A Merry Little Christmas: 1225 Christmas Tree Lane / 5-B Poppy Lane. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
us all to meet Danielle. He wants us to welcome her into the family.”
“I can’t do it.” Sophie’s chin rose defiantly.
“Me, neither.”
For that matter, it wasn’t going to be any easier for Beth. Nevertheless, she was determined to do her best.
“They’ll be coming back here, and I want us all to make an effort, okay?”
Bailey sighed expressively and, after a moment, said, “I’ll try…I guess.”
“Will Dad be here when we decorate the tree?”
Beth had assumed not. He was with Danielle and it would be awkward to include the other woman. “I…I don’t know, but I don’t think so.”
“Dad used to enjoy that,” Sophie said.
Beth had, too. It was their special family tradition. They’d always waited until Christmas Eve to decorate the tree, which went back to her German roots. Her grandparents hadn’t put up a tree until the night before Christmas, a tradition that had come from the old country.
“Shouldn’t we at least ask Dad about decorating the tree with us?”
“I suppose.” Beth said without much enthusiasm. He would probably assume the invitation included Danielle.
The girls returned to the house, and Beth stayed outside, letting the dogs run until they were tired. She gave them each a healthy snack, then they retreated to their kennel and she went back inside.
Beth had never intended to own six dogs—make that seven with the puppy upstairs. But then she’d never intended to have her children barely a year apart, either. Kent was still in his last year of engineering school and she was working as a teaching assistant to help support them when she discovered she was pregnant with Bailey. Sophie hadn’t been a planned pregnancy, either, and she’d arrived a mere fourteen months after her sister.
Beth had gotten pregnant with Bailey at Christmastime. Christmas Eve, to be exact. Hard to prove, perhaps, but she was sure of it. She’d felt it, felt they’d made a baby that night. Beth wondered if Kent remembered and suspected that, after all these years, he’d put it out of his mind.
They could only afford a small tree that year and had waited until Christmas Eve to decorate it. Beth had said it was tradition, and while it hadn’t been his family’s tradition, he’d been a good sport about it. With little money for ornaments, Beth had made their own. Kent had done his part, stringing popcorn and cranberries while she sewed gingerbread men from pieces of felt, decorating them with eyes and a row of tiny buttons down the front. Each was unique, individual. She still had several of the original ones and others, too, that she’d crafted through the years. She kept them carefully packed away in boxes.
It’d snowed that Christmas Eve, too, but their tiny basement apartment was warm and cozy. As a surprise, Kent had purchased two miniature bottles of rum to make hot drinks. After decorating the tree, they sat in front of the woodstove, their only source of heat, and with Beth on Kent’s lap and the cat curled up on the ottoman, they’d toasted the holidays. They’d started kissing and then one thing led to another and three weeks later the stick was blue.
That was Bailey.
How excited Kent had been to have a daughter. When they learned Beth was pregnant a second time, he’d hoped for another girl and had gotten his wish.
The early years of their marriage were financially tight. They’d met every crisis, refusing to let their money problems come between them. They were a unit, a couple, determined to beat the odds. And when it was smooth sailing financially, her marriage had fallen apart.
Somewhere, while the girls were in their early teen years, they’d lost the glue that held them together.
Well, good grief, there was no need to analyze the past at this late date. What was done was done. She smiled despite her mood. If ever there was a profound statement, that was it. What’s done is done. Accept it. Beth found herself humming a Christmas carol as she headed back to the house.
Bailey was on her cell phone in the kitchen. When she saw Beth, she abruptly ended the conversation.
“That was Dad,” she explained. “He said he wants to be here when we decorate the tree.”
Beth’s chest tightened. “Is he…Did he say he was bringing Danielle?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“Where did he take her to lunch yesterday?” she asked conversationally as she considered the situation. Danielle didn’t appear to be the sensitive sort who’d recognize that her presence might be uncomfortable for Beth and the girls. Beth decided she needed to brace herself for the inevitable.
“The Lighthouse restaurant, I think.”
“Oh.” Of course Kent would take Danielle to one of the most expensive places in town.
“What are you making for dinner, Mom?” Bailey asked.
Sophie sent her a pleading look. “Please let it be your lasagna.”
Beth laughed. “Of course.” She’d better add two extra settings to the table.
“With Grandma Carlucci’s marinara sauce?”
“Would I use anything else?” The recipe came from Kent’s maternal grandmother, who was Italian. Because the dish demanded a lot of time and effort she only served it on special occasions. It was one of Kent’s favorites, too. She’d actually made it for him, thinking…well, what she’d thought was irrelevant.
“Did your father tell you when he plans to come over?” she asked, trying to hide how anxious this news made her.
“He’s on his way now.”
“Okay,” she said, rubbing her palms together. “Why don’t you girls help me carry down the ornaments and we can have everything ready for when your dad gets here.”
“Can we bring Roscoe downstairs?” Bailey pleaded.
“Sure, but you’ll need to keep a careful eye on him. He’s still a bit weak.”
Roscoe was Beau’s—the Hardings’ puppy’s—brother, and the sickliest of the litter. Ted hadn’t held out much hope for his survival, but Beth had given the undernourished puppy plenty of love and attention, bottle-feeding him and carefully administering his medication. At three months he seemed to have turned the corner and she thought he’d survive.
“Can we bring Princess in the house, too?” Sophie asked.
“Of course.” Her dogs spent more time inside than out.
For the next few minutes Beth and her daughters carried down boxes from the storage area upstairs. Princess watched from her place by the sofa. Roscoe was in his bed with his chin resting on his paws, still too weak to move about much, although he seemed to enjoy the activity around him. “Did you and Dad ever have birds?” Bailey asked, standing near the canaries’ cage.
Beth unsuccessfully hid a smile.
“What’s so funny?”
“I did have a canary named Tweetie shortly after we were married, but we had to give her away.”
“But why? Dad loves animals, too!”
“Yes, I know, but both your father and I were gone during the day. We had to keep the apartment heated for Tweetie, and after the first heating bill, your father insisted I find her a wealthier owner.”
“Did you hate giving her up?”
“A little. She went to an aunt of mine, who had her for years.” She smiled again. “Your father promised me there’d be other birds when we could afford them.”
“But you never got another canary until you came to Cedar Cove.”
“And