Home for the Holidays

by Sarah Mayberry

  As if she was going to start dating again. What a joke.

  A towel wrapped turban style around her hair and another around her torso, she made her way to her bedroom. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the long white box on her bed. A receipt was taped to the front of it, along with a note from her mother.

  H, the dry cleaners called again today. They said if you didn’t pick your dress up soon they’d consider it unclaimed goods and sell it. I knew you wouldn’t want that.

  Mom.

  Hannah circled the box as though it was a wild animal. Even though she told herself she didn’t want to look, that it didn’t matter to her anymore, that it was all in the past, she reached out and slowly folded back the lid.

  Intricate crystal beading sparkled in the overhead light. Her gaze ran over the shaped bodice, the pleating at the waist. The white silk skirt shimmered and she couldn’t resist running a hand over it. She could remember the first time she’d seen the dress, the way it had felt sliding over her body when she put it on—cool and slippery and perfect. As though it had been made for her.

  Anger rose in a hot flash. She shoved the box so hard it slid off the other side of the bed. She’d paid a small fortune to have it packed in acid-free tissue, but she didn’t want it in her room. It was too pathetic—a wedding dress that had never been worn. Too, too sad.

  She had a sudden vision of herself taking the box out into the yard, dousing it with gas and setting it on fire. All that pristine silk would burn bright and long. It would be good watching it all go up in smoke. Cleansing.

  Almost, she was tempted, but she knew her mom would freak. Not to mention that it would be a huge waste of money. If she put the dress on eBay, there was a fair chance she could make back some of her money on the damned thing. After all, it had never been worn. That had to be a selling point, right?

  She took a deep breath, then rounded the bed to pick up the box. The truth was, she didn’t have the luxury of burning her wedding dress. Every dollar she could scrape together got her closer to her goal of being debt-free. And once she was debt-free, she could start planning for her around-Australia trip and get out of here once and for all. Leave it all behind her—the wedding-that-never-was, Lucas, Kelly, all of it.

  She laid the box on the floor in the corner and sat on the end of her bed. More than anything she wanted to be gone. If she could close her eyes and make it so right now, she would. She wanted the road unrolling before her and the wind in her hair and nothing holding her back. She certainly didn’t want to be sitting in her old bedroom, surrounded by her teenage memorabilia, living this life of quiet endurance and survival.

  For a dangerous moment, tears threatened.

  She stood and reached for the freshly washed jeans her mother had left folded in a pile on the end of the bed. Three minutes later she was fully dressed and tugging her work boots back on. Her hair was wet, but she didn’t care. She could hear the television in the living room as she crossed the kitchen, but she didn’t bother telling her mom she was going out. She would only want to know why, and Hannah wasn’t up to fabricating an excuse for bailing again so soon after coming home.

  In the garage, she tugged her jacket and helmet on then hit the button to raise the roller door. She was about to start the bike when she remembered the fun police next door.

  She swore under her breath. For a moment she was tempted to start the bike anyway, then she recalled what he’d said about his kids sleeping. She rolled the bike down the drive and down the street, resenting every step. When she reached the corner, she slung her leg over the saddle. The engine started with a dull roar. She pushed down the visor on her helmet, leaned forward and opened the throttle.

  She had no idea where she was going. As long as it wasn’t here, she figured it would be good enough.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I DON’T WANT TO GO to school. Why can’t I stay here with you and help you unpack?”

  Ruby’s face was beseeching as she looked at Joe across the breakfast table. He’d had a poor night’s sleep and a headache building in the back of his skull but he did his best to give his daughter the reassurance she needed.

  “I know starting a new school is scary, but once the first day is over you’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t want to go.” Ruby pushed away her half-finished bowl of cereal.

  She looked so small and defenseless sitting there. He stood and circled the table, squatting beside her chair.

  “It’s going to be okay, I promise,” he said. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. She smelled of strawberries and talcum powder and she felt about as substantial as a baby bird in his arms. She burrowed her face against his chest, rubbing her cheek against his shirt.

  “I want to stay with you,” she said, her arms clinging to him.

  He laid his cheek against her head and remembered the fierce, adventurous little girl she’d been only a couple of years ago.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, drawing back so he could look into her face. She stared at him unblinkingly. “I promise I’ll be waiting at the school gate the moment you step out the door at three o’clock.”

  She didn’t say a word, but a small frown wrinkled her forehead.

  “How about this? We’ll make pizzas for dinner, from scratch like the old days,” he said. “That way you’ve got something to look forward to all day.”

  Mastering the art of making pizza dough had been his one culinary achievement, and every Thursday night it had been a family tradition for Beth to put her feet up while he made the bases and the kids took charge of the toppings.

  Ruby was silent for a long moment. Just when he was beginning to think he’d made a mistake suggesting they revive the tradition, Ruby smiled.

  “Can I have three types of cheese on mine?”

  Joe smoothed a hand over her fine blond hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. “Deal,” he said.

  “Okay, then I guess I can go to school.”

  Joe looked up as Ben entered the kitchen, his backpack already on his shoulders.

  “Can I have some money for lunch?” Ben asked, hands dug into his pockets. His gaze shifted around the kitchen, not settling on anything.

  “Have you had breakfast yet?” Joe asked.

  “Yes.”

  Joe hadn’t noticed a bowl or plate in the sink, but he had no reason to think his son was lying.

  “I thought we could pick up some sandwiches from the coffee shop on the way to school,” Joe said.

  He planned to get to the supermarket sometime this afternoon so he could make their lunches from here on in, but today he was winging it.

  Ben frowned. “I don’t want to be dropped off.”

  “Well, tough. It’s your first day. I want to make sure you know where you’re going.” Joe said it with a smile but Ben’s frown deepened.

  “I already know where to go. I’m not stupid. I can work it out for myself.”

  “I know you can, but it won’t be the end of the world to have a bit of help on your first day.”

  Ben pushed away from the counter, hands fisted by his sides. “I don’t need help. I don’t want it.”

  Joe stared at his son. Where had this sudden rush of anger come from? “Mate—”

  “I’m walking to school,” Ben said defiantly.

  He stalked from the room. Joe sighed. Ruby was watching him expectantly.

  “You should go after him,” she advised.

  “Thank you, Miss Bossy Boots, I was about to do that.”

  She grinned as he moved past her and into the hallway. He pulled up short when he saw Ben wasn’t in his room. He checked out the window and, sure enough, Ben was on his way down the driveway.

  Joe exited the house and took the porch steps two at a time.

  “Ben!”

  His son had reached the street and he paused, turning toward the house. He looked half afraid, half determined.

  “What about a compromise? I’ll drop you off up the block and y
ou can walk the rest of the way on your own. How does that sound?” Joe suggested.

  Ben shrugged, his mouth a tight line. Joe studied him, trying to understand what was going on. Was this simple first-day nerves? A reaction to the move?

  “Is there something wrong, matey? Something on your mind?” he asked.

  Ben screwed up his face in utter rejection of the idea. “No! Why would there be?”

  Joe ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just we’ve had a lot happening lately. Selling the house, saying goodbye to everyone, moving.”

  Ben shrugged. “So?”

  Joe watched him for a beat, but Ben simply stared back, his face blank.

  “Okay. Come inside while I get your sister ready,” Joe said.

  He managed to get them both to school on time without further incident but his gut was churning as he pulled away from Ruby’s school.

  This is my fault. I shouldn’t have moved them. I should have taken Mom up on her offer to sell her place here and move to Sydney.

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel. It wasn’t as though he could undo the move. They were here now, they’d all have to make the best of it.

  He checked his watch. If he hustled, there was just enough time for him to check out a few car dealerships before he was due at his lawyer’s office. He’d bought their current sedan to replace the car Beth had been killed in, but for some time now he’d been thinking about getting something bigger. An SUV, or a wagon, maybe. Something that could absorb all of the kids’ paraphernalia and still have room to spare.

  He was taking a shortcut through the local Elsternwick shopping district on his way to the commercial strip along the Nepean Highway when he passed a shiny black SUV on the side of the road. He slowed when he saw the big For Sale sign in the back window. It was parked in front of an automotive garage and Joe hesitated a moment before pulling to the curb. Why the hell not, after all? Might as well see what the private market was offering before he hit the big car lots.

  The SUV was a Mazda, only two years old with shiny alloy wheels. He did a lap of the car, peering in the window, checking out the panels. It was in good condition and a sign resting on the dashboard claimed that the car had been serviced since new at the garage and came with full records.

  Joe turned toward the open bay of the workshop. A blue sedan was up on the hoist inside, a red coupe parked beside it. A middle-aged guy in grease-stained overalls was frowning at the underbelly of the sedan. Tinny radio music bled out into the street. The workshop floor was spotlessly clean, the walls freshly whitewashed. A promising start.

  “Hey,” Joe said, walking forward. “Have you got five minutes to talk me through the Mazda out the front?”

  The man shook his head. “No point talking to me, mate. You need Hannah. She’s the manager.” He jerked his head toward the other car and for the first time Joe noted a pair of legs sticking out from beneath the front of the coupe.

  Right. A female mechanic. Apparently it was his week for finding women where he least expected them. In motorcycle leathers, beneath cars.

  He moved closer to the coupe and squatted to make himself heard over the radio. “Excuse me. Any chance you could take me over the Mazda? I’m in the market for an SUV.”

  “Sure. Give me a sec to tighten this sump plug…There we go.”

  No sooner had she spoken than the mechanic slid out from beneath the car. He tensed. It was the woman from last night, the noisy biker with the attitude. She was smiling, but the smile froze on her face when she saw him. He wondered if his own surprise was as obvious.

  There was a long moment of taut silence.

  “Well, are you going to say it or am I?” she finally said.

  She was still on her back on the mechanics’ trolley. He hadn’t noticed last night, but she had incredibly plump lips, the bottom lip rounded and full. Her sun-streaked brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, leaving her smooth cheekbones and small chin to speak for themselves. He’d noticed her curves last night, but it hit him suddenly that she was a very attractive woman.

  “I guess it’s up to me, then,” she said. Her tone was heavy with irony when she next spoke. “We really have to stop meeting like this.”

  Because she’d caught him off balance again, his first instinct was to retreat. He stood, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

  “I wanted to look at the car,” he said stiffly.

  She wiped her hands down the legs of her coveralls and pushed herself to her feet. He’d forgotten how tall she was. It was one of the reasons he’d been so startled to realize she was a woman last night—she’d been looking him almost squarely in the eye when she’d straightened and her face had been inches from his until he’d taken a step backward.

  Now, she held his eye as she offered her hand.

  “Hannah Napier,” she said coolly.

  Joe stared at her hand a second before taking it. “Joe Lawson.”

  Her hand was warm, her fingers firm. Her mouth quirked up into a lopsided, wry smile.

  “Look at that—almost civilized.”

  She turned toward the parking lot and started walking. Of its own accord, his gaze dropped to check out her body. More specifically, her ass. It was pure instinct, imbedded in him since puberty, and as soon as he registered what he was doing he looked away—but not before he’d noticed she had a full, sweetly curved backside.

  “It’s two years old, one owner since new. I don’t normally do this but he’s a good friend and I wanted to help him out,” Hannah said.

  Joe lengthened his stride to come abreast of her as they neared the car. “Why’s he selling?”

  “Scored an overseas job. It’s a good car. Bit greedy with gas, but safe, solid. You’ve got kids, right? There are built-in anchors for car seats.”

  He didn’t bother telling her his kids were well out of car seats. No point extending this encounter any longer than it needed to be.

  “What’s he asking?”

  “Thirty. It’s forty-five new, so it’s a good deal. Full leather upholstery, six-stacker CD. Cruise control, tiptronic transmission…” She glanced at him to check he was paying attention and his gaze got caught on the line of her cheekbone.

  “Is this the model with the turbocharger?” he asked.

  “Yep. It’s got it all. Like I said, it’s a good deal.”

  She lifted a hand to smooth it down the length of her pony tail and the neckline of her coverall gaped. He caught a glimpse of shadowy cleavage and white lace.

  He took a step backward, frowning. He’d seen more than enough here.

  “Right. Thanks for your time. I’ve really only started looking but I’ll keep this in mind,” he said politely.

  She looked surprised. “You don’t want to take it for a test drive, see how it handles?”

  He made a big deal out of checking his watch. “I’ve got an appointment I don’t want to be late for.”

  “Well, we’re open till five if you want to come back later.”

  He nodded, already drawing his car keys from his pocket. Her eyes narrowed and she propped a hand on her hip.

  “Be honest. You’re not coming back, are you?” she asked.

  He frowned.

  “Right. Let me guess—you don’t trust me,” she said, contempt in every line of her body. “What could a woman possibly know about cars, right? What was it you said last night? Leave it to the experts? Was that it?”

  She was bristling with aggression, her chin high. As he’d thought when he first set eyes on her, she was trouble with a capital T.

  “Like I said, I’ve just started looking.”

  A muscle flickered in her jaw, then she swung back toward the car. As though he hadn’t announced he needed to leave, she started talking.

  “Tires have got another two years in them, depending on the kind of mileage you do. Suspension is independent, double-wishbone at the back. Brakes are discs all round, and it’s fitted with ABS. It’s a six cylinder, and
with the turbocharger you’re looking at zero to one hundred in about 9.8 seconds.”

  She moved to the front of the car. He remained where he was, arms crossed over his chest. She stopped and looked at him, defiance shining in her eyes.

  Stubborn. And a pain in the ass to boot.

  “Not real good at taking no for an answer, are you?” he said.

  Something flickered in her eyes, then her face went utterly blank.

  “You’d be surprised.” She shifted her attention to the car for a second, then back to him. “You won’t find a better car for the money.”

  It was possible she was right, of course.

  “I’ll think about it,” he said again. He dipped his head in acknowledgment and walked toward his car. He could feel her watching him all the way, the awareness like a prickle on the back of his neck. Yet when he got to his car and glanced over his shoulder she had already disappeared into the workshop.

  Right.

  He gave himself a mental shake. He needed to get going if he still wanted to check out the commercial car lots before meeting his lawyer. Then there was the grocery shopping to do, and the last of the unpacking—all before the kids were out of school at three.

  He started the car and threw it into gear. As he had last night, he pushed his encounter with Hannah Napier out of his mind. She was nothing to him, the barest blip on his radar. Less.

  Still, he glanced back one last time before he drove away, but Hannah was nowhere in sight.

  HANNAH WAS SUPPOSED to catch up with her friend Mikey for dinner after work, but he canceled on her at the last minute, leaving her at loose ends. She figured she’d head home instead and put in some hours fixing the muffler on the bike—quietly, of course. No doubt Joe Lawson would come after her with an elephant gun or a lynch mob if she dared disturb his peace again.

  The memory of his dismissive attitude over the car had risen up to bite her on the ass all day. How she hated narrow-minded men like him. She’d seen it over and over—the cautious look in their eyes, the doubt as they listened to her tell them what was wrong with their cars. As though having breasts made her less qualified to understand the workings of the internal combustion engine. Please.