his expression neutral. Toward the end of their marriage, she hadn't had time for many hugs, and soon Tony had stopped trying to give them. It was a little thing but something that caused her great regret. She had a lot of regrets.

She wasn't sure if their silence had grown awkward, for Nate cleared his throat and seemed almost relieved when his wife emerged from the kitchen.

“Ready!” she called cheerfully. “Kate, are you coming?”

She felt Tony's gaze on her and quickly said, “No, no, I haven't even unpacked, and my mom is expecting me. But thanks for the invitation. Have a good time.” She turned to the stack of pie boxes, only to find Tony picking them up before she could. “You don't have to—”

“Be right back,” he called to Nate and Ethan. “Where'd you park, Kate?”

She almost wished Ethan had helped as well—and that was a baffling thought. Why would she not want to be alone with her ex-husband? After wrapping her scarf back around her neck and buttoning her coat, she held the door for him. “To the left and around the corner,” she said, catching up to walk at his side.

The snow crunched under their feet, sounding loud in the stillness of a town closing down for the night. Somewhere in the distance, Christmas music played.

“I'm sorry if that was awkward for you back there,” Kate said, her breath a mist in front of her.

Tony glanced at her from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. “What are you talking about?”

“Emily seems really nice, and she doesn't realize . . .” She trailed off, but Tony said nothing. “You know, that Nate's your friend, and Emily doesn't know me and—”

“Kate, this is your town, too.”

She nodded, glad he couldn't see her red cheeks as she unlocked the Range Rover and opened the rear door. Of course it was her town. She'd never been self-conscious about this kind of stuff before, so she shouldn't start now. What was wrong with her?

Tony set the tall stack of pies down, and together they rearranged them so they wouldn't be damaged. Then she pressed the button to close the door.

“Thanks,” she said.

He nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

“Score some goals,” she called as he walked away.

He lifted a hand but didn't turn around. She found herself watching him walk, his hips narrow as they moved rhythmically, his shoulders broad beneath his thick, tan Carhartt jacket. She caught herself and whirled around before anyone could see her gawking at her ex. Her job situation must really have been messing with her head. Or she'd been without any intimacy for too long, or—she was staying at her parent's house, however briefly, right next door to Tony, bringing up all the old memories. She started the car and told herself her mom would keep her busy. For the tenth time that day, she wondered what was wrong with her.

A
t dawn, when she heard her mom get in the shower, Kate escaped her childhood room to go for a run. Barney used to know it was running time just because she was putting her hair in a ponytail. It was too short for that now, but he still got excited when she put her tennis shoes on. She was used to the cold; she didn't even need a scarf over her mouth. It wasn't that running was fun, but it took up less time than the traditional winter pastimes of skiing or snowshoeing. She hadn't skied since childhood. Outside, she quickly shoveled the sidewalk first, then put a leash on Barney, who'd been waiting patiently at the back fence. She turned away from Tony's house and began to run, keeping her pace slow for the dog. He kept up for a while, but after a mile, she took him home to his doggie bed and returned to her run at a quicker pace.

She was trying to brace herself for the day, when she'd face her four brothers, aunts, uncles, and cousins. It had taken a long time to get over her feelings of failure after the divorce, and it was as if this sabbatical was a way of letting her family down all over again. The very presence of Tony and Lyndsay, along with Kate herself, would remind everyone about the past. All the old bleakness was resurfacing, when Thanksgiving should have been a joyous day. She ran harder, reminding herself that she was in the right where the firm was concerned, and she'd prevail in the end. As for the divorce, she and Tony were certainly better off apart than married and unhappy.

Back at home, she showered and made herself useful through lunchtime, moving tables with Joe, carrying plates and silverware from the kitchen to the dining and living rooms, where the tables were lined up. Barney watched serenely from the couch—although once upon a time, they'd have been tripping over him. One by one, her brothers began to arrive midafternoon, their hugs making her relax—although she reminded herself they didn't suspect anything was wrong. They brought casserole dishes and brimming salad bowls, which she schlepped to the kitchen while they took off winter coats and boots.

“This is a surprise,” Jim said when he entered the kitchen. He was two years older than Kate, dark-haired like their dad. He owned Mirabella's, an upscale Italian restaurant in Aspen, and was still happily single.

“Yeah, strange, isn't it?” she answered vaguely.

Jim eyed her but held off on questions as Walt came in, carrying his one-year-old. Walt was blond like Kate and Joe, and though he was only thirty, he and his wife already had three kids under the age of seven. Kate could just see Diana, her frizzy red hair practically standing on end, wrestling the other two kids out of their jackets and boots in the front hall, while Barney waited to be petted. There was always a sense of friction between Kate and Walt. Even as a teenager, he hadn't understood why she'd abandoned the family restaurant; she'd always had the nagging sensation he still felt the same way. Her parents never questioned what she wanted—only Walt did.

Kate reached for Walt's little boy, who promptly cringed back against his father.

“It's the age,” Walt said apologetically.

“I remember.” Kate tried to laugh it off, but today she was feeling a little too vulnerable to banish the brush of uneasy sadness.

Dave was the last of the brothers to arrive, and he'd brought a date. He worked for the family restaurant as a sommelier, and though he knew his way around wine, he specialized in beer. He was dating a waitress from Carmina's, and she seemed almost embarrassed to be at the family dinner, although Kate's parents quickly put her at ease. Dave looked more like a surfer dude than the small-town boy that he was, with his sun-burnished curly hair and tanned good looks.

The three grandkids descended on Kate's parents, leaving her to face her brothers. “What?” she asked, faking innocence as they eyed her.

“Okay, what's going on?” Jim put his hands on his hips. “You weren't scheduled to be here, and if you were anyone else, we'd think it a lucky coincidence. What's wrong, Kate?”

She let out an exaggerated sigh and told them what she'd told her parents—that the law firm had put her on sabbatical because she and the partners had disagreed about a case and the partners wanted her to rethink some things. “It's okay, really. It's probably for the best. Cool heads and all that.”

“
You
argued with the senior partners?” Dave asked, sipping his beer and looking at her like an alien had taken over her body.

Jim and Walt sported earnest frowns.

“The case is complicated, and we could go several different ways.” She gave an exasperated shrug. “You know I can't talk details.” But she'd revealed more to Tony, she thought uneasily.

Diana stepped close and gave her a hug. “You know we're here for you, Kate.”

Kate blinked at her in surprise, then slowly smiled. “Thanks, Diana. I appreciate that.” She and Diana were friendly, but they'd never had the chance to be close, with Kate's work/Ethan schedule and Diana being busy with her three kids.

Walt acted as if his wife had silently prodded him to speak. “Well, of course you can count on us. I'm concerned with how they're treating you. Is it harassment?”

Walt, with his business degree, was always practical.

“I appreciate you assuming it's all their fault.” Kate was certain he used to believe she shouldn't have gone into the law in the first place. But it wasn't just about her supposedly turning her back on the family business. Didn't he ever think there wouldn't have been room for the both of them at Carmina's? Hell, she'd probably done him a favor!

“Of course it's their fault,” Jim said, smiling. “
You
couldn't do anything wrong.”

He and Dave elbowed each other, and suddenly Kate felt like a girl again, being gently teased by her overwhelming number of brothers. She let her breath out, surprised to feel a little shaky.

“We don't need to go into details with everyone, okay?” she said. “It's . . . too hard to explain, since I can't discuss it.”

“I'm pretty curious,” Joe said, coming to standing beside all his older brothers, speaking around a mouthful of bread.

Dave took his teenage brother around the neck with one arm. “Hey, you get to eat and not the rest of us?”

“Oops, I was supposed to set out the appetizers,” Kate said, tapping her head with the palm of her hand as she hurried toward the oven. “Oh, I hope the pastry around the Brie didn't burn.”

“Will we be able to eat her cooking?” Jim asked Dave.

She ignored their laughter because it felt absolutely normal, which was what she needed.

Soon her parents' siblings began to arrive, along with cousins and their kids, and the house was overflowing with people. Kate was so busy taking coats and organizing boots that she didn't notice the next pair of boots handed toward her was Tony's until she looked up and met his eyes. She paused for a moment, and he gave a faint grin. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt under an open flannel shirt.

She straightened up as Ethan came through the door, threw his snow-covered coat on a pile, gave her a brief kiss on the cheek, handed over his boots, and sped on past, all at the speed of light. Barney gave a joyous bark, and they collided in a petting, wagging frenzy.

“So you're the welcome committee?” Tony asked.

Flakes of snow were melting in his dark hair. He put his hands in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet, eyeing her a little too closely. She felt flustered, knowing there was flour on her sweater because she'd refused to wear an apron, and there'd been so much to do that she'd only put on half her makeup.

“Everyone has a job,” she quipped, setting both pairs of boots on a throw rug nearly overflowing with footwear.

Why was she feeling nervous around Tony? Was it still because she'd gone to him first, out of instinct, and didn't know how she felt about it—or how he felt about it, except awkward?

She offered a bright smile. “Where's the rest of your family?”

“Dad's picking up a couple of the widows, who had midday dinner at the Silver Creek Ranch but still wanted to join your parents. As for Lyndsay . . .”

To her surprise, he avoided her gaze, looking past her to the holiday mayhem of kids running around, arguments over the Xbox, and someone calling that they needed more forks for the tables.

“Lyndsay?” she prodded.

“She's feeling under the weather, or so she told me.”

“Oh.”

“Me, I think she wanted to see her new guy but didn't want to share him just yet.”

“Of course, that makes sense.” But Kate felt like Lyndsay had very different reasons for staying away, and they all centered on her. She lowered her voice. “Tony, I didn't plan on being here. She knows that, right? I feel terrible if she felt like she had to avoid me.”

“Kate—”

“Just call her and say we have over thirty people.”

“Kate—”

“We can stay on opposite sides of the house, and—”

He caught her elbow, and she stopped her rambling to stare up at him in surprise. She didn't remember the last time he'd deliberately touched her. His fingers were surprisingly warm, though he'd just come from outside.

“She makes her own decisions,” he said. “I think she's an idiot. Just because you two aren't close anymore. I mean, damn, doesn't she realize she's making me feel bad, like I was the cause of the wreck of your friendship, a friendship which started long before me?”

“You?” she cried in disbelief, then lowered her voice when she saw her mom staring with interest from the kitchen doorway. “Tony, you can't possibly believe she feels that way. It's me she's angry at, and very defensive on your behalf. You're her brother.”

He shrugged. “It doesn't feel that way to me.”

She groaned. “Trust me. I know Lynds—okay, I used to know her as well as you did, maybe better. She doesn't blame you for anything.”

“Well, she should. The marriage wasn't one-sided, after all, so neither was the divorce.”

Now it was her turn to shrug. “Tell her from me that I wished she'd have come. It would have been good to see her.”

He gave her a doubtful look, then started to move past her. It was her turn to catch his arm, then quickly let go.

“You think I wouldn't want to see her?” she asked.

“It's been a long time. Not sure why you'd want to revisit it when you've both moved on.”

“So you're saying you wouldn't try to fix a friendship with Will if you'd had a problem?”

“But that's Will.”

“And you're saying that's not me?” she asked sharply. “Or not your sister?”

He opened his mouth, blinked, and only said, “Never mind. You do what you want. You always do.”

It was her turn to gape as he went past, and she felt herself heat with a blush. She turned away, struggling to make her expression serene. He'd spoken casually, not meanly, but she felt pricked just the same. Was he referring to the past they shared, or just to her friendships? It was maddening and defeatist to worry about such things, especially coming from a man she'd divorced nine years before. But she'd loved him once, and she shouldn't have been surprised that his opinion still mattered.

She turned and saw the moment when he greeted her brothers, their easy acceptance, how they handed him the beer he liked best. There was no mild disapproval from Walt, like she always vaguely felt from him. Nope, Tony might be divorced from her, but he still fit right into her family—maybe better than she did.

Okay,
that
thought was a little childish and unnecessary, but she wasn't feeling herself. And just to prove that theory, she had a brief time-travel thought, wondering what her life would have been like if she'd stayed married. Maybe she'd have been in town for Walt and Carmina's Cucina after all; maybe she'd have had more kids, and Ethan wouldn't have been an only child. Life was full of maybes, and she usually never second-guessed her choices. But this Thanksgiving wasn't her usual holiday—it was the start of her exile.

Reluctantly, her gaze was drawn to Tony, and she had the sudden memory of a weekend morning in bed reading the paper to each other, he, the sports section, she, the local crime report, then him pulling her newspaper away and pressing her down into the pillows.

She turned her head away, as if someone could read her thoughts from her flushed face and wide eyes. Oh, she really was losing it. She hadn't let herself think of Tony sexually in years. They'd never had a problem once they'd gotten into bed; it had been finding the time for it. Toward the end, their timing had always been horrible, and for that, she'd been mostly to blame.

She gave herself a mental shake. This was Thanksgiving—time to be with her family in the present. She went to the kitchen island, where the appetizers were laid out and a dozen shoulders bumped each other as hungry appetites were fed. She watched her father, his face red as he laughed at something a cousin said, before he took another bite from his plateful of appetizers. She couldn't imagine him being skinny, of course, as the owner and sometime chef of a fantastic restaurant, but she thought he'd put on a little weight recently. Maybe she could get him to go for a walk with her . . .

There were other dads present, of course, and she found her gaze sliding to Tony, who stood with Ethan. Their son wasn't yet as tall as his dad, but they could almost look each other in the eye. She wasn't sure what they were talking about, although she thought she heard the word
snowboard
. They shared a love of sports, which kept Ethan active, and woodworking, which made her boy handy, and she was grateful. She was the homework and video game specialist. But it wasn't the conversation between Tony and Ethan that mattered to her, it was their close relationship, for which she was truly grateful. With Ethan, Tony looked like the man she remembered—genial, easygoing, lighthearted, without the wary, distant look he reserved for her. Over the years, she hadn't had much opportunity to see their relationship in action, but she'd always known that he was a wonderful dad; he had been from the beginning. She'd been scared to death on discovering her pregnancy. Rather than backing off or getting angry, he'd stared down at her stomach with the silliest, most tender smile growing wide on his face as he'd touched her. “Our baby?”