Until She Met Daniel

by Callie Endicott

  “This feels like another civil war,” Howard muttered.

  “I understand.” Daniel continued to get into numerous debates with Mandy on the subject. They seemed to have different opinions on practically everything, though in some cases she might be deliberately goading him. And the bitter fighting between the Russells was evoking bad memories of his childhood. Why his parents hadn’t simply gotten a divorce was beyond his comprehension. Yet they were still together, and still waging the latest battle. Daniel preferred the analytical approach. Happily ever after was a pipe dream, and if he’d needed more proof it was true, his own failed marriage was more than sufficient. If he ever considered getting married again, he had to choose the right person.

  Howard heaved a long drawn-out sigh. “Thanks for your patience, Daniel. Sorry to be such an annoyance.”

  “You aren’t in the least,” Daniel assured as Howard stood to leave. And to his surprise, it was true. “Have a good day.”

  “The same to you.”

  Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Daniel thought about the discussion with the mayor and the internal revelation that he didn’t find Howard annoying. There were moments when the mayor’s shifting conversation might be exasperating, but he genuinely cared about Willow’s Eve. And, while he might not be a gifted leader, he was honest. It was virtually impossible to dislike the man.

  In the hallway, Daniel heard Mandy greeting Howard, and his muscles clenched in a knee-jerk reaction. He’d managed to keep himself in check since the night he’d made love to her—a major feat, considering the attraction hadn’t lessened. Just the opposite. Now he knew what he was missing every time he kept from touching Mandy.

  * * *

  SUSAN REACHED FOR the phone and dialed Chris’s number.

  “Hi, hon—” He cut off the word and Susan swallowed. The habit of years—when he knew it was her on the phone, he’d answer with an endearment.

  “I’m not sure how this will work,” she said. “We can try to make a normal Thanksgiving for Evan. But I don’t want to lie. If he asks, we have to tell him the truth. In fact, I’m leaning toward being up-front and telling him we’re having problems.”

  “But...Sue, the whole point is giving him a normal, happy first term at college.”

  “That could be a pipe dream.”

  “We can try.”

  “Well, maybe we could...” Susan stopped. How often did she simply agree with Chris so everything could sail smoothly? Mandy’s comment about “Stepford wives” popped into her head, and it wasn’t a pleasant image.

  “Great. I’ll be there Wednesday evening before he arrives.”

  “No, it isn’t great,” she tried to say firmly. “We have to consider telling him. Pretending everything is fine isn’t the same as being honest.”

  “Oh. Well, all right,” he agreed, surprise in his voice.

  “I’ll get back to you.”

  They said good-night and Susan sat back, staring at the phone. Okay, so it wasn’t a big revelation that she’d often gone along with Chris, rather than argue the issue. Other times she’d stayed silent, so he’d assumed she was in agreement.

  Hell. That’s exactly what her mother had done to keep the peace around her father. As a teenager, Susan had promised herself not to do the same thing. But it had started so innocently, a compromise here and there that didn’t seem important enough to argue about. That was okay part of the time, but had she done it too much? She had a feeling it was one of the things she’d have to figure out.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  EARLY THE MORNING before Thanksgiving Day, Mandy rolled over and punched her pillow; she’d been doing plenty of that ever since she and Daniel had made love in his office. And despite herself, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Daniel might act like a stuffed shirt part of the time, but he was dynamite in the sex department.

  Nonetheless, having sex with him was the last thing she’d expected. There hadn’t been anyone since her divorce from Vince. That wasn’t why she moved so much—she moved because after a while, she didn’t fit into places. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the locations where she’d lived; she found them interesting and had made friends, but sooner or later, everything seemed disjointed and she no longer belonged there.

  At Willow’s Eve, she’d begun to hope she had finally found a place where she could stay. It had felt like a home and folks at the Senior Center the same as family—only the kind where people loved and accepted her. Now she wasn’t sure.

  Blearily, she glanced at the clock. Six a.m. She probably hadn’t gotten more than two hours of sleep the entire night. Burying her head in her pillow, she drifted off until the phone rang.

  “Hello?” she mumbled into the receiver.

  “Mandy, it’s your mother.”

  Mandy moaned silently. “Uh, hi. How are you, Mom?”

  “We are doing well. Your father and I have been discussing it, and have decided to fly to California for Thanksgiving. We’ll go out for dinner. I presume that there must be some restaurant in this...Willow’s Eve location where you can eat a meal.”

  “Uh, yes, or in Vicksville. That’s a bigger town. We’ll find something.”

  “Good.” Her mother’s voice sounded faintly satisfied. “We haven’t seen you on a holiday for quite some time. We’ll rent a car at the airport and see you later tonight. We’ve already made a reservation at a motel.”

  “Great. Uh, have a good trip.”

  “Certainly. Goodbye.”

  “’Bye.”

  Mandy dropped back against her pillows.

  Now she had an excuse not to go to the Whittier home for Thanksgiving, though the alternative wasn’t much better. When Joyce had invited her, she’d had some reservations, but knowing that Jane and the Parsons were coming, she’d figured they’d buffer Daniel’s presence. What she hadn’t counted on was the steamy way he made her feel getting even stronger.

  The prospect of being so churned up for the holiday hadn’t been pleasant. It was hard enough at work, where she saw Daniel every day and had to meet with him occasionally. He’d been bending over backward to keep cool and professional, the ultimate city administrator. But she was pretty sure she’d seen some flashes of heat when he hadn’t thought she was paying attention.

  Now she had the perfect excuse to skip dinner. She’d been saved. It had been accomplished by her own personal set of dragons, but saved was still saved. This way, she could call Joyce and say that her situation had changed and she couldn’t come to the Thanksgiving meal after all. Undoubtedly, her nerves were going to be shredded with George and Elenora Colson’s arrival, but she was used to that kind of stress.

  Why did life have to be so complicated?

  When she arrived at her office later, Mandy dialed the Whittier house.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Joyce, it’s Mandy. I hate calling at the last minute, but I won’t be able to make it tomorrow.”

  “Oh, dear. Are you ill?”

  “I’m fine. It’s just that my parents phoned this morning to say they’re coming out for Thanksgiving, a last-minute trip. So I made reservations at a restaurant.”

  “Don’t be silly. Come here.”

  “I can’t possibly bring two extras to your house, especially on such short notice. But I’ll still provide the rolls and mashed potatoes I volunteered to make. We’ll be fine. Trust me, my folks aren’t the sociable type.”

  “That doesn’t matter and it will be much more like Thanksgiving here than at a restaurant. You bring them along and everything will be fine.”

  Mandy bit her lip. She should have anticipated this. “I hate to mess up your table,” she tried again.

  “You’re not. A Thanksgiving table always has extra leaves.”

  “Is that an old saying?”

  “I
just made it up,” Joyce said, “but it should be, though it isn’t very elegant. So you’ll come? Please say you will.”

  “Well...if you’re sure.”

  “I wouldn’t say so otherwise. And it will be wonderful to meet your parents.”

  Mandy was fairly certain Joyce wouldn’t think it was wonderful after meeting the Colsons, but she’d hope for the best. Pulling out her cell phone, she dialed her parents, only to get their answering machine.

  Shortly after eight that evening, Mandy took two blackberry pies from the oven. Though Joyce had insisted nothing more was needed than the rolls and mashed potatoes, Mandy wanted to show up with something extra. She already had a chocolate cream pie in the fridge and several cans of whipped cream.

  The phone rang and she picked it up.

  “Hello.”

  “Mandy, it’s your father.”

  “Hi, Dad. Where are you?”

  “We’ve checked into our motel here in this Willow’s Eve.” His tone of voice sounded disdainful, and Mandy reminded herself she shouldn’t leap to conclusions.

  “That’s great. I just took two blackberry pies out of the oven. One is for tomorrow and one for tonight. Come on over and we’ll have warm pie and ice cream.”

  “It’s too late for us to be eating anything—past eleven, East Coast time.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I guess that’s right.”

  “Please don’t say ‘yeah.’”

  Taking a deep breath, Mandy tried again. “I could come over there.”

  “We’re tired and should get to bed. We’ll see you in the morning.”

  “All right,” she said evenly. “We’ve been invited to Thanksgiving dinner at the home of some friends of mine.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Yes, they’d invited me before I knew you were coming,” she explained patiently. “When Mom called earlier, I made reservations at a restaurant and contacted the Whittiers to say I wouldn’t be coming, but Joyce insisted on having us all.”

  “That’s very hospitable of her.”

  “Joyce is a nice person. She lives with her son-in-law and granddaughter. Well, he isn’t her son-in-law anymore, because he’s divorced from her daughter. She helps out now with child care.”

  “Mandy,” her father said in the extremely patient voice he’d perfected during her childhood, “you shouldn’t gossip about people that way.”

  “I’m not gossiping, just explaining so you understand. It’s not as if the whole thing is a secret. Good heavens, I met Daniel’s ex-wife and her new husband a few weeks ago.”

  “Daniel?”

  “Daniel is Joyce’s former son-in-law. He’s the city manager in Willow’s Eve.”

  “Is it appropriate for you to be spending social time with your supervisor?”

  “Good grief, Dad,” Mandy exclaimed angrily. “Why assume he’s my supervisor? He isn’t, and it’s none of your business in the first place.”

  “You need to take control of your emotions.”

  “Yeaaaah, right,” she agreed in a mocking tone, wanting to scream. “I’ll see you in the morning. Come here and we’ll go over together.”

  “Fine. Good night,” he returned tightly.

  Mandy resisted the urge to beat the receiver on the table to relieve her frustration.

  Wasn’t the next day going to be peachy? The only hope for everyone else’s Thanksgiving was that her parents would try to act rigidly correct. It might not make them charming dinner guests, but the others should be able to find them endurable.

  * * *

  THE DOORBELL RANG and Susan went to answer it. Chris stood on the porch.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Did you lose your key?”

  “What’s the matter?” he echoed. “When in hell did this house acquire a security system?”

  “Since my father paid to have it installed.” Susan swallowed her own annoyance over her father’s bullheadedness. He’d badgered her until she had finally agreed—there were only so many battles she could fight at one time.

  “Just like Joe Jensen, gotta protect everything except the environment.”

  “Maybe he had protecting his daughter in mind,” she snapped, incensed once more with the injustice of being attacked from both sides.

  “Especially from a son-in-law he can’t stand,” Chris returned.

  “Drop it. Evan will get here by ten. The least we can do is demonstrate that although we are separated, we are behaving as civil adults.”

  “I’m still not sure it’s the best plan.”

  They’d met for coffee the day before and discussed it at length.

  “You agreed. We’re telling him about what happened, but that we’re trying to work it out.”

  “Yes, but—”

  Susan held up her hand. “No buts.”

  “We’re never going to pull it off if you snarl at me.”

  “And who started it, coming in at a boil over a stupid security system?”

  Chris glared, but grabbed his duffel and marched toward the back of the house, while she returned to the kitchen. She was glad this was an “off” year for going to her parents’ house, so they wouldn’t have to add them to the mess.

  She finished stuffing the small turkey as Chris came into the kitchen.

  “Can I help?” he asked stiffly.

  “Sure.” She elbowed the peeler across the counter at him. “Get busy on the potatoes.”

  Years before, Susan had decided to do as much of the holiday cooking ahead of time as possible. So the previous week she’d made gravy and put it into the freezer. She’d cut up the salad that morning and baked their usual Thanksgiving pies—lemon meringue and pumpkin.

  Chris set the potatoes onto the stove to boil and she automatically added more water since he never put in enough. It earned her an angry glance, but he didn’t say anything.

  About nine-thirty, a car pulled up in front of the house and Susan put on her most cheerful expression as Evan came inside to grab her into a bear hug, then his father.

  “Was it a good trip?” she asked.

  “It was terrific. I finished work early and drove straight here.” He sniffed in the direction of the stove. “Is there anything to eat? I’m starved.”

  She and Chris exchanged an unusual unguarded glance, mutually amused as Evan’s question recalled his early teenage years when he was constantly hungry. Then Susan’s humor faded. She hadn’t anticipated how painful relating to Chris would be in front of Evan. For a split second, she’d forgotten everything. To have it flood back into her memory was like getting kicked in the teeth.

  “You know I would never let you go hungry,” she said, gathering her nerve. “I’ve got spinach lasagna. There’s also salad and garlic bread.”

  “I could eat an entire pan by myself. Oh, Mom, I, uh...brought some dirty clothes with me to wash. Is that okay?”

  “If the water holds out.” She caught herself at Evan’s odd expression at the edge in her voice. “Sure, the more the merrier.”

  “Say, what’s the whole security system thing out there?” Evan asked, snagging a chunk of garlic bread.

  “You know your grandfather,” Chris said. “Pushing things on us whether I like it or not.”

  “Ha-ha,” Susan said, pulling the lasagna out of the oven.

  They sat together at the kitchen table, looking as if they were a perfect old-time television family. Except they weren’t. Not anymore. Maybe they’d never been and had only been skating along the way a sitcom did where the problems got solved in thirty minutes minus ad time, and the actors went home afterward to their genuinely messed-up lives.

  Susan pressed her lips together. Now she was getting bitter, hardly the best attitude to carry into the holiday. Tomorrow they’d tell their son the
truth.

  * * *

  THANKSGIVING MORNING, MANDY greeted her parents on the front walkway. George Colson wore a gray suit, and her mother a navy blue two-piece dress—severe in shade and style. Color had never been their favorite thing.

  “Come in and see where I’ve been living the past seven months,” she urged.

  “An excellent idea,” Elenora agreed. “We have something to discuss with you.

  That sounded ominous.

  George glanced around the living room of the house. “It isn’t very large.”

  “I don’t need anything big.”

  Elenora sat on the small sofa, with George next to her, looking as if she was afraid something in the room might contaminate her. And predictably, Mr. Spock wandered into the room, looking pleased as he spotted the couple on the couch.

  “You have a cat?” Elenora asked, sounding as horrified as if a saber-toothed tiger had appeared, ready to rip her apart.

  “For the past couple of months.” Mandy scooped Mr. Spock into her arms, knowing her mother wasn’t crazy about cats, which was why she hadn’t mentioned him in her rare conversations with the Colsons. “What did you want to talk about?”

  Elenora sniffed, keeping a close watch on Mr. Spock. “We’re hoping you might consider coming back to Connecticut.”

  “Connecticut?” Mandy repeated incredulously. “Why would I go there?”

  “It’s your home.”

  How could she explain that it had never seemed like a home? A home was cozy and warm. A home was where people accepted you. That had never been part of her childhood back in Connecticut, and there’d been no turnover of style since then.

  “Mandy,” George said. “We’ve been talking about this, and we feel we shouldn’t have supported your getting married so young. It’s just that we believed it would help settle you.”

  Elenora nodded. “You obviously needed time to grow up and see some of the world. But now you’ve done that, and Vince told us recently he’s still interested in making your marriage work.”