An Angel For Christmas. Heather GrahamЧитать онлайн книгу.
only takes care of the kids on his day,” Stacy MacDougal reminded her husband.
Mike was silent for a minute. “The point is,” he said. “He works hard.”
“Too hard,” Stacy said more quietly.
“If that bitch of a wife of his had just appreciated the time he was putting in for her and the kids, she’d still be with him—and she and the kids would have been here, too,” Mike said.
“I am going to miss the children terribly!” Stacy said.
At least they’d stopped talking about him! Bobby thought. Still, he was sad. He’d cared about his sister-in-law. She had her eccentricities like everyone alive; she had probably just been fed up. Shayne was so seldom home; she had little help and no social life.
“The thing is this—no matter what, Shayne and Morwenna are going to be all right,” Mike said. “They know how to work. They’ll survive. You know, Stacy, life isn’t one big Christmas holiday. It’s reality. You have to work to make a living. You have to make a living to have food and shelter!”
Back to him!
He set the angel or cherub or antique-whatever on the tree. As he did so, he heard the purr of an engine and hurried over to the window—the Audi. Morwenna had arrived.
Morwenna would jump right into the lectures with their father. Great. At least Shayne was just depressed beyond all measure, so tangled up in his own misery over his divorce that he wasn’t about to pick on anyone else. He’d be able to let Shayne bemoan the loss of his wife as soon as he arrived. Better than listening to the same lecture over and over again.
“Hey!” he cried loudly. “Morwenna’s here!” Bobby hurried to the door, rushing out to help his sister with her bag. He grinned as he saw her; Morwenna was always the height of fashion. She’d grown into a stunning woman, tall and leggy, with eyes so deep a blue they were the kind referred to as violet. Her hair was their dad’s pitch-black, although now, Mike MacDougal’s hair was definitely showing more than minor touches of distinguished gray. Morwenna’s hair, however, was the old MacDougal hair, as lustrous as a raven’s wing. And stylish, of course. Perfectly coiffed. She was in advertising and marketing, and he knew that in her mind, people trusted you to make them look good when you looked good.
“Baby bro!” she said, dropping the suitcase to give him a fierce hug.
That’s the way it always started out; hugs and kisses and warmth and happiness.
Then … drumroll … the sniping began!
“Hey, big sis,” he said. He frowned, looking around. “Where’s the boy toy?”
She looked at him with irritation. “Alex is in Cancún. He couldn’t get out of it. I guess he planned it before he knew that I had to come home. He kept trying to get me to go, but …”
“Ah, poor girl! Cancún. Hmm. And he went without you,” Bobby said.
“It’s business, Bobby. He had others in the firm going with him.”
“Sure,” Bobby said.
“Let’s get this inside. I can do the carrying. Was it bad getting up?”
“Horrible.”
“I hope that Shayne is close behind,” Bobby said.
“Hey, I’m just glad that Shayne is coming! I’ve talked to him, and he is just about the most depressed man in the world right now,” Morwenna said, her voice troubled. “I hope he doesn’t back out and work hundred-hour emergency shifts just to have something to do.”
“Shayne is coming. He said he might not have the ex or his kids, but we’d be the best place a depressed lonely guy could be for Christmas,” Bobby assured her.
“Our family is the best group to be with when you’re depressed?” She laughed.
He grinned. “Family—the only people you can rip to shreds in the name of love! Naw, we’ll make him feel better.”
“Good. At least, I think so!” Morwenna said. She glanced at him. “Well, how’s it going for you?”
“Fine.”
She looked at him skeptically. “Honestly, though, Bobby, you dropped out again?”
He sighed. “I didn’t drop out, Morwenna. I finished the semester.”
“But you’re not going back?”
Lord, save me! Maybe God heard; before Bobby could answer, he heard the crunch of a car’s tires on the snow. “Hey, it’s Shayne!”
He should feel guilty; his manically depressed brother had arrived. Now, they could all worry about Shayne’s problems!
“Yeah, it’s Shayne,” Morwenna said. She shaded her eyes against the glare on the snow. “He’s not alone. Who is that?”
“Think he picked up a hot babe for Christmas?” Bobby asked.
Morwenna elbowed him. “Shayne … with someone he met in the last few days?”
“No, no, too small. It’s the kids,” Bobby said. “Looks like Connor is in the front, and that’s Genevieve in the back.”
Shayne stopped the car in the driveway. Bobby thought that the kids were so excited that they had to get out. Connor had just turned nine, and Bobby was sure that the divorce was hard on him. Though Genevieve was just six, it seemed that she actually comprehended the change with the flexibility young children seemed to have.
She jumped out of the car. “Uncle Bobby!” And rushed him like a guard about to tackle. For a moment he caught his sister’s expression. She seemed a little hurt, and a little jealous.
But, then, he’d taken a lot more trouble to make sure that he’d seen his nephew and niece over the years; he knew that Morwenna always meant to.
She was just busy.
“Hey, little one!” Bobby said. He hiked her up on his hip. “Give Aunt Wenna a nice smooch right on the cheek there!”
Genevieve did; and she reached out with a cherubic smile. Morwenna took her, giving her a good hug and a kiss back. She looked at Bobby. Was there even a bit of gratitude in that glance?
Then Connor came flying out of the front, racing to them. He just gave Bobby a hug; Bobby opted not to pick him up. It might be against the boy’s dignity. Besides, at nine, Connor was tall and solid.
The car moved on into the garage.
“Didn’t know you were coming, munchkins,” Bobby said.
“We weren’t—then Mommy said we might have a better time with Daddy. And she said that we might really hurt Gram and Gramps if we didn’t come,” Connor said.
“Yep, she said that Connor and I were lucky to be loved by so many people,” Genevieve said.
Yes, Bobby thought, his sister-in-law—or ex-sister-in-law—would have said just such a thing, and meant it. She’d never known her own grandparents, and her parents had died the year before she’d met Shayne.
Shayne had emerged from the car by then and was walking toward them. “Hey, family,” he said. He was trying to smile.
“You got the kids!” Morwenna said.
“Yeah. Yeah,” Shayne said reflectively. Shayne, Bobby thought, was just as pretty as Morwenna—in a manly sort of way, of course. His brother was a good six foot three with the same dark hair and deep blue eyes. He was fit, and his posture was as straight as an iron girder. He had embraced being a physician, and lived well. Bobby had smoked on and off, over the years; he’d given it up last time because his brother had tortured him so much that