Zoey Phillips

by Judith Bowen

  Suddenly Zoey realized she’d been siding with Marty all along. Quartet, indeed!

  “My mommy and me lived in a city once,” Lissy announced proudly. “A bi-ig city.” She spread her arms wide. “My mommy and daddy got dee-vorced when I was little,” she whispered, turning toward Zoey. “Dee-vorced means people don’t live together and sleep in the same bed like Becky’s mom and dad do. Then my mommy got lots and lots of boyfriends when we moved to the city. Lots!”

  Her big blue eyes met Zoey’s in bewilderment. Zoey put her hand over the child’s on the tablecloth and squeezed it gently. “Cities are fine places, honey,” she said lamely, contrary to Marty’s opinion, apparently, but totally at a loss for any other comment after Lissy’s outburst. “Why, I come from a city myself.” She felt a sudden and surprising need to reassure the child, who, until now, had not even addressed her directly.

  “Eat your peas,” Marty ordered the girl, with a black look across the table at her father.

  Why was Cameron’s ex a forbidden subject? She was Lissy’s mother, after all. Zoey couldn’t figure out the undertones in the room. It was easier to concentrate on the inscrutable cowpoke across the table, who’d said nothing during the meal, not one word, probably because his mouth was always full. Gabe definitely appreciated Marty’s home cooking, judging by the quantity he stuffed into his creased and whiskered face. Was he a regular fixture at the family’s Sunday dinner? If so, Zoey guessed he probably didn’t eat much on Friday or Saturday, priming himself for the big event.

  “Say, anyone goin’ to the Winter Fair next Friday?” Ryan asked, with a smile for Zoey. “I thought I’d take Zoey here and introduce her to one of the high points of the Christmas season. Maybe take Mary Ellen, too. And Lissy, if she wants to go.”

  Ryan ran his hand amiably over his close-shaven jaw and shot a glance at his brother. “Say, pass those spuds over here, will you, Gabe? Before you eat ’em all up.”

  LISSY WAS HOME from school by noon on Friday, in time to join Zoey and Ryan for their planned trip to the Stoney Creek Christmas Fair. Zoey watched her get out of Ryan’s Blazer at one o’clock, after he’d picked her up at the bus stop, a tiny blond waif dressed in a red winter coat, clutching her limp Pokémon book bag and lunch box. She was a sweet, sober child with big blue eyes and a chin-length cut with straight bangs. She must look like her mother.

  At the last minute, Zoey learned that Cameron intended to join them. After Lissy had changed her school clothes and they’d all gathered at Ryan’s vehicle, Zoey saw her whisper in her father’s ear. He looked at Zoey, then said the child wanted the back seat so she could sit with Mary Ellen who was joining them en route. Cameron suggested Ryan get in the back, too, so that Zoey would have a better view of the country. She was the visitor, after all. Which meant Zoey was stuck in the front passenger seat beside Cameron, who was driving.

  She didn’t have to worry about making conversation. He didn’t say anything most of the way, except for the occasional comment tossed to the back seat, to his daughter or, later, to Mary Ellen. Zoey hid behind her sunglasses and stared out her window. She had an unpleasant feeling in her stomach. Had Lissy told her father she disliked Zoey and didn’t want to sit by her? Zoey knew she wasn’t good with kids, but it hurt to think the child had made her preferences clear and her father, in turn, had made sure that the people who sat with his daughter were her uncle and Mary Ellen, not the strange new lady who lived above their garage.

  Cameron drove fast. Zoey was about to spout some remark about either his silence or his driving but be fore she’d quite screwed up the courage, they arrived at the Stoney Creek Community Center, where the annual Christmas craft fair was held. The open space outside the center had a play area for children, plus what looked like a petting zoo under temporary shelter. Out behind, a small-time carnival company had set up a few rides, mostly designed for very young children.

  Lissy, who clung to Mary Ellen’s hand, begged to visit the petting zoo first. “Uncle Ry, you’ll take me, won’t you?” Zoey had noticed before that Ryan and his niece seemed to have a good relationship, while her own father seemed a little distant, even stiff with her.

  “Zoey, too? Your dad?” Mary Ellen called to the child, but Melissa shook her head. With an apologetic look at her and Cameron, Mary Ellen hurried off with Ryan and the little girl.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “RELIEVED?” Cameron murmured, over the top of Zoey’s head as he scanned the busy parking lot, hands in his pockets.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Zoey said. “Shall we go in?” She walked straight ahead and rummaged in her purse for her wallet so she could pay the entrance fee.

  Before she could come up with the three dollars, Cameron had stepped ahead and paid for them all. “That’ll be Mary Ellen Owen and Ryan and my little girl coming in later, Marge,” he said to the iron-haired ticket-taker. She nodded and beamed at them. Zoey thrust her wallet back into her purse with a frown, muttering to herself about take-charge men.

  Cameron leaned toward her as they walked into the building. “What did you say?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Zoey spotted some stained glass ornaments at a table near the door. They’d look great on her living room windows.

  She loved Christmas. Now that she rarely joined her sisters and parents for the holiday, she tended to go all out with decorating and baking and entertaining for her own friends. So far, she hadn’t spent a Christmas alone. Sometimes she went away, took a holiday trip to the sun with a girlfriend. This year? No plans. After the wedding, she was flying home to an empty apartment.

  Cameron followed her to the table. “What I mean is,” he said, continuing the conversation he’d started outside, “I get the impression you’re not too crazy about my daughter.”

  She took a deep breath and bit her lower lip. “I don’t think she likes me,” Zoey confessed. It was the truth, and it felt good to finally admit her suspicions. “It’s my fault. I’m not good with kids. I never have been.”

  Her voice faltered, and Cameron put his hand on her elbow. They stopped in the aisle, facing each other. Several shoppers bumped into them, with cheerful apologies.

  “I just don’t know what to say to them,” she finished. “They just seem so—so strange to me. One of those things, I guess.” She dug through her wallet to see how much cash she had, since none of these craft booths took debit cards. It was a good excuse not to look at him.

  “Listen.” Cameron thrust out one hand again, as though to touch her shoulder, then seemed to think better of it. “Don’t worry about it. I never thought I’d be any good as a dad myself until Lissy came to live with me. Believe me, kids grow on you.” He smiled, his eyes distant, as though he was thinking of his small daughter as a tiny, blond baby. Or her beautiful, absent mother who, according to Lissy, was a dancer, although Elizabeth said she’d been a drunk. Maybe both.

  “You’re good at being a dad?” she teased.

  “I’m okay.” He shrugged, smiling.

  He should smile more often, she thought. When he did, he was a very attractive man. What with running the ranch, arranging Ryan’s love life, raising a child on his own, she supposed he didn’t have much time or inclination to smile.

  “You might be right.” She sighed.

  Anyway, it didn’t matter about Lissy. It wasn’t as if she was Ryan’s child—he was the Donnelly she was interested in. She turned to survey the exhibits that lined the north wall of the community center. It was a large building, and there were booths and tables everywhere. “I’m going to look around. Shall I meet you somewhere?” He might as well know she was perfectly capable of strolling around on her own. These Western guys could be a little too protective of their womenfolk sometimes.

  Womenfolk! Was that what she’d become now that she was back in Stoney Creek? Talk about cornball western!

  “Nope. I’ll stick close to you, if you don’t mind,” he said, taking her elbow as they turned to go down another aisle. He smiled at a familia
r-looking blond woman coming from the other direction. “Sara,” he acknowledged, nodding and raising one hand in a casual salute.

  The woman glanced quizzically at Zoey, then suddenly reached toward him. “Oh, Cam—”

  Cameron stopped and Zoey quickly moved ahead, relieved and yet annoyed at the interruption. That, of course, was the “shameless” Sara. She was very pretty.

  Zoey inspected some hand-quilted Christmas ornaments on a table. She wished Elizabeth had a booth but she’d told Zoey that she’d booked into another event before the date for the Stoney Creek Craft Fair was settled. A few minutes later he was at her elbow again.

  “Cameron, you don’t need to follow me around. Really. Go along with your friend, if you’d like. I won’t get lost, I promise!”

  “I know you won’t.” He picked up a glittery object, turned it over, then set it down again. The delicate Christmas ornament looked unutterably fragile in his large, work-hardened hand. The contrast grabbed at something in Zoey’s heart. It was thinking about Christmas, she told herself; that was all.

  “It’s not necessary,” she murmured stubbornly. “I know.” He was as stubborn as she was.

  “I’m sure you’re not interested in crafts! Quilts? Candles? Table runners? Tree decorations?”

  “Maybe they’re like kids—they can grow on you. Some kids, anyway.”

  Zoey laughed. She bent to examine the stained glass Christmas ornaments at the next table. She felt a bit better. It helped to laugh. Even though they were worlds apart, she and Cameron obviously had a few things in common. Ryan, for one. And he seemed to have a sense of humor, if you dug deep enough. If she ever ended up in a relationship with Ryan—a big if!—it was important to get along with the whole family. Including Cameron and Lissy.

  Zoey held up a flat circular glass pendant with three colorful rabbits. It was meant as a sort of sun-catcher or window ornament. “Think Lissy would like this?”

  “Bribe?”

  “Incentive,” Zoey replied with a smile. “Kids enjoy getting presents, right? I always did, although,” she mused, hunting through her wallet for a twenty, “I never got many.”

  “No?”

  “Too many little Phillipses in the family, I guess,” she said as she handed over the money. “Too little cash.” She grimaced quickly. “Dad was always getting fired and we’d move, and then there were six of us girls to feed. I’m sure they were trying for a boy, don’t you think? With names like Thomasina Henrietta for my oldest sister and Josephetta Antonia for me? They gave up after Stephie.”

  “Josephetta?” He frowned, and Zoey wished she hadn’t blurted out the dreaded name.

  “Dad was an inventor,” she said, hurrying on. “An original thinker. He made up everything, including names.”

  “I didn’t know him,” Cameron said. “I believe I met one or two of your older sisters, though. I may have gone to school with them.”

  “How old are you?” Zoey asked baldly.

  “Thirty-four,” he said, with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, which were an interesting compromise between green and brown. “Why?”

  “No reason. Just wondered if any of my sisters were your age. Frederica’s thirty-two and Tiggy’s thirty-five. They’re both married, with kids.”

  “And you?”

  “Married?” She shook her head. “No. But of course you knew that. I’m twenty-eight and I have a sister, Teddy, who’s twenty-nine. Her real name is Frances Theodora—can you imagine naming a baby that? She’s not married, either. Stephie is, she’s twenty-six. Roberta is in between Frederica and Tiggy. Anything else?” She was babbling. She had no idea why. Why did she keep getting into these ridiculous conversations with Ryan’s brother? First food and cooking, back at the apartment, now age and weird names. Next they’d be exchanging zodiac signs.

  “Nope.”

  Maybe he was checking her out for his brother. Cameron was the careful type. He’d want to know what the family might be getting into.

  Maybe she was just growing cynical in her old age. Zoey gathered up her bag with the ornaments and the gift for Lissy carefully wrapped in tissue paper. “Look at that—baking. Mmm. I could use some.” She headed across the aisle to a table that was groaning with cakes and pies and rolls—the finest the good ladies of Stoney Creek and District had to offer.

  Cameron bought a lemon meringue pie while Zoey studied some mincemeat tarts and warm cinnamon buns.

  “My favorite,” he said sheepishly. “Marty can’t make pastry worth a damn. But don’t tell her I said that.”

  Zoey felt a warm glow. She liked secrets. She’d helped Lydia with all the baking on the catering jobs for Call-a-Girl and had learned the finer points of the art from Corinne Phillips, her mother, who’d baked and cooked for the entire family of eight, mostly to save money. Zoey remembered dying for a slice of white store-bought bread when she was a kid, usually getting it in the form of a peanut butter sandwich at Mary Ellen’s house. Edith Owen didn’t bake twelve loaves every Saturday the way Zoey’s mother did.

  “Half an hour!” She glanced at her watch. “How long does it take to pet a goat?”

  Just then, as though on cue, she spotted Ryan and Mary Ellen. Then the little girl emerged from the crowd and Zoey could see why they were walking so slowly.

  A kitten!

  Ryan had a rather pained look on his handsome face, Mary Ellen was smiling and Melissa was beaming. “Look, Daddy! Look what Uncle Ryan bought me—a kitty!”

  She gazed lovingly down at the tiny orange ball of fluff in her arms, then up at her father. “Can I keep it? Please, Daddy?”

  Cameron was definitely in the family hot seat. He scowled at his brother. “I thought it was a petting zoo.”

  Ryan gave him a half-embarrassed grin. “Well, it is. Mostly. A kid had a box of kittens, though, and Lissy really wanted one. Mary Ellen, too. I couldn’t handle the two of them whining for that damn kitten. I had to give in.”

  Ryan smiled at Mary Ellen. Her cheeks were pink and she seemed almost as excited as Lissy was.

  “Oh, he’s beautiful, honey,” Zoey breathed, reaching down to stroke the tiny head. “What are you going to call him? If—” she shot a severe look at Cameron “—your daddy lets you keep him.”

  “Or her. We don’t know if it’s a him or a her, do we, Mary Ellen?” Melissa said importantly. She was including Zoey in the conversation, which was an improvement. “I’m going to call him or her Kitty for now. Daddy, pleeeease?”

  The little girl was adorable. How could Cameron refuse her anything? “Okay, sweetie. You’ll have to take care of it. You can’t expect Aunt Marty to look after it when the novelty wears off.”

  “Oh, thank you, thank you—ouch!” Lissy was jumping up and down in her enthusiasm and the terrified kitten had dug its claws into her arm. “Oh! Kitty, don’t do that!”

  “That’s a good name,” Zoey said, smiling. “Kitty. Suits a him or a her. Right, Mary Ellen?”

  Mary Ellen’s eyes were alight. Zoey wondered if she was the one who’d really wanted the kitten. “Let’s take him back to his mama now that you’ve had a chance to show him to your dad and Zoey,” Mary Ellen suggested. “We’ll pick him up when we’re ready to go home.”

  “Or her,” the little girl interjected seriously.

  “Or her,” Mary Ellen agreed.

  The two of them retreated the way they’d come, Lissy chatting happily to Mary Ellen as they walked.

  Ryan put his free arm around Zoey’s neck suddenly and pulled her against him. “Mmm, you look good enough to eat today, Zoe. Doesn’t she, Cam?” He kissed the side of her face several times, making appreciative little growling noises. “Smell good, too.” Zoey was horribly aware of Cameron’s presence nearby.

  “Probably the cinnamon buns I bought,” she murmured, trying for a laugh and adjusting the packages in her arms so her baked goods didn’t get squashed. Kissing her in public? This was totally new!

  “Can you believe it?” Ryan asked, turning to
his brother, yet keeping her in the awkward embrace. “My good old double-date pal from high school? Look at this!” He grinned proudly at her. “Back home and all grown up and gorgeous. I can’t get over you and Mary Ellen being in town. Seeing you both again after ten years. It’s fantastic!”

  He turned back to his brother, who was frowning. “Look, Cam, I’m sorry about the cat. I know I should’ve checked with you first, but Mary Ellen and Lissy were crazy about that damn animal—”

  “Oh, hell,” Cameron said quietly, sounding irritated. “Forget it. Still, I’d have thought we had enough cats living in the barn.”

  “Those are barn cats. Mary Ellen says it’s not the same.” Ryan’s face was a little flushed. “I’m the kid’s uncle, aren’t I? Gotta do something nice once in a while. And she’s worn out that stuffed toy cat of hers, dragging it around.” He tightened his arm around Zoey’s shoulders. “Maybe I should get busy looking for an aunt for her, huh, Zoey?” He winked at his brother. “What do you think, Cam?”

  Cameron nodded, and Zoey took the opportunity to slip out from under Ryan’s arm. The blatant possessiveness of his gesture surprised her. He was sweet, he liked to flirt and tease and hold hands, but so far he hadn’t put his arms around her publicly. Or kissed her so brazenly, almost as a statement, a badge of ownership. Zoey felt confused. What happened to being “old friends” all of a sudden?

  “Sounds like a good idea, Ry,” she heard Cameron say.

  Zoey avoided Cameron’s eye. He’d be pleased at these latest developments. She knew her face must be as red as Ryan’s shirt. Naturally, Cameron would see this incident as more evidence of his brother’s being “sweet” on her, whatever that meant, fanning the old high-school flames.

  “I’m going back to the car for a minute,” she said, taking the dinner rolls Cameron had carried for her. “I’ll dump these packages in the trunk. Want me to take your stuff, too?”

  “Sure.” Cameron handed her the string-tied cardboard box containing the pie. “Thanks.”