Joan Kilby - A Mom for Christmas

“Will you be looking after Emily again tomorrow?” he asked.

Nicola nodded. “Apparently the Christmas Ball is bigger than King Kong. June’s taken charge of half a dozen subcommittees.”

“I’m not surprised.” He couldn’t hide a trace of rancor. “With her need for control she should have been CEO of some big company.”

Nicola was silent a moment. “You don’t like her.”

“She doesn’t like me.”

“Why?”

This was the oddest conversation he’d had in a long time. He shrugged. “It has to do with Charmaine.”

“In what way?”

Couldn’t she tell it was personal? Did she really think he was going to unburden himself about Charmaine after knowing her for twenty-four hours when he’d spent the past six years bottling things up inside, not confiding even in his family?

He created a smoke screen by elaborating on a pet peeve. “June means well but she spoils Emily. She’s already given her enough presents for two Christmases and the holiday is still weeks away. I was glad you took over, even temporarily.”

Nicola smiled. “I’m loving it. Emily’s a doll.”

“She seems to have taken to you.” He paused. “I understand you and Charmaine were very close. Forgive me, but it seems odd when you and she are so…different.”

“Like night and day,” Nicola said dryly. “Charmaine got all the boys—when she was around no one noticed me.”

“Come on, I’ll bet a cute girl like you must have had swarms of guys hanging around,” Aidan said gallantly.

“If I was so cute why weren’t you hanging around?”

Flummoxed, Aidan stared. “Me? I didn’t know you—”

“Existed?” She smiled wryly and turned to Emily who was trying to heave a large ball. “My point, exactly. Don’t worry, I got used to living in Charmaine’s shadow. It doesn’t bother me anymore.” She turned to Emily who was trying to heave a large ball of snow onto the base she’d made. “You’re making that snow baby all by yourself. Can I help?”

“Yes.” Emily stopped and panted. “Put that on top. And it’s not a snow baby anymore, it’s a snow lion.”

“I’ve heard of snow leopards,” Aidan said.

“No, it’s a lion,” Emily declared. “Honestly, Daddy.”

Nicola’s amused gaze met Aidan’s over his daughter’s head.

“You’re not in high school anymore,” he said. “Are you married?” She shook her head. “Boyfriend? If I’m being too nosy just tell me to mind my own business.”

“That’s okay,” she said easily. “I don’t have time for a boyfriend. This photography assignment will keep me busy for quite some time.”

“Where do you go after here?”

“Banff, Tahoe, Vail, Aspen—I can’t remember the entire itinerary. We’re covering all the major resorts in a coffee-table book for ski buffs.”

“Pity it won’t be ready in time for Christmas.”

She smiled. “It will be. Next year.”

“What am I going to use for whiskers?” Emily demanded.

Aidan turned only to find she was asking Nicola. One day, he marveled, and this quiet woman had completely won over his daughter. He watched Nicola help Emily gather needles from a clear patch of ground near the base of a pine tree and press them into the cat’s face.

Leaving the child, Nicola got up and came back to where he was standing. “I’d better get going,” she said. “You look half frozen and your dinner is waiting.”

“Why don’t you stay and eat with us?”

“Thanks, but June and Roy are going to be home late and I told my aunt I’d make dinner.” She turned to Emily. “Bye, possum. See you tomorrow.”

Aidan walked Nicola to her car, thinking back to the first part of their conversation and feeling the need to convince her of his innocence. He opened the door for her, but before she could climb in, he touched her shoulder, stopping her. “I loved Charmaine with all my heart.”

Her brows came together in a puzzled frown, her searching gaze quietly alert. “Everyone loved Charmaine.”

Aidan watched her get into her vehicle and start the engine. Although she hadn’t said so, he got the distinct impression Nicola was reserving judgment about him. He got that a lot from people he didn’t know and over the years he’d learned not to care. For some reason, it bothered him coming from Nicola.

Chapter 4

Nicola arrived home to a dark and empty house. Pushing aside thoughts of Aidan’s warm fire and delicious-smelling stew she peeled off her wet outer clothing and went to the kitchen to start dinner.

June seemed to have every gadget known to man lining her granite countertops, but from the pristine condition of the appliances, Nicola deduced she rarely used them. Luckily the ingredients for one of Nicola’s small repertoire of foolproof dishes—spaghetti bolognese—were on hand. Nicola got out onions, garlic and mushrooms, had a look at the food processor, and decided a knife and chopping board were easier to clean.

Aidan had been forthright about the rumors surrounding Charmaine’s death, she mused as she peeled the papery skin off the onion. Yet she had the feeling he was hiding something regarding Charmaine.

Six years was a long time. Aidan was a good-looking man. Why hadn’t he married again? Nicola didn’t think it could be due to a lack of interested and available women. Was he still grieving? Or did he find it hard to move on because he was guilty?

Tears from the onion vapors slid down her cheeks and she wiped her eyes with the cuff of her long-sleeved thermal shirt. She quickly chopped the mushrooms and green pepper and added them to the pot along with the hamburger meat and a couple tins of tomatoes. The big stockpot of water she’d set on the stove was boiling so she dumped in a package of dried spaghetti and gave it a stir.

That done she ran upstairs to get a book to read while she waited for June and Roy. Her footsteps slowed as she passed Charmaine’s closed door. The cuckoo clock on the wall behind her ticked loudly in the silence. Why wasn’t Emily allowed in her mother’s old room?

Nicola reached out and turned the handle. The room was dark and with no light on in the hall she could only make out the vague shapes of a bed and dresser, desk and chair. She felt for the light switch and flicked it on.

Nicola gasped.

Charmaine’s room looked exactly as it had in high school, from the frilly pink curtains and matching bedspread right down to old pop-star posters and her cheerleader pom-poms. Incredulous, Nicola went farther into the room, drawn to the dressing table where her cousin had spent hours practicing applying makeup and the latest hairstyles. Unlike in high school when the dressing table’s surface was a jumble of mascara tubes, lipsticks and hairbrushes everything was meticulously arranged like a…a shrine.

A large, framed photo of Charmaine’s graduation portrait, forever young, eternally beautiful, held center stage. She was heartbreakingly lovely, Nicola thought. Would it be any wonder if Aidan had fallen so deeply in love he couldn’t get over her, even six years later?

To the right of the photo was a lock of golden curling hair tied up in a pink ribbon, to the left a cluster of dried rosebuds—from her prom corsage? In front, a baby bracelet with the letters of her name picked out in black on tiny white beads. Bronze baby shoes, a heart-shaped locket, a smaller photograph of Charmaine with her mother and father, a cone of incense in a small brass slipper.

Nicola held the incense to her nose. Jasmine. She smiled, remembering Charmaine’s youthful passion for everything jasmine—incense, tea, perfume…she’d even wanted to change her name to Jasmine when she grew up.

Replacing the incense Nicola picked up the locket. Inside were tiny photos of Charmaine and her. Tears of sorrow and loss washed away the last bitter traces of the onion. In spite of their different personalities she and Charmaine had indeed been inseparable, confiding in each other all their girlish dreams and desires. Somehow she’d never found another friend that had been able to match the closeness she’d had with Charmaine. She snapped the locket shut with a small click and set it carefully back on the dressing table.