Beneath the Mistletoe. Susan Crosby
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The occasional weekend and holiday was the way Banner had described his time there.
Not that any of this was Lucy’s business, of course. She doubted that he would appreciate knowing she was sitting here engaged in armchair analysis of him. She just couldn’t seem to help it. The man simply fascinated her.
As if he had heard her thinking of him, Banner appeared in the doorway of the living room. He entered silently, his gaze skimming the room and settling on Lucy.
He had left his wet boots behind, and his feet in their thick wool socks made no sound on the hardwood floor as he approached the recliner. “Quiet in here,” he said, pausing at Lucy’s side.
She smiled and nodded. “I think the children wore themselves out. How do you like your Christmas decorations?”
He looked around the room again, and she tried to see it from his point of view. The cedar tree in the corner was very festive now with its strings of popcorn and chains of colored paper. Glitter-and marker-colored paper ornaments cut out in shapes of snowflakes, stars, bells, angels and gingerbread men dangled from the branches on strips of ribbon.
More paper chains draped the mantel, and glittery paper stars had been scattered randomly around the room. Along with the firelight and the candles burning in shadowy corners, the handmade decorations were reminiscent of an old-fashioned Christmas.
“They made a lot of ornaments,” Banner commented.
“They really got into it,” she answered with a smile. “I think they depleted your craft supplies.”
“That’s what the supplies were here for.”
“We turned the radio on for a little while—we didn’t want to run down the batteries too quickly. The latest weather report said that temperatures are expected to remain above freezing tonight—just barely—and to rise into the midforties tomorrow. Some roads are already clearing, and crews are working around the clock to restore power.”
“Sounds like a promising report.”
“Bobby Ray’s boss is sending a wrecker tomorrow to get the truck back on the road. And Pop’s grandsons are planning to come tomorrow afternoon. One of them will drive Pop’s truck to Harrison. Even though Pop insisted he was perfectly capable of driving himself,” she added in a low voice with a glance at the elderly man. “Apparently, his grandsons wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Good for them. I’ll feel better if he doesn’t head out on his own without someone to help him in case of trouble.” “So will I.”
“What about you?” Banner’s gaze was focused on the flames in the fireplace as he spoke casually. “Are you heading out first thing tomorrow?”
“I’ll wait until everyone else leaves, if you like. Just to help everyone get underway.”
“Yes, that would be helpful.”
She had been careful not to suggest a personal reason for lingering, and she heard no particular expression in Banner’s voice. She shouldn’t feel as if there was some significance to their agreement that she would be the last to leave. So why did she feel that way?
She glanced at her watch to distract herself from that line of thought. “It’s almost five. I suppose we should be thinking of something to feed everyone.”
“I put a lasagna in the oven. It will be ready to serve by six.”
Lucy looked at Banner in surprise. She hadn’t even realized he’d been in the kitchen prior to joining her in the living room. She knew he hadn’t been in there long enough to assemble lasagna. “How—”
“It was in the freezer. I make two at a time when I’m in the mood to cook, and I freeze one for later. It should be enough to feed everyone, along with a couple of side dishes. I usually eat leftovers for two or three days.”
“You’re a very resourceful man, aren’t you?”
He gave a quiet chuckle. “I try to be.”
Oh, gosh, she was starting to like him, entirely too much. The darned man seemed to be weaseling his way onto her prospect list—even though he absolutely did not belong there. And certainly wouldn’t want to be there, she added glumly.
Candles provided light for the lasagna dinner Banner had prepared. Having grown more comfortable with each other as the day passed, the travelers laughed and bantered during the meal. A newcomer might have thought they had known each other for ages, Lucy thought with a smile.
Though Banner didn’t contribute much to the conversation, he seemed to enjoy listening. Lucy was getting the distinct impression that he wasn’t quite the crusty recluse he pretended to be. She suspected that there was more to his story than a history of being the family misfit. What was he really hiding from here in his rural lair? And, yes, she was being nosy again, but it was Banner’s fault for being so mysterious, she reasoned.
Before the meal was over, something else claimed her attention, something that was no more her business than Banner’s secrets. But she couldn’t help noticing that Bobby Ray was spending a lot of time watching Joan across the table. His expression made Lucy wonder if the big trucker had become attracted to Joan.
It was an interesting possibility. Lucy wondered if Joan was aware of it, and if so, how she felt about it. Something told her that Joan didn’t have a clue. As far as Lucy could tell, Joan had absolutely no vanity. And since she had admitted to Lucy that she was a bit intimidated by Bobby Ray, Joan probably never considered that he might be interested in her.
Lucy didn’t consider herself the meddlesome type. But there was no reason they shouldn’t all get to know each other better, was there? Wasn’t that what casual conversation was all about?
“You haven’t told us much about yourself, Bobby Ray,” she began, stabbing her fork into a bite of lasagna. “Are you originally from Little Rock?”
“I grew up in Prescott,” the trucker replied obligingly. “Moved to Little Rock about fifteen years ago to be closer to my wife’s family.”
Oops.
“Your wife?” Lucy repeated.
He nodded. “Andrea. She died five years ago of melanoma. She had just turned thirty-two.”
“I’m so sorry,” Lucy said, and the sentiment was echoed in the faces of their dining companions.
“You would have liked her,” Bobby Ray assured Lucy. “She was a pistol. You remind me of her, in a way.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said with a smile.
“It was meant as one.”
Lucy noticed that Joan was looking down at her plate now, though Lucy would bet Joan was paying close attention to the conversation. “You and Andrea didn’t have any children?”
Bobby Ray shook his head, his eyes dimming a bit. “We were never blessed with any. We both loved kids and would’ve liked a houseful if we could’ve had ’em.”
“Children are a blessing,” Pop agreed. “Mother and I raised four of our own and more than a few that we took in along the way. I’m not saying we never had our troubles with any of them, but the good times made up for the bad ones, didn’t they, Mother?”
“Oh, yes, they did,” she concurred. “Hardest part was when we lost our oldest boy in a car accident twenty years ago. We learned then to cherish the moments we have with our loved ones and to never take each other for granted.”
“That’s the way I’ve always felt,” Lucy said. “Probably because I lost my mother when I was young, I’ve always treasured my other family members. Even when my cousins made me so mad I could punch them—and I tried once or twice,” she added with a laugh.
Tricia wanted to contribute to the discussion. “My brother makes me mad sometimes. He calls me dopey-head, and he hides my dolls.”