A Dash of Christmas

by Samantha Chase

  “That’s what I’m trying to avoid, Mom. I swear. I remember when Dad behaved like that. The last thing I want to do is be like him.”

  Beside him, her shoulders sagged and she let out a soft sigh. “I’m so sorry, Carter.”

  “For what?” he asked, his tone equally soft.

  “I didn’t do more to stop him or try hard enough to change him.” She shook her head but didn’t look at him. “I kept thinking he’d change, and in so many ways he did. Just…not enough to give his children anything but bad memories of him.”

  Carter knew he should argue that, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t a liar. Joseph Montgomery had had a lot of strong opinions and he’d felt his way was the only way in every situation. Still, Carter hated to see his mother beating herself up over it.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Mom. Dad was who he was and that’s all there is to it.”

  “I hate hearing the way you and Christian and Megan talk about him. I know there were some good times—like the memories we shared during our mock Christmas weekend—but most of the times when you kids talk about your father, it’s negative.”

  Raking a hand through his hair, Carter couldn’t help but sigh again. “Yeah, I know. We should probably lighten up on that, but—”

  “But he did a lot of damage with his words,” she finished for him. “Your brother and sister wanted his approval. You did too, but he struggled with it the most because you went against what he wanted for you.” Then she did look at him. “Here’s something you don’t know.”

  Curiosity had him facing her. “What?”

  “He was really only mad for a little while,” she said, a small smile playing at her lips. “Don’t get me wrong, he always wished you would work with him just like all your cousins did with your uncles, but he had incredible respect for you and what you built.”

  “Mom,” he said a little sharply, “you don’t have to say that. I promise to stop laying into him so much and being disrespectful, but please don’t make up stories. It’s not right.”

  Her eyes went wide right before she got defensive—crossing her arms over her chest. “Now, you listen here—have I ever been one to lie?”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  “Anyway,” she began again, giving him a harsh glare, “after you opened your first restaurant, it was almost impossible to go out to dinner with your father again and enjoy it.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh my goodness, all he would do is compare! ‘Carter’s steak was better,’ ‘Carter’s salad dressing was better,’ ‘Carter’s place wasn’t nearly as noisy,’ or my personal favorite, ‘Carter trained his bartenders right. They know how to make a damn good drink.’ One night, he got up and demanded to talk to the chef at DuTorre’s here in town. He walked back into the kitchen and told the man he should call you and learn how to prepare a proper rack of lamb! I’m telling you, on and on and on it went to the point where a lot of our friends stopped going out to dinner with us!” She laughed and—if he wasn’t mistaken—wiped a tear away from her eye. “Ask Uncle Robert some time about the vacation we took with him and Aunt Janice and how much he hated eating out with us.”

  “But that’s crazy, Mom. Dad always criticized, always—”

  “Carter, your father criticized everything and everyone! I don’t think he knew how to have a regular conversation! It was like he was always trying to prove how much he knew or how he was smarter than everyone. I swear, what your father was—besides a pain in the ass—was insecure.” She let out a long breath and reached to cup his cheek. “He hated that you chose a different path, even though he respected you for it and was blown away by what you created.”

  “Then why didn’t he…just once—” Emotion clogged his throat and he couldn’t finish the question, but his mother knew what he was asking.

  “I wish I knew,” she said quietly, sadly. “It would have made things so much easier for all of us after he was gone if we’d just understood why.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m not saying you don’t have a reason to be angry, but sometimes you don’t know the whole story, and sometimes…sometimes you have to forgive and move on. You’ve done something amazing with your life and you should be proud of yourself. Don’t let anyone take that away from you. Any. One.”

  There were no words he could speak right then, he was so overwhelmed with emotion. He could almost hear his father’s voice saying the things his mother just said to him, and no matter how hard he wished or hoped or prayed, he would never hear them for himself. It was both depressing and…freeing.

  Maybe his father had never said the words Carter wanted to hear, but this conversation healed a lot of wounds. More than he’d thought possible.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Leaning in, he hugged her and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

  After a few moments, she asked, “So you’re still going to Montauk?”

  Pulling back, Carter looked down at her and nodded. “I am. Although…” He paused. “I have a much better attitude about it now. You helped me a lot today.”

  Her look of surprise was a little sweet and a little funny. “Me? How?”

  With another quick kiss, he stepped back. “You just gave me the final piece to this whole new restaurant plan.” Glancing over his shoulder, he checked the clock on the wall. “I need to get going. I’ll talk to you when I get back.”

  “But—Carter, wait!”

  “Sell lots of cookbooks!” he called out as he made his way to the front door. “I ordered a hundred of them for each of the restaurants and the money will go directly to the charity! Good luck!”

  And as he climbed into his rental car and sped away, he really did feel like things had finally fallen into place.

  * * *

  Emery was typing up the last of her notes when she heard Carter come back. She had no idea where he’d gone, but by the loud slam of the door, she guessed it wasn’t a pleasure trip. Hitting SAVE, she closed her laptop and walked out into the living room just as he was going into her bedroom.

  “Hey,” she said casually, following him into the room. “Everything okay?”

  Her next clue that something was up was the way he went right into her walk-in closet and came out with his suitcase.

  “Um, what’s going on?”

  “I’m heading out to Montauk.”

  “Why?” Stepping closer to the bed, she watched as he began haphazardly throwing his clothes into the case. “Did something happen at the restaurant?”

  “Not really,” he said vaguely, not stopping to look at her. “I’m just anxious to get out there and see what progress has been made.”

  Something was up. Carter wasn’t normally evasive and he wasn’t particularly spontaneous, so if he was leaving, there was a reason.

  Carefully, she sat down on the corner of the bed and when he turned to grab another pile of clothes, she shut the suitcase.

  His brow was furrowed when he spun around and looked at her. “Why’d you do that?”

  “Because I want to know what your deal is. Why are you leaving? We have the fundraiser this weekend. Are you planning to come back for it?”

  “No.” He opened the case and resumed packing.

  “Excuse me?” she said with all the pent-up aggravation she had. “What do you mean? We had plans, Carter! You’re my damn date! So unless the restaurant burned to the ground, you need to be back here Saturday night.”

  He stopped and focused on her, just as annoyed as she was. “No, I don’t, Em. I’ve got work to do. I’ve been playing tourist for weeks now and I need to put some serious time in out East to get caught up on things. With you turning down the job, I’m going to need someone I can rely on to help me out.”

  “Is that what this is about?” she cried. “You’re paying me back because I didn’t accept the job? What the hell, Carter!”

 
; Emery reached out and grabbed his arm, which he promptly yanked away. “What do you want from me, Em?” he shouted. “I have things I need to take care of and I’m sorry it doesn’t work with your timetable, but it can’t be helped!”

  “Bullshit! You’re doing this to be spiteful and I want to know why.” His expression was beyond angry. Rather than shrink back, she poked and prodded some more. “You owe me an explanation, dammit!”

  That’s when he took a step toward her. “Let me ask you something,” he said, his voice low and rough, practically a growl. “If I asked you not to go to the fundraiser—if I asked you to come with me to Montauk tonight, would you come?”

  It was the last thing she expected him to say and it stunned her into silence before she could collect her thoughts. “No,” she said simply, feeling confused. “I know this shouldn’t be a big deal to me. I mean, I wasn’t part of the committee from the beginning, but I put in a lot of work in the short time I had on the project and I’d like to be there to see everyone’s reactions. I’m no different from anyone else, Carter. I enjoy getting praised for my work.”

  Emery braced herself for a snarky comeback or at the very least more yelling. Instead, Carter’s shoulders sagged as he said, “And you deserve to be praised. You’ll have to tell me all about it afterwards.” This time when he turned to finish packing, she didn’t stop him.

  She studied him. He seemed agitated but resigned. “Talk to me, Carter. Please.”

  He closed the case and zipped it shut, then set it by the bedroom door. He didn’t come over to her, didn’t sit down on the bed—he simply leaned against the door frame. “You sure about that?”

  “About what?”

  “Wanting to know what’s on my mind?”

  Right now? She wasn’t so sure. He was acting…different. Wordlessly, she nodded and waited.

  “I’m leaving because I can’t go to this gala and watch everything you’ve worked so hard for these last two months all go to hell,” he stated, his voice a little harsh.

  “What do you—”

  “You’ll go in there feeling completely confident but as soon as your folks show up, you’re going to cave, Emery. I know it. You may fight it for a bit, but they’re going to wear you down. And what’s worse is they’re bringing Derek to help them.”

  “Carter…”

  “And you and my mother both expect me to stand by and watch it all happen and not do or say a damn thing. I can’t do it, Emery. I can’t! I won’t!” His voice grew louder with each word. “I’ve asked you not to go, I’ve told you how I felt, and you know what? It doesn’t seem to matter! I can’t understand why you want to do this. Is the praise you’re going for worth it? Are a few smiles and pats on the back worth having to face that douchebag you almost married—the guy who publicly humiliated you? Can you sit there and tell me it’s all going to be okay?”

  Her heart was racing harder and harder with each of his statements. Honestly, she was worried about how it was all going to go, but not enough that she was willing to hide—to miss out on something she’d worked hard for. Which was what she told him.

  Pushing away from the door frame, he walked across the room. “You don’t get it, do you? With people like them, it’s all you can do, Em. You aren’t going to win! It won’t matter that you’re surrounded by a hundred people, they’ll use that to their advantage because they know you won’t want to make a scene. And that’s exactly what will have to happen to get through to them—someone has to make a damn scene! Someone needs to stand there and tell them—to their face—that you’re not playing this game with them anymore!”

  “And I’m going to!” she cried, jumping to her feet. “I’m asking you to trust me, Carter! I’m asking you to let me handle this my way. Not everyone has to be a bully to get their point across, and that’s exactly what you’re trying to do. You…you want to bully the bullies! Where does it end?”

  “It should have ended already! You don’t need to prove anything. They’ll ruin the night for you, and you know what? I’m not going to feel sorry for you because I warned you—I know exactly how it’s all going to go.”

  “Believe it or not, you don’t know everything,” she said with a calmness she didn’t feel. “You don’t want to go because I won’t allow you to make a scene, then fine. Don’t go. I guess it’s okay for you to go and be a bully and ruin my night, but not anyone else. How twisted is that?” Pacing the room, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “You want to know the worst part of all this?”

  He didn’t try to respond.

  “The worst part is no matter what, my night is ruined. There’s no way I can enjoy myself now.” Then she did look at him. “And the one who did that—the one responsible—is you.”

  And still Carter didn’t say a word.

  “So take your things, go to Montauk. I don’t care.” With a huff, Emery started to leave the room, but she stopped next to him. “For weeks you’ve been going on about how much you trust me—about how much you believe in me—but I guess that only applies when it’s convenient to you. If you meant it, we wouldn’t be having this discussion and you wouldn’t be running because you can’t bear the thought of me proving to you that I am, in fact, okay. Well, screw you, Carter Montgomery. Screw. You.”

  Without a backward glance, Emery stormed from the room, scooped up her keys and purse on the way, and went right out the front door.

  Carter was going to leave. She knew that.

  She just didn’t want to be there to see it.

  Chapter 11

  Everything was wrong.

  Every. Thing.

  Carter had been in Montauk for three days and not one thing had gone right.

  The house he wanted to rent wasn’t available, his hotel room was right by the elevator and was loud, the bed was lumpy, and dammit, he hated sleeping alone now. On top of that, the weather hadn’t been cooperating and construction was at a standstill.

  “Why the hell am I here?” he muttered, walking over to the hotel room window and looking out at another gray day. The rain was just heavy enough to mean no one could work outside and there was absolutely nothing for him to do.

  Almost every hour since he’d left Emery’s, he questioned his decision. She had a point—a completely valid point. No one else had screwed up, just him. Although he’d still bet good money that her folks were going to swoop in and do their worst. And then Derek would be there—the icing on the cake.

  Food metaphors normally amused him, but not so much right now. Right now, Carter wasn’t amused with anything and had no idea how to fix it. He could pack up and drive all the way back to Albany, but to what end? He still wanted to go in there and go all caveman on anyone who upset Emery.

  Hard to go caveman on yourself, dude.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah. He knew that and yet still had no clue how to fix things. His mother wasn’t talking to him, no doubt his siblings knew what was going on and they wouldn’t talk to him if he called, so who did that leave?

  Emery.

  Carter knew she was the only person he should talk to, but until he could do it without making things worse, he wouldn’t.

  Turning away from the window, he looked around the room and sighed. If things had gone as planned, he’d be in a house with a kitchen and could work through his anger and disappointment by cooking. So many ideas for new recipes were going through his mind and he was itching to try them out. Once he had them perfected, he’d try them out on his family at Christmas.

  Of course, there was a good chance his mother was disappointed enough in him that she’d rather not have him home for the holidays. The season was already difficult enough for her since his father had died. No need to add to it.

  Muttering a curse, he grabbed his coat and keys and left the room. Where he was going, Carter had no idea, but anything was better than sitting there by himself. He strode through the h
otel lobby and out to his car and was speeding onto the main road minutes later. If it hadn’t been raining, he’d be heading out for a walk on the beach, but since that wasn’t an option, he simply drove into town to find something to do there.

  It was just after eleven and he hadn’t had breakfast or lunch yet. “Maybe eating will help,” he murmured. Though he preferred his own cooking when he was in a mood, this would have to do. He slowed down as he drove through the heart of town and tried to figure out where he wanted to go and what he wanted to eat. At the corner was the fast food place Emery had gone to on the day that changed everything for them. Smiling, he contemplated going there, but decided against it. He wanted to sit down and be served and just…think.

  There was an Irish pub and an upscale Italian restaurant on the left-hand side of the street, but neither piqued his interest. To his right there was a raw seafood bar, a burger place, and a deli.

  “Pass,” he said with a huff, wishing he had a clue what he was in the mood for.

  Then he spotted it.

  The place.

  A slow smile spread across Carter’s face as he drove to the end of the block and turned into the almost-empty parking lot. The building was in desperate need of repair, but he remembered eating here many a time since he’d started vacationing in Montauk years ago. It was a pub type of place—dark wood interior, booths lining the perimeter of the dining area, and a handful of tables covered in red-and-white checkered tablecloths filling in the rest of the space. The food was simple and had everything from burgers to whatever the local fishermen happened to catch that day.

  Yeah, this was the place.

  Stepping inside, his smile grew.

  It was decorated for Christmas already with festive lights and garland draped along the exposed beams. There was a giant tree in the entryway, and along the bar were stockings with the names of all the employees. At least, that’s what he figured they were. Stepping farther into the room, he spotted the hostess and she called out for him to pick a table. The place was fairly quiet with only a handful of diners seated, and Carter chose a booth against the back wall overlooking the ocean. Appealing as the view was, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the interior. The whole place could use a good scrubbing and a fresh coat of paint, but this was the kind of place where people came to simply relax and have a good meal without breaking the bank.