Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection. Debbie Macomber
him, continuing to turn the pages of the flyers, scanning each one with care.
These flyers didn’t mean a lot to Zach. He hated shopping. Rosie was the one who purchased all the Christmas gifts. He dreaded the thought of even entering a mall. Last Christmas he’d asked Janice to buy Rosie’s gifts for him; not only had she done a decent job, but she’d wrapped them, as well. His gift to Janice had been a cash bonus, a generous amount—not a personal gift but a practical one—and he’d figured that as a single mother, Janice could use the extra money at Christmas. It still rankled that she’d resigned.
“Mom and I used to read through every single ad,” Allison said absently.
This information wasn’t exactly life-changing. Women enjoyed that sort of thing, he guessed.
“It was fun.”
He shrugged, not understanding the sadness he heard in his daughter’s voice. This was beyond him. If she wanted to get all sentimental over a bunch of advertisements, he’d let her.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Allison sobbed, her eyes swimming with tears.
“What?”
“Mom and I used to go shopping. It was our tradition. We had fun. I loved picking out my clothes for Christmas, and Mom was great about finding exactly what I wanted on sale.”
Zach was sorry, but he still didn’t get it. “You can go shopping with your mother in the morning if you want.” More power to them, as far as he was concerned. Then, thinking he’d add a bit of levity to the situation, he said. “Eddie, your mother and Allison can go shopping tomorrow, can’t they? We don’t care.”
“Sure you can go,” Eddie told his sister.
In response Allison hurled down the newspaper and stormed out of the room.
“What did I say?” Eddie asked. He picked up his bowl and drank from the edge, making loud slurping noises.
“I don’t know,” Zach muttered. He’d better go find out what he’d done that had warranted this reaction.
He discovered his daughter lying across her unmade bed, weeping her eyes out. Zach sighed. Sitting on the edge of her bed, he placed his hand on Allison’s shoulder. She jerked away, telling him in no uncertain terms that she found his touch repugnant.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said.
Allison curled up tightly. “Go away.”
“I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?” she demanded between sobs.
“Because I love you, and it hurts me to see you so unhappy.” Zach was sincere about that.
“You don’t love me.”
“Allison, you’re wrong. You’re my princess, don’t you remember?” He’d called her that for years, until she’d asked him not to when she reached thirteen. Every now and then, he forgot.
Allison rolled onto her back and stared up at him, red-faced.
“What is it about the newspaper ads that upset you so much?” he asked gently.
His daughter sat up and ran the back of her hand under her nose. “Mom said we can’t go shopping tomorrow.”
“Why not?” Zach didn’t understand why Rosie was breaking such a beloved tradition, especially when it meant so much to Allison. They were looking for a way to build a bridge with their daughter, not blow it up!
“Mom said there wasn’t any money for Christmas this year because of the divorce.”
Zach wanted to groan out loud. He was hurting financially himself. Maintaining two households, paying off what he owed the attorneys, plus covering the cost of Rosie’s summer courses, had left him dry.
“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it.
Allison’s lower lip trembled as she nodded. “I know you are, but that doesn’t change a damn thing, does it?”
Zach had to agree she was right.
At noon, when Eddie couldn’t wait a moment longer, Zach drove to the grocery store and picked up their Thanksgiving feast. Allison had all the serving plates and bowls out when he returned.
“We don’t need to dirty those,” he said, thinking of all the extra dishes they would create. The dishwasher could only hold so much.
“We can’t serve mashed potatoes out of a plastic container on Thanksgiving Day,” Allison protested.
“Sure we can,” Eddie insisted righteously. “Come on, Allison, you’re holding up the stuffing.”
Zach’s teenage daughter rolled her eyes and surrendered.
With great ceremony Zach unloaded the box. The turkey was browned to perfection and Zach brought out the knife and fork to slice it, lifting the meat from the bird and transferring it to each of their plates. While he worked on the turkey Allison and Eddie helped themselves to the trimmings.
They waited until he’d finished dishing up his own plate and then the three of them joined hands for the prayer. Zach didn’t feel much like praying so he said, “Good food, good meat. Good God, let’s eat.”
“Amen,” Eddie cried, and reached for his fork.
Allison looked at Zach, slowly shaking her head. It went without saying that if Rosie had been with them, he wouldn’t have gotten away with that. Zach winked at her. She winked back. It was almost like having his daughter back.
His first bite was disappointing. The stuffing was too bland, although he supposed that made sense. The grocery store prepared huge amounts at a time and had to satisfy a lot of different tastes.
“Not bad,” Zach said, putting on a bright front.
“It doesn’t taste right,” Eddie complained.
“It’s not Mom’s stuffing,” Allison informed them both.
No one needed to tell Eddie that. He complained with every bite and finally left the table after declining a piece of pumpkin pie.
Zach assumed his son was in front of the television, but when he went to join him and tempt him with pie, Eddie wasn’t there. A search found his son sitting on his bed crying.
Eddie had been a real trooper through the divorce proceedings. It was Allison who’d acted out her anger and rejection, Allison who’d given him his first gray hairs.
“I’m sorry the stuffing was a disappointment,” Zach said, standing in the doorway.
Eddie rubbed his eyes and sniffed.
Zach walked into the room and gathered his boy in his arms. It wasn’t often that Eddie crawled onto his lap anymore, but the nine-year-old came willingly now. He wrapped his arms around Zach’s neck and sniffled loudly.
“I wish you and Mom had never gotten a divorce,” he said.
“I know,” Zach whispered. With all his heart he wished he’d fought harder to save his marriage. Whatever it cost him would’ve been worth it to avoid the pain he and Rosie had inflicted on their children. Now it was too late. They couldn’t undo what they’d done.
Grace looked across the Thanksgiving table at Cliff and smiled, but her mind was a thousand miles away—in Georgia, where Will was spending the holiday with his wife and longtime friends.
After two days without word from him, she was suffering withdrawal symptoms. Her fingers itched for a computer keyboard so she could log on and talk to Will. When she’d inquired, Grace learned that Lisa and her husband had a computer, but it was kept in a corner of their bedroom. She felt awkward about asking to use it. Lisa hadn’t offered, and Grace had been forced to drop the matter. The fact that chatting online with Will had become so important confused and bothered her. Only a few months