by Cathy Quinn
“You’d voluntarily work Christmas?” Nick sounded shocked.
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Well – I might, if I didn’t have my girls,” he admitted. “I guess I did, before they were born. And also after the divorce when the girls would stay with their mother over Christmas anyway. I preferred being at work, than at home without them.”
Divorce.
Sylvie digested that. “I didn’t know you were divorced,” she said off-hand. If he wanted to share, fine. If he didn’t, she wouldn’t push.
Even if curiosity was just about killing her.
“Yeah. We divorced two years before she died. Four years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” It seemed lame, but there was nothing else she could say. She wasn’t sure what she was commiserating over. Death or divorce? Probably both.
“It was a long time ago. Lana’s still having problems, of course, but Emily bounced back quickly. They’re so different. Such different personalities. But we’ll all be fine. In time.”
“I noticed there were no family members at the birthday party?”
“They came over for coffee the next day, when everything was calm and quiet.”
“Smart move.”
“Yeah. That way there’s less risk of my sister and my mother criticizing my parenting skills.”
“They do?” She blinked. “Well, I’m no expert, but I can’t really see how you could be doing any better job at parenting.”
“You never feel you’re doing enough. You’ll find out when you have kids of your own. You never ever feel good enough.”
“I don’t plan on having any kids,” she said, and he looked startled. “A cat is quite enough responsibility for me. And a lot easier. And my parents don’t care much about how I raise him”
Nick grinned. “That is a big plus I have to admit. My mother can be a bit... difficult,” Nick confessed. “And around the girls she’s easier to handle when there aren’t many people around.”
“Easier to handle? You make her sound like a difficult pet.”
“She is in a way,” Nick said, groaning. “She plays favorites. It drives me crazy. And I won’t let her do it. Which means I have to hover over her like a hawk when she’s around the girls, steering the conversation, making sure she pays them equal attention...”
“Ugh,” Sylvie said, grimacing. Was it the biological child versus the adopted one? She could imagine some people responding like that.
“I hope the girls haven’t realized it yet, but subconsciously I know they do. They tend to fight when she’s around – and they’re usually such good friends. I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want them to be rivals just because their grandmother has some funny ideas.” He shook his head, and took the empty glass away from her. “But come on, we’re at a party, and I’m dumping all my troubles on you. What am I thinking?”
“It’s fine. I like hearing about your kids.”
He took her hand and pulled her across the room to wide-open double door at the end. “I hear there’s dancing in there. Let’s go.”
Chapter 9
“Iffy!”
It wasn’t Nick’s head clearing the platform, like she’d secretly been hoping for the past few days. Three days. Three days since their date – if it had even been a date -- and she hadn’t heard from him. Hadn’t even seen him. They’d danced, and talked, and he’d taken her home and although he hadn’t kissed her, there had been drawn-out eye contact at the door and then he’d sent her a goodbye smile hotter than any actual kiss she’d ever received.
All in all it had been a damn promising evening.
And then nothing. For three whole days.
What did that signify? She’d consulted Helen and Susie, both rather more experienced with the dating game than she was, and apparently this signified nothing at all. “Four more days,” Susie had said knowledgably. “If he doesn’t call within a week of the date, forget about him. I mean, even if he is in touch after that, forget it.”
“However, if he calls the very next day, he may be desperate, so you should also forget about him,” Helen added.
“Unless, of course,” Susie said, “it was love at first sight, in which case, it’s wonderful that he calls the very next day.” She sighed dreamily.
“Or,” Helen interjected, “it could mean that he’s a psychopathic stalker.”
Sylvie stared from one cousin to the other. “Okay, so the symptoms of true love and psychopathic stalking are the same? Great. This will help a lot.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Susie said.
“Hey, Susie Sunshine, how many weirdos have you dated, and how often have you met true love?” Helen flung her hands up. “I mean, it’s clear where the odds are, isn’t it?”
“True love is out there,” Susie objected. “You just have to search carefully. It takes time and effort. It’s a lot of work.”
“Kind of hard to search carefully wearing those rose-tinted glasses, isn’t it?” Helen retorted.
Dating was obviously complicated in the modern world. It probably didn’t help when you complicated it going on a date with your boss – without even being sure it counted as a real date.
She still wasn’t sure, damnit.
But now Emily was there, standing on the ladder and peeking up at her. Sylvie smiled at the child, and kept playing. Her father was probably not far behind. Did this count as “being in touch”? No, probably not. This was his store. This was a toy store. He had two reasons to be here, and neither one related to her.
“Hi, Emily!” she said as she finished the last notes of the song. “Is your sister there too?”
“Yes.” Emily scooted up on the platform, and her sister followed, smiling shyly at Sylvie. Then Nick emerged, smiling at her in greeting, and the platform started to feel very crowded.
“We’re visiting you,” Emily said importantly.
“Well, thanks for that,” she said. “I don’t get many visitors up here.”
Emily bolted into Sylvie’s lap and slammed ten fingers down on the piano. A indefinable chord reverberated throughout the entire store. “Will you teach me to play Jingle Bells?”
Sylvie rolled her eyes. “How about The Little Drummer Boy instead?”
“Okay. You could teach us here,” the girl said slyly. Sylvie chuckled. That would be interesting. Live lessons in the middle of a toy store? “Or at home,” Emily continued. “You could come visit us again and teach us. We have a piano at home too”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
“The kids wanted to visit you – I didn’t think you’d mind.” Despite his words, Nick was looking as if he did think she would mind. But she really didn’t. The kids were growing on her.
Of course, she would have preferred their father to actually call her after the other evening, and then bring his kids to see her.
Call her.... to say – what?
Ask her out again?
Was that what she wanted?
In her mind, she heard the music again, felt the imprint of Nick’s body against hers. Two songs. Two dances. That was all, but it had twisted her romantic bone, made her dream of fairytales and flowers.
Head full of cobwebs and confusion, that was what she had. It was definitely time for Christmas cleaning up there.
“No, I don’t mind,” she said. “It’s lovely to see the girls again.”
Nick looked down towards the staff offices. “Is it okay if I leave the girls with you a minute and run to talk to Mary? Just a minute or two – five minutes tops.”
“No problem.” Heck, she could handle a minute or two with the little girls. She’d handled a whole birthday party, hadn’t she?
“You look weird,” Emily proclaimed as soon as her father had gone.
“Emily!” Lana protested in his stead, with Nick’s exact intonation. “That’s rude.”
“She does look weird. She’s not a clown today.”
“You’re right about that,” Sylvie agreed. Emily didn’t seem about to budge
out of her lap so she held out an arm, gesturing Lana over, and then she was sitting on the piano bench with two children in her arms. Lana’s fingers slid over the keys. Unlike her sister, she didn’t bang down on them.
Lana tugged on her sleeve, stretching up to whisper into her ear. Sylvie leaned towards her. “We’re decorating the tree later. Will you help us?” she whispered. Sylvie closed her eyes. She felt helpless. What to say? Lana seemed to have adopted her, but it probably wasn’t even good for the child to get attached to someone who wouldn’t be sticking around.
“Sweetie, decorating the tree is a family thing,” she whispered back. “You should do that with your father and sister. Not a strange clown!”
Lana’s blue eyes didn’t even blink. “Please?”
Logic didn’t always work on seven year olds.
Emily leaned across Sylvie to peer suspiciously into Lana’s face. “What is it? What are you asking Iffy?”
“The Christmas tree,” the child said. “I was asking if she would help us decorate the tree.”
“Will you?” Emily asked. She looked up at Sylvie, and now she had the two sweetest little faces in the world looking up at her in hope. Jeez. How had this happened? Why in the world had they latched on to her like this? She didn’t even like kids!
“It’s a family thing,” she repeated, but she wasn’t very firm about it. “You decorate the tree with your family. That’s how it should be. I’m not family, kids.”
“What now?” Nick was back. He looked at his daughters and shook his head. “I guess I should have known better than to leave them alone with you. What are they trying to pull?”
“We want Iffy to help us decorate the tree,” Lana said.
“Really?”
Emily wriggled out of Sylvie’s lap and Lana quickly took her place. Emily tugged on her father’s hand, held her arms out, and he bent down and lifted her up in his arms. “But she says it’s a family thing. Isn’t it okay for Iffy to help us, Daddy? Please say yes, Daddy.”
Sylvie waited for Nick’s reaction. Would he pull Mr. Boss on her? Make decorating their tree seem like another one of her chores?
Nick leaned against the railing, and rather looked like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He looked at Sylvie’s face, and hesitated. She just looked back, waiting for his answer, refusing to give him a clue about how she felt about the whole thing. “Girls, you have to realize that Sylvie is probably too busy to visit us today. It’s so short a notice. And it’s almost Christmas. Everybody has a lot to do these days.”
“Are you too busy?” Lana asked – and Sylvie found herself hesitating. She wasn’t sure why. It was an easy way out, and damn, she needed a way out – didn’t she?
How did Nick feel about this whole thing? If she agreed to come – would he approve or did he prefer she didn’t? He had provided the easy way out – did that mean he wanted her to take it?
“Are you?” Emily asked impatiently when Sylvie didn’t answer Lana’s question right away. “Are you too busy?”
“Are you?” Lana whispered.
“I’m not sure,” Sylvie said, feeling like a chicken. She couldn’t look into those blue eyes and say no. Not to such an innocent heart-felt request. What had made this child latch on to her like this. “I don’t know. I’ll have to check my schedule...”
Lana looked crestfallen and she hadn’t even said no.
She felt like a heel.
Nick lifted Emily up and held out a hand to Lana. “Well, girls, let’s go. Do you want to play in the Jungle Room a bit before we go home?”
“Yes!” Emily said enthusiastically. The Jungle Room was just across from the piano platform. She started down the ladder, and her sister followed.
“Sorry about that,” Nick said when his daughters had safely vanished into the green glass cage. “About them bulldozing you like that, I mean.”
“They take after their father,” she commented dryly.
He chuckled. “Sorry about that too. Bad habit. I’m trying to break it.” He looked around. “I should have some chairs moved here. For your guests.”
“I don’t entertain a lot up here.”
“I had planned to invite you,” he said. “For dinner tonight. With me and the girls.”
“And incidentally, to the tree-decorating?”
“I didn’t say anything about it to the girls. Honest. I wouldn’t have mentioned it without you agreeing first. But you don’t have to come if you feel uncomfortable about it. I just thought it might be... fun.”
“I see.”
“The girls like having you around. I like having you around. It’s Saturday. That’s movie night at my house. I will probably have to watch a cartoon movie I’ve seen thirty-seven times already, so I’m going to rent a real movie too. I could use someone to watch it with me after the girls are sleep. Pop-corn on me.”
And he’d just assumed she’d be free Saturday night? Hmmm. “I’m sure there are plenty of candidates.”
His grin was slow, and although he tried to hide it by looking down, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes betrayed him. “I hardly dare bring a woman home anymore, even colleagues for a brainstorming session in my workshop. Emily doesn’t approve, and women tend to be somewhat put off by a five-year-old with a water pistol yelling ‘Get away from my Daddy or I’ll shoot!’
“Oh, Lord.”
Nick chuckled. “It’s okay. After all, it’s only 13 years until she leaves for college and I can start dating again.”
So, this wasn’t dating?
The man was impossible.
And he was reading her mind. “I have to be sneaky about it,” he said. “Like, bring in a clown, and then start dating her undercover.”
She couldn’t help chuckling.
Nick lifted an eyebrow. “So, are you busy tonight? Or do we have a date....?”
* * *
How could she refuse?
How long had it been since she last decorated a tree, anyway? She probably hadn’t been much older than Lana when her parents had decided to switch to a fake tree with fake ornaments. She’d pouted for three Christmases straight.
She’d forgotten how much fun the decorating was, and how lovely the tree smelled. The decorations were a mixture of expensive glass ornaments and home-made paper ornaments. Each got equal reverence from the girls, and the ornaments were carefully divided in four to keep things fair.
“We draw lots about who puts the star on the top,” he told her and settled down at the table with scissors, cutting four pieces of a sheet of paper. “It’s a family tradition. Well – we did it last year. So this time will make it a tradition.”
Sylvie shook her head. “Just make three lots, not four – it’s your tradition. I’m not family.”
“You’re an honorary family member right now,” Nick said. He put the four slips of paper into a bag and shook it. “The one who gets my brilliantly depicted picture of a star on her slip, wins. Who wants to draw first?”
It was a rhetorical question. The problem was solved, and two small hands went into the bag simultaneously and drew a slip each. “Not me!” Emily said, and Lana shook her head. “Me neither.”
“Your turn, Sylvie,” Nick said, holding out the bag to her. She reluctantly drew one of the two remaining slips, and rolled it open. It had a quickly drawn ink star with a smiley face.
The girls jumped up and down in excitement. “Iffy! Iffy puts the star on the tree.”
“No. No, no, no. Really, I don’t have to. Nick, it should be one of the girls.”
Lana shook her head. “We draw lots. Everybody gets a chance, also the grown-ups.”
“She’s right,” Nick said, not helping her out at all. “This is the way we do it. You drew the star, you do the honors.”
“Here it is.” Lana put the gold star into her hand. “Dad will lift you up. That’s how it works.”
“But...”
Nick was already lifting her up. His strong arms around her, her hand on his shoulde
r, and she could smell his shampoo. This wasn’t right. This was most definitely wrong, but why the hell did it feel so good then?
Her hand trembled, and she worried about dropping the star. “Uh...” she said, reaching out for the tree. Better get this over with. “Is this straight?” she asked the girls, clipping the star on the tree.
“No!” Emily yelled, and she had to realign it, then again as Lana said it was still askew. A small eternity passed until Nick finally let her slide down to the floor. For a moment they stared into each other’s eyes, then he smiled and stepped away. Her heart was pounding, and she was aware of him as never before. Her breath was rapid. Her lips were tingling. Heck, the tip of her nose was tingling.
Damn. This wasn’t supposed to happen. What was she doing here anyway? She didn’t belong. If Lana had attached to her, it would only be all that more difficult when she’d no longer be coming around.
They finished the tree, and it was lovely. The most beautifulest tree in the world, as the girls put it. It was still light outside, more fluffy snow had fallen, and the girls wanted to go outside in the yard and play in the snow.
Naturally, they didn’t want to go alone.
“I’m not dressed for it,” she protested.
“I’ve got a thick sweater you can borrow,” Nick seemed just as enthusiastic as the girls about going outside in the cold. “And we’ve got plenty of scarves and mittens and all that. It will probably be a bit too big or to small for you, but it should do the work for half an hour or so.”
“All right,” she said, clearly outvoted. “Just for a few minutes. Then I’ll be getting home. “But no snow in my face, Emily!” she added sternly. “Putting snow up people’s noses is not nice.”