Some Enchanted Season (24 page)

“I didn’t hear you come downstairs,” Ross remarked.

“Because you were in the office with the door closed. Even God rested on the Sabbath, you know.” Maggie greeted each woman with a hug. “Mmm, coffee cake. I smell cinnamon … cloves … and dark molasses.”

“Exactly,” Agatha said, beaming. “Why don’t you come in the kitchen and let me serve you a piece?”

The two of them walked away, chatting about the recipe, leaving Corinna alone with Ross. “She’s right, you know. Sunday
is
supposed to be a day of rest.”

The gaze he turned on her was troubled. “I wasn’t working. I was just … thinking.”

About what? she wondered. Based on what she knew of him, there were only two things in his life—business and Maggie. She sincerely hoped Maggie wasn’t responsible for the disquiet in his expression. After all the crises they’d survived in the past year, she would hate to think that there was trouble between them now, when their lives were practically back to normal again.

She wisely chose to change the subject. “We really would like to see you and Maggie in church.”

He took a step back emotionally even if his feet
remained firmly in place. “I don’t go to church. I haven’t been in—” Breaking off, he counted up the years, then, for reasons only he knew, kept the tally to himself. “A long time.”

“Then the good Lord would surely like to reacquaint Himself with your handsome face,” she gently teased. That earned the beginnings of a smile from him even as he shook his head in rejection.

“I don’t think so. I’m not sure …”

“That church has anything to offer you?”

“Maybe I don’t have anything to offer it.”

A curious answer. Though she would like to pursue it, she didn’t. As Agatha and Maggie returned from the kitchen, Corinna laid her hand lightly on Ross’s arm. “Going to church isn’t necessary, of course. You can thank the Lord for your blessings as well right here as you can in a pew. He’ll hear you from either place.”

At the mention of blessings, his gaze shifted down the hall to Maggie. Whatever his troubles that morning, at least he recognized that his wife was, indeed, a blessing. Surely, she thought—hoped, even prayed, as they said their good-byes—that counted for something.

Chapter Ten
 

T
hough the rooms at the McBride Inn were lovely, the lobby was Melissa’s favorite space. Once the living room in the original farmhouse, it was large and square, with a ceiling high enough to accommodate the giant Christmas tree Holly purchased every year. Several groupings of furniture provided quiet places to talk, and for solitary diversion there was a massive stone fireplace to cozy up to and big windows looking out on woods and wildlife.

She waited there for Maggie, seated in an oversized wing chair of the sort that you sank comfortably into and hated to give up. There was a cup of the cook’s best mulled cider on the table beside her, and she’d already taken the edge off her hunger with a gingerbread cookie from the tray on the registration counter.

“How are you, Melissa?” Emilie Bishop asked as she
came out of the office. She eased onto the arm of a nearby chair, then adjusted her cardigan over her stomach. She was in the fifth month of her pregnancy—farther along than Melissa had ever made it—and looked radiant. Of course, she’d looked radiant ever since the courts had awarded her custody of the kids nearly a year ago and Nathan had proposed marriage. Pregnancy simply enhanced it.

Deliberately redirecting her gaze, Melissa forced a smile. “I’m fine. How are you and Junior?”

“We’re growing every day. Is Alex meeting you here for lunch?”

“No, I invited Maggie McKinney. Can you and Holly join us?”

“I’m afraid not. Holly’s out this afternoon, and I’m awaiting a call from one of our more troublesome suppliers.” She affected a heavier version of her soft Georgia accent. “He’s from South Carolina, and he usually responds much more favorably to my requests than to Holly’s.”

“Do you suppose that has anything to do with the fact that you display true southern gentility and say please and thank you, while Holly opens with ‘What kind of idiot are you?’ ”

Both women laughed, then Emilie gestured toward the portico. “There’s Maggie now, chauffeured by that incredibly wealthy—to say nothing of handsome—husband of hers.”

Melissa turned to look as Ross opened the car door, then helped Maggie out. “He
is
handsome,” she agreed. “Of course, both Nathan and Alex are pretty
darn handsome themselves—though they do leave a little to be desired in the ‘wealthy’ aspect.”

“True. But money can’t buy love—or happiness. It can’t protect you from bad things happening. Maggie’s proof of that.” Emilie rose as Maggie came in the door. Outside, Ross was driving away. “On the other hand,” she said softly, “financial security can count for a lot.”

Melissa silently agreed. But she knew Maggie would trade wealth in a heartbeat for a baby.

So would she.

After exchanging hellos, Emilie seated them at a table in a cozy corner of the dining room, presented leather-bound menus with a flourish, and recommended dessert before leaving them alone. Knowing what she wanted, Melissa left the menu unopened and gazed around the room.

No matter how often she went there, she fell in love with the room all over again. The long, broad hall was filled with linen-covered tables and plants that thrived year-round, thanks to the southern exposure provided by a half dozen pairs of French doors. Outside the doors was a warm-weather dining patio. Inside, fireplaces at each end helped warm the room in winter and provided a backdrop for floral arrangements from Melissa’s Garden all summer. It was a lovely setting for any meal, particularly so for the wedding receptions held there throughout the year.

At last Maggie laid the menu aside, spread her napkin over her lap, and folded her hands on the table-top. “I’m glad you suggested this. Ross has been working all morning, and I was getting restless for someone to talk to.”

“If you ever get really restless, come by the shop. I’d be happy to talk your ears off while putting you to work.”

Maggie smiled, then looked around. “This is a beautiful place.”

“Yes, it is. You used to stay here while the workmen were getting your house ready.”

“That’s what Ross said. I don’t remember it.”

“That must be terribly difficult for you.”

“It is and it isn’t,” Maggie said with a shrug. “It was hardest when I met everyone again. You were all strangers to me, and yet some of you knew me quite well. It still bothers me sometimes, but the rest of the time I forget that I’ve forgotten. It’s not as if last year was a tremendously different year for me. Other than coming to Bethlehem and buying the house, the only big thing that happened was the accident, and I think I may be better off not remembering that.”

“I saw your truck when they towed it out of the ravine. I think you are too.” Melissa hesitated, then went on. “We were all gathered in the square for the Christmas service. They call it a midnight service, but that’s usually when it ends. The first to leave was one of the deputies on duty that night, then another. Then the paramedics got paged, and a couple of doctors, and someone came to get the sheriff. Most people didn’t even notice, but Alex and I did. We knew something terrible had happened to someone, but we didn’t know it was you until the next day. You were in everyone’s Christmas prayers.”

Maggie sat silently for a long time, leading Melissa
to ask, “Would you prefer that we make the months you can’t remember off limits for discussion?”

This time she was quick to respond. “I’ve spent the last eleven months getting up close and personal with complete strangers. I’ve been forced to be so open that these days,
nothing’s
off limits. Do you, by chance, know what my plans were last year?”

“Beyond fixing the house?” Melissa thought about it, recalling each of their meetings. There weren’t many—eight, maybe ten—and several had centered around choosing flowers for the house. The rest of the time they had talked about city versus small-town life. Melissa had shared the trials and tribulations of a Christmas pageant director, and they’d talked with the same degree of wistfulness about Christmas, family, traditions, and children. “One day, when we passed an empty storefront downtown, you said that it would be a perfect location for the restaurant you’d wanted to open. Several times you mentioned that you would like to work with children. And you talked about the house as if it were your new home—as if you intended to stay.”

Maggie looked as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it and substituted another question instead. “Did I talk about Ross?”

“No,” Melissa said gently. She’d heard at the time that the McKinneys had fought their way through every visit to Bethlehem. Still, it had struck her as odd that not once did Maggie ever voluntarily speak of her husband. If someone asked about him, she answered, but that was the extent of his involvement in her Bethlehem life. Heavens, Alex was so much a part of Melissa’s
life that she couldn’t keep him out of her conversation if she tried. It just wasn’t natural.

“I did intend to stay,” Maggie said quietly. “We bought this house so I could live here.”

“And Ross?”

“He would have remained in the city. Once Christmas was over, he probably never would have set foot in Bethlehem again. And I never would have returned to Buffalo.”

So the talk about how miserable they were had been true. They had come here on the verge of a divorce. “Out of tragedy comes triumph,” Melissa murmured.

“What do you mean?”

“Last Christmas was going to be your last Christmas together, but out of the tragedy of the accident, here you are—still together, better than before, about to spend another Christmas together.”

A flush crept into Maggie’s cheeks as she shifted her gaze to the fragrant cinnamon and evergreen centerpiece. Was she wrong? Melissa wondered. Had the accident brought them closer together? Or had it merely delayed the end of a marriage gone sour?

Fearing that the latter was true and hoping it wasn’t, Melissa felt her own warm flush as she changed the subject. “So what are your plans now?”

“I’d still like to work with kids, but I don’t know in what capacity. With a degree in early childhood development, I could teach or work with social services. I thought about getting my master’s and doing family counseling—not that I know so much about being part of a family. What I’d really like—” She broke off.

“Go ahead,” Melissa urged.

“I’d really like to have a family of my own. I’d like to be a stay-at-home mother who takes care of the house, volunteers with the PTA, cheers at soccer games, and has cookies waiting when the kids come home from school.”

Though she’d wondered about it before, Melissa had never thought it appropriate to ask. That afternoon she just plunged ahead. “Why don’t you have children?”

Maggie’s smile was regretful. “Ross wanted to wait until we got out of debt. Until he was established in his career. Until we could afford for me to stay home. Until he made his first million, then his first hundred million. Until he could make time to be a father. He never ran out of excuses. What about you?”

“After three miscarriages, we ran out of hope.” But that wasn’t entirely true. Though the doctor had made clear that her chances of getting pregnant and carrying the baby to term—or even close to term—were minuscule, she still hoped. She still dreamed about babies, envied her friends, and got wistful at the smell of baby powder.

She still believed in miracles, and she still believed that someday she would get one of her own.

“I’m sorry.” It was such an inadequate phrase to convey all that she felt, but Maggie knew of nothing else to offer. She pitied herself for having no children, but at least she still had the chance. All she needed was a willing partner and a little time, and she could fill her house with babies. How awful it must be for Melissa to know that all the time in the world wouldn’t make her house—or her heart—any less empty.

After a moment, Melissa changed the subject to the
Christmas pageant, relating past disasters and mishaps that kept them both laughing through the rest of the meal. They followed Emilie’s recommendation for dessert—Kahlua ice cream pie—then, with a sigh, Melissa neatly folded her napkin and left it on the tabletop. “Much as I’ve enjoyed this, I’ve got to get back to the shop. Can I give you a ride?”

“No, thanks. Ross is picking me up.”

“You don’t drive, do you?”

“You’ve noticed that,” Maggie said dryly.

“I can’t say that I blame you. After what you went through, if you never want to get behind the wheel again, then don’t do it. Bethlehem’s not so big that a healthy person can’t get wherever they want to go on foot—or find a friend willing to give them a lift.”

They paid their tab, then returned to the lobby. Melissa claimed her coat from the tree there, but Maggie left hers hanging. “Thanks for the invitation. I really enjoyed it.”

“So did I. Let’s do it again soon.” Unexpectedly, Melissa hugged her, murmuring, “Welcome back, Maggie. I’m glad you’re here.”