Christmas On Nutcracker Court

by Duarte, Judy

  “All right, I will.” Lynette, who Susan imagined was only too happy to get her tight little paws on the cash, dumped it on the table and proceeded to add it up.

  The fact that she’d been right, that they’d had more money than Susan had thought, didn’t matter one little bit. Not while she was still stinging from the comments made.

  A part of her wanted to retaliate by bringing up the fact that the only one focused on the money was Lynette, who’d always been tightfisted in spite of having a slew of it herself.

  No wonder she’d been keeping a mental note of all their winnings.

  Finally Lynette looked up and smiled—a little too smugly. “We have over six thousand dollars.”

  “And more than enough for that trip to Laughlin,” Maggie said. “Have you given any thought to ways in which you can give to those in need this Christmas?”

  “We don’t have to give money,” Lynette said. “Right? Giving of our time helps.”

  Susan gave a little humph, reminded again of Lynette’s tightfisted flaw, which wasn’t one she’d been born with, like a learning disability. Rather it was one that had developed over time and nurtured by selfishness.

  “It’s true that you don’t have to spend money in order to help others,” Maggie agreed, “but if you run across someone who has a real need, I hope you’ll be generous.”

  “Of course,” Lynette said, as she recounted the money and placed it in neat little stacks.

  Susan couldn’t help but doubt that Lynette would actually spend a dime of her money on anyone else, but she supposed that wasn’t any of her business. She could only speak for herself. And she had someone in mind already. “While I was helping out at the soup kitchen, I noticed a single mother and her children who could use some help, as well as an elderly couple whose car isn’t working.”

  There was that homeless man and his dog, too, she realized.

  “See?” Maggie said. “If you keep your eyes open, you’ll find people you can bless one way or another. Sometimes taking time to smile and talk to someone who is down and out will do wonders.”

  “You’re right. We’ve seen it ourselves at the soup kitchen, although there are lots of needs in the community.” Rosa turned to Susan. “Since you’re going to help out at Lydia’s House, why don’t you see if there’s something special they need? Maybe we can donate it to them.”

  “I can do that,” Susan said, although just thinking about joining Barbie and her parents at the home for developmentally disabled adults caused her to sigh.

  “What’s wrong?” Rosa asked.

  “Oh, nothing. It’s just that my sister-in-law asked me to make brownies and a coffee cake for the holiday party.”

  “That’ll be a nice and easy contribution,” Maggie said.

  “Maybe, but I’d . . .” She’d meant to say that she’d rather not go at all, but she was already feeling bruised and a little stupid, thanks to Lynette’s hurtful comments and insistence upon counting the money herself. So why risk any more criticism?

  “But Susan,” Maggie said, “I thought you liked to bake. That cake you made the other day was out of this world. And so were those chocolate chip cookies.”

  “I do, but . . .” Susan clamped her mouth shut, again reminding herself that she’d already been chastised for a learning disability she hadn’t asked to be born with.

  Why mention that she tended to get the ingredients mixed up whenever she tried her hand at a new recipe? Or tell them that whenever there’d been a potluck at Hank’s mother’s house, she would hire a woman from the church to make a dish for her so her in-laws wouldn’t find out about her shortcomings?

  It was only sheer determination that had caused her to continue baking and throwing out numerous batches of the mango-coconut cake or those chocolate chip cookies until she’d memorized every last ingredient and could make either in her sleep.

  “But what?” Rosa asked.

  “It’s just that I’d rather . . . do something more.”

  They grew silent, probably lost in thought as they each considered people they could somehow bless, when Susan realized she’d already done so today.

  “You know,” she admitted, “I performed a good deed before I arrived here.”

  Maggie leaned forward, clearly intent upon hearing more. “That’s wonderful. What did you do?”

  “I purchased an outdoor Christmas decoration for one of Helen’s neighbors and gave it to him. The poor guy doesn’t have anything up at all, and the lighted snowman is going to look darling in his yard.”

  “You told me that earlier,” Lynette said, “but the more I think about it, the more I doubt that Grant will actually use that snowman.”

  “What makes you say that?” Susan asked, irritation lacing her voice. “He thanked me and smiled when he placed it in his house.”

  “Yes, but Grant hasn’t decorated his yard since moving into this neighborhood several years ago. And truthfully, don’t you think a snowman might be a little too . . . well, a little too feminine for a guy like him?”

  Susan gave another little humph, although she didn’t think anyone heard this one, either. If they had, they might have realized that she’d like to clobber Lynette.

  “And speaking of Grant,” Lynette added, “I did a good deed, too.”

  At that, Susan perked up. Had Lynette actually been matchmaking, like Susan had hoped that she would?

  Biting back a splash of excitement and deciding she’d overreacted, that she ought to forgive the woman for the thoughtless comments she’d made earlier, Susan asked, “What did you do?”

  “I introduced him to my hairdresser. She’s a single mom with two kids and is really struggling financially. They hit it off and are going out on Saturday night. I’m even going to watch the kids.” All of a sudden, Lynette laughed. “Actually, that should count as two good deeds since I know very little about children and have never babysat before.”

  A sense of betrayal slammed into Susan. Lynette couldn’t have surprised or hurt her more if she’d jumped over the table and slapped her in the face.

  Surely Lynette had known that Susan had wanted to go out with Grant, so how could she set him up with someone else?

  The mounting frustration and anger, fueled by the earlier implication that Susan was too stupid to count, built to the point that she couldn’t help herself from blurting out, “How could you?”

  Susan scooted back her chair and got to her feet. As she grabbed her purse, she aimed a frown at the woman she’d once thought of as a friend.

  Confusion splashed across Lynette’s face, leaving her to appear as lost and oblivious as a masked kid playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey.

  But Susan didn’t give a rip about that. Instead, she strode through the house, almost stomping as she went.

  In the background she heard Lynette ask, “What did I do?”

  Well, Susan was done talking. The selfish blond bimbo was going to have to figure it out on her own, although she’d probably need Rosa and Maggie to explain what should have been obvious to anyone with a heart.

  When Susan blew up and stormed out of Helen’s house, Lynette had been too stunned to speak.

  What had she done wrong?

  In silent awe, she turned to the other women, hoping they had a clue as to what had just happened.

  “Apparently, she has a crush on Grant,” Rosa said.

  She did? Why hadn’t she said something earlier? If Lynette would have known that, she wouldn’t have introduced Grant to Carly.

  Although, come to think of it, Susan really wasn’t the man’s type. She was more . . .

  Well, Lynette couldn’t put her finger on what had caused her to come to that conclusion, but suffice it to say the two weren’t suited.

  Still, in her own defense, Lynette said, “A few weeks back, Susan mentioned something about being ready to start dating. And she asked us to be on the lookout for her, but she never said anything about setting her sights on anyone in particular.”

>   “I think your comment about her math skills might have made her a little testy,” Rosa said. “I knew what you meant, but it’s difficult to have someone point out your faults in a group.”

  Gosh, was that what Lynette had done? She certainly hadn’t meant to. If anyone knew how it felt to deal with insecurities and fears that someone would uncover hidden flaws, it was her.

  Was that what had set Susan off?

  If so, she couldn’t blame her.

  “I feel really badly about hurting her feelings and making her angry,” Lynette admitted. “I’m going to have to apologize.”

  No one said anything one way or the other. Instead, they continued to chat about inconsequential things. Lynette gave it another fifteen minutes or so, then excused herself.

  “I’ve got an appointment,” she said, as she carried her cup and plate to the sink. “So I’ve got to run.”

  It wasn’t true, but she’d never had a lot of friends growing up, so she valued the ones she had now and didn’t like the thought of losing one.

  After telling Rosa and Maggie good-bye, she let herself out and walked down the sidewalk, still struggling with guilt over the hasty comments she’d made.

  At the sound of an approaching vehicle, she looked up and spotted Grant returning home with a surfboard attached to a rack on the top of his car.

  Surely he hadn’t gone out in the ocean in this weather. The water had to be freezing cold.

  Unable to pretend she hadn’t seen him, she headed toward his house.

  Sure enough, as he got out of his vehicle, his hair was wet. He was wearing khaki-colored board shorts and a black hoodie, but his skin appeared damp, and his lips held a bluish tint.

  “Don’t tell me you went surfing today,” she said.

  He tossed her a grin. “Yep. The waves were awesome.”

  “But it’s so cold.”

  “I have a wet suit, so it wasn’t too bad.”

  She glanced down at her feet, not wanting to leave, yet still bothered by Susan’s angry departure. When she glanced up, she caught Grant’s gaze. “I’m not sure if you know this, but Carly isn’t the only one interested in you.”

  Grant’s eyes glimmered, and as he crossed his arms and leaned his weight onto one foot, he grinned. “Oh, yeah?”

  She nodded. “Susan’s interested in you, too.”

  The smile drifted from his face.

  “I’m not trying to complicate your life,” she added.

  “By telling me about Susan?” He slowly shook his head and chuffed. “It’s not like you’re trying to set us up.” Then he grew serious. “You’re not, are you?”

  “Oh, no. I mean . . . Well, if you feel the least bit attracted to her, that’s great. She’s a nice woman. And she’s lonely.”

  “Whoa. Let’s back up. Carly is more my type than Susan is, so let’s not even go there.”

  Lynette had felt the same way, but at least she could tell Susan she’d gone to bat for her. Maybe knowing that would help her to accept the apology Lynette intended to make.

  “Listen,” Grant said, “if you have any influence on Susan, please ask her to back off.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s been stopping by to chat with me every chance she gets, and not just on Thursdays. For some reason, she seems to be finding a lot of other reasons to be in the neighborhood.”

  “You mean she’s stalking you?”

  “No, it’s not that bad. But even though I’ve tried to tell her nicely that I’m not in the Christmas spirit this year, she won’t listen. And to make matters worse, she came by on Tuesday and brought me the driest, most awful fruitcake ever made. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was left over from last year. I actually took a bite and nearly choked. What’s with that woman?”

  “She’s dyslexic, and it must have been a new recipe.”

  Grant chuffed. “So why did she have to practice on me?”

  Lynette didn’t want Grant to think badly of Susan, even if he wasn’t interested in dating her. So she said, “She’s really good-hearted.”

  “I’m sure she is. But she seems to have adopted me as some kind of pet project, and I have to say that I don’t really like it.”

  Lynette couldn’t help but grin. “You mean I’m not the only one of Helen’s friends trying to butt into your life?”

  Grant lobbed a smile right back at her. Then he reached out and ran a couple of cold knuckles along her cheek. “No, you’re not the only one.”

  For a moment, she found it hard to breathe. But not because of the chill of his touch. His icy fingers had some wild, inexplicable way of warming her from the inside out.

  She couldn’t help but look at Grant, really look. And as she noticed the blue tinge around his lips, the damp hair, the intensity in his gaze, she found herself wondering if she might be the tiniest bit interested in him, too.

  But she couldn’t let that happen. She had to get out of here, but for some reason, the words wouldn’t form and her feet wouldn’t move.

  They stood like that for a couple of beats, even though the poor man was turning into an icicle out here.

  So why hadn’t she shooed him off, telling him to take a hot shower before he caught pneumonia?

  Because she actually liked the guy, more than she would admit. She liked talking to him, looking at him. . . .

  Of course, she wasn’t falling for him. Goodness, she couldn’t do that.

  But rather than spinning her wheels, trying to figure out all the internal confusion she was experiencing while he was standing just inches away, she said, “I’d better let you go inside before you can claim that Helen’s friends are going to be the death of you, either by fruitcake poisoning or by freezing.”

  He laughed, and the way his eyes glimmered like warm embers in the fire, the way her heart flip-flopped, had her scurrying for some kind of explanation for it all.

  Lynette didn’t need a man; Carly did.

  To think otherwise made her feel a little like a home wrecker, and Grant had yet to take Carly out on their first date. But things wouldn’t go any further than this. Lynette couldn’t—and wouldn’t—let it, even if Grant asked her out. Because now she had a good reason to tell him no.

  She didn’t date men she was attracted to.

  Chapter 13

  Carly left the salon early on Thursday, right after Donna Ferris, her last client, walked out with a smile and a fresh new perm.

  It was only half past three, so on any other day, she would have stuck around, hoping for a walk-in client to request a service, but with Max coming over for dinner, she needed to get home and start cooking.

  She told herself that the two hundred dollars he was paying her for reading his manuscript would cover any services she might have missed out on by leaving before five this afternoon.

  Hopefully, by the end of the weekend, she’d have those three hundred pages read and his check deposited into her account. She owed her landlord a payment on Monday, and by giving him a little extra than she’d planned, he might let them stay in the house through Christmas.

  The two hundred dollars from Max wasn’t quite the miracle she’d been praying for, but she was grateful to have it just the same.

  On her way home, she stopped at the market and picked up the fixings for tacos, something she hadn’t made in months. Knowing she ought to provide some kind of dessert for her guest, she also purchased a generic brand of vanilla ice cream and a jar of chocolate syrup.

  When she finally arrived home, she parked in the garage, then entered the house through the kitchen, where she set down the bag of groceries on the table. She could hear the TV blasting in the living room, so before doing anything else, she went in search of her sons.

  Sure enough, Mikey was sitting on the sofa, watching SpongeBob SquarePants on television, while Josh, whose open backpack rested beside him, was seated on the floor using the coffee table as a desk. His open math book and several papers were spread before him as he did his homewor
k.

  “I’m home,” she said, realizing she’d better use some window cleaner on the glass-top coffee table before Max arrived.

  Mikey gave her a glad-to-see-you smile and a “Hi, Mom,” then went right back to watching SpongeBob and his under-the-sea friends.

  Josh, on the other hand, continued to solve a long-division problem. She supposed she ought to admire his focus, but she would have felt better if he’d at least greeted her.

  Deciding to let it go, she asked, “Did I tell you guys that we’re having company for dinner?”

  At that, Josh looked up from his work, breaking his concentration. “No, you didn’t. Who’s coming over?”

  “Mr. Tolliver.”

  “Why’s he coming here?”

  Even Mikey grabbed the TV remote and turned down the volume at the news. “Is he mad at us again?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. Mr. Tolliver and I met at the grocery store the other night, and since we’re kind of neighbors, I invited him to dinner.”

  Mikey’s eyes grew wide, even without the help of the new glasses that she was supposed to pick up at the optometrist’s office next week. “He’s not going to yell at us about something, is he?”

  “No, he won’t do that.”

  Mikey turned to his brother. “Hey, Josh. I wonder if he’ll come over in his robe and slippers. That’s all he ever seems to wear.”

  Both boys laughed.

  “Actually,” Carly said, “Mr. Tolliver asked me to do a favor for him, and he’s coming over to talk to me about it.”

  Josh leaned back from the table, resting against the sofa. “What did he ask you to do?”

  “He’s writing a book, and he wants me to help with the editing.”

  Surprise splashed across her oldest son’s face. “No kidding?”

  What did he find so hard to believe? That Mr. Tolliver had created a work of fiction? Or that his mother had the ability to edit something literary?

  “I can’t believe that guy is writing a book,” Josh added. “What kind is it? A murder mystery in a haunted house?” He chuckled to himself. “I bet it’s a horror story about a zombie who eats kids.”