Shenandoah Christmas. Lynnette Kent
Olympic champion,” the little blonde said softly.
“Brenna has horses,” Maddie confided. “She’s got all the fancy clothes, so she just made a gold medal on a ribbon and she’s all set.”
“What a great idea. Maybe you’ll be an Olympic champion for real someday.”
“I hope so,” Brenna said, with the intensity Cait remembered feeling at that age in her desire for a singing career.
“I wish I could see all your costumes.” She was beginning to wonder if Maddie would swing her arm right out of its socket. “Will you come trick-or-treating to Miss Anna’s house?”
The swinging stopped. “Why don’t you come to the party,” Maddie asked. “I’m sure it’s okay with Brenna’s mom. Isn’t it?”
Karen Patterson recovered quickly from her surprise. “O-of course. We’d be delighted to have you come by, Cait. As long as you can stand the noise twelve ten-year-olds will make.”
There was no graceful way out. “I think I can stop by for a few minutes, at least. Where do you live, Mrs. Patterson?”
“Karen, please. We’re kind of far out of town, but it’s not hard to find. If you drive—”
Maddie tugged on her arm again. “You don’t need to drive, Miss Caitlyn. My daddy can bring you with us.”
As she turned to look at the man in question, Cait knew she only imagined that the entire group went completely quiet.
His smile waited for her, rueful, a little embarrassed, maybe slightly annoyed. “Sure,” he said, in that soft, deep drawl. “We’d be glad to take you to the party.”
How she wanted to refuse. But Maddie was staring up at her with wide brown eyes, silently—for once!—pleading. Shep stood just behind Ben, peeking around his dad’s hip like a little mouse out of a hole. Cait thought she saw an expression of hope on his face, as well.
She could brush off a grown man—had done it plenty of times over the past ten years. But disappointing a child was simply beyond Cait’s strength.
“That sounds great.” She grinned at the children, avoiding even a brief glance at their dad. “What time should I be ready?”
CHAPTER THREE
BEN RANG the Remingtons’ bell that afternoon just before four o’clock. One glance at the woman who opened the door drove all good sense out of his head and all his blood…south.
Cait had dressed as a gypsy—her curling copper hair hanging loose under a bright gold scarf, gold bracelets jingling on her wrists and huge hoops in her earlobes, a flowing white shirt and a long skirt in gold and black and red that seemed to glow with a light of its own. Intense makeup darkened her eyes and lips, increased her air of mystery and adventure.
Just what he didn’t need. Ben cleared his throat, fought for the right thing to say. “You look ready for a party.”
Cait smiled—an expression of promise, of invitation. “I love Halloween.”
At the Patterson farm, her presence quickly turned a normal, noisy Halloween party for children into an exceptional event. The kids swamped her as soon as she stepped into the game room, showing off their own costumes, exhibiting their painted pumpkin faces, begging for songs and stories. Shep, as usual, hung back from the crowd, all the while keeping close watch on what was happening. Though Cait tried to defer to Karen’s plan of activities, the tide of popular opinion carried the day.
So the gypsy woman sat beside the fire, telling ghost stories from Ireland, teaching folk songs about fierce battles and dangerous voyages and lost loves. When Karen called the kids to the table for tacos and juice, Cait served food, wiped up several spills, and then led the children in a wild dance through the cold, crisp air, the last rays of the sun and the crackling leaves on the ground.
“I’m sorry,” she said to Karen as the kids began to leave. “I certainly didn’t intend to take over your party.”
“Are you kidding? This is a Halloween they’ll remember forever, and it happened at our house. Brenna is thrilled.” Karen grinned. “Not to mention that in five years you’ll have all the teenagers in Goodwill, Virginia buying your recordings.”
Cait laughed. “You uncovered my real motive—increasing sales.”
Standing nearby, Ben watched the remaining kids playing in the leaves and listened to the two women get to know each other. He hadn’t participated in this kind of…easy…relationship, he realized, since moving to Goodwill. Although he knew most of the folks here by face and name, he didn’t mix much with anyone but Harry and Peggy and, sometimes, Dave Remington. Valerie had been the social secretary in their partnership, keeping up with friends and family on his behalf. With her gone, he hadn’t had the heart to continue the effort.
Cait Gregory made socializing look like a pleasure…one he might want to share.
She’s a professional, he reminded himself. The woman makes her living charming crowds of faceless fans. Do you want to be just another starstruck fool?
For a minute, watching her laugh, Ben was tempted to answer yes. His life had been so somber for so long, now….
“Daddy.” Maddie tugged on the sleeve of his sweater. “Shep’s not feeling good.”
He turned to see his little boy standing pale-faced and heavy-eyed behind him. Going down on one knee, he put a hand on Shep’s forehead. “You do feel hot. Guess we’d better get you home and into bed with some medicine inside you.”
This was something else he hadn’t done much of until Valerie’s death. Sick kids terrified him. What if he missed the difference between a simple cold and pneumonia? Or fell asleep when their fever went too high?
On a deep breath, he stood up again. He hadn’t made a serious mistake so far, right? No reason to think this would be any different. There was always Peggy for backup, or Dr. Hall.
Scooping Shep up against his shoulder, he joined Karen and Cait. “Wolverine here’s a little under the weather. We need to be getting home.”
With four kids of her own, Karen reacted like the typical experienced mom—feeling Shep’s forehead, thinking of practicalities. “There’s a flu going around at school—three kids weren’t able to come today because they’re sick. Some fever medicine and a couple of days’ rest, then you’ll be back to fighting evil, you superhero, you.”
But Cait’s face mirrored some of Ben’s uncertainty. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, almost crooned. She laid a hand along Shep’s cheek. “It’s no fun being sick, is it?”
Lower lip stuck out in a pout, Shep shook his head. Then he sat up in Ben’s arms, reached over, and practically threw himself into Cait’s embrace.
“Shep…” Ben felt his own face heat up. The woman didn’t need a sick kid clinging to her. “What are you doing, son? Come back here.”
But Shep, who rarely gave adults much notice these days, stuck to Cait like a sand burr. Chuckling, looking panicked and pleased at the same time, she shook her head. “It’s okay. I’ll carry him to the car. Thanks, Karen—it was a great party.”
“Thank you, Cait. Come over and visit sometime this week.”
“Sure.”
In the Suburban, Shep wouldn’t let go of Cait until she agreed to sit in the back seat right beside him. Exasperated, Ben made sure Maddie had buckled herself in on Cait’s other side before climbing into the front all alone.
“Now I know how the president’s driver feels,” he commented, more to himself than anyone else, “waiting for the SAIC to get in beside him.” They passed through the dark farm country like a shadow—the only movement or light to be seen for miles around.
“SAIC?”