A Mom for Christmas

That made Aidan a murderer.

Nicola stepped outside onto the concrete steps and shivered violently as the freezing air and the implication of Sara’s words hit her simultaneously.

No, she thought in a violent rejection of the very idea. Aidan had been deeply in love with Charmaine and she, with him. They had a brand-new baby and a bright future. Why would he kill her?

Nicola continued on her way back to the truck. Gossip was rife in the aftermath of dramatic events. People said all sorts of things without any evidence just to make life seem more interesting. Charmaine’s letters were a testament to Aidan’s devotion; proof of his adoration abounded in every line.

Still deep in thought Nicola started the engine and pulled out onto the road. A horn blared and she snapped into alertness to see a car coming straight at her. She swerved to the right at the last second and June’s big vehicle fishtailed across the road, coming to rest with the front wheels embedded in a barrier of plowed snow.

“Stay on your own side of the road!” yelled the man in the red sedan whose car she’d almost hit head-on. He blasted his horn again as he went past.

Shaken, Nicola leaned on the steering wheel, bent head resting on her arms while her heart pounded furiously. She had to be more careful.

A rapping at her window made her lift her head. The blond woman, Emily’s aunt Angela, was outside, peering in anxiously. Nicola rolled down the window.

“Are you all right?” Angela said. “That guy was a jerk.”

“I was on the wrong side of the road,” Nicola admitted. “But thanks.”

“I’m Angela, Emily’s aunt. Forgive me if I’m being nosy, but are you a friend of Aidan’s?”

Nicola smiled. “Not exactly. I’m Nicola. Emily’s mom, Charmaine, was my cousin and best friend when we were younger. I’m staying with my aunt for a while and offered to look after Emily while June helps on some committee.”

During this speech Angela’s bright blue eyes had widened. “I know who you are. You’re the one who went to Australia.” She glanced over her shoulder at a car trying to get past. “You’re sticking out onto the road so we’d better not stand here yakking. How about getting together sometime soon? We never see much of Emily’s other family.”

“That’d be nice. What do you suggest?”

“Come for dinner tomorrow. Say, seven o’clock.” Angela pulled out a card from her purse. “Here’s the address.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you then.”

Angela waved goodbye and picked her way through the clods of snow to her car. Nicola checked the rearview mirror and put the Suburban into Reverse. Its wheels spun, emitting a high-pitched whine. She shifted into four-wheel drive and tried again. The wheels caught and she backed jerkily onto the road. Chanting keep to the right, keep to the right under her breath, Nicola shifted into Drive and headed into Whistler.

She spent the day browsing the shops and taking photos of the picturesque village with its pedestrian-only streets decked out in pre-Christmas splendor. Later that afternoon she picked up Emily from school without mishap and drove south of Whistler, a short distance to Aidan’s single-story log house on the shores of Alta Lake.

Nicola put the key Aidan had given her in the lock and opened the door to inviting smells of savory cooking, cedar and a wood fire. She hung her coat on a hook by the door and helped Emily out of her boots and snowsuit then followed the little girl to the great room whose high, wide windows overlooked the frozen lake.

Separating the living and dining areas was a large aquarium filled with colorful tropical fish. Facing the windows on the opposite wall was built-in shelving containing a TV, books and skiing trophies. A stone fireplace with an airtight insert was surrounded by an odd collection of mismatched furniture—a big comfortable-looking recliner, a cozy love seat and a carved French walnut settee covered in ivory damask of the type favored by June, and presumably Charmaine.

Above the mantel hung a studio portrait of Charmaine. Her perfect features and lustrous long blond hair sparked a familiar upwelling of envy and admiration. Ridiculous, Nicola thought, to feel jealous of a dead woman but there it was. At the same time, she wished Charmaine were here, filling the house with her infectious laughter and outrageous schemes for fun.

Emily crouched before the fireplace, hands up to the feeble warmth given off by the barely glowing embers. “It’s cold.”

Nicola pulled the heavy drapes shut against the gathering dusk, tucking in the voluminous lace curtains that had grown dusty through neglect. Then she took a handful of kindling from the basket by the fireplace and levered open the stove’s door to throw them in. A few healthy blows with the bellows and the kindling crackled into flames. She stacked a couple of larger logs at angles and shut the door.

Emily inched closer and sat on her heels, holding her hands in front of the heated glass.

Nicola got out her Nikon single lens reflex and perched on the settee. The couch was hard, as if it had been stuffed with horse hair, and so high Nicola’s feet barely touched the floor. Moving to the love seat, she sank into the soft cushions and began to rewind the film she’d shot that day.

“Were those your mother’s?” she asked Emily even though she could tell at a glance the crystal figurines ranged along the mantelpiece were pure Charmaine. There was a prancing unicorn, a ballerina balanced delicately on one pointed toe, a pair of leaping dolphins in a spray of blue crystal water and many other dainty and fragile designs.

“Yes,” Emily said, nodding solemnly. “Daddy says we have to take care of them and make sure none get broken.”

Nicola removed the spent roll and clicked a new film into place. Then she raised the camera and snapped a photo of Emily, capturing the warm flicker of orange and yellow illuminating her round face. Emily looked up in surprise at the flash and smiled. Nicola refocused and clicked again.

Setting the camera on the coffee table, Nicola said, “What do you usually do after school?”

“It’s my job to feed the fish.” Emily got the container of fish food from the cabinet beneath the tank. She sprinkled a pinch on the surface of the water then watched the fish swim up and snatch at the flakes.

“What kind are they?” Nicola asked, bending over, hands on knees to watch, too.

“There’s two angelfishes, five neon tetras and a sucker fish. We used to have a Siamese fighting fish, but he kept biting the angelfishes’ tails so Daddy took him back to the store.”

Nicola straightened and wandered over to the shelving unit. Her fingers grazed the ivory glaze on a large ceramic pot with a lid. “This is pretty.”

Emily gazed up at her solemnly. “Mommy’s in there.”

Nicola snatched her hand away and pressed it to her heart. “Oh, you mean her ashes.”

Slightly shaken she moved across to where Aidan’s trophies were displayed. Judging by the inscriptions on the gilt cups he’d had some impressive wins in major national and international competitions. “Does your dad still race?”

Emily said something in her soft voice Nicola didn’t catch. “Pardon?” Nicola asked.

“No, he doesn’t race,” the girl said a little louder.

Nicola sat on the wide arm of the chair. “Sometimes little girls have to roar to make themselves heard.”

Emily smiled uncertainly. “Like a lion?”

“Exactly. Let me hear you roar.”

“Roar,” Emily said in just a slightly more powerful than normal voice.

“No, I mean, roar,” she said, making a hearty growl. “Like that.”

Emily giggled. “Roar!”

“That’s better.” Nicola smiled.

Emily pretended to pounce on her. “Roar! Roar! Roar!”

Nicola laughed. “Okay, that’s enough for now. Shall we go make that snowman?”

“First I need a snack. Toasted cheese. Come, I’ll show you.” Emily took her by the hand and led her to the kitchen.

Nicola was an indifferent cook, but she followed orders well. Her toasted cheese made under the broiler and hot chocolate with three marshmallows were happily in accordance with Miss Emily’s exacting taste.

“I don’t have school tomorrow,” Emily announced. “It’s a curr-curr—”

“Curriculum day?” Nicola guessed.

Emily nodded. “There’s a notice in my backpack.”

“We could go up the mountain,” Nicola suggested. “Would you like that?”

Emily’s eyes lit and she smiled, her chocolate moustache widening. “Yes, please!” Her smile faded. “I don’t know if Daddy will let me.”

“You be sure and ask him tonight. Do you have skis?” Emily shook her head. “Never mind, we can rent.”

When they were warmed inside and out, they put their outdoor clothes back on. Nicola slung her camera over her neck and they went into the front yard. Snow was falling in big fluffy flakes.

Aidan pulled into his driveway to find a half-finished snowman crouched fatly on the buried lawn, its head at its feet. Aidan’s glance went automatically toward his study window but no small nose was pressed against the pane. A small surge of panic, quickly repressed, tightened his chest.

Then a snowball hit the Land Cruiser with a resounding thwack. Aidan started and peered into the dark corners of the yard. Thwack. Another snowball and another. Then girlish squeals of laughter.

Aidan got out of the truck and Emily appeared and openly threw snowballs. “Roar!”

Nicola was hiding behind the snowman, making more to hand to her.

Aidan advanced in a hail of snowballs and scooped up an armful of snow. Laughing, he charged his daughter and dumped his load on top of her head. “That’ll teach you to mess with your daddy.”

A snowball struck the back of his neck, sending an icy trickle down his collar. Slowly he turned. Nicola had her hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing in the porch light. In her down jacket and snowpants her body looked bulky and shapeless. Slowly he started walking toward her, not sure what he was going to do, but aware he wasn’t going to let her get away with that!

Hands raised now, she backed away. “Just kidding! We can stop now. I’m done.”

“I’m not.” He gathered up more snow and advanced on Nicola. Behind him Emily giggled and pelted him with tiny snowballs that splatted against his back. Nicola continued to retreat until she came up against the prickly branches of a blue spruce.

He lunged, grabbing her around the waist in an iron grip and washed her face with snow.

“Hey!” Spluttering and laughing, Nicola struggled and kicked. One booted foot connected with his shin and he leaped back, yelping in pain as he clutched his leg and hopped about. Emily threw herself at him, knocking him off balance. He fell into a snowdrift. Nicola seized the advantage and piled more snow on him.

“Two against one. No fair,” he protested, attempting to fend off Emily. He lifted her in the air, arms and legs waving, and got to his feet.

Aidan set his daughter down and glanced from her to Nicola. “Truce?”

Emily jumped up and down. “We won! We won!” She tugged on his jacket. “Help us finish the snowman, Daddy.”

“Did this poor fellow lose his head over a woman?” Aidan asked, picking up the basketball-size lump of snow.

“It is a woman,” Emily shrieked. “Can’t you tell?”

He stood back. Sure enough, on second glance, the snow figure had a distinctly matronly shape. Teasing, he said, “No wonder she hasn’t got a brain.”

“Them’s fightin’ words,” Nicola warned, reaching for more snow.

Grinning, Aidan sidled toward her again, hefting the snow woman’s head in one hand.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Nicola’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Wouldn’t I?”

“Daddy!” Emily planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Put the snow woman’s head on her body!”

“Okay, you little tyrant,” he said good-naturedly. He balanced the head on top of the body and packed extra snow into the groove to keep it attached. “How was school today?”

“We made Christmas cards and colored in a big picture of Santa and his reindeer....” Her words trailed off as she busily rolled snow into a ball across the lawn. “Now I’m making a snow baby.”

Nicola bent to pick up a scarf lying on the ground and tied it around the snow woman’s neck. Aidan found a few pieces of gravel at the edge of the driveway and pressed them into the head, creating a face.

“How did everything go today?” he asked.

Nicola glanced up. “Fine. I had a chat with Emily’s teacher. Sara Winston taught me fifth grade way back when.”

“Oh?” he said warily. Sara was great with the kids, but he’d noticed in his parent-teacher meeting she had a tendency to be indiscreet, often blurting out information about other families she had no right to pass on. “What did she have to say?”

Nicola lowered her voice and looked him directly in the eye. “She said there was some controversy surrounding Charmaine’s death.”

Great. Nicola’d been here barely twenty-four hours and already the rumor mill had found fresh ears. “There was a lot of unsubstantiated gossip. What exactly did she tell you?”

“That some people think you pushed Charmaine off the mountain.” Nicola, her wet hair plastered to a thin oval face with a pointed chin, looked like a mere girl but her clear-eyed gaze was anything but ingenuous. “Did you?”

Her directness caught him off guard. But in some ways it was easier to deal with than oblique looks and innuendo. Returning her gaze steadily, he replied, “No.”

“Of course, you’d claim that even if you had,” she said matter-of-factly.

He shrugged, pretending it didn’t matter one way or another. “True.”

“Don’t you care what people say about you?”

He’d rather they talked about him than discover the truth about Charmaine. “I learned long ago that people will think what they want to think.” He paused as Emily came back their way pushing a lumpy sphere of snow. “This discussion isn’t appropriate in front of my daughter.”

“Of course.” Nicola scooped up more snow to pack onto the snow woman’s torso, sculpting it into an arm.

“Will you be looking after Emily again tomorrow?” he asked.

Nicola nodded. “Apparently the Christmas Ball is bigger than King Kong. June’s taken charge of half a dozen subcommittees.”

“I’m not surprised.” He couldn’t hide a trace of rancor. “With her need for control she should have been CEO of some big company.”

Nicola was silent a moment. “You don’t like her.”

“She doesn’t like me.”

“Why?”

This was the oddest conversation he’d had in a long time. He shrugged. “It has to do with Charmaine.”

“In what way?”

Couldn’t she tell it was personal? Did she really think he was going to unburden himself about Charmaine after knowing her for twenty-four hours when he’d spent the past six years bottling things up inside, not confiding even in his family?

He created a smoke screen by elaborating on a pet peeve. “June means well but she spoils Emily. She’s already given her enough presents for two Christmases and the holiday is still weeks away. I was glad you took over, even temporarily.”

Nicola smiled. “I’m loving it. Emily’s a doll.”

“She seems to have taken to you.” He paused. “I understand you and Charmaine were very close. Forgive me, but it seems odd when you and she are so…different.”

“Like night and day,” Nicola said dryly. “Charmaine got all the boys—when she was around no one noticed me.”

“Come on, I’ll bet a cute girl like you must have had swarms of guys hanging around,” Aidan said gallantly.

“If I was so cute why weren’t you hanging around?”

Flummoxed, Aidan stared. “Me? I didn’t know you—”

“Existed?” She smiled wryly and turned to Emily who was trying to heave a large ball. “My point, exactly. Don’t worry, I got used to living in Charmaine’s shadow. It doesn’t bother me anymore.” She turned to Emily who was trying to heave a large ball of snow onto the base she’d made. “You’re making that snow baby all by yourself. Can I help?”

“Yes.” Emily stopped and panted. “Put that on top. And it’s not a snow baby anymore, it’s a snow lion.”

“I’ve heard of snow leopards,” Aidan said.

“No, it’s a lion,” Emily declared. “Honestly, Daddy.”

Nicola’s amused gaze met Aidan’s over his daughter’s head.

“You’re not in high school anymore,” he said. “Are you married?” She shook her head. “Boyfriend? If I’m being too nosy just tell me to mind my own business.”

“That’s okay,” she said easily. “I don’t have time for a boyfriend. This photography assignment will keep me busy for quite some time.”

“Where do you go after here?”

“Banff, Tahoe, Vail, Aspen—I can’t remember the entire itinerary. We’re covering all the major resorts in a coffee-table book for ski buffs.”

“Pity it won’t be ready in time for Christmas.”

She smiled. “It will be. Next year.”

“What am I going to use for whiskers?” Emily demanded.

Aidan turned only to find she was asking Nicola. One day, he marveled, and this quiet woman had completely won over his daughter. He watched Nicola help Emily gather needles from a clear patch of ground near the base of a pine tree and press them into the cat’s face.

Leaving the child, Nicola got up and came back to where he was standing. “I’d better get going,” she said. “You look half frozen and your dinner is waiting.”

“Why don’t you stay and eat with us?”

“Thanks, but June and Roy are going to be home late and I told my aunt I’d make dinner.” She turned to Emily. “Bye, possum. See you tomorrow.”

Aidan walked Nicola to her car, thinking back to the first part of their conversation and feeling the need to convince her of his innocence. He opened the door for her, but before she could climb in, he touched her shoulder, stopping her. “I loved Charmaine with all my heart.”

Her brows came together in a puzzled frown, her searching gaze quietly alert. “Everyone loved Charmaine.”

Aidan watched her get into her vehicle and start the engine. Although she hadn’t said so, he got the distinct impression Nicola was reserving judgment about him. He got that a lot from people he didn’t know and over the years he’d learned not to care. For some reason, it bothered him coming from Nicola.

Chapter 4

Nicola arrived home to a dark and empty house. Pushing aside thoughts of Aidan’s warm fire and delicious-smelling stew she peeled off her wet outer clothing and went to the kitchen to start dinner.

June seemed to have every gadget known to man lining her granite countertops, but from the pristine condition of the appliances, Nicola deduced she rarely used them. Luckily the ingredients for one of Nicola’s small repertoire of foolproof dishes—spaghetti bolognese—were on hand. Nicola got out onions, garlic and mushrooms, had a look at the food processor, and decided a knife and chopping board were easier to clean.

Aidan had been forthright about the rumors surrounding Charmaine’s death, she mused as she peeled the papery skin off the onion. Yet she had the feeling he was hiding something regarding Charmaine.

Six years was a long time. Aidan was a good-looking man. Why hadn’t he married again? Nicola didn’t think it could be due to a lack of interested and available women. Was he still grieving? Or did he find it hard to move on because he was guilty?

Tears from the onion vapors slid down her cheeks and she wiped her eyes with the cuff of her long-sleeved thermal shirt. She quickly chopped the mushrooms and green pepper and added them to the pot along with the hamburger meat and a couple tins of tomatoes. The big stockpot of water she’d set on the stove was boiling so she dumped in a package of dried spaghetti and gave it a stir.

That done she ran upstairs to get a book to read while she waited for June and Roy. Her footsteps slowed as she passed Charmaine’s closed door. The cuckoo clock on the wall behind her ticked loudly in the silence. Why wasn’t Emily allowed in her mother’s old room?

Nicola reached out and turned the handle. The room was dark and with no light on in the hall she could only make out the vague shapes of a bed and dresser, desk and chair. She felt for the light switch and flicked it on.

Nicola gasped.

Charmaine’s room looked exactly as it had in high school, from the frilly pink curtains and matching bedspread right down to old pop-star posters and her cheerleader pom-poms. Incredulous, Nicola went farther into the room, drawn to the dressing table where her cousin had spent hours practicing applying makeup and the latest hairstyles. Unlike in high school when the dressing table’s surface was a jumble of mascara tubes, lipsticks and hairbrushes everything was meticulously arranged like a…a shrine.

A large, framed photo of Charmaine’s graduation portrait, forever young, eternally beautiful, held center stage. She was heartbreakingly lovely, Nicola thought. Would it be any wonder if Aidan had fallen so deeply in love he couldn’t get over her, even six years later?

To the right of the photo was a lock of golden curling hair tied up in a pink ribbon, to the left a cluster of dried rosebuds—from her prom corsage? In front, a baby bracelet with the letters of her name picked out in black on tiny white beads. Bronze baby shoes, a heart-shaped locket, a smaller photograph of Charmaine with her mother and father, a cone of incense in a small brass slipper.

Nicola held the incense to her nose. Jasmine. She smiled, remembering Charmaine’s youthful passion for everything jasmine—incense, tea, perfume…she’d even wanted to change her name to Jasmine when she grew up.

Replacing the incense Nicola picked up the locket. Inside were tiny photos of Charmaine and her. Tears of sorrow and loss washed away the last bitter traces of the onion. In spite of their different personalities she and Charmaine had indeed been inseparable, confiding in each other all their girlish dreams and desires. Somehow she’d never found another friend that had been able to match the closeness she’d had with Charmaine. She snapped the locket shut with a small click and set it carefully back on the dressing table.

Nicola sat on the bed and picked up a teddy bear from the lace-edged pillow. She couldn’t imagine Uncle Roy, austere and remote in his insurance man’s suit, arranging teenage memorabilia or—Nicola wiped a finger across the polished maple bedside table—dusting regularly. No, June must have done this. She and Charmaine had always been close, the more so because Charmaine was the only child and took after June in looks and temperament.

The front door opened. Nicola heard footsteps moving between the hall and the kitchen and got up to go greet her aunt and uncle. As she came out of Charmaine’s room she heard a commotion of clattering pots and excited voices. Oh, no! The pasta.

Nicola raced downstairs and stopped dead in the kitchen doorway. The spaghetti was boiling over, froth and scalding water pouring down the sides of the pot and onto the floor. June was at the stove, sliding the pot off the heat.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” Nicola exclaimed. “Where’s the mop?”

“It’s in the cupboard in the laundry room,” June called.

Nicola grabbed the mop and raced back to the kitchen. June turned around to face Nicola and her face went white.

“It’s all my fault,” Nicola apologized again. “I wanted to have dinner ready when you and Uncle Roy came—”

June shook her head, speechless, and pointed her finger at Nicola. Nicola looked down. She still had Charmaine’s stuffed bear clasped in one arm.

“Oh, that,” she said, relieved no further harm had been done. “It’s just a teddy bear.”

June swallowed with apparent difficulty. “No one. No one,” she emphasized, “is allowed in my baby’s room.”

Oh, dear. “I didn’t move anything except for the bear,” Nicola told June apologetically. “I’ll put it back right now.”