Secret Sundays

by Judith Keim

  “Delivery, Ma’am. Sorry, we didn’t get to you yesterday. I’ll just leave them by the door.”

  She heard him walk away. When she was sure he was gone, she opened the door.

  A beautiful bouquet of flowers sat on the floor. Tears came to her eyes as she lifted the glass globe. It was full of sprigs of pine, red roses, red mums, and white-edged pine cones. Bows made of red-and-green-plaid ribbon were placed strategically among the flowers.

  She gasped with delight.

  Walking carefully, unwilling to disturb the beautiful arrangement, Carol Ann carried it inside, set it down in the middle of the dining room table, and stood back to admire it.

  She lifted the card out of the bouquet, opened it, and read: “Thank you for inviting me to dinner. See you then. Merry, Merry Christmas. Ed.”

  Her heart fluttered with gratitude for Ed’s thoughtfulness as she rearranged the candles around the bouquet of flowers.

  “Perfect. My first real bouquet and from a very sweet person,” she said aloud. Glancing around the empty room she laughed. “Guess it’s time for this old maid to get a cat.” As soon as the holidays were over, maybe she’d look into getting one. She hadn’t been allowed one growing up, not with her father’s breathing difficulties. The thought of a pet cheered her as she went back to her room to dry her hair.

  The next time the doorbell rang, Carol Ann was ready. She raced to answer it.

  When she opened the door, Ed smiled at her. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Come in, come in,” she said and stood back to allow him to enter, seeing him in a new light. This man was so kind, so thoughtful.

  He stepped inside and looked around. “Very nice.”

  “Thanks. Most of the furniture is hand-me-down stuff from friends, but I’ve tried to make it my own place.”

  “I can see that. You’ve got that touch. It’ll be good to have you help me out.”

  Pleased, she smiled and said sincerely, “Thanks for the flowers. They’re lovely.”

  He nodded shyly. “It’s the least I can do for your having me here.”

  Trying to get beyond the small talk, Carol Ann said, “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got sparkling water, Coke or red wine.”

  “I’d love a glass of wine. Will you join me?”

  She shook her head. “Not now, but I’m anxious to see what you think of the red wine I bought. The man at the store told me a light pinot noir would go with the Cornish hens I’m serving.”

  “Wow, Carol Ann, I didn’t know you were such a cook.”

  She laughed. “Actually, I’m trying out a number of recipes now that I’m on my own. You don’t mind being a guinea pig, do you?”

  He grinned. “Not if it means I get to eat like this.”

  The stiffness between them disappeared.

  Carol Ann’s meal was a success. Ed ate every bite of his food, declaring it the best he’d had in forever. Later, sitting in front of the fireplace with a cup of freshly made coffee, he turned to her. “Thanks again for having me. I love to cook, but eating by myself is no fun.”

  “What about dating?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve gone out with several women, but there’s no one I’m really interested in. How about you?”

  She shook her head. “After the few times I got hurt, I have no interest in dating. Besides, I’m going to be too busy setting up my decorating business. That is, if I can ever get it started.”

  He smiled. “I’ll be your number one customer.”

  Sitting side by side, with their feet on the coffee table, talking like old friends, Carol Ann realized that it might be the beginning of a nice friendship. Friends without benefits suited her just fine. And Ed seemed happy with it.

  He prepared to leave.

  Carol Ann handed him a container of left-overs and the half-empty bottle of wine. “Thanks,” he said. “See you Sunday to go furniture shopping.”

  “Just remember, these are Secret Sundays,” said Carol Ann. “I can’t do anything to jeopardize my job. If people see us together, they might get the wrong idea.”

  He gave her a little hug. “Understood. That’s how we’ll do this. Nobody needs to know or suspect anything. It’s just the two of us helping one another out.”

  Smiling, he paused and held her gaze. “I’m glad we had this time together, Carol Ann.”

  She nodded. “Me too.”

  After he left, Carol Ann couldn’t help wishing he’d given her a kiss. A brotherly one, of course.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  TIFFANY

  Tiffany checked the kitchen clock. Her stomach clenched and unclenched in nervous spasms. Muffy and Regard were due any minute. She knew she shouldn’t be so frightened of them, but she couldn’t forget how they’d treated her when Beau was alive. And now, with her new responsibilities, she was an irritant to Regard, who thought he, not she, should be in charge of the charitable organization Beau had established.

  The doorbell rang.

  Tiffany stopped her pacing and took a last, quick glance around. It was the first time her in-laws had been in her new house. She hoped Muffy wouldn’t be as critical as she usually was of anything Tiffany did.

  When Tiffany opened the door, Regard and Muffy smiled at her. They looked ... old. Her heart went out to them. Beau’s death had been a blow to his parents, a sadness from which they’d never really recovered.

  “Merry Christmas!” said Muffy, handing her a bouquet of white lilies and holly. “Thought you might need a little decoration for the house.” She stepped inside. “My, it’s much bigger than it looks from the outside.”

  Tiffany nodded. “I love this house. I always have.” She held out her hand to take Muffy’s fur. “I’ll show you around.”

  Regard followed Muffy inside, carrying a huge shopping bag full of gaily wrapped presents. “Got a few things for the baby,” he said proudly.

  “Where’s our baby?” Muffy asked brightly. “It’s been weeks since we’ve seen her. She must have grown a lot.”

  “Our trip to St. Barts was good for both of us, but we’ve missed our little girl,” said Regard.

  As Tiffany took care of the flowers and the fur, Tiffany gritted her teeth, trying to keep from saying that Vanna wasn’t their baby. If it weren’t so painful, it would be laughable. Muffy and Regard had been furious the baby was a girl and not Beauregard Wright IV. Tiffany had forgiven their actions, but she wouldn’t forget it or the way they’d treated her when she’d married Beau. They’d considered her the wrong person for the Wright family.

  “Vanna’s sleeping, but she should be up from her nap soon. What can I get you? Coffee? Tea?”

  “I’ll have a cup of tea, no milk, just a touch of lemon, please,” said Muffy, walking into the living room and sitting down. “Isn’t this the couch from Beau’s house?”

  “Yes, I decided to keep it and a few other things from the house we shared,” said Tiffany. “But I’ve had fun decorating this house with new and different things.”

  “Hmmm,” said Muffy.

  “Now, Muffy, I think it looks real nice,” said Regard. He winked at Tiffany. “And, young lady, if you don’t mind, I’d like a glass of whiskey on ice. Whatever you want to bring me is fine.” He went into the living room and took a seat next to Muffy.

  Tiffany had to remind herself that Muffy and Regard were used to being waited on. Resigned to it, she went into the kitchen to fill their orders. At times like this, she missed Beau so much she could taste her sorrow.

  After serving Muffy and Regard, she went upstairs to check on her daughter. Vanna was lying in the crib, staring at a sliver of lemony sunshine that slid between slats of the window blind and shone on the wall by her crib.

  “Hi, baby girl,” said Tiffany softly.

  At the sound of her mother’s voice, Vanna turned her head and rolled onto her side.

  “Ah, so you’re going to roll over,” said Tiffany. “That’s good, you little monkey.”

  “Don’t call my baby a monk
ey!” said Muffy entering Vanna’s room. She went over to the crib. “Come to me, little one. Grandmother is here.”

  “Grandmother? Don’t you want to be called Grandma or something a little less formal?” said Tiffany.

  “No. Vanna must learn to respect her elders,” said Muffy, looking offended. “But I do want Savannah Grace to think of me as another mother.”

  Tiffany stiffened. Over my dead body.

  Regard stuck his head into the room. “Is our baby girl awake?”

  Muffy lifted Vanna out of the crib. “She’s awake and wet. I’m going to change her and put her in one of the party dresses I sent.” She turned to Tiffany. “Where’s the smocked, plaid dress I sent for her?”

  Tiffany pulled it out of the closet.

  “Ah, yes, that’s the one. Give it here, and I’ll take care of the baby.”

  Eager to prevent any bad feelings, Tiffany did as she was told.

  “While Muffy is dealing with Vanna, I thought you and I ought to talk about the Wright family charities,” said Regard.

  Tiffany knew what was coming and shook her head. “I’ll wait right here with Muffy. We can talk later.”

  The surprise on Regard’s face turned to consternation. He was used to having people follow his orders. Tiffany turned away from him. Kevin had warned her not to discuss any business with Regard, that he had a way of getting people to acquiesce to his wishes. She wished Kevin was here with her now.

  After Vanna’s diaper was changed and she was dressed for the day, Tiffany followed Muffy and Vanna down the stairs to the kitchen.

  “I’ll give Vanna her bottle,” said Muffy, hugging the baby to her chest. “You can go ahead and fix it.”

  “All right,” said Tiffany. “You can give her a bottle after I’ve given her a little rice cereal and fruit.”

  “I can do that,” said Muffy.

  Tiffany shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m going to feed her. It’s something new, and I’d be more comfortable doing it myself.”

  “Well, I ...” Muffy stopped. “Of course, dear. I just want to be able to do everything for Vanna, so you’ll be comfortable leaving her with us for a weekend sometime soon.”

  That will never happen, thought Tiffany, being careful not to voice it aloud. She didn’t want Vanna’s first Christmas to be marred by loud voices and bitter arguments.

  “Okay, then, while you give Vanna her cereal, I’ll open the gifts we brought her,” said Muffy. “I can’t wait for you to see them!” Muffy brought the shopping bag full of gifts to the kitchen table and began to open one gift after another. Dresses, play outfits, and a couple of expensive, electronic learning games were displayed on the table. “I couldn’t resist this last one,” said Muffy. She opened a small package and held up a tiny, bright-pink bikini. “When I saw this on our trip, I knew it would be perfect for Savannah Grace next summer.”

  “Thank you for all her gifts,” said Tiffany, chiding herself for thinking one of the gifts might be for her. “Now, I have a gift for you.”

  “Oh, how sweet!” said Muffy.

  Tiffany finished feeding Vanna a new taste of organic pears and handed her over to Muffy. “Will you be all right with her?”

  Muffy frowned. “Of course, I will. I raised Beau, didn’t I?”

  Tiffany let the remark go. Beau’s mother was the coldest woman she knew. It was no mistake on Beau’s part that he’d turned away from his parents toward the end of his life. They’d made his life miserable.

  Regard walked into the kitchen. “What’s our timing? Our reservations at the country club are for two o’clock. We don’t want to be late.”

  “Vanna’s almost done eating,” said Tiffany. “Then, after I give you your gift, we can go.”

  Tiffany went to her closet and withdrew the Christmas present for Muffy and Regard. She’d spent a lot of thought on it. Swallowing nervously, she carried the large, wrapped gift into the kitchen.

  “Merry Christmas!” she said, handing the present to Regard. “I hope you like it.”

  “Looks like some kind of painting,” said Regard. He ripped the paper off, looked at it, and held it up for Muffy to see.

  “Oh!” gasped Muffy. “A portrait of Beau!”

  Tiffany smiled. “You can have photographs printed on canvas. This is my favorite picture of Beau.”

  “Taken at your wedding,” said Muffy. “I remember. Thank you very much, dear. We’ll find a place for it in our home. Won’t we, Regard?”

  “Yes, indeed. Thank you, Tiffany. Now we’d better be on our way, or we’ll be late for dinner at the club.”

  Disappointed at their response, Tiffany picked up Vanna and held her close.

  ###

  At dinner, Tiffany sat quietly as a number of people came over to Muffy and Regard to offer condolences for Beau’s death. Muffy accepted them graciously and then turned their attention to her granddaughter, proudly telling everyone Vanna was the spitting image of her son. Tiffany was all but ignored—a painful reminder of times past.

  She was therefore surprised when a gentleman turned to her. “So, you’re Beau’s widow and the head of his charitable organization?”

  “Yes, I am,” Tiffany responded proudly.

  “I’ve heard great things about what you are doing. My lawyer in Atlanta spoke to me about you and Kevin Bascombe. Good work, young lady.”

  “Thank you. Beau had very specific ideas about how he wanted it done, and we’re honoring his wishes.”

  The gentleman winked at her, “As it should be.”

  As the man left their table, Regard stirred in his seat restlessly. “Seems you’re making quite a name for yourself.”

  “I hope the foundation is,” she replied sincerely, secretly thrilled by the success of her work. She couldn’t wait to tell Kevin the news. They both had a lot of ideas about ways to help children at home and abroad.

  Regard stared at her thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for some time. As the head of the Wright family, I think it’s only proper that I be named to the board.”

  It was Tiffany’s turn to shift in her chair. She hesitated and then said, “Beau left specific instructions for us to follow.”

  Regard slapped a hand on the table, rattling the dishes and causing Vanna to cry. “What happened to him? He was fine until he met you.”

  Tiffany squared her shoulders. She spoke softly, firmly. “He was fine until he got into drugs. And to my knowledge, that happened only after he didn’t get his promotion at work. Even after all our troubles, I still loved Beau, and he loved me. No one is going to take that away from my daughter or me.” She rose. “We’ll find our own way home.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Muffy. “Sit down. You’re making a scene. You can’t leave now. We haven’t had our main course yet.” Distress caused her face to crumple.

  Afraid Muffy was about to begin bawling, Tiffany lowered herself into her seat.

  “There, that’s better,” said Muffy. “Honestly, Tiffany, I don’t know why you’ve gotten so temperamental. It’s not good for our baby.” She rubbed Vanna’s back in comforting circles.

  “It’s not good for my baby or me to be treated this way,” said Tiffany. She blinked away tears of frustration. Her stomach growled, but she had no appetite. “Beau was never happier than in the days following his treatment. That’s what happened to him, Regard, and it was good.”

  “But...”

  Tiffany held up a hand. “Don’t go there.”

  The look of fury that crossed Regard’s face might have made her crumble in the past, but fighting for Beau and Vanna as much as for herself, she refused to back down.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  GRACE

  Grace tossed and turned restlessly, waiting for dawn to arrive. Sleep had been fitful at best as she awaited Christmas morning with both excitement and dread. She and Kate had agreed that Misty would stay for the duration of her visit, but it would be no simple matter to convince Kate to let Misty stay beyond
that time. And Misty might balk at the idea.

  She rolled over and stared out the window. She felt movement behind her and whipped around. Misty sat down on the bed, holding Spotty, the stuffed dog.

  “Some of my memories are coming back. The man with the knife was definitely Dad, wasn’t it?” She buried her face into the fabric of the dog and then lifted her face to Grace. “I can hear him shouting, ‘I’m gonna kill you, Grace! You and that brat of yours.’” Her eyes filled with tears. “It’s all true, isn’t it?”

  Grace nodded. “Yes, it’s true. They were not good times. I’m sorry you’ve had to relive some of it.”

  “Will you tell me exactly what happened when I had to go live with Kate?”

  “You want to go through it again?”

  “No, but I think that’s the only way I will know for sure who’s telling me the truth.”

  Grace opened the top cover and allowed Misty to slip under it. Wrapping an arm around her daughter, Grace began to talk. “You’ve remembered the kind of threats your father made to me. It wasn’t an occasional thing. As he became more and more involved in drugs, it affected his mind. It got to the point where he thought the only solution was killing us. One night, he was both drunk and high, and he came after us with a kitchen knife. That’s how I got the scar down my arm. I was protecting you. When he finally passed out, I packed what I could of our things and drove to the hospital. One of the nurses there found a safe place for us to stay that night. I called Kate and asked her to take you until it was safe. Then I filed to get a restraining order against him. That’s when your father threatened to find both of us no matter how long it took. He didn’t know you were already safe with Kate. And I began running to keep him away from you.”

  Misty’s tears matched Grace’s.

  “Why wouldn’t Kate give me the toys you sent with me? Why wouldn’t she let me talk about the past? Why could I never talk to you on the phone?”

  Grace wanted to vent, but she held back. “I suspect she wanted you to forget the past, so she could build a future with you.”

  “And the people at the church made me believe I should be hers,” said Misty. Realization slowed her words. “They told me you’d lived a sinful life, that to save myself, I was to turn myself over to them and Kate.”