Merry Ex-Mas

That was past history. Charley returned to the present. “So, you here celebrating?” she asked Ella.

“More like avoiding,” Cecily suggested, making Ella frown. “Jake’s still home,” she added for Charley’s benefit.

“I can see this house-sharing thing is working out great,” Charley cracked.

Ella shrugged. “It won’t be for long. Anyway, he can’t afford a place on his own and I can’t afford my half of the house payment plus rent somewhere else.”

“Your mom would probably help you.”

“I know, but I wouldn’t feel right asking her.”

“I’d have kicked his butt to the curb,” Charley said in no uncertain terms. “Let him stay with one of his band buddies.”

“Their wives and girlfriends would have been all over that,” Cecily pointed out with a grin.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Charley said. “Neither can cheaters.” Oooh, how she hated men who cheated on their wives!

“I know he looked as innocent as a man going to the bank in a ski mask, but I still have a hard time picturing Jake cheating on you,” Cecily said to Ella. “It doesn’t seem like him.”

Good old Cecily, always trying to see the best in people, even when there was no best to see. Although Charley had to admit, Jake had seemed like a nice guy. He and Ella had been Cecily’s first successful match, back when she and Ella were in high school. Going their separate ways for college hadn’t quenched Ella and Jake’s passion, and after graduation had come the big church wedding. Her mother hadn’t approved of Jake, but she gave Ella a wedding fit for a princess. They’d not only been a lovely bride and groom, they’d also seemed like the ideal couple, united for life.

Well, she and Richard had seemed like the ideal couple, too. Things weren’t always what they appeared.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ella said stiffly.

“Good idea,” Charley approved. “Keep this table a heartbreak-free zone.” She caught sight of another couple coming in the door and excused herself to greet them.

They were somewhere in their thirties. The man was going bald and his woman was no beauty, but the way they looked at each other proved that love was blind. She hung on to his arm like she’d never let him go.

Charley could remember when she’d held on to Richard like that. Somewhere along the way she’d released her hold....

She yanked herself back into the present and smiled at the newcomers. “Hi, how are you doing?” As if she had to ask. They were still happily in love.

“Great,” said the man.

“Do you have a reservation?” Charley asked.

He shook his head. “Someone told us this is a good place to eat. How long is the wait?”

“About twenty minutes, but we’re worth it.” Charley smiled. “If you like, you can wait in the bar and we’ll call you when there’s a table. Try the chocolate kiss,” she told the woman.

“That sounds good,” the woman said, and squeezed her man’s arm.

“We’ll wait,” he said, and gave Charley his name.

Watching them go, she wondered if they’d be happy together for the rest of their lives. Yes, she decided, they would be. And on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary they’d come back to Zelda’s to celebrate. On that pleasant thought she went to help a frazzled-looking Maria clear the corner table.

* * *

As Ella and Cecily enjoyed huckleberry martinis while waiting for their food to arrive Cecily took another stab at convincing her friend that she might have made a mistake.

It wasn’t the first time she’d tried, but Ella had been determined to divorce Jake even though Cecily was sure she was still in love with him. Yes, he wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for Ella—a good guy with a nice family. Easygoing, fun-loving, just what Ella needed to balance the life of perfection her mother expected from her.

“I know it seems too late now that the divorce is final,” Cecily said, “but I can’t help thinking you should reconsider this. It doesn’t feel right.”

Ella stared into her martini glass. She looked like she was going to drop a few tears into it. “I know you’re famous for those hunches of yours, but this time you’re wrong, Cec. We just aren’t a match. He’s irresponsible. And untrustworthy.”

“But all you really had were suspicions.”

“I had more, believe me,” Ella said, and took a giant sip of her martini.

Jake was such a stand-up guy, Cecily found that hard to believe. What the heck had happened to these two? They’d been madly in love when she moved to L.A., yet by the time she’d moved back home they were done.

“Well, he’s not really irresponsible,” she defended Jake. “I mean, I know he doesn’t have a normal nine-to-five job, but he has a dream.”

“You can’t live on dreams.”

That sounded more like Lily Swan than Ella O’Brien. Ella’s mother had never liked Jake, probably thought he was too much of a redneck for her elegant daughter. Ella had beautiful taste in clothes and decorating, but when it came right down to it, she was a simple, small-town girl, not a New York jet-setter. That was Lily Swan, though. She’d settled in a small town to raise her daughter but she’d always fancied herself a sophisticated woman. Having a son-in-law who was a country musician and who eked out a living teaching guitar and playing in a band didn’t line up with her idea of a successful life.

Had Lily herself been all that successful? Surely if she’d been a top model she’d have wound up living in London or New York or L.A.—some place other than Icicle Falls. If you asked Cecily, Lily Swan had started believing her own press.

Not that anyone was asking Cecily, and not that she would’ve said what she thought even if she was asked. And she wouldn’t be saying anything now, except that Ella was miserable and she hated seeing her friend miserable.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It seems to me if you don’t have dreams you’re not really living.” She’d dreamed of coming home and carving out a new life for herself, and so far that was working out pretty well.

Her new life didn’t include love, though. She’d had enough misery in that department. She had to remind herself of this on a regular basis, every time she saw Luke Goodman, Sweet Dreams’ production manager. She also had to remind herself that sexual attraction did not equal love every time she ran into Todd Black, who owned the Man Cave, the seedy bar at the edge of town.

Ella finished off her drink. “It just wasn’t meant to be. Mims was right.”

Mother knows best? Lily Swan had done a fabulous job of brainwashing her daughter. Of course, she’d brainwashed herself, as well, convincing both of them that Ella could do better than Jake. Maybe she could if she was looking for wealth and status. But that wasn’t Ella. Hopefully, she’d realize it before it was too late and some other girl came along, picked up Jake’s broken heart and put it in her pocket.

* * *

The evening went by in a busy blur for Charley. By nine-thirty her feet hurt. That was nothing new. Her feet always hurt by nine-thirty. A few diners remained, savoring coffee and dessert or an after-dinner drink, but most of the crowd had moved on or relocated to the bar at the back of the restaurant. The dining area was now a burble of soft voices and an occasional clink of silverware on plates.

Sore feet aside, this was Charley’s favorite time of the night. The dinner rush over, she could bask in the satisfaction of having delivered a memorable dining experience to people celebrating and connecting over food.

Food. It was the centerpiece of life. From dinners of state to family gatherings, sharing food was an essential part of human connection. And it was the spice of love. How could you not fall in love when you were gazing across the table at someone? And when your sense of taste came alive over a Chocolate Decadence dessert or a crab soufflé the other senses joined the party. There was a reason lovers went out to dinner.

Some might say she simply owned a restaurant. Charley knew better. She owned a slice of people’s lives.

Tonight she’d had a great slice. She smiled, remembering how the texting teen had actually stopped on the way out to tell her she loved the wild blackberry pie. Her smile grew with the memory of the couple in love strolling out the door hand in hand. Oh, yes, a very successful night, she concluded as she loaded dirty dishes onto a tray.

She had just lifted it up to haul off to the kitchen when a cold gust of wind blew in the door. She looked up to see who the latecomer was and received a shock that made her heart jump and the tray slip from her hands, sending dishes and glasses to shatter on the floor. Oh, no. It couldn’t be.

But it was. The Ghost of Christmas Past. Her ex.

4

Charley stood gaping at her former husband. Random thoughts circled her brain like so many spinning plates. What’s he doing here? Am I hallucinating? Let’s test that theory by throwing a broken plate at him.

Maria hurried over to help her clean up, saw Richard and managed a shocked “Oh.”

Okay, now Charley knew she wasn’t hallucinating.

He stepped into the dining area. “Hello, Charley. You look good.”

So did he. Richard wasn’t a tall man, coming in at around five foot eight, but what there was of him was yummy. Yes, he’d added some gray strands to his dark hair—she hoped the new girlfriend had given him every one—but other than that he was sailing pleasantly into his forties with only a hint of lines around those gray eyes. He still had that full mouth and the misleadingly strong jaw. Anyone would mistake him for a movie hero. Movies, yes. Hero? Definitely not.

He stood there in his jeans and winter jacket, looking at her—how? Hopefully? No, that couldn’t be it. She had nothing he wanted. He’d made that abundantly clear when he chose another woman.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice flat.

“I wanted to see you.”

“Well, I don’t want to see you. Ever again.” Charley bent next to Maria and began to pick up some of the bigger pieces of dishware.

Richard joined them, loading a chunk of broken glass onto the tray.

“I don’t need your help,” Charley growled. “Anyway, you might cut yourself and sue me.” She was already giving him enough money. Talk about adding insult to injury. As part of the divorce settlement she’d had to buy out his share of the restaurant. Her restaurant!

Oh, yes, he’d worked it with her, but it had been hers—her vision, her creation. She’d sunk her entire inheritance from her grandmother into the place when it was a dying dump, and with imagination and hard work she’d built it into a popular community gathering spot. Richard had only come along for the ride.

And then taken her for a ride.

He laid a hand on hers. “I really need to talk to you.”

Maria gave a disgusted snort before hauling the tray full of breakage off to the kitchen.

Charley’s sentiments exactly. She sat back on her heels and regarded her ex. “You can’t want more money. God knows you’ve taken enough from me.”

He looked at her as if she’d stabbed him with a steak knife. “Charley…listen, we can’t talk here.”

“I don’t want to talk at all.”

“I know I don’t deserve so much as the time of day from you, but please, can we go back to the house?”

“My house,” she reminded him. She was buying out his share of that, too.

“Please?”

Maybe she was curious, or maybe the desperation in his voice gave her an appetite for more of the same. She could feel herself weakening.

Still she hedged. “I’m not done here.”

“I’m staying at Gerhardt’s. Call me on my cell when you’re finished.”

The same cell phone he’d used to text messages to Ariel, setting up stolen quickies in the bar before the employees arrived. Before Charley arrived.

“Charley, please. I know I don’t deserve it but please.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said. “And that’s the most I can promise.”

He managed an awkward nod. “I’ll be waiting,” he said, and then walked out the door.

Charley stood slowly. She was only thirty-nine but she suddenly felt ninety and weary right down to her soul.

Maria was back with a whisk broom and dustpan, frowning. “What did that bastardo want?”

“I’m not sure.” And she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. “But he wants to see me later.”

“Don’t do it,” Maria cautioned. “He already hurt you once.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let him do it again,” Charley assured her.

But when she finally got home she found herself calling him. He probably wouldn’t leave until she gave in, so the sooner she saw him, the sooner he’d go.

He was at her door ten minutes later.

“Make this fast,” she said as he stepped in. “I’m tired and I want to go to bed.” Alone, like I’ve been doing ever since you left.

He motioned to the living room. “Can we sit down?”

The last thing she wanted was Richard back in her living room. Bad enough that almost everything in it held a memory of their life together, from the brown microfiber sofa where they’d cuddled watching football or the Food Network to the Tiffany-style lamp he’d bought for her birthday three years ago. She should have gotten rid of that lamp. Heck, she should’ve gotten rid of everything. “I don’t understand why you’re here,” she said bitterly, leading the way to the couch. She sat down, crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at him.

He sat close to her—too close—and looked at her earnestly. “I’m here to ask you to take me back.”

This was the biggest shock she’d had since, well, since she’d discovered him cheating on her. “What?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I don’t either, but I know what you were thinking with,” she retorted.

His face flushed, but he held her gaze. “If I had it to do over…”

“You wouldn’t have done her?” Charley finished for him. “What’s the matter, Richard, did she dump you for a younger man?”

The flush deepened. Bingo! “I was a fool.”

“Yes, you were,” Charley agreed, “and for all I know you still are. Why should I take you back?”

“Because I love you.”

That produced a bitter laugh. “Oh, please. Don’t make me sick.”

“I do,” he insisted. “I always have. Ariel was a mistake.”

“A mistake you were happy enough to make,” Charley said. “You had a chance to give her up and you didn’t.”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Well, I am.” She stood, signaling that this ridiculous conversation was over.

He stood, too. He was barely taller than she was. Why had she picked such a small man?

“All I’m asking is that you give me a chance to prove I’ve changed. Twelve years together, Charley—that has to count for something.”

“It should have counted for something when you were looking around for a side dish.”

He sighed. “You’re right.”

“You know where the door is.”

His eyes filled with regret. “What would it take to convince you I’ve changed?”

She studied him. “You know…”

He regarded her hopefully.

“I can’t think of a thing.” She walked to the door and opened it. “Good night, Richard.”

He took the hint and walked out the door, but as he passed her he said, “I’m not giving up. You’re worth fighting for.”

He hadn’t thought that a year ago. She slammed the door after him and locked it.

* * *

The Gingerbread Haus opened at ten but Cass was always in by six, baking cookies and, at this time of year, assembling gingerbread houses, many of which would be shipped all over the country.

She got plenty of appreciation in her hometown, too, and Olivia Wallace arrived at eleven to pick up the creation Cass had made for the lobby of the Icicle Creek Lodge. A perfect replica of Olivia’s B and B styled after a Bavarian hunting lodge, it even sported a blue-frosting creek running past it.

“It’s lovely as usual,” Olivia said. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to resist nibbling at it.”

Olivia’s well-rounded figure testified to her lack of willpower. But Olivia was a widow and, as far as Cass was concerned that gave her unlimited nibbling rights. Anyway, Cass was in no position to say anything. She was a nibbler, too.

“Here’s a little something extra for when you get the urge,” she said, and handed Olivia a box containing a baker’s dozen frosted gingerbread cookies cut in the shape of Christmas trees.

“Oh, thank you,” Olivia said. “How much do I owe you for these?”

“Nothing. They’re on the house. The gingerbread house,” Cass added with a wink.

Dani came in from sending off the day’s shipment of gingerbread creations. “Here’s our bride-to-be,” Olivia greeted her.

Dani’s cheeks flushed with pleasure and she smiled at Olivia.

She’s going to be a beautiful bride, Cass thought. If only they had more time to plan this wedding.

“I just gave your grandmother and aunt our last room,” Olivia said to Dani. “It’s a good thing you called when you did, or that one would’ve been gone,” she added. “I’ve had three calls since.”

“One of them was probably my stepmother,” Dani said, and now the pink in her cheeks wasn’t from pleasure.

Babette. Cass could feel her mouth slipping down at the corners. Bimbette was more like it. Cass hadn’t met her, but she’d seen pictures. The woman was nothing more than arm candy. Cass had it on good authority (her son’s) that she couldn’t cook.

Not that Mason had married Babette for her culinary skills. She’d been a professional cheerleader for the Seattle Seahawks, a Sea Gal, and she had the body to prove it. Of course, once she snagged Mason at the ripe old age of thirty, she gave that up. Now she was all of what, thirty-one? And stepmother to a twenty-year-old. What a joke.

Olivia looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I wish I’d known earlier. I’d have reserved a block of rooms for you.”

“If any of us had known earlier we would’ve been more organized,” Cass said. She’d meant that as an explanation, not an accusation of her daughter. Judging from the deep rose shade blooming on Dani’s cheeks, she’d taken the remark to heart. “But Mike got a job in Spokane and he starts in January and they want to be together.”

“Of course you do,” Olivia said to Dani. “I sure hope the rest of your guests find someplace. I know Annemarie is full up and so is Gerhardt.”

No room at the inn. What a shame. Mason and Bimbette might have to miss the wedding. Not a very gracious thought, Cass scolded herself.

“Oh,” Dani said, a world of worry in her voice.

“Mountain Springs over by Cashmere might have something,” Olivia suggested. “That wouldn’t be too far away.”

Dani nodded and whipped her cell phone out of her jeans.

As she stepped away to make the call, Olivia lowered her voice. “I imagine this is all a little awkward.”

There was an understatement. “A little,” Cass said.

“I almost felt like a traitor saving a room but Dani asked.”

“It’s okay. In fact, I really appreciate it. Otherwise, they might have had to stay with me.”

The very thought of that was enough to make Cass shudder. Her judgmental ex-mother-in-law and her gossipy ex-sister-in-law staying with her? Ugh.

Two middle-aged women had come in and were waiting patiently in front of the glass display case. Olivia, like everyone else in Icicle Falls, knew the value of a tourist dollar. “Well, I’d better be going,” she said. “I’ve got to get to the grocery store or my guests won’t have breakfast tomorrow.” To the newcomers she said, “The gingerbread boys are delicious, but make sure you get a couple of those cream puff swans, too. They’re to die for.”

The women took her advice, purchasing gingerbread boys and girls and a couple of cream puffs. One of them bought a gingerbread house, as well.

Meanwhile, more customers had come into the bakery. Normally Dani would be helping Cass, but right now she and her cell phone were in the kitchen looking for lodging for Mason and Bimbette.

Let them find their own place to stay. Cass moved to the kitchen area. “I could use some help out here.”

Dani turned her back and held up a hand, which meant—what? Trying to hear? Be there in a minute?

“Now,” Cass added in her stern mama-bear voice.

“Okay, thanks,” Dani said, and ended the call.

“Honey, you’re going to have to do that later,” Cass said. “We’ve got customers.”

“We’ve always got customers,” Dani muttered grumpily.

Which was how they paid the bills. This had never bothered her daughter before.

But then she’d never been engaged.

Twenty minutes rushed past before they had a lull. Cass knew it was temporary. Once the lunch hour was finished, the customers would return.

She turned the sign on the door to Closed. “We’ll Be Back by One,” said the clock below. That gave them time for lunch, and in Dani’s case, time to go back to calling every motel and B and B within a twenty-mile radius.

Cass sat down at a corner table with her cup of coffee and watched as Dani became increasingly desperate with every conversation. That desperation began to make Cass’s coffee churn in her stomach. If her daughter didn’t succeed in her mission it boded ill—not for Dani, and not for Mason and Bimbette, but for Cass.

Sure enough. At a quarter to one Dani plopped onto the chair next to her and tossed her smartphone on the table.

Tell me we’re out of eggs, tell me someone’s order never arrived, tell me anything but what you’re about to tell me.

“There’s no vacancy anywhere,” Dani announced miserably.

Cass spoke before her daughter could say the dreaded words. “It’ll be okay. Seattle’s not that far. Your dad can drive over the day of the wedding.”

Dani looked at her, eyes wide in horror. “But what about the rehearsal dinner the night before? And what if something happens? What if they close the pass?”

Then we can get on our knees and thank God.

Okay, that was truly rotten. This was her daughter’s big day and she wanted her father there. “I’m sure he’ll figure it out,” Cass said, trying to sound as if she cared.

“Mom, how can he when there’s no place anywhere?”

Surely that was a rhetorical question. She kept her mouth shut.

“Can they stay with us for a couple of days?”

There it was, what she’d known was coming all along. Just what she wanted for Christmas, her ex and his bimbo bride staying with her. “We have no place to put them,” she argued.

“They can have my room. I can sleep with Amber.”

“I was going to give your room to Grandma Nordby.” Cass would jump into boiling oil before she’d turn her mother out in favor of Mason and Bimbette.

“Then give them Willie’s room and put him on the sleeper sofa. Or put them on the sleeper sofa.”

That was what Cass wanted, to come out and find her ex and his second wife curled up together in her living room.

“We could find a place for them for just one night, couldn’t we?” Dani begged. “Two at the most.”

There had to be some other way they could work this out. Cass stalled for time. “Let me think about it, okay?”

Dani made a face like she’d just eaten baking soda. “I know what that means.”

So did Cass, and she felt like the world’s meanest mother.

A woman with two little girls had come to the door, and the girls were peering inside.

“Go unlock the door,” Cass said wearily.

“Sure. Fine,” Dani said in a tone of voice that showed how un-fine everything was.

“It would be nice if you could greet our customers with a smile instead of a frown,” Cass called after her.

“I’m smiling,” Dani called back. Smiling on the outside, seething on the inside.

They’ll find someplace to stay, Cass told herself. Now, if she could only believe that.

5

It was Sunday evening, time for Cass’s weekly chick flick night. The friends had decided to watch Christmas movies during the month of December and Cass’s pal Samantha Sterling had picked the one for tonight—The Family Man.