Debbie Macomber - 1225 Christmas Tree Lane

Mack’s cell phone, attached to his waistband, chirped. He reached for it, not bothering to look at the screen. He already knew who was calling.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Merry Christmas.” Her cheerful greeting was strained and not entirely convincing.

“Thanks. Same to you and Dad.”

“How’s everything?”

His mother was at loose ends. Not having any of her children with her during the holidays was hard for her. “It’s been pretty quiet here this afternoon,” he said.

Corrie allowed an audible sigh to escape. “I wish you hadn’t volunteered to work on Christmas.”

This wasn’t the first time his mother had brought it up. But as the firefighter most recently hired, he would’ve been assigned this shift anyway.

“It’ll be lonely with just your father and me.” Her voice fell and Mack sighed, wishing he could tell her what she wanted to hear.

“It’ll be a wonderful Christmas,” he said, sounding as positive as he could.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she agreed in a listless voice. “I decided to cook a ham this year instead of turkey. It’s far less work and we had a turkey at Thanksgiving. Of course, I’m going to bake your father’s favorite potato casserole and that green bean dish everyone likes.”

Mack didn’t understand why his mother felt she had to review her dinner menu with him, but he let her chatter on, knowing it made her feel better.

“I was thinking,” she said, abruptly changing the subject.

“Yes, Mom?”

“You should get married.”

If Mack had been swallowing a drink at the time he would’ve choked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re settling down here in Cedar Cove?”

He noticed that she’d made it a question. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I would,” she said. “You have a steady job.” She didn’t add that this was perhaps his tenth career change in the last six years. Mack was easily bored and tended to jump from job to job. He’d worked part-time for the post office, done construction, delivered for UPS and held half a dozen other short-term jobs since dropping out of college. He’d also renovated a rundown house and sold it for a tidy profit.

Mack’s restlessness had contributed to the often acrimonious relationship he’d had with his father. Roy McAfee hadn’t approved of Mack’s need for change. He felt Mack was irresponsible and hadn’t taken his life seriously enough. In some ways Mack supposed his father was right. Still, his new job with the fire department seemed to suit him perfectly, giving him the variety, the excitement and the camaraderie he craved. It also gave him a greater sense of purpose than anything else he’d done.

He and his dad got along better these days. Roy had actually apologized for his attitude toward Mack, which had come as a real shock. It had made a big difference in their relationship, though, and for that Mack was grateful.

“You think I should be married, ” he repeated, as though it was a foreign word whose meaning eluded him.

“You’re twenty-eight.”

“I know how old I am, Mom.”

“It’s time,” she said simply.

“Really?” He found his mother’s decree almost humorous.

“Have you met anyone special?” she asked.

“Mom!” he protested. Yet the picture of Mary Jo Wyse shot instantly into his mind. He knew from the conversation he’d overheard at the library that she was pregnant and single and that David Rhodes was her baby’s father. He’d also heard a reference to Charlotte and Ben Rhodes. He was familiar with them, but completely in the dark about David.

“I’m not trying to pressure you,” his mother continued. “It’s just that it would be nice to have grandchildren one day.”

Mack chuckled. “If you want, I’ll get to work on that first thing.”

“Mack,” she chastised, “you know what I mean.”

He did but still enjoyed teasing her. While she was on the phone, he decided to take the opportunity to find out what he could about the father of Mary Jo’s baby. “Can you tell me anything about David Rhodes?” he asked.

“David Rhodes,” his mother said slowly. “Is he related to Ben Rhodes?”

“His son, I believe.”

“Let me go ask your father.”

“That’s okay, Mom, don’t bother. It’s no big deal.”

“Why’d you ask, then?”

“Oh, someone mentioned him, that’s all.” Mack was reluctant to bring up Mary Jo; for one thing, it’d been a chance encounter and he wasn’t likely to see her again. Clearly she wasn’t from here.

“Mack. Tell me.”

“I treated a young woman at the library this morning.”

“The pregnant girl?” Her voice rose excitedly.

Word sure spread fast in a small town, something Mack wasn’t accustomed to yet. “How do you know about Mary Jo?” he asked.

“Mary Jo,” his mother said wistfully. “What a nice name.”

She had a nice face to go with it, too, Mack mused and then caught himself. He had no business thinking about her. None whatsoever.

“I met Shirley Bliss in the grocery store earlier,” his mother went on to say. “The last thing I wanted to do was make a dash to the store. You know how busy they get the day before a big holiday.”

Actually, he didn’t, not from experience, but it seemed logical enough.

“Anyway, I ran out of evaporated milk. I needed it for that green Jell-o salad I make every Christmas.”

Mack remembered that salad well; it was one of his favorites. His mother had insisted on making it, he noted, even though Mack wouldn’t be joining the family for dinner.

“I could’ve used regular milk, I guess, but I was afraid it wouldn’t taste the same. I don’t like to use substitutes if it can be avoided.”

“Shirley Bliss, Mom,” he reminded her.

“Oh, yes. Shirley. I saw her at the store. She was with her daughter, Tanni.”

“O-k-a-y.” Mack dragged out the word, hoping she’d get to the point.

“That’s a lovely name, isn’t it?” his mother asked.

“Her given name is Tannith.”

“Tanni’s the one who told you about Mary Jo?” he asked, bringing her back to the discussion.

“No, Shirley did.” She hesitated. “Well, on second thought, it was Tanni’s boyfriend, Shaw, who told her, so I guess in a manner of speaking it was her daughter.”

“And how did Shaw hear?” he pressed, losing track of all these names.

“Apparently Mary Jo came into Mocha Mama’s this morning and was asking him a lot of questions.”

“Oh.”

“And he suggested she ask Grace Harding about David Rhodes.”

“I see.” Well, he was beginning to, anyway.

“Shirley said Shaw told her that Mary Jo looked like she was about to deliver that baby any minute.”

“She’s due in two weeks.”

“My goodness! Do you think David Rhodes is the baby’s father?” his mother breathed, as if suddenly making the connection. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

He already knew as much but preferred not to contribute to the gossip obviously making the rounds. Regardless, Mack couldn’t get Mary Jo out of his mind. “Did Shirley happen to say where Mary Jo is right now?” Maybe someone should check up on her. Mack had recommended she rest for the remainder of the day but he didn’t like the idea of her being alone.

“No,” his mother said. “She’ll be fine, won’t she?”

“I assume so….”

“Good.”

“Where’s Dad?” Mack asked.

His mother laughed softly. “Where do you think he is?”

It didn’t take a private eye—which his father was—to know the answer to that. “Shopping,” Mack said with a grin.

“Right. Your father’s so efficient about everything else, yet he leaves gift-buying until the last possible minute.”