“Sometimes,” he mumbled, burying his head deeper in his pillow.
She leaned over him. “Would you leave me for a slob?”
“I wouldn’t leave you for anything. Come on, babe, it’s three in the morning. Let’s go back to sleep,” he added, easing her back down next to him.
“Guy, do you love me?”
“Of course I love you. Do you need another pain pill? Are you hurting?”
She was hurting, but it was nothing the pills on her nightstand could combat. “I’m fine,” she lied. “Sorry I woke you.”
“No problem,” he said, and a moment later he was snoring.
But Suzanne lay in bed, wide awake, fearing that if she shut her eyes she’d fall back asleep and the angel would get her.
It gave her a lot of time to think.
By the time the first light of morning slipped past the bedroom curtains Suzanne had found a new attitude. Changes of heart were wonderful, she decided. She felt like a whole new woman, swathed in holiday warmth. This was going to be a truly perfect Christmas. She was going to make sure of it!
As soon as Guy went downstairs to help her mother with breakfast she grabbed her cell phone and called the Lovgrins, her heart racing with excitement. She barely gave April time to say hello. “We’d like to get Happy for Bryn for Christmas.”
“Suzanne, I’m sorry,” said April. “Happy was adopted yesterday.
Fourteen
Suzanne stared at her phone in disbelief. “Yesterday?” How could this be? What kind of sick angel appeared to someone in a dream a day late?
“You said you didn’t want him,” April reminded her.
“I know, but I changed my mind.” Here she was, turning over a new leaf, and the Spirit of Christmas was rewarding her by dropping a Christmas tree on her head. That wasn’t how it worked for Scrooge. Something was terribly, terribly wrong here. “Don’t you have any dogs left?”
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. “Maybe it was just my imagination,” said April at last, “but you didn’t seem interested in a dog. In fact, I got the distinct impression you don’t much like dogs.”
“Man’s best friend? What’s not to like?” lied Suzanne. “Guy has had dogs all his life and you know Bryn is dying for one.”
Another pregnant pause.
Suzanne rushed to fill it. “April, I’ve had a dog epiphany. Really. If you have any puppies left it would mean so much to all of us to be able to adopt one.”
“We still have Hildy.”
Hildy, Happy, who cared? As long as it was a dog. “Great,” said Suzanne. “We’ll take her.”
“All right,” April said, her tone of voice adding, I hope I won’t regret this. “We’ll get things rolling for you. By the way, how’s the ankle?”
“It’s getting better,” said Suzanne. It had to, she thought, since after Christmas she was going to have a new baby to care for.
She’d barely hung up the phone when her mother entered the room, carrying a mug of coffee and a plate with freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Her smile looked a little forced and Suzanne felt the weight of all the mean things she’d said the night before. “You didn’t have to bring me anything. I was going to come down.”
“That’s okay,” said her mother, handing over the goodies. “I wanted a minute to talk alone.”
That meant another lecture was coming for sure, but this one was well deserved. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a brat,” Suzanne said earnestly. “And I’m sorry about what I said last night.”
Her mother shook her head and laid a hand on Suzanne’s arm. “No, I’m the one who needs to apologize. There’s no shame in working to have nice things. God knows I gave you few enough.”
Suzanne saw the glisten of tears in her mother’s eyes and felt fresh guilt. When had she become so shallow? Surely she hadn’t been born that way. She hugged her mother fiercely. “You gave us love and that was plenty.” Why had she thought she needed more? Why had she felt such a burning desire to be just like her rich friends?
“Thank you, darling,” Mom said, and kissed her cheek. “Now, about this holiday home tour. How can I help you?”
The holiday home tour was a smashing success. Suzanne parked herself, cast and all, at the house that served as the reception home, plying visitors with Allison’s brownies and brochures while Mom helped Julie and two other agents from the office squire visitors from house to house. By the end of the day three of the agency’s listings had offers on them. Suzanne’s mother had cinched one of the deals by informing a pair of expectant parents that their child would thank them someday for giving her such a lovely home to grow up in. Of course, being Mom, she had also thrown in as a bonus a little lecture on how to have a happy home.
“Do you really believe what you told them about having a nice house?” Suzanne asked as her mother tooled them home in Suzanne’s Lexus.
“Beauty is a subjective thing,” she said with a shrug. “I could tell they were in love with the house. They simply needed someone to give them permission to buy it.”
Mom was a natural. “Maybe you should forget teaching and go into real estate,” said Suzanne.
Her mother shook her head. “No. I’m exactly where I want to be. I like helping children learn and grow. And I like having time off at the holidays to be with my family,” she added with a smile.
Actually, so did Suzanne.
When Christmas Eve came, Mom was in her element. Suzanne’s brother, Loren, and his family ferried over from nearby Vashon Island and her mother stuffed them all to the gills with her famous Swedish meatballs. After the presents had been exchanged and Loren’s family had left, she cleaned up the mess, restoring order to chaos, then led Bryn off for a bedtime story so Guy could steal away to fetch home the new puppy.
“I’d ask if you’re going to be okay while I’m gone, but with your mom here that would be a dumb question,” he said after he’d helped Suzanne upstairs. “Looks like her coming up early turned out not to be such a bad thing after all.”
“It’s worked out,” Suzanne admitted.
“I’ll say,” agreed Guy, giving his stomach a satisfied pat. “Well, I’d better get going.”
He gave her a quick kiss and started to leave but she caught his arm. “Remember when Bryn saw the puppy in the snow globe and you said you saw our house?”
“Yeah,” he said slowly.
“Did you?”
Guy made a face. “Of course not. I was just playing along. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
Suzanne gave her lip a thoughtful chew as he left the room. Had she imagined what she saw? She supposed it didn’t really matter at this point.
She was settled in bed by the time Guy returned with the female version of Happy. He plopped the new baby on the bed.
“My spread!” protested Suzanne as the puppy bumbled its way to her.
“It’ll be okay,” Guy assured her.
Happy the Second clambered up Suzanne’s chest to lick her face, nearly bowling her over with a strong dose of puppy breath.
“Someone needs an Altoid,” Suzanne said, picking up the pup and holding her at arm’s length.
The puppy wriggled in her hands, anxious to display affection.
“Yes, you’re a good dog,” Suzanne assured her. “Now go see Guy,” she added, holding the dog out to him.
“Come here, you,” Guy said. “Time to be in your crate.” He cuddled the puppy to him much the way had cuddled Bryn when she was a baby.
The sight made Suzanne’s heart catch. She had definitely done the right thing. But if the dog peed on her carpet…
Fortunately for Hildy-Happy, she didn’t. And Bryn’s ecstasy when she saw her father sitting at the foot of the tree on Christmas morning, the puppy in his arms, was worth more than a thousand ruined carpets.
“What a perfect present!” Allison exclaimed when she and Kiley stopped by on their way to their family celebrations. She picked the puppy up and it immediately went to work cover
ing her neck and face in puppy kisses.
“No,” said Suzanne, holding out a box wrapped in burgundy paper and tied with an elaborate gold ribbon. “This is a perfect present. Open it.”
Allison set the dog down and reached for the present. “Is this what I think it is?” she asked with an eager smile.
“It’s your turn,” said Kiley.
Allison ripped into the paper, making Suzanne wince. She lifted the lid and fished out the snow globe.
“Shake it,” urged Kiley.
Allison hesitated a moment. Then she shook her head and nested it back in its tissue paper bed. “No. Not before I have to go to my parents. It would be bad luck.”
“Oh, come on,” urged Kiley. “It’ll help you get through the day.”
Allison pulled out the snow globe, and gave it a jiggle.
“Well?” prompted Kiley. “See anything?”
Allison looked like she was going to cry. Uh-oh, thought Suzanne, and exchanged a worried look with Kiley.
“It looks like my grandma,” Allison said. “Not exactly, but close enough.”
“What’s she doing?” asked Suzanne.
“She’s drinking tea with me.” Allison closed her eyes and hugged the snow globe.
“Maybe the snow globe is giving you courage,” Kiley suggested.
Allison opened her eyes and nodded. “Probably. God knows, with my family I’ll need it.”
“Speaking of family”—Kiley checked her watch—“I’ve got to get going. Craig and I have to be at my parents’ by one.”
The three friends exchanged their other presents and then Kiley and Allison left Suzanne and her family to enjoy their holiday meal and their new baby.
“Happy looks different,” Bryn observed later as she and the dog settled on the couch with Suzanne while Guy and Mom did K.P.
Uh-oh. “How?” asked Suzanne, hoping her tired brain would be able to come up with a quick explanation, appropriate for a seven-year-old, to account for for Happy’s missing body part.
“He looks happier,” said Bryn, petting the puppy’s head.
“That’s because he’s found a happy home,” said Suzanne.
“I’m glad Santa didn’t take him to Virginia,” Bryn said in a tired voice as Suzanne stroked her hair.
“Me, too,” murmured Suzanne.
A few moments later both Bryn and the new puppy were asleep, Bryn snuggled next to Suzanne and the exhausted dog curled up on Suzanne’s lap.
It was the best Christmas she’d had in a long time, she decided as she gazed at the flame in the gas fireplace.
“Now, that’s a perfect picture.”
She looked up to see Guy leaning in the doorway and smiled back at him. “Merry Christmas. Have I told you lately that you’re a great husband?”
He grinned. “You’re just saying that because it’s true.” He grabbed his digital camera from the coffee table and recorded the moment, then turned the camera so Suzanne could see.
She didn’t need to look, really. She’d already seen this scene, in the snow globe.
Fifteen
Allison carefully set the snow globe on the front seat of her car to ride shotgun as she drove to her parents’ house.
“You came on the scene just in time,” she muttered. “I could use some moral support.”
If she hadn’t broken up with Lamar the week before she could have been with his family, enjoying the holiday with sane people. But she’d finally realized she loved his mother and sister more than him—not the right reason to keep a man. So today all she had to look forward to was Christmas dinner at her father and stepmother’s house. With no Grandma to ease the torture.
It’s only two hours, she reminded herself, two hours out of your day, out of your life.
Except what usually happened during those two hours was enough to give her nightmares for the following eleven months. In the past she’d had her grandmother to balance out the chaos but this year she was on her own.
She pulled up in front of the modest brick rambler in Ballard and parked in back of a black Hummer. So her stepbrother, Joey, and his wife were already here. How long had everyone been whooping it up? More to the point, how much eggnog had been consumed?
She took a deep breath to steel herself, then got out of the car and took her red velvet cake and the shopping bag full of gifts from the backseat. Maybe she was worrying for nothing. Maybe it would be okay.
Oh, who was she kidding? The day was bound to be a disaster. Grandma had always held the reins of what was left of her daughter’s family, keeping an eye on things in the kitchen, frowning and gently shaking her head when the partying started to get out of hand, discreetly monitoring the punch consumption. No one was holding the reins now.
The neighborhood was an old one, consisting mostly of smaller homes, many renovated, all worth a small fortune. Several houses were festooned with Christmas lights. Her stepmother had gotten right into the spirit of things. The house dripped icicle lights, and a fat wreath sporting candy canes and red bows hung on the front door. To look at the place you’d have thought June and Ward Cleaver lived inside. Looks could be deceiving.
Allison heard the noise even before she opened the front door. Joey was playing one of his favorite tacky Christmas songs at full blast, and over that she could hear raucous male laughter and the barking of a dog—Boozle, her father’s bloodhound.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to open the door. Just in time to hear the crash of something breaking in the living room. She walked in to find her father, her stepbrother, and another man, obviously a friend of Joey’s, staring at a broken floor lamp, which now lay in pieces on the wood floor along with a few dust bunnies. With their rock concert souvenir T-shirts and droopy, faded jeans, Joey and his friend looked like redneck twins.
Dad had dressed up for the day and was resplendent in slacks and a sweater so brightly red Allison almost needed sunglasses to look at him. “You’ve done it now, sport,” he said to Joey with a shake of his head.
“It wasn’t me,” protested Joey. He gave his friend a shove. “Way to go, bigfoot.”
Here was a case of the pot calling the kettle black. Joey was the size of a small nation, easily dwarfing his buddy, a thirty-something man with a receding hairline.
Now Allison’s stepmother Sandi, Aunt Connie, and Joey’s wife, Carissa, were in the living room. Sandi’s dyed blond hair was already going limp and her face was flushed—hopefully from working in the kitchen and not from having sampled too much eggnog. She wore tight jeans to show off the fact that she’d recently lost five pounds and a sweater as insistently red as her husband’s and trimmed with rhinestone-studded snowflakes.
“My lamp!” she cried, throwing up her hands. “What were you boys doing?”
“Just a little wrestling,” said Joey.
Meanwhile, Boozle had spotted Allison and trotted over to greet her, jumping up on her with an excited bark.
“Down, Boozle,” she commanded, struggling to push him away and keep a hold on her presents and the cake.
Joey’s face lit up at the sight of Allison. “Hey, Sis. Long time no see.” He walked over to her and gave her a playful punch in the shoulder, then checked out her leather jacket, jeans, and black turtleneck sweater, nodding appreciatively. “You look good. Lost weight?”
Yes, but she wasn’t going to admit that in front of some stranger. She ignored the question, kissing her father, who swept her into a big bear hug with a “Merry Christmas, Allie.”
Sandi pointed a finger at Joey. “Clean up that mess and no more wrestling.” She broke off to welcome Allison with a kiss on the cheek. Yep, Sandi had already been in the eggnog.
Carissa fetched the broom and dustpan. She was a pretty woman, with auburn hair and big green eyes and a perfect figure, not to mention a great job. What she was doing with Joey, the king of the unemployment check, was a mystery to Allison. They’d gotten married right after high school, so maybe she just didn’t know any better.
The friend smiled sheepishly at Allison. “Hi. I’m Ed. I didn’t break the lamp,” he added.
Allison sighed inwardly. Two hours. Just two hours. She said a quick hi to Ed, then set her bag of gifts by the tree and kissed her Aunt Connie. When Allison was little she had thought Aunt Connie was a movie star—an easy mistake to make considering the fact that Aunt Connie had looked like Audrey Hepburn, slim, lovely, and well dressed. She’d lost her svelte figure when she gave up smoking, but never her taste in clothes. Today her curves were concealed under an ensemble in classic lines and fashionable colors, and her dark hair, now shot with gray, was cut short and stylish. She wished Allison a merry Christmas and managed a sour smile.
Allison supposed she’d be sour too if she’d gone through two husbands and was reduced to spending Christmas with the flake who’d married her brother.
“I’ll take the cake into the kitchen,” Aunt Connie volunteered. She lifted the plastic container from Allison’s hand and marched back to the kitchen, past a table made festive with Spode Christmas dishes that had belonged to Allison’s mother. Someday they were supposed to go to Allison, but every year another piece got chipped or broken and she wasn’t holding out much hope that there would be many pieces left by the time her stepmother got around to giving them to her. Sandi had cleaned off the dining room table for the occasion. It was usually piled high with the flotsam and jetsam of her life: department store coupons, magazines, plants that never quite made it to the garden, flavored Vodka from the liquor store—anything and everything. A good amount of the junk was now piled on top of the buffet, pretty much burying Mom’s old silver service.
“Can I help?” asked Allison, following her aunt.
“You sure can. You can take the damned turkey out of the oven. It’s been in there so long it looks like it belongs in Death Valley,” snapped Aunt Connie. A pot on the stove started boiling over and she yanked it off the burner. “I told Sandi an hour ago it should come out, but would she listen? No.”
The Snow Globe Page 11