by Susan Wiggs
He turned back the covers and brought her against him. Shivery heat coursed through her. She reached out and caressed him, discovering the shape and texture and warmth she had only imagined before. He returned the caresses with exquisite tenderness, wringing wonder and emotion from her as her lips formed a wordless cry of startled joy. She couldn’t believe how deeply she felt each intimate stroke of his hands, his mouth, how profound it seemed with him. Her heart was engaged, hopelessly tangled, and it made all the difference. When their bodies joined, she clasped him tighter, wishing for a way to bring him closer still. And then she found it, whispering love words into his ear while ecstasy lifted her up, transported her and held her high and light in some exalted place she thought she would never have reached. When after long blissful moments she returned to herself, Elaine knew she was a different person.
She felt the change deep in her bones. After this night, she knew, nothing would ever be the same.
chapter fifteen
The smell of freshly brewed coffee teased Tony awake by small degrees of awareness. Elaine. The thought came to him like the last precious shred of an almost forgotten dream, and for a second he thought maybe he had dreamed her. But no. She’d been with him. Her presence was still there, a faint warmth in the hollow in the bed next to him where she had slept in his arms all night. The smell of her hair lingered on his pillow.
And in his heart lived the feeling that no morning in the history of the world could ever be as good as this one.
Elaine St. James. Finding her again was a small miracle, like coming across a diamond glittering in the snow.
She stood in the kitchen, seemingly mesmerized by the fragrant drip of the coffeemaker. She wore a pair of his socks and an ancient hockey practice jersey. Her makeup was gone and her hair was a mess. She looked like a goddess.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, coming up behind her. He slipped his hands around her waist and kissed the side of her neck.
“It is,” she said softly, pressing herself back against him. “I was going to find some Christmas carols on the radio.”
He reached across the counter and clicked it on, then fiddled with the dial. “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” drifted through the room.
“Good idea,” he said, turning her in his arms and pulling her back toward the bedroom, where the bed was still warm and inviting. His heart soared, because he knew exactly what he was going to do—in the next few moments, and for the rest of his life. He had never been more sure of anything.
“I was trying to make coffee,” she protested.
“That thing takes forever.”
She started to protest again, but then her face softened, and she looked up at him with her heart in her eyes. “Good.”
* * *
“Do you think it’s ready now?”
“What’s ready?” Elaine felt a smile spread across her face. It simply would not go away. It was as though she had been born this way and would live the rest of her life this way.
“The coffee.”
“I think it must be. I started it over an hour ago.”
He rolled to one side, offering a tantalizing glimpse of all of him, and grabbed the clock from the bedside table. “Oh, man.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m supposed to be at my folks.”
She deflated a little but hid her disappointment by looking away, shaking her hair across her face. Just because everything had changed for her didn’t mean it had for the rest of humanity. One of the painful discoveries she’d made as an adult was that the world did not revolve around her. And, this morning, reality lay in wait, ready to spring like a predator on her happiness.
“You’d better head for the shower,” she said, being practical. “I’ll phone for a taxi.”
“It’s walking distance.”
“For you. I’ve got to get going.”
He turned back to her, pulling her against him. “Going where?”
She hesitated. Her family usually slept late on Christmas, exchanged tasteful gifts, had a champagne brunch and then took off on vacation, to ski or sun themselves somewhere exotic. They liked to travel on Christmas Day, because it was less crowded than just before or just after the holiday. This logical program did not appeal to her in the least and hadn’t for a long time. She simply went along with it because there was nothing else to do.
“To my parents’ apartment, I suppose,” she felt obliged to say.
“Call them and say you can’t make it.”
“Why can’t I make it?” she asked, eyeing Tony.
“You’re coming with me,” he announced. “You’re going to love my family. They’re going to love you.” His face, shadowed by the night’s growth of beard, wore a lopsided smile that took all her willpower to resist.
“No way,” she said, getting up from the bed. One by one, she retrieved articles of clothing, feeling tingles of remembered pleasure as she picked up each discarded piece.
“Remember what I said.” He stood and pulled her against him. “I don’t do one-night stands.”
“I remember.” She shuddered in his arms, now feeling the burden of her decision to change her life. She was different. She was brand-new, she reminded herself.
“So,” said Tony, “that’s what it’ll turn into if you leave now.”
* * *
A half hour later, in her couture dress minus the chain mail, and a shapeless borrowed coat from Tony’s hall closet, Elaine stepped out into Christmas morning. Church bells clanged with joyous abandon and, somewhere in the distance, carolers sang. The snowstorm was over, and the sun peeked through a crack in the clouds. A sparkling carpet of dazzling white lay over everything, turning parked cars to anonymous giant marshmallows, heaps of garbage to glistening ivory sculptures. Laughing children played in the streets while their parents, cradling steaming mugs in their hands, looked on from stairways and stoops. Kids tried out new sleds and skis and radio-controlled trucks.
They encountered a dark-eyed girl with a shy smile who carried a large box as she walked along with her mother. “Tony,” she said, “look what Santa brought.” She lifted the lid to show off a brand-new pair of hockey skates. He winked at her mom and tugged at the end of her stocking cap. “You must have been extra good this year, kiddo.”
“We’re going to Prospect Park to try them out right away.”
He waved at them as they headed for the bus stop. “She’s one of my best left wings,” he said.
“So she’s in your hockey league?”
“Yeah. For the time being.” A troubled crease appeared on his brow.
“The lack of funds is a big problem, isn’t it?” She watched the girl and her mother at the bus stop, their faces glowing with excitement. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“I know. Better PR, bigger donations. But we can’t afford better PR.”
“You can if it’s free.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah? When are you going to have time for that?”
She smiled, suddenly sure of herself, more sure than she’d ever been in her life. “From now on, I’m going to make time. My firm’s going to open a nonprofit PR division and take on some pro bono clients.”
He grinned and put his arm around her. “It’s good to be the boss.”
As she walked at his side, she felt lighter than air. She felt as though she’d been roused from a long sleep of numbness and was finally waking up to life. This was Tony’s world, this colorful, noisy, imperfect place, and it made more sense to her than her own. He was a part of this neighborhood, this tree-lined street filled with families and laughter.
There was a quality of belonging here, and as she walked through the winter morning with him, it encompassed her like a vast embrace. She heard herself singing along with the carolers and laughing at a family playing with a frisky new puppy with a bow a
round its neck. Everything warm and real bubbled up inside her and spilled over and, at last, after the long, strange night, she knew what it was. And it was so simple, so very simple. It was happiness, pure and unpretentious and more real than the fresh snow squeaking beneath her feet.
“‘I am as merry as a schoolboy’,” she said with a laugh, quoting half-remembered lines from Dickens. “‘As giddy as a drunken man!’”
Tony laughed with her and pulled her close. “Good thing you smell better.”
The sweet yearning she had felt for him all those years ago had never gone away. It had only grown, nurtured in the dark, secret places of her heart. The things that truly mattered had been buried under the smothering press of ambition and expectation and all the other business that had taken over her life when she wasn’t paying attention. But she was free now, and she could tell her joy shone in her face when she looked up at him, because she could see an answering joy reflected in his eyes.
They didn’t speak as they walked the next few blocks to the classic Prospect Park West townhouse where he’d grown up. Finally, as they stood on the sidewalk in front of the handsome, blocky building, she couldn’t stay silent any longer. “You wouldn’t believe how nervous I am.”
He stopped walking and turned to face her, seemingly oblivious to the pedestrians who had to go around them. “Hey, do you know how long my family’s been waiting for me to bring home the love of my life?”
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She had never, ever felt this way before, but somehow she recognized the emotion. It was the feeling of a dream coming to life. Her dream. The time stretching out before her was her own. It was up to her to decide how to spend it. She could forge ahead, fueled by ambition, toward the shadowy fate she’d glimpsed in Bobbi’s desperate eyes as she’d hovered on the edge of the bridge. Or she could choose a different path to a new and unexpected destination.
“About as long,” she said, “as I’ve been waiting to meet them.”
Tony’s smile turned slightly shy. “Before we go in, I need to give you something.”
She frowned. “What?”
He rummaged in his pocket. “I meant to give it to you last night.”
Her heart quickened. “So why don’t you give it to me now?”
Right in the middle of the snowy sidewalk, he went down on one knee and handed her a small box. “Elaine St. James, this means more than you think it means.” Passersby were trying to be polite and not stare but they did anyway, grinning and whispering and nudging each other. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but this moment, the two of them, the warmth flowing between them.
Her hands trembled as she opened the box. She gasped, taking out a key ring with a silver skate. “How on earth did you get this?”
“Don’t ask,” he said with a grin. “It’s magic.”
She stared at him and her heart started to sing every carol and love song she’d ever heard.
“One of these days,” he promised her, “this is going to be a different kind of ring,” he added, getting to his feet. “And you’re going to say yes, Elaine. Because, well, I love you,” he said. “I always have.”
A warm wash of tears fell down her cheeks, and a hush of reverence gripped her. “I know,” she whispered. “I know that. Tony, I love you. I’ll love you forever.”
She clasped the silver skate in her hand, knowing the real gift was something she hadn’t expected and maybe didn’t even deserve—a chance to change her life.
She buried her face against his shoulder and inhaled. A thousand hopes and dreams gave birth to a thousand more, and all the cares in the world slipped away. I promise, she thought. I promise I won’t blow it this time.
They stood like that for a long time, with Christmas exploding all around them, and finally Tony pulled away and walked up to the blocky brownstone.
He opened the door to a big, loud, cluttered kitchen that smelled of baking bread and rang with laughter and conversation. Everyone turned to them when they stepped inside.
“This is Elaine,” Tony said, drawing her into the room with him. “We’re home.”
* * *
Candlelight Christmas
Contents
Part One
No-Process-Pickles
Prologue
Part Two
Massive Spaghetti Feed
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Part Three
Beer-Cheese-Spread
Chapter Four
Part Four
Eggnog Pancakes with Whiskey Butter
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Part Five
Maple Bacon Bread Pudding
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Part Six
Walking Dead Sugar Cookies
Chapter Twelve
Part Seven
Seductive Hot Chocolate
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Part One
Christmas Pickles
The origin of the Christmas pickle is steeped in mystery. It seems no one knows the real truth. The handblown glass pickle ornaments from Lauscha in Germany can date back as far as 1847, and are treasured by families everywhere. The first child to spy the ornament on the tree Christmas morning gets an extra gift from Santa, and the first adult enjoys good luck all the year through. It’s probably just a marketing hook, but who doesn’t like presents and good luck?
The pickle prize inspired this recipe for jars of colorful pickles. Since these are no-process pickles, they are a) easy and b) perishable.
Much like a woman’s heart.
No-Process-Pickles
1 cup water
1 cup white vinegar
2 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon sugar
Handful of fresh dill
Whole peppercorns and peeled garlic cloves
Kirby cucumbers (or regular cucumbers, cut into quarters lengthwise)
Red radishes, sliced thin
Fill clear glass jars with the pickles and radishes, creating a nice color palette of red and green. Add the herbs and spices. Combine the water, vinegar, sugar and salt in a jar with a lid, and shake to dissolve. Pour over pickles in the jars. Seal and refrigerate. These will be ready the next morning and can last up to a month—after that, please discard for safety’s sake. The longer the cucumbers pickle, the softer they will get, and if you don’t grasp that metaphor, I can’t help you. Anyway, if you like things fresh and crisp, don’t wait too long to eat these.
[Source: Original; adapted from Ohio State University Extension guidelines, 2009]
prologue
Christmas Past
There were worse things than spending Christmas with your ex-husband, thought Darcy Fitzgerald as she pulled up in front of the house.
A root canal without novocaine, for example. That was probably worse. A crash landing in a small aircraft, perhaps. Reading Silas Marner in ninth grade. Frostbite, a crocodile attack, eating a bad oyster. Head lice.
She enumerated the many ways things could be worse, all the while bracing herself for the hours to come. The car tires churned up last night’s melting snow as she jockeyed her Volkswagen into the small space.
She’d dressed with special care, determined for Huntley to see that he’d lost something special. Deep down, she knew the notion was ridiculous; Huntley Collins had not truly seen her in a very long time.
While pulli
ng the bag of gifts from the trunk, she stepped into the ankle-deep grimy slush. As it flooded her favorite kitten-heel suede shoes, the bone-freezing ice took her breath away. She reared back, slipping on the crusty ice, and landed butt-first in a dirty snowbank. The bag of parcels broke open, and her festively wrapped packages littered the ground.
“Awesome,” she muttered, pulling herself up and trying to brush the filth off her skirt.
Perhaps the most hellish part of the day was the knowledge that she had agreed to this travesty. Huntley had convinced her to get through the holidays together so they wouldn’t ruin things for everyone else.
The Fitzgeralds and the Collinses had been best friends and neighbors for decades. The two Collins boys and the five Fitzgerald girls had grown up together, playing hide-and-seek on summer nights, surfing at Cupsogue Beach, pulling pranks on one another, sneaking beer from the fridge for liquid courage before a school dance, telling each other secrets...and lies. Huntley’s older brother was married to Darcy’s older sister. The families’ fortunes were meant to be entwined forever.
Unfortunately, Huntley’s notion of forever spanned approximately five years. Darcy had found out about his affair—with his ex-wife, just to make things even worse—before Thanksgiving. Yet she had come today out of regard for her stepkids, Amy and Orion, though she expected little from the sullen, resentful teenagers.
She’d been part of their lives for five years, and she had selected their gifts with care. In a weak moment, she’d bought a little something for Huntley, so he’d have something under the tree from his kids, who were too self-absorbed and, at the moment, confused, to shop for him.
She found the smallest of the scattered packages in the ditch—the yodeling plastic pickle. There was a tradition that the first to find the pickle on the tree would get a special surprise. She moved the switch on the back of the pickle. It made a brief gurgling sound and then died.