A Home of Her Own

by Brenda Novak

  Grimacing at the stench, she used a shovel to carry the dog pile to the garbage can in back. Then she scrubbed her mat, wondering what she was going to do with the lonely day stretching before her. The town was busy enough. There’d be last-minute Christmas shoppers clogging the drugstore, and little old ladies with blue hair trading holiday recipes at the deli counter at Finley’s. But the hustle and bustle and smiles all around—which most often turned to frowns when she caught someone’s eye—would only make her feel worse. She’d planned to spend these days searching for her father, but the way she’d been treated by Garth Holbrook and Dave Small made her glad she hadn’t been able to locate Eugene Thompson.

  “Thank God for small favors,” she muttered and considered flying to Washington for real. When she’d called them, her brothers had muttered the same obligatory invitation they extended every year. She could go. But now that they were married, Lucky didn’t want to intrude on the peace and tranquility of their Christmas. She didn’t know their wives very well, and the emotional baggage she carried made her brothers uncomfortable. Invariably they’d disagree over something. Or she’d want to have a meaningful conversation they couldn’t handle.

  Still, seeing her nieces and nephews held significant appeal….

  Picking up the phone, she dialed Sean’s house.

  “Who is this?” a small voice instantly demanded.

  Lucky laughed. “It’s Aunt Lucky. Who’s this?”

  “Trisha.”

  Her five-year-old niece. “Hi, Trishy. You sound as though you’ve been up for a while.”

  “I always get up early.”

  “I’ll bet. Are you all ready for Christmas?”

  “Yep. I sat on Santa’s lap at the mall.”

  “What did you tell him you wanted?”

  She listed several items she was hoping he’d deliver, none of which was a Barbie.

  “Did you get my present?” Lucky asked, wishing she’d opted for the board games and books she’d almost purchased.

  “Daddy made me put it under the tree. He said I can’t open it until Christmas, but I told him you wouldn’t mind. Can I open it early, Aunt Lucky? Can I, huh? Pleeeese.”

  “Um, I’ll see if I can talk your daddy into it, okay? Is he around?”

  Trisha squealed and dropped the phone. Lucky was sure she’d have to hang up and call back and was about to do so when her brother finally answered.

  “Lucky?”

  “Hi, Sean.”

  “How are you?”

  Her answer, of course, had to be fine. He didn’t want to hear anything else. “Good. You?”

  “Great.”

  For all she knew, he could have lost his job, and his wife, and be suffering from a terrible depression, but his answer was as predictable and meaningless as hers.

  “I’m glad. You off work for Christmas?”

  “I’ve got five days. It’s kind of nice, having time with the kids.”

  “It would be.”

  “What’s happening in Dundee? Are you finished fixing up the Victorian?”

  “Not yet. My contractor has another couple of weeks once he starts again in January.”

  “So have you decided to sell the house?”

  Lucky thought of Mike, which wasn’t difficult since he was on her mind most of the time anyway. As much as Morris meant to her, as much as part of her longed to keep the house, she knew she couldn’t hold out indefinitely. If Mike wanted the house that badly, she’d let him have it. “Yeah, probably.”

  “Good.”

  Sean might have added that there was nothing for her in Dundee, but she knew he’d steer carefully away from any comment that could be taken as a lead-in to a subject he’d rather avoid. Namely, anything to do with their mother, their childhood, the welcome or lack of welcome she’d received in their hometown. “Did you get your tree up?” he asked.

  Carrying the cordless phone, she walked into the living room to stare at her Christmas tree, with all its mismatched ornaments. Mike had given her that tree, all the ornaments and the expensive, beautiful angel on top. His gift was the best thing about her return. “I did. It’s perfect.”

  “So…” He cleared his throat. “Are you coming out here or…what?”

  The obvious reluctance in his voice made Lucky’s decision easier than she’d expected. After what she’d experienced here, in Dundee, she couldn’t bring herself to crash his Christmas, not if he didn’t really want her.

  “No, actually I was calling to let you know I’ll be joining some friends,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

  “There aren’t any soup kitchens you can help with in Dundee.”

  “Not that kind of friend.”

  “Really?”

  His surprise helped her lie more convincingly. “Really. I met a divorced woman and her roommate at the hardware store a few days ago.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “I’m excited about it. Will you be spending the day with Kyle and his family, then?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Well, have a good time and give everyone my love.”

  “I will. We’ll miss you.”

  In a way, they probably would miss her. She was their baby sister and she’d never doubted that they loved her. She just wished they had more in common.

  “I’ll miss you, too.” She almost hung up, then remembered her niece’s plea. “Oh, let the kids open the presents I sent, will you? Since I’m not going to be there, I don’t see the point in making them wait.”

  “Will do. Did you get my card?”

  “Not yet.”

  “It’s coming.”

  “Okay. Merry Christmas,” she said and hung up.

  At least now she had something to do, she told herself. She had to go shopping and buy enough groceries and supplies that she wouldn’t have to go out again, so she could pretend to be gone for the next several days. She didn’t think anyone would be paying much attention. The Smalls had already made their point and Mike would be too busy with his family and his own Christmas to notice what was or wasn’t happening next door. But she had to be prepared, just in case. She didn’t want him, of all people, to know she’d be spending Christmas alone.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “DID YOU LET Fernando go early or something?”

  Standing at the copy machine, Mike turned to see Josh enter their office from the back. “It only seemed fair. Tonight’s Christmas Eve, and the office staff have been off for days.”

  “You want me to stick around and feed the horses later?”

  Mike picked up the pedigree he’d been copying. “I’ll do it.”

  “When are you heading over to Mom and Dad’s?”

  “Dinner’s at five, right?”

  “Rebecca wanted to go a little early so she could help out. Since you’re taking care of the horses, I guess I’ll go with her.”

  “Go ahead.”

  He was anticipating several hours of solitude in which he could clear off his desk, but the phone rang as soon as Josh left. Mike grabbed the extension on Polly’s desk. “Mike Hill.”

  “I’m glad I caught you.” It was Garth Holbrook; Mike recognized his voice right away. They’d recently had several meetings in conjunction with the senator’s campaign and fund-raising efforts.

  “How are you, Senator?”

  “Good, and you?”

  “Busy as always. What can I do for you?”

  “I was wondering how well you know your neighbor.”

  “My neighbor?” Mike had assumed Holbrook wanted to talk about the campaign.

  “Isn’t Lucky Caldwell living in your grandfather’s house?”

  “She owns the place.”

  “I remember. She got a portion of your inheritance.”

  Mike might have stated the situation that strongly before Lucky’s return, but something—he supposed a touch of misguided loyalty—made him hesitate to do so now. “I guess you could say that.”

  “From wh
at I’ve heard, you’ve been after that place for years.”

  Where was he going with this? “That’s true….”

  “Any chance she might sell out and move away?”

  “I don’t think she’s ready to sell yet. I’ve submitted plenty of offers and the answer’s always been no.”

  “What if I were to sweeten the pot by a couple hundred thousand, make your offer too good to refuse?”

  Mike jerked his head up in surprise. “Why would you do that?”

  “I was hoping we could convince Gabe to forget about that remote cabin of his and stay in the old place next to you, for a few years. He’d never let me talk him into moving to town, of course. Ever since the accident, he likes his privacy and the wide open spaces. But you’ve got plenty of space out there, and I’d feel a whole lot better if he was at least a little closer, and I knew there was someone around to keep an eye on him.”

  So this call was about Gabe. That made more sense. Gabe was socializing, but only to the extent that his fund-raising efforts required; in Mike’s opinion, he was still too distant and remote to be functioning at a healthy level. Evidently Garth agreed. “I’d love to have Gabe next door, but I’m not sure he’d go for it. Have you talked to him?”

  “Not yet. I thought I’d see if we can get the house before making any waves. You know how stubborn he can be.”

  Mike rubbed his chin. “I do.”

  “So, will you call Lucky? See how much it’ll take?”

  “I can’t call her right now. I think she’s out of town.” Actually, he knew she was. Once Lucky’s car had disappeared from in front of the Victorian, Mike had felt a profound sense of relief. He didn’t have to worry about her being alone for Christmas or about his mother or another member of the family bumping into her and saying something unkind. Better yet, he wouldn’t be tempted to start the next big scandal, as he’d been tempted almost every night since her return. Lucky’s admission of her feelings, and the fact that he knew she’d meant what she said despite her claims to the contrary, only made it harder for him to stay away.

  “Where’d she go?” Holbrook asked.

  “She mentioned spending Christmas with her brothers in Washington.”

  “Well, see what you can do once she gets back.”

  Mike stretched the muscles in his neck as he imagined confronting Lucky with yet another offer. “Is there any hurry, Senator? She might be more amenable to selling when she’s finished her renovations.”

  “I’d rather not wait.”

  “You’re that worried about Gabe?”

  There was a long pause. “I’m that worried. And the new arrangement would be better for everyone. From what I hear, Lucky’s a real troublemaker.”

  “To be honest, I don’t think she’s as much of a troublemaker as others claim,” Mike said.

  “I spoke to your aunt Cori the other day. She said Lucky really manipulated Morris.”

  “Most of that time, Lucky was just a child. I’m not sure she was as manipulative as she was needy.”

  “Everyone else pretty much agrees with your aunt.”

  “Maybe they do.” Mike thought of how difficult Lucky was to get close to, how she refused to dispute anyone’s assumptions about her, how she dared everyone in town to think the worst. “They don’t really know her.”

  “And you do?”

  Mike realized he might have sounded a little too sympathetic, but he was tired of all the gossip, and the fact that no one ever looked at the situation through Lucky’s eyes. “I know she’s proud and fiercely independent.” She was also vulnerable despite her desire to appear unaffected. Her hidden pain bothered him, made him want to defend her at every turn. “She’s also pretty sensitive, although she doesn’t come across that way.”

  “You like her.”

  It was a statement, not a question, one Mike wished he could deny. But he refused to join the attack when Lucky already stood against so many. “I live next door, so I’ve had more contact with her.”

  Holbrook sighed audibly.

  “Is something wrong, Senator?”

  “No.” Another pause, then, “Just see what you can do when she gets back.”

  “Okay.” After he hung up, Mike sat on the corner of Polly’s desk, staring off into space and wondering why he wasn’t more eager to act on the senator’s call. He’d always wanted the house. He thought Gabe would be better off closer to town. And he wanted Lucky to leave, right? He should jump at Senator Holbrook’s offer. Then why did he feel so reluctant to press her?

  With a curse, he got up and headed to his office. He’d never been able to care enough about the right women. Now he cared too much about the wrong one—and the irony didn’t escape him.

  A LIGHT SNOW FELL on Christmas Eve. Lucky stood by the windows at the back of her house as the sun began to set and watched the flakes drift lazily to the ground, as though they existed solely for the sake of their beauty. She’d thought she might be depressed spending this night alone, but she felt unusually peaceful. Maybe she didn’t mix well with the people of Dundee, but she had no quarrel with the land. The surrounding mountains rose majestically around her, the ice-covered pond at the bottom of the hill shimmered like a field of crushed diamonds and the leafless trees in the yard resembled nothing more than delicate white lace. Breathtaking…

  To her right, she could make out the corner of the large red barn that housed the Hills’ best stallions. The paddocks where they penned the mares that arrived during breeding season spread out below the barn, along with the usual plethora of snow-covered vehicles, fences and sheds. Mike’s property had been her haven from her mother’s shrill voice and constant demands. She could still hear the whinny of his horses, feel the soft brush of their lips against her palm as she fed them apples or carrots. Even the sound of the cowboys talking back and forth had become a fond memory, although she’d only heard them from a distance.

  Everything good in her life she’d experienced at a distance. Except the time she’d occasionally spent with Morris—and that night in the motel she’d spent in Mike’s arms.

  Leaning a shoulder against the windowpane, she closed her eyes and imagined his hands on her once again. They slipped slowly over her wet skin in the saunalike heat of the shower. His lips moved over hers, coaxing her to let go of all reservation. And she had….

  She opened her eyes to gaze out at his ranch. Mike had smelled like the scene before her now—of snow and earth and mountain air—and he’d tasted like chocolate mint.

  The buzzer on the oven went off and she crossed the kitchen to take out the pumpkin pie she’d baked. She wasn’t particularly interested in eating it. She didn’t seem to have much of an appetite lately. But she’d spent the day preparing all kinds of food because she didn’t have anything else to do, and because she liked the way it made the house smell. The scent of cloves and cinnamon, as well as the crackling fire she’d built the moment she saw Mike’s Escalade pass on his way to town, went a long way toward reminding her that this quiet, beautiful night was Christmas Eve.

  After setting the pie on a rack to cool, she poured herself a cup of cider, took the lap blanket from the couch and wandered into the living room. She hadn’t been able to turn on her tree lights for the past two days for fear Mike would see them and know she was home. But he was gone now.

  She plugged the cord into the socket and wrapped herself in the blanket. Then she sat on the area rug she’d bought and stared at the green boughs laden with ornaments. This tree had been Mike’s gift. The beauty and serenity of the night was another gift. So were the two cards from her brothers, which waited on the kitchen counter to be opened in the morning.

  Briefly she wondered what sort of evening Garth Holbrook might be spending and imagined Dave Small busy with his family. She was probably stupid to have approached either one of them—and yet she still longed to know who her father was.

  Lucky considered trading her apple cider for a glass of wine to celebrate the biggest holiday of th
e year. But her eyelids were growing heavy, and she couldn’t make herself move.

  “MORE EGGNOG, Mike?”

  Mike turned from throwing another log on the fire to see his aunt Cori holding a pitcher of her homemade eggnog. “No, thanks, I’m fine.”

  “Didn’t I spike it enough for you?” she teased.

  “It’s perfect. I just don’t have room for anything more.”

  Uncle Bunk patted a belly that protruded well over his large rodeo belt buckle. “That was quite a dinner.”

  “Good thing Christmas comes around only once a year,” his wife told him.

  Mike smiled as he took his seat on the couch. His two uncles, their wives, his cousins Blake and Mandy, his aunt Cori and his father eventually found seats close by, or dragged chairs out of the kitchen. The rest of his cousins and Aunt Cori’s husband were already in the other room, playing the new PlayStation 2 his ten-year-old cousin had brought over to share with the younger crowd. He could hear their excited voices vying for the next turn.

  “I hope we wrote down enough movie titles,” his mother said as she carried in the glass bowl they used every year when they played charades.

  His father, who hated the game but participated under threat of divorce, eyed the bowl with malice as she set it on the coffee table. “Seems like enough to me.”

  “We could always play Pictionary,” she suggested sweetly.

  Mike’s father hated Pictionary even more than charades, so Barbara’s subtle threat succeeded in provoking a little forced enthusiasm. “No, charades is fine.”

  She laughed. “That’s what I thought. It doesn’t matter to me. The women will win either way, right, ladies?”

  Josh downed half a glass of eggnog. “I think we should mix it up this year,” he said, being careful not to jostle his son, who was sleeping in his arms. “I’m tired of losing.”

  Rebecca squeezed in next to Josh and baby Brian and arched a playful eyebrow at her husband. “Sorry, sweetheart. We’re going for a perfect record.”