“Daisy already ordered a tree?”
“Yep, she ordered all this stuff a couple of weeks ago. Said you were all gonna get the flu or something, and you wouldn’t be around to do it yourselves. How are you?”
“We’ve all had the flu,” Linc said through his amazement. “We’re better now.”
The grocery delivered Daisy’s Christmas dinner order just as Linc hung up the phone with the farmer. A frozen turkey. Lots of bread for stuffing. Red and green sugar for Christmas cookies. Candy canes for the tree. Cranberry sauce.
What had happened to scatterbrained Daisy Flattery? Who was this woman who knew she was going to be sick and planned ahead for it? Not Daisy Flattery, who let the ravens feed her.
Daisy Blaise, he thought. My wife. My wife, the adult.
His throat closed with emotion, and he leaned against the stair post until he got his composure back. Then he heard her moving upstairs and went up to see if she was all right. She was throwing up her hamburger and Coke in the bathroom.
“I told you so,” he said to his wife, the adult. “Now will you have some soup?”
The next day Andrew baked Christmas cookies while Linc and Olivia and Tracy struggled to get the tree straight. Daisy directed them from the couch, and they all finally decided that the tree was just crooked and there was nothing to be done about it.
“I like it better crooked.” Daisy smiled at the tree and cuddled Liz happily. “It has more personality.”
“Just what this house needed,” Linc said. “More personality.”
For tree trims, Daisy had woven little baskets of red and white gingham and filled them with bleached white baby’s breath. She’d made stuffed doves of white velvet, and little stuffed pears of yellow velvet, stuffed gingerbread men and women of brown velvet trimmed in white rickrack and tiny round buttons. But as far as Linc was concerned, the best of the ornaments were quintessential Daisy, little hand-painted salt dough figures of all of them: Andrew in a chef’s hat carrying his bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough, Lacey with a paintbrush wearing a dress covered in ivy, Olivia holding a women’s history book and wearing an ERA T-shirt, Tracy sitting cross-legged tickling Jupiter, Evan looking gloomy as he looked at his apple, Julia holding her sides laughing, Bill holding canvases, Chickie beaming and clutching pink roses, Art with a stethoscope and small animals peeping out of all his pockets. Daisy had even done Booker and Crawford looking scholarly and Caroline carrying a microwave stuffed with books. They all looked rounder and cuter than in real life, like elves instead of realistic portraits, but Daisy had caught their personalities and the students were charmed.
“Take them home with you when you go,” Daisy told them. “Merry Christmas from us.”
Linc’s figure had his typewriter under one arm and Jupiter under the other and he was wearing his letter jacket. He kept turning it in his fingers, fascinated by the detail. “How’d you know what the jacket looked like?”
“I found it in your stuff. I tried it on too. It’s really warm.”
Later, when they were all stuffing themselves with warm Christmas cookies and milk, he went upstairs and got the jacket. When he came down, he put it around Daisy’s shoulders as she sat at the table.
“Stay warm,” he said, and went into the kitchen so he wouldn’t have to talk about it. When he came back out, she’d put her arms through the sleeves and was cuddled up in the jacket’s yellow and black bulk, her dark hair tumbling over the huge shoulders like a molten waterfall.
“I want to know how to make these.” Olivia turned her ornament over and over and marveled at the details, so Daisy told them how to mix the salt dough, and then showed them how to make the little sausage figures while Linc watched. It was all warm and comforting, like a family, and it made him a little nervous to be so warm and comforted, but he couldn’t tear himself away.
The next day the students left, and Julia came into town. She stayed at the inn but spent every waking moment with Daisy. Evan began to haunt the house, which Linc didn’t mind, and Art began to drop by every afternoon, which Linc did mind.
“What is he doing here?” he asked Daisy on Christmas Eve afternoon. “The party doesn’t start until seven.”
“He’s a friend. Friends come by anytime.”
“I should have told Caroline that,” he said, and Daisy sniffed.
By eight the house was full of people who were full of good cheer and eggnog. The house looked like a Better Homes & Gardens photo spread, the Christmas dinner table looked like a Norman Rockwell magazine cover, and Daisy looked like a witch-queen in a long, low-cut green velvet dress she’d found at the secondhand clothing store in town. Linc knew it was secondhand because she’d told him when she’d crossed the hall to his bedroom to get help with the zipper. “It sticks,” she said. “I think the last person who wore it jammed it.” He’d eased the zipper up, watching the creamy flesh of her back disappear in the shortening V, noticing that she wasn’t wearing a bra, using all his restraint to keep from reaching around and cupping her breasts. Since then she’d wrapped a thick red curtain rope around her waist and put holly in her hair, and Linc knew he should be wincing at how bizarre she looked, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“That holly should be mistletoe,” he heard Art tell her at dinner, and she said, “That’s in the hall.”
Linc made a note to keep an eye on the hall. And an eye on Daisy. She was drinking a lot, he noted, finishing his own third cup of eggnog. He’d have to watch her.
“I cannot think who you remind me of.” Daisy leaned precariously over Julia to see Evan. She was showing a lot of creamy cleavage, and Linc reminded himself to make a note to tell her not to bend over. “It’s been driving me crazy ever since I met you.” Daisy looked at Julia, who had a peculiar expression on her face. “Have you had too much eggnog, or do you know?”
“Both.” Julia took Evan’s hand in hers.
“Well, who?”
“Eeyore,” Julia said.
“E. York?” Daisy echoed.
“No. Eeyore. From Winnie the Pooh.”
“Oh, my God.” Daisy fell back in her chair and laughed until she got the hiccups.
“Who’s Eeyore?” Evan asked suspiciously.
“Absolutely my favorite childhood character.” Julia looked into his eyes with drunken affection. “I loved Eeyore. I still do.”
“Oh.” Evan didn’t pull his hand away. Linc resisted the urge to tell him there were probably germs on Julia’s hand and poured himself another cup of eggnog. What the hell? He wasn’t driving. Neither were they. Another great thing about Prescott: everybody lived within walking distance.
“I have ivy in my bathroom,” Booker said to Linc. “I don’t think I mind, but I’m constantly surprised when I go in there.”
“Wait until she paints the snakes in.” Linc shook his head at the thought. “There’s one in my bathroom that stares at me while I wash my face.”
“This is just perfect, honey,” Chickie told Daisy. “This is the best Christmas I ever had.”
“I love you, Chickie,” Daisy said a little drunkenly. “I wish you weren’t married to such a—”
“Christmas cookies in the living room,” Linc said loudly. “Not to mention Lizzie Borden and her headless father. And there’s a surprise for everyone on the Christmas tree. Could I see you in the kitchen for a minute, Daisy?”
“No.” Daisy smiled lovingly at him and took his breath away. “But I’ll be good.”
Linc caught Art glaring at him. He glared back.
“Come on, Art.” Daisy said just as brightly as Linc had a few moments before. “Linc, bring some more eggnog. Isn’t this just lovely?”
Daisy put Christmas rock on the stereo and watched while everyone found his or her ornament, and the room became warm with laughter. Such nice people.
“Tell me what to do about Evan,” Julia whispered in her ear. “I can’t get him to make a pass.”
“You’re asking me? I’m living with a man
who won’t make a pass.” Daisy watched her big, handsome husband talk to Evan and sighed. Then he looked up at her and smiled, and she felt heat all through her.
“Still?” Julia sounded drunkenly sympathetic. “What a waste. Now help me with Evan.”
“I think you’re just going to have to invite yourself home with him.”
“What if he says no?”
Daisy snorted. “Evan is gloomy not insane. Besides, he’s crazy about you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Daisy grinned at her. “Go get him.”
“Right.” Julia squared her shoulders and marched across the room to her prey.
NINE
“WHAT AM I going to do about Julia?” Evan asked.
Linc looked around the room until he found Daisy. She was talking to Julia. Good. That meant she wasn’t with the wife-stealing vet. He smiled at her and she smiled back, and he felt heat all through him. Evan was saying something.
“What?”
“Julia.” Evan looked at Daisy’s painting gloomily. “What do I do?”
“Ask her to come home with you. Offer to show her your etchings.”
“I don’t have any etchings.”
Linc nodded. “Good. Julia probably hates etchings.”
“Then why would she come?”
Linc couldn’t help it; he started to laugh. “Because she wants you.”
“Really?” Evan’s face almost brightened. “How do you know?”
Linc thought about telling him how he knew when Julia was in the mood to go home with someone but decided not to. “Daisy told me. Daisy knows everything.”
“This is true.” Evan’s eggnog was making him philosophical. “Sometimes I think that Julia and I could never be happy, and then I think of you and Daisy. If Daisy can make you warm, Julia can make me happy.”
“I don’t think anybody can make anybody else anything.” Linc tried to be careful so he didn’t get lost in his anys. “Daisy didn’t make me warm.”
Evan looked at him owlishly.
“What are you talking about?” Linc asked, irritated, and then Julia was beside them.
“I should probably start back to the inn.” She looked at Evan and batted her eyes.
Here’s your chance, old buddy, Linc thought, and nudged Evan.
Evan looked startled. “Oh?”
Linc closed his eyes and sighed. He liked Evan a lot, but sometimes—
“Is it dangerous to walk back to the inn alone?” Julia asked, still looking at Evan.
“Well—” Evan stopped, helpless.
Linc looked around for Daisy. This was obviously her kind of problem, getting two people together. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find her. That bothered him. She was supposed to be there with him. He was going to have to find her and explain that to her, but first he had to take care of Julia and Evan.
“Yes, it’s dangerous to walk back alone.” Linc stopped to think. Just getting Evan to walk Julia home wasn’t going to do it; he was going to have to actually get her into his apartment for the night. “But it’s more dangerous at the inn,” he said carefully. “You really shouldn’t be staying there, Julia. The doors don’t lock.”
Julia looked at him with hopeless contempt. Well, he deserved it, that last bit had been feeble. He had to do better, but the eggnog was fogging his brain. What would Daisy say?
“They have rats,” he said suddenly. “Big suckers. They’ve been known to carry off small children. You’re small, Julia. An especially big rat might grab you. And there you’d be.” He stopped. Where would she be? “Rat snacks.”
“Rat snacks?” Julia looked incredulous.
Linc shook his head. “It would be terrible, just terrible.” He drank some more eggnog.
They were looking at him as if he were insane. He’d seen the look before when Daisy had gone into one of her narrative fits in front of strangers. “So,” he said, winding his story up in a hurry. “You really shouldn’t be staying there. We’d let you stay here, but we don’t have any room. So maybe you should stay somewhere else.” He looked at Evan, who was looking like a bemused codfish. Julia, on the other hand, had the look of a woman on whom light had dawned.
Linc kicked Evan smartly on the ankle. “Have you got any room at your place, Evan?”
“Ouch,” Evan said, and Julia said, “Would that be too much to ask, Evan, if I stayed with you?”
“What? Oh. No.” Evan took a deep breath. “Absolutely not. My pleasure.”
Linc sighed in relief and looked around to see if Daisy had come back. She hadn’t.
“You know, being married to Daisy has taught you a lot,” Julia said when Evan had gone for their coats. “She couldn’t have done any better herself.”
“Where is she?” Linc looked around the room again. She was definitely gone. Julia said something, but he didn’t hear.
There was mistletoe in the hall. That damn vet, Linc thought, and then stopped, confused. He should be delighted; Daisy finding someone else would get him off the hook permanently with Crawford. Not even Crawford could insist he hold on to a wife who was in love with someone else.
Just not the vet. He wasn’t right for her. She needed someone who could give her a little structure, take care of her. Give her time and room to paint and—
Who are you kidding? he asked himself. The vet was perfect for her. He’d give her all the animals she wanted and would never yell at her because the furniture had holes or because she dressed funny. He should go do the right thing, tell them it was all right, that he’d give her a divorce, that they could be together. He thought of the vet basking in Daisy’s glow and it hurt more than he could ever have imagined. But Daisy deserved the best. He put down his drink and went into the hall.
Art was kissing Daisy under the mistletoe.
The pain of losing her was suddenly much sharper, a twisting stab that was almost unbearable. He turned and went back into the living room and found his drink and drained it with one gulp. Then he went to get a refill.
Daisy looked up at Art and smiled ruefully. “I was really hoping you were the one.” He should have been she knew; he was warm and funny and loved animals and didn’t care about holes in the furniture or funny-looking clothes. But there had been nothing for her in his kiss. It had been a perfectly good kiss, but she felt more watching Linc smile at her across a room than she did when this lovely, sweet man kissed her. “I’m sorry.” She took his hand. “I really thought I—”
Art shook his head. “But you don’t.”
“No,” she said sadly. “And you’re just the kind of man I should be perfectly happy with. I can’t understand it.”
“I can.” He sighed. “You’re in love with that gangster you married. God knows why.”
Daisy tensed. “No. That’s not it. I don’t know what it is. But I feel awful for leading you on.”
“You didn’t.” Art relaxed against the doorframe. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
“You don’t love me,” Daisy said, making a new discovery. “That’s good.”
“No, but I could have. You’re just the kind of woman I could be happy with.” He looked down at her with affectionate bewilderment. “Am I still your vet?”
“Well, of course.”
“Good. I’d miss having you around. But I am going to go now and think about rearranging my plans for the future. This sort of changes things for me.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Daisy Blaise.”
Daisy saw him to the door and watched him walk off into the snowy night. Art was the perfect man for her story and he was all wrong. The wrong man was back in the living room, and she knew he’d be perfect. Nothing made sense, so she went back to the archway into the living room to regroup. Julia and Evan had gone, she saw. Linc was saying good-bye to the Bookers, walking with them to the hallway, where she stood, and the Crawfords were following them. She looked at the clock. Midnight. The Cinderella hour. She sighed.
“Bye-bye, Daisy.” Chickie held out h
er arms and Daisy went to give her a hug. “There,” Chickie said with satisfaction, pushing her next to Linc. “You’re under the mistletoe. Kiss her, Linc.”
Daisy turned and found him looking down at her with such misery in his eyes that she was shaken. “What is it, love?” she whispered. She put her arms around him and pulled him to her for comfort and warmth, to drive away the misery inside him, and he held her so close she couldn’t breathe. This isn’t close enough, she thought. I want you inside me.
“Kiss her,” Chickie insisted.
Daisy lifted her face and Linc bent to her, his body pressing hers, his hands warm on her back, and she felt her breath go, felt herself shake as his lips brushed softly against hers, and then she moved into his kiss and felt such heat and love shudder through her that she clutched at him, forgetting the Crawfords, forgetting everything but him, because he was so big and close and hot and because he was Linc, and Linc was all she had ever really wanted anyway.
When he broke the kiss, she put her head on his chest and hung on to him, so glad to have him finally in her arms that she almost wept with relief. She heard Chickie say something inane in the background, and then she felt Linc move his arm to catch the open door and shut it behind them, and then they were alone.
He put his hand under her chin and pulled her head up, and said, “Do you want a divorce?” His face was harsh and bleak. “Do you want Art Francis?”
“No.” Daisy shook her head and clung to him, clenching her teeth because she wanted him so much. “I thought I did, but I was wrong. I told him so tonight. I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long. Will you please make love to me tonight? I can’t stand living with you and not making love with you.”
Something broke in his face, and he pulled her to him and kissed her so hard, she moaned a little against his mouth. Then his tongue invaded her, and she let go completely, letting her nails rake down his arms as she arched her body into his. He kissed her over and over again, not the polished kisses she’d expected from him, but rough, awkward, fumbling, hard kisses that left her mindless with love and lust. Her knees went weak and she tugged him down with her to sprawl on top of her on the hall carpet. His hands were hard on her waist, and she pulled one up to her breast and pressed it there while he pulled her hips close to his with the other, grinding his hardness into her until she wanted to scream. “I want you now,” she told him, “now,” and then she felt him yank on the zipper to her dress while she fumbled with his shirt buttons. His shirt finally came open, and she bit his chest, running her palms up his body while he groaned into her hair and yanked again at her stuck zipper.
The Cinderella Deal Page 15