The Twelve Dates of Christmas

How could he forget him?

He tapped on the glass between himself and Norman. It slid open.

“Take me to the hospital.”

Norman caught his gaze in the rearview mirror. “It’s midnight.”

“I have my key card and identification.”

The glass closed. Ricky sat back, letting the air slowly leach out of his lungs. The pain that had been his constant companion reclaimed him. Thirty minutes later, the limo stopped. His door opened and he climbed out.

He used his card to get into the hospital. Even, determined steps took him through the silent lobby and up to the Intensive Care Unit for the children’s ward.

He stopped in front of the wall of glass, staring at the sweet, innocent children struggling for life.

“Mr. Langley?”

He faced Regina Grant, night shift supervisor. “Good evening, Regina.”

“Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” But she knew why he was here. When they rededicated the wing, after his generous donation had renovated the floor and bought new equipment, she’d been the one who’d seen his distress. She’d cornered him in a room, and rather than extol him with platitudes, she’d told him to count his blessings. “If you can’t think of any blessings...come here. Look through that window. Realize you do not have it as bad as some.”

The memory made him shake his head. He missed his son. He missed him with a longing that lodged in his throat, tormented his soul. He wished he’d done a million things differently. And he hated that a work problem and a pretty girl had made him forget his little boy.

But so many people did have it so much worse.

“I’m just here reminding myself I don’t have it as bad as some.”

“You really don’t. And life does go on.”

Sadness rippled through him. Memories of his son’s giggle, the warmth of his child’s hug, that simple trust floated back. But along with it came an odd, unfamiliar fear. Life might go on, but he didn’t want to forget his son. Never. Ever.

After a prolonged silence, Regina caught his forearm. “Here’s a thought. Instead of visiting in the middle of the night, maybe what you need is a little interaction.”

He faced her. “With the kids?”

“Yes.”

“They’re too sick.” And he was too afraid.

“These are. But if you’d come at regular visiting hours and go to the left instead of the right when you get off the elevator, I’m sure the nurses could set it up so that you could read to the kids in their playroom.”

He said nothing. She turned to go but stopped and faced him again. “Cheering up some kids who need cheering would be better than staring at kids you can’t help.”

Sucking in his breath, he watched her go, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. He’d been preoccupied with business before and as soon as the crisis was over, memories of Blake had come in an avalanche. The difference this time was Eloise.

He couldn’t let his fake date make him forget his son. Or his guilt. And if she did, he had to stop this.

CHAPTER FOUR

MONDAY MORNING ELOISE awoke to the real world. She dressed in work trousers and a thick sweater, then bundled herself in her quilted parka, a scarf and mittens. She rode the subway to Manhattan and an ordinary, crowded elevator to the twenty-ninth-floor law offices of Pearson, Pearson, Leventry and Downing.

She slipped off her mittens and scarf and hung her coat on the coat tree in the corner of the tiny space she shared with ten filing cabinets and the desk of Tina Horner.

Tina entered rubbing her hands together. “It should snow. Then even though it would still be cold, we’d at least have festive snow to make it feel Christmas-y.”

“I was just talking about that with someone last night.”

“So I’m not the only one who thinks we’re being cheated by cold weather without snow.”

Eloise sat at her desk, then hit the button to boot up her computer. “Nope, Binnie Margolis is right with you.”

“Binnie Margolis?” Tina whistled. “Somebody’s moved up in the world.”

Eloise laughed. “Not hardly. I’m doing a favor for a friend, going to a few Christmas parties with him so he doesn’t get hounded because he doesn’t have a date.”

Tina shrugged out of her coat. “So it’s like going out with your cousin?”

Eloise winced. She absolutely did not have cousin-like feelings for Ricky Langley. But she wouldn’t tell Tina that.

“Not exactly. But in exchange for me going out with him, he agreed to introduce me around in the hope that I’d make a connection and maybe find a real job.”

Tina took her seat at the desk across from Eloise. “That sounds promising.”

“It is. Or it would be—”

“Except?”

She bit her lower lip, wondering if she should come clean with Tina. She decided she needed to talk to someone. “Except I’m thinking I should end our deal.”

“End a deal that might help you find a job? Are you nuts?”

“More like concerned. I thought he wanted a date because of a bad breakup, but the way the wives of his friends were talking last night I get the feeling something big happened to this guy.”

“Big like what?”

“Something tragic. They said, ‘after his tragedy’ a couple of times.”

Tina winced. “Sounds like maybe his last girlfriend died.”

Oh. Wouldn’t that make sense? “Could be.”

“Too bad we’re not allowed to use the internet here or we could look him up.”

“I can always go to the library after work.”

“Maybe you should.”

Knowing she could investigate him later, she relaxed and got down to the business of typing legal briefs. Because she worked late that night, she couldn’t go to the library. Disappointment and curiosity collided, making her too nervous to sleep.

As she lay in bed pondering Ricky, their deal and her life, it dawned on her that since she’d met him, she’d been immersed in helping him. All weekend long, she’d remade dresses, gone to parties and worked to make a good impression on his friends so he could be happy. And it had felt good. Really good. She’d been busy. Happy. Until his friends’ wives talked about “his tragedy” she’d been enjoying this charade.

And thinking of someone else had made her stop dwelling on her own problems. She hadn’t done that since her husband had died.

Maybe she shouldn’t jeopardize their good rapport by looking him up.

Maybe helping a man with a tragedy in his past was exactly what she needed to get over her own grief.

Especially because he was a friend of a friend. Ricky Langley wouldn’t be in Tucker Engle’s circle of confidantes if there was something wrong with him.

He was a guy with a tragic past. A guy she could help. And in return she could forget about her own troubles.

* * *

Ricky trudged up Eloise’s four flights of steps on Friday night, so sad he’d nearly canceled their evening together again. On Monday night, he’d gone to the hospital to read to the kids, as Regina had suggested, and it had been devastating. He hated seeing kids suffer. He couldn’t believe Regina had suggested he read to children so weak they broke his heart, reminded him of Blake, reminded him of how stupid he’d been. His son was dead because he’d never asked Blake’s mother to let him raise him. She was a party girl turned mother and he’d seen the difficulties she’d had fitting Blake into her life. She probably would have been happy to give him custody of Blake, as long as she got visitation, but he’d never asked.

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