Love Finds You at Home for Christmas
Page 25
René edged up to Sophie surreptitiously. “Her service was not slow!” she whispered. “I just don’t have time to stand around and gossip the way she wants to. I know we’re supposed to be nice to everyone, but I just can’t stand that woman!”
Sophie laughed. “We go way back. She’s not that bad, as long as you can take her in small doses.” She looked at the empty doorway with relief.
René squinted at her.
“Okay, really small doses,” Sophie admitted.
“Well, I’ve had my fill for a lifetime,” René declared, writing her time down on her card. She returned it to its place, a basket Sophie kept on her desk in the back room, and turned again to Sophie. “It seems like every time she comes here, she sits in my station.”
“I haven’t seen her here that many times,” Sophie said, “but maybe I’m luckier being in the kitchen.” She got out a fresh white cloth and some spray cleaner.
René sat down at the bar, which divided the kitchen and back room. “She was here every day when you were gone. One day your friend, that Jon Anthony, was here too. He came in by himself, sort of looking around, so I asked him if he wanted to place a to-go order. I think he was looking for you, actually—I noticed he kept looking toward the kitchen. Then that woman just appeared out of nowhere and practically dragged him to her table!”
Sophie tried not to act too interested. She wiped the prep table ferociously.
René went on. “You probably haven’t seen it yet, but she took a picture of him and the women at her table—her ‘book club’ she said—but I didn’t hear them talk about a book one single time while I was serving them. It was just men and clothes and gossip. Anyway, right when she snapped it, one of them reached up and kissed him! Another one works at the Record, and can you believe she put it in the paper! It was like they had it all planned. I feel so sorry for that man.”
“Why do you feel sorry for him?” Sophie asked. She stopped wiping. “It sounds to me like he played right into it. And he’s really not stupid.”
“Well, I think he was just trying to be nice, and then they embarrassed him. I’m sure he had no idea they were going to put his picture in the paper.”
“No, probably not,” Sophie said. I’m sure he had no idea he would be caught, she thought irritably.
Chapter Twenty-Two
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The afternoon sun pouring through his windows seemed cold. Even though it was now December, Jon didn’t feel the least bit festive. He wondered about Sophie as he dressed. She was back now, he knew; had been for more than a week. Would she be at the Christmas party? She had agreed to donate cookies when Margaret asked her, but that was before she left town.
He’d seen her car parked at the rear of the café whenever he’d driven by. Why hasn’t she called? he thought as he pulled a white V-neck undershirt over his head. His starched white oxford shirt crackled as he buttoned it up, bottom to top, and then tucked it in. The waist of his khakis was loose.
He went for his brown leather belt and took it from a hook in his closet. There on the shelf above the hook was the butterfly quilt his grandma made, and it reminded him of the picnic he’d had with Sophie not two weeks ago. It almost seemed unreal now, that they’d been so close. He ran his hand over the quilt and sighed. Had it been real? Had he really held her in his arms—kissed her?
As Jon slid the belt though his belt loops, he went over the last week in his mind. Each loop was like a rung in the mental hand bridge he was maneuvering. After the perfection of Thanksgiving, he’d gone over to Sophie’s place to see her. He slid his belt through the first loop. She wasn’t there; the waitress said she had gone to see an old friend. Another loop. The information he’d gotten seemed sketchy even when he asked Tom about it. Why hadn’t Tom said who the old friend was? Next loop. Jon had a strong feeling it was her ex-husband. And while he’d tried to figure out what to do, he’d also been dealing with the embarrassment those women had inflicted on him when they’d put his picture in the paper. Another loop. He’d decided to give Sophie space. He knew that in the past her dad had never let her call boys—but he wasn’t a boy. And she wasn’t a little girl anymore. He’d been trusting that she’d call him by now, but she hadn’t. Final loop. As he buckled the belt, he had a sinking feeling. He really didn’t feel like going to the party.
He went out to his deck and sat there in the cold, listening to the river and thinking. After a while, his head dropped into his hands.
Lord, I’m sorry. In my jealousy I’ve made this about me, when Sophie was burying a friend. Whoever it was, and wherever she’s been, she deserves better than this from me. Forgive me for being so prideful and stupid.
* * * * *
“You should go see him, talk to him,” Brandy had told Sophie at lunch today.
Sophie thought about Brandy as she put on her makeup. They were fundamentally different people, but Sophie loved Brandy and had learned from her. But Brandy wasn’t always right.
I won’t do it, Sophie said to herself as she got ready for the Christmas party Jim Matthews and Margaret had planned. She brushed blush on her cheekbones. Sure, she’d made a mess of things with her first marriage and had come back home with nothing. But she was doing what she could. She bathed her long eyelashes in mascara. She had started a successful business and was contributing to the life of the community. She was also growing and changing as a person. She dabbed on some gloss, popped her lips, and took inventory of herself in the full-length mirror. Hair up but loose, gold earrings dangling. Wine-colored sweater, dark-gray skirt with a big slit, gold cuff bracelet, tall boots. Acceptable, she thought.
She kissed Spot good-bye, leaving a lipstick stain on his forehead, and got into her car. Feeling a little weak, she started it. Unacceptable, she thought about the weakness. I’ve faced a lot worse things than this. She pulled out onto the Main Street and headed in the direction of the community center.
When she came to the stoplight it was red, and by the time it turned green, Sophie had changed her course. She decided to go to Jon’s first. If he was home, she was going to see him and get the picture thing settled once and for all.
* * * * *
The cabin looked lonely sitting in the dusk with no lights. Aslan was on the porch, watching her with big, brown eyes. He bounded down the stairs to greet her when she got out of her car. His fur was thick and soft like a sheep’s wool in her hand, and she managed to stay clear of his slobber. Sophie knocked, but Jon wasn’t there.
As she guided her car back down his driveway, she tried to keep her heart from racing. This is so stupid, she thought.
Since Sophie no longer cared what her hair looked like, she rolled down her window to feel the cold. Smells of cedar and wood smoke wafted through her car, and the sun warmed her face as she left Jon’s property and headed toward the river bridge and town. On the bridge, Sophie drove as slowly as she could still safely go and leaned her head out the window to watch the sun play on the water. A Jeep pulled up beside her from the other direction, blocking her view. Her heart stopped, then her car, when she realized it was Jon. Their eyes locked for just a moment and then he was out of the Jeep and kneeling beside her window.
“I just came from your place,” he told her, breathless. “I had to see you.”
“I just came from yours, and I have the dog hairs to prove it.” Sophie smiled just a little, showing him the white Aslan fur on her skirt and sleeves.
“Sophie, I’ve been thinking about our picnic. About you, and me, us…”
“I’ve been thinking about you too—our kiss, as well as the kiss you shared with Jade Thomas in front of the whole world.” She narrowed her eyes at him, boring a hole through his heart.
“I am so sorry. That was stupid…” A car was coming up behind Jon’s Jeep on the bridge, but he didn’t seem to care. “I should have called you….”
Sophie interrupted him. “Are you hungry?”
Jon brightened. “Starving.”
“That sounds great,” Jon said, and for a moment he looked down at her lips. Then he seemed to get an idea. “Follow me back to the cabin?” He jumped back in his Jeep, and she turned around at the end of the bridge and followed him home.
* * * * *
They took their seats on the deck, as they had the first night Jon brought Sophie to his house. He was the first to speak.
“Sophie, I am sorry about that picture.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I know what it looks like, but it wasn’t that—they asked me to speak to their book club and totally staged that picture. I have no idea why, except to stir up trouble.” He sighed. “Jade and Misti, you know how they are.”
“Yes, I do. But I think it was pretty gullible of you to get into that situation.” Sophie’s nostrils flared. He could sense her anger, and it was legitimate, if a little bit funny to him.
“Point well made.” He risked a grin.
“And you’ve given me the silent treatment. After kissing me, no less.”
“I am so sorry.” Jon became serious again. “I was wrong. The truth is that I was jealous. I thought you might be with your ex-husband, thought he might beg you back…. I thought too much about all of it and let my mind run wild without talking to you. I was prideful. It was stupid. Please forgive me.”
“I was with Stephen.”
Jon’s heart sank in his chest.
“But we were putting his father to rest. And while my marriage was awful, my father-in-law was wonderful. I needed to be there.”
Jon wondered if she noticed his sigh of relief.
“The cool thing is”—Sophie’s voice softened—“I was able to also put my marriage to rest. Once and for all.” She reached out and touched Jon’s hair at the temple. “I feel so free now. No strings attached.” She smiled and stroked his cheek.
Her touch was soothing and electric at the same time. Jon leaned over, cupping her face, and kissed her. She leaned in and kissed him back, more passionately than before.
Chapter Twenty-Three
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“Do you still love Christmas?” Jon asked later as they sat on his deck, snuggling under a blanket to keep out the cold.
His question seemed so random to Sophie, and she laughed. “What?”
“Do you still love Christmas? You used to get really geeked about decorating and everything. Made me get a tree for my dorm room. Remember?”
“I could never forget that.”
“Well? Do you still get into all of that?”
Sophie thought about it, and she realized that over the past few years she’d not cared near as much about Christmas, with her marriage falling apart and then her father’s death. With a deep sense of joy, the present came back to her, and the thought of her new life warmed her. “
I could get into it again,” she said, smiling.
“Let’s go get a Christmas tree!” Jon rose from his chair and held out his hand to her.
“Really? You’re serious?”
“Yes! My place is full of them.”
Jon grabbed his handsaw, a hammer and nails, and a couple of boards from the garage and hopped into the Jeep with Sophie. He drove them down the driveway and then veered off across the pasture, slowing down so as not to jar them too much. They entered a woodsy area that opened up into a cedar grove. Jon got out, and as always, walked around to open her door.
“Pick any you want!”
They walked around. He watched her as she sized up each tree.
She stopped in front of one that was about nine feet tall. “This one seems the right height, and I love all of its berries.”
Jon sawed it down for her and loaded it into the back of the Jeep, tying it in. The top hung out the back over the seat, but they didn’t have far to go.
Back at the Harbor House, Jon worked on making a stand out of the boards while Sophie fixed them hot chocolate. She emerged from the kitchen with two steaming mugs topped with whipped cream and cinnamon and found him stringing lights on the tree. He had placed it in the center of the picture window that looked out from the dining room. It was perfect.
“I’ll go get the ornaments!” Sophie set down the mugs on a table and ran to hunt for the box. She remembered seeing it when she unpacked, and she found it stashed underneath the staircase in a small storage area.
As she unwrapped each ornament, she told Jon the stories behind them, and he listened attentively. Most of them were heirlooms, which her parents divided between Sophie and Tom when they each married. They sparkled and shone as she hung them on the branches of the cedar.
Sophie smiled as she fingered a few of them. There was the gingerbread girl her mother had made out of felt and sequins when she was ten. Tom had the gingerbread boy on his and Madeline’s tree. And Raggedy Ann—he had Raggedy Andy—and the funny soldier whose legs danced and kicked when you pulled his string. Each held a special memory, and Sophie swallowed a lump in her throat as she imagined her father’s voice reading the Christmas story from the Bible. It had been a family tradition of theirs every Christmas Eve.
Her favorite ornament was a red glass ball that had been in their family since the forties. Sophie purposely hung it front and center, and now it sparkled in the lights. The ball had belonged to her grandmother, Ruby, and had been a gift from Sophie’s grandpa, Cliff, before they married. She plucked off the metal topper to reveal the ball’s hollow center, and Jon thought it wildly romantic that Cliff had declared his love to Ruby with a note hidden in that secret compartment.
“That story needs to be in a book someday,” Jon said, turning the ornament over in his hand to examine it before he handed it to Sophie to place on the tree.
* * * * *
“Thank you, Jon, for the tree, and for this whole evening.” Sophie stood by the door of the back stoop.
“Thank you for forgiving me for being a jerk.”
“Um, I’ve known jerks, and you’re not one.” Her eyes twinkled. “I’m glad we talked finally.”
“Me too.”
He trailed his fingers down her arm, ending with her hand, and raised it to his lips. “Good night, my friend.”
“Friend?” A playful smile crossed her face.
“Well, whatever you are.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
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Harbor House Café was closed for Christmas Eve, but Sophie worked as hard as ever in the kitchen that day. She’d only recently finished the last batch of molasses cookies and gotten herself cleaned up. She glanced down at her watch, surveying the dining room, and smoothed her champagne-colored dress. Then she adjusted her string of pearls. Everyone who mattered most to her in the world would come together tonight around her table. She wanted everything to be perfect.
The table, covered in Italian lace she’d brought back from her travels, was set with China and silver. The lights of the chandelier above it were turned down low. It was laden with all of her family’s favorite foods—candied sweet potatoes, homemade yeast rolls dripping with butter, warm wilted greens, cranberry salad, and Silver Queen corn she’d frozen from Tom’s garden. The turkey waited in the warm oven for Tom to carve, and their mother was bringing the dressing.
The nine-foot cedar, which she and Jon picked out of his woods, stood proudly in front of her picture window adjacent to the table. Its scent filled the room, and it glowed with all colors of lights and assorted ornaments. Sophie sighed with contentment, remembering the night that she and Jon decorated the tree.
The door jingled and Sophie’s mother came in with Granny, who hugged Sophie and greeted her in a funny Irish brogue. “Merry Christmas, me darling!” She kissed Sophie on both cheeks.
Sophie was so happy to have them home. She took their coats, hanging them on the hooks inside the door. They were soon followed by Tom, who ushered in Madeline and a very
tiny baby Stone, who was covered in wrappings. Sophie took him immediately and began peeling them back.
“Here’s my baby—on his very first outing! You’re at Aunt Sophie’s house!” She kissed his little face and nuzzled his cheek.
“He recognizes your voice, that’s for sure.” Madeline handed Tom her coat. “Look at how he turns his eyes toward the sound!”
Tom and their mom went to the kitchen while the others moved into the parlor. Granny, Madeline, and Sophie were admiring the tree when the door jingled again. Sophie answered it with baby Stone in her arms.
“Ho ho ho!” Jon stepped in. There were snowflakes in his dark hair.
“Hey!” Sophie laughed, hugging the baby to her and reaching up to dust them with one hand.
“Here’s the little man I’ve been hearing about!” Jon closed the door behind him and bent down to see the baby. “Wow.” Looking up at Sophie, he said “wow” again, and then he kissed her.
The evening was everything Sophie had hoped it would be. Everyone loved the food, and Jon fit with her family as he always had, ever since second grade. He asked Granny all about Ireland, talked easily with her mother, and was obviously smitten with baby Stone, which pleased Madeline immensely. It was nice—and important, Sophie thought—to see Tom enjoy the presence of another man in her life.
After Tom read the Christmas story from the Bible, they prayed together. Granny and baby Stone were obviously tired from the festivities, and while Madeline and Mom were reluctant to leave dirty dishes, Jon assured them he would help.
“I’ve heard he’s actually good at dishes,” Tom said good-naturedly as he gathered their things.
* * * * *
The kitchen clean, Sophie suggested she and Jon sit upstairs in her comfortable little den, but he wanted to go back to the parlor.
“Let’s go sit by the tree just a minute,” he said. “After all, it’s Christmas Eve.”
They pulled up dining chairs and gazed together at the tree. Sophie turned on some quiet holiday music. The picture window was frosted and served as the perfect frame for their masterpiece.