The Christmas Campaign. Patricia Bradley
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Nicole, she would have simply waited on the wreaths and Christmas trees.
Back in the kitchen, she peeled the Idaho golds that would soon be her mother’s award-winning creamed potatoes.
“Look at this.”
Joyce Montgomery pushed her smartphone under her daughter’s nose. Nicole leaned back so she could see what was so important, but the words blurred. “It’s too close, I can’t read it.”
“It’s a text from Sarah Redding, the director of the children’s shelter. Volunteers are needed this Saturday to help get the place ready for state inspection. I’m sure Peter Elliott will be there.”
Her mother was matchmaking again. Maybe she’d drop the subject if Nicole ignored her.
“You should plan on going. Your brothers, too. I’ll tell them as soon as they get here for dinner.”
“It’s Pop’s birthday. You might want to wait until the celebration is over.” Nicole scratched her nose with the back of her hand. She wished her mom would quit trying to fix her up. She’d done the relationship thing, and it hadn’t worked out.
And it wasn’t as if men didn’t ask her out. She’d simply gotten in the habit of preferring her own company to the dreaded dating scene. The nervousness of that first date. Making small talk. Shake hands or kiss at the door? Nope. Been there, done that, had the broken heart to prove it.
She could count on one hand the men she trusted, and they were all family members. “What do you want me to do after I finish the potatoes?”
“I want you to promise me you’ll help at the shelter this Saturday. I know you don’t have anything planned.”
“I might. There are a lot of Christmas parties happening already.” It was only Monday afternoon. Anything could happen in four days and seven hours.
“Pff,” her mother huffed. “You never go out on Saturday.”
Nicole washed the diced potatoes and put them on to boil. “You never know, I might have a hot date. Besides, Peter Elliott doesn’t notice me any more now than he did in high school. So don’t try to find ways to throw us together.”
Nicole was surprised she hadn’t mentioned Jake. He was another of her mom’s men-you-could-date-if-you-wanted-to subjects since Nicole’s breakup with Stuart two years ago.
“But you both serve on the city council. If you’d just practice flirting a little—”
“Mom! Really.” She bent down and hugged her five-foot-four mother. “I’m not his type. All during high school and in college, he only had eyes for Allie Carson. She was cute and dainty—something I’ll never be.
“And don’t start with his cousin Jake. Neither of them are into someone who can look them straight in the eye, or outshoot them on the basketball court...or who walks like a heifer plodding across cotton rows.”
Nicole’s reference to a comment made twenty-one years ago brought a frown from her mother. “You do no such thing. And that dance instructor never said that was the way you walked.”
Nicole might have been only twelve, but she knew what she’d heard. And she’d never gone to another class.
Her mother wasn’t one to let a subject die. “I mean, you might not have been asked to dance the lead in a ballet, but you were...very graceful on the basketball court.”
And that was the only place she was graceful. Nicole’s size-ten feet and five-ten frame were not made for dancing, no matter what her mother wanted to believe.
“She could’ve been another supermodel,” said her brother Sam as he entered through the back door. He handed Nicole the two-year-old in his arms, and then turned to take a shopping bag from his very pregnant wife.
“With my feet, I’d probably stumble on the runway.” She nuzzled the baby’s soft blond hair as Sam tenderly guided Amy to a chair. Her oldest brother, who’d just turned forty, had it good, and he knew it. No biological clock ticking for him. Or Amy, who at thirty-six was only three years older than Nicole. With the birth of their son in two months, Amy would have her family complete. At least that was her plan.
“I’ll take Grace, and you can put this wherever Mom has the other presents stashed,” Sam said.
Her brother held out the prettily wrapped package Amy had brought in. Nicole glanced at the silver bow and embossed paper. All that fancy wrapping was wasted on her dad. Now, her mother on the other hand...
“No, I’m good.” She so seldom got to hold her niece, and she wasn’t ready to give her up yet. “Put that in the dining room and then go drag Pop out of his wood shop and tell him dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. Chris and Aaron should be here by then.” It would take that long for Sam to pry their dad away from whatever special project he was working on and get the sawdust brushed off his clothes.
Just as she’d predicted, twenty minutes later when the two men came in from the shop, her other two brothers arrived with their families. When it came to celebrating birthdays, or any holidays for that matter, no one did it up any better than the Montgomerys, and an hour and a half later, the house rocked with the sound of conversation and laughter.
With the meal finished, Nicole leaned back in her chair and glanced around the dining room table, lingering on each face, especially her dad’s at the head of the table. He sat with his steepled fingers against his chin, a contented smile on his lips. She glanced down at her matching long fingers. She’d always been fascinated that his large hands could tease a delicate dolphin out of a block of wood or set a bird’s broken wing. He was probably the reason she hadn’t married—she hadn’t found any man who could measure up to him.
Her mom set the candle-laden cake in front of him, and Sam said, “Where’s the fire extinguisher?”
Daniel Montgomery raised an eyebrow. “Better be careful what you say—you’ll be here one day.”
Then he took a deep breath and blew all the candles out while everyone cheered. Nicole sighed, wishing her empty apartment had a little of this warmth and hominess. Except celebrations like this also served as a reminder of what she didn’t have.
On days like this when the whole family was together, she felt like an outsider, the only one without someone special and without children. Oh, good grief. Being single wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It wasn’t like she didn’t have friends. She traveled when she wanted to and controlled the TV remote—what more could she ask for?
“I neef potty!” Her niece’s yell broke her thoughts.
Thank you, Grace. Nicole pushed her chair back and threw her brother a smile. “I’ll take care of this.”
Sam glanced at his brothers. “Now, that’s the way to train your sister.”
She whacked him on the shoulder as she led Grace toward the bathroom.
“Tank you, Aunt G.,” Grace said a few minutes later as Nicole helped her with the Pull-Ups. All of her nieces and nephews had trouble saying “Nicole,” so the problem was remedied by calling her by her first initial.
“You’re welcome, honey. Let’s wash your hands.” When she finished drying Grace’s hands, she asked her, “Having fun today?”
The golden curls bobbed, and Nicole swept the tiny girl up in her arms, marveling at how light she was. With her dainty frame, no doubt she would become the ballerina her grandmother always wanted. A good thing, since the other three grandchildren were boys.
As Nicole neared the dining room, her mother’s voice carried through the open door.
“Samuel, I want you to make sure your sister goes to the children’s shelter cleanup Peter Elliott is doing Saturday. And Aaron and Chris, I expect you to encourage her and to be there, as well.”
Nicole stopped midstride as heat raced up her neck to