Emma

by Angie Wilder

  Thirty minutes later his phone lit up with an image of a frosted reindeer sugar cookie followed by a link to Chuck Berry’s “Run Rudolph Run.” The homemade frosting job was a wobbly green outline with a Red-Hots candy nose.

  He hit play and turned down the volume on a classic sports replay.

  Another picture came through, a gingerbread man smeared with pink icing and white sprinkles. Emma had snapped the cookie into two pieces, presumably a result of granny’s demise. “I didn’t want you to think I forgot about Grandma.”

  “Is that the best you can do? ;)” Geez, it was a terrible frosting job. He imagined Em in the kitchen having a fun time.

  “He knows if you’ve been bad or good…Behave!”

  “That’s a creeper song. Is that your choice?” He grinned, getting an idea.

  “What choice?”

  “Give me a song and prepare to be AMAZED.” He turned off ESPN.

  “Frosty the Snowman,” she responded, followed by a link to the tune.

  The song game was on. Emma would text a title and, while the holiday jingle played, he would come up with a snapshot reply and a new song choice.

  “I will rock Gene Autry like you’ve never seen.” He sent the smack-talk text, then shot Duffy a wide-eyed, what-are-we-going-to-do face. Now that he’d initiated the game, he had to think up something excellent in return. Duffy followed him to the sliding glass doors that opened to the backyard. She darted outside while Evan examined the landscape. The poor sleet conditions wouldn’t help with his snowman song challenge. Duffy was back inside in a flash, rubbing her paws on his jeans. Disgusted with the change in the weather, she shook it off and pranced away.

  If she only realized what the sleet was causing her to miss. Cuddles from Emma and rolling her eyes at the hairless cat would be right up the little pup’s alley.

  “Frosty” was almost over. Evan would fail if he didn’t pull a response out of thin air ASAP.

  “Clock is ticking, hockey-hottie.”

  Evan chuckled over the nickname. He kicked his shoes off and retorted, “Are you drinking?” The hottie comment had slipped out once before, right past her defenses, he suspected. Em had turned crimson. Was that a sign of attraction or just silly banter?

  “Only lapping up my victory…and a splash of chardonnay.”

  He knew it—Emma was a lightweight.

  “We’re avoiding certain treats because of Daddy’s diet. Momma served it in Grandma’s heirloom teacups to mask the liquid fun.”

  “We are only having one. It’s all on the down-low, calling it Operation Sneaky Buzz,” she continued in the next text.

  “I had a terrible headache, and now it’s gone :)”

  Evan ran his hand down his face, covering the laugh that burst free. “Nice strategy. Is your plan to entertain me until the song runs out?”

  “Is it working?”

  In need of a snowman, he hurried to the freezer and snagged the vanilla ice cream. At the song’s end, Evan texted a picture of his Frosty masterpiece. Three stacked scoops of ice cream were finished off with Duffy’s hair ribbon for a scarf and a bite-sized peanut butter cup turned upside down for the top hat. But the best work was the melted chocolate he used for fashioning the buttons and face.

  “Nice job, handsome.”

  Evan grinned. “Are you flirting with me?” If she was going to add flirtations to the game… His smile slipped as it registered that Em may still have feelings for him. He considered the message where she’d called him hottie, then jumped back to the dolled-up photo Emma had sent. Was Emma still into him?

  “Snowman! That’s one great looking snowman!” she replied. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  Too late, Em, it already did.

  8

  A warm glow illuminated the Gains’ family room. The soothing light bounced off polished wood furnishings and reflected from the windows, doubling the twinkle factor. Decorative swags of garland, fat ivory candles, and silver trimmings sparkled from every surface and corner. A crowd of flickering lanterns resided on the mantel, and the ceramic village winked from a coat of ambient snow. The tree was the shining star.

  Emma’s hips swayed to the fading beat of “Jingle Bells” as she meandered through the room. Her emotions were scattered since returning.

  She took a moment to appreciate the season. The small, quiet times, a friend to share a smile, the creak of her momma’s oven door—that was where peace and love lived. Surrounded by holiday lights, memories of the past and hope for the future whispered.

  Emma belonged in California. If Daddy’s heart attack hadn’t brought her home, she wouldn’t be here for another week. But this evening, she didn’t want to be anywhere else. This is what it meant to be home for the holidays.

  Evan texted her a link to the Pentatonix version of “Little Drummer Boy,” keeping up their game. She tapped the play icon, and the inspired rhythms, the acoustic notes touched her soul. Evan had pulled out the big guns with his song selection.

  The picture he had sent that had kicked off the Christmas-themed song game, the selfie with Duffy, was adorable. It stirred up the worst kind of longing. A reminder of their almost night together.

  It was easier to guard against his magnetic appeal miles away in California. It wasn’t Evan’s good looks or hockey status that drew her to him; it was that darn dimple and natural confidence, the way he made her smile. The silly games.

  Evan made her happy.

  Emma stepped to the tree, searching for the glass ball painted with a manger scene, once again playing along with Evan.

  Harry wrapped himself around her leg, nudging Emma free of her reflective mood. She needed to come up with a song. Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” was her favorite pick. To text him those words would be a dangerous confession—not going to happen, no way, no how.

  She’d done enough damage when she had texted Evan with the “handsome” remark. A wine-induced slipup. To make things worse, he had asked if she was flirting with him. The agony. He was full of platonic teases, while her heart had plunged to her belly.

  At least he was oblivious to her desire. If he knew about her amorous affliction, he wouldn’t have called her out on the flirtation. She clung to that reasoning, otherwise facing Evan would be highly uncomfortable—day after day…

  Emma glanced back toward the kitchen. She had a few more minutes before Momma would miss her absence. She snapped the manger scene picture, her reply to his “Little Drummer Boy” song choice. The shot was lame, considering his previous culinary efforts.

  Evan’s ice cream snowman had had the audacity to wink, and the grin to pull it off. He’d finished it off with a small red bow for a scarf and trumped her reindeer, hands down. The competition would fizzle, giving him an easy victory. That wasn’t her style, and he knew it. She didn’t want to disappoint.

  Harry sauntered over to curl up in a basket of yarn, looking sleepy and content. Emma got an idea. She scrapped the ornament cop-out, grabbed the accent blanket off the sofa, and reached for the cat.

  “Who wants to be a cute manger baby?” Emma cooed as she went down on her hands and knees, folding the throw into a manageable size.

  Harry’s eyes slanted her direction. His ears went flat as she moved him, working the blanket’s edges around his body. He endured the administrations that wound him into a kitty burrito.

  “Good grief!” Kaley appeared out of nowhere, catching an eyeful. “You’re swaddling the cat.”

  Startled, Emma’s heart jumped into the stratosphere. She hugged her feline baby, cradling him to her chest, and grimaced at Kaley.

  “You’ve totally cracked, haven’t you?” Kaley rubbed her pregnant belly.

  “No.” Emma flushed over her peculiar behavior. She rose, holding Harry like an infant.

  “You’re jealous.”

  Explaining that Harry was performing the role of baby Jesus sounded a notch below jealous, hanging her hat in crazy town. “He was cold.”

&n
bsp; “Look, Emma, I realize you have given up on men, but this is taking cat lady to a new level.”

  “Don’t go there.” Emma shook her head and chuckled over how ridiculous she must appear. Harry squirmed, no longer satisfied with the new game. “Do me a favor? Take a picture using my phone and then let’s never speak of this again. Please.”

  “That last part is a pretty big favor. I kinda wanna talk about this.” Kaley moved the coffee table and picked up the phone. Her grin slipped, eying the screen where the open text window displayed the contact’s name. “Is this for Evan?”

  “It’s a pet thing. Animal care. Vet business.” She didn’t want Kaley stirring up trouble, questioning Emma’s feeling for Evan. He whipped her up plenty on his own.

  “Right,” Kaley drawled, making it clear that she didn’t buy the work excuse. Then she returned her attention to the snapshot and snorted.

  “Let me see.”

  “You’re gorgeous.” Kaley snickered. “A proud rosy-cheeked mother of one ornery ass cat.”

  Her baby had crazed eyes and an open mouth with pointy teeth. Emma set him down on the carpet, and Harry launched out of his burrito bundling.

  Kaley handed the phone over, saying, “Your baby is rocking the demon look.”

  “I should correct for the red-eye.”

  “Don’t you dare. Whatever game you’re playing with my brother”—she raised an accusing I-know-you-have-it-bad-for-Evan eyebrow—“you’re going to win.”

  Emma frowned. There was nothing flirty about the exchange with Evan.

  “Nice blouse. Did you plan to go somewhere special tonight?”

  Minutes after the swaddled cat photo, Emma stood next to Kaley in the kitchen tying on an apron while Momma took a spicy-sweet batch of molasses crinkles from the oven. Christmas cookies were an exception to Daddy’s diet. No successful holiday gathering could be pulled off without the traditional treats. Emma pushed up the sleeves of her designer blouse, ready to switch gears and enjoy some festivity-infused girl time.

  Her phone pinged again. “Well played, Em, but I’m not giving up,” Evan texted in response to the devil-cat-baby picture.

  His made-up holiday song game had softened Emma’s disappointment over their canceled dinner plans. In a way, they were still spending the night together. Emma preferred to keep that tidbit to herself, afraid Momma and Kaley (for sure Kaley) would read too much into the playful exchange. Which was stupid, because Evan had thought nothing of it, beyond the normal scope of friendship. So why would they? It wasn’t like she was mooning over the messages, scrounging for flirtations hidden in innocent comments, cradling her phone to her heart.

  Emma would play it cool.

  Ping. “Extra points for Hilarious Harry.”

  Emma grinned in victory—not like a besotted idiot, swooning for Evan. She hid that.

  “What’s that about?” Momma waved her hand toward Emma’s phone interruptions.

  Evan’s playing with me, she thought, but said, “Nothing urgent.” Emma popped her shoulder to her ear in a casual shrug and concentrated on selecting a tune. She tapped her screen and set the device in an empty mug to amplify the speaker’s volume. “How about some music for this party?” The song “Santa Baby” filled the room with its cheeky lyrics about gift giving. Emma’s curiosity was shameless. She wanted to see what kind of magical Santa Claus-worthy gift Evan would send her. All in fun.

  Kaley hummed along then said, “For Christmas, I’d like my catering app. Dex is getting close, and I can’t wait. His ideas are brilliant.”

  Emma nodded and peppered a light scattering of flour over a cotton towel as she prepared to roll out the dough. She was still trying to visualize Dex the Peck with drool-inspiring abs, not just brainy ideas. It wasn’t happening.

  “What about the baby?” Momma asked. “I wager you have a wish list a mile long?”

  Emma saw the longing in her momma’s eyes. She had already shifted into fantasizing over nursery stuff.

  “Oh, I do! There’s this whitewashed sleigh-style crib that Santa must somehow fit down the chimney.”

  “Is that what Mark is giving you?” Emma asked, thinking it must be difficult having her man so far away, especially at Christmas. Before she said as much, her phone pinged. Evan.

  Kaley cut a meaningful glance between the mug and Emma.

  Emma continued to roll dough. Like she wasn’t dying to hotfoot it to his message. She waited for the song to end—be casual like that.

  “What about a diamond ring?” Momma asked. “I’ll bet that’s what Mark has in store.”

  “When he returns. It would be an amazing Christmas gift, but I don’t want my engagement ring to come from the mailbox. It would be so much better to wait for that big moment in person,” Kaley rambled, rubbed her bare ring finger, then bit her lower lip.

  Emma dusted off her hands and stole a chocolate chip from an open bag left on the counter. “I agree.” She saw Kaley’s upset and stepped in with a show of delayed-engagement-ring support. “You don’t want your diamond ring shipped from Amazon.” Emma might not have much luck in the romance department, but she knew a few romantic words and the warmth of her man’s hand while offering the symbol of forever was better than a blinged-out mailbox moment. “No hugs or kisses there.”

  Ping. Evan’s text waited. Emma pretended not to notice.

  “How do you suppose Mark will do it?” Momma asked.

  “I’m not sure.” Kaley undid her apron and tugged off her sweatshirt. She hung the hoodie on the back of the chair at Ben’s usual spot. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the ring is a family heirloom.”

  “Did he hint at that?” Emma asked.

  “No, but I believe it’s an option. I’ve seen the ring. It’s pretty. He’s a sweet family guy, so…” Kaley shrugged, crossed her arms, and glanced back toward her sweatshirt. “Honestly, I have no idea how it’ll go.”

  “Young romance,” Momma sighed, her head disappearing behind the refrigerator door as she gathered more supplies. “It’s a little nontraditional to plan prior to the ring, but have you set the date? In spring, right?”

  Lee Heartley was an old-fashioned daddy, much like Emma’s father. When he’d heard the news that his little girl was “with child,” all hell had broken loose. Much to everyone’s relief, Kaley and Mark were in love. Mark had proposed, over the phone, from the base where he was stationed. The two planned to get married three months after the baby’s birth, a condition Kaley wouldn’t budge on, insisting she desired a window to work off her pregnancy weight. Lee grumbled over the temporary postponement but conceded, knowing Mark to be an upright guy. Then Kaley’s dad had run off to polish his shotgun, just in case.

  “Santa Baby” drifted to an end, and Emma used the excuse to reach for her phone. She was eager to see how the gift-soliciting tune had inspired Evan. She swiped the screen.

  “What?” Emma narrowed her eyes and then swiveled the photo in Kaley’s direction. “Evan sent me two lumps of coal!”

  Kaley laughed.

  Emma frowned over the implication and gawked at the fancy embellishments. “How does he know how to do that?” It appeared that Evan had cut out a hand-sized thin-stemmed snowflake, laid the design on a wooden cutting board, sprinkled it with powdered sugar, then lifted the paper off, creating a Pinterest worthy plating job for the black nuggets. He’d garnished the ensemble with a foil-wrapped mini Santa candy.

  “Evan gets his talent from me.” Kaley grinned. “Us Heartleys can go one-on-one with Martha Stewart any day.”

  “Even Evan?” Momma asked, peering over Emma’s shoulder.

  “I’ve trained him.” Kaley buffed her fingernails on her shirt.

  “He sent me coal.” Not that Emma expected a diamond ring, but coal?

  “You sent him a devil-cat.”

  “I guess that’s fair.”

  “Look, there’s a second picture,” Momma said.

  They leaned their heads together, huddled over the phone. The picture
appeared to be identical only… Emma pinched her fingers at the screen, making the image larger. “Is that cake?” Two perfect shot-glass-sized rounds of what looked like fruity chocolate cheesecake replaced the previous photo’s coal.

  “He’s in it to win it,” Kaley said.

  Emma aimed for a witty response. “Naughty and nice, aren’t you clever.” The words inspired daydreams about the delightful ways Evan could be both naughty and nice, preferably at the same time.

  “Always,” he texted back.

  Damn. One more point for Evan.

  “Win what, dear?”

  “I don’t know,” Emma squeaked, still thinking about Evan. Naked. Full dimple. She cleared her throat and said, “Evan is being funny.” Emma shared the game details, recognizing she needed the help. His new song challenge was impossible. In return she sent the winking emoji face, an “I got this covered” message. Even though she didn’t. Geez, this one is tricky.

  “Flirting again?” he asked.

  Her girl parts buzzed. Flirting was not the wink’s intention. “No!” she texted.

  “If you say so. ;)”

  If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was flirting with her!

  “We need to go dress shopping.” Momma circled back to the wedding talk.

  “I’m too big,” Kaley complained and pointed at the curve of her belly.

  “Emma is home. You don’t want to miss out on gown shopping together. Soon she’ll be too busy back in California. You girls need to seize this opportunity.”

  Emma’s heart sank, hearing her mom’s words. She hated that everyone talked about her being too busy like it was a matter of fact. Even though that had been the case.

  “Sounds fun,” Emma said at the same time, Kaley said, “Maybe.”

  A shopping day was never a maybe between them. Emma worried she’d blown it big time, stretched their once inseparable bond thin with her inattentive career-driven behavior. But they were having a good time now. Like before.

  Kaley’s gaze drifted toward where she’d hung her hoodie, and Emma wondered if she was feeling all right.