He had better luck at Kitchen Accents, where he bought an indoor grill with removable plates. He added a soft stuffed pink pig from Toy Emporium. Of all the animals in the world, Merry had a weakness for pigs. This one squeaked when you squeezed it.
“This pig’s really cute,” the young, smiling cashier remarked while she rang it up. She gestured at a display of furry, stuffed animals behind her. “But the monkey’s our biggest seller. He makes amazing screeching sounds.”
“I’ll take one of those, too,” Patrick said.
It was only when he inadvertently bumped another shopper as he was leaving the store and the bag screeched that Patrick admitted to himself that he had absolutely no clue what he was looking for.
* * *
“I HAVE HAD THE BEST couple of hours.” Francine regarded Merry over the lip of her orange smoothie, her eyes sparkling. “I only called you because my feet hurt.”
“Gee, thanks,” Merry said.
Francine laughed. “I didn’t mean it that way. I only meant I was on such a roll, I would have kept shopping if pregnancy wasn’t hard on the feet. After we finish our smoothies, I’m going to try one of those massage chairs so I can last another hour.”
“You’re that determined to keep on going?”
“Uh-huh. Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe that you don’t like to shop. I got the most darling stuffed reindeers with noses that glow when you squeeze their ears. And I found the most wonderful toddler-size University of North Carolina sweat suits.”
“Excuse me for interrupting, but where did you find those?” a woman at the adjoining table asked. She wore felt reindeer antlers bedecked with holly with complete self-confidence. “My husband went to UNC, and I’ve been looking everywhere for just that thing for our eighteen-month-old.”
While Francine breathlessly filled her in—the store sold UNC hats, T-shirts and bikinis, too—it occurred to Merry that her friend and coworker epitomized a Christmas shopper gone wild. Too bad, as an employee of WZLM, Francine couldn’t appear on camera.
Her shopping tips finally exhausted, Francine turned from the woman wearing the reindeer antlers to Merry. “My aching feet weren’t the only reason I suggested we meet. I want to hear if anything juicy happened between you and Patrick.”
Unable to meet her friend’s probing gaze, Merry’s eyes dropped to the table. “No.”
“Oh, come on. This is Francine you’re talking to. You can’t fool me. If nothing happened, you’d look me in the eye when you denied it. And you wouldn’t be blushing.”
Merry touched her cheek, which did indeed feel hot. She drank from her frothy smoothie in the hopes of cooling off, but there wasn’t enough liquid left to accomplish the task. Across from her, Francine watched and waited. Merry rewarded her rare patience by finally answering, “Okay. Something did happen. He took me to lunch.”
Francine raised both eyebrows. “And?”
Merry hesitated, trying to decide how much information to share.
Francine clapped her hands and grinned. “He kissed you, didn’t he? Don’t look so surprised. I’m your best friend. You called me the night Patrick kissed you the first time. You sounded just as dazed then as you look now.”
“It was just a kiss,” Merry mumbled. “It didn’t mean anything.”
“It means you’re not as sure about breaking this engagement as you pretend to be,” Francine shot back.
Merry massaged her temples. “I swear, Francine, you act like you want Patrick and me to get back together.”
“I do. I like Patrick. And you love him.”
When she was breaking the engagement, Merry had convinced herself that ten months hadn’t been long enough to be sure that what she felt for Patrick was love. But if today at the mall had taught her anything, it was that she’d been fooling herself.
“I do love him,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I should marry him.”
The tinny refrains of “Jingle Bells” rang out, but the tunes came from a cell phone and not the mall’s sound system.
“Excuse me.” Francine held up a finger and dug into her voluminous purse until she found her phone. While she talked, Merry rubbed the back of her neck and tried not to think about how much she wanted Patrick to kiss her again.
Francine’s face appeared pinched and drawn when she got off the phone, prompting Merry to reach across the table and cover her friend’s hand. “What is it, Francy?” she asked, borrowing the nickname Patrick favored.
“It’s bad news.” Francine sighed heavily. “That was Doug. Seems like the twins have come down with a stomach bug.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. Poor little guys. Doug says they’re miserable but he can hold the fort until I get home. But this doesn’t look good for tomor—” Francine stopped in midword and grimaced. “I know tomorrow is Christmas but maybe you shouldn’t come over. I’d hate for you to get sick. Except that would mean you have nowhere to spend the holiday.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Merry said and squeezed her friend’s hand. “You need to think about your boys and yourself. Hopefully it is only a stomach bug. But if the twins have the strain of flu spreading through the mall, they’re highly contagious. You’ll have to be extra careful, with you being pregnant.”
“Thanks for watching out for me, Merry,” Francine said, withdrawing her hand from Merry’s and running it through her hair. “But I’ve had a flu shot, which my doctor, bless her heart, encouraged exactly because of something like this. But what are you going to do? Where are you going to go?”
A mental image of the house where Patrick had grown up, decorated for the holidays and filled with people who genuinely cared about her, flashed in Merry’s mind. She deliberately blotted it out. “I already told you not to worry about me, Francine. I’ll be fine.”
“How can you be fine if you’re alone on Christmas? There must be someone else you can spend the holiday with.” She stopped talking abruptly. “Patrick.”
“No,” Merry said. “Not Patrick. How many times do I have to tell you—”
Francine didn’t let her finish. “I meant to say there’s Patrick.”
Merry followed the direction of Francine’s gaze. Oh, no, Patrick. Tall, loose-limbed and darkly handsome, he strode with purpose toward the table where they’d been enjoying their orange smoothies. As always, her heart did a wild Irish jig when she saw him. Unlike always, sheer pleasure at seeing him wasn’t the only reason. Francine had already risen from the table and was hurrying toward him.
Because she’d been struck dumb at the sight of him, Merry was too slow to react. She tried to make up for her lapse with wild hand gestures meant to snag Francine’s attention, but her friend’s back was turned.
Aside from a Christmas miracle, Merry had no chance of shutting Francine up before she informed Patrick that Merry no longer had anywhere to go on Christmas Day.
* * *
PATRICK WAS SO INTRIGUED by Merry’s frantic hand movements that he didn’t immediately notice Francine.
When he did catch sight of her, he couldn’t help but smile. Her pregnancy was visible, her motherly appearance contrasting charmingly with her air of youthful exuberance.
“Have I told you lately that motherhood agrees with you, Francy?” he asked when she was within hearing range.
A flush of pleasure tinged her cheeks. “Almost every time you see me. And you get more charming every time I see you. I don’t know how Merry could let you go.”
“I’m working on rectifying that.”
She leaned toward him and mock whispered, “You might try kissing her again. That made quite an impact.”
Ah, that was interesting. He cast a glance at Merry, who had given up on the gesturing and was approaching them. “What’s up?”
“Doug just called to say my boys have a stomach bug. I hope it’s a twenty-four hour virus and not the flu. That way, Christmas might not be a total washout.”
Patrick frowned, genuinely distressed that
her boys wouldn’t be well on Christmas morning. He wasn’t so old that he didn’t remember the rush of excitement that woke him and his siblings in the wee hours. Or the mad dash down the stairs to see what had been left under the tree. “I’m sorry, Francy. Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes, there is,” Francine said decisively while Merry closed the gap between them. My gosh, she was moving as quickly as a child on Christmas morning. “But I better not say or Merry will whack me with Santa’s toy bag.”
Merry appeared behind her friend and asked in a too-loud, too-bright voice, “Why would I want to do that, Francine? You haven’t said anything you shouldn’t have, right?”
The two women exchanged a look heavy with meaning while Patrick tried to figure out exactly what Francine wasn’t supposed to say. “Francy was just telling me her twins are sick,” he said.
“It’s too bad, isn’t it?” Merry looked sick to her own stomach. Doubtless she felt sorry for the boys, but there had to be more to her distress. It took him only a moment to figure it out.
“Not only is it too bad for them, it’s too bad for you.” Patrick strove to keep his expression innocent. “You won’t be able to spend the holiday with Francy and her family now, will you?”
Instead of answering, Merry glowered at Francine. Her friend placed a hand over her stomach in the fashion of pregnant women everywhere. It could have been because she felt the baby move, but Patrick suspected Francine was using her pregnancy to win sympathy points.
“I’ve got to go get ready,” Francine announced.
“The broadcast is two hours away,” Merry protested.
“I meant get ready for Christmas. Since the boys are sick, a couple extra presents might help cheer them up.”
She blew an air kiss at Merry and left them so quickly, Patrick felt a breeze. Merry stared after Francine, her mouth slightly open in what looked like dismay.
“I’m thinking this means your plans for Christmas Day have fallen through,” Patrick pointed out.
“Then I’ll make new plans,” Merry said airily, as though she had a dozen options on where to spend the holiday.
“Exactly what I was about to suggest. Mum and da will be delighted to see you.”
“Not when they find out we’re not getting married, they won’t.” She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I’d like to see them, Patrick. I really would. And I know Christmas at their house would be wonderful. But surely you understand why I can’t go with you.”
He stroked his chin while his brain worked overtime. “I have another idea then.”
Her shoulders lifted, then dropped. Her dark hair fell long and loose around her face, which looked very pale except for the green of her eyes. “Why do you always have another idea?”
“You know I don’t like the thought of you alone on Christmas, love.”
She released a long breath, which told him she’d rather not think about being alone, either. She looked and sounded suspicious. Rightly so. “What’s your idea?”
He leaned closer, taking in the subtle scent of Merry’s shampoo and the peach moisturizer she smoothed on each morning. He breathed in those same scents when they made love. He lowered his voice to his most persuasive pitch. “Spend tonight with me.”
She leaned toward him, as though longing to get closer to him the same way he craved to be near her. Just when he thought she might kiss him, she abruptly jerked back. He watched her throat constrict as she swallowed. “How would that solve anything?”
“It’ll solve the problem of what you’re going to do Christmas Day. You’ll be at my place when you wake up. I’m thinking we can spend the whole day in bed while I convince you to put your engagement ring back on.”
Her eyes were pleading, for what she probably didn’t know. “Patrick—”
“Or you can put on your ring early in the day,” he continued doggedly on. “Then we can drive to Winston-Salem. We’ll be together so you won’t disappoint my family by saying anything about a breakup.”
Each shake of her head caused him pain so stark it was physical.
“What happened to your prediction that the engagement would be back on by the time the mall closes?” she asked.
“The prediction still stands.” He sounded far more cocky than he felt. “The plan I just told you about, that’s my insurance plan.”
“I’m vetoing your insurance plan.”
He lowered his voice so nobody but Merry could hear him. “Why? You did admit you’re still attracted to me, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
Patrick had no desire to hear what came after the but, not when he’d finally gained an inch. “We can talk about this later, love. But for now, we better get back to work. We don’t have much time until the mall closes.”
Neither did he, and that’s what worried him.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE DAY WASN’T TURNING OUT the way Merry planned. She and Patrick had talked to plenty of free-spending shoppers, all so high-spirited that none fit into a story illustrating how commercial Christmas had become.
The most joyful shopper by far had been the man who’d lost his wallet. He’d nearly mowed down a half-dozen shoppers after spotting Patrick in one of the common areas. Somebody had turned in the wallet with the cash intact, and he’d wanted to thank Patrick for suggesting he check the office.
Another story that had a happy ending was that of a lost little boy that Trish DiCaprio, the mall events coordinator, had told her about. After the boy had been found, Trish had tracked Merry down to tell her the boy’s family didn’t want the story publicized.
Merry was happy for the man and the little boy’s family, of course. And darn if she wasn’t beginning to feel happy herself. It could be because she was having an increasingly difficult time remembering why a marriage between her and Patrick wouldn’t work.
He’d ducked into one of those Christmas specialty stores a few minutes ago, insisting he needed to pick up something. She waited outside the store, wondering what could have been so important.
Her cell phone buzzed, and she actually wished that she’d programmed the tone to play a Christmas carol.
“Hello, dear,” came Bridget MacFarland’s lilting voice, a female version of Patrick’s. The connection was surprisingly strong. “How are you this fine Christmas Eve?”
“I’m good, Bridget,” Merry said slowly while she tried to figure out the reason for the call. She could count on one hand the number of times Bridget had phoned her. “But how are you? Is anything wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, dear. But I was a far sight better before Patrick called and said you two aren’t coming to Winston-Salem this Christmas.”
Merry bit her lip so she wouldn’t tell Bridget she’d changed her mind. When she had that impulse under control, she asked, “Did he tell you why we weren’t coming?”
“Something about you having to work tomorrow. What a disappointment that was. But I’m a big girl. I know television news doesn’t take a day off. And I can understand why Patrick won’t leave town without you. But I did want to call and say you and Patrick are welcome any time at all, whether it be two days after Christmas or twenty-two.”
A sense of loss swept over Merry. By breaking up with Patrick, she was also severing ties with his warm, loving family. He hadn’t been able to tell his mother that the engagement was off, but she should. It was the right thing to do.
“Actually, Patrick and I aren’t…” She trailed off, unable to get the words out. “…sure of our plans. Everything’s up in the air.”
“Because of your work schedule,” Bridget supplied. “I know. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty that you can’t be here with us, dear. I called to wish you a merry Christmas and to say that both of you will be missed.”
Her prospective mother-in-law’s warmth carried over the phone line, and Merry’s eyes misted. Her own parents loved her. Of that, she had no doubt. They’d made sure she attended the best schools and had everything
she needed and more than she wanted.
But she’d been a late-in-life surprise, and the bond between husband and wife had been forged long before she’d been born. When they called her tomorrow from Tahiti, they’d tell her what a fabulous time they were having. They wouldn’t say they missed her.
“Thank you, Bridget,” she managed to reply.
“You’re very welcome.” Bridget paused. “Where are you, Merry? I can hear voices and Christmas music.”
“I’m at the mall.”
“That explains it. I love the mall, especially at Christmas. I love you, too, dear. Have a merry Christmas if I don’t see you and Patrick.”
“Merry Christmas,” Merry said.
She disconnected the call, a certain tall Irishman uppermost in her mind. He emerged from the store with a floppy Santa hat perched over his thick dark hair.
“What do you think?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. He tugged the tassel. The hat stuck up, adding inches to his already considerable height.
“I think you look ridiculous.”
“Well, now, that’s not a very nice thing to say to a jolly Irishman.”
It also wasn’t entirely true. He should have looked ludicrous but didn’t. The hat brought out the happy lights in his eyes, providing a glimpse of the fun-loving man she’d fallen in love with. The man who’d been largely absent these past months while he toiled at his new job.
“That Irish charm thing you do, does it always work?”
He grinned at her, seemingly unoffended. “You tell me.”
“It seems to have worked on your mother. She just called me to wish me a merry Christmas. She was trying very hard to be understanding about me working tomorrow.”
“So you know about the lie?” He grimaced. “I hated to do it, but it was only a white lie. I had to give her a reason we weren’t going.”
“But I don’t understand why you’re not going, Patrick.”
“I expect you already know the answer to that one, love.” He touched her cheek. “If you’re not going to mum and da’s, then neither am I. Even if you tell me tonight that it’s over, I want to be around tomorrow. You know, in case you change your mind about being alone and want some company.”
Dashing Through the Mall: Santa, BabyAssignment HumbugDeck the Halls Page 14