A CHRISTMAS COLLECTION

by Wilton, Patrice

“Oh, that’s wonderful, then.” Annie raised a brow and touched her mug to Cindy’s. “Does he have any friends for you?”

  Cindy bit her bottom lip, hating to speak with her mother-in-law about other men. But she’d asked, and only the truth would do. “Maybe. Brooke told me one of his friends in the wedding party is single. But I haven’t met him yet.” Just the idea of flirting with another guy made her stomach clench.

  Annie put her mug down, tears glistening even as she smiled. “I’m glad. It’s okay if you want to date again. John and I have talked about it and we think it would be for the best. You need someone to love you and Tyler, Cindy. A real man, not just a memory.”

  “I’m not sure that I’m ready for that yet.” Cindy swirled the hot liquid around in her cup, but there were no messages in the tea leaves. Santa’s unwanted advice replayed itself in her mind.

  “We just want to know if you meet someone special,” Annie said, her voice husky.

  “That’s a deal.” Cindy sniffed, and then forced a smile. “So, on another note, I listed the house with a realtor last week. This guy is something of a hotshot from what I hear. Sells a house a week, or some such thing. On the phone he assured me our house would sell quickly, at the right price.”

  “Good. That mortgage must be killing you. It’s a very big house, and with the taxes in your area, well, that alone would take a big chunk out of your salary.” Annie frowned. “I wish you would accept our help, Cindy.”

  “It’s not necessary, but thank you.” She touched her mother-in-law’s hand. “The realtor is coming to the house Monday at four, so we’ll see what he wants to price it at. And please stop worrying. We’re fine for now. Honest. I’ll let you know if things get difficult. I promise.”

  She was promising a lot of things lately, but hopefully she wouldn’t have to act on them.

  Things had a way of working out. She used to believe that, before her husband had been killed by a drunk driver with previous DUI’s. The criminal was in prison, but that didn’t give her much peace.

  “Have you thought of where you’d like to live once the house sells?” Annie asked.

  They lived in a big old house on the outskirts of Princeton in a beautiful historic area. She and Tyler took the train into New York City without the worry of driving, parking, or the tunnel traffic. She worked ten minutes away. It was perfectly located, which was one of the reasons she and David had chosen it.

  “Not really. I was thinking about a townhouse.”

  Annie nodded and the hand around her mug trembled slightly.

  Cindy cleared her throat. “I know. We will miss the big backyard.” She sighed. “The tree-house that David built for Ty. I wish we could take it with us.”

  Annie blinked rapidly. “Someone else will enjoy it. Cindy, this is for the best. There are some lovely developments around that have nice park areas. That you won’t have to take care of.”

  It would be heartbreaking to leave the memories behind, but not the expense and upkeep. The lawn alone was too much for her to handle—she had a service to mow the lawn, and during the winter the money went for a snowplow. It was never ending, and the bills just kept racking up.

  “Two bedrooms are all we need.” Tyler and his new puppy would just have to make do with a small outdoor area.

  “Will you stay for supper?” Annie asked. “John made his Turkey chili.”

  “Well, I can hardly say no to that.” She stood up, and hugged Annie’s shoulders. “It’s Ty’s favorite, and mine.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Monday morning Cindy woke Tyler at six-forty-five, the usual time for a school day. They had a quick breakfast of toasted English muffins and sliced bananas over cereal. Then she got him dressed and out the door so she could drop him off at eight, and be at her school, across the street, five minutes later.

  The day buzzed by. Like every day with a classroom full of children she was kept so busy that she didn’t have time to think. Tyler seemed sad on the drive home.

  “How was school today?”

  He kicked the back of her seat. “Bad.”

  “Don’t do that, Ty. What happened?”

  “I didn’t get picked to be on the best team.”

  She checked the rearview mirror and saw that her son was close to tears. Was something happening at school she needed to delve into?

  “Honey, that was their mistake. You’re good at everything you do.”

  “I’m not a loser.”

  “Of course you aren’t. But you can’t win all the time, either.”

  “I know that…but, why don’t they pick me?”

  Life lessons, in kindergarten. Didn’t they learn soon enough?

  “Perhaps they will…next time.” Just as she was thinking up more positive affirmations, the appointment reminder on her cell phone dinged. Her realtor would be showing up in half an hour. “We can talk about it some more later, okay?”

  “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  As soon as they got inside, she turned the thermometer to seventy, and tossed a couple of presto-logs into the hearth. She knew enough about real estate to know that giving a house a little warmth added dollars to the appeal.

  She kicked off her heels and changed from her work clothes into jeans and a cozy off-white sweater. She brushed her teeth, squirted on some cologne, and ran a brush through her shoulder length hair.

  Tyler sat in the family room, playing with a new Lego set.

  “Want something to eat, sweetie? Someone’s coming over in a few minutes to see the house.”

  “Why?”

  “Remember last week, when we talked about finding a new house?”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t look up. “I like it here. Don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” she said, gently. “I just want to see what the realtor has to say, all right? How about cookies and milk?”

  “Oreos? Mmmm, yes please! I can dip them into my milk, and I won’t spill. Promise!”

  “You’ll have to sit at the counter for that.” She put the milk and cookies next to his stool. “Come. Leave the blocks for a minute, and eat your snack.”

  She helped him up on the stool as it was too high for him to climb himself, and tidied up a few things around the place. The doorbell rang just as she tossed a match on the presto-log and the paper crackled away.

  With an excited step, she rushed to the door and opened it wide, her expectations for a new life making her smile.

  There on the porch stood a tall, thin man in a suit. Smooth chin—those eyes. That dimple. Her mouth dropped open and her pulse rate hiked.

  “Santa?” Her initial reaction—one of pleasure at seeing his handsome face—now became one of caution. “What are you doing here? How did you find out where I lived?” Unsure of his intent, she kept a hand on the door.

  “Wow, this is a surprise,” Brad said, his expression one of pleasant confusion. “I’m the realtor you called. I had no idea that this was your house. Didn’t expect to see you guys again.”

  His eyes roamed over her face and she stared back, thinking how attractive he looked. He was wearing a nice suit, his dark hair was slicked back and he had very strong features, she decided. A firm jaw, a nice manly nose, and dark chocolate eyes.

  He shivered and tucked his hands under his armpits. “Can I come in?”

  “Oh, oh, of course. It’s freezing outside. Yes, come in. So—uh—you sell real estate?”

  “Yes. You made the appointment, remember?”

  “That’s right, I did.” Why was she so tongue-tied? The fact that he was just a teeny bit gorgeous shouldn’t get her knees knocking.

  She led him into the kitchen. “Tyler. Guess who’s here?”

  His head whipped around. “Santa!” He jumped up and nearly fell off his stool, knocking over his milk in his excitement. “You came. Did you bring me a puppy?”

  Brad laughed. “No. Remember—I’m not Santa. I’m his helper, but not everyday of the week. When he doesn’t need me I sell real estate on
the side.”

  “I thought maybe you were a walrus trainer, or something. That would be more citing.”

  “Ex—citing, Ty. And selling real estate can be exciting too. Probably more profitable than being a walrus trainer,” Cindy said. “Especially with the commission you people take.”

  Brad raised a brow, and gave her a pointed look. “My company receives the standard fee, but if you think you can sell the house without assistance, go for it. That’s your prerogative.”

  “No. I’m sorry,” she said. Something about Brad put her on edge. “Please have a look around, and if you need anything just let me know.” She busied herself with mopping up the spilt milk so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

  She was being as skittish as a new born colt. What was the matter with her? She had seen his picture in ads plenty of times, but she hadn’t linked his picture with the Santa guy at the mall. He’d looked kind of cute then—with some of that fluffy white beard stuck to his face and those ridiculous straws up his nose—but now he looked polished, professional, a man who knew his way around. Around what, she wasn’t sure, and it was that uncertainty that had her pulse humming.

  Oh, my, but she hadn’t been laid in awhile, more than fifteen months to be exact, and obviously her libido was going a little stir crazy. She really needed to do something about that.

  “Cindy?” She glanced up, and Brad was standing right behind her. Within touching distance.

  “Yes?” She noticed her voice sounded breathless. Almost sexy to her own ears. She tried again. “How can I help you?”

  He smiled. Oh, why did he have to smile? Sheesh, her panties were starting to melt.

  “I wondered if I could take a look upstairs?”

  Upstairs was where the bedrooms were. Four of them, and two full baths. He was going to look around her bedroom and in her bathroom too. He’d see her toiletries, possibly an undergarment or two.

  It was enough to make her feel faint. Perhaps she was coming down with something. All the kids at school were sneezing and bringing in colds, the common flu. Although this felt like more than that—perhaps she had the Nile Virus or some Ethiopian strain.

  “What is it?” he asked. “Do you want to show me the way? Some people don’t like me poking around by myself—although I think it’s a little ridiculous to put their house into my hands if they don’t trust me.”

  “Oh, it’s not that. I’m just wondering if the beds were made this morning.” Which of course they were. As if she’d show a messy or unclean house.

  He smiled again. She really wished he’d stop doing that.

  “Ty—would you show Mr. Williams around? He’d like to see the bedrooms upstairs.”

  “Sure.” He grinned. “I can show you my animal collection, and my matchbox cars. I’ve got thirty of them,” he said proudly. “And I’ve given all of them names.”

  Brad tossed her a look. “Not sure if I have time to learn all the names, but I’d be happy to see them.”

  She heaved a sigh of relief when the two of them left the kitchen, then she dashed into the downstairs bathroom to peek at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks pink. She looked feverish. It had to be the idea of selling her house. She was very attached to it, after all. She and David had moved in when she was pregnant with Tyler. They had such high hopes and sweet dreams for a lovely forever after.

  Now those dreams were in shreds, and this cute guy was poking around her bedroom, looking at the very bed where she’d made passionate love to her beloved husband.

  What did he mean “poking?” Would he open her drawers, look into her closet?

  She raced upstairs. Peeking into Tyler’s bedroom she saw Brad sitting on the edge of the little boy bed, admiring Tyler’s stuffed animal collection.

  He caught her looking at him from where she stood outside the door.

  “The beds are made up,” he said. “And everything looks spotless. You should have no trouble selling your home.”

  Her mouth went dry. Suddenly, she felt near to tears. Selling her home, moving into a two-bedroom townhouse, it was another hammer to her heart.

  Another nail in the coffin of what once-was, and what-could-have been.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Brad left the house, still scratching his head. He jumped into his SUV, got the motor running, and waited for the heat to kick in. Probably should have worn an overcoat but he hated taking off all that winter gear and having the home owner figuring what to do with it.

  It had been quite a shock to see Cindy and her son, that was for damn sure. She’d looked sucker-punched too. It was like someone had kicked the stool right out from under him, and he had no idea why. Well, he had a little idea, but he wasn’t happy about it.

  There was something about her that called out to him—she was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. It was a physical attraction, and a strong one—and he didn’t like that. Not one bit. He’d managed to stay single this long for that very reason. When his body responded so urgently to the needs of a woman, well, that was a good sign to back off, and stay the hell away.

  Instead, he’d hung around a little longer than usual, spending time with Tyler, chatting with Cindy about things that didn’t matter, like how far was the closest super market, the location of neighborhood parks, transit system, crap like that. When that was done, he’d filled in the silence by asking about room dimensions, her basement’s square footage, the size of her lot.

  Jerk that he was, he’d watched her scramble to find all of this useless information, then sat back and enjoyed the view too.

  She was a pretty picture to be sure. He’d seen her in that hot red jacket, but dressed in snug jeans, with that soft looking sweater outlining her perky boobs, had made him linger way into the dinner hour, and rethink his position on not dating mothers.

  But since she was his client, he’d keep his dick in his pants and his scruples intact. He was not a marrying man and this woman was meant—no—born to be some lucky bastard’s wife.

  Still he got her to sign a contract, and now it would be his job to make sure he sold her home in record-breaking time, with the best deal possible. He could probably find a perfect place for her and her son to move into as well.

  Damn. He was good at his job, and making money, but was that it? All there was? Until recently, he’d figured he had a pretty sweet deal. Now, with his brother hanging around, he’d been forced to re-evaluate his bachelor life-style without the rose-colored shot glasses. The bar scene no longer held much appeal, and the revolving door of women was getting tiresome too.

  He probably needed a holiday and a change of scene to get his mojo back. That was all. He’d been working too hard, making a name for himself, outselling darn near every realtor in town. And spending most of his commissions on treatment for his brother, who jumped every time a car backfired, and heard voices in his head.

  His brother had left after their argument, and hadn’t returned in two days. Brad hoped like hell that Regan would be hungry enough to forget his stubbornness and pride and return home—willing to try sobriety again. With that in mind, he stopped at a nearby deli that served pre-made meals and picked up some lasagna and a salad, enough for two.

  He’d gone searching for him last night, and had spent hours walking around the streets. By now, he was familiar with certain areas where the homeless hung out. He’d shown people his brother’s picture but no one recalled seeing him, or denied it if they did.

  He drove through the neighborhood, his eyes peeled for any sudden movement, a lone figure who wanted to hide. After twenty minutes, Brad gave up and went home. He ate the lasagna alone.

  * * *

  Cindy had a chicken pot pie warmed up in the oven, and a loaf of fresh bread. She’d just cut into the dish when her phone rang and she saw it was her sister, Brooke.

  “Hey, sis. I’m serving up dinner, can I call you back?”

  “Sure. I just wondered how the meeting with the realtor went today. I saw his picture on on
e of those real estate commercials, and I gotta say that sale or no sale, I’d use him too.”

  Cindy laughed. “You’re too shallow. What difference does it make if he’s drop dead gorgeous? A face is a face is a face.”

  “Ah, but it’s a face that you could grow to love.”

  “I’m not falling in love with a face, or a realtor, or anyone else for that matter. I have my own man of the house and he’s looking at me right now as if I’m crazy. Hey, Ty, come here and speak to your Auntie Brooke, while I get dinner served.”

  She handed the phone to Tyler, and listened to him chatter away. He was still animated by the unexpected visit from Santa’s helper. It made her smile just thinking about it.

  She dished the pot pie onto two plates, and added a big hunk of fresh bread oozing with butter. She put the plates on the table and grabbed the phone from Tyler.

  “Dinner’s on the table. I’ll call you back. But yes, I listed the house with him. And he’s the Santa guy I told you about.”

  “What the…?”

  “It’s true.” She giggled, glad to have the last word. “Later.”

  Tyler picked at his food but he couldn’t sit still. “Why are we selling our house? I thought you liked it here. And I’ve got all my toys and stuff. I don’t wanna move.”

  “I know, honey, but it’s a really big house for the two of us. It was different when we had Daddy, but now the upkeep is more than I can handle.”

  “What’s upkeep?”

  “Oh, the yard work, keeping the place up to snuff.”

  “What’s snuff?”

  “Keeping it clean and in working order. You know—like what happens if the roof leaks or the heater doesn’t work. Or a pipe bursts, or the toilet runs over. That’s snuff.”

  “Oh! Well, I can help you with that. I’ll pick up leaves outside.”

  “Oh, sweetheart. You’re momma’s little helper, and I’m so grateful to have you, but the house is old, and old houses have lots of problems—like all the time.”

  “Like old people, you mean? Like Pa has a sore knee, and Nana can’t see without her glasses. And they get headaches if the noise is too loud.”