The Promise of Christmas

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  She hesitated, but in the end, she simply said, “I own it free and clear.”

  Kip shifted, but his restlessness felt more like anticipation than impatience. “Will you let me write you a check for half of it?”

  “That would be a quarter of a million dollars.”

  “I have it.”

  Could she not get a break anywhere?

  Across the street the lights behind the curtains in the front room went out. In a minute or so they’d go on upstairs—the front left bedroom. The McCulloughs had had the same nightly routine for thirty years—or as much of those years as Leslie could remember. She’d been shocked at Cal’s funeral by how old they’d looked.

  “What about kids of your own?” She hadn’t meant to ask him that. She wasn’t sure the question was really for him.

  “What about them?” His voice seemed loud in the quiet night.

  “When will you have them?”

  “Looking into the future again, Les? Borrowing trouble before it’s here?”

  “I call it being responsible, considering the consequences of my actions, planning.” She used every mental tool she’d learned to keep the defensiveness out of her tone, and was afraid she’d failed, anyway.

  He was quiet for a while, leaving Leslie to thoughts she’d prefer to avoid.

  “I’d forgotten about your plan to have children of your own.” His words, when they finally came, weren’t what she’d expected. Or wanted.

  “I wasn’t talking about me.” She said the words too fast. She’d better just give up for the night, go to bed, face life again tomorrow.

  “Can we leave that one open for now?” he said, apparently ignoring her assertion. “When you meet the future father of your children, we’ll take a look at our circumstances, the kids and where they’re at, and go from there, okay?”

  She didn’t like that at all.

  “We’ll be different people then, Les, and the answers that are difficult for us now might be perfectly clear.”

  Oh. The knots in Leslie’s stomach loosened slightly. Had he actually come up with something that made sense? It was a relief after more than an hour of talk about living together.

  Her stomach jumped with some other emotion. Dread? Fear? Exhaustion. She was a basket case bordering on hopeless. Juliet would be shaking her head.

  But she wouldn’t be disappointed. Her counselor would confirm that Leslie had done her best. She didn’t have anything to be ashamed of. She wasn’t responsible for the choices of others.

  She almost grinned when thoughts of the other woman brought to mind the reassurances—the truths—that had saved her from a life of getting through each day trying not to have an “episode.” Panic attacks brought on by feelings of unworthiness, Juliet would say. Unnecessary feelings. Unjustifiable ones.

  “You grew up without a father.” Kip’s voice was so soft she shivered in spite of the warmth of the car. “I grew up without a mother. We both suffered for it.”

  He had no idea how much.

  “Is that what we want for these kids?”

  “No.” He had her there.

  “I THINK IT WOULD BE BEST if I took Kayla to Phoenix first.”

  It was three o’clock in the morning and Kip was still wide awake, if numb and thick-headed with exhaustion, as he sat with Leslie at her mother’s kitchen table, drinking a cup of decaffeinated coffee.

  Clara had gone up to bed an hour before—after hearing about their plans—and crying tears of relief.

  And shocking them with her sudden decision to move to Phoenix, leaving behind sixty years of life and history and friends in Columbus. Her grandchildren came first.

  “And you’re both going to need my help…” she’d said when they’d tried to talk her out of such a drastic move.

  Truthfully, Kip had been more relieved than anything to know that Clara would be close.

  It would be good for them. He had a feeling there were a million things he and Leslie didn’t know about being parents—and it wasn’t like they were going to have the infant months as a training period. No, they’d be thrown into this without any chance to get used to their new reality first.

  But it would be good for him in another way, as well. He could watch out for her, be there to help with the little things Cal had always done, if she was close by.

  Leslie was watching him, her eyes filled with compassion. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  He frowned. “That you’re going to take Kayla first,” he remembered. And then, realizing there was more, he grimaced. “Sorry.”

  Her smile gave him an uneasy moment. He was going to be living with that, and he liked it a little too much. He was reminded of a show he’d watched as a kid—Lost in Space, he thought the name was. What he remembered was a robot that was constantly wagging its arms while issuing a warning. “Danger! Danger! Danger!”

  “You’re exhausted, Kip. Why don’t you go to bed? We can finish this in the morning.”

  He sat up. Took a sip of coffee that had grown lukewarm. “I’m fine,” he said. “I’ll sleep better once we have a plan.” It was true. “And I suspect you will, too.”

  If he’d learned nothing else about the grown-up Leslie, he knew that having a plan was about as important to her as breathing.

  “Okay.” She rose, brought their cups over to the sink and rinsed them. Then she poured two glasses of ice water, using her mother’s oversize crystal goblets.

  “Sorry, this is all that was handy,” she said, referring to the water as she set a wine goblet in front of him. “But it should help in the sleep department since it’s not caffeine.”

  Kip was willing to accept any assistance. He wasn’t relishing the moment he’d finally be alone in the dark with nothing but his own thoughts for company. He had a feeling there were some heavy-duty admonishments waiting for him.

  “So tell me again what you said about taking Kayla.”

  “Only that I’m ready to leave tomorrow. And I think it’d be good for Kayla if she and I have a little time alone so she can get used to me. Same goes for you and Jonathan.” She took a sip of her water, her lips full and pink along the rim of the glass.

  God, he was tired.

  “I’m afraid that if we take them together, it could end up being you and me against Jonathan and Kayla—or at least Jonathan and Kayla clinging together instead of opening up to us.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “We want them to have a feeling of family, but it seems like it’d be easier to adjust to us one at a time.” She paused, frowned. Kip loved how intensely she approached everything she did. It was no surprise she’d been a wonder kid in the finance world.

  “We’ll tell Jonathan, of course, that he’ll be seeing Kayla again very soon—and that he’ll be living with her. With us.”

  He nodded, thanking God for her plans. What had seemed completely impossible moments before had become slightly more manageable.

  “The break will give you time to get things arranged here, and also let Jonathan finish the term at school.”

  Kip glanced up at her, feeling at a complete loss. “I hadn’t even thought of that,” he admitted. “How’m I doing as a father so far?”

  Placing her hand gently over his, Leslie smiled again. “Just fine,” she said. “Take a sip of your water.”

  He did.

  And she went to bed.

  “NO!” KAYLA STOOD, her plump little body completely naked, in the alcove between the bed and bath in the suite Leslie had given her in Phoenix.

  “Come on, sweetie, you’re wet. Aunt Leslie doesn’t want you to slip and hurt yourself.”

  “No!” The girl, her dark frizzy hair sticking up like some kind of wild halo, shook her head from side to side.

  Leslie stood, empty towel between her hands, afraid to approach the child in case she tried to run—and afraid not to, for a lot of reasons. If she’d thought Kayla would be any good at it, she’d let her be the boss between them, but she knew damn well that would
lead them both to disaster.

  “Kayla, it wasn’t nice to run away from Aunt Leslie.”

  “Wa wa,” the little girl said, glancing at the warm tub Leslie had pulled her out of moments before.

  One of the many things she’d learned during the past four days alone with the most contrary angel on the planet was that Kayla liked bathtime. A lot. After the first morning, when the two of them had shown up at day care an hour late with Leslie’s hair as frizzy as her new daughter’s, Leslie had scheduled evenings for bathtime.

  The disadvantage was that the child seemed crankier in the evening. And Leslie was scared to death Kayla would run off, slip, crack her head open.

  Leslie would never forgive herself.

  “If I let you back in the bath for five minutes, you promise to stand still while I dry you?”

  Kayla, brown eyes large and round, nodded.

  “Okay,” she said, approaching the little girl, afraid she’d spiral away. But Kayla stood completely still. Watching her.

  Leslie picked her up.

  It was just that easy.

  Now if only she had the courage to just dry the little imp and put her to bed without keeping her promise.

  But Leslie plopped the slippery body back down in the plastic safety ring suctioned to the bottom of the tub, sitting on the side for added protection.

  She hadn’t been a parent long enough to feel comfortable exercising subterfuge. Or even knowing how…

  SITTING DOWN ON THE COUCH in Juliet’s office on Friday at noon, Leslie laid her head back and scowled at the counselor who’d released her from treatment years ago, but who continued to see Leslie once a month anyway, because Leslie wasn’t ready to stop visiting with the woman she’d grown so fond of.

  “A new necklace,” Juliet said from her armchair.

  “It was on sale. The notice was one of the nine-hundred messages in my in-box when I got back on Monday. Part of the spring line. Somehow I’d missed it.”

  “Glad to see you ordered it immediately,” Juliet said, still looking in apparent admiration at the violet and pink crystals that sparkled from their antique-gold flower settings at the opening of Leslie’s cream blouse. She’d chosen her violet suit quite deliberately that morning. Violet was said to bring peace of mind. At least to some people.

  “So how’re you doing otherwise?” Juliet’s casual question belied the compassion in her eyes.

  “Good.” Since Leslie’s regularly scheduled appointment wasn’t for another couple of weeks, she’d called Juliet on Monday to ask for this meeting. And she’d told her everything that had happened in her life, prompting the call.

  “Hey,” Juliet said, grinning. “that makes this the quickest meeting we’ve ever had….”

  “Okay, not that great,” Leslie admitted, grinning in response. “I’m…managing.” It was a word Juliet was fond of.

  “Finding that you’re a new mother—of a two-year-old—is a harrowing experience no matter who you are,” Juliet told her with enough calm to convince Leslie that she was perfectly normal. At that moment, anyway. “You’ll adjust.”

  She nodded. Juliet might be right. But the verdict was still out.

  The night before, Kayla had spent an extra half hour in the bath, not the agreed-upon five minutes. And then she’d still tried to run from Leslie, who’d carried her, kicking and screaming, into the bedroom and placed her on the dresser to dry her.

  “The furniture I bought for Kayla is being delivered tomorrow. I sure will be glad to have a bed with side-bars so I don’t have to worry about her falling out.”

  “You ordered a junior bed?”

  “It’s a regular-size twin, with removable safety bars.” She’d thought about ordering one for Jonathan, too, until she’d realized he was far too old to need the bars.

  And Jonathan’s possessions were Kip’s concern.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “SO HAVE YOU HEARD from Kip since you’ve been back?”

  Even after all these years, it disconcerted her when Juliet appeared to read her mind.

  “Every night,” she said quickly before Juliet did any more mind-reading.

  “And?”

  “I’m scared to death, Juliet,” she said, lifting her head.

  “Is there any particular reason, or is this just a general, resistance-to-change fear?”

  “I’m afraid…” She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t admit, even to herself, that she might be in much bigger trouble than anyone suspected. “I’m afraid of all kinds of things. Having a little girl in my life—my house—is enough of an adjustment, but a grown man?”

  “It could be good.”

  “How?”

  “You were in danger of becoming too comfortable, Leslie. You’d bought that big house, made it completely your own, and before you knew it, your life was settling into a predictable pattern.”

  “Living alone isn’t a bad thing.”

  “It is if you don’t want to spend your life alone—and you don’t. And it’s particularly a concern if you’re someone with a goal of motherhood. Your living situation was counterproductive to your goal. Funny how the universe has a way of taking care of things for us sometimes when we’re too dense to see them for ourselves.”

  How did Juliet always make the impossible seem almost sane?

  “Even if I could’ve seen this one coming, I wouldn’t have chosen it.” Leslie couldn’t resist the sardonic reply. And then she couldn’t resist crossing her fingers where they lay on the couch cushion. Just in case this was going to work, she didn’t want to jinx herself.

  “You’re doing okay with Kayla, you’ve got Kip and Jonathan’s arrival during the Christmas break all planned, he’ll have his own suite on the other side of the house, chores are divided….”

  Juliet had paid a lot of attention to that call on Monday. Leslie nodded as she paused.

  “…so what’s the real problem?”

  “I—”

  Juliet lowered her chin, glancing at Leslie over the top of her glasses. “Yes?”

  “I’m… I don’t know… When he calls—” Thank God her business associates couldn’t see her now, stumbling over her words like some flustered nincompoop. “I— My stomach kind of jumps, you know?”

  She was shocked when Juliet actually laughed. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. So…what’s that about?”

  “You’re attracted to him.”

  “No, I’m not.” She couldn’t be. Not now, as an adult. “I mean, I was when I was a kid, but that was a long time ago.”

  “Apparently you still are.”

  Sure, she’d noticed that Kip was as attractive as he’d always been, but not in any way that affected her personally. Or at least not once she’d recovered from that first unexpected meeting two weeks before. She couldn’t feel any real desire for him. It would be too messy…too…

  She just couldn’t. That was all. There were some things even Juliet didn’t know. And that was how it had to be. Juliet had helped her heal so she wouldn’t have to go back to that part of her life.

  And she wasn’t going to.

  Ever.

  LESLIE HUNG UP the phone with one of her largest investors late Friday afternoon, after assuring him that although Sporting International hadn’t gone public as soon as expected, she was still confident it would. She’d been poring over the stats all week and knew that something had to happen within the next month or the company would go under. The issue was cash flow. SI was struggling to find extra capital to open stores rapidly enough to keep up with the competition. She was working from facts, but also from intuition—she had a hunch. The moment she’d started “listening” to those hunches in her first job out of college, she’d become an overnight success.

  She looked up from the piles of papers on her desk—there were always several big deals in the works—as the brief rap that always preceded Nancy’s arrival was followed by the appearance of her frowning face.

  “What is it, Nance?” she asked, hoping th
at whatever the problem was, it wasn’t too big. Or could be put off until Monday. With the pressing work in front of her, she’d be in the office until eight o’clock that night.

  And the day care closed at five.

  “Rumor has it that SI just sold to a private investor.”

  Leslie froze, her pen poised above the notepad. “How solid is the rumor?”

  “Ely.” Nancy named the security officer at one of Phoenix’s most upscale investment outfits. He played hunches mixed with fact almost as well as Leslie did. And he was privy to a different set of facts.

  “Move everything over to Reynolds,” she said, mentally calculating who she’d call first to maximize damage control. Most of her larger clients socialized in the same circles. And this was Friday night. Reynolds Electric was definitely going public the following week. The payout wouldn’t be as big as SI would’ve been, and it wouldn’t happen as fast, but long term, it would be a good investment. Decent enough for her to save face and buy time to discover the next big find.

  Or so she told the knot in her stomach.

  “I just can’t figure it out,” she said, as Nancy didn’t immediately scurry to do her bidding but stood there watching her with that worried-mother look. “A private investor. There wasn’t one single hint that amounted to anything.”

  “Ely seemed to think it was from within.”

  “I went over their employee list.” She remembered the night quite clearly. She’d been alone in the office—in the entire building—late one Saturday night a couple of months before. She’d come from a black-tie charity affair, where she’d had one glass of wine to get her through until she could leave without offending any of her dozen or so clients who were in attendance. That was the night she’d discovered that Kip Webster had risen to vice president of sales in the growing company. “I didn’t see anyone on it with that kind of capital.”

  “Just proves that money doesn’t always show.” Nancy echoed one of Leslie’s oft-repeated phrases.

  And still the older woman didn’t leave. Nancy had some quick work to do—and Leslie was impatient to get to her phone calls before she had to collect Kayla.