Memorable. Yes, they were.
“Like your party Saturday night. Too bad your ex didn’t get a chance to see you in your dress and get a look at what he missed.”
“Actually, he did,” Riley said and told him about her flat tire.
“Oh, man, that’s classic,” he said when she’d finished. “Guess I’m gonna have to go online and read all about it.”
Their wine arrived, along with the appetizers. She took one bite of artichoke tartlet and was in heaven. “I could get used to this.”
“What, being out with me?” he teased.
That, too.
As dinner progressed, so did their conversation. They covered everything from why he became a golf pro (“Love the sport but knew I’d never be bringing it at Pebble Beach. This is the next best thing.”) to what she wanted to do now that her life was wide-open again. (“Travel and see the world. Sean was so busy with the gym we had a hard time setting a date for our honeymoon.”)
“I hate to question your taste, since you’re out with me, but what did you ever see in that guy? He sounds like a real asshole,” Jack said around a mouth full of Duck à l’Orange.
Riley pushed away her plate. “You know, he’s really not. It’s been so easy to put all the blame on Sean, but if we were perfect together, we’d probably still be together.”
“Or not. Let’s stick with him being an asshole.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “I’ll drink to that,” she said and raised her wineglass in salute.
Dinner finished and the bill paid, Jack said, “Okay, ready for the next part of your honeymoon?”
Sex? She nodded.
“Let’s go, then,” he said and escorted her out of the restaurant.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he tooled his Hummer down Pine Street.
“To a sandy beach, of course.”
The sandy beach turned out to be the boat launch at the park. The wind was cold and mean, batting her hair in all directions and sneaking up her coat with icy fingers.
“Just like Hawaii,” she quipped as he pulled her close for warmth.
“Okay, some ideas are better in your head than in real life,” he admitted.
“How about you come back to my apartment and warm up with some hot buttered rum? And cookies. Did I mention that I like to bake?”
“No kidding. Did I mention that I like to eat?”
Back at the apartment she made them both drinks and put some cookies on a plate. Then she turned on her electric fireplace and they relaxed on the couch. “Did anyone tell you this is fake?” he joked, pointing at it.
She shrugged. “It’s better than nothing.” She stared at the faux flame and wondered if that was how she’d wound up with Sean. He’d looked like the right man for her, but really, they hadn’t had all that much in common. Had she settled? Had he? She looked at Jack. “I seem to settle for less quite a lot. I don’t want to do that anymore.”
“I don’t think you should. At least find someone who wants to get away for a weekend,” he added with a smile.
“Or for a non-honeymoon. Thank you for a wonderful one tonight.”
He set down his mug and began playing with a lock of her hair, which started a fluttering in her chest. “Honeymoons usually last more than one day. What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Making you dinner.”
“I could go for that,” he said. “I could go for you. But then, you’ve already figured that out, haven’t you?”
Suddenly shy, she focused on the plate of cookies sitting on the coffee table. How many cookies will Riley and Jack eat before Jack kisses her?
None! Merrrry Christmas.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Tuesday before Christmas was the annual children’s holiday party at Whispering Pines Public Library. That meant treats and a guest appearance by a special author. This year’s special author was going to be Noel, who’d be reading from Marvella and the Lonely Little Tree, which had been published the previous year.
She loved doing events like this. Back in the spring she’d gone to Liberty Bay Books in Poulsbo when her spring release, Marvella to the Rescue, had come out, to read and sign copies. She’d also done several school visits and enjoyed them immensely. While she wasn’t keen on performing for big crowds of adults, children were another matter entirely. Like her, they loved Marvella. And since Noel was Marvella’s creator, they loved and respected Noel, always sitting with rapt attention as she read from her books.
This afternoon she came bearing party favors—small coloring books that Noel had designed herself. They featured Marvella, of course, and some of the characters she’d helped, with inspiring sayings beneath, such as “When you’re afraid, it’s okay to call for help,” and “You can do so many things!” This last one was under a drawing of Marvella in the center ring at a circus, wearing a tutu and standing one-legged on a cantering horse, a big smile on her face and her dragon arms thrown wide.
She arrived to find a crowd of young children waiting for her, trying to curb their impatience for the fun to begin while their parents chatted. Yes, this was her world. She smiled as she walked in the door.
“Noel, I’m so glad you could do this,” said Tina, the librarian. “We’ve got a great turnout. But then I’m not surprised. Everyone loves Marvella. I can’t keep the books on the shelf. We’re going to order more.”
This was good news. She wasn’t Dr. Seuss yet, but like her friend Suzanne Selfors always told her, it took time to make a name for yourself. And meanwhile, she was a bit of a celebrity right here with the children in Whispering Pines.
A little girl came bouncing up to her, a book clutched to her chest. “Hi! I’m Lola. My mama bought me your book.”
“Well, that was very nice of your mama,” Noel said.
The mother was right behind her daughter. “She loves your books.”
“I’m so glad.”
“I’m not afraid of the monster in my closet anymore,” said Lola. “Mama and Marvella chased him away.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Noel said with a smile.
She happened to look up and, oh, yuck, speaking of monsters, in walked Mrs. Fordham. Noel’s smile caved in on itself. Just the person she didn’t want to see. Honestly, the only thing that kept Ben from being perfect was his mother.
She had her grandson in tow, and Timmy was jumping up and down, either high on sugar or very excited to be at the kids’ party. Ben had said he was coming tonight to hear her and bringing Timmy. Where was he? Had his mother drugged him so he’d miss the event? Noel wouldn’t put it past the woman.
“We’re ready to start,” Tina said. “Shall I introduce you?”
Noel dragged her gaze away from the lizard and nodded. “Sure,” she said, trying to inject fresh enthusiasm into her voice. Suddenly she wasn’t so thrilled about this evening.
Oh, for heaven’s sake, get a grip, snapped Marvella. Show her what you’re made of.
Noel squared her shoulders. She knew she was worthy of Ben, even if his mother didn’t think so, and she wasn’t going to let the woman intimidate her.
Tina gave her a glowing introduction and everyone clapped eagerly as Noel moved close to the children, who were sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Are you all excited for Christmas?” she asked.
Some nodded, some yelled out, “Yes!”
“You know, Marvella and I like to celebrate the holidays, too.”
“Santa’s coming to my house,” announced a little girl.
“He’s coming to my house, too,” said a little boy, not to be outdone.
“And I hope he’ll come to my house, too,” said Noel.
“You’re a grown-up!” Timmy laughed at the silly notion that Santa would bother with someone so old.
“Y
es, but even grown-ups like seeing Santa,” Noel said. “And they like to have fun, just like you do. And you know what else? They like to be loved just like you do.” She shot Mrs. Fordham a quick glance and saw the woman frowning in disapproval.
She hurried on. “So I’m going to leave out cookies for Santa.”
“I’m going to leave cookies for Santa!” a girl shouted.
“Me, too!” cried another. This was followed by a chorus of children all sharing their intention to contribute to Santa’s weight problem.
“You know what Marvella’s going to do?” Noel asked her audience.
Several children shook their heads. “She’ll be checking to make sure everyone goes to sleep right away on Christmas Eve so Santa can come. Just like Santa, she wants you to be good and do what your parents ask.”
As she surveyed the room she caught sight of Ben slipping in. He gave her a nod and a smile and she smiled back. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his mother frown. Again.
“Would you like to hear the story about Marvella and the lonely little tree?” Noel asked.
The children responded with an enthusiastic yes, and she opened her book and began to read. “Marvella didn’t like to see anyone lonely, especially the sad little tree that sat out in Bella Brown’s backyard.”
“‘I’m so lonely,’ said the tree. ‘I know I’m little and I don’t have many branches, but I could be so pretty if someone dressed me up with Christmas lights. If I was wearing Christmas lights, then maybe someone would pay attention to me.’”
Noel read on, chronicling the adventures of the lonely little tree, using a different voice for each character, and the children sat in rapt silence. As she read, the words of encouragement she’d written for children encouraged her, too.
“Wasn’t it good that Marvella could see how special that tree was?” she finished as she closed the book.
Her audience nodded solemnly.
“We’re all special,” she added and wondered if Ben’s mom would get that message. She’d probably never think of Noel as special but if she could just move from antagonism to some level of acceptance, that would be enough.
“So if you ever feel lonely, just remember, there’s always someone in this world who cares about you. Okay?”
Again, everyone nodded.
“Okay. Now, guess what? I brought a gift for each of you.”
That produced much excitement and squirming as Noel reached into her tote bag and produced the coloring books. “I like books,” said the same little girl who’d greeted her when she first came in.
“Me, too,” Noel said, and handed her a coloring book.
“Thank you!” Timmy crowed when she gave him his.
“You’re welcome,” she said.
“I’m sure we all appreciate Ms. Bijou coming to join our party,” said Tina and started the children clapping. “Now we have a Christmas guessing game,” she continued and a moment later the children were all deep in the game.
Noel moved to the back of the group where Ben was standing. “Thanks for coming,” she said.
“I wouldn’t have missed it. You were great.”
“I like doing things with kids.”
“It shows. They obviously like you. And you’re popular. I had trouble finding a place to park.”
Which would explain why he was late getting in.
“Kids always like a party.”
The game was over now, and cookies and punch were being served. Several moms came over to tell Noel how much their children enjoyed her books, and Ben stood next to her, smiling. Mrs. Fordham kept to the other side of the room.
But soon the party was ending, and she came up to Ben and Noel towing Timmy along behind her. “I’m going to take Timmy back to the house now before he eats any more cookies.”
“Okay. Oh, by the way, Noel, has Mom told you she’s been working on a book for Timmy?”
One about witches? “Really?” Noel said politely.
Mrs. Fordham now looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Just a little something to entertain him,” she said stiffly then added, “You read very well.” No comment on Noel’s writing abilities.
“Thank you.”
“And that was a rather clever story,” Mrs. Fordham said reluctantly.
“I try to write stories with a moral in them,” Noel said. “I think everyone needs encouragement.”
“Well, yes,” Mrs. Fordham said, apparently at a bit of a loss.
“Can you say goodbye to my friend?” Ben prompted his son.
“Bye,” Timmy said. “I like Marvella.”
Ben smiled at Noel. “And I like Marvella’s mommy.”
Timmy was astonished by this statement. “Does Marvella have a mommy?”
“We need to go,” Mrs. Fordham said and started hustling him toward the door. “I’ll see you soon,” she said over her shoulder and Noel knew the woman wasn’t talking to her.
“I don’t think your mother is ever going to like me,” she said with a sigh.
“Oh, yeah. She will,” Ben said. “Meanwhile, Timmy likes you. And so do I,” he whispered and kissed her on the cheek.
We can always poison the old bat, Marvella whispered.
Tempting thought, but no. The party’s over for you, Noel told her. Go away.
I will as soon as you promise not to let that woman get the better of you. Remember what you just read to the kids.
Good point. An Eleanor Roosevelt quote came to mind. “No one can make you feel inferior without your permission.” Darn it all, she wasn’t going to give Mrs. Fordham permission to make her feel inferior. Ben might have chosen some unworthy women in the past but she wasn’t about to become a member of that club. In her own small way she was special. And someday Mrs. Fordham would come to realize that.
She hoped.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was the twenty-first of December, first day of winter, and Riley, Jo and Noel had met for lunch at the Olympic View Café, which offered a view of Case Inlet and the mountains beyond. “My treat,” Noel had said.
“Are you sure you can afford to?” Riley had asked her. Noel had been on a tight budget for the last year. It was strange to think of her actually having extra money to spend.
“Now that things are squared away with the house, yes. Anyway, I want to celebrate.”
So did Riley, and Jo was up for a break. “Mike’s been gone so much the last few days, he owes me,” she said, slipping into her seat at their window table.
“What’s with that?” Riley asked.
“I don’t know. Navy business of some sort.”
“You’re being a good sport about him reenlisting,” Noel said.
“It’s only for a few more years. We can handle it. And the signing bonus will be nice.”
“There is that,” Riley said.
“So,” Jo said after the waitress had taken their orders. “I’m getting a bonus, Noel’s getting a house and it looks like my little sister’s getting a new man for Christmas.”
It did look that way. Riley and Jack had been spending a lot of time together since her party, and each evening they seemed to discover something new they had in common, the latest being that they were both fond of games. That alone, she knew, would endear him to her family. They’d already played Gin Rummy and were now playing Word Scramble back and forth on their phones, and she was beating him soundly. He’d helped her decorate her tree, a chore she’d been putting off, sure it would depress her. There’d been nothing depressing about doing that with Jack. There was nothing depressing about doing anything with Jack.
“I keep thinking about when we went to see that Santa at the mall,” Noel said.
“Pretty woo-woo,” Riley said.
“Just lucky guesses,”
Jo said, choosing a tea from the selection of tea bags on the table.
“For you, maybe,” Noel said. “But how did he know about my house? And...” Her cheeks turned pink. “Ben.”
Jo looked at her speculatively. “So, that’s heating up, is it? That would explain the earrings and the new top,” she said, and the pink on Noel’s cheeks deepened to red.
“How are things coming with his mother?” Riley asked.
“Well, she came to my reading at the library and frowned the whole time. But I have discovered some common ground. Ben told me she wants to write a children’s book. I’m going to offer to help her.”
“Brilliant,” Jo said.
Noel shrugged. “Hopefully, I won’t live to regret it.”
“Maybe now she’ll appreciate you,” Riley said.
“I don’t know about that, but I’m hoping she won’t be quite so, well, so...”
“Bitchy?” Jo supplied.
Noel nodded. “After the party at the library, Ben had a talk with her and told her she’d better start being nice to me. I think he really cares about me.”
Both sisters burst out laughing. “Ya think?” Jo said. “He practically gave you that house on a platter.”
“I’m paying for it,” Noel said, insulted.
“At the rate you guys are going it’ll be community property within the next two years,” Jo predicted. “Seriously, Noel, he seems like a great guy.”
Noel’s expression turned dreamy. “He is.”
The waitress appeared with their orders—clam chowder all around and salads. After she’d left, Noel brought them back to the subject of Santa. “He couldn’t have guessed everything. That Santa, I mean.”
“Sure he could. We all know there’s no such thing,” said Jo.
“I suppose that’s the curse of growing up,” Riley added.
“Or of having a clumsy dad who trips hanging your Christmas stocking and falls on your Barbie Dreamhouse and breaks it,” Jo said, digging into her chowder.
“He tripped over the clothes you left on the floor,” Riley reminded her. “It is weird, though,” she said. “Santa did know an awful lot about us.”
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