Tanya Michaels: Mistletoe Mommy

Considering the crowd, they were seated pretty quickly. Dinner rush at the Diner started a few minutes before five and lasted well into the night. The hostess showed them to a booth, and Morgan slid in first, followed by her father. Geoff sat opposite them and Brenna chose to sit next to the boy rather than his thoroughly attractive dad. Eliza surprised her by practically leaping in after her, sandwiching Brenna. She didn’t get a strong sense that Eliza liked her, but the girl must really dislike the idea of sitting with Adam.

Had he actually done something to bring on her wrath, or was Eliza just one of those clichéd mutinous adolescents?

Fifteen minutes later, after the waitress delivered a round of lemonades and took their orders, Brenna thought she was getting a clearer picture of why the girl was so hostile. When Adam tried to draw Eliza into a discussion by asking if she would play soccer again this coming fall, the girl snorted. Brenna wondered if anyone had ever pointed out how unattractive that particular habit was.

“I haven’t played soccer in two years,” Eliza said, her tone reading duh but her expression telegraphing genuine hurt. “I play volleyball now. Mom said only two activities so that my grades don’t slip, and I picked volleyball and dance.”

Adam visibly cringed. “Right. I’m sorry I forgot that.”

Seated on the girl’s left, Brenna barely caught her muttered, “Like you even knew in the first place.” Adam engaged his son in less-charged conversation about what kind of car he wanted to save up for, but then made an apparent misstep when Geoff mentioned that he couldn’t wait to take his girlfriend out on an honest-to-goodness car date.

Managing not to look too nervous about that prospect, Adam asked, “So how did you and Deana meet?”

Geoff shook his head, sighing loudly, and Brenna assumed that the boy was embarrassed to have his love life be the topic of dinner conversation. But Morgan tugged on the side of Adam’s shirt.

“Daddy, it’s Gina, ” she said, her little face pinched with worry. As if she feared his mistake might create even more tension. “Remember?”

Though the situations probably had nothing in common, something in the girl’s voice made Brenna flash to her own past, the careful way she’d had to treat her mother. How she’d hesitantly vacillated between reminding her mom that no, they were no longer in Lexington, they’d moved on to Tennessee, and not wanting to say anything that might set her off. As an adult looking back, Brenna suspected her mother had suffered from some sort of bipolar disorder and hoped that, wherever the woman was now, she’d sought help. But as a child, Brenna had never known what to think about her mother’s moods and their nomadic lifestyle. Brenna had spent more than a decade walking on eggshells-the unpleasant habit had stayed with her far longer than her mother had.

Morgan, on the other hand, showed few signs of emotional scarring and had already bounced back from her moment of concern. She was chanting, “Geoff and Gina. Gina and Geoff. They both start with G s that think they’re J s. I can spell my name! Who wants to hear?”

By the time their food arrived, Morgan had spelled out her siblings’ names, as well as her own and the words cat, fox and Dan.

“Wonderful job,” Brenna praised her.

“I start kindergarten next year,” Morgan said. “And Liza’s teaching me to read.”

Eliza ducked her head closer to her plate of cheddar garlic mashed potatoes as if embarrassed to be caught doing something nice for her kid sister.

“Kindergarten?” Brenna echoed. “That must make you, what, eleven years old?”

Morgan giggled. “Four! But I’m almost five.”

Adam ruffled her hair fondly, looking more relaxed than he had since he’d first pulled over for Brenna. She imagined that sitting in front of a plate of pot roast beat the heck out of interminable hours cooped up in a car with antsy kids. “That’s right,” he said. “We’ll have to search Mistletoe for the perfect way to celebrate your birthday next Thursday.”

Eliza’s fork hit the edge of her plate with a clatter. “Friday! Her birthday is Friday. Don’t you even know that?”

Adam flushed darkly. “I know exactly when each one of you was born. Morgan’s birthday is June twenty-sixth.”

“That’s Friday,” Eliza said, less forcefully.

“Oh.” Her father leaned back against the vinyl bench. “I was just confused about my days.”

His oldest daughter nodded, while his younger daughter looked on apprehensively. Geoff continued to shovel in food at warp speed, sparing absolutely no attention for the people around him.

“I promise,” Adam added. “I know every one of your birthdays. June twenty-sixth. February tenth. November third. You’re the most important people in my life.”

Brenna was moved by the declaration but also vaguely uncomfortable at being present for it. She was barely at ease with open sentiment in her own family, much less a stranger’s. She focused on her fried-chicken salad with all the intensity of a grad student taking a final, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Adam reach across the table for Eliza’s hand. And saw the girl reflexively jerk away.

Ouch.

Eliza shoved her plate to the side. She waited a beat before asking, “Can I go play air hockey? Geoff can go with me.”

The boy had emptied his plate, stopping just short of licking it clean.

Reluctantly Adam nodded. “I guess. You need quarters?”

“No. Mom gave me money.”

There was some shuffling as Brenna stood so that the two adolescents could get out of the booth.

“Can I go, too?” Morgan implored. “I wanna watch.”

“Don’t you want to finish your cheeseburger?” Adam asked.

“Nuh-uh. My tummy feels funny.”

“All right. But I’ll save it for later in case you change your mind.” His expression was nakedly poignant as he watched his children walk away. Whatever his shortcomings, he adored those three. Brenna hoped for his sake that he found a way to convince them of that in the next few weeks.

With a sigh, Adam looked at Brenna. “You must think I’m the worst parent in the world.”

“Far from it. Trust me.”

“I do surgeries where another person’s life is literally in my hands, and it doesn’t make me half as nervous as a two-minute conversation with my daughter.”

“I don’t know.” She feigned confusion. “Morgan didn’t seem that scary to me.”

His laugh was deep and appealing, and his dark eyes crinkled attractively at the corners. “Believe it or not, I-”

“Brenna!”

She turned her head, knowing her transportation dilemma had just been solved. “Josh. Hey.”

Her stepbrother dropped his arm from Natalie’s shoulders long enough to extend a hand across the table toward Adam. “I’m Brenna’s brother, Josh Pierce.”

“Dr. Adam Varner.”

The two men shook, then Josh took a step back to continue the introductions, gesturing toward the very pretty blonde at his side.

“This is Natalie Young, my girlfriend,” Josh said. He looked from Brenna to Adam, then back again, grinning from ear to ear. “And we are so glad to meet you.”

Brenna almost groaned at the naked joy in her stepbrother’s expression. No, she wanted to tell him. Josh had made no secret of the fact that he wanted Brenna to date more, but Adam Varner was not an option. This was a critical time for her small company, her first potential “growth spurt,” a chance to turn a profit, instead of living bill to bill each month. Brenna needed to work hard this summer, not get distracted by a man-no matter how good looking he was, or how endearing his efforts with his kids. Besides, Adam had his own summer plans and would be gone in a few weeks.