1225 Christmas Tree Lane. Debbie Macomber
certainly claimed to be. Her new life suited her just fine, she said. What had frightened the girls into taking action was the fact that their mother had started to casually drop Ted Reynolds’s name into their conversations.
Beth’s eagerness about seeing their dad convinced both Bailey and Sophie that all this talk about contentment was false. They’d been up half the night whispering in the dark, so sure they were right—and now this.
“Have you got any ideas yet?” Sophie sounded worried.
“Where’s Mom?”
“Where she always goes when she’s upset. She’s with her dogs.”
“With her dogs,” Bailey echoed. The kennel was a place of comfort for Beth, a place of solace. The thought of her mom sitting on the ground with her precious animals gathered around her made Bailey want to weep.
“Where did Dad and Danielle go for lunch?”
“I don’t know….”
He’d invited Bailey and Sophie to join them, but of course they’d declined.
“We should’ve gone with him,” Bailey said.
“No way.” Sophie shook her head. “I am not socializing with her.”
Bailey reviewed various options that began occurring to her. Yes, it would work. She hopped onto the bed and tucked her legs underneath her.
Sophie stared at her. “What are you thinking?”
“We need to show Dad that Danielle’s completely wrong for him.”
“Well, duh. Just how are we going to do that?”
“There are ways.” Bailey gave a conspiratorial smile.
Immediately, Sophie straightened. “You think we can do it?”
“I don’t just think, I know. Watch out, Danielle. You’re in for it now.”
Chapter 4
Judge Olivia Griffin pulled into the parking lot at the Pancake Palace. She’d ordered two coconut cream pies for their Christmas Eve dinner at Justine’s. After the meal, they’d attend church services, then head over to Noelle’s birthday party. Picking up the pies was on the list of errands she needed to run before collecting Mom and Ben that evening.
The restaurant was packed, which surprised her. She hadn’t expected it to be this busy on Christmas Eve Day. But she should have, she mused, as she hunted for a parking space at the back of the lot. Based on last year’s experience, her daughter had warned her. With a firm conviction that family came first, Justine had decided to close the Tea Room for Christmas Eve as well as Christmas Day. Her staff was thrilled with the unexpected gift of this extra time off.
Inside the restaurant, Olivia stood in line at the counter waiting her turn. Wave upon wave of happy voices washed through the room. Looking around, she noticed the painted windows, decorated with a variety of holiday scenes. Holly on one window, a snowman on another. She gazed across the room and saw the Randall family in a booth with Cecilia’s father, Bobby Merrick. Holding fistfuls of crayons, the two Randall children were bent over their place mats, solving puzzles, connecting the dots or just coloring.
Remembering her conversation with Cecilia the day before, Olivia couldn’t help releasing a sigh. The young mother had asked about Jordan, Olivia’s son and Justine’s twin brother.
It seemed to Olivia that her entire life was divided by that summer. Life before Jordan died and life afterward. Her world had imploded that summer afternoon. No sooner had they buried their son than Stan, her husband, announced that he wanted a divorce. Within a matter of months, she’d lost her son and her marriage.
Watching Cecilia and Ian Randall now, sitting close together, so attuned to each other, so much in love, she didn’t regret denying their divorce. How could she? She would’ve given anything if someone had done the same for her and Stan. The pain of losing their son had been so horrific that, instead of bringing them together, it had driven a wedge between them.
When Stan remarried only months after their divorce, Olivia’s friends had speculated that he’d been involved with Marge long before Jordan’s death. It’d been easy to believe, especially then. Her mother, who was reluctant to say anything bad about anyone, felt Stan had acted irrationally in leaving his family.
Irrationally? Their son was dead. How could either of them remain rational? The grief had killed them, too.
It was all a moot point. Stan had married Marge, and some years later they’d divorced, as well. For a time it seemed that he wanted to get back together with Olivia and had done his best to thwart her budding romance with Jack Griffin. By then, however, Olivia had fallen for Jack, and her sights were set on the future instead of resurrecting the past. It was far too late for her and Stan. When it became apparent that she wasn’t interested, he’d found someone else. Justine had told her that Susan, the new woman in his life, was living with him now. Olivia assumed he wasn’t willing to try marriage a third time.
Yesterday, Cecilia had asked if she still cried over Jordan. Did a mother ever stop weeping over a lost child? Olivia doubted it. While going through cancer treatments a couple of years ago, Olivia had become desperately ill with an infection. From what others told her later, she knew she’d been close to death. It was while her fever raged that Jordan had come to her. For the briefest of moments she’d seen him as he was that summer, a skinny thirteen-year-old, full of life, eager to prove himself. He’d been a happy boy, smart and witty. Even now when she heard his favorite song by the group Air Supply, tears would prick her eyes. When she thought of her son, she remembered his ready smile, his ease with people, a natural charm that never failed to endear him to others.
Once again, Olivia wondered what would have become of her son had he lived. He had a variety of interests. He’d been good at math and loved to take things apart, then put them back together. He might have been an engineer. Then, too, he was often the go-between when Justine and James argued, helping his siblings settle their differences. Perhaps he would’ve followed in her footsteps and become an attorney.
Olivia felt a thickening in her throat and blinked back tears. This was silly. Christmas was supposed to be joyous, festive. Now wasn’t the time to reminisce about Jordan.
Cecilia glanced up and, seeing Olivia, she smiled. Their eyes connected—mother to mother. Heart to heart. Cecilia knew Olivia was remembering Jordan. And Olivia knew Cecilia was remembering the infant daughter she’d held so briefly in her arms.
Cecilia nodded and rested her head against Ian’s shoulder. For an instant Ian looked surprised, and then Olivia saw him reach for his wife’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze.
Tammy, the hostess, touched Olivia’s arm. “I have your pies, Judge Griffin.”
“Oh … oh, sorry, I got distracted.” Olivia pulled out her wallet, paid for the pies and carried them out to the car without looking back.
Olivia had just opened the driver’s-side door when her cell phone chirped. She dug it out of her purse, saw it was her husband and pushed the talk button.
“Hello, sweetheart,” she said.
“Where are you?” he asked, sounding rushed.
“The Pancake Palace, why?”
“Eric and Shelly arrived with the boys.”
“I didn’t think they were due until five.” Her stepson and his family were hours early. They’d driven from Reno to spend Christmas Eve with Jack and Olivia at Justine’s, and Christmas Day with Shelly’s family. “Can you feed them lunch or do you want me to come home?” she asked.
“Lunch isn’t a problem. I’m calling because I need to know if Beth Morehouse has any of those puppies left.” “I’m sure she does.”
“Great. Eric was saying he wanted to get Tedd and Todd each a