That Christmas Feeling: Silver Bells / The Perfect Holiday / Under the Christmas Tree
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“Remember I’m on a limited budget,” Mackenzie reminded them, speaking loudly to be heard over the hustle and bustle of the deli. “But you don’t have to order peanut butter and jelly, either.”
“I’ll take a pastrami on whole wheat, hold the pickle, extra mustard.”
Carrie set her menu aside. “Make that two.”
“You like pastrami, too?” Mackenzie asked, making it sound incredible that two people actually found the same kind of sandwich to their liking.
“You’d better go line up,” Philip advised his daughter.
“Okay, I’ll be back before you know it.” She smiled before she left, expertly weaving between tables.
Carrie unwound the wool scarf from her neck and removed her jacket. She could be adult about this. While it was true that they hadn’t expected to run into each other, she could cope.
The noise around them was almost deafening, but the silence between them seemed louder. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she said, “It’s very sweet of Mackenzie to do this.”
“Don’t be fooled,” he returned gruffly. “Mackenzie knew exactly what she was doing.”
“And what was that?” Carrie hated to be defensive, but she didn’t like his tone or his implication.
“She set this up so you and I would be forced to spend time together.”
He made it sound like a fate worse than high taxes. “Come on, Philip, I’m not such a terrible person.”
“As far as I’m concerned, that’s the problem.”
His words lifted her spirits. She took a bread stick from the tall glass in the middle of the table and broke it in half. “Are you suggesting I actually tempt you?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t go that far, so don’t flatter yourself.”
“I’m not.” She knew a bluff when she heard one. “If anyone should be flattered it’s you. First, I’m at least eight years younger than you, with endless possibilities when it comes to finding myself a man. What makes you think I’d be interested in an ill-tempered, unfriendly, almost middle-aged grump?”
He blinked. “Ouch.”
“Two can play that game, Philip.”
“What game?”
“I almost believed you, you know. You were taking advantage of the dark? Really, you might’ve been a bit more original.”
His eyes narrowed.
“But no one’s that good an actor. You’re attracted to me, but you’re scared to let go of the rein you’ve got on your emotions. I’m not sure what your problem is, but my guess is that it has to do with your divorce. So be it. If you’re content to spend the rest of your days alone, far be it from me to stop you.” She took a bite of the bread stick, chomping down hard.
Mackenzie had their order. She carried the tray above her head as she reversed her previous journey among the tables. Her eyes were bright with excitement when she rejoined them.
She handed one thick ceramic plate to Carrie. “Pastrami on whole wheat, no pickle and extra mustard.”
“Perfect,” Carrie said, taking the plate from her. She was grateful Mackenzie had returned when she did, unsure she could continue her own bluff much longer. As it was, Philip had no opportunity to challenge her statement, which was exactly the way she wanted it.
Mackenzie distributed the rest of the sandwiches, set the tray aside and flopped down in the seat between Carrie and Philip. “Don’t you just love the holidays?” she asked before biting into her sandwich.
Philip’s eyes locked with Carrie’s. “Sure do,” he said, but Carrie saw that he was gritting his teeth.
From the way Philip tore into the sandwich, anyone would think he hadn’t eaten in a week. It was as though they were taking part in a contest to see who’d finish first.
Philip won. The minute he swallowed the last bite, he stood, thanked his daughter and excused himself.
“He’s going back to work,” Mackenzie explained sadly as she watched her father leave. “He’s always going back to the office.”
“Inviting us both to lunch was very thoughtful of you,”
Carrie said, “but your father seems to think you asked us to suit your own purposes.”
Mackenzie lowered her gaze. “All right, I did, but is that such a bad thing? I like you better than anyone. It’s clear that my dad’s never going to get married again without my help. My parents have been divorced for three years now and he’s never even gone out on a real date.”
“Mackenzie, your father needs time.”
“Time? He’s had more than enough time! He can’t keep going through life like this. He’s put everything on hold while he tries to forget what my mother did. I want him to marry you.”
“Mackenzie!” Carrie exhaled sharply. She couldn’t allow the girl to believe that dealing with human emotions was this simple. “I can’t marry your father just because you want me to.”
“Don’t you like him?”
“Yes, I do, very much, but there’s so much more to marriage than me liking your father.”
“But he cares about you. I know he does, only he’s afraid to let it show.”
Carrie had already guessed as much, but that could be because she wanted to believe it so badly.
“My mom is really pretty,” Mackenzie said, and she lowered her gaze to her hands, which clutched a paper napkin. “I think she might’ve been disappointed that I look more like my dad’s side of the family than hers. She’s never said anything, but I had the feeling maybe she would’ve stayed married to my dad if I’d been prettier.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true.” Carrie’s heart ached at the pain she heard in the girl’s voice. “I used to feel those kinds of things, too. My dad never wanted anything to do with me. He never wrote or sent me a birthday gift or remembered me at Christmas, and I was convinced it was something I must have done.”
Mackenzie raised her eyes. “But you were a little kid when your parents divorced.”
“It didn’t matter. I felt that somehow I was the one to blame. But it didn’t have anything to do with me. And your parents didn’t divorce because you took after your father’s side of the family. Your parents’ problems had nothing to do with you.”
Mackenzie didn’t say anything for a long moment. “This is why I want you to marry my dad. You make me feel better. In the past couple weeks you’ve been more of a mom to me than my real mother ever was.”
Carrie reached out and silently squeezed Mackenzie’s hand.
The girl squeezed back. “I didn’t mention it last Saturday, but that was the first time I’ve ever baked homemade cookies. Dad helped me bake a cake once, but it came in a box.”
Carrie had suspected as much.
“I like the way we can sit down and talk. You seem to understand what’s in my heart,” Mackenzie murmured. “I’m probably the only girl in my school who knows how to crochet, even though all I can do is those snowflakes. You taught me that. The house is going to be finished soon, and Dad and I are going to move away. I’m afraid that if you don’t marry my dad, I’ll never see you again. Won’t you please, please marry my dad?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Carrie whispered and wrapped her arm around the girl’s neck. She leaned forward, resting her forehead on Mackenzie’s head. “It isn’t as simple as that. Couldn’t I just be your friend?”
Mackenzie sniffled and nodded. “Will you come visit me when we move?”
“You bet.”
“But Madame Frederick says my dad’s going to meet someone and—”
Carrie groaned inwardly. “Madame Frederick means well, and she’s a dear, dear person, but I’m going to tell you something that’s just between you and me.”
“Okay.” Mackenzie stared at her intently.
“Madame Frederick can’t really see anything in that crystal ball of hers.”
“But—”
“I know. She says what she thinks should happen or what she hopes will happen, and in doing so puts the idea in people’s minds. If her predictions come true, it’s because those people have steered the course of their lives in the direction she pointed.”
“But she seems so sure of things.”
“Her confidence is all part of the act.”
“In other words,” Mackenzie said after a thoughtful moment, “I shouldn’t believe anything she tells me.”
Seven
If Carrie hadn’t seen it with her own eyes—and dozens of times at that—she wouldn’t have believed any two boys could be so much like their father. Doug and Dillon sat on the sofa next to Jason, watching the Seahawks football game. Three pairs of feet, each clothed in white socks, were braced on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles. Jason had the remote control at his side, a bowl of popcorn in his lap. Each one of his sons held a smaller bowl. So intent were they on the hotly contested play-off game that they gave Carrie little more than a hurried nod of acknowledgment.
The sight of Jason with his sons never ceased to amaze her. The boys were all Manning, too. Smaller versions of their father in both looks and temperament.
Carrie found her mother in the kitchen, whipping up a batch of fudge for the Manning family pre-Christmas get-together. “Carrie, this is a pleasant surprise.” Charlotte’s face relaxed into a smile when she saw her daughter.
“I came for some motherly advice,” Carrie admitted, seeing no need to tiptoe around the reason for her impromptu visit. She’d left Mackenzie less than an hour before and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about their conversation, or about Philip’s reaction to her being there. It was as though he couldn’t escape fast enough.
“What’s up?” Charlotte stirred the melted chocolate.
Carrie pulled a padded stool over to the countertop where her mother was working. “I’m afraid I’m falling in love.”
“Afraid?”
“Yes.” She’d purposely chosen that word. That was exactly the way she felt about it.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your friend Mackenzie, would it?”
Carrie nodded, surprised her mother even knew about the thirteen-year-old girl. But the boys must have said something. “Do you remember how it was when you first started dating Jason?” she asked.
Her mother paused and a hint of a smile lifted the edges of her mouth. “I’m not likely to forget. I wasn’t sure I wanted anything to do with the man, while you were busy inventing excuses to throw us together.”
“You really weren’t interested in him at first?”
Charlotte chuckled softly. “That’s putting it mildly, but gradually he won me over. He was endlessly patient… .”
Carrie realized there was a lot more that her mother wasn’t telling her. She’d long suspected that in the early days, her mother’s relationship with Jason had been anything but smooth.
Charlotte resumed stirring. “As I said, his patience won me over. His patience and his drop-dead kisses,” she amended. “If ever a man had a talent for kissing, it’s your stepfather.” She grinned shyly and looked away.
“Philip has the same gift,” Carrie whispered, feeling a bit shy about sharing this aspect of their relationship with her mother.
Charlotte didn’t say anything for a long moment. “So you’ve been seeing Mackenzie’s father.”
“Not as much as I’d like,” she said. “He’s been divorced for three years and according to Mackenzie he hasn’t gone out on a single date.” She assumed that well-meaning friends had tried to set him up. His own daughter had made the effort, too. With Carrie.
“So he comes with a load of emotional trauma. Has he ever talked about what went wrong in his marriage?”
“No.” Carrie hated to admit how little time they’d spent together. Feeding Maria’s homeless cats was as close as they’d come to an actual date. She wasn’t sure how to measure the time in the elevator. Although she’d managed to make him think his callous attitude afterward hadn’t fooled her, in truth she didn’t know what his reaction had been.
“You’re afraid he’s coming to mean more to you than is sensible, after so short an acquaintance.”
“Exactly. But, Mom, he’s constantly on my mind. I go to bed at night, close my eyes and he’s there. I get up in the morning and take the bus to the office and all I can think about is him.”
“He’s attracted to you?”
“I think so… . I don’t know anymore. My guess is that he is, but he’s fighting it. He doesn’t want to care for me. He’d rather I lived across the city—or the country—than in the same building with him. We try to avoid each other—we probably wouldn’t see each other at all if it wasn’t for Mackenzie. The girl’s made it her mission in life to make sure we do.”
Charlotte dumped the warm fudge into a buttered cookie sheet. “This is beginning to sound familiar.”
“In what way?”
Charlotte giggled. “Oh, Carrie, how soon you forget. You’re the one who pushed, pulled and shoved me into a relationship with Jason. It would’ve been horrible if he was a different kind of man. But he was patient and nonthreatening. Like Philip, I came into the relationship with more than my share of emotional trauma. But he was exactly the man I needed. You’ve always been a sensitive, intuitive child. Out of all the men you might have picked for me, you chose the one man who possessed the qualities I needed most.” She reached over and stroked the side of Carrie’s face, her expression warm and tender. “In my heart of hearts, I’m confident you’ve done the same thing for yourself. Philip needs you just as much as I needed Jason. Be patient with him, Carrie. Your heart—and your ego—may take a few jabs before this is finished. Be prepared for that, but don’t be afraid to love him. Mackenzie, too. I promise you, it’ll be worth the wait.”
How wise her mother was, Carrie mused as she left the family home. How wise and wonderful. Not for the first time, Carrie was grateful for a mother she could talk to, a mother she could confide in, a mother who didn’t judge, but listened and advised.
“What are you doing here?” Gene Tarkington asked, stepping into Philip’s office. He leaned against the doorjamb, striking a relaxed pose. The entire floor was empty. Row upon row of desks stretched across the floor outside his office.
“I thought I’d come in and run these figures one last time,” Philip murmured, staring at the computer screen. Although he considered Gene one of his best friends, he’d prefer to be alone just then.
“Hey, buddy, it’s almost Christmas. Haven’t you got anything better to do than stop by the office?”
“What about you?” Philip challenged. He wasn’t the only workaholic in this company.
“I came to get some papers and saw the light on in your office. I thought you were having lunch with Mackenzie this afternoon. A little father-daughter tête-à-tête. That kid’s a real sweetheart.”
“We had our lunch,” Philip muttered, “but it turns out I wasn’t the only one Mackenzie invited.”
“You mean she brought along that neighbor friend of yours? The woman who works for Microsoft?”
“That’s her.” Philip frowned anew, remembering how upset he’d been when he discovered what Mackenzie had done. From the way she’d acted, he should’ve guessed she’d try something like this. What distressed him even more was the way his heart had responded when Carrie walked into the deli. The joy and excitement he’d felt …
But he didn’t want to feel these things for her. It’d taken effort to steel himself against those very emotions. He’d been burned once, badly enough to know better than to play with fire. Carrie Weston wasn’t some little innocent, either. Every time he was with her, he felt as if he was holding a book of matches.
“Mackenzie’s pretty levelheaded. What have you got against this neighbor woman? She’s not ugly, is she?”
“No.” He recalled what a shock it was when he realized how lovely Carrie was.
“If you want my opinion, I’d say count your blessings. Generally, the divorced guys I know would welcome a woman their daughters like. Remember what happened to Cal? His daughter and second wife hate each other.
Any time they’re out together, Cal has to keep them from coming to blows.”
“I’m not Cal.”
“It seems to me that if your daughter’s that keen on this neighbor, you should take the time to find out what she likes so much. I’m no expert on women or romance, but—”
“My thoughts exactly,” Philip said pointedly. He’d come to the office to escape Carrie, not to have her name thrown in his face. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do.”
Gene rubbed the side of his face. “I doubt that. But I hate to see you wasting time in this office when Christmas is only a few days away. If you want to hide, there are better places than here.”
Although Gene’s tone was friendly enough, the words made Philip’s jaw tighten. It was all he could do to keep from blaming his friend for his troubles. Gene owned the apartment complex, and it was because of him that Philip and Mackenzie were living there.
“Well, I’ve got to get back to the car. Marilyn’s waiting. You know how it is the last weekend before Christmas. The malls are a madhouse and naturally my wife thinks this is the perfect time to finish the shopping. She wouldn’t dream of going alone. I told her there should be a Husband of the Year award in this for me,” he said, and chuckled. “But she promised me another kind of reward.” From the contented, anticipatory look on his friend’s face, one would think Gene was headed for the final game of the World Series, not a shopping mall.
“See you later,” Philip said.
“Later,” Gene returned. “Just promise me you won’t stay here long.”
“I won’t.”
Gene left, and the office had never seemed emptier.
The place seemed to echo with loneliness, a constant reminder that Philip was by himself. His friend was right; it was almost Christmas, yet he was at the office hiding. While Gene was out fighting the Christmas crowds with his wife, Philip had crept in here, the way he always did whenever life threatened to offer him something he couldn’t handle. Even a gift.
Because that was what Gene had more or less told him Carrie was. A woman Mackenzie not only liked, but championed. Like Gene, lots of guys would advise him to count his blessings. But instead of thanking his daughter for lunch, he’d chastised her for using it as an opportunity to get him together with Carrie.
Carrie.
Every time he thought of her, a chill raced through his blood. No, that wasn’t it. His blood didn’t go cold, it heated up. Carrie was charming, generous, delightful, kind—and more of a mother to his daughter than her own had ever been.
Philip rolled his chair away from his desk, stood and walked over to the large picture window. The view of downtown Seattle and Puget Sound was spectacular from his twentieth-story viewpoint. Breathtaking. The waterfront, the ferry dock, Pike Place Market, all alive with activity. Philip couldn’t count the number of times he’d stood exactly where he was now and looked out and seen nothing, felt nothing.
He went back to his desk and turned off his computer, feeling more confused than when he’d arrived. It was a sad day, he thought wryly, when he was reduced to accepting his thirteen-year-old daughter’s advice, but in this case, Mackenzie was right. She’d told him to get a life. Instead, Philip had dug himself deeper into his rut, fearing that any life he got would include putting the past behind him. It wasn’t that the past held any allure for him. The reverse, in fact. He’d married too young, unwisely. He was terrified of repeating the same mistake. Terrified of what that would do to him—and Mackenzie.
Locking up, Philip went back to the apartment building. He parked in the garage across the street and was just walking toward the entrance when he saw Carrie. There was a natural buoyancy to her step, a joy that radiated from inside her. He sometimes wondered what she had to be so happy about. That no longer concerned him, because he wanted whatever it was.
“Carrie!” Unsure what he’d say when he caught up with her, Philip hurried across the street.
Carrie paused midway up the steps and turned around. Some of the happiness left her eyes when she saw him. She waited until he’d reached her before she spoke. “I had no idea Mackenzie had invited us both to lunch,” she told him.
“I know that,” he said, regretting his angry mood earlier.
“You do?”
Every time he saw her it was a shock to realize how beautiful she was. Her intense blue eyes cut straight through him. “I was wondering … I know it’s last-minute and you’ve probably got other plans, but …” He paused. “Would you go Christmas shopping with me?” He was afraid that if he invited her to dinner or a movie she’d turn him down and he wouldn’t blame her. “For Mackenzie,” he said, adding incentive. “I could do with a few suggestions.”
His invitation had apparently taken her by surprise because she frowned at him before asking, “When?”
“Is now convenient?” he asked hopefully. He was as crazy as his friend Gene to even consider going shopping today.
“Now,” she repeated, then smiled, that soft, sweet smile of hers. “Okay.”
Okay. It was crazy how one small word could produce such exhilaration. If this were the theater, he’d break into song about now. A Christmas carol maybe—something like “Joy to the World.”
She walked down the three or four steps to join him on the sidewalk. That little bounce of hers was back. The bounce that said she was glad to be alive and glad to be with him.
He was the one who should be grateful, Philip thought. He tucked her arm in his and led her back to the parking garage.
Life was good. It had been a long time since he’d believed that, but he did now.
Eight
A few hours earlier, Carrie had been telling her mother that she barely knew Philip Lark and now she doubted there was any man she knew better. They sat in an Italian restaurant, Christmas packages around their feet, and talked until it seemed there was nothing more to say. Their dinner dishes had long since been removed and Philip poured the last of the red wine into her goblet.
The room swayed gently from side to side, but her light-headedness wasn’t due to the pinot noir. Philip was the reason. He’d told her things she’d felt it would take him months if not years to reveal. He’d spoken of his marriage and his feelings about fatherhood. She listened, a lump in her throat, as he heaped the blame for the failure of his marriage on his own shoulders. She doubted very much that he was entirely responsible, but she admired his gallantry.
“You’re friends with Laura?” she asked at one point.
“Yes. Beyond anything else, she’s Mackenzie’s mother. I made mistakes in this marriage, but my daughter wasn’t one of them. I’ll always be grateful to my ex-wife for Mackenzie.”
Tears formed in the corners of Carrie’s eyes at the sincerity with which he spoke. How easy it would be for him to blame his ex-wife for all their problems. Carrie was sympathetic to his side, and knew from things Mackenzie had told her that Laura wasn’t exactly a loving or attentive mother. Carrie suspected she hadn’t been much of a wife, either.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Philip asked unexpectedly.
“Sunday.” Carrie propped her elbows on the white linen tablecloth. “The Mannings are getting together. Mom and I married into this large, wonderful family. Jason has four brothers and sisters. There are so many grandchildren these days it’s difficult to keep track of who belongs to whom. Why don’t you and Mackenzie come along and meet everyone?” Carrie couldn’t believe she’d impulsively tossed out the invitation. While she did want him to attend, there’d certainly be speculation… .
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. Just … Never mind,” she said, stopping herself. Her gaze held his. “It would mean a great deal to me if you’d come.”
“Then we will.” He reached for her hand with both of his.
Philip had given up the effort of remembering everyone’s names. He’d cataloged the first ten or so relatives Carrie had introduced him to, but the others became lost in the maze.
Mackenzie had disappeared almost the minute they arrived. Doug and Dillon had greeted him cheerfully and then quickly vanished with his daughter. Holding a cup of eggnog, Philip found himself a quiet corner.