The Mistletoe Inn (27 page)

After we opened our presents we had our traditional Christmas morning breakfast of crepes with apricot jam and whipped cream. My father made the world's best crepes.

“It was a profound night last night,” he said as we ate. “How'd you sleep?”

“I slept really well. The best I have in years.” I smiled. “At least until I woke with a cold, wet washcloth on my face.”

He smiled.

I took another bite of crepe, then said, “I've been doing a lot of thinking. And I think it's time for some change in my life. So I've made a decision. I'm moving back home.” I looked into his eyes. “If that's okay.”

A smile spread across his face. “That's wonderful.”

“That way I can be here if you need any help and just be with you. I miss it here.”

“That makes me so happy,” he said. “That's the best Christmas present ever.”

“Good. So I'll start looking for a job tomorrow.” I ate a little more, then I said, “You know, it's strange, but I have a feeling that you're right. Maybe our best years are still to come.”

My father, who hadn't stopped smiling since my announcement, said, “Oh, they are, honey. More than you know. Now hurry up and eat. We've got cooking to do.”

As we got ready for Christmas dinner I noticed that my father had placed an extra setting at the table. “Will Chuck or Joel be joining us?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. I'm sorry, I didn't tell you, Chuck passed away.”

I stopped washing the potatoes. “When?”

“While you were at the conference. I was with him when he went. I'm grateful for that. No one should die alone.”

“How's Joel doing?” I asked. “I was thinking of looking him up while I was here.”

“That might not be a good idea,” my father said.

“Why is that?”

“His wife came back.”

“Really?” I said. “That's a surprise.”

“It was for Joel too. He called me two weeks ago and told me that she came to see him. She asked him if he would forgive her and take her back.”

“And he took her back?”

“Oh yes. Sometimes, when you least expect it, people do the right thing. And the best news, they're going to start trying to have children.”

“He can do that? I mean, physically . . . ?”

“No. They'll have to use insemination. But that's not what makes a man a father.”

“Then Alice is coming?”

“No,” he said. “Prying her away from her grandchildren will take a lot stronger man than I am.”

“Her loss,” I said.

“She's perfectly happy with the situation. Something
about grandchildren is magical. I hope to discover that myself someday.”

“Pressure,” I said. “Then who's coming?”

“Just a business associate of mine. I've been helping him with a project. He lives back east and was here alone on business, so I invited him over. He'll be here in a few minutes.”

“What kind of project?” I asked.

“Nothing too exciting. Personnel stuff. He ran into one of my old employees from Maverick. She told him about me and he was looking for someone in Vegas.

“But here's the remarkable part—he's friends with Dr. Bangerter. He's the one who arranged for him to see me. In fact, he has so much clout, Dr. Bangerter actually came to the house to meet with me.”

“One of the top oncologists in the country made a house call?”

“I know, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I guess it helps to have the right friends.”

“I'm so happy, Dad.”

As I went back to the potatoes, the doorbell rang.

“Unless you're expecting someone,” my father said, “that's probably our guest. Would you mind getting the door?”

“Sure.” I started walking toward the foyer. “What's his name?”

“You'll know,” he said.

“Why would I know?”

“Just trust me.”

I opened the door. Zeke was standing on our front porch.

I just stood there. The moment was like something out of a dream and I was frozen in it, unsure of what to do next.

Zeke smiled. “I take it your father didn't tell you I was coming.”

“No.”

My father walked up behind me. “Kim, show some manners. Invite Zeke in.”

“Sorry,” I said, still in shock. I stepped back as Zeke walked into our house. My father and Zeke shook hands.

“How are you, Rob?” Zeke asked.

“Well, thank you. And very grateful. Dr. Bangerter has been very helpful. Thank you for making this possible.”

“It's my pleasure,” he said.

I stood there, my eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. “How do you know each other?”

“He called,” my father said, as if it were just the most natural thing in the world. “He asked for my permission to date my daughter and I said yes. You know, he's the first man you've dated who had the class to call me.” He turned back to Zeke. “We're still getting ready to eat. I'll give you two a moment to catch up.”

“Thank you,” Zeke said.

As my father walked out of the room Zeke turned back to me. “Merry Christmas,” he said.

I was still in shock. “Thank you for helping my father.”

“I can see why you idolize him. He's a good man.”

I stood there still unsure of what to say.

“I'm guessing that you were surprised to learn that Zeke Faulkner and H. T. Cowell are the same man.”

“Why didn't you tell me you were H. T. Cowell?”

“You never asked.”

“That's not something I usually go around asking people.”

He grinned. “That's understandable.”

“Why did you say your name was Zeke?”

“I've gone by Zeke my whole life. H. T. stands for Hezekiah Tobias,” he said. “Hezekiah. Who names a child Hezekiah? Tell me you wouldn't go by Zeke too.”

In spite of my emotion I almost smiled. “Why did you go to the writers' conference?”

“I was invited to speak,” he said. “My publisher decided that it would be the perfect timing for my ‘coming out,' which is why there was so much national press. But I went to the conference early to be with the unpublished writers. That was for me. I wanted to feel their passion. I wanted to remember why it was I started writing to begin with. If I had told them who I was they would have acted different.”

He was right about that. I wouldn't have been able to talk to him.

“I wanted to talk to you after your speech,” I said. “But I didn't know what to say after behaving so badly. Twice.” I
looked into his eyes. “I didn't think you would want to see me.”

He looked at me for a moment, then said, “I told you in New York that I had fallen in love with you. I had. After the retreat I couldn't get you off my mind. I wasn't going to give up on love. I did that once before. I wasn't going to do it again.”

“How did you find us?”

“That part was easy. You told me that your father had paid for the retreat, so I called the organizers and asked for his contact information. I called your father and introduced myself. I told him that you and I had met at the conference and that I would like his permission to court his daughter and that my intentions were honorable.”

“Honorable,” I repeated. “He must have loved that.”

Zeke smiled. “He seemed impressed. But trust me, he wasn't easy on me. So I thought it best that I flew out to meet him. I told him that we had had a difficult parting and I asked his advice on how best to approach you. He thought that the best time for me to see you would be now. So I made arrangements to return.”

“And the doctor?”

“I knew how upset you were about the treatment your father was receiving. I've raised millions of dollars for the Henderson Institute, and Dr. Bangerter once said that if he could ever do anything for me to just ask. So I asked. It was a token of my appreciation to your father for his help. And maybe a little bribe.”

“A bribe?”

“It's the law of reciprocity. I knew that if I made some magnanimous gesture you would at least have to give me a chance to win back your love.”

“You never lost it,” I said.

For a moment we looked at each other, then we kissed.

After several minutes of kissing, Zeke leaned back and said excitedly, “I have a Christmas present for you.” He took an envelope from his jacket and handed it to me.

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

Inside the envelope was a letter from Trish Todd, an editor at the Simon & Schuster Adult Publishing Group. “What's this?”

“I took your book to my editor and she liked it. The letter says if you're willing to make a few revisions, which I would be happy to help you with, they would like to offer you a contract.”

I was speechless. I looked up from the letter. “You mean they're really going to publish my book?”

He smiled. “Yes they are. I also let them know that I would be helping to promote your book with my readers. If I still have any.”

“The whole world is waiting for your next book,” I said. “Everyone is talking about it.” After looking at him for a moment, I said, “Why are you being so good to me?”

He looked at me intensely, then said, “I thought you might ask that. And I am prepared with three answers. First,
I'm a romance writer. I love happy endings. Second, because you are immensely loveable. And third, most of all, I heard the music and I wanted to dance with you.”

I looked at him for a moment, then said, “And when the music stops?”

A broad smile slowly crossed his face and he again took me in his arms and we kissed. When we finally parted he said, “When, and if, the music ever stops there's no need to worry.”

“Why not?”

“Because when the music stops, that's when we make our own.”

Zeke stayed with me the week after Christmas. I never went looking for a job; Zeke kept me too busy working on my book. Imagine being tutored by one of the world's greatest authors. He taught me how to be vulnerable in print. He taught me to love my readers. He taught me how to write with honesty.