Сьюзен Мэллери - Yours for Christmas

Not that she would have been there to see it, she reminded herself as she leaned into the mirror and continued applying her makeup. She would have been working as many hours as she could manage. There hadn’t been time for things like football games.

It wasn’t going to be like that for Chloe, she told herself. Chloe was growing up in a community where she connected with people. Bailey wanted her daughter to feel safe and strong. Like she could do anything.

Bailey’s grandmother had been willing to take in her only granddaughter when her own daughter had skipped town. The older woman had been loving but firm. The message was clear. Bailey was expected to take care of herself starting the day she turned eighteen. To that end, Bailey had put aside her dreams of a college education and had instead focused on after-school jobs and learned to be an adult as early as possible. It wasn’t until years later that she’d saved enough to go to community college.

She supposed the lessons had served her well. While she’d had to adjust when Will died, she’d known that even if she didn’t always feel capable, she had the skill set to survive.

She put away her makeup and tidied the small bathroom. It was the only one in the apartment and they were going to have company. She paused to take in the pink-and-gold plastic shower curtain, the princess-printed towels Chloe loved and the turkey-shaped liquid soap dispenser on the small vanity. Probably not anything a man like Kenny was used to.

She walked into her bedroom and dressed. While the thought of getting all fancy and sexy for their visitor was fun, it simply wasn’t going to happen. For one thing, she wasn’t the sexy type. For another, she didn’t actually own anything that fit that category. She was a single mom who worked for the mayor. Her clothes were either casual or for business. There wasn’t room for much else in her life. She didn’t date, so there was no LBD in the back of her closet.

She did have on a nice pair of dark wash jeans and a deep brown sweater with flecks of gold and green in the weave. The cotton blend was just thick enough to be warm but not so heavy as to add bulk. She thought maybe the colors were good for her complexion and brought out the green in her eyes. Of course while she was cooking she would be wearing an apron with a turkey on it. Not exactly a pattern designed to bring a man to his knees.

Bailey stepped in front of her dresser and started to take out the hot rollers. She was determined to have pretty waves in her hair. It was the best she could do. Not that Kenny would notice anything more than the fact that they were friends and he liked her kid. She was clear on that. Any crushes went strictly one way. But that was fine because her giddiness was enough for two.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Chloe got up and ate her breakfast while Bailey got the stuffing together. The scent of sautéing onions and celery filled the small kitchen. The turkey was already out of the refrigerator and in the roasting pan.

She’d made the sweet potato casserole the night before. It only had to be reheated, which would happen after the turkey had come out of the oven and was resting. The potatoes were peeled and sitting in water. She’d prepared the broccoli for the steamer. All that was left was for her to make her famous cheese biscuits and she would do that after the parade. They only took twenty minutes, which meant they would share space with the sweet potato casserole.

She would make gravy while Kenny carved and, with luck, they would sit down to a perfect dinner. Or just a good one, she thought happily. Because perfect was seriously overrated.

She’d already set the table, as well. The centerpiece was a sterling silver bowl with a candle in it. While they weren’t going to decorate for Christmas until after the move, she’d put her favorite gingerbread-men cookie jar on the old sideboard she’d picked up at a garage sale when they’d first moved to town.

“I don’t remember the parade from last year,” Chloe told her as she carried her cereal bowl to the sink.

“We went.”

Although they hadn’t stayed long. Chloe had said she wasn’t feeling well and Bailey had brought her home. She’d known that what was bothering her daughter had little to do with a virus and everything to do with the loss of her father.

Chloe had come a long way, Bailey thought gratefully. She would always miss her dad, but she’d remembered how to be happy again. She had friends, she loved school and she was thriving. No mother could ask for more.

“I’m really excited to see it again,” Chloe told her. “We’re going to meet up with my friends, right? I told you where that was?”

Bailey smiled. “Yes, you did. About fourteen times. I know the exact corner where we’re all watching the parade.”

Because the Sprouts were going to view the festivities together. Bailey had a feeling there were going to be several speculative glances when the other mothers caught sight of Kenny.

Their guest arrived right on time. Bailey did her best to quell the butterflies practicing a two-step in her tummy. She drew in a breath for strength and maybe courage while Chloe raced across the carpet, yelling, “I’ll get it! I’ll get it!”

Her seven-year-old flung open the front door and beamed at Kenny. “You came! We’re going to the parade and the turkey’s in the oven and it’s going to be delicious. You get to carve, which means you’re going to make the slices for us.”

Kenny stepped into the living room. He was tall and broad and the living room seemed smaller than usual with him in it. Bailey had the sense of being all thumbs and feet as she tried to smile and greet him.

“Right on time,” she said with a smile.

“I heard there’s a parade.”

“At noon,” Chloe said.

He wore a leather jacket and a scarf around his neck. In one hand he had a bottle of white wine and in the other, the promised pie. Only she didn’t recognize the color of the box. She’d assumed he would go to Ambrosia Bakery, but their boxes were white with silver stripes.

He held up the wine. “This should go in the refrigerator.”

“Sure.” She motioned to the kitchen.

He walked in that direction and she followed. Once there she took the wine from him and fit it into her small refrigerator. He set the pie on the counter.

“Where did you get that?” she asked. “Is there somewhere new in town?”

He raised both eyebrows. “I’m wounded. You’re assuming I bought it.”

He shrugged out of his coat as he spoke. Underneath he wore a blue sweater the same color as his eyes. A white shirt peeked out from underneath. He had on jeans and boots. He was big and masculine and being this close to him made her thighs a little trembly.

She forced her attention back to his words. “You baked a pie?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Not possible.”

“It is. I’ll have you know I’m an expert pie-maker.”

Kenny? Ruggedly handsome, football star Kenny? “When did you learn?”

“When I was a kid. We were in Sweden and had a housekeeper who made the best pies. Her crust was a family recipe.” He shrugged. “I was her favorite and for my ninth birthday she taught me how to make it. Once you have that down, the rest of the pie is easy.”

Chloe scooted close to him and grinned. “I can earn a cooking bead when I’m a Sapling. Can you teach me?”

“Sure thing, munchkin.”

He ruffled Chloe’s hair.

The combination of the pet name and the affectionate gesture was nearly as bone-melty as the man’s big hands, Bailey thought, aware that being around Kenny was like playing with fire. Exciting and ultimately dangerous. But it was just one day, right? And a holiday. Didn’t everyone deserve a little something special on Thanksgiving?