“Aunt Stella!” Hunter reprimanded on an attempt at a whisper.
“O Holy Night” was Cassie’s all-time favorite Christmas carol, but she hadn’t even noticed the choir singing it until the final bar of the song. And the moment that the congregation was dismissed and wished a very Merry Christmas by Pastor Sullivan, Stella was out of her own row and standing over Hunter at the end of Cassie’s.
“Now let’s do it right,” Stella said, with her hand on Hunter’s arm. “Hunter Nesbitt, meet Cassie Constantine.”
He stood up and they shook hands, both of them appearing somewhat reluctant. Cassie felt a surge of hot embarrassment rise from her ribs to her throat as a half dozen elderly women watched them while grinning from ear to ear.
“Good to meet you,” he muttered.
“Hunter came down at the last minute to spend the holiday with his lonely old aunt,” Stella explained.
Lonely? Stella Nesbitt had more going on than the social director on a Carnival cruise!
“I was telling Stella about our plans for Christmas dinner,” Millicent chimed in. “I thought perhaps she and Hunter might join us.”
“Oh.” Cassie felt her heartbeat in the hollow of her throat. “Umm, really?”
“You don’t have to do that,” Hunter said in quick bursts, like an auctioneer. “I planned on taking Aunt Stella out for Christmas dinner.”
“Don’t be silly,” Millicent interjected. “Christmas is no day to spend at a restaurant. It’s a time to be with friends. Isn’t that right, Cassie?”
“Umm, yes, I suppose—”
“Please,” Hunter said softly, leaning toward Cassie as if sharing a secret. “Don’t let them pressure you into something.”
“No,” she breathed. “Really. The two of you should join us at my house.”
“Of course you should,” Millicent chimed in.
“Really?” Stella exclaimed, hand over heart, as if she was hearing the idea for the very first time. “Well, we’d just be honored to join you for Christmas. What a lovely invitation.”
“Who’s invited where?” Richard asked as he popped up out of nowhere.
“Cassie has just invited us to share Christmas dinner with her,” Stella replied. “Richard, have you met my nephew, Hunter Nesbitt?”
The two men shook hands, but Richard’s eyes were on Cassie.
“Pleasure,” he mumbled. Then to Cassie he said, “So you’re hosting a Christmas shindig.”
Oh no, you don’t! You’re not getting an invitation out of me, she thought.
She planted a quick peck on Millicent’s cheek, shot a “Nice to meet you” in Hunter’s direction, spun on her heels, and headed down the aisle.
“See you tomorrow, then,” Stella called after her.
Cassie returned an all-inclusive “Merry Christmas” with a wave over her shoulder and made a beeline for the front door.
It struck her on the drive home that Florida was a bit like another planet to her. The weatherman had shown a map of the Eastern Seaboard on the news that morning, and Boston had been blanketed with several inches of fresh snow overnight. Once she’d shaken the last thoughts of Richard Dillon from her head, she rolled down the window of her rental car and let the balmy 75-degree breeze run its fingers through her hair.
Her cell phone jingled from inside her purse just as she pulled into the garage, and Cassie dug for it.
“Hello?”
“Hiiiii, Graaaaaammmaa.”
“Oh, stereo greetings,” she commented. “How are my two favorite boys?”
“Good,” Zach replied. Then Cassie heard a shuffle as he took the phone away from Jake. “I was in the Christmas play tonight, Gramma.”
“Oh, that’s right, Zachary. How did it go?”
“I was Wise Man number two. I got to wear a long beard and rubber flip-flops.”
“Oh, well, that sounds like fun. Did you memorize your lines?”
“Yep, I had four of ’em. And I only flubbed one. Daddy says even Zac Efron has to say his lines again sometimes, so that’s pretty good.”
“That’s very good.”
“Gimme that,” she heard, and then Jake was on the line. “Hey, Gramma.”
“Merry Christmas, Jacob.”
“What are you doing for Christmas since you’re not with us, Gram? Are you lonely?”
“Thank you for worrying about me, Jacob, but I’m not too lonely, no. I went to Christmas Eve services at the church. There was a choir that sang, and there were lots of candles and poinsettia plants. It was very pretty.”
“Did you have anything sweet?” he asked. “I remember you and Gramps like your sweets on Christmas Eve.”
“Well, your grandfather liked his sweets every day of the week. But no, I haven’t had anything sweet yet. What do you suggest?”
“We’re having green angel cake.”
Cassie softened, melting into a reminiscent smile. Angel food cake cut into layers, filled with mint chocolate chip ice cream, and frosted with whipped cream. It was Debra’s favorite, ever since she was a little girl.
“That sounds so good,” she told him. “Have an extra bite for me?”
“If Mom’ll let me, you know I will.”
She and Jake shared a laugh, and then he told her, “Mom wants the phone. Merry Christmas, Gram.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too, Jacob.”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve eaten a whole bowl of raw cookie dough. The morning sickness with this baby is suddenly an all-day affair.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. A late bloomer, huh?”
“What are you doing tonight, Mom? Are you all alone?”
“No, I’m not all alone,” she replied. “I went to Christmas Eve services, and I’m getting home right now.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow I am having a rather large group for dinner.”
“You are? Who?”
“James and Tameka. You remember them?”
“Yes. That’s great.”
“And Millicent, from across the street.”
“How is she?”
“She’s well. And one of her friends is coming, with her nephew from up North.”
“Wow, Mom. I guess you’re making all your traditional dishes.”
“You know it.”
“Ohh, I’m going to miss your yams with the marshmallows on top.”
“You had your chance,” Cassie teased. “Now someone else will get them.”
“That’s mean! So you’re not going to miss us in the least!”
“Oh, honey,” Cassie said on a sigh, “you know better than that.”
“I’m just glad you’ll have friends around you. How’s the house coming along?”
“Really beautiful,” she said as she walked into the kitchen and flipped on the light. “You wouldn’t recognize the place. It’s just lovely, Debra.”
“Maybe you’ll like the place so much once the renovations are done, you won’t want to leave.”
Cassie laughed at that. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“It’s possible, right?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t count on it. I’ll be happy to sell this house to someone who can make a home here and then be on my way back home.”
“Well, have a nice holiday in Holiday, Mom.”
“I will, sweetheart. Kiss your fellas for me.”
“Will do. Love you.”
“I love you, too.”
When they’d furnished the Holiday house, Cassie had insisted that Zan was out of his mind for thinking they’d ever need such a large dining room table. But as she stood beneath the arched doorway separating dining and living rooms, she smiled. Any other table might not have accommodated the crowd she was about to feed.
Stella and Millicent were comfortable on the living room sofa, sipping from tumblers of ginger ale with sprigs of fresh mint and cackling about someone’s new hair color that turned out to be more b
lue than silver. Stella’s nephew Hunter smiled at Cassie through the pass-through to the kitchen as he basted the turkey and tried not to splash any of the juices on his bright red shirt.
When the doorbell rang, Sophie trotted happily toward it, barking and jingling the bells Millicent had tied around her collar.
“Merry Christmas,” Tameka sang as she came through the door carrying two beautiful pumpkin pies.
“Same to you,” Cassie returned, giving her a hug and smiling over her shoulder at James.
“I hope you’re going to forgive us,” Tameka said.
“What for? You brought pumpkin pie, and that’s really all that matters, isn’t it?”
Tameka chuckled and shook her head. “My husband was out on the golf course this morning.”
“You played golf on Christmas morning?” Cassie teased. “Really, James?”
“Hey. Don’t judge me.”
“And he ran into a mutual friend who said he was spending Christmas Day alone.”
“Oh, no. Well, I hope you invited him to join us.”
“Good!” Tameka cried. “I was hoping you’d say that, because when James told me he just arbitrarily invited the guy to dinner at your house without ever bothering to ask you if it was all right—”
“Don’t be silly. Of course it’s all right. But you said a mutual friend. Who is it?”
“Here he is now,” James exclaimed, waving at the front door. “Richard Dillon.”
Oh, of course it is.
“Richard, come on in, bud,” James said, smacking his friend on the back once he was through the door.
“Merry Christmas, Cassie,” Richard offered, flashing her one of those smiles of his and then extending a bouquet of a dozen long-stemmed red roses toward her. The petals looked as if they’d been crafted out of velvet. “I hope you like roses.”
“I do.” Who doesn’t like roses? Of course I like roses. “Thank you so much. Come on in, everyone. What can I get you to drink?”
Millicent had brought along two gallons of her sweet tea, a gallon of a questionable pineapple concoction, and minted ginger ale. And while she made sure that everyone was introduced to one another, Cassie poured two fresh glasses of tea for the Plummers and made one additional mint ginger ale drink for Richard. All the while, she seethed, and when she dropped the ice into his drink, it was with a little extra thrust behind it.
Cassie had just barely managed to stop thinking about Richard Dillon and the fact that he’d let Mick Kendrick think that she was down here in Florida looking for another job.
“Tell me the truth,” Mr. Kendrick had said when he phoned her. “Are you getting ready to turn in your resignation? Dillon’s hiring you away, isn’t he?”
Why in the world would he have called the man to ask about her, anyway? And now here he was, just minutes away from sitting down across the table for Christmas dinner.
Richard chose that moment to come around the corner into the kitchen, and he seemed to take a slight step backward when his eyes met hers.
“Who soured your cream this morning?” he asked, and then he held up his hand. “No, wait. Don’t answer that.”
“I think you have some nerve, wrangling an invitation to Christmas dinner at my house after that stunt you pulled,” she said, pushing his ginger ale across the counter toward him.
“I was hoping to get a chance to explain, once you’d calmed down a little.”
“If you’re waiting for these jets to cool, you’re at the wrong airport, mister.”
Cassie placed the two glasses of sweet tea on a platter and carried them past him.
“The wrong… What? Cassie.”
She served the iced tea with a pasted smile on her face for the sake of her other guests, but it withered the moment she rounded the corner and returned to the kitchen.
“Listen, Cassie.”
“I don’t want to discuss it.”
“But—”
“I don’t think you heard me. Until you tell me the real reason you called my employer to ask questions about me, I am not going to discuss this with you.”
Producing two trays of appetizers from the refrigerator, Cassie pulled back the plastic wrap covering them and began straightening the slippery rolls of ham wrapped around cream cheese and diced scallions.
“That looks delic—” She slapped his hand before he could remove one of the hors d’oeuvres from the platter. “Hey!”
“Don’t mess it up before the guests even see it,” she warned him. “Go sit down in the living room, and you can serve yourself when everyone else does.”
James appeared unexpectedly and joined Cassie and Richard at the counter. “What do you think of the changes in this place?”
“It’s becoming quite the showplace,” Richard replied.
“You’ve got to see the tile floor in the master bath. Mac, do you mind if—”
The Mac reference startled her, and Cassie looked toward James with a slight jerk.
“I’m sorry, Cassie. I just always remember Zan calling you that, and it kind of stuck. I’m so sorry.”
“James, it’s fine.”
“I was just going to tell Richard about the changes we made in the master bath. Do you mind if I take him off your hands?”
“Please do,” she remarked, and then she turned her back to them as she placed miniature teriyaki beef kabobs and quiches into the microwave for ninety seconds.
When she turned around again, Tameka had taken Richard’s place, and Cassie jumped.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Hey, what do you think of the changes in the house, Tameka?”
“I think I wish my husband would do this kind of work at our house.” She grinned. “It looks great, especially the kitchen. It’s updated and chic. I think you’ll be able to recover more than every dollar you put into the place with the sale price.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I did hear a rumor yesterday that might be both good and bad news for you, though. There’s a big corporation in negotiations to take over several properties in this area.”
“How would that affect me exactly?”
“Well, we could probably get a good price for your property pretty quickly, but if the rumor is true and their interest is just to tear it all down so they can build a resort of some kind, then the upgrades weren’t necessary.”
“That would be a shame,” Cassie commented. “It’s so beautiful. Someone could really be happy here.”
“But your interest is just in selling the place and getting back to Boston, right?”
Cassie sighed. “How soon can you put it on the market?”
“I’ll try to get more information about this corporation and see if I can’t get them to nibble on your place first. How about we talk again on Monday?”
“Works for me. The sooner I unload this place and get back home, the better I’ll like it.”
Cassie glanced up from the appetizer tray and noticed Millicent standing behind Tameka, her round face deflated and wearing her disappointment like a long string of pearls.
Cassie felt like she might choke on regret. “Millicent, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant,” the older woman interrupted. “You have a life to get back to.”
Millicent turned around and returned to the living room sofa, the hollow thump of her thick, rubber-soled shoes telling the tale of her letdown.
“Anything I can do to help with dinner?”
Cassie looked up at Richard, standing there all smug and clueless, and she tossed the dish towel in her hand to the counter with a snap.
“What?” he asked, and Tameka pursed her lips and shook her head as if to tell him not to speak. “What did I say now?”
“Oh, just…just…go to the living room,” Cassie said. Pulling the plate of warm appetizers out of the microwave, she pushed it toward him. More softly, she added, “And take these with you, please.”
Once he was gone,
Tameka waited a couple of beats before placing her hand on Cassie’s arm and squeezing it. “What’s going on, girl?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just Richard Dillon.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I thought the two of you were friends. I would never have let James bring him along if—”
“No, no, please,” Cassie said, waving her hand and shaking her head. “It’s fine that he’s here.”
“It looks real fine.”
“It is.”
“There’s obviously something not right between the two of you.”
“I think it’s just a chemical thing,” Cassie said on a whisper. “You know how some days you’re the windshield and out of nowhere you meet that person who is the bug that splatters all over you on the highway?”
Tameka roared with laughter at that, leaving Cassie to wish she’d been joking.
Chapter Eight
7 ACROSS: Unforgettable
“What a wonderful meal,” Tameka declared as she pushed her plate forward and leaned back against the chair. There were agreements all around.
“What’s the stuff in turkey that supposedly makes you tired?” James asked, patting his stomach with both hands.
“Tryptophan,” Hunter replied.
“Well, it’s working.”
“That’s because you consumed more turkey than the rest of us combined,” Tameka pointed out. “He’ll be down for the count an hour after the pie settles.”
“Would anyone like another slice?” Cassie asked them, and James groaned. “Or more coffee?”
“I just put on another pot,” Richard called out from the kitchen.
Tameka raised an eyebrow at Cassie and then grinned as she leaned over toward her. “He seems very comfortable in your kitchen.”
“No, he just wants to make sure he’s the one handling the food,” she replied in a whisper.
They shared a giggle, and Cassie’s eyes fell on Millicent at the other side of the table. She was a solemn and quiet hive that all the other bees in the room buzzed around. Stella and Hunter, on either side of her, appeared oblivious as they chattered on, Stella including her friend in the conversation, but never quite noticing that she wasn’t the least bit involved.
Love Finds You in Holiday, Florida Page 9