by Laura Simcox
A loud knock sounded on the car window, and Marcus jerked upright.
“Jesus!” He turned his head and stared straight into the glaring eyes of Brian Callahan.
He swallowed, rolled down the window, and held out a hand. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Callahan.”
Brian shook it grudgingly. “Merry Christmas.” He leaned in close. “Delia sent me out here. What the hell are you doing? Stalking us?”
“No, I was just…” Marcus shrugged.
Brian stared at him. “Go ahead and park your car and come in.”
Marcus nodded and angled the car toward the curb. He rolled up the window, trying to ignore the fact that his finger shook when he pressed the button. He parked, took a deep breath, got out, then took another gulp of air. He exhaled in a cloud and tilted his head toward the unfamiliar car. “If you don’t mind me asking, who’s that?”
Brian frowned. “You know who it is.” He raised his hands. “And I’d appreciate it if you got them out of my house as quick as you can.”
“Uh…I’d be happy to help, but aren’t they your…relatives?”
“Mine? Hell, no. They’re yours. What are you…” Brian paused and passed a hand over his face. “Oh, shit. You don’t know.”
“Know what?” His adrenaline started pumping again, and Marcus gave him a wary look.
“Preston is here…and his father. Do you have any idea why?”
Jim was here? Now? Oh, God. Yesterday morning, before Herman had dropped the bombshell on Marcus, he must have called Jim first. Shit.
Marcus took a step back toward his car. He should just get in, drive away, call Delia and cancel.
“Marcus?” Brian said gruffly. “Do you know about…your connection to Jim?”
Marcus glanced up at him. “I found out yesterday.”
“Well, that must have been a shock.” He scratched his head. “But my suggestion is that you face it, head-on. Can you handle it?”
Marcus looked at him. “Of course.”
Brian coughed. “It’s not going to be pleasant, and I don’t mind telling you that I can’t stand that asshole Jim Parliament. And his son? All I can say is thank God Ivy saw the light and dumped that pissant. If they’d gotten married, she would have chewed him to pieces within a week.” A slow grin spread over Brian’s face. “But you? It’ll take years.”
Marcus stared at him. “I appreciate that…I think?”
“You should.” Brian picked a cat hair from his sweater sleeve and flicked it on the snowy ground. “Just a word of warning, son. Don’t be evasive.”
Marcus nodded and walked around the car and pulled bright packages from the trunk. He handed one to Brian and gathered the rest.
“Ready?” Brian led the way to the front door, his bedroom slippers skidding on the icy brick walkway. “You better be.”
As Marcus followed Brian into the warm house, the smell of roasting turkey hit his nostrils. As he breathed in, he pasted a smile on his face. But then he caught sight of Delia, who stood in the living room doorway holding a spatula. She looked mad. His gaze trailed to Colleen, who sat on the edge of an overstuffed armchair. She looked mad, too.
And then he glimpsed a familiar pair of slim, feminine legs peeking out from behind the Christmas tree. They were covered in jeans, crossed at the ankles, and ended in a pair of lethal-looking, high-heeled boots. He craned his neck and walked closer. Ivy. He couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips at her presence.
She sat by the fireplace hearth glaring at him, sparks of fury snapping in her eyes. Oh, wow, talk about mad. She looked like a terrible, avenging angel. He walked over to her and Breezy, who sat in her lap, raised her head and hissed. He took a few steps back and started to nod, up and down, up and down.
“Good Lord, Marcus. You look like a fucking bobble head. Stop that,” declared Colleen. She reached out and yanked on Marcus’s pants leg.
Delia blew out a frustrated breath. “Colleen, could you not curse? We have a lot of guests, and it’s Christmas,” she said between gritted teeth.
“We only have three guests, Delia,” Brian commented in a wry voice.
Delia sighed. “Care for some cider, Marcus?”
“Yes, that would be great,” he answered automatically.
His voice sounded weird, kind of frantic. He cleared his throat and watched as she disappeared into the kitchen, and then he nodded, once, and deposited the gifts under the tree. With a deep breath, he walked across the room to sit on the hearth of the brick fireplace, next to Ivy’s chair. Breezy jumped up and pranced away, her tail swishing in disdain.
“Hi,” he murmured.
Ivy stared at him. “I don’t even know what to say to you.”
He smiled and thought about reaching for her hand, but he knew better. “How about starting with Merry Christmas?”
“It’s more weird than merry right now.” She stared at him. “Your brother and dad are in the kitchen. You want to go say hello? Maybe congratulate each other on getting the bakery back? It will be nice to have it open again, but really, couldn’t you have just told me about your new family’s intentions instead of letting me run circles around Great Northern Novelty?”
Marcus felt his smile crumple. “You think that…” He stared at her. “Ivy, I only found out about Jim yesterday.”
A hint of confusion passed through her eyes. “Really? Then why is Preston sitting in the kitchen with Jim talking about how he’s going to restart the bakery with your money?”
The hollow ache in his stomach started again. “They think they’re going to use me?” he whispered.
Ivy didn’t say anything for a moment. “I hope not. There’s been too much of that going on already.”
He looked at her troubled eyes. She was right, of course, and all he wanted to do was be alone with her, talk to her, and convince her that she was the only thing that mattered to him. “I need to explain some things. Will you go upstairs for a few minutes with me?”
“I’d rather not. You’ll just try to get me into bed,” she said with a halfhearted laugh.
He chuckled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
From across the room, Colleen pointed a shiny red talon at him. “You can seduce her later.”
Marcus grabbed Ivy’s hand. “Could we please just—”
“Not right now.” Ivy twisted her hand away. “You need to go talk to Preston and Jim, don’t you?” She shook her head at him. “Almost your whole family’s sitting in my parents’ kitchen,” she said, “but I don’t see Herman the horrible. Is he going to drop by for a surprise visit, too?”
Marcus sighed. “Herman is sick. Really sick. He called me yesterday, and I went to his house. That’s when I found out about…Jim being my…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. “Anyway, I ended up having to take Herman to a hospital in Syracuse.”
Ivy’s lovely eyes widened. “Oh shit. Is he okay?”
“Yeah. He has pneumonia. The doctor said that he’ll recover, but he needs to quit drinking and start taking better care of himself.”
She blinked. “Well, now I feel bad.”
“You shouldn’t,” called Colleen. “You know he’s not telling you everything. Look at how his foot is jiggling up and down.”
Marcus stilled his leg and glanced at Ivy. The guarded, hurt look in her eyes made his heart ache, because he’d put it there. “There isn’t any more to tell, but I still want to talk to you in private. Please?”
Ivy paused for a moment and then nodded, standing up. “I’ll listen,” she whispered, “but it doesn’t mean—”
A loud, metallic crash sounded from the back of the house.
“You made me drop the turkey platter!” Delia’s muffled shriek came from the kitchen.
“So what? This Christmas dinner is going to turn into a family soap opera, anyway,” Brian said. He stomped through the dining room, and he appeared in the living room doorway, looking directly at Colleen. “And it’s not even our family!”
&n
bsp; Colleen chuckled. “Ooh, this is going to be good.”
Alarm and anger tore through Marcus. He didn’t want to meet his father this way. “Ivy, I—”
Preston shot past Brian, putting on his jacket. “This is so ridiculous. I don’t have to take this!” He gave Marcus a spiteful glance and headed for the front door.
Brian stepped forward. “Marcus, you’re needed in the kitchen.”
Directly behind him, a large man with thinning, gray hair walked into the living room, his face red. “Wait a minute, Preston. You can’t just walk out the door.”
Jim Parliament. The blood drained from Marcus’s face, and he sank back down next to Ivy, gripping her arm.
Delia stomped into the living room. “Jim, now is not the time to grill Preston about the bakery. Just go back in there, sit down, and drink some cider.” She glared pointedly at her husband and jerked her head toward the kitchen. “You’re not helping,” she hissed.
He gave her a placating smile. “You do look lovely today.”
Delia’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and she glanced slowly around the room. “This is turning into a zoo, and it’s got to stop. Everybody sit down, and shut up until I tell you to talk.”
Colleen clapped in glee. “That’s right. You tell them who wears the pants around here!”
“That means you too, you old windbag!” Delia growled at her.
Colleen cackled, then made a show of closing her mouth tight.
“What about me?” Preston asked in a belligerent voice.
“Everybody includes you, so yes, Preston. Find a seat.” Delia pushed her husband into the room and folded her arms, waiting as Brian and Preston warily sat down. Jim stayed standing, fidgeting. Ivy pulled her arm away from Marcus’s hand and crossed her legs in one quick motion.
Delia looked around the room, her laser stare set on high beam. “Good enough. Now somebody start talking.”
Silence.
Marcus leaned forward and peered around the tree. He looked at Preston, whose chin jutted out, and then he glanced between Jim and Brian, who each clearly avoided eye contact with the other. This was not going to be fun. But someone had to begin the torture.
Before he could open his mouth, Ivy cleared her throat and he glanced at her. She looked back at him, with fire in her red-rimmed eyes. But there was something else there, too. Something that belonged to him. It was love…and hurt. And he was going to lose her. The panic that welled up made all of the other thoughts in his head fly backward. He couldn’t lose her. Not now.
Jim could wait.
Marcus slid to the floor and took her hand, grateful for the partial screen provided by the tree. “Ivy?” he said in a ragged murmur.
She looked down at him and after a few seconds, her eyes softened. Barely. But it was enough.
He smiled. “Ivy,” he repeated.
She leaned her head down. “What?”
“I just want to talk to you for a minute,” he whispered to her.
Delia gasped. “Oh my God! Are you proposing?”
Marcus pulled his head away from Ivy’s confused gaze.
“Are you?” Colleen asked. She sounded predatory.
“Uh,” he heard himself answer in a hollow voice. He glanced up at Ivy.
She stared down at him, horrified, and his tongue froze. He hadn’t been about to propose, but if he had, she obviously would have said no. Of course she would, considering the circumstances. He stood up quickly.
Nobody said a word as Marcus faced the fireplace, his hands clutched over his stomach. Words formed behind his lips, but they wouldn’t come out. Somebody had to say something and break the terrible silence. Didn’t they? Or would they just stare at his back until he burst into flames?
Colleen spoke first. “What the fuck kind of proposal was that?”
Marcus blinked at her, his mouth gaping. He was dimly aware that Ivy stared at him and he probably looked like a beached whale, but he couldn’t seem to control his face.
Jim Parliament coughed. “Let me get this straight. You’re asking my son’s ex-fiancée to marry you?”
Marcus turned around and stepped around the tree to face him. It was like looking into his own eyes—astonishingly blue and full of guarded distrust. He couldn’t answer.
Jim’s forbidding expression crumbled. “Oh my God. I…need a minute.” He sank into the recliner next to the Christmas tree and was promptly hauled to his feet again by Brian.
“That’s my chair, asshole,” Brian said.
“Oh, honey, don’t be such a child,” Delia admonished. She flapped her hands at Jim. “Go ahead and sit.”
Jim sank down again and bowed his head. “This is…surreal,” he muttered.
Colleen grinned. “Just like Days of Our Lives.”
Nobody said anything.
Marcus stared at Jim, wanting to ask him why he was here. Was it really to meet his newly discovered son? Or was it to try and manipulate that relationship in order to get the bakery back? Why did he have to meet his father, for the first time, like this?
In his mind’s eye, Marcus saw himself walking over, muttering into Jim’s ear, and leading the man outside to ask him those questions. But he didn’t do it. He just stood there.
Colleen coughed and reached for her iPad on the lamp table next to her chair. “Well, Ivy, help me to my room. I need to lie down.”
Ivy stood up and walked across the room. She glanced at Preston. “Why don’t you wait outside?”
Preston, who had gone to stand next to his father, wrinkled his brow. “Why?”
Jim looked up. “Just do it. I need to talk to Marcus. Alone.”
Preston glared at Jim. “Fine.” He jerked open the front door and walked out.
Delia and Brian slipped back into the kitchen, and a few seconds later, Marcus heard the dim banging of pots and pans. He peered over at Ivy, who held Colleen by the arm, leading her past the stairs and into the hall.
Suddenly, the living room felt about as big as a postage stamp. Marcus paced toward the fireplace again and turned.
Jim looked up and his gaze fixed on Marcus. “Your mother is Charlene Weaver.”
Marcus cleared his throat and stood up. “Was. She passed almost twenty years ago.”
New shock registered on Jim’s face. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too,” Marcus said.
Jim winced. “I hope you believe me when I say I didn’t know you even existed.” He paled. “That sounds terrible.”
“But it’s the truth,” said Marcus. “I didn’t know about you, either.”
Jim stood up and heaved a sigh. “Well, this obviously isn’t the time or place for a first meeting.”
“No.” Marcus looked at him. “So why did you come?”
Jim was silent for a moment, staring at the floor. “Preston told me about the bakery. And about how you two had managed to get Herman to sell it to you. Preston also told me about the offer from George Parker, and I just wanted to see if you were willing to hold off.” He looked back at Marcus, his eyes steady and determined. “I’d like to own the place again. At least partly.”
Marcus stared back, disgust pooling inside of him. He’d seen that look before. In the mirror. “I don’t think that would be in anyone’s best interest.”
Jim held his stare for another moment and then stuck out a hand. Marcus shook it, and although he felt like he ought to say something else, he couldn’t. He was numb.
“I’m sorry,” Jim said in a gruff voice. He took his coat from the rack by the door and walked out the way Preston had gone.
Marcus stood there alone for a few seconds and then the Callahans began to reemerge. All except Ivy.
Colleen shuffled from the hallway with her walker. Delia and Brian stood in the dining room doorway. All three of them looked at him with pity. Those looks should have made him angry, but he didn’t seem to have any anger left.
“Where’s Ivy?” he asked.
“No, son.” Brian walked forward and squee
zed his shoulder. “Deal with your life first.”
Marcus shoved his hands in his pockets. “Ivy is my life.”
Brian shook his head and walked into the dining room, taking Delia’s hand in his. She gave him one more worried glance and followed her husband.
“What the hell are you waiting for?” asked Colleen.
Marcus glanced at her. She flapped her hands toward the staircase. “She’s waiting for you in her room. Go talk to her.”
With heavy feet, he began to climb. As he reached the top, he heard Delia’s voice.
“Well, goddammit. I’ve got a whole tray of goodies here. Who’s going to eat them?”
“Language, sweetie,” Colleen answered with a chuckle.
“Go suck an egg, old woman,” Delia snapped.
Brian and Colleen snickered, and after a moment, Delia joined them. Their laughter escalated as Marcus reached the top of the steps, and he realized dimly that he’d give anything to laugh along with them. But he couldn’t.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ivy wadded up a tissue and threw it onto her nightstand. More sleep—that’s all she wanted. Not turkey. Not presents. Not Christmas carolers banging on the front door. And definitely not a confrontation with Marcus. Her heart couldn’t take it. She sighed and lay down on the bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, a knock sounded on the door.
“Come in.”
The door creaked open. “Ivy, it’s me.”
Marcus’s rich voice filled her ears and she closed her eyes.
“Okay.” Her voice sounded far away.
She felt the bed sink as he sat beside her. “I need to explain why I let things get so far.”
She opened her eyes and rolled over. “I know you want to, but you’ve got shitty timing.”
“As always.”
He smiled, and in the soft light from the lamp on the nightstand, she noticed the sadness in his eyes…and a faint gleam that could be tears.
“You don’t have to say a word, Ivy. Just listen to me. I want to tell you a story.”
She didn’t want to listen. Even after all the nagging and cajoling from her family about throwing away a chance at true love. They weren’t her. They didn’t know what it was like, trying to govern a half-dead town and then falling in love with the man who was trying to kill the rest of it. She didn’t want to give her heart away to him. She didn’t want to trust him.