Merry Ex-Mas. Sheila Roberts
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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.