Catherine Lanigan - Home For Christmas

“You forget my reputation for knowing what’s happening in this town?”

“I did. So, who told?”

“Why, Adam, of course.”

“Figures.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be your attorney. That would be immoral. Or something.” She waved her hand.

Joy couldn’t help but chuckle. “I bet you kept Grandpa on his toes.”

“Frank was a sucker for my peach cobbler. So were you.”

“I was.”

Mrs. Beabots touched Joy’s arm. “I need to check on something in the kitchen. You probably need to see to the rest of your guests.” She winked and looked over at Adam, who was standing near the kitchen doorway.

Just as Mrs. Beabots turned, Joy asked, “Wait, is that—Adam’s son?”

“It is…” Mrs. Beabots walked to the kitchen.

The shocks kept coming. So, Adam was married? Where was his wife? Had they both been at the church? The funeral was already a blur to her. She barely remembered anything.

A pretty woman about Joy’s age with striking aqua eyes came up. “Joy. I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Cate Davis. Kyle Evans told me to give you a call, but since I knew Frank so well, I thought this might be better.”

“Cate? The Realtor?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so pleased to meet you.”

“Kyle said you were anxious to list the greenhouses.”

“Yeah. I have to get back to New York by Thanksgiving.”

“That’s…only six days away.”

“I know. Is there a lot to do?” Joy asked.

“We’re fine. Tell you what. I’ll meet you there tomorrow morning at, say, nine o’clock? I’ll take some photos, work up some comps. I’ll do my best to get back to you by the end of the day or Sunday afternoon.”

“Gee, I hate to take up your weekend.”

“I’m a Realtor. We’re used to it. And we do have some work to do, this being a commercial property. What about the house here?”

“That, too,” Joy said, feeling a sharp pang through her middle. Now that she’d said it out loud, she suddenly wanted to hang on to the house. But she lived in New York. Her life was in New York. Wasn’t it?

Joy saw Adam now standing at the fireplace in the living room. His son was still by his side. The boy had picked up the fireplace poker. She excused herself from Cate and walked toward Adam, overhearing their conversation.

“What’s this, Dad?”

“Titus, put that down. It’s dangerous.”

“But what’s it for?”

“To move the logs around so air gets to the fire.”

“We don’t have one.”

“We have gas logs. They’re safer.”

“Oh,” Titus said and looked up as Joy smiled at him. “Hello.”

“Hello.” She stretched out her hand. “I’m Joy. What’s your name?”

“Titus Masterson. This is my dad. But I know that you already know him. From high school,” Titus said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and smiling broadly.

“Titus…” Adam used that same warning tone he’d used with Joy.

“Thank you for coming, Adam,” Joy said. “I’m sure Frank would appreciate it.”

“I’m sure he would.”

Titus rocked back on his heels and tugged on his blue blazer. “We were good friends with Mr. Boston. He let me eat peanut butter and crackers in the kitchen.”

“He did?” Adam and Joy chorused.

“Uh-huh. And grape jelly.”

“I suppose the milk was for you, too?” Joy asked.

“Yep. Organic.”

Joy smiled. “I can see why my grandpa liked you, Titus. You’re quite the charmer.”

“Thanks.” Titus grinned.

Joy looked back to the kitchen. “Is your mother coming to the luncheon?” she asked.

“No,” Adam replied sharply.

“She died. She’s in heaven with Mr. Boston,” Titus said matter-of-factly. “When I die I get to see them both.”

Adam put his hand on Titus’s shoulder. “That’s right.”

Joy knew she was blushing with shame. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Adam said, not to Joy but to Titus, who was looking up at him. “It’s been three years since Amie died. Titus and I are doing better.”

“That’s right, Dad. We are.” Titus looked at Joy. “So, is it okay if I have a cupcake?”

“You can have anything you want, Titus. Please. Enjoy.”

“All right!” Titus nearly sprinted away.

“Titus! Slow down! You might trip on that throw rug,” Adam warned.

Joy watched Adam as he stared after Titus. “He’s wonderful.”

“He’s like his mother.”

“He’s like you,” she said, feeling a long-remembered warmth flood her. “He looks just like you.”

“He does. Poor kid.”

“Adam, you are incredibly handsome. I always thought that.”

“I was a nerd.”

“I like nerds,” she countered. “Though you aren’t one.”

His blue gaze bored into her face, and for a moment, she was back there with him, in the potting shed where no one could see them and he was about to kiss her.

He jerked away and turned to the photos on the mantel. He picked one up. She looked at the picture.

“That’s us at prom. I forgot we had this one.”

“I remember. It was the night I proposed. You forget that, too?”

“No.”

“You said ‘yes.’”

“Adam. We agreed. We’d wait till after college… You had a scholarship to Purdue. I had a scholarship to Columbia. We grew up.”

“We drifted apart.”

This time when his eyes met hers, she saw sadness and regret. Not the sadness of mourning, but the kind she’d seen when she looked in the mirror after their breakup. She’d lost her parents. Adam. Her town. It had taken every ounce of courage to go to her classes and keep her grades up so that she didn’t lose her scholarship. But she’d done it. And she’d done it alone.

“We did.”

“Can I have this?” he asked.

She thought it an odd request. He had a son. A life and recent past she knew nothing about. But he wanted their prom picture. “Sure. Uh, Frank would want you to have something.”

“Frank—” Adam started to say something but Joy’s cell phone rang.

“It’s New York. I have to take this.”

“I better go. I’m truly sorry about Frank.”

“Thank you, Adam. I know you are.”

Adam walked to the dining room. She noticed that all the Barzonni brothers came up to him and slapped him on the back. Sarah hugged him. Maddie and Liz did, as well. They were all friends and they carried their affection for each other well.

Her cell phone rang again. She answered it. “Chuck. Sorry. I was just saying goodbye to a guest.”

“I didn’t know the luncheon would still be going on. I lost track of time myself. So, did you get the flowers?”

“I did. They were huge. Thank you very much.”

“Dad thought it was a good idea. They’re from both of us.”

“Please thank him for me.”

“I will. I tried to order them from your grandfather’s greenhouse, but the line was disconnected. You closed it down fast.”

Joy worried her lip. “Uh, actually, Chuck, it’s been down awhile now.”

“What?”

“It’s a long story. My grandpa and I always used our cells and texts. I never called the greenhouse, where he’d be too busy to talk. Personally, I think he was expert at intrigue. Probably, all those old mystery movies he watched, because he kept his secret well. Even his deteriorating health was a secret. No one knew. Not even in town. Bottom line for us is that I’m meeting with the Realtor first thing in the morning.”

“Great. Thanksgiving is less than a week away.”

“Miss me that much, huh?”

“I’ll say. The work has stacked up like crazy since you left.”

“The work…”

“Yeah. Oh, and Dad said to say hi.”