Christmas in Cambria

by Linda Seed

  He sat at his desk in front of his computer nursing a beer, his shirt off, his music up loud. He liked something low-key while he was writing—acoustic indie, maybe, or some soft R&B—and something high-presence for website work. Right now, he was blasting Green Day and formatting the Sofas and Sectionals page.

  He lived in a two-bedroom cottage on Lodge Hill with only one neighbor in his immediate vicinity—a woman in her seventies whose husband had died the year before. He had an agreement with her that he would play his music as loud as he wanted between the hours of ten a.m. and six p.m., then he would cut the volume by half or use his earbuds the rest of the time.

  He checked the clock and saw that he only had a few minutes left. Of course, that would be moot if she wasn’t home. He peeked out the window to see if her car was in the driveway, and he saw that she’d just arrived and was struggling to get a large bag of groceries out of the back of her car.

  Quinn went outside, trotted down the street to Mrs. Foster’s house, and called out to her. “You need some help with that?”

  “Oh, Quinn. Yes, please. How nice of you.”

  Mrs. Foster was a tiny woman with fluffy white hair and thick-framed glasses that dwarfed her face. She was wearing a cardigan sweater, some kind of stretch pants, and a pair of athletic shoes that looked too big for her.

  He peeked into the bag. “Cake mix. You doing some baking?”

  They chatted about that—her grandkids were planning a visit, and she wanted to make cupcakes—as he hefted the bag and brought it up the stairs to her house.

  Inside, he put the bag down on the kitchen counter, which was as tidy as if it had been staged for a Realtor.

  They talked a bit about this and that—his work, what she’d been reading lately, the gossip she’d heard at the Cookie Crock—and by the time he got out of there, he wasn’t in the mood for working anymore.

  He tried to get back to it, this time with his earbuds in and the stereo speakers off, but his mind wandered away from sofas and sectionals and toward the woman he’d met earlier in the day.

  Delilah. Hmm.

  No way was he going there. For one thing, single mother. For another, she might be married, even if she didn’t wear a ring. And anyway, he didn’t even have her contact information.

  She had his, though, which opened up an array of tantalizing possibilities.

  Except that he absolutely wasn’t going to avail himself of those possibilities, even if she did happen to call him.

  The idea of women and the possibilities of which he might avail himself led him to wonder who might be hanging out at Ted’s tonight, and whether anyone might be amenable to having a drink with him, or having other, more interesting things, with him.

  Hell, it was worth a try.

  At Otter Bluff, Jesse would not drop the topic of Quinn Monroe and whether Delilah would call him.

  “Why not? He gave you his card. He said you could.”

  It was just past seven a.m. the day after the hiking incident, and Delilah had barely gotten the boys set up at the dining room table with their cereal and a plate of cut fruit. She’d only had one cup of coffee, and she wasn’t in the mood for requests.

  “Eat your breakfast,” she told her sons.

  Jesse and Gavin were still in their pajamas, their hair mussed and their skin smelling like sleep. She wanted to clasp both of them to her, but only Gavin accepted that these days—Jesse had announced that he was too grown up for his mother’s embraces.

  Impulsively, she put her arms around Gavin, gave him a squeeze, and inhaled his sweet scent.

  “That’s not an answer,” Jesse said.

  “No, it isn’t.” Delilah pulled her robe around her and sat down in the chair opposite them. “The answer is, I’m not going to call him because … well, because he’s probably very busy and doesn’t have time to chat with us.”

  “If he didn’t want us to call him, he wouldn’t have given us his phone number,” Jesse said, not unreasonably.

  “We didn’t even get to hike very far,” Gavin put in. “We had to stop when Jesse fell. And Quinn keeps people safe on hikes. He said.”

  Jesse, who’d been looking at his brother, turned his gaze to Delilah in triumph. “Yeah. Plus, you said it’s polite to invite people over when they do something nice for you.”

  “You said,” Gavin insisted.

  “We are not inviting Quinn Monroe over. He was just being nice when he gave us his card. We might book one of his guided hikes, but I’m not promising anything. Now, that’s the last I want to hear about it. Eat.” She got up from the table and went into the kitchen to wash the cutting board she’d used for the fruit.

  Delilah poured herself a second cup of coffee, added milk and sugar, and took her mug out to the back patio. She sat in an Adirondack chair and watched the waves crash into the bluffs below her. The day was foggy and overcast with a chill in the air, and she pulled her fuzzy robe tightly around her body.

  Out in the distance, a pair of otters floated on their backs and twirled in the water.

  She sipped her coffee and thought about the boys and their fixation with Quinn Monroe.

  When he’d rescued Jesse, the poor guy had unwittingly positioned himself as everything the boys had been missing since their father left: a strong man, a benevolent male authority figure whom they could admire.

  Of course they wanted more of that. They were starved for it.

  She wasn’t going to call him—of course not—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t find someone to fill that void in the kids’ lives. She needed to spend more time around her own father, her own brothers. If Jesse and Gavin could just get more attention from their grandfather and uncles, maybe that would go a long way toward fulfilling that need.

  She sighed. Maybe she shouldn’t have run away from the East Coast when everything had happened. Maybe she should have stayed so the boys could soak up family, immerse themselves in the men who still were around in their lives.

  Well, this was only temporary. Only two months, until the holidays were over. She needed to get through Thanksgiving and Christmas in a place where she wouldn’t constantly be thinking about Mitch. And she needed to do it away from her family and their constant, oppressive concern. Away from their constant, oppressive questions about what had gone wrong and what her role in it might have been.

  He’d left her for another woman. It was a story so old it was probably represented in cave paintings. But that didn’t stop her family from hinting that maybe if she’d been a more attentive wife, maybe if she’d been more careful to fulfill his needs …

  Now that she thought about it, her family might not be the best influences for Jesse and Gavin.

  She looked out at the horizon, smelled the ocean air, and reminded herself to live in the moment, at least for a while. She was in a beautiful place, and she and her boys were safe and well.

  That was all she could manage.

  For now, it would just have to be enough.

  Chapter 5

  Quinn had pretty much convinced himself that he wasn’t going to hear from Delilah. Then he got her text message.

  It was just a text message. Nothing special. It wasn’t like she’d sent him a picture of her breasts. And yet, seeing it made him feel all tingly, as though he’d gotten a mild electrical shock.

  You are invited to our house today at ten in the morning.

  Then it gave the address and her name—Delilah Ballard.

  Something about the message was off. It was weirdly formal, and it was so abrupt, with none of the usual friendly chitchat one usually saw in text messages. Plus, it didn’t say why he was invited to the house. What for? So they could talk about a possible wilderness excursion? Or was it personal?

  He thought about it, then responded, I’ll be there.

  Why not? He didn’t have anything else on his schedule that morning, and he was intrigued. And, who knew? If he played his cards right, maybe a photo of breasts would come later.

  Del
ilah’s kids were acting weird—which was to say, even weirder than usual.

  She’d been trying to get out of the house for half an hour to go to the grocery store, but Jesse and Gavin seemed dead set on preventing her from doing it. She needed to get things for lunch, and it was already late morning. Why the hell were they making it so hard?

  “Jesse, come on!” She had her purse and her keys in her hand, and she’d thought they were all ready, but Jesse had claimed he needed something from his room, and now he wasn’t coming out.

  “Just a minute, Mom! I can’t find my bracelet.”

  Delilah had bought him a braided leather bracelet from one of the boutiques in town the day before. He hadn’t seemed all that interested in it until now.

  “You can find it when we get back,” she called to him.

  “But I want to wear it!”

  Gavin stood by, sucking his thumb. She ran a hand through his hair, tousling it playfully. Then she spotted something on a side table next to the sofa: Jesse’s bracelet.

  “Jesse, it’s out here! I found it.”

  He came out, accepted the bracelet from her, then asked her to tie it on his wrist. While she was doing that, Gavin vanished into his room.

  “Gavin, honey, come on. We’re ready.”

  “I need Waffles!” he called to her. Lately, in addition to sucking his thumb, Gavin had taken to carrying the stuffed bear around with him. Delilah was worried about it—as a mother, she tended to worry about everything—but she told herself that if he needed the comfort, if it helped him get through all they were navigating in their lives, then it was fine. It was good.

  “Honey, do you want me to help you look?”

  “No, I can do it.”

  She checked the time on her phone. Ten a.m. Ah, well. There was still plenty of time before lunch. She could wait.

  She was still waiting when someone knocked on the door.

  At the sound, Jesse’s eyes widened and he dashed off to join Gavin in his bedroom.

  And what the hell was that about?

  She went to the door expecting Dolly or maybe the mail carrier. Could be someone from the property management company, she thought.

  The last person she expected was Quinn Monroe, who was standing on the doorstep looking at her expectantly, that shockingly handsome face of his arranged in a half grin.

  “Oh. Hi.” Delilah just stood there.

  “Hi.” Quinn just stood there, too.

  After an uncomfortable moment of both of them looking at each other, Quinn said, “The invitation was for ten, right? Am I early?”

  “Invitation?” she said.

  “Yeah. You know, when someone asks you over, and you come. Invitation.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m still not—”

  “You texted me.” He pulled out his phone, called up the text, and held the phone out to her. “See?”

  Suddenly, she knew exactly what had happened and why. Embarrassment made her cheeks hot, and she pressed her hand to her forehead. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry about this. Come in.”

  He came into the foyer, and she closed the door behind him. Then she called her sons. “Jesse. Gavin. Come out here.”

  They didn’t.

  “I said, come out here. Right now.”

  When they still didn’t come out, Delilah turned to Quinn. “Come in. Please. I’ll be right back.”

  She went into the room where the boys were both sitting on the bed. She closed the door behind her and crouched down to face them both at eye level.

  “All right. Whose idea was it to invite him?”

  Gavin, his eyes wide, plugged his thumb into his mouth. Jesse squirmed a little under his mother’s scrutiny.

  “Look, Jesse. I know you wrote the text, because Gavin doesn’t write that well yet. Quinn’s here now, and if you two don’t confess, I’m going to have to send him home in the assumption that my phone was hacked by some deranged matchmaker. Now, are you going to come clean?”

  Jesse assumed the manner of one who was being unfairly persecuted. “Mom, you said! You told us that when somebody does you a favor it’s nice to invite them over for tea! But then he did us a favor, and you didn’t invite him! And somebody had to, so I borrowed your phone and texted him.”

  “You borrowed my phone,” she said.

  “Yeah. Because I don’t have one, even though everybody in my class did.”

  “That’s enough, Jesse.” Delilah sighed and regarded her oldest boy. “You signed my name to the text.”

  “That’s because he wouldn’t come if he thought it was me. He’d ask if my mom knew I was texting him, and then he wouldn’t come, and then we wouldn’t see him again, and … and I like him!”

  Jesse’s lower lip was starting to wobble, and Delilah felt her resolve melt.

  “All right. Well, this is your little get-together, so come on out and say hello.”

  She led the boys into the living room where Quinn was standing.

  “Hey, guys.” Quinn gave them a little wave.

  Delilah didn’t want to embarrass the boys, but she didn’t want to take charge of this gathering, either, since none of it had been her idea. So she put on a bright voice and said, “The boys wanted to invite you over to say thank you for rescuing Jesse. And they didn’t tell me because they wanted to surprise me. We really are, all three, very grateful. Would you like some tea? Or coffee?”

  Delilah saw Jesse relax visibly. The poor kid was probably afraid she was going to tear into him in front of Quinn, who was, apparently, his new idol.

  “Sure. I’d love some coffee,” Quinn said.

  Delilah could always tear into Jesse later, in private. For now, she went into the kitchen to make the coffee.

  When Quinn realized Delilah had no idea why he was here, he had two choices. He could either politely excuse himself, maybe making up some bullshit reason for why he had to leave, or he could just roll with it and see what happened.

  He decided to roll with it.

  For one thing, the kids were cute as hell, and if they’d liked Quinn so much they’d concocted a scheme to get him here, well, that was pretty flattering. He’d always liked kids, and in his opinion, children had a kind of sixth sense about people that adults didn’t. If a kid liked you, and you weren’t one of his parents, it probably meant you were doing something right.

  Then there was Delilah, who was more than a little appealing. On paper, she wasn’t his usual type. He tended toward tall, willowy, leggy blondes, and she was none of those things. But looking at her, he started to think his usual type was wrong.

  He liked her dark, glossy hair, her abundant curves, that face that might not be classically beautiful but that was nonetheless intriguing. He even liked her height—or the lack of it. The fact that she was so small made him feel bigger and stronger than he was.

  He wasn’t going to ask her out—hell no. He wasn’t about to get himself entangled with an entire family. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t pass a pleasurable hour having coffee with her.

  While Delilah made the coffee, the kids stood on either side of Quinn, bouncing and fidgeting the way kids did and asking him question after question.

  “Do you have any kids?”

  “We saw your van. Do you live in there?”

  “How did you learn to hike and camp and stuff?”

  “Did you ever see a bear? Like, in person?”

  “Boys, take it easy on Quinn,” Delilah said from the kitchen, where she was pouring coffee into two ceramic mugs. “He just got here. Let him catch his breath.”

  From the sound of her voice and the smile in her eyes as she said it, he could feel her love for the kids radiating all the way over to where he was sitting. Something about that caught in his chest and squeezed.

  “It’s okay,” he told her. “I don’t mind.” And he took the questions one by one. “No, I don’t have any kids. No, I don’t live in the van. I do take it camping, though. It’s much more comfortable than a tent when I’m going so
mewhere that has parking. I taught myself to hike and camp—and you could, too. It’s not hard once you get the hang of it. And yes, I’ve seen a bear. In person.”

  “You did?” Gavin’s eyes widened, and he bounced on his toes.

  “Yep. I rounded a corner on a trail, and there she was. I think she was as surprised to see me as I was to see her. We both looked at each other for a minute, then she walked away.”

  “Were you scared?” This was from Jesse.

  “You’re damned … ah … darned right I was scared. Don’t ever let anybody tell you it makes you less of a man to be scared of something that could rip your chest open with one swipe.”

  “Gross.” Gavin said it with such gusto Quinn suspected he was more delighted than repulsed.

  “Okay, here we go.” Delilah put Quinn’s mug in front of him, along with a sugar bowl, a spoon, and a small pitcher of milk. Quinn was a black coffee guy—he’d become that way because it was easier to make black coffee over a camp stove than to fuss around with sugar and milk—so he sipped his coffee without adding anything.

  “Thanks,” he told her. “It’s nice of you to have me, especially since you weren’t expecting company.”

  “Well, we really do owe you a big thank you.” She was a milk and sugar girl, he noticed as she put both into her coffee and stirred.

  They chatted about superficial things: his work, her vacation in Cambria with the boys, the weather, how long he’d lived here in town.

  He tried to get down to what he suspected was the important stuff—“So, it’s just you and the boys?”—but she kept it light, kept it firmly on the surface.

  “Yep, just us.”

  And then she changed the subject.

  The fascinating thing to Quinn was the contrast of emotions he could see in Delilah. Love, when she spoke to her boys or when she casually touched their shoulders or their hair. Joy, when she talked about something funny one or the other of them had done. And beneath that, a sadness that peeked out through the edges even as she tried to hide it.

  He suspected the sadness had something to do with the guy who was conspicuously absent from the picture. What was the story there? The boys were obviously starved for male attention, so, yeah. The absent guy wasn’t so absent—he was present in the room like a ghost, or like a lingering odor.