A Christmas Homecoming (9 page)

“Okay.” She blinked back tears. Based on Stephen’s request, it sounded as if this would in all likelihood be Mona’s last Christmas. She squared her shoulders, determined to fulfill Stephen’s request. This would be a Christmas to remember.

“
I saw roses in the kitchen.”

Her stomach knotted. “Yes. Apparently I have a secret admirer.”

He raised a brow. “Any idea who?”

“No. Hence the word secret.” She forced a smile. The last thing Stephen needed was to know how weirded-out those flowers made her.

He nodded. “Well, I need to get moving.”

“Okay.” She kicked up the pace and soon the kinks had worked out of her body. Tuning out all her worries, she threw her concentration into decorating. She glanced toward the window and realized it was dark. What time was it? She pulled out her cell phone. “Seven!” Where had the time gone? She’d finished the entryway, staircase, and great room, but it’d taken all day. Ready to drop, she kicked off her shoes and sank into the couch. They still needed a Christmas tree. Maybe Stephen could have one delivered. She had a consultation at nine in the morning and then needed to visit one of the job sites along with a plethora of other tasks.

The doorbell pealed. In the time she had been living here, no one had ever rung the bell. Her mind shot to the flowers—no, her admirer wouldn’t come ringing her employer’s doorbell–unless he’d hoped to catch her alone. It was probably common knowledge by now that Mona had been hospitalized. Enough of this paranoia. She stood and rushed to the door, trying to ignore her protesting muscles.

Stephen stood there with slightly slumped shoulders.

Relief washed over her.

“I wanted to let you know I’m back and see if everything went okay. No more ladder mishaps?”

She grinned in spite of feeling ready to drop. “Not a one.” She opened the door wider. “I can’t believe it, but I’m about finished with the decorations. Which reminds me. We need a tree. There is a grower-direct lot in Bend, so the trees last a long time. Do you think you could have one delivered sometime this week? I’ll be out all day tomorrow, but if you’re free . . .” She pressed her lips together. “Sorry. I ramble when I’m tired.”

A soft grin lifted his lips. “I’ll make sure there’s a tree, but I’m not paying someone to deliver one that I didn’t pick out myself. Let’s plan to visit a tree lot this weekend.” He walked into the house. “Do you mind if I see what you did?”

“Of course not.” She moved aside.

He stood in the center of the entryway directly below the mistletoe where he had a perfect view of the main floor. She hadn’t tackled upstairs and had no plans to either. “It’s perfect. Mom will love it.”

“She’d better. I took pictures during the past two Christmases for reference. She does it the same way every year. This is your mother’s design.”

He really looked at her for the first time since coming to the door, and a twinkle lit his eyes. “You sure get into your work.”

Her stomach lurched. She glanced in the hall mirror, and her eyes widened. Dust streaked across her nose, and glitter decorated her hair. “I’m a mess.” She was ugly enough, without adding to it. She sighed. Why hadn’t he laughed at her? She’d known a few people who would have. Then again, he wasn’t a cruel person.

“Come here.”

She moved toward him, uncertainty causing her to move extra slow.

He chuckled. “I don’t bite. You look terrified.” He pulled what looked to be a clean hanky from his pocket and wiped the top of her nose. “Much better,” he said softly as he stuffed the cloth back in his pocket. “Bailey?”

“M-hmm.”

“Breathe.”

She let out the breath she’d been holding and prayed he wouldn’t look up and notice they stood below the mistletoe.

He moved toward the door and turned back. “The mistletoe is a nice touch. See you later, Miss Sparkles.” He winked and sauntered outside.

She snapped her jaw closed. What was it with men and nicknames? In spite of her annoyance, she couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face. Maybe the glitter
helped
her appearance. She couldn’t wait until Saturday!

Chapter Six

Stephen kicked snow off his boots and stepped into his cabin, still grinning from his encounter with Bailey. She sure knew how to wear her work. She’d probably be washing glitter out of her hair for days. Considering the hours she worked, he was surprised she’d managed to catch the eye of an admirer. Then again, any man who cared to notice would see she was a remarkable woman.

He took off his winter gear and stowed it in the closet then moved to the kitchen. He sobered as he opened the fridge and spotted turkey leftovers. Had Thanksgiving only been yesterday? Mom had seemed fine, except for eating next to nothing. Apparently she had been hiding a couple of things. He grabbed a bottle of water and closed the door.

Suddenly tired, he moved into the living room and collapsed on the couch. The day had gone nothing like he’d planned. Coming home wasn’t supposed to be this hard.

He looked over at the mantle, and Rebecca’s picture grabbed his attention. “You would never believe what’s going on. Mom is a mess . . . I’m a mess.” He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “I miss you.” Rebecca would know what to do. She always knew how to deal with his mother.

His wife wasn’t here anymore, and he needed to stop wishing for the way things used to be. He thought he was past the mourning stage, but now the daily reminders from the past were becoming too much.
Lord, how do I move on when every time I turn around something reminds me of Rebecca?

He stood and tucked her photo behind a vase. Maybe if her gorgeous face wasn’t staring at him every time he walked in the door, he would stop wallowing in the past.

He snatched up his cell and punched in Rick’s number. “Hey, it’s me.”

“How’s Mom doing?”

“Not great. Has she always been this difficult?”

“Apparently being away for two-and-a-half years has affected your memory. Mom is the orneriest woman I know, but she’s probably scared and that’s causing her to be more difficult—at least that’s Judy’s take.”

“More than likely your wife is right. I’d be scared if I were in Mom’s situation.”

“I think most people would be. How are things going with Bailey? I still can’t believe Mom told you to let her go. Did something happen with a client?”

“No. Nothing like that. Honestly, I think it has more to do with Mom’s pride than anything. Bailey is an exceptional designer. Mom is in no state of mind to be hiring or firing. Although she did say something about a client preferring not to have Bailey on the site.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing. The woman is a snob. Apparently she expects her designer to look a certain way, and Bailey doesn’t fit her expectations.” He’d admit that the woman didn’t go all out with her appearance, but when a person got into their work the way she did, it was probably for the best. Her dry cleaning bill would be astronomical.

“Hmm, well that’s too bad. Personally, I like Bailey’s work. She’s easy to deal with. And once she makes up her mind about a detail, she rarely changes it, which is great from my point of view.”

“So you’re comfortable with Bailey filling Mom’s shoes. At least for now? I took the liberty of telling Bailey to hire an assistant. If she’s going to take over the design side of the business, she’ll need help.” Silence met his ears. Had he made a mistake usurping his mother’s authority? His shoulders tightened. “Rick? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, it just hit me that we could lose Mom, and I’m not ready for that to happen.”

“Me neither.”

“I like Bailey and all, but shouldn’t one of us choose her assistant?”

Stephen frowned. “I see your point, but I think it’s important for Bailey to find someone she’s comfortable working with. That being said, I’ll sit in on those interviews.”

“Good idea, even though Bailey is a great designer and her ideas are fresh, I’d like one of us to have a say in who we bring into the business.”

He made a mental note to talk to Bailey about setting up interviews. “Did you fill John in on what happened?”

“Yes, and don’t worry. Mom’s strong and a fighter. If anyone can make a comeback, it’s her.”

“Agreed. Thanks for stepping in and helping with everything else. I’ve been swamped with work and things with Judy have been rocky.”

Stephen’s stomach knotted. This was the first he’d heard of his brother’s marital problems. “Not that I’m a marriage expert, but if you need someone to talk to . . .”

“Thanks, but this is something Judy and I need to work out privately.”

“I understand.” Stephen made plans to meet with his brothers the next day and placed his phone on the counter. Rick was a good older brother and excellent at managing the construction side of the family business. Stephen appreciated the open acceptance Rick had offered when he came home and how his brother had told him he could step back into his role heading up the architect and design side of the business whenever he was ready. Not all families would have been so gracious to the prodigal son who took off to heal when his world fell apart.

He was happy to be home. Even though the daily reminders of Rebecca were painful at times, he needed to be with his family, and Mom’s assistant fit right in with them.

An image of Bailey’s dirt-streaked face danced in his mind—adorable. He chuckled, then sobered, shaking off the thought. Not that he wasn’t open to the idea of someday falling in love again but now wasn’t the time. Things were too uncertain with his mother, and he needed to reestablish himself in the family business and the community.

Late Friday afternoon, Bailey sat at the desk in her bedroom at Mona’s house, facing the only window. She pressed enter on the keyboard and grinned. The online ad for an assistant was officially posted. Hopefully she’d start receiving résumés soon. Without Mona, everything would fall on her, and running Belafonte Designs was too big for one person. She worried her bottom lip. What if she hired the wrong person? She knew nothing about conducting an interview. She reached for her cell phone and called home. “Hi, Mom.”

“It’s about time I heard from you. I tried reaching you yesterday afternoon to see how the meal went, but your phone went straight to voicemail. Did you have a nice day with the Belafontes?”

Bailey sighed. “Not really. I guess I misunderstood Mona’s invitation. She asked me to leave once I was finished cooking.”

“Of all the insensitive, unkind—”

“Mom, calm down. My friend Nicole invited me to her place. Her fiancé and his buddy were there, along with another friend. After we ate, we all went to Mt. Bachelor to inner tube. I had a lot of fun.” She liked Nicole’s friend Sarah, and the three of them had plans to go Christmas shopping this weekend.

“Oh, well, I’m glad you have good friends, but what your boss did was rotten.”

“True, but Mona hasn’t been herself since her stroke. She’s back in the hospital.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, and I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

“It’s okay. Did you happen to send me red roses?” She stared out her bedroom window that faced Stephen’s cabin, the roofline visible through a break in the trees. Between the roses and the silver car she was becoming a little paranoid. She kept telling herself she was imagining things, and that she needed to stop reading thrillers. Silver was a popular color for a car, but that sure had looked like the same car.

“I didn’t send any. Someone sent you flowers?” Her voice hitched in excitement.

“Yes, but they didn’t sign the card.”

“What did it say?”

“Roses for a sweet lady. If that’s not odd enough, they were delivered by Spencer.” She’d mentioned the man to her mother before, so there was no need to go into it now.

“Do you think they’re from him?”

“No.” Spencer wouldn’t lie. From what she’d seen of him, he lived in a black and white world. He’d own up to the flowers . . . unless he was trying to be a secret Santa. Hmm. She far preferred the idea of Spencer being a secret Santa to some mystery person in a silver car.

Mom’s voice drew her from her thoughts. “Your dad and I can’t wait to see you on Christmas.”

“I’m looking forward to coming home. It’s been too long.” She used to get over the Santiam pass to Salem at least once a month, but since Mona’s stroke, she’d been needed here. They visited for another twenty minutes before promising to talk again on the following Friday.