Kids by Christmas Page 8

  She made a face at him, but didn’t flinch from his hand. “Thanks. Too bad it’s not Halloween.”

  He laughed. “I’ll let you know when I’m done here. Maybe we can get the dresser moved in Saturday morning before the kids come. I can help you haul Jack’s desk in, too.”

  “That would be great.” She gave him a last, dazzling smile. “Thanks.”

  Alone again, he didn’t move for a moment. Damn it, he could no longer fool himself into thinking he’d be content to become friends with Suzanne. So what was he looking at here?

  Option one: the ache of seeing every day what he couldn’t have.

  Two: She was interested, too, and they started…what?

  Not a fun, casual relationship, that was for sure. He couldn’t imagine Suzanne settling for less than marriage.

  Which made immediate a push/pull Tom had felt his entire life.

  When he sat in his empty house at night, the TV on for company, he imagined a different life. Wife, kids—people who cared, people he cared about.

  But then memories would surface of his parents’ chilly civility with each other, the way his father had escaped every night to the non-commissioned officers’ club, his mother to whatever book she was reading, Tom to his bedroom. Family pictures, the three of them smiling at the camera, gave no clue to the ice chamber their home was behind closed doors.

  What he mostly remembered was that living with other people was lonelier than living alone. He knew it wasn’t always like that, but he also knew how much it hurt when it was.

  He was both painfully drawn to the kind of family he’d never had, and terrified that he would be doomed to a replay of his childhood. Part of him had always assumed he’d get married some day, have kids; he liked kids. But when he actually met a woman he could imagine marrying, he invariably felt a chill. What if it turned out badly? What if he ended up living in hell the way his parents had because… He didn’t know why they had. Him, he might stay no matter what for the sake of kids.

  He’d always chickened out before he gave any woman ideas. But this time… Tom muttered a word he rarely said. This time, he was tempted as he’d never been before. And this time, he couldn’t quit seeing her.

  Remembering the feel of her hair under his hand, he swore again. Maybe their friendship hadn’t just gotten complicated; maybe what it had gotten was really, really simple.

  He was falling in love. Which was going to hurt like hell unless she felt the same, in which case it could still hurt like hell.

  He just didn’t know what to do about it.

  Well, then, get back to work, he ordered himself.

  Tom hit the button to close the garage door and carefully swept up the sawdust so he didn’t inadvertently stir any up and get it stuck in the wet stain. Then, refusing to think about anything but the piece of furniture in front of him, he wiped down the mirror frame and dresser yet again and began applying the stain, gratified by the way it brought out the grain and the natural color in the cherrywood.

  SOMETIME DURING THE WEEK, it occurred to Suzanne that she’d have to let Tom in her house if he were going to help carry furniture into the kids’ rooms. Of course, he had already seen her garage, so he was unlikely to be surprised that she wasn’t a neighborhood Martha Stewart.

  After putting two coats of paint in the front bedroom, she had the routine down pat. Best of all, Wednesday evening Carrie came to help, rolling pale yellow on the walls in Jack’s room with abandon while Suzanne wielded the brush alongside moldings and ceiling. Mark had offered as well, she told Suzanne, but she’d told him this was a two-woman job.

  “I thought it would be fun with just the two of us, so we have a chance to talk.”

  Now, Suzanne concentrated as she followed the line of the ceiling. “If I can just figure out how to get the chair railing on straight.”

  She’d bought the wide molding at the lumber yard and had painted it kelly-green. She intended for it to wrap around all four walls, just below halfway up. Her plan to eyeball it had begun to seem fraught with the possibility of disaster, but she hated to buy a level and a plumb line—whatever that was—if she didn’t need them.

  “I can rent a miter box,” she continued. “You know, to cut the angles for the corners.”

  “Uh-huh.” Carrie’s face was spattered with yellow, but she’d heeded Suzanne’s warning and tucked her hair, the same brunette as Suzanne’s, under an old bandanna. “You’ll have to measure really carefully.”

  “Are you doubting me?”

  “Maybe. Have you done any woodworking before?”

  “I’ve never used a miter box, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Or installed molding?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “Maybe you should ask the superhero next door to help.”

  The temptation was there, but so far she’d resisted. “He’s doing so much already.”

  “Willingly, from the sound of it,” her sister pointed out.

  “I just don’t want to impose.” And darn it, she liked the time she’d spent with him too much, this hunger she had to share her day with him. Instinct was shooting off warning flares.

  The roller stopped and Carrie twisted precariously on the ladder to look at her. “From what you say, the guy’s bored. Give him a chance to help.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Well, I’ll bet he has a level and whatever else it was you needed,” her sister pointed out, her practicality unarguable.

  “Okay, okay,” Suzanne mumbled. “You’ve convinced me.”

  “Michael wanted to help. He was dissuaded only because Mark promised to take him out for pizza. Plus, I’m taking him to a play Friday night, so it’s not like I’m neglecting him.”

  “A play?” Suzanne repeated, picturing the six-year-old trying to follow The Importance of Being Earnest or the like.

  “Seattle Children’s Theatre. They’re doing Wind in the Willows.”

  “Wow. I’ll bet Jack would love that. I wonder if he’s ever been to a real play before?”

  “Unless they were in a class that went as a field trip, probably neither of them have been. After we’re done, why don’t you go online and see if there are still tickets available for Saturday? Seattle Children’s Theatre is fantastic. The kids are up close, the sets are simple and the actors have this gift for speaking right to the audience.” She dipped the roller in the pan. “It’s fun to watch the children’s faces.”

  “I’ll bet there’s a lot of things Jack and Sophia have never had the chance to do. Go up the Space Needle, take a ferry ride, go to the zoo…”

  “And the aquarium. I still love going there.”

  “Museum exhibits…”

  “Water slides!” Carrie contributed.

  Suzanne laughed. “Yeah, Wild Waves. It’s expensive, but I’ll manage it this summer.”

  “I have a friend from high school who works for one of the radio stations. They get lots of promotional tickets. I’ll see if she’ll contribute some.”

  “Really? That would be great.”

  “You know, Jack and Michael are only a year apart. And Michael’s so confident, I doubt the year will matter.”

  “I hope they like each other.”

  “Have faith.”

  Suzanne gestured with her brush. “You’re dripping.” Fortunately, they’d covered the worn hardwood floor with several drop cloths.

  “Right onto my tennis shoes. Damn,” her sister muttered, setting the roller in the pan again and getting down to wipe up globs of paint.

  By nine, they were done. After putting the lid on the can and wrapping the roller and brush in plastic to keep them from drying out, they stood back to admire their work.

  “It really looks good.” Carrie sounded surprised.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” Suzanne turned slowly to take in the whole effect. “I hope Jack likes the color.”

  “I thought he approved it?”

  “He gave blanket approval to whatever I wanted to
do. He’d lost interest.”

  “Well, it’s going to be beautiful with the comforter,” Carrie declared stoutly. “And you got a matching valance, right? Maybe you can get a bright rug, too.”

  Suzanne wished she could afford to replace the off-white blinds to match the color scheme, but knew that was silly. As if Jack would care.

  “I’ll hang shelves over the desk, and put a big bulletin board somewhere. Maybe that wall.” She gestured. “And then posters or something.”

  “I wish I could come back and help you tomorrow, too, but I really should hear that speaker at the U.”

  Suzanne shook her head. “The second coat never takes that long. I’ll be done in a couple of hours.”

  After Carrie left, Suzanne went online and bought tickets to the matinee of The Wind in the Willows. Saturday morning, she’d start dinner in the Crock-Pot, she decided, so it would be ready when they got home. Having them spend the night was going to be fun. She’d think of it like a sleepover, not a test run, which she suspected it really was. At least, in the caseworker’s view.

  Thursday, she painted a second coat and cleaned house. Friday night, she hung the valance above the window in Jack’s room and put the closet doors back on in both bedrooms. Then she called Tom.

  “I wondered if you have a level I could borrow?” she asked. “I’m putting up a chair rail in Jack’s room….”

  “Need a hand?” her neighbor asked.

  “I rented a miter box. It doesn’t look all that hard.”

  There was a moment of silence. Then, with tact she admired, he said only, “I’d be glad to help.”

  Her determination to do the job herself collapsed. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  Despite last night’s efforts, mainly to get the bathrooms clean, the house was still a disaster. She hadn’t done much in the way of bookkeeping or ordering this week, either. She’d planned to vacuum and sweep in the morning, along with putting on a pot roast in the Crock-Pot. Maybe Tom wouldn’t notice how much needed doing.

  When she let him in the front door, he glanced around, then followed her without comment. No winces. He didn’t sidetrack to peer under her bathroom sink. He came, measured, sawed and nailed up the chair rail in less than an hour. Watching him, she had an awful suspicion she would have been struggling well into the night.

  “You might want to touch up some spots with paint,” he said finally. “But it’s looking good.”

  Once again, she admired the bedroom, bright and fresh. “It is, isn’t it? One of these days, I’ve just got to get these floors refinished. The new paint makes them look worse.”

  He shook his head. “It’s a big job. Usually you have to move out for a while.”

  “Maybe someday when we’re going on vacation.” And had money to burn. Sure, that was going to happen.

  He helped her carry the desk in from the garage, although they left it sitting out in the middle so she could touch up the chair rail behind it.

  Stifling a yawn, she said, “I can do that before bedtime.”

  Tom’s lopsided smile inexplicably warmed something inside her. She had the fleeting thought that it was almost tender.

  “Looks like bedtime better be soon.”

  “Melissa implied that if this weekend goes well the kids could move in this coming week. Since Wednesday is the start of Christmas break, we wouldn’t have to do anything about school until they’d settled in a little, and they could have Christmas with me instead of in their foster home.” She hugged herself. “I can hardly believe it. Christmas with children!”

  “It’ll be one they never forget,” he said in a soft, gruff voice. Then he backed away. “I’d better run. I’ll bring over the dresser in the morning, once that last coat of finish has dried.”

  She faced him. “Tom…thank you.”

  “No thanks necessary.” He backed away as if eager to escape. “Ten o’clock okay?”

  She nodded and followed him to the front door, locking it behind him.

  On the plus side, so far as she could tell, he wasn’t repulsed by the state of her housekeeping. But…why had he suddenly seemed to withdraw like that? Had she said something?

  They’d been talking about Christmas. He always put up outside lights, so she knew he wasn’t totally opposed to the holiday. Maybe he’d remembered some particularly awful Christmas from his childhood. Had his sister died during the holiday season? That might taint it forever for his family.

  Who did he spend Christmas with? She tried to recall whether she’d ever noticed a tree inside his front window, and failed. He must go somewhere.

  There was no must about it, she thought on a rush of dismay. He might very well spend it alone every year. Plenty of people did. Wouldn’t that be ironic if they’d both been alone some of those years when she’d declined her aunt’s invitation? Two sad people, neither knowing the other was there next door.

  Getting the can of kelly-green paint from the garage and going back to Jack’s bedroom, Suzanne resolved to ask Tom what his plans were for Christmas. Would he be embarrassed if she invited him to join her and the kids on Christmas eve, or the whole family on Christmas Day?

  So what if he was? She’d invite him anyway. The more the merrier.

  Besides… She wanted him here to see the joy on Sophia and Jack’s faces. He deserved to be there.

  She was a little surprised and disconcerted to realize how natural the idea of him joining them was. Especially considering tonight was the first time he’d ever stepped foot in her house.

  Clearly, they were going to be friends. If she hadn’t been so ridiculously self-conscious around him all these years, maybe they could have been long since.

  She got out the brush, dipped it in the thick, semigloss paint, and stroked it over a nail hole. She was smiling, and a moment later began to hum.

  I wish you a merry Christmas…

  CHAPTER SIX

  GARY CALLED SATURDAY MORNING, while Suzanne was peeling potatoes to add to the Crock-Pot. He and Rebecca would arrive on the twenty-fourth, and planned to stay at her mother’s house.

  “God help me,” he added.

  Suzanne laughed. “Scared of her?”

  “A little. She’s a nice lady, but I did steal her daughter away.”

  “And she’s been living in sin with you.”

  “That, too.” His voice held a smile. “On the other hand, Mama Wilson is busy planning our wedding, which seems to make her happy.”

  Bending to discard peels in the trash can under the sink, Suzanne demanded, “So, tell me the details.”

  Professing to know nothing, he handed off the phone to his wife-to-be, who immediately said, “Tell me all about the kids!”

  Suzanne did, including the plans for today and her hope that they would be coming to stay next weekend.

  “That’s really fast, but you sound ready.”

  She laughed, but weakly. “Well, I don’t actually have beds for them yet, haven’t talked to school officials, don’t know the bus schedule… Hey, just a few details like that.”

  “I meant emotionally.”

  “Oh, I’m a little nervous, but I think I’d be just as nervous even if we’d had half a dozen sleepovers. And I really like the idea of them being here for Christmas. And for your wedding. Tell all.”

  The ceremony would take place on January sixth, at the Lutheran Church in north Seattle that her mother and Rebecca had attended. Her mother had rented a mansion in Everett on the bluff above Port Gardner for the reception. “A lot of our friends are in Seattle, but she couldn’t find anything there on such short notice. We were really lucky to find someplace this wonderful. This house is huge, and it’s furnished like it would have been in 1910 or so. What’s more, it’ll still be decorated for the holidays. I’m so excited.”

  Now cutting carrots, the phone tucked between shoulder and ear, Suzanne asked, “What’s your dress look like?”

  Ivory satin, Rebecca explained, very simple, with seed pearls on the bodice. “Mom ke
pt my grandmother’s veil, and it’s perfect!”

  “And Gary?”

  Rebecca laughed. “Well, he wanted to wear jeans and his leather jacket, but has reluctantly agreed to a tuxedo.” A muffled voice grumbled in the background, and Rebecca continued, “He’s going to be very handsome.” Pause, and an exchange that Suzanne couldn’t make out. “And miserable,” Rebecca added. “I’m compelled to pass on his message. He can’t believe anybody wears shoes like that to work every day.”

  Knowing perfectly well that Gary sold his coffee roast to major grocery stores, his sister said, “Please tell me that he doesn’t wear his biker getup when he meets with account representatives.”

  Again, Rebecca chuckled. “No, the man has half a dozen beautiful suits in his closet, but he complains every time he has to put one on.”

  Considering everything that needed to be done for the wedding, the holiday and the adoption, they decided not to get together until the whole family gathered on Christmas Day at Carrie’s house. In good humor, Suzanne hung up and finished putting ingredients in the Crock-Pot. In the nick of time, because she heard a car in her driveway. She washed her hands and got to the door just as the bell rang.

  The kids burst in. “We’re here!” Sophia caroled unnecessarily.

  Suzanne waved over their heads to Mrs. Burton, still in the car. She lifted a hand and then backed out, leaving Suzanne to close the door.

  Jack was already bouncing on the couch and his sister dancing around the coffee table singing a loud rendition of a song Suzanne recognized from the radio, their bags dumped in the middle of the floor.

  “Are we gonna get a tree today?” Jack asked. “Huh?”

  The song stopped. “Yeah. You said we could,” Sophia chimed in.

  “I had another idea,” Suzanne told them. “We could put up the tree on Wednesday.”

  Her mouth made an O of shock. “But that’s practically right before Christmas!”

  “Yes, but you won’t be here to see it anyway.”