A Heartwarming Thanksgiving

by Amy Vastine

  Dylan took her hand and she closed her eyes, savoring his warmth.

  “I’m sorry, Elena” he whispered in her ear.

  Tears welled behind her closed lids and she squeezed them tighter. How could he keep such a big part of himself from her? All their plans, their dreams…. He’d decided by himself that they didn’t matter. He was going to be Cowboy Dylan for the rest of his life. She didn’t know Cowboy Dylan, and she couldn’t drop her entire life for a man she hardly knew.

  “Look what I found at the mega mart!” Elena turned to see Rose standing with a plate of baklava. She smiled and took one of the offered pieces. Rose returned her smile and Elena couldn’t help giving her a hug.

  Mrs. Hayes stood behind a table pouring her signature moonshine into red plastic cups. “You’ve got to try the apple pie,” she told Elena.

  Elena took the offered cup. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but she needed fortification. The stuff burned her throat but left her tongue with a pleasant taste of apples. “It’s pretty good.”

  Mrs. Hayes laughed. “Now see, any girl who can drink moonshine is okay by me. You just gotta learn not to shoot my roses.”

  Elena’s eyes widened.

  “Yep, nothing gets by me. And I’m never gonna forgive you for it.” The twinkle in her eyes made Elena laugh.

  Dylan got caught up talking to someone, so she slipped to the corner of the tent and pulled out her phone to see if she could get on an earlier flight back to Chicago. She didn’t have a good signal so she moved away from the tent back toward the woods.

  Could it be?

  She followed the sound to a spot behind a tree. “Claudia, what’re you doing here?” She pulled some clover out of the ground and held it out. Claudia dutifully clucked and stepped closer. Elena picked her up.

  “Let her go.”

  She looked up to see Dylan standing behind her.

  “She’ll be better off in the woods, else she’ll end up on our kitchen table.”

  Elena smiled and set Claudia down. Dylan wrapped his arms around her and Elena sank against him as they watched Claudia walk away, her head held high.

  Tears streamed down Elena’s face. This would be the last time he’d hold her like this. They watched the sky turn from bright orange to deep shades of purple and gold.

  “Don’t go.” Dylan’s warm breath was on her ear, giving her that familiar feeling of intoxicating bliss. She pressed her teeth into her tongue to remind her of the pain he was causing her. He couldn’t be one man in Chicago and another in Hell’s Bells. She hadn’t fallen in love with a cowboy.

  He let her go suddenly. She turned.

  Her gaze dropped. He was on his knees holding a red velvet box. The kind of box she’d been dreaming about for months.

  “Elena Arianna Striotikos…”

  She stared at the ring. It was a gold band with an etched ribbon and cross. She’d know that ring anywhere. “That’s my grandmother’s ring,” she blurted.

  He smiled. “I went to ask your father’s permission to ask you to marry me, and he told me to give you this ring.”

  Her heart stopped. She took the box from him.

  He rose, a big smile on his face. She shut the box and shook her head. “I can’t do this, Dylan. I love you, and I want this more than anything. But—”

  He opened his mouth to protest, but she put a finger on his lips. “We obviously want different things out of life.”

  “Elena, please, we can figure it out.”

  “I’ll return the ring to my father.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Three weeks had gone by since Elena returned from Hell’s Bells, without Dylan. He texted her every day the first week, then every other day. She hadn’t heard from him in a week now. She stared at his apartment door every morning when she left for work, half expecting him to appear in his cowboy hat and boots. In the evening, she waited for the knock on her door that never came.

  She crossed the lobby in a fog.

  “Miss, there’s a delivery for you.”

  Elena turned to the front desk attendant, who held out a beautiful bouquet of roses in a crystal glass vase. Her heart soared. They had to be from Dylan. She took the flowers and walked to the elevators with a bounce in her step, inhaling the beautiful fragrance. As soon as she entered her apartment, she set the flowers on the table and plucked out the card on top.

  She opened the ivory envelope. The words swam before her eyes. They were from the partners at her firm, congratulating her on the promotion she’d just received.

  She screamed, picked up the vase, and threw the flowers into the trash. The vase caught on the lip of the garbage can and smashed into a thousand pieces. Elena sank to the floor, pulled her knees to her chest and sobbed. A searing pain ripped through her body and she hugged herself even tighter.

  A pair of strong arms wrapped around her. Was she hallucinating? These arms felt like Dylan’s; they even smelled like his soap. The burning in her chest eased.

  “Hush now, darlin’.”

  She lifted her head. “Dylan?”

  “You left the door open, and I heard a crash.”

  “You’re back?” Her voice was a whisper, as if saying the words out loud might somehow make them untrue.

  He cupped her face in her hands. “Elena, my life is where you are. I don’t want a family if it isn’t with you.”

  “But…”

  “I’ll find another job.”

  “What about not wanting this life anymore?”

  “It took me losing you to realize that the only thing I want…is you. I’m sorry, I should’ve talked to you about it. I just thought you’d love Hell’s Bells and it’d be easier to convince you.”

  Elena smiled. “I’m not ready to move to a town you call Hell’s Bells, but it might not be bad for the kids to know wide open spaces.”

  “We’ll make it work—together,” he said.

  He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet box. Inside was a beautiful gold ring with a single diamond. “This is my grandmother’s ring. I think it goes well with yours. What do you say we marry them?”

  She smiled. “Yes, darlin’!”

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this story by Sophia Sasson, don’t miss First Comes Marriage and The Senator’s Daughter, available in paperback and digitally at Harlequin.com and through online retailers everywhere. And watch for Sophia’s new Harlequin Heartwarming book, Mending the Doctor’s Heart, coming in January 2017!

  Bourbon Pecan Pie by Sophia Sasson

  Prep Time: 10 minutes

  Cook Time: 55 to 60 minutes

  Yield: 8 servings

  Ingredients

  6 tablespoons butter, softened

  1 cup dark brown sugar

  3 eggs, slightly beaten

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  ¾ cup dark corn syrup

  1 tablespoon cornstarch or arrowroot powder

  2 tablespoons bourbon

  3 cups pecans

  1 9-inch unbaked or frozen deep-dish piecrust

  Directions

  1. Preheat oven to 350°F.

  2. Cream together butter and brown sugar in a bowl. Add eggs, vanilla, corn syrup, cornstarch and bourbon. Blend well.

  3. Place in a stovetop pan on medium heat. Allow to simmer for 2 to 3 minutes until the mixture has thickened. Remove from heat and let cool.

  4. Place 1½ cups pecans in bottom of piecrust. Pour pie mixture over the pecans, then top with remaining pecans.

  5. Bake for 45 to 60 minutes or until center appears barely set. Cool to room temperature on wire rack.

  The Marriage Gift

  By Tara Taylor Quinn

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Recipe: Thanksgiving Turkey Dressing

  CHAPTER ONE

  The tablecloth was too big. Why hadn’t she t
hought of that?

  Shrugging, prosecuting attorney Corrine Armstrong pulled the offensive piece of material off the small-but-nice wooden dinette she’d purchased two months ago but had yet to host a meal on. She used to host a lot of meals. All the time. She used to have a large, impressive dining room table, too.

  To go with her large, impressive dining room.

  She could still have it all. She’d been the one who’d chosen to move. To leave the house and most of the furnishings to Joe.

  Just as she’d been the one to insist she host Thanksgiving. The table had four chairs, and there were four of them.

  Joe had always said—as had she—that there’d always be the four of them. Her and Janie and Dawson and Joe. They could add to the group. If Janie remarried. Or Joe or she did. But they’d still all be friends. Celebrate holidays together.

  Who were they kidding? If she got remarried, if Joe did, even if Janie did, they’d all have new families with whom they’d want to spend the holidays.

  Which meant this could very well be her last Thanksgiving with Joe. That’s why she was feeling a bit peevish this morning.

  That and the darn tablecloth. It was the beige linen one with hand stitched turkeys and pumpkins on it. The one her grandmother had given her and Joe when they’d gotten married. In the eight years since, they’d never had Thanksgiving dinner without it.

  But this year was different. Filled with firsts and fresh starts. Many of them prompted by her.

  Most of them making her happier than she’d been in a while.

  Folding the tablecloth, she put it back in the bottom drawer of the spare bedroom dresser. Her dresser she’d had as a kid.

  Some things stayed the same. Most didn’t. The trick was to focus on the joy.

  And that was just what she was going to do.

  * * *

  Joe knocked. And when Cor didn’t answer, he let himself in with the key she’d given him the day she’d rented the three bedroom condo with a balcony that looked over the mountains and a private back courtyard with a pool and hot tub.

  He was her next of kin, she’d told him. And that had been that. No hesitation in her voice. No discussion.

  No mention of the fact that they were in the middle of divorcing.

  Typical Corrine.

  Not that he blamed her. He wasn’t the most emotionally expressive guy; that was for sure. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel. He just saw no point in spraying the room, or his life, with drama. Life stayed much cleaner his way.

  And hers, too, maybe, he conceded as he looked around. “Cor?” he called. The table wasn’t set yet.

  There were no smells of dinner cooking, either, but that was to be expected. Janie would be cooking the stuffed bird at her place. And when she and Dawson arrived, he and the little guy would watch one of the movies they’d seen a million times while Janie directed Cor’s cooking of the rest of the meal.

  Other than the movies with Dawson, Janie’s four-year-old son, spending Thanksgiving together was a tradition they’d shared since their senior year of college. Back when Janie, Cor’s best friend from high school, had been married to Dillon.

  The four of them had been compatible beyond anything Joe had ever known. He and Dillon had had a lot in common back then. First and foremost, their desire to make it to the top tier in white collar society. And a close second had been their lack of interest in ever having children.

  They’d differed in that Joe had expressed to Corinne his aversion to parenthood on their second date. Dillon hadn’t told Janie he didn’t want kids until after they were married. Lucky for Joe, Corinne had grown up the oldest in a family of nine and had no more interest than he did in becoming a parent. Janie had never given up hope that Dillon would change his mind. Until Dawson came along, accompanied by a pre-natal diagnosis of Down Syndrome, and Dillon served her with divorce papers.

  “Cor?” Down the hall, he found her in the guest bedroom, sitting on the bed, staring into space.

  “You okay?” he asked, instant concern springing up within him. Concern he just as quickly tempered, so the question came out sounding more polite than anything else.

  “Joe! I didn’t hear you come in.” She stated the obvious, and it was an equally obvious cover for whatever was bothering her. “Yes, of course I’m fine.”

  “The table’s not set.” It was tradition. Same tablecloth. Same matching napkins. Same dishes. All things they’d received as wedding gifts the summer they’d graduated. Before she’d started law school and he’d gone to work for a brokerage house while enrolled in a master’s in finance program.

  Dillon, who’d been financially unable to stay in college had been working in his father’s garage by then….

  “Yeah,” Cor was chuckling. “Go figure. I forgot to get a cloth for my new table.”

  Get a cloth? Why, if he was still next of kin and had a key to the place, should the old tablecloth not also still be acceptable? “You’re not following tradition?” He was mildly curious, that was all.

  And a bit confused as to why he hadn’t seen Janie’s car out front. He’d purposely waited to arrive fifteen minutes after their friend was supposed to be there. Even with a special needs four year old, Janie was always on time.

  “It didn’t fit.” She led him down the hall toward the main living area. He studied her back. Felt something a soon to be divorced man should definitely not be feeling for his soon to be ex-wife.

  “And I failed to get another one.”

  He stopped. Thought maybe her voice broke. But when she turned, her eyes were alight with the constant glint of joy he always read there. He’d thought a time or two that Cor would probably even be able to find joy if she were to be locked up like the defendants she prosecuted and put away for life…

  “It’ll save the worry of staining it,” she said. “With Dawson sitting at the table now, and feeding himself, Janie would have spent the whole meal fretting….”

  True. But Cor wouldn’t have worried. She’d have found a way to love any stain that appeared that she couldn’t get out. Turn it into a reminder of the joy Dawson brought to all of their lives.

  With his perennial good humor, and loving nature, the kid could have been Cor’s kid.

  Not that she wanted any of her own. Being a godmother was enough for her. She’d said so often enough.

  To a flood of relief inside him each and every time. As much as he loved being the little guy’s god parent, he panicked at the thought of being a father. Of Cor suddenly changing her mind about parenthood—seeing how happy Janie was with Dawson—and wanting him to put his genes into an innocent human being.

  And divorce wasn’t instilling its own sense of unease? The question rose unbidden.

  He was saved from answering the thought when the doorbell rang.

  Janie had arrived. Bringing the delightful distraction of Dawson’s unique way of looking at the world with her.

  Thank God.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Corrine practically ran for the door when the bell sounded. It wasn’t like Janie to be late.

  The table wasn’t set, but her friend was too astute to call her on it. Unlike Joe who used to understand her but didn’t pick up on her vibes anymore. One of the many reasons she was glad for the divorce.

  It hurt too much to live with someone who treated you as though you were invisible half the time, and someone who didn’t know you the rest of the time. And hurt too much to live with him knowing that you were no longer making him happy.

  Relief from pain brought joy.

  “Where’s Dawson?” The words were Joe’s coming from right behind her. “Where is he?” she said, right on the tail end of Joe’s question.

  “Out in the car.” Janie looked odd. Not worried. Or scared. But…nervous. She handed Joe the big lidded roasting pan that had been cooking their Thanksgiving Day bird for more than ten years. It had been a bridal shower gift from Dillon’s Mom.

  Corrine stepped past them. “I’ll go get him,�
� she said. Dawson would be calling her name, his rendition of it, as he always did when his mother pulled onto Corrine’s street.

  “No!” Janie’s voice split the air, and split the calm inside of Corrine. “Wait.” She stood there rubbing her hands together. Smiling. And looking worriedly between the two of them.

  “I’m really sorry, guys. I know I shouldn’t have done this… I knew yesterday that I shouldn’t, but I did, and here we are, and…”

  She gave them each another long glance, as though assessing their reaction to whatever she’d done before she actually let them know what it was.

  Joe held the twenty pound bird in front of him as though it weighed no more than the towel surrounding the pan.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Corrine asked. She and Janie had been best friends their entire lives. They told each other everything.

  Except, apparently, when they didn’t.

  “You know that ad I saw about the Thanksgiving contest for that Family Secrets cooking show?” she asked, her hands kneading each other in double time now.

  “You sent in your grandmother’s dressing recipe,” Corinne said, starting to feed off of Janie’s excitement. She had no idea what this had to do with Dawson still being in the car, but… “Did you hear something back from then?”

  Janie nodded, her grin growing slowly until it was a full blown smile. Accompanied by a gush. “I got the call yesterday! I’m a finalist! Can you believe it? The show’s host, Natasha Stevens, is making dinner on set here in Palm Springs today, using all of the finalists’ recipes. She had people write in who couldn’t afford to make Thanksgiving dinner this year and chose four families to join her on stage to share her meal. The adults and kids all vote for their favorite dish, and the one that wins is a contestant this upcoming season!” The words came out loud enough for the neighbors to hear. But so quickly they were almost hard to understand.