Bailey came by with her tray of champagne glasses. Ivy took one and chugalugged.
Clint was looking across the sea of linen-clad tables with their poinsettias and candles to where Kevin and Heinrich, the owners of Lupine Floral, stood yukking it up with James and Olivia Claussen. “Not always fun when that happens, but some things are bound to get out eventually, no matter how hard you try to hide them. And maybe that’s for the best. People should know who you really are.”
Ivy frowned at her empty glass. She needed more champagne. “Sometimes people think they know who you are,” she said, picturing the way Tilda Morrison always looked at her, as though she was a spoiled prom queen, “but they’re wrong.”
“Good point. I think I see someone I know. Excuse me,” Clint said, and moved away.
What? Was it something she said? Ivy frowned as she watched him walk across the floor, joining Heinrich and Kevin and the Claussens, watched him introduce himself and shake hands all around. She didn’t feel so hot in her hot, red dress anymore.
She found Bailey and snagged another glass of champagne, then drifted over to take shelter from the cold with Maddy Donaldson and her family. “Isn’t this a lovely reception?” Maddy asked.
In Ivy’s present frame of mind, no.
Fortunately, Maddy didn’t wait for an answer. “And Missy’s a beautiful bride. She and John are such a cute couple. I know they’re renting that cottage on Juniper Ridge, but I heard that the Schwarzkopfs down the street are thinking of moving to Arizona. Their house would be perfect for Missy and John, and I’m sure they’d love living on Candy Cane Lane.”
At this, Maddy’s daughter rolled her eyes. Obviously, not everyone loved living on Candy Cane Lane.
Maddy did, though. Ivy had seen her out the night before, when she was on her way to the wedding rehearsal. Maddy had been wearing her Mrs. Santa Claus outfit and handing out candy canes.
“All right, everyone,” the DJ said, “it’s time to toast the bride and groom.”
As Missy’s maid of honor, Courtney went first. “You guys are meant to be together.”
Someone had said that about Ivy and Rob once.
“And I’m so happy you found each other. Missy, I know you had to kiss a lot of frogs, but you finally found your prince.”
That was the problem. Ivy hadn’t kissed enough frogs. Only the one she’d married, who’d come disguised as a prince.
“So here’s to happy-ever-after,” Courtney finished, raising her glass.
“To happy-ever-after,” everyone echoed, and drank.
“To frogs,” Ivy muttered, and guzzled half her new glass of champagne.
Barry’s toast was a little shorter. “Live long and prosper,” he said, and did that weird Star Trek thing with his fingers.
“And have beautiful babies,” Olivia called out, making everyone chuckle.
After the toast, the bride and groom took the floor for their wedding dance, gazing up at each other like they were Adam and Eve on a first date in the garden. At the end of the dance, he dipped her. Sigh.
And then the DJ started playing Bruno Mars’s “I Want to Marry You” and practically everyone hit the floor. Except Jordan and a friend of hers, who sat together and began texting each other. Ivy searched the hall for someone to talk to and spotted Dot Morrison with Muriel Sterling. She was halfway there when a heavyset older guy escorted Muriel onto the dance floor.
That left Dot all alone. Ivy and Dot didn’t exactly hang out, but she knew Dot from the Chamber of Commerce. Unlike her daughter, Dot had a sense of humor. Maybe she’d like some company.
“Hey, kiddo,” Dot said when Ivy got to her table. “How come you’re not out there dancing?”
“I don’t know. I’m...” Busy drinking. How much champagne had she had? She needed to cut herself off or she wouldn’t be able to drive. Hmm. She’d probably reached the no-driving stage already. She’d have to get a ride home. Better that than trying to drive. If Tilda caught her, she’d wind up in jail.
“You never struck me as bashful,” Dot said. She nodded to where Clint Clayton stood, talking with Heinrich and Kevin. “I saw you and that hotsy-totsy groomsman flirting a few minutes ago. Go ask him to dance.”
Ivy never asked guys to dance. She’d never had to. Guys always asked her. And then she’d had Rob. But she didn’t have Rob now and almost everyone was paired up tonight. If she wanted to dance...heck, if she wanted a new life, a new man, she’d have to get out there and go for it. Clint was probably ready to hit the dance floor and not sure how to politely extricate himself from the conversation. That was it. He’d appreciate her offering him an excuse to escape.
She weaved her way over to him. “Do you want to marry me?” she asked playfully. “Or at least dance with me?”
Clint looked a bit embarrassed. She’d only been joking! But he smiled gamely and said, “Okay. To the dancing, I mean.”
He was a great dancer, and she told him so after the song ended. Now the music had morphed into slow and sexy. Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing.” Positively inspiring. “I bet you’re good at a lot of things.” Mr. Cowboy Tux.
He rubbed his forehead. “Uh, yeah. How much champagne have you had, Ivy?”
“Just a little.” She slipped her arms around his neck, ready to start another dance.
“How about we sit this one out?” he suggested, gently loosening her grip.
“Okay.” Sitting, lying, whatever. Easy, cowgirl. You just met this man.
He led her to a table in a dark corner occupied only by a couple of empty champagne glasses. The ideal spot to share a kiss.
Once they were seated, he took her hand. “Ivy, you’re a lovely woman.”
“So I’ve been told. And you’re a lovely man.” Was she looking at him all goofy? Probably. But it didn’t matter. ’Tis the season to be goofy. Fa-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la.
“And I know Missy and John were kind of hoping we’d get together.”
That could be arranged. “Well,” she said, deciding it was time to act coy.
“But there’s something they don’t know about me.”
“What, you’re an ax murderer?” Ivy teased, leaning in close.
“No. I’m gay.”
She sat back and blinked. “You’re what?”
“I didn’t choose to be, even though I know these days it’s accepted, even understood, by most people. But I was raised...” He stopped and bit his lip. That gorgeous lip. The lip that had no interest in locking with hers. That gorgeous, lying lip.
“So you married your wife even though you preferred men?”
“It wasn’t that I didn’t love her. I tried to make it work. I couldn’t.”
It’s just not working. Might as well have been Rob sitting there talking to her. “You rat. You big, chicken-livered rat. You used that poor woman as cover.”
“I did love her,” he protested. “Just...”
“No, you didn’t. If you did, you never would’ve married her, never have put her through all that hurt.” She stood abruptly, vaguely aware of her chair tipping over. “You’re a frog. You’re all frogs!”
And it was time for Cinderella, or whatever fool woman went around kissing amphibians, to leave the ball. Ivy tottered back to her table, grabbed her cell phone and called the only man who had his act together. “Daddy, I need a ride home. Please come get me.”
“You okay, kitten?”
“Yes, I’m fine, but I’ve had enough.” Enough of weddings, enough of men, definitely enough champagne. And she’d had more than enough of herself. Clint Clayton might not have been any Prince Charming but she sure hadn’t behaved like a princess.
“Okay, I’ll be right there.”
“Thanks. You’re the best.” The best man in the whole world. The only decent man in th
e world.
She’d hardly ended the call when she got a text from her sister. How’s the guy?
No go, Ivy texted back.
It was all for the best, she told herself. This simply confirmed what she’d already known. There was no man in her future.
Which meant she could drink all the eggnog and eat all the Christmas cookies she wanted. Who cared if she turned into a tree trunk? If she grew the biggest butt this side of Seattle? If she wound up being able to use her tummy for a TV tray? She didn’t have anyone to impress. This Christmas she was going to follow the advice she’d read in Muriel Sterling’s book. She was going to make her Christmas perfect even though it wouldn’t be. So there.
* * *
“That was a fantastic wedding,” Maddy raved as she and her family drove back home. “A wonderful way to start the holidays.”
“Good food,” Alan said.
“And wasn’t it cute that they passed out candy canes to everyone?”
“Yeah, like we don’t have a ton of those already,” Jordan said from the backseat.
“You can never have enough candy canes,” Maddy said lightly, refusing to be brought down by her daughter, the baby Grinch.
“Yeah, you can.”
“Well, then, you can give me yours and I’ll pass it on to some deserving child tomorrow.”
“You’re doing that again?” Jordan asked in disgust.
“Probably, for a little while.”
“You were just out there.”
“I know, but people are getting sick.”
“Let it go tomorrow, hon,” Alan suggested. “Let’s have a cozy night in and play some Farkle.”
“We can play games in the afternoon,” Maddy said. It was Sunday. They had all day for family bonding.
“She’d rather be outside, talking to people she doesn’t know,” Jordan muttered.
“Oh, honestly.”
“Anyway, Afton invited me over for dinner tomorrow. Can I go?”
“Sure,” Alan said just as Maddy said, “No.”
“We always have Sunday dinner together,” Maddy told her. Then, to sweeten the pot, she added, “I’m making lasagna.”
“Everyone’s going to Afton’s tomorrow. Her mom’s making pizza.”
“I guess pizza tops lasagna,” Alan joked.
Maddy wasn’t laughing. “Well, this time the gang will have to eat pizza without you.”
“Thanks, Mom. You get to have a life and I don’t?”
Who was this alien in the backseat? “You are my life.”
“Yeah, right.” They’d pulled into the garage now and Jordan got out of the car and slammed the door, then stalked into the house.
“I’m not sure what’s happening here,” Alan said as he and Maddy made their more sedate exit from the car. “She seems to be pissed off all the time. What is it, hormones or something?”
“Or something.”
“Maybe you should let her go to Afton’s.”
“After that little snit fit? I don’t think so.”
“She’ll make us pay,” Alan predicted.
His prediction came true. Jordan was a sphinx on the way to church the next day. On the way home, Maddy tried to engage her in conversation, asking how the youth service was, and got a terse teenage, “Fine.”
Jordan set the table for Sunday dinner, then disappeared into her room. She came out to eat, but when Alan suggested playing a game, all he got was a snotty, “No thanks,” and then she was gone again, her bedroom door banging shut behind her.
“Well,” he said to Maddy, “what do you want to do?”
“Besides throttle our daughter?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Why don’t you and I play some Farkle? I feel lucky.”
She was lucky, she reminded herself. She had a charming house, a sweet husband and a good kid who’d been temporarily kidnapped by aliens. The aliens would put her back in her body eventually. Maybe when she was around twenty.
They were at the kitchen table, halfway through their dice game, when Jordan came down in search of further sustenance in the form of potato chips. “You want to join us?” Alan offered.
Jordan shook her head, took her Pringles and vanished.
Maddy watched her retreating backside, covered in very expensive jeans, and frowned. “She’s trying to guilt me into changing my mind.”
“That would end the battle,” Alan said.
“But not the war. If she doesn’t want to have fun with us today, she can just not have fun. Period.”
“I suspect she is having fun. She’s probably up there texting half the kids in Icicle Falls.”
“Let her,” Maddy said with a shrug. Let her tell Afton what a rotten mother she had. Maddy and the aliens knew the truth.
The cold war continued clear up until bedtime, but Maddy decided that her daughter wasn’t going to sleep without her usual good-night kiss. She knocked on the door and got no answer; she opened it, anyway. Jordan was in her pj’s sitting on the bed listening to music on her iPod. She pretended not to see Maddy.
Nice try. Maddy came in and sat on the bed beside her.
“All my friends think you’re mean,” Jordan informed her.
“All your friends should check their source. It might not be accurate,” Maddy responded calmly.
Jordan rolled her eyes. Too bad there wasn’t an eye-rolling gymnastics event. Jordan would’ve brought home the gold.
“I’m sorry you didn’t want to spend time with us today.”
“You don’t want to spend time with me,” Jordan shot back. “You made me stay home just to be mean.”
“No, I made you stay home because we were going to do something as a family. You chose not to.”
Jordan looked away, feigning interest in the top of her bedroom window.
“I’m sorry you had such a miserable day, but pouting isn’t the way to get what you want.”
“You don’t care what I want!”
Okay, they weren’t going to ride the night train to Hysterics Land. “That’s enough now,” Maddy said firmly. She kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “I’ll send Daddy up to say good-night.”
“Fine,” Jordan snapped. “I’d rather see him.”
Ouch. The claws were out tonight and they were scratching deep. And it hurt. Maddy left the room before her daughter could see the tears in her eyes. This is what teenage girls do. They get angry and they lash out.
All it would take to melt Jordan’s anger would be one after-school shopping spree at Gilded Lily’s. They could go later in the week, after they had some distance from the day’s attempt at manipulation. No way did Maddy want Jordan thinking her mother was trying to buy her off. Even if she was.
With that resolved, she was able to go to bed later that night feeling pleased with herself, pleased with the whole world. She turned off the outside lights (she was always the last one on the street to turn hers off) and followed Alan upstairs to bed. The neighborhood was quiet now, all the visitors back in their own homes, their children enjoying the candy canes Mrs. Santa Claus had given them earlier. Okay, so she’d pulled candy cane duty a lot this first week of the season. But after tomorrow, she was done for a whole week and a half. That should make everyone happy.
By the time she was done brushing her teeth and applying her Retin-A wrinkle cream, Alan was already sawing logs. She climbed into bed and snuggled up next to him and soon she was drifting off, too.
At one point she thought she heard something. She sat in bed, straining to detect whatever noise had punctuated her husband’s snores, but there was nothing. Maybe some neighbors letting their dog out? Who knew? And then she was asleep again.
And then it was morning and her alarm was going off, and Alan was pulling hi
s pillow over his head. “Come on, time to get up,” she said, wrestling it away from him.
Next she went to make sure Jordan was stirring. She knocked on the door. The room was dark and her daughter was a lump under the covers. She tiptoed in, drew the covers back and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Time to get uppy, guppy.”
“Go away,” Jordan groaned, trying to brush her off as if she was some giant gnat.
“I’ll go away, but I’ll just come back. Give up and get up.”
Another groan.
“I’m making French toast.”
Jordan groaned a third time, but she sat up. Oh, yes, French toast always did it.
Maddy put on her favorite Mannheim Steamroller Christmas CD and began humming along with the music as she worked. Ah, yes, nothing like a family breakfast.
Alan was the first one downstairs. “Here’s your French toast,” she said, sliding it onto a plate.
She waggled the plate in front of him and he eyed the treat. “Well, okay, I guess I’ve got time.”
He’d wolfed it down with a cup of coffee and was out already in the car when Jordan came downstairs. Maddy heard the garage door open, heard the car leave and then heard her phone ring. It was Alan’s cell. Why was he calling her from the driveway?
She picked up the phone as she set Jordan’s plate on the table. “What did you forget?”
“Nothing, and I’ve got to get going, but you’d better come take a look at the yard.”
“What on earth?” She hurried to the front door and opened it and got a horrible shock.
The candy canes along her front walk had all been knocked over. Not only knocked over but stomped on. They lay every which way, broken and sad. Ruined. The Gordons, her neighbors to the left, hadn’t fared much better. Their Santa had been deflated and tied in a giant knot. She looked down the street and saw another yard with its candy canes no longer standing. Vandalism on Candy Cane Lane?
Now Jordan stood behind her. “Wow! What happened?”
That was what Maddy wanted to know. And she was going to find out.
And when she did...
Christmas on Candy Cane Lane Page 10