Not many, but a few.
“Are you still baking cookies with us?” Annie asked her as the audience began to disperse.
“Yes. I’ll be there at seven.”
“Come early and eat dinner with us,” Nicole urged. “We’re getting Mexican and Luke always orders too much.”
“Goody,” Beth cried, clapping her hands.
Carlie didn’t dare look at Luke. Plainly his sister was unaware of the previous day’s events.
“I’ll try,” she said, “but don’t wait for me. Things get hectic this time of year.”
The twins looked disappointed, but they didn’t understand adult problems and relationships.
Not a relationship, Carlie amended. The idea of having anything other than a professional association with Luke was absurd. She was the Poppy Gold activities director; he was a guest. She had to remember that.
“I’ll see you later,” she told the girls brightly.
Yet as Carlie stepped backward, Luke said, “I’ll walk with you.”
She didn’t say anything until they were far enough away not to be heard. “Thank you for returning my car so promptly. That’s all we have to discuss.”
He regarded her narrowly. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
With that, she hurried toward Old City Hall.
* * *
LUKE WAS BOTH amused and relieved that Carlie seemed determined to ignore their kiss. The real test would be how she acted toward him over the next few weeks. Of course, if the chill in her eyes was any indication, she wouldn’t mind giving him a boot in the rear end.
A wicked impulse made him follow her. “Wait a minute, Carlie. Maybe I should take the mixer and your other baking equipment to the suite now, to save time later.”
She froze, then turned around.
He smiled as innocently as possible, though he hadn’t been innocent since Ellen Kay Atkins had snuggled up to him when they were thirteen and playing spin the bottle. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been all that innocent then, either.
“May I borrow your keys?” he asked.
A breath hissed through her teeth and Luke wondered if he’d gone too far.
“Fine. You need the SUV key back, anyhow.” Carlie pulled her keys from her pocket and tossed it to him. “My car is in the employee lot. Please take the butter out of the refrigerator this afternoon so it’ll be at room temperature.”
Luke kept from smiling until she was inside Old City Hall. It wasn’t nice of him, but she was fun to tease.
* * *
THAT EVENING, NICOLE watched carefully as Carlie efficiently mixed one batch of cookie dough after another with the girls. She explained that if they didn’t get everything baked tonight, they could keep the remaining dough in the refrigerator for a few days, baking them fresh with their aunt’s help.
The words made Nicole cringe. She’d had a couple of cooking lessons with Carlie’s great-aunt, but was nowhere close being able to make cookies. According to Vera, they were easy for some cooks and impossible for others, no matter how good they might be in the kitchen. The elderly lady had winked and said it was all right, though...that most people who couldn’t bake a decent cookie were unable to tell the difference, so they were happy and everyone else just quietly threw their offerings away.
Vera Fullerton McKay had a droll sense of humor and an opinion about everything. She insisted that cooking wasn’t hard; it was just a question of paying attention. So far Nicole had turned out a decent baked chicken, scalloped potatoes and a peach cobbler. She was ecstatic with her successes and thought she might even try making dinner for the family one night.
“The sugar-cookie and gingerbread doughs need to chill longer before we can roll them out,” Carlie told Beth and Annie. “But now that everything is mixed, we can start baking the drop cookies.”
Nicole watched every step, scribbling notes, fascinated that the cookies were going to be baked on sheets of paper.
“It makes cleanup much easier,” Carlie told her in an aside.
The first pan went into the oven and the timer was set while they spooned out another group. Yet Carlie seemed distracted and finally looked at the girls. “Annie, Beth, the first batch is almost ready to come out of the oven. Maybe you should invite your papa to taste the cookies while they’re hot.”
“I think Papa is working,” Annie said doubtfully.
“I’ll get him.” Beth jumped down and raced out of the kitchen, followed by her sister.
Nicole got up. “And I’ll make coffee. Decaf, unless you want regular...?”
“No, I’d rather sleep tonight.”
“Luke prefers regular, so I’m not going to tell him it’s decaffeinated. I don’t think he went to bed once last night.”
“That’s too bad,” Carlie murmured.
The timer went off for the oven, just as the twins returned, dragging their father by the hand. Nicole could tell that he was pleased his daughters had wanted him.
“Let me,” Beth screamed, racing to the stove, but Carlie told her to stand back.
“It’s very hot,” she warned the girls. “So I’ll put the cookies in and take them out.”
Beth pouted, while Annie stepped farther away. But their eyes still widened in excitement as the baking pan came out covered with golden chocolate-chip cookies.
Luke stayed and watched as the various kinds of cookies were baked. Carlie had also brought wire racks to cool them more efficiently, and Nicole was astonished at how swiftly the pans went in and out of the oven.
Even though Beth and Annie were probably more hindrance than help, before the evening was over they were frosting sugar-cookie bells, stars and Christmas trees, along with gingerbread boys and girls.
Nicole wasn’t sure how it happened, but she gradually began spooning dough onto the cookie sheets for baking and rolling it out to be cut into shapes. Nothing disastrous happened except one batch got too dark.
“That’s okay,” Carlie said carelessly. “Some people like them baked longer.”
It was terrific fun and the cookies were delicious, but Nicole noticed that Carlie and Luke barely spoke to each other. Perhaps that was for the best, since her brother did have an incomparable talent for sticking his foot in his mouth.
* * *
ON FRIDAY EVENING, Carlie donned one of her medieval dresses, wishing she could enjoy the madrigal feast without having to deal with Luke Forrester.
Many of the local residents wore costumes to the feasts. Sometimes the most unlikely person would show up dressed as a court jester or member of the nobility. Often they’d discover it was someone who had participated in one of the first madrigal feasts, decades earlier.
Throwing a cloak over her shoulders, she walked onto the staircase landing and saw her father waiting at the bottom.
“I was just coming to see if you were ready,” he said, smiling up at her. “You’re so beautiful, darling.”
“You’re pretty handsome, too.”
It had long been a tradition for him to escort her to the feast since her mother was in charge of the kitchen. No matter how frantic things might have been in San Francisco, Carlie had made it a point to come home for the madrigal feast weekend. Of course, she’d come home almost every weekend during the Christmas season, much to Derek’s annoyance once they’d started dating. There had been so many clues he was wrong for her, but she’d ignored them all. Love really was blind.
Holding up her long skirt with one hand, Carlie cautiously descended the steps and gave her dad a hug. Mike Benton wouldn’t be caught dead in a costume, medieval or otherwise, but he wore his good suit and a tie. She tried not to see how loose it was on him; he’d lost too much weight since the accident.
At the high school, they parked in one of the side lots and mad
e their way to the door, greeting friends and family arriving at the same moment.
The lighting inside was dim, with much of it provided by the hundreds of battery candles around the room. Carlie smiled. The scents and sounds and decorations weren’t that different from when she’d been in school. Her father helped her out of her cloak and folded it over his arm as they walked around.
When Annie and Beth spotted them, they rushed over to say hello.
“You look like a princess,” Annie declared.
“What a gorgeous dress,” Nicole affirmed. “I didn’t know people wore costumes here, too.”
“We do it to support the Madrigal Feast Players,” Carlie explained. “Everybody, this is my father, Mike Benton. Dad, this is Nicole, Annie, Beth and their father, Luke.”
Luke put out his hand and the two men shook. “Delighted to meet you, Mr. Benton.”
“It’s Mike.” He bent a few inches and looked into Annie’s and Beth’s faces. “My daughter told me identical twins were staying at Poppy Gold, but I didn’t know they were such grown-up ladies.”
Beth giggled. “We aren’t grown-up—we’re six.”
“That’s a good age to be. How do you like first grade?”
“It’s okay. Why do you walk funny?” Beth asked in her artless way.
Carlie caught her breath, but her father didn’t appear upset by the question.
“I was in an accident, Beth. The doctors did their best, but they couldn’t fix my leg completely.”
“That’s too bad.”
Annie shyly pressed her cheek against Carlie, clearly wanting to stay out of the discussion. Her reaction wasn’t surprising; she was in a new place crowded with people she didn’t know, so she wanted someone familiar. But it still seemed odd that she wasn’t clinging to her father or aunt.
Carlie glanced at Luke and their gazes held. She hadn’t wanted him in the kitchen while baking the cookies, but it was such a family activity that she’d broken down and suggested an invitation to sample their efforts. Then he hadn’t left. He’d stayed, drinking coffee and munching on their various offerings.
“Beth, Annie, let’s go visit the washroom,” Nicole urged the girls after a few minutes.
Carlie’s father had already gone to visit her mom in the kitchen, so once Annie reluctantly left with her aunt and sister, Carlie was alone with Luke.
“The girls really enjoyed last night,” Luke said. “Nicole, too. I appreciate it.”
Carlie wanted to ask if it was choking him to thank her instead of offering money, then decided that wouldn’t be nice. She smiled resolutely. “Some people feel it isn’t necessary to make cookies with Sarah’s Sweet Treats in town, but nothing beats the fragrance of cinnamon, molasses and vanilla wafting through the house.”
“True.” Luke moved closer. “I like your father.”
“He’s good with kids.”
“I suppose your parents are pushing for grandchildren.”
* * *
IF LUKE HADN’T been watching closely, he would have missed Carlie’s subtle flinch.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked.
“No. But much as I’d love to have a family, I can’t think about it right now. Mom and Dad will have to wait for grandkids.”
Luke tried not to focus on Carlie’s slim figure, sweetly outlined in the medieval gown. The style was striking on her, even if it wasn’t supposed to be deliberately provocative. Or maybe it was. People living in the medieval era hadn’t been strangers to sex and seduction. But he was old-fashioned enough that it bothered him to ogle her when her father might see.
“I, uh...” He cleared his throat. “I only bought tickets for tonight’s madrigal feast, not the one tomorrow. There was such a huge response to the performances at Poppy Gold, I decided it was best to leave openings for other guests.”
“In that case, don’t forget hospitality night on the shopping street. The Glimmer Creek General Store puts out wonderful cheesy biscuit sandwiches and fruit. All sorts of things are offered. There’s no need to eat anywhere else, just munch your way down the street.”
Carlie stopped and smiled at Beth and Annie as they returned with Nicole.
“I was telling your papa about something fun to do tomorrow night, after the lighted parade. It’s like a big party on the pedestrian shopping street. Entertainers will be dressed in Victorian costumes, singing Christmas carols and doing skits. All the stores will be open and they’ll have yummy things to snack on. We can go together, if you’d like.”
Luke was grateful she didn’t wait for Beth or Annie to beg her to come with them. It was difficult always hearing his daughters ask for someone else.
“More goodies? I’ll have to start exercising at the fitness center,” his sister complained. “This place is murder on the waistline.”
At that moment, Mike Benton returned. He seemed like a nice guy, but he was obviously in pain, his face drawn. It wasn’t any wonder that Carlie was worried.
Luke thought about the photo he’d seen in Carlie’s office—her father tanned and muscular, with a broad smile. The contrast was dramatic and Luke was outraged on the other man’s behalf. He had his faults, but he didn’t believe his wealth entitled him to endanger other people. A financial settlement seemed too small a price to pay for destroying someone’s health.
Just then a horn sounded, heralding the start of the feast, and Luke tried to put it out of his mind.
* * *
GIDEON HAD JUST returned from an unexpected trip to sew up a laceration on a cow’s rump when the clinic bell rang. Allie Martinson was on duty and he automatically started down the stairs, knowing he was being overprotective and probably sexist by not letting her handle it on her own. But he’d gotten used to the crazies in the city, where it was risky to find out what someone wanted later in the evening.
He stopped on the second-to-last step, listening.
“Hello,” Allie said into the intercom.
The old intercom crackled and he heard Nicole’s voice asking if it was too late to visit Bandit.
“No, it’s fine, Nicole.” Allie opened the door. “Please come in. Mmm, what’s that heavenly odor?”
There was a faintly rustling sound. “Poulet du cloister. I attended the madrigal feast tonight and one of the teachers was saying how sorry she was that Dr. Cartwright had to leave for an emergency before dinner. When I mentioned I was coming over here, they asked me to bring his meal to him.”
The edge eased from Gideon’s nerves, to be replaced by a different kind of tension.
Allie chuckled. “I meant your perfume.”
“Oh, Shalimar. My brother gives it to me several times a year, which is nice of him, but not too perceptive. I don’t bathe in the stuff. When I get back to Texas I’ll send you a bottle. I’ve got a drawer full.”
“That would be amazing.”
“Good. I brought a meal for you, too, but is there a refrigerator for Dr. Cartwright’s food?”
“No need—I’m here.” Gideon descended the final step and rounded the corner.
Allie gave him a scolding look, knowing perfectly well why he’d come down.
“I’ll take Ms. Forrester to see her kitten while you eat,” he continued.
Nicole gave Allie one of the bags she carried.
Allie sniffed inside and groaned. “Awesome. My boyfriend is taking me to the madrigal feast tomorrow, but he always picks the night with roast beef. I’ve wanted to try the chicken dish, like, forever. Gideon, do you mind if I go up to my apartment to eat?”
“No problem.”
Allie lived in the second apartment above the clinic. When Dr. Chevalier had originally designed the large building, he’d hoped to have a son or daughter who would live there and work with him, but he and his wife hadn’t been able to ha
ve children. Instead, the Chevaliers had hosted a long string of veterinary students during the summer. None had chosen to return to Glimmer Creek once fully qualified, though apparently they’d written often and visited.
When they were alone, Nicole handed him the second bag she carried and took off her coat. She was stunning in a simple black velvet cocktail dress, with crystals sewn to the bodice, glittering and swaying along with her diamond drop earrings. Her long, dark hair was twisted high on her head, and despite the chilly weather, she wore open-heeled pumps, with straps that crisscrossed over her feet and around her ankles.
Which label? he wondered. The names of designers that his ex-wife had casually thrown out were starting to fade in his memory, but enough remained to know Nicole’s wardrobe came with a hefty price tag.
Except the canvas loafers.
It still boggled his mind that she’d been pleased with the inexpensive shoes. Gideon knew she was employed at Forrester International, but unless she was getting an exorbitant salary, her brother must be footing the bills for her jewelry and designer outfits.
He led the way to the feline care ward and watched Nicole rub behind Bandit’s ear, murmuring softly. After a brief time, she straightened.
“There are two desserts in the bag,” she said. “I saved mine in case you were here, so you wouldn’t have to eat alone. Some people hate that. But I can always take it with me.”
A jolt went through Gideon. It was a measure of thoughtfulness that he hadn’t expected. Back in Los Angeles he’d gotten a burger on the way home whenever he was late, knowing Renee most likely would have already eaten or gone out with friends. It simply hadn’t occurred to her that he might enjoy her company.
He took out the various containers and put them on the counter. “Do you want to eat here or in my office?”
“Here. I’d like to watch Bandit.”
Whoever had filled the large take-out tray had been excessively generous and Gideon dug into the food with a healthy appetite. As the only veterinarian in the area, he missed a fair number of meals.
Christmas with Carlie Page 17