Shenandoah Christmas. Lynnette Kent
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away the formality, as she always did. “Harry and Peggy will do just fine, Caitlyn. And this is Ben Tremaine. Our son-in-law.”
The singer turned back toward Ben with what looked like reluctance. She put out a hand. “How do you do?”
Ben barely brushed her palm with his. “Good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Their eyes locked for a second, then each looked away. Ben finally shut the front door.
Harry stared at his wife, a suspicion forming in his brain. Was there more to this dinner than just friends getting together?
But Peg was immersed in her hostess role, not open to receiving unspoken messages. “Harry will take your coats. Anna, you sit yourself down on the sofa. I’ll bring some juice for you and the children. David, Caitlyn, will you have something? A glass of wine, perhaps?”
The younger woman smiled. “Wine, please.”
The minister took a seat next to his wife. “That would be great, Peggy.”
She looked at Ben. “You’ll be staying, of course. What can I get you?”
Taking Ben’s jacket as he shrugged it off, Harry heard him sigh. Then he said, “A glass of wine sounds good. Can I help?”
“No, no. Y’all just sit and talk. I’ll be right back.” Peg disappeared toward the kitchen. Harry shut the front door, then went to lay the coats on the bed in the guest room. When he returned to the living room, only Maddie was attempting conversation. Shep was busy landing his supersonic aircraft under the coffee table.
“My friend Brenna says you’re a big star.” The little girl bit into a cracker and chewed for a second, staring seriously at Caitlyn Gregory, then swallowed. “Do you like singing for people?”
“All I wanted to be—when I grew up—was a singer.” Cait sat in the armchair closest to the children, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. She wore a column of thin gold bracelets on each wrist, which drew attention to her pretty hands.
“Our dad used to say Cait sang before she could talk,” Anna told Maddie.
Harry, watching closely, saw the singer’s mouth tighten, then relax. “That might be true. I sang at church a lot, when I was young.”
“I like to sing,” Maddie confided, as a cracker crumbled through her fingers onto the carpet.
Caitlyn nodded, which set her long gold earrings to swaying. “And you have a very good voice. You help the other children learn the songs.”
“My daddy sings, too.”
“I’m sure he does.” Caitlyn lifted her chin, almost defiantly, and gazed at Ben. “I could tell when we talked that he would have a nice singing voice.”
“You’ve already met?” Peg returned with a tray of drinks. “I didn’t know that.” She looked a little put out.
Oh, Peg, Harry groaned silently. What are you trying to pull off this time?
“We ran into each other only this afternoon, as a matter of fact,” Ben drawled, his voice dry. “In the meat department at Food Depot. Over pot roast.”
HE COULD HAVE introduced himself. Cait took the glass of white wine Peggy offered and held the cool bowl between her palms. Her face felt hot, which probably meant she was blushing.
Why had Ben Tremaine pretended not to recognize her? She’d been teaching his children in choir for three weeks. Maybe he’d never heard a single one of her recordings, but she and Anna looked enough alike that he would have known right away whom he was talking to. This was a small town. So far, Cait hadn’t met a single person who didn’t already know who she was and why she was here.
But Ben Tremaine hadn’t even bothered to make her acquaintance through a simple exchange of names. If he’d been married, that would have been a reason, she supposed, for him to steer clear of a single woman who’d made it clear she found him attractive.
That was not quite the case, however. Anna had explained the situation during the drive to the Shepherds’ house tonight. Ben’s wife—Harry and Peggy’s daughter—had been killed in a car wreck. Shep had been in the car with her, and though his physical injuries were minor, he hadn’t spoken a word since. That accounted for why he was attentive, but completely silent, during choir practice. As for Maddie—losing her mother’s love and attention in such a tragic way had caused the little girl to hoard every bit of affection or praise she received.
And Ben must still be in deep mourning for his wife. Did that absolve him from simple friendliness?
Evidently. “Dinner’s ready,” Peggy Shepherd announced, waving through a wide doorway toward the table. Anna had mentioned that this house was one of the town’s oldest, dating back to the early 1800s; beautiful wainscoting and woodwork in the dining room and entry hall testified to the craftsmanship of long ago. “Caitlyn, you sit here on Harry’s left and Ben, you can…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes widened as Ben took the chair diagonally opposite Cait, as far away as he could manage. “That’s…that’s fine. David and Anna, would you like to sit next to Ben?”
That seated Shep beside Cait, then Maddie next to her grandmother. Harry handed over a platter heaped with carrots and potatoes…and pot roast. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” Cait took a healthy portion of the succulent meat and vegetables, then hesitated. Should she serve Shep? Her area of expertise these days was music. What she knew about children she’d learned at choir practice, and that wasn’t much.
“Shep?” When she said his name, the little boy lifted his long-lashed brown gaze to her face. “Would you like some meat and vegetables?”
He looked away again, but nodded. Cait took a deep breath and forked over a piece of roast. “Potatoes?” Another nod. “Carrots?” The little boy shook his head.
“Have some carrots, son,” his dad instructed from across the table. Obviously, Ben Tremaine was keeping an eye on them.
Shep’s pout, as Cait ladled a few of the smaller slices onto his plate, conveyed quite clearly what he thought about carrots. She looked at that full lower lip, stuck way out, and had a strong urge to hug him. Such an adorable little boy.
His grandfather made the same impression. Harry Shepherd was handsome, young-looking, with brown hair that showed only a few strands of gray, and brown eyes like Shep’s that twinkled when he smiled. His wife was simply amazing. Peggy had orchestrated a dinner for eight people, yet looked completely relaxed. Her silver-white hair remained smoothly drawn into a ponytail, her pale blue sweater and slacks didn’t exhibit a single spot of food. So far, Cait couldn’t seem to cook for three without making a mess of herself and the kitchen, a fact Anna’s husband pointed out as often as possible.
But then, her sister’s attraction to this particular man had always been a puzzle to Cait. Thin and balding, though he wasn’t yet thirty-five, David Remington lacked the easy social skills Cait remembered in her father and the other ministers she’d met as a child. David’s eyes were round, as if constantly surprised. He always seemed to be in a hurry, always anxious, always thinking ahead.
Like now. “Are you tired?” he asked Anna, before she’d even sampled her food. “Should we be getting home?”
Anna gave him her sweet smile and shook her head. “I’m fine. I took an extra-long nap after Peggy called to invite us this afternoon, so I could feel good tonight.”
“How many weeks do you have left?” Peggy brought a second basket of biscuits to the table.
“Eleven, if everything goes perfectly.” Anna put down her fork and sighed. “The due date should be January 10. But the doctor doesn’t think I’ll get that far. He’s hoping for the middle of December. The longer, the better, as far as the baby’s concerned.”
The older woman looked at Cait. “Will you be able to stay until then?”
Cait