1225 Christmas Tree Lane (7 page)

“No, sir,” Anson said. Then he nodded. “Well, yes. I realize speaking to you about this is just formality, but it's important to me.”

Zach sent him an encouraging smile.

“Allison wanted me to give her the ring when she picked me up at the airport. I told her I wanted to talk to you and Mrs. Cox first.”

Zach could bet his daughter hadn't been keen on that. He approved, though. He liked Anson's old-fashioned sense of protocol and his respect for both Allison and her family.

“Rosie!” Zach called his wife. “Could you come here for a minute? Allison, you, too.”

“Sure.”

Allison came into the other room, holding her mother's hand.

“It seems that Anson here would like our permission to marry our daughter.”

Rosie turned to look at Allison. “But you haven't finished school yet and…you're both so young.”

“They've taken both matters into account and still want to get married. Allison will continue her schooling in D.C.”

“Oh.”

“What do you think?” Zach asked Rosie.

“Well…yes, of course. I would welcome Anson into the family with open arms.”

“Oh, thank you, Mom.” Allison kissed her mother's cheek and then hurried across the room to her father.

“Hold on a minute,” Zach said, stopping her. “I haven't given my consent.”

“Daddy!”

Wearing a huge grin, Zach stood and hugged his daughter, and then Anson. “I couldn't imagine a son-in-law I'd rather have. You both have our blessing.” Zach was confident in the strength of this relationship, despite their age. They'd proven their commitment to each other. He'd miss his daughter, but the family was close and they'd see her frequently.

“What's going on in here?” Eddie asked, returning to the living room.

“Anson and I are engaged.”

“Cool,” Eddie said.

“We'd like a June wedding, and then I'll move to Washington, D.C., to be with Anson.”

Eddie shook his head. “I don't know about Mom and Dad having an empty nest.”

“Hey, it hasn't been a problem so far,” Zach told him.

“But it could be.” Eddie seemed intent on making his case. “Allison's going to be on the other side of the country, and I'll be away at school.”

Rosie frowned and looked at Zach. He shrugged, unsure what his son was getting at.

“Mom,” Eddie said. “You need someone to mother. And, Dad, who are you going to boss around? Everyone knows Mom won't put up with that for long.”

Allison laughed, but Zach was less amused.

“Now, just a minute, young man—”

Eddie interrupted him. “I've come up with the perfect solution.”

“You have?”

Eddie nodded. He turned away for a moment and stepped into the hallway, then came back carrying a basket—with a puppy curled up inside, fast asleep.

“Merry Christmas, Mom and Dad.”

“A puppy!” Rosie said, lifting the sleeping pup from his warm bed and holding him close. “He's adorable!”

“What a great idea.” Zach grinned, delighted at the prospect of taking a dog for long country rambles. He could already picture the three of them—Rosie, the puppy and him—sitting by the fire….

“Actually, you gave me the idea, Dad. A while back you said you missed having a dog around the house. I'm
a starving college student and I couldn't afford to buy you guys a big gift. When we went to get the Christmas tree I heard one of the workers say that Beth Morehouse had a houseful of puppies she needed to find good homes for. So…voilà.”

“Now, we'll need to come up with a name,” he said.

“I've already named him, okay? I had to call him something. I know you like 1940s and '50s movies, so…meet Bogart. Or Humphrey if you prefer.”

“Bogie!” Allison said. “That's it.”

“Bogie.” Rosie smiled. “This is quite the Christmas,” she said, cradling the puppy in her arms. “Not only do we gain a son, but we add a dog to the family, as well.”

“I'll start making the hot chocolate,” Beth said, turning away from her daughters. A few minutes in the kitchen would help her prepare to deal with her ex and his…friend. Kent kept insisting Danielle was “just a friend,” but Beth felt there was more to it. Really, why would he bring “just a friend” to a traditional family occasion?

Although she had no idea what Kent was thinking, Beth couldn't imagine him actually spending the rest of his life with this woman. It was a mistake. Even her daughters could see that. Kent wouldn't appreciate hearing her opinion, so Beth was determined to keep it to herself—although that was a struggle.

From inside the kitchen Beth heard Sophie greeting Kent and Danielle at the front door and ushering them into the family room. The Christmas tree was still bare, surrounded by the boxes they'd carried down.

“Mom's in the kitchen.”

This came from Bailey. Kent must have asked where she was. A moment later, he joined her. “Listen, I'd appreciate it if we—”

“Is there anything I can do?” Danielle asked in the sweetest of voices.

“No, thanks. I've got everything under control,” she told the other woman. Her eyes connected with Kent's. She wanted to berate him for bringing Danielle to a family function; instead, she bit her tongue and tried to disguise her feelings, although she suspected she'd failed.

She realized she'd need to get used to the fact that Kent was his own man now and made his own decisions. Beth forced a smile and continued stirring the chocolate.

“Dad,” Bailey called. “Come and help.”

Kent hesitated and it looked as if there was something else he wanted to say. With obvious reluctance, he returned to the family room, Danielle on his heels.

Beth took as long as she dared in the kitchen. Fortunately, Grace phoned while she was there, which kept her occupied for another five minutes. Beth peered into
the living room when she'd hung up. From her vantage point, she could see that the girls had opened the boxes of old ornaments and were reminiscing with their father. Danielle sat on the sofa, her expression bored. Eventually she reached for her cell phone and started texting.

“Mom!” Sophie shouted. “Where are you?”

“Coming!” Beth loaded the serving tray with pretty holiday mugs. She'd decorated the top of each mug of cocoa with whipped topping and chocolate sprinkles, which was how Kent and the girls had always liked it. “Here we go,” she said, hoping she sounded cheerful. Surely there was a reward in heaven for first wives who were nice to their exes' new girlfriends.

“Remember this one?” Sophie said, and held up a snowman she'd made with a wood-burning kit when she was around ten.

“What I remember is the blister you got on your finger because you weren't careful,” Kent teased his daughter.

“I was so proud of this silly snowman. I was sure I'd make a career out of wood-burning.”

Danielle gave a saccharine smile. “It's…lovely.” The words rang empty as her phone chirped and she returned to texting.

“It's terrible,” Sophie said. “In fact, it's downright ugly.”

“Well, maybe,” Danielle agreed, putting her cell back in her sweater pocket, “but you were just a kid. I'm surprised you kept it, though. If it was me I would've tossed it years ago.”

Beth opened her mouth to defend her daughter, then closed it. No need to get into a useless argument.

“If you think it's ugly, why would you put it on the tree?” Danielle asked. “I mean, you're right, it really isn't very attractive.” She stood and retrieved an ornament from the box. “There are some darling ones here.” She held up one of the felt gingerbread men Beth had sewn the first Christmas she and Kent were married. “Now this is kind of amateurish, but it's…nice. By comparison.”

“We put up the wooden snowman,” Beth said, carefully handing Danielle her cocoa, “because Sophie made it herself. The decorated tree in the living room is for show. This one is for family, for memories of Christmases past.”

“Sort of like that Charles Dickens book,” Danielle said. “The one with the ghosts. And Tiny Tim.”

“Something like that,” Beth murmured as she brought Kent his hot cocoa.

“Do you have one without any chocolate sprinkles?” Danielle asked.

“Sure.” Beth retrieved the cup and went back to the kitchen. She dumped the whipped cream in the sink and added a fresh dollop minus the chocolate sprinkles.

“Mom sewed those for her and Dad's first Christmas,” Bailey was telling Danielle when Beth came back.

“The hot chocolate is even better than I remember.” Kent spoke quickly, breaking into his daughter's reminiscence.

“I make good hot chocolate, too,” Danielle said. “I'm an excellent cook. I want you to try my macaroni and cheese.”

“Uh, sure.” Kent looked decidedly uncomfortable.

Danielle beamed. “I have a special cooking trick. You start with the boxed kind and then you just add stuff. My secret is to put ketchup in the water when I cook the noodles.”

“I'll have to try that myself,” Beth said politely, trying not to cringe. Difficult as it was, she turned her mind away from Kent and his…friend. She hated to admit this, but she was jealous of Danielle.

Danielle sneezed once, loudly. So loudly, in fact, that it startled Beth and Princess, too. The sneeze sounded
like a moose in heat—or what Beth imagined that would sound like.

“Oh, sorry,” Danielle said, clearly embarrassed.

“Bless you,” Sophie said.

Bailey handed Danielle a tissue.

“Thank you.” She noisily blew her nose. “It's that dog,” she said, pointing an accusing finger at Princess. “I'm allergic to dogs.”

“Oh, you should've said something earlier.” Beth immediately collected Princess and took her to the kennel outside. Even with Princess out of the room, there was still Roscoe, sleeping beside the fireplace. While Beth kept a tidy house, there was bound to be dog hair everywhere. It was the perfect excuse to send Kent and Danielle on their merry way.

“Beth.”

Kent met her on the back porch as she returned from the kennel. He kept his hands in his pockets, his arms held close to his body to ward off the cold. He followed Beth inside, to the laundry room. One of the five remaining puppies jumped up, balancing his paws against her calf. Beth automatically reached down and brought him into her arms, resting her cheek against his soft head.

“Listen,” Kent said. “I hadn't planned to bring Danielle with me. It's just that—”

“Don't worry about it.”

She carefully put the puppy back on the floor. She attempted to brush off his apology because her heart was doing crazy things. With the two of them in such a small space, the atmosphere was intimate, and with both doors closed it was private. All she needed to do was lean forward ever so slightly and their lips would meet…

Where did
that
idea come from? She couldn't give in to the impulse. But it seemed so natural to kiss Kent, to press her mouth to his. Beth immediately opened the door leading into the house.

Unfortunately, she forgot about the puppies. An open door was an opportunity and they took it. They shot out of the room as though fleeing a burning building.

Beth rushed after them and Kent did, too. He trapped one by falling to his knees and had him back inside the laundry room seconds later. Beth wasn't nearly as lucky. Seizing their opportunity, the other four dashed in different directions.

Beth knew the instant one of the puppies made it into the family room because Danielle let out a squeal. “Get that dog,” she cried, apparently to one or both of the girls. Her command was followed by another moose-in-heat sneeze.

Beth hurried into the room. “I'm so sorry,” she said,
and she was. She'd had no intention of freeing the puppies when she'd opened the door. The truth was she'd completely forgotten they were there.

Bailey grabbed one puppy and Sophie another. Beth scooped up the third. The last one made a beeline for the Christmas tree and got tangled in the bottom garland.

“Get those dogs out of here,” Danielle shouted between sneezes. “Oh, good grief, there's another one. What is this place—a puppy mill?”

“My mother would
never—
”

“It's all right,” Beth said, cutting Bailey off. “Danielle is understandably upset. I apologize, Danielle. I opened the door without realizing—”

“You did that on purpose!”

“Danielle,” Kent said, his voice calm and reasonable, unlike hers. “It was an honest mistake.”

The other woman sank down on the sofa and held a wad of tissues to her nose before she sneezed three times in quick succession.

“I'm afraid there's dog hair all over the house,” Beth said. “Maybe it would be best if—”

Danielle held up one hand, stopping her. The other clasped a tissue to her face. “I have allergy medication. We will not be leaving on my account.” This last part
was said in a muffled voice that nonetheless conveyed steadfast determination.

Kent sat next to Danielle, who sneezed again.

It wasn't funny; still, Beth couldn't help it—she had to smother a giggle. Kent caught her eye and knew instantly that she was having trouble hiding her amusement, and that was when Beth lost it. She started laughing and tried desperately to hide her laughter by coughing.

“What's so funny?” Danielle demanded.

“Nothing,” Kent said promptly, getting to his feet. “I think, uh, Beth might have swallowed wrong.”

“This…isn't funny.”

“No, it isn't,” Kent said. He bent down and untangled the last puppy from the garland on the tree and brought him back to the laundry room.

In the meantime Beth carried Roscoe upstairs and out of harm's way. Making it through tonight would require a Christmas miracle.

The phone rang as she came down the stairs. Call display told her it was Bob Beldon. They exchanged Christmas greetings, then he said, “I heard you're looking for homes for some puppies.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Great. Well, I'm interested in taking one.”

They chatted for a few more minutes and she'd just replaced the receiver when the phone rang a second time.

“Your mother gets more phone calls than a bookie,” Beth heard Danielle comment.

Teri Polgar was inquiring about a puppy for her sister, Christie.

A moment later, another call. This time it was Ted. “How's it going?” he asked.

“About as well as could be expected.” She'd mentioned casually that her ex-husband was coming to Cedar Cove for Christmas. Lowering her voice, she said, “Except that Kent arrived with a…friend.”

“A friend?” Ted sounded perplexed. “I was asking about the puppies.”

“Oh…the puppies.” She wanted to roll her eyes. Of course he'd be phoning about the puppies. “Five down and five to go, although I just heard from someone who's a possibility. And if Bob Beldon takes one too, that'll leave three.”

“Listen, I know someone else who could be interested. Gloria Ashton—for her parents,” he said. “Would it be all right if I stopped by later to say merry Christmas?”

“Sure. That would be nice.” Ted was exactly the balm she needed. And, if he came over, Kent would see that
she hadn't been twiddling her thumbs for the past three years.

She missed Kent. She missed their life together and it was killing her that he'd found someone else. The divorce wasn't the end, she realized now; his remarriage would be. If he married Danielle—and the other woman had certainly staked her claim on him—it would mean their life together was over. Really over.

“Who just called?” Bailey asked.

“Bob Beldon. And then Teri Polgar. And Ted.”

“Bob from the B and B?” Kent looked up at her. “Did he want to speak to me?”

“No, no, he was inquiring about a puppy.”

“Oh, dear,” Danielle murmured and, for good measure, sneezed again.

Beth had assumed she would've taken one of her allergy pills by now.

“What did Ted want?” Sophie asked.

“He'll be visiting later.”

Bailey and Sophie seemed gratified by this bit of news. “That's wonderful,” Sophie said as Bailey nodded. “He's a real sweetheart.”

“Oh?” Kent asked, turning to his daughters for an explanation.

“Yeah, he reminds me of the vet in those James Her
riot books you read us when we were little,” Bailey told her father.

Ted? James Herriot? What were her girls up to? Beth sent Bailey a disapproving frown, which her daughter chose to ignore.

They resumed trimming the tree, and when they'd finished, it didn't look half-bad. With its mismatched ornaments collected over the years, it had its own homespun charm. There was the wooden snowman Sophie had made at the age of ten. And a photo of Bailey in the first grade, framed in Popsicle sticks. Another that resembled a pincushion, which Sophie had made when she was in the third grade. Beth's gingerbread men. And a few that she and the girls had constructed through the years with varying degrees of artistic skill.

They stepped back and, hardly aware she was doing it, Beth stood next to Kent. Delighted with their tree, she glanced up at him and smiled. He smiled back and their eyes met. Beth had to force herself to look away; when she did, she saw Danielle watching them both.

The other woman's eyes narrowed, and Beth could tell that Danielle wasn't pleased. Without making an issue of it, Beth moved away from Kent.

Searching for something to do, Beth picked up the empty cocoa mugs and carried them into the kitchen.
She was busy placing them in the dishwasher when Danielle joined her.

“I know what you're doing,” Danielle said without preamble. She rested her hip against the kitchen counter, crossed her arms and glared at Beth.

“Putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher?” Beth asked.