A Bit of Sass

by Sarah McCarty

  “Mommy!” Her tiny three-year-old daughter came bopping—that was the only way to describe her short-stepped excited run—around the corner from her bedroom. Sass reached out her arm and caught her close, too. She kissed her son on the top of his blond head, and buried her face in her daughter’s wild, equally blonde curls, breathing deeply of the scent of baby shampoo. “I missed you all soooo much.”

  Their response was an echo that threatened her eardrums. “We missed you, too.”

  “Did you have a good time with Grammy?”

  Both kids nodded enthusiastically. “You made it in time to kiss me good night.” Corrine chirped as Sass put CJ down. Her mother came out of the kitchen, and smiled a greeting.

  “So I did,” Sass said, wiggling four fingers at her mother as she put Corrine down. “Why don’t you head on in and finish getting ready so I can kiss you good night?”

  Both kids took off across the living room in an impromptu race to be the first in bed and therefore the first to get kisses. CJ took the lead which drew a screech of “CJ!” from Corrine as she grabbed the tail of his pajama top. Sass watched her daughter for the split second it took her to barrel around the corner of the hall. She looked up at her mother framed in the doorway. Pushing sixty, she was still beautiful with an aura about her that made one think of youthful energy and summer days by a lake.

  Sass motioned to the hall. “She is the spitting image of you, you know. She’s got your hair, your fine bones and your nose.”

  Her mother fluffed her soft blonde hair and smiled. “She’ll do all right then.”

  Sass dropped her purse on the foyer table. “She’s also got your stubbornness.”

  That fault was waved aside as if it were a gnat. “She’ll need it. And if you teach her to channel it, she’ll be a force to reckon with.”

  Sass shook her head, listening to the excited cries of her children, letting the comfort of being home seep into her battered heart. “Somehow, I’ve never doubted it.” With a sigh, she unbuttoned her coat. “God, it’s good to be home.”

  “Rough trip?”

  “Towards the end, brutal. I’ll tell you about it once I get the kids settled.”

  Her mother nodded and pushed away from the wall. “I’ll be waiting to hear.”

  “I’m ready for my kisses, Mommy,” CJ called.

  Not to be outdone, Corrine piped up, “Me, too,” even though it was clear from the direction of her voice that she wasn’t even in bed yet.

  “Coming.” Sass shrugged out of her coat. The corner of the room where the Christmas tree should stand was clear. The box holding the artificial tree waited to be opened. The thrill she normally felt at the prospect of setting up for her favorite holiday failed to come. Instead, there was only the pang of what could have been and the agony of what really was. She blinked back the tears. She was a big girl. She could handle a breakup.

  She went to CJ first. Not because he was the oldest or because he was her favorite, but because if she didn’t, he’d be asleep before she got to tuck him in.

  Corrine was a different story. Sass passed the wee imp in the hall and patted her on the butt to hurry her along. No, Corrine would be up for a good forty-five minutes yet. She hated going to sleep and she hated getting up. She was still too afraid of missing something to stay in bed in the morning, but she was miserable to live with before ten a.m.

  She went into CJ’s room. He was sitting up in the top bed of his bright red bunk beds. His hair was tousled and his large green eyes were half shut. She crossed to the end of the bed and reached up for his blanket. “You are a very handsome boy, CJ.”

  He lay down, anticipating the blanket’s comfortable warmth. “I know.”

  She tweaked his nose as she settled the comforter over his shoulders. “Oh you do, do you?”

  He looked as smug as a bug in a rug. “Yup.” She stepped up on the bottom bunk and kissed him three times and then once more to grow on.

  “I’m glad you’re home, Mommy.”

  Tears welled. “I am too, special boy.” And it was true, she realized. Her time with Jacob had been a departure from reality, but this was her life. What she’d always wanted. What gave her existence meaning. “Good night.”

  Corrine was waiting for her at the door to her room. Sass smiled patiently. “I thought I told you to get into bed?”

  Corrine put her hands on her hips. “I was waiting for you.”

  She said that with complete confidence, as if her interpretation of the rules was all that mattered. Sass sighed and then scooped her up. She was like a feather in her arms. “You, my little Corkers, are going to have a hard time accepting some things in the real world.”

  Her response was a frown as Sass laid her down and placed her down-filled comforter over her. “I’m not a problem.”

  “No,” Sass agreed. “You’re my special girl.”

  Corrine’s smile burst forth like sunshine breaking through the dawn. She held up both hands, fingers splayed as wide as possible. “I want this many, Mommy.”

  Sass raised her eyebrows and feigned surprise. “Ten? You want ten kisses?”

  “Yup.”

  She pretended to brace herself for the ordeal. “Okay.” This was a nightly routine. By the time she got to the “one to grow on” they were both laughing. “Good night, Corkers.”

  “Good night, Mommy.”

  She turned out the light, leaving only the nightlight on. “Good night.”

  She headed back to the tiny kitchen where her mother was clearing the table. “Need some help?”

  Her mother shook her head and put the large bag of envelopes and magazines on the floor in the corner by the refrigerator. She turned back to Sass and said, “Remind me to put those away before I go to bed, otherwise there will be little fingers in there by morning under the guise of helping me.”

  When Sass couldn’t muster a smile, her mother reached for the refrigerator door handle. “I see this is going to be a glass of wine discussion.”

  Sass pulled out a chair, knocked a squeaky toy to the floor and sat down. “There really isn’t anything to discuss.”

  “You come home looking like the world has ended, and you don’t think we need to talk?” Her mother shook her head, closed the refrigerator door and grabbed two glasses off the rack. She plunked the glasses on the table and worked the cork out of the previously opened bottle. “You are so mistaken.”

  Sass watched as the deep golden chardonnay filled the glasses, catching the light and reflecting it back. “He asked me to marry him.”

  “And?” her mother asked as she took her seat.

  “I said no.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” she took a deep breath, again fighting the devastating sense of loss. She’d always known Jacob wasn’t forever. It shouldn’t be this hard to say goodbye. “He’s a famous author, Mom. He be-bops around the world on a moment’s notice. He has no ties. And until yesterday, never showed any sign of wanting any. His whole life has been no responsibilities, and women hanging off him in droves.”

  That last got her mother’s attention. She paused, her glass halfway to her mouth, her brows lowering. “Has he been seeing other women while seeing you? Is that what this is about?”

  “He said he wasn’t.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  Well, duh! She was still sleeping with him, so obviously she believed him. She wished she could leave her mother with the suspicion Jacob wasn’t faithful, give her something concrete for her to understand, but she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair. “Jacob’s not a liar.”

  “He’s not a liar, not seeing other women and he wants to marry you.” Her mother took a sip of her wine and shrugged. “Why am I not seeing the problem?”

  Sass’ glass clanked harder than she’d intended on the wooden tabletop. Liquid splashed over the side, dripping in cold drops onto her skin, the small chill blending with the deeper chill in her heart. “Because no matter what he says, what he feels, it won’t
last. He’s spent the last forty-one years avoiding commitment. I’m not fool enough to believe any change is permanent.”

  “I’m not sure I agree with you.”

  She so could not afford her mother arguing Jacob’s case. She was too weak, wanted too much to believe in fairy tales. She grabbed a napkin off the pile on the lazy susan and scrubbed at her hand.

  “When I informed him how hard it could be to make this work, he told me that he was marrying me, not my kids.” She didn’t know if she’d ever get over the pain of that. To have her hopes raised so high, only to have them dashed so brutally.

  “Uh-oh.” Her mother took a sip of her wine, and her expression grew contemplative. “I would have thought him brighter than that.”

  “Me, too. My children already have a father who doesn’t know how to be one.”

  “Not every man is like Carl.”

  No. Jacob wasn’t her ex-husband, but he also wasn’t a family man. Sass ran her finger around the rim of her wine glass, before meeting her mother’s gaze. “After being a party to my struggles for the last year, online and off, many of them which involved my children, he still has the stupidity to say that he’s marrying me, not my children, like we’re not a package deal. I think that says all that needs to be said on the subject of his suitability.”

  “It certainly says something.”

  She shot her mother a warning glance. “Don’t give me that but-it-doesn’t-say-everything tone of voice. Jacob McConnally makes a wonderful friend, but a lousy life partner.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  Her mother’s response was to take a sip of her wine while a slight smile hung around the corners of her mouth. Sass hated that smile. Hated the implication that her mother knew more than she did, but more than anything, she hated the hope that wouldn’t let her just ignore her mother’s perspective.

  “Oh, all right, say it and get it over with.”

  “It’s just that after all I’ve heard about Jacob McConnally for the last six months, I think you are definitely underestimating that man.”

  Chapter Four

  Jacob pulled into the short driveway of the rented house. Unlike the rest of the houses in the neighborhood, which proudly sported elaborate light displays, the rental house looked lonely with only the one porch light to break the darkness. Very depressing in contrast. For a man alone, the holidays had never meant more than another opportunity to take an extra vacation, but he might want to do something about that. He got out of the car and reached behind the seat for his laptop. Nothing like showing he could get into the holiday spirit to make a woman see a man in a family light.

  He glanced at the house next door. Sass’ house. Decked out in white icicles and red and blue lights, it was a charmingly traditional cape that screamed permanence. Exactly the kind of home in which he could see her being comfortable. A woman with as strong a tendency to sweat the future as Sass would wrap herself in as many symbols of tradition as she could. Familiar traditions. He smiled, hefted his laptop onto his shoulder and walked around the back of the SUV. She was going to be mad as hell when she found out he was now officially her new neighbor. It’d taken him two weeks to arrange things, but he was here now. He popped the cargo hatch on the Jeep. She’d shocked him when she’d turned down his proposal. The rejection had thrown him like nothing had in thirty years, until he’d seen that tiny quiver in her chin she couldn’t hide.

  He grabbed two suitcases. It wasn’t flattering to realize your woman thought so little of you, but it was eye opening. More eye opening to realize she’d been right in that he’d have to change. He swung the hatch shut. She’d only been wrong in her belief of his unwillingness to do so. Flipping to the key the realtor had mailed him, he unlocked the door and dropped his bags through the opening before feeling along the wall for the switch.

  Light flooded the large room, revealing the open, contemporary floor plan and the soothing blend of shades of cream and burgundy mixed with hues of natural wood. He could be comfortable here, he decided, for however long it took to convince Sass she’d severely underestimated both his feelings for her and his potential as a husband. He stepped inside and leaned his laptop against the wall. He had no idea how long it was going to take to complete his metamorphosis and convince Sass she and her children were safe with him, but now that he was here, he didn’t expect it to take six months. He headed for the kitchen. No, he figured two months at the outside. Sass was stubborn, but she loved him. She’d come around.

  Going to the fridge, he hoped the realtor had made good on her promise to have it stocked. He hadn’t eaten in hours. He opened the door and landed in nirvana. There were enough cold cuts and beer inside to cover a Super Bowl weekend. He made himself a couple ham and cheese sandwiches and twisted the cap off a beer. Walking to the back of the house, he went out on the porch. The air was cool on his skin. Crisp with a hint of winter. Across the way trees sparkled with the myriad colors of Christmas lights reminding him of the past, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t shove the memories away.

  He flashed back to his eleventh year, his sixth in foster care. Everyone had been preparing for Christmas. He’d let himself get caught up in the excitement—decorating the tree, daring to hope that for once there’d be a real present for him under it. Something frivolous and impractical. Something he’d always wanted but never expected to get. The Scotts had given him more than what he’d ever dared dream of. They’d opened the door on his deepest wish that year when they’d announced their intent to adopt him. He breathed deeply, taking in the cool air and the remembered joy.

  He’d never felt more like he belonged than in that minute of that day. Like all good things, it hadn’t lasted, but for that one moment he’d known what so many took for granted. The feeling of belonging. As was customary, he’d been moved out of the Scotts’ home by the authorities the minute the Scotts had applied for adoption. The adoption had not been approved. He’d found out later that his jailbird father had refused to relinquish his parental rights.

  The Scotts had been heartbroken, but he’d just felt stupid for dreaming. Too bitter to listen to them when they told him belonging would happen for him someday, that they would hold the Christmas wish of a family for him. That he wouldn’t be alone forever. In the years since, he’d never doubted the depth of his conviction that family wasn’t for him, and he’d never attached much importance to Christmas. Until Sass. Now, here in her hometown, surrounded by the season and memories, it was as if the Scotts’ wish for him lingered in the holiday, just waiting to be fulfilled. He toasted the star-speckled sky, holding the fanciful thought close. If a long ago wish made by people now dead could land Sass, wrapped up in a bow, under his Christmas tree, he’d take it.

  * * * * *

  “Mommy! Mommy!”

  Sass sighed as the battle cry interrupted her writing for the tenth time that morning. It was Saturday, but she had still been hoping to get at least one chapter in the new book done before she had to go show houses. Apparently, inspiration was going to have to wait. She saved her work and turned. “What is it, CJ?”

  “There’s a car next door!”

  Corrine came flying around the corner, picking up her brother’s war cry, “Mommy! Mommy!”

  Sass sighed again. “Yes, Corrine?”

  “There’s a car next door.”

  “That’s what CJ was saying.”

  “Do you think they have any kids?”

  She ruffled her son’s hair, knowing how much he wanted a playmate. “I don’t know. Are you two sure it isn’t the realtor’s car?”

  “Nope” and “Uh-uh” came the simultaneous responses.

  “It’s your car, Mommy.” Corrine piped up.

  “A Jeep?”

  “Yup.” CJ shot his sister a superior look. “It’s a Jeep. Just like yours.”

  Corrine stuck her tongue out at her brother in typical three-year-old retaliation. “Come see, Mommy.” She grabbed Sass’ hand and
tugged her over to the window.

  CJ climbed onto the couch and pressed his nose against the window. “No kids yet.”

  “Let me see,” Corrine ordered, trying to elbow her brother aside despite the fact that the window was bigger than the six-foot couch she was kneeling on.

  “Cut it out, Corrine!”

  Sass hauled herself up, plucked Corrine away from her brother and sat her down more than an arm’s reach away. “Why don’t you watch from here?”

  She chose a more discreet spot for herself. She didn’t want the new neighbors to think she was nosy.

  “There they are!” CJ cried.

  “I see ‘em,” Corrine chirped in.

  Sass smiled indulgently. She followed the trajectory of CJ’s gaze and damn near fainted on the spot. She didn’t see any “they” but she did see a man with shoulder-length, wavy auburn hair and a purely masculine roll to his easy gait. She knew that walk. Knew that man. “He wouldn’t dare.”

  Jacob moved around to the back of the vehicle and hauled out a bag of mulch. She watched as he effortlessly swung it up onto his shoulder. His coat hitched up, revealing his lean hips and the powerful shift of his thigh muscles under his jeans. He tossed the bags onto the ground at the base of a towering pine tree, turning slightly, revealing the clean lines of his profile and that aura of inner strength that caught on her hope and tugged it past her fear. He had no right to do this.

  She tore her gaze from Jacob and stepped back from the window. “You kids stay here.”

  “Where you going, Mommy?”

  “To have a talk with our new neighbor,” she growled as she yanked the front door open.

  Chapter Five

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Jacob cocked an eyebrow at her as he reached into the back of the Jeep, looking too damn sexy, too damn heartbreakingly familiar for her peace of mind. She squared her shoulders.