Christmas On Nutcracker Court

by Duarte, Judy

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “They were expensive, and I can’t afford to replace them right now.”

  Uh-oh. Was she expecting him to pay for them? Was that what this awkward moment was all about?

  Max took a defensive stance. “How did the dog get out of my yard?”

  “I have no idea, but he keeps ending up with my boys.”

  He couldn’t argue that point, but neither could he help but suspect that her kids had a part in his dog’s escape. But rather than accuse them without any solid evidence, he softened the blow. “Maybe they’re trying to adopt him.”

  She crossed her arms. “I’ve told the boys to stay away from your property and your dog. And they insist that they have.”

  Maybe so, but Max knew something about human nature, and confessions didn’t come easy for most people. “Have you considered that they might be lying to you?”

  “I suppose they could be, but I believe them. So I’d have to say it’s probably the other way around. Your dog is trying to adopt my kids.”

  “Do they need adopting?”

  She bristled, clearly taking offense at his remark. And to be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d said it, why he’d implied that she might not be watching them closely enough. It was possible, he supposed, but he had no way of knowing that was the case.

  “I love my kids,” she said. “And I try to keep close tabs on them, but I’m also pedaling as fast as I can, trying to stay on top of the creditors and my landlord. Christmas is coming, and I’m not even going to be able to afford a tree.”

  He was sorry to hear that, but what did she expect him to do or to say? He wasn’t the one who’d left her in a lurch.

  “I’m a hairdresser,” she added. “And I’ve been working six days a week. Sometimes I stay late at the salon, hoping to pick up the walk-in clientele. As a result, the boys are left to fend for themselves, which is a huge worry for me. But I can’t see any way around it right now, especially this month.”

  It was more than Max wanted to know, more than he needed to know. And he wondered if, after she went home and thought about it, she’d feel sorry about dumping all of that on him.

  He was usually good at reading people, although he wasn’t at all sure about her. He had a hunch that she was even less sure about him, and that’s usually the way he liked it. But something about this whole thing made him uneasy and left him a little unbalanced.

  “I’m sorry for venting,” she said. “And it kills me to have to come here and ask you to pay for my son’s glasses.”

  Max bristled. So that’s why she went to the trouble of bringing Hemingway home. To ask him for money. Well, he was financially strapped, too. And he didn’t like being backed into a corner.

  “Didn’t my dog pull your son out of the creek?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Then, if that’s the case, the cost of the glasses should be on you.”

  “But your dog caused Michael to fall into the water in the first place. And my son needs those glasses.” Her eyes—a pretty shade of green in the lamplight—welled with tears.

  Aw, man. Don’t do that, lady.

  Max knew that crying was often a ploy, and that she could be playing him for a fool, but that didn’t stop sympathy from chipping away at his resolve until he turned and strode for his desk to get his checkbook, which he kept in the top drawer.

  Annoyed by his weakness and grumbling under his breath, he grabbed a pen. On the PAY TO THE ORDER OF line, he wrote “Carly Westbrook,” then made it out for one hundred dollars and signed the darn thing.

  Yet he held his ground as he tore out the check and handed it to her. “I won’t pay to replace his glasses. But here’s a reward for finding my dog.”

  As she took it from him, her hand trembled slightly. She bit her bottom lip, and when she gazed at him, one of the tears welling in her eyes overflowed and slid down her cheek. “Thank you.”

  As she turned to go back out into the rain, he found himself stopping her. “I’ve got an umbrella you can use.”

  “That’s okay,” she said. “I don’t mind getting wet.”

  That might be true, but he figured the real reason she turned down his offer was because she didn’t want to feel beholden to him, and he couldn’t blame her for that.

  Somehow, thanks to his dog and a couple of disobedient kids, they’d ended up in some kind of neighborly cold war, which was a shame.

  As feisty as he could be at times, as quick as he was with a snappy retort, he didn’t feel like fighting with a beautiful single mother who was prone to tears.

  Especially since he found her far more attractive than he ought to.

  He opened the door for her, then watched as she ducked out into the rain. When she’d gotten safely into her car and started the engine, he turned to the dog. “What am I going to do with you?”

  Hemingway cocked his furry head to the side, clearly clueless.

  But the dumb dog wasn’t any more perplexed than Max.

  On Thursday morning, just before noon, Lynette was the first to arrive at Helen’s house. After parking at the curb and shutting off the ignition, she scanned the neighborhood, hoping to see one of the bachelors out and about.

  She wasn’t too hopeful until she spotted Grant Barrows leaving his house. He was wearing a dark sports jacket and tie today, which was unusual for a laid-back guy like him.

  Since she would need an excuse to approach him, she decided that making a comment about his appearance would work as well as anything. So she slid out of the driver’s seat, grabbed her purse, then locked the car and strolled toward Grant.

  “Don’t you look nice,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Going to a wedding?” She cast him a playful grin, doubting that was the case.

  He lobbed a boyish smile right back at her. “Actually, I’ve got a job interview.”

  Lynette could have sworn that Helen said he worked at home, but she could be wrong. Either way, she wasn’t mistaken about him being wealthy. She didn’t forget details like that. So, determined to set him up with Carly, she dropped her keys into her purse and approached him, hoping he had time to chat for a minute or two.

  “Nice tie,” she said, checking out the stylish but conservative blue and gray print.

  “You like it?” He glanced down the front of him, then smoothed his hand over the length of the silk.

  “I certainly do.” She’d always found Grant attractive, even in shorts and flip-flops. But she’d had no idea how sharp he would look when he dressed up.

  If she was interested in him herself, she wouldn’t have been so bold as to approach him, but she was doing this for Carly, so it was easy to be outgoing for a change.

  So how did she go about setting them up? She’d never been a matchmaker before. As her gaze lifted to his handsome face and those expressive brown eyes, she noticed the way the sun highlighted the gold strands in his hair, and an idea struck.

  She tipped her head slightly and pretended to check out his hair, thinking that the longer length really suited the casual, Tommy Bahama style he usually wore, but keeping that thought to herself.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, furrowing his brow. He lifted his hand and ran it across his head as if checking to see if maybe he’d suddenly sprouted a cowlick.

  “Nothing. It’s just that . . .” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “Maybe it’s the jacket and tie, but your hair seems a little long.”

  He flinched slightly, as if he might be as insecure as she was—which was a wild assumption. No one was as self-conscious as Lynette, especially a man like him.

  “Do you think I need a haircut?” he asked.

  No, not at all. Not even when he was all spiffed up in a jacket and tie, but if she wanted to set him up with a hairdresser, well . . .

  “Maybe just a trim,” she said. “Who normally styles it for you?”

  “Whoever’s available at the Clip Joint down on Third Avenue. I�
��m usually a walk-in client. And only when it starts to curl at the collar.”

  “Can I make a suggestion?”

  “Sure.” He crossed his arms over his chest, bracing himself, it seemed.

  She probably shouldn’t have implied that there was something wrong with his appearance, especially before an interview, but at this point, she wasn’t sure how to reel in her comment, so she continued what she’d started.

  “Why don’t you make an appointment with Carly down at Shear Magic? She’s a great hairstylist and reasonably priced—although the cost probably isn’t a factor for you.” Lynette smiled and gave a little shrug. “She’s also a good friend, and since she’s trying to build up a clientele, I’ve been sending people her way.”

  Grant slid a gaze over her, just as she’d done to him, which set off a nervous flutter in her stomach, something that always happened when a man, especially one who was attractive, studied her.

  She never knew quite how to deal with that sort of thing, so it stymied her a bit.

  “Your friend is lucky to have you as her PR person,” Grant said.

  Shaking off the momentary insecurity, Lynette managed to veer back on track. “I’m sure you don’t care about highlights, especially since yours are natural. But Carly styled my hair the other day. What do you think?”

  “Very nice.” This time his smile broadened, revealing a pair of dimples that Carly might find appealing.

  Lynette certainly did.

  Nevertheless, she opened her purse and reached inside. “I just so happen to have one of her cards.”

  Unfortunately, she’d tucked them in some little nook or pocket, so it took several seconds of digging around to find the little stack she’d been looking for. Then she handed one to Grant.

  He took the card from her, gave it a quick once-over, then glanced at his wristwatch and sobered. “I’m afraid I have to go or I’ll be late.”

  “I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time.”

  “No problem, Lynette. Maybe we can talk more later, after you ladies play poker.”

  “Sure,” she said, not bothering to tell him they’d only be eating lunch today. While he was gone, she would have to call Carly and see what times she had available to give Grant a haircut.

  So far, everything seemed to be working out nicely.

  As Lynette started back to Helen’s house, she took one last glance at Grant, only to find that he’d paused at his car door and was looking at her. The intensity of his gaze caught her off guard, and she tried to read his expression. Interest? Curiosity? Suspicion?

  She didn’t have a clue, and not knowing what he was thinking stirred up the butterflies in her stomach again.

  If she hadn’t been determined to find a financially secure man for Carly, she might have gotten cold feet about approaching Grant again, but as it was, she’d do whatever she could to see that the potential couple had a chance to meet.

  So she waved good-bye as if she hadn’t noticed anything unusual and turned toward Helen’s house, just as Susan was arriving.

  Eager to break free and to shake the flutters, she raised her hand and gave her friend a wave. But Susan didn’t seem to notice.

  As Susan parked in front of Helen’s house, she was still stewing over her most recent conversation with Hank’s sister.

  Barbie’s call had ended ten minutes ago, but Susan was growing more and more bothered by it. It wasn’t so much the call that made her uneasy, it was what she’d agreed to do. And now she was trying to figure out a way to get out of attending that holiday party at Lydia’s House altogether.

  Fortunately, as she parked her car on Nutcracker Court, she spotted Lynette talking to Grant Barrows, and her mood lifted.

  She’d asked her friends to be on the lookout for an eligible bachelor who might be interested in dating her, and since it appeared that Lynette was already on it, a thrill shot right through her.

  Smiling to herself, she shut off the ignition. But before she could reach for the plate of cookies she’d made for Grant, she saw him climb into his car and back out of his driveway.

  She hadn’t gotten a real good look at him, since he was standing on the other side of his car, but he appeared to be dressed up and to have combed his hair differently.

  He was usually home on Thursday afternoons, so she couldn’t help wondering where he was going.

  As the women came together, Lynette zeroed right in on the goodies she’d brought. “I love chocolate chip cookies. Are they homemade?”

  “They sure are. Hank’s mother gave me the recipe years ago and told me it was a surefire way to put a smile on any man’s face. And I have to say, it worked like a charm, even when I accidentally overdrew the checking account and Hank was fit to be tied.”

  “Magic cookies, huh?”

  Susan laughed. “It sure seemed like that at times. After eating a couple of these, fresh from the oven, Hank’s foul mood would usually turn to sweet within ten minutes. So I memorized the recipe, right down to the real-churned butter and the brand of chocolate chips to use.”

  “Smart lady.”

  Susan liked to think so. And that’s why she’d made these cookies today. She hoped they would have the same “magical” effect on Grant and Max.

  As the women walked along the sidewalk to Helen’s door, Susan said, “I saw you talking to Grant. Where was he going all dressed up like that?”

  “To a job interview.”

  “Oh?” Susan’s steps slowed. “I thought he worked at home.”

  “Me, too.”

  Susan waited for Lynette to offer more info, but she didn’t, which left her more curious than ever.

  “So what else did he have to say?” she asked.

  “Not much. We just talked for a minute or two.”

  Susan hated to pressure her friend for more details, especially if there weren’t any to be had. So she let the subject drop for now. Her biological clock might be ticking, but some things shouldn’t be rushed.

  Once they reached the door, Lynette said, “You’ve got your hands full. Let me get the bell.”

  Moments later, Maggie welcomed them into the house, where they were met with the warm, tantalizing aroma of tomatoes, basil, and oregano.

  “Something sure smells good,” Lynette said. “I’m glad I came hungry. Did you make the vegetable lasagna you told us about?”

  “I sure did.” Maggie’s smile lit her eyes and made her rather ordinary face look radiant—and almost pretty. “I made Caesar salad, too.”

  Susan lifted the plate of cookies in her hands. “And I brought dessert.”

  “Just looking at them makes my mouth water,” Maggie said, as she led them into the kitchen, where the table was already set for three.

  “It’s too bad Rosa has to work at the soup kitchen.” The comment tumbled out of Susan’s mouth before she gave it any thought, and since Susan seemed to be a champion for doing unto others and volunteerism, she decided she’d better clarify. “I mean it’s great that Rosa is helping out. I probably should be, too. It’s just a shame that she can’t join us. Lynette and I really miss her.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Maggie took the cookies from Susan and set them on the counter. “Why don’t you pull out a chair and have a seat. I’ll pour us some iced tea.”

  The table, which had a small pot of violets as a centerpiece, had been set with Helen’s best linen and china.

  The Lils had shared many a meal together, most of them potluck. And while Helen was a wonderful hostess, Maggie certainly knew how to make someone feel like a special guest.

  “It was so nice of you to make lunch for us,” Lynette said.

  Susan quickly chimed in with her thanks, as well.

  “You’re more than welcome,” Maggie said, as she began filling the plates and setting them on the table.

  Within minutes, they were all seated and enjoying one of the tastiest meals they’d had in a long time.

  “You’re a great cook,” Susan said, “and a w
onderful hostess.”

  Helen’s cousin smiled. “Thanks. I enjoy sharing meals with my friends.”

  “I do, too.” Lynette placed a spoonful of sugar in her glass of iced tea and gave it a stir. “It’s really too bad that Rosa had to miss this. For once it would be nice if she could kick back and enjoy a meal. She’s usually the one cooking and waiting on everyone else.”

  “Did I mention that I got the chance to meet her yesterday?” Maggie asked.

  “No, you didn’t.” Lynette set down her spoon, then picked up her glass. “Where did you see her?”

  “At the soup kitchen. I stopped by to see if I could volunteer my time, and Pastor Craig introduced us.” Maggie stuck her fork into her salad and speared a piece of romaine. “She’s very nice, but she appeared to be a little worn and frazzled yesterday.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Susan leaned back in her chair. “She’s been really busy lately, and at her age, she really shouldn’t push so hard. I’ve been meaning to stop in and check on her.”

  “She also seemed a little flushed and out of breath,” Maggie added. “I’m sure she could use some help in the kitchen, if either of you can find the time.”

  “I know her husband means well,” Lynette said, “but you know what they say—charity begins at home.”

  Susan wondered if Maggie would agree. She seemed to have a soft heart about giving and doing for others. At least, she’d made Susan feel a little guilty about hanging on to their poker winnings and spending it on the tournament in Laughlin. Maybe an hour or two spent volunteering at the soup kitchen would lessen those feelings. It was something to think about.

  Not that that Susan was selfish or greedy. She was concerned about the disadvantaged. You could even ask her accountant. She and Hank always had charitable donations to write off on their taxes.

  Of course, after that phone call with Barbie, she wondered if she might be more selfish than she’d thought.

  “What’s the matter?” Maggie asked. “Is something wrong?”

  Susan glanced up, realizing that the hostess had been addressing her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I was just thinking about something.”