Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce (22 page)

“I put the bags upstairs,” Amy said. “I just put them both in the room where I stayed last time, since I wasn’t sure what the sleeping arrangements were.”

“That’s fine, dear,” Martha said. She shot a glare at Mason, and Amy cringed.

Note to self, don’t be alone at all with Mason
. It was better like that anyway. It would help her resist temptation, and resist she would. Martha’s look made it clear that she hadn’t changed her opinion of Amy’s relationship with her son. Had Martha forgiven him for lying to her?

Amy tried not to let Martha’s look get to her, but it stung. She sat in a chair opposite the couch, and Mason took the chair beside hers. A huge tree took up the entire corner of the living room. It was beautifully decorated, as was the rest of the house. Red, green, and gold sparkled from every surface. Little Santa figurines and bows, presents and lights. She didn’t think she’d seen this much Christmas cheer outside of a store.

“Mom goes a bit crazy for Christmas,” Mason said.

Amy grinned. “I think it’s beautiful. Really, Martha, it looks great,” she said, turning toward her hostess. Dad had slung his arm around Martha’s shoulders, holding her close.

“So the ham’s in the oven. It should be ready in another couple hours,” Martha said. “I’ve got a few other things to do in the kitchen.” She stood up.

“I’ll help,” Amy immediately offered. She didn’t want to be alone in the room with Mason if Dad offered to be Martha’s kitchen assistant.

Martha smiled, but it was tight. Amy sighed. Would she ever win Martha’s approval? As soon as the kitchen door closed behind them, Martha turned to her.

“I think I owe you an apology, Amy.”

She stood there, stunned. She didn’t understand.

“I wasn’t mad at you over Thanksgiving. Well, maybe a little. Mostly it was that son of mine who incurred my wrath. How much exactly did you have to do with the love letter he wrote to me?”

“Dad?” she said, trying to play dumb.

“I’ve known your father longer than you’ve been alive, young lady. The fact that Mason thought he could trick me into thinking your dad wrote that letter tells me he has absolutely no clue who James really is. You should have warned him.”

Amy laughed. “I’m sorry. I know Dad’s not the most romantic guy on the planet, but he is the most stubborn. I knew if you got the letter, the one that told you how he really felt, even if he wouldn’t write it, you would realize that he was worth taking the chance on. Even after Mason and I really screwed things up for you and your family.”

“Well, thank you,” Martha said. She held Amy’s upper arms and gave her a little squeeze. “I’m glad you did it.”

“My pleasure.” Amy’s throat was tight. She’d made sure Mason would be done with her by shutting him out, by pushing him to play matchmaker in the first place. But she still felt like she was lying to Martha by not telling her that she and Mason had continued sleeping together, if just for a little while.

One of the many kitchen timers dinged, and Martha got to work. She directed Amy around the kitchen, and Amy gave herself over to the holiday cheer and helped Martha finish cooking Christmas Eve dinner. They even baked a few dozen cookies. She was grateful for the two hours to just embrace the joy of being bathed in Martha’s maternal holiday spirit.

Martha would never be her mom, but Amy could imagine spending every holiday down here, laughing with Martha, sharing her memories and her joy. When the ham was done, Martha called for the boys to set the table. They came into the kitchen.

“I’m telling ya, Mason. Watch some with me this week, and see if you’re not hooked,” Dad was saying.

Mason shook his head. “I just can’t get into it.”

“What?” Amy asked.

“Ice hockey. It’s just not a Southern thing.”

She smiled. Oh, her dad would change Mason’s mind. Of that she had no doubt.

“Enough of that. Get to work, you two,” Martha said.

“Yes, ma’am.” Mason grabbed the plates and forks and headed out of the room again.

“Sorry, honey bun,” Dad said, kissing Martha on the cheek. Martha blushed and shooed him away. He grabbed two platters of food and scurried off. They were both back a second later with empty hands.

They all finished bringing stuff out to the table and sat down.

“Are your other sons joining us tomorrow?” Amy asked. “And Elly?”

Martha shook her head, her expression sad. “They’ve decided to spend Christmas with their dad.”

Amy shouldn’t have asked. It was clearly a painful subject for Martha to discuss. Mason shifted in his seat. Had he had something to do with them not showing up? She wanted to ask him. Wanted to comfort him, to wipe the worry lines from his brow. Instead she smiled.

“Well, I’m sorry for them…because this looks delicious,” she said. “They’re definitely going to miss out.”

“That they are, dear. That they are.”

Amy let her doubts about Mason slide away and made an effort to enjoy the company and the meal, despite the way she yearned to be in his arms again. They ate and laughed, and she couldn’t remember a more perfect holiday.

After dinner, they sat in the living room, and each chose a present from under the tree—tradition in the Rider household. Everyone got to open one present the night before Christmas. She’d left her suitcase and presents upstairs.

Mason and Martha had already picked their presents, and so had Dad. Her gifts would wait until morning, then. What Mason would say when he opened his, she wasn’t sure. Martha handed her a box.

“Here you are, dear,” she said.

Amy smiled and held the box lightly in her lap. She wanted to clutch it to her chest. When was the last time she’d gotten a Christmas present? Probably last year at the school’s secret gift exchange. It had been something silly for her desk. She couldn’t even remember what now.

“You first,” Martha said to Mason.

He unwrapped a small package. “Ah, Mom. This is fantastic,” he said. She could tell that he meant it. He hugged his mom tightly, then held up the Blu-ray so the rest of them could see.
Very Bad Things
. He grinned, looking right at Amy, and then his smile faltered. She’d always loved that movie. She would have loved to lie on his couch, wrapped in his arms as they watched it. But that wouldn’t happen.

“Okay, Mom, you’re next,” Mason said, seeming to shake himself out of the spell that had held them both captive for weeks.

Amy recognized the box Martha was holding. Dad must have sneaked upstairs at some point during the evening while she and Martha were busy. Martha opened the box and gasped.

“James,” she said, tears springing to her eyes.

Dad lifted the gold pendant from the box. It was beautiful, certainly, but Amy didn’t really know why it got such an emotional reaction from them both.

He undid the locket, and Martha started really crying. She flung her arms around him. “I can’t believe you kept it all these years.”

Amy’s heart melted just a little bit. Her dad might not have been the kind of guy who would write a love letter, but he sure as hell was romantic.

He rubbed Martha’s back and helped her calm. She held the locket as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “My present will seem so…inadequate in comparison to this,” Martha said.

“Whatever it is, I’ll love it. You picked it out, didn’t you?”

Martha nodded. He grabbed the bag from the couch where he’d set it and pulled the red and green tissue paper out from the top of it. He reached in and took out a stuffed gator with a pirate’s hat. Amy looked at Mason. Did he think their parents were as crazy as she did? Her dad held the stuffed animal in his hand and waved it in front of Martha’s face. Then he roared. Mason’s eyes widened.

“It’s the UNO mascot,” Dad said, catching her eye. “Your turn.”

So it was. She unwrapped the shirt box and opened it. She knew immediately who it was from. She gazed at the slinky red dress Martha had made her try on in the department store. She lifted it from the box and smiled at Martha.

“Thank you,” she said. She placed the dress back in the box.

“You just looked so beautiful in it, I couldn’t resist,” Martha said.

“Okay, then. Presents done. Now it’s time for the Grinch,” Mason announced.

Oh, God, not that Jim Carrey travesty. She’d never been a big fan of holiday movies, but one year another teacher had lent her the movie to show the kids during a special Christmas night that the PTA had organized. She’d wanted to claw her eyes out twenty minutes in. But she’d sit through it tonight. The whole thing, without a word of protest. Because that was what you did during the holidays. You spent time with your family. No matter how painful it was.

When Mason grabbed the neon-green cartoon disc from the stand under the television, she wanted to shout in glee. Thank the Ghost of Christmas Present! She settled back in the chair as he put on the cartoon version of the movie. He clicked off the lamps, and the twinkling glow from the tree made her chest tight. She didn’t think holidays would ever feel normal to her again without her mom.

She smiled and laughed as Mason quoted lines from the movie, and as he sang every word in the songs. He was such a sweet guy. And so terrified of what might happen if he just let go of control, even a little bit. If he took a chance. Would he ever be sure of himself, positive he wasn’t his father?

The cartoon finished all too soon, and they sat in the dimly lit room, singing to the ending tunes and basking in the glow from the Christmas tree. The television went black as the credits ended, and Mason clicked it off. Still, they all sat watching the tree. A calm seemed to have settled around them all. She was so comfortable, so safe. The only time she’d felt this safe in recent memory was when she was wrapped in Mason’s arms.

She looked up at him, and his smile was sad but no less stunning.
Merry Christmas
. He mouthed the words.

Merry Christmas
, she mouthed back.

Mason padded down the front stairs into the living room. He didn’t think he’d slept more than three hours. Whether that was from the anticipation of Christmas morning, or the fact that he kept wondering if Amy would sneak into his room in the middle of the night, or trying to prevent himself from doing the same, he wasn’t sure. Mom was sitting in the rocking chair, already cradling a cup of coffee in her hands. She smiled.

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas, Mom. How are you?” he said, leaning over to kiss the top of her head. She’d forgiven him for lying to her about Amy, and he was grateful. He still wasn’t convinced he deserved it, but he’d take what he could get.

“Good. I wish your brothers and Elly were here, but I understand that they wanted to spend time with your father.”

He didn’t. But he wouldn’t say that aloud. He didn’t want to upset Mom, especially not this morning. “Where’s James?”

“Getting some cookies.”

He grinned. “I’m glad he came down.”

“Me too. Even if you had to lie to your mother again.”

Uh-oh. She knew what he’d done?

“Yes, I knew you were behind that letter the whole time. But I figured if you’d gone to so much trouble, I should at least try, right? After your assurance that you and Amy were adults and not going to see each other anymore, I knew she wasn’t going to get her heart broken. Figured I didn’t have any other excuses.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

He wanted to talk to her about Amy, about if she would maybe one day be okay with his having a relationship with her. But honestly he didn’t know if he should even try. Maybe Mom was right, and he was no good for Amy. He couldn’t bear to break her heart. Today wasn’t the day for such a conversation anyway. James walked in carrying coffee in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other.

“Cookies for breakfast, huh?” Mason said.

“Well, of course,” James said.

“Coffee first, cookies after.” Mason walked through the dining room to the kitchen and poured himself a large cup, with cream and sugar. When would Amy be up? The shower upstairs turned on as if in answer, and he practically ran back into the living room. The temptation to pound up the stairs and join her was almost too much. He sat on the couch and grabbed a cookie from the plate on the coffee table.

“Ames doesn’t usually sleep in this late,” James said.

Mason looked at the clock. It was only six. Amy had definitely slept later than that at his apartment. He tried to corral his thoughts, but knowing she was upstairs in the shower heated his blood. He wanted to go up and help her clean off, right before he helped her get dirty again. Eating another cookie, he shoved the images to the back of his mind.

“What time are we starting in the kitchen?” he asked Mom.

“Eight should do it.”

He nodded. At least keeping himself busy all day would help stop him from thinking too much about Amy. He hoped. A few minutes later, footsteps echoed on the stairs. Amy came into view, and the air left his body. She was wearing the red dress Mom had bought her, and she looked stunning. Was she
trying
to seduce him again?

“Oh,” she said as she looked at them. “Nobody’s dressed up.”

She blushed a beautiful pale pink.

“That’s okay, dear. You look lovely.”

Amy pulled at the skirt on the dress, her eyes downcast. Great, she was uncomfortable. He fought the urge to run and wrap his arms around her, protect her. He forced air into his lungs.

“We’ll all get changed after we do presents,” Martha said. “Now come sit and have some cookies.”

Amy stepped slowly into the room and sat on the couch next to him. He’d put jeans and a shirt on this morning, which he wouldn’t normally do just for present opening, but he knew Amy would be here. And he was trying his damnedest to keep his distance. She seemed to be thwarting his efforts at every turn.

“Okay, who’s first?” Mom asked.

No one volunteered. He stood and walked to the tree. He grabbed two presents and handed them out. One to James, one to Mom. “There y’all go.” He sat on the floor between the coffee table and the tree. It would keep him farther away from Amy. If the spot happened to be directly across from her so he could look at her without arousing suspicion, that didn’t have any bearing on his decision.