Holiday in Your Heart

by Susan Fox

  He shook his head. “So, anyhow. I was sick of myself. Did some thinking, did some reading. Went to some A.A. meetings. Figured out I wasn’t an alcoholic, but I was just as messed up as the others, and drinking made it worse. One guy said the ‘tread lightly’ thing. And it made me think about the harm I’d done. Some minor stuff along the way, and some big stuff to Brooke and Evan. I was a shit, and I was sick of being a shit. So I cleaned up my act.” He shrugged. “End of story.”

  “Not the end. You’re still writing the story.”

  Mo wasn’t entirely sure what she meant, but there was one thing he knew, so he said it. “Seems like we’re always talking about me, and I’m way more interested in knowing about you. You’re a good listener, Maribeth. But now it’s my turn.”

  She finished her last bite of salad and placed her chopsticks across a small ceramic crane. Mo had a crane, too, and until now had assumed it was purely decorative. “What do you want to know?” Maribeth asked.

  “All of it.” He moved his chopsticks from his plate to his crane’s back. “Your interests, hobbies. Why you chose to run a thrift shop. What it was like growing up in Caribou Crossing. How you decide where you’re going to go for those holidays of yours. What’s your—” He broke off to smile at Keiko as she approached the table rather tentatively, like she didn’t want to interrupt.

  The hostess cleared their appetizer plates, leaving their chopsticks and saying, “I will be back with your prawns and steak.”

  She returned quickly, and Mo saw that he wouldn’t need a knife and fork after all because the steak had been sliced. It wasn’t what he’d expected, yet it looked and smelled delicious, sitting atop a mix of rice and vegetables.

  “Is the drink to your liking, Mo-san?” Keiko asked.

  “It’s great, Keiko. I’ll have another, when you get a chance. And the steak looks wonderful. Thank you.”

  “Maribeth-san, a glass of wine perhaps?”

  “Not tonight, thanks, Keiko. I’m happy with the tea.”

  “I will freshen it up.” She whisked the teapot away.

  Mo and Maribeth both tasted their meals, proclaimed them good, and exchanged bites. They thanked Keiko when she returned with fresh drinks. Then, with all the little rituals out of the way, he returned to the subject he was most interested in. “Tell me something about you, Maribeth Scott.”

  “Well, I had a wonderful childhood, right in that same house I live in now. The only thing I was unhappy about was being an only child. I wanted siblings. When I was a little kid I was a pest about it.” She sighed. “Until one day my poor mom sat me down and said it wasn’t that she and Dad hadn’t wanted more children, but they weren’t able to have them, and every time I whined about it I hurt them.”

  He nodded his understanding. “As an only child, were you spoiled rotten?”

  “No. My mom and dad were responsible parents. They made sure I had everything I needed plus a few treats, but they didn’t overindulge me. They taught me about priorities, the value of money, budgeting. Just because a girlfriend had a new doll or sweater or whatever, or got to buy candy after school or go to the movies whenever she wanted to, that didn’t mean I got to do it.”

  “Did you whine about that, too?” he asked with a grin.

  “Sometimes, yeah.” She wrinkled her cute turned-up nose. “And they’d tell me I shouldn’t have blown through my allowance so quickly. As I got older, I realized they’d done me a huge favor. Their lessons stood me in strong stead when I wanted to open my own business.”

  “They do sound like good parents. Like they thought about what was right for you rather than what they wanted from you.” He wondered how he’d have turned out if he’d been born to parents like hers. And he felt like an utter shit for not doing right by Evan. No wonder his son didn’t want to see him ever again.

  “Absolutely. They taught me how parenting should be done.” She blinked and then looked down at her plate and concentrated on picking up a prawn with her chopsticks.

  She’d said she’d like to be married and have kids one day. Was she wondering what she was doing wasting her time with a guy like him? His time with her was limited and would end when some better man came along. That was a sad thought, yet Mo counted himself blessed for each moment he had with this special woman.

  Maribeth finished her prawn and then smiled brightly. “I think I mentioned that I got my travel bug from my parents. They both had a yen to explore the world, and watched travel shows in their spare time. They’d decide on a destination then do their research, work out a budget, and save for it. By the time I was sixteen, we’d been to England, France, Italy, and Spain.”

  She put down her chopsticks. “The next trip was Austria,” she said solemnly, “in May of the year I turned nineteen. They said they’d pay my way, but I’d just finished my second year at university in Vancouver and, being the responsible kid they’d raised, I decided I needed to get a summer job instead.” She sighed. “They died on that trip, in a bus crash.”

  “I’m so sorry, Maribeth.” He reached across the table and rested his hand atop hers. Thank God she hadn’t gone with her parents.

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “It was awful. We were so close, and I was shattered.”

  “Were there other family around to help?”

  “My parents were both only children like me. Dad’s parents died when I was little. Mom’s are wonderful, though. They have a house in Kitsilano in Vancouver, and I lived with them while I was at university. They helped me so much after my parents died, and I don’t know how I’d have survived without them. And my friends as well. I got a lot of practical and emotional support, and I got through the worst of it. Grandma and Granddad were hurting, too, of course, and they helped make me see that what we needed to do was focus on the memories, the good times, the love we’d shared.”

  Mo thought about Maribeth at nineteen, dealing with the loss of her parents. He, at the same age, had been messing up his life and Brooke’s. “You decided to keep the house.”

  “Yes. Living there made—still makes—me feel close to Mom and Dad.” She gave his hand a pat and then lifted her arm, freeing them both to pick up their chopsticks again. “I decided not to go back to university. I’d been studying arts and design, with the idea that I might go into fashion design.”

  “I bet you’d have been great at it.” He picked up another bite of tender steak.

  “Thanks. But you know, I’ve never been that interested in schoolwork, and I’m just not very ambitious. Fashion design is a competitive industry, and it’d be hard to do it in Caribou Crossing. My grandparents wanted me to move to Vancouver. The idea of being with them was really tempting, but after two years in the big city, I knew that the lifestyle wasn’t for me. I’m a small-town girl. Anyhow, the mom of one of my friends was a career counselor, and she helped me figure out what I really wanted to do.”

  Her eyes sparkled as she leaned forward, and he tried to focus on those sparkles rather than look down her cleavage.

  “I’d always liked shopping at thrift stores and consignment stores,” she said. “Friends came to me for fashion advice. And thanks to my parents’ life insurance and everything else I inherited, I could afford to start my own business. Not only that, but it didn’t have to be a business where I made a fortune.”

  “That was a pretty special gift your parents left you.”

  “I know.” Her eyes held affection and sadness. “I kind of named the shop after them.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Dad, who was several years older than Mom, had this habit of talking about how things were when he was young, and Mom would say, teasingly, ‘Oh yes, way back in days of yore.’ So I used that, but changed the spelling to y-o-u-r.”

  “Clever. And a nice tribute to them.” He was glad she’d been so close to her parents. It wasn’t her fault that each time she raved about how wonderful they’d been, he felt guilty for being such a shitty dad. “Tell me more about the store.�
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  He finished his dinner and drink as she talked enthusiastically, with him interspersing an occasional comment or question but mostly just enjoying listening and watching her expressive face.

  When Maribeth finished her meal, Keiko came to remove their plates and ask if they’d care for anything else. She recited the dessert menu and Mo said, “How about you, Maribeth? I could go for that blood orange sorbet, if you want to stay for dessert.”

  “I love the sour cherry and green tea sorbet,” she said. “So yes, please, Keiko. Sorbet for both of us.”

  “Coffee?” Keiko offered.

  “Please,” Mo said, but Maribeth said she’d stick with her tea.

  When dessert was served, Mo kept the focus of the conversation on his companion. He enjoyed getting to know her better. She sure was rooted in her community, being involved in so many activities and having such a large number of friends.

  “We’re opposites, aren’t we?” he commented as he pushed aside his empty sorbet bowl.

  She considered that and then said, “In a lot of ways, I suppose. In the way we grew up and the way we’ve lived our lives.”

  Childhood and adulthood. That pretty much covered everything. Except maybe for one or two of the fine things in life. “Do we have anything in common? Except for liking good food and”—he leaned forward, giving her a teasing grin as he murmured—“good sex.”

  She returned the grin and reached over to weave her fingers through his. “Having a soft spot for stray dogs.”

  Her words struck a deeper chord than she’d likely intended. He tugged his hand free and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that what I am to you, Maribeth? A stray like Caruso, and your heart’s too soft to leave us out in the cold?”

  She gazed evenly at him. “I think you and Caruso have a lot in common. You’re self-sufficient and you’re wary of people.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “As for my soft heart, what’s wrong with wanting the best for people and for animals? I’d like Caruso to find the kind of home that suits him, where he has protection and affection but also all the freedom he needs. I’d like you to . . .” Her voice faded and there was an inward expression in her eyes.

  He uncrossed his arms and leaned toward her. “Yes?”

  She blinked. “To find what you’re looking for. What you’re really, really looking for, deep inside, if you’d let yourself dream. To not only apologize to Brooke and Evan and make whatever amends you can, but to build good relationships with them. And with their families. I’d like you to find a home of your own where, well . . . I guess as with Caruso, you wouldn’t feel tied down and bound, but you’d have affection and—” She broke off.

  “And?” he prompted.

  * * *

  And intimacy. Love. A real family. A wife and children of his own. Those were all the things that had flitted through Maribeth’s head, the things she didn’t dare say to him yet. To her, it seemed so obvious what his future should hold, but was she projecting her own dreams on him? Friends occasionally gave her gentle flak for being pushy and trying to impose her views on others, even if her pushiness was well-intentioned.

  She made a dismissive gesture, “Oh, people, closeness. Relationships.” She found a smile. “Relationships can be nice, or haven’t you noticed?”

  His lips pressed together and then curved a little. “Have to admit, this one’s pretty nice. But I’m way out of practice.” His brow furrowed. “D’you know, I’ve really never dated.”

  “Never? Seriously? A hot guy like you?”

  “Well, I guess kind of, in my teens. A movie, sneak a drink or a toke together, find a place to have sex. Not all that much talking. Not about anything that wasn’t superficial. Then Brooke and I were married, we had a baby, we came to Canada.”

  “Married couples have date nights. And they talk about important things.” Although she knew that not all did—and not all women, much less men, wanted that much closeness.

  “For us, it was more arguing than talking. And date night was going to the bar and getting hammered. An evening that could end up with either wild sex or a screaming match.”

  It was so hard to imagine Brooke and Mo like that. “You two sure weren’t good for each other.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Understatement.”

  Returning to the subject, she said, “After you’d left and were on your own, you never dated? It was just hookups?” He’d kind of said that before, but it seemed so hard to believe. So lonely.

  “That was all I trusted myself with. I knew I sucked at relationships, having blown every single important one in my life. Parents, sister, wife, son.”

  Yes, lonely. Horribly lonely. Feeling guilty and punishing himself, not trusting himself. “But then things changed,” she said quietly. “And once you turned your life around, you started thinking about relationships.”

  His forehead seemed stuck in a frown. “I thought about the ones I’d blown, and how I wanted to apologize.”

  “The apology is only the start. What comes after?”

  “Amends, the A.A. people say, and I think they’re right.”

  “And after that? A relationship. You and Brooke are starting a new relationship, one where you’ll try to understand and support each other rather than fight. And you want to build a relationship with Evan.”

  His frown deepened.

  She plowed on. “You want a relationship with me, too. You knew right from the beginning that this would be more than a hookup, and that’s what you wanted. And still want.”

  “Uh . . .”

  “That’s okay, Mo, you don’t have to say it. Actions speak louder than words.” She winked at him. “You need to learn to listen to your own actions. They’re trying to tell you something.”

  He rubbed his fingers over the frown lines in his forehead, pressing hard.

  She almost felt sorry for the poor guy. Clearly, she was stressing out his brain. “Did you and Brooke talk about Evan and how he’s feeling about seeing you?”

  He lowered his hands with a sigh. “When she told him I was in town, he said he didn’t want to see me. She gave it a couple of days and tried again, and he said he didn’t want to hear any more about it. She said his wife, Jess, is halfway convinced that he should see me, but Jess wants some assurance that I’m a decent guy now. That I’m not going to hurt Evan. Emotionally, I mean.” He sighed again. “How can I give her that? All I’ve got is my word, and why should she trust me?”

  Why do I trust you? Thinking about that, Maribeth said, “You need to see Jess.”

  He cocked his head.

  “I trust you because I’ve listened to you,” she told him. “I’ve heard not just the words but your tone of voice and I’ve seen your face. You’re either a brilliant actor or you’re sincere. Jess is a savvy woman.” Smart, practical, and also compassionate. “I think she’d see the same thing I do.” Hearing her own last words, Maribeth gave a quick smile. “Well, hopefully not exactly the same thing, but you know what I mean.”

  “I could ask Brooke what she thinks,” he said slowly.

  “Yes. If people are to trust you, you can’t be going behind someone’s back.” She tapped her fingertips against the table, musing. “I have an idea. What if you, Brooke, and Jess came to my house? There’d be less pressure than in a one-on-one with just you and your daughter-in-law.” And maybe seeing that Maribeth liked and trusted Mo would help Jess get over her fears.

  “That’s nice of you, Maribeth.”

  “Oh, pfft. I love entertaining friends.” And she’d love to help Mo and his family come to terms with the past and move forward.

  Keiko came over to see if there was anything else they needed. They both said no, and she slid a small folder onto the table, its cover made of rice paper with a design of cherry blossoms.

  As soon as she’d gone, Mo reached for it.

  “I’ll split you,” Maribeth offered.

  He shook his head. “This one’s mine.” He glanced at it and slipp
ed some cash into the folder.

  “Thank you, Mo. It’s been a lovely evening.” She shot him a flirtatious look. “So far. And I have a feeling it’s only going to get better.” After a couple of hours in public and a conversation that had included her parents’ death and his estrangement from his son, it was time for some sexy fun.

  “I’ve been looking forward to that.”

  They rose and, as Maribeth walked toward the door, Mo followed. He didn’t touch her, and she was glad. So many men did that thing where they put a hand on a woman’s lower back. Some women enjoyed it, but to Maribeth it often felt like possessiveness and control—like she was a doll the guy was steering where he wanted her to go. Mo was close enough, though, that she felt a tingly, almost electric sensation as if sparks were just waiting to fly between their bodies.

  Keiko joined them in the entryway and handed them their coats. Mo helped Maribeth on with hers, then pulled on his own jacket and wrapped the jaunty scarf around his neck. Red looked great on him, with his dramatic coloring.

  When Mo thanked Keiko and her husband for a delicious meal, the Japanese woman bowed her head and said, “It is our pleasure to have you here, Mo-san. I hope you will come again.”

  When she said good night to Maribeth, there was a gleam in her black eyes that looked like approval.

  Outside, Maribeth slipped her hand through Mo’s arm and shivered. “Brrr. No Caruso. I hope he’s inside somewhere. Hmm, now that you have a dog, do you have to go home at night?”

  He chuckled. “Nope. Remember, that’s a self-sufficient beast.”

  Walking quickly, they covered the short distance to her car and climbed in. She pushed the buttons to activate the seat heaters, then drove the few blocks to her house.

  As her headlights illuminated the driveway, Caruso came running from the direction of the house.

  “Well,” Mo said, “doesn’t that beat all? Smart dog. He saw me with you and figured this was where we’d end up.”

  “There’s no way into the house or garage, so he must have been out on the porch in the cold. Mo, I need you to install a pet door in the sunroom.”