by James Lavene
Nick wasn't sure. He hadn't planned on their lives changing for what would be their last Christmas together as a family. Part of their routine was going to the daycare while he was working.
He looked up at Emilie's hopeful face and weakened. Of course, their usual routine had to change for the holidays anyway. What difference would it make?
"I suppose it would be okay. If you’re sure it’s not a burden."
"Thank you!" She came around the table to hug him before he understood what was happening.
He watched her leave the kitchen, calling out for Adam and Amber as she went. He'd been mistaken, he realized, pouring himself another cup of coffee.
He'd been worried about Emilie, thinking she was going to have to take care of them for two weeks. It seemed instead, that he might have three children for the holidays. One of them adult, inventive, not to mention possessing a driver's license and a fortune.
Emilie was a mystery to him. Every time he thought he had unraveled her secret, he looked up and she was hiding in another one. He couldn't fail to notice how easily and quickly her bad leg had moved that morning. He hadn’t imagined the light in her eyes and the excited smile on her lips.
Christmas was already shaping up to be much different than he'd planned. Not that his plans had been cast in stone, but he'd imagined a quiet, intimate holiday for himself and the children. He wanted Amber and Adam to remember it, and him.
Already the couple Nick had met was working out the details with his lawyer. He had insisted that he wouldn't give Amber up until after Christmas. That had been a disappointment for the couple, but they were thrilled to have the little girl after the first of the year.
He'd promised Renee that he'd do the best he could by the kids, including making certain that they had both a mother and a father.
Making a home for them, taking care of them, and sharing their lives had made him devastated at the idea of parting with them. Adam knew about Amber's adoption. He didn't know about his own. At some point in the future, the three of them would be separated forever.
It was a thought Nick preferred not to dwell on often. He'd given Renee his word on her deathbed. That had to mean something.
This was their Christmas. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't be depressed. He could hear Adam's laughter mingling with Emilie's. He finished his coffee and went out into the hall to laugh with them.
After lunch, they were going out shopping to get a few Christmas decorations and take Amber to see Santa at the mall. Nick had a call come in for a towing job. He had assured Emilie that he didn't mind if she went ahead without him.
When he returned early in the evening, there were three pickup trucks parked close to the house. All three were late models and all three were loaded down with packages that were being taken into the house by their drivers.
"Hey!" One of the drivers greeted him as he walked into the house. "Mighty fine lady, sir."
Nick nodded and smiled. Nothing Emilie could do would shock him. He walked through the kitchen, looking for the three co-conspirators, seeing box after box of ornaments, garland, tinsel and lights. Someone had already placed white beards and red caps on the two fierce lions in the foyer.
"What is she thinking?" Joda fumed, passing him as she came out of the library. "All this fuss over a holiday! All this expense!"
He heard Adam giggling and Emilie whispering in the library behind her.
Joda glared at Nick. "I won't be part of it! All that cooking and putting things up. And the mess!"
Nick searched for Emilie and Adam in the library. He found them, surrounded by twenty boxes, on the dark Persian rug. They plugged in a Santa figure they took out of a box. The figure put a pipe into his mouth and pulled it out with a puff of smoke and a merry ho-ho-ho.
"What’s all this?" He was beginning to think that maybe Joda was right.
"Wait, Uncle Nick! You haven't even seen all of the cool stuff we got! Emilie bought every moving thing in the whole store!"
"Except the evil elf," Emilie reminded him.
"Oh, yeah." Adam was chastised. "She didn't buy the elf because she thought he looked evil."
"He did look evil," Emilie told him solemnly. "Amber cried when she saw him."
"She did," Adam testified. "But we got everything else!"
Nick tried to find the words to tell Emilie that she was doing too much. They took another figure, a red-nosed reindeer, from another box and plugged him in. He tried to find the words. He couldn't. A big smile appeared on his face and he sat down beside Amber who was touching the reindeer's red nose.
"Reindeer?" Nick asked the child. "You like the reindeer?"
She clapped her hands and dimpled up at him prettily.
"She doesn't talk, does she?" Emilie questioned, taking Mrs. Santa out of her box.
"She hasn't talked since my Mom and Dad were killed,” Adam told her plainly. “She used to make talking noises. She could say mama and dada. She stopped."
Nick looked at Emilie over the children's heads and though their exchange was silent, they both agreed not to discuss it further until they were alone.
"I'm getting hungry," Emilie told them. "How about all of you?"
"I'm starving," Nick agreed. "Since we don't seem to be able to go out right now, how about ordering pizza in?"
"Can you do that?" Emilie asked.
"You've never had pizza delivery?" Adam wondered then glanced at his uncle. "I'll call it in, Uncle Nick."
"Okay," Nick said. "Better get an extra one though. We don't want to share any of ours with her."
"That's true!" Adam laughed. "She's probably a big pizza hog, like Amber."
The pizza delivery driver found the house well-lit and full of activity. It wasn't hard to find Emilie Ferrier's estate. Everyone knew where it was. No one could remember ever delivering a pizza there in the six years that the store had been open.
Adam paid him. That was always his job, he explained to Emilie. They sat in the kitchen and ate their pizza. Afterward, they set up most of the moving figures in various spots around the house.
"I think we should put the Christmas tree in the foyer," Emilie said with Amber on her lap and pizza stains on her face. "My parents used to have a huge tree in there every year. Aunt Joda and I haven't bothered with more than a tiny one since then. I think this year we should have a really big one."
Adam looked up at the high ceiling. "All the way up there?"
"All the way up there."
They all looked up at the ceiling, some forty feet above them.
"There's a picture up there," Adam noticed.
"It's a Greek myth," Emilie explained.
"What's that?" Adam shrugged.
"They're a bunch of stories that were told a long time ago, like fairytales" she explained. "I'll tell you one tonight before you go to sleep, if you like."
"Sure," Adam answered. "Uncle Nick usually makes up stories for us at night."
Emilie looked at Nick. "I didn't mean to barge in."
"That's okay," he told her. "My stories will keep."
"Uncle Nick writes them down sometimes," Adam explained artlessly. "You should read one. He’s a good writer."
"I'd like to." It was easy to tell from the shuttered look on Nick’s dark face that he wished his nephew hadn’t said that. "Right now, I think we should see if all of the stuff we got is in the house."
The trucks were mostly unloaded, only a few boxes left that their drivers were bringing into the house.
"Merry Christmas," Emilie told each driver and tipped him heavily. "Thank you for your help."
In turn they thanked her and smiled at her generosity. When they were gone and the doors were closed against the dark night, Nick frowned at her.
"That was a lot of money to tip those drivers," he remarked casually. "They're going to be calling you and asking what else they can deliver."
Emilie blinked innocently at him. "They were nice enough to bring everything here for me. They deserve to get
something extra."
"That was a lot of money. Now everyone will know you keep cash here." Nick pursued the subject. "That could make you a target for a break-in."
"This house makes me a target for a break-in," she reminded him. "So far, the name, and most people being afraid that we're crazy, has protected us."
"It wouldn't hurt to be careful," he muttered. "You and your aunt are pretty vulnerable out here all alone."
Emilie's chin raised a fraction higher. "We can take care of ourselves."
Nick didn't say anything more. Together, they took the children up for their baths and bed. Emilie told them the story of Jason and the Argonauts and their quest for the Golden Fleece.
Nick was both amazed and unhappy that bedtime went so smoothly with Emilie's help. He wasn't sure if it was the extra hands or that everything she did came easy to her. It was as though she had a magic touch—with Adam, the baby, and all of the other people she met.
He didn't understand why, but it annoyed the hell out of him.
They were only there for the two weeks, he reminded himself.
Bedtime would be easier after Christmas when Amber was gone. What did it matter if Emilie made it more simple and pleasant getting the kids into bed now? Life wasn't going to be the same after Amber was gone anyway.
He hugged Amber and kissed her little face. She smiled at him, even though she was half-asleep. She hugged her turtle and put her thumb into her mouth.
"Goodnight, Adam." Nick kissed his nephew in the next room, hugging him close, marveling that no matter how many times he combed his hair, it still looked like a bird's nest.
"Goodnight, Uncle Nick," Adam sleepily replied. "Uncle Nick?"
Nick paused as he switched off the bedroom light. "Hmm?"
"Can we keep her? Emilie, I mean. We could live here with her. She likes us. Then we wouldn't have to adopt Amber to those other people. Amber likes Emilie, too."
"I know, Adam." Nick’s voice sounded oddly strangled as he fought back his emotions. "It's not that easy. I wish it was."
"I don't understand," Adam complained.
"I know you don't," Nick consoled. "I don't know how to explain it either. You’ll have to take my word for it. People like other people, but they don't always live with them. Life is more complicated when you're an adult. Someday, you’ll understand."
Adam nodded sagely. "You mean like how Mommy liked me and Amber, but she was leaving us when she got killed?"
Nick went back in and sat down on the bed next to the boy. He’d wondered for a year if Adam had understood what was happening that day. "Your mom would’ve come back for you."
Adam searched his uncle's face in the dim light from the hallway. "I know she would’ve. I wish she and Daddy wouldn't have died, Uncle Nick."
"I know." Nick hugged him. "I know. So do I."
"Does Amber have to be adopted?"
Nick looked down into his intent young face. "I promised your Mom you'd both have good homes with two parents."
"Can't she have a good home with us, Uncle Nick?"
"Amber needs a Mom and Dad." Nick tried to explain. "I can't give her that."
"Yes, you can!" Adam insisted. "You can marry Emilie and we can live here with her."
Nick sighed. "Go to sleep, Adam. Everything's going to work out. You'll see."
Emilie waited for him in the hall, deciding that she wouldn't pretend that she hadn't heard their conversation. It could be the path she needed to get to Nick. "So, you're adopting Amber out?"
His eyes narrowed. "Yeah. She'll be in her new home after Christmas."
"That soon," Emilie remarked casually, her heart beating quickly. Every moment she spent in Amber's company further convinced her that she was the right one to take the little girl. Two weeks, she reminded herself. She still had almost two weeks to change his mind.
They walked down the stairs together in silence. Emilie was formulating what she should say and do next to impress Nick with her worthiness. Nick was buried in memories about his sister and regrets about her children.
"I could show you around the house," she offered.
With the children in bed, the best thing she could do was to try to get to know Nick. She knew now why he was intent on adopting Amber, and later Adam, to a home with two parents. She might be able to use that information to convince him that she was right for the job.
"Hmm?" He barely caught what she was saying, lost in his own thoughts. "Oh, that would be great. Your aunt warned me last night that I might get lost in here."
"I was raised with stories of people getting lost in this house. There's a tale about one of the young de Ferriers losing a bride the night they were married. Supposedly, she wandered off and was never seen again."
"That was careless of him," he commented.
"Or maybe convenient," Emilie added. "The Ferriers weren't all nice people."
"I suppose founding a dynasty and making a fortune doesn't necessarily mean you’re nice."
"That's true. They almost hanged Jacque de Ferrier a few times."
"For what?" Nick politely questioned.
Emilie looked back at him with wide eyes. "Stealing other men's wives. Jacque had a penchant for new, young blood."
Nick laughed. "He didn't care if she belonged to someone else?"
“He was a law unto himself here."
They walked through the kitchen to the butler's pantry then on to the huge formal dining room with a teardrop chandelier that Emilie turned on for effect. The room was dusty, clearly unused. There was seating for at least a hundred at the oval table.
"The last time we ate in here was the week before my parents died," she told him, recalling the event. "There was a house party that weekend with over fifty people."
Graceful cobwebs shrouded the elegant chandelier and festooned the ceiling. The whole room had the aura of a haunted house in a movie.
Nick shuddered, despite himself. "You and your aunt stopped entertaining?"
"My parents were the party people of the family," Emilie explained as they walked through the room to the door on the opposite wall. "I think they were truly the last of the Ferrier family. Aunt Joda and I rattle around in the house like a couple of little mice, afraid to make too much noise or turn on too many lights."
"Sad to be rich and live in a mansion and not know what to do with it," he quipped. "What happened to your parents?"
Emilie switched off the light and closed the door behind them as they entered a smaller sitting room. "They died indulging their latest hobby. They'd built their own plane and were racing it when they crashed into the side of a mountain."
"Here?" He imagined the plane hitting the mountainside behind the house.
"No. In Switzerland. They found the wreckage of the plane, but never recovered their bodies."
"I'm sorry. He was sorry, too, that he'd made light of her position. Emilie Ferrier was more a tragic figure than one of rich caricature.
She faced him with eyes bright with unshed tears. "Don't be. They died as they'd always wanted to die. Together." She walked on ahead of him. "This is the bride's parlor. I think Aunt Joda uses it sometimes." She went on, with a glance at the lamps on the tables. "No cobwebs."
The little room was white, accented with lemon yellow and green. It faced a small courtyard that opened into the formal garden at the rear of the house.
"How do you keep up with all of this?" He’d been surprised to find that there was no staff at the big house.
"We don't. That's why the dining room looks that way. We only keep up with the parts we live in. Well," she amended quickly, "I only keep up with the parts I live in. Aunt Joda spends time in every room, but she doesn't like to clean. She was raised when there were servants here who did everything for her."
"And you weren't?"
"There was a small staff when I was growing up. A cook, a gardener and a housekeeper." She smiled self-consciously. "And a chauffeur and a butler and—"
He laughed. "I get the idea.
Why not now? Loss of personal fortune?"
"I'm not good at handling staff. My mother gave up on me when she saw me cleaning my own bathroom once. It's just easier to do it myself."
They'd walked through the bride's parlor and into another hallway, past two more sitting rooms.
Nick listened to her tell him about the servant's quarters in the back of the house. He was really trying to understand her.
She had more money than he would see in three lifetimes. Yet she washed her dishes by hand. She lived in a thirty-six-room mansion and taught a class for misfits at a public school. If eccentric had a name in the dictionary, he felt certain it would be Emilie Ferrier.
Yet, she had a childlike wonder at everything around her that made him want to see through her eyes. There was an innocence about her, he'd almost mistaken for arrogance, which he found immensely appealing. Sadness hung over her the way the cobwebs had festooned the dining room, heavy and thick. Still, there was no mistaking the defiant emerald glint in her eyes or the laugh lines at the corners of her mouth.
An enigma and a paradox at once. He followed her through the dark, musty-smelling rooms. She was a beautiful, intelligent puzzle that he wished he could piece together, though he’d probably have to walk through fire to do it.
If he was younger. If Renee hadn’t left him with her children. If he hadn’t learned about life the hard way in the military. So many ifs.
He realized that he was too cynical for Emilie. She deserved better.
"And this was Jacque's favorite room." She opened a door into another small parlor.
Nick took one look at the flagrantly sexual statues and paintings that filled the room and closed his eyes. A little voice in his ear, his bad angel, hissed, "Too late!"
Chapter Nine
Nick followed her into the small room. The walls were a vivid shade of red with ornate, gilded moldings along the ceiling and floor. The furniture, two ruby red love seats with gilt arms and legs, were old, but not old enough to have been used in Jacque Ferrier's time.
"Someone else must like this room.” He stroked his finger across the shiny flat surface of marble table and brought it away clean. "Someone more recent than your great-grandfather."