Take Me Home for Christmas wc-5

by Brenda Novak

“I’ll make it tomorrow, then.” She put the tray down but backed up instead of turning to go. “Before I leave you to your lunch, could I ask what Chief Stacy wanted? I mean, if his purpose in coming involved me?” She clasped her hands behind her back so that he couldn’t see what she’d done to her cuticles. She couldn’t have a drink. And, after Friday, she’d decided that smoking wasn’t for her, either. Because of the smell, she couldn’t hide it from Alexa and didn’t want to set a bad example. Her latest bad habit was destructive, too, but at least it relieved some of her stress and anxiety without hurting anyone else. Now that Skip was gone and could no longer belittle her, she could do whatever she wanted.

  Ted met her gaze. “He thinks you have money hidden away.”

  “And I’m working as a housekeeper because...”

  “You haven’t found it yet.”

  “I see. But...why would he want to meet with you about that?”

  “That was my question. The answer? He’s hoping I’ll be the first to notice if you come into money. So if you happen to stumble across a pot of gold lying around the house, be sure and tell me so I can spread the word.”

  He’d always had a dry sense of humor. She could tell he was joking, but it bothered her that Chief Stacy was creating false hope. If the people of Whiskey Creek were expecting to recover their money, they were going to be disappointed. She didn’t think that was fair—to her or to them. The money was gone. Skip had burned through it trying to maintain a lifestyle that cost far too much. She’d heard Captain Armstrong say that the yacht alone required over ten grand a month to own and maintain.

  Chief Stacy and the others needed to accept the truth and heal, get beyond the losses they’d sustained. And she wasn’t being glib; she had to do the same. Skip had put everything he could salvage on his back, and he hadn’t cared about the damage it would cause her or Alexa when he’d jumped into the ocean.

  He hadn’t even left a note.

  “Don’t worry, you won’t have to sound the alarm,” she said. “If I so much as buy a gallon of milk, it’s like bleeding in shark-infested waters.”

  “It’s still very new,” he said, watching her curiously.

  She straightened her spine. “Is that why you hired me? So you could keep an eye on me and what I might or might not have? Did you invest with Skip?”

  Although he’d taken a seat at her desk to start eating, he hesitated before picking up the fork she’d put on the tray. “No, to all three questions.”

  “You’re not an investor.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then...why were you at the church with the others?”

  He suddenly became much more interested in his lunch. He took a bite and spoke around it, which made it difficult to hear every word. “Eve asked me to come, to...”

  She didn’t catch the rest. “Why?”

  “To make sure there was no trouble.”

  “I see. So you did it as a favor to her.”

  “More or less.” He swallowed and took a drink of his iced tea. “You honestly don’t know who they are?”

  “They?”

  “The investors.”

  “How would I?” she asked. “Skip kept his business affairs to himself. I might be able to get a list from the FBI or Kelly, his assistant—”

  “The offices are still open?”

  “No. Kelly called me over the weekend. He said they’ve been shut down. The FBI will liquidate what’s left of the assets, even the furniture, and that will be that. But he might have a list of investors on his personal computer. It depends on how much work he took home, and whether or not he had reason to save it. I didn’t ask. I’m not sure I want to know all the names. I doubt anyone will ever believe this, but I feel bad enough as it is, and not just for myself.”

  “Maybe you should call Chief Stacy and tell him that. His girlfriend lost over a quarter of a million dollars, her entire inheritance.”

  “I ran into him at Just Like Mom’s last night. It didn’t go very well. I’m not going to call him. He wouldn’t believe me, anyway.”

  “You’re probably right. He’s convinced that Skip would never leave you without a plan to reunite. And I don’t see him giving up on that anytime soon.”

  She could understand why the police chief might think as he did. Skip had loved possessing her, loved dominating her, and he’d made a show of it. At first, even she could scarcely believe that he’d just get up and leave, that she could be free so suddenly and easily after thirteen years of wishing for a “do-over.”

  But she’d since realized that he’d had no choice. Not if he hoped to avoid prison. “Knowing my husband, he measured the odds and decided his best chance was to cut loose and start over. At that point, I was just...excess baggage to him. Alexa, too.”

  “Did he say that?” Ted asked. “Did he ever indicate he might do something like what he did?”

  “Never. I had no idea we were in financial trouble. He kept that from me—had all his bank statements and even household bills go to his office. It was our anniversary. We were supposed to be—” she winced “—celebrating.”

  His fork hung suspended halfway to his mouth. “He stole your wedding ring and all the money you had between you and jumped ship—literally—on your wedding anniversary?”

  She forced a smile. “It gave a nice cover for taking the yacht to Brazil.”

  He shook his head. “God, Sophia. He really did a number on you.”

  For a second, the walls they’d erected seemed to come down, but that changed quickly. She could sense the shift and couldn’t help feeling stung by it. “Yeah, well, we all have to pay for our mistakes, right?”

  “I’m not taking any pleasure in your situation. I hope you know that.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you were.” She managed another smile and hoped it didn’t look as wobbly as it felt. “I’ll pick up the tray later.”

  * * *

  Sophia was several payments behind on her iPhone. But AT&T hadn’t yet shut off their service. She’d gone online and made a small payment with a prepaid Visa card she’d bought at the grocery store over the weekend. She hoped that would suffice until she got her first paycheck, especially since their home phone was no longer working. How would Ted notify her if he wanted her to arrive early or pick up something on her way in if he couldn’t reach her?

  Occasionally, partly to make sure she could still make calls on her own phone, she tried Skip’s number. His voice mail picked up right away and would as long as they had an account, even though the actual device was probably lying on the bottom of the ocean. It felt so odd to hear his voice...but she liked leaving him messages. It wasn’t important that he’d never hear them. At least she got to say all the things she’d never said. She got to tell him what she thought of him and how sorry she was that she’d ever married him. That Alexa was the only good thing to come out of their years together, and he was missing out on raising her. That stealing had cost him more than he’d ever gained. She also got to tell him that she finally had a job, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. She figured that had to be therapeutic. So when her cell rang as she was pulling to a stop at the corner a couple of blocks from the school, where she picked up Alexa to avoid the crush in the parking lot, it was already out of her purse and on her console. She’d just used her Bluetooth headset to leave him one of those messages—the one about having a job.

  According to caller ID, Eve was trying to get hold of her. Sophia remained in her car, enjoying the oven-like warmth it provided against the cold, windy afternoon, while she waited for Alexa and answered.

  “How was your first day at work?”

  Eve sounded chipper, was obviously trying to keep Sophia’s spirits up. Sophia appreciated the effort—and responded with enthusiasm. “Fine,” she said but then she laughed as she remembered certain parts of it.

  “Was that a loaded response?”

  “We both survived it. Let me put it that way.”

  “Give me mor
e details! What was the worst moment?”

  She thought of Chief Stacy’s visit but decided not to mention it. That was too negative for a festive night like Halloween. “When I failed my typing test shortly after I arrived.”

  “Oh, no!” She started laughing, too. “Ted gave you a typing test?”

  “He did. And I can tell you he wasn’t impressed with the results.”

  “I’ll help with the clerical stuff, if you need me to. What does he want typed?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  “Then it must not be too important.”

  “Or else he did it himself.”

  “I’ll talk to him about it. And...the best moment of your day?”

  She considered the hours she’d spent in the kitchen. They’d been enjoyable. She loved his house. It was different enough to feel free-spirited, definitely didn’t resemble the gilded cage in which she’d lived with Skip. “He seemed to like the food I made. He ate enough of it. So...I have that going for me—at the moment, anyway. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll hit your groove once you get used to the demands of the job.”

  “I hope it gets easier.”

  “The first day is always the toughest.”

  Sophia wouldn’t know. She’d never worked for anyone except her father, who’d had her create and deliver flyers for various charities or serve at community events when he was mayor. He’d paid her for her time, to augment what he gave her, which was too much to begin with.

  However, she didn’t want to point out her lack of experience. She’d felt like an exception to the rule in Whiskey Creek for too long. “Are you going to the Halloween party tonight?”

  There was a slight pause. “I am. Would you like to come?”

  “No. I wasn’t fishing for an invitation. Alexa and I have plans.” That wasn’t necessarily true. Alexa was going to see about trick-or-treating with Emily, her softball buddy. But in case that didn’t pan out, Sophia wanted to be there for her. “I was wondering if you needed a costume.”

  “I was planning to be an old-fashioned barmaid, like I was last year. Or maybe an elderly lady in a robe and curlers. I couldn’t bring myself to spend any money this year. Thanks to the owners of A Room with a View constantly undercutting my prices, I’m having trouble turning a profit at the inn.”

  “Even after the remodel and the grand reopening?”

  “It’s gotten better the past couple of years, but...it’s still a struggle.”

  “I’m sorry. I hope you didn’t invest with Skip.”

  Eve laughed again. “No. You’re safe there. I’m just being conservative.”

  “I’m glad you’re not an investor. And it’s a good thing you didn’t buy a costume because I have some really great ones, and you can borrow any of them. Would you like to come over and take a peek? You’re a few inches taller than I am, but we could find something that would fit. I could do your makeup, too.” She held her breath as she awaited Eve’s response. She’d made overtures toward Ted’s friends before—overtures that’d been politely but not warmly accepted. Eve pitied her, so she was trying to help; that didn’t mean she was willing to embrace a full-fledged friendship. Considering how most people felt right now, Eve would be justified in keeping her distance.

  “You mean the scavengers didn’t take those, too?” she asked.

  “Far as I know, they’re in the attic. They didn’t get into my holiday decorations. And I didn’t suggest it.”

  “Thank goodness! You were offering up everything else. I finally had to stop them when they got to your underwear drawer.”

  They hadn’t really gone that far, other than to dump them out and carry off the furniture, but Sophia was grateful she and Eve could joke about it. Laughter eased the heartache. “I owe you a big thanks for that.”

  “Yes, you do,” Eve teased. “So this can be it. I’ll come right over.”

  Sophia smiled as she hung up. That exchange had felt good—natural, real—at a time when not many things did.

  Alexa was coming down the street. She was later than usual, but Sophia wasn’t concerned. She was excited about spending the evening with her daughter. She’d just finished her first day of work ever and felt proud that she hadn’t been fired. But when Alexa drew closer, Sophia realized why she was late: there were marks on her face, and her shirt was torn.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered. “Not her.”

  14

  Ted was too distracted to have much fun. Maybe it was because he’d been coming to the same party—if he wasn’t hosting it—for too many years. He liked getting together with his friends. Gail and Simon couldn’t make it, and Baxter hadn’t yet arrived, but all the others were there: Callie, Levi, Adelaide, Noah, Brandon, Olivia, Kyle, Riley, Cheyenne, Dylan and Eve. There was just something...anticlimactic about this event. As he sat on Cheyenne and Dylan’s sofa, his mind kept wandering back to Sophia and what he’d learned today. How Skip had abandoned her on their wedding anniversary. How he’d made her ride on a float each Fourth of July, as if she was a Barbie doll he could dress up and pose at his whim. The fact that she’d wanted to file a complaint with the police and he’d intervened before she could.

  Had he been abusive?

  Most of the people at this party thought so. They’d debated it before, had seen the bruises. Ted had chosen to believe Sophia when she said her injuries were the result of bumping into a door or a cupboard, but—

  “You’re quiet tonight, Sir Dixon.”

  He glanced up to find Eve smiling down at him and moved the sword of his Knight Templar costume so she could sit beside him.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked as she handed him a glass of wine.

  “Nothing much.”

  “There’s always something going on. You’re our resident intellectual. Are you busy plotting your current manuscript?”

  “Maybe.” He grinned and clinked his glass against hers. “Nice costume, by the way.” This year Cheyenne had asked everyone to contribute $5 so the person with the best costume could win a jackpot. Knowing there was a competition made it more interesting to dress up. He doubted he would have bothered otherwise. He wasn’t much for that sort of thing, despite participating in the past. For tonight he’d spent nearly $200 to make sure his costume looked authentic instead of cheesy, and he’d accomplished that. But even an authentic-looking Knight Templar couldn’t compete with Catwoman—not this version. He could hardly take his eyes off Eve in that tight-fitting black leather bodysuit.

  Since when did Halloween costumes get so damn sexy?

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

  “Like what?”

  She pointed to her face. “My eyes are up here.”

  He’d never ogled Eve’s breasts before. It felt odd to be doing it now. They’d been friends for too long. But having Sophia back in his life made him restless and suddenly dissatisfied, as if he should’ve been doing more all along. Dating. Socializing. Making the most of his youth. All he could think about was how long it had been since he’d had sex....

  “You’re the one who wore that costume,” he grumbled. “I can’t be the only man who’s tempted to stare.”

  “I was a barmaid last year.”

  “So?”

  “So that costume showed a lot more cleavage, and you didn’t give me a second glance.” She fluffed her hair. “Maybe it’s the red wig.”

  He knew she was teasing, but he answered her seriously despite that. “It’s definitely not the wig.” He drained his glass. “It’s that I haven’t gotten out of the house enough this year.”

  She lowered her voice so the others couldn’t hear. “You mean it’s too long since you’ve gotten laid.”

  When she said that, he could tell she’d had too much to drink. Adelaide, being pregnant, was a designated driver. So was he, since he usually didn’t drink much more than a glass of wine. That meant even those who didn’t live within walking distance
had a safe way to get home. “That, too,” he admitted. “How’d you guess?”

  Her expression suggested it had been all too easy. “We live in the same small town. We basically have the same problem.”

  He shifted in his seat. He guessed she normally reserved that kind of remark for Cheyenne or another female member of the group because she’d never been that candid with him before. But he had no chance to comment. The doorbell rang and Callie cried, “It’s Bax!”

  This was the moment they’d all been waiting for. After spending his whole life pretending to be straight, Baxter North had come out of the closet a year ago, and he’d done it by declaring his love for Noah, who wasn’t the least bit gay. That had disrupted their friendship, which had lasted since early childhood, and it had sent shock waves through the whole group—until everyone who was part of it could adjust. For a while, no one was sure Baxter would be able to come to grips with his true identity. But he seemed to be doing better since moving to San Francisco, where he’d already been working as a stockbroker for a number of years. Fortunately, he and Noah were friends again. Ted didn’t talk to Baxter as often as some of the others, like Callie, but he knew that much. Even Adelaide, whom Noah had married nine months ago, liked Bax.

  Everyone liked Bax and had been looking forward to seeing him. But they hadn’t expected him to bring a friend. He hadn’t mentioned it. So when he walked in holding hands with a man who strongly resembled Noah—a man who was even dressed in biking shorts and a biking tunic with Noah’s store logo—the room fell silent.

  Noah seemed determined to ease the awkwardness when he stepped forward to hug his best friend and shake hands with his doppelganger, whom Baxter introduced as Skye. “I like your shirt,” he said, grinning. “But I look better in Spandex.”

  They all laughed and followed his lead.

  “Nice to meet you,” Ted murmured when it was his turn to be introduced.

  After that they all stood blinking at one another, trying to ignore the fact that Baxter’s boyfriend was almost a carbon copy of Noah—the man he’d loved his whole life.